But what are you going to do? Dunno. At this point one might reasonably advocate busting into a fundamentalist anti-family planning meeting and shooting anything that looks like it will A: never have fulfilling consensual sex and B: feels the overwhelming need to butcher people who do (see fig 2).
I'm joking about pumping their utterly pointless and inevitably loathsome bodies full of small arms fire in the name of sweet restorative justice and blameless social hygiene. Honestly- that would be wrong. For... reasons. I forget them but, you know the ones. Something something stickiness. The expense.
Blame cosmic irony for the fact that the only obstacles preventing a righteous cull of hazardous human landfill by some prospective discerning secular marksperson are a rational loathing of guns and an abhorrence of the use of violence in matters of personal conscience.
Do you get peopled-out? That's that thing that happens when you've socialised or associated with or just looked at x number of people within y length of time (according to your parameters) and your mouth stops moving and your eyes go blank and you just can't do it any more and want to get the fuck away from other humans at virtually any cost. You're peopled-out. That's what we've always called it privately. Funerals and weddings are the fucking worst for this shit but xmas licks at their heels and I'm peopled-out pretty much from October onwards.
I complained about it last week- that disgusting morphic resonance load of other people mooing and slobbering in concert in regard to a particular thing or event, in this case- eating and getting presents. The fact that your average mouthbreather indulges in de novo lipogenesis (see fig 1) and debt accumulation every other day of the fucking year seems lost on them.
Luckily I'm more than comfortable with a notional death penalty for shit like shooting up reproductive health clinics! Then I remember that unfortunately no one can trust a corrupt State, bullshit defence and bogus judicial criteria to implement this punishment fairly.
So we're back to Kermitface (see fig 3) which is the look I get when I'm asked why I wear black (that doesn't happen as much as it used to because it's obvious these days); also when I realise I've played myself with my own permissive secular liberalism. My sincere apologies to everyone who's ever gotten their figurative or literal arms blown off by the rusty improvised explosive device that is organised religion.
Oh Brian Chippendale. Marry me. Save us all.
* Not a Haiku for Brian *
Stare into his glowing flesh
it all comes from the elbows
they are Shiva's fulcrum.