One big, eternal punchline...

I have no clue what is wrong with me. Is it normal to get mad enough to want to kill people every fucking day? I can't see how
that passes for a life. 99% of everything in this world leaves me disgusted, frustrated or killing mad.. I hate what humans are, hate what I am.. We are nothing more than greedy creatures who have fooled ourselves into believing that we belong in this massive construct called society.. and to exist in this society in the proper manner, we have to be focused and obsessed with the societal ideal of a nuclear family, successful, economically viable career, house, 2 or 3 cars and retirement plan. If you have all that, you are supposed to be content finally, but from what I know and have seen, those people are just as miserable, perhaps moreso than the guy panhandling on the street. You bust your ass for 70% of your life and by the time you have earned the right to enjoy life and the world we live in, you are too old and beaten down to do so. It's all a big fucking joke and if we aren't laughing, I wonder who is.

Self defeating, false evolution.

I have not, nor will I ever be honestly, politically correct. The very thought sickens me and makes me angry.
Politically correctness is nothing more than a shackle, a constraint on free thought, imposed by an increasingly
weak and morally burdened society. How the hell can an individual be "free" when there are so many guidelines imposed
in order to live in harmony with others? What ever happened to "I will think what I think, and you can do the same.. If you don't
agree, so be it." I acknowledge only nature's laws... man's laws are nothing more than a feeble construct meant to oppress
the majority and keep them producing, procreating and consuming. What sense is there in telling other human beings that they aren't even allowed to consume certain plants or fungi that grow naturally upon the same ground we were originally birthed on?
Power, control, society.. all illusions.. Masterfully crafted illusions to be sure, but nothing more. Capitalism, Socialism, Marxism, Communism.. all contrived. All based on our projections of how the order of things should be. Nihilism makes more sense than any of those. As imperfect as nihilism may seem, it is more natural, more possessed of an indisputable logic that we humans just can't seem to grasp with our short lifespans. Order may rise over and over again, but it must always submit to chaos.. always. Chaos is the fabric of this universe, the liquid that is ever in motion. Order is merely the buildup of debris and scum that must inevitably be eroded and flushed away to ensure that progress and evolution continue. Sharks aren't the only organisms that die when they stop moving.. make no mistake.

The enemy.

The enemy cuts deep this night… with knives made of pain, regret, emptiness, failure.

The enemy knows that it is best to cut out the middle man… What has metal to do with pain and death when the stuff of the universe itself rises to shape and forge your weapon? Why bother in material stuffs when absolute purity of force and direction, and murderous intent of the highest caliber are ample and within grasp? There is no middle-man in this world, no call for his wares. In this place, death has had all it will ever need of practice. In this place economy and speed are one in the same, and life is cheaper than at any time on the timeline of humanity's existence.

*Funny how the very construct and concept of economy exists even in scenarios imagined and however wildly exaggerated.

2

Two wholly unpleasant things to have happen within an 8 hour span..

1: Seeing your Subway sandwich being assembled by an obese, shifty, pasty skinned woman with a dark moustache... The individual, thick and coarse hairs protruding from her semi-translucent, fishbelly skin

like some unholy, grotesque human skin fun-factory.

2: Going into the bathroom at work only to discover a toilet seat slathered in blood.

Whose blood is it? are they dying? or merely pushing too hard? What's in that blood?

McMassacre

Cheeseburger violence erupted at McDonaldland today as a burglary went horribly wrong. A pirate and a masked man dressed in a stripey uniform broke into McDonaldland and proceeded to eat it's citizens. Mayor McCheese and several of his flock were eaten alive in the assault. Several packages of frozen fry guys tried to stop the attackers but were subsequently fried in oil and eaten for their trouble. The nightmare ended when Officer BigMac shot the intruders dead in front of a dozen screaming children and their horrified families. Evidence suggests this was an inside job, and authorities are currently seeking an individual known only as "Grimace".

Fish Story

It was with no small level of inebriation or entheogenic influence that I undertook

the small, benign task of feeding my fish. I employ a simple, screw on and off maneuver that distributes a fine layer of food without actually opening the container all the way. I was utilizing this technique, not accounting for heightened senses, muscle pressure error, fatigue, etc.. and dumped like half the fucking food container in the bowl. It's only a 3/4 gallon little bowl I got as a gift with the fish, so I figure that amount of food in a small space with a live fish won't keep overnight like that... it'll either die from too much salt in the water from all the food.. or it'll eat itself to death just like dumb fish do. I've left out important details.. the fish is a male betta I got from a friend for Christmas. I named him Floyd. The food is tetra bettamin I think. It's a bright almost fuschia color with white chunks peppering the surface. Upon consulting the container, I discovered the white chunks were tiny, brine shrimp.

I used a spoon to get as much food out as possible, but it was all falling to the bottom at that point and I was definitely going to have to clean it now.

Floyd's tiny brain was probably HAPPY-HUNGRY-TERRIFIED in that order before and after I cleaned it out.

I transferred Floyd to another container, and cranked on my kitchen's hot water, blasting the bowl to clean it out.

It takes awhile to heat up in this building, but when it gets there, it's hotter than hell and scalds at the touch. The water churns and when I turn the faucet off, the bowl looks like some gnarly snowglobe filled with bright red gobbets of flesh and chunks of bone flying around. Floyd was sitting in the transitional bowl on the kitchen counter right by the sink. (My kitchen is almost prison small.) The pressure and sound from the sink must have been deafening as he is ultra sensitive to even the slightest noises and gestures. Being in the state I was, senses heightened and slightly alien feeling myself, I didn't arrive at this thought until after a few minutes of sustained sink usage, which must have had all the subtlety of two planes crashing into two giant buildings on poor Floyd. I only thought of it because the sound was deafening to me at the time.

I moved him and returned to the bowl I was cleaning. The aforementioned snow gore-globe effect was still in motion and I could make out details on the white, little brine shrimp. I could see their limbs, suspended and somewhat outspread in the water, waving in macro representation of faux life with bright, red bits circling with, but slightly faster than them like tiny, crunchberry will o' the wisps.

There were thousands in there. I kept rinsing and emptying enough brine shrimp to fight a damned decent world war, if they chose to.. which would make me one lucky spectator. I could picture them, perfect little zombie killing machines, all the same size and color.. uniform, like organic stormtroopers with feathery, waving appendages, brandishing macro rifles.

It dawned on me halfway thru this rinsing that all my dishes are now and will be tomorrow encrusted with pet-grade seafood base and enough brine shrimp to fix an undead shrimp election. I'm too fucked at present to care though. I feel good.

The fish is fine by the way, that fucker has to have the PTSD of Rambo at this point, but he never lets it affect his appetite.

1111 is appearing increasingly and becoming more random lately.. the receipt total of the woman in front of me, the sorting code of random parcels at work, the time I receive a call, my car's mileage, a business' last four digits phone number.. all this week... alongside the already prevalent clock presence. Acceleration most certainly signals change. Perpetuity and increase of events means growth, evolution, complexity, nearing an end.