Toxic Detoxing
F YOU
Because
I keep trying to give zero F*CKS
But I care about my welfare
And you aren’t worthy
Not your tiny dick(headedness)
Nor bitch festifuss
None of those cockamamie rants
No narcissism, puh-lease!
For the love of living
RESTRAIN this shit
Toxic
Detoxing
(is) Bliss
Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip. ~Unknown (and falsely attributed, as with others, to Winston Churchill)
Infantile months, like new years, often invigorate my philosophical synapses. Lately, somewhere round 1–6am my brain flickers on so frenziedly frothing that my body can’t send enough signals for it to remain horizontal any longer. No amount of my acquired tools seems to succeed. Conclusively negative support from the still of night silence with ear plugs, eye mask, or dreamy essential oils sprinkled atop my pillows and sheets. Normally faithful meditative mantras, coupled with dependable breathwork, won’t shuffle me slumber. Neither a trusty tour of masturbation. From all of the gurgling, a redundant unicorn gallops in. These moments that I wish the whole world could forge a pact. Wherein every single person agreed to be on board, a unanimous universal decree, for ceasing assholism. Quite on par with each of the despicable isms, an equally addictive wretch that fetches tons of takers.
Rather astoundingly with how many places I’ve been on this planet, I remain confounded that bungholios have found corners all over this globe. It’s simply too damn easy to be a jerk. We allow it with our suppression and any combative banter. We flatter it on every inch of our press or social media, letting it rest upon unbearable pedestal heights. We choose to watch people tear one another down and we laugh about it. However, prickery is a tricky thing to admit to enjoying. Faux jocularity dominance, especially if at your expense. No matter how much I come politely, please don’t forsake the blazing hazards. Heartful thinking before speech and deeds ought to be humaning 1.0. Yes, most of us necessitate suitable instruction. Although, our directions from parents, guardians, teachers, peers, or good samaritans (or lack thereof) can quickly veer.
Ignoring a rotten smell will never make it go away ~Stop Being An Arsehole by Thomas Benjamin Wild, Esq ft. Charlie Luscombe, The London Belles, and Ben Dawson
To me, that which is biting is always up for alarm. Thus, today’s a reprise date for double dog daring y’all. I adore steep challenges, just as a reconnected old friend recently referenced. This one shouldn’t be so convoluted. Yet, the complexities might mock you. Your aerobics, shall you accept it: I want anyone reading this to undertake a week where you attempt to spend seven suns sans lowlifing out of your mouth and/or in your activities. Perhappening you’re extra credit inclined, you may even seek to trifle with any predilections to flip them into magnanimity. And provided you’re a truly poster-child competitor, you’ll consider it a here-on-out lifespan contest. Where winners are obvious, i.e. without the need for elaborate commendation. Now, if you can really manage in this manner not to be part of the problem, you’re more than halfway to that happiness that you probably led astray with your disdainful days.
Dignity is riding the wave of jagoffery absent of overreacting. All esteemed divisions are honorable, with one cautionary kernel on backstabbing. Unintended sightings of one snidely naming the soon-to-be ex-wife’s passive-aggressive lover’s wifi network during his visit to the home ain’t benign either. Drama is multifaceted. The subtlety of quiet doesn’t exclude your sleaze. Strategically owning up to one’s jealousy or treachery is calling a spade a spade. Besides, who doesn’t feel better when hurts are addressed instead of flung freely? While, if you hunger for a conduit when poop chute personalities are having a diarrhea banger, I find that analyzing a little sarcasm helps me. Only, I don’t fully endorse stooping to their level of manure spurting yourselves. It’s the glamorizing of smug numskulls for generations that has me evangelizing. A+ if you can aim to be the best version of non-assholery that you can possibly be.
Oh, the utopias we could create!
