Overhauled.

Posted: July 15, 2014 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

No, I’m not fucking dead.  I’ve been otherwise occupied (read: lazy when I’m not busy).

That’s about as much of an apology that’s gonna come out of me this time, especially since there’s a title up there that suggests I’m up to something.  That title would be correct, since I spend more time here ranting than I do mocking the fact that I’m frequently gimpified.  Right about now, I’m betting that you just noticed the header title’s changed to match the URL.  Good job.

Most self-imported assjacks would probably write out their manifesto here, like their readership actually gives a fuck about that self-aggrandizing introspective bullshit.  Isn’t that right?  The sad part is, most reader-bases feel tritely entitled to that kind of pompous asshattery because it gives them the feels.  I’m a goddamn narcissist at heart, so I guess it’s safe to venture that I’m not the kind of guy who indulges such desires either.  Right?  Right.

You know you missed me.

But anyway.

 

Speaking of deal with it, am I surrounded by a culture that wants nothing more than to be a goddamn victim?  Seriously, when did it suddenly become the “it” thing?  Lemme wrap this into a nutshell, and it comes down to a single term that I loathe in ways that Erida couldn’t fathom: trigger.

I’m not talking about the decisive part of a gun.
Nor the decisive part of a boobytrap.
Nor the name of the Lone Ranger’s fucking horse.
Yeah, now you see where I’m going with this.

Some people are exposed to horrible situations that cause them to develop medically-diagnosed psychological conditions– and then there are self-diagnosed attention whores that use their Google-fu to justify not being able to handle life like a mature adult.  Oh yes, I’m talking about those triggers– and the fist raised SJW trash that enables them.

What the fuck is wrong with just outright admitting that someone pissed you off?  Oh, I know, because as a victim– you can never be responsible for what you say and do in retaliation.  If something, or someone, in life or online, pisses me off…  well I have this miraculous quality that helps me handle whatever comes my way.  What’s that quality, you say?  Self fucking respect.

Get a forklift and shut the fuck up.

Awwwwwwww, let’s all rally around.

If I make like a chimp and rip someone’s face off (verbally, obviously), I just might face a scary thing called consequences.  We can’t have those, can we?  Fuck no, we’re victims here, right?  Someone that plays that passive-aggressive “trigger” card, and they suddenly get carte blanche to be a carton of butthurt douche that must be catered to.  It’s not hard to see the allure, and I’m willing to bet the vast majority of people that play this card have a Google diagnosis– and haven’t set foot in a doctor’s office.  If they have, it’s leveraging an old diagnosis that they haven’t been treated for in years.  You know, because that’s how it just is.

Yeah.  I went there.

If you’re under medical care, hey– I’m truly sorry for the fucked up things that happened in your life.  I’m completely serious.
As for the rest of you?

You’re the worst kind of human being.  You hide behind a self-diagnosis (read: lie) so that others will blindly defend you for being a maladjusted attention whore.  Instead of creating a support network for legit victims– you’ve made it vogue to wave that flag (and spat in their faces in the process.)  Everyone has to have a trigger now, and everyone has to cater around yours.  What’s worse is that some of these delusional wastes are smart enough to exploit the right doctors into continually lending legitimacy to their failure at life.

Fuck you and admit the truth when it happens:  you get pissed off.  For once in your life, own your stance as yours and handle it– and whatever fallout you may cause later.  You just might find that living life like you want it is more satisfying than convincing yourself you regret it.

See all the fucks I give?  They're in the background.

Offended? Good. Admit it and act on it, don’t just whine like a feckless douchenozzle.

That overhaul I was talking about?  Yeah.  It’s more than just a name and style change.  I’m just going to let my voice go where it will, and stop trying to maintain a modicum of decorum.  I was starting to feel too antiseptic to be genuine.

Unplug.

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