Archive for November, 2009

No, I’m not thankful damn it!


Once again it is the time of the Feast of The Dead Bird.

We get this crap every year, about how we should give thanks to whatever deity is fashionable at the moment for the fact that we are not all living in sewer pipes in Mumbai, or anywhere in Africa, for that matter. All because a few hundred years ago some religious nuts and a bunch of savages got together and got stuffed.

Well, I’m sick of it.

To be thankful is to be lazy. To be thankful is to be happy with what you have. To be thankful is the enemy of being ambitious and it is ambition, ambition and greed and lust for whatever, that keeps humanity going.

Thankfulness is the enemy of progress, a carbuncle on the privities of humanity. It holds us back from being what we can be.

So tomorrow my wife and I will eat a dinner that will have no turkey, just pork and seafood with side dishes as appropriate, and not give thanks for what we have. For whatever we may have it, however much we may have, it will never be enough.

Whatever I accomplish in life, it will never be enough.




If there is one thing that has been consistent in my life, aside from being too lazy to scratch myself, it is that I take an inordinate joy in pissing people off. I mean it. I am never happier than when I have managed to make somebody else hopping mad at me.

There is something about knowing that someone, somewhere, is literally shaking with impotent fury at something that I have written that causes me no end of joy. Now, as to why this is, I cannot say for sure, but I think it may be a sort of psychic vampirism that feeds off of the energy that such unfortunates, for anyone so benighted as to disagree with me can only be considered unfortunate, put out into the mahatmosphere. It really is energizing.

And great fun too.

It’s Starting


I have always been afraid that it would come to this.

I opened my email a couple of days ago to read a message on one group by somebody who made something manifest by laying his hands on his radionic box and commanding it to work in the name of Charles Cosimano!

I shudder at what is coming next.

It is only a matter of time now before someone conjures spirits in my name and then somebody is going to get healed.

This is embarrassing!

Prophets of Doom


Are always wrong. Just think of all the good laughs we are going have at the expense of a lot of damned fools on Jan. 1, 2013.

Things are dull


I haven’t posted much lately because there has not been much to say. The weather has turned nice for the moment, in fact it is the weather we should have had a month ago. The news is actually pretty dull, a crazy person shooting people, congress being congress, nothing new or interesting there.

So I’m just relaxing, thinking about the Christmas shopping and finding new things to tinker with until I roll out the new mind control course after the first of the year.



I don’t like crowds. Crowds make me uncomfortable. Crowds make me nervous. Crowds make me downright paranoid. Fortunately we do not voluntarily crowd very often in our culture. We reserve the mob scenes for drunken people on New Years Eve or when some group of overpaid, large people are being honored for being able throw a ball throw a hoop more often than other groups of large, overpaid people. And on certain bizarre occasions a politician will assemble his lazy public employees, who are not going to be doing any work anyway, to gather to hear the announcement that does not come, leaving them looking even more stupid than God made them.

You never would find me in such a gathering. You never would have. For one thing, I really do not care which group of large, overpaid people manages to throw a ball through a hoop more often than other groups of large, overpaid people, and second, I don’t like being part of a crowd. My instinct is to be elsewhere. There is something about being jammed into an amorphous mass of unwashed humanity that is offensive both to the mind and to the soul. Just think of the mob of lazy, good-for-nothing, public employees standing in puddles of their own drool…

Thus, to paraphrase Danton, “Where is the mob going. I must be somewhere else.”