"Anger Management"
by: michael g.
Fuck preservation.
I hate museums and libraries and photo albums. No one can move on these days. Sitting here on my desk is a sample package of Armor All Protectant Wipes, and I can't help but wonder what motherfucker invented this, why couldn't he just accept the fact that dashboards wear out with enough sun damage. Nothing lasts in our world, and when we try to make it last, we just end up overcrowding ourselves. All this "save the children" bullshit. Fuck the kids. If they all die, then that's less tax dollars for us to spend on education. Why can't people see that?
Oh, but they're so gentle and precious and charming and adorable. Yeah, till they shit on your couch and piss on your leg. At least with dogs I can smack em around and not get arrested for it. What's the problem with bruising up a kid? Let him learn what pain is for fuck's sake! If the kid lives this sheltered life, not knowing pain and suffering, the kid won't know what to avoid later in life! He'll be curious and wonder why his parents kept him away from the world of suffering.
And these cocksuckers on a lifequest to find their soulmate. A fucking waste of time, I tell you. I hope they find their soulmate in an internet chatroom that they entered by mistake, and they have no idea what beastiality is, or why this chatroom was named beastiality. They'll type to each other, cybering as if penetration is being made...
"Damn baby, push it in slow."
"I am, really slow baby..."
"it's all slimy and juicy"
"that's the lube...this is making me really hard."
"me too"
"i thought you were a female?"
These fucking idiots and their hypocracy, their fucking stupidity and idiocracy, idiosticity, I hate them all.
If I were to enter the stock market, I'd start investing in stock for high temperature furnaces, because the way we're destroying ourselves, there would be no room left to bury any bodies, and the only option left would be to incinerate them. Imagine, all the smoke and flesh floating to the sky, now just thick grey fog and orange embers floating to the sky, merging with the clouds. We'd be covered in death. Death would literally be looming over our heads.
And we'd be partying, celebrating death, flying our country's flag as if that was going to change shit. That's how we fight back. With pride. You bomb our country? Fuck you, we're flying our flag at half mast.
You go to a crowded public place with an AK-47 and shoot up the bodies of five year old girls in wheelchairs who are unable to move their limbs and have to operate their wheelchairs using their mouth? Fuck you, I'm putting a sticker on my car and wearing a colored ribbon on my lapel. I'm part of a team now, you can't fuck with us.
Hell no, those terrorists aren't gonna dare to fuck with us now. We have flags and bumper stickers and ribbons and fucking TELEVISION SHOWS REMINDING US WHAT HAPPENED AND HOW ANOTHER COUNTRY FUCKED US IN THE ASS AND ALL WE CAN DO IS FLY A FLAG AND SAY HOW PROUD WE ARE TO BE IN A COUNTRY WHICH WAS SODOMIZED BY A SERIES OF GUYS WITH THICK BEARDS.
This is the free world, baby. Except for, you know, those pesky city, state, and country laws.
We've come to the point where it's actually dangerous for me to cum inside of a girl's ass, have another slut suck it out and spit it back in her face. What the hell is with that? I want to be free as a bird, existential as a homeless dog or cat, and self-dependent as a...well, fuck, everything's dependent on something now, huh?
Light bulbs and electricity, clocks and batteries, shit, even a stapler and staples. Yeah, we've got that.
I hope these needy little attention sluts stick a black man's wire hairbrush up their ass and twist real slow so that their anal tissue tears and they bleed for weeks and shit is constantly coming through their digestive system because they can't stop eating for five minutes, so their fecal matter is always infecting the wounds they created in their ass.
In fifteen years, this little shithole planet we call Earth, that heavenly precious thirteen year-old daughter you named Shaquiterita, because it makes her blacker, she'll die of syphillis she contracts from a gang bang with three men she won't know, but they'll be wearing the most adorable white robes and hoods over their heads and slits cut out for their eyes and a patch with a cross on their left breast.
In fifteen years, that nine year old kid you named k4o5 will have drug-raped the majority of his girlfriends, stick his dick inside of your neighbor's cat to experiment with different kinds of pussy, and his balls will become shriveled up because the rate of his sperm production at that age can't keep up with his sexual addiction, which will be fueled by his step-step mother and might-as-well-be-dead father playing their own sex games with him every night.
In fifteen years, this country will have fucked itself to death, eaten itself to death, smoked, drugged, and drank itself to death, bombed itself to death, shot itself to death, and flown enough flags that if we sewed them all together end to end, side to side, they'd blanket the country three times.
And at least from space, the other countries who are just beginning to garner the technology to enter the Space Race, they'll see our country covered in red, white and blue flags. And it'll be an amazing sight.
In God we trusted.
There was our first mistake.
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©2001 mg
