Al Swearengen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
swearengen) wrote2016-01-22 03:46 am
swearengen) wrote2016-01-22 03:46 am
(no subject)
From posts to Theatrical Muse a gajillion years ago:
Who has had the most influence on your life?
Please excuse my momentary loss for words. I find myself sincerely stupefied by the fact that anyone would ask me such a bullshit question with the least amount of earnestness. You are in earnest, are you not? Jesus, that's what I thought. All right, just give me a second to overcome my fucking bewilderment here.
I'm afraid I can't give you the hackneyed reply which an interrogator of your awe-inspiring solemnity no doubt expects: some lengthy history of my long-suffering sire, or perhaps a detailed account of the unlikely mentor who rescued me from the bowels of beggary, picked me up, dusted me off, and showed me the fucking ropes. No such person exists, but if they did, I sure as hell wouldn't want anything more to do with the cocksucker. When you make a living by daily dealing in shit, you don't exactly maintain a cozy relationship with the bastard who first sullied your hands.
No, I must say I've been my own proudest influence for about as long as I can remember. Though I'll make exception for the hoopleheads who frequent my illustrious establishment. Were it not for the profound influence of their continually dim-witted patronage, I'd have a harder time turning a fucking dollar.
Do you consider yourself to be adventurous?
Well, I guess that would depend upon your particular definition of adventure. If you define "adventure" as hacking your way through the fucking wilderness, wresting a piece of that wilderness away from the fucking dirt-worshippers, and raising from it a center of relatively civilized commerce despite all fucking odds, then yeah, I guess I'm pretty adventurous.
Do you confront your problems head on, or ignore them until you have to do something? Do you procrastinate?
If I were given to ignoring my fucking problems until the roof came down on my fucking head, I would by now be up to my ears in degenerate heathens, would-be usurpers, and a fine flock of rotten snatch. Do I look like I'm up to my ears in any of that shit to you? I should fucking hope not!
How do you handle disappointment?
Like every other fucking human being I've ever encountered, not very fucking well.
Disappointment is one of those highly unpleasant but purportedly necessary components of life, like piety and abstinence. Pieces of shit you're supposed to accept and endure because they somehow build your goddamned character. That theory don't hold any sway with me. I avoid being disappointed whenever I can, and more often than not I'm successful, because I don't set myself up for it the way some sorry cocksuckers do.
Of course this means that when I do get let down by something or someone, you can bet I take it to fucking heart. But I don't sit around crying about it either. I make my displeasure known at once, and then I make somebody pay. And you know what? There's always somebody at hand who can be made to fucking pay.
Does heartache make you stronger?
I feel this question is best addressed by referencing the words of Abraham Lincoln. In one of our former president's many moments of fucking insightfulness, he is said to have uttered the following maxim: "To ease another's heartache is to forget one's own."
This same pillar of fucking wisdom went on to garner the distinction of being shot through the fucking head by a two-bit cotton-loving whoreson of the stage. I guess Lincoln's extensive experience with heartache didn't do much to fortify his skull against that fucking bullet.
What makes you feel vulnerable and what makes you feel invulnerable, and why?
This question makes me feel vulnerable, I'll tell you that much. Vulnerable to having my sorry ass laughed clear out of town because I was fucking simpleminded enough to answer it. As for what makes me feel invulnerable -- why the fuck would I reveal that to you, thus exposing my most cherished self-delusions to public ridicule and rendering myself fucking vulnerable? Jesus, what kind of fucking braintrust is conducting this little survey?
Have you ever betrayed someone's confidence? Has anyone ever betrayed you?
You're fucking right I've betrayed someone's confidence. I didn't get to where I am now by distinguishing myself as the most trustworthy cocksucker on the fucking block. And I've been betrayed in turn, just like everyone else who wasn't born this fucking morning.
Betrayal is a fucking fact of life. Or more precisely put, the absence of unconditional loyalty is. Fucking fallen race that we are, it ain't possible for human beings to go the whole of our sordid existence without betraying somebody. Whether that betrayal is played out in cock, cunt, or just the shadowy recesses of our fucking skulls, it happens, and there's not a damned thing God or government can do to abolish it. Faithfulness without a few fucking strings attached ain't never been in our nature.
Yet somehow even the most conniving cocksuckers among us manage to be sincerely fucking surprised when we wake up one morning to find our pants around our ankles, our best friend's blade at our balls and his dick down the mouth of our obliging sweetheart. I guess unconditional mistrust ain't never been in our nature either.
Who has had the most influence on your life?
Please excuse my momentary loss for words. I find myself sincerely stupefied by the fact that anyone would ask me such a bullshit question with the least amount of earnestness. You are in earnest, are you not? Jesus, that's what I thought. All right, just give me a second to overcome my fucking bewilderment here.
I'm afraid I can't give you the hackneyed reply which an interrogator of your awe-inspiring solemnity no doubt expects: some lengthy history of my long-suffering sire, or perhaps a detailed account of the unlikely mentor who rescued me from the bowels of beggary, picked me up, dusted me off, and showed me the fucking ropes. No such person exists, but if they did, I sure as hell wouldn't want anything more to do with the cocksucker. When you make a living by daily dealing in shit, you don't exactly maintain a cozy relationship with the bastard who first sullied your hands.
No, I must say I've been my own proudest influence for about as long as I can remember. Though I'll make exception for the hoopleheads who frequent my illustrious establishment. Were it not for the profound influence of their continually dim-witted patronage, I'd have a harder time turning a fucking dollar.
Do you consider yourself to be adventurous?
Well, I guess that would depend upon your particular definition of adventure. If you define "adventure" as hacking your way through the fucking wilderness, wresting a piece of that wilderness away from the fucking dirt-worshippers, and raising from it a center of relatively civilized commerce despite all fucking odds, then yeah, I guess I'm pretty adventurous.
Do you confront your problems head on, or ignore them until you have to do something? Do you procrastinate?
If I were given to ignoring my fucking problems until the roof came down on my fucking head, I would by now be up to my ears in degenerate heathens, would-be usurpers, and a fine flock of rotten snatch. Do I look like I'm up to my ears in any of that shit to you? I should fucking hope not!
How do you handle disappointment?
Like every other fucking human being I've ever encountered, not very fucking well.
Disappointment is one of those highly unpleasant but purportedly necessary components of life, like piety and abstinence. Pieces of shit you're supposed to accept and endure because they somehow build your goddamned character. That theory don't hold any sway with me. I avoid being disappointed whenever I can, and more often than not I'm successful, because I don't set myself up for it the way some sorry cocksuckers do.
Of course this means that when I do get let down by something or someone, you can bet I take it to fucking heart. But I don't sit around crying about it either. I make my displeasure known at once, and then I make somebody pay. And you know what? There's always somebody at hand who can be made to fucking pay.
Does heartache make you stronger?
I feel this question is best addressed by referencing the words of Abraham Lincoln. In one of our former president's many moments of fucking insightfulness, he is said to have uttered the following maxim: "To ease another's heartache is to forget one's own."
This same pillar of fucking wisdom went on to garner the distinction of being shot through the fucking head by a two-bit cotton-loving whoreson of the stage. I guess Lincoln's extensive experience with heartache didn't do much to fortify his skull against that fucking bullet.
What makes you feel vulnerable and what makes you feel invulnerable, and why?
This question makes me feel vulnerable, I'll tell you that much. Vulnerable to having my sorry ass laughed clear out of town because I was fucking simpleminded enough to answer it. As for what makes me feel invulnerable -- why the fuck would I reveal that to you, thus exposing my most cherished self-delusions to public ridicule and rendering myself fucking vulnerable? Jesus, what kind of fucking braintrust is conducting this little survey?
Have you ever betrayed someone's confidence? Has anyone ever betrayed you?
You're fucking right I've betrayed someone's confidence. I didn't get to where I am now by distinguishing myself as the most trustworthy cocksucker on the fucking block. And I've been betrayed in turn, just like everyone else who wasn't born this fucking morning.
Betrayal is a fucking fact of life. Or more precisely put, the absence of unconditional loyalty is. Fucking fallen race that we are, it ain't possible for human beings to go the whole of our sordid existence without betraying somebody. Whether that betrayal is played out in cock, cunt, or just the shadowy recesses of our fucking skulls, it happens, and there's not a damned thing God or government can do to abolish it. Faithfulness without a few fucking strings attached ain't never been in our nature.
Yet somehow even the most conniving cocksuckers among us manage to be sincerely fucking surprised when we wake up one morning to find our pants around our ankles, our best friend's blade at our balls and his dick down the mouth of our obliging sweetheart. I guess unconditional mistrust ain't never been in our nature either.