Weak Dog Fat Cats

Today my laptop made me read a story about rich Australians who fly around in chartered jets so they can travel with their companion animals. I already don’t take take pet owners seriously and if that bothers you, get an animal about it, but if there is an animal with a visible anus on your bed, you go against God. 

I was angry about the way the article matter of factly described the insane lifestyles of Australia’s most wretched parasites, but then I realised something. It was that inclusion in a story about private jets of the bit about rich folk paying tens of thousands of dollars to travel with their pets. On the surface that’s maybe a story about sad losers who can afford things, but in there is a simple message: kill the rich.

Kill all of them. Drag them by their hair and saw their heads off in front of their cloned identical twin labradoodles. Make their pets watch, make their children watch, make their neighbours watch, then kill their neighbours, unless it’s one of those deals where some rich pig is living next door to actual humans, in which case they may even want to join in, or maybe they’ll just give you a high five? Not that we ritually slaughter the wealthy for approval, we’re not animals.

Imagine travelling with a fucking rabbit. Fucking die cunt. Not the rabbit.

Of course I’m joking. Today isn’t special. Reading the news has always made me want to make some news of my own. No matter how I try to explore other possibilities, the news will always get me circling back to committing fat cat genocide. They’re so stupid. They live behind high walls, they want privacy, they try to be discreet, but then like serial killers that want to be caught they ruin it all by boarding a private jet holding a dog that can’t breathe properly.

One of my first jobs was in a shop in a rich enclave that was nothing like where I was from. I, who had never been on a real holiday, was presented with the existence of people who travel in luxury so often they genuinely believe a trip to the airport is pure drudgery. These people are oppressed by how much fun they’re having. And they will do anything to avoid coming into contact with the rest of us. I mean, I hate people too, but I’m one of them of them and I plan to stay that way. I’m not saying rich people are completely disgusting or have nothing to offer, it’s just that they won’t give it unless we take it. Even the nice ones lovingly nurse the toxic belief that they are special. They can’t help it, they’ve spent thousands of years of so-called civilisation paying people to tell them they’re important.

We used to wonder what life would be like after an apocalyptic event, but we’re living in it. On the surface it doesn’t look like Mad Max, but the process of civilisation is nothing more than the domestication of the children of the people you conquered. Europeans love to talk about this embarrassing history like it’s normal and natural. Well okay then, in that case, normies, what’s your argument against a revolution that tears all this shit down? I’m not saying every road into the city should be lined on both sides by the crucified companion animals and human bootlickers of the rich, because that would actually too normal, in fact we could all just go on strike. How long do you reckon they’ll last if they can’t go on holiday with their fucking albino ferrets? They’re weak as piss.