Hi.
Ironically, I'm a bit late to wish ya'lls a merry christmas, but not if I'm aiming at 2017 or why the fuck not, 2050. I, the author of this blog, will be 70 years old by then, and I will feel good that I already paid my dues of spreading love and good wishes for all. I will have probably forgotten I did because, shit, my friend who pays for this domain name will probably have stopped by then, and unless he buys it for 100 years in advanced, like tonight, this place will be gone soon. A blog without its own .com domain is as good as dead.
Nelson, if you're reading this, please don't abandon this domain. I promise I will keep writing my delirious shit on here to keep it alive. I just can't afford paying for it.
Let's face it. This is a good idea, and it's just about time for it to get traction and become a thing. A money making thing. Share, read and comment this website: Www.Christmasuptheass.com
Either way, we can always sell xmas themed diapers and toilet paper, as I originally planned.
I'm serious. This is good stuff. Love and peace are good utopic ideas. Lennon wrote that song. You know which one (and if you don't you're a millenial bitch monkey and... ok it's called Happy christmas, war is over. Click here to listen to it), and there's this crazy fucking Sinatra song which could much be this blog's official anthem.
Here it is: 1947 Frank Sinatra - Christmas Dreaming (A Little Early This Year)
Wow.
Irony is just fucking everywhere. 1947, the year that song was made. Two years after the end of WW2. Today, all these years later, the nazis have resurrected in the minds of young jew fag yuppies and old fat perverts. They are taking over the world. Black presidents have proven to be just wolves in sheep's clothing, or more accurately, white imperialist warlords. The establishment's reaction? Give them the novel peace price for murdering civilians with flying robots.
It's christmas. Time to give, and take what you gave back and more. America, a beacon of idiocy, intervention, deflection and war crimes.
Ok. Come on. Don't get all gloomy on me. I'm just saying we can do better and that's why I hope someone drops a comment on here at least once every year. I know. Blogs are dead. Facebook is it. Twitter is it. Nobody reads this far into a text anymore because, hey, it's easier to get some katharsis through a one click retweet of some random sentences you want to appear to agree to, or some article you haven't read.
Next year, 2017 will be good. They are releasing sequels to Trainspotting, and Blade Runner, a remake of It, and one of American Werewolf in London. It appears as though humanity were dead already. A bunch of ghosts in denial.
Hugs. Kisses. And a big punch in the gut for all three of you who read this blog.
P.
Ironically, I'm a bit late to wish ya'lls a merry christmas, but not if I'm aiming at 2017 or why the fuck not, 2050. I, the author of this blog, will be 70 years old by then, and I will feel good that I already paid my dues of spreading love and good wishes for all. I will have probably forgotten I did because, shit, my friend who pays for this domain name will probably have stopped by then, and unless he buys it for 100 years in advanced, like tonight, this place will be gone soon. A blog without its own .com domain is as good as dead.
Nelson, if you're reading this, please don't abandon this domain. I promise I will keep writing my delirious shit on here to keep it alive. I just can't afford paying for it.
Let's face it. This is a good idea, and it's just about time for it to get traction and become a thing. A money making thing. Share, read and comment this website: Www.Christmasuptheass.com
Either way, we can always sell xmas themed diapers and toilet paper, as I originally planned.
I'm serious. This is good stuff. Love and peace are good utopic ideas. Lennon wrote that song. You know which one (and if you don't you're a millenial bitch monkey and... ok it's called Happy christmas, war is over. Click here to listen to it), and there's this crazy fucking Sinatra song which could much be this blog's official anthem.
Here it is: 1947 Frank Sinatra - Christmas Dreaming (A Little Early This Year)
Wow.
Irony is just fucking everywhere. 1947, the year that song was made. Two years after the end of WW2. Today, all these years later, the nazis have resurrected in the minds of young jew fag yuppies and old fat perverts. They are taking over the world. Black presidents have proven to be just wolves in sheep's clothing, or more accurately, white imperialist warlords. The establishment's reaction? Give them the novel peace price for murdering civilians with flying robots.
It's christmas. Time to give, and take what you gave back and more. America, a beacon of idiocy, intervention, deflection and war crimes.
Ok. Come on. Don't get all gloomy on me. I'm just saying we can do better and that's why I hope someone drops a comment on here at least once every year. I know. Blogs are dead. Facebook is it. Twitter is it. Nobody reads this far into a text anymore because, hey, it's easier to get some katharsis through a one click retweet of some random sentences you want to appear to agree to, or some article you haven't read.
Next year, 2017 will be good. They are releasing sequels to Trainspotting, and Blade Runner, a remake of It, and one of American Werewolf in London. It appears as though humanity were dead already. A bunch of ghosts in denial.
Hugs. Kisses. And a big punch in the gut for all three of you who read this blog.
P.
