Are you going to meet Buddha on the road? Bloody unlikely. You meet Satan all the fuckin' time.
Kill the shit out of him.
We all have a bit of the Satan egregore following us around. Your job: commit unlimited violence upon it.
If you meet Satan on the road, take the war crimes list as suggestions. Blind him with lasers, pelt him with flechettes, and then shove him onto land mines. Stab him fifty times, rip out his guts, and take a shit in the resulting cavity. Blast the area with chemical, biological, and nuclear weapons. Salt the earth. If there's anything left of the body, bust out the napalm.
The rack? Iron maiden? Apple of anguish? All things Satan richly earned, and more. Twisted desires are not twisted as applied to Satan, with the exception that he should be considered a biohazard and never touched directly. Use gloves. A mask wouldn't go amiss.
If he surrenders, shoot him again. Twice. It's fine to start at the feet and work your way up.
If you have violent urges, hunt down a Satanist and beat the shit out of him. The violent urges exist for a reason; your job is merely to allow them to find their proper place. It is your privilege and your duty; feel not guilt for being violent, but feel guilt for suffering a Satanist to live.
Of course, take care of yourself first. It's much harder to ruin a Satanist's day if you're in jail, so don't get caught. Always seem to be obeying your local laws. (They're dumb, it's not hard.)
Do shows like CSI protect random drug dealers and child rapists from being killed?
"I trust that the police will find out about me murdering this piece of shit, best not".
I expect so, yes.
Not to plan, I don't think. Just a happy accident.
Well, Al ol' buddy, who benefits from that?
More crime helps drive property prices up, and, I wonder very much if the producers of these shows have real estate portfolios?
This is very good.
I am actually doing that right now, and find that it gets harder, for some reason, as I near the end. I often think I can't hold out, but I do manage to anyway. Anyway, this piece makes it seem more and more like I am surrounded by guilt-mongers, because to me there was no other choice even if it killed me. The guilt-mongers are everywhere too, especially in a place like a bit American city. You have to concentrate with total tunnel vision to do it, so I suppose it is clearly possible. But mere things like if I had "put something in writing" would have made me lose, not the reason for the eviction. I won the case because she had NO case. Only that, really. Admittedly, I had no way of winning except doing it through the so-called "civil courts", but I did prevail. It was nevertheless made near-impossible for me by long extra periods of time given. These still hold the possibility of slight extension, but I'm prepared to do that. I almost forgot about that possibility and asked the Marshal about it yesterday. I have definitely found that the police are more MY friend than they are a Satanic lesbian's, though. Even here.
Sorry to keep going on, but this has interested me, as sometimes I find the shift away from the quasi-guilt *necessitated* to be taking place. In a place this leftist, there was no choice but to take a chance on "using the rules", getting the paperwork done perfectly, etc. So I did that but still often thought that it was built-in that I couldn't win. As I pointed out, I did not win for the right reasons, although they seemed to have been listened to. They seemed perhaps just not to hate me quite as much as they hated her.
But the ugliness of having to take a full year to do this is what has made me want to leave, and what is making that a part of every step I take as this process both comes to an end and continues. I had been one of those "New York! New York!" people, and that's gone. Even without this, Covid made of it a near-ghost town of no charm. I never even get a glimmer of what it was I came for anymore.
"The rack? Iron maiden? Apple of anguish? All things Satan richly earned, and more. Twisted desires are not twisted as applied to Satan, with the exception that he should be considered a biohazard and never touched directly. Use gloves." and the rest...
Just last night I wrote my Swiss publisher-friend "I hope she gets all kinds of cancer, especially BREAST and OVARIAN, so she won't appeal to the DYKE PUBLIC." and he didn't write back. More feminist, I think, but he probably didn't care since everybody agrees she's evil. But I think you are right on this: No "middle ground" for this sort of filth. And I don't think we are often enough brought up to be this strict, so it requires huge effort.
(Actually, I don't think she appeal to THE DYKE PUBLIC, just boasts that she does. Built like an Amazon, though not fat. I hate to admit it, but Jim was right about the kind of thighs this sort of lesbian has.)
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