# some degree of runaway party expectations instantly rewriting the narratives of the widely socially celebrated tiresome plastic campus mothers with starched grins and rusty spanners for brains as researcher richard says withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy in which one wishes one could be truly dumb maybe then one could feel so deliriously happy meanwhile that dippy prat over there in starched beige golfing trousers fresh from ir accounting course plays 'wonderwall' on the jukebox for the fifth basket time - forever inwardly smirking little munt you finally stride over and say hail fellow student - why not turn that weak-arts lamer jive off and stick on something decent say we've got love if you want it by slim harpo your so-called campus mates make out you're a party pooper and request you quote 'chill out'; what's that you mean remain as brain-dead and emotionally soul-frozen as the rest of these witless lemmings you stare in silent condemnation of such spineless pale-stale collective homogeneity and retreat back into the corner by the fridge quietly hating the mere notion of them walking people plastic with ir lite artisan beers; swear you almost brush-knee twist-stepped that designer flesh bag right through the host's expensive electronic entertainment system geez chill out swanson ok whatever sure still maybe we should stroll right over kong-rip ir skinny arms off and beat two types of polite perfume out of such despicably pleasant plastic storefront mannequins for sanity's sake of the wider polyverse heck we'd do it for free because they need it and we'd enjoy the expressive neurospectacle of thundering luminescent rage set against the willingly ignorant forces of violet preening self-satisfied mediocrity and ir cardboard lie of 'the social' as usual the whole of realty is flipped on its idiot head and least among us get all the smiles grace and polite social capital so how about this scientific scenario - rather then us simply chilling out why don't you go hop along now before you get distressingly injured you obnoxious prancing prat-stain; inject some essential heat into your horrible little homogeneous lukewarm existence you witless prancing tool later on you saw them sat comfortably together - speaking gently about various no-doubt important and clever cultural matters with one weak arm around one's secrete favorite researcher stare at them both while smouldering like angry tires burning underground they glance back quietly smirking behind ir masks as though busy sharing an oblique private joke at your expense - mocking half smiles which say it all empty rooms full of brain dead merchants desperately auditioning to be in a flocking roony novel or anderson movie oh plastic whizz weasels please get politely titanic-wrecked dear tender fellow researcher oh how we want to casually mutate that designer gwuat your hanging with - trust us it wouldn't raise our existential pressure one degree this student party blows dead donkey uh oh here they come again - zero hero of the hour the man who grinned themselves to deff a useless block of unseasoned tofu strutting around this perfumed room-cube with ir factory installed confidence and willfully obscure mainstream-underground indie band tshirt the walking embodiment of 'conceive-believe-achieve' cackling and gasping at ir own self-advertised greatness with the kind of incredulous glee only tiresome morons hope to find yet always do tiny man-bunned prince of the trash heap called the social - unceasingly spitting forth optimally polite party conversation with casual effortlessness oh hateful blank-eyed little puppy please don't tumble down the nearest stairwell and snap random vital parts off that useless artisan air-wasting anatomy skinny soulless dumb cream-of-wheat lunk standing akimbo with your tiny parasol mojito spending every available second butt clenching in order to appear as though making it look so easy regularly voted the world's most confident dunce for the third term running your soft-baked muffin personality's so affable it's an attack on the universe's patience you'd better darn well hope and prey researcher henry swanson continues being as quote 'chill' as others continually suggest they do as they can switch on ir inner willard in a split second - and quite frankly the results would astound you thing is such guats as beige boy don't merely assume everyone else is less intelligent but just clearly understand they're the brightest light source in the room shit man they can't remember last time they were wrong ir expression is one of constant blank inarticulate emotion - an industrial humanoid continually and precisely failing to implement subtle incoming emotional data on how regular humans look and act they've as much actual charisma as a plastic dollar-store brought soap dish and would loose a debate to a frozen block of cream cheese - a generic unmemorable and underwhelming veneer distilled from a cheap amalgam of internal contradictions researcher swanson: go on continue to woo our sweet unrequited scientific love with compulsively cishet affectations and extreme sporting anecdotes you pudding-brained speck of plankton-headed weasel smeg you neutron star of worthless opinions and super-concentrated inanities "style-castrated morons foiled by what ir noble vat-birth affords: dogs holidays white teeth and far too many chances to avoid inheritance tax" before we had the misfortune to encounter someone like you we'd no idea it was possible for to sit here and slowly over-boil; a private pan of scalding liquid envy what does that drastic-plastic twod lord imagine they've got that we don't apart from a snappy taste in beige golfing outfits and a hollow skull full of dim halibut urine the toughest player in ir private golf club - we bet they beat it to ir own college yearbook picture we bet they cheat at noughts and crosses; they look like they'd steal boogers out of a dead baboon's suppurating hole and sell them back as fresh apples to ir dying grandmother rumor states they once stuck ir head out the window of passing train and got arrested for mooning as the mighty rollins asks: what would an entire planet of 'the fittest' look like - credit cards with legs perhaps look at them laughing poshly - 'clarfing' - with starched white even brains ir rich alcoholic parents brought them insufferable merchants all blander than diner toothpicks - please go play in traffic you endlessly chipper little grease barrels tepid little oxygen thief we honestly hope your not quietly guffawing at us over there your social confidence mask so cool and smug - it's like you regularly urinate in a shared hot tub and constantly get away with it we wouldn't want a true player to stroll over there and teach you some common sense and basic human etiquette - or just casually smith-slap that smirking mug right off that idiot skull using cheng-style tai chi 'brush-knee twist-step' or watch someone get unceremoniously rabbit-suckered neckwise leary style - especially not in front of one's polite pink myfakeface friends heck we might get some on our shoes and bystanders might think we associate with you cosmic ph7 lamers // republic of bob