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It's funny how angry people are to me over jokes I make. Politically. They use the word 'devisive' , I may have spelled that wrong. . . . Politics, by definition is devisive. Antagonistic. We wouldn't need politics if we all were the same person. We're not. Everybody here seems cool about things, but maybe they're hiding beliefs...Only talk about the weather, never bring up politics or religion, I have always heard that. But they've finally did it . . . They've politicized the weather. . . .

Read Keyserling, read Evola, read Fukuyama. Even read David Horowitz. Above all, read Ralph Nader and Douglas Rushkoff . . .

It's our parents. We should think of our political opponents as our parents. That relationship. We're never going to agree, we're never going to get along. But we love each other. I watch E. B. on CNN every night, and she says all kinds of things that seem lame to me, . . . but I'd still have sex with her. . . . That's the way we should deal with our political foes . . . Yeah, they are completely anti-me, but I'd still have sex with them. We should all think of it like that. How much we'd like to have sex with our ideological opponents.


You make me smile, Rowens.
I think Freud was write. It's all about sex and death. Everything can be traced back to anxiety over sex and death. The big death that we all have to face. And sexual anxiety. Everything. Everything that you go through in life. If a man beeps his horn at you when you're crossing the street during a greenlight, jaywalking or whatever it's called. That jolt of anger you get from him honking the horn and giving you a mean dirty look . . . if you think about it, you really wouldn't care what this man thinks about you: but deep in your unconscious mind you're thinking about whether he has a hot wife or daughter, and how him seeing you walking out in front of him like an ignorant bum might hurt your chances of ever having sex with them somewhere down the line. It's all there in Freud.

I think Freud was right/write. Was that a freudian slip? Someone tell me.
Politics is about groups.  Sex and death are about individuals.  The bridge between them is power.

When politics is about individuals, it's corrupt.   Monarchies realize this, and mask the monarch with functionaries and parliaments.

It's not our parents.  It's because we never grew up, and hate them for doing it but never teaching us how.

Freud may not have been much of a scientist, but he was a hell of a storyteller.

Donald Trump has made the mass media a hell of a story teller. Did you know that he spoke Russian? I didn't know that he spoke English. . . . And by the way, do you remember that episode of The Golden Girls from the late '80s where Dorothy had a nightmare that Donald Trump was president?

And you're write about groups, and that line about our parents is good. I also want to say about race, that it's not about race, it's about culture. Nobody truly cares what color your skin is. But there is a big difference whether your neighbor blares Brad Paisley or Jay Z or Wagner at one in the morning. It's all about aesthetics.


Hi. If the guy is driving in his car honking away as I j-walk into his neighborhood, isn’t he leaving his wife and daughter unprotected and ripe for fucking? I’m unconvinced, rowens. My subconscious might not be all that smart but it’s not a moron...
And I also want to say that though the Unconscious Mind, and the ego and the id and all that may be metaphors, that makes them no less real. Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden are no less real for being considered metaphors. Everything I say, even in my real personal life, is a metaphor. I live my life like a Marx Brothers movie. Once we realize that everything, even the concept of death, is only mere poetry we might truly become such a great man as Donald Trump. The Art of the Deal is the art of comedy. Comedy in the Dantean sense. I think if he had been allowed to, Donald Trump would have ran as a Democrat and had said and did the same things, and the Left would have loved him.

It's not about the man driving the car. It's about you. He's driving the car because his father fucked his mother. You have anxiety when he beeps at you because you want to have sex with his wife. Your mama. Why do we say that? Your mama. Your upper lip. Yes, Freud was wrong, we all don't want to kill our fathers and fuck our mothers, but we all want to fuck your mama.
The War never stops. I see and hear it right now out my window on the parking lot. A clash of loud, cigarette deepened and phlegmed, fat, vicious voices. The Unconscious mind always knows more than you do, that's the problem. When it decides to turn against you, what can you do? Project it outward. . . . If one day all the bacteria and individual cells in our body gain consciousness and start yelling for equal rights and parking space in the trailer court, we would almost have to give up.