Other issues from the flesh

I haven’t worked out all of the particulars yet, but I’ve set aside a few copies of the book for later. As you might have expected, I’m not making the parameters effortless, or easy for the contest. There will be a few hoops, but the winners will receive a free signed (as opposed to singed, what some of Palfrey’s former clients probably want) copy of the book, and my blessing, the latter of which means absolutely nothing whatsoever. Anyone capable of proving the DC Madam doesn’t need anything from me, not that I think that’s ever going to happen, like Jesus returning, nutty, crazy primitive-minded shit like that.

We’re only in the first week of the release of the book and I’ve already brushed up against more high weirdness. This brings me to other matters…

As a result of these little elves, pixies, and gremlins flitting about me yob, I’m going to make things crystal clear: I will not continue to live this nuttiness surrounding the Palfrey case and narrative. I am turning my back on it with the completion of this text. I will be more than happy to answer any serious questions. However, I don’t want to hear your gossiping about people who were part of or related to the case itself. Any logical corrections that can be proven/corroborated (your job, not mine) will be appreciated and noted. I don’t give a shit anymore about the story and owe nobody nothing regarding the DC Madam. That responsibility was discharged writing the book.

My role in this is over, done, unless there’s some burning reason otherwise. If you have questions, ask the book first, consult it. This isn’t to slam anyone with good intentions. I will discuss the case and am open to interviews. However, I’m not tolerating any bullshit, and it’s literally no effort for me to ignore you, the easiest thing in the world in fact. This isn’t my usual jokiness, it’s dead serious. If you don’t get it, I don’t care, but you’re going to be humiliated twice, first by yourself, then by me, and I will air it publicly naming names.

Anyone I’ve communicated with recently has nothing to worry about. The book is the best bargain the American public are likely to have for some time. You’re most welcome. Witche, ye haave been foun' guilty 'a commerce with thee Devile.

a message to agents of control

In the immortal words of Genesis P-Orridge, who I literally bumped into at the Empty Bottle in Chicago in 2004 after being ogled by Ministry-alumnus Chris Connelly: fuck you.

To the little turd that attempted feebly to intimidate me into not releasing this book--fuck you. To the GOP, and everyone who voted for them--fuck you. To everyone who ever fancied themselves members of the Tea Party--fuck you.

And to all you ugly American motherfuckers who think whistleblowing is unpatriotic, all you racists, you liars, you criminal scumbag fucks--fuck you, forever. You were never alive. You're all husks. You will die, there will be no happy hunting grounds, no afterlife, only more death. What more could I do to you that you haven't already done to yourselves, your families, your neighbors?

You've made me fall in love with mortality to the point that when death comes, I'll shove my tongue hard down the fucker's throat, simply to be away from you, forever. Happy holidays!

at the end of the day

This is one for American management, the biggest losers of all time, the unwanted babies of modernity (and postmodernity), the essence of redundancy made flesh that's going to look like the joke that it is down the road, in the annals of our national history, and of the species.

I'm not even going to go into examples and contexts here, but we all know some douchnozzle who's spouted this line either as a preface to something more inane and meaningless, or an equally meaningless addendum, maybe a lame parting shot because they lack any wit. OK, that's untrue, because you only need to add a "t" to create the word that describes them best.

This is related to the more recent "mansplaining," by the way, since it emanates from the same crowd of stupid males who are constantly out of their depth, who lack any real intellect, but sure know how to spew crap from the wrong orifice. No, this isn't merely about your asshole boss at the office, or politicians, but it does start with domestic tyrants, people whose families would be doing the world a favor by beating them down every morning into their bowl of gruel, and with luck, drowning them in it, but really, doing anything to make them shut the fuck up for once in their unimaginably pointless lives. These are the assholes who killed God. He died of disgust, committed suicide: "I created that? Well fuck me..."

Diagram a sentence--if you dare--and you'll find that "At the end of the day" and "The bottom line is" add nothing to the meaning, try it some time, you'll see. That's never going to stop assholes whose souls died shortly after birth from spewing it. How else are they going to be the assholes they are? All it does is underscore their own lack of meaning and purpose in a universe that doesn't care because it can't. At least they're dead forever too. If they found a way around it, I'd be leading the mob of torch bearing villagers to drive a stake through their blackened hearts.