Hey All, Best Read This First:
Greetings and a warm welcome to my blog.
First things first
This blog contains words and references offensive to those who never made it through the maturation process.
The intellectually and psychologically impaired will find nothing here to enjoy.
If this applies to you, dear reader, you're welcome, and strongly encouraged to leave now. No hard feelings on my part.
I'm trying to make this clear to the 'boo hoo brigade". If you CANNOT grasp this simple concept. This page is NOT FOR YOU
REPEAT: WARNING: BLACK IRONY. NASTY SELF PISS TAKING HUMOUR. FUCK OFF NOW IF YOU CANNOT UNDERSTAND THIS. I WON'T MIND. EVER.
*PS: I'm pro Palestinian, pro animal rights in a way that pisses many people off. You should consider fucking off now if you object to this kind of thing.
PS This blog is not really fit for human consumption, it's best read as it was written, drunk on vodka or otherwise high as a kite...Enjoy...
This is the first of a series of posts about violence and criminality. The aim is to explore the relationship between violence, criminals and society.
I've always been a bit fascinated with criminals. Having been diagnosed with "Borderline Personality Disorder" (Whatever the fuck that's supposed be) by a distinctly unappealing psych based on a battery of questionaires I blundered through, I kind of see the connection with their disparate lives and mine. I try to find common space with all people regardless of their backgrounds, but the truth is, I'm always more comfortable with "The Oustsider". Shiny Happy Disney People just bore the living shit out of me. I find myself wondering if they're not some kind of Android Automation with a wind up key in their backs and a "Made in China" sticker stuck on their twats. Well, I'm a bit of a cunt myself, so I don't really hold it against them. See, it's the "common space" thing. You am I, I am, unfortunately for the both of us, you. You see? Clear as mud.
There was a stereotypically clever French man, (I forget his name, but I'll certainly find out for you) who said, "Society gets the criminals it deserves" well, like most of his frog kind, he's absolutely right (I really loathe the French, they always say the right thing, so smug, so smart, I just fucking hate 'em, Give back Alsace and whatever else you frogs stole and I'll ease up. Fuckers) Anyway... I feel nothing but sympathy for Charles Manson, Panzram, Kurtin, and even the revolting and vile Fritz Haarman. (I'll include links to some great info about these Monarchs of Madness when I've finished this series of posts). Their crimes were appalling, but the crimes commited against them were worse. They were young, defenceless, frightened. They endured horrific abuse for years. Their most impressionable years were spent at the mercy of state sanctioned sadists, such as parents, orphanages, childrens' prisons. I'm going to provide evidence (whatever that can mean to anyone) for these assertions, don't worry.
So why are people as they are? How have you arrived at the person you are at this moment? Are you angry? fucked up in the head? bitter? happy? satisfied/unsatisfied? lots of things make you the way you are. Most things you have no control over. You might think you have, but you don't. Well, very often, but not always, (it can't be proved either way, unless you have access to every relevant detail) people who commit crimes of extreme violence are products of backgrounds that are more one way than the other. That is, they grow up in environments of extremes. Extremes of violation, humiliation, poverty, violence, mental disturbance, psychological dysfunction and deprivation. Lots of things, almost anything. But always extremes.
Are people good, evil or just plain mad, bad and sad? I think we're all of these things. Every one of us. Some of us are more one way by disposition. Most of us can be driven to anything. It's always a question of power and lack of it. What does the worst of monstrous psychological derangement look like? It looks like this:
This is what was left of the White Chapel Murderer's ("Jack the Ripper") final victim, Mary Kelly. He cut her up, filleted parts of her to the bone. Disembowelled her, then, shits for giggles, decorated the room with her innards.I don't think anyone can look at her remains without wishing they could have saved her, spared her this. Underneath the human monster is an animal of emotion, some measure of intelligence and feeling. So why do this to each other? Why are we like this? There's no denying we do it. It happens time and time again. It happens in war, in peace, in times of deprivation, in times of plenty.
Well, I guess, I'm going to do my best to show you that violent criminals travel in the same time and emotional space you do. They are you and me, and you and me are they. Except for one difference: they got the shit luck of the draw. And we left them to their fate.
Cheers n Luv
PS. Cos I'm a white male, I know what's best for everyone, especially ignorant 3rd world garbage. My advice is: stay as healthy as you can, don't take your health for granted, once it goes, life's as good as fucked.
PPS: Does it really even matter if your life's fucked? I dunno. That's a question only God can answer. And She seems to be on permanent holiday since Her Son got nailed.
PPPS: God is surely a woman. Only a woman could have produced this screaming bloody infantile mess. How else to explain human nature?
PPPPS: If you don't believe me about God being a woman, take a look at this painting entitled : The Origin of the World painted by Gustave Courbert. Those Damn French! (Kinky Smug Sons of Bitches) Now you'll have to believe me.
Posted by Belladonna at 9:08 AM
I hope life's been as good as it ever gets for all of you. I'm annoyed I didn't blog anything for Christmas. It often crossed my mind but Hey Ho, I was busy as all fuck.
2010 ended brilliantly for me. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful finish to a uh "mixed year". Some great things happened. Some really shit things happened. But all up, the scales finally swung into balance. Spectacularly so. Yee hay.
I didn't bother making New Year's Resolutions. Did you? Cos I'm a vegan (with the exception of free range eggs), my shit doesn't stink anyway. What the fuck do I need to resolve to do? Nothing. Pure as the driven snow.
While I'm on the subject of blogging, all blogging is a dull excercise in vainglorious bullshit. Saying it's for charity, cutsie poo blah blah blah nonsense doesn't make it any less of an excercise in nauseating excreta. My blog's no exception.
Um, well, what to tell you? My cunt of an uncle's coming to stay next week. I don't even like being in the same room as the filthy piece of shit. He's the kind of person though, if you deny him anything, he puts the worst complexion on it, draws the nastiest conclusions, and then spreads them to all and sundry. Gosh that character trait reminds me of people I used to tweet with. Anyway... as aforestated, he's simply, a cunt.
Normally I'd just go (for his privacy I'll simply call him Uncle Cunt) "Sorry Unky Cunt, I'm ah, watching an elephant fuck a pig next week, you can't stay. Sorry dude. You're out of luck. Kthnxby"
But I'm leaving the UK soon, and as I'd rather cut my throat than ever return here, it really doesn't matter if Uncle Cunt stays a few days, I'll never see him again. I don't even like being in the same room as the sleazy prick. My partner, with whom I signed a "Civil Partnership" in the late afternoon of the 24th of Dec last year is a pretty imposing 194 cm of pure muscle, gorgeous Teutonic specimen. Uncle Cunt (who lacks all physical courage) won't fuck with either of us.
Well, Kiddies. I didn't want to bang on ad nauseum. So I'll keep it short, (if not quite sweet) and wish you all the very best for the year ahead. I've been lucky beyond words. Finally I'm drug free.
My past is very different to most peoples', it's not something I wanted the world knowing about, neither in social media nor in private life, but for a few diff reasons, I no longer care. Fuck everyone. I'm happy. The first 18 years of my life were pure hell, the ones after that (I'm 23 now) wern't that easy either; just less desperate.
Cheers n Luv
Belladonna (Fudge is my Cat. I composed this post, not my cat)
Posted by Belladonna at 4:36 PM