Most People are Nothing

Thought for the day: most people are nothing.

They create elaborate ruses merely to give themselves empty meaning to a shell occupied by a soul apparently inflated out of some cosmic ass. Bulk shopping supercenters support the evidence. For every one genuine essence eking out an admirable position, there must be at least ten sweatpants and appliqued sweatshirt phlegm with limbs believing in a gut sagging right to belittle a good thing.

I wish the city would wrap itself in a concrete wall admissible by invitation only - barring that, there should be an exam required for entrance - it's funny what we put foreigners through to bless them with residency, but what's worse - a lack of fluency in English or a proud of the good ole USA red white and blue till I die baby yeehaw who can't spell, write, speak, or much less think better than a third grader (and offending youngsters, with that categorization)?

That's my complaint - that even here such sorry excuses for orgasms can touch the sidewalks. I know that the God and Goddess cannot reign alone, that there must be co-committee members for they would not-could not-in fair conscience allow sex to produce these cretins. And it makes sense too - since the miscreants don't ever possess enough functioning rationality to see beyond a life where priests beat Gacy's batting average with underage penises, women are bebop punching bag slot machines, and scrapple and Mad Dog and anything processed, rubberized, and dropped into chemical plant heaven is a meal fit for a king.

Would love to stick those corn dog sticks up through their pork by-product internals.