Fucking retarded dinosaurs with laser

I have never been one to beat around the bush when it comes to saying what is on my mind. I have always spoken my mind and the fact that I have very nearly been punched a couple of time for just uttering the thought currently rummaging through my mind. More so when I am inebriated. I however do retain the basic decency to not call a down syndrome child a retard. I have however called numerous people retards even though I was sure they were not in actual fact a fucking retard, they were acting as such at the time.
What really pisses me off is that a couple of retarded radio DJs had a discussion on the topic and kept referring to people with disabilities as differently abled...Differently fucking abled!!!! What in baby zombie jesus are differently abled individuals. That’s like saying “good day sir! You are now blind; you are now able to not see! Congratufuckinglations!” Or “sir you were in a horrendous bus accident, but look on the bright side you are now able to sit...constantly and shit yourself.”
Now some may argue that this is a more politically correct way of saying but then I would beg to differ. In the way I would like to slap the person who though up the stupid Pc term with his own oesophagus after I ripped it out with my feet. See now being able to rip someone’s oesophagus out with your feet that’s differently abled.Oscar pistorius's flappy paddle feet that makes him faster than normal athletes that's differently abled. A dinosaur with lasers on his back. That’s differently abled (and immensely fucking cool)
If your disabled your disabled, there is no nicer way of putting it. My question is should there be?

That kid on the bus always had a smile on...

Residing in Cape Town has had its ups and downs. The weather here in winter, undeniably, on the down side of the spectrum. It is not so much the weather but what happens to my spirit when placed in a cold dark windy place. I inevitably turn into that person I use to be when I still spent allot of time contemplating life and its mysteries. Depression my dear Watson, depression.

I have been contemplating the depression that contemplation brings me and have come to this conclusion; a thinking man is a depressed man. Or otherwise put; Dumb = Happy. Now I’m not saying dumb as in that "Special needs" kid you once saw on the bus. Just blatantly and merrily ignorant.

Happy people are inevitably people who don’t ponder much, or if they do ponder it is almost always about irrelevant things that mass media has forced down their mind throat, if there were such a thing. What to wear, do these jeans make me look fat, are ‘token teen dream hunk’ and ‘token girl next door’ going to make up in season 328. Irrelevant thought spewed forth by irrelevant minds.

The worst thing of course is that thinkers would rather be out with other thinkers chatting away till the morning comes, I know I would love to. Unfortunately you go out and all you run into are the others. People all just out to have a good time, slam back 10 shots in 20 minutes and let the non thinking good times roll. I can unfortunately not complain about that, hell I’ve knocked back 10shot many a time and let the stupid commence. I love it. Very non-depressing stuff.

The problem I have is how do you find these likeminded people? In a club? Hell no. On the street? I sure some of the homeless have deep thoughts. In church? No those people lost their ability to think freely years ago.

The problem lies here then, all thinkers find the mankind rather depressing so they tend to stay indoors, unless like me they now and then shut of their brains, by either ignoring it or drowning those annoying little brain cells with Jager.

So when do you stop pondering and feel merry, stop pondering and laugh at that sitcom, stop pondering and get that full night of sleep?

Well damn it, I refuse. I would rather be ridiculously unhappy and retain the ability to think, retain the ability to battle towards enlightenment, and retain my excuse to binge drink on occasion.

To merrily and ignorantly go through life seems like a horrible cop out. So if becoming depressed over all the wrong in the world is my reward for fighting the cognitive fight, so be it. At the risk of sounding like an Emo; I refuse to be happy...and stupid.

But come think of it, that kid on the bus always had a smile on his face.