All right. That brings us to some more grave stuff. I did not expect this the slightest, let’s put it like that. However I do know nothing, to use an old one. It’s good to know nothing. Then you can just ramble on a blog without others being overly smart about it.
Right?
But there are some strange things. I’ll spend a few words on it. Yes. So let me start that I know very well how I’ve reacted to your lunacy. So it is and was imperative to have told you very early on that you will pay. I already wrote down the reasons as well. You’re not gonna use me for the lousiest of the lousiest shit and then a decade later act like everything is all right and I should adapt to your lousiness;
No. So keep that in mind.
But we’re not going to talk about that. I think that many years on repeat of that same mantra is getting a bit boring. We’re going to talk about other things. Yes. I have studied political science. And I have read the newspaper. As mentioned before, we know more than people over here; the point is that only people are supposed to know things actually know, if you get the point.
We know, trust me. One goes to the Yakosuni shirine (or whatever the exact name is) and then there is a usual storm of reactions by all the usual suspects, both domestic and foreign. I can even give you a name list up to 2012 or so, because from then on the world unfolded as it did.
And then there are weirdoes with some abnormal memory condition or so, who gets used for very interesting experiments. That’s not entirely normal, but hey, as long as you medicalize everything you can get away with everything. I mean this type of experiments are almost literally the wet dream of the scientists.
Oh, see? Oversexualized vernacular. We are going to need using some experimental garbage to ‘cure’ that or something along those lines.
Yeah, but that’s not the point. I hope they enjoyed the stupidity of their program, and the exceptional disaster it was. So what do you do then:
Obviously bringing more of it!
Anyway, remember that I know nothing. I just ramble on a blog and that’s it. Other than that I bike and try to get rid of smart folk who exceptionally well how to ruin someone’s life utterly and completely.
That’s all I do.
Which brings us to life. Writing down a metaphor concerning A or B is obviously different from real life. Real life is difficult. I am a bit surprised.
Of all the people some things could be mentioned to people chose me. It’s not the first time, so there is a bit of a pattern. It doesn’t pop up hugely often, but sometimes it does. I think the first time was some 10 years ago in another country not far from here, and it was quite awkward.
It is very strange that of all people in the world they chose a blog rambling half drunk chainsmoking road running alcoholic who just had lost everything in life he valued and had absolutely zero clue about what to do in life.
Mjah. The experts saw it somewhat differently. That’s why they’re experts.
Anyway. I have written down a bit about causes of events in WW2, and as I described before, I have some fairly odd mixture of Marxism and social constructivism in my head; which to me works fine, but is obviously weird to let’s call it ‘classically trained scientists’.
I even wrote a bit in Taiwan. I couldn’t really write at that point, and half of the stuff I read was fabricated, which obviously doesn’t help, but I wrote down the nitty gritty simple down to earth stuff that everyone avoids like the plague. I’m not afraid of that. I know nothing.
What do I know? You don’t need to know much for that. Just accept reality a bit, and that’s it.
All right. A few things went wrong in my life, and I offered a written apology. I’d rather had done in person and just normal, but the experts had taken over already, so that was never going to happen. These people have illnesses that one cannot describe, so yeah, here we are, still writing about this.
The lunacy of my life is that there is an enormous amount of freaks who could consider to offer me an apology. One person has actually done so. One. Who, you might ask?
Well. In grade 5 elementary school we had a girl from the Antilles joining at some point and she was black. This was very interesting to our white class mates who actually saw a great opportunity for an incoming fight. Such was life. After ages I did get fed up with it, lashed out and then bumped my head onto her bag which had gypsym (?, the stuff they make casts of) in it, and that poked a hole in my head. Three stitches I think. Up to not too long ago with the only real scar you could see on my forehead (upper left from my left eye), but I’m aging as well obviously.
And there are more, you just don’t really see them.
Anyway, I was with a former friend (we hardly contact each other anymore, but life is busy of course, especially to me), having some dinner some 10 years ago, when the shitshow had already started done the first, second and third batch of its planned destruction, having some dinner in the city, near my first high school, and guess who was our waitress, that girl from the Antilles!
She did apologize for that day in grade 5.
But she hadn’t even done anything. That was an apology for nothing.
So the only person who actually apologized for something actually didn’t need to at all, cuz there was nothing.
I find that so lunatic that I don’t even have words for it, as what has become the new usual, just other than that you folk are apparently living on some planet where, I don’t know, monkeys have higher forms of awareness than all of you combined.
Anyway, I think it’s important to accept and show that at least something has gone somewhat out of order. So I acted to it. It’s better to the person in question. And that’s about it.
I can’t say the same of a lot of people, which is fine. To me I don’t even care anymore, to me it’s very simple: I want that bag of money and there’s absolutely zero need for an apology.
It would have helped psychologically at some point, but obviously that’s not exactly what you folk have been caring about. Hey go fake some dreamhack event where everyone plays chess or so, cuz that is more your thing.
It doesn’t matter anymore. If you can’t show it the normal way, then just pay.
And I’d advise you to do so.
That’s my life. Again, I know nothing. If you want to make a metaphor out of this, good luck.
No one and absolutely no one is going to like that one.
So in advance I tell you: Maybe you shouldn’t.
(And you fucked up enough already anyway.)
