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11/22/01
i went to my grandmothers for the obligatory annual "let's stuff our faces and get shitfaced" dinner. i ate too much and listened to my mum bitch at my aunt for stealing her barbies when they were children. my grandma ran around frantically all day, compulsively straightening placemats and wiping off the table. i sincerely hope i die before the insanity inherent to the female side of my family progresses that far.
i'm all bizarreness unwell...i can't think of anything to do, i sit here and click my mouse pointlessly for hours, i wake up so i can look forward to going to bed.
my friends online are being nice to me and thus succeeding in making me feel like more of a dipshit for having nothing to talk to them about.
please don't talk to me, i have nothing interesting to say, just let me wallow in self pity all by my stupid fucking self. i'll just sit here and hate all the things i have no power to change...what i would't give to be like everyone else.
11/7/01
whee! my computer finally decided to stop being snarky, so i'm back online after several excruciating weeks of trying to entertain myself by more conventional methods. because of my compulsive need to stare at a screen for the majority of my waking hours, i had cable telly installed and spent a day in blissful cathode-ray paradise. then i remembered why i hate television. it seems that there's three categories of people populating the planet: young urban professionals, fashionable clever women, and groups of quirky friends living in apartments.
i've been assaulted by premature xmas cheer. it's the beginning of november, yet for the past several weeks there's been xmas commercials galore. in the middle of october, the stores began clearing out their haloween merchadise to make room for wrapping paper and tinsel and other holiday parephenelia. i suppose the message is to buy stuff NOW, so when it actually gets close to xmas we'll all have forgotten that we've already bought gifts for everyone and get caught up in holiday shopping yet again?
i've also noticed a sudden resurgence of 80's toys. unfortuately, instead of just re-releasing things they've modified them. they've taken a perfectly good Popple and stuck a bunch of light-up crapola on it, then priced it $10.00 higher than the original. i guess it just follows the trend of excessively animated playthings that do *everything* and leave little room for the imagination, and little need for parental interaction. mom and dad will have plenty of time to climb the corporate ladder if Junior is raised by his toys.
Easy Mac. macaroni and cheese that's microwaveable and practically pre-prepared. isn't macaroni & cheese already easy enough for even a blind retarded duck to make? why this mass conglomeration of overly-convenient convenience products? perhaps if one can't find time in their busy schedules to make a packaged dinner they should slow the fuck down.
if i see the new microsoft commercial with all the flying people one more time i'm going to finally become motivated to learn how to use Linux. i've had "faster than the speed of light she's flyyyyyyyyyyyyying" going around in my head for the past week. ergh.
i finished reading Xenocide by Orson Scott Card; i loved it aside from the sneaking suspicion that i would've comprehended it a lot more if i was a metaphysical theorist.
FeFe definately rocks my socks like a bunch of lemonade guzzling, pixy-stick snorting squerls. she sent me a pakkie with (amongst other nifties) a lil plastic comb in the shape of a pigtailed girl; when you comb your hair with it, it plays a tune. many days later, i still remain mesmerised by it's vast and amazing swank-osity.
i think the lack of internet atrophied the part of my brain that thinks of interesting things to say here.
time to go play with my fantastical singing comb
tra la la dee dum da dum
10/18/01
i made a page for roo. don't laugh.
sign up for 1-percent.com. you earn points to get stuff by visiting charity sites, and if you use moi as a referral, you'll help me get a purdy bong. yay!
10/17/01
i came across an article today entitled "how do we deal with the emotions?" it went on to explain that after a big disaster such as the world trade center, people tend to gather with family more, contribute to relief effort, etc.
my answer to how we deal with our emotions is different. quite simply, we don't.
in times of crisis we should ponder the fragility of our existances and make an effort to live our lives more fully. we should realise how superficial any of our grudges with each other are when faced with the Big Picture, and learn to modify our behavior in such a way that we become more pleasant beings to coexist with.
unfortunately, these can be uncomfortable thoughts for many people. some of us simply don't want to acknowledge a life beyond our creature comforts; for others, changing oneself would mean one would have to admit they have flaws in the first place.
so, how *do* we deal with our emotions? we avoid them. we seek distraction, occupying our minds with other things so we don't have to think about anything unpleasant.
avoidance manifests itself in many forms. maybe you start putting in a few extra hours at work each night, maybe you begin to spend more and more time zoning in front of the television, maybe you buy a bunch of things you don't need. we each have our own personal ways to forget about whatever it is that we don't wish to remember.
rather than take action when a problem occurs, many of us would rather find bliss in ignorance; something can't affect you much if you put it out of your mind. i ask each of you to stop pointlessly distracting yourselves and think about your life and the world around you, then initiate the changes neccessary to make life more enjoyable for yourself and others.
rather than listening to popular veiws, look into yourself and find your own opinion. do what you feel is right, not what you're told to feel. instead of ignoring an injustice, inform yourself so you can speak out against it.
...
idealism in it's purest form
10/14/01
i was browsing thru some websites today and muttering death threats at all the girls who have prettier clothes than i do.
roo said he'd be afraid for the poseur-goth chick population of the world if i was ever in any position of power.
i see it as a quaint classic of femininity: you have nicer dresses than me, so i'd like to impale you with a spork.
ah well. i'll just continue to claim that i have no interest in such frivolous things as clothing. when you put it that way, being a perpetual ugly duckling seems almost noble.
i need to DO something, gosh darn it. it's been literally weeks since i've left my house, i feel like i'm sitting here rotting away as i wait for some big cataclysmic thing to occur that'll somehow inspire me to become a motivated, productive person.
i know! maybe today i'll have a green lollipop for lunch istead of a red one.
10/13/01
today i woke up, decided not to bother, and went back to bed. then i woke up again and watched infomercials.
i'm so bloody sick of seeing all these ads for flags and flag-printed shite and other Amerikan whatnot. the propaganda machine is cranking out patriotism, and corporations are feeding off it. "support your country and buy this cheap thingamabob!" what a bunch of bullshit, yet Consumer Amerika laps it up eagerly. undoubtedly the world trade center memorabilia will come out soon...exploitation of a tragedy thinly veiled as "showing support".
frankly i think this is all going a wee bit too far. millions of dollars are being donated to the families of the trade center victims. rather than indicating that people are reaching out to help others,this tells me that people are opening their wallets either out of a sense of obligation (everyone ELSE is donating so i should, too) or to prove that they're Good Amerikans (look, i donated $20, the neighbors only donated $10!).meanwhile local charities are getting less and less support, we fail to see the suffering in our own neighborhoods when there's a big important hyped-up cause to contribute to.
i'd like to know where the support for the Afghanistan people is. they are another group of people who are suffering needlessly, yet no one seems to realise this as long as the news assures us that "the military is being very very careful not to harm civilians" and "yes, we're doing humanitarian food drops". i don't understand why we'd bother feeding people we plan to bomb the fuck out of anyway.
wait...i forgot, this is a war against terrorism,*not* against Afghanistan.
right.
10/12/01
go read the shite i used to write before transmogrifying into a big fucking boring person.
10/11/01
i'm seriously considering the pointlesness of continuing to write crap here. all i can think of to write about is the same old shite; i rarely leave my house so i can't fill pages with my fascinating social adventures, i'm not self-infatuated enough to post arseloads of pics, i have no vast stores of knowledge to share...i am the epitome of a waste of space.
the realisation has dawned upon me that i don't do *anything*...i am just about completely useless and worthess as a human being. some girls have iteresting talents, others just sit there and look cute. i have absolutely no talent unless one counts the ability to bounce around like a manic crackbunny on occasion, and while i'm fairly good at sitting there i've never been able to master the art of looking cute. i eat, i sleep, i stare disinterestedly at things and feel varying degrees of annoyance. what fucking fun.
earlier i was staring at the television and happened upon some commercial depicting a happy, middle-class family: mom, dad,the kids and the dog all sitting around the dinner table (well, the dog wasn't sitting *at* the table, but...yeah) enjoying the wholesome goodess of some prepackaged delight. i bawled my fucking eyes out...lately i care less and less if it's artificial happiness. i want a formica kitchen, i want to watch stupid soap operas while the kids play nearby, i want to have dinner on the table every night at 5, i want to go shopping and buy shit i don't need without a second thought, i just want a little bit of fucking happiness...who gives a shit what kind of system i have to submit to in order to attain it. i'm sure any moral qualms i'd have could be easily buried under a few holidays in some sunny place or a few hundered dollars worth of vintage housewife dresses. maybe eventually i'd completely forget myself and be a contented, happy drone.
this is what happens when you don't conform, boys and girls. don't try this at home.
10/10/01 i'm so fucking lonely.
for the first time in years i've found myself unhappy with my isolation. then again, i don't think i've ever been this utterly alone before. my tenative network of friends is practically nonexistant. i never experienced the happy adolescent "fitting in" of slumber parties and long phone conversations and bubbly best friends but i always managed to find a few people who were willing to spend time with me.
i realise that most of my isolation is self-induced...i gave up on the majority of my real-life friends because i couldn't deal with their cattiness. then i made friends online but have either alienated them by boring them to death with my endless pseudo-political rants, or began politely ignoring them. it's not that i don't want to talk to them...it's just that most of them are all clever and cute and i feel like a great big bumbling lunk when i talk to them. the persona of voltarina that they know is mostly something that emerged while i was on a month-long DXM trip; we all met because of my bizzare drug-induced ramblings on various messageboards.
now i'm more sober and less manic and i feel like a big fucking caricature of myself...i'm just not the same crazy-but-lovable chick who would babble about toasters and sporks and diety incarnations at random. now i'm just my boring idiot self. talking to witty, bouncy, sqerlalicious people just makes me feel like more of a bland abberation.
wheeee.
10/09/01
i ventured out of the house and found an abandoned warehouse by some train tracks. just in case you've never seen such fascinating marvels of architecture, i took pictures.
i'm firmly convinced that i'm fucking losing it. whatever amount of "it" i posessed to begin with is rapidly ebbing away and i don't know what to do about it. fuck,i don't even know if i *want* to do anything, perhaps i'll just go bloodyfuckingnuts and be comitted to a mental instituation. really it dosen't sound so bad, a sterile world of medication and routine. anything to get out of this perpetual lethargic daze of apathy.
i wake up every day, drag myself to the kitchen to get something to eat, realise that i still have no food because i'm still too stubborn to submit conform and get a fucking job. so i fantasise for a while about creamy gooey calorie-rich foods, then feel guilty because i know i'll never become a Barbie girl, because GOOD little girls deprive themselves and avoid calories like the fucking plauge, and who gives a fuck if the popular stereotype of beauty is a bunch of bullshit...when i meet people they don't exactly look at my fucking morals, regardless of how open-minded said person claims to be. no, what they look at is my exterior, and they see a plain chubby blemished flawed rather unattractive girl who could give a lesser fuck about fashion. even these supposed "subcultures" are so diluted that one still has to fit in the normal range of accepted attractiveness to be considered pretty: if you're a "raver" you wear kandy jewelry and big pants and a little shirt with your choice of cute cartoon character on it, if you're a "punk" you wear thrift-store pants and your choice of punk rawk band shirt and dye your hair. the list goes on, there is no individuality in anything. every supposed subculture has been preyed upon by corporations and commercialised and turned into utter crap.
so i mope for a while and continue my journey through the house. i instigate arguements with Roo for a bit, lie about listlessly on the couch, phutz around online and ramble about the same shit day after day after day after fucking day blah blah blah my words repeat themselves over and over and over and still NO ONES FUCKING LISTENING.
then i go back to bed hoping that the world will have majikally changed by the time i wake up.
what fun. i live for a cause that no one gives a shit about, i strive endlessly to think of ways to better a society that has no interest in being helped. the few people who listen to me call me idealistic and tell me i'm going about everything the wrong way...i ask how wrong it is to try to save the fucking world all by my little self because no one else cares enough to think idealistically.
fuck this, i feel like an angsty teenager.
tra la la i want a pizza.
10/08/01
i suppose i should write some long opinionated rant about our newest development in current events. for once i can't think of anything to say; i've come to the realisation that no amount of clever bitching and complaining from me is going to change a fucking thing when i live in a society comprised of people who wish to remain ignorant.
my heart goes out to all those who will suffer needlessly due to Amerika's bullshit political agenda.
i wonder how long it'd take for me to get shot if i wrote "i love Osama" on a shirt and wore it outside.
i also wonder if there's any redemption for makind, especially considering that most of Amerika's youth could give a lesser shit about the atrocities occuring around them, as long as *their* realities aren't directly affected.
maybe we'll all just self-destruct.
whatever.
i'm still having Twiggy problems, this time maifesting themselves in the form of fan art *cringe*
10/06/01 the case of the Twiggyphile
i'm listening to Marilyn Manson's "Mechanical Animals".
and, for some reason unbeknownst to mankind, ENJOYING it.
this is a definate problem. see, long, long ago in a galaxy far away (or some such shite) a younger, more naive vollie was a sPoOkY kiD. if we really want to get into dirty lil cofessions, i also wore bad whiteface makeup with streaky black eyeliner, sported a leopard-print trenchcoat with "sadistic lollipops" scrawled upon the back, and salivated over Twiggy Ramirez' every move. to put things simply, i looked and acted somewhat like a mime on serious amounts of crack.
then Manson turned mainstream and glamish, and i discovered better music. i crawled out from my mountainous heaps of Masonite paraphenelia, chiseled the makeup off my face and stopped hissing at my classmates. life was fine and dandy. hooray!
so why the phluff am i sitting here humming along to "coma white"? sure, i might still reminisce over my "portrait of an american family" album once in a while; perhaps the sight of Twiggy in full drag makes my inner child's heart flutter a bit but...
uhmm. did i just type all that out loud?
*twitch*
10/05/01 new layout, hooray
my very first layout without the stereotypical goffik black background! in case you care, the lyrics on the splash page are from the beatles' "revolution".
i need to get hosted. i hate these farking angelfire banners, and i don't wanna bother putting up the Squerlicuz page until i'm somewhere that offers me as much space as i want for it.
host me, damnit. you know you wanna.
10/04/01
i attempted to write an amusing bit of nonfiction based upon my first experience with shrooms.
"oh shit" said the girl "i think i'm gonna puke." she turned her head and vomited casually in the street. none of the cars passing by took any notice.
a few moments later she looked up at me & smiled. We felt a unanimous unspoken urge to stop, to stay where we were. neither one of us wanted to go any further.
we saw a piece of Styrofoam skittering across the street; the girl reached out and snatched it. I dug around in my green army bag and produced a roll of electrical tape. the girl squealed with delight. cerimoniously, we wrapped the tape around the bit of Styrofoam.
"There" she said "now we have a talisman. we can commence our journey now."
we continued down the cracked and litter-strewn sidewalk.
we were silent as we walked. my gaze fell upon the girl - I noticed the way she walked, her slouched posture, her hands jammed into her pockets, a tiny bit of green mohawk peeking out from under her black and patched hoodie. every once in a while she would roll the ball of her tounge ring across her chubby lips, where it glinted in the warm orange glow of a sum just about to retire for the evening.
the sidewalk stretched endlessly before us. occasionally i would become dizzy and force myself to draw my eyes away from the slowly warping street. I felt a vaugely annoying dry, earthy taste inside my mouth.
we entered the corner Triangle market, although we knew that our profit from that morning's panhandling was long gone.
the girl stood silently before the counter, staring longingly at the bins of brightly wrapped sacharrine treats. the clerk glanced at our dilated pupils with a knowing chuckle. she extended her hand; inside were two peices of grape flavoured Bazooka bubble gum. we were happy as children.
back outside, the all-too-often unseen splenor of the universe was unfolding before us. we saw people - the dreadlocked hippie guy whom we followed for a while, the suspicious gaze of the police officer, the mother with her five small children. we spoke to no one.
finally our destination was in sight. hand in hand, we
bleh, i hate this. the rest of the evening was entirely uneventful...it would be rather anticlimatic to say
"...we walked to Perkins, met up with a few friends, made pointless chitchat for a while, and got a ride home. then everyone else passed out and i spent the remainder of the night listening to the Misfits and staring at some posters on my friend's wall. the end."
so fuck being truthful, i suppose. my new,improved ending shall go like this:
"...we dove for shelter under a park bench as a bright flash of light exploded before us. seconds later, the entire world was obliterated by a nuclear bomb. the end."
hey, it *could* happen.
10/03/01
someone signed my guestbook.
"you really suck.ravers are stupid and you look like a boy.get a life."
this bothers me. normally i'd laugh off such a thing but in this particular instance i'm annoyed to no end. first off, nowhere on this site have i specified my gender. perhaps i *am* a boy, or a transvestite, and thus would take no insult from such a comment? nor do i consider myself a "raver", i go to parties once every millenium and listen to electronica on occasion. wow, everyone should be in awe of my vast and amazing raverosity. secondly i fail to see the point of making a disparaging comment about someone, then not having the balls to leave an email address or whatnot. how sad, to voice an opinion then hide behind the anonymity of the internet.
besides, i've never had any desire to look traditionally feminine. is there some point in perpetually striving to model yourself after the image of some media star? why should one base their concept of gender attractiveness upon some socially accepted stereotype? i think if "attractive" women in the media were portrayed by acctresses with purple facial hair and warts, that would quickly become the standard of attractiveness.
which brings us to another irritation: i, for one, simply cannot stand seeing these eleventeen-year-old girls flouncing around in those little tshirts that say "hottie" and "tease" and "sexy" etcetcetc. it just strikes me as wrong. what the fuck ever happened to good old fucking human decency?
wait, i know. Britney Spears happened. "like, hi, i'll portray myself as wholesome in my first album to ensnare preteen girls, then transmogrify into an evil demon whore from hell! then i'll show young girls who are prolly already struggling with their self images that they need to look like ME to be happy. and, of course, one can never, ever be happy without a BOY! yes, girls, in order to be a fulfilled human being, you should starve yourself, paint your face, and wear revealing clothing in order to attract the attentions of the Opposite Sex. our purpose as women is to be mindless, submissive sex goddesses!"
happinnes, Britney-Spears style. only $9.99.
10/02/01 yes sir, i will
i'm in the midst of a moral dillemma of sorts. i refuse to go out and make myself conventionally usefull by joining the masses of overworked, underpaid mindless drone workers, not because i particualrily enjoy just lazing about my house all day but because i refuse to contribute to an employment system i despise. on the other hand, i have no fucking money, i'm fucking hungry, if i'd like to continue having a place to reside and electricity and all the other little niceties of human life, i have bills to pay. so what the fuck am i supposed to do? i planned to make money by selling my art but that didn't work because whatever sense of artistic integrity i have makes me unable to sell something at a fraction of what i feel it's worth, nor will i pay astronomical amounts for the privledge of being allowed to set up a booth at some convention or gallery. unfortunately i can't at this point in time time pop off and join a commune somehwere due to circustances completely out of my control. i could be a panhandler i suppose, but i think my gutterpunk days ended sometime around when i was 16...and i still wonder at times why the fuck i had to have my stupid fucking independance instead of staying at home and living off my parents for as long as possible.
this is NOT FUCKING FAIR. i wouldn't mind having a job as long as i was doing something actually productive that i'd derive personal satisfaction from but i will not not not not not not not not be a mindless drone i simply fucking refuse to be reduced to nothing but a gear in a sick fucking machine i wont i wont i wont.
hooray for temper tantrums.
sure, i suppose i could join the Almighty Fucking Educational system and pay arseloads of money to get a slightly less pointless, slightly higher paying job. whoop de fucking do, i think i can think of better ways to waste my fucking time than being further indoctrinated with lies.
this is where Brad tells me that i'm crazy and delusional. after all, all ya gotta do is stay in line and get all edumacated and THEN, friends and neighbors, you can fuck around with the system from within and blah blah blah. besides, then you can have a Sooper-Duper Formica-Coated Shiny Thingamabob. and we ALL need shiny thingamabobs, don't we?
the sad truth is, as a child of Consumer America, i *do* like shiny thingamabobs. i like vintage clothes and stickers and lollipops and rhinestone jewelry and all sorts of other materialistic crap.
what we need is a complete destruction of the society we live in and then a complete rebuilding; i think there's very little of this sick conglomeration called "mankind" that is salvageable. humans are fine and dandy, but under the influence of a corrupt society they become ignorant, unthinking, uncaring atrocities. perhaps that sounds extreme, but how can anyone attain any kind of real happiness in this game of lies and greed that we live in? people have been literally desensitised, in constant pursuit of power and money and meaninngless bullshit, sectioned off into nice little social units, sterilised and lobotomised, stuck in little cycles of work-produce-consume.
we need a society where people work and contribute, not for only personal benefit, but for the benefit of the entire comunity, where everyone has all they need because everything BELONGS to everyone, where love is recognised in it's purest form rather than a means to segregate and control, where one's beauty isn't determined by the empty-eyed silicon images in fashion magasines and your validity as a human being isnt deterined by the amount of numbers in your salary or the size of your house or the size of your dick, where people are all recognised as equal human beings.
how's that for idealistic.
so i guess for now i'll sit here and wave my protest signs all by my little fucking self. or something.
i dunno. i like orange popsicles.
10/01/01 i'm irritated.
as usual, but *this* time i'm irritated for a brand-spankin-new reason.
i was perusing some sites that i had in my "favorites" from a few months back. previously most of the sites consisted mainly of the same copied&pasted descriptions of plur and rave photos and cute little sparkly graphics; it seems that now they've transmogrified into sPoOkY pAgEs chock full of info on How to Be a Gothic Vampire Punk Rawk Riot Grrl. uhm.
this is just not right.
i understand that people change and develop new interests and go through phases, which is an essential part of self-discovery.
however, i simply cannot uderstand this rampant jumping from one stereotype to the next depeding upon what's popular *this* week...the happy little candy girl traded in her rainbow clothes for black velvet, nextweek she'll dye her hair green and go around shouting "oi". finally she'll end up as a dumpy, overweight housewife wed to a wifebeater-wearing ex-jock-boy and invest hundreds of dollars in the latest anti-wrinkle creams and weight loss solutions...just like all her friends!
i'd like to convince some pop star to wear clown suits for a week and see if it becomes the new trend.
when i grow up, i wanna be a kumquat.
9/16/01
i like quizzez.
the sad part? i had to actually look up who brian molko is. apparently he's from Placebo. "oh yeah!" says i, "he's the guy who sings the song with all the rhyming words!"
as if i needed another reminder that i'm hopelessly uncool.
frankly, i prefer my rockystar boyfriend:
surprise,surprise. i'm a slutty bitch (or is it bitchy slut?)
9/15/01 the current state of the world makes me fucking sick.
it's frightening to think about the potential long-term repercussions of what's been going on lately; a tragic situation that could potentially escalate into something even more horrible, because there are people driven by personal motivations who have FAR too much power, a general public that is ignorant to say the least, and people in the media who will exploit any situation they can to make some fucking money. yes, i'm probably far more paranoid than most, but i can see such events becoming an excuse to settle personal grudges ect of those in power.
the worst part of all, i think, is that already the initial shock has worn off and people are returning to their everyday lives with far too much ease. "wasn't it fucking horrible, yes just fucking terrible, well okay i have to go mow my fucking lawn now" to quote Subhumans "bombs war famine death, an apathetic public couldn't care less." so yes, General Public, go back to being so wrapped up in your nice contented little lives that you don't have the desire to take a stand against anything. believe everything you're told, be a good little mindless drone worker and whatever you do don't think for yourself, and in reward you'll get worthless material posessions and token achievements...because that's the Fucking American Dream.
i think i'll go back to my shelter made of sporks and poptarts now, and wait for the next angel to blow her firey fucking trumpet, and not read Revelations no matter what.
who wants to help me build my spaceship?
9/16/01 Joshua Bard (some official dude in washington) said:
"I am truly amazed at the number of Europeans arguing for pacifism in the face of the current attacks on the US. The just must, from time to time, use violence."
since when does retalliation to violence by using MORE violence seem like a good solution? we are, essentially, becoming terrorists by attempting to punish those who perpetrated the attack in this manner.
what happened was tragic, but how much more tragic will it become by using MORE needless violence to solve it?
conspiracy theory #1: our stock market and economy is falling quickly. what would help the economy more than having a war? is it possible that we (the us government) perpetrated the attack and are now using it as an excuse to initiate further conflict with countries whom we already had disputes with? why are we so quick to look for scapegoats from OTHER countries, countries that JUST SO HAPPEN to be ones that we have problems with already? is allof this being used as an excuse for Mister Bush to stick his nose into a fucking holy war, just like daddy did?
war is, as far as i know, supposed to be a LAST RESORT as a resolution to a problem that cannot be solved otherwise. it seems that we've explored no other alternatives here, simply rushed into a state of readiness for war.
apparently a passport of one of the supposed terrorists was found amongst the rubble in new york. now HOW THE FUCK, i ask, did a single passport happen to survive the collision and consequent explosion, and why was it MAGIKALLY found,unharmed, when people can't even find HUMANS that are buried in all the debris? passports aren't neccesary to fly from one Amerikan city to another.now if YOU were an international terrrist, would you bring along your passport just in case you need to be identified? i don't think so.
a lot of things just don't fucking match up here, and of course we, the General Amerikan Public, will probably never know the full truth of what's going on. instead we'll be rushed into war, not really knowing why and, for the most part, not caring.
^_^
run away from the killer lemurs