Robert Anton Wilson is always optimistic and inspiring.

Maybe too optimistic.

Like certain books and drugs he should only be consumed by the superior.

He seemed to think that once people were offered certain drugs, technologies, and information outlets that people would somehow evolve into their own higher selves and we would live in a utopia of 6 billion individual but co-existing demi-gods.

Too optimistic.

The road-maps he offers are good for elites like me, but he fails to realize that most people are stupid and - even worse - LAZY!

People don't want to perform Guerilla Ontology on themselves!!! They're more than happy just watching "Jersey Shore" so let them be.

Give US - the superior, the elite - the tools and leave the rest to rot!

THEY DO NOT DESERVE TO BE ON THE MOUNTAINTOP WITH US!!!

And not because of evil people like George Bush or BP executives.

BUT BECAUSE THEY HAVE MADE A PERSONAL CHOICE TO BE WORTHLESS!!!

I walk around with a chip on my shoulder the size of Jupiter. I hate the Jersey Shore (the region and the show, but in this case the region) and I hate everyone and everything around me. I walk around angry and just HOPING for a fight, for a confrontation, for an opportunity to be rude, surly, nasty or even violent and aggressive.

I am generally misanthropic. 98% of people are total shit. 99% of women are shit (because women are much more prone to conformity.)

I have 29 years of pain, hurt, anger, resentment and frustration - all courteousy of the human race. I suffer from all the ill effects of loneliness, isolation, deprivation and years of anxiety, depression and severe Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't hate everyone. I like elites, people who are spiritual aristocrats. Hell - I want WINNERS around me. I want winners and extraordinary outcasts from a mediocre society.

I know plenty of extraordinary people, but that doesn't change this fact:

When I am around a certain type of person (yokels, hicks, Herd Animals, mediocrities, belongers, average human beings, ordinary tyrants and unctous bigots) I can be the nastiest, most arrogant prick in the world. And why not? It's their world - I just live in it! They are the ones with all the power!

So I walk around with all of this, it's with me every time I'm forced to interact with Herd Animals.

So all it takes is one spark for me to lose it.

Yesterday I was driving down a local highway doing the speed limit exactly when some cunt-bitch tailgates me. She tailgates me so close our bumpers are practically screwing one another.

I look in the rearview mirror and it's some typical Jersey Shore cunt. One look at her and I realize that she represents EVERYTHING I hate in this entire world.

She can tailgate me because she's a ballsy Jersey chick! She curses a lot, drives really fast and watches football with her douchebag boyfriend and his douchebag friends, just like one of the guys!

And because she's a woman, a cunt, she thinks she can do whatever she wants. Well, I took exception to her presumption.

It was time to fight back. These people have oppressed me my entire life. I have always had to do what THEY wanted to do. I have always had to deal with their rude behavior. I have always had to tolerate their cruelty (not to mention their irritating habits.) Like I said, it's their damn world, I just live in it!

These people have picked on me my entire life. Now I'm going to pick back. They don't like it when I pick back. They don't like that too much.

I gave her the middle finger in my rearview mirror and mouthed a few curses at her.

She pulled up alongside me and started yelling at me, so I screamed, 6 times:

FUCK YOU CUNT!
FUCK YOU CUNT!
FUCK YOU CUNT!
FUCK YOU CUNT!
FUCK YOU CUNT!
FUCK YOU CUNT!
She could not even get a word out. I drowned her out.

I won. It felt SO GOOD!!! It felt like an orgasm and thousand little pin-pricks all over my body.

It feels good to fight back and it's about damn time.

I was rudely woken up this morning by a severe thunderstorm. I had just enough time to throw on sweatpants, a tee-shirt and flip-flops and speed down the road to Quik Check (for some reason I feel safer in public, in structurally sound buildings.) It was too late to go to the supermarket. The storm was too close.

I barely made it. As I was pulling out of the driveway dust and debris were already being picked up by the violent winds. I drove like an absolute maniac to get to Quik Check just as the worst of it was breaking. I bounded into Quik Check like a sprinter. People were looking at me funny.

The Quik Check was, of course, filled with the usual yokels, Herd Animals that I absolutely despise. I waited out the storm.

I felt ashamed of myself. After all, I have devoted myself lately to overcoming all of my depression, OCDs and phobias. I have been treating myself with exposure therapy. I have made plans to wait out the next storm in my own home.

But this storm woke me up. I was not yet conscious enough to face my fear. Because my mind was not yet awake I fell into old conditioned patterns.

I'm going to PLAN to stay home for the next storm and wait it out - no matter what happens.

At least I'm over the depression. It's hard not to be depressed nowadays, when all the worst prosper and all the best suffer. It's enough to make one so nauseous that one does not even want to eat (which is what happpened to me and resulted in a terrible eating disorder that I'm just now overcoming.) THE WORLD IS HERE TO BE CONSUMED AND ENJOYED!!!!! MONEY IS MADE TO BE ENJOYED!!! SO IS FOOD!!!

My only point is that everything should go to the superior.

And not the cast of Jersey Shore.

That's all.

That's it.

Bad news! My tomatoes are not growing fast enough. I do not know if I will yield a crop by Halloween!

The answer: I'm going to use my own feces as fertilizer.

Not only are human feces a great fertilizer, but I want Mrs. G to SMELL my feces. It will turn me on knowing that she is smelling my turds.

So, as of this Monday, I will be fertilizing my tomatoes the old-fashioned way.

I do have to admit that it is unfortunate that prison exists. I will never be able to kill anyone (with the possible exception of self-defense.) I have absolutely no desire to break the law and go to jail or prison. But if it were not for prison I would kill everyone who looked at me the wrong way.

I no longer even want to kill people out of revenge or anything like that. I would like to kill people for fun.

I've always fantasized about being a serial killer, about stalking my prey, etc... Sometimes I can't go out in public without thinking: "I'd like to rape her" or "I'd like to kill him." Their lives are probably worthless anyway. They are in my way.

Okay, I suppose I would only kill people who cross me. I don't want to harm the innocent. Enough people cross me. I suppose I could be a prolific serial murderer.

However, I will murder no one because prison exists. That's the only thing that stops me.

There's a horror-writing contest coming up. I'm thinking about entering. I think I could do pretty well.

Art is about building better worlds, different worlds, strange worlds, romantic worlds. Sometimes art mocks too.

The death of art is pedantry. Some people insist that there should always be a moral imperative. Why? Isn't it more entertaining to submit to the chaos of the universe rather than to march in the streets for this cause or that.

Art must be apolitical. I hate communists! Well, I hate capitalism too (but not all capitalists.) My favorite paradox: Nothing is true. My least favorite myth is the socio-economic myth. The poor are usually happier - they have more to shoot for.

Art should be by and for the imagination. No pedantry. No social causes. No moral imperatives.

At the risk of being repetitive, I have always been superior to the Herd Animals around me. Even at the age of 5 I was interested in four things: sex, philosophy, infinite imagination and the eternal glorification of the subjective will.

I found Sesame Street to be very patronizing. Why were they talking to me like I was a retard? I was interested in the adult world. I never liked the Muppets either. Patronizing!

I did, however, like Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, probably because Mr. Rogers looked like Eric's Dad, Mr. Hartz. "Eric! What's the matter with you, Eric? Take off your shoes Eric and let's watch that trolley!"