Get Those Fucking Shoes of the Seat!

 Using public transport tends to reveal some rudimentary moral values instilled by our families and society. E.g. as a child, it was always proper and polite to get up for the elderly or a pregnant woman and offer your seat. You would do this with a big smile, feeling good about giving back to society to fortify and support its foundation of good conduct and security. And while such an effort may be seen as very small, it adds up in the end. It is the frequency and quantity of good deed that defines the well-being of our society.

At least in public, there is this idea that modern society has progressed on all fronts. Technology has advanced and enabled us to do unbelievable things. Social stigmas have been eradicated and replaced with inclusiveness and tolerance. We're tolerant good-hearted sympathetic human beings with intentions of the betterment of mankind. Except for the technology, I'm ready to challenge that notion. Are we really that deluded? Or do we simply play along with the fairytale narrative in circulation? All it takes is to look at the fucking public transport. 

A part of my daily ritual to get to and from work is to ride the bus and train. During these commutes, I realise how far we have strayed from the fundamental moral values that were prevalent in my youth. Notably, shitty behaviour is found in youngsters. It is apparent that people love the idea of having children but can't be fucked to invest time in raising them. Their concept of parental love and guidance is implemented and showcased through buying material goods. The result is overprivileged, overindulged, supercilious, narcissistic cunts. If the offspring can't behave well at home by not respecting their own parents, why would they be respectful to people in public? Getting up for the elders or pregnant doesn't faze these cunts. They're generally too immersed in their mobile phones, blocking out the world around them to indulge in their own comfort. As an insult to injury, it's also very common to see them placing their dirty shoes on the seats opposite them. This behaviour pisses me off. On a few occasions, I have told them that their disregard and manners are unacceptable. The response has always been rude and unregretful, then followed to simply mind my own damn business. This is where we are heading, a society of egocentrism and narcissism. 

People, if you aren't up to the task of raising your kids, then get a colour television.

The Immutable Change

 As you get older, your circle of friends and confidants shrink drastically. People say: "we grow apart". A diplomatic statement to cover up the ugly truth of our increased self-awareness and selfishness that comes with age. Once we realise that the friend can no longer provide for our long-term needs, be it emotional, financial, or intellectual, that person is discarded. You could argue that this is a crude oversimplification and that more factors are involved, but be honest. We are self-serving cunts. Nobody loves you more than you love you. With that said, there are exceptions. There are people whose presence in our lives is a constant. They are with you through the good and ugly, always ready to catch you if you fall, listen, and tell you the truth.

Recently I lost someone very dear to me. If only the cause had been death, I would have been able to process the loss and tell myself that is the way of things. However, in this case, it resulted from engineered, twisted mindfuckery and puppeteering by a third party. Many nights have I lay awake, staring idly into the darkness, pondering how and why things crumbled to this state and ways to remedy it. Unfortunately, there is no going back. The pillar in my life cracked, and with it, my core, my foundation.

To presume that certain things can't change has proven to be a fallacy. While certain things in life may be sacred to you, others could very well disagree with your point of view in silence. You may realise that your pillar no longer has any need of you. Those long-term needs... well, they're provided by someone else.

The Age of Super Wank

So, here I am again, emerged after an extended but unintentional pause. When people say that the years have been kind to them, I'm convinced they're either lying, have unrestricted access to recreational drugs, or are the offspring of one of the few and effete European royal families. The years that pass have their portion of good and bad in them, with the only common denominator being the increasing pace at which they pass. Yes, time is a rogue agent, operating under its own rules and unafraid to piss on the laws of physics.

It is unclear when and how that society has become an egocentric, narcissistic cesspool. Though many would argue that the rise of social media to be the main culprit. Too many people have been given an outlet to voice and act out their fantasies. This is what happens when people are allowed to rub one out to their own videos and photos, the ultimate Droste effect of recursive masturbation: Super Wank. 

Intelligence and wisdom have dwindled proportionally with the increase of shallow people insisting on uttering their dim-witted opinions. Any form of reason or logic is shackled and gagged to make way for the simpleton's paradise. I've effectively stopped watching and reading news due to the endless feed of deterioration and corruption of morals. Traditional values designed to maintain and protect society have been deemed obsolete, only to be replaced by ideas inherently inclined towards violent mental masturbation. One might wonder where and when a line will be drawn, but it seems that people are happy doing whatever they want without being held accountable.

Statistically speaking, I still have a couple more decades on this planet. And while I can't imagine what new degenerative trends could surface during that time, I'm confident that the depraved cunts demolishing our society and culture won't disappoint. Can anything be done to stop or reverse this effect? Personally, I doubt it, but I'm willing and hoping to be proved wrong. For now, stay sane by staying away from the Super Wank.

A grain of hope beyond a receding hairline

Vanity, a cardinal sin... at least to some. As for myself I consider small amounts of vanity to be healthy to maintain some decent appearance. Not necessarily you'd have to look like Mr. Universe or a swimsuit model, but at least a level above looking like somebody who got eaten and shat out. After all, we do live in a society that tends to judge people by the appearances first, even though the majority in open and plain hypocrisy say “it is the inside that matters”. Do I hear anybody here say balls?

I've been going to the gym for a while now. Unfortunately, my genetic disposition has never allowed me to eat carelessly and in any quantity without paying the toll of becoming a pancake house. And certainly now with age, I seem to be paying even more and discovering a growing intolerance to certain foods that I years earlier would have no problems consuming. It's sad, but what can I do? However, I have successfully established a routine to keep the pancake house at bay. Going there in the mornings I do see people of various ages and sizes. You have the Sporty spice type of guys and girls, and then you have the ones that look like that they were gang raped by a box of donuts. And while that does sound a bit harsh, I do applaud them for getting up early as they do to try to combat the pancake house. It is after all our vanity that takes us to the gym. Well... that and the constant propaganda in the media.

There is one man there that I always see. He is in his late 60s or early 70s I believe, but the man is without doubt in incredible shape. If somebody told me that he came out of his mother's cunt riding a bike, or already participating in an ironman competition, I would believe them. He comes in with the sweatpants and shirt and looks like platinum Oscar statue. Seeing him though, it made me wonder, when is it alright and acceptable to simply say “Fuck it, I'm old and fat and that's the end of it.”. At what point are we supposed to draw the line and stop hearken on to our vanity? Is there an age where we are too old to stay fit and good looking?

Those to come

In the supermarket, on the bus, in shopping centres in the restaurants. I see it everywhere. It's a sad sad sight. Not even the Columbine shooting is this sad. I'm not sure if I can shake my head anymore without giving myself a concussion. What am I talking about? People who think they can be parents.

What the hell happened to people? All I see are little twats manipulating and controlling the bigger twats. All pedagogical abilities are entirely absent. What's even worse is how these individuals are convinced that they somehow know better than any other experienced parents, including their own. In what mind is that possible? What kind of cocktail of hard drugs do you have to take to believe that? What arrogance! Just because you knocked someone up or got knocked up by someone. Cunt-gratulations on this rare and special endeavour.

So often I see kids throwing hissy fits in public places, and the parents try to negotiate or reason with the kid. And I stand there looking at this and remember back when I was kid. I couldn't do any of that shit. My parents would give me the “fisheye look”. That look said it all. It was a menace of biblical proportions. Fire and brimstone would rain down upon me right there. I would know this and would cease all cuntic activity that very instant. In fact, I would get looks for doing much less, let alone throwing a fit. Good God, that would be like jumping in front of a train and thinking that I would get away with a scratch. Most of you reading this might be thinking “Oh my God, his parents beat him. That's sad. He's traumatised and doesn't know what he is saying.”. If you are, then from the bottom of my heart, balls to you. Look around you for crying out loud. There's a reason why the world is saturated with supercilious twats. It's because they were never put in their place. They were never told how to behave and treat their elders. So, if you are a parent and I urge you to reflect for a moment... punch that kid in the mouth before it's too late.

Love R.E.D.E.F.I.N.E.D

People talk about it, portray it in the media and glorify it as an embracing and unifying force. Yes... love. Love me here, love me there, and love me everywhere. With all of this praising of love, one would think the world would be a better place, but as it turns out, it's quite the contrary. The world has never resembled a cesspool as much as now. It has become a melting pot of cuntism and dickreaucracy. Even back in the day, when domestic violence was considered a natural activity in a household, the world wasn't this bad. You may sit there and think that life and society isn't too bad where you live, but there are many atrocious things taking place as you read this that isn't covered by any media. The fact that you have it better is because somewhere else someone is paying the price.

So what exactly did happen? Where is the pink factor? Where are the heart-shaped nipples and balls? It all sounds and looks contradictory to our modern belief in the omnipotence of love. Are we all really hypocritical twats? The short answer, not really. People do aspire to fall in love. But we've simply managed to redefine the concept and idea of love...

We now live in a consumer oriented society and our needs are constantly forced to change. The media makes us believe that we need to change what we have in order to get something better. Cars, houses, clothes, televisions, mobile phones. It all needs to be upgraded to something superior. Even with love, we now see partner-cycling. People only love as long as it suits their needs. It's not uncommon nowadays to have been married 3-4 times. How is that even possible? Is it possible that one person can have THAT poor judgement and hasn't learned from previous experiences? No, obviously it is something else. We simply love being in love. We want to feel and live the love that we see on the silver screen. We want to hold hands, go out for romantic dinners and have those amazing moments that we see rendered in slow motion in the movies. Love isn't this and never was. The whole love-at-first-sight isn't anything more than a superficial infatuation. Of course, this doesn't mean to grow into something more. That leaves the question, what is love then, if it isn't balls-at-first-sight?

I'm sure that most have heard the term “love is like a garden”. You'll likely nod and say to yourself that the saying is true. However, there is more to it. See, a garden wasn't always just a garden. It started out as something. It didn't just materialize. Likely it started out as dead and infertile soil. But with time and dedication it grew into a beautiful garden and so. By now you realise what I'm getting at. Love is a process and it's ongoing. It doesn't come from the big bang following the balls-at-first-sight. We find love because we make a conscious decision of making time and adapting to the potential candidate. This is what it ultimately is, and you may be sitting there shaking your head, and if that is the case, then balls to you. Balls to anyone who has bought into the modern concept of love. Balls to “Oh my god, we said the same thing at the same time, she's totally my soul mate.”. Balls to those who cycle partners thinking they're procuring true love. Love is logical and level-headed.

Prelude To Sodomy

A couple of months had passed since I moved into the Sodomite Mansion. Life had taken its course and the initial awkwardness had become casual speech spiced with ad libitum usage of the F- and C-word.
The China Box had also started greeting me with “hai” and “hau ah yu” and his visits were more frequent as well. I would always hear them upstairs in the kitchen cooking dinner together flirting. Well...flirting as faggots flirt. Not that it bothered me, but it was just odd to hear men interact that way, which then again led up to the post-dinner foreplay. Now, I never personally witnessed any of these foreplay sessions, however, I was well aware they took place. You would be inclined to ask: How do you know? Simple. The persistent sound of cutlery touching the plates would cease, conversation would be exchanged with silence with occasional snickering and not least, the music. The music was the hallmark of hot steaming gay sex fantasies. The prelude to sodomy.

Classical music would flow gently from the loudspeakers to set the mood for what would become yet another memorable arsefucking. My thoughts were that in the gay world the art of seduction was different as well as the ingredients. What would work for a man and a woman didn't get two men hard. Similarly, being a man and sucking someone's cock, the choice of background music would be Vivaldi or Bach because Michael Bolton or Bryan Adams was just too fucking straight.
One evening the four seasons was playing full blast from upstairs, and I suddenly heard someone coming down the stairs. It was The China Box joyfully taking the steps in small joyful hops. I noticed how he fished a small flat and square package from his jacket and pretty much sprinted upstairs. Again, I sat wondering. What the fuck did I just bear witness to? Aside from the moan I had heard some time back, I knew at least it was safe sex. Safe Sodomy. But that wasn't the issue. The issue was the joy, the thrill, the happiness that the China Box radiated upon descending those stairs. How could anyone be this ecstatic moments before, they were going have someone maul their cock up their anus? This guy almost jumped up and clicked his heels together to the mere thought that someone was about to destroy him from behind. It defied my logic and comprehension of the world.

Being from the opposite side of the sexual spectrum, I could tell that I still had a lot to learn about human sexuality. The homo flirting was still alien to me, but at the same time it was intelligible in the sense that it was an ingredient in any relationship. Ultimately it had to be the lack of exposure. I could attest to the fact that I didn't cringe as much to this man love, as I had initially done. Even the China Box' comment the other day “Now I have to wear tsu piece of underwear” didn't make me cringe. Well...maybe it did. At least my tolerance had enhanced, and as long as the foreplay was out of sight, it was out of mind. Until then! Bring all the great composers of the past and play and fuck all you want fags.

Edward T. Shufflebottom