Shad up... (hou je bek...)
I walk with a cane that has I HIT KIDS in pink writing on it. It has also tigerprinting on the handle.
I walk with a cane that has I HIT KIDS in Pink Writing on it, as my balance organ on my left side is damaged. This is due to an incessant stream of idiocy and verbal abuse in, mostly, my left ear, during years. By, (the doctor, thaumaturg said I couldn't use such language, so I repeat it because why not (hè whât?)) indeed, a drunken eff-ing idiot. (A heavily challenged person.)
That is besides the kids outside, wth 4 (!) trampolines in a radius of 50 meters (have a nice day). The neighboor with his friggin' drill on rainy days. The fr... stairlift (beep beep beep, kgrrrrrrr, click, tack, clack - tack tack tack - ni ni ni ni ni nini) 20, 30 times day. The fagging piano (Ah! You go to bed, then I can practice...) For good measure, we throw in these bl.... birds. And 26 Clocks. Ding ding dong for 7 minutes every half hour. With the tick-tack inbetween.
I am sure I forget things.
Electric and internal combustion engines that go beep. The artificial parasite that makes us do things we otherwise wouldn't do. And does beep. Is the undoing of this planet, and is a co-evolution - a lifeform in its own. I wonder how many I use every day - too many.
I also have developped a worse than demonic cackle. That would scare the living daylights out of Granny Weatherwax (Mémé Ciredutemps). I am very proud of that.
I go shopping with earplugs.
I dream regularly of modding my rod with a visor, a trigger, and a clip, just to make a statement.
Silence is precious, innocent, and butchered to death by any passing idiot. Indeed.
The inhouse philosopher of Throbbing Gristle, Genesis P. Orridge, is quite eloquent and to the point, when he sings about Discipline.
Love.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8klW9trVTQ
Biting the hand that feeds IT
