Take a Peak Behind the Mask

"Success is the sole earthly judge of right and wrong."- Adolf Hitler

Saturday, December 18, 2010


Can you feel the holiday cheer? It's all around this feeling of 'happiness' that pervades our society. A time of year known for joy and giving and all the bullshit that is supposed to separate us from the apes. I don't get it. Do I hate it? Well, I suppose that depends.

Do I have to go anywhere? Do anything? Get anyone presents?

I don't have to list for you the damnable aspects of Christmas time. You've heard it all. Us pessimists are anything but individually unique in our assessments.

The problem for those around me has always been, 'what do you get someone who doesn't want anything?' Nothing tangible anyway. I've always, always, always. From the moment I could think coherently. I have always wanted power, in some form or another.

Now don't get all dramatic with me, I don't mean Wonder Woman or Super Man kind of power, but power just the same. Control. Control over the people around me and conversely, control over myself. This has translated itself into a lot of hard work and ambition on my part. Many would say that's a good thing. I see no reason to disagree.

It is tough this time of year, avoiding attention. Now you may be thinking a Narcissist like myself would love attention but if I haven't previously made it clear to you, I in no way embrace the narcissistic side of my personality. I acknowledge it, I tolerate it. But I do not embrace it.

Why? Quite simply it's a weakness. One I'd rather do without, but I guess that's life. No one is without flaws. But anyway-attention. It's hard not to get pity this time of year. My apathy is easily translated as 'depression' or 'sadness'. Then all the sudden I am surrounded by hordes of frothing pitiers come to spend time with the poor sad fellow. Hooray.

I wouldn't have the need to manipulate people if they've leave me alone. They leave me no choice really- I am but a victim of a heroic society. That's laughable isn't it!

What a horrible time of year. But at least it's not the Fourth of July.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010


A time for great misery in the forms of overbearing family members and too tight jeans. This along with Christmas is what all that training throughout the year is for. Year round I finely tune my faux smile so that its brilliance can deceive even the most veteran empaths in my family. 'Smile and think of blood' I say to myself. Smile, pretend to be 'happy', show affection and wit, be charming, clever and engaging. Constant reminders, because I need them. It only takes one slip for shit to hit the fan.

Most lies I can tolerate telling, my annoyed apathy almost fuels my desire to succeed in such lies. But the one thing I can't stand- is pretending to like children. It's so extremely important too, what an unlucky weakness for me to have. I can't stand sniveling, whining little brats- and I'm talking about the parents. Don't even get me started on their little inbred spawn. Humans seem to be so emotionally attached to their offspring. It's pivotal to act appropriately around them if you want to blend in.

I'll blather on later, for now I need all the rest I can get. The next 24 are going to be Tartarus.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


Okay, so I've been horribly neglectful- selfish even, in my lack of regular posting this past month. For that I oh so humbly apologize. Sometimes life is an overbearing pimp--greedy and brutal. I don't want it to be, believe me. I'd prefer a much simpler, easier life, where I could lounge about and live prosperous on the backs of the unlucky fuckers beneath me. Unfortunately, that was not to be, at least yet.

I've lost all interest in my current situation, to the point of recklessness. Boredom is an unfortunate side effect of apathy. I know it seems all fun and games but really all it does is give me more work. Think of it like breathing. Right now you are breathing and most likely have no conscious thought of doing so. Imagine having to breathe manually. There are benefits- no panic attacks no hyperventilation, an immunity to the hysteria brought on by strangulation, BUT, you are forever burdened with the constant knowledge of your difference from others. You watch, disgustedly-some might say envyingly, at the Normals as they breathe merrily away, carefree in the knowledge that their subconscious will do the work for them. There are two sides to every coin.

Lately some of my compatriots have taken to calling me Psychopath (hence the title). Of course their use is completely inaccurate and supposedly innocent it does raise questions to the paranoid mind. I am a very paranoid person, it comes with the territory. Society seems to frown on the Perpetually Suspicious, but let me tell you, when your whole life, the very fabric of your 'being' is a lie, you have much to be suspicious of. Every prolonged look is a highly trained PI, every snapped twig a psychiatrist with Straight Jacket in tow. You can never be too careful-that's one cliche I can merrily abide.

"Paranoia is just another word for longevity"- Laurell K. Hamilton

Sunday, October 31, 2010



A time for Empaths everywhere to dress up and pretend to be like me. Fully clothed monsters. It's actually quite flattering. Fun things always happen around the holidays. The sheer mass of people trampled to death on Black Friday every year fills me with unsubstantiated glee.

And of course along with your cleverly put together holiday monsters, Halloween is also a time for true creatures of the night to slither about unmolested. Most particularly those of the Child-loving variety. The one time of year it's not creepy to ask a little boy if he wants some candy and you truly expect these ever-patient and stigmatized individuals to let such an occasion pass?! You wish.

I actually find such people to be fascinating. Children. These people victimize poor innocent little children, which I admit doesn't effect me as I'm sure it should but still-- children? How dull. I've met more than a few child philanderers in my day, mostly as a child, and I must tell you, they are some of the nicest fuckers you will ever meet.

Now I know you're imagining big scary axe wielding predators and I'm not going to deny that, but no one considers how they lure the kiddies in. They're very kind, understanding and oh so vert patient. They're the helpful neighbor of the criminal world. Walking home alone? They'll give you a ride! Lost, can't find your mommy or daddy? They'll lead you right to them! Need a job? You could mow their lawn... and perhaps maybe after you're all hot and sweaty from all that work you could come inside for some ice cold lemonade? It's absolutely obscene.

And the holidays are their favorite time of year. But not just pedophiles-oh lord no. Many of your friendly neighborhood loonies are more than ready to come out to play after a long year of... being looney. These are the crazies that go out on a beautiful night like I'm positive tonight will be, and go and ruin it with their very brutish and amateur psychoreligious murders. Every year we see these ghoulish mortals a few crayons short of a box, on the news, with outrageously delightful headlines scrawled over their orange jumpsuit covered bodies. "Man eats baby, police find mother in oven," "Local army commander enjoys wearing little girl's panties, more at Eleven."

Perhaps it's the moon. If Werewolves can get a bit edgy around a full moon, why can't the rest of us? It stands to reason if a seemingly normal human can violently rip out of his clothes and morph into a rabid dog-creature just by glimpsing it, a man can be influenced by the moon to wear little pink panties. It seems only reasonable.

But maybe I'm just a tad on edge. I do, as you well know, hate the holidays. Happy people, happily prancing around, expecting me to act happy. It's a tough job being a psychopath, and we are sorely unappreciated for our efforts. Much better than being a Kiddie Diddler though, they sure do get all the sour apples. I would hate to have to be on the prowl on such a lovely night as tonight.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

I am.. Upset?

Pissed is more like it. Although I only view anger as a one dimensional tactic. She's gone. Left to some work thing and for about five minutes I admittedly felt slightly off. A bit darker in thinking than I normally am and that is odd. Five whole minutes of a genuine twinge. I am most definitely a creature of habit, change is not my first, middle or last name. Therefore it is an understandable reaction-yet still.

I'm in a poor mood. I don't particularly like it and now you're thinking 'of course you don't like it, moron'. And I respond with 'well you'd be surprised at some of the things I like'. This mood isn't on the list. It happens from time to time- occasionally I let slip my normal self denial that life is in some way meaningful or at least- should be lived through naturally to its conclusion. In reality I don't see the point. Nothing means anything and everything means nothing. I am more interested in the spurting, sluicing sound of the blood from my own carotid as I slice gleefully than the entirety of all the history of my family.

It has nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with boredom. Bored bored bored is what I am and this level of eternal boredom can make you do whacky things. Like kill your whole family but I would never do that. No, I'm much too lazy, really I don't understand the logic behind murder, why go through all the effort of subduing others when you're perfectly full of blood and skin and gore to be flung around the room carelessly yourself? I don't have to duct-tape myself to the chair- I already promised not to struggle. And as surely as I trust my right hand to act as my right hand I trust myself not to fight.

Now you're thinking, 'I am reading insanity'- and that may be true. But really is insanity anything to really flee from? We're all a bit off in our own merry ways and really shouldn't you Empaths be more accepting and the like? Can't you empathize with my psychosis? Shame shame on you if not. God only allows the most patronizing into heaven- something about being 'in his image'.  I don't know, I'm not the expert. Why else would I have hired you?

Anyway now I am here alone and am convinced I'm having some sort of ridiculously ill-timed flashback because you wouldn't believe what I just thought I saw walking through my kitchen. I'll even give you a hint- it has eight tentacles and walks on two legs. Exactly. We're on the same page, I definitely need some help and of course by 'help' I mean more booze.  I wonder what the world record is for self-stabbings? That's not a threat just honest curiousity I mean, damn. That must be one hard world record to break and if you're lucky you MIGHT get like one and a half shots at it. Now there's an Olympic sport I'd watch! They could have their metals affixed to their Urn.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Facade Slip

Revenge is a funny thing. Some say it's a vile, wretched thing and others say it's sweeter than any fruit. I tend to agree with the latter. I suppose one way to define sociopathy is to imagine that wonderful feeling of vengeance except- the person never did anything to you in the first place. Can you picture it?

I don't know why I take so much enjoyment out of the suffering of others. My best deduction is simply- they annoy me. Human beings are more filthy and repugnant than the soggiest rat and more shifty than a cockroach. You bastards can't be trusted. I honestly don't understand the fear toward sociopaths. All we do is play your game better, smarter, and more efficiently than you do. If you didn't lie, connive, deceive and manipulate we wouldn't either. It's like teaching your dog to shit on the rug then beating him for it. Naughty naughty empaths.

The other day a friend of mine said to me, "I don't know why, but I kinda feel like I should be afraid of you." That my friends, is me not doing my job correctly. I mean sure, I have always occasionally come across people who were too intuitive for their own good- but recently I've obviously been slipping, because this hasn't been the only time this year people have questioned my sincerity. Not good.

The interesting thing is none of these times has been when I was in a particularly threatening mood. In fact- both times I was joking around about something. Perhaps I have an evil cackle. That's always a dead give away. Damned empaths and their fairytales- makes them too knowledgeable about villains apparently.

Anyway, what this tells me is my heavy workload is effecting my camouflage. I mean, it's not like I chose a very complex character as my main facade anyway. I chose a very easy to pull off- angry, not-so-nice acting but nice-in-a-way character to portray to peers, and I apparently can't even pull that off. Once again, not good.

Maybe I should switch it up- keep things interesting. I've had to many times before. What will I be this time? Prep, devout christian, geek, nerd, human by day-vampire by night schizoid? The possibilities are endless. I think I'll stick with what I am now. It is after all, the closest to my true personality- that makes it easier. And in case you didn't know, easier is always better.

“It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order - and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order” Douglas Hostadter

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Insanity is a Missed-Night's Sleep Away

According to Einstein the definition of insanity is doing the same thing a million times and expecting a different result. I disagree. Insanity is more like doing the same thing a million times and never expecting a different result. It is that slight twitch in your brow when someone punctures your facade with their irritating presence and you smile outwardly as inside the beast is rattling his cage, begging for release-but once again you must say no.

No No No mister beast, drop the knife and step back into your cage, be a good little beast and sing me a lullaby so perhaps I won't lose my shit and go insane-it's all the rage. I suppose it's the tiredness speaking. Exhausted, weary dreariness. Being nice and good and responsible really isn't my cup of gin. Not when I'm this agitated it's not. No no no. I try to stay well rested because the alternative's a bit off.

Science really is a fascinating thing. Just it itself, nothing in particular about it. The fact that it exists. That some person, in some long ago time just thought to himself one day "how does this work? And also.. how can I explain how this works in the most pretentious, impossible to understand way imaginable?" And science was born.

That's not to say social studies and language arts aren't difficult in their own right- but I'm very good at bullshitting. And that's all writing is. I mean sure, there is nothing remotely special about the writing in this blog-and that's on purpose. I have neither the time, give-a-fuck, or inclination to make this some sort of 'work of art' or some crap like that. Especially since the majority of the time when I start posting on here I'm practically dead on my ass, fantasizing about sleep like a whore fantasizes about twenties.

But I digress, mostly because I can hardly think.

“I start to feel like I can’t maintain the facade any longer, that I may just start to show through. And I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe something about how stupid my whole life is. I don’t know. Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.” Elizabeth Wurtzel

Monday, September 27, 2010

Sick and Tired

I haven't posted for awhile because I am one lazy-assed, miserably busy Sociopath. Misery being the key word. I'm sick, exhausted and belligerently homicidal. What's new?

But let me tell you, if I could get my hands on the wriggling sludge of a human who contaminated me with their filth- you couldn't fathom all the devilish things I'd do to them if given half a chance. Hell, even I cannot think of a torture satisfying enough to rectify this heinous transgression.

People push my buttons on purpose. I'm convinced. Sometimes people say or do things so stupid in front of me, that I find myself gazing intently into their eyes, searching for that gleam of menace that would make it all make sense. But alas, I do not find it. There are really humans that idiotic and ignorant in this world. Too stupid for any kind of useful manipulation.

Of course, then there are always the smart ones. The actually smart ones and the ones that think they're smart. Personally, I don't have a preference. I enjoy them both just the same. Everybody has their weaknesses, I just happen to be talented at finding those pesky little nicks in the armor of the masses, that's all. That's not to say I don't have some flaws of my own.

Oh contraire, I have myriads of interesting little quirks. Like my complete lack of patience and explosive temper. I overreact harshly to what others may consider 'little things'. I realize this is not conducive to success. Which is why both of those traits are very carefully masked.

I am by no means foolish- and that is what emotional people are. Authentic emotions are never allowed to surface. Sure, I express 'anger' all the time- after all it's only human. But never the real thing. Why? Because honest emotions are harder to control. Especially when the entire spectrum of your emotions are all simple variations of anger. That can lead to trouble.

Perhaps I will elaborate another time.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Quote of the Day: Immortality

Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon. ~Susan Ertz

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Literary Fiction

I am currently reading Hemingway, the title of the particular novel is eluding me for some reason, though the content is fresh in my mind as newly fallen snow. I must say, after having just explored some work of John Irving's, namely A Prayer For Owen Meany, it is refreshing to experience a new style. Honestly, after completing that 620 page monster I felt as if I'd vomit if I saw one more fucking hyphen or fully capitalized sentence. Already, I can just tell Hemingway's habit of forgetting about a little thing called a 'period' in his paragraph-length sentences will probably get to me by the end of this book as well.

Why is it all 'literary novelists' write their 'brilliant' works of art embedded with oft-times irritating, yet ingenious patterns? I do not deny or wish to debate the obvious skill and imagination it must take to create a novel with such layers of meaning. However, wouldn't we all just rather read American Psycho? Literary fiction is like voluntary homework. They are generally written with all of the 'strategies', 'devices', and 'styles' the english language has to offer; they are so riddled with layer upon layer of hidden meanings, symbols and possible interpretations that they lack absolutely nothing. But entertainment value.

The way our society has evolved has made that one seriously lethal fault. You could put the secret to life, next week's lottery numbers and a map to the Well of Youth in a book and no one in this day and age would read it, if it was written by Mark Twain. Why? Because life is too short to waste it reading a boring ass, moldy book. Or so is the common thought.

Personally, my taste in all things is both varied and eclectic. That includes my taste for literature. However, the reading of a work of literary fiction is no small task. It takes time, patience and a bit of a masochistic edge to endure such a daunting task. Not an activity I can enjoy so much as of late; when time is a thing of mythical wonder and patience is spread so very thin. Perhaps my friend Hemingway will help ease the stresses of being alive and not indulging in a murderous rampage. Irving sure didn't

“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”- Ernest Hemingway

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Quote of the Day: Mistakes

Continuing where my last post left off, a quote on mistakes;

“Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not.”
-Carl Gustav Jung

C2H3O2(1-)= Acetate--Procrastination Is Key

Chemistry, much like life, is a bitch. I'm currently bogged down with more work than I can even recall but strangely, I don't really mind as much as I would have imagined. Don't get me wrong, my irritation levels have reached a fever pitch, yet still the opportunity to play with new toys somewhat evens up the scales.

Stress to me is an almost refreshing feeling. Sure too much 'responsibility' can be annoying, but I thrive on urgency. Slow and steady just isn't my way. I suppose that's a large part of the reason why I am such a devoted procrastinator. I work better close to the deadline and seem to pride myself on surpassing those who started much earlier.

I don't know, I guess the biggest issue with all this extra work is my exponentially declining Me Time. Very important for a barely controlled psychopath. I'm very fond of my personal space, and even more so of those seemingly now extinct opportunities to be alone. Alone and free of menial tasks such as general human interaction or feigning Give A Damn.

Between trying to convince my family I actually love them and convincing my friends I'm three dimensional, I have once again become a busy busy bee. Honestly, at this point I'm not convinced the grass isn't just dead on both sides. No matter; that's what the neighbor's hose is for.

That reminds me of a surprising insight one of my friends had involving me the other day. Which is surprisingly rare, considering. A group of us were engaged in a completely inappropriate conversation about someone or other when all the sudden we were confronted by our supervisor as to what we were discussing. Immediately I responded with a smooth and completely appropriate alternative to the truth- practically without thinking.

The lie came so naturally that I didn't have time to consider how others may view my obvious faux paus. Anyway, long story short, later on after the incident one of my friends commented at my seemingly silver-tongue. She, apparently 'didn't know I could lie so well'. Unfortunately for me, that was an epiphany I'd have rather avoided. The lesson here kids, is everyone makes mistakes. It would be foolish of me to think I was an exception.

“I never make stupid mistakes. Only very, very clever ones.”-John Peel

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Monday, September 6, 2010

Bipolar Yay or Nay?

I've been considering more and more lately that I may actually be bipolar. I mean sure, I've always known I've had symptoms, but each time I become manic I disregard the possibility as absurd. At the same time I realize that how I perceive the disorder is different from others. I have few emotional swings, it's more like a change in energy. Which in turn, alters how people think I feel.

That probably doesn't make a ton of sense, but it's the only way I can explain it. I've been practically rushing- almost like a speed rush, for the past week. Then this weekend it was like getting knocked right off the log. As if I were mentally attempting to swim through sludge. Not very fun.

Most of the time I am 100% monotonously level headed. But I go through cycles of hyperactivity and then an almost depression. It has nothing to do with being happy or sad- just level of motivation. Very odd. And very unappealing.

I enjoy the monotony of my existence. There is something freeing about not giving a fuck in the same way Empaths do. I don't want to be emotional or caring. I'll leave that dull job to you, the professionals. I am very grateful for the existence of such a disorder as Bipolar however. Considering, it has gotten me out of a lot of jams in the past. Why is it they get so much more leeway than poor, innocent, mentally mangled psychopaths? It's simply unfair.

"There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness."- Kay Redfield

Friday, September 3, 2010

First Lesson of Sociopathy 101:

We lie.

So sure, I did say I'd post yesterday but, you should've known that I can't be trusted. Therefore, fifty/fifty blame both ways? Anyway, it has been a busy time for me. So many things to do.. plenty of time but too much procrastination, let's be honest. It's interesting being back in the game- I almost didn't miss it. Funny how you can appreciate things more while you're doing them.

But alas, I truly did need a break. A mental vacation of sorts. Usually(always) my idea of a 'vacation' is complete isolation and solitude from any person to person contact with the real world. Why? Because when I interact with people I have to work. Work work work. And what do I mean by 'work'? Actually, I can tell if you're reading this you're probably a smart cookie so you probably have a good idea what I meant by work. Buuut, I'll spell it out-I have to lie, bamboozle and B.S. That is NOT conducive to this Socio's version of R&R.

I lie, bamboozle and B.S on a daily basis, why would I make that have anything to do with my vacation? Honestly, my most pleasant moments occur when I am completely alone. Lonely lonesome Socio. Almost catchy, isn't it? That was a rhetorical device I just used there, bet that wasn't what was going through your head when you read it. No no no. That is something completely off topic and blatantly bafoonish (made up word..) that only I would think of.

But anyway, long story short (and now you're thinking, 'Wait. What story?') I am eternally (or at least until monday) grateful it is now the weekend. And although I have much work to do, at least I can do it peacefully alone. For me, that's what it's all about.

“Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your won presence rather than of the absence of others. Because solitude is an achievement.” -Alice Koller

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

A promise of what's to come...

My apologies, the last couple of weeks have been hectic to say the least. I'm hoping to be able to say that tomorrow will mark the end of this extended hiatus. I promise some sort of post with more to say than just "I'll be back". But unfortunately, that is what you are stuck with today so,
Till next time.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Ignorance Is Bliss

Today I had a fascinating conversation with a member of my family. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this but, basically I've been enacting a sort of social experiment with my own family. In order for me to improve upon my knowledge of people and gauge my analytical accuracy, occasionally I have to test certain hypotheses. As an exercise many times I go into a situation with a certain goal and grade myself on not only the achievement of said goal but also the speed and cunning used. For instance, the most amateur level of this is going into a conversation with the goal of "make this person feel this (ie. Happy/sad)."

But anyways, the experiment was (and is currently) to on occasion reveal obvious clues to my sociopathy to key family members. My hypothesis is that anything short of literally screaming "I'm a psychopath" at the top of my lungs (and that still may not work..) and my family will never put two and two together. No matter how blatant the clues. Because of the human tendency to paint people as something they're not, the people who cling to me will never accept that I'm not who they want me to be, unless I shove it in their face and even then, I "must be confused."

It must have something to do with being constantly drowned in unwanted emotions all the time. My emotions are so bland, and on the rare occasion that something is so traumatic it gives me a bit of a twitch, any 'emotion' I may feel is instantly translated into extreme irritation. I am almost positive that I must not feel the exact same things everyone else seems to, because they appear to be completely overdramatic. All the time. I cannot comprehend the 'depth' that feelings apparently are supposed to go. The only emotion I know for a fact I have felt purely and deeply is absolute rage. And I enjoyed it. Like a red haze of pure bliss; addictive. For this reason I avoid such loss of control as much as possible.

“Boredom is rage spread thin”- Paul Tillich

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

This Busy Busy Bee...

It's been awhile. Frankly, I've been as busy as a rat on a wheel. So much work to do, in so little time makes me a cranky little psychopath indeed. I suppose part of my problem has always been my affinity for expert procrastination. Why do something now when you can do it later? Honestly, if I weren't narcissistic I'd never get anything done.

How is it that my seemingly 'worst' traits are what helps me to succeed? I am arrogant, self serving and pessimistic with an ego that could fill the hole in the Ozone. If I weren't so full of myself I could never get up the energy to accomplish anything. It's true. I must maintain a constant level of superiority over others if I am to sleep peacefully at night. Therefore, that means I must be successful. How do you become successful? You do all the work you're asked to do, and you do it better than everyone else. That is my only motivation for breathing.

People like me wrestle our way through the school system, get amazing grades, go to the best available colleges, take all the right classes and apply for all the right jobs. We sell our souls to become business owners, supervisors, CEOs, and why? Because we have to. Normal life just isn't good enough for some of us. The things that make regular people happy is mere dust in the wind to me. But regulars don't seem to understand. You may be willing to do anything for your family, but I'll do anything to get to the top. Same thing really, you just think your reasoning is superior due to some cliched sentimentality.

Perhaps I'll post more later, for now I unfortunately have things to do.

"Success usually comes to those who are too busy to look for it."- Henry David

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Quote of the Day; Murder

“Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else"- Ugo Betti

Late Night Rant

1:20 AM, a perfect time for a little bit of late night (early morning?) bitching. For one, I have no clue how the hell you turn off a digital watch alarm clock. They seem to HAVE to be set at some time that they go off at every single fucking day. And gods help you if you lose it, that damn beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep will follow you into the fiery depths of hell but apparently, only if you're sleeping. How delightful.

Add on top of that the ridiculous amount of work I have to do coupled with being chatted up by the same asshole you want drawn and fucking courtered, and you have the makings of one massive killing spree. Speaking of mass murders; recently I've been perusing a comic book by the name of 'Johny The Homicidal Maniac', or JTHM for short. Basically the premise of the story, is about a psychotic emo who slaughters all the people who pick on him, in order to use their blood to paint one of the walls of his house he believes leads to the spirit world. If the coat of paint dries, the evil spirits will come attack him. Brilliant.

I mean, sure he's a bit too emotional for my tastes, but some of the demented tortures he inflicts on his 'tormentors' are hilarious. Not quite as warped as my own imagination but, I'm positive a book THAT demented would be illegal in several developed countries. The prudes. The drawings in the book almost reminded me of a notebook I used to keep with me in grade/middle school. The drawings were in a similar stick-style and basically it was my Death Book. Anyone who pissed me off I'd devote a space or a page or pages (depending on how much I hated them) on thinking up and drawing out elaborate tortures/murder scenarios. From falling out of a plane onto a pit of spikes to being pulled apart by Rhinos then eaten by suddenly cannibalistic Giraffes, I drew it all. Such good times.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Temporary Hiatus

I am going to be very busy for the next few weeks. Play time is over, or perhaps, it is just about to truly begin. Either way, I'll be posting a bit less frequently until I have my ducks in a row. But do not fret, I'll be back verbally harassing the human race on a regular basis in no time at all.
Wish me luck,

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Quote of the day

Sticking with the theme of yesterday's post, here's the quote of the day:

"Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. Yes, yes, it's the most comical thing in the world. " S. Beckett

Friday, August 13, 2010

Divorce Is In the Air

But isn't it always? A common figure that's thrown around these days is that 50 percent of marriages eventually end in divorce. Mathematically that makes sense, since the only two viable ends to marriage are divorce and death. So two options... into a hundred... EUREKA! You get 50%! What a brilliant deduction. But I suppose no one really believes in the accuracy of theoretical probability.

Honestly, if I were an Empath, what I would find more disturbing is what percentage of those remaining 50 percent are absolutely miserable until they finally kick the bucket. How many people are stuck due to financial problems or merciless religious beliefs forcing them to stay with the asshole/bitch they didn't realize they were marrying?

The 'institution' of marriage has always been in the shitter. Christians, etc, have always been worried some minority would ruin their 'sacred' practice, when in reality, let's face it, marriage has never been about 'love' or 'devotion. No no no. It's been about power, wealth, and getting the fucking kids out of the house. Sure, occasionally someone gets lucky and dies a few years after taking the plunge, and therefore, had a happy marriage, but obviously at LEAST 50 percent of marriages are 'swimmin' with the fishes' so to speak. Fifty-percent is the base number. How fucking depressing is that Empaths?

And I'M the one with the disorder? I think not. Idiotic, moron, sludge-for-brains Empaths. With your fucking "love conquers all" quotes and philosophies. When will you ever learn? Emotions will kill you. And it's rarely ever quick and painless either.

I see it all the time. Everyday, every second of every minute of every hour someone, somewhere, is weakly trying to pull the rusty dagger out of their heart, or their back, or some other place only a 'loved one' could reach. I absolutely fucking love it. "Love," is like a vile, festering disease, where the only cure is a few cold showers early on before the illness spreads.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? Apparently not.

"If love is a battlefield, I'm all for world piece"

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Quote of the Day

"Of all the inhabitants of the inferno, none but Lucifer knows that hell is hell, and the secret function of purgatory is to make of heaven an effective reality."-Arnold Bennett

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

"Hanging Out" with a Dose of Vengeance

Today I was rudely interrupted from my late afternoon slumber by a friend who wanted to, 'hang out." From that moment my day was, in affect, ruined. And as she asked me where I wanted to go, I couldn't think of anything more fun than ruining someone else's day the same way. So, I suggested we go to to the one person's house I knew hated 'hanging out' as much as me. And of course, calling ahead was completely out of the question, he needed to answer the door as pantless as I had. Preferably after having JUST been asleep.

It was worth it. His door was open so we literally got to wake him up right out of bed. Instantly, my mood lifted. Anyways, long story short, on my way home I saw the oddest thing. There was an old hippie sitting in the middle of his yard, in nothing but his tighty-not-so-whities, under a sprinkler system, cracking walnuts and tossing them into a bowl 5 feet away. And people say life is meaningless! Pshaw! I could only dream to be so content in my idiocy that cracking nuts in my skivvies could bring me so much joy.

Aren't there laws against public indecency? I can honestly say I've never wished for a paintball gun more than I did at that moment in time. It truly cements my argument that some people deserve to die sadistically cruel deaths. Not that I care anything for justice, I just want to convince others to take a step toward the' Dark Side'. I believe it is an easier task than convincing anyone else to step towards the light.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Quote(s) of the Day- from the mouth of a Psychopath

"I was literally singing to myself on my way home, after the killing. The tension, the desire to kill a woman had built up in such explosive proportions that when I finally pulled the trigger, all the pressures, all the tensions, all the hatred, had just vanished, dissipated, but only for a short time."

"I wasn't going to rob her, or touch her. I was just going to kill her."

- David Berkowitz

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Doe a Deer, a Female Deer..

Recently I've begun to re-examine my relationship with music. I have very eclectic tastes-in many things, including auditory delights. What's 'in' or 'cool' has very little bearing on what I choose to fancy at any particular time. Of course, I mean honestly. Many people believe I like different things. But inwardly I am varied. It's almost ironic that one thing I always am drawn to in music is emotion- passion. Perhaps because I want to live vicariously through the artists? I don't know.

I have an affinity for dark, sarcastic, upbeat music. Clever lyrics and biting sound catch my interest. Catchy songs are interesting too- I have no deep-seeded need to be 'original'. The problem with music is people are so judgmental of other people's preferences. Figuring out a person's musical tastes can be pivotal in establishing a 'connection' with the subject.

It's almost easier for me to declare some of the genres I downright have no particular liking for right off the bat, versus trying to list everything I do like. Country music- perhaps stemming from my dislike of rednecks. Blues- probably more out of ignorance than anything else. Screamo/Heavy metal- because it's just noise. Unfortunately Death metal has lyrics I can appreciate, but the sound is grating and wasteful of such morbid talent.

People seem to believe that things like the music you listen to define 'who you are'. I suppose I can almost prove that with my choices. They're varied and haphazard. No definite preference for one thing over another. No pattern. No 'identity'. Just blends in to anyone else's likes or dislikes. Sounds like me-almost.

I was just viewing an episode of one of my favorite shows, House MD, when I noticed one of the patients was a Blogger. This woman however, unlike me, posted her every waking moment. She shared all the details of her life with a ravenous public. It was almost like a therapy to her. I'm quite different. I don't write about the exact day to day workings of my dull and dreadfully average life. No, I write to empty my mind of excess filth.

The thing about me is I'm a thinker. I literally live inside my head. I analyze everything and everyone. What they say what they wear and most importantly- what they don't say. I analyze what I say and its affect on a person or situation. It's important to me to have a solid grasp on my surroundings. One thing constantly mentioned in my blog is my use of conscious manipulation in social situations. Honestly I think people perceive that to be worse than it is.

Normal people manipulate each other all the time subconsciously. Using all sorts of excess emotion and the expert ability to subtly express them Empaths manipulate each other constantly. The only difference between me and everyone else is I have to use different a different strategy. Just 'winging it' doesn't fly when you don't have the natural ability. That's not to say I don't use my powers for 'evil'.. quite the contrary.

Anyway, back to the point. Since I'm constantly thinking all the time it can get a bit crowded in my head on occasion. This can either lead to extreme violence or focus in some particular activity. What better activity to participate in than a public catalogue of many of my inane inner ramblings? The sometimes annoying reality of being a Sociopath is the realization that you will rarely if ever meet a person who can comprehend if not accept, the honest reality of what you are, for the lack of a better word.

I have never shared the foolish sentiment of 'individuality' that the masses seem to have adopted as the norm. I'm not talking about wishing I could cry on someone's shoulder and whine about my many woes. No, sometimes it's just annoying having to pretend all the fucking time. That's why my dominate group of friends, or people I choose to voluntarily associate myself with for no specific gain- are all selfish, self-centered assholes. They don't give a care about me, and I don't have to pretend to care about them. It's... refreshing. A nice change from the real world- where people don't really care, but it's a necessity to pretend to.

Everyone's just playing their role in this shitty B movie we call life. All the actors are cheesy and melodramatic. But hey, at least it's entertaining, right? What part do I play you say? Why, the director of course.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Drugs.. again?

I am very much intoxicated at this moment. Which brought me to the topic of drugs and my 'condition'. Simply put, they're fun. I don't know if they are enjoyable to me in the same way they are enjoyable to a regular person, and I don't really care. Well I care in a curious way. I'm a very curious person. Curiosity didn't kill the cat, I did. Hopefully if I'm real quiet, no one will kill me back.

People are really attached to their pets these days. I can almost see why. I mean, they're so much less annoying than humans, and if they push it, they're much easier to kill. My favorite domesticated animal, as I've said before, is the cat.

The only problem with drugs is they impair you. For instance, my vision is blurred, and is progressively getting worse. As you can well imagine, that's making it a bit tricky to write this post. Beyond that being I probably sound like a moron. My friends and I are under the belief that every person has their own specific Drug of Choice (DOC). I mean there's so many out there, there's something for everyone. You could do all the blow in the world, but if it's not your DOC you could be fine. But when you find that one that makes everything perfect, you're screwed.

As of right now I'm exploring the wonderful world of Opiates. Part of the reason I believe I enjoy recreational use is because it seems to almost.. enhance my sociopathy. Don't ask me exactly how. It just feels more, genuine. Depending on what I'm on it enhances different aspects of my 'personality'. More on this later, when I can see.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


Some idiot kid jumped out in front of my car today as I was going in excess of 60 mph. I briefly considered mowing him down, but then realized that could increase my insurance premiums. Damn. The annoying thing about it is if I had hit that kid, many people would consider that a tragedy. I consider it natural selection. Why do people see social Darwinism as such a bad thing?

It seems another famous Psychopath seemed to run with the idea of natural selection... Guess who;

"Nature is cruel; therefore we are also entitled to be cruel. When I send the flower of German youth into the steel hail of the war without feeling the slightest regret over the precious German blood that is being spilled, should I also not have the right to eliminate millions of an inferior race that multiply like vermin?"

Friday, July 30, 2010

To Read or Not to Read

I like to read. I engage in very few activities that could be considered hobbies and reading is one of those few. I suppose I have two reasons for this; one, is because as much as I hate cliches, knowledge is indeed power; and two, in order to create a plausible character you must have the ability to analyze and break down the components of the average human- that is what I do everyday. Why not analyze another's analysis of the human race? It's not like I have anything better to do.

I once read a Sidney Sheldon book about a series of inexplicable things that happened to three women. It was long enough ago that I don't quite recall all the details but basically, by the end of the story you realize there aren't three women- just one. One single woman who has multiple personality disorder. One was a murder, one was a whore, and the other.. just the boring old original.

Everyone has different aspects to their personality. All the aspects of mine I am fully aware of. I have more identities than she could fathom but unlike her, I choose mine both consciously and carefully. I do believe I have one core personality though, but it is completely uninteresting. Uninteresting and totally uninterested. With a longer list of dislikes than likes. But I see no downside to being shallow. It's actually kind of... fun.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010


I'm discussing with someone the difference between the things I 'enjoy' and what normal people enjoy. As a rule, I don't feel a wide range of emotion. Say the normal emotional scale is from -10 to 10, my scale is from -2 to 2. Therefor my, 'hobbies' tend to be more extreme. Boredom is a constant in my life. But it's not as if I seek happiness. I don't really get the point.

Emotions are so annoying to me. Being around emotional people is like being an outsider in a club everyone else is a part of. No one will tell me the secret password. I can talk my way around many emotions but I don't really understand where they come from. For instance, I can't have a heartfelt conversation with someone, I'm not quite good enough yet to fake all the things I need to fake. I can say how "sorry I am for your loss" or whatever, but I can't verbally show I relate to someone, as if that even makes any sense.

My point is, Sociopaths aren't half as good as people think we are. The advantage we have is people assume everyone is like them. If an Empath was analyzing my emotional response with the knowledge that I may be full of shit, I might have a harder time being convincing. Why? Because you can't write a thesis on a topic you didn't study. If you've never heard of spanish you sure as hell couldn't identify, then speak the language.

Who knows. I'm tired and can't even follow my own analogy at the moment, but I don't allow more than 2 days to go by without posting. I have to maintain a regimen. Control is a very important element in my life. What I can control, I do. Everyone has their little idiosyncrasies. Mine just happen to make me the devil.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Quote of the Day

'Die, verb: To stop sinning suddenly. '
Elbert Hubbard

And since that was more of a definition than an actual quote, I give you one more, that I can most assuredly relate to.

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." - Clarence Darrow


Are my favorite toys. So slick and smooth. Cold and dangerous. Like me, but inanimate. A knife could slowly caress you one moment, and savagely pierce your chest in another. It's fascinating. I believe a person's favorite object can tell you many things about them. It can give you an unprecedented glimpse into the true mind of a human being.

The problem with people though, is they lie. We all lie. The only variation is that some of us lie better than others. We lie for different reasons-some with logic, others with emotion. It is hard to claim an identity as a Sociopath. I am, whoever I need to be, to accomplish a set goal. That is it. I know it is somewhat confusing because it confuses me as well. When the masks are tossed aside, who am I?

Contrary to how it may sound, It's really not important to me to know but still- I am curious. Empaths seem so caught up in being a 'unique' individual. They want a sole identity for themselves, not realizing their social significance in society is in reality, completely insignificant on a grander scale. Life as a whole is inherently meaningless, despite what Empaths delusionally wish to believe.

It makes me wonder. Do Normals look at themselves in the mirror and see something distinct? Do they gaze into their own eyes and know exactly who they are looking at? I look in the mirror every morning and see my reflection. No sentimental hogwash or feelings of any sort cross my mind. I brush my teeth, comment on my sustained attractiveness and take a piss. It is hard to imagine life with so much intense emotion clogging up everything you do. An emotional heart attack waiting to happen. Perhaps I have Diabetes of the soul.

The only thing 'special' about me is my ability to blend in in any situation. That doesn't mean I always choose to do so; not even close. As much as I hate other people, my whole life revolves around them. Reading them, studying their habits, determining the best way to guide them in the direction I choose-these are the activities that make up my entire day.

Controlling people is the only thing that gets me up in the morning. Everything I do is moulded around that goal. My choice of career, friends, activities- everything. I do not believe it is because I am somehow 'evil' because there is no such thing as good or evil. It just so happens that Control brings me pleasure and enjoyment. What other motivator could there be to do something?

Another thing I enjoy is pain; giving and receiving. I enjoy stealing and I enjoy talking about myself (obviously). As you may have noticed the list of things that bring me even mild enjoyment is very short. The things that irritate me or invoke my rage however, are endless. I have no hobbies, have no fondness for much of anything and that includes both objects and people. I am easily bored but by now am used to it. OH! And I've been contemplating slaughtering the family dog for months now. Not because I dislike it- I actually am somewhat fond of the little thing. I'll let you brainstorm the reason why.

Saturday, July 24, 2010


Is what makes humanity weak. The most pathetic species in existence- at least for the duration of this post anyway. We all have them. And by 'we' I mean everyone but me. The point is faux empathy has become a global pandemic (redundant phrasing, I know). And the 'sincere' version's no better. By faux I mean it's fake, but not how a socio fakes it. It's become a fad. Haiti, New Orleans, Uganda; no one gives half a damn about any of these places. But, each of these places at one time or another became the focal point of what I like to call, Fad Empathy. Basically, if you couldn't get the definition from the obvious name, Fad Empathy is when as a result of the media or some other brain washing social source a slew of people pretend to care about a specific place or group of people in order to look 'cool' and 'fit in'. It's a fascinating phenomenon really. It annoys the shit out of me.

As soon as the fad is over, when there's no more hype and it's no longer 'cool' to care people stop. Just like that. And I'm supposed to be the emotionless bastard here? Not true. What I am is, I'd like to say honest. We all know that's not true but if I'm a liar then it makes sense for me to lie, right? Everything I do is for a reason. It may seem warped to the outside world but I don't give a damn about the outside world- I give a damn about Me. That's the difference. Normals lie because they want their peers to view them in a certain way. Not for a specific personal gain, but because they want the FEELING of acceptance. I can't relate to that.

That's not to say I don't relate to many, many Empaths. That's just not true. I know I talk like it's Me vs Them but I recognize there is a special sub-species of Empath that I have oodles of traits in common with. The Asshole, also known as, the Bitch, Jerk, Jackass or Bastard. They're my favorite Empaths because they're just so much easier to get along with. So much more straight forward and just simply fun. They insult, demean and manipulate and couldn't care less how wounded my inner-feelings could be. I can honestly say they're a true pleasure to watch in action.

I'm an avid protester of the mundane. I enjoy excitement but don't like to show it. Fear is my favorite emotion. I rarely feel it, but when I do I love to confront it. To intensify the feeling. It's almost a sexual experience-a rush. I don't fear fear, I seek it out. I enjoy it. I provoke pain. I suppose I've always been wired a bit backwards. The word for it I believe is, I'm a Masochist. As well as a Sadist, and a slew of other most likely 'disturbing' identities. My favorite toy is my personal set of razor sharp kitchen knives (less suspicious when it's normal). They're of course, never used for preparing food- that'd just be a waste. Maybe I have a knife fetish? Or perhaps the more broad 'Pointy Death-devices' fetish. Who knows?

Remember Socios,
"When dealing with people [Empaths], remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion." --Dale Carnegie

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Quote of the Day

"I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs or insanity for everyone, but they've always worked for me."-Hunter Thompson


I don't know how Sociopaths in general view recreational drug use but I myself am pro- use. If the Empaths want to numb themselves from the bullshit society has to offer, why stop them? I've always preferred the darker elements of humanity. I get along much better with drug dealers and murderers than I ever did with school teachers and volunteers. They're so much more interesting- and yes I've met people who fit all of those descriptions. It could have something to do with the fact that I grew up with the dredges of society. Other kids I'm sure got told fictitious bedtime stories when they were little- I got to hear strangers tell of the latest ways they last got sent to prison. Fun times, I miss them.

Ever since I was as young as I can even remember I have been a Klepto. Actually, to be honest I peaked in my earlier years. I would steal anything and everything, who knows why. I stole for the rush stealing gave me rather than for any true desire for the things I took. Everything from cash to books to Icecream I stole. I've never had a true grasp of 'right' and 'wrong'. For me, anything I choose to do is 'right' unless I get caught. Those are the rules. The ends justify the means. The few times I did get caught were never in the act. They were because, like I said, I had no inclination to actually use half the things I took, so a few times vast collections of cash(at least for my age) would be found and questioned.

One time a teacher found 300 dollars in my Cubby after I moved and the other was 700 dollars in a Coca Cola box. What use does a kid have with money? Both times however I expertly shifted the blame from myself. Lying was another little hobby I picked up around then. The two went hand in hand perfectly.

I've gone through many phases in my short life where I put emphasis on one of my many 'vices'. Between drugging, lying, cheating and stealing I'm not sure which is my favorite. They're all a lot more interesting than living life 'by the book'. Empaths with little empathy are a lot more 'fun' to be around than boring ole sober-Joes, that's for damn sure. And what group of people has some of the lowest amounts of Empathy? Drug 'addicts', who else?

Tuesday, July 20, 2010


One thing I absolutely hate about Empaths is their blatant use of emotional blackmail to get what they want. This is also known as, the Guilt Trip. Unfortunately for them, I could care less if their feelings are hurt or who gets screwed over because of me. That however, does not make it any less irritating when they try. I'm sick of idiots flinging their emotions at me like a chimpanzee flings shit. I hate when I have to pretend to care- because it has me at a loss. Why are their feelings hurt? I can't relate. The only 'emotion' I understand is anger. Everything else I 'feel' are just states of being- like being annoyed, or irritated, etc.

One.. quirk, I do have however is an extreme sense of territorialism, for the lack of a better word. I need privacy, I don't like Beings in my space. It is almost to the point of obsessive compulsive. I don't like hugs or other forms of physical affection and I don't like people touching my things. It makes me want to gut them. And I would- were it not for my rigid self-control. Why is it Humans these days are so intrusive? They want to know everything about each-other and spill everything about themselves. Shamelessly. Recklessly and foolishly. Human bonds are so over rated that people are desperate for the kind of 'connection' songwriters wail about. "Love, all you need is love..." what a sack of shit. Because having 'friends' and a 'soul-mate' is so important to society now people throw themselves into commitments with no thought.

They meet a stranger on a train and spill their life story- their hopes, their dreams and all the things the world really couldn't give half a damn about. It's disgusting and makes the world a much easier place for people like me to thrive. Desperate, lonely people are like fudge to Sociopaths- you take that analogy wherever you'd like.

“When it comes to privacy and accountability, people always demand the former for themselves and the latter for everyone else.”- David Brin

Quote of the Day

"Smile and others will smile back. Smile to show how transparent, how candid you are. Smile if you have nothing to say. Most of all, do not hide the fact you have nothing to say nor your total indifference to others. Let this emptiness, this profound indifference shine out spontaneously in your smile.”- Jean Baudrillard

Monday, July 19, 2010

Normal Sociopath?

Is there a such thing as a 'normal' sociopath? Meaning, is there a right or a wrong way to be empty inside? I don't think so but then again, I am admittedly warped. I'm not just a Sociopath, I'm a violent, sadistic sociopath and I'm not sure others can relate to that. Sometimes I think of it as being consciously insane. The statement contradicts itself. If you know you're 'crazy' you must not be crazy. I know that sometimes the things I say or do are considered 'wrong'. They are 'amoral'. I realize society believes that, but there is no such thing as morality just as there is no God. I KNOW what society thinks. But I also know they are completely full of shit. I don't see how not having a conscience is 'bad'. 99.99% of animals don't have one either, maybe we should lock them all up too.

The other day after a gathering of some sort my grandmother looked at me quizzically. She said, "I never seemed to notice before but... you have really great social skills..." But she didn't say it like a casual compliment, but almost as if it were an epiphany. She went, "You're charming, funny, articulate and engaging... you make people feel important- but I know for a fact you don't really feel that way... you're.. you're kind of...."
"Glib?" I replied, and our eyes met in an almost eerie silent communication.
It makes me wonder if we Socios are more naive than we think. Are all the people around us really the naive ones or is it us? Are they merely in denial of what they know deep down to be true? Of course I'm referring to close 'friends' and relatives not your everyday casual acquaintance. How can someone interact or even live with someone for years on end and never realize they're talking to an empty shell? It's hard to believe, but every once in awhile I look in someone's eyes and am positive we both know what I am. Generally speaking though, that happens most with other sociopaths.

“Our greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there.”- Eric Hoffer

Best Typo of the Week

ZKM says: (1:15:20 AM)
ZKM says: (1:15:25 AM)
I never thought I'd hear the day
ZKM says: (1:15:39 AM)
why do u think cock is better now?
Anonymous says: (1:15:50 AM)
well i havn't tried it is the thing
Anonymous says: (1:16:01 AM)
like, what if its better?

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Friday, July 16, 2010

Manipulation and Non-related relatives

The greatest challenge any manipulator has to face is maintaining self control. That means exerting your will expertly to mould your surroundings to your liking. To control others you must first control yourself. This is what I tell myself when two seconds away from ramming a spork through someone's spinal cord. Everything I do I do for a specific, well thought out reason. I must constantly remind myself of this when pretending to relate to Inferiors. Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to a sort of 'family' picnic. Some married-in 'relatives' whose blood hasn't crossed mine since Jesus made us all out of sand.

I can be anyone you want me to be. It's better than it sounds- having no real identity. Observe, Analyze, Resolve. Those three words are what guides my social interactions. Observe the mark, search for abnormalities in belief, appearance, speech etc. Analyze and create a profile based on observations. Resolve- determine the most ideal social match for the mark and imitate. Based on the goal of my social interaction I may choose different ideal identities to suit my needs. Ie. I want to make someone cry. How would I do that? Observe, Analyze, Resolve. Say I observe a lady with certain key traits that are all I would need to solve my problem. I observe her black slacks are covered in a thin layer of animal fur and there is no ring on her ring finger; she claims after some trivial conversation to have 4 dogs- all from the pound. Analyzing this data I assume she is an animal empathizer as well as an animal lover. To resolve I see that her greatest love must be her animals- she has no one else.

The perfect profile to achieve my goal would be a pathetic animal lover like herself, who recently lost the only creature in the world who 'truly understood her'. First I would create a quick bond by relating a humorous story about my last pet. I would endear her to him and then reveal his passing. I would relate his importance to me and my resulting loneliness at his passing. I would remind her of herself which is apparently a key component to empathy. This connection between her and I would set her mirror neurons aflame and she would be as glossy eyed as a doped fish. This was a recent experience I had waiting in line at the post office. My point is, now that I've forgotten, is control is the key to any successful endeavor. If I had allowed myself to reveal my true disgust and distaste for her pathetic life I would have lost control of the entire situation. Basically, this post was a roundabout way for me to remind myself that there are better alternatives of revenge than just bludgeoning members of my non-related-family. I am also reminding myself that these people are rich and it would be a waste of all my efforts of trying to get into some of those Wills. One down, who knows how many to go?

Quote of the Day

"Hell is empty and all of the devils are here"

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Death and our Perceptions

The hardest thing for people to comprehend about the Sociopath is our utter and complete lack of empathy (although I do believe there are levels of sociopathy and some may be more or less 'emotionless' than others). It's funny how a lack of empathy, shame and regret can effect so many other 'feelings' and 'emotions'. Take disgust for instance. Most people who look at the above image would cringe in disgust. That's not to say a Sociopath won't find it somewhat revolting, but the reasonings behind the 'feeling' are different. The Sociopath may deem the image as sloppy, dirty and simply messy, and therefore may categorize it under the term 'disgusting'. A 'normal' Empath (not saying all Empaths are the same) would find that revolting not only because it is 'messy' and bloody and gorey but because it is a tragic loss of human life or somesuch nonsense. I've never been able to comprehend the same Empaths who won't blink an eye at the sight of the mangled roadkill just run down by their tires, but will sob and balk at the 'senseless' loss of human life and argue that it is not the same. At least as a Sociopath I am consistent. I care about no life but my own and those who benefit me. The only delusional beliefs I hold are about myself and that's just that little nibble of Narcissism in me that makes me the charming catch that I am.

"Do the animals know they are going to die? The men who kill them claim they don't. But when the machinery begins to rumble and the conveyor belts start to roll, sounds that expedite death are heard by animal and man alike."- Francis B Gross