taken from Noam Chomsky's speech at the MIT...
Hello.
festering sores and outgrowths of the planet.take comfort in the undeniable fact you have deserved everything that has come to you up until now.Fellow miscreants and mishaps and have-nots, do not unduly and without provocation be caught in a situation where you or someone in your vicinity can be mistaken as feeling anything that might possibly be construed as, or even slightly resembles happiness, joy or other similiarly-themed emotional undesirables.Emotional fulfillment leads to contentment, which in turns, leads to that murderous, cancerous, malignant coldsore called faith.mislead as you have been misled.regret is for the well-fed pigs in their designer filth and sundry.sorrow and misery is for the unshakeably fashionized, smugly turned out in neat rows, their butchers' hooks straddling their glisteningly glamourous upper backs.despair and emptiness is for the child-murderers who poison the consciousness of the mass puppet regime with stinking, decomposing, fly-swarmed, shit-streaked leftovers of their cabalistic, paranoid elite.welcome to the real world.
"Well we could easily go onÉ.but all of thatÉ.first of all indicates to us whatŐs happening. Looks like whatŐs happening is some sort of silent genocide. It also gives a good deal of insight into the elite culture, the culture that we are part of."
P.O.V
I was flying. They said it would feel like I was a deadweight, hurtling through nothingness that was as thick as sludge, with the cold, piercing wind whistling in your ears, drowning out everything else, even your own thoughts, they said it would be ungraceful, ugly and most of all, scary.With fear and loathing disguising the very horrible fact that there was absolutely, undeniably nothing you could do to stop your descent.i am a failure. i have destroyed everyone and everything that has ever believed in me. i have destroyed myself and my dreams. i have nothing left. no ambition to strive, no hope to overcome. i hear people laughing and their joy-filled laughter and glee devastates me, it consumes me and serves to inflict upon me its mocking, hurtful reminders of all that could have been. i am far removed from the rest of the planet, i am looked upon as a shameful example of the worst of this planet, as a lesson, that, impunges, 'look, in a thousand lifetimes, pray you will never even come close to emulating that creature, pray you never see one of its kind, ever and that you will never have to come within a million miles of one.' i am useless and i am desolately unneeded. i am sorry to have been born into this planet and to have caused so much suffering and misery to the undoubtedly far more superior and more loving and caring and understanding humans of this planet, who have tolerated me to painful extremes. i cannot apologize enough and i beg of your forgiveness and mercy.
gangsterist gods: nobody knows what the term gangsterist means, it had been clinging onto tounges for a while, a long while, though some worshippers(master class)-rank:scholar claim to have traced the roots of the word to an ancient, pre-worshipper period when the gods, both wings, were unacknowledged. they claim that there was a group of godlike people, or worshippers, though they probably did not know they were worshippers then, who, through their strength of character and bravery, had played a huge part in making the mass consciousness aware of the gods. they had so impressed the then dormant gods, that the gods took over their identity and essentially became them, embodying the characteristics which had enabled them to gain great power and influence, thus rendering them gods, over the thousands of centuries. these inspiring group of people were known then as 'gangsters'. this, of course was so much scholarly drivel to me and to a point it did not concern me in any way, unless of course the gods, through the worshippers(master class) obviously, decided that they would need to determine the strength of foundation of my faith and ensure that i knew the history of at least one wing of the gods.
COPYRIGHT 2002, CHAOTICALY X.
Last Update:January 18, 2002
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