in these tough times

about all we can do is take refuge in the comforting bosom of satire:

I am a very bad person. And, to tell you the truth, I don’t really want to be alive anymore. …

The irony is that, even if I did die, the hell I would surely be sent to could not possibly be any worse than the bottomless pool of excrement I already paddle around in like some demented, shit-covered walrus. In fact, every time I hear my voice coming through the headphones I nearly gag, and I think, “What the fuck am I doing?” Why would I say that Michael J. Fox is faking his Parkinson’s symptoms? Why would I find it funny to play a song called “Barack the Magic Negro”? Why would I tell people not to give aid to Haiti?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

via the onion.

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1 comment
  1. fauxpopuli said:

    I really do wonder how that guy lives with himself. You’d think that the ability to rationalize that “Well hey, gotta make a living” is eventually going to decline given that he hasn’t actually NEEDED money for at least a decade. Given what little I do know about Rush and the way he acts in private — supposedly he’s very shy, very awkward and very concerned that people like him, but I can’t remember where i read that — I’d guess that the realization that if he ever stops lying he’ll become irrelevant is enough to keep him going, but goddamn. At some point it has to start eating at his soul, assuming he has one.

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