bottomless pit of dismay, for the altar of decrepit social case I am reduced to belch my disqualifications red fascist who wants to be oppressed on that Oueb shown up as disinterest Inspiring questionable for my moments of doubt and failure of sexual erection, which meets so few women to fantasize that I'm spending three hours at a little nice and funny (yes, that's bad start ) with a student at Science-Po in a bar downtown like any outlet for my frustration cumulative real Sanibroyeur Thinking romp where two categories of items: 1) those in which I think interest in spreading the navritude Abyssal my (in) existence, 2) those in which heavily soaked Monaco after a second, I imagine myself to give lessons, distributor of slaps and Attorney-judge court Stalinist me the big mouth to hide behind my keyboard but completely paralyzed black angst when it comes to pass the act in anything, pignouf that lives only in my head by asking intensely my left wrist (and the right weekend, I'm a slut), virtual flag a residue of the ambient anti-thought at all convinced yet of being a rebel, my blog - my dear blog, dark .. . and Réacosphère is my last hope of salvation, my last hope to revive something that sneers at each of my new self-indulgent posts. It goes without saying that this article falls into the latter category ... My attempt Renewal is already falling flat. My readership
mocking Xyr therefore knows the delicious, pure product of the post-teen frustration depressive tendency which finds that fascism, finally, the last provocation, tu'ois. Before getting into his room to listen to Radiohead - no interest group pretentious twinks - by writing pompous post on a blog of rare pedantry. And during the match did not take place between a team of Créteil and Paris Foot Gay, our bank teller / student in computer science - and reader of Nietzsche, and sweeper khâgneuse via webcam, that talent has this boy, obviously, they'll gives Gouzes-Gouzes everywhere ...- to release his mother expressing serious bottom (?) of his, uh, "thought" here:
" I relish. See these rots become victims of racist the Islamization of Europe they are themselves responsible, it's just delicious. And the feast reaches its climax when the pedals will lynch every day in France became largely Muslim, and they continue to say "Pshaw j'comprends po!". Yum. Finally, and this is essential, I tell myself it must anyway be difficult for a straight man to assume that playing in Paris Foot Gay: tighten the buttocks in the shower after each game to meet his wife in the evening ... "
Yes. I admire her secretly spirited . I did say his worm v e , damn.
But rezut, now it looks like someone has somewhat moved this way and threatens my Xyr thunderbolts of justice. In addition, the League itself would begin to intervene in history. Damn. How about this?
The prospect of a trial it must be shown admit quite improbable it may be assumed that congestion in the courts and the general workload of the police - less and less effective, more and more things to do, and the constant pressure of "figure" - will probably make things still in there. Good.
Where, amid unlikely bourdieuseries endlessly trotted out, I want to come?
In fact we can say everything, absolutely everything, especially anything as long as no one will lend you any attention.
An example completely at random: me.
For almost 3 years (already! Eeeeeeet ...), so I am only spreading in many and varied belching promising the worst of the worst of fascism red ones that I do not, ie 9/10ths of the planet or something like that. Bankers? Rope. The advertising? To be eaten by pigs. The Liberals ? The gulag. the right? Corsica. The hippies ? Napalm. The journalists? Pillory with their children throwing stones sharp face, laughing. Financiers? We send them into Iraq walk naked in minefields. Etc.. Etc.. Etc..'m Back telling me paw in imagining as leader Che Guevara cigar in his mouth and vodka in hand executions at La Cabaña camp enjoying the show, more than 1300 tickets on it, to drink and eat, use the rab ago. And
?
What are the consequences?
Nothing.
Keude.
is truly shocking, ultimately: not a complaint. Not a real threat.
Not even a draft of morigénisation beginning. At best a band of trolls doing shit in the comments, in waves, the rest simply by nodding your head like Pez. Frankly, is it really worth going to all this trouble? my other blog that I would as subversive and comic visited by 12 people to break everything, including plagiarists without causing the slightest beginning of a stir in the blogosphere?
Aww ... The contrast with
Xyr ... All this to me mine. Here I am all depressed, sniff.
But perhaps also for a simple reason. We can say absolutely anything you want, to 'Ternet. Everything. But again, provided they insignificant. There are limits not to exceed. There are rules, unspoken, written anywhere, but nevertheless existing, present and to be taken into account, as otherwise the players and to be recognized, and all the hassles it entails (a social life? J dare hardly hope).
And I'm still far from the boundary, although safe to assume responsibility for what I write. I play with this freedom that gives me the non-existence. I would even lay articles openly fascists before claiming it for fun. A ticket good hate? A post about anything. Another good oily rage child? A valve. An analysis rehash the rest of the blogosphere with some doodles of my leg? 36-15 my life and a video of bad taste in my stride. First, second, fourth degree? Sincere belief or irony? Perverse stupidity or foolishness assumed? Or both? Cards blurred, reading levels, tickets for one person in particular - think of me in pity and give me proof that you see me, once enough - but read by hundreds
Yes, it happens at times to be lucid in my desperation to exist and counting.
is why in the end, I am very worried about the survival of this blog, and I make this appeal to support réacosphère .
But hey, there's also another reason that I aim Xyr and not a queer "N" PA
Me, I'm part of the Gentiles. And it is part of Villains . And I desperately need someone to be nasty to me.
I completely sincere in writing this.
Believe me.
So pity, hit me, Xyr, hit me hard that I feel exist.
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