I really wish I didn't have this pathological need to understand. I wish I wasn't driven by this desire to grasp the forces that surround me. Maybe I could let something small like this go. But I can't, and its going to eat at me for the rest of the night.

I heard a good song on the radio today. Pure, hard rock, on Sirius Octane 20. (gag, gag)

Used - Blood On My Hands

Hey, that sounded great. I should download it. So I make a note of the title, come home, and do a search on the internet. What's 6 of the first 7 things that come up when I type in 'used blood on my hands'?

Miley Cyrus

Miley god damn Cyrus!!!

Is there no justice in the world? Can we not escape this foul urchin? Can a regular, ordinary, not interested in her hellacious, demon spawn guy not pursue his bland, inoffensive interests without being inundated by this pest? Go away Miley you beast!! Christ, I was reading a damn Giant Tiger flyer at lunch today and they had this trollop's visage plastered on tramp-wear for 11 year old's. I kid you not, it looked like slut-gear for the pre-teen set. Why can't little girl's wear rainbow's and starfish? Why does this Miley Cyrus jackass have to be plastered all over everything?

And why does she have to interrupt my search for the pure, hard rock? Go away you demon-spawn! I want nothing of your fashion shoot, or your music video. I might want your blood on my hands, but for tonight I'll settle for just the pure, hard rock of the Used rock song.