The Right to Fun Off

One of the fundamental human rights is the right to tell someone to fuck off. The ability to say, with feeling and from the bottom of one’s heart, "Go fuuuuuck yourself!" is exactly what makes us human—autonomous subjects of existence. By exercising the right to fuck off, we detach ourselves from the Universe, objectify our own microcosm, and draw a demarcation line: here we stand, and there they go. To fuck-off-land.

The right to fuck off is a guarantor of internal freedom and a measure of self-worth. The first thing any kind of totalitarianism strips from a person is the right to fuck off; all other rights subsequently wither and fall away on their own. There is no greater humiliation than being unable to tell someone to fuck off when you desperately want to. If some embodied prick is standing in front of you, spouting offensive bullshit, and you can’t even tell him to fuck off—whether due to political correctness, subordination, or simple fear—it’s worse than a boot to the balls. All the stress, mental breakdowns, stomach issues, gastritis, ulcers, and functional alcoholism prevalent in our time stem specifically from the fact that we often cannot exercise our core right: the right to fuck off. This upsets the organism and disrupts its physiology.

The entire history of humanity is a struggle for the right to fuck off. Territories, resources, money, and other strange shit are secondary. Since ancient times, the free Belarusian people were famous for their unshakeable "fuck off" and were highly respected for it. When, say, some Lithuanians would show up and start imposing their own order in the principality, a prince would step out with his retinue and say with calm confidence: "Go fuck yourselves, Lithuanians!"—and off they went, realizing along the way that they had been in the wrong. Even the proud Crusaders feared the Belarusian "fuck off": they’d drop their armor, they'd hand over prisoners—anything as long as they weren't told to fuck off. What do you think was written on the clubs at Grunwald, which they fucking smashed onto the knights' helmets? Exactly...

Of course, it didn't always work out. When the Poles came instead of the Lithuanians and said, "Let's get the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth going and adopt Catholicism," the local szlachta, following ancient Belarusian tradition, cheerfully replied: "Go fuck yourselves, Poles!" But the Poles, not skipping a beat, twirled their mustaches and replied: "No, you go fuck yourselves, serfs!" The Belarusians, caught off guard by such a retort, lost their footing, and right then the haughty Polish "fuck off" proved sturdier than the local one. That was the first time the Blue-Eyed Land lost its magical "fuck off," which led to all the subsequent misfortunes of our long-suffering land.

If you exclude the right to fuck off from society, the criteria for "correctness" vanish. By telling someone to fuck off, you are doing a good deed—you are letting them know they are wrong and acting like a dickhead. If you don't periodically tell a dickhead to fuck off, he might spend his entire life convinced he's not a dickhead at all, but a perfectly decent person. In doing so, you deprive him of the chance for self-improvement and hinder the spiritual growth of his personality. The less opportunity there is in a society to tell dickheads to fuck off, the more dickheads that society produces—such are the immutable laws of human existence. Therefore, tell people to fuck off boldly and decisively—and be prepared to go there yourself if necessary.

The path to "fuck off" is the path of the perfected sage. Upon being sent on a walking erotic journey, do not be upset; instead, reflect on whether the indicated direction might be more correct than the one you were following. Simply put, ask yourself: "Am I being a dickhead?" And if the answer is "Yeah, looks like I talked some shit..." be filled with gratitude toward the sender and return the favor in kind. Thus, harmony and internal freedom will flow into your life. Then, in the twilight of your days, you will be able to cast a fading glance over the observable Universe, say calmly and joyfully, "To hell with it all, fuck it!"—and kick the bucket with a profound sense of inner satisfaction.

Your life will not have been lived in vain.