If you live a wretched life your wife will be a Fat Swine who will yield disgusting fat swine female offspring whom she will feed Cheetos and Bud Light from a Trough and the offspring will grow fatter and more disgusting and drunk each day. If you live a noble life you will live as a blessed bachelor lifestyle or have a very beautiful and loving wife who will feed your sons good protein, quinoa, and a well seasoned vegetable at every meal.
Truth yields beauty, falsity yields waste. As I am not yet what would be considered a sociopath I often feel bouts of self doubt in regards to my moral clarity, but since I do live a life of great and noble purpose the Good Lord frequently intervenes and reminds me of my certitude as the Good Lord is a being of pure truth and beauty. I found myself in such a state while very hungover on the wretched red line on the way back from a long day of “work” during which I sent many emails, spoke with great confidence to prospects about a technology I know nothing about, and behaved as a Caddish Rake amongst my female colleagues in order to secure my post with my most dastardly employers.
As I will now expound upon a scene which filled me with great empathy and hope and filled me with the music from a very fine Cavatina, it is of utmost importance that the reader enjoy this fine Cavatina as he reads of my moment of irrational hope as is described below:
I was very hungover as the Wretched Red Line crossed the Bridge from MIT to Mass General Hospital and the sun was very bright as it reflected off of the polluted Liberal Charles River which the Premier Minds in the Social Sciences Cannot Cleanse Despite Their Post at the Premier School for Social Sciences. A very fat white womyn of low breeding whom I assumed was named Debbie as all such women are named Debbie had stuffed herself into Disney World Sweat Pants and a Planet Hollywood Sweatshirt and had dragged her two Swine offspring onboard with her. The womyn had no wedding ring and as no womyn of this caliber is capable of working in the rigorous and remunerative field of sending out mass emails and lying about software it was clear that she was a wench whom subsisted upon the dole and not off of her own labour or seduction of dastardly capitalists.
I viewed the offspring. One was a very young girl with lovely curly blonde hair and a cherubic face which was already turning porkish from a steady diet of Dr. Pepper and Jerkied Beef and also perhaps Oreo’d cookies. The young girl was of such a level of cherubic character that my heart immediately softened and I heard the Cavatina which now graces your ears and which you enjoy unless you are a Democrat who only enjoys Rick Ross as he chants about Herpes ridden vaginal and also anal intercourse.
Debbie also had a son who seemed to have about ten years. The son seemed quite intelligent, shy, and protective of his family which will most likely be his undoing.
I was so struck by the beauty of these children that I began to fret mightily; had my criticisms of the social programmes of this land been premature? Had I become so Dastardly a Rake that I had lost any ounce of empathy in my soul? Was my soul now as black as the skin of a Somali cab driver who doesn’t know Southie from the South End?
As I live a life of reason and goodness, the Good Lorde quickly intervened to quell my unrest; the cherubic girl vomited mightily upon the floor of the train a good quantity of stomach bile, KFC and perhaps also butter and her bovine mother began to push the expulsion beneath her seat with her very very fat fat feet which I am surprised could support her gargantuan weight.
Does the Devil not often present himself in a form which invokes our highest emotions and sympathies such that he may destroy us in our vulnerable and sympathetic state?
In the concoction of bile KFC and butter I saw the 40% of my life earnings and therefore my time that would be verily shoveled from my accounts and into the degenerate stomach of this young swine who would no doubt be compelled to breed such that 50% of the next generation of earnings of gentleman bachelors such as myself could be shoveled down her offspring’s throats.
40% of my emails, 40% of my nonsensical software pitches, 40% of my days which could be spent studying classical piano or shooting foxes would be subsumed so that this family of pink-faced hogs could continue to purchase Planet Hollywood Sweatshirts and breed.
Whereas I would feed my family quinoa, good protein, and well seasoned vegetables, I am forced to toil to maintain their wretched diet and Prole vacation excursions for absolutely no reason other than I am forced to and this state of affairs is an absolutely satanic one as the Goode Lorde reminded me on the Wretched Red Line as I was very hung over.
As I was divinely reminded of my moral clarity I have invoked a prayer in thanks to the Goode Lorde:
I Pray a Dire Mosfurtine Befalls Both Your Fat Ass and the Fat Asses of Your Puking Children such that My Children May Prosper Far Beyond Yours Both in Finances and Fertility