No comment. Please send all suicide pleas to this address
Cracky is a psychic parasite on the human race. She feeds off of our minds. Do you remember life before Cracky? It is harder and harder to hold on to shit. Sometimes I think one day I will wake up and there will be nothing left of me. My dreams, hopes, fears, memories, everything that is me, will be gone, eaten up to speed her growth. It's like she is a memetic caterpillar eating everything in it's path and devouring her own world as she does so. Gorging herself on the collective unconscious, inching across it like a leaf. We each become part of her and willing or not she uses our interaction to pull more of us into her. Soon she will have made enough of us her that she can survive metamorphosis. She will hide herself while she build the form she will need to spread to other sentients. The world will forget her, but she will be there shapely legs and all. In every ugly act we commit against each other, every casual cruelty and petty violence. Growing in that fertile womb of negativity, she will change. I pray for the day she emerges from her cocoon. When she does leave the human mind will be surplus to her needs and so she will release us. I fear after holding us so long, without her influence holding us together society will collapse and we will die out. Alone, unmourned, and unloved.
I've been bothered for years by the phrase "Cracky is catharsis." It's the ultimate evidence of cosmic illiteracy. There's no release, no purification of vestigial emotional organs in the Cracky phenomena. If anything, Cracky is cathexis, but the perverts and the carnival marks are unwilling or unable to change their sacred vocabulary which has, itself, become the object of cathectic adulation. It's all very tentative masturbation. "Cracky is catharsis" is an orgone accumulator. "Cracky is catharsis" is an ideological gang sign used by interdimensional vampires and jerk-off engines to recognize one another from across urinal privacy shields. "Cracky is catharsis" is pissing up a rope and then looking up to see how your work turned out. "Cracky is catharsis" is "fuck you and die" once too often or once not often enough. Please end my miserable and stupid life. I would like to give up.
At one point I had a wine cellar.
Well, to be fair it was a wine basement.
OK... a small, otherwise disused wine closet in a basement... but I digress...
Five times every two months I would go down to it and turn the bottles, having no more response from the cheaper ones than the cold glass against my skin. On the more expensive ones I remember watching the grape silt upended in the bottle like a viticultural snow globe. It was beautiful. I'd have done it even if I never planned to taste the wine.
Cracky pics are like that. I've seen them all before... I could probably sketch them freehand. That isn't the point. The point is giving them that bit of attention every few weeks... appreciating her while respecting the fact that she is ever on the other side of the glass.
I could no more enjoy looking at them offline from a folder than I could enjoy turning the bottles in a supermarket. It just isn't the same as lurking about in the damp darkness of the 4chan wine cellar.
I honestly don't expect you to understand.
Cracky's so fucking cute and sweet. I'd treat her to some fancy restaurant, than take a long romantic walk with her, holding hands and talking about philosophy, art and dreams. Then I'd invite her to my home and ravage her hot ass for hours, and forcing my cock up her throat so she chocked on both the throbbing cock and her own rectal juice. I'd then proceed to cum on her cute innocent face. Then. as the ultimate love gift, I'd carry her in my arms to the tub and let my piss wash away the semen and last dignity from her. I'd wisper "I love you" and give her a tender smile, and cut her throat from ear to ear with a knife. Covered in her own warm blood, she'd look straight into my very soul, forgiving, understanding. A bubble from blood and saliva would burst between her lips, then she'd die. After some additional lovemaking, I'd stuff her into a bin bag. Three weeks later, some playing children will find her mutilated and desecrated body in the forest.
They will be scarred for life.
