Friday, December 30, 2016

Elves are assholes.

Elves are a bunch of melodramatic assholes. They're basically the emo-hipsters of Middle earth. All they do is sing and lament, sing and lament. Supposedly it's a miracle if you're ever lucky enough to actually hear one of these assholes so much as whistle a tune. I have no idea why, because all their music consists of is just a bunch of bitching and moaning about a bunch of dead elves bitching and moaning about a bunch of other dead elves. They only sing for filthy hobbitses and old, dirty wandering pipe weed addicts anyway... so who cares, I guess. But geez, don't elves love to whine, though. I guess they've had eons to hone the technique... I mean, they are immortal after all, the slimy bastards.

Say, here's a suggestion for a brand new middle earth epic starring those everlasting butt munchers. How about instead of guilt tripping a couple of filthy hobbitses into committing suicide, what if the Fellowship of the Bling just marched over there to the Woodland Realm and told all of those leaf eating dilweeds that middle earth is sick of their bullshit, and that they can shove their council of Elrond right up their skinny buttholes? I mean, they've got a gazillion and one names for everyone and everything. It's just pretentious.

OCCASIONALLY, every now and then, elves can be badasses. Maybe. About .00001% of the time. That is, when there's an actual Bad Guy lounging around Eriador and being such an irritating asshat that Gondor has no choice but to call bullshit on those tree hugging, drunken wood nymphs and get them to haul their lazy, sculpted angular Elven butts into the fight, because Lothlorien ain't gonna just leisure up and nice dream the orcs to death, ya know. Yeesh.

But mostly, you know... I mean, geez. Elves. Elves! What a bunch of dickheads! Always going on about stuff that happened when the world wasn't even a proper planet, just a flat board with giant candles for the sun and the moon. Stupid mythological crap that only a pack of retarded elves would believe, in other words. Oh, and just to hell with the dwarves, you know? Screw them!

Geez, guys, that's just shitty!

And another thing. Everybody in middle earth is sick to death of hearing about how starlight is the greatest light of all. Hey! Elves! You know what's better than starlight? A CANDLE! You can't read shit by starlight! So you can all just shut up with the starlight already, because we totally get it, ok? You're just a bunch of wanna be vampires because, NO... being IMMORTAL just isn't good enough. You want the drama, too! Good grief, SHUT UP!

Here's an idea to keep those pasty faced, vowel howling slackers busy when they're bitching and moaning about the family tree. Get to work reforging some Narsils, huh? How about that, instead of waiting 2000 years for the dark lord to come back? Just think of how many Narsils they could have forged in 2000 years! What a bunch of loafers.

See, elves are the luckiest bastards in both Middle Earth and Valinor, and all they've ever done - except for very rarely kicking ass - is just invent drama in order to fill up their own moody immortal forevers with self pity and pleas for sympathy, because... oh no! Being immortal is sooooo HARD. Take Thranduil, for example. What an asshole. Here's this 12 gazillion year old elf king who doesn't look a day past 20, and he's spent the last 3000 years bitching and moaning about his dead wife that got barbecued by a firedrake. Good grief, Thranduil! Take a lesson from the mortals and move on! You're totally being a jackass, and everybody thinks so!

Here's what I say. Pack up the whole lot of'em and ship 'em off to Numenor in a leaky bathysphere.

Organic Chemicals

Tonight I had an epiphany. I was at Kroger, just kind of hanging around inside with a shopping basket and waiting for 2:30 for my paycheck to hit, so that I could buy some food.

Finally 2:30 happened and I loaded up that basket, lemme tell you. Then, just before I went to the self-checkout, I followed a wild hair and logged onto Wells Fargo to check my balance, and fuck me blind, my balance was $9.00. I'd plum flat out forgotten that I'd missed a week of work.

That's when I had the epiphany. I'm a worthless sack of organic chemicals. Just one out of billions. Made out of common ingredients, and worthless. I can see it clearly, in math, surprisingly. The motion of my individual pattern, which calculates my existence on the fly, is an equation which never balances.

I'm like dark matter, and dark energy. A hungry gravity well that's never accounted for. I'm not even worthless... I'm negative worth. A warped piece of life that pulls anything of value into my infinitely dense singularity of shit... and say goodbye to it if you have time, because once I have it, it's crushed, and consumed, and thrown onto the negative side of the equation forever, and loudly.

Anybody who knows me knows that I post what I'm thinking when I'm thinking it. I think I mostly post the truth of the moment. I try not to lie. There's nothing anybody can say that would convince me otherwise of the truth of this epiphany. That is, assuming anybody wanted to. That's a great assumption.

Here it is. Behold, my sorry sorry drama, finally revealed, like chicken bones with all of the flesh boiled off and mechanically separated.

There is a bright side to this, you know. I'm way too chicken-shit to kill myself, plus I get way too big of a kick out of myself to cancel my favorite program. Plus I have a really shitty memory, and I'll probably forget that I even posted this. Seriously.