NEVER JOIN ANYTHING

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

 

You don’t want to be gathered in any group. You don’t want to be caught any crowd. If you are ever asked to join anything, you should be elbowing your way toward the nearest emergency exit.

Freedom is not what you will ever get if you enroll in a political party. Education is the last thing you are going to get in any classroom. Liberation isn’t going to be what happens when you enlist in the army. Heaven isn’t the place where you end-up if you are part of any congregation. You aren’t going anywhere if you are standing in line.

Groucho Marx would never join any club that would have him as a member. Good on him. You should take that injunction a bit further – and never go near any environment where clubs are lying in wait. Whether sticks or social groups, clubs will only be used against you.

A church wants to get you signed-up so that your confessions can be used ensure your obedience. Whatever a denomination learns about you will ultimately be leveraged against you. Come to think of it, any organization will use what they can to blackmail you into submission. Whatever the community knows about you will ultimately be turned against you. Once a member, always a member.  

If you are standing shoulder-to-shoulder with your fellow citizens, the only thing you are going to take home is a case of head lice. If you are ever tempted to join your neighbors and go hand-in-hand into the future, the only thing you are going to get out of it is a social disease.

A true individualist is always going to remain on the fringes of any society – an independent soul is not quite a wild man in the forest, but certainly not a productive member of society either. An enlightened man is not going to be found on the membership rolls of any denomination, but a wise fellow isn’t going to be paling around with the atheist crowd either.

If you ever join an institution, then you are tied to the establishment. If you are going to belong to something, then you are owned by the collective.  

Whenever two people cooperate, whenever two personalities work together, each participant loses a piece of his soul. Whenever a grown man carries a membership card, that human being will never get that individuality back. Whenever you get enrolled in an organization, you never get your independence back again. Any collective will inevitably destroy your character.

No matter what society promises, you don’t want to get involved.

MISANDRY, HATRED OF MEN

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



 

I’ve never made any secret about being a misogynist. I freely admit that I hate women. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. It may come as a surprise, then, for me to say that I also hate men just as much – maybe I loathe males even more (since being of that same gender, I know their repulsive habits even better).

Yes, sir, I am a misandrist. I hate men. Male hypocrisy does not escape my gaze.

I hate men for their constant lies. I despise males for their continual dishonesty. A bloke will say anything to gain entry to a girl’s snatch. A fellow will pretend anything to get access to a woman’s orifice. Look, no crotch in creation is worth the effort to make something up. Hell, it’s just a groin – there isn’t any shortage of pussy in this world; there are billions of those gashes on this planet alone.  

I hate men for their repulsive smell. Males seem to fancy that it is possible to disguise their repellent stench from the fairer sex, but no one is fooled. Men can drench themselves with all the cologne in the universe, and their bodies will still reek of sweat. No one is ever deceived by air fresheners. If a guy has to make himself smell like a pine forest, then he must be covering-up something pretty rank.

I hate men for their pitiful grooming. The more a fellow tries to spruce himself up, the more desperate he appears. The more a chap tries to make himself look better, the more phony his features. A man never looks balder then when he is wearing a hairpiece. A male never looks more awkward than when he tries to make himself more presentable.

I hate men for thinking that they can fix things. The more a bloke tries to repair an object, the quicker it wears out. The more a guy tries to mend an item, the more it is irreparably damaged. The more a person attempts to conceal his flaws, the more attention he draws to his defects. The more a boyfriend tries to fix a romance, the more fake becomes his emotional expression.

I hate men for not acknowledging their stupidity. Males will go to any length to keep from admitting their idiocy. I just wish that, for once, a gentleman would accept that his mental power isn’t all that great. Any fellow who would waste that much money on a woman certainly can’t be all that bright.

I hate men for their brotherhood. I loathe the way a chap’s voice deepens when he greets another fellow. I don’t trust your liberty, I don’t want your equality – but, most of all, I despise your fraternity. I am revolted by the masculine need for social rank. I want none of it.

I hate men for the way they debase themselves just to con a woman into bed. I loathe males for degrading themselves to procure a lady’s favors. A guy will prostrate himself just to empty his prostate. Men will demean themselves just to discharge a seminal blockage.

Most of all, I hate males for their appalling lack of dignity when they are around women. Modern men really need to buck-up more than just arrange another fuck. Arousal isn’t worth the effort.

ALL MEN ARE MALEVOLENT

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



Every human being is a serial killer – some of us just haven’t gotten around to that murdering stage yet. Every human being is a cold-blooded slasher; the temperatures just haven’t yet fallen low enough for most of us to start slaughtering. Every human being is a sadistic murderer – but most of us just haven’t reached that level of sexual excitement quite yet. Human beings are nothing more than vile and violent mammals.

Anyone will become an assassin, given the right psychological stimulus. The difference between a criminal and an ordinary citizen is simply a matter of accidental imprinting. What turns a well-adjusted member of society into a killer is just a mental aggravation at an opportune moment. A sadistic murderer is created much like a pearl in an oyster – circumstances introduce an element of cerebral irritation.

Human beings are despicable and depraved primates; all that it requires to release the beast within is an insignificant provocation. The only difference between a serial killer and an average character is a mere itch of the trigger finger. All that separates the saint and the sexual sadist is the firing of a few neurons in the brain. The Virgin Mary could become another Aileen Wuornos, should she have received the most casual slight at just the right instant. All it takes to transform Buddha into a Ted Bundy is petty rebuff from a self-absorbed courtesan. All that it needs to make a St. Francis begin chopping up choirboys is a dismissive glance from a passing bystander at a split second of psychic weakness.

Look, any law-abiding citizen could be tuned into a rifle-toting slayer merely by drafting him into the army. All that it takes for your humble mailman to start shooting is a humiliating rebuke from a supervisor. Every human being has that killer instinct – all that is necessary to make a person into a gunmen is a minor adjustment in subconscious input.

You can transform anyone into a murder with some well-timed conditioning. All that it takes to turn a human becoming into a brutish cutthroat is being around a bunch of stiff-necked liberals. All that it takes to transform a kid into a gangbanger is a welcoming peer group. It is not bad luck, but crazy luck, that that makes an inoffensive chap into an outlaw. The impulse to harm other human beings is not an aberration, but the inclination to lash-out is damn near inevitable. The immorality was there from the inception.

Every set of eyes that pass you on the street is the stare of your potential killer. Every stranger brushing against your back is a potential strangler. Everyone in line behind you has a switchblade in his pocket.

WHY EVEN BOTHER?

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

You would never succeed anyway. Your whole life has been a failure – and this won’t be any different. You know that you will fall-short no matter how hard you try. You have never achieved anything, and your certainly aren’t going to accomplish anything now. You have never been victorious at anything – and your losing streak certainly isn’t going to change now.

You just can’t do it. You will never realize anything no matter what. You would only fail no matter how much effort you put into it. The vilest creature is simply a fellow who just wants to do his best.

You just don’t have the ability. You don’t know how to do it right. You need to accept the fact that you just don’t have it in you. The most useless human being is that person who knows he doesn’t have a chance, yet follows his dream anyway.

You don’t have the intelligence to pull it off. To put it simply, you just aren’t smart enough. You haven’t got the brains to do it right. The most stupid person is always the fellow thinking he has a fine education.

You’re just not good enough.  You know you won’t be successful, so why take the trouble? The most pathetic loser is a runner who knows he can’t win, yet continues the marathon anyway. The most worthless human specimen is a chap who just wants to be a good sport.

You’ve always been a disappointment to everyone. You were born as part of the herd, and you will die as just another also-ran. You won’t overcome shit. The most disgusting character is always the man who doesn’t realize how despicable he truly is.

And the sickest thing of all is that you want to be encouraged – instead of being told the truth about yourself. If you still want to be motivated, then that shows how empty you really are. The most repugnant thing about a wretch like you is that, in spite of everything, you still want someone to come along and inspire you – just so you won’t feel how repulsive you truly are.

 

HERPES MAKES A WOMAN SECRETIVE

by Mr. Mean-Spirited



A woman with herpes is one stealthy bitch. She doesn’t care about the possibility of passing the disease to someone else, as much as making sure that no one discovers that she is infected.

A female who knows she is afflicted starts to hide other areas of her life. Herpes changes a lady – not so much with periodic outbreaks in the pubes, but from the recurrent need to conceal things from you. And this constant concealment keeps her in a continual state of arousal. Going hush-hush makes her all hot and bothered. They call it “going undercover” for a damn good reason.

Herpes itself does not increase a woman’s sexual appetite, but the act of keeping the outbreak secret does enhance her sexual receptiveness. A woman’s erotic excitement increases in direct proportion to her efforts at keeping her contagion hidden. She likes it tucked away. She wants it holed up.

A woman with a sexually transmitted disease has more things wrong with her than just a virus. She is certain to have other areas of her past that she doesn’t want you to know about. She just doesn’t want to be found out. And she will use her sexuality to distract you from discovering the truth; she will do anything to keep you from making a proper diagnosis. She doesn’t want to be cured, as much as keep the evidence stashed away. Hide and secrete.

A perceptive fellow never trusts any woman who would be willing to have sex with him. A prudent man treats every lady as an afflicted creature – and acts accordingly. A shrewd gentleman expects the crotch of every girlfriend to be concealing a sexually-transmitted disease. A wise chap isn’t fooled by her deception, but still fools around with her offered body anyway. A sensible man ultimately takes the most precautions; a sage man is always the one who makes the most assumptions in life.

All women are diseased – some just carry more infection than others.

I’D RATHER DIE ALONE

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

 

Death should be a solitary thing. Dying should always be a lonely experience.

I have never understood why the mass media wants everyone to have this fear of dying alone. When the time comes for me, I don’t want to spend my last days being serviced by the medical industry.

When I am ready to take my last breath, I’d rather do it in private. When I need to leave this world, I’d rather do it alone. When I spend my last few hours on earth, I’d rather not be bothered by other people.

I’d rather die on my own terms. I’d rather die in a dirty bed in a cheap motel room than be watched by a bunch of sneering do-gooders. In those last moments, when I am vomiting all over myself, I don’t need any onlookers. In those final minutes, when my bladder empties, I really don’t require any witnesses. In those final seconds, when I lose control of my bowels, I don’t want any spectators.

I’d rather not have bystanders when I die. I don’t need any sullen health-care workers to harass me with catheters and harry me with blood tests. Death is going to be difficult enough without having a bunch of bored family members amusing themselves by watching my discomfort.

So even though my death will be some years in the future, I don’t need any acquaintances to clear their calendars. So even though my demise will be some time yet to come, I won’t need you to come-by to mop up the mess. When I succumb, I don’t want you around.

A man who can arrange to die alone has lived a full life.

REMORSE IS THE MOST USELESS EMOTION EVER INVENTED

by Mr. Mean-Spirited

 

Remorse is the most preposterous emotion ever invented by humanitarians. What good is remorse?

Why the hell would it make any difference if a killer feels bad about his murders? Is regret ever going bring anyone back to life? Repentance doesn’t make a murder victim any less dead. If remorse were truly genuine, the killer would be standing by an open grave and trying to reanimate the corpse with a car battery.

You find me a thief who claims remorse, and I show you a robber who spent all the money. Would remorse ever give the victim back one stolen cent?

You show me a felon who feels remorse, and I’ll present you with a fucking liar. The only thing for which an offender would feel regret is getting caught and leaving stuff undone. Wouldn’t it be more honest for a reprobate just to acknowledge his antisocial intentions without having to pretend any regret?

Remorse is one of those things that a do-gooder always needs to hear when someone has transgressed against the existing order. A good Samaritan needs to hear an expression of remorse when someone has stopped conforming to the established system. 

Repentance has always seemed more evil than any possible caper committed by a self-professed evildoer – more wicked because the victim knows it is untrue, yet the community still demands that it be uttered. There is something wrong, systemically wrong, with a society that expects its lawbreakers to be properly remorseful. 

The only thing remorse demonstrates is the gullibility of the person who actually believes the apology. Remorse is an imaginary emotion – and like all feelings cherished by liberals, such supposed contrition presents a fantasy version of reality. If jurors are looking for a glimmer of remorse, it doesn’t really say much about their ability to judge the facts of the case.

I’d rather a competent criminal than a contrite crook.