Post by Rated R on Oct 29, 2007 14:33:54 GMT -5
Demonic Thoughts
A blog by Trace Demon
A mechanic society
For the past few years I have watched the world slowly hide its self away in the shadows, they stay at home and type away at their computers, they talk on their mobile phones. Originally technology was only created to improve life, but now it is used to waste life. People are always asking how do we stop global warming and how can we help the planet.
It is very simple, get rid of the technology that is controlling your life. Create your own fate; don’t let a computer control it for you.
I am almost ashamed of myself for doing this; I never thought that I would have to resort to blogging to get my thoughts to all you brainless fools, I am not a teenage girl, I have no need to make friends that I will never meet.
Let me make one thing clear, I hate you all. I could care less about anything that you do, you could burn your brains out for all I care, but at least by warning you that you are wasting your life, I make myself fell just that little bit better.
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Psychiatrist Office
Time: 13:00
I am sitting in a small room, there are two chairs, one uncomfortable wooden seat, and one large comfy one, of course, and I am sitting in the wooden sear. There is a large wooden table placed between the seats, and the psychiatrist is sitting across from me. The walls are painted white, apparently its meant to help patients think clearer, I don’t think its working however, I still want to kick the holy hell out of the shrink who is sitting in front of me.
The shrink, his name tag says Dr. Phillips, is wearing a very bright red shirt, which kind of sticks out amongst the white walls. The guy has very little hair, but still insists that he isn’t bald, we had a good ten minute argument about that, although we have not said anything since. It is getting kind of boring just sitting here however, and I know that he is waiting for me to say something.
Trace: I am getting very bored.
I stretch out the word “very”, just for the effect.
Dr. Phillips: Do you know why you are here?
Trace: Not really, last time I checked I was sane.
Dr. Phillips: You are here because a number of your neighbors, as well as those who work with you are worried for your mental health.
Trace: Could I point out that my place of work involves me fighting for a living.
I see that he has no idea what to say, and cant help but laugh. I can tell that he is becoming distressed; maybe the shrink needs a shrink himself.
Dr. Phillips: Can you answer the following questions.
Trace: Yes, is that the only question you have.
He takes no notice, which is a shame.
Dr. Phillips: Do you ever fell depressed.
Trace: I don’t think so.
Dr. Phillips: Do you ever have homicidal thoughts.
Trace: Only towards the people that I wrestle.
Dr. Phillips: Finally, are you a social person.
Trace: No, I find it hard to make friends, they get put off by the fact that I would quite willingly kick the **** out of them.
He flinches as I answer the last question; he is obviously not a fan of abusive language. I lean over the table, to which he reacts by trying to lean back further without looking inconspicuous, since I noticed it, I guess he failed.
Trace: Let me ask you, do you enjoy your job?
Dr. Phillips: Why?
He seems to be getting nervous, and he needs some better deodorant.
Trace: Everyday you come to work and you talk to people about their problems, but what about your problems.
Dr. Phillips: I don’t have any problems that need talking about.
He tries to make his voice sound louder than it actually is. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
Trace: I beg to differ. You’re in your late 40’s and I bet you haven’t done anything in your life worth mentioning.
Dr. Phillips: I have done plenty.
Trace: Don’t interrupt me. Your receptionist acts like a high class hooker and I expect that you have noticed that yourself.
I can see by the look on his face that he has.
Trace: And, you’re bald.
Dr. Phillips: I am not bald.
Trace: Yes, you are, and don’t say another word, I think were done here.
He stands up at the same time as me and offers me a handshake, which I don’t except. As I leave I give the receptionist my number and tell her to call me.
It’s always good when you can make a pro out of a con.
A blog by Trace Demon
A mechanic society
For the past few years I have watched the world slowly hide its self away in the shadows, they stay at home and type away at their computers, they talk on their mobile phones. Originally technology was only created to improve life, but now it is used to waste life. People are always asking how do we stop global warming and how can we help the planet.
It is very simple, get rid of the technology that is controlling your life. Create your own fate; don’t let a computer control it for you.
I am almost ashamed of myself for doing this; I never thought that I would have to resort to blogging to get my thoughts to all you brainless fools, I am not a teenage girl, I have no need to make friends that I will never meet.
Let me make one thing clear, I hate you all. I could care less about anything that you do, you could burn your brains out for all I care, but at least by warning you that you are wasting your life, I make myself fell just that little bit better.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Psychiatrist Office
Time: 13:00
I am sitting in a small room, there are two chairs, one uncomfortable wooden seat, and one large comfy one, of course, and I am sitting in the wooden sear. There is a large wooden table placed between the seats, and the psychiatrist is sitting across from me. The walls are painted white, apparently its meant to help patients think clearer, I don’t think its working however, I still want to kick the holy hell out of the shrink who is sitting in front of me.
The shrink, his name tag says Dr. Phillips, is wearing a very bright red shirt, which kind of sticks out amongst the white walls. The guy has very little hair, but still insists that he isn’t bald, we had a good ten minute argument about that, although we have not said anything since. It is getting kind of boring just sitting here however, and I know that he is waiting for me to say something.
Trace: I am getting very bored.
I stretch out the word “very”, just for the effect.
Dr. Phillips: Do you know why you are here?
Trace: Not really, last time I checked I was sane.
Dr. Phillips: You are here because a number of your neighbors, as well as those who work with you are worried for your mental health.
Trace: Could I point out that my place of work involves me fighting for a living.
I see that he has no idea what to say, and cant help but laugh. I can tell that he is becoming distressed; maybe the shrink needs a shrink himself.
Dr. Phillips: Can you answer the following questions.
Trace: Yes, is that the only question you have.
He takes no notice, which is a shame.
Dr. Phillips: Do you ever fell depressed.
Trace: I don’t think so.
Dr. Phillips: Do you ever have homicidal thoughts.
Trace: Only towards the people that I wrestle.
Dr. Phillips: Finally, are you a social person.
Trace: No, I find it hard to make friends, they get put off by the fact that I would quite willingly kick the **** out of them.
He flinches as I answer the last question; he is obviously not a fan of abusive language. I lean over the table, to which he reacts by trying to lean back further without looking inconspicuous, since I noticed it, I guess he failed.
Trace: Let me ask you, do you enjoy your job?
Dr. Phillips: Why?
He seems to be getting nervous, and he needs some better deodorant.
Trace: Everyday you come to work and you talk to people about their problems, but what about your problems.
Dr. Phillips: I don’t have any problems that need talking about.
He tries to make his voice sound louder than it actually is. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.
Trace: I beg to differ. You’re in your late 40’s and I bet you haven’t done anything in your life worth mentioning.
Dr. Phillips: I have done plenty.
Trace: Don’t interrupt me. Your receptionist acts like a high class hooker and I expect that you have noticed that yourself.
I can see by the look on his face that he has.
Trace: And, you’re bald.
Dr. Phillips: I am not bald.
Trace: Yes, you are, and don’t say another word, I think were done here.
He stands up at the same time as me and offers me a handshake, which I don’t except. As I leave I give the receptionist my number and tell her to call me.
It’s always good when you can make a pro out of a con.
