Zorba the Hutt (zorbathut) wrote,
Zorba the Hutt

It's the Worst Season, so I'm going to rant a little bit. Nothing here is directed to anyone who'll read it, note, so if you're reading it, it's not directed at you.

I mean unless I don't know that you read my LJ in which case I dunno maybe it is.

IRRITATION #1: Goddamn hypocrites.

Look. I know that you hate it when other people are idiots. I hate it too. We talk about how they're idiots, we talk about how they're basically being incredibly awful people. And then you know what, you turn around and do the exact same thing.

"Oh, but it's different when I do it! You see, logically speaking, it's different because" fuck off you just explained how it was never acceptable and now you're making excuses so you can continue being a douche while simultaneously feeling smug and superior.

If you're going to make claims about absolutes, treat 'em like absolutes. If you think it's so relative, then admit it's relative.


Logic is a vengeful she-bitch hellgoddess, born in brimstone and clad in the still-screaming leathered pelts of those who worshipped her imperfectly. She tramples believer and unbeliever underfoot equally, giving quarter only to those who can predict the pattern of her horrible unending dance. If you care to take your place on that blood-soaked floor, be sure that you are willing to follow, not to lead, and someday you may realize the Truth of Truth and become That Which Speaks Fact.

IRRITATION #2: People who refuse to carpe the goddamn diem.

Look, folks. You think you've got a good thing available. Yeah. Might work. Might not. We both know it. So stop being scared and jump for it. Worst-case, it doesn't work, you fall on your face, you get up and dust yourself off and now you're a little more durable. Stop being scared.

You sit around whining about how it might not go perfectly, well, you know what, it ain't gonna go perfectly that way. Hell, it ain't gonna go perfectly no matter what. Life sucks, and then you die, but the bit in the middle is called life. Grab it by the throat and make it yours, sure as hell nobody's going to do it for you.


In a fight between you and the world, at least one of you will get repeatedly punched in the face, and it's you. With work, you can make it both of you. The world isn't going to give quarter, why should you? Rip its entrails out and dance in the red rain, for it would do the same to you in an instant, but with less respect.

Que sera sera.
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