***Boring Editorial***

I seriously understand what Ellis is saying, but I don’t agree with him. If anything, TJ is a chronicle of GSSM life: a captain’s log from a perverted Enterprise, if you will. This log cannot omit anything in favor of moral obligations- it should mirror Govie life in all of its aspects, beautiful and hideous. It’s pretty common knowledge that GSSMs like to prod their fellows, but that’s an integral part of the system. Personally, I think it’s unchangeable, and even if it is changed, you’ll all be watered down Govies. Without some amount of darkness, you can never appreciate how damn keen the light is.

Keep Transfinite Joy up. It makes you happy. It makes us happy. Accept that it will fuck up. And now, on with the show…

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The USC Report

Or

I Fucking Hate A Lot Of People

 

I do.

Or

A Poem, Instead…

Whoa. Haven’t written a poem in a while now. This one is my attempt at summarizing life at USC. I wrote in ten minutes ago, so it isn’t simply marvelous, but it’s more primal and raw that way. You want background info to comprehend it? Fuck you. Well, not "fuck you" so much as "screw you," really. I also do not give you permission to question the almighty potato metaphor. Here it is:


USC
Potato-face girls are not for French frye boys-
People that look like they got burlap sacks
For faces, with death inside to match.
* * *
Baked, baked but not by the sun.
Got baked until the stove ran dry,
Then sat and watched the eclipse go by.
In tin foil next to Jesus’ son.
Got sick of him and sick of me.
He said that he liked sour cream.
I couldn’t help but think it fitting,
Though the chives made me hate the sitting;
Not necessarily Him.
* * *
The gimp gives potatoes free range.
They tie his hands and cannibalize.
Potato features interchange,
But always the same potato eyes.
Waffle fryes, late-night breakfast.
I hop along the road less taken-
The path in which talk-dry vampires
Order the soup du jour,
Praying it comes du jour.
And if it doesn’t, there’ll be no tip.
And if there’s no tip, then I won’t know what to do
About all these potato people who aren’t French fryes.
And if I don’t know what to do then
I guess I don’t really care-bear stare
That fucking much at all anyway.