image stolen from Twitter user @jtimberlake
Thirsty but not thirsty enough to to fuck girls ugly enough to fuck me. Supposed to write today. Won’t happen. I have ideas in the shower. They vanish as I soap my asshole. I’ll write nothing. Nothing for a year and that’s fine. Ten years, twenty years, until I’m dead, who fucking cares. If you want something you can’t have it. It’s when you remove desire that things come. Actually no– if you don’t want something you can’t have it either. You just can’t have anything. God is a demon who eats suffering. Our world a rich banquet.
The fish tank is too loud. I meant to meditate, take a shit while reading the finest literature– instead I looked at the Witcher 3 subreddit. Re-read the first pages of the Unabomber manifesto.
I was in Palm Spings. My friend’s wife rented a house. His 40th birthday. We sat by the pool. I’d like to complain but I had a great time. His wife’s brother is a beachy Burning Man money type; he had a young girl who was fun to look at. Would have been great to have single girls there but let’s not go nuts. No one will ever put a woman in a social situation with me again. I must milk internet fame and fuck girls who write me until I’m dead. I must keep posting, or mail bombs.
My friend’s into politics. MSNBC was on. Every ad for a drug. When I turned 120 my pancreas didn’t work the way it should, until I asked my doctor about Lumitra. Don’t take Lumitra if you have a liver or kidneys. You may experience hemorrhaging. When my foot rotted off from diabetes I thought I’d never coach my granddaughter’s gymnastics team again. Now there’s Xynquentra. The grandchild gazes lovingly at the old drug taker as they groom horses or play trumpet. The dream, to have a young person care you’re alive.
I’d been reading about news ratings. Trump went to Mexico. Fox news led with 6 million viewers. 450,000 in the “news demo.” The news demo is 25-54s, versus 18-49s that most ratings track. The other 5.5 million, older than the stones. They’ve wandered the Earth 300 ages of men.
Panels discuss Trump. He’s shown in a pink tie at a black church swaying awkwardly while a woman glances sideways at the camera like she expects spiders to pour out of it. MSNBC has a thing where they put the lights right in the pro-Trump panelists’ eyes so they blink constantly. The liberals never blink. Trump doesn’t hate Mexicans, explains a Mexican he hired.
MSNBC plays to four million vampires and the five of us in the room. We’re the news demo. We discuss. For everyone else it’s a given: Trump will exterminate all blacks. Push Mexicans across the border into lava. When they talk Hillary’s campaign it’s “we.” The campaign, a referendum on Race in America. I’m in favor of Mexicans. I’ll vote for Hillary. But in my heart I want Trump to win and kill all minorities because I’m mad girls don’t like me.
Jesus Christ, I cant even write dumb shit anymore. I cant write anymore. Relax. We knew it would be like this. You’ll never write again, accept it. You are nothing. If you masturbate you can’t write. Before you masturbate you can’t write. You’re trapped alone but if you go be with people you’ll hate them unless they fuck you. Tinder’s broken; you cant even get a fat woman to the duck pond, slip around later in her smelly loose pussy.
Anyway the news is for old people. Bernie Sanders was on. He looks great. It’s too bad he still exists because you’re reminded that Hillary spends her time sucking on baby brains with the Rothschilds in the Hamptons. Jerking off with a fetus leg to drone footage of Yemeni boys screaming on fire. Then a $100,000 per plate lamb entree. Did you read Garrison Keillor’s Trump piece, my friend asks. So cutting. You are Queens, says Garrison Keillor who is brought to you by Mercedes Benz. I don’t like Trump but I like when he makes Lady Rothschild gag.
They’re both horrendous pieces of shit. Trump is a fuckin buffoon but Hillary makes me believe in lizard people. The only good news is legally the president can only kill Arabs. Shuffle money from one Rothschild to another while you work for nothing. Pay taxes so the lucky poor can fuck succulent teens while you die in a world of bills. Kazcsynski’s right. Our society is garbage. America must be annihilated. In ten years would be great. Yesterday would be better. Let the Canadians eat our bones. Give the land to the Mexicans. They can’t do worse. Where is my fucking candidate.
MSNBC cuts away from one of their Hootie black guys. Reporter on the beach in Jersey. A hurricane unexpectedly did not hit. He still has to stand there. He must still talk up the high winds, as an elderly woman walks by with a sun parasol. A kid builds a house of cards, another folds origami cranes. As you see Nancy it’s somewhat frothy now, but just 12 hours ago these seas churned with thousand legged spiny horrors. The camera’s rolling so you must speak. But there is no story. Civilization will continue. You will have nothing that you want.
**********
delicioustacos 
You write with great style and energy about your (currently) depressing life, unless you are making it all up, which would be even more of an artistic achievement. Anyway, the jokes are good, and when I read this kind of work I thank God I’m happily retired, an escapee (or survivor) of the lonely life of wage slavery. Wish I had your BMI, but not the rest. I do think it’s working to inspire your process.
Greg Nikolic here. *bows sweepingly and then steps back*
Hold on as long as you can, Delicious Tacos. *slight smile* I am coming. Even though I’m in a FAR worse situation than you.
If you’re curious about my writing plans, I’ve laid them out a bit on my website, Delish. Click on my name to view them.
I also revamped the beginning of the Qedbook home. If you want to see grandiose, over-the-sky pie-in-the-black-hole-moon dreams, you’ll REALLY enjoy these. *bigger grin breaking out sunnily*
Come on, Delish. We can’t be that dissimilar. Yet I’m smiling and you’re grousing. I TELL YOU, I WILL EXTEND MY HAND TO YOU AND HELP YOU TO A BETTER PLATFORM. Everyone else who has ever visited here is useless, useless to you and the dreams you could have.
Only me. Only I am different.
Read my website and stay in touch with me in your heart. By the way, and this may — grins — sound creepy, but I was at the street we are both going to live on this morning. All of us will live there, the thirty to fifty best of us I gather from the Internet and around the world. The houses are in the range of $600-700 thousand, but there’s a bunch of scum floating through because it’s an urban neighborhood near social housing. We’ll have to clear that out.
There’s a little park, and there’s lots of prime ass in the nearby mega-mall, and oh, lest we not forget, a beautiful freshwater sea — I saw geese in the waterfront park the other day, and ducks gliding by on the nighttime waters, where the bobbing buoys say KEEP OUT. Maybe we’ll dive in together. Hold me in your dreams. I am coming.
Greg Nikolic in Toronto, signing off.
Kindly do not sign back on again.
Sincerely,
Every Asshole Who Still Reads This Site.
I don’t think you understand, hater. You are a mere parasite, lunching on Delicious Tacos’s words. That’s it.
I offer him hope for the future.
Besides, I’m an asshole too — and a greater asshole than you’ll ever be. It is the weak who hate from a distance. Right?
Nailed
You’re undoubtedly some kind of serial killer.
For sure, his are somehow the creepiest posts I’ve seen in awhile. Jesus Christ.
I really enjoy this commenter. Genuine crazy is hard to come by
I appreciate you because you ate totally fine with being the guy Deli Tacos game fans don’t think they are. They all sell used cars, as it were, but you take pride in being a used car salesman and that is a bit honorable.
I’m also really interested in reading about you being farty, your take on pop music and the insight you have that can bring DiTa sans Inner Peace to the next level.
Also, http://youtu.be/gOMhN-hfMtY
Also,DeTacs, remember when you thought I was creepy? What are your feelings about your soulmate having finally found you?
“If you want something you can’t have it” amen, brother.
you are correct. your writing is getting sloppier, and less enticing. i stopped reading halfway through this post and went to comments. also disappointing. and i’ve been a fan since 2012.
take a break man. summer’s coming to an end. soon it’ll be winter and dark by 5pm. refer to your earlier piece: seasonal affective disorder. that was good.
writing isn’t like shitting—you don’t have to do it every day. but when you do, it’ll sound forced, inauthentic. regardless how much your sycophantic readers say otherwise.
p.s. why are you “pro-mexican”, mexican pitbull culture got your cat killed. don’t get PUSSY WHIPPED by that whore angela, she is rubbish. you’re a CUCK if you vote hillary you fucking prep school twink.
🙂 you sound the same as before you got into that sociopath game crap. The stuff that didn’t focus on you is totes funny. Good yob.
That title picture makes me want to fuck a mature in the ass like the greasy pornhub flick I just watched.
Justin Timberlake is a cuck faggot joining his asshole mouth as one with Hillary. I will buy all his music and send it to Africa to get the AIDS until the end of days. What goes around comes around really was the pinnacle. Get it together man and knob Trump. Everyone is in the closet on that one. The only mexican who deserved anything was Pablo P Escobar. Narcos season 2 ride that dick or get out.
Burn the world. Those who should reproduce say fuck it, and those who shouldn’t say fuck me! The ultimate paradox. Not bad yourself?
Hi, Delicious Tacos. Greg Nikolic here again, the one offering you financial hope for the future — if I can get my act together.
*softly, warmly* I just wanted to let you know that you’re on my mind and in my heart. The haters are puzzled and outraged that I should act this way. Though you’re a fine writer, it’s your underlying SELFHOOD that draws me the most to you. As I walk the streets of Toronto at night, in the dwindling days of summer, I find my mind turning to you, Heartiste, and Captain Capitalism. My hope is someday that all three of you will join me here. I am working to make that a reality.
By the way, I’ve changed my plans slightly. Instead of writing the TAXI TO THE DREAMWORLD first, I’m going with the even more commercial SKULL WATERS: BURN THE OCEAN novel I’ve just conjured up. Here is the beginning of it. If this sells, you’ll have your money:
SKULL WATERS: BURN THE OCEAN
by Greg Nikolic
Brad Muncher was standing knee-deep in warm shallows, looking at the eye sockets of a man who had gone to the Pearly Gates.
Brad knelt down, put a hand in the soaked sand and grabbed hold of a mostly intact skull. The lower jaw of the thing fell off and drifted to the sand when he pulled the main part up out of the water, with a splash of Caribbean blue.
“Hey, Iron Mike!” Brad called, holding the skull in one hand and cupping his mouth with his left hand. “Come look at this!”
Mike Alexios came splashing through the water. The island bulked big in the background. Somewhere in the dense foliage and palm trees a naked woman named Jade Remorse suntanned herself on a Nordstrom silk blanket costing a hundred dollars new. She had found it in a thrift shop for ten and lugged it aboard the Munching Barricuda when they left Nassau for their three-day cruise. Jade raised her hand and looked lazily at her Bulgari watch. That had been full price. A gift from a former lover. Now gone. Too bad, so sad. She lowered her arm to her breast and sighed easily.
Mike Alexios came up to Brad Muncher’s side. The newcomer was tanned, muscular, with dark brown hair and concerned eyes. His shorts were white with thick pink stripes, a gift from his father, who was snoring on board the Munching Barricuda yacht anchored 150 feet out in the bay. To get back to it, they would have to swim back through warm waters gently laced with invisible eddies of salt and brine.
“Let me look at that,” Mike said roughly, swiping the bone sample with vanishing levels of concern.
“Hey — I mean –” Brad Muncher stuttered, “– my boat means I make the rules.”
Mike ignored him. Peering closely into the interior of the skull, he saw what was troubling him. There were baby crabs in the dead man’s head, whoever he was, feasting on the leftovers of brains. Disgusting, but fascinating to watch.
[. . .]
*Greg Nikolic gestures sharply*
Anyway, Delish, I’m gonna be one of the world’s top commercial writers. Your stuff is great but too esoteric to crack the mainstream. Click on my name to keep reading my site. Stay in touch with my life and my adventures. I’m going to begin seducing MANY girls in the VERY near future — all true stories — and I’ll post videos of myself — and the naked girls — as soon as I get one of the cheap tricks to buy my a vidcam.
I also plan on prostituting them for money — one way or another, I — AM — going to succeed. They will serve on their knees or they will be ejected coldly and cleanly.
Delish, you don’t have the equipment for survival and thriving that I do. Read my site and see if you don’t disagree — but as my Vice President of Mass Media, you’d be fucking awesome in the nth degree. Your shit rocks. Because I have taste — unlike the mass audience — and I know what’s gold coins in the fallen debased currency of mass culture.
Anyway, I’ll return upon your next post to comment again. Remember you are not alone. I am watching and striving to improve BOTH your lives.
And as you for you doubting haters who slam me, you can suck my dick. I can honestly say that if you were in the same room with me, in reality, I’d tear your fucking eyeballs out and feed them to you. *contemptuous* Losers. *salutes Heartiste* Avaunt!
Homeboy makes Sorcerygod look like Shakespeare.
Oh hoal on now — could they be ONE AND THE SAME???
(Friday, September 9, 2016)
Hi, Delicious Tacos. Don’t mind the haters hating me. They’re gnats — an ignorant distraction. *brushing them away*
I’ve left a long comment on Captain Capitalism’s blog (captaincapitalism.blogspot.ca) and it should be published online sometime later today. You can read my thoughts to Cappy. He’s going to be Vice President of Finance in our corporation, with you, Delish, serving as Vice President of Mass Media.
I am going to write you daily updates of my plans and my life. It is important — perhaps vital — that you get a sense of what I’m doing and suss out my essence (“personality”).
You have a great, vast future ahead of you, although you are but dimly aware of its outlines based on what I’ve reported. The important thing to remember is that before you turn 45, you’ll be a millionaire and living in Regent Park in Toronto, scoping out 20-year-old ass in the Eaton Centre and living it up. You’ll have an important, productive job, and you’ll be someone of real stature. In addition, you’ll have time to do your writing and our Quadelitedom Corporation will publish all your writings for you, generating you some fame and a modest addendum-income to your $750,000 a year salary with me.
Now — you may say these are happy delusions. Fine, let the haters say that for you — let them speak your unconscious doubts.
BUT WHAT IF I’M RIGHT. What if I can do it?
In sharp reality, I offer you a “get out of jail” free card from your terrible Los Angeles existence. I am not joking. This post to your site is confirmation of my deadly earnestness. If you weigh and measure my intellect, it should be more than apparent than I am not as stupid as the haters who slander me.
Remember, when you see haters say “Homeboy makes Sorcerygod look like Shakespeare” THEY WOULD SAY THE SAME ABOUT YOU. Virtually all of your beloved “commentators” would kick you in the ass when you’re down, if they could. Because they’re haters at heart. And haters are losers who try and drag everyone down to their plebe/prole level.
And yes, I’m Sorcerygod. I write simply in my Greg Nikolic future novels because that’s what sells. Literary writings do not. Only a fool would go literary when the market demands succinctness.
By the way, I read with pleasure your short comment on my website, qedbook.wordpress.com, and I was amused by it. I’m glad you agree you’re great.
I think so too.
— Greg Nikolic (Sorcerygod), Toronto, Ontario, Friday 9 Sep 2016
Dear Mr Tacos,
I know you’re in it for the yuks & the fucks, not the bucks,
But you oughta think about all that lost revenue from not having ads here.
Esp. if this friggin weirdo wind bag makes good on his threat to hijack your site to try & spread his verb-herpes. Me & others just stopping in here to check on the Thin-Skinned God (like looking at a train wreck at this point);
I mean, come on, dude. A page view is a page view is a page view…
Oh but what do I know.
I’m simply a smart, beautiful man with possibly the largest wang on Earth:
http://www.xvideos.com/video5147340/video-2012-11-30-11-26-32
(Saturday, September 10, 2016)
Well *stretching arms* here I am again, this weekend morning, for my daily report to you, Delish, on what I’m doing. Your website seems to be attracting an extraordinary number of parasites, by the way. They’re like bed bugs feasting on the blood of your anguish.
At ANY RATE — on the only important topic — US — let me describe how things are going in Toronto.
First, I’m building up my website, qedbook.wordpress.com. I’m entering the “low hundreds” territory of viewers (not “readers”) after the first month. Actually, I only started vigorously promoting the fucker a few days ago, so it’s pretty quick and good progress. Growth should be exponential.
I have one viewer, named watchingitburn, who will join me in my stable of writers. I plan on amassing a large number of writers on my site — something, to my knowledge — that no amateur blogger has ever done before.
But they will not just be writers for me — they will eventually join me in Toronto too.
Now *spreads hands* not everyone can be a VP like you Delicious Tacos. But there’s plenty of management positions for them.
As you can see, I have a love for writers. This comes because I am one, but writing on the Internet is special — it demands persistence, originality, innovation and drive — all qualities which excel in the corporate environment, such as my future Quadelitedom Corp will become.
When you’re walking down the deep-pile, colored carpets on the 50th floor of the QED World Headquarters building, my Lord Delicious Tacos, you will appreciate these days of our separation in Los Angeles and Toronto with . . . delicious irony. Look forward to those future days. They’re coming faster than you think. ~ CEO Greg Nikolic, the future Quadelitedom leader
How DO you find time to write this crap?
Volumes and volumes and volumes of crap.
Creepy crap.
From a creepy, creepy crap. Creeping.
Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there.
Creeping everywhere. Crippity crappity creepies.
One would think the palms of such a literary & intellectual titan such as yourself would be too busy spreading (man?)ass to be typing.
What “god” lacks the supplicants to do his clericals anyway? Pffff.
The Bullion from Bakersfield up there was right, though.
You are indeed rare. Wish I had the stones to try & upstage the author of his own website. Let’s be honest – you get maaayyyybe
1 1/12th of 1% of the traffic our exalted leader does (which is me being generous, like a proper god). That just boils your blood, don’t it.
Bottom line: what is the point of you running your sewer on here.
Honestly. It’s obvious you do *not* have the effect you desire.
Sad. It is. Anyway, faggots, faguettes, and baguettes, Imma shut my trap re)He Who Should’ve Been Swallowed. I got better shit to do.
And this ain’t my show. Nor is it Greg’s.
Fraternally,
The Heavenly Breasts of Cécile de Volanges
I have been busy as hell and have not been here checking for updates like normal, holy shit the comments are off the chain again! It has not been like this since Angela’s shitty poet fuck boy bitch ass cock lover came and posted here back in the Dirty Mexican Cunt days (for the record, Good Times). Sorcery God really brings out the best in these comments, he is a little long winded for me, but it is all love otherwise.
Nice to see you back, doc.
Good Times = a phenomenal way to spend 22 minutes. Huge hit w/ the black community in its day.
However, every frame was written, produced & directed by white jewish dudes. So, since you’re an educated, intelligent fellow of inner-city extraction yourself, what’s your $0.02?
PS do forgive any sarcastic tone here.
//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js
“Tinder’s broken; you cant even get a fat woman to the duck pond, slip around later in her smelly loose pussy.”
Agreed. Thank you for articulating my frustration so eloquently.