Forum Of The Caustic

I often get you sacks of shit asking me, "Why do you ask so many questions and never seem to answer many of them?"
As per usual, the ANSWER is thoroughly simple. I ask questions to try and get you peons to think and come up with your own answers. Without questions, there will be no progress. No thought. If people didn't ask you questions, your minds will just sit there, stagnant, because that is how we've been developed over the years.
Attention spans are shorter.
I.Q.'s are way down.
Violence is up.
So, I pose more questions, why is this? Why is the world is a shit state? Why are there people like myself, so wrought with hatred? Why are there people like you, so overcome by depression that you have forgotten what true happiness is? Why are more people fucking at a younger age everyday? Why are you so desperate to escape the monotonous that you spend time on the accursed internet reading these words?

Answer these questions and send them to me at [email protected] and maybe, just maybe, if your drivel makes some goddamn sense for a change, I may put it on this page.

I am sick and fucking tired of hearing people whine.
"I'm tired."
"I'm depressed."
"I'm ugly."
"I'm fat."
You need to stop bitching for one goddamn nanosecond and look at what you're saying.
Stop concentrating on your problems and put your effort into fixing your supposed problems, stop trying to get sympathy from everybody. You know why? Because most people don't really give a shit if you're tired, depressed, ugly or fat. Mostly because what you are complaining about could be easily remedied by your own damn self.

If you're tired - sleep. Take some NyQuil.
If you're depressed - do some soul searching, or take some NyQuil.
If you're ugly - apply make-up/get plastic surgery.
If you're fat - exercise and eat less greasy fatty foods, you dipshit.

You need to start worrying about the cause, which is inside you, and don't even think about "sleeping on it", because you don't evolve while asleep.

Think, you fuckers, it may do you some good one day.

I fucking hate when people call you on the phone, then sit there and say nothing. It makes me wonder why the hell you called in the first place. I always thought that the point of a phone call was to discuss something over a great distance, or something too important to wait until a face to face encounter. But recently acquaintances of mine have been calling and saying nothing more than "Hello."

Maybe it's the fear that I'll go off on some mad rant and make them cry that retards their ability to communicate. Never-the-less, it's goddamn annoying.

Other People�s Opinions
Why, oh why do other people think I give a flying turd about what they have to say? If I want to know what you think, I will ask. Do not force your retarded opinions upon me or I will have to make an example of you by biting off the top off your skull and tearing out your heart through your brainstem.

I do not force my opinions on you. I just put them out there for display for the world, in hopes that people will see them and take something away from it. Wether it be good, bad, or indifferent, just as long as you are affected in some way, my job here is done.
And besides, most others opinions differ so much from my own that I�d have to sniff a garbage bag full of carbon monoxide to be able to understand them.

I used to have this friend once. I knew him for most of my life. He would follow me around like a puppy, and didn�t even argue when I called him �my bitch�. I taught him what was funny, how to be funny, and what was �cool�.
Then he started stalking this girl he worked with. Stalked her for almost two years.

Now, I had always known he was a pathetic loser, but he had suddenly thought he was King Shit, instead of what he truly is - just plain shit.

Well, long story short this �friend� of mine and myself got into this huge verbal fight over the internet. It got to the point where I got fed up with his shit and wanted to cave his hairless skull in. (that�s right, �hairless� and he�s only 23) So, I did something I don�t usually do, I challenged him to a fight, simply because I hated him that much. He did not accept.

So once again, I went onto the message board we were fighting on and told him to fight me. It�s not like I�m hard to find or anything here, people. We live like, five blocks away.

We never got around to engaging in fisticuffs. I was greatly disappointed, but what more could I expect from someone with no hair and no spine?

This was about seven months ago. Since then I have done something I like to call �moving on with my fucking life�, while he still tries and take shots at me over the internet. Apparently he has yet to realize I simply do not give two tugs of a dead dogs cock whether he lives or dies in a terrible car accident involving a speeding locomotive carrying nuclear waste.

For several months, I happily forgot he existed, and while talking to someone we both know, I find the snivelling turd is STILL talking shit about me.

Why in the hell would you still be talking shit about someone almost half a year later? I had not seen nor mentioned him until he rears his ugly follicles pate in my girlfriends face. Note how he never confronts me, he goes through my girlfriend.

Why he cannot let me go is beyond my comprehension. His �life� must really be that sad and empty now that I am gone. Or maybe, seeing as how he over-uses homosexual insults, he himself is a homosexual and secretly desires me. Either way, I strongly suggest he kill himself so he may finally get over it and go on with anally raping small boys in dim lit back alleys while his smelly friend jerks off into a paper bag, which my former friend then drinks and deeply tongue kisses his smelly friend. It seems like the sort of thing he�d do.

Moral of the story is this kiddies - If you ever have a friend that comes over to your house, even when you don�t call, imitates your speech and behaviour, and generally tries to be an exact copy of you...KILL THEM NOW! You won�t go to jail because these things are not people. They are some form of mimicking creature from the Protista family that will try and absorb your very being and will secretly desire anal sex with you.

Once again, I have warned you, wankers.

I hate music.

That�s not entirely true. I just hate the state of music in this new millennium.

It�s not even the fact that pre-manufactured �pop� music is king of the airwaves, and goddamn rap music is the best selling form of music globally, it�s that the real musical artists aren�t even trying anymore. I like heavy music, so that may be cause for some self-bias, but this is my page, and what I say is Law.

As of late, most of my favourite bands have, in kind words, betrayed me. What�s most disturbing is that these artists that I once loved and admired became popular and then started producing steaming mountains of shit. This saddens me, not only because talent has gone to waste, but because the meat of music seems to mean less than selling a million copies and getting your dick sucked by 14 year old girls while you videotape it.

These �artists� who at one time produced some of the best music on earth have lost their heart. We�re seeing more choreographed dancing onstage than a bunch of people playing music they love and jumping around like monkeys with A.D.D. And they few �rock� bands that get played on television call four guys standing there, barely swaying a concert.
I�ve been to rock concerts. If your on the floor and don�t come out of the experience covered in sweat, with your clothes stretched and ripped, then you have no reason to see live music at all, because that, in essence in what live music is all about - The Feeling, the emotion, the moment. Not how much smoke is being pumped in, or how little clothing the female singer is wearing, but how much feeling and energy the band is producing by playing something they give a shit about. Music that comes from the depths of their soul and the bottom of their guts.

And I wish musicians would stay the fuck off of drugs, or at least have someone control their intake of drugs so they don�t turn into insane fuckers who do nothing but fight with other band members, or have heart attacks on stage and be dead for two minutes.

Rain
There was a time when I used to love when it rained.
Rain made the outside world as dreary and depressing as life was, and all was in balance.

Also, my horrible Enemies In Nature were subdued. The sun was hidden and I could venture outside without sunglasses; all the dust and pollen I�m allergic to was purged from the air and cleansed to the ground. And let�s not forget the insects. Many insects are wiped out during a good down pore.

I loved the rain. The air was so pure and cool. The streets, buildings, and trees were washed and made new. Everything sparkled as the water danced to the rhythm of the falling drops.

Now, every time it rains, I get sick. The usual cleansing water is now a harbinger for various infections in my head. Throat infections, sinus infections, and even and ear infection once. Makes me wonder how the English survive in such weather.

Sometimes I wish I was Wolverine. Minus the torturous life and scarring memory tampering.