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Religious hate? You bet.

Same old sins, Half the guilt!
So it’s that time again. Time for me to slander religious nuts. However this time, it’s more of a philosophical approach to the disproof of God, by using the texts people choose.

Look at the old testament. The book of the Jews. The old testament is a book of fear, threats and crimes. Demanding the Jews to stop being assholes. Look at the heroes of the book. Moses. Denied access to heaven, because of what HE had to do to save his people, and God used to be a bit of a dick.

Lo! Here cometh the New Testament! New character, and God’s not a dick anymore. I guess he mellowed out after he had the kid. Nearly completly different the two books, telling of the same sins, but different punishments. The old testament is telling us not to commit sin. The new testament is telling us it’s okay, as long as we let ourselves be forgiven. Uh, cool story. So time moves on, and the Christians show up. The New Testament Christians, and the Old Testament Christians. Both just as bad from a different direction.

The New Testament Christians are pussies and quitters, because they typically ignore the first three-quarters of the bible, because they say it’s “Wordy” and “Dry”. Well shit head, it’s not supposed to be Harry-buttfucking-Potter now is it? It’s supposed to be the basis of your fucking faith, you knuckle-dragging inbred donkey-raping shit eater. Oh but you’ll listen to the fucking Protestants as they say “Hey dickhead. You need to know this.” The Protestants are the most annoying branch of the Christians, the hardasses. At least they know what they’re talking about; even if it is total bullshit.

The Old Testament Christians (Sometimes called Protestants) are a bunch of dry morons as well, as they’re still interpreting–Wrongly I might add, a book that doesn’t belong to them. The Old Testament is the JEWISH book, moron. And all of this to divine (Get it?) the meaning of the book, and fulfill their spiritual needs. And by that I mean pick up a pair of crutches because they’re too weak to handle life. Still, at least you’ve got to give them credit for picking up a heavy challenge. It’s easy to fuck your girlfriend’s sister and talk to a priest about it, it’s harder to not do it.

I’m not up to date on my Christian scripture, more like I hate the organizations themselves, not the book. I can’t blame a book for something that ignorant, self-serving, cowardly fools do in the name of it. Hell, if it weren’t for the Catholic and Christian massacres, that they won’t even man up to, I might even be religious myself. But I can’t buy into something that can’t even keep it’s story straight. But let’s hit a few more topics, since I spent five minutes making a picture.

God. That’s a doosey. I had a discussion with a friend of mine about making a supercomputer so powerful that the only name that befit it would be “God”. 512-8 core cell processors, spanned in pairs with crossbars between each chip, then a north bridge for each pair, on a PCI-E 16x 2.0 bus. A computer so fast, that it could calculate space time in milliseconds. A computer so large, the motherboard would be the size of a small house. So much bandwidth that it could run full-load cycles in a single cycle. That’s a God I can get behind. Not one who’s disciple edit and modify his story and use it as mind-control; if he even existed. But that’s my main bitch I guess. They’re calling a thrice edited book fact, when the fuckin’ thing wasn’t even compiled until 400 years after the events, with no written records! Son of a bitch! And you want me to put a twenty in the collection bin for this? To provide to criminals? I won’t even spare a dollar to a homeless guy if he even looks remotely shady. Fucked if I’m gonna give a terrorist organization any fuckin’ money.

I guess I’ve rambled on. I hate religion. Why? They can’t keep their fuckin’ story straight. They allow and supported the suppression of science, killed entire races and civilizations in the name of religious cleansing, create people who ignore facts and carbon-dating, completely and totally reasonable arguments they rebuke with blind faith or scripture. But there’s people out there like Graem who believe that people who say man created God, who don’t provide concrete proof of same, are ignorant, when he can’t provide concrete proof of his statement of God existing.

Sounds like shit to me
Simply put, according to the Old testament, we’re all supposed to be dead. Rapture, HUUUR DUUUR. So in the end, you’re really looking at a cool story that was supposed to end with all of humanity being wiped out in 2000, and the whole world judged. The new testament, however can’t make up it’s fucking mind when we’re going to be judged. Because hey, they figure if they keep guessing, they’ll be right…Once.

So when all this shit comes out, the religion started by Man, created God. In the end, the whole thing is bullshit. You can’t prove God exists, so we don’t have to disprove his existence. C’mon Graem. It’s not fuckin’ Rocket Science. It’s logic, and pretty easy to grasp. The whole thing is bullshit, and you know it. Ain’t much more to it than that.

Oh and Graem? Just because you helped me, doesn’t make you immune to my fist. And a good post I figure too. Two images, and I just might have something to replace my little title thing soon too.

So in short, God is bullshit, Religion is Bullshit. Penn and Teller are right, you should listen to them, and me too.

Now, All I need is my Carl-Gustaf, and it’ll be Bad Company for reals.

ARSENAL EXPANDED! DETAILS NOW!


Now you’re wondering. Since when did he learn HTML so good? Well, I been readin’ and stuff. Anyway, today I bought me a Cetme, because I needed a rifle. And the price I got it at, I couldn’t say no. Also helped out a friend of mine who was selling it, as he needed the money. Anyway, in more news, it came with an 18 round magazine. Never seen one of those before. Oh well. I’ve already contacted a few reloaders and gotten some prices. Needs a little work, but not much. Oh and boy was it nasty. Went through four barrel swabs, and nearly a quarter bottle of solvent. Oh well, it was worth it.

In other news, I’ve been working on a vector that not all may enjoy, and just like this place, isn’t intended for minors. But beyond that, LOT Poland killed the Pole President. So I sent Poland a text message and asked him why he killed his president. He didn’t like that too much, and it probably got me flagged for some shit. But it was worth it.

Coming soon to a Bad Company 2 server near you…

#DECIDE_NAME is going to be server-raping soon, and eventually we’ll have our own server.

So, when Bad Company 2 launched on the second, Me and my boys have a good skill level, and we’re looking to wreck your experience with spawn raping and ROCKET HEADSHOT and SURPRISE DRILL TO THE BRAIN!

But to this point we are still arguing over the clan name. I prefer Dick Soup, because that was the name of the squad we all decided on and created in Battlefield 2. Tyson prefers RAEGFACE, and Amaras likes Assholes. While I’m not too paticular what goes infront of my name in this game, I did care what my name was. And Democratically it was chosen. Princess Peach. Seriously. Oh well, I don’t mind. 13 days into playing it I’m already Second Lieutenant (Technically Captain due to two bars, but Dice fucks everything up.) I’ve got almost all of the unlocks for all classes, medic being my least used. Granted I like the M249, but the hit detection still leaves plenty to be desired.

I spend most of my time rushing and sending PG-7VM-L’s and FFV551 into the faces/chests and rear plates of anything within sight, or performing fifty caliber dentistry with the Barret M95. Tyson’s a good support ambusher and You-AV pilot and Amaras is better with a rifle than I am, even though him-vs-me, I tend to come out on top because I’m faster for acquisition, and he’s better at sitting still.

After we decide on a clan name, I’ll be setting up a website, forum (Already done) and a server. Nothing much more than that.

In other news, 1080p shooting delayed.

Well, I’d like to say I have a good excuse, but I don’t. Simply I haven’t had the place to do the shooting of the stuff, and I’m still lacking a little gear for the audio section of it. I also wouldn’t mind picking up another 1080p camera, so we can do this right. You know, a camera near ground zero, some lexan plates to cover the camera so it’s safe, some Ballistics gel for effect, yatta yatta. All stuff that can be done, but mostly out of budget. I was thinking of doing some of this in Hallsburg, but I lack some saftey out there, and even though the series is going to be called “Irresponsible use of Firearms”, that doesn’t mean we’re going to be reckless. There’s cattle out there, and people. Rather be safe than indited for murder.

And all she wants is just a little piece of this dream, is that too much to ask? With a safe home, and a warm bed, on a quiet little street. All she wants is just that something to hold onto, that’s all she needs.

And to think that this is my job.

You’re tired of playing games?

So today, Morgan sent me a text message at 21:21

“I’m done playing the games and shit I’m deleding your numbers please don’t call me any more”

I guess that’s because I had to go get my medicine from HEB, and come home to find that I’ve been locked out of the house. Yeah man, your problems sure are my fault aren’t they?

What are these games that I’m supposedly playing or whatever you’re going on about? I’ve done nothing but bent over fucking backwards for you. You needed something and I had it to spare? You got it at no cost. You were hungry and needed a place to crash for two days a couple times? I fed you and gave you a place to sleep. You needed to get somewhere? I facilitated a ride. You needed something fixed? I fixed it.

I took better care of you than your own fucking mother. And you got the nuts to blame your problems on me? Blame me for you being hungry? Blame me for you not having something? How fucking dare you. When you lived on primrose, and your mother was off doing whatever it was, when she should have been taking care of you, you called me or Chris. Chris moved, and you had me. What did I do? I did what I could to help you without disrupting my situation.

You leave the roach infested house that your mother lived in, and move in with your brother. You were over here just about every other weekend, eating my food, sleeping on my futon. Did I mind? No, it gave you a place to get something to eat and a place to get away from your brother–whom at the time you told me was a rabid asshole. You lived in a shed, exposed to the weather. I did what I could to help you out.

You moved in with Greg. You called me to come get you so you could crash over here, and get out of Another shed, wanting me to feed you and give you a place to crash. What did I do? I fed you and gave you a place to crash.

You move into an apartment with Kelly, and you don’t call me for a few days, then your laptop starts acting funny and you need someone with some thermal paste to re-goo the heatsinks in it. Then instead of staying over, you want to be taken home, so home you go. You catch me on MSN and tell me some story about your mom needing your help on something, then you ask me if you can come back over. Sean was busy with some stuff, and I wasn’t feeling to well, so I told you that I didn’t care if you came back over, but I had to go get my medication. Since I had to go on foot, you asked if you could meet me up there. I said you could do what you wanted to do, because I still didn’t feel to well. Sean comes by as I’m in the bathroom, then we go to the place

A half hour later I get the text message. Why? I don’t know. I’m sitting at Sean’s place while watching an episode of Mythbusters on his DVR, after I find out my medication isn’t ready yet. So I’m a little irate but that’s fine. You’ve blown up on me before, so I’m going to let you calm down some. But you do need to know this. I’m done with you.

You wanna blame me for your fucking problems? Kill yourself. I ain’t got time for you anymore. Two fucking years I been babysitting you. Doing your mother’s fucking job. If you had any goddammed nuts you’d have a fucking job and be taking care of yourself and not burden your friends with your problems. You’d stop lashing out at people trying to help you when they can’t do something right when you want it. You’d stop telling me to harass your ex-friends because they don’t do what you want.

You should kill yourself.

Dear “Ubergamer”;

Ever come across some guy who acts tough in games, acts haute and rex, trying to prove his skill in a particular video game? Like those douchebags that play Halo and shit all day? Oh I love making fun of them. The people of this coddled age of cellphones and second-chances are way too disrespectful. I don’t insult people about their skill when I’m at work–and I deal with some real window lickers some days. People that don’t account for load factors, space for fasteners, or hell, the durability of the material they’re working with.

So why would I bring that to the games I play? Some of these “gamers” don’t even understand what they’re doing. “Oh I’m so haute that I’m performing at a higher level than some other person, I now have to demean them with slang and urban atrocities until they quit!” Yeah, that makes you look like a douchebag, and no one but your fellow douchebags will want to play with you. Thus the spawning of the “elite” gaming community. Only elite in their pompousness and egos, get ragefaced when they get knifed then they start griefing or micspamming obscenities.

I’m no slouch when it comes to Bad Company, proof’s in the pudding of me having max rank in the beta before hitting my 10th hour of playtime. As a Battlefield vet, I’m no max ranker, but I’m no freshmeat either.

I’m about to make an observation that I bet no one’s thought about. I’m going to go ahead and say I’m the first one that’s pointed this out, because I’m the King.

The playerbase ratio of douchebags is directly proportionate to the speed of the game.

Red Alert *.* : <10% Douchebag. Game takes forever to play. Battlefield 2 : <20% douchebag. The gameplay isn't particularly slow, but there is a noticeable lull in combat. Counterstrike source : <35% douchebag. Game plays pretty slow between rounds, but can end quickly. Socom Confrontation : >60% Douchebag. Rounds can end almost as fast as they start sometimes, with urbanite trash slandering each other over the mic.
Call of Duty *.* : >90% douchebag. Spawn, die. Spawn, die. Spawn, die.

Are we in agreement? I think so. But Marty, what do butthurt douchebags do when you call them out? They whine and slander others due to their personal inadequacies, as they would if they “pwned” someone. I say good on you, if you can beat someone at a video game and it makes you feel better. If that’s all you need to reach a plateau of personal fulfillment, then you my friend lead a simple life, have simple goals and need nothing more than yourself and your self-stroking ego to live.

But instead of being the solution, you’re the problem. You drive off new players, thin out the already existing players until you can only go against either greifers or people of your skill or higher. Thus, you destroy the game.

Tell you what though, I’m a realistic individual. You act like a douchebag, and eventually fate will see to it you come across someone who just isn’t in the mood for your attitude. Someone like me…Well not like me, more like how I used to be, and I used to be a hacker. You’ll lock horns with a blackhat who’s just trying to let off some steam, or kill some time and you’ll do something to anger him just enough, like call him a “Scrub” for not getting 200 headshots in a row, like you’re Tionne “T-Boz” Watkins from TLC, Mr.90’s. And you’ll do just enough to get him to occupy a few minutes of his time to steal everything you own. All of your scores, records, stats, accounts, everything. How do I know this will happen? I’ve done it before.
We’ve all done things we regret, so stop this before you regret it. I’m not saying that I’ll hack you, I’m saying that the risk of screwing with the wrong person and he wrecks everything you got. It takes nothing to respect someone. Even simple silence is more respectful than a poor insult.

So take it easy, Mr.Ubergamer. Enjoy your false bravado and your shallow victories.

Yours in hate–
The King of Pain.

PS: This is why I hate the Xbro live community. They act so tough because they’re good at a few crappy games.

An 87 hour waste of time.

So, after an estimated 87 hours of use, that’s a rough guess by the way. My 3 year old Xbox 360 failed, General Hardware fault, E-74, GPU.

Seriously. With the failure rate of Xbox 360’s as high as it is, I don’t know why Microsoft hasn’t done a mass-product recall, and instituted a redesign to fix the problems that plague this console.

This is me announcing my plan to Mossberg my Xbro. I’m going to be taking on two things.
1: Shotgunning a console that everyone supposedly loves, and pretends to be superior even though it fails nearly 35% of the time.
2: Proving shotguns are accurate. I will be shooting 100 yards at a fairly easy to see target.

And hopefully I’ll be shooting a video of the carnage in 1080p to rage up all of the xbro faggots.

Faking it until you make it? Too bad for POLAND!

Poland, you whine about hipsters, you attempt to be moderate in your shit, but guess what.

YOU FUCKING FAIL.

Imagine that you actually fail at being moderate. Well, that’s just like you fail at being a pseudo-hipster. You’re easy as fuck to detect. 800 dollar phone in one hand, Tim Horton’s coffee in the other, clad in disgusting clothes that mark you as either Emo or Hipster, which the term is interchangeable. So back on the topic of you picking on Apple again, you point out a phone that is older than the first touch screen data manager, the Apple Newton. Oh shit, did Steve Jobs invent PDA’s? You bet. Did Apple invent the first Smartphone? No. IBM did, a whole YEAR before the Newton. IBM made smartphones. Holy fucking christ. The iPhone wouldn’t exist without the IBM Simon.

Now to completly slander you, I have to attack your method of research. Do you want to know what I typed into google to find those? The first one, the Newton, I typed “The first PDA“. Holy shit did it take you right to it? You bet. Did it take more than five fucking seconds? Nope. Oh, and for the smartphone, watch this shit. “The first smart phone“. Oh fucking christ, did I do that? You bet your pollack ass I did.

On to the rest of the story. You attempt to be moderate about 45 words in, even though you’re fucking WRONG, but we covered that. But you go on about saying that Sony made a shitty phone (And you yourself said that saying sony was shitty was wrong, Mr.Xperia) with all of the “all”, just becuase it had a touch screen, keyboard and calendar. So if I built a tactical rifle with all of those, even if it didn’t shoot worth a fuck, it’d have it all, right? Retard.

iTablet killers. Uh, Every PDA and Smartphone have been out to kill each other, because that’s the nature of the market. The devices pick up assault rifles and go mental in electronic stores around the nation, because that’s what they do. No, the companies are trying to beat each other out for a larger marketshare because they’re greedy, centralist, disenfranchised faggots with no goddammed perception of how shit should be. But that’s how Capitalism works.

You see Tablets at CES every time there’s a fucking technological boost in the design, you retarded pollack. That’s why CES exists, to show Consumer Electronics. HUUURR DUUUR THAT IS WHAT IT’S FOR! Fuckin’ A Poland, still haven’t gotten a grasp on how that shit works yet, or are you still Jestem Hardkorem so hard that you duct-tape cardboard spoilers to your Pontiac Sunfire? Go ahead man, bro it out.

There’s your post destroyed, and like the total fuckhead that I am, I even spoofed your image. But this time, it reflects WHO YOU ARE. A Failure.

It’s called Natural Selection for a reason.


I know this is going to be semi-expected when you read the title…

But if you live on a fault line, expect earthquakes. Disasters happen, and crying about it doesn’t do anyone any good. If the religious nuts can be believed, we are all made with God given sense to know to stay out of areas like that, because they’re dangerous. I live on a prairie, I will always live on a prairie, even though I have to deal with tornadoes, and the occasional flood. Living on a fault line and whining about earthquakes is like stepping on an AP mine that you put there and was perfectly visible with big red text that said “I AM AN AP MINE! DO NOT STEP ON ME YOU GODDAMMED RETARD!” and whining about losing your legs. Well fucko, you shouldn’tve stepped on the mine then, huh?

I sound heartless, but seriously. Did it affect you? Most likely not. Sure, some five hundred score people died. Well, does anyone care about the insurgents we’re shooting every day? Circumstances are different, but it’s the same deal. People are dying. “Oh but it’s worse when we kill ourselves!” No it’s not. It’s death. Natural selection–This time in the purest form. Mother nature screamed DIE and well…It was if it were an act of God…Hmm. What if it was? Maybe God wanted these people to die. Who are we to interfere with the action of God?

Now the major question is, what is happening after the events? People will say that they will rebuild. OH SHIT! Rebuild a city on a fault line that just BUTTFUCKED EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING?! You bet. People are just that stupid. Sure, rebuild a large city on the best demolition tool–an earthquake maker. Real fuckin’ smart there buster brown. I bet you were the brightest in your class, weren’t you? The idea of rebuilding a city on the very site it was destroyed on–When the threat of it being re-fucked is still a possibility, is not only stupid, you’re asking to be killed. You know what? Stay there and die. I don’t want your nasty dick in my gene pool.

And just in case it wasn’t clear enough. I don’t give a fuck about one hundred thousand dead hatians. Fuck’em. That’s what they get for being the children of pirates and prostitutes.

I call this “What Stalker should have been.”

I just woke up from a fucking nasty-creepy dream. Remember that promise I made about posting every dream I could remember? Oh yeah.

Okay, the dream started out like an opening cut scene from your average survival horror/post-apocalyptic game. Showing a little of the terrain and some of the beasties off. Imagine a forest road with lush green trees, that have these putrid pussy strips of foulness hanging from the branches. Now imagine that these bloated strips of tissue are actually organ of a creature that separates itself intentionally to hunt. Then imagine these organs wrapping themselves around a passer-by and infect them, this infection turning them into sentient beasts of extreme intelligence and strength. Sinew-wrapped giant creatures of extreme endurance and wisdom. A race of mutants with their own technology and religion. Then, there’s the poisoned zombies, which retained all of their human intelligence and problem solving skills. They can use guns, open doors, drive vehicles and overcome obstacles just as good as they ever could. Hunting and hungry, they eat just like normal, but driven mostly mad by the poison and radiation. Radiation from the humans defending themselves from an alien invasion of epic proportion. The aliens, a cybernetically enhanced race of humanoid animals, fought with devious tactics and interesting particle weapons, but they were not immune to kinetic weapons and died pretty good.

Now, all of this, in a slightly irradiated world, three hundred years after the invasion. A world not wracked with strife, but overgrown with vegetation and lacking in any development. A world returned mostly to nature. A world similar to Fallout; just not brown, green.

The Ephemeral : These corrupted creatures of great wisdom came about due to mutation just after the end of the war. The festering corpses were eaten by leeches or something, and they mutated under the radiation, and formed a cognitive hive-mind. This hive mind figured out it could pass on it’s “gift” by enough of these mutated leeches latching onto a host and basically embedding themselves into it’s tissues. A process known to the non-ephemerals as corruption. They call it “Convalescence”. Their technology is mostly tribal and runic, leading more to the supernatural than to anything else. Certain individuals within their tribes can create ethereal way-gates that link the tribes physically, just as they are linked mentally. The convalescing process turns the victim into either a larger version of itself with over-scaled limbs, or it shreds them into a smaller version of themselves. These smaller ones call themselves the Topric chosen, as they are not exactly built for combat. They run the society’s framework, do all the harvesting, the chasing, the researching. Their numbers large, they form the peaceful aspect of each tribe. Often trading with the humans or ferals for goods and food. The Ephemerals do not seek combat, but they also do not shrink from defense.

The Zombies (Ooooh Spooky): The poisoned zombies are a side-effect from the nerve agents the ferals used, and the radiation the nuclear weapons the humans used. Talk about one hell of a nasty cocktail. These nasty, aggressive and relentless creatures lend their combat tactics to the derelict, as they are not particularly good at organized combat, but their smaller squads can do some serious damage. Perfectly capable of doing everything they could before, they are further enhanced to a resistance to radiation, toxic and caustic agents and their skin has toughened greatly. Other than a leather textured skin and a nasty green or yellow complexion, they look perfectly normal from a distance. Up close, they’re ugly and angry freaks with no desire to talk. All they want is what you got and they’ll do no less than kill you to get it.

The Ferals : SPACE INVADERS! They came in on their big tree-like ships, putting the gun before the pen. Most of the ferals are predator animals, like large felines and canines. Very few prey animals make up their ranks due to their aggressive nature. Their post-war outlook is that they won, and the humans are their slaves. Their technology is more natural and bases itself around stealth and hit and run tactics, supporting their hunting instincts. Their weaponry consists of particle weapons that have seen better days. The ferals on Earth are stranded and cannot get supplies, so they use what they find.

The Humans : Well, we survived the war, and are STILL developing weapons to defeat the invaders, it’s just now that we have the poisoned zombies and the Ephemerals to deal with. The mutated Ephemerals aren’t high on the list, but they’re high enough for them to know about it. The humans trade with them when it’s beneficial, slowly building tolerance for them, and some of the lead thinkers think the zombies can be convinced that they’re still normal humans and some believe it could work. Their post-war outlook is that they defended themselves staunchly, and are willing to make peace with the ferals if they will surrender unconditionally.

The events I saw were for what I take as about half-way through the war, these heavy MI-25 lookin’ helicopters were saturation bombing areas with small nuclear charges. It could’ve been who I was in the dream, or I was just watching some guy, but he was protecting his little sister by carrying her through some trees, on their way to a small abandoned warehouse. He got her inside, and they hid in a wrecked van for a few hours until the bombing stopped. After a few minutes of silence, he stood up and looked around. An eerie quiet had set in, and he picked up a nearby tire iron and went to look around. He told his sister to stay in the van, under the bench seat. He slowly walked around the building, closing windows and locking them, checking door locks, anything to close the place up quietly. He walked up to two offices, and saw a trail of red blood. He followed it up to a door and he slowly opened it, his heart beating out of his chest. He held the tire iron ready as the light from the open door spilled into the room, illuminating the body of a female feral cat, which appeared to be mortally wounded, blood pouring out of a wound on her left side. He slowly walked up on her, the sharp end of the tire iron ready. She coughed, and blood spurted from her mouth. She looked to be dying, but he didn’t care. He saw her weapon a few inches from her hand and he kicked it away. She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the shadowy figure. He remained silent, watching her as she slowly lifted herself as best she could. She spoke in her tongue, raspy and with great fatigue. He shook his head and said “I’m not on your side, but I’m not going to hurt you.” She slumped back on the floor, expecting to receive a death blow. She waived a hand in the air, beckoning her end. He slid the tire iron into his waist and scooped her up off of the ground and carried her to the wrecked van, where he began dressing her wounds. She swiped at him a few times, and he did his best to stay out of the way of her claws. She eventually just gave up on it and lied there, shortly going to sleep. A few days pass, and she wakes up. She panics a bit, then winces as the throbbing pain in her side. She looks about as she notices the blanket covering her. The man walks up to her slowly. “I didn’t think it was safe to move you, so I gave you that blanket to keep you warm.” He stops just short of the bumper. “I also brought you some food. Hell I don’t know why I’m talking to you, you probably don’t understand a word.” He offers her a styrofoam plate with a sandwich on it. She sits up slowly and takes it. “I understand you fine. Why are you helping me?” He shrugs and sits down on the bumper. “Well, your people may have invaded us.” He sighs and rubs his face slowly, having not been awake long. “But I don’t think you’re doing it because you want to. You’re just following orders.” She slowly took a bite of the sandwich. It wasn’t much, just bologna. “Sorry that’s not too good, but it’s the best we have.” She ate slowly and looked him over. “I’m..I was Sergent Jack Hargrave. That little girl hiding by that machine over there is Jessica, my sister.” He waives to Jessica, who didn’t move. The feral woman looks at the half-eaten sandwich and she sits it down. “I am Officer Arista. I am a strike co-ordination spotter.” Jack nodded and stood up, that’s when Arista noticed the pistol belt he had on. She looked at it, then at him quickly. He looked at her expression, then down at his waist. “Oh! This. Sorry about that. I got it from a passing squad. Told them I had my family held up in here, and we needed some guns. He let me have his pistol.” Uneasily, she searched her garments for hers and Jack pulled it out of his waist. “Looking for this?” He looked at it for a second, and offered it to her. Arista slowly grabbed it and Jack let go. “It wouldn’t be fair if I had a means to defend myself and you didn’t.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve got to–” He was cut off by a crashing sound from outside. He turned quickly and reached for his pistol. Arista pointed hers at the back of his head. “That would be my recovery.” Jack turned to her quickly and saw the very gun he just gave back to her, pointed at him. With a sigh he said “Well, go ahead then.” Jessica ran up to him and hugged his leg, crying. Arista slowly lowered it. “It wouldn’t be sporting to shoot you in the face like that.” She slid the pistol under her shit, into it’s holster. “I spared you. Remember that.” Jack grinned. “Well well well. Don’t I feel special?” As he finished his sentence, the warehouse door opened and dozens of U.S. Soldiers poured in, each pointing their rifles at the feral. Jack pointed his finger at Arista. “And I spared you.” He made a motion in the air with his hands, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, and walked up to the machine that Jessica was hiding behind. Arista stared at Jack, anger and fear mounting. One of the soldiers pressed a few buttons on the machine, and the floor opened up a few feet from it, revealing a stairwell. “Well Arista, let’s go.” He offered her a hand and she took it. “You need better treatment than I can offer out here.”

And that’s all that I recovered. Not bad eh?

For Fuck’s sake poland.

If everything sucks, so do you.

Dude, if you hate everything so bad, why bitch about it? Get used to life sucking a big one, then getting on with it. Whining like a little girl with your 700 dollar Sony Xperia doesn’t do you shit lot of good, does it? No. Quit fucking bitching about snow, avatar and 2010. Each time you post something, you’re whining about something or someone not doing exactly what you expect of them.

Well if you haven’t noticed dude, people are individual. We ain’t got a hive mind thing going on, because..

NO ONE GIVES A FUCK!

Christ. You whine about one thing or another every fuckin’ day. Baww snow this. Baww no one cared about who else died in 2009. Baww avatar didn’t meet my expectations. Baww charities don’t do good enough and I hate them because there isn’t a charity for giving me money to buy expensive worthless phones. Baww wind mobile sucks the devil’s asshole. Baww advertisi..Yes, this one is true. Baww EB games is trying to make money. Baww the Kpanic screen for Darwin is pretty and doesn’t give you any information (Macfag. OH SHIT YOU HAVE BECOME WHAT YOU HATE!) Baww Ty got some titty and I didn’t. Baww I stalk people on facebook. Baww I can’t write music so I bash those that can. Baww I wasted money on the Xperia instead of the macfone. Baww I challenge time paradoxes by saying go back in time and abort yourself. Baww trendy faggots and their phones annoy me because I’m a closet trendwhore. Baww I hate philisophic debate and do not tolerate the balance of same. Baww I insult Apple technology by saying they make gay porn. Baww I don’t understand walking because I have a Pontiac Sunfire. Baww I hate the Beetles, even though they made more money in a year than I’ll make in my life. Baww I have shitty Canadian DSL and wonder why I have no internet. Baww I hate closed minded people but I won’t show tolerance to anyone different than me. Baww I hate Travis Baker because he’s a successful musician and I am just an angsty polack that has all of their CD’s. Baww I hate Bruno but I insult those that said it was gay. Baww summer blockbusters make me want to an hero. Baww Macangst. Baww I’m giving parenting advice because I know how to raise kids without actually raising kids. Baww reusing plasic bags isn’t enough, buy cloth bags and forget them. Baww prescription medications do more harm than they cure. Baww I hate 12 year olds because they don’t know what I know. Baww I believe epic trolls are fake. Baww I’m still not tolerant of other people’s beliefs and now attack what they eat. Baww I wished they made wheelies when I was a kid in Poland. Baww I hate my job. Baww Michael Jackson died. Baww N-Sync sucked but I listened to them and cried secretly. Baww I’m too stupid to navigate a map for a  store.

Fuck I can’t do anymore. It’s like reading the Angst quarterly every ten fucking seconds. Sure, I’m guilty of doing some of the same shit, but atleast MY shit is funny. Fuck man, If you hate shit so bad, an hero. Stop putting up with it.