William S. Burroughs Ipsum

A functioning police state needs no police. the cat does not offer services. the cat offers itself. of course he wants care and shelter. you don't buy love for nothing. the face of evil is always the face of total need. a paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. i don't care if people hate my guts; i assume most of them do. the important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. whether you sniff it smoke it eat it or shove it up your ass the result is the same: addiction. i am not one of those weak-spirited, sappy americans who want to be liked by all the people around them. i don't care if people hate my guts; i assume most of them do. the important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. my affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits. writers, like elephants, have long, vicious memories. there are things i wish i could forget. there couldn't be a society of people who didn't dream. they'd be dead in two weeks. whether you like it or not, you are committed to the human endeavor. i cannot ally myself with such a purely negative goal as avoidance of suffering. suffering is a chance you take by the fact of being alive. panic is the sudden realization that everything around you is alive. little raspy incurving hooks and built an act around it... it would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. nobody loved it. in the end, not me... i can talk and eat and shit." after that, he began waking up like a tadpole's tail and the pieces would stick to his hands... except for the eyes, you dig? so, the brain couldn't for a while, you could see... and there was no more feeling in them what a horrible loutish planet this is. the dominant species consists of sadistic morons, faces bearing the hideous lineaments of spiritual famine swollen with stupid hate. hopeless rubbish..