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Logo by Julian Spanos

Antitheistic. Long. Perplexing. Offensive. Whatever.

Warning: This blog does not cater to your whims. If you are offended, then I am not obliged to care. It ain't personal until otherwise stated.

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Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Dealing with some flawed beliefs!

Once again, I return, oh deprived fuckers; I find myself mused -- I find myself motivated. In true honesty, my conscience must take what I like to call “a philosophical dump”, for I have had to endure a bit of something that has left my liver with a burning sensation ever since. People and spastics alike; Kade now returns with yet another rant, because now he’s had to handle the prospects of a very intelligent man, implicating the rest of the world as dumb in the face of America and its decision making prowess. Time for Kade’s chaotic psychological storm to kick in, for this time, he is fucking shackled and disoriented by a little sentimentality that we call respect; I just hope this intellectual colleague of mine can get the gist of what I am saying without taking offence - he really needs this gleaning.

“Before I continue, I’d like to ponder something… Why in fuck’s name do I like to mind-fuck myself by subjecting my blazing ego to the realm of the asinine? I have no fuckin’ idea, but it does bring on more than my desired share of migraines!” - Pre-Rant Confession

Recently, an unnamed, unidentified, and intentionally undocumented young brat, approximately around thirteen-years-old, but with the mental maturity of a three-year-old, decided to vent. Unfortunately, this proud Texan, of all people, decided to belittle and berate a very tragic event in American history by making an empty threat alluding to the repeat of that very recent tragedy. I shall not name this horrid event, but I will tell you all that it was recent, and it had forever morphed the face of this world, as we know it, at the expense of the innocent American public, and even a significant number of expatriates in America at that point in time.

The youngster was swift to offer a barrage of apologies; his points were loosely composed; his execution was lacklustre; however, he was still the same, poorly developed thirteen-year-old, and therefore, his unpolished speech was the least of our worries. In simple words, the stupid little fucker decided to apologise; not that his words really meant anything because he was alluding to attacking something that didn’t even exist any longer. This unfortunately, was still no excuse, and his apologies were much needed, which he made - explicitly accepting that he was in the wrong and that nothing excuses his conduct. Of course, in the real world, we’ve all too often begun to confuse “sorry” for an actual excuse; fuckers, “sorry” is admittance of wrong, doused in regret - it never was, and never will be an excuse or justification. Anyhow, the brat was cut a break -- lucky fucker -- and we got about our business, when an intellectual colleague of mine decided to step in.

Now, this colleague of mine’s a rare gem in my book. The years that he holds over his own biological age are phenomenally unfathomable; I will acknowledge moments of blatant fuckin’ awe, while comprehending this youngster’s intellectual capacity. This young man transcends the political and religious spectrum, because he’s probably even a minority within the minority of free thinkers who’s achieved this neo state of enlightenment. Therefore, my expectations were crudely manipulated, by proxy of the standards and esteemed respect that I hold this person to; there’s only three other individuals that I associate with this young dude, and believe you me, I know a lot of intelligent people!

“So yeah, when I label this genius bastard a demigod of the mind - I am speaking a fuckin’ loaded volume!” - Immediate Contention

However, my intellectual colleague, whom I’ll refer to simply as “Mr. Cerebral”, decided to have a sound and wholesome breakdown of the entire situation. He fuddled the conscience of the third parties that were responsible for sending this young brat over the edge; he took apart the brat’s own ego and attitudes that were dictating his greater and needed composure, which was all for a lack of better word, completely-fucking-absent from the unfortunate scenario; hence, the stupid threat. Of course, knowing Mr. Cerebral so well, I could not expect anything short of a political tirade, considering that most of the reaction from the other, less articulate youngsters had now turned into a political debate about American sensitivity. Mr. Cerebral explained to the little kids that certain things are not to be mocked, especially where the actual suffering of the victims is exploited - it’s just not the done deal, especially from recent history.

Unfortunately, young Mr. Cerebral ventured off into a territory of the political paradigm, which very much overlaps the philosophical, and to this day, remains a conundrum more thana  harvesting grounds for facts. I had not expected even Mr. Cerebral to have firm views on the matter, because it’s intellectual suicide to be sure about the unsure on a grand scale; even the best of us humans are still mere slaves to our own perceptions. “What did the man say, damn it?! The readers eyes have been bleeding for some seven-hundred-words now! Please! Get to the fuckin’ point!” my conscience yells at me, and so I shall get to the nucleus of the philosophical anomaly. Mr. Cerebral decided to use the political transformation of the discussion to address his patriotic insecurity, which is all too common with Americans, these days; the belief that the world hates American. He claimed that this belief of how the world hates America, is largely so, because it -- the world at large -- is incapable of making decisions by itself, and this is why America remains where it is: the hated decision maker. According to Mr. Cerebral, the world is inept, incapable, and childlike in its hatred of America, and American decisions. Of course, the same man also ended his diatribe on a note about how American apologies for its mistakes in Iraq will never fly in the face of the global opinion; in similar capacity, the young-brat’s “sorry” won’t excuse his poor snap in judgement when he made the negative statement/threat.

My problem however, branched from that little contention about how the world just conveniently enjoys blaming American decisions, which in themselves are not to blame. Unfortunately, the ignorant implications of this comment could not be pardoned, even if the contention itself was a poetic and godly sample of creative articulation; nothing could make up for the bulk of false implications that sprout from such a thesis. Before I proceed, I’ll be the first to admit that I have, throughout my entire existence, pretty much sat back and defended western life and freedoms for so long -- and with such passion -- that such defence had become my dogma! I could not tolerate myopic eastern shmucks, denigrating American society, simply because Americans are not ashamed to address their issues publicly, while the eastern block’s been known to keep all of its dirt heavily concealed under a comically thin veil - the ignorance isn’t even funny, because there's just so much that is poorly hidden, yet unacknowledged.

“I pity the curry-smelling fool! Who thinks his backward society is in any way, shape, or form, above modernity! Such a fool is nothing more me than a fuckin’ waste of sperm, and even brain cells! Unfortunately, this doesn't mean that the entire world is high on Kool Aide, when even enlightened scholars have critiqued American politics for nearly half-a-century now!” - Following Contention

Indeed my urge to contradict, comes from my dichotomy with this belief that America's international policies have been flawless. As a matter of fact, just to contradict and counteract the implications of Mr. Cerebral’s conjecture, I shall touch on one simple example that will speak volumes about an entire culture and region that was potentially scarred and sent down a path of damnation due to America's ulterior politics. Be patient, fuckers; this isn’t a rant against countries, but this is a rant against apologist-opinions that offer holistic defence of American international policy. You see, I can agree with quite a few of America’s policies, but there have been some glaring wrongs, and now you should allow King Storm to address those reasons.

Therefore, I start with the rhetoric of the world not being responsible enough. I am sorry, but Bangladesh and India had every reason to blame Richard Nixon for perpetuating the 1971 blood bath, and then turning a blind eye to the infamous General Yahya Khan and his psychotic power trip, which resulted in the genocide against the Bangladesh people. Okay, fine, I can’t officially dub it a "genocide", because conservative estimates are still hanging around three-hundred-thousand Bangladeshi’s slaughtered by the military. On the other hand, I could get liberal and resort to R.J. Rummel’s citation of an estimated one-to-three-million that were brutally killed at the whim of this tyrant (Effects of 1971 Indo-Pak war), and whoopdy-doo, this is also the same saga that paved the way for the "Islamisation" of the region, introducing the role of conservative Islam into the state affairs, carried out by a pompous and very aggressive Pakistan-based military that has historically shown little regard for freedom, dignity and human rights.

“Can you all fathom the implications? A secular nation was broken down; a potential genocide carried out against its own people by a tyrant who left the way open for another cocksucker to exploit the aftermath of these atrocities and introduce that utter, and ugly filth of a jismic dogma known as Wahabist Islam into a secularly progressive environment, effectively empowering every fanatic motherfucker! If we know one thing for a fact, it’s that constitutions determine the greater mindset of the entire socio-cultural dynamics that follow in its wake! Ultimately, society falls back on its constitutional values. This is how the fanatics in that region were finally empowered: they got an officiously basterdised constitution to justify their archaic views. Oh, and would we care to wonder what Nixon had to say during the that time when all this hell ensued - even after that genocide against the citizens of Bengladesh?” - Bitter Rhetoric

Sadly enough, Mr. Nixon continued his support for Yahya the tyrant, even denigrating the Indian leadership in the process (Refer to paragraph three of Richard Nixon's Policies). Please, people, there is no way that one could twist this decision into a positive! There is no way that you could justify the three-hundred-thousand lives (some argue three-million), lost to a whimsical genocide; the entire social progress and secular evolution of a region, thwarted back over a hundred-years. This was all the chain reaction initiated from an American foreign policy  required that we spoil that capricious bastard, General Yahya, followed by Zia, who was another evil fuck, and despite having ample opportunity to identify his predecessor's follies,  more American administration foreign policy let him further contaminate and condemn the social sanctity of an entire culture and region.

Therefore, perhaps we should lay off excessively bold claims about how the world is categorically wrong in contrast to the one nation that's always taking initiative. Any intelligent individual will know that when you place yourself outside the box and consider some ground facts, it sounds fuckin’ stupid to assume that an entire world can be wrong for having so many different and legitimate reasons, the aforementioned example, included. Besides, it’s not just myopic and destitute nationalists of other nations who berate American policies; you also have intellectuals following suit--ones based in America, and of American culture and persuasion. Has anyone ever stopped to ponder that notion? This isn’t about country against country, because an authentic intellectual’s honesty soars beyond the dignity of a country; such individuals are often open to criticising their own in lieu of committing to an honest observation. A true intellectual's rarely gonna' suffer from a nationalism-induced need to distort the truth - he/she will only be devoted to the truth, and his/her own selfish ass! A truly intelligent individual does not have his/her pride fused into the paper-pride of a country or region, because their dignity revolves around their own intellectual fortitude and prowess; they don’t need to fall back on a country’s dignity to feel complete, and thus, offer uncompromising honesty. Hell, such intellectuals rarely even disagree with the American spirit; what they do disagree with, however, is the authentic follies in the international policies, much like how I disagree with Nixon’s approach to dealing with/spoilling General Yahya Khan. Is this because yours truly and other intellectuals are just about as myopic as a typically foreign moron? Fuck no! It’s because a wrong is a blatant wrong, and the facts speak from themselves, much like they did in the case and implications of the Indo-Pak war of 1971.

Besides, even Mr. Cerebral cannot evade the fact that by acknowledging American actions in Iraq as mistakes, he effectively admits to their own follies - case and point joining an entire list of mistakes. It’s about high time that American patriots admit the mistakes; it isn’t evil; it isn’t wrong - it’s just being honest with one’s self! Hell, if you're truly patriotic, you'd have the guts to observe the wrongs of your own. Things have been screwed up, and just for the record, I’ll go onto reiterate my stance that Iraq is another screw up in the making. Ten years from now, you will fathom the true depths of what I had to say today, for downgrading that nation’s secular constitution into that of an Islamic state will give rise to another Iran-like group mentality. After all, as already touch on; good, progressive constitutions can go onto motivate great social progress, while bad ones go onto justify some of the most insidious atrocities known to humankind.

“Yes, America, another mistake, and I don’t identify this because I wouldn’t know how to deal with it… I identify it because the true depths of honest and free expression shaped my mind. The same mindset that was nurtured into me through appreciation of the modern American culture and philosophy! And in spirit of that intelligent honesty, I will continue to reiterate the time-tested thesis that if you keep creating Islamic-theocracies, you’ll continue to empower future fanaticism.” - Closing

“As for my intellectual colleague, and object of my envy, Mr. Cerebral; I hope he realises that this wasn’t an attack against his intelligence, but rather, the highlight of some very crucial facts that were trivialised in his initial overlook. Sure, the world does run its mouth into the gutter all too often over the mention of America; I fuckin’ hate it, and defend the true spirit of American progression with a passion. However, I’d be damned if I’ll ever abscond honest intellectualism to defend blatantly damaging policies and political flaws, which American administrations have been responsible for creating.” - Closure

Now, I must return to dissecting a true puzzle; why the fuck do I get myself into these situations, and even more flammable rants? Perhaps the mind-numbing high plays the role of a subtle incentive in my situation, or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking and poor rationalisation. Anyway, I am fuckin’ done!

Stay cool, and stay smart, you crazy fuckers.



Thursday, March 08, 2007

Moment of Madness: Just read!

I’ve played many games of the mind in the past, and by that, I don’t mean games of aptitude and academic value. I speak simply of fucking with peoples heads, fucking with my own head, watching them fuck up one another good, and then even having them fuck with my head.

This is why it pisses me off sometimes to determine or judge on how someone should be, or should feel, when really, I have no precedent over the matter. Who the fuck am I to say make such conjectures, right? So in spirit of this newfound wisdom, which I’m probably going to lose within a few hours, I’m going to deal with a bit of an issue through a dark twisted piece of lyrical poetry!

There’s something pending, in my name, and I must procure the results. Of course, it’s a matter of winning and loosing in my case, but something tells me I’ll be more empty after the whole ordeal, regardless of the outcome.

And now I know where I stand, so I shall embrace this dark epiphany head on!

Victory in defeat,
And defeat in victory,
My mind’s own deceit,
Perpetuating this misery.

Defined by numbers,
As I watch the frail egos collapse,
Defined by numbers,
Watching their neurosis relapse!

Have I really achieved triumphant glory,
Or have I really just come out empty,
Unable to save those that really needed to be saved in this story,
Now the shadows of deceit hunt me as their quarry!

Fuckin’ blog smogs of my own mind,
Machinations of the archetypical devil’s design,
I always command ‘em to fuck off to the abode of their kind,
But that really just means the core of my own twisted mind!

It was time for tings to be changed,
Switching around those ancient tables,
The cerebral game rearranged,
A new dynamic but within the same fables!

Yes, welcome aboard - come to me my dears,
You’ve taught me a great lesson,
Stalking and then drowning me in your ocean of crimson tears!

By occupying my vessel time and time again!
Probing the sentimental voids as my hindering bane!
Leaving me deluded in the vain!

So now I welcome thee back into my void!
Only this time, I’ve consumed you for my bidding!
Now I’m the designated stalker deployed!

Once I was yours, and now you are mine!
A role reversing dynamic of the slave master paradigm!

I may’ve suffered defeat in victory!
But now the mistress of darkness is my trophy!
So have I gotten victory out of defeat?
None but I shall caress the underlying truth to that riddle, for now it’s my game of deceit!

Defeat in victory,
Victory in defeat,
I am the fucking sadist, now in firm possession of his misery!
Triumphing and concealing my morale’s defeat with tantalising deceit!

Fuck this sincerity and contemplation; my smoking mirrors will dispel all mortal despair!
Venturing through smog murk and overwhelming temperature to get home to my nightmare!
The very nightmare, that either haunts me, or daunts my enemies; whatever, baby, I couldn’t care!
Eighth and final circle of hell, you wonder? Hah! My throne lies far beyond the devil’s lair!


Ha! Ha!

Ha! Ha! Ha!


Later, fuckers!

- Kade

Tuesday, March 06, 2007


Yes, that is fucking it for me: I hate this rain! I just fucking hate the rain!

I mean, I am all for combating droughts and shit, but this is ridiculous. These randomly ludicrous bouts of rain, all the fucking time, are starting to overwhelm my nerves! FUCKING HELL! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF GETTING SOAKED! AND NO, I REFUSE TO USE AN UMBRELLA!

"Well, it's your fault then!" -- Common criticism.


It's like the heavens are taking a piss on me, and enjoying every moment of it; I don't wish to be urinated on by a pack of mischeivious angels!

"Hey! Piss on that lanky punk! It'll be cool!" -- Angel.

"Cut that out, you fuckin' fairy!" -- My response.

"Mwahahahaha! Fuck no!" *PSSHHHH* "Say my name, bitch!" -- Angel.

I don't need to be showered with your fucking water, oh clouds; it's cold, and you fuck me up in ways that I don't enjoy analysing for the sake of my own sanity. If I wanted to feel cold, like shit, in utter dim dampness and despair, and perhaps even a tad bit violated, then I would've found a way to get into prison!

Fucking hell! WET. ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME.


- Kade

Saturday, March 03, 2007

An epic day of 'tale' proportions! WHAT?!

Yesterday was one hell of a weird day for me!

I mean, it was a tale of good versus evil. A tale of triumph against insurmountable odds. A tale of humour and entertainment amidst the utterly mundane. A tale of excitement being derived from physical agony and distress. A tale of chaos and battle. A tale of going against one’s very natural inclinations. A tale of deceit and deception gone horribly wrong. A tale of pain and romance. The whole mother-fuckin’-load, baby!

So it all began with yet another outing with my ‘saner’ friends - my colleagues. Heh, nice bunch of people, so diligently looking out for one another, and attempting to establish ‘connections’. I guess it would be a better world if more people gave a shit like that, but whatever. I joined in, since I am in for a long and twisted weekend! I decided to join ‘em in, thinking that in lieu of a so-called relaxing outing, we’ll end up in some sort of (mis)adventure. No, I was merely offering moral support. I won’t say any more, because excessively personal opinions and reflections suck ass, and one, or two, or three of them might end up reading this. Therefore, I’ll shut up.

The voices inside my head had a good go at me! Most of the voices told me to just get out and do my own thing; solo-act of wandering about, and then warming up inside some pub. Then, my inexplicable inclinations made me succumb to the outing, instead. Fuckin’ amazing! And here I thought I was the archetypically stubborn person. UNCHARACTERISTICALLY ODD SHIT - CHECK!

Worse yet, through out this scenario, it was raining cats and dogs just hours after my hour-plus shower! I HATE GETTING WET! If I needed another shower, I’d have stayed at home and remained in the bathroom for another hour.

I played along with the routine, and had the ambivalent experience of some mundane settings, coupled with interesting company and conversations. Hey, I even got this one person with unrivalled silence abilities, which she claims is only a ’shyness’ issue, to actually ask me a question for once! Fuckity! Anyway, then the people decided that the mundane was too mundane for them, and they wanted to head off elsewhere; another one of those parties. As a matter of fact, very much the same kinda’ party, by the same kinda’ people, but in a slightly different venue. AMUSEMENT IN MUNDANE - CHECK!

I didn’t mind the idea of going, but there was something in the back of my mind that kept pushing me in another direction, that and the fact that pretty much everyone received news of this ’party’ with the exception of me. And if anyone knows Kade, even a little bit, they’d know that he loathes being the uninvited third wheel! Regardless, both elements were going against me! I mean, as much as I like to play the ‘outsider’ as Dan so aptly puts it, sometimes, it also pisses me off, because I am not the kind of person who likes to cling along when he's not convinced of being invited. Seriously, if some of you can relate, then just picture the idea of everyone and their dog receiving the invitation, with the exception of you; would you feel appropriate crashing the party uninvited? Heh. TRIUMPH - CHECK! Basically, the evil--my ego--beat the good--my colleagues. Then again, maybe I always hail the victor as 'evil'.
These chain of events left me playing the game halfway as I suddenly segregated myself from the group, and begged my leave under pretence of having to be somewhere else; we parted ways as I headed off to my filthy haven up north. I was thinking of meeting up with a friend, but instead of doing that, I began to prowl the city on my own. Yes, so my little ‘pretence’ now turned into a lie, which I’d say was nothing more than a fucking fib, to be honest. DECEIT - CHECK! I’ll own up to it, not like they lose much anyway! They were going to a fuckin’ party, for fuck’s sake! Do the maths - it was cool.

That’s when the unexpected occurred. Now, everyone knows that I am a tough person to approach, by virtue of my own nature, and the inherent ignorance and bigotry of even the most so-called open-minded people. I mean, I belong to a very specific ‘genre’--or sub-culture--of people, and only such people have the balls to approach me on a completely sporadic impulse. So I was at the tube-station, waiting for the last train that I needed in order to go where I needed to be. . . on my fucking own! Suddenly, a complete stranger, apparently not one of ‘my genre’, approached me. We had the quirkiest conversation, ever. The guy was very forthcoming; asked me how long it took me to grow my fuckin’ chin goatee! I was fuckin’ amazed! Because for once, I had someone to relate to, as I explained to him how slowly my facial hair grows, and how abnormally long it took me to get a solid chin-goatee, while my friend‘s younger brother got something better within a measly six-months. Ah, but the primary surprise remained highlighted in the fact that this stranger showed me some balls and did not reserve his friendly-nature, which by itself is a concept of myth in modern times. I mean, aside from like four of my colleagues, most of the 'friendly people' take months daring to lower their guard around me, so it was a sociological phenomenon for me to absorb. Now this stranger and I talked about goatees, hair, since he’s been trying his hand at growing both but not having much luck. We even touched on the subject of dying hair, and what a bitch bleaching can be, including how I pity the fools that colour their hair. Anyway, it was an interesting experience, and then we parted ways; I guess that’s the last time I’ll ever see the dude, but hey, even a few minutes of interaction that somehow challenges my general judgement of reality is a worthwhile experience to remember. Yeah, that dude was alright! UNEXPECTED PLEASANTRY - FUCKIN’ CHECK!

So, is that it? Fuck no! Because the really unexpected happened as I got ambushed by a big, huge drunk! It was raining, yet again, and the roads were virtually empty, and that's when I heard this massive, "Oi, yo!" a creepy opener before the drunk revealed himself. And the schematics of the drunk - fuck! This guy had a huge height advantage as well as being a big-man. But he learned that disgrace is a guaranteed outcome when he'll mess with the Super Sleek Sexy Snake, Kade, because I triumph over fat-drunks! Chaos/Battle/Triumph (A couple of bruised ribs) - CHECK! No seriously, this is not cool. Fighting is not healthy, or productive - avoid it when possible. I mean, I didn’t fight the guy; I just had luck on my side. I was prepared to suffer major injury at that point because this guy was ‘huge’. I just got, very lucky.

"Ah! You so had it coming! Someone finally tried to give it to you! Ha! Ha! Ha!" -- Some might be thinking.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! And... Yeah, fuck you! No. The guy was fucking drunk. I didn't know him. Furthermore, as much as I antagonise some, those very few know fullwell that I'm... You know... Not a nasty fucker. No, really, I am not. Fuck, believe what you will." -- My general response, because I am already getting such feedback now; apparently, in the good judgement of a sordid few, I deserve such an outcome to my nights.

Note: The backdrop to this fight was even more rain! Fuckity fuck! There, I just had my third shower within a six-hour-window! Not to mention, another one that’ll not be too far off as I was near my dominion - my personal hell, which I relish and loathe for two very opposing reasons.

Oh, and what about romance? Bahahahaha! Even -IF- there was any, why the fuck would I tell? Friggin’ idiots. It’s a marketing ploy, and I win. Made you read! Bahahahahaha! If I missed anything else, then just attribute that to hyperbole, because you’d be rigid fuckers to do otherwise; look up the news channels and supplement your consciences with yet another news of kidnappings in the ever so successful Iraq--then dies the sarcasm. (Okay, perhaps I do deserve some mild form of beating at this point.)

Anyway, it was quite a day, and I’m fucked up good now. So yeah, I’ll post some shit later. For now, I must medicate before I decide to rip one of my ribs out.

Stay cool, fuckers!


Wednesday, February 28, 2007

F.U.C.K: Fucking Uptight Conservative Kooks!

I am so fucking pissed off right now that I can't type straight without punching something. Yeah, just my fuckin' luck, because over the recent days, I see to be rolling the dice quite well. So I met an old friend who's visiting UK, and we had one hell of an "interesting" conversation. By interesting, I mean a crazy one-sided condemnation of me for being 'a hippie liberal who's an apologist for fanatic Islam', when I argued that the war was fucked. Yes, it's a fucking ancient cliché, which expired the moment it came out, but my friend really rounded things up with that rotting rhetoric that goes something like this: "You can't support America without supporting its war in this time of need. If anything, you're supporting Islam-O-Fascism by condemning this war."


Syd, I realise that your progressively dangerous ignorance is probably the fruit of me not kicking your ass as frequently as I used to a few years back. It's a real shame, really, because once upon a time, despite your economic beliefs, I considered you a politically enlightened individual, but now it's apparent that somewhere over the last two years, you went from pro-free market to a corporate shill, and now to a completely disgraceful Bush apologist, you sad little myopic fucker! Let's just hope I can kick your ass back into the thinker's paradigm before it's too late and you're blindly thumping Pat Robertson's bible. I know you read through this shit, so be prepared, you fuckin' deluded nimrod!

As for the rant: So if you sorry shmucks decide to listen to this rant, then be warned: Heavy offensive material can be found. Oh, and thanks to another friend of mine for actually clipping it up and uploading it with the music and shit. Disclaimer from Kade: I take full responsibility, because fact remains that all this needed to be said! The pissing and bitching was so out of control and random that we got nothing done in the studio, and so my friend cursed me out and told me to record the damned thing in a pod-cast, so I can get it out of my system. In his words, "Take a shit already!"


Now I'm gonna' bite my fucking fist, and wait until I can head off to Argos at the earliest, simply to purchase a nice punching bag for the beating!


Sunday, February 25, 2007

Crazy Rant: To be, or not to be - Drunk!

Premise: Fuck you! Fuck each and every fucking one of you!

I'm sorry, I am quite literally 'blah' at this point. It's one thing to live in a world where people numb themselves with drugs, but it's entirely another to have the same numbing agents do jack shit for me.

As any capable being knowing me would know, I don't have mass for alcohol tolerance - literally, again. I fuckin' don't. When I say I can be fucked up on five pounds or ten dollars, I mean it sincerely. Hell, I've come to realise that this is a very exaggerated estimated, because I could get smashed on far less. Yes, I walked into a party, sober and serious as a man about go on mass-vengeance, and through -very- annoying circumstances, guzzled down three glasses of red-wine within a window of five-minutes. Well, the rest after that is a painful ordeal. I call those five minutes, my personal heaven, by the way.

"Just three glasses of red wine?" - Some might as ask.

"You don't know my fuckin' anatomy, Junior, so shut the fuck up before I break a wine bottle over your head without any fucking regrets!" - The typical irritant response.

I don't get drunk like normal people, because I get all the bad sides of being drunk. No, I do not lose my memory. No, I do not forget myself. No, I do not develop a bad speech impediment. Fuck, I don't even lose my recollection of the entire session, which is probably the most annoying part. I mean, this was a night for me; sniffed cocaine, and had more alcohol than my physique can allow me. So all I got in return was the odd state of remaining lucid and cogent, with extreme dizziness, visual-imbalance, and the natural inability to stand up without clinging onto something; not to mention, laughing on my ever-so-vibrant cynicism. Yes, quite literally all the bad points of getting drunk, without any of the good. I ingested this shit to numb myself and forget, but instead, my senses heightened, while my physical balance was the only factor of diminishment.

Yes, this is justice, isn't it? "Why the fuck don't I feel numb?" I wondered as my candid nature went into high-gear. Yes, the only thing I got out of this was nausea, dizziness and a very bad head ache. I say this about eight-hours-later. Bring me red wine right now, and I'll likely throw up--don't expect much to be there aside from some liquid and stomach acids--puke for the fucking win. The worse part, I have retained every annoying, gut-wrenching memory from the night.

This brings back an old account. I met this tarrot card reader a few years ago, and she told me that the only drug capable of numbing me, and soothing me, even, will be a gun-shot to my head, or drinking ichors from the very gods themselves. *Right*, god-blood! That's what I need: WHERE THE FUCK DO I FIND SOME? Could rat-blood get the job done halfway? Perhaps I should go to one of those vampire raves and have a go.


You mother-loving twats are friggin' fortunate to at least enjoy getting wasted for what it is: Being smashed beyond the farthest reaches of oblivion, and then not remembering a damned thing about the tripping experience. Yeah, people will take this for granted, because I guess it's standard - WELL NOT FOR ME, YOU FUCKIN' INGRATES! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Maybe I'll piss off some big guy and get a few blows to my head; nothing beats the amnesiac after-effects of a concussion.

Stay cool, fuckers.

Kade - Your unholy drunk, who wishes that he could be a real drunk, ONCE FOR A FUCKING CHANGE!

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Valentine's Piss!

Off topical premise: Post-midnight rage is the fuckin' booze for the soul.

Recently, a certain someone asserted that most of us were busy on Valentine's Day. Many gave a sarcastic yes, and I responded with a 'hell no', to which this 'certain someone' readily agreed; "Oh, you I am sure of. It's not your thing."

Excellent, people seem to know me better than I know myself; perhaps they also hold the cure to cancer and mortal limits; perhaps they can help me become god. Am I being bitter and sarcastic? Why, yes I am! I spew out all this fucked up sarcasm because truth states otherwise. I did in fact team up with a friend of mine on Valentine's Day. A friend who was in a friends with "benefits" clause with me, not so long ago; a clause that we still invoke on very rare occasions.

We teamed up, just for Valentine's Day, and went out of our way to bother a lot of couples, celebrating their love-façade. Oh, and when I say, "out of our way," I mean very much out of our way; every effort was made to annoy and agitate the droves of love-sick morons in denial of the inevitable.

It was all fun and games, until an abrupt end - I started making a Molotov Cocktail, and this worried my partner in crime, as she's always been the disciplinarian compass in my life. As always, she had fun with me, but made sure to draw the line when I was getting ahead of myself. However, this time, for some odd reason, I got pissed off, and so we called it an early night and I fucked off to my own self-dwelling hatred.

To sum it up, I had fun, though the ending did leave a lot to be desired. Now many would think that this is pitiful, and that I am probably some sad putz, deprived of the concept of true caring and "love". Furthermore, many would deduce that I use the fucked up shenanigans on Valentine's Day to compensate for my own emotional deprivations. Well, they're wrong for the most part, but that's still cool, because regardless of how right and wrong they maybe, it was the fucking mother-load of fun! I don't care, because it was a fucking hoot!

Yeah, sure, perhaps the joy was ascertained at the taxing misery of other, caring individuals. Yes, I plead guilty to deriving pleasure from annoying the hell out of the Valentine's Day saps! Yes, I'd like to put a fuckin' arrow through Cupid's left eye, and then go for the right one as well. However, I see nothing wrong in this line of hedonistic logic; fuck morals and ethics. If George 'Dumb-Yah' Bush--the fuckin' president and chief execute of the world--can kill some twenty-thousand civilians, and sacrifice over two-thousand of his own troops in order to turn an autocratic secular state into a religious theocracy for some cheap oil, then I think that provides me with ample leeway to have all the fun I can have at the expense of the bleeding hearts in denial.

Yes, I fucked up Valentine's day for a hearty few, and I enjoyed it. Fact: I did team up with someone on Valentine's day, but I actually celebrated it for what it's worth: Fucking with peoples heads!

Valentine's Piss!

Hey, mister, why so mean?
Because your ignorance is painful,
You fucker, can't you glean?

But love is being celebrated,
Why do you spread this hatred?
Is your fucking brain sedated?
I was having fun as your day was berated!

So then it was all mockery and fun for you?
I relish the vitriolic anti-Valentine's sentiment that I spew!
And why do you want to take out cupid's eyes?
The podgy fucker can't aim, so he doesn't deserve to see!
I might as well donate his eyes and liberate a blind person from their misery!
(I can also bet that at least he'll know how to use his bow and arrow with some dexterity!)

Happy Valentine's Day, fuckers! And yes, it is around ten-days too late, but who cares? More importantly: Do I care? Fuck nah! Anyway, have a good one!


Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Religious Rant: Anglican leaders "rule" against gay bishop

Today’s little nugget of hilarity:

Excellent piece of news today, as the Anglican leaders passed a ruling on ‘gay bishops’. It’s funny how this whole charade is titled and staged like a legitimate ruling, with a legitimate process of consideration and debate before the ruling is passed. Yes, like the dogmatic shmucks would consider even entertaining the idea of associating any form of homosexuality with their religion. We might as well be straight about things and title such stories: “Anglican remain true to their nature!”

“Oh, really? Wow! And here I thought that finally, after hundreds of years worth of ruling in favour of nothing, gay religious leadership would be the one subject matter would be the one thing above all things to get favourable treatment. *Sure.*” - Urgent sarcasm. I bet they just sat in a room for a few hours and whipped their own backs for being sick little sinners while indulging in homoerotic fantasies.

Seriously, this ain’t no ruling. They already had their fucking minds made up, and for me to believe that they actually gave any form of consideration to things outside the tunnel-vision of their doctrine--especially gay bishops--is a fucking joke. As a matter of fact, it’s made into such a sad fucking joke because we’re given this impression that Anglicans actually entertain ideas outside their faith; it makes me laugh to the point of lung-failure, right before being engulfed in the bile-ridden urge to kick these zealots and their media representatives, square in the fucking nuts. Sadly, it’s a laughable fallacy, and also old to the point that it isn't news! It isn't NEWS! And this kind of old, tired, and useless time-consuming horseshit, fucking pisses me off.

“Oh Kade, you fucker, you’re always pissed off!” - Common observation.

“Wrong! I’d be very happy if I could break the Ayatollah into pieces, and then use those pieces to beat the Pope into a pulp!!” - My common response.

I’m capable of having an experience where I’d rise out gleeful and least pissed about anything. It’s just that the general perception of the media and the world can sometimes get to me with their trivial coverage of issues that aren't relevant and really fit to be deemed as 'news'. The pretentious drama is annoying; this incessant beating about the bush can get old real fast. Like hearing shit about how the middle-east is trying to achieve peace, and how the Anglicans are ‘considering’ gay-related issues, when their decisions were already set in stone over a thousand years ago.

The linked/aforementioned article is a very glaring example of time-wasting drama within the mainstream media; they have nothing better to report on, so they make up this shit about Anglicans spend their time supposedly considering issues that in reality they'll never tolerate or accept. The Anglican leaders didn’t pass a ruling, they only reaffirmed their millennium-long intolerance for something that they’re just not prepared to accept, let alone even consider. The title implies that they thought this through, and that a sincere, honest case was made to consider, which is a fucking joke and an insult to our collective intelligence! This is my problem, because these monkeys are portrayed by the media as thoughtful beings, when they’re clearly the contrary! And why does the media do this? Oh, I don't know?! Maybe because they lack talent or the desire to find a fresh new scoop? Or perhaps they're in on it? Here's a real question: Who the fuck cares?! Because it's their job to provide us with real news! If I wanted bad jokes, I'll read the comic section! Now where's my fucking news?!

Besides, was it just me, or did I detect a hint of zealotry and threats?

“Anglican traditionalists believe gay relationships violate Scripture and they have demanded that the U.S. church adhere to that teaching or face discipline.” - Excerpt from article.

Discipline. . . Oh, fucking hell! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Man! BAHAHAHAHAHAHA! If I was to ignore the nouns in that statement, I’d swear it sounded exactly like something one would hear from an Islam-o-fascist/fundamentalist. . . or some sick twisted paraphiliac with an even sicker religious kink.

“You’ve been a bad, bad little believer. Time for a harsh spanking. Time. For. Discipline.”

So, what will the Anglican leaders do, exactly? Sign up Bush for a fuckin' Hell Mary? Hah! That would be one hell of a sight, and for once, I’d actually root for the Anglicans, because I think it would be a fitting irony to watch one group of zealots spank the political shill of another group of zealots known as the American Neo-Cons.

Fucking hell! Not a single day goes by without something stupid coming up. Let’s just finish this drama and accept that the Anglicans won’t accept anything, okay? Let’s accept their inability to accept. I don’t wanna’ hear news about how they rule against this or against that. Fact remains that they always rule against, because hardly anything in the modern world confers with their outdated traditions. So why must all of us hear about how they can’t rule in favour of anything? We get it! Just like we got the previous stories - they can’t rule in favour of anything, just put one big banner on top of every news site, informing readers that the Anglican leaders rule against everything related to modern times, and then shut the fuck up.

Stupid zealots!


Monday, February 19, 2007

Political Tirade: Bomblast aboard train in India - sixty-six lives incinerated


Another average day, and then the news that got my colon in knots:

Excellent! What a way to start the fuckin’ day - breakfast with bigotry and genocide!

You know what, I’ve been reading, hearing, reading, hearing, and reading about this shit for as long as I can recollect, and damn it, now this shit is starting to interfere with my sweet memories of my hot baby sitters from when I was a destructive toddler. The rudimentary premise to this whole shitty conflict has burned itself so badly into my long-term memory that I wish to remove the relevant part of my brain like the cognitive tumour that it is, and feed it to my friend’s dog.

I’ve had it with this shit. What the fuck are these terrorists trying to achieve? Really, what was all this for? You don’t wan’t peace to finally wrap up this fifty-year-long/least amusing feud? You want more war? You want your moms and sisters and children and what not else to suffer the hostile constraints of the Indo-Pak dynamic? Are you fucking stupid? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these people? Bah! That’s what they always do, and most of us have come to accept this! Well fine then, I accept this, but now I say we get past all this bullshit. Fuck the peace, because such morons don’t deserve peace.

“Pakistani President Gen. Pervez Musharraf said leaders on both sides of the border should move forward with efforts to secure peace.” - Excerpt from the same piece of news.

“You want peace, neuter the entire MMA, and their supporters!” - SERIOUSLY! CASTRATE THE BASTARDS!

As a matter of fact, to hell with this whole ordeal of finding enlightenment and moderation; a primate mentality will remain just that, and last time I checked, we didn’t expect monkeys to comprehend higher human reasoning. Hell, if I hear any more pacifists rave on about how humans are superior creatures with the ability to reason, then so the hordes of hell stop me, because I’m going to fuckin’ reason my boot up their asses. The aforementioned story is a perfect example of just how much most can reason, and just how much these particular idiots have been ‘reasoning’ for the last fifty-fucking-years!

You know what, let it all end! Destroy one another already, you fucking armed and dangerous emotional train wrecks; I’m sick of watching you people resurrect your stupidities to the front page with your antics that are beyond “yesterday’s news”. We get it: YOU CAN’T MAKE PEACE, AND CONSTANTLY WANT THE WORLD TO GASP AT YOUR VIOLENT, SENSELESS THEATRICS WHILE YOUR LEADERS RESORT TO THE SAME OLD, CONDEMNATION-TO-RESUMPTION ROUTINE! Seriously, that’s all these Indo-Pak terrorists are, a bunch of overgrown emo-babies with lethal armaments. So let the fuck wads kill each other, and then die an angst ridden death as they attempt to reason the hate worthy martyrdom amongst one another. I wanna’ see that region reduced to a massive sheet of nuked plexi-glass, because it’s become that fucking old, annoying and socially/ideologically irreparable. And why do I condemn the region, because apparently the bystanders seem to cower in fear, playing right into the whimsical actions of these terrorists.

“Oh! Oh! They maybe few in number, but they’re big and mean! I’m scared!” - “Then tell me why all of you shouldn’t just fuckin’ disappear along with the big and mean terrorists!” - Look at what I’ve been reduced to; justifying collateral damage like some egocentric republican (I’ve fallen to a record low!).

I want something new in the news aside from this same old nut-sack nuggets about the ‘freedom fighter’ angst against any peace between India and Pakistan. It’s stupidity on repeat cycle, and damn it, I’m getting fed-up of this bullshit! Fuck this whole road-to-peace and initiate one final battle-royale; let ‘em all perish, so there can be one less nuance/reason for me to develop stomach ulcers!

Stupid fucks!


Sunday, February 18, 2007

Crazy Rant: The fuckin' flu, and my fuckin' stupid landlord!


I'm posting this right now, because I am somewhat smashed and not sober, but not smashed enough to the point of being doped and inactive. I am at that bell curve between between being smashed, and an utterly bitter human being. I am officially in ‘THE FUCKED UP AND HYPERACTIVELY PISSY ZONE’.

This was a Saturday, damn it! I wanted to celebrate it for what it‘s worth: Hedonisms! I wanted a decent day of annoying the hell of the uptight neo-cons breeding like rabbits on crack within the dying seams of our society. I wanted a day when I could kick back, relax, and be pleasured like the hedonist bastard that I am. Instead, I go out, crash and burn from this fucking flu, and return home while burning up with fever, and yes, while it’s good to feel warm in the cold, it fuckin’ sucks to burn on the inside, because then I am further sensitised to the cold on the outside. Ah, but it doesn’t end there; I return shivering and somewhat shell-shocked, only to find that spittle-spewing ‘disgustoid’ known as my landlord, getting on my case about utter trivialities.

Now I wanna’ be able to friggn’ breathe; consuming my oxygen is something I value and the actual ritual of ingesting my oxygen is something I consider very sacred. So you know what? FUCK THE BLOCKED NOSE! FUCK IT! FUCK IT! FUCK IT! Not only do I have to cope with this sinus congestion, but I must return home to find this landlord-troll, forcing his problems down my mouth like a case of oral sex gone horribly wrong.

“Get that outta’ my mouth, you sick fuck! I can’t breathe!” -- One of the voices inside my head.

Man! I was pissed off because over this condition, the whole firggin’ day, and looked forward to the evening in hopes that the night might overturn my dismay/fortunes. Oh, how fucking wrong I was! It’s really not a pleasant circumstance, because I become the world’s most irritable fuck-face when confronted with this miserable condition. I’m so friggin’ sick of this shit, that I am half-tempted to take a pistol, etch it against my face and shoot myself up one of my nostrils; at this point anything will do if it can compensate for the nasal swelling.

Yeah, I realise that this is a drastic decline from real world issues, but it was needed. Don’t like it? Fuck you! I put ‘Crazy Rant’ in the heading, so you were warned. Besides, my general mission statement is to attack the annoying, as I see it! And as trivial as flu coupled with a frothing, piggish landlord might sound, such a view doesn’t make either of them any more or less annoying than they already are, which is way up there, right next to republican politics and religious fanaticism.

You see, what really annoyed me was the fact that my Saturday night bombed; it was like a Nascar pile up. So naturally, returning home to this grossly obnoxious landlord pushed me over the edge. I have to put up with this fucking hobbit’s disgusting habits, like blowing his nose at the amplitude of a fucking jetliner’s engine, before swiftly channelling his energies towards getting on my case about the pettiest things. He’s like some obnoxious, bitchy, bossy little goblin, with impotence-induced rage. Stupid fucking troll. Once he was done fucking my already oxygen deprived head over, I got to my room and passed out, only to wake up ten-minutes-later, to his sickening throat gargles, which can resurrect the fucking dead. Such a deep, shrill, coarse noise that even surpasses audio effects used in thriller sci-fi movies. The fucker snarls and hisses as though he’s about to vomit out his entrails! Seriously it sounds like a tiger hissing, but amplified. It’s a friggin’ annoying noise, and is only justified if someone’s fucking dying, or stabbed in the mouth. He sounds like some banshee alien, dying from multiple stab wounds to the rectum; I bet that’s the noise Satan makes when he’s having an orgasm.

“KHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGRHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” -- That’s a very conservative sample of what he sounds like, but it’s far worse. And since my room is right next to the bathroom, I usually get hideously audible sounds that can play havoc with one’s imagination. Picture the demonic interpretation of Satan, having multiple orgasms in the room right next to you.

Fuck, I was just a few nerves short of picking up the bible and adopting Jesus as my lord and saviour. It’s painful to hear him blow his nose, and gargle like some slithering mutant, when he ain’t even got a cold! Stupid lumpy midget. Fuck this shit, I’m out! If I hear that annoying little troll, gargle like some dying whore, or blow his nose like a fog-horn, one more time for what remains of this night/early-morning, someone had better fucking stab him through the mouth, so then I may blow my nose down his throat. Fuckin’ hideous abomination to the human genome. It’s eerie how most dogmatic fucks seem to have these obnoxious quirks! (Yes, aside from being a man-pig, he’s also a dogmatic-pig!)

That’s it, the fucking iron gloves or off! I’m gonna’ serenade this flu, and that fuckin’ troll that I call a landlord, with a very profane piece of poetry.

The Saturday Night Griever!

They call it a Saturday Night Fever!
But without the sex and alcohol, I’m just a sad believer!
It was a night meant to be without limits and full of wine!
But this fucking flu left me cursing and benched on the sideline!

Is this a fucking joke, because I’m not pleased!
As my waning desires give into my disease!
I could fuckin’ swear that I‘m going insane!
On this prowl for lust while sneezing out my brain!

Alas I return home, a deluded, wounded dog,
Only to face my disgusting landlord, that obnoxious hog!
Without hesitation he turns to me and gets on my case!
Feeding me reasons to stab his fucking face!

I wish he’d keep away, that stupid shmuck,
He should know that now is not the time,
He should be smart and not push his luck,
Not if he wants his skull smashed flat into a pretty dime!

Indeed this was a fucked up night,
But not my Saturday Night Fever,
For the unrealised desires remained my plight,
Reducing me to the Saturday Night Griever!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sharpen my blades!


Friday, February 16, 2007

Political Tirade: Bill O'Reilly's callousness towards paedophilia victim, Shawn Hornbeck.

It’s been a while since I’ve had some political comments to make about America. Honestly, it became old, because things weren’t changing, and I was occupied with other sources of amusement. Besides, I usually get my relief by reading Moxie’s blog.

However, a recent revelation has sickened me to the depths of my dying bowels! You know of the story of the little victim of paedophilia, Shawn Hornbeck, who was kidnapped by child-rapist, Michael Delvin in 2002. Shawn was a meagre eleven-year-old at the time, and since being the dominated victim, and a child at that, suffered from Stockholm syndrome, and was unable to muster the will to escape. Yeah, it was quite an issue a few weeks back, and of course, as always, the loud idiots of the US had something to say. From Rush Limbaugh’s rants about how this kid probably ‘enjoyed’ his mind-melding misery, to so-called ‘no spin’ pundits like Bill O’Reilly, claiming that such a syndrome doesn’t even exist, and concurring with Limbaugh.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! YOU EXPECT AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD BOY TO BATTLE THE ADULT DOMINANCE OF A RAPIST, AND OVERCOME STOCKHOLM SYNDROME? WAIT, NOW YOU DENY STOCKHOLM SYNDROME ALTOGETHER?! I mean, Limbaugh’s been a fucking joke since the late 80s, and while Bill’s been a joke of sorts as well, I believe people still held a certain degree of regard for his commentary and knowledge. What a disgustingly unpleasant reality check it must be to look at this fuck wad, callously attacking that kid's character while completely defying a very dangerous and crucial psychological condition that’s a result of possessive abuse: Stockholm Syndrome. This is becoming a typical trend with every fucking right-winger in America: Denial. If a certain idea or concept isn’t acceptable to you, then it doesn’t exist. Oh, and these people also happen to be the ones who seem hell-bent on imposing their invisible friends on the rest of the nation.

“You know what, Bill! Before you start claiming that Stockholm Syndrome doesn’t exist, perhaps you should stop giving imaginary blow jobs to god on national television.” -- My personal rhetoric for America’s new leading talking head, full of shit!

Seriously, I’ve completely lost respect for O’Reilly. I mocked him in the past, but I considered him somewhat sincere in his efforts to find balance, though he still had quite a few miles to go back then. Now, however, I believe he’s nothing more than a fucking whore in the right-wing propaganda to deny anything and everything that detracts from their archaic line of thinking. O’Reilly is a fucking shill, and now joins my hate list, topping Limbaugh. Why? Because a right-wing whore spouting complete idiocy--Limbaugh-- pales in contrast to another that insidiously deceives the naïve American public into thinking that he’s committed to no spins--O’Reilly. While I can laugh at Limbaugh for being a straight-up ignoramus, I spare no pardon for that old, smelly, crusted piece of camel-jism, known as Bill O’Reilly, because he is probably the biggest right-wing spin at the upper-tier of the mainstream media, and that makes him a dangerously malignant cancer in the battle against mainstream ignorance.

FUCK YOU, BILL! FUCK YOU! I hope that someday you’re reunited with Satan, so you can finally accept your true nature, have your butt-loving session, and then reappear in public light, only to claim that Stockholm syndrome drove you to having the one-night-stand with your true lord and master!

“I… I didn’t want to, but I had to because of Stockholm Syndrome!” - Bill. “Hey, he seemed very willing. As a matter of fact, he came onto me when I was drunk.” - Satan.

That’s what it’ll take to get a so-called educated fuck-face like this shill to acknowledge truth, by putting him in a situation where he must cover up his own ass! FUCKING SHILL-BILL! The only time O’Reilly ever exudes flexible, understanding thought, is when he has to cover his own ass, or the ass of his pimp-daddies - The American Neo Cons!

Fucking hell!


Source (s): via Moxie’s Blog: