Ai ya... I'm gonna exercise authorial prerogative here and respond to this thing contra-seriatim. (which for the folks in the cheap seats means I'm going to go through it backwards) > everyday is a new learning experience. You ever clap eyes on a fat man eating cake? Just loading it into his gullet, like trash being loaded into a garbage truck. You'll've noticed, if you'd've done so, that the cake-eaters, they... expand. Bloatmax. The eating... it makes the cake eaters into big boys. Big, bloated, bagboys. Puffy. Now when you're learning, knowledge is going into your head like the cakes into that fat lad's feed-hole. Gives you a big head. Bloated in the brainbox. Me, I see every day as a new unlearning experience. Like those cleanses people do, where they drink herbs and suchlike, and shit their soul right out their ass-sphincter. Just shit those thoughts right on outta here. > someone cares. Well... ***duh***. I know that. I got friends, like a *normal person*. I'm not some lizardman wearing a skin-suit or a mason with a fake mustache. I'm the real deal - 100% free-trade asshole. When they made me, they patented the mold and made two and a half million more of me, because stocks are up and there's strength in numbers. > are you mad Stark *and* Raving; and I ain't gonna take it no more! > and why? So I bought this Future from Trusty Jim's Futures and Fridges, and it turns out that it's a bit of a lemon - don't say buyer's remorse, because I ain't the only emptor who failed to caveat - and Jim's skipped town so there's little chance of me and my hammer going and having a conversation and beating his head in. All this fury and no targets! Godsdamnitall! > spread the love You know, where I'm from some fourteen year old can make a government-regulated amount of yuan by putting that in a fortune cookie, sell to stupid gwailo tourist, big money rock star, hey, hey, you buy Piss Earth commemorative crown, be king clown of big town, only fourteen dollar, real plastic, no lead in paint - they promise us this time. Economics is boring. Move on, next question. Let's get to **"2."** > The point of this post Ah yes, *the point*. What point? Where we're going, we won't need no stinking points. > good habits I'll have you know, my habits, are the *best habits*. Top class habits. Bought them at the habit store and paid a lot of money for each one. Custom-tooled, high-speed, air-cooled, heavy, *industrial* habits. Top shelf. Ain't nobody else got habits like this in town - and this town ain't big enough for all of us. > I agree with you No you don't. You agree with your idea of the idea that I served up on a platter for an all-you-can-eat come-one-come-all bring-your-own-beer *gorgefest*. The way I see it, I've done most of the work here already, and it's frankly a damnable chore, but we've been doing it for so long that we've forgotten how to stop. Order up! > see where you are going with the whole hobby making a profit but why thing Do you? Huh? *Do you?* ***Do you?*** Because I've doubts. Big doubts. The kind of doubts that eat away at one, like a fat man eating away at a particularly large cake. I'm talking words, yes, but I'm not speaking in words. > Yet you are missing a key ingredient. Listen. *Listen.* You disrespect my spice rack again, and I will be waiting in a parking lot with a box cutter. I'll open up the first motherfucker I see, and I will look through their *entrails* and *viscera* and I will see if I can find a fuck to give. > Happiness. Should'a known it'd be some smarmy-arse glurge bullshit. You don't know me! I'm plenty happy - happy being a grim bastard, happy being angry at fools, happy hanging out with the lads, happy with a drink, happy teaching those willing to learn the finer points of beating someone's face with the surrounding environment until it resembles uncooked hamburger meat. My life is fucking overflowing with happiness. I've got so much of the crap, I leave the excess lying on the ground! > A simple goal that gets forgotten. What the *hell* know you of my goals? What the *fuck* do you know of me? One set of posts on one forum on one network coming at one set of problems from one pile of perspectives. You don't know me. You only know world famous actor and curling legend Jack Schitt, who plays me in the movie of the book. #And now... **We come to "1."** > Please don't assume my gender. Please don't assume my investment in an online conversation to the degree to where I'm concerned about nuanced personal details that are claimed to be supposedly attached to the words on the screen. I'm words on the screen. You're words on the screen. Anything we claim about ourselves can only ever be verified to be bullshit so there's no use even trying to take a thought about such trivialities. That you care, though, tells me everything that *I* need to know. So... we'll just not speak again.