Finding amusement in my discomfort has been a recurrent and unappreciated theme in my life, with my tormentors invariably blessed with an Alzheimer's memory complemented by a liar’s imagination. That said, I wear the abuse of idiots well and have often profited by it.
One saving grace to the trauma inflicted is the mining of the carnage for the benefit of more benign onlookers (always an audience for train wrecks). This has manifested in blogs, memoirs, and substacks.
My writings, filled not just with clinical documentation but also whimsical commentary, take my antagonists to task, affording them small-corner immortality as star players in my field of assholes.
Harsh? Perhaps - but it at least contrasts favorably with those who’ve made a career of taking shots to the nutsack that would make Chinese martial artists wince, but can only muster, “Thank you, sir, may I have another?"
How infinitely preferable to yell, "OUCH! Stop that shit, asshole!"
That neither tormentor nor tormented learn—personally or vicariously—is by design, of course, as the critical faculty of the species has devolved to the point where a sizable portion of its constituency looks at mercenary athletes as heroes, delusional men as women, and books as a preliterate tribesman does the boom tube—the latter of which is largely accountable for the regression.
Increasingly contemptuous of the populous they’ve weaned, our beloved globalists took that Blood, Sweat and Tears song "And When I Die" to heart, no more so than when the singer says, "… And when I die and I'm dead and gone there’ll be one more child born into this world to carry on."
Damn, they doubtlessly thought—it’s not just a matter of bumping off one idiotic generation, but preventing another.
And so, so much engineered overkill when it comes to dealings with humanity. From the Amish to the Zulu, no obstacle—Alps, swamps, confidence courses—stops these all-terrain predators from stealing everything and killing everyone they can lay their wretched hands on.
That they can make you their little project, their little guinea pig, their bitch is not because you're something special, but because you're not. Just one more faceless entity among the extraneous billions. Without hitch or hiccup they telegraph every punch via predictive programming and postulated pandemics along the way because they can. With impunity.
Just look at the litany of all the would-be whistleblowers who’ve absolutely and definitively been executed via having been suicided, including everyone from Boeing employees to Jeffrey Epstein to all manner of witnesses to all manner of crimes perpetrated by the rich, the powerful, and the immune to prosecution. Every wretched ref, umpire, judge, jury, and executioner is on their teat.
To further hedge their bets, the globalists of high-tech exploit every conceivable medium to dilute, dumb down, dehumanize, demoralize, and depopulate.
Canaries are in plentiful supply, as conspicuous as Capistrano swallows in the spring. An uptick in turbo cancers, estate sales, needs of domestic assistance, complications, medicinal side effects, aerosolized threats, meteorological manipulations, sterilized populations, processed foods, and all manner of conventional horrors.
Throughout the last four years, their comforting mantra: trust the science. But what science and whose?
I say trust the vetted science.
Ironically, I believe in the concept of vaccination as I am vaccinated against their BS. Still, like all immunological agents, it’s entailed dealing with all manner of pricks.
If it’s true that we’re all in this together - truth? society's foreskin, if not forcibly removed then fashionably hidden - we have only sardine can social engineering to thank, as there are few allies among this cold, calculating idiot constituency (most hate our intelligence as it indicts their own).
And so we—Shaw’s unreasonable men—are decried, derided, and disenfranchised. Not because of deficiencies of logic or merit, but owing to their very assets as threats in a cluster-fuck world where folks are elevated or diminished to the degree they support or detract from a particular end, be it climate change, gender fluidity, the Lincoln Project, and every other absurdity shoved down our collective throats.
Yes, I’m outnumbered, outflanked, outgunned and had enough of this dumb-assed RICO-prosecution worthy shit; yep, I am fully prepared to be at war with myself, as well.
But hey, it all keeps me going in my unassisted care facility, a hospice where hatred goes to die.
Your mileage may vary.
LOL.
Long time no read, Dean. If a coin could be forged with three sides, yours would be one, the other two by Anne Gibbons (a visual planck unit), and Margaret Anna Alice's "Mistakes Were Not Made".
The content, I take for granted. But the style with which you craft it? More blood, sweat, and tears than I can muster. 'God bless the child' in you. 😂
Cheers Dean!
Long time no hear (sorry Dean it was early),,,,, good to read your pontifications. I always gain something from reading them. We are on the same sheet of music.