Plague rats in a casserole, plague rats in a casserole. I know it’s supposed to be bad form to be obsessively fixated upon your own image, I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you very much. Have you actually given it any thought though – if all you have is your image of yourself then else are you supposed to do? It’s all very well being smug and judgemental and full of all this enlightened crap, about how you shouldn’t be in love with the mind-created image of who you are, but that’s facile nonsense. Dimwits only need apply, dimwits and new-age dip-heads, right? They’ll go along with anything, that’s how mentally vacuous they are. Boy do I loathe them and all they stand for. Dippy dippy dip-heads. Flaky flaky flake-heads. With their self-preening stupid talk, ‘We’re all so self-aware!’ They are in my hole. Words can’t express the contempt I feel for them. ‘Look at me I’m so non-dual,’ they say, all full of themselves. They’re spiritual narcissists really of course, overflowing with toxicity. They’re everywhere. What am I supposed to do after all, when my image of myself is all I have, all I can ever have? What in the name of God would they have me do? Rats in a salad, rats in a stew, rats with dumplings, rats covered in goo. Happy days are here again right? We broke the evil spell of the spiritual narcissists and so now we can have some good wholehearted rip-roaring fun again, doing the kind of stuff we all love to do. Letting rip with all that good stuff; going for it like there’s no tomorrow. Breaking loose. Hollering like a complete dumbhead, bawling like a fool. Roaring like the complete jackass you are. Pissing yourself with abandon. Craving a big salad like you used to get in your local diner? Why, all you need to do is stick your finger up your bum and repeat after me: “I am a total fuckwit and I don’t know my arse from a hole in the ground.” Repeat this formula three times and you’ll be free from the evil magic that had us all banjaxed. Craving to be a complete knob-head like all of your friends? Of course you are, of course you are. It’s only natural after all. Roaring like a complete knob-head, as stupid as you please. Try shoving a live eel up your arse to see if that makes any difference. Those little guys are full of juice, you know; if that doesn’t revamp your jaded personality nothing will! They’re sparky little lads they are, full of beans every last one of them. They are full of beans and so will you be! ‘What’s the meaning of living a completely meaningless life?’ – that’s the question folk don’t ask themselves very often. What function does a purely meaningless life serve? This happens to be something I think about it rather a lot you see and although I haven’t come up with an answer yet I think I’m getting somewhere. We are all very busy trying to make out that our lives are super-meaningful of course. Every Tom Dick and Sally is busy grasping for some meaning in their lives by trying to transcend the self but that’s clearly bullshit. The self can’t transcend the self after all. That’s just plain stupid. The self can’t do nothing only be the self. So that’s clearly what we’re supposed to do…