we have days of fun and days of regret, we can sit in our rooms and write sad fuck poetry that we can bore our friends with or we can confront the regrets.
transfer them into the fun table with a careless toss of the hand and a laugh. God knows life will jump up and get us soon enough without us tempting it. Slam the fucking door in its' face.
we are hurtling towards war, mr blair and twat bush are forcing us into something that will be big, loud and nasty, a Led zepplin concert with guns and live ammo. Personally, going on previous games, if I was a british soldier i'd make sure there were no americans behind me, they really don't give a flying fuck who they shoot and have the mental capacity of a teenage bloke on the pull and the morals of a room full of nigerian business men.
i worry. People are so self-destructve. They react and counter-react without thought, knee-jerk jerks.
I thought I'd won the lottery this morning, then remembered you have to buy a ticket to win, and why should i fill the coffers of the ANC who pointedly are not distributing the cash to right places, if indeed anywhere but to their fat arses and their sad fat wives and Winnie -I'm innocent of everything- mandela.
Let it all fall apart, we are the master race, not by nation but by thought which we will soon put into deed.

Bring it on Georgie.

been a quiet weekend as far as exploding israelies are concerned, although i see that other self igniting race the palestinians had a senior guy burst into flames in a car... jesus, you can't go anywhere without some middle-eastern clown bursting into flames just for the hell of it, and what does it get them? Not a damned thing, but dead, and dead lasts a long time.