Another One Bites The Dust

"She needed to be more liberal."-- Theodore Dreiser

I should be quiet when I get like this, knowing it is too late baby, whether I run or not, whether I cancel my Prime Membership or bite the bullet, whether I voluntarily throw myself back into Pennsylvania's mental health system, or not. I know that system well, and know it will not help me. Pacify me? That depends. Help me? No. Therapy cannot circumvent permanent destitution. Therapy, at least in Southern PA, is a secularized New Testament. Forgive. Think of what it would do for you. Declare bankruptcy. This is what I got from an intake counselor circa 2K during my nervous breakdown after I flipped on Linda, who is evidently her same pussycat self, from what I can gather. Linda's casualties sit on one end, and the eel in her sneakers and overcoat jumped ship on a railroad grant. Perhaps I am making things impossibly difficult deliberately, breaking myself faster than Presbyterian Homes would do it for me. When I told NYT on twitter that I am a genocide survivor it was not exaggeration. Section 202 takes broken people in and breaks them further. I have seen black schizophrenics fracture the faces of their grandchildren, rolling back to my unit, face the color of a turnip, screaming for police. I cannot forget that afternoon. I ran from my own mother's insanity to something much worse, whiplash upon whiplash upon whiplash, I purchased the Gladhandler a candy bar.
Who is he? No one, a simple cripple, 70 years old. Follows Erik like a fucking puppy. Sourced me, however, for AccessLife, so I am kind, even if I upload the cart and dump my bleeding scars on a tacit, naive simple bastard who never got laid. He loves his nigger dependence. Wince. Go ahead. Now I'll shut up. Jerry always hated that imperative command. I may just vaguely recall George Michael. I said, oh, must be AIDS. To my regular viewers (do I have any?) I need not continue in that vein. I'll lie down an hour. Pout about losing Mhz on WYBE.

A very brief message for Tony Stiles Global Media

As I've previously posted in scattered intervals, I have deliberately overtaxed myself this month with my own semblance of vanity which I am sure Amazon Prime appreciates. Why stay with Prime? Because it has taken me less than ten years not to be intimidated to upload my own work for kindle. Within another three months or so I should be ready, though I am wary, and learned, as to the pitfalls of vanity promotion and will attempt to make my collection a viable submission to a midlist press.

Having made this qualification, I cannot put progressives to the sword for engaging in a rigorous asceticism of my own making, but I am going to put them to the sword for what they've done to me, and I am going to write a piece for Tony in my own words, in part with unprintable invective, but I will filter it after the tendencies toward castrating Mexican American lawyer sissies freely ventilates the organ. If Tony thrives on progressive dirty linen, I am going to give the Texan who took on Homeland Security a field day, and if Tony wants to run it for me in the cadence of Palin's perpetual indignation, then Tony can run it that way, and if he can't, I am still a good soldier who is determined to die on her own two feet!

But I have to work very hard to keep an even keel until my younger sister's birthday passes in February, capisce?