Sunday, January 14, 2018


Yesterday evening upon returning home I realized something about myself which is altogether surprising to me, and which I never would have even considered possible: I like hypersensitive people -- the easily triggered or offended -- because I am a thoroughly mean person.
And I feel very good about that.

A person who reacted badly to the Mexican grilling bacon-wrapped hotdogs on the corner of Polk and California nearly made me cream in my panties with delight. Her agony was just so delicious!
Vegan nightmares.

The individual who had hysterics because I was smoking, earlier outside the club, gave me the warm shivers by his sweet distress.

A young fellow who reacted badly to a Karaoke number because it was just so sexist provoked my merriment.

In all honesty, I expect this type of goofy behaviour from White People, no one else. Other people have aunts and uncles who will set them straight, and grew up relishing strong flavours in liquor, food, entertainment, and evil 'substances'. Many young Caucasians nowadays had dolphin hugging instead, and "cultural tolerance" gently whipped into them.

Barbie is blonde, suburban, and a wheat-germ snarfing dingbat.
His or her life is spiritual and filled with meaning.
Do not eat the little lambs.
Hug them!

I interrupted my enjoyment of some good tobacco to fress a dog with bacon, chiles en escabeche, and onions. By doing so I probably wiped out an entire Amazonian village and killed (!) several gentle whales. Green whales! And, it is hoped, contributed mightily to global warming, male chauvinism, and the inexorable destruction of several precious native cultures.
That animal-protein-rich snack raised sea-levels.
I am horrible. Please be triggered.
It was exquisite.

Y'all wet my undies, bitches.
I hope you know that.


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