I’m petty. I don’t think anything brings me as much joy as my war of paltry attacks against the society that has scorned me. By society it generally comes down to coworkers, though I have been known to take on particularly objectionable strangers at the store, on the road , etc. when their offense deserves it.
The past few days, I’ve been at war with my co-workers. Why? Because I hate them. Why? Because how can you not hate people that you have to be around all day? And how can you not hate people that you have to be around all day and the only thing they know to talk about is what they hate about today, work, each other, etc. I know, that’s kind of the complaining pot calling the complaining kettle black, but I’m better for the following reasons.
1) I’m way more funny in how I complain and I do a lot of it in writing
2) I do most of my bitching in writing so that makes it art, thereby forgiving it.
3) I acknowledge my own hypocrisy and I do not try and defend it whereas my coworkers don’t even see the fact that are being a bunch of wining, bitching, slug ls of feelings of entitlement and thinking they are such a fuckin’ snow flake.
4)I me and they are not.
Anyhow, I’ve been waging my war lately. I just like upsetting these people. No big reason behind it, other than I secretly hate them all and like them to be upset. I’m a bad person, but you can’t fight what you are.
Today, several plans that I laid the groundwork for are coming together.
First, Operation Hire Back the Girl Everyone Wanted to Fail:
So a few weeks ago, I hired this gal who just moved up here from the south. She was a super sweet girl and did really well. I work in an office mostly full of white people and new girl was black and I was actually shocked and disappointed to find out that I work with a bunch of bigots. No one said anything, but they treated her like a novelty and were always pointing out her "blackness" and were very eye rolly about her. I’ll tell you what though, she was the best damned hire we have had in quite a while. She was professional, did great on the phones, handled more lines than our receptionist is capable of doing and excelled at ever task I gave her. But all these fuckin’ hens around here would just sit around and say things like "She won’t be here long." and "Do you really think she is going to get it?" It’s not that fuckin’ hard of a job, but these cunts around here like to act like it is. So anyway a great girl to work with, oh yeah, and she used to work at Hooters so everyone was like "Slut" and acted like she was such a lower class person. They ignored the fact that she held that job for six years which is longer than most of them have held any job and not to mention I know about all these hens and the dudes they bang and the ones they banged before they got married. (I love email surveillance). Anyhow, she quit without notice because she had just moved up here from a long ways a way to be with her boyfriend who was transferred here and I guess the shit hit the fan and it sounds like she freaked out over a dirty house or something like that and she called me and told me she was quitting and going home. I was bummed. I love working with people who aren’t too good for their job and know how to listen to direction and know the right way to present themselves in a professional manner. So then she called me a couple of days later she calls and she says that she’s staying here and if we were willing she’d like her job back. I told her I’d let her know in a couple of days. So I decided that I’d hire her back. So the whole office found out that she called and asked for her job back (that’s the trouble with having calls go through a receptionist)and everyone one was coming to my office asking if we were hiring her back and I just told them I hadn’t decided yet. I already knew, I was going to hire her back on a part time basis and see how things work for 90 days or so. But I wasn’t telling anyone. And then today, actually in the middle of me writing this, I met with her and hired her back, but before she even got out of her car, I had people in my office saying "you’re not really hiring her back are you?" and just being cunts in general, like she had done something to them personally. Here’s the thing though, I know that she is going to quit again. I know that I shouldn’t hire her back. I know it’s a terrible thing to do, but I don’t care, I love watching these bitches run around flapping their jaws like it has anything to do with them. I really love watching it, they just work themselves into a tizzy and then when you tell them things like "It really doesn’t concern you." They go even crazier, but they can get as mad as they want, because when it comes down to it they have no ability to make any decisions at all and the beauty is, because they’re all sniveling cunts. I love life.
Second, Operation Piss off the self righteous college student.
I hate college students. Why do they think they are so smart? I know that they’re reading lots of text and taking test and getting drunk and fucking each other and everything and if that makes them all super smart and what not, but do they have to be fuckin’ obnoxious? They’re not the first fuckin’ ones to hate Bush, you know? Any how, we have these one little brat that works here that thinks she’s pretty hot shit and walks around acting like not only is she an expert on all matters domestic and international, but like she is a coinsure of the best in high fashion that Target can provide. But you know, that open back blouse would look a lot better if her back wasn’t so hairy and acne filled. Anyway, she comes in two days a week and acts like she deserves the best desk, the best computer, on and on. She snivels about her pay and how she should receive a pay increase in advance for learning new skills. So about a two months ago, I noticed her that she had a pretty fancy key board at her computer. It wasn’t really all that fancy, just with the CD player controls and some web browser (Gosh I hope web browsers isn’t an out of date term) and it’s shaped all nice for typing. She said something like "Oh, I just asked them to order me a new keyboard and they got me this one." I know that was bull shit, but whatever. So the other day, I’m hooking this computer that we got back from the shop up and I see this nice keyboard, and I decide that I want it. So I take it. I really don’t give much of a shit about the key board, but it bugged me that she thought that she deserved it and then lied about it and fuck, she works like sixteen hours a week at the most and I’ve been here for like seven years. So I took it. I can fire her, I can take her key board. That’s right, I fuckin’ said. I may not agree with the system, but it’s the one I live in right. So I took it. Oh yeah, and we’ve been having some computer problems at work lately, so she hasn’t had a desk top to work on lately and I’ve been having her use the lap top. And then I come in to work a few weeks ago and there is this note triple taped to my chair from her telling me to make sure and call the computer guy so that she has a desk top to work on. That really bugged me. I know what my fucking job is, and I know that I have three computers with the computer guy right now, because we buy pieces of shit and they are always in the shop and I know that we need them back. I could give a shit less if she works on a desk top or a lap top. So that’s the other reason I took it. And I’ve seen her go to desk and take it and move it to whatever desk she’s working on. I’ve told people not to do that. Not for any real reason other than it’s a waste of time and it bugs me when people think they can move stuff around that doesn’t belong to them. So for all of these reasons, I took the key board. I watch her come in this morning and go to her desk and then start walking around to every desk looking for the keyboard. She finally comes to my office and start to tell that someone stole her keyboard and sees me typing a way on it and says
"You took my keyboard."
"It was upstairs. I like it." I told her.
"It was ordered for me." Then I watched her remember her lie. I love that face. Then shoe goes on to tell me all of the good things about it.
"I work forty hours a week. I’m keeping it." I went back to working. She stood there for a minute and then walked out. Now she won’t talk to me. I don’t care.
Well, there are a couple of other things that I’ve been doing lately, but those are the one’s that have been the most fun for me and this entry is way to long.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Aliens Controlled My Childhood
Fear has been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. Fear controls me. It’s right up there with guilt and shame as far as what motivates me. So what am I afraid of? You name it, I’m scared of it. Well that’s not entirely true any more. Frankly it may be, but I’ve just set my life up as such that I really don’t have to deal with my fears much. Except spiders, but lucky for me, my cat is a spider hunter.
I don’t think I’ve ever a brave person (except for a six to twelve month period when I wanted to die and just didn’t give a shit). I think I was always liable to be scared, and grab my mother’s leg, but I remember the first time fear gripped me and changed my life. I think I still feel the effects of this even now.
I was five or six years old. Everything was kind of going along just fine and dandy in my little kid life. I hadn’t yet come to the realization yet, that I was poor and we were living in squalor. I was pretty happy. Content with life and just kind of happy. My dad’s sister and her husband came over one night (we had a lot of visitors back then, because we were the poorest of a generally poor family and people like to visit down the social-economic ladder) and I think it was shortly after we purchased our first VCR. My aunt and uncle had a huge VCR tape collection, all of them were recorded from TV or pirated. They brought over this tape called UFO’s are real. I’m pretty sure my dad and my uncle went out back and smoked a doobie before we watched it, because they were silent and very into it. My dad was and is a chronic sci-fi geek at the heart anyway so the hope of hot-ass aliens sluts was never far from the front of his mind. So there we all were, piled in our tiny living room in front of our second hand television watching people tell their horrific stories of being abducted, probed, and whatever else aliens do. I was doing okay, I was creeped out, but not terrified and then it happened. They showed a drawing of one of these big eyed, reptilian looking mother fuckers and it was over, man. It was just fuckin’ over. I didn’t take a piss without waking up my brother and having him come with me for like two years and if he refused, I would go and piss on the furnace that ran up the wall in the living room. It would evaporate the pee, so no one would know. I don’t know why the hallway was the where I was sure the Aliens would lurk, but it was. I did not willingly go outside in the dark, or even in a dark room for probably ten years without someone near by. I thought about aliens, getting abducted by them and just turning the corner and seeing one about once per second until I was a teenager. I pissed the bed until I was eight because I just wouldn’t get up to go to the bathroom. I still don’t think my parents know that all the money they spent on my "don’t pee the bed alarm" was wasted money. I knew every time I pissed the bed. I would just lay there and do it. I would much rather face the shame of pissing myself than set foot into the darkness. I remember vividly a handful of nightmares that I had involving aliens. It was always, turn the corner and their they are and that was what I always feared. I never imagined being beemed up, or anything like that, I wasn’t scared of that. I was just scared that I would see one and no one else would be there to confirm it. I had friendships end and major fights with my parents as a result of not stepping foot into the darkness. I would go home from friends houses because they were watching alien movies, I was fuckin’ scared. Seriously for a decade or better, I was just scared. Like I said, I began designing my life around the fear. What I would and wouldn’t do was dictated by how much alien exposure the event produced.
Then, when I was twenty, I was up on a mountain at a festival of kinds and the entire camp was asleep, except for me and this one dude, who I didn’t really know and we were looking at stars through a telescope. He was focusing in on something or other when I looked over the right and saw a perfect row of five orange lights slowly and evenly lowering toward the trees. I wasn’t scared. I figured that this guy would know what they were. I said "Hey, what’s that?" And the fucker freaked out. He was all like "Oh my God! My first UFO sighting!" And began trying to change lense out on the scope looking for the right lense to look at something that close. He handed me a pair of binoculars and was like "Here, see if you can see anything." Then I was nervous, not scared as much as nervous. There were like five hundred people sleeping on the side of this mounting and I didn’t give a shit if I died, as long as the rest of these people saw everything that I did. I ran up to camp to wake everyone up, but they all just mumbled as I excitedly told them that we were about to have a close encounter. I ran back down there and looked desperately through the binoculars, but then it had disappeared. My friend with the big scope just quietly tried to de-fog one of his lenses and I was just stunned. Not so much that I had seen a UFO but that I wasn’t really scared. I was kind of stoked. Then it was back. The five orange lights. I looked at it through the binoculars and he managed to get a scope on it. I was sure I saw shape between each of the lights. The he got the scope in focus. Turns out, we were looking at parachute flairs (we could see the smoke coming off the lights) from a nearby army base. I felt very liberated as I walked back to camp in the darkness.
I’m not totally over that fear, btu I took the final step today. I ordered a copy of UFO’s are real from Amazon. I’m going to watch it and see if I can avoid another decade of fear.
I don’t think I’ve ever a brave person (except for a six to twelve month period when I wanted to die and just didn’t give a shit). I think I was always liable to be scared, and grab my mother’s leg, but I remember the first time fear gripped me and changed my life. I think I still feel the effects of this even now.
I was five or six years old. Everything was kind of going along just fine and dandy in my little kid life. I hadn’t yet come to the realization yet, that I was poor and we were living in squalor. I was pretty happy. Content with life and just kind of happy. My dad’s sister and her husband came over one night (we had a lot of visitors back then, because we were the poorest of a generally poor family and people like to visit down the social-economic ladder) and I think it was shortly after we purchased our first VCR. My aunt and uncle had a huge VCR tape collection, all of them were recorded from TV or pirated. They brought over this tape called UFO’s are real. I’m pretty sure my dad and my uncle went out back and smoked a doobie before we watched it, because they were silent and very into it. My dad was and is a chronic sci-fi geek at the heart anyway so the hope of hot-ass aliens sluts was never far from the front of his mind. So there we all were, piled in our tiny living room in front of our second hand television watching people tell their horrific stories of being abducted, probed, and whatever else aliens do. I was doing okay, I was creeped out, but not terrified and then it happened. They showed a drawing of one of these big eyed, reptilian looking mother fuckers and it was over, man. It was just fuckin’ over. I didn’t take a piss without waking up my brother and having him come with me for like two years and if he refused, I would go and piss on the furnace that ran up the wall in the living room. It would evaporate the pee, so no one would know. I don’t know why the hallway was the where I was sure the Aliens would lurk, but it was. I did not willingly go outside in the dark, or even in a dark room for probably ten years without someone near by. I thought about aliens, getting abducted by them and just turning the corner and seeing one about once per second until I was a teenager. I pissed the bed until I was eight because I just wouldn’t get up to go to the bathroom. I still don’t think my parents know that all the money they spent on my "don’t pee the bed alarm" was wasted money. I knew every time I pissed the bed. I would just lay there and do it. I would much rather face the shame of pissing myself than set foot into the darkness. I remember vividly a handful of nightmares that I had involving aliens. It was always, turn the corner and their they are and that was what I always feared. I never imagined being beemed up, or anything like that, I wasn’t scared of that. I was just scared that I would see one and no one else would be there to confirm it. I had friendships end and major fights with my parents as a result of not stepping foot into the darkness. I would go home from friends houses because they were watching alien movies, I was fuckin’ scared. Seriously for a decade or better, I was just scared. Like I said, I began designing my life around the fear. What I would and wouldn’t do was dictated by how much alien exposure the event produced.
Then, when I was twenty, I was up on a mountain at a festival of kinds and the entire camp was asleep, except for me and this one dude, who I didn’t really know and we were looking at stars through a telescope. He was focusing in on something or other when I looked over the right and saw a perfect row of five orange lights slowly and evenly lowering toward the trees. I wasn’t scared. I figured that this guy would know what they were. I said "Hey, what’s that?" And the fucker freaked out. He was all like "Oh my God! My first UFO sighting!" And began trying to change lense out on the scope looking for the right lense to look at something that close. He handed me a pair of binoculars and was like "Here, see if you can see anything." Then I was nervous, not scared as much as nervous. There were like five hundred people sleeping on the side of this mounting and I didn’t give a shit if I died, as long as the rest of these people saw everything that I did. I ran up to camp to wake everyone up, but they all just mumbled as I excitedly told them that we were about to have a close encounter. I ran back down there and looked desperately through the binoculars, but then it had disappeared. My friend with the big scope just quietly tried to de-fog one of his lenses and I was just stunned. Not so much that I had seen a UFO but that I wasn’t really scared. I was kind of stoked. Then it was back. The five orange lights. I looked at it through the binoculars and he managed to get a scope on it. I was sure I saw shape between each of the lights. The he got the scope in focus. Turns out, we were looking at parachute flairs (we could see the smoke coming off the lights) from a nearby army base. I felt very liberated as I walked back to camp in the darkness.
I’m not totally over that fear, btu I took the final step today. I ordered a copy of UFO’s are real from Amazon. I’m going to watch it and see if I can avoid another decade of fear.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Thoughts on Thoughts
My mind has been in an odd place the last couple of days. As I start, this I really have no idea what I’m going to write, but something needs to be written. So lately, my life’s been kind of building up to this one big project and then it ended. The last couple of days have kind of been a sigh of relief from that and I’ve accomplished next to nothing in them, which is fine. I’m pretty excited to have all the work behind me, but there are plenty of other things that I need to do and now I need to get started moving on them.
I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts lately. I don’t’ really know what it is that I want to do. Join the fuckin’ club, right? If somebody asked me what I wanted to do in life, I have an answer; I have words to tell them, but sometimes lately, I just don’t feel it. I feel like my previous passion has become an almost artificial agenda. Maybe that’s it, I don’t like feeling like I have an agenda. I tend to dislike people with some cause that they are constantly trying to move forward. Then again, I usually dislike people like me anyway. Maybe it’s that life and my goals seem so polished and inorganic and like it’s all a sales pitch. It all just makes too much sense. I don’t think I like that, it’s not natural. I like having holes in things that I can stick my finger in and just keep messing with it until the hole consumes the thought.
I know that I’m more fond of the hypothetical than I am the tangible sometimes. I like to think about things. I like to sit and mull them over again and again and again. Anything. Not just my future, but things like fishing. Most of the time, I like thinking about fishing and getting ready for the trip more than I like actually doing the fishing sometimes. That’s not totally accurate. I guess I like the planning and thinking and fantasizing part of the trip a lot because I never tangle my leader or break off my fly when I’m just thinking about it and those times where that slips into my head, I just laugh and quickly undo my mess and I’m back to catching fish in no time flat. In my head, these little tangles and mishaps are easily slid to the side with a laugh and they don’t bother me; Of course when it comes down to it, I rarely have the kind of easy patience that makes picking apart a bird’s nest of leader and flies seem like not that big of deal. Clearly I can’t just sit and think about fishing and be happy all of the time, I must fish. Sometimes, when I’m going to a new river, I’m so excited I read everything I can on it, I know what is suppose to be hatching, I’ve talked to people who point me toward specific holes, etc. and by the time I get to the river, I’m shocked because it looks all wrong. The road is too close to the shore, the water is much higher than it ought to be, the fish are smaller and less willing to participate, etc. Sometimes, I even get bummed out about it.
I guess that’s kind of how things seem to be right now. Things are going good. Plans are coming together nicely. I’m feeling the joys of success in many things, and that feels... odd. It’s satisfying, but in a whole other way. I don’t know. I suppose that’s the difference between people who are satisfied with their lives and those who are not. Some people are able to sit and relish in what they’ve done and see it to completion and others just want to figure out the next thing to do, even if they don’t really want to do it.
I guess that’s all I have for today.
I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts lately. I don’t’ really know what it is that I want to do. Join the fuckin’ club, right? If somebody asked me what I wanted to do in life, I have an answer; I have words to tell them, but sometimes lately, I just don’t feel it. I feel like my previous passion has become an almost artificial agenda. Maybe that’s it, I don’t like feeling like I have an agenda. I tend to dislike people with some cause that they are constantly trying to move forward. Then again, I usually dislike people like me anyway. Maybe it’s that life and my goals seem so polished and inorganic and like it’s all a sales pitch. It all just makes too much sense. I don’t think I like that, it’s not natural. I like having holes in things that I can stick my finger in and just keep messing with it until the hole consumes the thought.
I know that I’m more fond of the hypothetical than I am the tangible sometimes. I like to think about things. I like to sit and mull them over again and again and again. Anything. Not just my future, but things like fishing. Most of the time, I like thinking about fishing and getting ready for the trip more than I like actually doing the fishing sometimes. That’s not totally accurate. I guess I like the planning and thinking and fantasizing part of the trip a lot because I never tangle my leader or break off my fly when I’m just thinking about it and those times where that slips into my head, I just laugh and quickly undo my mess and I’m back to catching fish in no time flat. In my head, these little tangles and mishaps are easily slid to the side with a laugh and they don’t bother me; Of course when it comes down to it, I rarely have the kind of easy patience that makes picking apart a bird’s nest of leader and flies seem like not that big of deal. Clearly I can’t just sit and think about fishing and be happy all of the time, I must fish. Sometimes, when I’m going to a new river, I’m so excited I read everything I can on it, I know what is suppose to be hatching, I’ve talked to people who point me toward specific holes, etc. and by the time I get to the river, I’m shocked because it looks all wrong. The road is too close to the shore, the water is much higher than it ought to be, the fish are smaller and less willing to participate, etc. Sometimes, I even get bummed out about it.
I guess that’s kind of how things seem to be right now. Things are going good. Plans are coming together nicely. I’m feeling the joys of success in many things, and that feels... odd. It’s satisfying, but in a whole other way. I don’t know. I suppose that’s the difference between people who are satisfied with their lives and those who are not. Some people are able to sit and relish in what they’ve done and see it to completion and others just want to figure out the next thing to do, even if they don’t really want to do it.
I guess that’s all I have for today.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Grandma - R.I.P.
My grandmother's funeral is this weekend. My good friend and I were exchanging emails this morning and I mentioned that I would be going to her funeral this weekend. She passed several months ago. She was cremated and has been sitting on my parents buffet ever since. It's been weird walking passed her every time I'm over there I need to use the restroom, but somehow that seems right for my family, tragic, sick, and a little funny. Anyhow, my friend and I were exchanging email and I started to tell him the above (that she has been dead for a few months, etc) and then the below came out. I know it hits on some stuff that normally I wouldn't, but I want to remember these thoughts and I will feel better if the 8 or so of you that read this thing (thanks by the way) get to hear my thoughts on something beyond what I hate or some other irrelevant rumblings. So here it is and I promise I won't make a habit of this.
My dad's mom is a sad story, because really it was being alone and without friends that I think killed her. But I remember her when I was a kid and she was a doting grandmother who loved my, brother, my cousins and me very much. She was feisty and strong, she raised six children on her own after her first husband died when my Dad was a teenager. She suffered through the loss of one of her children at an early age, but remained strong for her children. She suffered through the turmoil of children who went down some bad paths, but she was there when they needed to find their way back. She remarried once, briefly, and was strong enough to leave him when he became abusive. She loved her family and they loved her. She went camping until she was in her 60's or 70's and still enjoyed the woods even after. It was very hard watching her fade, and it was a relief when she died. I said good bye to her (in a way) via phone while s he was in the hospital a few weeks before she passed. She understood and she knew who I was and that is a real gift. I loved my grandmother for the woman she was and because she always made me feel safe and comfortable. She was a good lady and I'm glad she is with God. She wasn't woman who spoke about God and faith aloud, but to live her life and not have crumpled beneath the pressure, of it all, she must have known him. When I think about the strength it took to live her life, I admire her and love her and that is what I will think of when I think of Grandma
My dad's mom is a sad story, because really it was being alone and without friends that I think killed her. But I remember her when I was a kid and she was a doting grandmother who loved my, brother, my cousins and me very much. She was feisty and strong, she raised six children on her own after her first husband died when my Dad was a teenager. She suffered through the loss of one of her children at an early age, but remained strong for her children. She suffered through the turmoil of children who went down some bad paths, but she was there when they needed to find their way back. She remarried once, briefly, and was strong enough to leave him when he became abusive. She loved her family and they loved her. She went camping until she was in her 60's or 70's and still enjoyed the woods even after. It was very hard watching her fade, and it was a relief when she died. I said good bye to her (in a way) via phone while s he was in the hospital a few weeks before she passed. She understood and she knew who I was and that is a real gift. I loved my grandmother for the woman she was and because she always made me feel safe and comfortable. She was a good lady and I'm glad she is with God. She wasn't woman who spoke about God and faith aloud, but to live her life and not have crumpled beneath the pressure, of it all, she must have known him. When I think about the strength it took to live her life, I admire her and love her and that is what I will think of when I think of Grandma
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Two Ways To Become An Asshole
I guess all my friends, and probably myself, are at that point in life where things really start changing in big ways. Kids, careers, cults, and graduate schools graduations. As I’ve watched most of my friends degrade into different varieties of dog shit, I’ve come to a conclusion that’s not all that startling, but as I haven’t written anything (that’s a lie, I wrote two and half fantastic novel pages yesterday) in a while I have the following sentence rattling around in my head since Sunday night. There is nothing that gives a person a greater sense of self importance than government and procreation.
I’ll start at beginning. The other day, I was talking to this guy that I know who recently was hired on as staff for a state senator. He’s pretty proud of himself, maybe rightly so, I guess government, even the lowest forms of it, is suppose to be important. He’s always been a bit of a... squealy, contrary, whiner who enjoys nothing more than talking in circles, never making a point and claiming victory of the debate, even when there isn’t really a debate going on. So naturally he was drawn toward politics. I’m also convinced that he was drawn toward the politics of his father because he was never able to top his father’s biting, concise, though often irrelevant debate ending one liners. He’s always been an extremist when it comes to being a liberal. That’s cool, I’m down with extremism, I guess, but his sense of undebatable rightness even in light of his inability to really make a point has always rubbed me raw. I won’t claim to be a good debater, I’m not. There was a time when I thought I was and really wanted to be (political punk and all that), but now I realize, that my roll in life isn’t to be a master debater (that’s funny and you know it), but rather that of a cynic and maybe a sarcastic asshole. Debaters, master or not, always seem to have everything worked out too well, to be real. Academic bullshit. Anyhow, so my buddy has been in his new job for a couple of months, down at the capital building, and clearly feeling pretty impressed with himself. He’s always been an absolute environmentalist (vocally) and ready to point out the wrongs of the modern world, etc., etc., etc., but apparently his love of man and man’s "accomplishments" has grown dramatically since his transition to senator’s aid. And why wouldn’t it? Being a part of the process, wherein a few assholes (those are elected assholes, mister. {Who votes anymore?}) make big decisions not based on what is right, but what will get them reelected. But it feels big time and righteous to play a part in making laws, because after all, you are part of the elite, who are bossing other people around. I talked to my old pal for thirty or forty minutes and in the time he bashed the notion of dam removal (even two completely useless ones), basically said that man freaking out over global warming, etc. is arrogant, because the world will go on and new life will evolve, and basically poo-pooed all notions of conservation and environmentalism. Okay, maybe he’s right, maybe new life would evolve, but isn’t kind a big thing to fuck with and isn’t just a tad on the really fucking arrogant side to act like it’s your place to make the call about whether or not to let the world end. Here’s the real kicker, he’s a fuckin’ democrat. But his senator is in an area full of red neck assholes who don’t see the point of a river unless you can kill anything that swims in, cut down ever tree within a hundred miles of it and flush your toilet in it. So it’s natural right? That’s the trouble, nobody has a die hard sense of what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. It’s just how can I keep people happy and get reelected. I’m getting off point, the point is my buddy’s always been a bit of an arrogant, self important fuck (that’s probably why were such good friends, I’ve been saying I was a genius for years), but now, he’s a justified, self-important fuck because that is what government creates and whole bunch of self important assholes, who sitting around pat each other on the back and perpetuate a system that is quite frankly oppressive and favors the rich. I hate democracy (Why don’t you move?{Because, I want to stay here and bitch and hope that eventually America will stop be a screaming fucking toddler and re-invent itself as a nation of people who are socially conscious and think about something other than cool gadgets and revenge on Arabs.})
Now on to procreation. Babies. People act like making a baby took a lot more effort than it really did. Stick in your wiener, grunt and out comes baby after nine months of a woman acting like a martyr. What’s really funny, as pointed out by my lady, is that many of those sweet precious little angels where conceived while the chick was being banged from behind and phrases like "Yeah, take it bitch." and "Fuck me, you stud." filled the air. Isn’t life beautiful? Anyhow, I don’t care what anybody says, after you have a kid you start to suck. You’ll never see it, but everyone who knows you will. Those who you know without kids will notice how lame and g-rated you’ve become and those with kids will sit back and be happy that you are now just as trapped as them. It’s really weird. When my really good friends had a kid, I thought things would stay pretty relaxed and there would just be a kid hanging out and everything would be normal. Nope. Let me re-phrase that, fuck nope. While mommy is basking in the glow of squeezing out a trophy and how cute of a kid she made (it is a pretty cute kid, I’d give it a 7/10) and showing all the cool tricks it can do like smile and sit on it’s belly (the nice wholesome mommy only came after months raging hormone bitchiness and constant over defensiveness over everything {DON’T TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY BABY!!! IT’S MY BABY!! I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT CHILDREN!} Which is probably true, she did have it her gut for nine months, and if that doesn’t embed total knowledge of the complex workings of human mind then I don’t know what does. A mother naturally knows which television shows their kid should watch, it’s part of the miracle of motherhood.), Daddy is sitting around being an expert on everything, not just babies, but everything. Like all the world is his child just begging for him to direct their lives. Now let me be honest. I am a self proclaimed expert on anything that I decide to open my mouth about, but then I tend to know everything, about everything. But this new daddy, is all of a sudden all about pointing out anything that might be an example of me becoming more domesticated. I’ll admit, fuck I’ve been admitting for years. I’m getting fucking old. I’m getting tame as hell. My battles against the evil world seem less important. Cable TV may not be the evil monster that I once thought it was. Wall heaters are convenient. Human remains sitting on the coffee table might be a little bit childish. Maybe I think playing dress-up so that everybody knows that I am cool is a little silly these days, but hey fucker, I’m honest with myself. And I don’t really drink anymore because it upsets my belly. I like the typical suburban aspects of my life, I like my front lawn (too many damned weeds, but I’ll get it there), I like my back patio, I like to barbeque and I like sitting down petting the dog or cat and watching some sitcoms. Oh yeah, and I like smoking a big fat bowl about four times an evening like half of the other people in the burbs do. But this weird need of new daddy to point out everything and make these little comments like we were in a pissing match over who’s maintaining there edge, is irri-fuckin’-tating . I’m done with it, man. Take it. I don’t want to be cool, I don’t want to play dress up. I don’t want more tatoos and I don’t want to be cool and go to shows. I don’t even want to go to the fucking bars. I just want to fish, smoke dope, and read comics. Maybe finish the most genius novel of all time, and try to leave behind something beyond a big pile of trash with my name on it. I don’t get why it’s a problem. Oh yeah, and I don’t want kids and if I do want kids, I don’t need one that was made out of my sperm. There are plenty of little starving fuckers all over the world would like nothing more than to come to America and get an Ipod. I just don’t get it. Can’t people just stay cool after having a kid?
So you want to become an asshole. Go into politics or have a kid. Both are guaran-fuckin’-teed to work.
I’ll start at beginning. The other day, I was talking to this guy that I know who recently was hired on as staff for a state senator. He’s pretty proud of himself, maybe rightly so, I guess government, even the lowest forms of it, is suppose to be important. He’s always been a bit of a... squealy, contrary, whiner who enjoys nothing more than talking in circles, never making a point and claiming victory of the debate, even when there isn’t really a debate going on. So naturally he was drawn toward politics. I’m also convinced that he was drawn toward the politics of his father because he was never able to top his father’s biting, concise, though often irrelevant debate ending one liners. He’s always been an extremist when it comes to being a liberal. That’s cool, I’m down with extremism, I guess, but his sense of undebatable rightness even in light of his inability to really make a point has always rubbed me raw. I won’t claim to be a good debater, I’m not. There was a time when I thought I was and really wanted to be (political punk and all that), but now I realize, that my roll in life isn’t to be a master debater (that’s funny and you know it), but rather that of a cynic and maybe a sarcastic asshole. Debaters, master or not, always seem to have everything worked out too well, to be real. Academic bullshit. Anyhow, so my buddy has been in his new job for a couple of months, down at the capital building, and clearly feeling pretty impressed with himself. He’s always been an absolute environmentalist (vocally) and ready to point out the wrongs of the modern world, etc., etc., etc., but apparently his love of man and man’s "accomplishments" has grown dramatically since his transition to senator’s aid. And why wouldn’t it? Being a part of the process, wherein a few assholes (those are elected assholes, mister. {Who votes anymore?}) make big decisions not based on what is right, but what will get them reelected. But it feels big time and righteous to play a part in making laws, because after all, you are part of the elite, who are bossing other people around. I talked to my old pal for thirty or forty minutes and in the time he bashed the notion of dam removal (even two completely useless ones), basically said that man freaking out over global warming, etc. is arrogant, because the world will go on and new life will evolve, and basically poo-pooed all notions of conservation and environmentalism. Okay, maybe he’s right, maybe new life would evolve, but isn’t kind a big thing to fuck with and isn’t just a tad on the really fucking arrogant side to act like it’s your place to make the call about whether or not to let the world end. Here’s the real kicker, he’s a fuckin’ democrat. But his senator is in an area full of red neck assholes who don’t see the point of a river unless you can kill anything that swims in, cut down ever tree within a hundred miles of it and flush your toilet in it. So it’s natural right? That’s the trouble, nobody has a die hard sense of what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. It’s just how can I keep people happy and get reelected. I’m getting off point, the point is my buddy’s always been a bit of an arrogant, self important fuck (that’s probably why were such good friends, I’ve been saying I was a genius for years), but now, he’s a justified, self-important fuck because that is what government creates and whole bunch of self important assholes, who sitting around pat each other on the back and perpetuate a system that is quite frankly oppressive and favors the rich. I hate democracy (Why don’t you move?{Because, I want to stay here and bitch and hope that eventually America will stop be a screaming fucking toddler and re-invent itself as a nation of people who are socially conscious and think about something other than cool gadgets and revenge on Arabs.})
Now on to procreation. Babies. People act like making a baby took a lot more effort than it really did. Stick in your wiener, grunt and out comes baby after nine months of a woman acting like a martyr. What’s really funny, as pointed out by my lady, is that many of those sweet precious little angels where conceived while the chick was being banged from behind and phrases like "Yeah, take it bitch." and "Fuck me, you stud." filled the air. Isn’t life beautiful? Anyhow, I don’t care what anybody says, after you have a kid you start to suck. You’ll never see it, but everyone who knows you will. Those who you know without kids will notice how lame and g-rated you’ve become and those with kids will sit back and be happy that you are now just as trapped as them. It’s really weird. When my really good friends had a kid, I thought things would stay pretty relaxed and there would just be a kid hanging out and everything would be normal. Nope. Let me re-phrase that, fuck nope. While mommy is basking in the glow of squeezing out a trophy and how cute of a kid she made (it is a pretty cute kid, I’d give it a 7/10) and showing all the cool tricks it can do like smile and sit on it’s belly (the nice wholesome mommy only came after months raging hormone bitchiness and constant over defensiveness over everything {DON’T TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY BABY!!! IT’S MY BABY!! I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT CHILDREN!} Which is probably true, she did have it her gut for nine months, and if that doesn’t embed total knowledge of the complex workings of human mind then I don’t know what does. A mother naturally knows which television shows their kid should watch, it’s part of the miracle of motherhood.), Daddy is sitting around being an expert on everything, not just babies, but everything. Like all the world is his child just begging for him to direct their lives. Now let me be honest. I am a self proclaimed expert on anything that I decide to open my mouth about, but then I tend to know everything, about everything. But this new daddy, is all of a sudden all about pointing out anything that might be an example of me becoming more domesticated. I’ll admit, fuck I’ve been admitting for years. I’m getting fucking old. I’m getting tame as hell. My battles against the evil world seem less important. Cable TV may not be the evil monster that I once thought it was. Wall heaters are convenient. Human remains sitting on the coffee table might be a little bit childish. Maybe I think playing dress-up so that everybody knows that I am cool is a little silly these days, but hey fucker, I’m honest with myself. And I don’t really drink anymore because it upsets my belly. I like the typical suburban aspects of my life, I like my front lawn (too many damned weeds, but I’ll get it there), I like my back patio, I like to barbeque and I like sitting down petting the dog or cat and watching some sitcoms. Oh yeah, and I like smoking a big fat bowl about four times an evening like half of the other people in the burbs do. But this weird need of new daddy to point out everything and make these little comments like we were in a pissing match over who’s maintaining there edge, is irri-fuckin’-tating . I’m done with it, man. Take it. I don’t want to be cool, I don’t want to play dress up. I don’t want more tatoos and I don’t want to be cool and go to shows. I don’t even want to go to the fucking bars. I just want to fish, smoke dope, and read comics. Maybe finish the most genius novel of all time, and try to leave behind something beyond a big pile of trash with my name on it. I don’t get why it’s a problem. Oh yeah, and I don’t want kids and if I do want kids, I don’t need one that was made out of my sperm. There are plenty of little starving fuckers all over the world would like nothing more than to come to America and get an Ipod. I just don’t get it. Can’t people just stay cool after having a kid?
So you want to become an asshole. Go into politics or have a kid. Both are guaran-fuckin’-teed to work.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Thoughts On Space From A Guy Who Doesn't Know The First Thing About It
If there is something that blows my fuckin’ mind, it’s outer space. Man that is big, uncomprehensible big. I’m glad it’s there, assuming what THEY are telling us is true and that it does indeed exist, and I’m glad we know a little bit about it and can send out our little doves with cameras strapped to their backs to send us back pictures. We know what we’re really looking for, dry land.
But I like that it’s there, I like that it’s big and I like that we don’t know much about it. We haven’t’ even got our own neighborhood mapped yet so that leaves plenty to be discovered by anyone with a sense of adventure and a warp drive. Pluto, it’s a planet, it’s not a planet, it’s a planet... I’m not even sure of it’s current classification. I think I like it because if you can imagine it, it could like exist out there, three boobed women for example, could very well be out there just dancing around wanting nothing more that for some sexy Earth-boy to fly out there and give each of their nipples a good tug. Maybe, their nipples dispense Snapple, maybe Icies, maybe something cool that we don't even know about. It could happen and you’ll never be able to tell me authoritatively that it’s not out there.
So THEY tell us that the universe keeps expanding, that it goes on forever and it just keeps reaching further and further into infinity. Can you say Wow man?!?!?! Then it get’s even more crazy; The fact that it’s accelerating at a rate below "all at fuckin’ once" (that’s a real term, I looked it up) that means that there is a resistant force that is slowing down the expansion. So here is what I wonder? Is our universe taking over another one and is the resistant force that universe being all like "No!!!!! Don’t eat my universe, bitch!"? We’ll probably never know.
Speaking of things that are fucked up and my thoughts on things that I am totally ignorant about, I heard the other day that THEY (again with those assholes) are trying to create a seed. The kind of seed we are talking about is the little piece of highly condensed matter. I forget the specifics but you I think it’s the size of a pin head and weighs like a thousand pounds (or maybe it was forty). Then you drop this seed into a black hole and BAM, universe is created. So what if our universe began in a black hole that existed in another universe and then some smart ass made a seed, dropped it in and then the universe started expanding but the old universe was resisting and... you see where I’m going.
Wild shit.
But if it wasn’t for space, I wouldn’t be able to sit here and think about this crap, and I tend to enojoy thinking abotu crap.
So let’s hit on a couple of the big questions about space:
Is there other intelligent life out there?
Of course there is. Why does everybody get abducted by Aliens that look the same, because they are real. And has anybody else noticed that those aliens (greys) look an awful lot like the Guardians of the Galaxy who live on OA in Green Lantern? Very suspect.
Will humans ever inhabit other planets?
Of course. We’re a species who likes to wander around finding stuff and fucking it up. Besides, there might be weapons of mass destruction hidden on other planets.
Are aliens mean? Don’t be such a racist asshole, some are some aren’t. The ones involved in the energy trade are total assholes, don’t trust them. But the ones who get high and read alien comic books are pretty cool.
The biggest question I want to know is: Are there trout on other planets? If so, that’s where I want to go.
Well that’s it. I just stole a few minutes from your life and you’ve gained nothing by reading this. Sorry.
But I like that it’s there, I like that it’s big and I like that we don’t know much about it. We haven’t’ even got our own neighborhood mapped yet so that leaves plenty to be discovered by anyone with a sense of adventure and a warp drive. Pluto, it’s a planet, it’s not a planet, it’s a planet... I’m not even sure of it’s current classification. I think I like it because if you can imagine it, it could like exist out there, three boobed women for example, could very well be out there just dancing around wanting nothing more that for some sexy Earth-boy to fly out there and give each of their nipples a good tug. Maybe, their nipples dispense Snapple, maybe Icies, maybe something cool that we don't even know about. It could happen and you’ll never be able to tell me authoritatively that it’s not out there.
So THEY tell us that the universe keeps expanding, that it goes on forever and it just keeps reaching further and further into infinity. Can you say Wow man?!?!?! Then it get’s even more crazy; The fact that it’s accelerating at a rate below "all at fuckin’ once" (that’s a real term, I looked it up) that means that there is a resistant force that is slowing down the expansion. So here is what I wonder? Is our universe taking over another one and is the resistant force that universe being all like "No!!!!! Don’t eat my universe, bitch!"? We’ll probably never know.
Speaking of things that are fucked up and my thoughts on things that I am totally ignorant about, I heard the other day that THEY (again with those assholes) are trying to create a seed. The kind of seed we are talking about is the little piece of highly condensed matter. I forget the specifics but you I think it’s the size of a pin head and weighs like a thousand pounds (or maybe it was forty). Then you drop this seed into a black hole and BAM, universe is created. So what if our universe began in a black hole that existed in another universe and then some smart ass made a seed, dropped it in and then the universe started expanding but the old universe was resisting and... you see where I’m going.
Wild shit.
But if it wasn’t for space, I wouldn’t be able to sit here and think about this crap, and I tend to enojoy thinking abotu crap.
So let’s hit on a couple of the big questions about space:
Is there other intelligent life out there?
Of course there is. Why does everybody get abducted by Aliens that look the same, because they are real. And has anybody else noticed that those aliens (greys) look an awful lot like the Guardians of the Galaxy who live on OA in Green Lantern? Very suspect.
Will humans ever inhabit other planets?
Of course. We’re a species who likes to wander around finding stuff and fucking it up. Besides, there might be weapons of mass destruction hidden on other planets.
Are aliens mean? Don’t be such a racist asshole, some are some aren’t. The ones involved in the energy trade are total assholes, don’t trust them. But the ones who get high and read alien comic books are pretty cool.
The biggest question I want to know is: Are there trout on other planets? If so, that’s where I want to go.
Well that’s it. I just stole a few minutes from your life and you’ve gained nothing by reading this. Sorry.
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