And now, one last piece of prickly attitude for December, before beginning a new year of prickly prickishness. It's time to chop the chump:
Six letters he’s sent, all offering the wrong advice. Not “Quit your job, because…” or “Don’t quit your job, because…” — those are suggestions I’d consider.
No, Mr Stone’s advice is Dale Carnegie crap like, “Smile at strangers,” “Give co-workers, even the ones you like least, a ‘good morning’ greeting every day,” “You could make friends by joining a club dedicated to old movies, or starting a club if it doesn’t exist,” and then this from his latest letter: “Maybe you’d meet more interesting people if you got active in a local church…”
Gag me with the scriptures. Why do you pay for this zine if you’re not even reading it, or reading it but not comprehending it? I am obviously, devoutly non-religious. I am not a sociable man. I don’t smile warmly at strangers, don’t say ‘good morning’ to people I hate, and I’m not looking for a club unless it’s to bang on your empty head.
This is something I’ve said before, plainly enough to be understood unless you're simply a simpleton: I’m not yearning to know more people who aren’t worth knowing. I’ll occasionally hang out with Stanley or Kallie or someone who’s worth the time, but when they’re not around I am quite content to be alone. When I’m alone, this world full of assholes (like Phillip Stone of Kansas City) becomes bearable.
Keep your three dollars. The management of this zine reserves the right to refuse service to anyone who proves himself a complete and verifiable wanker as many times as you have, so this is the last issue you’ll see.
From Pathetic Life #7
Saturday, December 31, 1994
(second entry)
This
is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago,
called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but
might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting
things, so parental guidance is advised.
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