On October 29th, 2015, three million people looked up into the sky and began wailing until their lungs were melted by atomic fire. Six million more slept through their own vaporization.
Life, then, is not a bitch to everyone.
One happy group of people when the bombs fell was the Red Cross, right up until they opened their eyes. There are still a few of them left, but you won’t find any near Revere.
I am the appointed leader of the city of Revere, the closest surviving city to the Hole. What makes me so special to have such a position?
I wanted it.
The world was nearly destroyed over a dick-measuring contest. It never stops being funny. Jerry hates it when I say that.
If you take into account every act of violence committed by humanity, it’s a wonder we didn’t get rid of it sooner. That it persisted throughout the information age is a testament to the power of deep programming. It really is such an unpleasant thing to do to a person, but by Fuck, it’s funny.
When my Mother wasn’t teaching me to survive, she would sometimes teach me to sing. The man responsible for me used to sing to her. She liked me to sing when I thought she wasn’t around. She’s dead now and Revere is better off for it. I only miss her when I sing.
Singing, by the way, is the first nonviolent method of obtaining a mate. You sing to your mate to calm them, to obtain their trust, or to sooth them afterwards, because Fuck ain’t fun if you don’t want it and consent ain’t easy to find these days.
Unless you come to Revere.
“…we will one day stop doing this dirty, dirty thing and then there’ll be no one to put money in that poor box, Jim.” –Lenny Bruce.
Lenny and I are getting into the same mode of thinking: that there IS no right or wrong.
Life, then, ends.
Regardless if I take it or not, your life eventually amounts to nothing but what you do in it. What you do in it isn’t always up to you.
You know what’s funny as hell? That gurgle people make when you’re chopping into their neck with a blade and their lungs are bubbling with their own blood because they’re trying so hard to scream.
Every conversation, then, is your last. Always keep yourself in your own control.
All Men Are Created Equal In The Eyes Of The Brain.
There are rumors of a lone figure wandering the Earth with the intent to put an end to re-population. That figure is the only hero of this story, the rest are parasites. It may be right to end it now, but I’ll live till I can no longer improve the lives of those that raised me and those that help me.
The rest can watch their asses.
There are two laws to life: Fuck and Survive. The rest works itself out.
My Mother called me “Hunter” to instill in me that, when the field is level, it’s down to whoever wants it most. And she was VERY set on what she wanted.
See also: Bling (Confessions of a King) by The Killers.