Dear Satan,
Social Worker Ling Ying feel that I have extremely evil mind, my jest is cruel, and my smile is fake, so that could I ask how can I reduce my sanity to Less Than Zero and become really insane?
Best Regards, Elijah Hu
PPPS: BESIDES, Would you mind telling me how do I make an insane laughter?
Social Worker Ling Ying feel that I have extremely evil mind, my jest is cruel, and my smile is fake, so that could I ask how can I reduce my sanity to Less Than Zero and become really insane?
Best Regards, Elijah Hu
PPPS: BESIDES, Would you mind telling me how do I make an insane laughter?
Dear Elijah,
Thank you for your inquiry.
Maybe you have an extremely evil mind and your jest is cruel and your smile is fake.
If you have a fake ass smile, then you wouldn’t be the first and certainly won’t be the last.
I think that maybe the problem between you and Social Worker Ling Ying is that you’re trying to fake it till you make it.
Fake it till you make it is bullshit pick-up artistry slang for justifying being a lying sack of shit while faking your way into getting the things you want in life that you think you deserve but don’t.
I hate cheaters.
I mean, I’m not going to put someone down for eternal damnation for a few little white lies like that time you said the dog ate your homework or the time you masturbated in the bathroom at church.
I’ve got better things to do.
But if you’re going to try to surf through life using people as stepping stones and burning bridges and fucking people over just so you can be king dick of asshole mountain I’ll be happy to meet you at the door and give you a guided tour of hell before you spend the next infinity of infinities drowning in a lake of fire while being eaten by fire ants while Arthur Brown sings Fire over the p. a. system.
Okay.
I admit, maybe I go a bit overboard with the whole FIRE thing, but it’s my thing.
The other guy gets clouds and haloes and angels.
I get fire and horns and demons.
But I also get all of the best Rock & Roll musicians.
I’ll tell Lemmy you said hello when we’re hanging out playing poker and drinking whiskey tonight like we do every night.
That’s why I make sure to give every pick-up artist a teeny tiny eentsy weentsy half a baby carrot premature infant dick.
Oh, and gonorrhea.
Any time you hear someone say “Hey, man, fake it till you make it.” trust that that bro-dude chief champ douchebag has a raging angry red hot icky sticky trickling case of gonorrhea that leaves permanent stains in anything his awful tiny disappointment of a dick touches.
What I’m trying to say is that if you expect someone else to like you then you’re going to have to figure out how to like yourself first.
Girls can smell fake confidence like dogs can smell fear and they’re not going to let you try to throw a dick up them if they think you’re trying to pretend to be something you’re not.
Spend some time going to the gym or learning how to play guitar or do ten push-ups a day plus ten more every day until you’re up to around a thousand a day and by the time you get to a thousand a day you’ll be turning heads so hard you’re gonna give the girls whiplash.
Then you can show up wherever Social Worker Ying
Ling looks with a model-quality hottie on each arm and you between them like a
menage a troi ice cream sandwich and you can watch Social Worker Ying Ling try
to eat her heart out.Thank you for your inquiry.
Maybe you have an extremely evil mind and your jest is cruel and your smile is fake.
If you have a fake ass smile, then you wouldn’t be the first and certainly won’t be the last.
I think that maybe the problem between you and Social Worker Ling Ying is that you’re trying to fake it till you make it.
Fake it till you make it is bullshit pick-up artistry slang for justifying being a lying sack of shit while faking your way into getting the things you want in life that you think you deserve but don’t.
I hate cheaters.
I mean, I’m not going to put someone down for eternal damnation for a few little white lies like that time you said the dog ate your homework or the time you masturbated in the bathroom at church.
I’ve got better things to do.
But if you’re going to try to surf through life using people as stepping stones and burning bridges and fucking people over just so you can be king dick of asshole mountain I’ll be happy to meet you at the door and give you a guided tour of hell before you spend the next infinity of infinities drowning in a lake of fire while being eaten by fire ants while Arthur Brown sings Fire over the p. a. system.
Okay.
I admit, maybe I go a bit overboard with the whole FIRE thing, but it’s my thing.
The other guy gets clouds and haloes and angels.
I get fire and horns and demons.
But I also get all of the best Rock & Roll musicians.
I’ll tell Lemmy you said hello when we’re hanging out playing poker and drinking whiskey tonight like we do every night.
That’s why I make sure to give every pick-up artist a teeny tiny eentsy weentsy half a baby carrot premature infant dick.
Oh, and gonorrhea.
Any time you hear someone say “Hey, man, fake it till you make it.” trust that that bro-dude chief champ douchebag has a raging angry red hot icky sticky trickling case of gonorrhea that leaves permanent stains in anything his awful tiny disappointment of a dick touches.
What I’m trying to say is that if you expect someone else to like you then you’re going to have to figure out how to like yourself first.
Girls can smell fake confidence like dogs can smell fear and they’re not going to let you try to throw a dick up them if they think you’re trying to pretend to be something you’re not.
Spend some time going to the gym or learning how to play guitar or do ten push-ups a day plus ten more every day until you’re up to around a thousand a day and by the time you get to a thousand a day you’ll be turning heads so hard you’re gonna give the girls whiplash.
Alright.
As far as how can I reduce my sanity to Less Than Zero and become really insane?
First off, I think it’s a creepy coincidence that two posts in a row contain a Bret Easton Ellis reference.
As far as reducing your sanity to Less Than Zero, that can go either way.
Either you can end up like Andrew McCarthy where you’re not a very good actor and you get to walk away relatively unscathed.
Or you can end up like Robert Downey Jr. and have James Spader making you suck dick to pay him back for all of the coke money you owe him because you wanted to have a twenty-four hour disco party in your head until you ran out of money or luck or both.
I can't necessarily recommend the Less Than Zero route.
But if you want to temporarily disrupt the machine inside your head I recommend high doses of clean psychedelics.
Don’t chew up an entire sheet of basement bathtub arsenic acid like it’s Big League Chew.
Two or three or five tabs of decent LSD in the downtown center of a busy city or two or three dried grams of a decent psilocybin mushroom should definitely be enough to press your reset button but good.
PPPPPS: As for Maniacal Laughter, It’s a decent album.
Love, Satan
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