About the writing process–when the narrative has been infected.

The writing process-what crap. Who cares about a bunch of academics who sit around and shake their dicks at paper?

‘My Process is…’ blah blah blah. Dick, meet paper, paper, meet dick.

Or worse–the new writers of the post po-mo era: ‘ As a woman, I stirve to,’ blah blah blah–then’ let’s talk about my vagina.

BORING, capital BORING, and then, OPRAH.

NO narrative is safe from these people–no words are precious, no ideas original, as all of them are heavily invested in the control of the narrative. They are so desperate for readable thought that they co-opt it from birth, and try to insert their propaganda into the nipples of new mothers.

They seek to lock fathers away, lest their sperm fall freely out of their pants, and crawl to a pace where ideas can be expressed without state narratives, or power and control narratives taking the first place cup-and then, drinking that cup for digestive reasons (so they will tell YOU).

But, nope–nothing scares the state narrative more than words–words unfettered by state control, and eugenic designs.

Nothing, at all, more than this.

 

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