Do the Depressed in Darfur Need Zoloft?
Anti-War Rally in DC: January 26, 1991. WERE YOU THERE? I was.
Some have questioned my philanthropic, pro-human, anti-establishment intentions (these blog walls are very very thin), even accusing them to be newfound, or worse, insincere positions. My cred and commitment were cemented long ago, so please speak a little louder, my ears are popping on this moral high ground and I can't hear you over the roar of my own awesomeness.
I admit it, I have an "agenda" - I WANT TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE. Sue me, you litigious bastards. It would be great if everyone could feel the U.S.'s embarrassment of riches but behind the glowing red faces, blood turns black like oil when exposed to outside realities. Human race preservation is a scary thought when you leave the venture capitalists, brie market enthusiasts and creature comforts out of the equation but it's the only way.
Look, don't come crying to me if my actions make you feel inadequate. They should. You could be doing something other than leaving anonymous blog comments and making cock-cock jokes to make a difference and when I serve as a constant reminder of that, you hate yourself even more. You know the old metaphor. Dog chasing its own tail, instead of feeding it you kick it to death and hide the bones in a closet filled with old phonebooks, 80s porn, an elephant lamp that's supposed to turn on when you pull the trunk and every other sign of failure in your life. Jealousy is the dominant trait of self-loathing fools with one foot in the depraved kitty and both hands on a blender. Heavy stuff, I know.
I once knew someone who was prone to repeating "Life is short" when logical reasoning was not within their facilities, which was often. It's certainly a true statement. Just ask these people.
