The cube surmounts

I just don't think people should be women. It's just not natural. It's bizarre, in fact, the different things that they have that other ("regular") people don't, and vice versa. I'm not unsympathetic to their concerns and problems. It seems like they have a lot of problems. I try to not pay attention to their problems because once their problems become society's problems, it seems like everything gets worse. We cease to understand each other, as members of a society, if -- I mean, you know what I'm talking about.

And listen, do men have a lot of problems? We do. We have horrible stuff going on, and we also -- I mean let's be honest with ourselves. The stuff we have going on. Compared to women, it is much worse, in my opinion, at least in terms of the problems we have to deal with. Thinking of the problems of men as compared to the problems of women -- I actually, and I've said this before, it makes me wish I could spit venom because that is the only way I can adequately express the rage of comparing the "problems" of women to what men have to deal with -- I mean, stuff dangles down there, you know?

I think the perfect person is a totally smooth cube. Six faces and edges, and even the edges are rounded, so that there are no problems, and there is no sharpness. Tomorrow I begin calling to reconstructive surgeons to see which of them have the courage necessary to turn me into a cube. I will also ask, when they are turning me into a cube, if it is possible for them to make it so that I can spit venom when I wish to express my unhappiness, but that is not essential to the project, what is essential is that I become, once and for all, a cube. I think that any half-witted fucking moron of a surgeon could do it, if they only summon within themselves the ambition (the ambition of making a person into a cube).

When I am a cube, I will be more caring, more magnanimous. This is my promise, which I've begun to refer to as the Promise Of The Cube. I did not come to this decision lightly. It was one of two things -- either I would become a Cube, or I would be dead. The weight of the problems aforementioned had foreclosed my options to these two. Maybe the day will come when I will change my mind, but that is one factor that helped me eventually decide on the cube -- in the event that becoming a cube does not work, then it was the only option of the two that is ultimately reversible. But I do think it will work, and I do think that on my first morning as a six-sided object symmetrical from all directions: the sun will shine brighter, and the wind will not blow, and the problems of the world will be, for the first time, to me, surmountable.