Wednesday, 19 September 2007
Don't get me started...
I'm pissed off. Gloriously, incandescently pissed off. I don't know why. I woke up this morning angry with the world and everything in it. Every stimulus I encountered between my bed and the computer centre caused caustic, sarcastic barbs of vitriol to squirt from some forgotten part of my psyche. I am spectacularly, mercillessly, pointlessly pissed off. The only thing taking the edge of my rage is how much I'm loving it.
It's great. It feels like I've tapped some long lost mine of motivation buried deep amidst the grey matter and now hot, red gold is spilling out. Most people, when they feel like this, have to go and ruin it all by pretending to be pissed off about something - traffic jams, rain, the existence of Richard Littlejohn (who spends his whole life finding reasons to feel annoyed). But the truth is that sometimes we are just generally fucked off, and all of the post hoc justifications in the world don't change it. We should learn to embrace this feeling, focus it, choose a direction in which to unleash our unyielding anger and so improve our broken world.
Here's a short list of things I could direct my bristling malice at:
The fact that, upon his departure, Tony Blair was not immediately marched out into the car park, forced to kneel down and shot in the back of the head.
The fact Tony Blair is now Middle East Peace envoy, which is a bit like getting Ian Huntley to present Live and Kicking.
The fact there is no longer any such program as Live and Kicking.
The fact that, when there was such a program as Live and Kicking, I never got my fat, lazy arse out of bed on a saturday morning to watch it. A few more hours of sleep, a lifetime of regrets.
David Cameron's soft, doughish, public school face. I bet you could punch it all day and not even scuff your fingers. God knows I'd like to find out.
The fact all that ever comes out of the fat fucking hole in Cameron's stupid fucking face is a whiny scraping sound as he begs people to forget what a Conservative is and hand him the power he hopes will fill up the yawning chasm where his soul should be. That, and the occasional choking noise as he swallows the vomit produced by another piece of gesture politics not even he can bring himself to believe in.
The fact cigarettes kill you.
The fact I had to google the word 'cigarettes' because I have forgotten how to spell since I started dropping.
The Daily Mail, who this morning announced that after 'four months under suspicion', a case was 'finally' going to be brought against the McCanns. Let me get this straight - You spent the first three and a half of months unable to stop fawning over them, never missing an opportunity to print a front page pic of Maddie's fit Mum (doesn't grief look good on her?) and now, not only have you switched sides faster than you'd change a broken condom, and practically convicted them in print before they've even been charged, your going to pretend you knew they were guilty all along? Have you been drinking lead paint or something? Oh dear God the daily mail really are a bunch of fucking twats.
The Sun (newspaper)
The Sun (hydrogen helium fusion reaction at the centre of our solar system that is 109 times bigger than the earth but is still shit at keeping us warm. Fucking slacker.)
All of these other cunts in the computer centre. I mean, just look at them! Sitting, working, typing, breathing. Who the fuck do they think they are? Bastards.
Jesus fuck, I could go on and on indefinitely, but I think I may be in serious danger of giving myself an aneurism. Well, that was fun. I must get fucked off by things more often.
Returning to normal in 3...2...1...
Oh, and 'Hi!', by the way. Welcome to my new blog.