They say it’s -1 right now but it’s very clear. Not a cloud in the sky. I didn’t feel like sitting inside anymore. I was feeling antsy all over my body and just wanted to go outside. I’ll be honest with you, it’s hard for me to go outside. The damage done by the neighbors and all of their wonderful works is all over the place. It’s not the stench of them or the site of them or the smell of them, all of this is evident. It is just the presence and it comes along with a sickness and there’s nothing you can do about it. They are going to continue bringing sickness to this region every day and no one can ever talk to them about what they do or what they are doing or what harm they cause. They have the perfect inalienable right to give sickness to the world. Their own families, everyone around them and every living thing that comes in contact with them.
In this mood, I decided to get outside and see if I could move around a little bit. Not wonderful but I guess you got to get out and stretch your legs sometime. I went around the garden and had a look around. There’s been a lot of snow so all the grass has been knocked down. Some of the boxes need repair and some of the old trees that died over the last few years from the forest need to be processed or at least brought to a place where they can get cut down into smaller pieces for whatever. We have some greens popping up and some of the fruit bushes are showing buds. It’s really early for the region but we are awake.
I decided to play some golf. I don’t know why. I felt pretty good outside and I figured I would never lose a ball with all the grass splooched down. I did pretty good too. I wasn’t keeping score or particularly trying to do anything. And because nothing is growing in the boxes, I had an opportunity to see if I could drop a ball in there. I did once or twice. My golf game sucks. I played until I lost a ball. I hate losing balls. These balls are so old, there is no cost to sign to them except to replace them. I wonder if it’ll grow? Nah, nothing grows around here.
There was the usual neighbor moment. I heard them speaking amongst themselves. I said something as I do. Not screaming. But the thing is is I can hear them clearly and they seem to always speak in such a way that if I hear them they scurry. It’s been like this forever. They do everything like this. They believe that they are in the shadows and nobody can see them. So I heard this voice and I said the following words: your voices are unpleasant to me because of everything you have done. I do not enjoy hearing your voices or seeing your faces or smelling you. I only said it once but it was enough. They quieted down and walked away. And then mentioned that this is over and I will spend this entire year making sure that they suffer or leave as quickly as possible. Just so we know each other.
Then it occurred to me why I hate them so much. It’s my mom. It’s not just that big Billy is exactly the same sort of sick bloated idiot who can’t control herself and believe she has her right to suck anything she can get her mouth on. It isn’t like the darkie next door who should never have been allowed into this country, neither she nor her Russian fagot husband should have ever been allowed across the border, but even them as cigarette smokers. I don’t understand how human beings can do this to themselves. I don’t understand why it’s so impossible to look in a mirror and see who you are when you are a cigarette smoker. I don’t know why this is so incomprehensible. They are smokers.
That’s when it hit me. I understand the relationship. Quasimodo. He’s a child. He’s a man. Theoretically he believes he’s a tough guy but he’s a general pussy. But this pussy business really stuck in my mind. He is a little boy. He’s not a man. He’s a child. And this entire relationship with my neighbors is that he gets attention for 3 minutes when he agrees to smoke a cigarette with them. That’s the entire relationship. He is a low-class scumbag. There is no one on the planet who would not identify him as a low class scumbag. If you saw him, you would say he is a narcotics user. You would never hire him to do a job in your life. If you smelled him, you would run away. But here, this absolute zero of the walking piece of garbage, he has a mother and father who will talk to him. He actually gets to talk to someone and feel as if he is having an important meeting. He is a part of something. He is a part of the team. He feels this. He feels it in his soul. He needs this. It’s called validation. He must have his validation or his self hatred drives him insane.
This is where the story gets unbelievably sad. Mom and Dad don’t give a flying fuck about him. Mom and Dad are exploiters. Mom and Dad are not even from here. Mom and Dad can’t even live in town because they have no friends. Mom and Dad are so fucking isolated right now that they have no idea what they’re doing. They are clinging to the same five people day after day hoping that something good will happen to them. But the odds of them going to jail right now are so fucking high, they know they’re fucked. They also noticed that they are doing less business. They are also noticing that they have almost no respect from people they see. They are also noticing that they are completely unwanted. The world has turned and they are aware that they are fucked. But the only thing that has not happened yet, is they haven’t stopped smoking.
This little conversation that I was a part of was one of these three minutes smoking sessions. Don’t worry, Mom and Dad have got this. We know that you fucked up. We know that you’re on film threatening and acting on antisemitism. We know that you have assaulted your neighbor at least 25 times over the last few years and have organized and participated in group abuse. And of course we have the death of a human being because of pressure put on them by our lovely smoking mafia here. All of that is in the open around the fucking world with results showing up all over the place that people know this is the truth. And even these fucking diseased pieces of trash have filtered enough information into their head that they know that the world is now downhill and they are not going to be able to get back up again. And it’s a slippery slope. Good luck with your words guys. I don’t think you’ve got words. I don’t think you’ve ever had words.
It’s okay because they can smoke. That 3 minutes that it takes to smoke a cigarette is all Quasimodo needs to feel good again. I’m okay. People love me. Mom and Dad still support me. I’m okay. I didn’t fuck up. I didn’t lose my house. I didn’t lose my wife and family. I’m not going to jail for possibly the rest of my life. I am not going to be assaulted by strangers. I am not going to live in fear every day for the rest of my life. Mom and Dad will still smoke a cigarette with me. As long as I have cigarettes, the world will be fine. As long as I can smoke a cigarette, nothing can touch me.
The thing of it is, it’s my absolute weak spot, I can’t help feeling sympathy for Quasimodo. It’s like girls when they see a little kitten or something like that and they say oh boo boo boo. I have this little boy, this frightened little pathetic cancerous lungless heartless soulless anti-Semite Jew hating peace of narcotic human shit and I feel sympathy for him because just watching him beg for 3 minutes of cigarette smoke and a little bit of agency in agreement from Mom and Dad is just so compelling. Don’t you see the humanity in that? Don’t you feel sorry for him? Don’t you feel bad that a male of the species will never be allowed to be a male again for a single moment in his life because every time he had an opportunity to do something independently, he ran to Mom and Dad to smoke a cigarette so that he could feel good again. And I don’t know about you but my amateur medical history has told me that causal means causal and if you’re looking at a guy on the way to emphysema who gets his only redemption in life as a male from smoking cigarettes with the Russian and use Becky across the street, I say you have a recipe for sickness and degradation and that’s what this place looks like and that’s what you get. One plus one equals two.
If there is anyone reading these words who feels anything for the Republic of Belarus or the land that it stands on, can we please put together a program to remove these people from this country forever. Please take the polluters and the fagots and the queens and the destroyers and the fucking Russian occupiers and take them out and away and let them back into the shit world away from people who wish to live a peaceful life.
Really, this is a voting thing. They can vote whether I have the right to be a homeowner and enjoy my land. I am voting against them. This is a political vote. Take a look. You can have me or you can have them. And I’m not talking about choosing people. I’m talking about if this was your property. If this was your land and it was the type of land that you might want to grow food on or fruit trees on. Do you want me hanging out with your food or do you want them hanging out with your food? Do you want this fucking monster around your food? I don’t. I don’t want them around my food.
Hey, Mr President, guys in the truck, let’s go. What the fuck are you? What the fucketty fuck are you? If you are running a piece of dirt with millions of lives in your hands, do you want to destroy the land so you can’t eat from it? How much money do you need when you ain’t got no food?
I don’t know what to say. I don’t really like apologizing and I’m not going to correct or edit this except you know for normal usage and words that turned out a little bad. But the truth is, you either understand that you are going to live a healthy life or you are in hell. I’m sorry for everyone’s mental problems. I’m sorry for the Soviet Union and the post Soviet Union, I’m sorry for the Americans, I’m sorry for the lend lease, I’m sorry for all of your prostitutes, I’m sorry for your terrorism, I’m sorry for dropping a bomb on Hiroshima, I’m sorry for my fucking passport. But I’m even more sorry that I have met you all. I am more sorry to have to be here with you in this moment.
If you really want to know even one last little micro step that decided for me that I need to put this down one more time. They burn charcoal briquettes instead of wood so that even when they’re not running their machines and their motors, they are still polluting the fucking air. Every minute of every day destruction of the land.
So I think I’m about done talking. But if you’re reading me, please get these people out of here. I don’t give a shit if I’m here or not. You guys either wake the fuck up about how you live your lives and how much shit you put into the atmosphere just to feed your fucking stupid worthless egos and you’re empty pointless artificial fucking lives of chasing money to buy more drugs so you can remain in your stasis of misery forever. Just leave my land alone.
It seems strange for people to understand this but I have really good lungs. Everyone thinks I must have emphysema by now but I don’t. I have kind of a smoky voice but I can go really loud. I just translated most of what I said to Russian and I said it at the top of my lungs. I heard the echo. And right now, I hear nothing but birds. Think about it.
Just a brief blog entry about the curious effect of factory tobacco cigarettes
