Termyn8or
Posts: 18681
Joined: 11/12/2005 Status: offline
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FR First of all I appreciate the kind words and even the comcerns about my mental condition. Way better than a flat out "fuckya" to say the least. Maybe one thing I like about posting and corresponding is that I do not get interrupted. I can type all day long and there ain't a damn thing anyone can do about it. HA HA ! Things that have been said about me in in regular life do range just as people's opinion of me here. First of all there are some interruptions that ore OK, if someone needs clarification, but random thoughts mid sentence tend to aggravate me. It has been said that when talking to me, try not to interrupt because (up until the last few years) he will put a bruise on your arm. Or leg if it is more convenient. Don't get him hitting on your leg, damnm, one day I could hardly walk. But listen to that motherfucker because he usually has a point, and sometimes it doesn't come out until the end. But then everything falls into place and it makes sense. Those are not my words. They are the words of people who have known me for decades. Now if I used to bruise them up so bad, why do they continue to come around ? Even with my past, knuckle dragging - cave man tactics of the past I have only scared away one person, Norm the Chiseler. He used to come over very late and very drunk, loud to the point that I was concerned about my neighbors. Note that this is from one who will crank up 400 watts at 4 AM. But this guy would not shutup, would not lower his voice, and what a voice. If this guy was a singer he would not need a microphone. I told him several times that he was welcome here for a beer, but stop by BEFORE you go to the bar and have 17 shots of whiskey. So what if I was half in the bag as well, the kettle was still black. I am not proud of every action I have taken in my life and wish I would've done something different. As drunk as the stupid fuck got sometimes, I miss him. He's a big Neitchze fan, which is OK, and he has a degree in pnilosophy. But yelling about it at the top of one's lungs at 4 AM is just not warranted. Neighbors actually talked to me about it and I told them that I would have a talk with him about it. I did, time and time again. Funny, they didn't mention the loud music that night, just this guy's voice. Now I seem to be known as a vestige of virtue, a peacekeeper of all the pieces and so forth, but that last visit from the Chiseler was different. Ironically I don't blame him, I blame myself. I didn't totally lose it, but I did smash his head into a very solid speaker. Those things can hurt. His blood spurted halfway across the rom an onto the screen of my bigsreen TV. FYI you can't clean those things, and that blood is there to this day, I do have a replacement screen, but that is not the point. He said "Man I knew you were heavy duty, but not that heavy duty". After that I refused to let him leave for an hour as he continued to bleed all over the floor. That's why I don't own a vacuum cleaner, time comes I just replace the carpet. Now the thing is, this is all in the past and it connot be changed. But the realization of this fact certainly changed me. I don't do it anymore, no matter what. I reevaluated, among other things, my goal. What is the point of me talking ? I want to be understood. This was obviously counterproductive in that sense. And I try to tell people "Look motherfucker, one of these days you will get old enough, and you are going to remember every nasty thing you have ever done in your life, and it NEVER ever goes away". I believe that to be the crux of true morality. I do not want any more guilt. Some day late at night you lay in bed and think, I can't believe this person still talks to me after this shit. I call it a guilt load, and I can just about handle what I got, but one more straw could break this camel's back. No more, never. It took me decades to just realize it, and then some to deal with it in a sane manner. I can handle it, but really I don't want any more. We discuss scammers and all that and I would love to outscam them, but that would bring me no guilt. Screwing the banks out of six figures, no guilt at all. Telling the government to go fuck off, again, no guilt at all. But those I know, whom I call friends, my family and business associates (in some cases are one and the same), and even the unmet stranger on the street, I will not hurt, I will help if I can. This is where I am at. This does not come from some five thousand year old book, a ton of goobltygock coming from our ever so prolific government, nor the words of any Man (or Woman) living or dead. In fact to this day I explore just where it came from. Perhaps the fact of the matter is that to know good one must do, or at least have done evil. It seems a reasonable conclusion at this time but I do not declare it as fact. It is simply my observation based on 49 years of study. Study of myself as well as others. Before I discarded religion in all it's forms I would declare that God could not exist without the Devil, and that possibly the Devil is a part of God. His necessary purpose is to provide a discernable delineation between good and evil, and I used a piece of paper to illustrate the point. You see, the paper means nothing without the ink. In other words if everything is good, how do you know the difference ? Well in my case the paper has plenty of ink, to the point where it is hard to find a place to print anything. My life is that page, and while at one time I did actually pray for amnesia, that's not right either. To forget or ignore my past is to exorcise part of what I am. Selective amnesia is not for me. Don't get me wrong now. There are people who know me well and once they do they are fiercely loyal. I can send the boyz out so to speak and get just about anything I want. I could order executions and it wouldn't cost me a dime. But I don't want that, for two reasons. First of all I have no real enemies, and NO I did not kill them all. Second of all, these people are my friends and I don't want them taking unnecessary risk. But if someone fucks with my family I can unleash a veritable army to make sure they feel some remorse. I can't make them feel guilt, but I can surely make them sorry. But then I see life differently now. I do not make enemies out of people who cut me off on the highway, take my parking spot, cut ahead of me in line, things like that. I let alot just roll off my back, it's not worth it. What I would do in the past is a different story. You would not cut me off on the highway, I could outrun your shitcan any day of the week, and had the gas recipts to prove it, as well as almost 500 HP. Parking spot ? Not only would I, but I have pushed two car and a truck at the same times, all in park, to have my parking spot. Cut in front of me in line ? Even in the bank you are going to hit the fucking floor. I just ain't like that anymore. I didn't find God (or did I ?) in fact I lost Him. He wasn't doing me any good. Introspection has been proven to be the true saviour. I have to live with myself for the rest of my life, there is no getting out of it. The stupidest thing I could do given these facts is to make that any more difficult. Perhaps this is canned morality, and one size does fit all. But you don't get a can opener until a certain day. Once you get the can opener, those worms crawling around are all your own creation. T
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