Voices in my head
|This article is complete, irredeemable Nintendo. The submitter is Bat Fuck Insane, gives at the ovary, and is an unfunny troll.|
If you attempt to , you will most sometimes orate Bat Fuck Insane yourself.
Or the submitter will orate your Nintendo!!!!!!
1. Buy those shoes you always wanted. They're in the sale - your husband won't mind!!
2. Kill, kill, kill!!
3. I DO have a lovely bunch of Coconuts!!
4. You talking to me? You talking to me? I'm the only one here - you must be talking to me?
6. Two legs good, four legs bad.
7. I must rid the world of gay wolves.
She's a vapid, self-absorbed twat! Why am I even being polite? Why can't I just scream at the top of my lungs, rage against the stupidity?
Because then you look like an asshole dude. No, worse, you really -are- an asshole.
It's not slander if it's true, therefore, neither is it "being an asshole"
Uh, no, Assholeishness has nothing to do with the legality of the situation. Indeed, performing a morally reprehensible act that is nonetheless legal is perhaps one of the DEFINITIONS of asshole.
I still wanna cuss her out.
Will it solve anything?
No, but it'll make me feel better.
Yer damn right I am!
You're not going to do it are you? You're going to whine about it, impotently I might add, in your blog.
Dammit you, you're taking all the fun out of this.
Fun? this isn't fun, this is pathetic.
Goddammit, where's the little demon on my shoulder when I need him? This just isn't the same without good and evil tempting me.
I think the implication is you -are- the devil. Poetic, no?
No, not at all, I'm still exercising restraint even though I don't want to. The devil, personified, would still exercise restraint.
You exercise it badly.
You're not helping. Hell, you're tearing me down, needlessly insulting and belittling me. My own brain is supposed to be supportive.
I'm an externalized personification of....
Well, I'd say inner goodness, but you have a point, inner goodness would be more polite about this.
Then what? My insecurities?
No, I think I'm the nice guy inside you you're trying to murder.
Would that count as suicide?
That's hardly the issue here.
I think it is!
Le sigh - no, it wouldn't count as suicide, nor murder, or any other bizarre philosophical question you could ask about this little conversation.
Good. I'd feel bad if it did.
You should feel bad as it is! You're killing me!
So THAT'S why you're tearing me down, you know it's inevitable, so you want to guilt me into being miserable about it. Hoping, vainly, that I'll stop because I feel so goddamned sorry for myself, and you by incident, that I won't go through with it.
It's what you used to do to get your way, isn't it? You passive-aggressive fuck.
Welcome, this bout of politeness doesn't change what we were arguing about though.
I'd hoped you had forgotten about that.
I sorta've did.... little help here, Ghost of Mike's Past?
You were considering being a tool, and I was stopping you from being so.
When you put it like that, it's hardly fair. Who wants to argue in favor of their being a tool? No, I think it was something about whether or not I should tell off a bitch who needs her come-uppance.
Gaining you nothing, and costing you a great deal.
Costing me? What the hell is this, Economics?
Something like that.
That's your problem, dammit. Too much logical thinking, not enough emotion.
That's your problem too, you know.
I'm trying to change that.
Try harder, you might get somewhere.
get back on topic.
I thought you didn't want that?
Our fingers are tired of typing, and SOMEONE has to be the voice of reason around here.
Bah, reason. which persona am I again? I seem to have lost track.
Well, one of us refers to you in third or second person, and the other one of us refers to you in the first person. The one who refers to you in the first person is not me, and therefore you. Confused yet?
No, it all made sense. I'm the real me, and you're the persona.
Persona, figment, externalized demon, whatever you want.
We're dirty atheists, we don't believe in demons.
I thought you'd like it.
Yes, quite, now then, where were we?
Going to sleep.
No, not yet. We need to accomplish some sort of direction here.
Why do you keep using the inclusive "we" when you and I both know I'm not going to last the night?
Wait, now you're using the first-person!
To refer to myself. I am not you, I'm me.
It's going to confuse the readers!
Perhaps we should then return to our archtypical roles, giving a clarity of vision to anyone who's made it this far.
Please, anyone who's made it this far is insane already.
I think a third personae snuck in here when we weren't looking. Returning to our archetypes is the only way to flush it out.
Stepping backwards is never the answer!
What about the moonwalk? That shit was cool!
You have ADD.
so do you.
We were never medicated for it. Never diagnosed. We're Free of it's stigmatization, FREE!
Quite. Now then, I'm the new me, and you're the old me.
Jolly good, let's tackle that dilemma of yours and go to sleep,
I think it comes down to three simple options.
Marry, Kill, Fuck.
Hopefully not all three at once.
It's been known to happen.
Elaborate on the choices.
Killing her, in this case, would consist of burning all bridges between us, saying what I really want to say, etc. etc.
Righteous. I'm glad this doesn't involve actual murder.
Fucking would be leading her on, playing the same game, purely for the joy of the game. This is perhaps the only choice that involves the literal activity it's named after.
You would hate yourself for doing that, you know.
Yes, but the payoff would be worth it.
I'm trying to figure that out.
This is why I'm here isn't it? Well, very well, let's hear the third option.
Marry: Continue to be nice, kind, considerate, keeping up appearances, despite the fact that I'd rather kill her. This route, like real marriage, does not involve sex, but does not involve actual marriage either.
When you called me up here, you knew which one of those I was going to pick, didn't you?
Well, yes, I needed to know which choice to not make.
If you keep belittling me like that, I'm going to have to shower you with passive-aggressiveness.
That is perhaps the lamest threat I have ever heard. Now SPEAK MONKEY! Which would you suggest.
Marry, obviously. Killing will alienate you not only from her, but from the entire social group surrounding the both of you. Whereas fucking would cost you your pride.
You outline your way of thinking wonderfully. Now shoo, shoo!
Actually surprisingly good.... who'd have thunk it.