do not proffer sympathy to the mentally ill, it is a bottomless pit

You might recognize that as a little snippet of Burroughs' "Words of Advice for Young People".

I almost posted a comment on someone's blog. Many blogs, actually. Every American citizen with a four more years tag and none of the sense to see that the coming slaughter in Fallujah is patchwork to the Explorer their mom will haul them to go see Avril Lavigne with. None of it is real. A complete and unmarred snowglobe fantasy existence of cheeseburgers and coke for breakfast, a running text message captioning every waking moment to someone equally thrilled to be so totally captured... okay, who am I talking about? Them or me?

No, I know I'm stuck and I see the colour bars when I step outside my house. They don't. And what I wanted to say to them was that I hoped they would stay rich all their lives, because they didn't seem smart enough to claw out of the hurriedly expanding abyss that waits now and for the rest of Empire, for the poor.

This is another little snippet:

If you're doing business with a religious son of a bitch, get it in
writing; his word isn't worth shit, not with the good lord telling him
how to fuck you on the deal.