Monday, October 27, 2014

October 27, 2014



October 27, 2014

“Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter what fork you use.” The world I live in, can only be bearable if you are polite to others.  Politeness should be the rule of every home and structure, where you show consideration and encouragement to others.  One can express an opinion, but only if you state it with facts and present your idea in such a manner that won’t offend the other.   One can argue for an atrocity, but be kind to those who may disagree with you.  I may disagree with you, but I will with the last breath of my life, defend your right to say what you know.  On the other hand, if you don’t “know, ” then I have the right to shove my fist down your diseased throat.

“A gentleman does not boast about his junk.” If you are going to praise yourself, be careful in how you proceed in doing so.  One can’t take over a house with their work, because perhaps one’s work is not worth the space that is taken.  As one knows, space is limited.  We have to respect the limitations of actual footage and space in a room, as well as having a healthy respect for limits.  If one goes beyond the limit, then that can be regarded as bad manners.    In that case, I have the right to pour gasoline over your work, and throw in a match as one leaves that space.



“In popular houses where visitors like to go again and again, there is always a happy combination of some attention on the part of the hostess and the perfect freedom of the guests to occupy their time as they choose.” When I go to your home, as a guest, I expect politeness and kindness.  In return, I won’t slash your couch with a blade, or throw paint on the walls.  Nor will I tie up and torture your children.  I won’t rape your wife, or take the dog for a walk in the park, and only return with a leash.  I promise to be considerate when you show your pride in your work.  I won’t demean you and your time that you spent on making that piece of shit.

“The letter we all love to receive is one that carries so much of the writer’s personality that she seems to be sitting beside us, looking at us directly and talking just as she really would, could she have come on a magic carpet, instead of sending her proxy in ink-made characters on mere paper.” This I promise you my dear talentless friend, I’ll write about your failures as if it's honey directly from a bee.  This letter is unsigned, but you know who it is from.  Even though you’ll never admit it, because you can’t understand how one can hate so much, yet get so much pleasure from it. I’m a happy man, and I’m happy because you’re a total idiot.  Your failure is my whip cream on top of a chocolate milk shake.



“Whenever two people come together and their behavior affects one another, you have etiquette.” And that is why I choose to destroy you. Inch-by-inch, and then yard-by-yard. I’ll make sure that you started off with nothing, given something, and then taken away - which will leave you with nothing.  I want to give you the taste of the greatest gratification, so I can remove that pleasure and watch you suffer.  You’re such a child.  Not the well-behaved intelligent sweet beautiful child, but totally the opposite.  You smell of and breed shit.  My version of porn is watching you approach failure again and again, and enjoying your frustration, fears and your need for therapy.   But the cherry on the top is when you even fail your therapy session.  The doctor gave up on you.  Your dog gave up on you.  Your worthlessness is my perfume.  My pleasure is your depression.  The angels on your shoulder are not what you think they are. When you walk, you walk alone.

Remember “we are making war for civilization, are we not? Very well, we are. Therefore, we eat in a civilized way.” and therefore you’ll never eat at our table.  Bye-bye my little useless piece of dishonorable shit.
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