Game Over, Man

If this is the shit people want to watch, and this is what gets people hard, or wet (equal opportunity sexual responses), then fuck entertainment.

I'd rather bitch-pout.

But seriously, the Netflix movie pissed me off.

I'm not angry because of snakeskinning condoms full of huge cumshots being ladled into the drug-addled mouth of Anders Holm. Like a baby bird that doesn't want its worm.

I'm not angry because of castrated penises loafing around. Or ears and faces sawed off with deli slicers. Or erotically asphyxiated dicks hanging out. Or an exposed ball sack draping over a vulnerable male sphincter.

I'm a millennial. That's comedy as we know it.

When Shocking Gets Boring

Despite it's attempts at shock value, Game Over, Man was somehow boring. A big, cold shit I couldn't stop sniffing.

No, I'm not angry because a skinny couldn't-give-a-fuck billionaire tossed the hairy salad of a Sam-from-Game-of-Thrones-looking "fatass."

That scene was a gem. And I'm a fan of the trio in general.

I'm not angry because people are watching garbage. Reading garbage. Consuming garbage.

That's life. It's how the world has always been.

I'm just fucking angry.

Angry that I watched the whole fucking thing.

Angry that I'm bitching about it.

Angry that I'm feeling butthurt because my dreams have more plot than that movie (to be fair, my dreams are fairly lucid, and inexplicably vivid).

Angry that I have a list of 141 stories that can open people's minds, stories that can wake people up to higher levels of consciousness and intelligence, and they're just sitting in my notebooks. With numbers attached.

Angry because fuck it, there's ten thousand other creatives like me who will never be known. Angry because I'm starting to be ok with that.

Angry because of the world right now.

Angry because I'm even capable of thinking, "Fuck humans. I'm out."

Angry that I only say that because it's easy. Because, for a moment, I get away with something so easy.

Oh, the relief: "Fuck humans. I'm out."
And now, the reality: "I'm in. I'm 100% in. And humans will fuck me for it."

Angry because dicks everywhere should be cut off so we can put an end to this miserable excuse for an "intelligent" species.

Angry because I don't have the balls to believe that.

Angry because technically only one of my balls believes it (the lower hanging fruit).

Angry because the idealist in me still thinks humanity, as a whole, not just the sensitive creators, or the hardened visionaries, but people, all those people who need to stop peopling, has potential.

Angry because I love people.

Angry because my people love me.

Angry because, for these reasons, I'm not going to quit until I get good ideas out there, and contribute to intelligent entertainment, change the way people think, feel, and it's not going to be easy, when all I really want to do is leave this planet, and go back to wherever I came from.

Angry because that's just a fantasy. I'm human, too. And a part of me liked it.

Angry because I know anger isn't the answer, but it feels so fucking good.

It feels like fire. Like electricity. The fuel I need to write each post. To keep going. Writing. Writing. Writing. Until someone reads this.

The Sequel: Restart Button, Bro

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Why I'm giving away all my ideas: https://steemit.com/introduceyourself/@caincallen/hey-steemians-inventor-and-ghostwriter-here-sharing-why-i-have-to-give-away-all-my-ideas

Tribe of Creators: https://steemit.com/steemit/@caincallen/where-all-the-woke-ass-steemians-at-calling-all-thinkers-creators-inventors-brainstormers