Friday, 15 February 2013

Generation Zero: How to Smile as The End of History Approaches


What was once convivial, a bit of craic, peregrinations one can take, biweekly get out of de house, settling down in the local drinking establishment ones, knocking back a few pints and clumsily coming across any lassie daft enough to enter the vicinity of the glasser cunt, his name be Begbie like, is turning into something a bit darker, sinister and sad. Why is this depressing, a drizzly, damp stupor of a thing that has permeated the minds of the zeros? Well, you know lads and lassies, despite the kind of person I am, misantropic mildly en aw, and despite the fact that there be more often than not, days where I want to spend time with a little bit of reading and wouldn't mind chattin to a single soul, I see all of yous, and christ on a bike like, there are some truly fine lads and lassies out there with so much potential, but withheld, hands tied behind the back, depressed, lack of job opportunities, and given ugly, wrong, not even remotely reflecting reality advice, for the lads a lack of good women out there, for the lassies, whiny beta males which wouldn't know masculinity even if they read a Homer poem.

We certainly got the arse end of the stick in a lot of ways. No employer will touch you without getting that piece of paper that shows you were able to dive into large quantities of useless, flotsam and jetsam junk information, and when you get there you are earning a pittance and everybody is a Voice watching HR gobshite. You're not going to be start a business either any time soon, high taxes combined with low efficiency (you won't be beating out Tesco any time soon kid) and a banking sector that is reluctant to make loans to you certainly doesn't help.  Unless you were born into wealth, get lucky, or have a 130+ IQ and are heading to Silicon Valley, you are not going to be rich. Ever.

So, what be the point of this Franco tirade? The point of it is that a lot of people my age seem to be spiritless, cadaverous wanderers, feeling guilty and sad for the position that they are in, feeling that it was their fault. The point is, you shouldn't feel bad, you really shouldnt. This is not your fault, you shouldnae feel bad about it, and it, all of this, is mostly outside your control. Does that mean you should give up? That you should be a defeatist? FUCKITY FUCK no way be Franco saying that shit! You want to start that business, start that business. You want to be the next Schwarzenegger, then you are a better man than most. You want to get married and have children, fucking go for it kid! You want something so badly that it causes you to lose sleep, tossing and turning ad nauseum, your day to day existence now fucken phantasmagorical, then yeah man, you should be the fucking trailblazing cunt, especially in this epoch of crass degenerate culture and ersatz liberal values. You have my support in every way. Also, dinnae be a narcissistic cunt who goes around blaming your parents for your own failings or any shit like that. Let go, and embrace what you can actually control, because as you fuckos know, it can be lonely out there. But no more so than the perfume of loneliness of the over the hill lassie with her rabbit dildo. Women need men more than men need women en aw.

There are more important things to do. Your friends and family, the lassie with the tight ass, becoming a person of good moral character and of strength. Becoming a man, not a pussy and not a fucking bastardized extreme muscleman caricature. Five to ten years shit will hit the fan methinks. People piss around about slacker fellas on de dole, and well, I think the system is so broken, you might as well milk the bloody thing for all its worth, the more you be doing the better. The social contract is in tatters, and there is absolutely no reason for you to hold up your end of the bargain. Be a slacker boi, then go for it. I hope tae fuck I'm wrong. If you find yourself fucking sneaking around de place a la Chris Dorner, then so be it, there is nothing we will be able to do about that. All of us will be poorer, Generation 0 and Generation 1 and beyond, and there ain't a damn thing we cunts can do about it. But that does not mean we cannot kneel before the altar of virtue and make something of ourselves. Suffering unites like very little else, the Spartans, Romans, even university frat houses know this. At the very least, we will be the the ones, or can be the ones, the potential to put the world back together. Don't get dragged down by the bullshit of socialism, feminism, impending doom, or what The Cathedral tells you and you'll be smiling when all the bombs go off and you'd be holding Marla's hand.

I recommend you read this whole fucken post with Where Is My Mind by the Pixies playing btw. For extra awesomness. Fucking tune.

5 comments:

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    1. yibbie dabbie doobie bitch tit cunt motherfucker

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  2. I found a solution brother, my girlfriend recently dumped me (it was like riding a dead fish anyway)im packing in my soul sucking joooob in the IFSC and heading to the US to do something ive always wanted to train to be a pilot and then heading off to melbourne after.......... peace out bitched life is what you make it. dont waste it on a bar stool reminising about what could have been. Love the writing, your a talented man.

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    1. Mate that sounds cool as shit, melbourne as well. As for the bar stool thing, you can clearly see that as well. Bored EE housewives in their 30s, overweight cunts with Man United jerseys getting obnoxious in fucken doyles, not exactly a fulfilling existence. Ireland is fanny fucked as far as I'm concerned anyway. Good luck to yes and I hopes yous succeed.

      Also, my own grammar is not exacly the tidiest thing anyway, it be grand like.

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  3. please excuse the bad grammer

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