When I was a kid, at my earliest stages of life, I was breast fed. Pretty sure that was milk that was used to build my body and make it strong.
This article from WebMD talks about the links between milk and increased chances of ovarian cancer and fatal prostate cancer, and how health experts disagree about milk consumption.
http://www.webmd.com/diet/dairy-truths?page=1
That sends mixed messages. My first meal will increase prostate cancer and ovarian cancer. So either my mother is ignorant of the facts, knows the facts and still fed me liquid cancer, or WebMD isn't right. Maybe there's more out there on the Internet that could help me find the answers...
Eggs are awesome, according to WebMD here!
http://www.webmd.com/diet/good-eggs-for-nutrition-theyre-hard-to-beat?page=1
Eggs are compared negatively to a "Hardee's Thickburger" here and have the same cholesterol...
http://breakingmuscle.com/nutrition/the-great-egg-debate-4-reasons-you-need-to-stop-eating-eggs
Eggs are good for you here, but you have to read the whole article to find out the more eggs you eat, the less cholesterol your body produces, which is supposed to be good for you...
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-berardi-phd/egss-and-health_b_3499583.html
Eggs are akin to smoking, and will kill you with cholesterol here...
http://www.prevention.com/food/healthy-eating-tips/study-claims-eggs-are-unhealthy-smoking
Here's another one.
Red meat increases chances for cancer and heart disease according to WebMD...
http://www.webmd.com/food-recipes/the-truth-about-red-meat?page=1
Red meat is awesome, and sometimes trumps white meat here...
http://chriskresser.com/red-meat-it-does-a-body-good/
Rice is great!
http://www.livestrong.com/article/509293-is-white-rice-unhealthy/
All rice contains arsenic and brown rice has more of it than white!
https://www.yahoo.com/health/we-first-heard-the-bad-news-in-2012-rice-contains-103047447432.html
Apple and grape juice have arsenic in them!
http://www.webmd.com/diet/arsenic-food-faq?page=1
Grape juice lowers the risk for heart attacks!
http://www.webmd.com/food-recipes/buzz-about-grape-juice
The Internet is stupid. It's a platform for ignorant people with fingers to promote ignorance. And there's so much ignorance it's impossible to know for certain if you're actually getting useful information.
I pretty much hate everybody. Everybody parading around like they know something, spewing their solution for whatever. Grapes cause cancer so you should eat only kiwi! Eggs cause birth defects! Rice will explode in bird stomachs! Homosexuals will force me to bake wedding cakes for them! Goddammit, I fucking hate all you cunts and your Whine Of The Minute, and the next minute you're gonna whine about something else and tell me not to eat bacon. Fuck you, I'm eating bacon! And I might put a topping on my bacon, like more bacon! And high-fat cheese and non-dairy whipped carcinogens with a splash of pureed kitten! I just may! I'm so goddam tired of being told that certain foods are going to kill me, and I'm tired of hearing about heart disease and cancer and high blood pressure and migraines and shingles and the national fucking obesity crisis and penile warts and all the health risks! I'm tired of it all! In my honest opinion, WE are the disease! WE are the problem, and the Earth is trying to tell us all that we're fucking it up. If we were smarter we'd have the grace to die off silently, quietly, apologizing to the animals and trees. "Sorry for fucking up your world, beavers. Sorry for New York City... Earth."
Everything causes cancer.
Everything will kill you.
You will die one day.
Eating an omelet or not isn't going to change that.
And...
Shut the hell up about everything already.
Shut. Up.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
The Blind Man?
Stargardt disease is a kind of macular degeneration that causes progressive vision loss, usually leading to blindness. Typically it starts in childhood. While most people end up becoming blind, some people can end up retaining most, if not all, of their vision along with the ability to drive and daily functionality of a normal-sighted person.
I receive an email from the Arizona office. Seems a claimant has missed an exam we scheduled for him. We scheduled this exam for him because he alleges that he can't work because he's blind. He was allowed back in 2004 for decreased vision, and he's been receiving disability checks since that time. He is way past due for a review of his disability, which is why I'm looking at his case right now. He tells us about only one medical source he's seen in the past two years. We request records from them, and we receive their very, very minimal records showing that he has Stargardt disease, no changes have happened recently, and he is able to drive and is a confident driver without incident. If we had more information from the actual doctor office, we might be able to determine if he is able to function well enough to cease receiving benefits or if he continues to be unable to function well enough to secure a job. But the doctor office sends me very little (I've almost duplicated verbatim what they sent to us), so I schedule the man for an exam to test his vision so that our doctors can make a decision. Except he missed the exam we scheduled for him.
I call him. He doesn't answer. I leave a message. Immediately, he calls back. I tell him that he missed an exam. He tells me that he never received notification of the exam. I verified his address with him, and told him the date that we sent him a letter. He tells me that he never got the letter. I tell him that I am able to reschedule this exam for him once, but if he misses it for any reason, his continuing disability will be ceased. He understands. He asks why he is being scheduled for an exam in the first place. I tell him that we requested information from the one source he told us about and they didn't send us enough information for us to make an accurate decision regarding his ability to function. He states that he goes to see that one doctor every year for his vision issues, he continues to be blind and his condition of blindness hasn't changed since the first time he was allowed for benefits. I asked him if he had Stargardt disease. He said that he did. I asked if there had been changes in his visual acuity at all since being allowed for disability benefits. He told me there hadn't been changes. I asked if he was able to drive. He told me that he wasn't. I asked if he had driven at any time during the past two years, and he said that he had not driven because he is blind. I told him that I would request a reschedule for his exam. He was pleasant throughout the conversation.
I hung up the phone.
And immediately I hated my job. I hated the man. I hated his doctor. I became very cranky and upset.
What's up with that??
There was nothing particularly upsetting about the phone call. He wasn't mean or rude to me. He wasn't difficult to talk with. There were no dogs barking or babies crying in the background. He didn't sound like he was completely drunk or on drugs of any kind. These are the kinds of things that can make phone calls difficult. But none of those things happened. But I'm mad now. And I don't like that.
I don't like it that his doctor didn't put down the numbers indicating his visual acuity, didn't indicate if he is blind but able to drive (I'm not sure how that's even possible), or give any indication about his condition so that we could make a decision on his case. He was allowed once before, continuing his case is very easy if he was allowed once before. But given that he's got a disease that *could* get better, and his doctor said that he can drive which indicates a level of functionality which *could* mean he no longer qualifies for disability, I need to have some medical person tell me how he is able to function. And I hate it that this guy has gone to his doctor, expecting care, and has received none.
How many people go to their doctors believing they're being cared for, but aren't?
How many of us are being duped regularly by the very, very rich people who make a very, very good living by fooling us, the people who are in need of assistance?
My wife tells me that a person can't have ADHD and Asperger's simultaneously, yet countless doctors have diagnosed both those conditions in children whose medical records I've read over the last 5 years. Nobody told those doctors you can't have ADHD and Asperger's at the same time, or else somebody my wife trusted told her incorrect information. Either way, somebody isn't being treated correctly or with proper information.
Blindness generally is easy. You don't get better from blindness. In fact, until about 30 minutes ago, I would've said you NEVER get better from blindness. And then I read about a New-To-Me disease, Stargardt, where people can actually go blind and then get better. And the one person I know who has this disease has a doctor who gives about as much information about his patient as a third-grader giving a book report on a book she's never read before. "Old Yeller was... a dog who didn't change and... is able to bark without incident... the end."
Fucking people. Fucking doctors. Fucking system. Fucking lies and greed and making your living off the people who work while you scheme and deceive and maintain mediocrity, believing yourself to be something you're not. But you've got proof, don't you? You've got a pocket full of cash that says You're Doing Right. You're Living Right. You're Doing The Right Things And Everybody Will Agree Because Hard Work And Dedication Pay Off And Crime Doesn't Pay And blah blah blah that we all tell ourselves in order to make it through this dismality of a world that we've made where the Evil gets rewarded, the Good is squashed, and there's no Justice, no Karma, and no Heaven or Hell waiting to judge those who perpetuate difficulties for everybody.
"What are you bitching about," you say, "these people aren't affecting you."
They're not affecting me like all the kids in the shallow end of the pool leaving their huge wads of piss in the pool aren't affecting me. Yeah, I'm not swimming in kid piss now, but that's only because it hasn't wrapped itself around my waist just yet. In a second, we will all be consumed with kid piss. Except this is worse. This is adult piss, and you should know better.
Fucking people.
I receive an email from the Arizona office. Seems a claimant has missed an exam we scheduled for him. We scheduled this exam for him because he alleges that he can't work because he's blind. He was allowed back in 2004 for decreased vision, and he's been receiving disability checks since that time. He is way past due for a review of his disability, which is why I'm looking at his case right now. He tells us about only one medical source he's seen in the past two years. We request records from them, and we receive their very, very minimal records showing that he has Stargardt disease, no changes have happened recently, and he is able to drive and is a confident driver without incident. If we had more information from the actual doctor office, we might be able to determine if he is able to function well enough to cease receiving benefits or if he continues to be unable to function well enough to secure a job. But the doctor office sends me very little (I've almost duplicated verbatim what they sent to us), so I schedule the man for an exam to test his vision so that our doctors can make a decision. Except he missed the exam we scheduled for him.
I call him. He doesn't answer. I leave a message. Immediately, he calls back. I tell him that he missed an exam. He tells me that he never received notification of the exam. I verified his address with him, and told him the date that we sent him a letter. He tells me that he never got the letter. I tell him that I am able to reschedule this exam for him once, but if he misses it for any reason, his continuing disability will be ceased. He understands. He asks why he is being scheduled for an exam in the first place. I tell him that we requested information from the one source he told us about and they didn't send us enough information for us to make an accurate decision regarding his ability to function. He states that he goes to see that one doctor every year for his vision issues, he continues to be blind and his condition of blindness hasn't changed since the first time he was allowed for benefits. I asked him if he had Stargardt disease. He said that he did. I asked if there had been changes in his visual acuity at all since being allowed for disability benefits. He told me there hadn't been changes. I asked if he was able to drive. He told me that he wasn't. I asked if he had driven at any time during the past two years, and he said that he had not driven because he is blind. I told him that I would request a reschedule for his exam. He was pleasant throughout the conversation.
I hung up the phone.
And immediately I hated my job. I hated the man. I hated his doctor. I became very cranky and upset.
What's up with that??
There was nothing particularly upsetting about the phone call. He wasn't mean or rude to me. He wasn't difficult to talk with. There were no dogs barking or babies crying in the background. He didn't sound like he was completely drunk or on drugs of any kind. These are the kinds of things that can make phone calls difficult. But none of those things happened. But I'm mad now. And I don't like that.
I don't like it that his doctor didn't put down the numbers indicating his visual acuity, didn't indicate if he is blind but able to drive (I'm not sure how that's even possible), or give any indication about his condition so that we could make a decision on his case. He was allowed once before, continuing his case is very easy if he was allowed once before. But given that he's got a disease that *could* get better, and his doctor said that he can drive which indicates a level of functionality which *could* mean he no longer qualifies for disability, I need to have some medical person tell me how he is able to function. And I hate it that this guy has gone to his doctor, expecting care, and has received none.
How many people go to their doctors believing they're being cared for, but aren't?
How many of us are being duped regularly by the very, very rich people who make a very, very good living by fooling us, the people who are in need of assistance?
My wife tells me that a person can't have ADHD and Asperger's simultaneously, yet countless doctors have diagnosed both those conditions in children whose medical records I've read over the last 5 years. Nobody told those doctors you can't have ADHD and Asperger's at the same time, or else somebody my wife trusted told her incorrect information. Either way, somebody isn't being treated correctly or with proper information.
Blindness generally is easy. You don't get better from blindness. In fact, until about 30 minutes ago, I would've said you NEVER get better from blindness. And then I read about a New-To-Me disease, Stargardt, where people can actually go blind and then get better. And the one person I know who has this disease has a doctor who gives about as much information about his patient as a third-grader giving a book report on a book she's never read before. "Old Yeller was... a dog who didn't change and... is able to bark without incident... the end."
Fucking people. Fucking doctors. Fucking system. Fucking lies and greed and making your living off the people who work while you scheme and deceive and maintain mediocrity, believing yourself to be something you're not. But you've got proof, don't you? You've got a pocket full of cash that says You're Doing Right. You're Living Right. You're Doing The Right Things And Everybody Will Agree Because Hard Work And Dedication Pay Off And Crime Doesn't Pay And blah blah blah that we all tell ourselves in order to make it through this dismality of a world that we've made where the Evil gets rewarded, the Good is squashed, and there's no Justice, no Karma, and no Heaven or Hell waiting to judge those who perpetuate difficulties for everybody.
"What are you bitching about," you say, "these people aren't affecting you."
They're not affecting me like all the kids in the shallow end of the pool leaving their huge wads of piss in the pool aren't affecting me. Yeah, I'm not swimming in kid piss now, but that's only because it hasn't wrapped itself around my waist just yet. In a second, we will all be consumed with kid piss. Except this is worse. This is adult piss, and you should know better.
Fucking people.
Friday, June 26, 2015
'Ya Ever...?
'ya ever have somebody tell you something of yours is "sexy" when you couldn't care less about that thing?
Like, for example, let's say you examine disability claims for the Social Security Administration. And let's say you took this job in the first place to get insurance and money so that your wife could fight to keep her children from being stolen away from her in a horrible custody lawsuit her ex-husband continued to fight over the course of 8 years. And let's say the only reason you have kept this job is because you can't find another job that will pay you the kind of money that you and your family need to sustain an unrealistic amount of income needed for paying off previous legal and court fees and ungodly amounts of child support payments which will continue for at least 4 more years. So you have your job, really, so that things don't get worse than they are now, and your wife can continue to be a mother part-time to her youngest while paying her ex-husband to abuse everyone around him. America, huh? Pretty swell. So, basically, your job is survival. Now, let's say, somebody comes along and tells you that something in your job is sexy. Like, for example, let's say that your job tracks how many cases you get rid of, or dispose, in a week. And you're supposed to average a little more than 14 cases per week, let's say. And this week, you've disposed of 24 already. And when your immediate supervisor, who is a decent guy, hears this, he responds with, "Pretty sexy, huh?" And my gut response is, "No. No, it's not sexy. It's survival. It's bludgeoning a yak so that you can not die. It's drippy and rancid and foul. It's a product of slogging through blood and body parts. I do not see the world the way you see the world. I do not see sexy in this. I see not-death in this. I see a lifeline which I hope holds for 4 more years, and which I hope I can sustain without going completely insane. I have already begun to realize how magnificently broken I am mentally, so I may not last, but this, sir, is not sexy. This is the antithesis of sexy. This is an oozing zit on the hairpiece of Donald Trump's colon." But I don't say that in real life. He says, "Pretty sexy, huh?" And I respond with, "Yup."
'ya ever like something that nobody else likes?
Like, for example, you watch a television show called... oh, let's make up a name like The Unscrapeable Crinny Splick. And you watch it and you laugh hysterically at it. Your wife watches it with you, and while she's laughing at it, she's not laughing at it as much as you are. And you love her for it and think little of it. Then you go out in the world and start talking to people. "Have you watched Unscrapeable Crinny Splick?" you ask somebody at work. No, they tell you with a flat face. Hm, you think, odd response to such a wonderful show. I'll keep trying. So you mention it again to somebody else. They, too, have not seen the show, and even more, they're not planning on seeing the show. "It's too silly," somebody says. You are feeling a little daunted, but you press on. You ask more people about it. "I've heard of it, but I'm not going to watch it. I don't like shows about women." "I've seen something about it. But... nah." You don't actually run across anyone who has seen it, until you get to the bar and suddenly somebody has seen the show! You're excited as you ask them if they liked it. "I watched a couple of episodes, but it wasn't that great," the bar person says. "It just wasn't..." she can't finish the thought, so she starts a new one. "You know the show with Jane Fonda and Lilly Tomlin? Grace and Nancy? Or Jenny and June? Something like that?" I tell her yes, I did know about that show and I had watched some of it because I really enjoy Jane Fonda and Lilly Tomlin. What I don't tell her is that the show is brain gauze, a way for me to push aside the pain of everyday living and not think about the trauma for a second while predictable story lines and mediocre writing fill my sensorium and I don't have to engage anything painful for just a second. That's what the show is to me, and you certainly don't go around recommending brain gauze to people who aren't mentally ill like you are. Yes, you tell the bar friend, yes I know the show Grace and Frankie. "Now THAT show," the bar friend says, her eyes getting wide with excitement, "is great! There was a moment where it started to get too serious and too real, but quickly it went back to being really funny. I just love that show!" And you feel the almost-unanimous disregard of something you value like the Unscrapeable Crinny Splick in concert with the praise of something you almost-disregard like Grace and Frankie like a dumbbell being laid upon your chest as you try to float in the pool. And, ultimately, you can't keep floating.
'ya ever feel like you simply don't belong? You don't fit in? You can't find a comfortable place to sit, or lay down, or even stop and breathe because it all is uncomfortable? Like a shirt cut slightly wrong, or pants that fit in the waist but not in the thighs, or a haircut right after you get it that's a little too short in the places where it was supposed to be longer?
'ya ever feel that way for years?
Like, for example, let's say you examine disability claims for the Social Security Administration. And let's say you took this job in the first place to get insurance and money so that your wife could fight to keep her children from being stolen away from her in a horrible custody lawsuit her ex-husband continued to fight over the course of 8 years. And let's say the only reason you have kept this job is because you can't find another job that will pay you the kind of money that you and your family need to sustain an unrealistic amount of income needed for paying off previous legal and court fees and ungodly amounts of child support payments which will continue for at least 4 more years. So you have your job, really, so that things don't get worse than they are now, and your wife can continue to be a mother part-time to her youngest while paying her ex-husband to abuse everyone around him. America, huh? Pretty swell. So, basically, your job is survival. Now, let's say, somebody comes along and tells you that something in your job is sexy. Like, for example, let's say that your job tracks how many cases you get rid of, or dispose, in a week. And you're supposed to average a little more than 14 cases per week, let's say. And this week, you've disposed of 24 already. And when your immediate supervisor, who is a decent guy, hears this, he responds with, "Pretty sexy, huh?" And my gut response is, "No. No, it's not sexy. It's survival. It's bludgeoning a yak so that you can not die. It's drippy and rancid and foul. It's a product of slogging through blood and body parts. I do not see the world the way you see the world. I do not see sexy in this. I see not-death in this. I see a lifeline which I hope holds for 4 more years, and which I hope I can sustain without going completely insane. I have already begun to realize how magnificently broken I am mentally, so I may not last, but this, sir, is not sexy. This is the antithesis of sexy. This is an oozing zit on the hairpiece of Donald Trump's colon." But I don't say that in real life. He says, "Pretty sexy, huh?" And I respond with, "Yup."
'ya ever like something that nobody else likes?
Like, for example, you watch a television show called... oh, let's make up a name like The Unscrapeable Crinny Splick. And you watch it and you laugh hysterically at it. Your wife watches it with you, and while she's laughing at it, she's not laughing at it as much as you are. And you love her for it and think little of it. Then you go out in the world and start talking to people. "Have you watched Unscrapeable Crinny Splick?" you ask somebody at work. No, they tell you with a flat face. Hm, you think, odd response to such a wonderful show. I'll keep trying. So you mention it again to somebody else. They, too, have not seen the show, and even more, they're not planning on seeing the show. "It's too silly," somebody says. You are feeling a little daunted, but you press on. You ask more people about it. "I've heard of it, but I'm not going to watch it. I don't like shows about women." "I've seen something about it. But... nah." You don't actually run across anyone who has seen it, until you get to the bar and suddenly somebody has seen the show! You're excited as you ask them if they liked it. "I watched a couple of episodes, but it wasn't that great," the bar person says. "It just wasn't..." she can't finish the thought, so she starts a new one. "You know the show with Jane Fonda and Lilly Tomlin? Grace and Nancy? Or Jenny and June? Something like that?" I tell her yes, I did know about that show and I had watched some of it because I really enjoy Jane Fonda and Lilly Tomlin. What I don't tell her is that the show is brain gauze, a way for me to push aside the pain of everyday living and not think about the trauma for a second while predictable story lines and mediocre writing fill my sensorium and I don't have to engage anything painful for just a second. That's what the show is to me, and you certainly don't go around recommending brain gauze to people who aren't mentally ill like you are. Yes, you tell the bar friend, yes I know the show Grace and Frankie. "Now THAT show," the bar friend says, her eyes getting wide with excitement, "is great! There was a moment where it started to get too serious and too real, but quickly it went back to being really funny. I just love that show!" And you feel the almost-unanimous disregard of something you value like the Unscrapeable Crinny Splick in concert with the praise of something you almost-disregard like Grace and Frankie like a dumbbell being laid upon your chest as you try to float in the pool. And, ultimately, you can't keep floating.
'ya ever feel like you simply don't belong? You don't fit in? You can't find a comfortable place to sit, or lay down, or even stop and breathe because it all is uncomfortable? Like a shirt cut slightly wrong, or pants that fit in the waist but not in the thighs, or a haircut right after you get it that's a little too short in the places where it was supposed to be longer?
'ya ever feel that way for years?
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Yerk's Vomit
Yerk felt uncomfortable.
...stomach is grumbly and sour?... not fun...
Somebody told Yerk to deal with it.
What the hell do you want me to do, thought Yerk. I don't know if I should eat or throw up, and you want me to "deal with it". Fuck you, dickhead. Yerk was classy like that.
Yerk felt more uncomfortable.
...stomach is definitely sour... just wanna lie down...
Somebody told Yerk to deal with it before it gets bad.
I'm fucking lying down, dickhead, thought Yerk. I'm taking care of it, so shut the hell up.
Yerk felt sick.
Somebody told Yerk he should have taken care of it sooner.
Not helpful, fucker, thought Yerk. Sooner passed us a long time ago, and now I feel sick, so to help myself, I'm going to get away from you.
Somebody told Yerk to throw up.
Somebody else told Yerk to poop.
Yerk just wanted space to figure out what Yerk wanted to do.
Yerk sat alone, feeling sick.
He didn't want to throw up.
He didn't want to poop.
He just wanted to feel better.
Saul sat down next to Yerk.
"Having a hard time, huh?"
Yerk just rolled his eyes at the question. It was obvious that he was having a hard time.
"I know you can make your own decisions," said Saul.
Saul and Yerk sat.
Yerk continued to feel sick. Really sick.
Yerk looked at Saul, just sitting there.
Yerk spoke to Saul.
"I hate throwing up."
Saul nodded his head. "It's not a party, that's for sure."
Saul and Yerk sat.
Yerk started to really hurt. It was really affecting his life now, this sickness.
He looked at Saul sitting next to him.
"I'm afraid if I throw up, I won't be able to stop. It'll just keep coming."
Saul nodded.
"That sounds really yucky," said Saul.
Saul and Yerk sat.
And sat.
And sat.
And sat.
Saul said, "I would imagine that you have more sickness in you the more you hold it in, and it might feel relieving to let it go. I know you're scared you won't get your control back. And you may not. But you won't be alone, even if you lose control. And maybe that will help you face the unknown."
Yerk vomited.
He vomited all over Saul.
He vomited all over the ground.
He had to fight to catch his breath, and then he vomited more.
And it kept coming.
There was food in there from years ago, decades ago.
And it kept coming.
Food that he had forgotten about came up.
And it burned and hurt and smelled bad and was not a good consistency.
It was gross and sick and embarrassing that it all came out of him.
He felt weak and stupid and ugly and sick and so very broken.
He was always going to be sick.
Then he stopped.
And for a second he thought he was going to vomit some more.
But he didn't.
His body told him that he was done being sick. He had gotten it all out and he was no longer sick.
He slowly started feeling normal again.
That familiar pain in his stomach was gone.
The lethargy was gone.
The general feeling of sick was gone.
And he felt even more in control than he did before. He felt relieved.
"I stopped throwing up," Yerk told Saul, who was dripping and smiling.
"Yeah, you did. And it only took you four seconds."
"What?! Four seconds? No, it was much longer than that!"
"I'll bet it felt that way," assured Saul, "but it was really only four seconds. Don't get me wrong, it was an intense four seconds, and a lot of vomit came out of you in four seconds. But it was only four seconds."
Yerk stared at the mess he had made and marveled. "It felt like it was so long. I felt like I was throwing up for at least a week. More than that. It felt like a huge time!"
"Yeah, I'm sure," said Saul. "Do you feel better now, though?"
Yerk took stock of his body.
Yerk didn't say anything.
Yerk didn't want to say that he felt better, because somehow that would validate the vomit, and he HATED vomit.
Saul smiled. He knew without Yerk needing to say it.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Saul said, "and then you wanna hang out?"
Yerk smiled. And he really meant it.
...stomach is grumbly and sour?... not fun...
Somebody told Yerk to deal with it.
What the hell do you want me to do, thought Yerk. I don't know if I should eat or throw up, and you want me to "deal with it". Fuck you, dickhead. Yerk was classy like that.
Yerk felt more uncomfortable.
...stomach is definitely sour... just wanna lie down...
Somebody told Yerk to deal with it before it gets bad.
I'm fucking lying down, dickhead, thought Yerk. I'm taking care of it, so shut the hell up.
Yerk felt sick.
Somebody told Yerk he should have taken care of it sooner.
Not helpful, fucker, thought Yerk. Sooner passed us a long time ago, and now I feel sick, so to help myself, I'm going to get away from you.
Somebody told Yerk to throw up.
Somebody else told Yerk to poop.
Yerk just wanted space to figure out what Yerk wanted to do.
Yerk sat alone, feeling sick.
He didn't want to throw up.
He didn't want to poop.
He just wanted to feel better.
Saul sat down next to Yerk.
"Having a hard time, huh?"
Yerk just rolled his eyes at the question. It was obvious that he was having a hard time.
"I know you can make your own decisions," said Saul.
Saul and Yerk sat.
Yerk continued to feel sick. Really sick.
Yerk looked at Saul, just sitting there.
Yerk spoke to Saul.
"I hate throwing up."
Saul nodded his head. "It's not a party, that's for sure."
Saul and Yerk sat.
Yerk started to really hurt. It was really affecting his life now, this sickness.
He looked at Saul sitting next to him.
"I'm afraid if I throw up, I won't be able to stop. It'll just keep coming."
Saul nodded.
"That sounds really yucky," said Saul.
Saul and Yerk sat.
And sat.
And sat.
And sat.
Saul said, "I would imagine that you have more sickness in you the more you hold it in, and it might feel relieving to let it go. I know you're scared you won't get your control back. And you may not. But you won't be alone, even if you lose control. And maybe that will help you face the unknown."
Yerk vomited.
He vomited all over Saul.
He vomited all over the ground.
He had to fight to catch his breath, and then he vomited more.
And it kept coming.
There was food in there from years ago, decades ago.
And it kept coming.
Food that he had forgotten about came up.
And it burned and hurt and smelled bad and was not a good consistency.
It was gross and sick and embarrassing that it all came out of him.
He felt weak and stupid and ugly and sick and so very broken.
He was always going to be sick.
Then he stopped.
And for a second he thought he was going to vomit some more.
But he didn't.
His body told him that he was done being sick. He had gotten it all out and he was no longer sick.
He slowly started feeling normal again.
That familiar pain in his stomach was gone.
The lethargy was gone.
The general feeling of sick was gone.
And he felt even more in control than he did before. He felt relieved.
"I stopped throwing up," Yerk told Saul, who was dripping and smiling.
"Yeah, you did. And it only took you four seconds."
"What?! Four seconds? No, it was much longer than that!"
"I'll bet it felt that way," assured Saul, "but it was really only four seconds. Don't get me wrong, it was an intense four seconds, and a lot of vomit came out of you in four seconds. But it was only four seconds."
Yerk stared at the mess he had made and marveled. "It felt like it was so long. I felt like I was throwing up for at least a week. More than that. It felt like a huge time!"
"Yeah, I'm sure," said Saul. "Do you feel better now, though?"
Yerk took stock of his body.
Yerk didn't say anything.
Yerk didn't want to say that he felt better, because somehow that would validate the vomit, and he HATED vomit.
Saul smiled. He knew without Yerk needing to say it.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Saul said, "and then you wanna hang out?"
Yerk smiled. And he really meant it.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Life Is Like A Ropes Corse... Who Are You?
I think life is like a ropes course. It's fun and a challenge, some parts are easier or harder than other parts. Even though we all take the same path usually, different people experience different things for different reasons. Sometimes the wind picks up and wobbles your rope, or maybe the guide was able to help you out in one spot while in another spot somebody younger than you wanted to see what would happen if he shook the rope as hard as he could. We all get on, and eventually we all get off. Some people are terrified the whole time and see only fear and imminent death or pain. Others experience euphoria. Others are somewhere in between. Sometimes we make mistakes, and then we feel our groins being pulled in an uncomfortable way. Some people look at that experience and try to change their behavior so it doesn't happen again. Some people blame others for the pain and try to change those around them so that the groin issue doesn't happen again. And then, when the groin pain happens again, some people go through that process again, hoping that whatever they've done will prevent the groin pull in the future.
In this way, it's easy to see that there are really only two kinds of people.
There are people who are helping.
And there are people who aren't helping.
Who are you?
There are people who are helping.
And there are people who aren't helping.
Who are you?
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Spincter Sex
"http://www.webmd.com/sex/anal-sex-health-concerns tells you about it being dangerous as well as other medical sights and doctors and if you look with open eyes in the Bible it tells you that sodomy is evil and unnatural. ...I gave one internet site and told you that there are other articles out there as well as doctors off of the internet that will back up that it is dangerous. As for using the Bible, I do believe in the Bible and what it says and I am a firm believer in God and his word. I don't hate anyone but I do believe that the Bible is true and that it does condemn sodomy. I can't answer for others who believe otherwise, I am simply stating what I believe and the end of the movie was very disturbing and inappropriate to me."
This is a quote from two reviews from one reviewer of The Kingsmen: The Secret Service, a movie recently released on DVD. Near the end of the movie, a woman tells the hero that she will allow him to have sex with her sphincter if he saves the world, to which the hero responds with interest, "I'll be right back." After a battle ultimately resulting in the hero saving the world, the hero returns to the woman and we see her roll onto her stomach, revealing her naked rear end, and then we are left to imagine what happens next. She is smiling when she rolls over.
I very much enjoyed this movie. So did my family. One of the best movies we'd all seen in a long while, we all said.
As the credits rolled, my wife asked emphatically about the sphincter sex. "Why is that the thing?" She was confused as to why that was used as a reward. Why couldn't the woman just offer sex to the hero, she wondered. I told her that I believed that sphincter sex was used because it was a taboo, and when people react favorably to it in movies it reads to me more as a favorable reaction to getting something that isn't always offered. "Like a delicacy," I said. "Not all delicacies are delicious. I haven't had many that are. But they are rare." If somebody offered me escargot, my wife said excitedly, I would just say no thank you. Similarly, if somebody said I could have anal sex if I saved the world, I would just say no thank you. I don't understand why it's a thing? "Because it's not as interesting a story if your hero is offered anal sex and he says 'no, thank you'. Stories don't benefit from people turning down experiences." My wife told me to stop being snippy. Then my 14-year-old said that sphincter sex could be a good thing because you wouldn't have to wear a condom. He was trying to say that you wouldn't have to worry about getting somebody pregnant, and therefore a condom wouldn't be needed. Sphincter sex was also good because you wouldn't need to worry about getting an abortion pill. At this point, my anger about his choice to live with his father who is a Stanch-No-Thoughts-Allowed-Sexually-Repressed-Bigoted-Racist Fucker reared it's ugly, ugly head in me. Obviously he was saying those things because he had been willfully under-educated about sex and sexual health and was in danger of contracting a potentially fatal disease because he failed to use a condom during sex, I thought. However, I did not say any of that, and I very actively worked on calming myself down, telling myself I was overreacting, he's 14, it's not something to get worked up about. I did say, "If you're just worried about pregnancy, you don't have to worry so much with anal sex. If you don't want to get the ass-AIDS, though, you might want to wear a condom." My wife then said you could get AIDS anywhere, not just the ass. I returned to my silence and tried to calm down. I did okay.
I thought the anal sex joke was funny and appropriate. I liked the movie.
If you follow the link provided by the reviewer at the top of this page, you will come across an article about Health Concerns regarding anal sex, as well as potential health risks and ways to reduce those risks. While stating there are health concerns, it does not say anal sex is dangerous. At least, anal sex isn't dangerous if you take the time to educate yourself and read the article.
http://www.webmd.com/heart/news/20000913/is-jogging-healthy-for-heart-harmful-to
This WebMD article tells the story of a 38-year-old male who died while jogging. If I said the article says jogging is dangerous, though, I would not be correct.
http://www.webmd.com/fitness-exercise/20100111/too-much-tv-may-have-deadly-toll
This article tells how watching TV will give you heart disease. There are health concerns, but it's not dangerous to watch TV.
http://www.webmd.com/sexual-conditions/guide/sexual-health-stds
This article tells about how 1 out of 4 teens gets a disease from having sex every year, and by age 25, half of sexually active young adults will have a disease. So is it dangerous, or should you take precautions to keep yourself safe?
It is not correct to say that the article the reviewer quoted says that anal sex is dangerous.
My biggest issue is her assertion that she is "simply stating what [she] believe[s]".
Belief is something that has no proof whatsoever. I believe that one day I will move things with my mind. There is no evidence that I have ever moved things with my mind. There is no evidence that anyone has moved anything with their mind. There is no reason (no proof) for me to believe what I believe. Yet I continue to believe it, throwing away reason for hope.
I know that the Bible doesn't say sodomy is evil. I know this because I have read the Bible, and it does not say sodomy is evil. It is not something I need to believe or not, because there is proof that sodomy is not labeled as evil at any point in the Bible. Therefore, I know the Bible does not say sodomy is evil.
The difference between belief and knowledge has been completely thrown away of late, and it's dangerous for all of us.
...jesus christ, i've gone and fucking bored myself again. i don't give a shit about what i was talking about. i'm tired of trying to fit in with a world that i don't fit in with. all of you think anal sex is evil. whatever. you think it was too much in the movie, whatever. i liked it, thought it was funny. and maybe one day i'll find my people again and not be so alone.
This is a quote from two reviews from one reviewer of The Kingsmen: The Secret Service, a movie recently released on DVD. Near the end of the movie, a woman tells the hero that she will allow him to have sex with her sphincter if he saves the world, to which the hero responds with interest, "I'll be right back." After a battle ultimately resulting in the hero saving the world, the hero returns to the woman and we see her roll onto her stomach, revealing her naked rear end, and then we are left to imagine what happens next. She is smiling when she rolls over.
I very much enjoyed this movie. So did my family. One of the best movies we'd all seen in a long while, we all said.
As the credits rolled, my wife asked emphatically about the sphincter sex. "Why is that the thing?" She was confused as to why that was used as a reward. Why couldn't the woman just offer sex to the hero, she wondered. I told her that I believed that sphincter sex was used because it was a taboo, and when people react favorably to it in movies it reads to me more as a favorable reaction to getting something that isn't always offered. "Like a delicacy," I said. "Not all delicacies are delicious. I haven't had many that are. But they are rare." If somebody offered me escargot, my wife said excitedly, I would just say no thank you. Similarly, if somebody said I could have anal sex if I saved the world, I would just say no thank you. I don't understand why it's a thing? "Because it's not as interesting a story if your hero is offered anal sex and he says 'no, thank you'. Stories don't benefit from people turning down experiences." My wife told me to stop being snippy. Then my 14-year-old said that sphincter sex could be a good thing because you wouldn't have to wear a condom. He was trying to say that you wouldn't have to worry about getting somebody pregnant, and therefore a condom wouldn't be needed. Sphincter sex was also good because you wouldn't need to worry about getting an abortion pill. At this point, my anger about his choice to live with his father who is a Stanch-No-Thoughts-Allowed-Sexually-Repressed-Bigoted-Racist Fucker reared it's ugly, ugly head in me. Obviously he was saying those things because he had been willfully under-educated about sex and sexual health and was in danger of contracting a potentially fatal disease because he failed to use a condom during sex, I thought. However, I did not say any of that, and I very actively worked on calming myself down, telling myself I was overreacting, he's 14, it's not something to get worked up about. I did say, "If you're just worried about pregnancy, you don't have to worry so much with anal sex. If you don't want to get the ass-AIDS, though, you might want to wear a condom." My wife then said you could get AIDS anywhere, not just the ass. I returned to my silence and tried to calm down. I did okay.
I thought the anal sex joke was funny and appropriate. I liked the movie.
If you follow the link provided by the reviewer at the top of this page, you will come across an article about Health Concerns regarding anal sex, as well as potential health risks and ways to reduce those risks. While stating there are health concerns, it does not say anal sex is dangerous. At least, anal sex isn't dangerous if you take the time to educate yourself and read the article.
http://www.webmd.com/heart/news/20000913/is-jogging-healthy-for-heart-harmful-to
This WebMD article tells the story of a 38-year-old male who died while jogging. If I said the article says jogging is dangerous, though, I would not be correct.
http://www.webmd.com/fitness-exercise/20100111/too-much-tv-may-have-deadly-toll
This article tells how watching TV will give you heart disease. There are health concerns, but it's not dangerous to watch TV.
http://www.webmd.com/sexual-conditions/guide/sexual-health-stds
This article tells about how 1 out of 4 teens gets a disease from having sex every year, and by age 25, half of sexually active young adults will have a disease. So is it dangerous, or should you take precautions to keep yourself safe?
It is not correct to say that the article the reviewer quoted says that anal sex is dangerous.
My biggest issue is her assertion that she is "simply stating what [she] believe[s]".
Belief is something that has no proof whatsoever. I believe that one day I will move things with my mind. There is no evidence that I have ever moved things with my mind. There is no evidence that anyone has moved anything with their mind. There is no reason (no proof) for me to believe what I believe. Yet I continue to believe it, throwing away reason for hope.
I know that the Bible doesn't say sodomy is evil. I know this because I have read the Bible, and it does not say sodomy is evil. It is not something I need to believe or not, because there is proof that sodomy is not labeled as evil at any point in the Bible. Therefore, I know the Bible does not say sodomy is evil.
The difference between belief and knowledge has been completely thrown away of late, and it's dangerous for all of us.
...jesus christ, i've gone and fucking bored myself again. i don't give a shit about what i was talking about. i'm tired of trying to fit in with a world that i don't fit in with. all of you think anal sex is evil. whatever. you think it was too much in the movie, whatever. i liked it, thought it was funny. and maybe one day i'll find my people again and not be so alone.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
I Am Grateful
I am grateful for
my wife
Monty Python
George Carlin
Robin Williams
and The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Thanks, guys.
my wife
Monty Python
George Carlin
Robin Williams
and The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Thanks, guys.
Update...
We're not getting sued again. Yet.
But for now, not.
That's the important part: not right now.
Not right now.
I got a package from a friend yesterday, and the door tag from FedEx was for that package.
Jesus, I'm fucking broken.
But thankful that we're not being sued again.
Today, between 5:40 and 9:50, my chest hurt, I was nauseous, thought I was going to vomit, my stomach felt like it had sharp pieces of broken glass in it, my shoulders had electric shocks going through them, hands were sweaty and cold and hot, the back of my neck was pulling my skull into my shoulders. I couldn't relax.
But I'm starting to now.
Jesus, I'm so fucking broken.
I just need to be put down.
But for now, not.
That's the important part: not right now.
Not right now.
I got a package from a friend yesterday, and the door tag from FedEx was for that package.
Jesus, I'm fucking broken.
But thankful that we're not being sued again.
Today, between 5:40 and 9:50, my chest hurt, I was nauseous, thought I was going to vomit, my stomach felt like it had sharp pieces of broken glass in it, my shoulders had electric shocks going through them, hands were sweaty and cold and hot, the back of my neck was pulling my skull into my shoulders. I couldn't relax.
But I'm starting to now.
Jesus, I'm so fucking broken.
I just need to be put down.
Gunch
The bell rang, indicating class was starting.
The Teacher started talking.
But before he was able to really get anything accomplished...
Gunch raised his hand.
"Yes, Gunch?"
"I don't understand."
"Well, Gunch, the class has just started. I'll explain in a moment."
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to calm Gunch down
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher let Gunch go, thinking he would calm down at some point.
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to address his problems
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to move class forward
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to tell Gunch that he could speak with the Teacher after class
But Gunch continued to speak.
Some of the other children started to tell Gunch to let class move forward
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher moved all other students to the corner so they could hear Teacher's lesson
But Gunch continued to speak louder, talking about how he was being prevented from learning.
Teacher called security
But Gunch continued to speak loudly.
Security tried to remove Gunch from the classroom
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
And no matter what Teacher did
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
Teacher went home
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
Teacher tried to move forward
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
Teacher was tired of Gunch
But Gunch continued to scream he was being attacked.
And Teacher grew tired of people asking him "How are you doing?" because the answer was always the same
Because Gunch continued to scream he was being attacked.
...and, frankly, I'm tired of writing stories like this. I'm so extremely tired of it. And I have nothing else to say that's different, nothing else that works, nothing else. I keep needing to vomit, because it's still there, but I'm so very tired of vomiting.
The Teacher started talking.
But before he was able to really get anything accomplished...
Gunch raised his hand.
"Yes, Gunch?"
"I don't understand."
"Well, Gunch, the class has just started. I'll explain in a moment."
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to calm Gunch down
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher let Gunch go, thinking he would calm down at some point.
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to address his problems
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to move class forward
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher tried to tell Gunch that he could speak with the Teacher after class
But Gunch continued to speak.
Some of the other children started to tell Gunch to let class move forward
But Gunch continued to speak.
Teacher moved all other students to the corner so they could hear Teacher's lesson
But Gunch continued to speak louder, talking about how he was being prevented from learning.
Teacher called security
But Gunch continued to speak loudly.
Security tried to remove Gunch from the classroom
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
And no matter what Teacher did
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
Teacher went home
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
Teacher tried to move forward
But Gunch continued to speak loudly, talking about how he was being attacked.
Teacher was tired of Gunch
But Gunch continued to scream he was being attacked.
And Teacher grew tired of people asking him "How are you doing?" because the answer was always the same
Because Gunch continued to scream he was being attacked.
...and, frankly, I'm tired of writing stories like this. I'm so extremely tired of it. And I have nothing else to say that's different, nothing else that works, nothing else. I keep needing to vomit, because it's still there, but I'm so very tired of vomiting.
Harriet and Rup
Rup was not a deep thinker.
"It's important to make yourself happy," said Rup's teachers, parents, friends.
So Rup asked out Harriet.
Harriet said yes.
Rup and Harriet went out.
And, while it was fun, Harriet said that she didn't want to go out with Rup any more.
"It's important to make yourself happy."
Well, Rup didn't feel happy because Harriet didn't want to go out with him anymore.
"What's going to make me happy?" though Rup.
Make Harriet suffer, answered Rup.
So Rup went to Harriet and beat the shit out of her.
"There," said Rup. "Now I feel better."
But feeling better didn't seem to last very long.
And Harriet picked herself off the ground.
"My happy feeling is gone," thought Rup. "It must be because Harriet isn't bleeding on the ground anymore."
So Rup beat the shit out of Harriet again, and she fell down bleeding again.
And Rup felt better.
Harriet called the police, who showed up and questioned Rup.
"Harriet says you beat her up."
"I am not beating her up now," said Rup. And the police agreed, Rup was not beating up Harriet. "She's upset because I'm just trying to make myself happy," said Rup. "I hope there's nothing wrong with trying to make myself happy." And the police agreed that there was nothing wrong with trying to make yourself happy. Harriet tried to get the police to stay, or even come back regularly, but they walked away, saying, "Rup isn't beating you up, so there's no evidence that he's the one who beat you up. You might have just fallen. And there's nothing wrong with trying to make yourself happy. You should try it and leave Rup alone."
And with that, the police were gone.
And because he was no longer feeling good, Rup beat the shit out of Harriet again.
There.
He felt better.
Harriet had a friend who watched Rup beat her up.
"I'm Harriet's friend, and I stand with her."
"Well," said Rup to the friend, "that doesn't make me happy, so you need to prepare for me beating the shit out of you."
The friend turned to Harriet. "I don't think our friendship will survive this." And the friend left.
Harriet tried to move, but every time she did, Rup beat her up.
So she stayed very still.
And Rup watched her. And she didn't move.
But he saw she was breathing.
So he beat her up.
It had become habit now.
Harriet went to attorneys.
"We will help you," said the attorneys. Once they were paid, they said, "Let Rup try to be happy. Why are you preventing him from being happy?"
And they turned their backs, at which time Rup beat the shit outta Harriet.
And Harriet went to the court, and the Judge said, "Rup, stop beating her up."
Rup said okay, and sent his lawyer to beat up Harriet.
"It's my job to beat you up," Rup's lawyer said.
There is no end to this story.
Rup continued to be a non-thinker.
Rup continued to be unhappy.
Rup continued to beat the shit out of Harriet.
Harriet continued to be beaten when she tried to help herself.
Harriet continued to be denied help by the people who were supposed to help her.
And the world sat back and shook its collective head.
"Why won't Harriet allow Rup to be happy? She's so... mean."
"It's important to make yourself happy," said Rup's teachers, parents, friends.
So Rup asked out Harriet.
Harriet said yes.
Rup and Harriet went out.
And, while it was fun, Harriet said that she didn't want to go out with Rup any more.
"It's important to make yourself happy."
Well, Rup didn't feel happy because Harriet didn't want to go out with him anymore.
"What's going to make me happy?" though Rup.
Make Harriet suffer, answered Rup.
So Rup went to Harriet and beat the shit out of her.
"There," said Rup. "Now I feel better."
But feeling better didn't seem to last very long.
And Harriet picked herself off the ground.
"My happy feeling is gone," thought Rup. "It must be because Harriet isn't bleeding on the ground anymore."
So Rup beat the shit out of Harriet again, and she fell down bleeding again.
And Rup felt better.
Harriet called the police, who showed up and questioned Rup.
"Harriet says you beat her up."
"I am not beating her up now," said Rup. And the police agreed, Rup was not beating up Harriet. "She's upset because I'm just trying to make myself happy," said Rup. "I hope there's nothing wrong with trying to make myself happy." And the police agreed that there was nothing wrong with trying to make yourself happy. Harriet tried to get the police to stay, or even come back regularly, but they walked away, saying, "Rup isn't beating you up, so there's no evidence that he's the one who beat you up. You might have just fallen. And there's nothing wrong with trying to make yourself happy. You should try it and leave Rup alone."
And with that, the police were gone.
And because he was no longer feeling good, Rup beat the shit out of Harriet again.
There.
He felt better.
Harriet had a friend who watched Rup beat her up.
"I'm Harriet's friend, and I stand with her."
"Well," said Rup to the friend, "that doesn't make me happy, so you need to prepare for me beating the shit out of you."
The friend turned to Harriet. "I don't think our friendship will survive this." And the friend left.
Harriet tried to move, but every time she did, Rup beat her up.
So she stayed very still.
And Rup watched her. And she didn't move.
But he saw she was breathing.
So he beat her up.
It had become habit now.
Harriet went to attorneys.
"We will help you," said the attorneys. Once they were paid, they said, "Let Rup try to be happy. Why are you preventing him from being happy?"
And they turned their backs, at which time Rup beat the shit outta Harriet.
And Harriet went to the court, and the Judge said, "Rup, stop beating her up."
Rup said okay, and sent his lawyer to beat up Harriet.
"It's my job to beat you up," Rup's lawyer said.
There is no end to this story.
Rup continued to be a non-thinker.
Rup continued to be unhappy.
Rup continued to beat the shit out of Harriet.
Harriet continued to be beaten when she tried to help herself.
Harriet continued to be denied help by the people who were supposed to help her.
And the world sat back and shook its collective head.
"Why won't Harriet allow Rup to be happy? She's so... mean."
Beth and Her Mother
Beth sat at the table with her Mother.
Mother had prepared a steak dinner, which sat in front of Beth.
"Mom, can I have some help cutting my steak?"
"It is very rude of you to ask that question," said Mother. "Do not impose on people! I'm ashamed of you!"
Beth stopped crying.
"Mom..."
"Yes?"
Beth said nothing.
"Do you need help cutting your steak?"
Beth nodded.
"It is extremely inconsiderate of you! Can't you see I have my own dinner I need to cut? If you take up my time, *my* steak will grow cold! Then all my work preparing dinner will be for nothing! Do not be such a horrible little girl!"
Beth stopped crying.
Beth sat, staring at her steak.
Mother sat there with Beth.
Mother ate Mother's steak, watching Beth eat nothing.
"Good girl," said Mother. "This way you will lose weight and stop being so fat."
Many years later, somebody asked Mother about Beth. It seemed Beth had developed some health issues, many of which were directly related to malnutrition as a child. Somehow it had been insinuated by someone that Mother hadn't allowed Beth to eat, although nobody really wanted to make those kinds of drastic accusations.
"That's preposterous," Mother said. "I put healthy meals in front of her, but she wouldn't eat them. I don't know what her problem was. She's always been so unhealthy. And if she told you those stories about me, well, then she's untruthful, too. She's always had problems. Such a disappointment."
Mother had prepared a steak dinner, which sat in front of Beth.
"Mom, can I have some help cutting my steak?"
"It is very rude of you to ask that question," said Mother. "Do not impose on people! I'm ashamed of you!"
Beth stopped crying.
"Mom..."
"Yes?"
Beth said nothing.
"Do you need help cutting your steak?"
Beth nodded.
"It is extremely inconsiderate of you! Can't you see I have my own dinner I need to cut? If you take up my time, *my* steak will grow cold! Then all my work preparing dinner will be for nothing! Do not be such a horrible little girl!"
Beth stopped crying.
Beth sat, staring at her steak.
Mother sat there with Beth.
Mother ate Mother's steak, watching Beth eat nothing.
"Good girl," said Mother. "This way you will lose weight and stop being so fat."
Many years later, somebody asked Mother about Beth. It seemed Beth had developed some health issues, many of which were directly related to malnutrition as a child. Somehow it had been insinuated by someone that Mother hadn't allowed Beth to eat, although nobody really wanted to make those kinds of drastic accusations.
"That's preposterous," Mother said. "I put healthy meals in front of her, but she wouldn't eat them. I don't know what her problem was. She's always been so unhealthy. And if she told you those stories about me, well, then she's untruthful, too. She's always had problems. Such a disappointment."
FedEx Door Tag
There's a FedEx tag on our door right now, letting us know that we have some mail we need to sign for.
We all know what that means.
And I suppose that's about right. It's been a little more than 6 months since the last court date.
I really wish I could stop being surprised by this stuff and just keep going.
So...
We all know what that means.
And I suppose that's about right. It's been a little more than 6 months since the last court date.
I really wish I could stop being surprised by this stuff and just keep going.
So...
Monday, June 15, 2015
The People and The Land Lords
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were the people who had jobs that kept the people safe, like police, firemen and fire women, politicians who make laws, judges who rule on those laws, soldiers who fight. Let's call all of them, collectively, The Land Lords.
The People called up to the Land Lords, "Water is filling up in the bucket. We're going to drown."
"We're working to help you," said The Land Lords. "Be patient."
And the water rose.
And The People had to tread water.
"Land Lords," The People cried. "Help us."
"We're working to help you," The Land Lords replied.
And the water rose.
And The People drowned.
And The Land Lords said, "See? There are no more complaints. We helped."
[REWIND-- START FROM THE BEGINNING]
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were The Land Lords.
"Water is filling up in the bucket. We're going to drown!" cried The People to The Land Lords.
"We're working to help you," said The Land Lords. "Be patient."
And The Land Lords started pumping waste water into the bottom of the bucket, making the water toxic for The People, as well as raising the water level quicker than before.
And the toxic water level rose.
And The People had to tread water with their legs that developed cancer from the toxic water.
And The People drowned.
And The Land Lords said, "See? No more complaints. We helped."
[REWIND-- START FROM THE BEGINNING]
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were The Land Lords.
"Water is filling up in the bucket. We're going to drown!" cried The People to The Land Lords.
"We're here to help you," said The Land Lords.
And then they debated how to help The People.
And some talked about how we should build a wall around the bucket so no more people could illegally cross over into the bucket. And others talk about how guns would keep the people safer. And others talked about how this had become a Godless bucket and people needed to stop having sex and quit selling wedding cakes to same-sex couples and how dare they force our pastors to marry homosexuals when it was obvious that the most important words Christ ever said were "Love one another as you would yourself, unless their gay, in which case fuck 'em."
And as The Land Lords talked without doing anything...
...the water rose...
and The People drowned.
And The Land Lords were too busy dealing with unimportant things to notice.
[REWIND-- START FROM THE BEGINNING]
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were The Land Lords.
And The People decided to drill holes in the bucket to let out the water.
And The Land Lords became upset.
"You can't do that because we didn't give you permission," said The Land Lords.
But The People knew
if they listened to The Land Lords they would drown
and The Land Lords might kill them if they fight for their lives, but at least they would fight.
And The Land Lords made laws preventing holes from being drilled.
And some People were put in jail, above the water, where they were safe.
And other People continued to drill holes.
Some People figured out how to make water cannons, propelling water from the bucket over the top and out.
And The Land Lords made laws against water cannons.
And The People kept finding solutions.
The People kept fighting.
The People kept fighting to stay alive and to not let adherence to what others say allow them to drown.
And things started getting better for The People
because they stopped listening to the life-threatening words from The Land Lords
and started actively taking care of themselves.
There are millions of The People.
There are only thousands of The Land Lords.
I wonder how that fight turns out....
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were the people who had jobs that kept the people safe, like police, firemen and fire women, politicians who make laws, judges who rule on those laws, soldiers who fight. Let's call all of them, collectively, The Land Lords.
The People called up to the Land Lords, "Water is filling up in the bucket. We're going to drown."
"We're working to help you," said The Land Lords. "Be patient."
And the water rose.
And The People had to tread water.
"Land Lords," The People cried. "Help us."
"We're working to help you," The Land Lords replied.
And the water rose.
And The People drowned.
And The Land Lords said, "See? There are no more complaints. We helped."
[REWIND-- START FROM THE BEGINNING]
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were The Land Lords.
"Water is filling up in the bucket. We're going to drown!" cried The People to The Land Lords.
"We're working to help you," said The Land Lords. "Be patient."
And The Land Lords started pumping waste water into the bottom of the bucket, making the water toxic for The People, as well as raising the water level quicker than before.
And the toxic water level rose.
And The People had to tread water with their legs that developed cancer from the toxic water.
And The People drowned.
And The Land Lords said, "See? No more complaints. We helped."
[REWIND-- START FROM THE BEGINNING]
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were The Land Lords.
"Water is filling up in the bucket. We're going to drown!" cried The People to The Land Lords.
"We're here to help you," said The Land Lords.
And then they debated how to help The People.
And some talked about how we should build a wall around the bucket so no more people could illegally cross over into the bucket. And others talk about how guns would keep the people safer. And others talked about how this had become a Godless bucket and people needed to stop having sex and quit selling wedding cakes to same-sex couples and how dare they force our pastors to marry homosexuals when it was obvious that the most important words Christ ever said were "Love one another as you would yourself, unless their gay, in which case fuck 'em."
And as The Land Lords talked without doing anything...
...the water rose...
and The People drowned.
And The Land Lords were too busy dealing with unimportant things to notice.
[REWIND-- START FROM THE BEGINNING]
The People stood in a bucket.
It was slowly filling up with water.
Up above them were The Land Lords.
And The People decided to drill holes in the bucket to let out the water.
And The Land Lords became upset.
"You can't do that because we didn't give you permission," said The Land Lords.
But The People knew
if they listened to The Land Lords they would drown
and The Land Lords might kill them if they fight for their lives, but at least they would fight.
And The Land Lords made laws preventing holes from being drilled.
And some People were put in jail, above the water, where they were safe.
And other People continued to drill holes.
Some People figured out how to make water cannons, propelling water from the bucket over the top and out.
And The Land Lords made laws against water cannons.
And The People kept finding solutions.
The People kept fighting.
The People kept fighting to stay alive and to not let adherence to what others say allow them to drown.
And things started getting better for The People
because they stopped listening to the life-threatening words from The Land Lords
and started actively taking care of themselves.
There are millions of The People.
There are only thousands of The Land Lords.
I wonder how that fight turns out....
Friday, June 12, 2015
Random Sequence Of Events
I have received a call on my cell phone today. Twice. Neither time did the caller leave a message.
So I Googled the phone number. It's for a doctor.
A Christian-based doctor who provides Christian-based health care.
("Take two nails in your wrists and call me after the ascension."... I still got it!)
So after a little bit of time worrying about it, I thought it might be a doctor trying to call me to tell me my father is dead. My father, after all, is married to a staunch Christian, and he even converted to her religion in order to marry her. And he's not dead yet (as far as I know).
However, my father and I haven't spoken for years. At all.
And rather than break a winning streak and call him to see if he was dead, I thought I'd check Facebook.
"My dad is dead," would be the post from my sister. Or "Like and repost if you lost your dad to morbid obesity like me" would be the post from my brother as some Li'l John song played.
But neither they nor my father's wife had any such posts. Just a picture of my sister being kissed repeatedly by some child with a boner, saying "I love u forever and will never turn my back on u even if u do". Definitely textbook definition of Forever Love.
My sister is friends with my wife, so I clicked on my wife, cuz she's rad.
And on my wife's page, I noticed that she had many less friends than the last time I checked her page.
She mentioned that she had unfriended some people, so I checked her friends to see who survived the cut.
One of the people who survived is a woman my wife works with who is very rude and abrasive to my wife.
So I clicked on her picture... cuz... I hate myself?
And while I was on her page, I noticed the name of the lawyer this co-worker had suggested my wife go to talk with a while ago when my wife was realizing nobody was going to help her.
My wife had told me this lawyer hadn't listened to her, had actively cut her off, told her she was making a big deal out of nothing, that she should pay the equivalent of two-week's salary to her ex-husband for child support even though he makes more than 10 times what she makes.
He was a classy guy deserving of urethra cancer.
So I clicked on his picture... cuz... I don't learn stuff quick? And I hate myself more?
My wife met with this man and asked him for help.
He refused to listen or help.
Here's what he puts into the world on his Facebook page, which is very active:
On June 9th, he posted a graphic of protesters, surrounded by the words "One Million Bikers Protest in DC Not One Store Looted, Fire Set, or Officer Wounded." His comment on this picture: "Think about it."
On June 3rd, he shared a photo from MIX 94.1. The photo is of Bill Clinton waving to somebody out of the frame of the picture, and behind him stands Chelsea, smiling, with the words surround the graphic supposedly coming from her: "DAD! Knock it off! That's Bruce Jenner!"
On June 1st, he shared Conservative News Today's photo of the Statue of Liberty peaking out from behind a building above the words, "Obama gone yet?"
On June 1st, he shared The Comical Conservative's photo of people standing around a stop sign, with these words over the picture:
"How come
Black pride=ok
Mexican pride=ok
Asian pride=ok
Muslim pride=ok
White pride=Racist"
(my answer: cuz the signs the other folks hold up at their parades say things like "We survived slavery", "We survived shark-infested waters to paddle a raft made out of underpants to get here", "We survived being imprisoned during World War II for no reason except all you guys were afraid of the Japanese", and "We survived being prosecuted for the beliefs of extremists as well as being imprisoned without reason because the world got scared of us after September 11th", and the signs at the White Pride Parade say things like "The free wi-fi password at Starbucks isn't working on my iPenis" and "It's unfair that everybody else gets a parade and all we get is everything else"... I still got it!)
On May 20th, he shared The Revolution's photo of R. Lee Ermy dressed as his iconic drill sergeant character (which he actually was) that he played in the movie "Full Metal Jacket" yelling these words to us: "If you have a problem with law abiding citizens being armed then you are the reason law abiding citizens are armed."
On May 13th, he shared a link from allenbwest.com. The picture shows two pictures, one black person labeled "NBA Rookie" and "$490,180" on the left, and one white person labeled "Army private" and "$18,564" on the right. Above them are the words "You wanna talk 'Income Inequality?'", and below them are the words "Here's how to shatter THAT false narrative...". The article goes on to talk about how the author just laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of The Left's talking points about income inequality while he watched a basketball game and realized that all those "fellas" were millionaires, yet the people with the real jobs, the soldiers keeping us safe, get paid almost nothing. And that, according to him, is why income inequality isn't a real thing.
(...ummmm... didn't you just prove that income inequality was a real thing... you fuck... ?)
On May 9th, he wrote this: "It is raining in Oklahoma. I drove from Norman to Eufaula and back today. Creeks were out of their banks, fields were flooded, people on horses are out playing water polo."
(...didn't even credit Carlin for stealing his joke, which was crafted much better and, also, might be considered funny...)
On May 6th, he wrote this: "We got about 4 inches of rain last night. I need to know how long a cubit is and where I can get some Gopher Wood."
(...because directly after you get 4 inches of rain, you get 40 days and nights of deluge).
Did I mention that we moved into a house directly across our suburban street from the lawyer for my wife's ex?
I will be happy to leave this oppressively small and inbred state.
So I Googled the phone number. It's for a doctor.
A Christian-based doctor who provides Christian-based health care.
("Take two nails in your wrists and call me after the ascension."... I still got it!)
So after a little bit of time worrying about it, I thought it might be a doctor trying to call me to tell me my father is dead. My father, after all, is married to a staunch Christian, and he even converted to her religion in order to marry her. And he's not dead yet (as far as I know).
However, my father and I haven't spoken for years. At all.
And rather than break a winning streak and call him to see if he was dead, I thought I'd check Facebook.
"My dad is dead," would be the post from my sister. Or "Like and repost if you lost your dad to morbid obesity like me" would be the post from my brother as some Li'l John song played.
But neither they nor my father's wife had any such posts. Just a picture of my sister being kissed repeatedly by some child with a boner, saying "I love u forever and will never turn my back on u even if u do". Definitely textbook definition of Forever Love.
My sister is friends with my wife, so I clicked on my wife, cuz she's rad.
And on my wife's page, I noticed that she had many less friends than the last time I checked her page.
She mentioned that she had unfriended some people, so I checked her friends to see who survived the cut.
One of the people who survived is a woman my wife works with who is very rude and abrasive to my wife.
So I clicked on her picture... cuz... I hate myself?
And while I was on her page, I noticed the name of the lawyer this co-worker had suggested my wife go to talk with a while ago when my wife was realizing nobody was going to help her.
My wife had told me this lawyer hadn't listened to her, had actively cut her off, told her she was making a big deal out of nothing, that she should pay the equivalent of two-week's salary to her ex-husband for child support even though he makes more than 10 times what she makes.
He was a classy guy deserving of urethra cancer.
So I clicked on his picture... cuz... I don't learn stuff quick? And I hate myself more?
My wife met with this man and asked him for help.
He refused to listen or help.
Here's what he puts into the world on his Facebook page, which is very active:
On June 9th, he posted a graphic of protesters, surrounded by the words "One Million Bikers Protest in DC Not One Store Looted, Fire Set, or Officer Wounded." His comment on this picture: "Think about it."
On June 3rd, he shared a photo from MIX 94.1. The photo is of Bill Clinton waving to somebody out of the frame of the picture, and behind him stands Chelsea, smiling, with the words surround the graphic supposedly coming from her: "DAD! Knock it off! That's Bruce Jenner!"
On June 1st, he shared Conservative News Today's photo of the Statue of Liberty peaking out from behind a building above the words, "Obama gone yet?"
On June 1st, he shared The Comical Conservative's photo of people standing around a stop sign, with these words over the picture:
"How come
Black pride=ok
Mexican pride=ok
Asian pride=ok
Muslim pride=ok
White pride=Racist"
(my answer: cuz the signs the other folks hold up at their parades say things like "We survived slavery", "We survived shark-infested waters to paddle a raft made out of underpants to get here", "We survived being imprisoned during World War II for no reason except all you guys were afraid of the Japanese", and "We survived being prosecuted for the beliefs of extremists as well as being imprisoned without reason because the world got scared of us after September 11th", and the signs at the White Pride Parade say things like "The free wi-fi password at Starbucks isn't working on my iPenis" and "It's unfair that everybody else gets a parade and all we get is everything else"... I still got it!)
On May 20th, he shared The Revolution's photo of R. Lee Ermy dressed as his iconic drill sergeant character (which he actually was) that he played in the movie "Full Metal Jacket" yelling these words to us: "If you have a problem with law abiding citizens being armed then you are the reason law abiding citizens are armed."
On May 13th, he shared a link from allenbwest.com. The picture shows two pictures, one black person labeled "NBA Rookie" and "$490,180" on the left, and one white person labeled "Army private" and "$18,564" on the right. Above them are the words "You wanna talk 'Income Inequality?'", and below them are the words "Here's how to shatter THAT false narrative...". The article goes on to talk about how the author just laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of The Left's talking points about income inequality while he watched a basketball game and realized that all those "fellas" were millionaires, yet the people with the real jobs, the soldiers keeping us safe, get paid almost nothing. And that, according to him, is why income inequality isn't a real thing.
(...ummmm... didn't you just prove that income inequality was a real thing... you fuck... ?)
On May 9th, he wrote this: "It is raining in Oklahoma. I drove from Norman to Eufaula and back today. Creeks were out of their banks, fields were flooded, people on horses are out playing water polo."
(...didn't even credit Carlin for stealing his joke, which was crafted much better and, also, might be considered funny...)
On May 6th, he wrote this: "We got about 4 inches of rain last night. I need to know how long a cubit is and where I can get some Gopher Wood."
(...because directly after you get 4 inches of rain, you get 40 days and nights of deluge).
Did I mention that we moved into a house directly across our suburban street from the lawyer for my wife's ex?
I will be happy to leave this oppressively small and inbred state.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Betty Hole-Punch
Zon stood at the copy machine, trying to remember how to copy documents into his computer terminal. As he stood there, intently focused on the instructions printed on the front of the machine, Betty entered the small room and stopped next to him.
"How you like my work?" She smiled at him, and patted herself on the shoulder. Zon looked at her with confusion.
"What?"
"I think I did a really good job cleaning," Betty said, gesturing to the counter behind Zon. Zon smiled at her, politely.
"I don't really come in here enough to know what it looked like before, but it looks good now." Betty seemed to take that as an invitation to start talking at Zon, which she did. As she described what she had done, she walked to each part of the counter, as if she were reliving every grungy moment.
"It was just such a mess over here. The staplers didn't have any staples in them, and this basket [gesture] was over here [gesture] where nobody could use it, so the pens and paper clips were [gesture] all over the place. And [gesture to a box] this was empty, and it was just so dusty and dirty [roll up her nose], and the electric..." As Betty continued to describe what she had done, Zon became aware of his inner monologue.
How the hell do I go back to my copying politely? I don't care, lady! I think you're stupid and I have other things to do! None of this is in your job description in the first place, why do you think you're in charge of any of it?! If I turned around now and stopped paying attention to you, would that be rude? Why do I give a FUCK about being rude?? YOU'RE the one who just inserted yourself into my work-day without asking, you fucking bitch!
Zon's inner monologue ran out of things to say, making mental room for Betty, who had not run out of things to say and was still saying them.
"...crumbs behind the toasters, and people are just so filthy. Did you ever use the electric stapler?"
Zon looked at Betty. Betty took that as a sign to keep talking.
"It wasn't even working anymore, so I took it down to supply and had them order another one. The electric part wasn't..."
Your boobs are too low. I wonder if the story I heard about you peeing in a cup and putting that cup on Sammy's desk is really true. I wonder if you've peed in your coffee mug right now.
"...but they didn't notice. You know, my husband and I..."
You're fucking married?!
"...clean up around the house. We clean up after ourselves and we clean up after each other. I mean, we live in the house. But we like to keep it looking like... well, you know, like a model home. It looks clean."
You're a fucking cunt.
"I mean, we cook. And we do our bathroom duties. But we wash dishes and put them away. And we clean up after ourselves in the bathroom."
I haven't showered for a month, you fuck. I want to rub my ass-cheese all over your mouth and lips.
"When I see people leaving crumbs over there by the toasters..."
I want you to come to my house just to watch you literally explode and die.
"...it makes you wonder..." she lowered her voice, like she was going to say a racial slur or talk about The Cancer, "...just how do these people live??"
"We people" (fucker) actually live. You (cunt-stick) survive inside a Ziploc baggie with hand sanitizer, afraid of life and what is out there, you miserable fuck.
Zon returned to the copier without fanfare. Betty continued.
"I wonder if they've got that electric stapler in yet, I'll go check supply and see."
Betty exited. Zon breathed relief and resumed his investigations with the copier. Before he could complete his task, Betty returned with the electric stapler in tow. She put the stapler down, then addressed Zon's back.
"Do you think people use the three-hole-punch more than the two-hole-punch?" Zon bent forward, focusing more attention on the copier. Betty took that as a sign to keep talking. "I would imagine the three-hole-punch. I'm going to take the two-hole-punch back to supply."
Zon's fantasy became clear.
He turned around and kicked Betty in the throat. She dropped everything, her boobs bobbled on her knees as she fell backwards, gasping for breath.
"Don't take away things that might be helpful to other people, curr! You don't know what people use here so keep both hole-punch thingys!!" Zon stepped on her toes, and each one popped like a water balloon filled with blood and gelatinous bone material that spewed out with each rupture.
"Quit fucking up everything! Leave everybody else's business alone! Make your world the way you need to and leave mine alone! Quit fucking up EVERYTHING! And stop the goddam talking, whore!! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Zon kicked Betty in the face, and her head popped and blood, brains and bones flew everywhere, drenching the world in death matter.
Zon decided to copy things later and left the room.
"How you like my work?" She smiled at him, and patted herself on the shoulder. Zon looked at her with confusion.
"What?"
"I think I did a really good job cleaning," Betty said, gesturing to the counter behind Zon. Zon smiled at her, politely.
"I don't really come in here enough to know what it looked like before, but it looks good now." Betty seemed to take that as an invitation to start talking at Zon, which she did. As she described what she had done, she walked to each part of the counter, as if she were reliving every grungy moment.
"It was just such a mess over here. The staplers didn't have any staples in them, and this basket [gesture] was over here [gesture] where nobody could use it, so the pens and paper clips were [gesture] all over the place. And [gesture to a box] this was empty, and it was just so dusty and dirty [roll up her nose], and the electric..." As Betty continued to describe what she had done, Zon became aware of his inner monologue.
How the hell do I go back to my copying politely? I don't care, lady! I think you're stupid and I have other things to do! None of this is in your job description in the first place, why do you think you're in charge of any of it?! If I turned around now and stopped paying attention to you, would that be rude? Why do I give a FUCK about being rude?? YOU'RE the one who just inserted yourself into my work-day without asking, you fucking bitch!
Zon's inner monologue ran out of things to say, making mental room for Betty, who had not run out of things to say and was still saying them.
"...crumbs behind the toasters, and people are just so filthy. Did you ever use the electric stapler?"
Zon looked at Betty. Betty took that as a sign to keep talking.
"It wasn't even working anymore, so I took it down to supply and had them order another one. The electric part wasn't..."
Your boobs are too low. I wonder if the story I heard about you peeing in a cup and putting that cup on Sammy's desk is really true. I wonder if you've peed in your coffee mug right now.
"...but they didn't notice. You know, my husband and I..."
You're fucking married?!
"...clean up around the house. We clean up after ourselves and we clean up after each other. I mean, we live in the house. But we like to keep it looking like... well, you know, like a model home. It looks clean."
You're a fucking cunt.
"I mean, we cook. And we do our bathroom duties. But we wash dishes and put them away. And we clean up after ourselves in the bathroom."
I haven't showered for a month, you fuck. I want to rub my ass-cheese all over your mouth and lips.
"When I see people leaving crumbs over there by the toasters..."
I want you to come to my house just to watch you literally explode and die.
"...it makes you wonder..." she lowered her voice, like she was going to say a racial slur or talk about The Cancer, "...just how do these people live??"
"We people" (fucker) actually live. You (cunt-stick) survive inside a Ziploc baggie with hand sanitizer, afraid of life and what is out there, you miserable fuck.
Zon returned to the copier without fanfare. Betty continued.
"I wonder if they've got that electric stapler in yet, I'll go check supply and see."
Betty exited. Zon breathed relief and resumed his investigations with the copier. Before he could complete his task, Betty returned with the electric stapler in tow. She put the stapler down, then addressed Zon's back.
"Do you think people use the three-hole-punch more than the two-hole-punch?" Zon bent forward, focusing more attention on the copier. Betty took that as a sign to keep talking. "I would imagine the three-hole-punch. I'm going to take the two-hole-punch back to supply."
Zon's fantasy became clear.
He turned around and kicked Betty in the throat. She dropped everything, her boobs bobbled on her knees as she fell backwards, gasping for breath.
"Don't take away things that might be helpful to other people, curr! You don't know what people use here so keep both hole-punch thingys!!" Zon stepped on her toes, and each one popped like a water balloon filled with blood and gelatinous bone material that spewed out with each rupture.
"Quit fucking up everything! Leave everybody else's business alone! Make your world the way you need to and leave mine alone! Quit fucking up EVERYTHING! And stop the goddam talking, whore!! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Zon kicked Betty in the face, and her head popped and blood, brains and bones flew everywhere, drenching the world in death matter.
Zon decided to copy things later and left the room.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
I Remain Angry...
I am angry most of the time.
I have become better at covering it up, though.
The people I'm around have grown tired of me and my anger.
So I don't show them who I am most of the time.
I am angry at the Abuser.
I am angry at what he did, how he did it, how he continues to do it.
I am angry that his Son makes him more powerful by not saying anything.
"Well, dad says it's mandatory, so...."
I am angry at his Son for making his life, my wife's life, my life, my mother and step-father's lives harder for not speaking up, for lying in an attempt not to rock the boat, to avoid conflict which ultimately created more conflict.
I am angry that he didn't deal with problems while they were small enough to be dealt with.
I am angry at the Step, who supports Abuser, aids in abusing Son, and continues to help make my life, my wife's life, my mother and step-father's lives harder.
I am angry at Court, Lawyers, and Advisers who supported and fought for Abuser, many of whom said they were fighting for my wife but didn't.
I am angry that this is just accepted.
I am so very, very, very angry at myself for being angry about this still.
I am angry about the choices I made as a child that I see reflected in my son's choices.
I am angry that I hurt people.
I am angry that I was stupid.
I am angry that I was selfish.
I am angry that I will never be able to fix any of it. Ever.
I am angry that I will never be able to go back and undo it.
I am angry that I cannot say I'm Sorry enough to make up for all my foolishness.
I am angry that I cannot help my wife not be abused.
I am angry that I cannot help my wife become stronger to sustain more abuse.
I am angry that I cannot build a fortress around my wife to protect her from abuse.
I am angry that I cannot separate my wife from everyone to protect her from abuse.
I am angry that I cannot protect my wife.
I am angry that my wife needs to be protected from anything.
I am so very angry that my wife hurts. Ever.
I am so very angry that my mother hurts. Ever.
I am so very angry that I cause my wife and mother to hurt. Ever.
I am so very, very, very angry about all of this.
I am angry that I have been a burden and not a buoy.
I am angry that we do not have an infinite supply of energy.
I am angry that we all just accept things and have stopped fighting for what is right because of our lack of energy, or because we have spent our energy paychecks, spent our energy savings, and have no more plasma to sell for just a wee bit more energy.
I am angry that we are tapped.
I am angry at all the people who do things wrong on purpose because they know that people will become fatigued and cannot fight everything, so they must slip through the cracks somewhere.
"It's far too expensive to pay for your health care, so we would like to propose a middle-man system for paying for health care called Health Insurance." You have never heard of a system where a middle-man was involved and the price was reduced, because price is never reduced when you add people, services, or middle-men. Never. Period. Even if you cloak it in the The More People Pay Into The System argument. Middle-Men still make it more expensive.
I am angry that we do things for money.
I am angry that we do not work for the things we actually need. You don't just get food. You get a job to get money to get food. I would rather work to climb a tree to get food than to sell somebody a clock radio in order to get a paycheck to buy a Hot Pocket.
I am angry that those who fought to get money out of our politics were silenced because they couldn't afford to pay for it.
I am angry that those public parks were paid for by 100% of us but only 1% of us can dictate who can practice their First Amendment Rights in them.
I am angry that there are people who believe they are part of the 1% who can't afford to pay their cell phone bills.
I am angry that a corporation makes a billion dollars, while a man makes a dollar, a woman makes half that, and an immigrant makes five cents until somebody throws him out of the country for taking all the job money away from everyone else.
I am angry that the definition of what is good and what is bad have changed impossibly since I was taught their meaning.
I am angry that good now means profits, investments, payoffs, dividends, agendas, partnerships, and Strongly Held Personal Beliefs.
I am angry that bad now means poor, immigrant, poverty, child, teenager, abused, molested, raped, woman, girl, black, Hispanic, urban, inner-city, progressive, enlightened, liberal, educated, disabled, sick.
I am angry that good is a gun.
I am angry that bad is being the victim of that gun.
I am angry that good is putting more guns into the system which makes you bad if you're the family of a victim of those guns who wants to make sure no more people are killed by that goodness.
I am angry that we cower from those who bark loudly about there being no other way to protect and serve our citizens than with a weapon.
I am angry that the voices of those who explain and teach about how we can live without weapons are the first to be silenced with those weapons.
I am angry that those who wield the weapons cannot wield their brains and words as well.
I am angry that forgotten are the voices of the mothers who cry for their dead babies, drowned out by the cries of the paranoid and delusional who scream about 2nd Amendment Rights.
I am angry that those who fight strongest for our 2nd Amendment Rights completely ignore those who were stripped of their Right To Life by the people who fight strongest for our 2nd Amendment Rights and not our Right To Life.
I am angry at those who get offended by my words because they feel attacked.
I am angry that they see the world as a war ground rather than living room and insist I live there with them.
I am angry at those who kill others unjustly.
I am angry that people support these actions.
I am angry that we don't recognize the difference between supporting a person and helping them make a better choice. I support my kid, but when he fails a test in school because he didn't study I don't loudly proclaim that he has done the best he can because that doesn't help him. I support my kid by helping him make better choices in the future without lying to him and telling him what he did was okay.
I am angry that the Right To Life movement doesn't consider the mother's right to life.
I am angry that residents of Denton, TX voted to ban fracking within their city, and then Big Oil helped create a law that banned the banning of fracking.
I am angry that the residents of Texas are all about local government control until the residents of Denton, Texas try to maintain local government control.
I am angry that more people don't recognize the connection between need and fear and advertising and money. Advertisements make you believe something that's not real, that you "need" something, by making you afraid, which makes you give them your money. It doesn't make you safer because there was nothing you needed in the first place, and there was no reason to be afraid except that somebody wanted to take your money.
I am angry that the act of making love is vilified while the act of making war gets a parade.
I am angry that Original Sin was sex and not Cain's murder of Abel.
I am angry that people quote the Bible to admonish homosexuality but they do not admonish anything else that Leviticus says is an abomination, like getting your haircut, eating crab, menstruating, wearing clothes made from different fabrics, or playing football on Sunday.
I am angry that there are people who are willing to kill because they believe the Bible is the actual word of God but they can't tell me which version of the Bible contains God's actual words.
I am angry that all the different religions teach different things and no matter what I believe, at most only one will tell me I'm right while everyone else will condemn me to hell.
I am angry at bullies who push people down.
I am angry at teachers who don't correct that behavior.
I am angry that we are all so dumb.
I am angry that we do not think.
I am angry, angry, angry.
That's my secret, Captain: I'm always angry.
That's right, Bruce. So Am I.
I have become better at covering it up, though.
The people I'm around have grown tired of me and my anger.
So I don't show them who I am most of the time.
I am angry at the Abuser.
I am angry at what he did, how he did it, how he continues to do it.
I am angry that his Son makes him more powerful by not saying anything.
"Well, dad says it's mandatory, so...."
I am angry at his Son for making his life, my wife's life, my life, my mother and step-father's lives harder for not speaking up, for lying in an attempt not to rock the boat, to avoid conflict which ultimately created more conflict.
I am angry that he didn't deal with problems while they were small enough to be dealt with.
I am angry at the Step, who supports Abuser, aids in abusing Son, and continues to help make my life, my wife's life, my mother and step-father's lives harder.
I am angry at Court, Lawyers, and Advisers who supported and fought for Abuser, many of whom said they were fighting for my wife but didn't.
I am angry that this is just accepted.
I am so very, very, very angry at myself for being angry about this still.
I am angry about the choices I made as a child that I see reflected in my son's choices.
I am angry that I hurt people.
I am angry that I was stupid.
I am angry that I was selfish.
I am angry that I will never be able to fix any of it. Ever.
I am angry that I will never be able to go back and undo it.
I am angry that I cannot say I'm Sorry enough to make up for all my foolishness.
I am angry that I cannot help my wife not be abused.
I am angry that I cannot help my wife become stronger to sustain more abuse.
I am angry that I cannot build a fortress around my wife to protect her from abuse.
I am angry that I cannot separate my wife from everyone to protect her from abuse.
I am angry that I cannot protect my wife.
I am angry that my wife needs to be protected from anything.
I am so very angry that my wife hurts. Ever.
I am so very angry that my mother hurts. Ever.
I am so very angry that I cause my wife and mother to hurt. Ever.
I am so very, very, very angry about all of this.
I am angry that I have been a burden and not a buoy.
I am angry that we do not have an infinite supply of energy.
I am angry that we all just accept things and have stopped fighting for what is right because of our lack of energy, or because we have spent our energy paychecks, spent our energy savings, and have no more plasma to sell for just a wee bit more energy.
I am angry that we are tapped.
I am angry at all the people who do things wrong on purpose because they know that people will become fatigued and cannot fight everything, so they must slip through the cracks somewhere.
"It's far too expensive to pay for your health care, so we would like to propose a middle-man system for paying for health care called Health Insurance." You have never heard of a system where a middle-man was involved and the price was reduced, because price is never reduced when you add people, services, or middle-men. Never. Period. Even if you cloak it in the The More People Pay Into The System argument. Middle-Men still make it more expensive.
I am angry that we do things for money.
I am angry that we do not work for the things we actually need. You don't just get food. You get a job to get money to get food. I would rather work to climb a tree to get food than to sell somebody a clock radio in order to get a paycheck to buy a Hot Pocket.
I am angry that those who fought to get money out of our politics were silenced because they couldn't afford to pay for it.
I am angry that those public parks were paid for by 100% of us but only 1% of us can dictate who can practice their First Amendment Rights in them.
I am angry that there are people who believe they are part of the 1% who can't afford to pay their cell phone bills.
I am angry that a corporation makes a billion dollars, while a man makes a dollar, a woman makes half that, and an immigrant makes five cents until somebody throws him out of the country for taking all the job money away from everyone else.
I am angry that the definition of what is good and what is bad have changed impossibly since I was taught their meaning.
I am angry that good now means profits, investments, payoffs, dividends, agendas, partnerships, and Strongly Held Personal Beliefs.
I am angry that bad now means poor, immigrant, poverty, child, teenager, abused, molested, raped, woman, girl, black, Hispanic, urban, inner-city, progressive, enlightened, liberal, educated, disabled, sick.
I am angry that good is a gun.
I am angry that bad is being the victim of that gun.
I am angry that good is putting more guns into the system which makes you bad if you're the family of a victim of those guns who wants to make sure no more people are killed by that goodness.
I am angry that we cower from those who bark loudly about there being no other way to protect and serve our citizens than with a weapon.
I am angry that the voices of those who explain and teach about how we can live without weapons are the first to be silenced with those weapons.
I am angry that those who wield the weapons cannot wield their brains and words as well.
I am angry that forgotten are the voices of the mothers who cry for their dead babies, drowned out by the cries of the paranoid and delusional who scream about 2nd Amendment Rights.
I am angry that those who fight strongest for our 2nd Amendment Rights completely ignore those who were stripped of their Right To Life by the people who fight strongest for our 2nd Amendment Rights and not our Right To Life.
I am angry at those who get offended by my words because they feel attacked.
I am angry that they see the world as a war ground rather than living room and insist I live there with them.
I am angry at those who kill others unjustly.
I am angry that people support these actions.
I am angry that we don't recognize the difference between supporting a person and helping them make a better choice. I support my kid, but when he fails a test in school because he didn't study I don't loudly proclaim that he has done the best he can because that doesn't help him. I support my kid by helping him make better choices in the future without lying to him and telling him what he did was okay.
I am angry that the Right To Life movement doesn't consider the mother's right to life.
I am angry that residents of Denton, TX voted to ban fracking within their city, and then Big Oil helped create a law that banned the banning of fracking.
I am angry that the residents of Texas are all about local government control until the residents of Denton, Texas try to maintain local government control.
I am angry that more people don't recognize the connection between need and fear and advertising and money. Advertisements make you believe something that's not real, that you "need" something, by making you afraid, which makes you give them your money. It doesn't make you safer because there was nothing you needed in the first place, and there was no reason to be afraid except that somebody wanted to take your money.
I am angry that the act of making love is vilified while the act of making war gets a parade.
I am angry that Original Sin was sex and not Cain's murder of Abel.
I am angry that people quote the Bible to admonish homosexuality but they do not admonish anything else that Leviticus says is an abomination, like getting your haircut, eating crab, menstruating, wearing clothes made from different fabrics, or playing football on Sunday.
I am angry that there are people who are willing to kill because they believe the Bible is the actual word of God but they can't tell me which version of the Bible contains God's actual words.
I am angry that all the different religions teach different things and no matter what I believe, at most only one will tell me I'm right while everyone else will condemn me to hell.
I am angry at bullies who push people down.
I am angry at teachers who don't correct that behavior.
I am angry that we are all so dumb.
I am angry that we do not think.
I am angry, angry, angry.
That's my secret, Captain: I'm always angry.
That's right, Bruce. So Am I.
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