Do you ever like a song so much you feel people who don't like it are irredeemably stupid?

'Pressure Suit' by Adult.

I'm often of the opinion that people who don't agree with every single thing I say are irredeemably stupid.

Do you agree?

Do you like my handbag?

We are trapped in a world almost entirely devoid of reason.

Its filled with lots of money.
 
The universe is so complex that it cannot be accurately described. So what's the point if we will never know its meaning? It is a perfect thing; why can't we also be perfect? Of what use is reason if can't lead us all the way to perfection? Why a journey without end? Is the universe more frustrating than fascinating? We are doomed to incompletion. I say it is the destination that counts after all. Those who are satisfied with only the journey lack ambition.

I received dozens of emails from a 32yo lawyer who wanted to be my slave; he'd do anything I said, including housework. He was born into wealth and promised he'd be good to me. I told him to prove his dedication by sending me a few expensive art books and $100 in cash. He did, so I figured, why not? I'm lazy and money talks. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am worth being served. Maybe I am worth being a bitch for. I don't like spinach but I've tried that too. Here's some spinach that does dishes. Have a taste.

I agreed to let him come over to do my dishes but only if he followed my rules, which he was more than willing to do.

He arrived promptly. I opened the door. I had instructed him not to speak or look at me without permission, and only to crawl; not to walk. Walking is for people. Trix is for kids. Crawling is for rabbits & bitches. This was for my comfort so I wouldn't have to deal at him at eye level.

And so he fell to his knees and crawled inside.

'Keep your head down.'

I stood with him prostrate at my feet.

'Kiss my shoe.'

He slobbered over it.

'Just once.'

He stopped.

'You may thank me.'

'Thank you.'

He seemed happily terrified. He was pale and mushy like a half-mashed potato, extremely unattractive, in a business suit.

'Who is in control here?'

He tried to speak but I interrupted him.

'I didn't give you permission to speak.'

Implicitly I had given him permission to speak by asking him a question, but no matter. I know the game. The universe is not comprehensible; why should I be? He shook at my admonition.

None of us have free will and here was a man who lived his life in acknowledgment of that fact. Most are happy to ignore it, but not him, happier and trembling in his accord to the spin of the universe.

And there I stood, motionless and bored, the most dispassionate of all furniture. Was God as immediately tired of humanity as I was of my little one?

I considered just telling him to leave, but as suggested by Biblical floods and plagues, kindness has no place in omnipotence. Besides, I wouldn't be as cruel as that other God. I only had dishes to be cleaned.

'Go to my kitchen, do my dishes, and do them well.'

He crawled into my kitchen.

'Remain on your knees.'

He wasn't so tall so it seemed comical to watch him struggle to reach into my sink. I had a lot of dishes so I sat on my couch as he finished.

He crawled back to me and I stood. There he was kneeling again, his suit all wet. It amused me to see someone who has had it so easy in life in such a position.

'Give me your wallet.'

He did. I opened it, looked through his cards and IDs and then emptied it of money before handing it back to him.

'You can thank me.'

'Thank you.'

'You can look at me now.'

As he lifted his head up a big gob of my spit hit him in the eye. It may as well been holy water or cum by the way he moaned and shook. He tried to blink it out and I stared.

There stood I, the face of his God, his reality. All that he needed to know was in my face, my words, my gestures. Maybe he trembled due to the extreme comfort of knowing that his thoughts were no longer necessary. Not many can brag of such a sight, or such comfort.

Still, its hard not to think of blowjobs in that position. He awaited my words to guide him, but I felt disgusted. I hadn't planned on any form of sex.

'Look down.'

He stared into my crotch.

'No. Don't look at me at all.'

He placed his forehead at my feet. The thoughts of vampires crossed my mind.

Do what it is in your nature to do.
Evil is a point of view.
God kills indiscriminately and so shall we.

For no creatures under God are as we are;
None so like Him as ourselves.
 
'You're lucky to have seen me,' I said. 'You're lucky to be here at all.'

Perhaps the universe would say the latter to me were it to speak, but it says nothing. The face of the universe is unseeable. If I cannot regard it, does it exist just to agonize me through absence? The universe has a bitch too. I am allowed not even spit in my eye although I'd spit at the face of God if I could.

God, the ultimate dominant.

If the universe is so colossally indifferent, why not be just as indifferent towards others? Be one with God, be one with the universe; be a bastard. Man created morality so why subscribe to it? If the only perfect thing is the universe and one wants to be perfect, one must emulate the universe by being equally careless (carefree?) and cold. Indifference is universal. I am universal.

Kindness would only make us morally superior to the universe if we weren't part of a universe that created us to have morals, morals that often lead us to failure.

But I try to be kind anyway. I do.

Wasn't he getting what he wanted? I was as much his bitch as he was mine. After all, I saw to his needs, and he surely had more fun than I did.

I sent him away. We communicated next via email. He described the rapture he felt in my presence. Where was it? I felt nothing. Who's to say it existed? I refused to see or even correspond with him again, whereupon he threatened to kill me by bashing my head in with a bat; his rage towards me mirroring my own rage towards a dispassionate universe.

I don't agree with everything I say. Not all of it is right. Am I irredeemably stupid?

I want to spend my money on en-ter-tainment.

Can you entertain me?

Can you entertain me?

Perfection is the sum of all knowledge, of which I have very little.

'Rippin Kittin' by Miss Kittin