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Journal Velex's Journal: while (!frist) { riposte(); }

Something is wrong. Apparently I'm in a different parallel universe from the rest of you.

None of you would like women from my universe. Not men, not lesbians, not even heterosexual cisgendered women. Well, we have lesbians here, but I hate to disappoint you guys who fantasize about 3-ways, but like the rest of the women here, they're obese.

One time I was in your universe briefly. I was on the bus. That was before I owned a car. There were two females with a healthy body weight making out for most of the ride.

I also slipped into your universe a few times when I was a trucker, not unlike that priest that that good writer in Maine wrote about a few times, sai Callahan. Once I slipped into your universe along I-5 up the west coast. I took a small break at a rest area in Washington state, and I was amazed that there was also a busload of nearly teenage girls there. They weren't obese, and they got along with each other and showed such intelligence. It reminded me of myself when I was that age. Except the next year, something horrible happened to me, and my transformation into a monster started.

I don't know what went wrong. There was some big kerfuffle about classical music and Newton's Principia Mathematica being like rape. In this universe, that resonated with a lot of women. They said, "Hey, this is hard. But look, all I have to do is proposition a guy for sex and he'll do anything for me, including hard stuff like math." It was as if Malibu Stacey (or I suppose in your universe they call those dolls Barbie) gained 300 lbs and came to life.

They even have this show over here called the Andy Griffith Show. In one of the episodes, the women of the town had an issue they were concerned about, and instead of making rational arguments, they just refused to put out. And that was good enough to win the men over to their cause. Nobody had any higher ideological thoughts than sex.

I have never understood it.

Am I already dead? Is this purgatory, some kind of purely psychological version of Silent Hill without the special effects every first Sunday of the month when the city tests their civil defence sirens? If I had died already and were in purgatory, I'd hope that purgatory would at least have a special effects budget. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe with the economic downturn, they had to scrap the idea of a "dark side" purgatory and maybe they told Pyramid Head that he'd have to make due with a kitchen knife.

I'm supposed to be like Pyramid Head, and in this purgatory, all the ladies love Pyramid Head. And I suppose Pyramid Head loves those bloated, obese monstrosities.

I didn't want to be a monster. I just kind of turned into one. I watched it happen, but I was powerless to stop it. At times, I even thought that becoming a monster like Pyramid Head would be fun. Maybe some day I'd see what Pyramid Head sees in ladies that weigh 2-3 times as much as he does. That day never came.

I'm supposed to have AIDS, but I can't even do that right. Most women get a disease called "diabetes," which they view as a venerable sign of old age and wisdom. Sometimes I wish I could get AIDS. It's supposed to be a holy edict from on high purging monsters like me from the world.

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Were there fewer fools, knaves would starve. - Anonymous