I was angry today. I aborted a failed advertising campaign and pissed away a lot of money. I had my blood tested in Boston today and pissed away a whole day in the process. I was most angered that I let some plump teenage woman with a nice chubby ass con me out of six dollars with a bullshit story of needing money for a train. At first I thought she wanted directions, then I got a hardship story of being short on money. I smelt a con by the mechanized way she told her story. This woman was well-fed. There was no hunger or fear of desperation in her eyes. I suspected a con yet I forked over money like an asshole. I did not back out because I feared being mocked, as they used to do when I was a kid. At least she thanked me after she exploited her mark. The last con-artist became indignant that I had not given him enough money. There was no question that she had conned me as I saw her seeking another mark later.
Coming off the train I stared down every asshole parked on the bridge waiting to pick up people coming off the train. It was clearly marked: "NO PARKING ON BRIDGE," but assholes do it anyways because they can. I can't because you're not supposed to park on the bridge, because it violates the rules.
Attention Blog Reader:
I don’t know what I look like to you, your personal blog whore? Shit, I thought Fast Cupid was a mean back alley to blog in because of all the cocksucker, duplicitous assholes, but blogspot is simply the blog armpit of the universe. Do you know how much fucking shit I have to take on blogspot from all the anonymous drive-bye assholes who give me shit about my anti-Che Guevara and anti-Wediko blog posts that have been there for years? Don’t they look at the date of the blog posts? I finally had to block Wediko commenters. If one more Che-fan dares fucking post another one of their inane ass fucking comments on my site, I swear to God I'm going to threaten to skull fuck them to death. I am not kidding. Please don’t cause me to threaten and carry out a skull fuck, because I really don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t want to have to face prison time for the murder. Che Guevara sucks. Live with it, you dumb-ass, cock-face motherfuckers! And I’m not even mentioning anything about the occasional drive-bye asshole.
Even if I turned commenting off, I don't see what the point is in doing this blog. I am not some art fag shithead who writes because I need to write. I have nothing against gays. I really don’t. Give me a nice clean cock and I’ll suck the poison out of it. I really will. But I despise art-fags. And Bukowski was the greatest art-fag of them all. Nobody writes because they need to write. They write because they need an audience. This notion of writing because of some deep-seated yearning of the soul is pure, unadulterated art-faggotry.
Here is my ultimatum: I need ten followers by July 1st. Scroll down the right column of the page. Click the "Follow" button. If there is not ten followers by July 1st, you can kiss this blog goodbye, and I will no longer maintain a regular blog beyond this date, but will probably occasionally write a blog post when I need to burn an asshole. Why should I waste my time on you? There will be no more charity for you or anyone. You want my money? You want my soul? You better show respect. I better see some hunger in your eye before I fork over anything more to anyone for free. Ten Followers by July 1st, or this blog is done.
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