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pathetic Stanley AKA Cereoid
On Thu, 07 Aug 2003 01:09:40 GMT, "Cereoid-UR12-"
wrote: You assholes don't let reality get in the way of saying anything accurate or truthful, do you? Lets see, You live with tour mother, true. Your heroes are cactus thieves, true. You are preoccupied with penile references, true. You live in a row house with limited garden space, true. You are constantly making pathetic attempts at demeaning anyone you perceive as less anally preoccupied with taxonomy, true. seems pretty clear to me Stanley.... The momma's boy of the Cactus thieves. No job no life no meaningful relationships (which explains the preoccupation with choking the chicken) and a row house garden to call his own. Pretty pathetic really! |
#2
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pathetic Stanley AKA Cereoid
In article , tomj wrote:
On Thu, 07 Aug 2003 01:09:40 GMT, "Cereoid-UR12-" wrote: You assholes don't let reality get in the way of saying anything accurate or truthful, do you? Lets see, You live with tour mother, true. Your heroes are cactus thieves, true. You are preoccupied with penile references, true. You live in a row house with limited garden space, true. You are constantly making pathetic attempts at demeaning anyone you perceive as less anally preoccupied with taxonomy, true. seems pretty clear to me Stanley.... Leaving home for a separate life is overrated. If my stepmom Lek was still alive and I could still live within the protection of an extended multiracial family of buddhists and jews, with no debts of my own, and my greatest responsibility being to get the dishes cleaned when it's my turn, I wouldn't feel bad about that. I could still write my dumbass poetry or whatever and not much else would be any different from now except debts and responsibilities would be fewer. All the responsibilities I've acquired through the decades sometimes seem far more pointless than my youthful studies and meditations with Lek and whoever else was staying over for buddhist instruction that month. But then, I've slowly come to the conclusion that all the great achievements of one's life -- books written, artworks constructed, garden planted, homors received, interviews given -- are not nearly as consequential as lazying about with a sweet companion, reading a book or watching a cheezy horror film or laying on moss between the flowers.... I've found myself admiring a couple who are independently wealthy stoners, who get spaced out every day and watch television while hugging and kissing or sharing childishly profound thoughts, with their own private film library of thousands of films. I used to think "You guys don't have to work for a living, you should be doing something to help the poor and the sick, or at least doing oil paintings or restoring an old wooden boat." But they do nothing, and nowadays I visit with them and think, "why can't I be laid back like that, I always gotta be doing something, always getting ancy, always seeking the significance, consequentiality, the meaning of life." On average we live 60 or 80 years then drop dead miserable and worn out like blind & confused old hounds. If most of the interim was spent working a nine-to-five job as is required of most responsible independent people, then it was a life unlived. Better to have been couch-potatoes with at the very least an appreciation of sitcoms. And if we'd stayed home the whole time instead, at least we could've done the good deed of nursing our tired old mums in their final days. -paghat the ratgirl -- "Of what are you afraid, my child?" inquired the kindly teacher. "Oh, sir! The flowers, they are wild," replied the timid creature. -from Peter Newell's "Wild Flowers" See the Garden of Paghat the Ratgirl: http://www.paghat.com/ |
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