YorkNecromancer
06-13-2014, 07:14 PM
So I'm in the house playing 'Papers, Please' (brilliant) and I hear a banging. A vandalism kind of banging. So I go and look out of my bedroom window and what do I see but three lagered up men attacking my brand-new, £3000 fence.
I shout to them
"Lads: please don't attack my new fence."
"It's just so new. The wood's all new. I wanted to just see if I could put my hand through it, you know, smash it. Because it looks so new."
"That's because it is new. It cost me and my partner £3000."
"£3000? You were ripped off mate. I'd have done this for you for £1000."
"Well, that's a very generous offer, but could you not attack my new fence? You see, my wife and I have been the victims of a number of attacks, and that's why we've been forced to spend our holiday money on a new fence that we couldn't really afford. You see, my wife's quite phobic now - she feels like we're constantly under attack. Because people keep smashing our things when we've done nothing to them. She's really scared of loud noises now. Every time, she's worried it's someone trying to break our house."
"Are you doing your front garden up then? Because I could come and do it up for you for a couple of hundred quid."
"That's a very generous offer, but I don't really have that kind of money at the moment. You see, I've just bought a fairly expensive new fence, and it's already being attacked by people I don't know."
"Sorry mate. It was just so new. I just really wanted to see if I could smash it."
"Well, if you don't mind not doing that? Because, you see, it's my fence."
"Sorry mate. We're all just a bit lagered up. Sorry."
And then they wandered off, presumably looking for someone else's fence to smash up.
Because everyone knows, if you're drunk, that means it's not really you. It's just the alcohol that's made you a violent jerk. You're not really like that. You're good inside.
:mad:
No you're not, random man attacking my fence because he's bored and basically an ***hole of epic proportions. Alcohol just gives you the excuse you need to lie to yourself in the morning, returning to the comfortable myth you tell yourself about how you're a good man really. Well you're not. You sir, are scum the world would be a better place without, and alcohol isn't why you decided to try and smash my fence, nor is my fence's vibrant newness. No, you're doing it for several reasons, none of which you could ever admit to. But I know what they are; in no particular order:
Your father was a pathetic failure, weak and stupid. He wasn't a man, and failed to raise you as a man in turn.
Your mother was the same, weak and unable to give you the boundaries your particular brand of narcissistic psychopathy needed. She was a bad mother, and a bad woman.
You're stupid.
You're selfish.
You're an egotist.
You're so entitled you believe the world belongs to you.
You're a failure - as a man, at life, in work - and you know it. So you lash out at the world in pathetic, childish ways, because the only shred of approval you get, the only way you know to feel valid is when your equally horrible friends smile as you violate the social rules in some petty, horrible way, thus proving what a strong, independent male you are, all puffed up on testosterone and cheap pride, despite having achieved nothing of value, and instead having actively made the world a worse place.
You're a horrible, horrible human being.
Your life will mean nothing. You have blinked into existence, you will scrabble around spreading misery in the name of the flaccid ruin life gave given you in place of an soul, and then you will flicker out again without ever having achieved anything or mattered to anyone - except the children you failed to raise. And the only thing you will be to them is the excuse they use to justify their petty acts of mindless aggression and animal dominance. Your life is an irrelevance, and you matter so little that when you are gone, it will be as though you never even existed. Apart from the cruelties you inflicted through your miserable waste of an existence.
Sorry.
I've been fuming about this all night, and I've got nowhere else to vent. It's one of those petty little violations of space that you can't do anything about except scream in impotent rage.
:(
I shout to them
"Lads: please don't attack my new fence."
"It's just so new. The wood's all new. I wanted to just see if I could put my hand through it, you know, smash it. Because it looks so new."
"That's because it is new. It cost me and my partner £3000."
"£3000? You were ripped off mate. I'd have done this for you for £1000."
"Well, that's a very generous offer, but could you not attack my new fence? You see, my wife and I have been the victims of a number of attacks, and that's why we've been forced to spend our holiday money on a new fence that we couldn't really afford. You see, my wife's quite phobic now - she feels like we're constantly under attack. Because people keep smashing our things when we've done nothing to them. She's really scared of loud noises now. Every time, she's worried it's someone trying to break our house."
"Are you doing your front garden up then? Because I could come and do it up for you for a couple of hundred quid."
"That's a very generous offer, but I don't really have that kind of money at the moment. You see, I've just bought a fairly expensive new fence, and it's already being attacked by people I don't know."
"Sorry mate. It was just so new. I just really wanted to see if I could smash it."
"Well, if you don't mind not doing that? Because, you see, it's my fence."
"Sorry mate. We're all just a bit lagered up. Sorry."
And then they wandered off, presumably looking for someone else's fence to smash up.
Because everyone knows, if you're drunk, that means it's not really you. It's just the alcohol that's made you a violent jerk. You're not really like that. You're good inside.
:mad:
No you're not, random man attacking my fence because he's bored and basically an ***hole of epic proportions. Alcohol just gives you the excuse you need to lie to yourself in the morning, returning to the comfortable myth you tell yourself about how you're a good man really. Well you're not. You sir, are scum the world would be a better place without, and alcohol isn't why you decided to try and smash my fence, nor is my fence's vibrant newness. No, you're doing it for several reasons, none of which you could ever admit to. But I know what they are; in no particular order:
Your father was a pathetic failure, weak and stupid. He wasn't a man, and failed to raise you as a man in turn.
Your mother was the same, weak and unable to give you the boundaries your particular brand of narcissistic psychopathy needed. She was a bad mother, and a bad woman.
You're stupid.
You're selfish.
You're an egotist.
You're so entitled you believe the world belongs to you.
You're a failure - as a man, at life, in work - and you know it. So you lash out at the world in pathetic, childish ways, because the only shred of approval you get, the only way you know to feel valid is when your equally horrible friends smile as you violate the social rules in some petty, horrible way, thus proving what a strong, independent male you are, all puffed up on testosterone and cheap pride, despite having achieved nothing of value, and instead having actively made the world a worse place.
You're a horrible, horrible human being.
Your life will mean nothing. You have blinked into existence, you will scrabble around spreading misery in the name of the flaccid ruin life gave given you in place of an soul, and then you will flicker out again without ever having achieved anything or mattered to anyone - except the children you failed to raise. And the only thing you will be to them is the excuse they use to justify their petty acts of mindless aggression and animal dominance. Your life is an irrelevance, and you matter so little that when you are gone, it will be as though you never even existed. Apart from the cruelties you inflicted through your miserable waste of an existence.
Sorry.
I've been fuming about this all night, and I've got nowhere else to vent. It's one of those petty little violations of space that you can't do anything about except scream in impotent rage.
:(