My hatred is diamond-hard.

I'm developing a mild rash at the idea of "plugging" anything, because it's not how I roll.

You truly need to witness me goo-gooing and coo-cooing and making up goofy little songs to glean a full appreciation of how nauseating I can be. This is another instance where things seemingly don't add up - how can this vile, hateful, violent, misogynist, racist, loathsome, repugnant, worthless, reprehensible subhuman be so insanely tender and kind to little doggies and kitty-cats?

A lot of people expend great time and effort explaining why they don't like me, but none of them ever try to explain why their opinion should matter to me. I think most of them sense, but would never be brave enough to admit, their subordinate role in the food chain relative to me.

I'm alive, happier than I've ever been, and I'm doing exactly what I want.

I believe that to some degree there are situational and psychological laws of cause-and-effect, but I don't believe there's some Über-soul who doles out "justice."

In contrast to how my father treated me, I won't hit him, I won't call him evil, I'll give him affection, and I'll pay attention to him.