For Those Of You Doubting, This Is "Hello".

If you were doubting, this is "Hello". 

If you were doubting, this is "hello". 

I am much too cynical for my age, or so I believe. Innocent fun has seemed to disappear because I can't dumb myself down to partake in it. But who cares, I know I sure don't. In fact I love it and to think I'd rather have my mind any other way is a sheer cow feces.

Any ways, enough with all this metaphysical BS. I am a disciple of Kurt Vonnegut and the rebellious American youth (trademark). I have the power to question everything and believe in nothing.

Bleehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ugh I feel as though I have to think and try just to get my thoughts out! Oh flippancy, how tortuous it would be to have all your feelings and opinions be trapped inside. Just think, being able to hear and see everything around you in THIS WORLD (wink wink) and not be able to bash every part of it?! Oh the misery. I dare not to consider such a fate.

Lets slow down here though, I think it is just at the right time for me to introduce myself. My name at birth or at least the one given by my dear old mother was and still is to this day Tiberius Maximus. Yet the people closes to me call me Tom.

My political views are simple. I like to follow the beliefs of the small amazonian village, Wakitahulahoop. The Wakitahulahoopians, for those who may not be familiar, live in a small clearing of the rain forrest where there is a hill. The men work, the women clean, and the children play with pots and pans. At the end of every week all the elected government officials march down the hill with their large hats to the village people and take all that they have made. All the goods are then collected together and redistributed in a ratio of what was given. Roughly 7:1 in most modern day estimates. Thus saying for every 7 goods made, the villagers get to keep 1. In turn the villagers become enraged and unite together with a common enemy. Seeing as they are about to be sacked, the government officials, from their hilltop, through poop down on the villagers to quite their tempers. The poop in turn, fertilizes the soil, produces the harvest, and continues the cycle of united rancid villagers. 
Of course there is more to the Wakitahulahoop Tribe, but they have served there purpose for me today


Now I must end my introduction because I frankly have lost the urge to write anymore. Though I promise to continue soon.


And as honestly as I can think to say it: Goodbye.