Back to Work, Dogs!



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Have a fucking crack

In the United States a cop murdered a black man by shooting him in the back, putting him on the ground with as many bullets as he could manage conveniently. He then faked up the crime scene, probably thinking (and quite rightly) that a little bit of stage magic would make the whole thing go away. Unfortunately for the badge wearing murderer the whole thing was caught on video. The only thing that remains is to see exactly how he eventually doesn't face justice. Because he won't. They never do. Black people in America are inconvenient. They were shipped in to build an empire and haven't had the sense to disappear now that they are no longer necessary. White people in America are largely desensitised to the brute facts of the thing: you used black people to build your empire of comfort, your Sloth Heaven and you don't even realise you want them dead. You live off the suffering of others and facing that fact would be so hard on yourself that it's easier to be philoso...
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Hotdog Warlord

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  I was getting mad that the Wagner boss who seems to have attempted a coup in Russia is being called the “hotdog warlord”. Once upon a time he had a hotdog stand and I was displeased by what I saw as middle class wankers having one of their little laughs at such a working class activity. I was right that they are laughing, but I was wrong about what they were laughing at, which was of course hotdogs. In my rush to always shit on anyone in a suit, in an office, their pretentiousness and out of touchness, it was I who was out of touch, because hotdogs are funny. Sometimes people are just having a laugh. I don’t have to jump down their throats. I could try chilling out to be honest. Hotdog Warlord. How did I not reckon that was funny? What a humorless lefty piece of shit I am. What a terribly earnest party pooper. What a fuckin killjoy. I should be sent to the work camps in Siberia. I should be on a list. I should be transported to Australia and flogged with a cat’o’nine tails. In th...
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The C Word

  Over the weekend we had the groundbreaking idea to get some people around to help us drink alcohol. I just thought that if I’m going to start on a course of possibly unpleasant treatment I need to have some fun first. It was a brilliant plan and we had a good time. The hangover the next day was not so great, particularly because hangovers make me go deep, so there I was, feeling bad about having cancer. Eventually I solved the problem by watching the new season of  I Think You Should Leave. As expected, it did not make me laugh, but I had a good time thinking, “What is this bullshit?” I have decided that I am not going to attempt to deal with any of this shit by myself. Fuck being alone, I want to be constantly talking to people. On the phone, texting, online, face to face, in two cars that have pulled up cop style in a parking lot, I’m not picky, I am not even slightly interested in trying to staunch it out. I’m not going to have anything to do for a while, it’s not like I’...
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