It was the running, dear worst-reader. The running from a few things–that resulted in my expatriation from my beloved & missed united mistakes of #Americant. Allow me to indulge in two of those things.
The first was/is anti-intellectualism. Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I’m saying I’m smarter than anyone else. That is certainly not the case. In fact, I didn’t start reading until well into the wasted days that would become my college days–and it only became second nature to me in my mid twenties. (Sad, huh?) You know, as in read something that would/could open up a mind–as opposed to reading something to satisfy a professor or a political ideology which then can only give way to the likes of Limbaugh & Co and/or never having an original thought. Hence, there is now generation after generation that is the result of passed-on bat$hittery aka mindfcuk that can only result in #Trumpism, aka über #Americant. I mean, come on. Where would #Americant conservatism be these days if it weren’t for the deliberate cessation of all-things intellectual, post Enlightenment?
It was a good run, don’t you know. The Enlightenment did provide a means with which America could at least begin it’s long/short journey to Americant and thereby fcuking up The Revolution in the name of owning everything, including We The People–who to this day oh-so willingly submit to Constitutional Writ that does nothing but guarantee being owned by ownership–or shot. Yeah, let’s not get into the fantasy of Democracy, eh.
The second thing worst-writer ran from on his expatriation journey was the Disneyfication1 of love. By the time I was twenty-five years old, I had realised the following:
- The opportunity that was had by that which reared me, i.e. previous generations, had long run out of steam. Hence, to this day, I’ve spent my life gladly dependent on the kindness of strangers thereby smirking the whole time at those who think they’ve actually worked their whole lives when they, in reality, have only behaved, i.e. work equals compulsive behaviourism2.
- Love. I ran from love in my beloved & missed #Americant as though there was no tomorrow. I was so horrified by the idear–or is it consequence–of love, which is dictated by Disneyfied #Americant females3 that #eurowasteland quickly turned into a godsend. Never once, of the Euro bimbos I’ve had pleasures with, was I confronted with the disney-princess-transaction of THE VAGINA, i.e. the deal which required a minimum of at least three months pay to buy the absurdity of a wedding ring, that would/could open up the flood-gates of a go-round in her pants. In fact, even though it’s all pink on the inside nomatter where in the world you lay it, Euro-bimbos weren’t selling it like the bimbos4 back home. Thank God!
And while I’m on the worst-subject of how women sell it, ever heard of Fawn Hall, dear worst-reader? If you haven’t, don’t worry. She’s one of the millions of millions (half the American’t population, don’t you know) of Disneyfied women who was/is never able to grow out of that aforementioned shadow of ill-repute parenting, i.e. procreation that never has an original thought. But don’t worry. As usual, where there’s one (in history) there will be many more (of the same) to follow. The current Fawn Hall’s new name is: Hope Hicks.
Good luck suckers.
Link that motivated this post:
- Disneyfication being a prequel to/for reality-TV. ↩︎
- Compulsive behaviourism being the perfect subsystem for political conservatism run amok, aka Reaganomics, militarism and religious bat$hittery. ↩︎
- Including religious, zealot and eventual conservative husbands! ↩︎
- For those perturbed by worst-writer sexism, heed this: a “bimbo” is the female version of “young-republicans”. Just as boys who end up being republicans because they are incapable of growing out of the ugly, disgusting shadow of their fathers, girls have the same deamon fight with their submissive mother/wives. ↩︎