. . . that when it doesn't happen, it just happened. Shit that didn't happen is just a mirror image of the shit that did, or the shit that might have. Shit happens no matter what.
Margaret Cho on the Daily Beans podcast discussing sexual expression in The Time of COVID-19:
"There was a lot of young people doing a lot of pain play, but not with leather and not with chains or latex or anything like that, but with cactus. Cactus! All vegetable based BDSM! This is the future! Like, beyond BDSM! Totally incredible. I was like, wow, this is totally cruelty-free cruelty! So . . . mind blowing! So, this is like the new phase of what we're going into. It's so imaginative."
Cruelty-free cruelty is SO important.
. . . he's not even alive anymore?
What'd he die of?
The whole damn thing, really.
The whole damn thing?
Yeah, he was just played out, used up. Like a West Texas oil field before fracking. If there was anything left, it wasn't worth goin' after.
"Hi, this is John Carter. I don't host a podcast. I don't have a book to sell. I didn't finish a degree in anything, and if I'm the smartest guy in the room, I'm probably in a port-a-potty. But I can still tell you that we did in fact evolve from filthy monkey-men and women. Because you don't have to be smart to not be stupid."
I think I have even less respect for turd worshipers than I have for the turds they worship. It's bad enough to be a narcicistic, infantile dumbass, but it's a few notches worse to admire and/or revere such a dipshit.
Ageless wisdom, total dumbasserie, or performance art?
I don't know, turd worship maybe?
The answer after these messages . . .
. . . draw Trump's face on Mt. Rushmore with a huge Sharpie® then return the "monument" to the natives we stole it from and watch while they dynamite the whole fuckin' thing.