I am currently reading this guy who is so totally hilarious I am lifting the best quotes from his posts and forming a whole post into them...
In no particular order, I love this guy's adjectival biceps. He flexes them and I have moments...
He reminds of what I want to become, a prolific asshole.
No. 1. As he talks of his Conscience in Pamella
"But the wind never sighs but I feel her gentle eyes turned on me questioning
And the eagle never cries but I hear her spirit in the sky turned to me beckoning
And the moon never beams but I am wafted away on dreams
To a far off land where we walk hand in hand
Talking about the things she never did see,
Talking, murmuring, laughing, talking
Talking till we tire the fire-colored sun back into the sea."
No. 2. His description of his first sighting of the antipop "Teeth that are pearly gems of glowing exquisiteness, a skin so smooth and delicate when rain drops see themselves sliding off they weep and gnash their teeth, dimples that are bewitching pools of sooty darkness, eyes that turn your knees to toothpaste, curves that make virtual reality look like its not happening."
No. 3. What he thinks of the 27th comrade "When he walks it looks as if 27 hundred gangster leeches are fornicating furiously with his head."
No. 4. His acceptance speech for the Honest Scraps Award given him "If you could roll this award into a joint and smoke it, you would be guaranteed a front seat at the Holy Ghost Concert with God Almighty shredding guitar and Jesus Christ on drums."
No. 5. "... I cannot begin to come close to being in the same constituency as describing the urge to maim and kill that engulfs me when some one mouths such garbage in my direction. It's an urge to do horrible and grossly disfiguring bodily harm. To gash and slash your chest open, rip your filthy heart out and stand over your warm corpse, face and arms covered in gore, cackling insanely at the night sky.
Basically never ask me if I am sure, I don't like it."
No. 6. The way he describes his domain; the Streetside: "... that harsh friendly land of far way-where angels and demons together play-where children are born old and grow young-where the sun is mist and rocks melt on your tongue-where idiots are wise-where philosophers are idiots in disguise and sallow faced regrets stand in line to stare in your eyes
Where the streets are paved with mirrors, and your past is reflected, life is resurrected, reconnected, respected, the journey re-begun, the race re-run, the thread re-spun…
For a child stands on the corner and whispers and if you listen very very carefully you will hear her say, "seek ye the truth and the truth shall set you free, for truth is a pathless land and you cannot reach it if you do not embrace your true self. So follow your instincts, find you inner light and let it be the one to guide you out of the darkness.""
No. 7. Then the guy who messed with him and told him he couldn't take criticism, or was it that he tried too hard: "Fine, let us assume for argument's sake that I am a narcissistic and immature so and so. So what, so was Oscar Wilde and I'd rather be an Oscar Wilde than an emotionally stable socially respectable accountant with a paunchy middle, a house in kitintale and 2.3 kids. Let us also assume, that I am preaching, that I want attention, who doesn't, in fact I don't know why I am even bothering to rationalize this guy's crap, and while I must say I have some measure of respect for a person who can come up with "gigantic self absorbed, self loathing baby", I am still pissed, I didn't even know how pissed I was till a few sentences ago, and when I get pissed, resolutions leap out of my way with amazing alacrity. You better sit tight punk coz the way ama feelin', yo bout to git served.
Now, listen to me carefully Mr. Unctuous Motherfucker With an Axe to Grind. Are you listening? You said you read this blog so I assume you are. You have messed with the wrong nigger, as my uncle Eliah would say, don't take a shit in the path of red ants and then start complaining when at night you feel them biting your scrotum."
No. 8. This whole post: Excerpt III; ON GAYS, FAGGOTS AND HOMO-SHE-XUALS.
No. 9. And somewhere near his very first post; an old classic: The Confused Confuser;... "If I may be so bold sir, I do not think the phrase "confused confuser" accurately captures this dynamic. Even if one could completely disregard the blatant grammatical absurdity of the term, one must admit that at any rate, it is a statement without reasonable paradigms. To confuse, one cannot be confused in oneself, one has to assume that the confusion is a deliberate effort on the part of the confuser and ergo the possibility of her also being confused as she successfully conducts this maliciousness is highly unlikely. On the other hand if it were possible that the confusion sprung out of a prima facie confusion on the part of the confuser, you still could not in all fairness lay any culpability at her door. If anything the resultant confusion on your part (and I say this with the greatest regret) reflects more your unfortunate susceptibility to confusion than it does her predilection to confuse. Either way sir, I am sorry. (Sits)"
Streetsider, I have mad respect for you. Just keep at it, you are hilarious.