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“I actually had some stinky pussy my first time and it turned me off to that shit.”
Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to force upon you all of our old dying traditions, in hopes that they may keep you trapped in an ancient, unevolved way of life, to hate and to scorn, in sickness, and in death, until the divorce papers are signed, amen. It’s amazing to me the things we choose to hold onto from our past ancestry, and the things that don’t quite make it through the filter. I understand that back in the day it was necessary, and a way to gain power. Back in the day when we were torturing people by disfiguring their genitals with searing hot hooks and rods, crushing their skulls until their eyes popped out, and maiming their limbs until they passed out from the pain, only to revive them just so you can put them out of their misery. The same misery you inflicted on them in the first place for believing in something you did not. Back in the day when marriage meant the joining of two countries in a pact of blood and child birth. Back in the day when if you made it to the ripe old age of 30, you were considered an elder, and wise beyond your years, and the average life expectancy was no more than 18 years. But seriously, why do we cling onto these dead traditions? I’m all about remembering the past so we don’t make the same stupid mistakes, but isn’t that what we’re all doing? It seems to me that now a days, life is just one mistake after another, with no rhyme or reason to why we do it, all we know is that it feels right. How can something so goddamn wrong and destined for failure trick so many people into falling into the jaws of that which will eventually eat us up and shit us out? I guess that’s just another part of being human.
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