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Evil - for dummies

What you do is you start a bank, then by sleight of hand you convince everyone that while you only have 10 units of coin in your coffers y...

Saturday, September 24, 2011

type 3 Homo sapiens: old-school buckeroo

type 123456, 7

Roust him outta bed, chuck him his boots and something to chomp on, get him goin’ but don’t let the sonofagun speak up, not ‘til he’s all sweated over and caked with grime, you hear. You let a gunner like that open his pie-hole befor he’s well and tired, you let him expose partions of his mind too early in the day, mark my words, soon all manner of pretense and frill ‘ll come apparent. Soon he’ll think himself a goddamn gentleman and no more lift a finger for his pops than wipe his hind-end with his own sleeve.
I says there aint no need to go about inneractin' and innerchangin’ ideas and esperiences all the goddamn time. That only stir up complications and relativizations and so forth, and no good ever come of that.
Likewise the ladies, nowadays so generally accustomated to courtesy and such hogwash that every conversation soon become a goddamn spectacle a’ feelin’ and sentimentality. A man want to recline quiet and listen to the crickets. A man want to enjoy a jug a’ ale on his lonesome. No sir. The missus have some injury must be redressed right this goddamn minute, and all heavens stop gyratin’ before she git back quiet to business as usual.
Aint nothin’ to be done about it neither. What with the innernets now and those goddamn pocket telephones they be fingerin' day long, everybody's a know-it-all but nobody look you straight in the eye no more. The world just aint what it used to be and if you think it's all goddamn magic and wonder, I got a chopped finger and a whistlin’ lung says otherwise.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

day of pardon

Criminal vermin, gangster overlord - thug of every stripe - whatever your position in the constellation of assholes, today I extend my hand to you in salutation. Take it. It will not happen again. Ordinarily I would arrange for you only a firing squad, but today, in a gesture of magnanimity, I salute you human to human. I say to you: how do you do? How is business? How was it beating the crap out of that teenager you sold on to become the plaything of a sheik or drug-lord?
On a regular day I would devise ways to set your ass on a spike, like in Spartacus (the-movie), and I would think how best to rally a rabble of townsmen to bombard you with rocks and leftovers. And in the evening, because I am studious, I would consult reference books at the public library to draw inspiration from the Middle Ages and the great “practitioners” of the Inquisition. But on this exceptional day of pardon, I find it in myself to commend you as an entrepreneur and a risk-taker in times of economic hardship.
Likewise, to the crack-dealing mutherfucker, I extend a kind hand of brotherhood and I say to him: How fare you gentleman? How is business in this underprivileged neighborhood? And I ask the toothless junky slobbering on himself behind me if he would please wait his turn so that I may take my time to bid this crack-dealing mutherfucker farewell.
Perhaps I will not sustain this magnanimity an entire day. Perhaps even as I take leave of this crack-dealing entrepreneur, I might already be devising ingenious ways to give him a taste of his own medicine: a slow-release, salami-sized butt-plug filled with his own product, so that this gentleman may feel in a single “sitting” the combined experience of a thousand of his loyal customers.
But no, you see, today I salute this mutherfucker, as I salute the politician and his slut, the backroom-banker (one to wage war under false pretenses so the other may kill for profit). To such kleptomaniac gangster assholes I extend a salutatory hand, knowing full well I am looking at a diseased soul with a God-complex; knowing full well that I will be scrubbing this hand with soap and hard bristles at home. You see, pressing the flesh with such a man is like clutching a hand-shaped volume of vomit. But this he will never know, nor will he know that the smile on my face is not real, just a great feat of dissimulation and self-control.
I will do my utmost, you understand. Even the most dastardly mutherfucker in the great constellation of assholes will be greeted cordially. Today.