There's too much fuck in my head

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

You have to help me. I'm sorry to impose, but there's just too much fuck in my head. I tried to get it out with a puppy, a chick, and a basket of bunnies, but the fuck just said that huge grin is big enough to eat those bunnies in one bite and it only looks like a smile because we're backwards monkeys that think baring teeth is a nice thing as long as the corners of your mouth are turned up and then I had to go away before it happened. I'm sorry. I don't want to infect you with the fuck.
They think it's in the water, but it's not. The fuck is a word and it's a word you don't know because they never taught us but we talk around it all the time, spinning huge narratives of garbage trying to get to the word and it's not just bad because grapes can go bad and grapes can't be fuck. The fuck gets caught in your throat and claws out a hole in your rib cage and makes you feel like you're going to vomit but nothing happens because that's how the fuck is. The fuck is nothing happening. The fuck is the itch you can't scratch, laughing at you. The fuck eats all the things you do and everyone you love and leaves them yellow deflated husks. The fuck nailed up all the fire exits.
The fuck got in and its claws are down in my muscles and its teeth are in my eye sockets and I can't get it out and it keeps getting bigger and I'm afraid my head will split like Zeus and out will pop a fully grown fuck and I don't know what it will do but it can't be anything good and I need to get this fuck out of me before it eats me like it eats everyone else and I knew this was going to happen, that's why I wanted to finish things when I was young and thought that the fuck was a thing you could fight or reason with and make it go away but that's not what the fuck is, the fuck is bigger than all the gods and demons and it likes it when we make imaginary friends to fight it because it distracts us while the fuck gets to dig its claws in deeper and it's already in me and I tried, I really tried to get rid of the fuck but here it is. And I shouldn't be talking to you because you might get the fuck too.
Of course, you probably already have.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Oh, I like this.

[Q. G. Pennyworth]

29 has been a bad fucking year. I'm looking forward to 30.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I've had the fuck for years.  It crawled up inside me in some funny little country whose name I can't even pronounce properly.  Actually, that's just an assumption.  It MIGHT have been there all along.  But anyway, one day I woke up and all the windows had been painted black, and They knock on my door day and night, screaming about the debt and the North Koreans and the drugs.  The drugs They told me to take!  You know, not the BAD drugs, just the little pills that keep things more or less between the navigational beacons.

I asked Navvie about it, and she told me it was carving big ruts in my brain.  I asked Nigel about it, and she said to stop worrying or else.  I asked Hirley0 about it and he told me to vRead Downv but there wasn't anything underneath.  I asked LMNO about it, and he told me to shut up and "just dance".  Then I asked Nurse Enabler and she smacked my bitch up.  Again.

So there's no point asking me, because I don't know.  I used to know, back before things got all complicated, but that was a long time ago, and the information wouldn't be relevant, even if I could remember more than Buck Owen slapping his knee and Aw-Shucksing on fucking Hee Haw.

So you'll have to figure it out on your own.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I had some fuck this morning, but then Lilly didn't accept the explanation that the kiln will fire up differently (and slightly worse) each time because the insulation between the refractory and the shell degrades each time.  This is apparently inconvenient, and if we in maintenance just understood the urgency of the situation, it would all straighten out.

So all my fuck went away, and I went outside and had a smoke, while the rest of the management team yelled rotten shit at me over the push-to-talk feature of my crackberry.  Mortal fools!  One day RUIN SHALL RAIN DOWN ON THEM.  They will scream for maintenance from beneath their desks; but we shall not come.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

IN ADDITION, I seem to have become part of the furniture around here.  Perhaps I have been around so long, I don't even get noticed unless I'm writing something like LOBB or Nessies or some shit.  I have become a cut-rate human Kindle.

I DON'T KNOW what to do about that.  I'd like to say "Hey, you know, I'm a person, I kind of like when people say 'hello' and shit once in a while", but it won't do any good.  People will say WHY they never say hello - or anything else - and they'll talk for a minute or two, but then I'm back to talking to myself in a vacuum, and then people have the absolute, unmitigated GALL to complain when I post in the DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS thread because that's the only fucking place in which people will acknowledge my fucking existence...So bitching about it won't do any good.

NO, I'M REASONABLY CERTAIN that there's nothing to be done, so there is no reason to give any fucks about it.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Why the fuck am I even here?

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

I had some fuck this morning, but then Lilly didn't accept the explanation that the kiln will fire up differently (and slightly worse) each time because the insulation between the refractory and the shell degrades each time.  This is apparently inconvenient, and if we in maintenance just understood the urgency of the situation, it would all straighten out.

So all my fuck went away, and I went outside and had a smoke, while the rest of the management team yelled rotten shit at me over the push-to-talk feature of my crackberry.  Mortal fools!  One day RUIN SHALL RAIN DOWN ON THEM.  They will scream for maintenance from beneath their desks; but we shall not come.

AND THERE SHALL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH

IN ADDITION, I seem to have become part of the furniture around here.  Perhaps I have been around so long, I don't even get noticed unless I'm writing something like LOBB or Nessies or some shit.  I have become a cut-rate human Kindle.

I DON'T KNOW what to do about that.  I'd like to say "Hey, you know, I'm a person, I kind of like when people say 'hello' and shit once in a while", but it won't do any good.  People will say WHY they never say hello - or anything else - and they'll talk for a minute or two, but then I'm back to talking to myself in a vacuum, and then people have the absolute, unmitigated GALL to complain when I post in the DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS thread because that's the only fucking place in which people will acknowledge my fucking existence...So bitching about it won't do any good.

NO, I'M REASONABLY CERTAIN that there's nothing to be done, so there is no reason to give any fucks about it.

Call 'em out. 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I had some fuck this morning, but then Lilly didn't accept the explanation that the kiln will fire up differently (and slightly worse) each time because the insulation between the refractory and the shell degrades each time.  This is apparently inconvenient, and if we in maintenance just understood the urgency of the situation, it would all straighten out.

So all my fuck went away, and I went outside and had a smoke, while the rest of the management team yelled rotten shit at me over the push-to-talk feature of my crackberry.  Mortal fools!  One day RUIN SHALL RAIN DOWN ON THEM.  They will scream for maintenance from beneath their desks; but we shall not come.

AND THERE SHALL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH

IN ADDITION, I seem to have become part of the furniture around here.  Perhaps I have been around so long, I don't even get noticed unless I'm writing something like LOBB or Nessies or some shit.  I have become a cut-rate human Kindle.

I DON'T KNOW what to do about that.  I'd like to say "Hey, you know, I'm a person, I kind of like when people say 'hello' and shit once in a while", but it won't do any good.  People will say WHY they never say hello - or anything else - and they'll talk for a minute or two, but then I'm back to talking to myself in a vacuum, and then people have the absolute, unmitigated GALL to complain when I post in the DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS thread because that's the only fucking place in which people will acknowledge my fucking existence...So bitching about it won't do any good.

NO, I'M REASONABLY CERTAIN that there's nothing to be done, so there is no reason to give any fucks about it.

Call 'em out. 

It's easier to name the people that DO acknowledge my existence.  You, Nigel, LMNO when he isn't too busy, and RWHN.  I disagree with him on many things, and I call him all manner of shit (and he is happy to reciprocate), but I give him this:  He doesn't treat other people as articles of furniture that will always be around, nor does he try to keep anyone else from having their say.

I can't count the number of times I've been talked around completely in conversation here, most especially recently.  RWHN has never done that to me.  He's never acted like I was a child interrupting the adults, to be pointedly ignored.

This has been up my ass for a while now.  It's sort of a festering fucking boil of resentment, and it gets worse every fucking day.  I don't want people to fucking drop everything and cater to me or any shit like that, just maybe an acknowledgement that I'm fucking HERE.

And THAT is the fuck that is in my head.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

So I guess I don't want to call them out on it.  I think instead I want to simmer in hate.  Gonna keep writing, because it's what I love, and it loves me back.  Excepting for the people named above, and I ought to toss Cain in there.  He doesn't seem to like me much, but he'll talk to me.

People think they've seen malice?  Think they've seen Roger at his finest?  Ho ho HO!

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Festering boils tend to pop eventually.
And when it happens, they SPEW.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Festering boils tend to pop eventually.
And when it happens, they SPEW.

Or not.  Sometimes they just stop giving a fuck.  They might use the board for a scratchpad (LOBB, rants, etc), and stop giving a bleeding shit about the vast majority of the people that wander through.

I didn't notice so much when LMNO, you, and Nigel were around more often.  Now that the three of you have gotten busy with things, I NOTICE when people blow right past my posts in any given debate.

It inspires a pretty deep loathing, I can tell you that much.  And I think I've sort of reached the point where I don't feel like being talked past.  There's two ways to deal with that, and the second way is just to pack up and go, in any capacity other than the above-named scratchpad.  I think most people would prefer that (shut up and write), anyway.

So the fuck in my head tells me to stop thinking of many of these people as "friends", and instead think of them as "random rude strangers that I no longer WANT to talk to." 

[AFK]

I had some fuck this morning, but then Lilly didn't accept the explanation that the kiln will fire up differently (and slightly worse) each time because the insulation between the refractory and the shell degrades each time.  This is apparently inconvenient, and if we in maintenance just understood the urgency of the situation, it would all straighten out.

So all my fuck went away, and I went outside and had a smoke, while the rest of the management team yelled rotten shit at me over the push-to-talk feature of my crackberry.  Mortal fools!  One day RUIN SHALL RAIN DOWN ON THEM.  They will scream for maintenance from beneath their desks; but we shall not come.

AND THERE SHALL BE WEEPING AND GNASHING OF TEETH

IN ADDITION, I seem to have become part of the furniture around here.  Perhaps I have been around so long, I don't even get noticed unless I'm writing something like LOBB or Nessies or some shit.  I have become a cut-rate human Kindle.

I DON'T KNOW what to do about that.  I'd like to say "Hey, you know, I'm a person, I kind of like when people say 'hello' and shit once in a while", but it won't do any good.  People will say WHY they never say hello - or anything else - and they'll talk for a minute or two, but then I'm back to talking to myself in a vacuum, and then people have the absolute, unmitigated GALL to complain when I post in the DRUGS DRUGS DRUGS thread because that's the only fucking place in which people will acknowledge my fucking existence...So bitching about it won't do any good.

NO, I'M REASONABLY CERTAIN that there's nothing to be done, so there is no reason to give any fucks about it.

Call 'em out. 

It's easier to name the people that DO acknowledge my existence.  You, Nigel, LMNO when he isn't too busy, and RWHN.  I disagree with him on many things, and I call him all manner of shit (and he is happy to reciprocate), but I give him this:  He doesn't treat other people as articles of furniture that will always be around, nor does he try to keep anyone else from having their say.

I can't count the number of times I've been talked around completely in conversation here, most especially recently.  RWHN has never done that to me.  He's never acted like I was a child interrupting the adults, to be pointedly ignored.

This has been up my ass for a while now.  It's sort of a festering fucking boil of resentment, and it gets worse every fucking day.  I don't want people to fucking drop everything and cater to me or any shit like that, just maybe an acknowledgement that I'm fucking HERE.

And THAT is the fuck that is in my head.

I get pretty passionate about that topic.  But as much as I can I do try to acknowledge everyone's opinions and questions, even if I think they are completely wrong.  And I do know I can get a bit harsh and add some extra commentary to posts.  But everyone has a voice and that should definitely be recognized.  (even if you are dead wrong )

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

Festering boils tend to pop eventually.
And when it happens, they SPEW.

Or not.  Sometimes they just stop giving a fuck.  They might use the board for a scratchpad (LOBB, rants, etc), and stop giving a bleeding shit about the vast majority of the people that wander through.

I didn't notice so much when LMNO, you, and Nigel were around more often.  Now that the three of you have gotten busy with things, I NOTICE when people blow right past my posts in any given debate.

It inspires a pretty deep loathing, I can tell you that much.  And I think I've sort of reached the point where I don't feel like being talked past.  There's two ways to deal with that, and the second way is just to pack up and go, in any capacity other than the above-named scratchpad.  I think most people would prefer that (shut up and write), anyway.

So the fuck in my head tells me to stop thinking of many of these people as "friends", and instead think of them as "random rude strangers that I no longer WANT to talk to."

That might not be fuck.

I mean, there's fuckons of people in this world that I only give a fuck about in an impersonal, "I'd stop and try to render assistance if something horrible was happening" kind of way, but that's it.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

When reading my comments, Stelz, it's important to consider the thread title.

Everyone's gotta vent sometime.

Not that I don't actually seethe, or anything.