Posts tagged ‘crap’

Senility?

Who is this for?
Alzheimer’s patients on Facebook? People with bad memory?
Has senility become widespread among the Facebook community??

Not even people with attention deficit disorder need a fucking reminder of LAST MONTH!

I got this literally on the first of December, I can’t POSSIBLY be nostalgic about LAST MONTH!
Which ended THE DAY BEFORE!

Come back in a year or ten. Or never.

Morons.

Take care,
A.

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Election Day 

Today is election day.
No shit, Sherlock! It isn’t as if I had been looking forward to seeing an end of all these talks, interviews and all the other campaign bullshit. It isn’t as if I’m singing “Their smiling faces, give me diarrhea” in my head, everytime I see one of these mutant grimaces flashing their teeth at me…

Someone please tell those 2,948 people that they’re morons! Oooh you did a grown up thing? Bravo!
You want a hug? A participation ribbon? A trophy? Some candy?
Fuck you!
What’s next? “I drove to work.” Give that person a medal! “I brushed my teeth!” I sense a Nobel prize winner here…

You’re supposed to vote! That is what a responsible adult living in a democracy does. All this passive aggressive “I voted” crap is empty vapid ego jerking, for the votee to feel superior. To whom?
Non voters. Guess how much of a flying fuck they give about the “I voted” bunch.
Exactly. So….
Fuck. Off.

See election info?
SEE ELECTION INFO???
If you’re eligible to vote, and you need to be educated on HOW, WHERE, WHY, and WHAT concerning this current election, ON ELECTION DAY – do us all a solid, and do not vote.
You imbecilic cunts are the reason this system is broken. For you, there should be a non-participation ribbon/trophy “To dumb to vote, so I didn’t.”

All in all, Facebook, bugger off. Leave politics alone.
Users create and discuss and participate in politics, but you ought to be neutral and STFU.

Take care.

PS: I voted. Give me validation!

[This was written on 15th October 2017.]

Crappy Birthday in September 

Quite literally. 

For the city dwellers who can’t get enough of that sweet, sweet guano producing fowl that is ever omnipresent in urban areas the world over. 

Pigeons. 

Fathered crap bags. Cast in stone…or clay. 

“It reminded me of you.” Normally this can be a quite romantic line, but with this, you can tell a yuppie what you think of them. Urban crap bag. Ucrab. 

Crappy Birthday! A.

Crappy Birthday in August 2017

Got that detestable garbage human Hipster scum in your circle of acquaintances?

Their birthday is coming up?

PERFECT!

These revolting socks are the perfect gift, for a perfect asshole. They will surely like it, because it is before they are cool, because they’ll never be cool. And these socks a shining (or screamingly loud) warning beacon. 

Warn others. Gift these socks.

Crappy Birthday.
A.

Crappy Birthday in July

Imagine the “majestic” flamingo, perched on a pedestal of guano, one foot dangling to the ground. 


That wonderful hideousness can be yours to drive relatives and acquaintances over the edge for the lo lo price of 2.95€. Cheese factor is over 9000.

Crappy Birthday, A.

Crappy Birthday in June

Know a smoker? Hate the living crap out of that fucker? Want to gift him/her with the worst curse from Pandora’s box – false hope?


Lucky you! 

This cigarette case, with the hopeful message of survival, whilst containing suicide in small doses, is the perfect gift for this occasion. 
Crappy birthday,

A.

Love?

In the beginning man and woman met outside. While hunting. While foraging.

A clout over the head, drag her to the cave, bang the ever living daylight out of her until your doomseed spawns out of her. 
You know… 
Love.

Later men and women met in the social constructs beset on them by class. Arranged marriage, basically the same as in the beginning, without the clout. 
Later in time, they courted one another, talked, fell in love. Doomseed, yada yada yada.
You know…
Love.

In the mid to late 20th century that entire crap got too time consuming so the local classifieds popped up.
Men and women filled pages of the newspapers in small print, advertising oneself like some overripe fruit on a farmersmarket five minutes before they close for the long weekend. 
You know…
Love.

That was too time consuming too after a while, so some rabbi came up with speed dating. 
Your entire life, your achievements, hopes, dreams, aspirations, character, interests, and what not, distilled into a ten minute conversation with one another, and then go over the entire list – again.
You know…
Love.

Time is money, you don’t have an entire evening for this! 
Pour a condensed vision of that distilled “You” into an online profile and off you go!
You know…
Love.

But even that was inconvenient, since we didn’t have it on the go. So some shit like tinder, really was inevitable. Condensed distilled you, photo, swipe. 
You can do it on an elevator, riding the subway, taking a dump.
You know. 
Conven…err…”Love”…

And what did I read in a newspaper just the other day? 
THAT was too stressful for some New Yorkers! They OUTSOURCED their tinder-ing to someone else who is doing the swipe based fuck selection for them.
You know. 
Love?

It kinda reminds me of the entire Farmville crap. On Facebook, a place for the condensed distilled version of you that you choose to represent, you could play a game. Farmville. 
You know.
Fun.

That wasn’t good enough for people. So they HIRED others to play the game for them. On their Facebook. 
As them.
So some underpaid poor sods in a clickfarm somewhere in southeast Asia played as white middle class Facebook people, for some extra grain or geese. 
You know.
Fun?

This is in no way different. 
Something that should be deeply personal – fun and relaxation in one case, fun and romance in the other – something that is as convenient as fuck, something that can be done on the go, outsourced. 
“I have neither time not nerve for fun, relaxation, games, love, or procreation. Let someone else do it.”
You know.
“Life”.

If your life style (or “work-life-balance”) doesn’t allow for playing a fucking game, or the convenience based swipe partner selection, trust me, you won’t have time for your partner in the unlikely chance you ever even found one. Ultimately losing them again.
Which you probably wouldn’t even notice until they send you on mandatory vacation…
You know.
Shitty life.

Take care.
A.