a man in phoenix with a chronic drippy runny snotty nose and eyes due to chronic allergies was told he did not have chronic allergies or a chronic drippy runny snotty nose and eyes, but that brain fluid was leaking out of the orifices in his face.
robert charles gleason jr., serving life in prison for murder, continued to murder two of his cell mates, and promised to keep killing until granted a state of execution by the state. prison can be depressing. certain anti-depressants have side effects of depression. need more pills. a virus is not considered a living thing, but is an organic structure that interacts with living organisms. they are considered “organisms at the edge of life” a virus cannot reproduce on its own, but needs a host, a cell, and his mates, and kills them in the process. and on he goes into the pox party. Pox party: a fun social gathering play date where a horde of children are intentionally infected by their parents with the viral pox. in the hopes that they all fall ill, and can just be quiet for once and we can all watch tv nicely again. depression is often a side effect of anti-depressants. Lost in space. It’s a tv show. in space. If you tried to make a map of the universe, the map would be just as large as the universe itself. the nature of infinity. the average number of objects to stay in short term memory is cited to be ranging from 5-9. how depressing. the mind can be a real prison.
i think i have a heart murmur or heart arrhythmia because sometimes when i’m having sex or just staring at a wall the organ that is most important to my being existing just stops and then putters back real quick like, back to life just like my step dads shitty lawn mower that i fucking hated but learned to cope with just as well and i tell myself to drink more water and eat more carrots, and aren’t thumbs cool, and i don’t have health insurance, and don’t worry this isn’t going to be a super progressive liberal rant on health care in this country, although, i don’t know, i can’t promise that, it might be, i’d like it to be, you ever seen Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where that dude rips that other dudes heart out, my father thought that was appropriate for a five year old to watch. atrial fibrillation arrhythmia is when the electrical activity of the heart is chaotic causing the upper chambers of the heart to quiver. Cardiologist describe the quivering of the upper chambers as the writhing of a a bag of worms. like a giant fucking burlap bag of god damn earthworms screaming, screaming out in madness, but these worm have no mouth and cannot scream as the ancient molded burlap confines bear down on their mucus membranes, and they don’t have eyeballs, but they can sense, they can sense their friends, their families, flailing, contorting violently in the burlap darkness in utter terror and agony, left wondering what kind of a fucking god of wrath and bitterness could create such a spiteful senseless hell, could create a foul wiggling tube of useless life, with ten pairs of hearts, no sensory organs and hermaphroditic, crawling in shit and mud and burlap.
i don’t mean to be insulting to any group of people or another, but i used to know two kids with down’s syndrome that were also juggalos. they shared ICP hoodies and necklaces and they held hands and loved each other. it was like a retarded sitcom. mongoloid is one fucked up punchy word. be nice. we are all meat computers. sometimes i wish i had down’s syndrome so i wouldn’t have to worry about being happy.
peter carruthers is some dude with a phd at some school probably hates himself. maybe not. i don’t know.
Psychologists Lynn Abramson and Lauron Alloy proposed a theory of Depressive Realism after a study from 1979. Individuals who are depressed/super sad town, experience a more realistic and critical perception of their abilities, strengths, sense of self image, relationships, responsibilities, etc. as opposed to those who not depressed/happy/unreal sense of over self confidence. If your happy and you know it, you are overestimating your abilities and you can‘t do shit. If your sad and you know it you’ll be fine. Just not emotionally. In the Cantor set, as the middle third of each line is taken out and repeated ad infinitum, the line itself has zero length but an infinite amount of points. “This doesn’t make sense,” muttered Sisyphus to his rock. “It’s because your happy,” said the rock.