Someone would like to light fire to the Internet. Is there a firefighter in the house? Ugh. Really? Perhaps, we can get one on call?
While we are at it, we may as well call the Coast Guard and a surgeon… and probably a detective squad, as we all know they cannot do anything singly.
Mantra has harnessed my (searching for nice word, unsuccessfully… Let’s just be honest.) abhorrence of stupid people. The oral diarrhea is more than I can stomach on most days.
The day Mantra had me pen this gem, I got more than one strange look for my giggling in the library. What? I am entitled to laugh, too.
Apparently, suicide is a trending topic on M3 since I gave up and just decided to write about it after the stupid people kept searching for it here. Today, we are going to talk about a completely different kind of suicide, to be specific hara-kari.
Talking to you is intellectual hara-kari.
I have to sacrifice brain cells because
I cannot make them fail to fire.
So many of yours are murdered,
Bludgeoned to screaming death,
Before they are washed to the sewer
Whence most of your ideas spring.
Others fade into oblivion, used far beyond
The time they should retire.
There is no victory in those thoughts
Because they are based on mistakes, lies,
Assumptions and paranoia you conjure.
The final set cannot survive in your head.
The rational cells are drowned in an ocean
Of malfeasant, self-perpetuating ooze.
They fall to the ground mortally wounded,
Bleeding from the eardrums from hearing
Looping hours of rhetorical exposition.
You never bothered to beg, borrow or steal
A life preserver for your mind, much less
Have the wherewithal to attempt to use
Those precious sane cells to extricate yourself
From the effluviating mountains of feces
You claim create your salvation.
My humanity demands I help those less
Intelligent, fortunate and resourceful as I.
I have decided to ignore its pleas.
My brain cells fall in, steadfast veterans
Of philosophy and logic, captains of
Observation and reason.
They will not march to your suicidal defense.
They’ll not risk synapses over your decaying
Neural pathways, littered with disease,
Self-inflicted infection of inanity, stupidity,
Obstinance, entitling you to star as the victim
In the off off off (where is?) Broadway production
Of Intellectual Hara-kari.