Well @CyberHiker has ended his time here with a derogatory racial slur that the system picked up.
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DAMN, I’m going to miss this guy, a genius in his own mind.
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If I may ask, was it directed at me, because I can’t be offended. That doesn’t mean that someone else can’t say something that’s offensive and breaks the rules.
No.
It was flat out hate speech.
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Heh, I was composing a private message to request someone flag a couple posts (the server still thinks I’m staff, and if a staff member flags something it does something different). But now I don’t need too!
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You have obviously not understood the question in context at all, and blundered in with your usual clumsy facile air of superiority.
Don’t be a twat, if you want to ask a different question then start a thread on it.
Off the top of my head because we grant humans complex legal rights that we would not to a pet, but then this would require a reasoning ability beyond the superficial or facile, and your posts suggest thus far you do not possess the ability to reason beyond the most facile stereotyping. Like assuming every decision relates somehow exclusively to theistic belief, rather than theism being a part of a more complex scenario.
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If I was stuck in a room with Andy and forced to listen to his inane blathering with no way to escape and no idea when the shit would end… It would be time for one of us to go. Now that might be considered suicide, and it might not.
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That’s pretty extreme.
You’re a man.
Couldn’t you just activate your selective hearing internal mechanism?
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Hey, What a great idea… (I will actually be given a warning if I continue this thought.) Still in a roundabout way, I was in complete agreement with you.) It had something to do with imagining wigs, dresses, high heel shoes and an overbearing mother figure and of course a rude word that began with “B” With the right amount of imagination, I certainly would be able to flip that switch.,
Depends on which one of you walks out that door if/when it opens.
Close…we actually have a relative importance filtration network. When fully activated, it appears as if we do not hear. In reality, we hear fine, but we have applied an internal filter which rejects any information which might require personal commitment, or the negative effect(s) of incessant nagging. Often it is an automatic function, for which we are completely innocent of it’s activation.
Edit: were you saying something?
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Andy’s a jerk. I met him in real life. Lent him ten bucks. Never heard from him again. Hey Andy! Where’s my ten bucks? Blowing all his cash on slot machines and shots of rye. He’s got a really bad gambling addiction. Bet 100 bucks that the black ant would beat the red ant in a fight to the death. This was one of those standard ant fights that they have down in Louisiana. Capable fighting machines. Typical Louisiana night behind the “crab shack” - a local speak east where me and Andy would trade stories about our days in the Navy. Anyhow. Where was I? Oh yeah. Put it all on black - he says. Even the most rudimentary understanding of insects tells you to put it on red everytime. But Andy … I tell you. He liked the odds. One hundred to one. Had a good feeling. Asked me for a fifty bill to increase his cash out. Next thing I know, me and Andy are running down the alley trying to escape the bookies - you know? Those dirty bookies who’ll break your legs if you don’t pay up. Of course, the black ant lost, but old Andy wasn’t willing to pay up. And I got caught in the cross fire. So, long story short - we made it to the coast line and sneaked onto a freight ship bound for Jamaica. Was it Jamacia? Could a bin the Florida Keys. Somewhere nice. Me and Andy are laying on the beach drinking beers when a bear comes out of the ocean. And I tell you, if you haven’t seen a polar bear come out of the ocean in the middle of winter down south, you ain’t seen nothing. Anyhow, long story short, the bear offers us a share in some housing projects out in Croatia. Mainly low income single mothers trying to makes ends meet of of government subsidies and welfare. I told Andy it was a good cause. But Andy has always got something up his sleeve. We caught a flight into London, just me, Andy, and the polar bear. Now keep in mind, this was pre-Covid … fucking chatGPT - what is this crap? I told it - write a meandering account of me, Andy, and a polar bear with a gambling addiction. Anyhow. The story goes like this. We’re getting to the good part. Andy pulls up a seat beside a transvestite Dracula vampire who has the nicest pair of shoes you’ve seen in a while. Decides immortality isn’t so bad after all and takes the bat home to his hotel. Anyway, long story short, he ends up robbing the bird blind and comes back to my hotel where me and the polar bear are watching Family Feud. Funniest thing in my life. I swear. One hundred people were surveyed. Give the most popular answer. Something that you wear which has a hole designed into it. Guy on the tele says “butt less chaps.” Three points. Three people responded with Butt less chaps. Andy and me go down to the docks a finish off a sicker of rye. While the moons lights up the river on the Mississippi. Never did make that much off of the Croatian housing project and never saw the bookies from Louisiana again. That’s how me and Andy became close friends. We see each other every other year. Go hunting in Utah backwoods. Shoot a few bucks and go out different ways. Never did meet a man who loved to gamble as much as Andy did. Unless you compare that to his love of rye. Oh. I’ll miss him. The days of youth, long ago spent on misadventures throughout these United States of America. A true friend like that is hard to find. I do wish he never married that fluezy down up in Alaska. But a man’s gotta settle down at one point or another. Never did see him after the big tornado. I guess you’ve got to count your blessings in times like this. Long story short. Big hog on that Andy. Biggest, dirty hog I ever did see on a five foot eight inch man. Guess that’s why they called him the Great Dane. On account of his accent I suppose. Meant to be the last time a man from Jupiter cascaded one of those silly sip sips down the cokerspaniel boulevard and all of that. Ah well. Times a growing thin. Times a wasted charm in a sea of biscuits. As long as you see THROUGH the existential despair of a man for whom words have no meaning. Winston Churchill said that I believe. After reading the old man and the sea. Sometimes, you can’t make sense even when you’re trying too. A time and a place for everything. Now what was I on about. Oh. Look at the time. Gotta refresh the cache on my laptop. Got some important bills to pay online. Anybody coming to the heartwood grill Friday night. Gunna be a whole lot of shaking going on. And for the record, that’s was the last time I bleached my clothes. Never gunna be able to explain how HAPPY I am now that I’ve renounced my authentic being. You get to one stage where the darkness is so THICK, you think the purpose of life is to RID your self of it. And then you see your inner beacon and you think that the mania is the highest joy. Full in a world where everyone is OBSESSED with power and ready to JUDGE you like the cover of a book. Always a buck to be made and a bitch ass pussy to throw down another flight of stair. I’ve been to the top of the mountain and coming down is harder than getting to the top. Never been more alone with my thoughts as I am tonight. My AUTHENTIC being couldn’t be more NAUSEATED with life. It’s ready to puke out my over worked heart and drag me into this meaningless void of nothingness. Trying to stop. But it makes less and less sense. Oh! Look at the time. Breaks over. Gotta piss. Have a great night everyone. Look up at the stars if you really want to see your own reflection. Don’t look in the puddle below your feet. That’s just the moon a shimmering in the light. Fucking chat GPT. fuck that shit. This is what I paid for. Artificial intelligence should have a good time grading this work of literature. Bonus points for anyone reading this to the end.
Speaking of suicide. I’m more suicidal than usual. Try to appreciate the above as my own absurd suicide note. Not planning anything. But, if I ever were to do it, I would hope my note would read like the above - just one hundred pages longer - a veritable masterpiece of existential meaninglessness.
Then I would advise you seek help, though it’s fine to be a little flippant, dealing with such thoughts on your own is not something to be taken lightly. However I imagine you are aware of how much you can cope with. No shame in needing help.
Good to hear, again I’d advise seeking some form of help long before you start imagining or planning.
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Just like to say how glad I am this odious little troll has been booted to the curb, what an absolutely cuntish thing to say.
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I appreciate you reaching out a bit there, Sheldon.
I know exactly what happens when I seek professional help, however. My meds get increased.
This is the place where I get help. I express my inner most meaninglessness existential alienation from others as the source of my never ending desire to become something I am not.
And then, someone reaches out like you and essentially says, “you’re not alone.”
Truth be told, the seasons are about to change and I’m feeling the effects.
I live in a boreal rainforest where dark skies predominate from November to February. Then the sky’s open and it’s beautiful.
As counterintuitive as it may seem, adjusting from constant dismal weather to gorgeous sunny days can take a toll on you.
I’ll be fine, my humble Sheldon. Thank you for reaching out.
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FWIW, Ratty, I liked the story. Fun read. 
Hey, do us all a favor, though. Please. Do your best to keep the suicidal thoughts at bay. Seek whatever helps to keep you from going to Plan & Initiate. There’s a good chap. (And, uh, yeah… Andy is a bum.)
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