Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Adaptation is the only way
Today I need to be rebirthed as a new, normal, and eager person, a person ready to take charge of my future with a gleaming resolve and captivating smile. However, this is entirely impossible - no hope. The rebirthing is only possible with adaptations done on the atomic level. My butler is reading up on neurochemical/personality realigment rituals today because as is my persona is not applicable. I am stubborn and irritated, unambitious in the ways that I should be ambitious, hiding & cringing. The world is full of chumps. This fact makes me want to opt out. Horrible people always want to crush the spirit. They ask for conformity, normalcy, brain-washing and if one resists they will suffer with no money (which is not terrible but adds trouble) It is also unfair, even though my particular station is pretty easy. I must constantly battle all. The conflict is eternal. It is worse to be adult than teenager. grrrrrrr. The magic is weak today.
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19 comments:
I wish to give up and don the lavender velour sweat suit. Everywhere is perilous. Chumps chumps chumps.
FB, we seem to travel in a parallel universe some days. My concentrator is diminished and my ability to wield magic powers are all but gone. Post haste, your butler must find a cure. Hopefully you will be willing to share. I will also be scrounging deep underground for buried mystics and shamen. I will consult with them on how best to alleviate our world from chumps. I will share what I learn if I can divine the answers.
Ignore the chumps or you become one, Fairy. Your power is yours and chumps will always be chumps.
I know many chumps. Why are we subjected to so many of them? They seem to pop up all over the place and with such lightening speed.
I keep a chump suit in my closet for emergencies.
perchance it will, but today i feel a mofongo existential crisis brewing deep within. HP, I am glad you are sequestered. This is essential for spirit revival and re-alignment.
Didn't you like monfongo?? It is a delicious funk.
I am in a Ylan, Ylan sorta funk. A fragrant but stickily depressing coma.
Try more coke with your Jack. It will pick you right up; the night is young.
The shamen have passed on some wisdom for beating the chumps. First you must find back from the Yew. Then beat it into a paste with pestle and mortar. After that, apply the Yew paste to the tongue of the chump in question. Sit back, relax, and let the past harden into a solid. If you want to embellish the tongue cast a little, it is nice to stick dried marigolds into the paste before it hardens. This creates a nice floral centerpiece while providing a valuable service.
that would be Yew bark, not Yew back. Ewe back might work though. I will have to consult on that.
Hi FB. I am aware of the chumps, they are everywhere: where you live, where you work, and where you walk on the street. The lavendar velour sweat suit does avoid their agressions towards you, you will gain in unwanted stares, but lose in verbal approaches which is wanted. If you wear large sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat you will not mind the stares. I am sorry to hear about your maladaptation. It is not fluid.
I am beginning to believe that I must don the lavender sweats and start putting on the lbs. My inner thighs must crush together at all times forming a bumpy, ripply ridge of aggressive materials. Tight around the hips and loose over my substantial gullet - the saddles must also be prominent. If I am lucky I can form a second "hanging stomach" that will dangle from the true stomach. I am also looking for t-shirts featuring disney characters.
I will hide knives and battle axes in the deep folds of my hanging stomachs. I will then enact my revenge.
Thank you Krix for the yew bark recipe. I will need a very large cauldron as there are so many mindless chumps that need to become floral centerpieces. Maybe I can set up a stand in front of Madison Sq. Garden, luring them in with promise of free juice pouches, capri sun & such. Chump juice.
Chump juice is good for the crumbling of enemies bowels.
FB I am mesmerized by the hanging stomach/weapons arsenal. Very very forward-thinking. The thinking of tomorrow. I am already mega rotund in the stomach and side flanks. The legs swell in unfortunate proportions. It will be good to devise flesh pockets and put stabbers. What I wonder is where to stuff the rocket launcher. It is so large it dwarfs my torso.
mu-mus will work nicely too, when your sweat suit is soiled. Make sure to wear shorts underneath or the inner thighs will chafe from all the flesh rubbing.
short bike shorts in black or white spandex or maybe nude. but chafing may be desired. at least there are options.
I am so depressed. I have so many ailments. The stew is too heavy. the cloak of exhaustion is upon me. I wish I could sleep for many years. I am a chump myself and entrapted by many other chumps. we are a gang of malcontents. there is no relief.
we are all prisoners of the chump farm.
I've heard whispers from the winds that the coma inducing clouds will be lifting in the near future. It is my dream. It is my hope.
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