Cleared of Barbarism

              I was feeling nervous yesterday, my moral compass was fucking up.
           I noticed with surprise that I was challenging myself about what I say on here. I was kind of worried, yes worried, just for a minute, about what "others" may think of me. Holy shit. That's a bad fucking spot. It indicates a possible connection between conscience and introspection which could lead to me not saying what I say naturally.
         Well, fuck that. What kind of fun would that be? I never want to be at the intellectual mercy of  my concept of "others" and what I have no even slight idea about what they're thinking about. Probably they think like me, pussy, pussy, food, food,  with a few slight variations here and there.
  That kind of sentence structure I just used would drive my English teachers crazy but, it's how I write and how I think so I would tell them to maybe go fuck themselves, it's my style, not O' Henrys. He wrote a story called "The Ransom of Red Chief" which I like, but that doesn't mean I have to write one like it.
          I felt the same about all the big authors I read. I only ever tried to write like Dostoyevsky until I remembered he was Russian so I was reading some fucking translators translation and that didn't guarantee it was what Fyodor meant or even said. I never learned Russian like Sarah the Butt Queen of Alaska didn't either.
               There is no need for censorship, personal or official here, I am certainly as well behaved as any other barbarous human is.
                Other acquaintances of mine, mostly cops and family members, thought I belonged in prison for my barbarous views and propensity to share them out loud, on paper and in some of my activities in the community. Smug little fuckers waited politely for me to go down, smiling serenely and knowingly as I continued my wicked ways.
          My idea was, give me what I want at a reasonable price. No one has to suffer. There's plenty out there to go around, alcohol for the Catholics as well as smack for me, freedom, freedom, freedom.
             I'm a controversial dinner guest to this day, maybe because I know that barbarism is just unrefined civility swinging back and forth, it's a benefit of owning a big brain and opposing thumbs and knowing  what to shop for and whats right for yourself. My family did not subscribe, generally, to these views.
            Genghis and Attila were never bothered by moral compasses and look how long they had fun before it was over. They were savage bastards, but that was the style back then. Their ancestees are still out there in Lo Monthang and Hungary, worrying the Russians, Americans, and the Chinese because they won't change and they aren't scared much of fighting off invaders. That's how I feel, like an old wore out motherfucking Hun Khan. I will not be quiet and polite if it's not warranted and I decide if it is or not. I'll listen to suggestions from anyone I trust, but don't count on anything until it happens. As far as fighting off invaders goes, I'm ready.