The Point

The point of this blog is that there is no point. There is no focus. There is no aim. There isn't even logic entrained in it. Ah, that's the magic of it all.

I know most of you guys are lookin for vacation jobs. And good luck on your search. For those who get paid whether they sleep at home or fly to the moon, good for you too. Lucky break. Everyone needs a lucky break. Glad you got yours early. Though, those huge lessons on the value of money probably wouldn't rub off on you now. It's alright. I'll still lend you some money when you finally fall and go for broke.

If you get down on your knees, suck ma dick, turn 2 circles and call me daddy.

On the other hand, there are those who earned more than you last year without even lifting a finger. Well they couldn't even if they had tried to. They've all been buried or cremated.

According to Forbes, these dearly departed made more money last year than most living folks:

Elvis Presley: 45 million
Charles Schulz: 35 million
John Lennon: 22 million
Andy Warhol: 16 million
Dr. Seuss: 10 million
Marlon Brando: 9 million
Marilyn Monroe: 8 million
J.R.R. Tolkien: 8 million

But, enough of depressing over these figures. One day you guys might get there. Might is the operative word. For all you know, you could meet a gold digger who cleans you out of ya life savings. Or attempt to buy some "magic" stone for 1/2 a million. Or happy happy open joint account with your boyfriend who proceeds to flush you outa the face of the earth together with the chick he's cheating on you with. Only thing is he's prolly gonna do it to her too. So, let the bitch have it.

You could always seek God I suppose. To solve your monetary or social woes. Unless of course you're just plain ugly. Then even God forsakes you. And that whole thing about money can't buy happiness? That's just a lie they tell poor people to stop them from rioting.

But, the thing is you gotta confess your sins to get them forgiven. Will you even remember what to confess? Try this approach:

As any devout Catholic will tell you, going to confession allows people to get a lot off their chests. Sometimes too much. I was waiting my turn at the confessional when I heard a priest admonish one penitent, "Please limit your confession to your own sins."

Something tells me that fella is a tamilan.

Randomness totally rocks. I regret not doing this earlier. As I said before, my train of thought seldom stops at the station. One last thing before I go hit the WP Rally at AMK later at 7. I now know why it's hard for me to find a woman. I only had to look back at my relationships. Damn, it was that simple. Here's what I found out:

My relationships are always psychological in nature.
They're psycho.
I'm logical.

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