The many things I couldn't give less of a shit about

Thursday, 25 February, Year 13 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

I looked over "the news", for the first time in... must be half a year, at the least.

The last clear memory I have of such an attempt comes from back in Spring, back when I left Europe behind and every dork out there was falling all over themselves in their #BostonWannabe standard pantsuits t-shirts.

I can't conceive who's seriously reading that crap. A few days ago, while entertaining myself at the local Bistrot de Paris over some fluid du Cotes du Rhonei and navarin d'aigneau (or maybe it was beef bourguignon ? I forgetii) my eye was caught (after spending the due time following the proper contours of all the young slutsiii depicted on the walls) by a very strange book indeed. Large and gilt, with a title impossible for a book. I lifted it to see its insides, whereupon i discovered it wasn't a book at all. It was just an empty box shaped like a book, a decor element, a McGuffin. That's the fucking "news" in its current Pravda 2.0 reinstantiation, nobody reads it because nobody can read it because there's nothing there to read. It's not for reading, it's for keeping around the "house"iv. Not even yakking about it importantly, just exchanging "meaningful" looks and mournful sighs "about it". As fucking if.

Traim decenii de impliniri marete went the old refrain. In these decades of grandiose accomplishments what used to be news, readily accessible (to every comfortable white male with a woman or two under coverturev, some friends and some business associates, some books and some horses etcetera), a quarter or whatever, became "national security briefs"vi. What used to be gossip, namely a bunch of self-important know-nothings yakking their inconsiderable bullshit as if god's own army of angels was right there, right over the horizon, listening in intently... that's now the news. It's all it is, 100% of what you take for "the news" is read by the people who made it, want to start making it, think they could make it and no-one else besides. Exactly like food only the cooks are eating (also known as shit), these "news". And, self-obviously, gossip's gone the way of the guy playing guitar at a partyvii, to rest inside the pages of books discussing coverture and other "mid 19th century by which we mean 1972" topics. Who has the time for maintaining a social circle, having friends, throwing parties, are you kidding me ?! There's a boatload of Netflix to watch, while trying one's darndest to not notice that these deranged sitcoms they now pretend are movies took off sanity a good while ago, and are proceeding on their own terms into the vacuous voids, bizarre convention built upon bizarre convention and all the while the chasm between anything like people and their odd misrepresentations ever growing unchecked.

Occasionally "the competition", namely the sad sorta resourceless male who plays the fiance role in setups like "oh yeah, my slave was engaged when I took her" attempts a littleJ on me. Perhaps there's something we can talk about ? I mean, we're both people, right ? There must be some basis somewhere.

The problem is that between the news, the netflix, the furnishings of the tank there's exactly nothing that interests me. Da fuck do I care what some cuck said about some other cuck's sayings in the matter of cucky mcuckerson's cuckolding party ? I could give less of a shit, I'm sure, I've just not yet figured out how.

Basically the things I don't give a shit about are everything, as you understand it. (The sentiment's not mutual, of course, which is why you read meviii and I don't read you.) The only question remaining is how the fuck aren't you in jail ?!

The answer, of course...

  1. The wine guy came over upon my ordering to excuse himself : they only have it at room temperature. To my retort that good for them, that's precisely how they're supposed to have it, and while at it do France a favour and take the rest of the red wine out of the freezers he responded (in French) with his blessings, and the footnote that inasmuch as they want to stay in business, they've gotta be in the business of catering to the whims and "tastes" of the world's stupid cunts, rather than any kind of sense. Which is both very good sense on their part and perfectly laudable as such, but still perfectly lamentable in totum.

    Eat Shit And Die, World Moms United. []

  2. In fairness what I do is, I eat off everyone's plates like I own them (which I do), so meals become somewhat confused in my mind. []
  3. Do you know how I know they're sluts ?

    Because their activities are adequate to womanhood, that's how I know!

    They fucking dance, in the sense of artfully exposing their cunt. They don't listlessly go around in "comfy" shoes and drab sweaters reaching past their wrists.

    They work each other, instead of bumping into the designated servicing unit whenever they feel themselves in need of servicing. At which juncture I should probably explain that I find little more disgusting than the sight of the subhuman female / girl rubbing into her cuck for servicing.

    You know how you've been trained (to some slight degree by yourself even) to have a certain reaction when a loser-looking dude smiles a certain way at a bare six year old's bottom ? That, very much that. What you're trying to emulate & repurpose is in fact the very natural reaction of nauseating disgust coming as very necessary response to your lamentable reproductive practices.

    It's not even there for reproduction! It's for sex! They ain't the god damned same thing, not even by a longshot. Not the same ballgame. You've got the bits attached to make art with them, not to make more philistines just like your stupid mother did. What could possibly be not self-obvious about that ?

    There's already enough philistines drowning us in their repugnant drab all around. There's enough of their regrettable ilk to not only last out all eternity, but actually to make reproduction appear a regrettable misfortune. So badly and utterly have you misused the cunt to date, for dribbling tadpoles out of it instead of dancing with it, that the sum total over the whole population now comes out negative!

    More work less princess, get it through your thick skin already. []

  4. Not that any of the battery chickens have houses anymore, but what am I to do, say "keeping around the housing" ? []
  5. Look this up sometime, then explain to me how come you never heard of it ? Your mom lived under it, except I suppose if you're an uppity little tadpole, in which case your granma definitely lived under it. How come you don't know about the state of the world so recently as within living memory ? Is all that "just the facts" related to any facts anywhere whatsoever at all ?! []
  6. Something you don't have access to, because the bar's now slightly higher than anything you can touch, of course. Not that anyone'd tell you that, why the fuck would they. After all, school used to be for equipping you with the arms of supremacy ; now though, it's just for equipping you with the fetters of bondage. Sorrynotsorry or w/e they say. []
  7. Do you remember this, by the way ? At some point prior to the grandiose and the accomplishments, there were people, you could throw a party, there's chicks who spent the whole sixth decade "of the previous century" in the buff, nude from party to party. Or what, you thought what TV shows you of the 60s is what the 60s were ? Really ? []
  8. No point denying it, you don't matter in any personal sense, Trilema's by far the most read anything on the web and that objective truth's all that matters. []
Category: Zsilnic
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  1. [...] least specifically looked for each chapter, whereas a physical book can (and god knows often enough does) end up closer to a brick in its usage than [...]

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