I detest and condemn the active leisure community. It includes but is not limited to skiers, snowboarders, snowmobilers, jetskiers, waterskiers, inline skaters, skateboarders, surfers, windsurfers, kitesurfers, paragliders, skydivers, hot air ballooners, scuba divers, cyclists, joggers, marathon runners, triathletes, mountaineers, wall climbers, hikers, bikers (super, cruiser and quad), sailboaters, whitewater rafters, kayakers, canoers, caravaners, campers (campfire guitarists are the worst), old-car-around-the-world travelers, bungee jumpers and zipliners. And chess players, I don’t trust them either.
You are obnoxious, pretentiously cheerful, polluting, supremely derivative, and completely transparent. You are primeval beasts who enjoy gravitational force and inter-male competition. You’re distracting yourself from the thought of death and it’s not working. You move to places and situations out of your element and depth to make your lives seem interesting, then torment us with mundane stories and flaunt your gross tan lines. You want richer and farther ejaculations, which doesn’t work either. It’s genetic.
Every time there’s a public holiday on a Thursday, you *must* take a vacation on Friday, put on your stupid Bogner clothes, go to an alpine hotel, and have a threesome. You leech off everybody’s youth, not leaving an atom in peace if it can be turned into a hedonism career highlight. Meet, flatter, fondle, repeat. You think you live to the fullest? No! You suck ass! That’s what you literally do in those hotels.
By the way, there’s nothing wrong with threesomes if it’s one man and two women. Two men and one woman, or any hetero in the vicinity of an unaffiliated exposed penis is perversion. Perversion is lesser humanity. Another man’s penis in my presence must be behind two layers of fabric. If pulled out, one layer of concrete wall.
And even if it’s the right kind of setup, is the man so physically and financially attractive that the women can’t wait their turn? I refuse to perform in front of a third party. Sex is not a spectator sport, it is a truth exchanged between two people, a private demonstration of hang-ups and foibles. I have never seen other people have sex, I barely saw the ones I had. Women tell each other everything anyway. One tells two: “He’s a very sick man, you’ve been warned.” Then you go with two, in the dark, standard mount, under the duvet. And she’ll agree: “It is sick.”
Nobody watches your body cam videos. Zero! All helmet cameras should be bashed in, preferably while the helmets are still on the heads. And no more paintball, fellas. Go to the real thing, cry, and soil your pants in the trenches, why would you accept anything less?
All city joggers are goofy looking. Bow-legged, knock-kneed, sometimes both. Even when they do have straight legs, the gait is ungraceful, unshapely, these people are out of whack. I don’t know, maybe I’m meeting everybody on their first day. The professional athletes look good, but they have this vacuous tunnel vision on their faces that they can’t wipe off.
And everybody has the colorful bandana, the flattering leggings, the aerodynamic glasses, and the marvelous arm phone pouch. Some wear loudspeakers with musique concrète to keep them in the rhythm. The entire street has to know they are putting one leg in front of the other leg. And they look at their GPS, fitness, and mood trackers to see where they are, whether they’re alive, and whether they should be.
Surfers! Nobody cares about your cutbacks and your aerials, not even you. You care about pee-pees and hoo-has, just like everybody else. Don’t feed the polyurethane foam to the sharks, be considerate, go into the sea alone. Even better, go naked, the poor creatures can’t floss out your swimming trunks.
Do you know why mass shootings and car rammings occur? Someone mentioned Bali again.
Gym I approve, up to a point where it’s still unclear if you’re using it. When it becomes obvious you’re trying to get ripped, you’re entering a world of lamy-lame. Do you really need veins on your biceps for data entry in Excel? Also, don’t eat the powders from those silver plastic zip-lock seal bags, you’re not an astronaut. Go have a hot dog! You know you want a sausage in your mouth. Every bodybuilder does.
I even like yoga. I will start practicing it when South Asia has sanitation. RIDY BRIDEY did yoga. She liked to stretch her long legs in public to show how long and stretched they were.