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Entropy Central: An Ongoing Fuckfest of Nothingness

Apocolyptic Shoe Shiner
It's good to see you again.
The last time we spoke was on bittersweet grounds, ripe with ash and bloody tears. The skies were the color of that liquid that's bottled up and sold as some sort of cleaning agent for bile, and the horizons that surrounded our entrenched, ragged, and lost selves loomed far away, threatening to move ever closer and stifle what little glimmer was left on the end of that .45 magnum aimed right at our very manacled souls. That magnum was the only hope for release back then, wasn't it? Yes, and now, we need a bigger gun.

Times are worse, my friends. I say 'worse' from a very human point of view. Not from the monsters out there, clawing, raping, savagely desecrating a world that was doomed hundreds of years ago, but was too stubborn to see it that way. So, what's the goddamned point then?

We're here right now, aren't we. Oh yes, we fucking are. And if the-here-and-now is coagulated in the shit of others, it's a clear sign that we, as people of the moment, have the burden and responsibility to clean up the shit. Like it or not, it's just the way things go.

However, there never was much hope to begin with, really. Politics, religion, money, and people...when you make a brew with such ingredients, what can you expect but little chance of a successful concoction? Especially when these are the main ingredients; art, music, and philosophy get boiled out of the picture.

So hold up a drink in one hand, hold your friend's hand in the other, and watch the oblivion consume that horizon.

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