Why can't you all take it easy on the sauce and dips, damn it!

Let's talk about the eighth deadly sin - hyper individualistic bigotry draped in language and dressed to become a religion

Oh but you have to write about the hot topic, talk twice as potently about the hyped up series and music, you have to stroke and rub the politically aroused and erect, otherwise you are invalid, irrelevant.

You want a job? Claim that AI is your daddy. You want clicks - talk about oppression and rage fucking bait. You want attention - perform the gender role whose attention the majority craves. You want support - amp up that gender role and identify yourself with the politics of it. Represent.

Sheep don’t sheep as much as this. Circus is less cringe than this reality.

Ketchups and Dips were to be just that. You swipe that nugget or chicken strip or whatever and eat it. Sometimes in life, sometimes when it just lacks flavor and punch - yes you can dunk it instead of that tease of swipe, I do it too especially when ketchup is hot and spicy.

But, squeezing it all over the plate and then spreading it all over your face and then plastering yourself on other people’s walls and faces and papers and then running like maniacs in the streets of the world - what is it with these people.

Religions of yesteryear and gods of those religions have become older humans in old age homes now. Their doctrines lack an ability to inspire fanatic conviction. This is the era of individual as a religion, self as a religion, zealots and bigots streaking for their own elevated reputation and credibility. Their mindless, stripped and bared exercises for attention in their desperate pursuit for witnesses, testimonies and validation make the exquisite nature of nakedness suddenly so detestable.

The first piece I wrote here called upon you to remember the monkey that found a rock and having an organic thought train where one of its decisions is to masturbate with that rock.

Compared to the misuse of the absolutely deplorable frivolous communication as an instrument to appease the need to flatter the ever rotund sense of self in the mainstream of homo sapiens’ civilization - a monkey masturbating with a rock is a pristine, tolerable and beautiful natural sight.

I am not clout, I don’t sell it, I don’t buy it. I won’t apologize for it. Everyday I lose a little more of the leftover hope that there is a friend to me and my bigotry of cynical skepticism about my bigotry. But if you are there, I am here. Do you want to watch everything go to shit and burn the fuck down together? I’ll make some munchies or snacks, you bring the dip. We could stay under a rock for as long as we should. We could be partners in our refusal to pimp our state of existence.