Watch a raving lunatic ramble incessantly about absolute nonsense, while he fulfills his narcissistic urge to feel superior to everyone else, as he demonstrates his quasi-intellectual grasp of all things woo-woo and whatnot, part 1 🙂
Yeah, so, uh, like I'm going to start typing some stuff that I think about from time to time. Some of it, you might label as "taboo" topics. Others, nonsense, bordering on shit-eating, piss-drinking, insanity. And when the sun shines on a dog's crusty ass after a blue moon, I might just make a good point about something that you've maybe never considered... or not.
I'm here, right now, typing and thinking. Not having the slightest clue of where this is going or how this will end.
Hell, I could end it right here!
Nah, you're not so lucky.
As alluded to, up there in the title region of this likely valueless post, I like to hear myself talk... err, watch myself type. And I even sometimes, well most times, stare at my "works of art" - that's what I call my pieces, and by "pieces" I obviously mean to say "works of masterful writing , which clearly demonstrate my uber-supreme intellect" - for hours on end, never to get bored or void of that "damn you're good" kind of feeling that only a true narcissist can relate to.
It's like being both in awe, and violently masturbating with ultra-silky lube, at the same time... while staring deep into your own eyes on the mirror... as a lazer-light show climaxes amid the dense fog of a steamy shower and the rosy stench (this is referred to as an oxymoron, to you non-oxy-morons out there) of your freshly-dropped, alpha-male dung, free of any corn or peanuts, not because you didn't eat corn or peanuts, but because your digestive system is just that damn superior to everyone else's.
Feel free to quote that and share it on your Instagram.
Because, let's face it
I'm better than you, and you know it.
Cuz, sure. My grammar sucks. The spellchecker has to suggest the correct spelling on 9 out of 10 words that are not "the". But I know things, man.
I know LOTS and LOTS and LOTS and LOTS of things! Things that hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people have never known, and thousands and thousands of people will never know! I know more things than there are fishes in the deep blue ocean.
My knowledge is bigger than yours, and I'm gonna make sure that you're acutely aware of this, soon to be, very clear fact.
I've got Donkey Kong sized knowledge-nuts
And you can't do a goddamn thing about it, except sit there and be in awe of my massive knowings of things. You wouldn't even believe it.
People tell me things, let me tell ya.
I'm gonna spray you with my knowledge ejaculate, and you're gonna like it! Can you swallow that?
Who's your daddy?
No, up here. Towering at least 3 feet above your shiny noggin. That's right, I'm easily dunking that ball on yo ass when we're both in the paint, and you got nothin' but what yo mamma gave ya, and she gave me so much more, just last night, in fact... where was I going with this?
Oh yeah, then I dunk on you. Easily! So easily that I didn't really even have to try to do it. It just happened. Just like that other thing that happened - the my-balls-wiping-across-your-forehead-as-I-dunked-on-you thing.
Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to literally rub it in... err, ON you.
I have this theory that some people are innate losers and others are natural winners, and still others, at an infinitely higher tier, are literal gods. My hypothesis goes as follows:
I'm a god, and you're not. And I say that without even knowing you. And I do that with 100% confidence!
In all seriousness
I'm not really that shallow, delusional or conceited. But I will not concede that I'm a literal god.
And I do expect that you kiss my feet, should we meet,
And that you allow me the honor to skeet, as I beat my meat.
And while I know that was a sick poem, and that I savagely dropped the meet-meat rhyme, like a total boss, I must say that I actually do 100% believe that I'm a genuinely humble dude... god... dude god.
If I were ever to write an episode of Southpark, I swear to God, the other god, that it would get the highest ratings and most laughs of any episode, or season, in its history.
I'm THAT funny!
I'm also really clever and creative, and I don't even judge people for letting their boss' wife peg them, while the boss goes down on his wife. I'm a general good dude.
I know, I know
Get in line for my number, ladies.
If you're lucky, we can even skip the whole phone thing, and you can just go straight down to thrusting-tower-town, all the way to the back of your throat.
But I digress.
Back to what matters
Long ago, there was a "big bang". Many, many millions of years later, these free-floating atoms and molecules coalesced to form the biggest dong in the history of the universe. Guess who's packing that dong?
I'll spare you the hint. There's Donkey Kong and then there's me, Donkey Dong. And I don't actually get that nickname, because a donkey ain't packin' shit on me. We're talking twigs to trees!
Okay, enough of the jokes
I know that I'm not really a comedic genius, I do.
Hell, I'm even aware that I'm not really even the slightest bit funny. But, the thing is, I don't really care, because, again, and I hate having to repeat this over and over, but I do like saying it: I'm, like, really smart and stuff, and, I'm so much better than you... at pretty much anything.
I mean, I'm sure you got me on dick sucking, although there's no doubt in my mind that I'd be really good at it. You know, it if I gave it try. But you just can't be the best at everything, right?
I have another theory:
That I am, in fact, the best at everything.
I intended to put on my philosophical mind cap for your mind-absolutely-blown-to-bloody-shreds, reading pleasure, but it seems that I kind of veered off on a bit of a tangent, there.
Assert dominance before commencing the blowing of the mind phase, amiright? That guy knows what I'm saying. Haha.
[Notice that this was the first time that I laughed, and that it was deliberate. Like an absolute alpha-male, bossinova, I held the tension until the very end, before I released it on you like a police K-9 on an nonthreatening crackhead - that's a display of true professionalism, talent and skill!]
It's getting kind of late. I think it's about time that I wrap this one up.
I have to make sure that I allow myself the customary four hours of reading and re-reading, masturbating and re-masturbating to, this work of art (see above for definition), that all top-level narcissists require before printing them off for enameling and then selecting wall placement.
Sleep tight, don't let my obviously superior intellect and athleticism cause you nightmares, as you ball up into the fetal position, like the mama's boy that you are.
Have a good one 🙂