May 2017
.ich bin der feuer, das bloß isst, und isst, und isst... und... isst; ein feuer das für immer verbrauchen!
i counted...
you know how many times, it takes a male
sparrow to approach a female sparrow,
to impregnate her?
11... ELEVEN - eh-lé-ven...
é-le(h)-ven...
times...
it's almost like
******* for the darwinists...
at least the marxists say:
woman ≠ mantis ≠ black widow spider...
the biology of marxism is stated, plainly:
we exclude all other biological products
of this earth... we accept a case for bio-diversity...
but what will transgender ever do for us?
as asked, simply an e.g.
marxism doesn't draw conclusion
from the animal realm...
it's not supposed to...
you want to compare yourself
to a mantis? **** me! go right ahead...
"eat" the man in the legal courts...
bite his head off... or at least make
his head focus on the vector alimony.
marxism is species exlusive...
social darwinism? it's species inclusive...
hence the comparisons...
women as black widows...
it's ******* sick... at least compare yourself
to a ******* serpent...
which, i'm trying to find the ****,
and eyelids on...
huh?
last time i heard snakes don't blink...
and that's auto-suggestive of the question:
how do they take a ****?
i can't call the cards stating a
"cultural" marxism... since what is cultural,
is actually darwinism.
by now, marxism says: stop the ******* comparison
of the highest form of mammal (human)
with the lowest form of reptile (insect)!
*******! and if that's not what's going on,
then i'm either dead, writing from beyond the grave,
of plain stupid... the self-raising flour type
of argumentative(s);
the moment they stop denying that cultural darwinism
doesn't exist? that's when you have an excuse.
me? i have my whiskey, and my cigarettes,
and some fleetwood mac...
and i live on the borderline
between an urban environment, and the countryside...
what's one of my favourite hobbies while drinking?
sorting oout the trash... i have this fetish for
recycling... i get all itchy fingers, like an octopus
when it comes to sorting out the trash...
like a german with his wind-farm's worth turbines...
i love recycling... those orange bags...
you know that marxism was born from
the meagre material of hegel's lecture notes, right?
and that mongolia was the first communist country?
yeah, they experimented the ideology in mongolia, first.
anyway... getting drunk, and taking out the trash...
recycling... for some reason, i can only compare it
to riding a bicycle in the english countryside...
or the sound of a french horn... compared to a cow farting.
a maine **** farting:
**** me, that's like seeing the taj mahal!
p.s.
i find it uncomfortable to find millenials
faking praises of the gen-Z...
ping-pong in the modern labyrinths
of shopping, really?
you said your bit, let me say mine...
people are not made to become
precursors?! really?!
problem...
as a male... an older woman drunk
looks pathetic:
an old man drunk: eh... that's just normal...
an 50+ aged bachelor:
no problem...
a 50+ "maiden": that's terrible...
a solitary man ageing doesn't
look half as bad as an ageing woman...
who looks better:
roger moore "vs." helen mirren?
too many predictions /
past the common spreschen:
predicts in association to
a respectable lingua...
what are, "my" precursors for the worth
of completing myself...
i hear the warrior-"philosophers"
spew...
in light of infanticide...
man up man up to, what?
what are my ambitions in
and to thorough life?
none resemble the affects
associate with serving the ambitions
of a genus, of a species,
of a cultural darwinism narrative,
as if to, magically,
counter the cultural marxist narrative...
i am to counter?
really?! what's there's to counter?
all the idiot will be half-way through
breeding while i'm planning
my exit strategy...
the human species will be fine
and dandy... whether white or copper
skinned is beside the point...
i just don't tend to appreciate
abortion frivoloties and whatever remains
of masculine ambitions...
well i already know what "masculine ambition"
involves with the opposite ***...
within the confines of oneself...
hello prison esque "return the favor"...
shoved my head up my own ***
for too long i guess...
or a not deep enough pocket of "spare" change...
to fund:
how many moments of insight will
you find listening to a high-heel
on a vinyl rack when a vinyl is missing?!
as many as i would ever have...
nooooooooooooooooooon!
what have i not obliged myself to become
to counter social expectations?
i am a social nuisance...
a culmination of the reigning pathos...
but a sorry state of affairs
is truly a woman in her 30s and her 40s
with... more an abortion in hand
than a birth of a child and a second child
to come...
a drunk woman always appears more
forlorn than a drunk man....
as a man: i am persistent in providing
myself with the ambition
of giving birth ti myself,
even after i am born...
i am still to be born,
in that i am to give birth to myself:
a feat, which will finally materialise upon
my death...
but a woman?
if she hasn't ventured into her
biological realism of spawning birth...
that outcompetes her own
intellectual endeavour and surpasses it?
i don't have that existential luxury
of an existential fulfillment process of
the "easy answer"...
the best i can accomplish to compensate
a replica in terms of being pregnant
is harvest an array of parasites...
tapeworm or cancer...
certainly not a matthew,
or a samatha, or a malachi,
or an amelia.
the closest i'll ever come
to an experience of a foetus is my own ego...
to learn to disembody myself in the variations
of:
(a) the reflexive: myself, and
(b) the reflective: my self...
women have the easy existential
explanation: to provide the continuum narrative...
"we", men? the sort of ******* that comes
in between, the custard explanations,
the excuses worth the ingenuity of "problems
solved".
question is: where these the "problems"
to begin with?
this desolate man still concerns himself
with tennis:
two players...
an array of umpires... the size of a football team
(11)... and the ball collector boys / girls
(6)...
an old bachelor... is half the problem
of the half of society's ills...
but an old maid / spinster?
a drunk man can retain his stage of funny...
but a drunk woman of the same age
is just tragic.
i counted...
you know how many times, it takes a male
sparrow to approach a female sparrow,
to impregnate her?
11... ELEVEN - eh-lé-ven...
é-le(h)-ven...
times...
it's almost like
******* for the darwinists...
at least the marxists say:
woman ≠ mantis ≠ black widow spider...
the biology of marxism is stated, plainly:
we exclude all other biological products
of this earth... we accept a case for bio-diversity...
but what will transgender ever do for us?
as asked, simply an e.g.
marxism doesn't draw conclusion
from the animal realm...
it's not supposed to...
you want to compare yourself
to a mantis? **** me! go right ahead...
"eat" the man in the legal courts...
bite his head off... or at least make
his head focus on the vector alimony.
marxism is species exlusive...
social darwinism? it's species inclusive...
hence the comparisons...
women as black widows...
it's ******* sick... at least compare yourself
to a ******* serpent...
which, i'm trying to find the ****,
and eyelids on...
huh?
last time i heard snakes don't blink...
and that's auto-suggestive of the question:
how do they take a ****?
i can't call the cards stating a
"cultural" marxism... since what is cultural,
is actually darwinism.
by now, marxism says: stop the ******* comparison
of the highest form of mammal (human)
with the lowest form of reptile (insect)!
*******! and if that's not what's going on,
then i'm either dead, writing from beyond the grave,
of plain stupid... the self-raising flour type
of argumentative(s);
the moment they stop denying that cultural darwinism
doesn't exist? that's when you have an excuse.
me? i have my whiskey, and my cigarettes,
and some fleetwood mac...
and i live on the borderline
between an urban environment, and the countryside...
what's one of my favourite hobbies while drinking?
sorting oout the trash... i have this fetish for
recycling... i get all itchy fingers, like an octopus
when it comes to sorting out the trash...
like a german with his wind-farm's worth turbines...
i love recycling... those orange bags...
you know that marxism was born from
the meagre material of hegel's lecture notes, right?
and that mongolia was the first communist country?
yeah, they experimented the ideology in mongolia, first.
anyway... getting drunk, and taking out the trash...
recycling... for some reason, i can only compare it
to riding a bicycle in the english countryside...
or the sound of a french horn... compared to a cow farting.
a maine **** farting:
**** me, that's like seeing the taj mahal!
p.s.
i find it uncomfortable to find millenials
faking praises of the gen-Z...
ping-pong in the modern labyrinths
of shopping, really?
you said your bit, let me say mine...
people are not made to become
precursors?! really?!
problem...
as a male... an older woman drunk
looks pathetic:
an old man drunk: eh... that's just normal...
an 50+ aged bachelor:
no problem...
a 50+ "maiden": that's terrible...
a solitary man ageing doesn't
look half as bad as an ageing woman...
who looks better:
roger moore "vs." helen mirren?
too many predictions /
past the common spreschen:
predicts in association to
a respectable lingua...
what are, "my" precursors for the worth
of completing myself...
i hear the warrior-"philosophers"
spew...
in light of infanticide...
man up man up to, what?
what are my ambitions in
and to thorough life?
none resemble the affects
associate with serving the ambitions
of a genus, of a species,
of a cultural darwinism narrative,
as if to, magically,
counter the cultural marxist narrative...
i am to counter?
really?! what's there's to counter?
all the idiot will be half-way through
breeding while i'm planning
my exit strategy...
the human species will be fine
and dandy... whether white or copper
skinned is beside the point...
i just don't tend to appreciate
abortion frivoloties and whatever remains
of masculine ambitions...
well i already know what "masculine ambition"
involves with the opposite ***...
within the confines of oneself...
hello prison esque "return the favor"...
shoved my head up my own ***
for too long i guess...
or a not deep enough pocket of "spare" change...
to fund:
how many moments of insight will
you find listening to a high-heel
on a vinyl rack when a vinyl is missing?!
as many as i would ever have...
nooooooooooooooooooon!
what have i not obliged myself to become
to counter social expectations?
i am a social nuisance...
a culmination of the reigning pathos...
but a sorry state of affairs
is truly a woman in her 30s and her 40s
with... more an abortion in hand
than a birth of a child and a second child
to come...
a drunk woman always appears more
forlorn than a drunk man....
as a man: i am persistent in providing
myself with the ambition
of giving birth ti myself,
even after i am born...
i am still to be born,
in that i am to give birth to myself:
a feat, which will finally materialise upon
my death...
but a woman?
if she hasn't ventured into her
biological realism of spawning birth...
that outcompetes her own
intellectual endeavour and surpasses it?
i don't have that existential luxury
of an existential fulfillment process of
the "easy answer"...
the best i can accomplish to compensate
a replica in terms of being pregnant
is harvest an array of parasites...
tapeworm or cancer...
certainly not a matthew,
or a samatha, or a malachi,
or an amelia.
the closest i'll ever come
to an experience of a foetus is my own ego...
to learn to disembody myself in the variations
of:
(a) the reflexive: myself, and
(b) the reflective: my self...
women have the easy existential
explanation: to provide the continuum narrative...
"we", men? the sort of ******* that comes
in between, the custard explanations,
the excuses worth the ingenuity of "problems
solved".
question is: where these the "problems"
to begin with?
this desolate man still concerns himself
with tennis:
two players...
an array of umpires... the size of a football team
(11)... and the ball collector boys / girls
(6)...
an old bachelor... is half the problem
of the half of society's ills...
but an old maid / spinster?
a drunk man can retain his stage of funny...
but a drunk woman of the same age
is just tragic.
