The Survival Of The Anger.

Last night I devoted myself to doing everything I shouldn’t do.  I almost nearly destroyed the battery of my phone tweet raging to Kurt Eichenwald who is little more than a simple minded hood twit. I could just slap myself for letting myself get taken it by such a digi troll. Do you know that angry dim motherfucker? She is quite simply not really with us anymore. I mean she was never really ‘with it’, but since last Tuesday, the date we shall never again mention, Sunshine has really just gone and detached herself from reality I mean.

Going off on the sweet Susan Sarandon who has done nothing but speak her mind as she saw fit and he responds with the bullying jabs of an aging, fattening soon be diabetic ex-fratboy? The dick. And calling the ‘Bernie or busters’ ‘arrogant, willfully ignorant and narcissistic’ as though he doesn’t even know what a mirror looks like. I mean I could have just had at his face.

I don’t fool myself into thinking that my tweet rampages do any good. In fact I know they do the opposite. They redirect my energies where they are least valued, where they do the least constructive good, and consequently result in me neglecting more basic things like eating and hydrating myself. But I indulge all the same, and as long as I don’t do it too often I tell myself that I am doing alright, but if the Donald keeps Tweeting I am seriously out of it altogether just like I was never ‘in’ Facebook.

As much as I lost my shit last night, and as much as honey badger doesn’t give a shit I didn’t go anywhere near the level of ape shit that Kanye West went last night. I mean that is some dedicated next level, opportunistic, cynical, cover your own ass, pay attention to me because I still harbor some delusions that I still matter bullshit. There is absolutely nothing I did last night that goes anywhere near that.