Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Tonight Wasn’t a Total Waste After-all



Hey ghosts, aliens, government-men and all others who view my blog without its views being reported (because we all know this blog is so good that somebody has to be reading it; or it’s so good that no one can comprehend it – whatever preserves my fragile Ego the best), I know you’ve all been cutting your wrists and praying to your heathen gods for more of the linguistic sex that is my writing so I got a little something for ya while I’m working on my academic philosophy paper.  Another analogy for you guys:  Video games.
Everyone who plays video games has to be a secret masochist, even if they’re hiding it from themselves.  You frustrate yourself potentially to no avail, gritting your teeth and stomping your feet for two and a half hours, all for the chance of vanquishing what you’re using to enrage yourself and have a sense of pride for two and a half minutes – evidence I’d say that some people (how it applies to everyone I wouldn’t begin to presume or spectate) intrinsically value sustenance of the Ego over pleasure in the Hedonistic sense of the word.  It’s absurd, as the Ego is in-general, but it doesn’t apply to just video games, but essentially to all human endeavor. 
Dating – Yeah, I’ll listen to you yammer aimlessly about whatever mindless topic you have a fetish for, whatever continues the conquest of me having you let me fuck you.  Hours and hours of tedium for something that asides from the foreplay is something I’d rather do alone.  Work – Sure, I’ll sell my soul to the company store, making minimum wage cracking my back being exploited by my Capitalist Master, as long as I save up enough money to buy some bullshit that will allow me to feel like a big shot for five minutes.  Clothes, car, cards (I’m into Yu Gi Oh and cards and general, and I’ve noticed raping opponents in card games is something losers attach their Ego to because they can’t succeed in anything that requires talent or intelligence), whatever.
Most of life for most people is an accumulation of bullshit all for the chance to experience that money-shot we’ve all had shoved in our faces since we were four.  Of course (as Schopenhauer tells us) it’s something that is never nearly as pleasurable as foretold or imagined.  That’s why the Ego is a prison that cripples us from potential higher phenomenogical states of being and that separates us from each other.

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