These are people who have misused art as science. I do it, too, sometimes. I think we should at least have scientists view our ideas so that they are not bled to the public and cause problems. I know some material is unknown, but some of it can be dangerous.
First off, we have Lady Gaga in "GUY." She mixes blood. In reality, the blood would clot and not be useable if she did that. Hey, it's an interesting message, just wrong.
The other sinner of the day is Lana Del Rey in "Love." Everyone who watched the eclipse is now blind. That should have come with a warning.
Life would be better if scientists ruled the world with truth. Until then, I shall continue to sin myself.
And yes, even H.G. Wells did it with his "vivisections." Still, things like eclipses disturb me.
In another rant, I will talk about misusing basic science with politics or unrelated fields as fake rigor. It's just dreadful and pushes perverse agendas, like Madonna with all the equations in "A Bedtime Story." I call these Jamaican Eclipses. In the past, natives were told the power of the white man by predicted eclipses that appeared to obey the foreigners. Thankfully, a few groups called B.S.
There is hope for humanity.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Grimes
Grimes may be a musical genius, but she has no right doing those operations on us nor advertising them.
I have rights, even though I am mentally ill. You don't get to strip me of them for your own sordid purposes and exploitation.
I write and dream of better things. I am not allowed to experience much in my reality because I'm disabled and limited. I've always put that aside and had my fantasies. Yes, I had my hallucinations, too, both verbal and visual, though I stopped having them after they put me on medicine, which works, not like the lobotomy that has turned me into a happy idiot. GO TEAM! You will now acquire world peace, and there will be bubbles and sunshine.
I control and influence so much, after all. Evil me. I deserved the 8.5 month headache, being chased by the fallen and cyanide through my vents. I don't know why I got angry... It was addicting, however, to be allowed my own thoughts.
Bring it on. I'm used to being the victim and picked on. Not anymore. I still haven't learned proper argument skills. I will lash out in desperation because no one will listen to my viewpoints, even about my own body.
They don't have to, yet I have to guess at the invisible...
I was happy on minimum wage. I rode my bicycle to Subway and took pride in serving people. I had to work 2-3 jobs to help people who don't appreciate me, and yeah, that was stressful. However, if I ever have to go back to making minimum wage, I'll be fine.
I like olives.
I like to write. Yes, I do, yet again.
That's the deal breaker, the one they ignored: I write. I may not be the best at it, but it is my way of expression, of feeling free. It's all I have. I abhor painting and drawing. I painted a few pictures to make a quick point, as many people don't like to read me.
The icon I use for my profile pic is a hallucination or a group of them, seeing beyond reality to a realm of soul and a sea of confusion. That damn piece of shit, brain mudding punk used to occupy me all of the time.
It came from the machines. They made it. Pleasing death, as usual.
WILSON!
I have rights, even though I am mentally ill. You don't get to strip me of them for your own sordid purposes and exploitation.
I write and dream of better things. I am not allowed to experience much in my reality because I'm disabled and limited. I've always put that aside and had my fantasies. Yes, I had my hallucinations, too, both verbal and visual, though I stopped having them after they put me on medicine, which works, not like the lobotomy that has turned me into a happy idiot. GO TEAM! You will now acquire world peace, and there will be bubbles and sunshine.
I control and influence so much, after all. Evil me. I deserved the 8.5 month headache, being chased by the fallen and cyanide through my vents. I don't know why I got angry... It was addicting, however, to be allowed my own thoughts.
Bring it on. I'm used to being the victim and picked on. Not anymore. I still haven't learned proper argument skills. I will lash out in desperation because no one will listen to my viewpoints, even about my own body.
They don't have to, yet I have to guess at the invisible...
I was happy on minimum wage. I rode my bicycle to Subway and took pride in serving people. I had to work 2-3 jobs to help people who don't appreciate me, and yeah, that was stressful. However, if I ever have to go back to making minimum wage, I'll be fine.
I like olives.
I like to write. Yes, I do, yet again.
That's the deal breaker, the one they ignored: I write. I may not be the best at it, but it is my way of expression, of feeling free. It's all I have. I abhor painting and drawing. I painted a few pictures to make a quick point, as many people don't like to read me.
The icon I use for my profile pic is a hallucination or a group of them, seeing beyond reality to a realm of soul and a sea of confusion. That damn piece of shit, brain mudding punk used to occupy me all of the time.
It came from the machines. They made it. Pleasing death, as usual.
WILSON!
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
So Putin got the thumbs down from his boss
He's described as "mediocre."
He was sent to go through newspaper clippings because his German wasn't good enough or something. He doesn't whine about it, and he used that time to further himself. He eventually became a President when his time was called.
Like he's a failure. That's what the news is trying to say.
Float while you can because they'll come for you later.
And yes, I know the proving grounds. I'm a bilge bitch, baby (Bad Romance -- by Lady Gaga). I get it, the feeling. I don't think the fumes were helping me.
I think this treatment of Putin was partly because he was so young and impatient.
Excited.
It's a curse many feel when they are looked down upon by others in those services. Hold on, your time will come.
Great... anyway,
Also, being picked to go to special training is random for the most part. When I was an 88L, one male was sent to Afghanistan. Randomly. Some were selected to get medical training and got to stick each other with needles. I was, curse the heavens above, sent to a live fire. Also, I was sent to do chemical drills in MOP gear. Of course, it was in El Paso and the middle of the summer. I was crazy when they put me on funeral duty.
It's like a time warp to me. I'm still waiting, buddy.
He was sent to go through newspaper clippings because his German wasn't good enough or something. He doesn't whine about it, and he used that time to further himself. He eventually became a President when his time was called.
Like he's a failure. That's what the news is trying to say.
Float while you can because they'll come for you later.
And yes, I know the proving grounds. I'm a bilge bitch, baby (Bad Romance -- by Lady Gaga). I get it, the feeling. I don't think the fumes were helping me.
I think this treatment of Putin was partly because he was so young and impatient.
Excited.
It's a curse many feel when they are looked down upon by others in those services. Hold on, your time will come.
Great... anyway,
Also, being picked to go to special training is random for the most part. When I was an 88L, one male was sent to Afghanistan. Randomly. Some were selected to get medical training and got to stick each other with needles. I was, curse the heavens above, sent to a live fire. Also, I was sent to do chemical drills in MOP gear. Of course, it was in El Paso and the middle of the summer. I was crazy when they put me on funeral duty.
It's like a time warp to me. I'm still waiting, buddy.
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Being Pathetic
The littlest violin begins to play...
I've had to endure the dumb argument of, "fair is fair." It's actually, "Fair is fair to you." I'm a fool, and I've bought into it a few times, thinking I wasn't allowed to earn things or do things because I'm unworthy. They'll flash their 150, and they'll expect me to bow down when they've done nothing but demand some sort of birthright.
You have to pay for the ice cream. I don't have to buy it for you, and you don't get my place in line.
Like many others, the public education system caught me in hard times, and I was forced into remedial classes and extra help, which basically made my homework time explode, and it scrambled my brain with an array of subjects.
Why was I in special ed? It was the same vanity of a deception others feel is fair.
What happened was I was in an experimental class in first grade. They taught us to read by sight and not phonetics. Sight takes longer to catch onto, and it makes spelling uber special sometimes. They took my IQ and found it was 130, but I was performing horribly.
I love the basement.
I couldn't read. They kept giving me more and more assignments, keeping me in the grade with normal kids, just because some moron in charge didn't bother to ask why I couldn't spell things out.
My second grade teacher also hated my grandma, and she took it out on me. My clothes' pin was always rising up on the punishment chart for things like, "Not finding a place in line." I was usually in the special room, but I came back for lunch and had no idea how we were to line up.
I also had a lot of family problems, including incest, alcohol, verbal abuse, drugs and neglect. I won't get into it.
I eventually went crazy, and the school got involved again.
I've tried many times to escape my fate, but I'm not strong enough.
I used to go psycho about intelligence and fair is fair. I've learned it doesn't matter. It's best to distance myself away from harm. I don't have to do it anymore.
Yes, I matter. I am not going to worship you.
Vent over...
Everyone has a least one crazy member, been abused somehow and spent time in the river against the current.
I've had to endure the dumb argument of, "fair is fair." It's actually, "Fair is fair to you." I'm a fool, and I've bought into it a few times, thinking I wasn't allowed to earn things or do things because I'm unworthy. They'll flash their 150, and they'll expect me to bow down when they've done nothing but demand some sort of birthright.
You have to pay for the ice cream. I don't have to buy it for you, and you don't get my place in line.
Like many others, the public education system caught me in hard times, and I was forced into remedial classes and extra help, which basically made my homework time explode, and it scrambled my brain with an array of subjects.
Why was I in special ed? It was the same vanity of a deception others feel is fair.
What happened was I was in an experimental class in first grade. They taught us to read by sight and not phonetics. Sight takes longer to catch onto, and it makes spelling uber special sometimes. They took my IQ and found it was 130, but I was performing horribly.
I love the basement.
I couldn't read. They kept giving me more and more assignments, keeping me in the grade with normal kids, just because some moron in charge didn't bother to ask why I couldn't spell things out.
My second grade teacher also hated my grandma, and she took it out on me. My clothes' pin was always rising up on the punishment chart for things like, "Not finding a place in line." I was usually in the special room, but I came back for lunch and had no idea how we were to line up.
I also had a lot of family problems, including incest, alcohol, verbal abuse, drugs and neglect. I won't get into it.
I eventually went crazy, and the school got involved again.
I've tried many times to escape my fate, but I'm not strong enough.
I used to go psycho about intelligence and fair is fair. I've learned it doesn't matter. It's best to distance myself away from harm. I don't have to do it anymore.
Yes, I matter. I am not going to worship you.
Vent over...
Everyone has a least one crazy member, been abused somehow and spent time in the river against the current.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Not My Nature and Strangers
So, I thought I would bitch for a minute.
Like you guys, some of my relatives drive me crazy. I've often vented on other people, like friends, and I came out as the "victim." Basically, no one wants to hear me whine about it. Okay. I've distanced myself away from certain people in my family, as I enjoy breathing. There is a problem with part of my family where they have no fear and don't pay attention to what is around them, nor do they know how dangerous certain situations are.
Over the years, I've had to balance my family's lies. Strangers pick and chose what they say and bash me with it as a power game. My childhood would read like a VC Andrews novel. I'm not writing it. It sucked enough.
Also, another annoyance is when strangers step into my personal life knowing little about me. Cough. Putin. I get to hear how I owe this or that or how I've never suffered. I used to make the stupid mistake of telling them what went on.
I burst their bubbles.
Marilyn Manson played that card on me. I always fall for it, too. It makes me mad. Here I am again.
I wish I would have had an easier ascent into adulthood, but things didn't go properly. I got cheated with a smile and denial.
I tried everything.
I'd been hoping I would some day have my own voice, but I don't. I have to chew on shit. The strangers make it their way, and my relatives will agree to an insane amount of tough love.
I empathize with Otto, the kid who was destroyed in North Korea. I know what happened to him, and it almost happened to me.
Thanks.
I go off because it pisses me off, but I can't feel it nor deal with the general populations and their lies. I would tell them to fuck off, but they usually have some authority they're abusing, and they get me either way. Anyone can fall into their definitions. I partied last time.
I'm a favorite.
I want the settlement from Putin. You can be my special helper.
Like you guys, some of my relatives drive me crazy. I've often vented on other people, like friends, and I came out as the "victim." Basically, no one wants to hear me whine about it. Okay. I've distanced myself away from certain people in my family, as I enjoy breathing. There is a problem with part of my family where they have no fear and don't pay attention to what is around them, nor do they know how dangerous certain situations are.
Over the years, I've had to balance my family's lies. Strangers pick and chose what they say and bash me with it as a power game. My childhood would read like a VC Andrews novel. I'm not writing it. It sucked enough.
Also, another annoyance is when strangers step into my personal life knowing little about me. Cough. Putin. I get to hear how I owe this or that or how I've never suffered. I used to make the stupid mistake of telling them what went on.
I burst their bubbles.
Marilyn Manson played that card on me. I always fall for it, too. It makes me mad. Here I am again.
I wish I would have had an easier ascent into adulthood, but things didn't go properly. I got cheated with a smile and denial.
I tried everything.
I'd been hoping I would some day have my own voice, but I don't. I have to chew on shit. The strangers make it their way, and my relatives will agree to an insane amount of tough love.
I empathize with Otto, the kid who was destroyed in North Korea. I know what happened to him, and it almost happened to me.
Thanks.
I go off because it pisses me off, but I can't feel it nor deal with the general populations and their lies. I would tell them to fuck off, but they usually have some authority they're abusing, and they get me either way. Anyone can fall into their definitions. I partied last time.
I'm a favorite.
I want the settlement from Putin. You can be my special helper.
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
Other Crazies
So, I've been trying to get Putin to pay me the settlement for years now. I spent some of those years in agony from a head injury, which was brought on by Putin's influence and using the picture that inspired everyone to "cure"/"kill me." I don't understand some people. Why are they so emotional over a simple transaction?
The first crazy I got thought I wanted to marry Putin and wouldn't leave me alone about it. This was after the incident with the attempted suicide nor "friends with cures." We'll leave the weird father-daughter dynamic out of it.
Sorry, I'm not a sociopath. Other people have issues, too. Why are mine so damn important?
Oh well. She did nothing to me but rant about how Putin wouldn't marry me, and she wouldn't stop. On the dream machine, I confessed the depth of my soul, countless words never to be emulated again.
"What do you want?"
"To give Putin an erection."
"What?"
"There are Russians at the window."
So much for that machine making us tell the truth. I really, really wanted to fuck Putin. I was at that age. Little ball of frustration. So. Damn. Desperate. I hate being ugly. Anyway, I don't want to marry Putin. That would be awkward and impossible, really. I do not know much about Russian culture. I happen to think their leader is hot even still, but I can't feel it, just think it.
I love you, baby.
Another crazy came around, and now I'm a terrorist. There was a time I had to spread all over the internet to survive, as things are still fragile at the moment. As for doing it on purpose, I have an IQ of 116 and severe memory problems. Are you joking? I was. I was desperately trying to keep them away. I don't even know how to blow anyone up. I understand grenades (which I'm good at) and the M16.
I want the settlement, Putin.
The first crazy I got thought I wanted to marry Putin and wouldn't leave me alone about it. This was after the incident with the attempted suicide nor "friends with cures." We'll leave the weird father-daughter dynamic out of it.
Sorry, I'm not a sociopath. Other people have issues, too. Why are mine so damn important?
Oh well. She did nothing to me but rant about how Putin wouldn't marry me, and she wouldn't stop. On the dream machine, I confessed the depth of my soul, countless words never to be emulated again.
"What do you want?"
"To give Putin an erection."
"What?"
"There are Russians at the window."
So much for that machine making us tell the truth. I really, really wanted to fuck Putin. I was at that age. Little ball of frustration. So. Damn. Desperate. I hate being ugly. Anyway, I don't want to marry Putin. That would be awkward and impossible, really. I do not know much about Russian culture. I happen to think their leader is hot even still, but I can't feel it, just think it.
I love you, baby.
Another crazy came around, and now I'm a terrorist. There was a time I had to spread all over the internet to survive, as things are still fragile at the moment. As for doing it on purpose, I have an IQ of 116 and severe memory problems. Are you joking? I was. I was desperately trying to keep them away. I don't even know how to blow anyone up. I understand grenades (which I'm good at) and the M16.
I want the settlement, Putin.
Saturday, May 13, 2017
I Would like it Monday, if Possible
I lost a good chunk of my life, was harmed and chased like a dog. I'm destroyed. Other things happened, too.
It's too late to use stem cells, and they don't know how to use them on a newly damaged brain (basically, it has to be fresh, as I was for nearly two years).
I want peace away from this crazy world. I want the settlement. I'd like to move ASAP, but it's up to the leader when. Know I really want it, of course.
I shall hide until I die.
It's too late to use stem cells, and they don't know how to use them on a newly damaged brain (basically, it has to be fresh, as I was for nearly two years).
I want peace away from this crazy world. I want the settlement. I'd like to move ASAP, but it's up to the leader when. Know I really want it, of course.
I shall hide until I die.
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