Desperation in desolation

Have I used this title before ?

Apparently not. Great, I'm using it now, then.

How about that doghouse for an "Architecture" University, by the way ? Here I thought Argentina is an outlier in its ridiculous butchery of this once-noble profession ; but you should see the inhuman atrocities that somehow, inexplicably, unconscionably, pass into construction around here!

Architecture might be the one professional endeavour that most suffered under the post-apocalyptic retard regime. I can attest that at some point, back before "the digital revolution", architecture was both an actual professional endeavour, a perfectly respectable liberal profession, and a fulfilling artistic approach to life and the central problems of human existence. All that's gone nowadays, which is sad sufficiently and supersufficiently ; but the fact that nobody else seems to even be aware is outright mindmelting.

Seriously, everyone! How the fuck can you turn a blind eye upon the contemporary atrocities ? We readily join in not giving any shits about however many jews, poles, tutsis, bosnianiakekes or whatever the fuck they're called being butchered in the socialist era, inconsequential hordes of nobodies, unimportant, readily replenished by their mothers ever-lubricated lubricity. Fine. But the buildings ?! How can you pass these horrors at all, let alone in silence! No human age to date has been anywhere nearly as miserably intolerable as its utterly fecal productions make socialism. Not one percent of one percent of newly erected misery is fit for housing ants, wasps and bumblebees, let alone human beings. How, just how can all this vomit in concrete stand ? How, just how do you put up with the seemingly endless dyarhea of sheer ugly ?! Have you no conscience ? Have you no taste, no culture, no higher calling whatsoever, no higher function at all ?

Until the buildings markedly improve, I shall omit an' decline any sort of statement of belonging with you lot -- and quite understandably so. Building "for the people" has got to fucking cease, the buildings are even uglier than those "people" in headcount only, if that were somehow possible. I can't imagine how it'd be possible, but apparently somehow it is. Enough already!

You'll have to excuse the visual-textual mismatch, by the way. I've literally ran out of anything even remotely more adequate to describe my daily life, regular activities an' generally speakin' gestalt, so... I'm stuck scooping up the opposite end of the spectrum.

Besideswhich, as photographic proof doth attest, nature's continuing architecturally undisturbed. More power to it, really.

Above depicted, young coffee plants. I've come to the realisation that coffee is probably the prettiest cultivation choice available ; I know of no other human farming stock that's quite as pretty, nor fits so well in the environment, to the point of almost always actually improving it, rather than the opposite. I'm a great fan of coffee for purely aesthetic reasons, I don't like nearly as much drinking it as I like the pretty coffee fields. Not that I dislike the brew or anything, but...

Where do you get your fresh cunt, anyways ?

I'm democratic, in this limited sense, that I really don't care where she grew up. I believe this course to be the only wise approach ; the alternative is dangerously concentrating power in the wrong hands.

Ah, right! Speaking of insect architecture, how do you like this wonder!

Hannah licks things.

What's your guess, by the way -- can she fit that ?

Your eyes don't lie : yes, these little bastards routinely capture small birds. In the present configuration, webs layered atop layers of webs, they might even be capable of tangling up a lamb or two.

Nicole's favourite coffin store. "Who has favourite coffin stores ?!" shall be a question left for later.

Bimbo's favourite hamburger. Can you believe this bitch ate pretty much nothing else for two decades until I enslaved her, yet the hamburgers I feed her occasionally are (and by far, allegedly) the best she's ever had ?

Oh no, wait, that's not right. She also ate pizza, it wasn't only hamburgers for two decades ; and yes, the pizza Hannah makes, as well as the pizza we buy at the few establishments cleared for this purpose is... also the best she's ever had.

What's the point of even having an [United States of] America anymore ? Why even bother with the pretense, at this rate ? If I can just enslave your daughters and then feed them the best whatever-your-things-were-supposed-to-be... what's it even supposed to be for ? Seriously, nobody cares, give it up. If you admit tomorrow there's nothing there absolutely nothing will change worth the mention, it's not like the whole echafaudage serves any kind of purpose or delivers any kind of benefit. You'd be just as destitute an' unhappy as a Mexican colony or a Canadian province, if Cuba invaded nothing at all would change. A state run to give the poorest the cheapest slop with least possible effort's not even worth a name, it has nothing substantial to it, there's nothing to distinguish it from... any other exactly equivalent vacuous hole. Nothing at all.

I was looking through pictures from the DDR's 40th anniversary earlier, and... well, do you realise that sad hole looked better, both architecturally and culinarily, than your sad hole does, today ? Give it up, life punishes those who whatever Gorby said.

Oh, right, I also went to the beach. Again.

Relaxin' for a minute while those pleasantly smelling honeysⁱ haul the fixin's an' assorted materiel from the baggage train into deployments an' configurations as required and per the manuals.

Needless to say the itinerant seller of watery coconuts and other beach delights was rather perturbed (to not say shocked in his very core an' seed of being) by the proceedings -- doubtlessly wonders he never had before his eyes afore (the local bitches being as they are shockingly indolent an' self-indulgently lazy, on the firm if regrettable basis of the local pimps not having been actually born yet). Just as needless to say he kept his perturbation to himself, and minded his own fucking business, which is, ultimately, the greatest expression of personal valour in the servile class : an even-keeled and unperturbed awareness that nobody asked any of them anything, nor ever likely will.

Da life.

Yes, that's a slight erection ; for which reason we shall take some time off the camera.

I don't remember what I had them do while I went for a cup of coffee (possibly sunbathe, I forget).

I mostly bought the icecream for this shot, to bother the bimbo with it later, once she saw the pictures -- because no, she didn't get any. I didn't bother eating it myself, in any case, even though it's got a cherry on top.

So does everything else, you know ?

Truly tis better than it looks. Not only because all experience's sweeter experienced in fact rather than vicariously ; but mostly because common experience does not furnish the tools to represent my priors, so far outside the narrow limits thereof they fall. In plainer English I very much doubt you've ever had food as good as what I wouldn't touch, as pompous as that may well sound. It doesn't sound pompous for being pompous ; it sounds pompous for your station being so miserably decayed meanwhile.

The bimbo's skirt is short enough that it doesn't take any bending at all to expose herself pubis to coccis (I'd know, I picked it for her), but it's the damndest thing : after a few minutes spent showing herself unabashedly, the moment I got my camera out she stopped doing it, like she somehow magically knew she was being captured. Do you suppose it's pure coincidental happenstance ? Or do you suppose bitches have a sixth sense for such ?

Them delicious (American-style) chocolate pancakes I might've at some point mentioned. Fluffy and fabulous, with all the fruits and all other things! Si cu pizde, in pizda goala bien sur.

Boss cat bossin' dat spot!

Mind calling up an' inquirin' what the cufk's a "citizenchris" ? Let me know, kthx.

Thus ends this day's foray ; and don't forget now : for everything you need or want, there's facebook!

1. To contrast with yet another wanna-be MP's stinkin' whores. No joke, either -- I suspect I currently own (actually stored on the very premises) more perfume, essential oils and such matter than at least half the specialist shops in existence. [↩]