Wow, I have thought up almost every writing job one can think of as I actively STILL seek to get hired as a writer, but never an obituary writer. I just applied for the job, & as I wrote my cover letter, I pictured myself already writing obituaries, & I may have discovered a niche, so to speak, that flows perfectly with my own authentic style of wordsmithery. I suppose I could do some practice ones as writing samples, perhaps on one of the dead friends I have lost in the last few years. There’s so many, where would I even start? Or…or…I could write my own obituary; that would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Maybe I’ll just make one up, who knows? As always, I am just going to plug into the proverbial wall socket, turn on the tuner, turn the dial until I find the right frequency, then let these fingers fly, & then reflect on what comes out when I am done. Ready? Okay, here we go…(illusory sounds of plugging in, turning on, tuning in, then type, type, typing)
Fish Frederico Fish, 99, of Playa Dominical, Costa Rica, passed away on September 15, 2077 from natural causes. He is survived by his cat, Milo, & his private nurse, Ms. Fiona Fillmore.
Fish F Fish was born on September 22, 1977, an only child to Francine & Frank Fish at San Juan General Hospital, San Juan, Costa Rica. Fish grew up learning music, & creating art, & as an only child, was encouraged to pursue his talents graciously by his parents. After graduating from Fishington High School with honors, he attended the prestigious Fishworth University, majoring in English Literature, before continuing on to get first his MA, followed by his PhD in Advanced Literary Studies.
His first job was as a teacher, teaching students to discover their respective writing voices at the same university he attended. Fish was always was a writer, & he wrote several books, his main one being Comic Tragedy, which went on to become a best-seller, launching Fish to new levels of status & achievement, as it topped the Fish York best-sellers list for a record 222 straight weeks.
Once his book went global, Fish decided to stop teaching as a career, to pursue a life of travel & adventure, venturing to many countries around the world. He documented his travels via his Truetube channel, which garnered millions of followers, providing more than enough income for Fish to spend the rest of his life traveling the world, & authoring his adventures through video, as well as written & spoken word. Fish was truly known worldwide, finding friends in many places all over the globe, & his legacy will live on in the annals of history.
Fish never really retired, as his life was always one of action, & he kept writing until the day prior to his passing. His last note read, in part, “The journey was long, but in the end, it was all just like a flash of a dream. The ride has been fun, but now it is done, as at last, I slip forever into the twilight of the afterlife. I love you all, & I look forward to seeing you again on the other side.”
Fish was never married, & has no children, & no living family other than distant cousins, but had many romances throughout his extended lifetime. However, at the time of his passing, he passed away quietly in bed, with only his best friend, his cat Milo, by his side, along with his private nurse.
He is being interred via Mount Julius Funeral Home September 22, 2077, on what would have been his 100th birthday. Services will be September 21st, at 6:00 PM. In lieu of flowers, Mr. Fish requested that all donations be sent to his foundation, The Feed the Fish Foundation, which provides free meals to those in need, which was something he devoted himself to for the last 3 decades of his life.
That’s not too shabby, right? We’ll see how my possible future employers like it, I suppose. It was fun to write though, & as a writing exercise, I encourage other writers to write their own obituaries. It’ll really make you think if you do, but that’s only if you do it. “Do hast thou will,” as the saying goes. The time has come, the time to go, & until next time dear readers, keep feeding your talent, keep feeding your fish, because that’s all you really can do, isn’t it? So sayeth FisH™…🎏
ATTENTION: Mixtape mayhem at the end…the FisH™abides 🐡🔪🍣
Dah-dahda-dahhhhhh…”Unleash the SIMMMMMPS!”…they proclaimed, albeit unspoken. Nope, that phrase was never actually exclaimed, but they sure did, didn’t they? My, my, my how the simp army has grown over the last decade or two. Thanks to online dating, the ENTIRE dynamic of relationships between men & women has been fucked(pun intended), & I say that literally & figuratively. Hook-up culture has completely ruined any hope of someone virtuous finding another virtuous person. If you could buy a used car or a new car for the same price, which would you pick? I know, I know, the “used-car analogy” has been thrown out enough by now to almost squash the novelty, but personally, I still think it’s an accurate analogy. Not familiar? Here it goes: every man a woman sleeps with is the equivalent of a car with 10,000 miles on it. For example, if a girl sleeps with 20 guys, that’s analogous to a vehicle with 200,000 miles of wear & tear. Would you buy that hunk of junk? No, you wouldn’t, at least you assume you wouldn’t; but enter the “simp.” Yes, that silly simp steps in, & treats her like the queen bee she is, right? Derp…(Fart Noise)…yeah right. Maybe tell that slag to kick rocks, that’s the move to make, but nope, they “love” her, & would do anything for their girl, so brave, so stunning, that’s what a “real man” would do, yes? Ummm, no…NO, NO, NO, NO, NO…STOP…just STOP, stop the simping right now. Do they stop though? Nope, & the proverbial “games,” just keep getting played, simps begging for yumyum, while girls hold it over their heads like carrots.
Unless it’s Chad of course, then the script flips, & the GIRL becomes the simp, or maybe call her “simpette,” since she’s a girl. I’m not letting go of the natural masculine/feminine attributes as they arise. Fuck you non-binary, there-are-174-gender freaks. Seriously…FUCK YOU, fuck your stupid pronouns, I am, & I have, & I will continue to call you as I see you. If you’re a dude, guess what?…I’m gonna abide by my initial perspective that YOU ARE A MAN, so expect a “dude,” or a “bro,” or a “guy,” or a “man,” because that’s reality you LARPing mental patients. SO OVER IT, over the Clownworld crap. YOU CAN”T CHANGE DEFINITIONS, YOU CANNOT CHANGE LANGUAGE TO FIT YOUR PSUEDO-NARRATIVES, YOU CANNOT ALTER REALITY FOR YOURSELVES FOR FUCK’S SAKE. Sheesh with the maddening madness already. It’s so insane, that it’s insanity on my end to even have to illustrate this ridiculousness for all of you, dear readers. Seriously, right off the fucking cliff with the “woke” bullshit & again, I’M OVER IT. You weirdos can honk honk honk me all day, & I won’t budge a Planck length. Ever. Deal with it. Big tech has already cancelled my black ass, so what’s left? Oh yeah, their buddies in the Ponzi-schme crypto sector took all my life savings, everything I’ve ever earned, all gone, so again I ask, what’s left? What’s next for FisH? I have nothing left, NOTHING, you all robbed me blind, in every way imaginable, & are going to get away with it, & there’s nothing I can do to change it. I’m just another clueless dunce stuck in The Great Mouse Trap like all of you.
Was I ever a simp? Oh HELL YES I was, & still am in a way. Oy vey, looking back on my simpery makes me wanna puke, ugh. I’ve done SO MUCH trying to win over girls, the proverbial bending-over-backwards for the ladies, & all for what? Countless failed toxic relationships, no kids, just an abysmally lame history of simping versus un-simping, which leads to chaos, & ultimately, you end up alone typing gibberish on your computer to a global audience that could care less. What a life. Wunderbar. Why though, why such instability? Is it me? Duh, of course it’s me, because ultimately girls like real men, not narcissistic fraudsters like my wanker self. Yep, the big fraud, just a stupid kid with a smart-ass mouth, STILL, & that’s about all it adds up to. I’m nothing to look up to, I never was, & never will be. Kind of surreal that I’m even still here. All my friends are dead, dead & gone, lost to addiction, as I have been countless times. I’m literally the only one left, a former junkie, a former “man” really, as at this point, I’m just a shell of what I used to aspire to be. “Aspire,” I say, because I never made it. Nope, I saw the mountain, I started to climb, made it to Basecamp One, then got high with the locals on some Tibetan mad honey& quit climbing. Not only did I quit climbing, I descended back down the mountain. Or maybe I fell back down…yes, that analogy is more functional here. I fell, & fell hard, my fall becoming a snowball, & that snowball just keeps growing as I go down…down, down, down, back to rock bottom I guess, minus the drugs this time though. Nope, no drugs this round, it was all just me, the failed failure.
Nope, no drugs, just the instinctive loser in me playing out his loser role. Some of us can never win, ever. I feel like this inclination is common amongst the simp legion, this notion that we will NEVER win, ever, & we won’t, we don’t, & that’s just how it is. I suppose I am STILL a simp. Yep, this idiot that’s typing this gibbering gibberish right now, is a simp, still the simp, never going to not be a simp. Despite my wordsmithing, my silver tongue, ultimately it’s true, as true as the daily sunrise, I AM A SIMP. Simp, simp, simparoo, look in the mirror you fucking fuck(talking to myself), look at you, you crooked-nosed jackass, do you seriously think you have what it takes you vertically-challenged street-hustler? Look at you. Nope, sorry, can’t do it. I don’t like looking in mirrors much anymore. How can you, when you despise what you see, what you’ve become, how can you even look at yourself you asshole? Good question, thanks for playing. Well, the answer for me is that I don’t, not if I don’t have to. It’s like looking at a rare old book, except the book has numerous pages torn out, a broken spine, graffiti all over the remaining pages, just ruined. What was once novel, is now just an old wasted book. Always was just a poorly-written book, an aged out-dated story for children in juvenile hall, & that’s it, that’s my unfortunate reality, the one I wake back up to every day.
Thanks Jordan Peterson…& no I’m not being sarcastic, that’s an honest “thanks,” as sincere as I can ever be. It’s a big THANKS, for waking me up to my own failed existence. Can’t deal with it unless you acknowledge the truth, your own truth, which I did, via his online course for “self-authoring.” It hurts, hurts a lot, but it has to hurt like this to help I guess, at least that’s the end goal, right? By writing, writing down your past, you expose your own self-realizations about who you truly are. It just comes out when you write, if you stick to the program, & what comes out, is the TRUTH, despite how revolting and/or damning it is, it IS the truth, YOUR truth, the one YOU live with, same as my silly self does. There’s no arguing truth, you just have to accept it, which can be exceptionally difficult, especially when it’s YOUR own individual truth, respectively. My truth, is my truth. Your truth, is YOUR truth. Can you accept your own truth? Have you even found it yet? I’ll link to Jordan’s website below for you. Maybe it’s time, YOUR time, to find YOUR own truth? Only YOU can answer that question, not me. I found mine, & regardless of how deep the stinger went into my thin dry skin, I MUST accept my truth. The truth about me, the truth about me, the truth about me is that I’ve lived a life of a loser, with little diamonds in the sand on a losing loser’s beach, little clue diamonds, little helpers from Divinity, & all I had to do was see them, & collect them, & learn about myself to grow as a man, but I didn’t. Nope, I just watched the diamonds shimmer in the sun, as I drowned myself in a shallow sea. The loser, the simp, the ignorant pseudo-narcissist, always about me, me me me, until one day you’re middle-aged & you do a writing course online that cleverly opens you up to yourself, you TRUE self, via Dr. Jordan Peterson, & you just snap out of it, like a light-switch, turned from “off,” to “on,” finally. Here’s the link to his website below, as promised. I try to keep my word always, the little things & such, know what I mean? All one can do at this point, when they’re middle-aged with the starkly grim realization that you fucked your whole life off. Is what it is I suppose, right? Is that what I’m supposed to say? I didn’t know I was “supposed” to say anything, who makes these unwritten rules anyway?…but I digress. Click this link below, it might save whatever life you have left, at least a much as one can save a life lost to loserdom & simpery & just cluelessly self-oriented shenaniganerosity.
It’s pathetic really, but for what it’s worth, I’m glad I know at least. What does it mean to be a totally self-aware loser? I don’t know, I’m illustrating it in real-time for you right now. Do I sound like I have a fucking clue? About anything? That’s weird, because I don’t. Nope, all there is, is this, whatever this is that I’m doing right now. Blah blah blah, just barfing out wordisms for all of you, & for none of you. Not even my quote, it’s a paraphrasing of something Nietzsche said. As genius as he was, he was also a simp, just like me. He let his instincts destroy him, his internal instinctive nature to love women, he let it run wild, & ultimately, it broke him. Ironically, right around the same age I am right now. Maybe it’s my time, my time to break. Why not?…I’m already walking on a tightrope just to function in “normal” society, so maybe I should just let the dam break, & let the torrents flow through the crumbling dyke that once held these waning waters back. Is that what I just did, did I “let the water flow?” Nah, it’s only a little leak, the dam is still up, for now anyway. Leaks eventually become floods though, so the clock ticks…tick tick tick, as 4d time plows forward, spiraling ever faster toward a shadowy future. Sure, I’d like to be positive, optimistic, hopeful, hoping that one day I will wake up in the morning & say to myself, “all of it was worth it, look at yourself, what a great guy,” but that surly pragmatist on my other shoulder chimes in with the hard truth. I’m a loser, I’m a simp, I failed, just a lame duck joke now. It’s all just been a B-list movie, as I continuously struggle/d to find myself, STILL, even at my middle-aged age.
All I got is my words, & a micro-thin string of faith left in myself. Not completely drained, but the gas light is on as I run on the fumes of failure. The gas light has been on in fact, on for awhile, right in front of me, lighting up the dashboard, as it needs more gas. Just a few more miles left, then a sputter, then the engine dies & my car sits on the side of the road, with a big orange sticker that says, “In two days this car will be impounded.” All I need is more gas, but the gas station doesn’t trade hard-copy drivel like this, for more gas unfortunately. The engine growls, yearning, for more gas, more life, more time, but there is none of the above, not for me anyway. I don’t know. Fuck it, the answer for everything in the world of the wasted, just “fuck it.” Who cares anyway? No one, so fuck it, right? Fuck it, fuck it all I guess. Doesn’t matter. Until next time dear reader, find your truth & live your true life. Don’t waste it all like yours truly. So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you, & for none of you at all. 🐟
“Self-loathing is nauseating.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Your truth is the truth.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Find your truth & live your true life, don’t truly waste it.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
“Dude is simpin like a mixtape.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
👇🏻🍥Gemini & Leo below, cheers to Helado Negro🍥👇🏻
Fresh start Hold my hand all the way now Wake up Everyone’s singing outside
Asked you We can stay all day, who cares Lying down It’s our dream to stay all day when we know Nobody cares And nobody needs to know what we’re doing here
Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night
We can move in slow motion, just watch me We can take our time in cosmic balance We’re just light from stars that shine on planets Constellations of our love and magic
Oh, take me To your galaxy now Oh, show me How you orbit around my mind Takes a little bit of time To know just how to be with you
Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night
Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night Gemini and Leo Dancing on the floor all night
Unfortunately the world has lost a fancy-fingered gem of a musician, the great Burt Bacharach. Yes, at the young age of 94, sadly he has pushed his final piano key. The first of three, maybe, as these things happen in “threes,” as the proverbial they say, so who might be next? Fun game to play with friends, when a “person of note” dies, you try & guess who the next two in line will be. Kind of morbid, sure, but it’s just a part of life, is it not? Hmmm, I smell a quote in there somewhere…something kind of oxymoronic perhaps? Life is death, death is life, Finkel is Einhorn, doot-doodoot-doodoot…what can I do with that? Let’s see, how about, “Embrace death as you embrace life, as every ending is a new beginning,” …something along those lines, but not that exact quote. It’s…”incomplete,” you might say, so I’ll ponder it as I write, & maybe give you a solid quote at the end of this Friday Foozer. Or maybe I’ll just let Burt quote me out on this one, we’ll see at the end. Fridays to Fridays, like nights to days nowadays, the progression of the flushing toilet of 4d time progresses ever faster it seems.
It was 1972 now over FIFTY years ago, wow, it’s just incredible, this whole 4d time thing, the Great Time Spiral, pulling 3d “forward,” forward into the future, so surreal, isn’t it? Check out this link before I continue on about times past. This is a TV special from 1972, featuring the late Burt Bacharach. Notice how amazingly different it was back then, where do I begin? Well, technically, after this video below, that’s where I’ll “begin,” but I meant figuratively, where does one begin when they try to illustrate the stark differences between 1972 & 2023? Like 2 totally different worlds, but nope. Same world I think, but maybe we jumped timelines into Clownworld, I don’t know, but my oh my, how times change, as this collective macroorganism evolves/devolves into…into…drats, I wish I knew, as it’s metamorphosis is ongoing in real-time, the chrysalis clown in its clown-car cocoon, can you hear the cacophony of nose-horns? Honk honk honk…honk…
👇🏻ROLL THE CLIP👇🏻
Well how about that? A televised show showing people who can show you their respectively individual ACTUAL talent, as opposed to the grossly talentless manufactured productions they broadcast “for the kids” nowadays. Have you seen the new Disney cartoon? If not, get out from under your rock & catch-up, ya uninformed tomato. Ready for another gem? Let’s see what Matt Walsh has to say, with a preview of this ridiculous animated cartoon FOR KIDS. As an animator, & someone who can reason out the MILLIONS of dollars that were invested in hiring animators, script writers, producers, directors, voice actors, on & on & on, all for this bullshit below, it makes me sick. This is being broadcast to KIDS, keep that in mind as you watch, & think about the cartoons you used to watch. Still remember the catch phrases don’t you? Keep that in mind as well. Ok, here we go…
👇🏻ROLL THE CLIP👇🏻
“SLAVES BUILT THIS COUNTRY!!” …repeated over & over, & kids being the sponges they are, are soaking all this up & integrating it into their developing brains. It’s so utterly sickening, so dark, so sinister, gah, & they just keep pushing. Apparently, they’re getting a lot of backlash for this racist production, but if it’s racism against whites, nope, shhhh…move along, & despite the widespread online criticism, it won’t change a thing, & Disney is going to keep doing this. It’s not he first time they’ve injected their “woke garbage into children’s programming, so why would it be the last? RAH RAH RAH…RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE…sure, there’s going to be the “backlash,” but they don’t care. Do you understand? THEY DO NOT CARE. #WhiteManBad is the hashtag buzz-phrase that people of color who buy into this ridiculousness live by. Whatever the issue, #WhiteManBad, but I have facts, fuck you #WhiteManBad. The “white man is bad,” so “oppressive,” …derp. Apparently, now it is to the point that kids can be openly indoctrinated via publicly televised children’s programming with these horrible themes, CRT ideologies such as, “SLAVES BUILT THIS COUNTRY!!” …get the fuck outta here with this already. My ancestors weren’t even here, but I’m white, so what happens now? Fucking morons, round & round with the REEEEEE-cisms, until they get paid, which is really all they want, money. How sad, all the “civil rights” strife, all just about money, & power of course. Ask BLM.
Anyway, so that grossly inappropriate catchphrase, “SLAVES BUILT THIS COUNTRY!!”…yeah, that’s going to be stuck with these unfortunate kids forever now…FOREVER. Hell, it’s even stuck in my head now, & I’m in my 40s, so imagine the kids, these innocent CHILDREN, being programmed by viciously malevolent adults, to grow up thinking this country was in fact, “built by slaves.” First of all, it wasn’t, as Matt Walsh states right from the get-go, & second, WHAT THE FUCK are you “woke” dunces at Disney thinking with this OBVIOUS agenda? Seriously, WE ALL KNOW, we all know you’re degenerate racist pedos, & you should all be hung by the neck until DEAD, DEAD, DEAD. This “agenda’ is so sinister, ugh, THESE ARE KIDS FOR FUCK’S SAKE. I don’t even have any kids, & I this infuriates me, so I can only imagine how parents feel. Well, at least the parents who are aware, & I know there’s many a parent out there who is NOT aware, NOT informed, & so they just stick their fatherless kids in front of the television all day to be programmed, programmed by the “woke agenda.” No one ever mentions the parents incidentally, usually no father-figure, so they always go after Disney, or whoever else they can blame OTHER THAN the parent/s. Then you can argue that the breakdown of the nuclear family plays into this future catastrophe as well, but I won’t digress into that topic, as I’ve already segued off from the title up there, the RIP to old Burt. Maybe that’s all, all “the world needs now…is love, sweet love. That’s the only thing, that there’s just too little of.”
Well, we will miss you Burt, but you made it to 94 ya crooner, & what a life, so many songs, in so many heads, after riding in so many elevators, which is the only place you might hear a Burt Bacharach ditty. I jest, I jest, he was great, very talented, as are many Jews from that era who hail from Queens. It’s an interesting phenomenon, all these famous Jews from Queens from the 1920s to the 1960s, there was a Renaissance of sorts, maybe it had something to do with World War 2, I don’t know, & NO, NO NO NO NO NO it’s NOT anti-Semitic to ask questions like this…sheesh. “Why are so many talented people from Queens in the golden age of media Jewish?” How the fuck is that anti-Semitic? It’s simple curiosity, & many of them are very talented, & I respect their respective talents, I just find it odd that there are so many from that specific area that go on to find fame & fortune. That’s all, don’t throw me to the “you’re a Nazi” wolves over it. The proverbial eggshells are all broken, so I’m just gonna walk like I always do, one foot in front of the other, & if it bothers any of you, this pseudo-bigotry you delude yourselves into believing is real, then maybe kick rocks…& go on a long uphill hike, up a mountain, the highest mountain, to the highest peak, look up at the beautiful blue sky, & the fluffy white clouds, close your eyes, then jump you lemmings. How bout them apples?
Free speech is FREE speech, period..& “hate speech,” is just a liberal myth, part of the socially-engineered indoctrination agenda, like most of the buzzwords they regurgitate as they puke their word vomit all over the place. SO OVER IT. Anyway enough of the ranting, as that’s gonna do it for today’s daily Foozer. Until next time, I’ll leave a video of one of Burt’s greatest hits below. No FisH™quote today, I’ll let Burt fill in the gaps on this one. So pour a glass, light a smoke, eat a pancake, & enjoy the music of the late Burt Bacharach below. Rip sir. Travel well to your next destination. Hey, that’s not bad, I’ll do quote, AND Burt below, how about that, dear readers? Sound good?(pin intended) …& I’m out. So sayeth FisH™🎏
For all of you, & for none of you at all.
“Travel well to your next destination.” ~Fish F Fish🎣
Geezus tap-dancing Buddha how many places must I submit my resumé to before I get paid to do this? Maybe I just suck as a writer, perhaps I’m a failure at the art of wordsmithery? I don’t know, but since it’s not limited to writing jobs, & I am legally & medically badged to sell cannabis, I’m throwing out applications back into the industry. STILL not getting hired, & I am a decent grower, with a lot of experience, surely with ENOUGH experience to hop on in there & get sticky. No calls though. Doesn’t matter, who cares? I’m over-embracing this “who cares” vibe perhaps? Also, I don’t really want to go back to that industry to be honest. It’s a go-nowhere job, & ONLY the owners of the grows and/or dispos make real loot. Once you get to the top of the mountain, whether it be the head budtender or the head grower, you’re doing about as well financially as a manager at McDonalds is. Yep, not as glamorous as many people assume it might be. “But you get to smoke weed all day bro,” yeah so what ya dunce? You can do that anywhere if you want to, duh. I’m too old for it these days too, as it’s all mostly millennial, & I’m now the “old guy,” gah, these are NOT options I want to deal with anymore. Fuckin hell, THIS is what I want to do, THIS, writing articles, illustrated with MY own GIF animations, all ME, ME ME ME, how bout them apples? Why can’t one pursue their only plausible talent, rather than settling & selling your soul to be a paycheck-scrapper? Is that…narcissistic of me? Be sure to read to the end, there might be a bonus at the winner’s circle…
This is about ME, right?…because I’m a narcissist maybe? Ugh, I don’t know, I know I try NOT to be one, but from one’s own view, it IS your Universe, is it not? Isn’t everyone “self-centered?”…as in you “center your self,” because you ARE the center of YOUR Universe, see what I mean? Is it the language I’m not getting? It seems to be right, right? Self…centered…YOU, yourself, is the center of everything, because you ARE the center of everything, from YOUR perspective, correct? What am I missing here? Let’s look up the textbook definition of narcissism together shall we? Or you can just click the word back there, or you can be extra-lazy & just look below. Fuck it, time to really open up the frequency & see what comes through this channel; we’re going deep diving, into the murky depths, where the abyss lurks, only to look back at you…
The reason I’m attempting to illustrate these notions, is because it seems like people are throwing this particular word, & other similar words around…”as needed,” so to speak, as if they’re aggressive buzz-words, for use as ammo in verbal warfare, “oh I’m gonna outsmart you, then no I’m gonna outsmart you, look at my words I’m hurling at you, in cleverly ordered manner to throw off your counter-attack,” does this make sense to any of you? Another one is “gaslighting,” voted the “number one word of 2022,” I think. Derp, & it’s not that I dislike these words, it’s just as an evolving disciple of the English language, it’s almost downright revolting the way said language is now used these days. It’s like a shoot-off of the overall Orwellian cultural metamorphosis we’re all existing through right now. Just another fractal, as the macroorganism Planck-lengths its way to some new zeitgeist, & where will this language & these behaviors & these mass psychoses take us, what sort of future awaits in this mental asylum world?
Hmmm, “does NOT support that notion,” it says? Weird, because everyone calls everyone a narcissist. Try & stick up for yourself…”NARCISSIST!” …, I guess even when using one’s own self as a reference point, you get that now-infamous N-word. No, THE “N-word,” not nigger, no, not that even-more-infamous “N-word,” I’m talking about the word, “narcissism.” ME ME ME ME ME, now up above there, that was just the textbook definition, which really doesn’t count for much, other than what it implies, “defining a word,” but it doesn’t explain the word, so let’s look at a more in-depth description of this mental affliction.
Click the Link to read more about…>>> Narcissism Symptoms & Causes ..let’s go though these, becasue this is all about ME, ME ME ME ME ME right now, right? See what I’m doing? Either narcissistic or a douchebag, but most likely both. Duh. Without comedy, even if it’s B-list lame-ass jokes, it’s better than tragedy, yes? Let’s go through this list below:
Interesting, tough one too. Admiration, well no one really reads these and/or knows and/or cares if I exist, so there’s no one to really “admire” any of this crap, & obviously that notion alone implies a lack of any inclinations of “self-importance” I might have. I know I am a talentless fraud wasted TV baby from the asshole end of Generation X. All m friends are dead, & I don’t even know why I’m here, but I am aware of a part of me that WANTS number one to be meaningful, but it isn’t, nothing is.
Again, I’m guilty of being aware of having the kinds of inclinations, so what do you do when your self-aware of narcissistic tendencies, & actively try to fix them, but you fail yourself, over & over, & no one cares? That’s my fault though, I deserve NOTHING, only I wish I could be treated kindly because I try to be that way toward others. Isn’t that the rule, treat others as you want to be treated? Do I treat people poorly? I don’t know, I know I don’t want to, who would want that? I hope I don’t, but I don’t know. I have, for sure, & I cannot do anything to change it. I don’t know. I’m white, so I don’t know much anymore, & concepts of “privilege” & special treatment” are kind of blurry these days.
Numero tres, yes, I suppose I’m guilty of these thoughts, but where do thoughts come from? I don’t know, I told you I don’t know anything, I’m a fucking proverbial used-car salesman, the charlatan, isn’t that what they call bullshit narcissists? Charlatans? This is crap, my digital art is crap, if it was any good, people would visit my sites, but no one does, because I’m not any good, nor have I done anything worth a fuck in my whole sordid life. I’m only doing this, because THIS, is all I know how to do, so again, YES, I have thoughts that I have done amazingly unique art, & I’m a talented digital artist, & the best writer ever, & blah blah blah, all just delusional monkey-mind gibberish. Truth is, I only came back to this because I realized I sucked at everything else, & had nothing else, unless I want to go deliver pizzas like a fucking kid, the same punk kid I was 30 years ago. Pathetic.
Yep, guilty, & guilty again, & I kind of covered this in answer number three, so what else could I add here? It’s bizarre, because I’m well-aware no one is there, but I make my little shoutout vids & similarly stupid shit anyway. I KNOW NO ONE CARES, I know my “achievements” are nil, & if I have any “talent,” this drivel is it. It’s as big as this answer to question number four. Not to mention I’ve been digitally exiled from the virtual town square for trying to participate with everyone else. I guess I don’t do well in filtered settings, so it’s been just me, with literally no one, & Im not cognizant enough anymore of anything to care about likes & shares. None of it matters.
Yep, all the above, in a world onto myself, like a humid cave full of fresh bat guano, rife with the stench of shit. “Success,” derp, yeah right, successfully ruining everyone’s lives around me as well as my own, but I believe I should have the riches, as if that makes sense. Got it you fuckin idiot. “Power,” well you need strength of character to hold power, doesn’t matter if you’re “good” or “bad,” if you have strength of character, you can hold real power, not the pretend pseudo-power that only exists in my own self-delusions. “Brilliance,” hmmm, I don’t even know, does that mean you figuratively “shine?” …like someone who “lights up a room,” as they say? Or is it referring to intelligence?…as in, “I know I’m smarter than everyone else,” well, of course I am you moronic automatons. You’re all fucking idiots. I don’t really believe that, but part of my mind has notions like that, all the time, & I can’t explain how they got there, so what am I to do? “Beauty,” well I am certainly aware of vanity, & it sucks I can’t appreciate beauty without vanity. I don’t know why, I don’t know why any of this is the way it is. ME ME ME ME ME, yeah I fucking know, I’m the one stuck in this meat suit. Finally, the last one, the futile quest for the “perfect mate.” I actually might have beat this one, albeit the long, hard way. You have better luck finding a magic toad in a pot of gold being carried by a Bigfoot riding a Unicorn that farts glitter, than finding the “perfect mate.” Yes, I DID have that idealization, for a long time, & that one I already beat, because it beat me.
Yep, & yep, & because of this, I’ve somewhat subconsciously self-isolated away from everyone & everything, minus my alleged “equals” that only exist in other places not in my own locality…i.e. digital “friends.” They aren’t really my friends, I don’t have any real friends, I don’t know how to have friends, keep friends, I know how to make friends, but that never lasts, not even my virtual pseudo-friends on the Interwebs.
Yep, exceptionally critical, to the point that I hate them, you dumb fucking dummy dumdums down the drain diving in dumpsters. Fuck you all, you fuckin losers. Again, NOT me, but those thoughts come through, whatever this channel is I tune into, THIS is what comes through. It’s incredibly exhausting keeping up with the filtration system. It’s thoughts, MY thoughts, but “mine” only as far as they come through me, but I don’t know where thoughts arise from. Am I “generating” them myself, birthing these ideas into the world? I don’t know. Stop blaming me for things I don’t know and/or can’t control. Does “narcissism” sound fun, like something you would want?
Let’s see here, “special favors,” for me, what special favors can you do for me? I don’t know, gah, my head hurts, this is difficult doing this, sorry, sorry sorry sorry, shouldn’t say that out loud, pronouncing my own head pains from the stress of writing about these things, to all of my ghostly non-existent readers. Oh wait, that’s right, no one reads this, so no one cares, so no worries, so so what, right? So, let’s move on. Not expecting anything or doing anything for anything & everything anymore & no more. Why? What’s the point? Of anything for me anymore? Broken clocks are right twice a day, broken people can’t be fixed, & aren’t ever “right.”
Oh man, so guilty, all at THEIR expense for MY own gain. ME ME ME ME ME. Always about ME, well, me & my disease. They’ll say you have a disease, then blame you, then you say, “but you said I am sick, how’s it my fault?,” & they say, “it’s your fault, but if you pay us a bunch of money, we’ll help you with your disease.” Then you say, “I have no money, & no one to help me properly,” & they say, “go to the food banks, bye.” There sure is a lot of “taking advantages” going around, but I get the specificity of the implication here in trait number nine of the terribly terrifying “N-word.”
This one is…confusing, because I do, I try, I try so hard, but maybe I can’t feel anything, maybe it’s form my history of bad head injuries, I don’t know. I get so distracted, I try to think about it from their shoes, then I think about shoes in general, my brain doesn’t seem to have a well-functioning empathy drive then I guess, right? I’m willing, I have the will to be willing, but no one notices it, like I’m a ghost.
Hahahahahaha..oh man, well I know damn well NO ONE envies me for anything that I’m aware of, so scratch the 2nd half of that game, & I don’t care about thees enough to be “jealous,” & I wouldn’t call that little green monster on my should “envy,” I’d call it…”disappointment,” disappointed that some people get certain things that make no sense to me, like someone like Cardi B…absolutely impossible for em to be envious of that twat, but it disappoints me that life “rewards” that stripper with so much. Would I ever trade places with her though?…FUCK NO, are YOU insane? & I’d wager she feels the same, but she’s allowed to be as narcissistic as she can be, & it’s okay, see the logic there? You do? That’s weird, because there is no logic there, it just is what it is I suppose.
Oh yes, yes, & yes, arrogance, I bathe in it, using shampoo on my bowling-ball-blad head just to rub it in deeper too. Bragadociousness & conceit, sure, why not? Comes right alongside “arrogance,” doesn’t it?…like a little gang, arrogance, braggings, & a grossly conceited attitude, patrolling the hood, right? What can one say, when they know they’ve acted in such a way? Once again, quite aware & conscious of it too, but the auto-pilot keeps flying the plane anyway, on the same course. I can;t change course if I’m not the one always flying the plane, can I? I donlt even have a pilot’s license though, so I guess I’m really fucked up in the air, aren’t I?
Finally, last one, at least it’s my 2nd lucky number, 13. 22 & 13, never win me shit, but still they’re “lucky” in my head. What a fucking loser, Jesus Christ, help this guy out already or something, would ya? Someone, something up there, anything celestial & ethereally Divine, give this fuck-off a helping hand so he has harmony instead of hell. Who doesn’t want the “best of everything,” too bad I got nothing, unless I boost it, & booster seats are for squirts. That’s it for that impromptu narcissist checklist, did I win?
Well, that was totally random & unexpected. The only freedom I feel anymore, is in this space, my writing space. only thing that’s really “mine,” isn’t it? I’m over the buzzword labelings, the mental disorder diagnoses, if this is “life,” & this is what I fucked-off & made of it, why continue? Why? No one there, no one to care, everyone eat my underwear. Yes, I can write silly nonsense, BECAUSE NO ONE WILL EVER READ THIS, unless I send them an individually respective link, nope, this is just like pissing in the wind for me, all my own stinky poisoned pee spraying right back in my face, & up my nose, & on my tongue, this tongue that has driveled on long enough via this Ouroborian channel I’m plugged into & these robot arms that type type type away until I find this silly circularity I always bullshit about..”.beginning finds the end to find the start all over again,” gabba dabba doo wah ditty doo doo, who gives a fuck about a “mysterious circularity phenomenon” when I write, I just reiterate the beginning of the article at the end, like every other generically corny writer to ever crayon-scribble down their own literary puke. Who cares? So I’m done with that, maybe done with this, maybe done with myself doing this, because none of it matters, does it? Except to ME ME ME ME ME, right? Projecting out, as if on queue, until next time dear reader. So sayeth FisH™🎣
For all of you fucks, & for none of you fucking fucks at all.
“Done with that, done with this, done with myself, doing this & that.” ~Fish F Fish🎏
EaT~aLL~YouR~FisH™ 