Inability to Come to Terms

I wasted a lot of time this afternoon discovering what I already knew, that community portals like Yabberz are counterproductive, that regardless of what I do, individuals such as I get sucked into contests, and I abandoned Mike Horton's nursery of festivities three times in the course of my online life, and should no doubt give up blogging, given the emotional erosion that comes with age. Perhaps I am a little too frenetic to push the envelope a little more right now, and should go clean my coffee pot, which I meant to do all day and instead wanted to log on to research Trump's plausibility with his audit of the Federal Reserve, and instead, went to that fucking nuisance of a non-partisan venue. Jesus Fucking Christ. Why, when I know better?

I was flagged by some bitch for going into detail about the black racism I've lived, and she no doubt had a victory orgasm, and that ends my membership in such fractious folly, proving there are things we cannot change about ourselves. Pain only tends to breed more unkindness, and no one likes self-pity, or uncouth veracity. I have insinuated things about Philadelphia Adapt and my former colleagues, of course; I'm not their only victim, nor Presby's, even though I've stated in no uncertain terms what I'd like to do to Riverside, so maybe Blogger is afraid someone will take ideas into their head. I don't know, but in that case, let me be arrested and charged. More than the people, I want independent living centers overhauled. For what they are, they hurt too many. No one cares, and sometimes that is why people act. I'm never going to clear my debt, even if I find a happier environ and some small part time activity, and contrary to what liberals may feel, I want to honor the obligations of my loan, but it is not going to happen, as my marginalization is now the product which funded my own past salaries, and I put my heart and my soul on a sleeve, and Blogger has to inject itself in very careful doublespeak.

Don't get me wrong, Google is mighty and I'm an ant outracing the killing fields, but I want my voice to remain as a testament to the fact that intelligence, matriculation, spare us nothing when the blows keep coming, like Trudy Richardson's repeated humiliations. I would truly rather eviction, even though some of you cannot see that logic.