At this point, I could never become like most people, even if I wanted to do so:

Several reasons:

1. I was a particularly friendless, alienated child.  My ‘family’ were basically a gaggle of functionally-illiterate, racist, drunks/junkies etc., who were all desperately trying to live FAR beyond their financial “means” – even if it destroyed us.  My (idiot, burned-out drunk) “father” had moved us out to a shitty little suburb which only existed at all, because a significant proportion of the local “white” population didn’t want to live anywhere near “Rickins” (IE: those of Puerto Rican ancestry).  A family of “rickins” had moved in down the block, so “Dad” decided to systematically piss away what had previously been my “college fund”, on the down-payment on the house, and two (equally unfordable) automobiles.

At any rate; I was ALREADY intelligent enough to find nothing to “respect” about any of my “elders”.  The whim-ridden “White Trash” surrounding me disgusted me beyond anything I could articulate at the time.

We may have (often) lived on borderline-rancid pasta scavenged from Mom’s job at the  local pasta factory for weeks at a time, but somehow there was always money for my Dad’s beer and the endless cartons of cigarettes my parents both chain-smoked their way through every few days.

(So, yeah: my idiot “parents” didn’t give two shits about me, even back then.)

I later learned (from my “dad”) that the primary reason he sucked at parenting had to do with the fact that he essentially blundered drunkenly into “fatherhood”.  As he put it, his primary issue has always been that he “doesn’t like condoms”.  My ignorant cunt of a “mother” also admitted that the only reason she and Dad even married in the first place, was because she deliberately stopped taking birth-control pills, so as to end up pregnant, and  (hopefully) “trap” him into marrying her, to provide a “father figure” for my idiot, heroin-addict half-brother.

So, yeah: literally the only “good” thing I have to say about my “parents” is: they were (mostly) too apathetic to even bother being physically abusive.

This is why eventually ending up as a “latch-key kid” didn’t really faze me: at least I didn’t have to listen to their idiotic shrieking.

My “mother” spent my entire childhood (and teen years) mollycoddling and lying to ensure that my idiot, heroin-addict half-brother never actually faced any sort of consequences for his antics.  By his own admission, he was essentially chronically truant pretty much continuously from the age of 12 on.  (He somehow managed to “cut” large chunks of class-time from 7th grade onward.  Eventually, he dropped out completely at 16 (although to be honest, he hadn’t really been attending much at all, for over two years before that.)

By his own admission, his lifestyle consisted mostly of ditching class, weed/pills/heroin/drunk off his ass, small-scale shoplifting, and vandalism of various rots.

(The only reason he even bothered to attend school at all, was to bully other students, so they would give him money).

My “mom” (being the idiotic, enabling pig she has always been) somehow managed to cover most of this bullshit up.  Thus, my idiot, heroin-addict half-brother (to the extent that he was ever “gainfully employed” at all) has worked exclusively in jobs which require essentially no skills or qualifications of any kind.  (For example: third shift “Murry’s steaks”, delivering pizzas, etc. — supplemented by  the occasional drug-deal.

(I’m not sure if he does that kind of thing anymore: I haven’t bothered to have contact with the junkie psychopath since he accused my wife and I of attempting to murder my Mom for her then-husband’s life insurance money — and then physically attacked me in my own mother’s driveway.)

At any rate: my “mother” has always bent over backwards to mollycoddle her special little junkie psychopath.  She has also told me in no uncertain terms that IF there had been an abortion-clinic located nearby, she would likely have “chosen” to terminate the pregnancy (by having me aborted).

So, yeah.

At any rate: I simply cannot lie to myself, by giving any sort of preference to “blood kin”.  The closer someone is to be my “blood”, the more I loathe them — with good reason.

So, there’s the first major difference between myself, and pretty much everybody else I’ve ever encountered: most people delude themselves into believing that “blood is thicker than water”.  I recognize the fact that the only thing blood is “thicker than, is the two liquidy shits shits I can’t bring myself to give, about the junkie psychopath, *AND* his idiot, shrew Enabler.

I recognize that the most likely outcome for my “mother” is: kidney failure, dialysis, missing dialysis treatments because the junkie psychopath is “nodded out” on heroin’, — her lying dead for days before the junkie imbecile manages to discover that fact, etc.


The clincher?  There probably won’t be anything left after the stupid bitch is dead.  I’m not just talking about the “reverse mortgage” scam (although that’s a definite possibility): I’m talking about the fact that Mom’s most recent husband (Frank) had run up shit-tons of credit-card debt, which Mom was whining about right after he died.  I’m also talking about the fact that (so far as I can determine from online searches and suchlike), the property itself was re-mortgaged at some point during 2015.  Most likely (given my idiot, heroin addict half-brother’s typical antics over the years and the fact that as of November 2013 he had managed to reduce the property to the sort of cluttered hell-hole state it was in before Mom first married Frank, in many ways — the two upstairs rooms crammed floor-to-ceiling with trash, the upstairs plumbing rendered unusable for some reason I am unwilling to even contemplate, etc. — the property is most likely being destroyed by his idiotic antics/drug-addled “friends”.

As I’ve said elsewhere, your “relatives” can only ever offer you two things:

1. If not “love”/”Admiration”/”nurturing” etc, then at least the basic respect and mutual dignity they would (hopefully) extent to a total stranger.

2. The opportunity to “inherit” their  physical/financial assets (if any) in the event of their deaths.


My “relatives” have already irremediably squandered #1.  As to #2?  It is exceedingly unlikely that there WILL be any “assets” left.

Which brings me to my question: exactly WHY SHOULD I pretend to “love” or “respect” individuals who never “loved” or “respected” me?  Exactly why SHOULD I continue to “enable” a junkie psychopath who — in a sane and rational culture — would have DIED ALONE, IN THE GUTTER decades ago?

Why, in short, should I willingly cut my own throat?

An acquaintance posed the question to me recently, as to whether I would consent to donating a kidney if one of my relatives “needed” one, in order to survive.


Under NO circumstances would i ever do so.  I would be infinitely more likely to donate a kidney to a random stranger, MERELY because said stranger had never had the opportunity to mistreat me.

As I said before: the closer one is related to me by “blood”, the more I UTTERLY LOATHE that individual.

What I’m getting at is: none of the standard social “conditioning” actually “works” on me, at this point.  I don’t get choked up about the various (manufactured) “holidays” dedicated to “blood kinship”: “Mothers” day, “Fathers” day, etc. — because I am simply too aware of the fact that the vast majority of “parents” blunder into that “role” through ignorance or ineptitude.  The only ones who are genuinely “trying” to “become parents” are THOSE UNDERGOING VARIOUS “FERTILITY”-RELATED MEDICAL PROCEDURES, OR THOSE ATTEMPTING TO ADOPT.

The others?  They were horny, so they fucked.  They either neglected to use contraception, the contraception failed for some reason, or the failed to abort.


I’m not going to claim that I ‘wish” I could be as ignorant/deluded as others in this regard — because I don’t.  I simply cannot manage the level of dishonesty (willful ignorance) that would require.










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