Work is living death. “Job creators” are murderers. America is Satan’s agent in the world, spreading the Antichrist gospel of “work ethic.” It must be annihilated. This is what I believe.
Trump, while fun when irritating people, is just one more Satanic agent pushing jobs, jobs, jobs. Entrepreneurs and hustlers are not human beings. They are demons. Their purpose is to propagate evil.
America treats these malformed creatures as gods. Steve Jobs was an archdemon whose food was human suffering. Bill Gates and his succubus wife Melinda save African children only to one day channel them into psychic pain extractors (schools) to devour powerful waves of anguish. Elon Musk, a retarded boy seduced by a Zulu witch and given unholy powers. Warren Buffett feasts on flagellated fetus fear, wallows in Wall Street worship from his Luciferian temple of false modesty built to defile an Omaha burial ground. Archdevil Maruk Z’huqq-h’r-Bhurrgh, an infernal superorganism psychically conjoined to perpetually starving harpy sisters, innovated the ultimate demonic feeding trough of advertising-based agony. A book that eats faces.
All entrepreneurs and businesspeople, as well as high-level executives and professionals, are not people. Rather they are eager servants of Hell who gorge on human pain. Vomit it mama bird style, in paroxysms of quasi-sexual greed ecstasy, back in the gullet of their beloved master, Satan. There are no exceptions. This is just my opinion.
delicioustacos 
This is why I won’t have children. These are the people who are taking space seriously. Your unborn generations will reach the stars only to find Amazon warehouse jobs waiting there for them. A new service where transhuman slaves fling your packages right from asteroid factories to your door.
Then die
❤
I used to feel this way too. Then I decided it was mainly due to cowardice, met a nice girl, and had a couple of adorable kids. This world truly is Satan’s kingdom and I still worry about the things you mention every day. Nevertheless, I choose to fight, and it seems to be working out so far.
YMMV, of course.
I’ve considered saying a bunch of things here, but most of them were only part of the truth. My family crest would be a tumor and a pair of handcuffs. There’s something deep in my mammalian womb that says “no.” Probably the same voice that speaks in DT’s balls and says “yes.”
Someday I hope I’ll get my shit together enough to volunteer as a CASA. That way maybe my particular neuroses might -help- somebody instead of damning them to decades of therapy and substance abuse.
When’s the book coming out?
Slaves to the dollar. A species of coin, fixed and negotiable. Emancipation just legitimizes our slavery. The paradox of modern capitalism.
(((We))) are lizard people, not demons, dammit
Moral of the story? Don’t be poor, kids. Or you may end up a broke “writer” in LA.
Keep hope alive….the waiting is the hardest part
Reblogged this on Ultimate! Interesting and commented:
I believe it.
If anyone doubts his/her purpose in life,
at least you ain’t doing this:
There is a sure-fire cure to fear of capitalism: live in a communist country for a while. Worked on me.
All those things you said may be true in spirit, but under the boot heel of market forces, there is stuff in the shops. I am presently out of country and have been buying cling wrap, chocolate, toilet paper, spices and anti-dandruff shampoo. I almost had an erection.
People fled only in one direction across the iron curtain.
I’m looking for a job, so I feel the same way. Unique accomplishments are never good enough for the hive of demons that jealously guard their precious jobs, lord them over the uncheerful. It’s no longer enough to stoically accept servitude. Cowboys are out, soyboys are in. I have to beg for permission to use my skills to make a living. Proudly cheerfully beg, just like pursuing pussy. Females are part of the machine. I know most of them have it rough but that’s no my problem. Deeply flawed world.
Once I’m good at my next job, I’ll feel some satisfaction, feel like work is the natural way of life–which it is, because this is not Eden, this is Hell for the masses and Heaven for the few, all in one. But after a year I’ll resent the grind again, and my lower-than-high status, and the female robots of modest genetics that passive aggressively show their disgust.
Relief lately is periods of genuinely not caring. Seems to make me poop. And disavow modern females. Whores are good too if you don’t fear the odd std.
I want to have a baby, deep down. But I am afraid that baby will turn out just like you. Or me. Or just a sad meth head. The overbearing feeling of dread – heaviness of inevitable death, rejection of other humans, the feeling of moist loam digging in the dirt for no reason when you’re small and realizing you don’t know why the dirt is here, why your fingers are so damp but itchy dry, why it all feels so familiar but like a joke too, like someone is going to pop around the corner and say BOO all condescending and mean. Make you feel worthless. I don’t want to do that to a new person, but I also don’t want to deal with that in an existing person. And then I think people in general just need to go away. But they smell so nice, the newly minted, and maybe it will love me and maybe it will love everything and everyone better than I can. Better than what was loved before. That’s the terrible grift and there’s no answer for it, or at least not a satisfying answer. Not an answer you can live with.
Absolutely outstanding piece. Dead on the money.
This is the correct take. Great piece!