The caretakers at the asylum keep giving me access to the internet... idiots.
So Arizona has emerged victorious in its struggle against the "menace," illegal immigrants (Mexicans). That means the fine people of that totally accepting and tolerant state are finally free to look for the next vile abomination to complain about... ain't fascism fun? Now if they could just get those pesky Africans, homosexuals, and non-Christians to go back to where they came from - Arizona could become the true beacon of liberty for the rest of America to look up to. But it's so not about that. I mean... this is about upholding the law. And cracking down on illegals is a much higher priority than enforcing laws against... oh I don't know - rape, murder, or grand theft. Think of the children! How can we explain to them how someone lives, works, and contributes to society without the required paperwork? Besides, those illegal immigrants should be thankful. They get to go back home, and who doesn't like going home?
Shit. There should be a special day just to celebrate.... America Day! At first I was thinking of making it on a special date, something traditional - like Nixon or Reagan's birthday. But why add another celebration onto an already special moment? No, we'll go with a day that doesn't already have a good old fashioned American holiday attached to it. The day will be TODAY. The Fifth of May. AMERICA DAY!
I know what you're thinking, "come on guy, there's already a day like that, it's called Independence Day. Fourth of July. Hello!" Well YOU come on guy, because this day is different. Everyone in the world will celebrate. They'll send us gifts and treasures and women and... shit, when was the last time we got gifts from other countries in appreciation of our complete superiority? The Statue of Liberty? Thanks France, but that's old news.
I want Liberia to send us a golden, diamond encrusted statue of an AK-47. Don't wash the blood off those conflict rocks, that just certifies the authenticity of it. We'll display it outside the pentagon as a monument to the freedom it protects. And all the other countries can follow suit. China can send us a genuine Chinese baby (replace it every year, they got enough of 'em!). Saudi Arabia can send us barrels of oil (PLEASE send us free barrels of oil, Saudi Arabia). Brazil can send us a replica of that big statue of Jesus Christ.... No, they should send us the actual statue and keep the replica for themselves. This is America, baby. Gimme gimme gimme!
Anyway, I started this thing with a point, and I seem to have lost it along the way. Oh right, Arizona... they're finally free to hunt down the next nuisance to their society. And the rest of us should be doing the same. After all, America - we'll have lots to complain about once the undocumented scum are gone (like why the the price of fruit is so fucking high). So my real idea is to make a suggestion box. Someplace we can send our complaints about what's turning this country into shit these days. And since there will be so many complaints (fix the economy, get rid of traffic, kill Wendy Williams, etc.) there should be a great big place all the suggestions can go. The place should be the size of Kansas.
No no... the suggestion box will BE the state of Kansas. We'll displace all the inhabitants (or they can stay, I don't care), and start the pile of suggestions/complaints right in the middle of Downtown Wichita. As the pile grows to truly epic proportions, we'll start charging admission to see the big mountain of letters dwarfing the state around it. People will come from far and wide and pay extra just to take pictures in front of it. For a nominal fee you can even jump into the pile and swim around (you have to sign a waiver saying the government isn't liable for paper cuts, of course). Set up booths around it selling pigs feet and turkey legs and fried cheese, Americans love their fried cheese.
It will be glorious! and every America Day we'll double the price of admission and everyone can read the suggestions out loud so that God can hear them, because it is His country, after all. Step right up kid! Read the suggestions and help your country remain... The Greatest Country in the World!
--------------------------------
This was entirely sarcastic, in case I didn't lay it on thick enough. Hopefully you laughed. If you're pissed... well that sucks (just like AZ's immigration law). Happy Cinco de Mayo!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Introduction: Human Energy Consolidation - Prologue
Our energy would simply prevail…
It is still uncertain, the consequences of our political action. The feeling, I can assure you, was real to the bone. What we represented was a physical manifestation of the fed-up mind-state belonging to a generation weary of watching its parents bastardize the principles on which they grew. Long gone are the ideals of living happily, embracing love, and realizing how much more to life there is than money. This country was built, and then demolished on the concept of credit… money that does not exist; except for in payments you will make for the rest-of-your-life. So look out for number 1, pull yourself up by your boot-straps, and the market will regulate itself. That worked out pretty well, didn't it?
Regardless of the intentions of the leaders who moved us, the change we personified was as concrete as the White House itself. We wanted a country of which we could be proud. The nation we loved had turned its back on us before… but never like this. Never had we lived through such blatant lies-to, and exploitations-of our citizenry… not my generation, not while we could do something about it. There are those who would try to tell us that it made no difference… that it was all the same, regardless. But the differences in our eyes were basic. We were standing up against war, against oil-politics, against predatory financial practices, and hatred fueled by religious extremism. We wanted affordable healthcare and cars that wouldn’t burn holes through our environment or our wallets. Our message was simple: Hope. Just words? Not to us. To us it was the idea that we could educate each other on the wrongs we had been done. Together, we could go about the business of righting those wrongs.
I came into the Grassroots Campaign completely lost, in every sense of the word. I was barely out of school… I actually took my last undergraduate class at a community college in the mornings, while I worked the campaign in the afternoons/nights. My first week was a mess. The first night I made twenty dollars in contributions. I figured there was no way they would ask me back. I hadn’t even expected to go out canvassing that day. But, they gave me the rap, let me watch for a few houses, then threw me right in. I’ve always been a quiet kid, so intruding on people’s personal property and intimate family time seemed wrong at first. But what I… what WE… were trying to do was much larger than someone’s dinner, or jerk-off session, or favorite TV show. We truly believed we were making a difference, both for the outward attitude of our country, and for the history books.
It is still uncertain, the consequences of our political action. The feeling, I can assure you, was real to the bone. What we represented was a physical manifestation of the fed-up mind-state belonging to a generation weary of watching its parents bastardize the principles on which they grew. Long gone are the ideals of living happily, embracing love, and realizing how much more to life there is than money. This country was built, and then demolished on the concept of credit… money that does not exist; except for in payments you will make for the rest-of-your-life. So look out for number 1, pull yourself up by your boot-straps, and the market will regulate itself. That worked out pretty well, didn't it?
Regardless of the intentions of the leaders who moved us, the change we personified was as concrete as the White House itself. We wanted a country of which we could be proud. The nation we loved had turned its back on us before… but never like this. Never had we lived through such blatant lies-to, and exploitations-of our citizenry… not my generation, not while we could do something about it. There are those who would try to tell us that it made no difference… that it was all the same, regardless. But the differences in our eyes were basic. We were standing up against war, against oil-politics, against predatory financial practices, and hatred fueled by religious extremism. We wanted affordable healthcare and cars that wouldn’t burn holes through our environment or our wallets. Our message was simple: Hope. Just words? Not to us. To us it was the idea that we could educate each other on the wrongs we had been done. Together, we could go about the business of righting those wrongs.
I came into the Grassroots Campaign completely lost, in every sense of the word. I was barely out of school… I actually took my last undergraduate class at a community college in the mornings, while I worked the campaign in the afternoons/nights. My first week was a mess. The first night I made twenty dollars in contributions. I figured there was no way they would ask me back. I hadn’t even expected to go out canvassing that day. But, they gave me the rap, let me watch for a few houses, then threw me right in. I’ve always been a quiet kid, so intruding on people’s personal property and intimate family time seemed wrong at first. But what I… what WE… were trying to do was much larger than someone’s dinner, or jerk-off session, or favorite TV show. We truly believed we were making a difference, both for the outward attitude of our country, and for the history books.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
VIP parking: Very Indulgent Psychotic
This space is reserved for the sick and the twisted. There is no room for normalcy.
...If you're still following, then obviously you have some interest in the culture of the weird and the stupendous. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me, however, to continue to voice my outlook as a Child of Night. The wee hours have been drastically reduced from my existence....
By the way, they call them the "wee" hours, because that's when all the fun happens...
But I digest.
There are people in this world who enjoy the excess of booze and drugs and partying, and the dangers with which these hobbies are associated. And there are those who do not. And then, we have people who partake in the excess, without enjoyment, without... meaning. Now I wouldn't be fool enough to sit here and claim there's an especial meaning behind a drunken coke addled night of tail-chasing; but, I would absolutely make the assertion that there is a goal: to have a kick ass, fucked up, good time. Why would someone indulge in such a lifestyle if they didn't find it particularly fun? ...Because they need it. They have to get away from their reality, and they only know one way how. It's a sad story, that's all too common. But not all of us are this way...
Not everyone is a cautionary tale. In show business, the greats are all characterized as drugged up, overweight, drunk, depressed as shit, 9-pack a day habit types. I'm in the business of walking the thin line between actually insane and projectedly well-adjusted, addicted to fun that drugs bring but not addicted to drugs in order bring about fun. My habits are not necessities, but mere indulgences into the limits the human body and mind can endure.
Take a trip with me sometime and find out how far off you can venture. Join me for the space off... come get out-spaced. Listen to your friend Billy Zane... he's a cool dude.
Happy Summer.
...If you're still following, then obviously you have some interest in the culture of the weird and the stupendous. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me, however, to continue to voice my outlook as a Child of Night. The wee hours have been drastically reduced from my existence....
By the way, they call them the "wee" hours, because that's when all the fun happens...
But I digest.
There are people in this world who enjoy the excess of booze and drugs and partying, and the dangers with which these hobbies are associated. And there are those who do not. And then, we have people who partake in the excess, without enjoyment, without... meaning. Now I wouldn't be fool enough to sit here and claim there's an especial meaning behind a drunken coke addled night of tail-chasing; but, I would absolutely make the assertion that there is a goal: to have a kick ass, fucked up, good time. Why would someone indulge in such a lifestyle if they didn't find it particularly fun? ...Because they need it. They have to get away from their reality, and they only know one way how. It's a sad story, that's all too common. But not all of us are this way...
Not everyone is a cautionary tale. In show business, the greats are all characterized as drugged up, overweight, drunk, depressed as shit, 9-pack a day habit types. I'm in the business of walking the thin line between actually insane and projectedly well-adjusted, addicted to fun that drugs bring but not addicted to drugs in order bring about fun. My habits are not necessities, but mere indulgences into the limits the human body and mind can endure.
Take a trip with me sometime and find out how far off you can venture. Join me for the space off... come get out-spaced. Listen to your friend Billy Zane... he's a cool dude.
Happy Summer.
I'm startin with the man in the mirror.... I'm asking him to change his ways.
I'm toying with this crazy idea... I call it "appreciation." See we've been preaching tolerance in this country for the last few decades, and it's made as much a difference as it possibly could. But, I think, in order to move our global society, our human race as a singular consciousness, to the next level... we need to learn to appreciate one another for our differences. It's not good enough to "try not to hate" other cultures or ways of life, it's time to appreciate what we all bring to the table.
Each one of us is different, even from people in our own culture. We all have our sick fetishes and weird turn ons. I want you all to know that it's ok. I'm cool with the weird shit you're into... hell I might even be into it too. Far too often I've stumbled onto some weird sexual shit on the interwebs (or going into the wrong hotel room) that I never knew existed... and I still get that all too familiar stirring in my pants. So I understand if you're into scratching and clawing, or barking like a dog, or dressing up like Bugs Bunny just to get that extra hot nut. I don't judge people's quirks, and I think if we lived in a more appreciative society, we could actually be open about those inner-freaks.
And it's not even like it has to be sexual. I hate a show, you love a show, maybe there's something I'm missing... maybe there's a critisism you hadn't before considered. I'm just saying, the future is in your hand, and play with your squishy. It's an all too familiar idea and I'm trying to relate this to you on an inter-subjective plane. Unfortunately you can't see through the words of a website into the eyes of my soul, so we can't connect on that level through this medium. All I can do is hope to stir up some kind of mutual feeling in you...my reader...and at this point... my friend... because let's face it, you're the only ones with which I feel comfortable sharing this shit.
But when I say we have to appreciate, I mean that we have to understand and connect the kind of enjoyment we get from the arts and the entertainment and the culture that we relate to; it's the same kind of enjoyment that others get from those with which they relate. You don't have to like hip hop culture, but you should appreciate that it is art and expression at the very least. The emotions expressed are the same, we all have our outlets.
This was a raw draft I pulled up from months ago, but I liked the idea of it while reading it over. I'll return to the concept more eloquently later, when I have more time.
Death to the Dictatorship.
Each one of us is different, even from people in our own culture. We all have our sick fetishes and weird turn ons. I want you all to know that it's ok. I'm cool with the weird shit you're into... hell I might even be into it too. Far too often I've stumbled onto some weird sexual shit on the interwebs (or going into the wrong hotel room) that I never knew existed... and I still get that all too familiar stirring in my pants. So I understand if you're into scratching and clawing, or barking like a dog, or dressing up like Bugs Bunny just to get that extra hot nut. I don't judge people's quirks, and I think if we lived in a more appreciative society, we could actually be open about those inner-freaks.
And it's not even like it has to be sexual. I hate a show, you love a show, maybe there's something I'm missing... maybe there's a critisism you hadn't before considered. I'm just saying, the future is in your hand, and play with your squishy. It's an all too familiar idea and I'm trying to relate this to you on an inter-subjective plane. Unfortunately you can't see through the words of a website into the eyes of my soul, so we can't connect on that level through this medium. All I can do is hope to stir up some kind of mutual feeling in you...my reader...and at this point... my friend... because let's face it, you're the only ones with which I feel comfortable sharing this shit.
But when I say we have to appreciate, I mean that we have to understand and connect the kind of enjoyment we get from the arts and the entertainment and the culture that we relate to; it's the same kind of enjoyment that others get from those with which they relate. You don't have to like hip hop culture, but you should appreciate that it is art and expression at the very least. The emotions expressed are the same, we all have our outlets.
This was a raw draft I pulled up from months ago, but I liked the idea of it while reading it over. I'll return to the concept more eloquently later, when I have more time.
Death to the Dictatorship.
They'd seen his face before...
Nobody was really sure, he was from the house of loooooooove.
Yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Sorry, I haven't stretched my fingers in a while.
Quick tangent: you know what I like? people who don't end sentences with prepositions. "For which," "to which," "from which nightwalking flooz-queen would you prefer to receive your ZJ?" It's clean. Get my meaning?
Reminds me of something my third grade teacher used to tell me, she used to say "you show me a tropical fruit, and I'll show you a cocksucker from Guatamala." ....no that was a guy I met in the army. -George Carlin
Looks like Grandpa's coming over for a bit. Love him... love my folks... but this place is killing me. I feel like I'm 50 years old living here. The energy is sucked right out of me as soon as I step in the door. The sound of my own name being shrieked across the house has given me a twitch. No exageration. Does it make me a bad person? Fuck. I feel like it does... but I really hope it's just a normal reaction.
Anyway sorry for the downer at the end there... I wasn't expecting it, but it can't be helped. It happens... what? shit? yeah, forest gump. Such a fucking headcase.
Don't pretend like you're not.
Yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Sorry, I haven't stretched my fingers in a while.
Quick tangent: you know what I like? people who don't end sentences with prepositions. "For which," "to which," "from which nightwalking flooz-queen would you prefer to receive your ZJ?" It's clean. Get my meaning?
Reminds me of something my third grade teacher used to tell me, she used to say "you show me a tropical fruit, and I'll show you a cocksucker from Guatamala." ....no that was a guy I met in the army. -George Carlin
Looks like Grandpa's coming over for a bit. Love him... love my folks... but this place is killing me. I feel like I'm 50 years old living here. The energy is sucked right out of me as soon as I step in the door. The sound of my own name being shrieked across the house has given me a twitch. No exageration. Does it make me a bad person? Fuck. I feel like it does... but I really hope it's just a normal reaction.
Anyway sorry for the downer at the end there... I wasn't expecting it, but it can't be helped. It happens... what? shit? yeah, forest gump. Such a fucking headcase.
Don't pretend like you're not.
Monday, March 23, 2009
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E Mickey Mouse! Mickey Mouse!
Picture this: Micky Mouse comes home to find Minnie on the kitchen counter taking a royal fucking from Bugs Bunny. Keep thinking about it. Appreciate the depravity in the scenario... Warner Brothers versus Disney, a man finding his love in the lustful throws of an orgasm given to her by his very nemesis and rival, these pictures of childhood innocence and humor in a sick voyeuristic scene of debauchery. Now imagine that Mickey pulls off the red shorts and starts furiously beating off to the debased image unfolding before him. The ultimate cuckold story translated into cartoon characters engaging in erotic betrayal. Bugs turns around and delivers the ever-classic line "Meh, what's up doc?" To which Mickey replies, with his timeless laugh, "My cock! Hah-Hah!" Minnie's just bent over the counter squealing like a little mouse slut, yelling "Oh Mickey! He's so BIG!"
Next thing you know, Porky Pig and Lola Bunny show up with liquor and blow. The five of them start going at it, fucking and sucking and railing lines off each other's naked flesh. They can't tell where one furry animated body ends and another begins. Bugs is giving Lola a rimjob while he fucks Mickey Mouse in the ass. Lola's getting fucked by Porky Pig, who's yelling "Now th-that's some gu-gu-good pa-pa-pu-pu-PUSSY!" Mickey's fucking Minnie doggie style, smacking her ass as punishment for cheating on him, while Minnie is face first in Porky's crack, tossing his salad. Then it starts to get weird...
Walt Disney shows up in a Nazi outfit with Aladdin and Jasmine wearing matching leashes and collars and declares that he'll be directing and acting in this Disney/WB collaboration, and calls for his assistant to assemble the dildo show. Jasmine and Aladdin start prepping by going ass to ass with a double headed rubber dick, Requiem for a Dream style. Disney's agent walks in and says "I love the new production Walt! What do you call it?!"
To which Disney answers, "The Aristocrats!"
....The Aristocrats!
Next thing you know, Porky Pig and Lola Bunny show up with liquor and blow. The five of them start going at it, fucking and sucking and railing lines off each other's naked flesh. They can't tell where one furry animated body ends and another begins. Bugs is giving Lola a rimjob while he fucks Mickey Mouse in the ass. Lola's getting fucked by Porky Pig, who's yelling "Now th-that's some gu-gu-good pa-pa-pu-pu-PUSSY!" Mickey's fucking Minnie doggie style, smacking her ass as punishment for cheating on him, while Minnie is face first in Porky's crack, tossing his salad. Then it starts to get weird...
Walt Disney shows up in a Nazi outfit with Aladdin and Jasmine wearing matching leashes and collars and declares that he'll be directing and acting in this Disney/WB collaboration, and calls for his assistant to assemble the dildo show. Jasmine and Aladdin start prepping by going ass to ass with a double headed rubber dick, Requiem for a Dream style. Disney's agent walks in and says "I love the new production Walt! What do you call it?!"
To which Disney answers, "The Aristocrats!"
....The Aristocrats!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Excerpt from my journal... (I write in it at work)
I have never had a good grip on my emotions. I have a tendency to fly off the handle, and the slightest things not breaking my way will throw me into a weird place, mentally. I get pissed off, disappointed, and I lay on the attitude real thick. When that doesn't work, I usually say something extreme and walk away until I calm down... which also takes a while. It's probably my only-child upbringing, but I feel like I should make life go my way. I know life is full of disappointments, but it shouldn't be. Life should go our way, and when it doesn't, there has to be hell to pay. Anyone who doesn't agree, does not think highly enough of them self. Since when did it become OK to just get shit-on and take it? "Oh well, that's life, I'll just bend over a little further..." Fuck that.
I'll pay my dues. I don't have a false sense of entitlement, I just expect more out of life... and I'm going to fucking take what is mine. We ALL should. Fuck a cubicle, fuck Mom and Dad's house, fuck this economy and the plummeting fucking stock market. It's time to take this society to the next level by any. means. necessary. I have no more patience for this shit, slow-fuck society. Everyday I drive to work, speeding past lazy slow fucks who drive like they're going nowhere in life. And you know what? They're going nowhere. Fuck 'em. I know people are with me, and it's time to leave the rest of these floundering fucks in our dust. It's time for our generation... our people... to rise up and put this world on notice. There's a caged tiger in cubicle AT, and he's very... fucking... pissed off.
I am by no means a type A personality, get-up-and-go douchebag. I am, however, a self-diagnosed crazy fuck who has had too much unnecessary pressure placed on him from weird fucking directions. So my new goal in life... is to fuck some shit up.
PS: Curse more. Fuckers.
I'll pay my dues. I don't have a false sense of entitlement, I just expect more out of life... and I'm going to fucking take what is mine. We ALL should. Fuck a cubicle, fuck Mom and Dad's house, fuck this economy and the plummeting fucking stock market. It's time to take this society to the next level by any. means. necessary. I have no more patience for this shit, slow-fuck society. Everyday I drive to work, speeding past lazy slow fucks who drive like they're going nowhere in life. And you know what? They're going nowhere. Fuck 'em. I know people are with me, and it's time to leave the rest of these floundering fucks in our dust. It's time for our generation... our people... to rise up and put this world on notice. There's a caged tiger in cubicle AT, and he's very... fucking... pissed off.
I am by no means a type A personality, get-up-and-go douchebag. I am, however, a self-diagnosed crazy fuck who has had too much unnecessary pressure placed on him from weird fucking directions. So my new goal in life... is to fuck some shit up.
PS: Curse more. Fuckers.
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