I have always opted to buy love. Really, it was the only option available to me– given my staggering menu of crippling personal flaws and blatantly antisocial attitudes, the only way I’ve been able to maintain any sort of social circle throughout my adult life has been through the balancing contribution of my works. My goal has always been to inspire in those around me, both in my physical and virtual spaces, a difficult moment of indecision.
“Okay, sure,” they say to themselves. “Spud may be kind of an asshole, and he does leave his crap lying around on four different tables wherever he goes, and the relentless bragging does get pretty f***ing irritating sometimes… but on the other hand… man, that blowfish was pretty awesome. Maybe if I put up with him for a while he’ll make me something pretty like that.”
And in that moment, they’ve unwittingly entangled themselves in my calculated cycle of grudging tolerance. Putting up with Spud does not, in the end, pay off for most people, but after years of practice I’ve perfected a manner of making it look like it might. I guess I’m sort of the lottery of human beings– a horrific investment obscured by really good marketing.
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