More Hate

I also hate the cunts at the church where my wife used to work who told her that she could leave work early to care for her children and that it wouldn't affect her pay at all.  Then, after she had done this for a month, was told that the person who told her she could leave without being docked pay (the woman in charge of the program) didn't have the authority to tell my wife this, and therefore my wife would have to work for free for a month to make up for her leaving early but still getting paid for it.  My wife put in her two week's notice right then, and they said she didn't need to put in two weeks notice and could leave then.  I can't wish all those people enough harm and misery for the rest of their lives.  They can't have enough testicular cancer to go around to all the fucking bitches at that fucking cesspool of humanity and morals to really do my hatered justice.  If everybody there were to get ten thousand papercuts on their vaginas, clitorises, and scrotums, dip those open wounds in lemon juice, salt, battery acid and shaved glass, and then kicked in the crotch for 85 years, it still wouldn't satisfy the hatred I have for those fuckers.  Those fucking fucker fucks.  They should get trapped in the building as it catches fire and die.

That Mitchell and Webb Look -or- The Hardest I've Ever Laughed At Anything In My Life (Last Night)

[One British Eater, munches crisps from a bag, standing in a kitchen. Another British Man is standing next to him. Light acoustic guitar melody lilts through this idyllic scene.]


Man: Hey, I’ve just noticed. You’ve been eating crisps all morning. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get fat?

Eater: No. I can eat as many of these as I’d like.

[Woman enters]

Woman: I can’t believe you’re stuffing your face with crisps again. You’ll only get fat, and then I’ll have to have another affair.

Eater: No, don’t worry. These won’t make me fat.

Woman: Why not? Are you bulimic?

Eater: No. It’s because these aren’t crisps, they’re Cressps. Peeker’s crisps take ordinary cress, the healthiest food in the world-- and that’s been confirmed-- and then deep fry it in crisp fat, so all the health is retained, which means I can eat as many Cressps as I’d like and just get healthier.

Woman: Wow. I’ll have some Cressps!

Man: I think I’ll pass, actually.

Announcer: Cressps! Once you Cressp, you just can’t splessp.

Man: That doesn’t make any sense.

[Eater spits out a mouthful of chewed Cressps]

Eater: Oh god, they’re horrid!

Cancer Bullets and Fucktards

I fucking hate my father's wife because she's a fucking stupid, man-hating, abusive-to-my-brother idiot whore.
I fucking hate my fucking father because he's a fucking silent, abusive, bigoted moron.
I fucking hate my wife's mother because she's a fucking cunt of an abusive fucktard.
And I fucking hate my wife's fucking ex-husband because he's an abusive, controlling, psychotic fuckmess.
And I fucking hate all the motherfuckers who just accept what their selected news outlet tells them and then they go and post idiocies on fucking YouTube and fucking Facebook, and they fucking flood the planet with unconsidered insanity, where television stations garner ratings and revenue from giving fucking lemmings a microphone and a platform for dangerous and decietful proclamations.
And I fucking hate my fucking supervisor and his fucking shiny head.
And I fucking hate my fucking supervisor's supervisor and her fucking stupidity and bullying.
And I fucking fucking fuck!!  You fucking fucker!  Fuck you all motherfuckers!!  You fucking die of cancer of the goddam soul and fucking die!!  Eat cancer and fucking let it kill your soul, you fucking fuckers!!  Eat a bullet!!  All of you eat a fucking bullet!!  Put a goddam cancer gun in your fucking pie holes and pull the trigger and eat it!  Eat the bullet!  Die you fucking bitches!





...there was a commercial recently where a fish from Finding Nemo popped up with his friends and said, "What's up, fishes?!"  Funny.

Don't You Hate It...?

Don't you fucking hate it when stupid people talk?
I do, too.
Especially when they won't shut up.
And then other people start listening to them.
And thinking that what the stupid people are saying is true.
And then you have a gaggle of stupid people.
And none of them will shut the fuck up.

Stickers, Football, and Urgent Care

Friday, our 11-year-old told us that it was burning him when he peed.

His mother took him to the urgent care doctor to care for this issue.

She texted our 11-year-old's father to let him know that our 11-year-old said that it burned when he peed and she was taking him to the urgent care facility, which would probably mean that he would be missing football practice on Friday.

Father immediately texted our 11-year-old to ask him if he was really sick. Our 11-year-old said yes, he was really sick. Father asked if he was really, really sick. Our 11-year-old said yes, he was going to the urgent care. Father asked if mom was making it up or if our 11-year-old was really having a problem. Our 11-year-old said he was going to the urgent care because he was sick. Father said that he should call him when he was done with the urgent care doctor. Our 11-year-old said that he would.

Mother took our 11-year-old to the urgent care doctor, who told him that he had some bacteria inside of his penis (probably), and that he should take some antibiotics to clear this up. Nothing big to worry about.

Our 11-year-old, knowing that his father was in the middle of coaching a football practice, texted him to say that it was no big deal, and they were getting medicine and then going home. Father called back, almost immediately. "Why didn't you call me?! I told you to call me!!" Our 11-year-old explained that he had texted because he knew that his father was in the middle of the football practice and didn't want to disturb him. Plus, it wasn't really urgent. Father grilled our 11-year-old some more, asking if his mother told him to text rather than call, and our 11-year-old was agitated and perplexed. Father grilled our 11-year-old about coming to football practice. Our 11-year-old reminded his father that he had just gotten out of the urgent care, was dealing with a sickness, and would be late. Father continued to grill our 11-year-old about coming to practice. Eventually, father's new wife got on the phone, asked if our 11-year-old was fine, and when he said yes, they hung up.

Later that day, father said that he would come by mother's house to put a sticker on our 11-year-old's football helmet. Mother said fine. Then, father said no, 11-year-old needed to come over to his house. Mother said that father was welcome to come over to put on a sticker, but we were staying home, especially since our 11-year-old was dealing with an issue that he was taking medication for. Father arrived at mother's house and was met on the front porch by mother and our 11-year-old. Mother remembered that she owed father some money, and stepped inside, literally two steps from the front porch. Father snapped at our 11-year-old. "Come here!" he hissed as he pulled our 11-year-old further away from the door. Mother heard him saying, "Did she make you... ?!" but couldn't hear what he was saying before she came back out on the front porch, at which point, our 11-year-old, continuing to be perplexed and agitated, said, "What are you talking about, dad?" Father, seeing mother's return, stopped the confrontational body language and said, "Never mind." Mother politely said to father, "Go ahead and finish." Father snorted, signalling that he was not going to finish interrogating our 11-year-old about the horribleness of his mother taking him to the urgent care facility when he was sick in front of his mother.

This Is What Love Is

Last night, as we were trying to forget everything that had happened in our day, I told my wife that I thought marriage should be outlawed. She laughed, knowing what I meant, and I was glad that she knew what I meant. We then went on to say "this is what love is" in reference to the two of us.

Today, I'm still thinking about that.

This Is What Love Is.

And as I sit here and think about it, I wanted to come up with a way to make Love clear to everyone else who hasn't found it. Here's some stuff that I came up with.

Love is when there are No Voices Pestering You. I've dated people in the past where voices were pestering me about how I didn't love the person I was with. "You're only with her because you're lonely," they would quietly say. And they would be quiet, because it was nice having sex and feeling like somebody wanted to be with me naked and liked me, or maybe they were nice to look at or maybe it was nice not being alone. But I knew that I wasn't in love with them. "You're only with her because she's Asian." And I would know that was right, but I kept going in the relationships. But with my wife, there are no voices telling me that I'm only with her because of something. Probably because the voice would say something like, "You're only with her because she's Her." And then I would nod in agreement, and then snuggle into her.

Love is when the Scale Of What I Get Is Heavier Than What I Have To Put Up With. And this seems to be different with everyone. I once dated a very pretty woman who was a zealous Christian Republican who wouldn't consider that there was any other way than that. What I Got: a very pretty woman. What I Had To Put Up With: complete mindless idiocy. I asked her out because of what she looked like. When I found out the Christian Republican thing, I almost broke up with her then. Being attractive isn't enough to out-weigh being a closed-minded moron.

Love is when There's More Than A Pretty Face. I've dated most of the people I have because I was physically attracted to them. One of them I stayed with because I didn't want to be alone. But I never really Liked most of them beyond their Look. They looked nice. But they weren't nice. And that Nice Look faded after I had sex with them. Quickly faded. And once that faded, there wasn't a reason for me to be with them anymore. It was sorta like masturbating to the same picture again and again: you like it until you cum, and then you wait a week and find a different picture. But with my wife, her Nice Look never faded. Oh! I even know why her Nice Look never faded (it just came to me and I'm super excited to be putting it into words): because she's my best friend (so I groove hanging with her when we're not having sex), and she wasn't like masturbating to the same picture again and again (so I groove having sex with her) because we switch stuff up. Sometimes we're snugly, and sometimes we're rough, and sometimes we're weird. I don't know if I'm misremembering this, but I'm pretty sure there was a time when we couldn't stop farting while having sex, which made us laugh a lot, which made us fart more. That was awesome! Try getting that into your Penthouse beauties. But she's never like masturbating to the same picture again and again. She's definitely much, much more than a pretty face.

Love is Want. I think, most of all, I love my wife because I want to. There was always a time when I didn't want to be with one of my girlfriends. Probably because the Scale Of What I Got did not outweigh What I Had To Put Up With. My wife has two boys. They aren't biologically mine. They were made by a monster. One of the most evil, sick, fucked up, horrible people I've ever known. He makes her life miserable often. He makes my life miserable often. He makes our boys' lives miserable often. He makes my parents' lives miserable often. And I could cut him out of my life completely. All I have to do is divorce my wife. And there's no way I'm gonna do that. Apparently, I Want to be with her. I Want to love her. I Want to stay with her. It's sorta like asking a kid if he wants a cookie or a punch in the balls. It's not a difficult choice to make. My wife is the cookie. I Want her.

That's about it.

I gotta tell ya, when you go through really hard days that should send you to some kind of mental facility or make you call the police or drive you to buy a gun and shoot everyone in sight, it's really, really helpful and nice to have a best friend to lie next to at the end of the day and remember that you love each other, and even if everything falls apart in the next moment you will still love each other, and that makes you both smile and breathe a little deeper and easier.

Distilled Diseased

without emotion

i think the most pure truth is

he cannot think about anyone other than himself

to a point of being pathological and psychotic

in all manifestations

PATHOLOGICAL

path·o·log·i·cal (pth-lj-kl) also path·o·log·ic (-k)
adj.
1. Of or relating to pathology.
2. Relating to or caused by disease.
3. Of, relating to, or manifesting behavior that is habitual, maladaptive, and compulsive: a pathological liar.

PSYCHOSIS

psy·cho·sis (s-kss)
n. pl. psy·cho·ses (-sz)
A severe mental disorder, with or without organic damage, characterized by derangement of personality and loss of contact with reality and causing deterioration of normal social functioning.

Crippling Your Children For Personal Gain

Ok, I get it. Not everybody can hold it together 100% of the time. Husbands blow up at wives, mothers blow up at kids. My mother called me a “piss ant” once, probably because I was being a piss ant, but she has remained feeling badly about this, to some degree, ever since. And she is a fantastic mother with fantastic values and is an exemplary person. My point here is that Nobody Is Perfect.

I get it that the law shouldn’t be used to hurt people who slip up. My mother should not be punished in any way for calling me a piss ant. She should not be taken to court because I was being a piss ant and she was telling the truth.

The problem comes when you’re dealing with somebody who isn’t as exemplary as my mother. What if I hadn’t been a piss ant and she still called me a piss ant, and she continued to call me a piss ant every day? I guess my feeling about that is that she would be a jerk. But should the law become involved in that? I guess I believe the law shouldn’t become involved in that. As our lawyer said over and over, it’s not against the law to be an asshole.

But I feel like our specific situation is different. An individual has a history of emotional and psychological abuse towards his ex-wife and his kids.
…but legally, he doesn’t, because the kids said that they wanted to live with him half the time. So, according to the court, he hasn’t done anything wrong. Sure, he bribed them so that they would say that. And it’s unfortunate. But if I can buy you things (pay you) so that you say something (say what I want you to say), then I get my way. And ultimately, you get screwed.

Again, I find myself battling money and what it does to us. There was a point in time where both our boys wanted to be away from him. They wanted to live with us all the time because they both were miserable at their father’s house. We went to court based on what they wanted, at which point, Father started buying things for his boys. The amount of money that Father was dumping into making his boys feel happy when they both said they didn’t want to live with him anymore was outrageous. Both boys were getting $150 worth of Warhammer models every week. Articles of clothing, toys, books, video games, all kinds of Possessions were showered on those boys. I almost called them Gifts, but as we’ve seen recently, they weren’t gifts. They were Physical Things, not actually given to the boys so they could use them as if they were their own. They were Possessions that were given to the boys as long as the boys said and did the right things. If not, they were retained by Father. They were Bribes given to children too young to understand all the consequences of accepting bribes.

So the court believes Father to be fine, because the last time we went to court, the boys, sated with the comfort of Possessions they believed to be Gifts, said he was fine. How could anyone be horrible who gives me Warhammer models and tee-shirts? So the boys, unwittingly, crippled themselves. And their father encouraged them to do so. Over and over again.

Now no one will listen. And that is a horrible shame.

Trying To Get His Stuff

Yesterday, my wife and our 16-year-old went over to his father’s house to get some of his belongings. When our 16-year-old knocked on the front door, his father answered and yanked him inside the house and shut the front door. He began yelling at the boy, my wife described it as “screaming”, so that it could be heard through the door. When she approached the door, the father locked the front door. The screaming continued to be heard through the front door, but my wife couldn’t see anything. She rang the bell. Waited a minute (she timed it). Rang again. Waited a minute. Knocked on the door. Waited a minute. Knocked again. The door was thrown open by the father, yelling at my wife, telling her that he couldn’t believe she would come over without calling or texting first. Our 16-year-old came out with 3 of his shirts and one of his posters. The father then screamed that my wife had ruined our 16-year-old’s driver’s education experience. My wife said nothing. Our 16-year-old said that they had been trying to talk with him for 7 months. He responded with, “No you haven’t! Prove it!” He then screamed that this wasn’t the 16-year-old’s home and he couldn’t just come over here whenever he wanted and this wasn’t the way this should be happening. My wife said, calmly, that he had been trying to get his stuff from 7 weeks, and he had tried every other way. The father then screamed that was a lie, and that my wife had been filling our 16-year-old’s therapist with lies. The father then screamed that it was the 16-year-old’s fault that the most recent meeting with the therapist, father, and 16-year-old wasn’t productive because he walked out of the meeting and that’s why it wasn’t resolved. 16-year-old moved his body like he was going to respond, but my wife urged him to get in the car, at which point the father screamed that she needed to get off his property and that he was going to call the cops.

When my family returned home, my wife was breathing heavily, was incredibly emotional, and coming down from an entirely terrifying experience. And while our 16-year-old was upset, he was not close to being as upset as my wife. He said that he had been grabbed and pushed by his father, but he hadn’t been hit, and he didn’t think he needed medical attention.

Later in the evening, my wife told me something I thought was rather shocking and revealing. Our 16-year-old wasn’t scared. He was upset, but he wasn’t surprised by the reaction of his clearly insane father. My wife reiterated that when she came away from the experience, she had to breathe deeply and repeatedly before she was able to regain control of her emotional state. She had gone through trauma. And while our 16-year-old had gone through the same trauma, he was acting like this was to be expected. “He’s been through this before,” she said to me. And it settled on me that this level of insanity was something that both the boys deal with on a far-too-regular basis.

And, legally, we can’t do anything to keep our children safe. The only legal action we might have is after their father has physically hurt them or killed them. Emotional abuse means nothing. Even physical abuse means nothing if it can’t be seen by others, like being pushed and grabbed.

Why have we created a system where we cannot protect our children? Why haven’t we done something about it? Why are we not changing that right now?

be good down

put your head down

put you down

put your head down

and be good

put your eyes down

put you down

put your eyes down

be good

right in line

stay in line

be in line

and be good

be good

be good

one

two

three

four

can you take it more?

five

six

sev

eight

will you break?

will you break?

can you break!

keep your eyes down

keep your head down

keep down

keep down

keep down

and be good

be good

be good down

Advice From Our Lawyer Regarding Our 16-Year-Old's Major Change In Circumstances

Begin forwarded message:
From: [my wife]
Date: August 28, 2012 8:24:55 AM CDT
To: [our lawyer]
Subject: [our 16-year-old] and his Dad

[our lawyer]~

[our 16-year-old] and [his dad] had a meeting scheduled with [our 16-year-old's therapist] yesterday at 5pm. [our 16-year-old's dad] called and cancelled it at 3pm. It is rescheduled for next Tuesday, Sept. 4th, at 6pm.

[my wife]



From: [my wife]
Sent: Wednesday, September 05, 2012 8:20 AM
To: [our lawyer]
Subject: Fwd: [our 16-year-old] and his Dad

[our lawyer] ~

After [our 16-year-old's dad] cancelled the meeting last week, stating that he needed "more time to think", [our 16-year-old] contacted his father asking if he could "get some of my stuff". [our 16-year-old's dad] never responded.

Their meeting with [our 16-year-old's therapist] was last night. It ended 30 minutes late with [our 16-year-old] coming out to the car extremely distraught and weeping. I have not heard from [our 16-year-old's therapist] yet (as I imagine she was spent as well) so my info is from [our 16-year-old]'s perspective only. [our 16-year-old] has felt very hurt and angry with his father for a very long time and multiple things have added up to him being very resistant to spending any time with his father at all. [our 16-year-old's therapist] and I have both encouraged him to come up with any little amount of time that he might be willing to spend with his dad, as compromising might hopefully lead to a quicker resolve. [our 16-year-old's dad]'s neglect of and non-response to [our 16-year-old] was not helping. After and hour and a half in the meeting last night, [our 16-year-old] finally agreed to go to dinner with his dad occasionally IF [his dad] would let him come get his stuff. [Dad] said that he ([dad]) needed more time to process things and that [our 16-year-old] could not get his belongings. At that point [our 16-year-old] had had all he could take of the talking in circles and angrily walked out. He was absolutely undone and sobbing. It took until very late last night for him to get calm and be able to rest.

[our 16-year-old's dad] has had 6 1/2 WEEKS to process and think about things. He is stalling and punishing [our 16-year-old]. All of this trauma and unresolved conflict has made it almost impossible for [our 16-year-old] to focus and concentrate in school, which is already a MAJOR challenge for him on good days. [our 16-year-old's dad]'s behavior is neglectful and abusive at best. He has still not communicated with me about any of this.

I am not going to subject [our 16-year-old] to any more meetings with his father unless I am present - assuming [our 16-year-old] would agree to it himself at all. I encouraged [our 16-year-old] to contact [his lawyer and the gardian ad litem] about what has happened and he refuses, believing "it will just be the same thing as with [meetings with my therapist and dad] of taking forever and nothing getting accomplished and she doesn't listen to me and I'm not going through that again!" I don't feel [our 16-year-old] is in a place where pursuing things with [his lawyer] would be good for him.

[our 16-year-old's dad] has submitted doctor and dentist bills to me for reimbursement of about $500. I am disinclined to have any moneys be exchanged between us until the MAJOR changes that [our 16-year-old's dad] has autonomously made to the custody and visitation agreement have been appropriately and satisfactorily settled.


Thoughts?

[my wife]




Begin forwarded message:
From: [our lawyer]
Date: September 5, 2012 11:13:13 AM CDT
To: [my wife]
Subject: RE: [our 16-year-old] and his Dad

I think you need to follow the order of the Court on your portion of medical bills. [our lawyer]

"I'll Think About It"

Yesterday, our 16-year-old met with his psychologist and his father. The goal was to come to an agreement about the boy’s living situation. For 6 weeks now, he’s refused to go to his father’s house. His father has failed to pick up his boy for his visitation time. For 6 weeks, our boy has been without belongings and clothes from his father’s house. The psychologist meeting yesterday was supposed to clear up some issues.
After an hour and a half, 30 minutes longer than the appointment was supposed to go, the psychologist, the boy and his father could not come to an agreement. What’s more, our 16-year-old and his father had come to an agreement that the boy would spend one evening a week with his father for a dinner, as long as he could go over to his father’s house and get his stuff. His father said, “I’ll have to think about it.” This was ultimately reduced to a “no” when asked to define what that meant. This is against the law. But no one cares. And our 16-year-old gets shafted by the legal system again.