Dear Murray,I need some advice,er wisdom on how to be a truly better person & not just a simpleton/catatonic/knee-jerk ‘Do-Gooder’!I already have a head start as I do not write ‘poetry’/am not a poet(yippie!) and also ‘offed’ my first (and last) life-coach.I now have a life cheerleader,but ‘she’ is a horse-hung tranny who is not proficient at espousing anything of value!
Peace(Chaos?!) & Thanks,Cary/ZiA
You’re off on the right foot. Every self-aware person needs a good tranny telling them what to do. Just make sure you never, ever forget the reacharound! He/she will grab you by the ears and fuck your life hard if you forget that.
Are you knocking poets? I’ll have you know I’m a licensed practitioner of the poemetry. At the very least, you could use some of the practice at slowing the fuck down withtherunonsentences it would give you.
Have you read the Bhagavad Gita, ya hippie? In it, Arjuna gets all whiny “OH KRISHNA, KRISHNA, I can’t go to war. Killin’ is wrong!” Krishna smacks the whiny little bitch around and tells him he’s being selfish. “If he wasn’t your cousin, you woulda already stabbed him and fucked the wound, so shaddup, ya pussy!” My sanskrit is a little rusty, though, so I’m paraphrasing.
ANYDAMNEDHOW. It’s the same with good deed doing. Good deed doing has become pretty fucking pointless. Yeah, yeah, yeah. You did something for someone. You want a fucking medal? YES. Everyone wants the goddamned medal. Feeding the homeless is a ripe (in more ways than one) opportunity for press! WE ARE SUPPOSED TO DO GOOD! HALP PEOPLE! Bullshit. We don’t have to do a goddamned thing but eat, drink, shit, watch football and die.
Would anyone be doing good for anyone else if it weren’t for the medals and keys to the city and the GENUINE Kodak moments and the tax breaks and the great Nobel circle jerk? Highly doubtful.
Anyhow, quit your fucking whining and worrying about what you should be or wanna be or coulda been. If you feel like doing something, do it. If you don’t, don’t. Just don’t get caught up in all that IF I DO THIS WHAT WILL IT GET ME bullshit. Then, you’ll be just another empty cocksucker, like the rest of them.
Now leave me the fuck alone.
Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.
He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".
His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.
A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.
It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.
He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.
Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.