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Vishesh Panthi

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“Most Tea Party members are old pride-filled morons who have no good reasoning to concern themselves with politics, just tired old self-righteous and self-proclaimed patriots wanting to start some type of Nazi-like revolution, mainly because they hate Obama and they have a dumb sense that their lives and generation is quickly coming to a halt and none of them like it. They claim they don’t want their rights stripped away from them, so they will do anything in their power to stop that, including stripping away the rights of others.”

“Perhaps when I was a child. Then my brain fully developed and I started thinking about the logic. The Christian life is no life for this man. I have a potent predilection for the whiskey, weed and women. I like to defile all three of them, sometimes simultaneously. But yeah, it isn’t the fairytale within the bible that makes me such an infidel, I just couldn’t suffer waking up early on Sundays to praise a magical being that lacks significant proof.”

“Now I stand on the edge of a new world, a new life; pondering what type of fortunes and catastrophes await me. Bring it on, I’ve handled a generous amount of profound and weird shit in my lifetime that the universe could sling at me and I have always walked away more seasoned. Through blunder and mishap I’ve grown wise and callused, and I’ve risen from the aftermath as a warrior, a grandmaster, a champion of bad virtues and noble intentions.”

“HISTORIA RADICALMENTE CONCENTRADA DE LA ERA POSTINDUSTRIAL Cuando fueron presentados, él hizo un comentario ingenioso porque quería caer bien. Ella soltó una risotada estrepitosa porque quería caer bien. Luego los dos cogieron sus coches y se fueron solos a sus casas, mirando fijamente la carretera, con la misma mueca en la cara. Al hombre que los había presentado no le caía demasiado bien ninguno de los dos, pero fingía que sí porque le preocupaba mucho tener buenas relaciones con todo el mundo. Después de todo, nunca se sabe, ¿verdad que no? ¿Verdad? ¿Verdad?”

“In this cell you are small. They’ve taken your belt and your shoelaces. You break a little. You put your hands over your face so they don’t see. They don’t listen when you shout for water, Please. Your tongue is so dry it feels too big for your mouth. You don’t sleep. Someone behind the door shouts BASTARDS BASTARDS. You think you can see an old man crouched and watching you in that dark corner over there. You try and make spit to drink but you can’t. In the morning they give you half a plastic cup of warm water. Across your tongue they drag a cotton bud which they drop into a plastic bag with your name on it. They take your fingerprints, your photograph, and then when you get home, she tells you she’s pregnant.”