and then stalin told me …

my lack of interest in posting anything online was briefly renewed by the following comment:

first and foremost, no, it is not getting hot in the kitchen. and had you any common sense, dear poster, you’d realize that no one posting on this word press calls him or herself “stalin”. a title must be an odd concept, i guess.

and how cleverly we hide our actual email, but fail to mask our ip, or even at least trying to proxy.

it was hot in the kitchen yesterday, but that was because i was making stuff to eat.

also, for the dear commenter and anyone else who may wish to post stupid horse shit of the same manner, you have been and will be marked as spam in my comment moderation queue. want to post something? make it useful in my eyes.

at fancy-rats.co.uk, a somewhat decent site with its share of half-witted, poorly researched information, you will find the following statement in the article “how does smell influence behavior?”:

anyone’s first reaction would be that of acknowledgment. that the person who wrote it is correct. that she seems to know what the hell she is talking about. i, however, couldn’t disagree any fucking more. yes, a rat’s primary sense is smell. and yes, smell is how rats primarily perceive the world around them (but also in combination with touch [whiskers] and sight). but looking deeper into her statement, and coming from a long history of both raising and breeding rats, i have to point the fact out that her rat bit a judge. and now, she is blaming the rat’s aggressiveness toward the judge on perfume and hand lotions. how fucking stupid can one person be?

first and foremost, it’s a judge. why the fuck people feel the need to raise pets only to show them off is beyond me. it’s not bad enough that as humans we have to compete with one another, but we also have to force this i-am-better-than-you lifestyle on our pets too?

let’s analyze this a bit, shall we? the rat perceives with smell. the rat bit a judge. a judge handles various other rats in the competition to rate them accordingly. one of the other rats the judge handled, then, could have well been a larger male. we all should know, through common sense, that most animals of a species of the same sex will compete with one another. rats are no different. put two males together that are not from the same litter and watch them compete to see who is the better of the two. this judge has handled many rats. one happens to have been a male larger than the current (biting) rat. rats have the ability to tell nearly everything about an individual rat through olfactory senses. the larger rat left his trace on the judge. the other male rat bites the judge. end.

at least, it should be the end. unfortunately, the rat can also see. and a hand does not look like another fucking rat. i have had competing males mark my hand before, and never once did the other side of the competition bite me. no, there is just a bit something more to this story. has the writer ever stopped to think that perhaps her rat doesn’t enjoy being paraded around like a fucking trophy? did it ever occur to our brilliant writer than she isn’t as wonderful a rat owner as she believes herself to be?

perfumes, lotions, soaps, and hand sanitizers are no excuse for a rat’s behavior. if a rat was designed to rely solely on its sense of smell for all things necessary to both living and fighting, it would not have developed eyes or a sense of touch. do you really think, intrepid article author, that a judge’s hand looks or feels like anything threatening to a rat that obviously is grown and ready to be shown? perhaps if the rat was young, when hands are still a bit foreign to them, it would be permissible as a reason. but not now.

the reason for the rat’s shitty behavior lies at home. in your hands. and your behavior. you and hubby not getting along? mishandling, or perhaps not even handling, the rats? a rat is a very personable little creature. in fact, i am one to believe that they understand us wholly due to my experiences with my rats over the years.

never once have i had a rat who has bitten a person. or even another rat. every rat i have raised grew into unique individuals with their own personalities. so, why don’t we first analyze our own routines with the rats before we try to blame others. my rats have never bitten anyone because their sense of smell was “confused” due to an over abundance of perfume or cologne. the previous statement also includes rats i have purchased from pet stores and tamed rather than raised from a breeding pair. pet rats, like most children, are a product of their environment. quit blaming others and take some fucking responsibility.

you raised a shit poor rat, bitch.

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Listening to: Obszon Geschopf - Rapist of Remains

and the blight we call taxes has come full circle. how i just simply enjoy tax season. my investment company has not the ability to withhold funds for state taxes when a disbursement is issued which leaves me, at times, with extravagant state taxes to deal with. and by extravagant, i fucking mean a typical $4,000.

no. i am not rich. no. i will not give you any money. and i don’t rightly care if you weren’t going to ask either of the previously answered questions. as i was always told, “proper planning prevents piss poor performance.”

but i am not going to sit here and argue the relevance of taxes in a country so riddled with international debts. it is not only pointless, but not a subject i often find myself studying. taxes are as foreign as the mongrels who invented them to me.

however, since i’ve already roused the wholesome subject of foreign i would like to say a word, or two, or several, on immigrants and outsourcing - two things which absolutely piss me off. that’s my modus operandi, after all.

first and foremost, i realize and understand that this country was founded by what are technically considered foreigners. hell, many immigrants came from their homelands to help build this one. my family came from ireland sometime in the mid 1800’s, but i do not consider myself to be irish-american. or irish. my name is not ciarán. and just because i can speak gaeilge doesn’t mean it is my native tongue. what i do have an issue with is those foreigners who, for one reason or another, decided to abandon their own home countries to come here and then expect the residents of this country to adopt their fucking foreign ways.

we’re supposed to be respectful and understanding of their cultures that foreigners bring with them, but the idiots preaching this political correctness fail to realize the foreigners are trampling on what is the god damn american culture. what? oh, we have a culture of our own? yes, we fucking do.

more and more, aliens are flooding our country filling it with half-assed indian doctors, shady columbian fruit vendors, and incestuous chinese corner marketeers. and the more these idiots bring over, the more our culture, and our language, are trampled on. we’re supposed to respect their languages and ways. why? this isn’t fucking india. if you want to spit out your disgusting, curry fucking, cow worshipping tongue, go back to india. the constitution of the united states of america, the last i recall, was written in english. not mandarin. billy milano said it best with storm troopers of death, “speak english or die!”

before you start filling my god damn moderation queue with insulting comments, know this: i have no issue with other languages at all. i speak more than one myself. however, i don’t speak more than one language in the presence of customers or other shoppers. and i especially don’t resort to a foreign language to insult my god damn customers to someone else who speaks the language. before allowing any entry into this country, an eight grade level understanding and speaking ability in english should be required. i can’t tell you how fucking tired i am of trying to understand what the fuck your hog-toothed, lo mein sucking ass is trying to say to me. ohhh, fank-a yu. shut the fuck up!

you want to come to america? fine. first, understand our language and our culture, and respect it and learn it. then come over. we pay you the same respects when visiting your countries. you won’t find me eating a fucking hamburger in the middle of kerala, so why not go suck your curry down somewhere else?

this also goes hand-in-hand with outsourcing. so companies have decided that outsourcing most support and technical jobs to other countries yield better profit? fine. it’s your business, not mine, and i won’t tell you how to run it. i will tell you, however, that if you are going to find a group of foreigners to handle support jobs, make sure they fit the fucking criteria above. trying to understand what technical support is telling me through a thick accent laden with poor english is a pain in the god damn ass. and i blame you, corporate c.e.o.

is it so fucking hard to just hire a few american individuals to work in your support departments? will you really lose that much money? i find it simply amazing that these assholes live and work in america, yet they’d rather help the fucking economy of india before their own country. what happened to patriotism? is someone going to have to drive another plane into a fucking building to make these assholes wake up? i would much rather prefer george washington’s idea of isolationism applied to most aspects of the american business world than the current practices the greedy fucks employ now. and notice, i didn’t fucking say all aspects. most. learn fucking reading comprehension, moron.

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Listening to: Gackt - RETURNER~Yami no Shuuen~

first and foremost, every post that was here before today, this day of february 22, 2008, has been deleted. my reasons are my own, and at 3am, i am not entirely sure that they are lucid ones. perhaps it is my sudden willingness to write something. to put thought to word. but who cares.

my previous wordpress was a collection of sullen insults and whoredom. existentialism is still my primary philosophy in life, but i’ve found that i am not fond of writing about it. in fact, i found that i am not fond of writing about anything that fails to absolutely piss me off. then again, what doesn’t piss me off? there are very few things. and those few items that hold high malice in my heart are a collection of shits which i cannot speak of. i refrain from the potential libel because i feel that i cannot type “in my opinion” enough and make it believable. unfortunately, some of the things would be common knowledge rather than opinion; however, their existence must be kept to myself and those who know of what i speak. don’t know? don’t fucking ask.

and for the love of fuck, would those who possess no knowledge of me please refrain from speaking about in me in whole? i grow weary and tired of shitting little new mexican boys that like to spread fucking rumors of a second grade mentality across my favorite game. yet, when approached, they are placid and act as though they would be nothing more or less than your friend.

fuck. you.

take your whores and riddle them with aids. leave me to my own devices and piss off. beguiling little fucks. such benighted, inbred, wholly disgusting little shit sniffers. if you want to bring an issue to my face, i’ll answer your query with a prompt smack. leave me alone. don’t hide behind my back spreading lies and rumors to my friends. it’s boring. my compulsory education ended years ago, don’t resurrect its drama. if your walking sack of herpes and vaginal waste wants to tell you that i beat her in some form or fashion, then perhaps she feels guilty enough about the way she acted so as to feel as though she deserved to be beat. fortunately, i don’t strike those of the female persuasion. where is the fun in it? where is the fun fisticuffs anyway? subterfuge please.

on the lighter side. since some fucking asshole has apparently been running around using my god damn monicker of darth zilla, i feel that i can no longer use it myself. while i fortunately nabbed the darthzilla subdomain with wordpress, this little cock hole has registered the name practically everywhere else. perhaps this is a step in a better direction. a refining process? we’ll see. instead, i’ll be attempting to use the name which mr. mika commonly refers to me as. if you haven’t found it by now, you’re fucking hopeless. piss off.

and as for this coprophiliac who has stolen my old name. fuck you. may you choke on it, and may your family soon choke on your rotten intestines after they realize what a waste of good genetic material you are and employ a policy of cannibalism with you as the first victim. fuck you. whore.

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Listening to: Cinerary - Rituals of Desecration