Duck Down
March 23rd 2008 18:32
A Down Duck.
Mum and dad didn’t speak to each other much. Unless it was to have an argument.
Men and women, or male and female nature are so different. Modern feminists can bang on all they like about equality, but just have a look at the outside bits. The penis and the vagina are a perfect match, but they’re not equal.
The quest for equality is the work of the devil. It’s to take people’s minds off the real purpose of life.
If you want to know what the real purpose of life is? Work it out for yourself. I had to. All I’ll tell you is, it’s not the feminist quest for equality.
I might be a serial killer but I know a lot about human nature. You learn heaps about human nature when you take someone’s life away. It makes you like God. If you want to know what most people fear? Kill someone. You’ll find that most people’s primary (and hidden) fear is the fear of death and what’s beyond it. Why do they beg for their life? Even when they believe in reincarnation? Do they really believe in reincarnation, or does it just suit them to have a few spare lives up their sleeves? Kill someone, and you’ll find out the answer.
“Stop blubbering you pathetic bitch,” was what I told one woman I killed. “You’ll be a cat in a few minutes.” And then I sent her off to reincarnation land? I’ll bet she got a shock when she died. And realised she wasn’t going to come back as a cat.
Prison is a good place for me. I’m far too dangerous to be let loose on society. I’m too God-like. I smote here, I smote there. Here a smote, there a smote, everywhere a smote-smote. Young Kevin McMader had a smoter, e i e i o.
I’m better off being locked up. My body is a prisoner of Yatala. And my mind is a prisoner of my body. I’ve been a prisoner of my own brilliant mind all my life, so prison is no big deal.
I can educate people about how to go about life from here. By telling them to not do the things I did?
I reckon God is just this great big fluffy cloud of mercy. And you can just plunge yourself into Him, and feel as safe as if you were still in your mother’s womb, or wrapped up in a big quilt made of down. I wish they’d make a quilt of up. For some reason God only gave ducks down feathers, but no up feathers. God tends to do thing creation-wise to make us think about Him. Most of us go, “I would have done it differently”. The wise man goes, “God, you know what you’re doing.”
If I hadn’t become a serial killer, I would have made an excellent God. People would be running around plucking up feathers off ducks all day long, and fashioning quilts out of them? “Come and see my quilt made of up,” they’d say. And bore you shitless with a guided tour of their pretentious houses?
“Come and see my prison cell. It’s just me and God. I’ve got nothing but I’ve got everything. I lost all to gain all.”
I’m really getting into this conversion stuff.
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