The Burning and the Clamor

A house burned down.  The family that lived in the house got out before they were hurt.

Three reporters stood next to each other on the street and watched the house burn down.

Then they reported the story to the people who watched their news programs.

The first reporter said that a house had burned down.  Those were the facts.

The second reporter told a story about a poverty-stricken neighborhood where gangs are a way of life and violence is something to be accepted and feared.  Gangs, obviously, had burned down this house and something should be done about the violence in this neighborhood.

The third reporter told a story about how the political party in power had been lax in taking care of the police and fire departments in this neighborhood, placing families in jeopardy.  It was now up to us, the patriots, to vote against the current political party in the upcoming election if we were interested in taking care of the problems that exist in our world.

Preachers and religious leaders, who weren't there when the house burned down, saw these stories on the news.

Some preached about family values and how that had been lost.  If only our parents would keep their children more moral these problems wouldn't happen.

Some preached about how burning houses happened in the past when whites and blacks fought, and we need to be careful of the whites and the blacks, because they want to hurt each other.  And the Hispanics, too.  Maybe the Asians, too.  It's hard to tell from just a house fire which nationality you should be afraid of, but remember history teaches us that the other races will attack you and kill you.

Some preached about babies having babies, and if only this family had decided to get married the way god intended, this fire wouldn't have happened to them.  This fire was payment for their sins.

Citizens watched the news programs and listened to their religious leaders.  Each person, like each reporter, took away something different.  But all the citizens raised their voices.  "Something is wrong and I won't stand for it!" they all shouted. 

At this time, I turned to one of the shouting Citizens.
"Reminds me of the movie 'Network'."
"What?" said the Citizen, confused about being abruptly taken out of what was obviously a simple morality story and thrust into self-referential dialogue.
"You know, 'Network', the movie?"  The Citizen stared at me.
"'I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!'"  The Citizen stared at me.
"It was a movie back in the 70s... maybe 60s... but probably 70s.  It was an important work about the power of media and how a free press can be turned from a source of education into a profit machine that no longer takes care of those who consume it but, instead, actively destroy those who participate in it."  The Citizen stared at me.
"Nothing?"  A small, clear drip of drool plooped from The Citizen's agapeness.
"Good talk.  Let's get back to the morality story."
"I know, right?!" said The Citizen.

The politicians heard the citizens saying something was wrong, and they promised to fix the problems.  They promised to build better schools, and stop violence, and get rid of drugs, and make you drink more or less milk (depending on if milk was healthy or unhealthy on that particular day).  They promised to take care of our country while we got to sit back in bliss.  They promised us football on Sunday.  Then Monday.  Then Thursday, too.  Then there were three football games on Thanksgiving corresponding to the three daily meals most people eat, and pre- and post-game discussions.  There was talk about which politician had actually provided the best football game to his citizens, and what if Lincoln's football team could beat Nixon's hockey team, and you know the only reason why Kennedy beat Nixon was because of the television debates because Kennedy is cute and Nixon is a stroke victim, and did you know that Britney Spears thought we should do what George W. Bush told us to do?  I didn't know that, but I love her songs, especially the picture of her getting out of a car and I can see her vagina.  I know, right?!  I mean, come on people, that's obviously an invasion of her privates, but at the same time, I really like masturbating to that picture trying to imagine that maybe I could go into her vagina with some part of me.  Not because I think she's gorgeous, but because it would give me something to talk about.  How many people do you know who have put a part of themselves inside Britney Spears?  Ima blog about it.  But typing is so hard and i have to serch for the rite spellings n stuff so ima not capitolize shit n stuff n i don relly wanna no bout whats happening because i just wanna see the latest 6 sec video on vine, then branch will have a great 5 sec vid, then twig will have a great 4 sec vid, then nub will have the best 2 sec vid of all time n we'll all just live our lives in little 2 second bites and dam i gotta piss.


The Family watched their house burn down.  And the best that they could do was watch their house burn down, because behind them was a world screaming out of control about how horrible everything was.  And watching their house burn to the ground was much more peaceful than what was behind them. 

I hope The Family went to Best Western and got some Belgium waffles for breakfast.  Those things are good.

Giving Thanks

This year, I really want to remember and take a moment for the good things in my life. The things that I am truly thankful for. In no particular order, I am thankful for:
my wife
my mother
my step-father
my 17-year-old
my almost 13-year-old
our kidden
my 17-year-old's kidden
A.F.
O.W.
C.R.N.
Horrible Things
P.J.
T.R.
Pj.J.
sex
basketball
Labatt Blue
super spicy and juicy boneless wings from BW3
my bed
my iPod
movies in the theatre with my step-father
my monthly lunches with my mother
random dates with my wife, especially to hotels around the corner
drives with my 17-year-old
J.I.
H.H.
B.B.
A.H.
my computer
my wife's computer
my 17-year-old's iPod
my happy hat
my hoodie
my comfy pants
snuggles with my wife in the rumpass room
our wall-full of movies
our wonderful surround sound
Netflix
Playstation 3
pancakes
my shoes
prescription medication which works sometimes
my mother's halloween costume
my wife's halloween costume
seeing the boy's and their friends have a great halloween together
having a job that almost supports us
biscuits
BURGER NITE, BITCHES!
texting that keeps friends closer
the way my wife asks me to scratch her almost every night
my wife's boss
my wife's job
the original 1977 release of Star Wars
the original 1980 release of The Empire Strikes Back
the original 1983 release of Return of the Jedi
Run, Lola, Run
Bruce Lee
The Big Boss
Enter the Dragon
Fist of Fury
Way of the Dragon
Game of Death
Legend
Joe vs. the Volcano
Wolverine
The X-Men
Gandhi
Martin Luther King, Jr.
The Rad Civic
The People Carrier
Big Gulps!
Slowly decreasing court activities
K.M.
positive memories
Yor The Hunter From The Future
Fall of Empire
donuts
cookie dough
NTN Trivia!
Ip Man movie
Ip Man 2 movie
dolphins
posters on the ceiling
ice makers
our recliners that are not broken, but well loved
our big screen TV
listening to my mother play the piano
hearing my mother tell the story of my birth on my birthday
my wife's butt dance
the way my wife gasps when I touch her
canned spinach
diet Mountain Dew Code Red
dreams of Portland
big pants
B.C.
H.L.R... except that might not be the right last name anymore
R.B.W.
improvisation
singing
smiles on other's faces that I've put there
wrestling with M.M.
my wife's fire pit
O.W.'s mother
Cadburry cream eggs
Ingrid's Kitchen
Louie's
A.F.'s son-in-law's health
cool weather
sleeping in our bed my comforter
rice
ramen
gum
Skyrim
The Incredible Hulk #181
The Uncanny X-Men #1
The Incredible Hulk movie
All the X-Men and Wolverine movies (yes, even X-Men Origins: Wolverine and X-Men: The Last Stand)
The Amazing Spider-Man movie
Gravity movie
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest
Rocky
Sylvester Stalone
3 Guys Named Joe
The Second City
The Cabinet Theatre
SummerStage
my education
C-SPAN
NASA
The Mercury Seven
Apollo 11
Chuck Yeager
The Right Stuff movie
Amadeus
The Muppet Show
Monty Python
George Carlin
Bill Cosby
Eddie Izzard
Lenny Bruce
Dexter
Vince Gilligan
Quentin Tarantino
Steven Spielberg
George Lucas
holding my wife's hand
driving dates with my wife
the park where my wife and I go and hang out
our back deck
movies
ice cold beer
my wife's laugh when she REALLY laughs
my wife's toots when she REALLY toots
sound, peaceful sleep
"you don't have to snore tonight" when it works
my cameras
my editing equipment
all my lovely music
my guitars
my keyboard
Simon Pegg
Nick Frost
Edgar Wright
The Serenity Prayer
The Expendables
The Expendables 2
Predators
that perfect song at that perfect moment that makes your body melt and relax
That Mitchell & Webb Look
That Mitchell & Webb Sound
David Mitchell and Robert Webb
The Matrix
Michael Jackson
The Beatles
that road trip to College of Santa Fe with my mother
my freshman year English class
my senior year of high school
returning to my home state
the way my mother argues with me
the way my mother loves me
the way my step-father walks
my step-father's big, bushy beard
the way my step-father loves me
floaf
sloaf
that great feeling when you get into your cold bed and it's really too cold, but then you get under the blankets and snuggle into your wife and slowly starts to warm up
My Once And Future Lottery Winnings
when reason wins over noise
NPR
Eminem
Macbeth dreams
G-Spot dreams
sketch comedy dreams
unlocking my psychokenesis dreams
"bending the ceiling fan with my mind"
that moment when I wake up on the weekend and realize I have nowhere to go and nothing I have to do
waking up with my wife
my wife's songs that she makes up
my wife's art
Michael J. Fox
David Fincher
acceptance
Aaron Sorkin
Synchronicity
Thriller
Ten
The White Album
Abbey Road
Revolver
Rubber Soul
Trent Reznor
Brian Wilson
those who stay hungry and keep pushing for a better
ferrets
driveways
J.R.
Business As Usual and Cargo
Straight Outta Compton
Orvil and Wilbur Wright
24
health
truth and honesty
ceiling fans
sticky figures that are still stuck on our ceiling
our refrigerator
our home
our washer and dryer
all the air conditioning units in our home
the sounds of our 13-year-old screaming with his friends over video games
when I see my 17-year-old really relax
when my wife is playful and nothing gets to her, usually she does little dances everywhere and sings
wife kisses, the good kind
wife hugs
people who keep trying
that fire that hasn't gone out in me yet and is with me just one more day
hope


I know there's more.

I hope you have much to give thanks for this year.
I hope you have more to give thanks for next year.
Happy Thanksgiving.

Maintaining Friendships

My mother is still friends with people she grew up with. I went to college with several people who maintained friendships from their high school and elementary school days. I have one childhood friend that I "keep in touch with" (read: I go out to dinner with him when he comes back to town with his wife and three kids and he has the opportunity to call me and make plans that I don't cancel for whatever reason). I met my wife in high school. But the rest of my friends from those days are gone. In fact, I haven't maintained friendships from elementary shool, middle school, high school, any of the three colleges I attended, my years in New York, over a decade in Michigan, or my previous job that I had only three years ago. What's the secret to finding people who don't suck? Or is it me that sucks? My wife liked when she went to a bigger school because that gave her more choices of people to befriend. She seemed to know pretty early that she didn't fit in with many people, and it took somebody special and unique to be her friend. I never had that revelation in my life. I always felt like my world consisted of the people that I went to school with, played sports with, played in bands with. Those were the people I had to choose from, and if I wasn't friends with them, I was out of luck and had no friends. Which was pretty close to the truth. I don't remember having many friendships outside of those institutions. And many of the people I spent lots of time with in Michigan not only don't talk to me, but have actively said bad things about me. Sometimes people really really suck. I'm just gonna put my wife and mom and step-dad and our two kids in a basket and go someplace that has good shelter and food, and we'll all live there and be fine. Fuck everybody else. They all suck.

Ridiculous

I fucking hate everyone. They should all die. I should pound them and feel their bones crumble under the pressure of my fists as I grind their faces into the pavement. What kind of fucked up shit am I living in? I fucking hate everyone. I get a pay cut in January. Because insurance rates are going up. We value ignorance and noise over information. We value violence over intelligence. Any idiot with thumbs now has a platform to espouse his idiocy ideology (yeah, I'm no different from any other idiot). "The only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun." Except there are no good guys. Not one. "See?! We told you Obamacare would be a failure!" It's a fucking software glitch, you fucks! Attack the software. Attack the servers. But as of yet, you haven't seen Obamacare in action, so to say that it's a failure only illuminates your ever increasingly obvious stupidity. You don't want to help others. You don't want to help the planet. You don't even really want to help yourself. You want money. You've been duped into thinking that's what we all need. And, ultimately, you're right. This planet runs on money. We've built a system around a middleman who isn't looking out for anyone. At this point it's impossible to change. We will continue to fail in our attempts to take care of ourselves, no matter how hard we work or how many doctors we see or how many miles we walk or how much broccoli we eat or how much caffeine we cut out. We are a cancer. Money intensifies and exacerbates our desire and willingness for self-destructive behavior. We are not long. And I fucking hate you all.

Making Me Laugh (Worth Repeating)

The following is from a Monty Python sketch called "Doctor Quote". I've enjoyed it for years and it has made me laugh out loud so many times. The pure absurdity is so wonderfully my style of humor. Before this scene begins, we hear Michael Palin narrating his life as if it were a mystery novel, except nothing out of the ordinary happens to him. At the end of the previous sketch, which runs into "Doctor Quote", Michael Palin's character, Mr. Eegis, is ushered out of the house by his wife, played by Terry Jones, as she is preparing breakfast for the doctor, who is inexplicably at their home. The scene begins after Mr. Eegis is shoved out the front door, and Mrs. Eegis continues to talk with the doctor, played by Graham Chapman, who is eating breakfast at their kitchen table.

MRS. EEGIS: (refering to her husband who has just left) Oh, I'm so worried about him, doctor.
DOCTOR: (licking his lips and swallowing a delicious bite of breakfast) Yes. Yes, I know what you mean. I'm afraid he's suffering from what we doctors call whooping cough. That is, the failure of the autonomic nervous section of the brain to deal with the nerve impulses that enable you or I to retain some facts and eliminate others.
MRS. EEGIS: Another dog?
DOCTOR: Uh, not for me, thank you.
MRS. EEGIS: I'll have one last one.

(During the following monologue, we hear the bark of a dog in the background, followed by the shot of a gun, the soft thud of the dead dog, acknowledgment of the kill by MRS. EEGIS, and then the sound of flesh frying in a pan or skillet, presumably with butter or marmelade. That last part was created by my, by the way. I have no way of knowing the correct sauce in which to pan-fry dog.)

DOCTOR: The human brain is like an enormous fish. It's flat and slimy, and has gills through which it can see.

(Gunshot, and thud of dead dog is heard)

MRS. EEGIS: There we are.

(Frying of dog heard)

DOCTOR: Should one of these gills fail to open, the messages transmitted by the lungs don't reach the brain. It's as simple as that.
MRS. EEGIS: Well, I'm a simple soul. I don't understand all that. All I know is he's not the same man as I married.
DOCTOR: Am I the man you married, Mrs. Eegis?

(The DOCTOR playfully approaches MRS. EEGIS, excited about his anticipated sexual encounter with her.)

MRS. EEGIS: Ooh! Now, get away! Ooh, you'll get struck on!
DOCTOR: Come on, come on!
MRS. EEGIS: I can't! I'm eating dog!
DOCTOR: Come on, just a quick examination!

(The tearing of fabric is heard)

MRS. EEGIS: Get off! I'm married! Ooh! Ooh!
MICHAEL PALIN (resuming his mysterious narrator voice joyfully): But Dr. Kwat was a man of quite remarkable medical insight, skill, and determination. And within a few minutes, he had completely removed my wife's knickers!
MRS. EEGIS (scoldingly, to MICHAEL PALIN): Get out, you!

(MICHAEL PALIN is thrown out of the room by his wife, and the door slams shut behind him. More fabric is heard ripping, as the doctor continues his sexual examination of Mrs. Eegis, who is playfully resisting his obviously welcomed advances.)

MRS. EEGIS: Ooh, ooh, Dr. Kwat!
DOCTOR: Put your tongue in my mouth!
MRS. EEGIS: Don't! (As she does)
DOCTOR: Oh come on, I've got your knickers!
MRS. EEGIS: Oh, wow, ooh!!

(Triumphant music plays as the scene fades out)

Very Proud

My 17 year-old passed his driver's license test yesterday!
I'm very proud of that guy. :)

Flip Master

Why is it that some people have more power over us than others? Or, why do we give some people more power over us than others? What is it that makes us susceptible to some people and immune to others? Why is it that my previous supervisor made it hell for me to come to work every day so much so that I simply couldn't focus at all, while I couldn't seem to allow my friends and family space in my head and heart to help me through those times? I didn't feel like I was pushing them out. But my supervisor definitely had more power in my world. Why was I unable to flip that around and give my friends and family more power in my life over my supervisor? Why are there some people who know exactly where to hook you so that you seem to fall victim to their viciousness every time they are around or say something to you or send you an email?

I want the good to be stronger. And maybe it is. But I want it to make the bad go away. I guess that's probably unrealistic. There will always be bad. How about: I would like to become a Master of the Flip. I know bad things will happen. I know bad people will exist. I know those bad people will make their way into my world at some point and I cannot prevent that. While they are in my life, I want to become a Master of the Flip. I want to have those bad people do whatever it is they're going to do, and then instead of getting furious or emotional, I want to flip it and take myself to a healthy place of peace and calm and non-care regarding the mean people or situation. I wanna flip myself around from anger to peace. A Master of the Flip. 

Wish I knew how to do that. Wish there weren't people in my life who had so much control over me. Wish I could allow myself the confidence to take power over my own emotions. The confidence to not allow those people the power I give them.  I want to be the Flip Master today. Right now. Immediately. 

Especially since I didn't win the $420 million jackpot last night. Motherfucker. 

Ultimate Fighting Me

I'm angry all the time.
My wife thinks I'm just processing a lot of repressed emotions.
I think she's probably right.
But I don't like being as angry as I am.
And I don't like being as angry as often as I am.

I would really like to be involved in some kind of Iron Man elimination fight. Something like Wolverine was involved in when we first meet his character at the beginning of the first X-Men movie. A whole bunch of people challenge him by getting in the ring with him. They punch him a little, then he punches them and they're out. And challengers just keep coming. That's what I want. I wanna beat up on everybody. Until I'm beaten and exhausted. Just pound as many people as I can. Physically punish them. Then get punished in return. Then stop.
It would all be gone then.
All punched out of me.
All beaten out of me.
And it would be gone.
And then I could show my bruises to my wife.
And she would swoon.
"You're so tough. Look at the beating you took and you're still walking around."
"Yes, and don't forget how many people I beat the fuck up."
"Oooohhhh," she would swoon more, "I love it when you beat up on people and then say 'fuck'."
"Fuck."
And then we would make out a lot.
And I wouldn't be angry.
Ever again.

Any Moment Now...

I can very easily see myself slipping quickly into madness to a point where I would be unable to care for my personal needs, and I would need to be taken to a home, heavily medicated, wearing some ugly worn-out blue terry cloth bathrobe and house shoes, being wheeled around in a wheelchair all day to prevent me from falling and hurting myself. And I would frequently kick off my right house shoe. My right foot is too hot, you see. And I would watch Bruce Lee's "The Big Boss" every day multiple times. And I would drool on my terry cloth stomach. And any change in my routine would cause me to bite my cheek so that I could spit blood at anyone. Everyone maybe. Until the turn on "The Big Boss" again. The only thing that soothes my inner psychotic Hulk is "The Big Boss". Cuz I'm that crazy.

Any moment now.

Yeah...

Last night I got to see Iron Man 3 with my family.  We saw it in the theatre.  I think the last movie I saw in the theatre was Oblivion, and before that, The Avengers.  I don't get to see movies in the theatre as much as I'd like.  But last night we went to a theatre with great 7.1 digital surround sound, with bass tones that vibrated my chair and tickled my butt, and I got to choose where to sit (because we were celebrating my birthday), so I got to sit right in the front row.  There's no better seat than right down in front.  The screen can't get any bigger than that.  You're completely surrounded by the movie.  As close to living in it as I've ever gotten.  And I got to be there with both my boys and my best-friend-wife.  And we didn't have to pay for it because we used my birthday gift certificates.  And the movie kicked ass.  Supremely.

Then I went home, and I got a clog out of my washing machine drain.  Nobody thought I could do it.  I didn't really know if I could do it.  But I did it.  With almost no effort.  With a plan that I came up with on my own.  That my family makes fun of me about from time to time.  But it worked this time.  Pretty easily.  And now my drain is unclogged.  And maybe, my washing machine will work okay now, since I fixed the drain tube last weekend and it doesn't leak anymore.  Yeah, I did that.  Fixed the drain tube.  All by my fuckin' self.

And then I got to sleep next to my best-friend-wife.  We were both feeling sick, but we both had some skin on each other.  And usually that's all that matters-- having a little skin on each other.

And then today, I got promoted.  After being denied twice before, I got promoted.

And I might have a better job in line in the future.  Which I would very much like to be better than my current job, and would like to take it if it's better than my current job.

And my wife and two boys haven't been bothered by legal people or abusive fathers in almost 24 hours.

Yeah, I'm doing okay today.

Hello, This Is God

Hello.  This is God speaking.  I really just wanted to take a few minutes and clear up a few things.

First off, yes, I exist.  Secondly, I am able to make a rock so big even I can't lift it.  I know that's a troubling one, but it's true.  If you don't believe me, think about Heaven.  I created the universe, the Earth, and all the people on it.  I created Paradise, but nobody was allowed in.  Why?  Well, when you find a really great resort, do you go around telling everybody you know about it so that it becomes crowded with tourists, or do you keep it to yourself?  I rest my case.  So I've got this groovy pad to chill in, you people can't get in, and everything is coolio.  But then I start hearing a whole bunch of whining from Hell.  "Why didn't you tell us about Heaven, God?"  "Why are you keeping it all to yourself??"  Well, it's not like I could just open the doors for everybody.  It had to be exclusive, otherwise it wouldn't be Paradise, would it?  So I made it so that nobody could get in unless my son (which wasn't gonna happen, cuz I ALWAYS wrap up the God Cock), dies on a cross, gets buried for three days, and then rises from the grave (yeah, right), to open up the doors of Heaven for everyone.  Nothing I can do about it.  So you see, the way into Heaven was so difficult even **I** couldn't open them! 

And I wish you guys would stop calling me the God of Love.  Seriously, I knocked up some chick on her way to Bethlehem before her husband even had a chance to get in there, let her have the kid without even so much as a Devine Pain Killer or a Holy Epidural, let the other guy raise my kid without so much as one alimony check, then I let his friends spit on him, throw rocks at him, jab spears into him, nail him to a cross until he died, let him get buried in a tomb for three days (you know how hungry you get after a day without lunch?  Well, I made him go three days without ANYTHING), and then I made him WALK all the way from Golgotha to Heaven, at which point I said, "yeah, okay, you've done enough.  You can go ahead and come in.  And you can let in your friends, too."  I kinda started Facebook like that.  Anyway, that's not really "love", is it?  I mean, yeah, if you define love as "really cruel acts of physical brutality that continue over a sustained period of time and don't feel good", I suppose all of that would be considered love.  But then, you wouldn't call "sex" "love making", you would call "rape for three days in the butt with a cactus" "love making".  And you don't.  You don't do that at all.  So, really, I'm not the God of Love. 

In fact, most of what I do would be classified in the I Don't Care section of life.  I don't really love you people.  Yeah, I made you.  Kinda like you make poo.  It just happens.  And then you flush it.  And then, suddenly, your toilet starts talking to you, calling you Hosanna and shit, and you're like, "Whoa, my shit is talking to me."  And then, you know, just for fun, you make one of your turds think he needs to kill his son to prove how much he loves you.  And he actually almost does it!  I mean, he's got the knife above his head and he's ready to kill his son, and you have to jump in and stop him, cuz he's just a shit and he doesn't know that he's just a shit and you were just joking with him.  I mean, you joke around because you never thought your shits would become sentient, let alone start building cities and discovering fire.  It's just, you know, not what you would expect.  So you walk away from the toilet, because you've got other things to do-- PlayStation, porn, you know, that kind of stuff-- and you come back, and the shit is STILL THERE!  Thriving!  Singing praises to you!  Fuck, I mean, it's interesting, but not something I'm gonna sit around all day long and watch after.  That's like what you are to me.  I don't care about your prayers, I don't hear them, cuz most of the time you don't say them out loud, I don't let bad things happen to good people because I'm not there most of the time, and I don't have that much invested in you in the first place.  How much do you have invested in your shits?  Not much, that's right.

Just about everything else, you guys made up on your own.  You created the story of Adam and Eve.  You made up Noah.  Cuz seriously, do you honestly think **I** would be so stupid to create horrible people who don't do what I say TWICE??  If I said "Don't eat the apple," and then you go and eat the apple, I'm not giving you a second chance.  And I'm CERTAINLY not gonna go, "Well, dammit, you ate the apple, so now you guys have to go out and fuck a lot."  Because unbeknownst to a lot of you so-called "Christians", sex is fun!  It feels good!  You're so busy hiding in fear from it and not talking about it and being scared that some dude is gonna stick his dick in your butthole that you ignore just how excellent it really is!  Why do you always associate goodness with sin?  Are you really that fucked up?  "This chocolate cake is SINFULLY delicious!"  "Don't masturbate or you'll go to hell!"  "Bacon isn't kosher!"  What is wrong with you people?!  Fucking fuck, you're all idiots.

Look, just live your life.  Quit being so concerned with how anybody else lives their life, and just life your life.  I don't care if you believe in me or not, because I don't really care about you.  Honestly, you've given me very little reason to care about you.  All the genocide and anger and hate and war and weapons and senseless killings and rape and murder and aggression and jealousies and hostilities and small-pox-infested-blankets you gave to the Native Americans and slavery and sexual oppression and the Crusades and witch hunts and divorce lawyers and step-mothers and Russell Fucking Crowe... there is so very little you have done that would make anyone stick around for longer than it took to shit you out in the first place.  There is no Heaven.  Just the rest of my bathroom.  There is no Hell.  Just my disposal.  There is no Limbo, Purgatory, saints, or Holy Days.  I don't care if you pray, because I'm not listening.  In fact, I'm not really God.  I'm just a guy with a crapper filled with shit, and the shit wants to think it's something more than it is.  You're just shit.  And one day, you'll get flushed.  As soon as I can get a plumber in here, you'll all just go away.  So fucking live your life and shut the fuck up.  Make good use of the time you've got and quit worrying about everybody else.

Losing A Little Bit Of Me

I think I've always thought that people, basically, try to do good things.  Basically.  No matter what your belief system is, I've always believed that people try to be good.  Sometimes you get bad behaviors, but those behaviors aren't typical and wouldn't define a person as not trying to do good things, according to my definition.  I guess I'm not even really sure what my definition is of "trying to do good things" would be.  But I guess I figured that people tended to act like me, and I tried to make others as happy as possible while establishing secure boundaries around myself to make myself as happy as possible.  And I thought others did the same.

Recent events, however, have brought me to a different place in my life where I don't really believe that anymore.  And I really don't like it.

Recently, my wife broke down crying, telling me that going to court was making her act in a way that "wasn't her", and it was hurting her.  She was speaking about having to keep track of all the horrible, nasty, ugly things that people do, notating all the awful and reporting on the awful to somebody else.  Focusing on the bad, and making sure that it translates into something that will make others believe it, too, is bad.  And keeping track of all the times somebody breaks a law or missteps.  Those actions are not my wife, and those actions were what was hurting her.  She is a person who tries hard, every day, to make sure she focuses on the things that make her happy.  And if you focus on the things that make you happy and try to push away the things that make you miserable, when you go to court, you have no case.  Because, essentially, you're happy.  And you've tried to forget about the things that haven't been good.  But that's all they want to focus on in court: the Not Good Things.

I believe, at this point in my life, that there are people who don't want to do good things.  I believe there are people who want to do bad things.  And I believe that they know certain things are good or bad.  I believe that everyone has a feeling when they do something good, and even if they aren't aware of it, they know the feeling to be a good one. 

I also believe that the Christian faith has provided a very good shelter for those who want to do bad things.  One of the things Christianity teaches is that all sins will be forgiven if you simply believe in God.  With this in mind, one could easily justify all behaviors if one said he believed in God, as the Almighty, the Most Powerful, The Creator Of Heaven And Earth, Of All That Is Seen And Unseen has seen what you do and has forgiven EVERYTHING you do because you believe in God.  Therefore, you have no more responsibilities.  For anything.  Beat a cat but believe in God, forgiven.  Rape a child but believe in God, forgiven.  Start a genocide and the second world war but believe in God, forgiven.  There is nothing you can do which holds any power over that part of you that feels your actions might be good or bad anymore, because EVERYTHING you do has become good.  As long as you believe in God, there is nothing you can do which is bad.  Not all Christians believe this, but this train of thought provides a refuge for those who want to do bad things.  It is the perfect place to hide if you want to be bad and be acceptable.  And it's not fair to other Christians who want to be good.

But basically, it's not fair to the world.  There are people in the world who want to hurt you, perhaps repeatedly.  They aren't simple bad behaviors.  They are people who intend harm always.  I did not believe there were such people.  Now I do.  And I feel like I've lost a little bit of me because of that.  And I miss that part.

I Hope I'll Get To See You Sometimes

Imagine that your 12-year-old is the kind of person who doesn't want to rock the boat.  He's the kind of boy who wants everything to be smooth sailing.  Heck, who doesn't, right?  But he will almost go out of his way to make sure nobody is upset with him.

Imagine that your ex-husband is abusive and everybody is always guilty, according to him.  And he wants to hurt you as much and as often as he can, because you divorced him.  You didn't allow him to control you.  So he's made it his life-goal to punish you every chance he gets.

Imagine that you try to make your 12-year-old comfortable and happy as much as you're able.  You tell him that you want him to tell you what he wants, even if it hurts your feelings.  You want him to express himself.



These three things concoct the perfect storm for the abusive ex-husband to steal the 12-year-old from you, possibly forever.  The 12-year-old wants everything to go smoothly.  When he's with you, it's all smooth, no matter what.  When he's with dad, it's only smooth if he's doing what dad says.  And, ultimately, it's not smooth with you if your 12-year-old does what you say and the dad finds out.  Because then you're going against dad, because siding with mom is siding against dad.  And the 12-year-old just wants everything to be smooth.  If he doesn't go against dad, it's all smooth.  So the answer then becomes Don't Go Against Dad. 

So when dad signs up the 12-year-old for Christian Brainwashing Camp, he Doesn't Go Against Dad.  And when dad signs him up for football camps, and football intensives, and football footballs, he Doesn't Go Against Dad.  And you get cut out.  And you don't get to help raise your own child anymore.  And it's very possible, that even though the court order says the visitation remains the same unless dad schedules something for the 12-year-old to do, dad will make sure that the 12-year-old has something to do every week he's supposed to be with his mother.  Not only possible, but probable. 

And there's nothing that can be done about it.

So, the moral of the story is: if you want to hurt and bully somebody, nothing can stop you.
Like terrorism.

Newton's Laws of Emotion

Today, I find myself getting pissed at the courtesies I've shown to others.

Yeah, I know.  Normally I would get down on myself for not being kind enough to people, or ruminating on something I said that I deemed not polite or empathetic enough.  Not today.  Today, as I take my exhausted brain, back, arms, legs and butt, and raise my exhausted axe above my exhausted head, I'm not aiming for myself for failures of etiquette or decency, but rather my willingness to extend those acts of decency to those who shouldn't have them.

A while ago, a colleague of mine got in my face and screamed at me for a prolonged period of time in a manner in which, I thought, would result in his fist pounding into my gut or face.  I was certain I was going to get punched.  I didn't.  And after he screamed at me, for something that was not my fault, he extended his hand, saying, "Welcome home."  I shook his hand.  I'm so mad at myself for shaking his hand.  He did not deserve that gesture.  And it was a lie.  A lie signifying that I was okay with him.  And I was not.  And I still am not.

Yesterday, I arrived at my home and the guardian ad litem was there, doing a home visit and speaking with her clients, our children.  The last time she was hired to represent them, she did not do her job very well.  She failed our children, and caused my wife and myself great hurt from injustice.  Yesterday, we allowed her to be alone with the children.  Yeah, it's the law.  But as a parent, how happy are you to leave your children alone in a room with somebody who has a history of not looking out for their best interests?  If you're even a semi-decent parent, it probably gives you pause.  Yesterday, however, when she emerged from our 16-year-old's room and saw me for the first time since I had arrived home, she shook my hand.  And we hugged.  I am mad at myself for that gesture.  It's a lie.

I wish my Axe of Justice really worked, and everything I swung at was immediately handed Justice.  But my wife reminded me yesterday of words our previous lawyer said at one point: "There is no Justice."

Maybe that's a good thing.  Maybe it's good that there's not Justice.  If there were Justice, I would be punished for shaking my colleague's hand, or for hugging the guardian ad litem.  And, honestly, I don't really want to be punished for that.  I'm sure that I've done bad things, acted with malicious intent, intentionally caused... I dunno... "harm" is too strong.  I'm not sure that I've intentionally caused harm.  Yeah, now that I'm thinking about it, I have intentionally caused harm.  And sure, it can be masked behind, "I was in a fight and I was trying to defend myself."  But I was still intending to do harm.  The reason doesn't really matter when Justice is concerned, right?  If there is no Justice, then I can forgive myself for causing harm to those guys who were trying to mug me when I was a kid, or for fighting my roommate in college when he was wrestling me and wouldn't let me go, or when I punched my father in the asshole for pulling my hair and throwing me down to the ground.  No, I didn't start these fights, but I did have malicious intent.  I wanted to hurt somebody.  And Justice would probably have something to say about that. 

Or not.  Maybe Justice is the karmic manifestation of Newton's Laws of Motion, specifically the third law stating that any action must have an equal and opposite reaction.  Upon reflection, though, this doesn't quite mesh with my example.  Example: My father tells me to throw away an aluminum can.  I tell him I'm going to recycle it.  He tells me there isn't time.  I start walking to the recycling bin.  He grabs my hair, stopping me.  I swing at him.  He throws me to the ground.  As he's sitting on me, I punch him in his asshole.  So, to simplify, the action of physical aggression, as was first demonstrated by my father pulling my hair, should result in an equal yet opposite reaction.  Taking a swing at him is not opposite of his actions towards me.  Not completely.  He acted with aggression, and I reacted with the same aggression. 

I find it difficult to imagine a situation that would align with Newton's Laws of Motion when it comes to the motions of human emotions, in that it's hard to imagine an opposite reaction to an emotional action.  I love you, so you react with the opposite emotion of love, which is apathy.  Rarely does this happen, if ever.  Think about kids on a playground.  Timmy runs over to Sally and says "I love you!"  I don't know that I can imagine a situation where Sally doesn't react to this at all.  Similarly, acts of hatred result in equal acts of hatred, not acts of love or peace.  Even demonstrations of Passive Resistance, like Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. used, are not similar.  They would be examples of making sure people see what the struggle is about.  The Indians want salt, so the English beat them down, but the Indians continue march to get their salt from the ocean.  The struggle is not about the fight between the English and the Indians.  It is about the Indians wanting what is theirs, and the English beating them away from it.  Similarly, the American Civil Rights Movement was not about black and white people fighting.  It was about black people being treated as people, and the white people beating them away from it.  Peaceful resistance is a very cerebral way to fight, but it is still a fight. 

And maybe this is all me misunderstanding the scientific minds of those who came before me.  Maybe I'm just a dumb actor who doesn't know shit about shit.

It sure would be nice if the reaction to being punched wasn't to punch back, but to hug.

And yet, my Justice Axe wants to cut into me today because my reaction to being punched (metaphorically) by the guardian ad litem was to hug her.

Fuck me.  Everything is stupid.

today's thoughts

i'm not doing any goddam work today.
i'm just gonna sit in my office and fart.
fuck this noise.

Catch

A couple of days ago, I played catch with my wife in our backyard.  We used a hacky sack and just tossed it back and forth.

It was great.

We'll be doing that again soon.

We're in the market for a ball that glows in the dark (what she would prefer) or a ball that lights up (what I would prefer), but we don't want to have to deal with batteries (what we'd both prefer).  Something we could see in the dark and still play catch.

...maybe one day...

having a hard time letting go

i called.
was told she was in the shower.
i said i would stay on the line until she got out of the shower.
she said she would give her the message.
many years later, as she was getting married to somebody else, her mother told her that she was glad she never delivered the message from me.
i'm having a hard time letting go of that.

i taught at a school.
a student took one class from me and then stopped.
i created a show, created an opportunity for actors to perform.
and none of them showed up.
none of them even mentioned it in an email.
told me they couldn't promote it.
but i just read an email congratulating that one student of mine, a "former" student of the school, for booking a commercial.
i'm having a hard time letting go of that.

he told me that i should tell all the voices in my head that tell me
"you're not good enough"
to go away.
that ultimately, the answer is "it's bullshit."
but when i started paying attention to it, there were so many thoughts like that, it became overwhelming very quickly and i had to stop for fear of drowning.
i'm having a hard time letting go of that.

life is fucked up sometimes

life is fucked up.

as a kid, my parents got divorced when i was 6 or 7.  those words are almost meaningless to me now.  like the pledge of allegiance or the lord's prayer, you have said the words so many times they don't have any meaning to you anymore.  i don't remember a lot from my childhood.  i was sent to the principal's office for calling a friend "gay" once.  i was sent to the office for "stealing" a girl's ring.  i put "stealing" in quotes, because we were taking a test, she was sitting next to me, her ring fell off without her knowing about it, i picked it up and said "wow, this is nice," she freaked out and told me to give it back to her, and trying to play around with her, i said "it's a really nice ring, i might have to keep it," she freaked out more, ran and got the principal, who pulled me to the office and gave me a lecture about stealing.  wish i could go back in time and give her a lecture about stupid lectures.  somewhere in there, i tried to kill myself.  my father discovered me with a knife to my wrist, and i was sent to a therapist.  the reason the therapist was told i was being sent to her was because i was still wetting the bed.  she had great legs, and wore pantyhose and dresses that accentuated her legs.  my time with her was pointless, except to fill me with guilt about how i was supposed to be talking with her about why i was still wetting the bed, even though it was more important to talk about why i wanted to kill myself, and all i was doing was checking out her legs to see if i could see up her dress.  what a waste of time and money. 

in middle school, i went on a date with this girl who, the next day, said that i shouldn't tell anybody we had gone on a date, because then they might get the wrong idea and think we went on a date and liked each other.  and my obese father grabbed me, pulled me down to the ground, and sat on me so that i couldn't breathe because i wanted to recycle an aluminum can.  i remember feeling like i had been treated like an adult for the first time when my step-father talked with me openly and honestly about taking nudie magazines from his room, and how i shouldn't do that anymore, and i should treat women with respect, and those magazines were fantasies and not real ways to treat women.  but then because of that incident, my father said that he couldn't trust me anymore because i lied about taking a massage book from his room that had illustrated pictures of naked people in it when, in fact, i had never seen the book and still have no idea what it looks like.  as punishment for this misstep of mine (which i never took), i was made to memorize the ten commandments, the boy scout honor code and have the door removed from my room because i was undeserving of privacy.  if i messed up on even a little word of the ten commandments or the boy scout honor code, i was made to do twenty push ups and twenty sit ups.  all because i took a book from my father's room.  which i never took.

in high school, i was told i was going to hell because i believed that a woman should have the final say over what gets to happen to her body.  i didn't advocate abortion or condemn it, but i said that i would be mad if somebody told me i couldn't do something with my body and i don't think anyone should have the right to tell somebody else what they can or cannot do with their body.  at which point, i was told i was going to hell.  i started smoking.  i started smoking pot.  i started drinking.  i chose to live with my father because he had a car i could drive and, eventually, own.  immediately after making this choice, i realized i had made the wrong choice and have regretted making that choice to this day.  i found the love of my life and refused to have sex with her because i didn't know what it would do to our friendship.  then i didn't see her again for seventeen years, and i always kept it in my head that if i had just had sex with her, she would have returned my phone calls or my letters.  i had driven her away because i wouldn't have sex with her. 

i went to college where i spent two years drinking and getting high.  i had sex with lots of people i didn't like and i wasn't attracted to.  i wasn't able to get cast in any plays i auditioned for.  and i lived in a desolate, depressing town that had one main road into town that had a pig slaughter house on it.  so every time you drove into town, you drove through a long, drawn-out smog of slaughtered pig reek.  i started my stand-up comedy career with quite a bit of success (my current therapist recently said that all comics are tortured souls), and i saw david letterman and jerry seinfeld using my jokes on their television programs without giving me credit or paying me for my words.  there aren't any rules or regulations about plagiarizing jokes.  see bill hicks and denis leary.  the dead one wrote the material for the one who is still alive, and who got famous off the dead one's work.  fun stuff, huh?  i transferred colleges, and had a little more success academically, continued to drink and get high and involve myself with women i didn't like very much.  i befriended a guy who, the day after i broke up with my girlfriend because she wouldn't break up with her other boyfriend and just date me exclusively, slept with my newly-exed girlfriend who went to him and told him that they should sleep together so that she could hurt me.  that was fun.  one of my friends died in a random accident involving rain.  i wrote a stage play based on the pain of the absence of the love of my life and how i was continuing to mistreat myself because of the pain from her absence.  it was well received, and it was the way that my grandmother discovered i was a smoker.  "you don't smoke, do you?" she asked.  i pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  "don't ask questions you don't want answers to," i said.  i say the coolest things when i'm being an asshole.  in a movie, that line would have been killer.  in real life, it was just mean to my grandmother.

i moved away from home and gained no new friends.  i tried to make it as a professional actor.  i failed.  my girlfriend slept with two of my friends during the same week, all of which happened less than a month after i left home.  i went on depression and anxiety meds.  i was hit on by nathan lane.  gregory hines opened a bathroom door on my face.  i befriended robert sean leonard, who turned out not to really be my friend and wouldn't return my phone calls.  i met ethan hawke and frank whaley, and they were both incredible assholes.  i made a movie trailer, and was nominated for best supporting actor in a movie trailer.  i ate food out of dumpsters sometimes.  i bought $20 worth of tea from a guy named Snake who had gold teeth.  the tea didn't get me as high as i thought it would when i thought it was marijuana and not tea.

i moved to a place where i lived for over a decade because i fell in love with my job.  it was a great job.  i continued to drink off and on, get high off and on.  loved my job.  got involved with women i didn't really like.  i dated them because of their hair color or ethnicity, not because i had any real interest in them.  i had a woman demand to wash my feet, and my roommates all made fun of me that i didn't have sex with her after she finished washing my feet.  i had a woman demand that she and i were going to do cocaine together, and when i told her i would listen to her talk with me all night long but i wasn't going to do cocaine with her, she broke down into tears and told me that nobody had ever been her friend without cocaine and i was the first person to accept her without drugs.  and then she talked to me all night long as she did copious amounts of cocaine.  i talked about the love of my life often at the job that i loved.  i was promoted at my job a lot.  i was given lots of freedoms and privileges.  i was respected.  and i liked the work i was doing.  i liked who i was when i didn't have to be who i was.  when i could be funny and i could make people feel good.  it was as close to being jesus or a super hero that i have ever gotten.  then i wasn't promoted at my job like i thought i was going to be, and i quit and moved back to my fat father who had sat on me, suffocating me years before, and who had adopted two children to take away money from me that his father had given to me when i was a child.  cool guy, huh?  later on i found out that he had duct taped his 10 year-old son's hands and ankles together.  classy fella.

then i reconnected with the love of my life again, and we got married.  that was the best day of my life.  i relive that day often.  all of the people i love most in this world were there.  and i wasn't drunk or stoned.  i was just completely happy.  and when i'm able to shut out all the guilt that my mind seems to feed me so often, and i'm able to remember that i have my wife, that's when i'm truly at peace.  when i'm able to stop judging myself of all the things i believe i've done wrong and just look at her and see that she's in front of me, i'm completely happy.  those moments are the moments that are most important to me.  even last night, i was half asleep at one point when my wife was having a hard time sleeping, and i got to roll over and stick my arm up the sleeve of her shirt and scratch her back.  i don't really remember it well, but i remember that she calmed down, and i felt great being able to touch her like that.

i would imagine that everyone has a story.  some of it happy.  some of it miserable.  some of it just weird.  it would be nice, i think, to hear some of those stories rather than being consumed with my own.  plenty of good things have happened to me, and i can even remember some of it, but my head always leans towards the negative.  some days i win the fight for positivity.  my wife helps on those days.  someday, i don't win that fight and i'm depressed.  my wife helps on those days, too.  i like it better when we're able to feel good together. 

i guess, ultimately, i'm grateful that she has stuck with me, sitting beside me, despite all i am, all i was, all i continue to be.  that part-- sitting beside me and just being there-- makes everything else so, so, so much better.  i am very lucky to have that. 

i got home from work last night, went to bed, got up to go back to work today, and i'm still exhausted...

such a heavy month
i don't know how to fix it

Respect and Titles

Around my office (and in the rest of the world I've been exposed to), if you're introduced to a doctor or you need to speak with a doctor, you address them as "Doctor".  As in, "Doctor Fuckstain, please remove your penis from my rectum."  This, from what I've been told, is a sign of respect.  You respect the doctor because... they've... gone to school for a long time and... that's worthy of respect.

My mother is a doctor.  My father is a doctor.  My step-mother is a doctor.  I am not a doctor.  I haven't even really finished my master's degree (from almost 20 years ago).  The only person out of those three people I respect enough to call "doctor" is my mother.  And I probably respect her more than those other two pieces of shit because she doesn't demand people call her doctor.  She worked harder to get her doctorate than either my father or step-mother.  She suffered through a job that disrespected her at every turn, paid her not enough money to live off of, and had to support my fat ass.  And she still became a doctor.  And she doesn't demand that people call her doctor.  Some of my friends call her doctor, and it's kinda weirdly nice to hear them say that, because I like it when other people give her the respect she is more than deserving of, but she certainly doesn't lead with her doctorate, and she doesn't introduce herself as "Doctor".  Probably because, in doing so, you intentionally elevate yourself.  "I have done work," you say to others, "and I demand you respect me for it."

I say fuck that shit, because it's completely fucked up.
People deserve respect.  Period.  No doctor deserves more respect than a garbage collector or a stay-at-home mother, or a social worker, or a teacher.  We.  All.  Deserve.  Respect.

So if I'm going to be forced to call doctors "doctors" just because they feel they are owed some amount of respect for the work-- good or bad-- which they did awarding them the title of doctor, I'm going to demand a title of my own.  "Mr." is too ordinary.  I think "God" will be sufficient.  From now own, I'm going to insist that people demonstrate the respect that I'm deserving of by referring to me with my title of "God".  In fact, my wife, my two children, my doctor mother, and my non-doctor step-father all have earned the pre-fix "God" before their names, and I will now demand that from people when I talk with them.
"Hello, Pedro Fuckstain."
"No, no, that's DOCTOR Fuckstain."
"Ah, yes.  Of course.  Please forgive me."
"Most certainly.  And you are?"
"I am God Blutt.  This is my wife, God Blutt.  My two boys, God Blutt, and over there is God Blutt.  My step-father, God Blutt.  And please shake hands with my mother, God Blutt."
"It's a pleasure to shake your hand, God Blutt."
"No, no, that's God DOCTOR Blutt to you, Fuckstain."

Two Joints and Five

This is a story I heard on NPR recently, and it won’t leave me alone.




A boy traveled from Jamaica to America with his parents when he was 3 years old. They were illegal immigrants. However, they became legalized residence and worked towards their citizenship, which they were all granted.



The boy became a Man, got married, had children. During a routine traffic stop in the state of Georgia, he was found to have a small amount of marijuana on him, almost enough for “two cigarettes”. The man was provided a public defender, and was told that he could plead not guilty, which would lead to a court battle that would cost him more than he could afford, or he could plead guilty. In pleading guilty, charges of possession of marijuana would be expunged in 5 years, he would serve no jail time, and only have to do 50 hours of probation. Believing this was the best avenue for him to take, the Man plead guilty. What he wasn’t told was that, in pleading guilty, the charge could be altered to something more severe than what he was pleading guilty to, which was the case in Georgia law at the time. So he plead guilty to possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell and distribute. For this crime, just like his lawyer said, he spent no time in jail, served 50 hours of probation, and was deported to his “homeland” of Jamaica. He had no family there, no ties whatsoever, except that he had lived there until he was 3. He was sent away from his wife and five children because he had almost two joints-worth of marijuana.



I know the stuff is illegal. I know it’s against our laws. But our laws have grades, different levels, because there are some crimes that are more severe than other crimes. If you kill somebody, you could be charged with manslaughter, or you could be charged with murder in the first. If you abandon your child because he admits to you that he’s gay, you could be charged with negligence, or you could be charged with being a Republican. There are different grades of punishment that we have come up with in our society. And it seems completely out of the realm of reality that our legal system could make it a possibility to charge a man with an illegal substance that is barely enough to get high off of with the severity of intending to distribute and sell it. That’s like saying you own a bag of Doritos, so you must be planning on opening a grocery store. It’s completely unreasonable. And then, because his lawyer didn’t inform him that he could be deported, his American citizenship is completely ignored, and this American father and husband is sent away from his family for five years. He didn’t murder anyone. He didn’t steal from anyone. He didn’t burn down an orphanage. He didn’t declare war on a country without weapons of mass destruction. He didn’t even have a drug that could cause him to act in an aggressive fashion. He had a joint and a half. And then he paid for it by being sent to one of the poorest, most rancid places on earth, away from everyone and everything he knows, for five years.



Just recently, Georgia changed its laws to say that lawyers had to tell their clients about being deported. Since this Man was not informed, and has no prior criminal record, and has completely complied with all judgments against him, it’s likely that he will be able to return to his family soon. Five years later. Five years of no contact with his wife. Five years of no contact with his kids. Five years of no contact with his home. His friends. His bed. His belongings. His pictures. Anything.



I hope the first thing he does when he gets home is gets incredibly high and forgets about the giant hypocrisy that is our American legal system and the United States of Idiocy.

Ugly

This song is playing in my ears this morning, and seems to have hit a strong nerve with me:

It's getting ugly
You take it on the chin
You take it on the chin
You take it on the chin
You take it on the chin

Oh!  I'm gonna fuck your face up
Break bones with this bass line
Break your nose with a faceplant
Don't care what I say ya
Fuck this whole place up
Land em low with a rizzlers roll
This stuff's gonna make you taste blood

Into the sonical warfare
Into the oral vortex
Gauge out balls with this flow
Out to the scum who called it
You might be on my case but
I can't take you straight
Tell that to my face boy
I'm gonna fuck your face up

It's ugly like your sister
As ugly as your sister
It's ugly like your sister
As ugly as your sister

You'll take it on the chin
You'll take it on the chin
You'll take it on the chin
You'll take it on the chin

I really, really appreciate the medicinal and therapeutic value of music and art on days like today.

You Don't Speak American

One of my co-workers in a nearby cube said this:
"Well, you know, she's half British, and half English, so you KNOW she's not very bright."

And my Ugly Judge kicked in with this thought:
YOU'RE not very bright, you 100% AMERICAN idiot.

Grandly Fatigued

I'm so grandly fatigued today.  Last night, I told my family I was going to bed at 8.  My wife asked me to stay up and play, so I did.  It's rare that I say no to my wife (plus, it was her birthday). 

Life seems to be extra weighty today.  And yesterday.  And this whole year, actually.  Extra heavy and hard to lug around.

It weighs me down to hear about the Boston Marathon tragedy, with 3 people dead and over 100 injured.
It weighs me down to deal with my wife's ex.  A LOT it weighs me down.
It weighs me down to have dreams about the ex talking to our 12-year-old.
It weighs me down to see our 12-year-old feeling trapped by his father and not knowing how to help him.
It weighs me down to hear about the sequester that might affect my job.
It weighs me down to have been passed over for promotion twice, when I was told that it was almost a guaranty.
It weighs me down to have so little money.
It weighs me down that I can't afford glasses for my wife.
It weighs me down that I can't afford to buy food for my family, so on top of the fatigue we're all already feeling, we cook dinner every night, which is more energy and more time.
It weighs me down that we go without soda.
It weighs me down that we go without toilet paper sometimes.
It weighs me down that I didn't make the chocolate mousse pie for my wife's birthday that I wanted to.
Taxes.
Job.
Ex and his new wife and the war that continues (I wonder if this is anything like the Middle East: one side has decided not to fight anymore without surrendering, but the other side simply won't stop fighting, so they continue to fight, even though one side continues to say it's not fighting... and the world watches, trying to stay uninvolved, not really caring about what's going on but really just wanting it to stop.  He's a goddam waste of sperm and a poster child for why abortions should continue to be legal, and sometimes be mandatory).
I can't sleep.
I can't stay awake.
I can't get my head to calm down.
I can't bring peace to my wife, or my boys, or myself.
My arm hurts.
My tail bone hurts.

I wanna sleepwalk

And kill all the guilty people

The people without empathy

The people without conscience

I wanna sleepwalk

And end the suffering

So that when I wake

It will all have been an ended dream

That will quickly fade into nothing.

Being Positive for 2014

I know it's important to look at the positive, and Silver Linings and all that and blah blah blah...

But 2013 can really suck my twelve inch clit.
Seriously.
I'm ready for this year to be done, for real, and just start next year already.

The silver lining of 2013 is that it won't always be 2013.  This year has been the shits.

Adaptation vs Evolution

Charles Darwin and Alfred Wallace were the first to formulate a scientific argument for the theory of evolution by means of natural selection. Evolution by natural selection is a process that is inferred from three facts about populations: 1) more offspring are produced than can possibly survive, 2) traits vary among individuals, leading to different rates of survival and reproduction, and 3) trait differences are heritable.^[4] Thus, when members of a population die they are replaced by the progeny of parents that were better adapted to survive and reproduce in the environment in which natural selection took place. This process creates and preserves traits that are seemingly fitted for the functional roles they perform.^[5] Natural selection is the only known cause of adaptation, but not the only known cause of evolution.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evolution


In other words, the more we close down schools and cut funding to education and the arts, the more uneducated individuals we produce.  The more uneducated individuals we produce, the more offspring they produce who carry on the genetics of those uneducated parents, as well as adapt to the behaviors and thought patterns of the uneducated.  The more uneducated people there are, the more our society adapts to the needs and concerns of the uneducated. 

In brief, America keeps getting dumber and dumber.

Empath

The Forest Whitaker character in the movie Species is brought along in the story because he is an empath.  He can feel the emotions of others and give reasons for those emotions.  Many times he feels the emotions of others so intensely that it hurts him.

I was immediately drawn to that character, feeling like I had something in common with him.  Maybe I don't have the supernatural abilities that he has, but I certainly do understand that character and felt connected to him the moment he explained what it was that he was able to do.

I often feel like I feel the emotions of others too much.  In my head, this is "care".  I care about the man on the street without a home because I feel what I imagine he's feeling.  I care about my wife, which causes me to feel her pain when she's sick or sad.  I care about my kids, so I feel their pains. 

I don't think I'm doing it right.  I think I'm taking on too much.  I think there's probably a way to care about people without emotionally sharing their hurts.  I think there's got to be a way to live in the world without feeling badly for everyone always.  If there isn't a way to do that, I'm gonna be on medication for the rest of my life.  Maybe I'll be medicated for the rest of my life anyway.

I don't want to feel others' emotional pain anymore.  And if I have to, I want to figure out how to deal with it in myself better.  I wish Charles Xavier had a school where he could help me learn how to use my mutant abilities to help people and battle Magneto.  Man, I'd like to be an X-Man.

reflecting on echo memories

how did any of us make it past our teen years?

hypocrisy

you brandish your beliefs like they're a holy weapon

don't be who you are is your real lesson

ye without sin should cast the first stone

but you come from sin the moment you're born

you loudly proclaim that your god is great

but then you use his name to justify your hate

Money Is So Goddam Dumb

I'm having a super hard time being an adult today.

I work a full time job that doesn't pay enough to support my family.  My wife has a part-time job, and that helps, but we still don't really make enough to get by.

So I took a second job.  And my wife took a second job.  And together, we were able to make ends meet.

Or so we thought.

Turns out, my second job actually cost us money in the long run.  Because of the way my second job was operating (very similar to the way my wife's previous job was operating), I end up owing taxes at the end of the year.  So when we thought we were making ends meet... we weren't.  In fact, and this isn't hyperbole, I was losing money by having that second job.  If I had gotten a legitimate job, I would have been fine.  But now I have to scramble to find deductions I can make so that I don't end up owing more money than I will be able to make the whole year!

I work hard, and we don't make enough.  I work harder, and we have less than that.  I can't get ahead.  I don't understand this system and I don't know what to do so that my kids can have clothes, my wife can get some goddam glasses, and I can get a diet Pepsi every morning so that I can have enough fuel to keep going through the goddam day.  I don't know what I'm doing wrong, except maybe listening to the people who keep telling me that I'm doing it wrong and all I need to do is work harder and save more.  If I work harder and save more, I end up spending more money than I just worked for.  It's a losing battle.  I can't win.  I don't know what to read or study or do.  I don't know what kind of job to get or what kind of degree I need.  I'll do whatever it takes to make sure my family and myself are taken care of, but this is absolutely ridiculous.  Utterly ridiculous.  "The poor get poorer, and the rich get richer."  Yeah, you can say that again.  And if I knew how to make it to the flip side of that sentence, you can be damn sure that I would stay there as long as I could and make sure that nothing flipped back over.  I worked 50 hours of overtime last month.  That's one week and one day more than normal.  And it's all gone.  We haven't even gotten paid for all of it yet, but it's all gone already.  Almost like I was never at my office for an extra hour every day.  Almost like I was never at my office on two of my days off.  Almost like it never happened.  My work doesn't look any better.  I'm not any closer to a promotion.  I don't have any extra money to show for it, or clothes, or food, or a goddam ice cream.  I get to pay the attorney who did my fucking taxes for us who ends up telling us that we're going to owe the goddam government.  That same government who is currently not voting on gun control measures because the fucking Republicans won't allow a goddam vote through their goddam filibuster.  But they take all our money to sit there and not vote.  To sit there and not do their job.  One.  Hundred.  Seventy.  Four.  THOUSAND.  Dollars.  Every.  Year.  $174,000.  That's their STARTING pay.  And they work approximately half the year-- 150 days.  And their salary comes from me.  And you.  And I can't take my family out to McDonald's tonight even if we wanted to go.  And they make this for four goddam years!  If you cut their pay by $100,000 a year, they would STILL be making more than double my annual income!  And they work HALF the time as I do!  So it's almost like they're getting paid FOUR TIMES WHAT I MAKE!  TO DO NOTHING!!!

I just wanna live under a rock.  Where nobody can see me.  Or hear me.  Or see me.  I'm just so goddam dumb.

The Cavemen

There was a group of cavemen who lived in a cave on the side of a large volcano.  Everyone lived in the same cave, and everyone was happy.

One day, the volcano erupted.  Ug gathered his family in the cave.  "We all must stay here," said Ug.  "If we go outside we will be in danger!"  Those close enough to hear Ug agreed, if they left they would be in danger of being burned by the volcano.  Gu gathered his family on the other side of the cave.  "We must leave the cave," said Gu.  "If we stay here, the lava from the volcano will run into the cave and kill us all."  Those around Gu agreed, if they stayed in the cave they would be burned by the volcano. 

Gu's family left the cave, and some other families followed them.  Ug's family stayed in the cave, and some other families stayed with them.

The volcano erupted, and lava flowed into the cave, and some of the people in the cave died.  The volcano also threw large chunks of ash and molten rock, and some of those who left the cave died.

After the volcano settled down, Gu and his followers returned to the cave to see if it could still be used to shelter them.  They found some of Ug's followers inside the cave.  Both men became angry at the other.

"You stayed in the cave and let people die!" said Gu, angered that some of his friends who had stayed in the cave were now dead.  Ug was equally mad.

"You left the cave and let people die!" said Ug, who felt deeply saddened that some of his friends had left the cave and were now dead.

"I left the cave because it seemed like the right thing to do," said Gu.
"I stayed in the cave because it seemed like the right thing to do," said Ug.
"I felt it was the right thing to do because my god told me so," said Gu.  "And he's more powerful than you."
"My god told me to stay in the cave," said Ug, "and he saved me and many others who believe in him!"
"My god saved me!" shouted Gu, "and all those faithful to my god were saved with me!"

Just then, Elizabeth came out of a hole in the floor of the cave.
"Please stop your shouting," said Elizabeth.  "I have devised a way to be protected from the volcano.  My family and I have dug a hole and covered it with a large stone that was thrown from the volcano.  The stone doesn't melt or get too hot when the lava flows over the top of it, and our hole is deep enough so that we're able to access the fresh water supply under the cave and live comfortably and safely down there for many years.  You are all welcome to join us down here where it is safe and comfortable."

"Who told you to build this hole?" asked Gu and Ug in amazement.
"Nobody told me to build the hole," Elizabeth responded.  "I saw the problems that were coming, and I figured it out on my own."
Gu and Ug immediately killed Elizabeth.  Then they killed her family.  "Our god is more powerful than your hole," they both said.

Ug started to hurry his followers into Elizabeth's hole.  "How stupid Gu's followers are," Ug thought.  "They think their god saved them when they were out of the cave, but they have no true faith, which is why they are going into this hole inside our cave."  Gu pushed his followers into the hole Elizabeth had made.  "How stupid Ug's followers are," Gu thought.  "They believe their god saved them in the cave.  But they don't have true faith, which is why they're going into this hole rather than staying in their cave."  And as both Ug and Gu washed Elizabeth's blood off their hands in the cool water they found deep in the hole, they silently felt better, knowing that everyone else was safe following them.  They were the smartest cavemen.  The best ones to lead.  The best ones to keep everyone safe.  They knew they were, they were certain they were, because their god had protected them.  And with that, they were protected from the volcano inside the hole Elizabeth had made.

What To Ask For At Christmas

I heard a news story this morning about poor children and what they ask for at Christmas time.  Typically, poor children ask for blankets, toothbrushes, and gifts to be given to others.  My god, if we could just teach these poor children that this really isn't the way to succeed.  A blanket is not an asset, and certainly giving your gift to others is not an asset.  We need to teach those children to ask for market shares, especially stocks in banks and oil futures.  These are the kinds of things that allow people to prosper.  Not blankets.  Not toothbrushes.  Seriously, after making your first million betting on banks that are "too big to fail", you'll be able to buy a couple of toothbrushes.  Hell, you'll be able to have as much oral surgery as you want to pay for all the brushing you didn't do while you were waiting for your investments to make a return.  But you won't be able to have a return on your investment if you ask Santa for a blanket.  Jesus, what are we teaching our young and impoverished??

Please Shoot Your Guns

I believe it's time for all responsible gun owners in America to do the responsible thing and use their God-Given-Second-Amendment-Protected Right to Bear Arms for some kind of good.  It's not right that so many people are suggesting that the world is a safer place without all these guns, and all gun owners should show the world how much safer the world will be once everyone who opposes them are dead.  So I think all gun owners should use their guns for good.  After all, if you put a gun in all the good guys' hands, the world will be safer, right??  So let's get all the "good guys" together with their guns and start using those good tools to do some good.  Start killing people who want to take away your guns, aka Tools Of Good, and show everybody how much less gun violence there is once you've killed all the people how say that guns produce more gun use.  Show them that with more guns, we can use our guns less!!  Go Show Them and shoot those guns at people and let's see some substance behind your words!

Good Mother

She went to the football game to support Her son.
She made Her son with an abusive man, Her ex-husband.
Her ex-husband punishes Her children when they talk to Her.
He interrogates them, abuses them, and lets them know there will be more punishment when they talk with Her.  He lets them know there will be more punishment if they go against him in any way, and he tells them that She is against him.
Her ex-husband always ignores Her when he's around Her in person.  He treats Her as if She is evil.
He has married a woman who believes what he tells her, so she believes She is evil.
She has a mother who has been abusive all Her life.
When She was pregnant with Her first child and sick to the point of vomiting and exhaustion, Her mother made Her wax her car.
These people have brought a legal suit against Her, saying She is a bad Mother.
This legal matter has been going on, in one form or another, for the past five years, perpetuated by Her ex-husbands continual aggressions.
In spite of all of this, She sent Her eldest son with his step-father to play paintball for his birthday, while She went, alone, to a football game to support Her youngest son.
She sat, alone, watching Her son play a version of football where he did nothing kneel down and stand up.
She sat, alone and persecuted, as She watched Her ex-husband, his current wife, and his sister, loudly proclaim how happy they were.  She sat alone, knowing that She was being persecuted, and knowing that this show wasn't real.  This show was not about enjoyment or actual love and support.  This show was an attack on Her directly.  To make others see how awful She is.  How alone She is.  How much Her son loves being around his father and his father's support group of friends and family members.  How much She is not a part of that happiness, and that is why She should not be allowed to be around them anymore.  Legally.
She saw Her mother, and She waved at Her mother.  Her mother looked at Her.  Her mother did not wave back to Her.  Her mother did not acknowledge Her.  At all.  Her mother supports the man who is trying to show the world that She is evil.
And She knew all of this before going to the football game.
But She went to support her son.
And after the game, She went to say hello to Her son.
He barely said anything to Her.
He didn't make eye contact with Her.
He was continuously looking at his father and step-mother, the people who would abuse him if he talked with Her. 
She asked him if he had any fun plans after the game, and he told Her that he didn't.
But She overheard plans being made, with her son's involvement.
She was actively being pushed out of Her son's life.
And Her son was part of it.
Her son was blowing Her off so that he wouldn't be punished later.
But he was still blowing Her off.
And that doesn't feel good.
Especially when She came to support him.
And She was comforted by Her mother-in-law who had come to support Her and Her son.
Her mother-in-law was very supportive to Her.
But Her mother-in-law's support was one thing.
Being blown off by Her son in favor of a gang of people who was trying to hurt Her and Her family was something else.
Something She couldn't escape.
Something She couldn't stop.
Something She really couldn't ignore.
At least, She couldn't figure out how to stop it, escape it, or ignore it. 
If there was a way to do that, it eluded Her, Her husband, his family, his therapist, Her lawyers, the counselors at all of the schools Her children attended.
She had to put up with it.  Or else She had to let Her children go.
And She was not about to let Her children go.
Because She is a Good Mother.
Just like Her mother-in-law.

And all of this happened one week before Her birthday.

Caring For People

A Man broke his leg, so he went to the Doctor.  The Doctor said, "I see you have a broken leg."
"Yes," said the Man.  "Can you help me?"
"Yes," said the Doctor.  "What I can do is help you.  I can make your leg heal.  But I need to be compensated with money in order to help you."
"I have money," said the Man.  "I have the best insurance on the market.  I can afford to pay those bills monthly.  I can afford the co-pays, which is the amount of money I have to pay of my own after I have paid for the insurance that covers some of the health care costs.  I can pay for the hospital stay the is required for the best care of my health so that I can be monitored by professionals.  And I can afford to take the time off of my job, which doesn't pay me hourly, but gives me paid time off so that I can allow life to happen and my leg to break without being punished for the time away from work.  I also have investments that I was able to afford to buy which bring in income for me without any work on my part."
"Good," said the Doctor.  "I will help you."

The next day, a Woman was taken to the doctor.  She had broken her leg.
"Can you help me?" asked the Woman.
"Yes," said the Doctor.  "I can care for you.  But I need to be compensated with money to provide care."
"I have the best insurance I could afford to buy," said the Woman.
"I see that," said the Doctor.  "Your insurance pays the costs associated with sitting in this examination room.  Your insurance pays for you to talk with me.  Your insurance pays for me to tell you your leg is broken.  Your insurance does not pay for anything more.  I need money if I am going to care for you."
"I had to take time away from work," said the Woman, "in order to come here today.  When I take time away from work, I don't get paid.  I have no money."
"I need money," said the Doctor.  "If you do not have money, I cannot care for you."  The Doctor walked away from the Woman with a broken leg.

The next day, a Child was taken to the doctor.  He had a broken leg.  He was turned away before talking to the Doctor, because he had no money, no insurance, and no job.  He was of no consequence to the Doctor, for there was no way to make money by caring for the Child.

A Fictitious Reality

How many people do you know who have changed economic classes?

Going into my early childhood years, I could think of no one who had moved, one way or the other, from where they started with their parents money to where they are now with their own.  A friend of mine came from a wealthy family of lawyers.  He is now a wealthy lawyer.  Another friend came from a wealthy family of politicians.  He is now a wealthy politician.  I came from a middle class family of teachers.  I'm now middle class (my wife says we're middle class, I FEEL like we're lower class, but I realize that I was just able to play paintball with my 16-year-old yesterday, and lower class folks probably don't have the expendable resources to play paintball at all, so I'm gonna have to agree with my wife that we're middle class... despite my lower class feelings).  I also had friends who had parents who were teachers, ministers, scholars, all of whom were not wealthy.  And those kids grew up to be not wealthy.

So it stands to reason that the statement "if you work hard enough, you can become rich in America" either isn't true, or a lot of people just don't want to work.  And just to give you an idea of the caliber of people I'm talking about, my graduating high school class had one valedictorian, and three salutatorians.  All four of those kids came from middle class families, and all four of them continue to be middle class. 

I only know three people who have changed economic classes since I've known them.  All of them are actors.  All of them started at low class status.  All of them got contracts to perform on television.  And that's when all of them became rich.

I feel a little consumed with finances lately.  I believe it's because I've found what I want to do, and it isn't a job.  Most of my life, I've wanted to be an actor.  Now, I just want to sit with my wife.  I think I could be very, very content to just lay in a bed for the rest of my life with my wife and snuggle.  And no nothing else.  But that job pays for shit.  So I gotta get a job that will make me independently wealthy, so I can quit my job and lay around with my wife.  I think that's where my preoccupation with money is coming from lately.  If I could simply lay in a bed with my wife, I'd be good.  And that's hard to do when I'm working 12 hours a day.

Anyway, I thought it was interesting that not many people in my world have moved much in the whole economic scheme of things.  I would have imagined that more people would have become rich.  Then again, it's only recently that I'm really starting to question the fictitious reality that I've been told to believe in.  The fictitious reality we've all been told to believe in.

loop in my head

so many people don't like me
i've made so many, many mistakes
i am not good


i can't get it out of my head.
endless looping.

Time To Hunt Democrats

In response to ever-increasing gun violence, including recent high-profile massacres leaving movie patrons and schoolchildren and teachers slaughtered, President Obama has pressed states to enact tougher gun control legislation. Measures designed to protect American citizens and our children.




Reacting to Obama’s speech in Colorado calling for universal background checks and smaller ammunition clips, Rocky Mountain Gun Owners, led by Dudley Brown, said that universal background checks are just a step towards identifying gun owners so the government can seize their weapons, and placing a 15-bullet limit on ammunition clips is arbitrary.



“I liken it to the proverbial hunting season, Brown says. “We tell gun owners, there’s a time to hunt deer. And the next election is the time to hunt Democrats.”



So here’s the summary:
1. Adults and children get gunned down in massive numbers every year.
2. President Obama tries to help the situation.
3. Dudley Brown says that those people who want to save lives should be hunted like deer.



Why in the world is this kind of madness and stupidity being tolerated and listened to?



Reference: http://www.npr.org/2013/04/03/176098278/outrage-alone-wont-advance-gun-control-measures

Jesus Loves Me...

Yes, Jesus loves me
Yes, Jesus loves me
Yes, Jesus loves me
For the Bible tells me so.

Unless I'm gay.

Paintball Dream

It’s a disturbing day dream. Disturbing, and lovely.




Our youngest talked with his father last night, who told him that they would be going to play paintball on Saturday with their church group because it was free. My wife tells me that church groups budget these kinds of free trips to lure people into their churches. Our eldest and I had already planned to play paintball this Saturday. That would put the four of us there together, on two different teams. Me and our eldest. Our youngest and his father.



My daydream starts after we’re all there and geared up. And as we’re walking to the field, I shoot Buttleak in the butt. He gets mad and turns around, so I shoot him in the dick. They tell me to stop, but maybe I shoot him again in the dick, really close, pretending that I don’t know any better. I’m not around guns much, I tell them, I don’t know how these things work. Then we get out on the field, and the horn blows, and I sprint towards him. Yeah, I get hit over and over again, and I don’t care. The game relies on compliance: you get shot and then you comply with the rules saying you raise your gun above your head and walk off the field. But I have other plans. And as I’m repeatedly shot with paintballs, I bee-line to Buttleak and tackle him to the ground by breaking his knee. He goes down, and I go down on top of him, as I repeatedly bash him in the dick over and over and over again until I can see the blood stain on his pants. And then I start working his face and don’t stop until his face is wrecked. Completely wrecked. Just a mass of loosely pieced together flesh and sinus, held together by strings of skin that haven’t been ripped apart yet. And then I shoot him in the mouth over and over and over and over again. And I laugh. Oh, how I laugh. As the game refs come over and say something completely stupid like, “This isn’t part of the game.” Yeah, it is part of the game. And I laugh and smile at the sky that welcomes me.



And then the daydream begins again. Like a DVD on repeat. Making me tense and anxious, as well as relieving some of the tension and anxiety with every mental tackle. With every imagined crack of kneecap as it breaks. With every pound of my gun into his crotch, sounding like the beating of a wet, soggy sponge being pounded free of its blood liquid. And I laugh. And the DVD repeats.