I will do a word count of the entire blog at some point, so we can quantify just how much I love writing. Because I do have a powerful lust for numbers, too. Which apparently "proves I'm a dude" <-The blue chunks reveal a link, that'll deliver more value, 'cause that's how I roll with a pen in hand. That was a sleight of hand because I'm actually typing, but repetition with rhythm's what good writin's all about.
Admit it. When I mentioned "rolling with pen in hand", you imagined me on a beautiful summer day, in a Jack and Jill tumble, ass over tea kettle*, ripping down a bright green grassy hill, littered with equally bright blue and purple wildflowers, laughing in delight as I hit the publish button... or you've caught that imagery now that I've created it.
If that wasn't clear, reconsider my name... "Imma Writa" (sound it out)... language ally... friend of expression. And really, what are numbers if they're not a language to express terms and conditions. But other than Pi, numbers are finite. No disrespect to math, but that's limiting to a person like me. Not that everything hasn't been done, and done, and done, it simply seems there are still more word combinations, readily available to me, to express these terms and conditions I'm sharing.
In all honesty, I don't understand how to represent everything we learned about advertising yesterday, using numbers. I can throw down the occasional joke, en Francais, but they're glib because my understanding of the language is equally glib. I don't even know how to express fart jokes in numbers, and potty humour is about the easiest giggle inducer going. So, I prefer the English language because I am reasonably competent in this art form... Why would I wanna do what you're good at? "Assured Failure" is NOT the GNATION way. That's a Twitter reference there, no secrets.
Shit. There I go again, showing you how much I love the art form rather than telling you, in a montone voice, while I stare at the floor, head and shoulders slumped, "I write."
I love writing so much that I forsake it to advertise the writing because after doing a some simple math on the equation, I realized, "Shit, no audience is one of those assured fails, and homie don't fuckin' play like that! Bootstraps, Bitches! Let's go!" So I hustle and hustle and hustle and write, in those proportions exactly. Which is why the hit counter is where it is even though the blog hasn't even celebrated it's three month anniversary yet. Yesterday's blog entry proves that it's all worth it, 'cause it's all writing practice and this shit just keeps coming in, providing this never ending supply of material.
Because I care about improving my skills I've learned to notice these patterns and rhythms, so that I can mimic at will, which is all a good writer ever gets up to, and then get accused of all kinds of things for making observations. It's fun and funny to me, the observations, the accusations, the whole damn jug of lemonade we makin', delights me to end. It's gotta be better than a crack addiction, I know that for certain. And I'm pretty sure that people love getting famous on this here blog.
So, I'm not saying anything about anything, but one of these patterns I've noticed is that the way that Republicans defend their positions, often reminds me of religious zealots who obviously don't have all that much faith in their repeated messages either. On this side of the border, the equivalent of the "Repubs" (which autocorrects to "relics", also just sayin'), are the Conservative Douchebags, Eh.
Now, before you get your panties in a bunch all over my mini-alphabet-poem-acronym-nickname for our fearful leaders, I'll remind you that, "Imma Writa", get over it. And that I hate everyone equally with my non-partisan ways and means.
Everyone is stupid in some ways and good for something else.
Bigots are honest, but they're also bigots. Which proves my point that: Every 1 = +/- ... wait, what the fuck? I'm almost certain that I've just had a breakthrough on expressing these ideas with mathematical language. Fuckin' hot damn, somebody send that guy an e-card to say thanks.
I'm still not sayin' anything about anything, just noticing when patterns happen to exist. It's simply your attachment to your ego's version of things that makes you believe that I am lying when I say "Zero fucks given". But again, just sayin', the next guy happens to be a Republican, too.
Shit son! I definitely recognize that line from the script! I've written a few plays in my time. The thing is, this guy's entire script was so alike the first guy that I couldn't help but notice. Same words, same word combinations, same attitude that rejects anything the ego can't adjust to: Seriously, fucking uncanny shit. So, he spent quite a lot of time between this message and the next, hell bent on proving that if I'm not a supporter of the Republicans, because I think Todd Akin is fucking idiot, I must be a Liberal supporter, and expanding on all of the reasons I was a retard for voting Obama in... even though I told him numerous times that a) I don't give a fuck b) I'm Canadian, eh! It really doesn't fucking matter what I think of his country's jerks. c) "Non-partisan jerk" = "non-partisan jerk". Therefore, I remain affiliated with NO political party. Furthermore, I subscribe to no cults. It's a fairly common combination, as far as I've experienced. |
*I learn the true meaning of a lot of words and expressions in composing my ramblings because sometimes shit comes to me, and because I dread a bitch using language for evil, I try not to be that bitch, who bastardizes inadvertently. Intentional fuckery only. So, I Googled the shit out of "ass over teakettle" to be sure that the fucked up imagery I was weaving was purposefully fucked up. And I chose this source because it referenced The Grapes Of Wrath, and I really fucking dig that bit o' literature. It's also a really thorough answer to my question. Google is fucking amazing for that!
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