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Why are we fatally attracted to photographing ourselves?

I can’t quite put my finger on this ridiculous activity which people relate to as being a “past time” or a “hobby”. I do not see an issue if you were a professional photographer who takes pictures and sells them for a living. That to me is an art. Because you sure as fuck will be compelled to take breathtaking pictures which convey an exquisite moment in time. But to mindlessly bring a camera along with you everywhere you go just to document people’s remorseful existence and yours as well is another thing all together. It to me is an extremely sad and depressing thing to do.

Do we really lead such forgetful lives that we have to remind ourselves how we look like?

Walk around town and you see these completely ridiculous looking youths; dark framed spectacles, with neon or tartan tees and a thin cut jeans listening to some pathetic music which they label as ‘Indie’, walking around with their most recent unwisely spent materialistic opiate called a digital camera; failing to realize that by their cameras being ‘digital’, it has completely robbed the authenticity of all their pictures as well as absolved them from 90% of the talent and foresight required to take a good picturesque shot. You see these motherfuckers taking hundreds and hundreds of shots of their god as fuck ugly friends.

It’s always the same asshole in the shots as well and no matter the lighting or the location, it’s always the same retarded pose which bears a striking resemblance to my Granma’s dog’s syphilis infected penis.

Or if it’s not their friends, then it’s the food they eat, which in all honesty, who the fuck gives a fuck how it looks like? It’s gonna be in the shitter anyway in 4 hours time. In fact, if you’re going to take pictures of the food before consumption, you better take a shot of it after consumption. It’s only fair. Besides, if you say its art before digestion, then it has to be art after digestion as well. To say SHIT is not artistic is to insult the output that comes out of the human body and therefore the essence of humanity. So don’t be a pretentious dipshit! Take a picture of your toilet bowl after you’re done taking a shit and put it out for the world to see.

Do we lead such a bankrupt life that we have to look at ourselves to affirm our existence?

Don’t people just stand and appreciate a beautiful moment anymore? Whatever happened to remembering things? Recollecting thoughts? Dreaming of a stunning sight you once experienced?

A piece of music is a fine example of what art is. Every note, every accent and every sound is an expression of a composer’s deepest emotional resonance. To play a piece of music that is, suppose, 12 minutes in length, is to reenact the composer’s state of being during the moment the melody transpired through him. Every note must be played according to how it has been designated.  No one note is more special than another, no ending is more important than the beginning, no crescendo is more important than a decrescendo – all is required in full wholesomeness to recapitulate another human being’s moment of intense introspection. The whole piece is a reflection of the composer’s experience while being alive.

A photograph of your friends or the food you shove down your stinking gut will never accomplish that. It in fact serves to distill human relationships and emotions and reduce it to a mere spot in a recycled album, a meager fleeting kilobyte, a worthless collage of colours void of any artistic merit or interpretation, in short – GARBAGE.

What is most disappointing is if it ends up on any of these social networking shithole sites, which only serve to ridicule a person’s existence; her precious moment, her then present experience is frozen into an impersonal still facade for the uninformed viewing of a vanity obsessed reality deprived public. It by no means encapsulates the happiness, sadness, playfulness or gloom that a person may be afflicted with at the moment the picture was taken. It is but another screenshot in cyberspace, preceding some loser clicking on word “Next” to view the next permutation of pixels.

And the Public, this is another buncha shits. Why on earth do people waste their precious time looking at the pictures of others? Must the public continue to waste their pointless lives browsing through hundreds and hundreds of low grade disdainful pictures just to fill their empty lives with the life and times of another fucking loser? Don’t you have other better things to do? Masturbate? Simulate a rape with your boyfriend? Piss on your neighbour’s pet poodle? Or at the very least, read a book? This does indeed reaffirm the point that the human species is nothing more than S.H.I.T.

Do we really have nothing else better to do in life than to analyse our own lackluster appearances?

I wanna take a shit on these shitty cam whores who can’t stop taking pictures of themselves. They do it in cars, bus stops, clubs, rest stops, petrol stations, restaurants, cinemas, bars, parties, hotels, cafes, classrooms, workplaces, parks, social events and even during fuckin funerals. Do these whores ACTUALLY view these pictures again later?! Jesus fuckin Christ, what great fucking self obsessed dismal lives these people lead!

Taking 200 pictures of yourself in 9 minutes is not going to make you look any less uglier than you already are. You are still going to be the same spastic looking circus freak that you always have been, only difference being, you’d be a whole lot more stupider after the 9 minutes which you could’ve spent learning an alphabet or two.

What are these people so unconfident about? That people might think they look like dog shit? Well, even if people did think so, they aren’t gonna tell you aren’t they? In fact, they’re just going to be laughing behind your back about the sickly noxious and nauseating mugshot of yours which you call “my beautiful side”. The least you could do is save yourself the embarrassment and humiliation of that genetic malformation which you call your ‘face’.

The whole idea of taking your pictures and that of others and posting it up on the net puzzles me tremendously; must we really go on to parade our pictures to people who already know how we look like? If you look like a baboon’s cunt, then you look like a baboon’s cunt. No amount of your pictures is ever going to change my outlook on you. The least you could do is at least jam a cucumber up your asshole and take a picture of that, perhaps then I might say, “Hey this looks like (insert your name here)!”.

But think of the time, effort and energy it must’ve taken you just to appeal to your own unforgiving standards of yourself? At which point do you just breakdown and accept the miserable and paltry life you lead? How your banal and inconsequential existence is as important as your anal discharge? I think the more you deny yourself the truth of the matter, the more misery and burden you impose upon your sorry existence. You will never be happy with yourself….ever!

Must we constantly remind ourselves of the past?

People who take pictures because they like to remind themselves of the past are leading a horribly murky and unenlightening life. Why live in the past? The past is absolutely irrelevant and unimportant. Thinking about the past only makes you doubt yourself.

If you run away from the joys of experiencing the present moment then you live in fear.You live in denial. You are thoroughly insecure about the life you currently lead. You are of no value to yourself. You are worse than a pile of chicken diarrhea.

Why the fuck bother reminding yourself of the people who brand themselves as your so called friends? Why lead a decrepit life of going back to ALL those pictures you took? All just to counsel yourself that someone out there supposedly cares for you simply because they were in the same picture with you? Why are you bullshitting yourself? Fuck you!

You are alone, singular and unaided in this life. Nobody gives a fuck about you or your problems. Nobody appreciates you. And nobody cares about your sorry wasted little insignificant life. In fact, truth be told, secretly, most people might even want you to be dead or at the very least contract AIDS.

If you were hanging by a cliff, 10/10 people would not help you if your survival would result in their demise– that’s the reality of it. Nobody is willing to sacrifice their perfectly healthy bodies to save a skimpy shit like you. Accept that as a Universal Truth and move on you meandering fuck!

What possible delight could you even derive from seeing someone else’s face when you could just as well speak to them on the telephone? What good would it make to remember some dead mofo or your significant other who has left you? I was always under the impression that these people must be forgotten. What the fuck are you doing storing pictures of other people and staring at them while recollecting those dilapidated times you spent with them which they themselves have long since forgotten or have tried to forget? What kinda retardation do you really suffer from?

Move on with your life and learn to appreciate every moment you spend today; every thought, every word, every action of yours is akin to every note, every accent and every sound of a piece of music, it is your deepest emotional resonance. Your own life is indeed a symphony; your very own magnum opus!

It’s just too bad that your stupidity is hindering you from dumping your camera into a shit bin and realising it!


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