Wednesday, June 21, 2017


by Mr. Mean-Spirited


Let me tell you a story. Back in June 2014, Conrad Roy III became infatuated with Michelle Carter, a youthful Ice Queen.   She soon became increasingly disenchanted with the romance – and decided to end the affair “with extreme prejudice.”  The most definite way to terminate a relationship is, well … with the death of one of the participants.

Michelle Carter presented an argument for suicide via a succession of comments that she thumb-typed into a cellphone.  After receiving the series of text messages from the lovely Michelle, Conrad killed himself by carbon-monoxide poisoning in a K-Mart parking lot.  A failing discount store was quite the appropriate location for a tawdry demise.  The state of Massachusetts then charged Michelle with involuntary manslaughter, and the dishwater blonde was actually convicted June 2017.

The tale is really about a bitch who sent some ruthless text messages to an ex-boyfriend.  The girlfriend wasn’t even anywhere near the lovesick Roy III when he chose to inhale automotive exhaust – all she ever did was to send him written words through the electronic aether.  That’s it.  She didn’t turn the key in the ignition; she didn’t lock him in the vehicle.  She just typed phrases onto a screen.  Doesn’t matter if her remarks were harsh – doesn’t matter if those comments were a bit hurtful – doesn’t matter if those posts were utterly heartless.  All she actually did was to press letters on a keyboard.

Now, if Mr. Roy began to feel that the text messages were undeserved and unwarranted, he could have done something easy: merely turned off the phone and ignored her unsolicited advice. He could simply have shut off the cellphone. I know, I know, who would have thought of that?

The trouble is that Americans have this schmaltzy, syrupy, slushy view of life – and society has become so wimpy and wussy that most citizens think that we ought to be encouraging human beings to keep alive no matter what.  Even residents of Massachusetts need to stop thinking like pussies.

Not everyone deserves to remain alive.  The world is over-populated, and we do not need to ensure that everyone lingers in existence for … well, “reasons.”

Now, I am sure that plenty of people might say that a depressed Conrad should have sought professional help.  However, if it were wrong for Melissa to tell Conrad what to do with his existence, it would be equally wrong for some psychotherapist to interfere.  If it were wrong for the girlfriend to tell him to end his life, then it would be just as wrong for a psychologist to tell him to continue living.   Logic demands that you use the exact same reasoning in both cases.

Conrad Roy III, the boyfriend, made-up his mind to kill himself not because he was manipulated into taking that final exit – but because he was shown just how useless he truly was.  Sometimes a person reads a sentence that causes him to realize his whole life has been a sham.  He made the decision to die, and it was a good determination.  He picked death, and it was a good pluck.  If someone can be “talked into suicide” via cellphone message – then maybe that person is so weak and worthless that they really don’t need to be loiter on this planet in the first place.

Friday, June 9, 2017


by Mr. Mean-Spirited

Your life didn’t work out the way you wanted.  Your dreams didn’t happen the way you imagined.  All your ambition ever did was to let you down.  Did you really expect to end up like … like this?

If you remember yourself as a kid and recollect what you envisioned for yourself at this age, you would have to be honest and admit that you are a complete failure.  Think back to what you wanted for yourself and look at yourself now: what a loser.  You are a fucking disappointment to those around you – but, most of all, you are a disappointment to yourself.

Frankly, people expected better of you.   All those years of education were squandered on somebody that never had an original thought in his life.  All those fine meals went to create that repellent slob you see in the mirror.  Dredge-up an image of that repulsive creature you fucked the other night – did you ever expect to be fornicating with something that looked like that?

Don’t even say it.  No, you sure as hell aren’t going to change your ways now.  It is too late to start over.   It is too late for you to live your dreams at this point in your life.  You are simply too old to accomplish anything in the few years you have left.  Just face it, you wasted your whole life.

I know what you are thinking.  Settling for something different doesn’t make me an inferior person, does it?  Compromising on something smaller doesn’t make me less of a person, does it?   It sure as shit does.  You once had a coherent view of your life – and you fucked it up.  All the more reason you are a total loser.

And so what if you have a growing child that you never expected?  Now you are just a failure with an additional mouth to fill.  Breeding is just something else that you should regret having done.  Doctors bury their mistakes, and losers put diapers on their mishaps.  If your life were one of those tests back in grade-school, you would get a failing grade on your existence.

If you had any courage, if you had any genuine moral worth, if you had any guts, the first thing you would do is admit what a worthless piece of shit you truly are.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017


by Mr. Mean-Spirited


If there were some button that would end the world, I am going to be pressing so hard that I might break the bone in my finger.   If there were some switch that would terminate all life, I am going to hit that lever so fast that I might snap my thumb.

But there is no knob to shut off this horror of existence.  What scares me most is that there will never be any end to human subsistence.

I grew-up with etchings that celebrated the ravage and wreck of Armageddon – and those engravings of the Apocalypse yielded a sense of serenity because I imaged that there might soon be an end to my own personal suffering.  I found a calm, quiet relief in the knowledge that there might be a kill switch to the human species.   But now I feel apprehensive that I will not witness the final reckoning.

Government is not going to be overthrown, just ever more intolerable.   This despotic diversity is never going to diminish because of some new piece of legislation; this totalitarian tolerance will never be defeated by a change in politicians.   Each year, things are going to get a touch more liberal; popular culture will become a tinge more degenerate; the policeman’s tap on the shoulder is going to be tad more insistent.  Individualists will continue to be persecuted for not being kind enough.  The independent citizen will always be punished for not being nice enough.  In the next decade, things will get a bit more egalitarian for your neighbors – and a lot less equal for you.  As society becomes ever more compassionate, freedom will become ever more constricted.

It is not the Last Days that frightens me – what I fear most is that there might be no end to this life.  I am afraid that this gradual social decay might well continue until I finally die off.  I grew up hearing about the end of the world – and I was praying, I was pleading for this destruction.  But now I think that this long-promised collapse will never come – that things will continue in this slow decline until the end of my days.  This, to me, is more dissipating than any Judgment Day.  The greatest horror is that things will just muddle on.

I was hoping that the nuclear weapons industry might help end this nightmare, but all the warmongers turned coward on us.  I had faith in a global pestilence, but viral evolution is letting us down.   I’ve still got my money on a good old-fashioned famine, but mass starvation takes its own sweet time

There is no greater anguish than the knowledge that there will never ever be any end to the agony.  If there was once pain, you will feel it over and over again.

Sunday, April 30, 2017


by Mr. Mean-Spirited


There is nothing more worthless than human life.  When the planet is so grotesquely overpopulated, the usefulness of a given personality is not all that great.

Your own personal property is more important than other people. Household belongings are more valuable than human beings. You can always shit out another child, but a Franklin Mint figurine is damn near irreplaceable.

There is a reason why Satan is always willing to buy your soul. Because your spirit doesn’t have any value.  Satan doesn’t really want your useless psyche – the Devil just wants you to realize just how insignificant your life truly is.

Stuff is going to be of more use to you than offspring.   Possessions are better than posterity. Knickknacks are going to be of more comfort to you in old age than your own grandkids.  Brand-name luggage is going to get your further in life than brotherly love.

An action figure is never going to let you down.  A brass sculpture is never going to betray you.  People are flawed, but a Tiffany lamp is perfection.

I judge a man not on the content of his character, but on what he has accumulated on the shelf above the fireplace.  An unblemished Hummel porcelain on the mantle is worth more than the entire mass of humanity.