Where's your Brain?

I am seriously starting to doubt that there's intelligent life on Earth, much less outside of it. Who the fuck is thinking up these means of communication between different people? Who is coming up with the standards for who is "beautiful," or who is a "slut." Hell, even intelligence itself is a pretty stupid idea to begin with. Can't say that it's book smarts, because even if you've got seven degrees and a Ph.D you could still be a complete dumbfuck and end up nowhere. Can't be street smarts, because a successful drug dealer has lots of those, and what sort of fucking good is he to society in general? Hell, he's even a hazard to his own health with the source of his success. Any dissatisfied customer or rival dealer could come up and kill him on the spot. don't see too much of that sort of competition in the cubicles of an accounting company. So who's to say what success, or intelligence, or any other measure of a person, really is, then? Nobody, that's fucking who. I am sick and tired of being judged by false attributes. 99% of the time, the people who tell me I should be doing something else with my life, be more goal oriented, be more focused, at 100% full of shit. What the fuck have you done in your life that's been so great? you sit in a cubicle and stare at a computer all day long? What the fuck kind of existence is that? You sit on the lawn, smell the flowers, and try to peddle organic pot? Take a shower you hippie piece of shit. You manage money market accounts and play the stock market? Why don't you go suck the big brown cock that is your cigar, you exploitative shitwhore. How many people do you have to bring down into poverty before you feel good about yourself?
It's not the fringes of society that bring it down, or its core. It's the stupid fucking drive towards a stupid fucking goal. We are setting stupid goals for ourselves as a measure of ourselves as human beings. And we are wasting our lives in alcoholism and suicide when we don't reach those idiotic measures. Tyler Durden said that you are not your job or the clothes you wear, and he was right. And yes, I know that Tyler durden is a movie character, and fuck you too, you wikipedia-and-imdb-obsessed fanboy sack of shit. Why don't you go out, get drunk, get laid, and die from a fucking STD. Guess what, life happens. Deal with it. Everybody else does, and you're no better or worse than any of them. Only two things in life are for sure: you're born, and then you die. What's the point in living a miserable fucking existence in a way that pleases your diety's representative on Earth? What the fuck does he know? He's just as much of a sack of flesh and bones as you are. He's also a sack of shit. You want to honor your God, then do it yourself, without guidance. There is no such thing as a self-help book to enlightenment, so stop looking you pathetic waste of organs.
So live life the way you want it. Do the things that make you feel good. Stop wasting time with crazy bitches and abusive boyfriends. Stop putting in time at a job you hate, to buy a bigger house that you despire, to hold all of the crap that you don't need. You are not the contents of your wallet, you are the contents of your suit. And if that suit is making you empty, then escape it, burn it, and reclaim the last shreds of whatever humanity you might not have yet pulverized into a fine powder. Don't just exist. LIVE!