I'm not drunk

drinking 6% wine with a screw top.  i'm also developing a less formal style where i am just "rappin" with you.

i drank through 2 bottles of fake sangria.  Boone's and vine arbor.  both taste more like wine coolers than real wine.  since real wine sucks I guess this is a good thing.

despite my "new" less formal writing style (witness no capitalization bitches)  i just wrote a long ass speech that included dialectics, my analysis of Hegel's master/slave dichotomy, heideggerian dread, the real threat of the robotic overthrow, etc.  you know the usual shit you read on this blog, but shoved down your face through a feeding tube terri-schiavo-style.

which just means that the whole time you want to die, and i just want to collect on your insurance money, and the whole "maybe you are moving, maybe your not -it's just a random stimulus reaction" is creeping me out. 

that kind of cerebral feeding tube approach to writing led me to the cerebral approach to drinking i took tonight. (beer over wine)

the buzz with wine is mature, more mellow and relaxed than you get pounding shots of goldshlager.  also wine makes you buzz faster than beer. though lite beer has less calories.  boone's wine has 450 calories a bottle.  which i guess means i will have to give up eating.  not eating is good as i am a fat ass again as i have put on 15 pounds that i lost when i gave up drinking soda a few months past.

started drinking soda again and like wam bam man the pounds just waddled back onto my side fat.

in the only good news "style wize" peeps are digging my "kicks."  i get a hell of a lot of unsolicited compliments on my fake chuck taylors.  you can get yours at 10 bucks a pop at walmart just tell'em romius t sent you and i make like a 5 cents for each one i sell.

that's not true of course, but wouldn't it be funny if hundreds of you peeps bought like mad amounts of fake chucks and wrote to the company and said i sent them and then walmart got all pissy and pussy about me sellin' they shit on my site since i make like 16 rape jokes a day on this site.

p.s. if you are not watchin the louie tv show over at fx networks you are like missing out on like the funniest show ever and shit.  truly fucking epic shit.  makin fun of homeless people, queers, aids.



louie tells you that you are less moral than you think just like i do only he usually just talks about himself and never goes after the audience as much as i do because he's all about money.

just the other day the fucker walks through my line at work and i was like

"holy shit LOUIE CK"

LOUIE CK says "o, man thanks."

I look aver at the band of misfits that clog up my line behind him

"folks, this guy is a millionaire, you should mug him on his way out."

he laughs a little but looks behind him a little nervous like because after all he is kind of bitch.

then i go,

"i got a bone to pick with u man.  i've been writing the same shit you do for the last 7 years on my blog, and i'm not a millionaire like you."

CK "well, you know... with all due respect...you probably aren't writing as good as shit as i do."

I throw ck his bitch ass change.

"I hope somebody rapes you on the way out."  I yell at him.

He laughs a little again and says, "i kinda thought that one was funny."

I shoot him back a deadly serious look.

"you would, you little faggot."

I need a vampire girl friend (revamped)

You'd think by now I'd be fed up with how things are. How my life sucks, how I hate my job, and how I am all alone in the world.  But for some reason no matter how much shit I throw at myself I never reach the point where I say, "enoughs enough!"  I am a bottomless pit.  Throw all my regrets down the well and you'll never hear them hit the ground.

Not that I'd ask your advice, but I bet you'd say that if I want a girl friend I need to quit being so needy.  One way to quit being needy is to follow through on my plans more.  Two weeks a go I made a plan to get my haircut.  I finally got my hair cut yesterday.  Sure, it took me a few weeks more than I thought it would, but a hair cut is about all the accomplishment I can handle in a week.

Given that I have gotten something accomplished this week I think I will overlook the phone call I got from the ex internet g/f.  She asked me if I ever went to the doctor to get a check up.   I told her no.  Then she asked if I had a death wish and I told her, "Nobody wants to live to 60 anyways."

I should have gone to the doctor, because I am dealing with a cold.   I am having trouble swallowing.  It's really kind of annoying. On top of not swallowing properly, I keep waking up in the middle of the night.  I jerk out of some fitful sleep unable to catch my breath.  I don't know if my throat is closing up again (because I am drinking soda), or if the cold is making my throat shut down, but either way I wake up gasping for air and then settle down for a nice long panic attack.

Panic attack subdued I finally fall asleep around 9am.  Then I wake up around noon and lie in bed panting like 14 year old Labrador Retriever.  I stare into the fan until my eyes bleed.  I shift back and forth on the bed uncomfortably looking for a position that keeps me from sweating, but I am also looking for a position that does not force me to inhale the full gale force of the wind machine.

It's a tough balance to  seek.  But my tossing and turning fails and mostly I just end up with a dry throat, coughing,  and blowing my nose into tissues which seems to only further dry my sinuses out.

Another thing is I seem to be peeing a lot.  Just tiny amounts though.  I am forced to get out of bed every 20 minutes or so.  I assume my prostate is fucked.  I can't believe that 39 years of age can be reached and the body can really fall apart like this.

I know what some of you are thinking, "Maybe this is all in your head."  Maybe.  But if so, I am so far down the delusion of hypochondria that I can no longer tell what is real.

Rather than got to a doctor I am self medicating.  I have not masturbated in 5 days.  I am hopeful that not spending my energy masturbating will enable me to power through this cold, or at least the closing of my throat.  But if I die in the middle of the night know that my last moments were panicked moments  full of sheer terror.  My biggest fear is suffocating to death.

If I am going to die tonight I hope I shit out my prostate before I suffocate- that way I can die in my sleep.  My insides having evacuated themselves during sleep my unconscious brain would never turn on to let me know I was dead.  I could then join the undead instead of  date them.

Hold on a sec.  Got to go pee.

I sit on the toilet when I pee.  Otherwise, I am afraid that the pathetic dribble of my stream will fall onto the carpeted floor of my bathroom.  Who has carpeted bathrooms?  I do.  That is how fucked my life is.  How uncontrollably wrong every aspect of my life is.  It's another thing keeping me from getting a girl friend.  Have you ever dated a man with carpeted bathrooms? I doubt it, but if you did I know you never respected him.

I have a pool of blood sitting on top of my toe nail.  I wish you were a vampire.  That way you could wake up every morning and I could sustain you with a nice little before breakfast moment of bloody toe sucking.  You could suck on my toes and would overlook how deformed I am becoming.  I have let the toe nail thing go to long and I think I will need some kind of plastic surgery to right myself.

I can't be seen in public by a woman anymore.  I think that's why I don't go on dates anymore.  Imagine me trying to explain that I have had an infected ingrown toe nail for almost 1 and 1/2 years.  Imagine explaining to your non-vampire girl friend that you have health insurance, but that you are too confused by the promotional literature to pick out a doctor.

Non-vampire girl friend would not understand how worried I am about my 300 dollar deductible.  I am sure that a non-vampire girl friend would be unable to reconcile my concern when faced by counter factual  evidence like my internet searches for cell phones and upgradable memory sticks for my desk top computer.

She would also question my use of ecstasy tonight which will cost me 25 dollars.  I am sure a vampire girl friend would not.  Vampires live in a sort of vague hedonism from what I have learned.  Also, since they self heal a vampire girl friend would never find the wisdom in saving money for health reasons.

"I can't die."  My vampire girl friend would tell me.  Then she would go on about how I can't live forever without being turned and that since I was in "such bad shape" she'd never consider the idea of "being tied down to such a blob for eternity."  Then she'd say that I might as well forget about all that stuff because I will be dead in the blink of lifetime for her.

I would massage her back and she'd suck on my toe and then later that night we'd get some dinner at Denny's and she'd lament how they never get the liver "raw enough" and nibble hungrily on some of the dead meat of my toe all the way back to my apartment where we'd watch something sappy on TV, because vampire girls love the same tv shows they loved before they got turned.  And at some point my new vampire girl friend would want me to talk about her decision to cut off her hair and bleach it blond.

"I know it's nothing like what most normal vampires do."  She'd say.  "But I love it!"  She'd exclaim.

Her hair does look nice.

"It's all about change and how you adapt to it."  I'd offer up eagerly.

And we'd probably fumble around a bit in the dark and then my penis would get soft too soon for her and she'd ask to suck on my toe again and I'd be like, "Yeah, whatever."

Lucky Devil

Jarrod has on one of those jogging suits.   Like the kind I'd imagine you'd see people wearing in Central Park in New York.  Only we weren't in New York City.

We were in a dive bar close to Mesa, Arizona.  Mesa is a city of few hundred thousand Mormons and undocumented workers.  Mesa is the 38th largest city in the United States.   Not that you'd ever know that Mesa is larger than Oakland or Miami, cities that get way more national exposure,  because Mesa shies away from being in the spotlight.

The citizens of Mesa prefer it that way.  There are well documented reports out of Ohio concerning  visitors from Mesa who they say have "passed out from shock" after seeing other cities "who's downtowns didn't consist of vacuum repair shops, second hand piano stores, and oddly realistic sculptures of people sitting on benches."

I take a sip from my beer and notice Jarrod taking a photo with his cell phone.  Jarrod's attempt at photography has a way of reminding me of all those photographs one see's on MySpace.  You know the one's where teen girls point the camera at themselves from flattering angles in order to make themselves appear skinnier than they are.  The girls pout their lips, strike a pose, and flash some gangster signs.

I am sure there in nothing more troubling to the minds of the disaffected youth of South Central L.A. than seeing some milk toast Mormon in Arizona flash a peace sign into the poorly aimed bathroom mirror for a self portrait.

Not that Jarrod is trying to hide his fat.  In fact, Jarrod is in quite good shape.  I don't know Jarrod very well, so maybe it would be unwise of me to characterize him so quickly for you, but you should imagine Jarrod as a person who likes to go to the gym quite often.

He is the kind of guy who lifts weights for no other reason than to shave the middle of his chest so that he can point out his 6 pack of abs to you in a totally non-homo kind of way that just says, "I like to take care of my body, and I don't mind if a male acquaintance of mine appreciates that fact for me."

Hopefully I just did for you.  I want to bond with you Jarrod.  Even though I've never used the word "bro" before.   I didn't call you "bro" but that's not because I'm uncomfortable with my sexuality.  I'm just not Italian enough.

Since I am not full blooded Italian I don't buy or apply mousse, wear gold jewelry, or use pet names for my male friends.  I think my lack of über maleness may have something to do with the fact that my Italian father abandoned me (and his half-Native American wife) shortly after I was born.

My mother hated her red skin.  Mom learned her self-loathing from her father (who enjoyed using 'the belt' on his grandkids), so I never asked him about my "Indian" side.

I'm not Italian, or Indian which is why I fit is so well in Mesa.  I'm the kind of guy who can be a regular at a bar for two or three years before any of the local patrons learn my name.  I don't stand out in physical appearance which is must be why I learned to be so charming and mentally acute.

I think Jarrod is drawn to my intelligence.  We are having a nice conversation about cell phones.  He's recently purchased a brand new HTC Droid Incredible.

His phone is amazing and I am unapologetically covetous towards it.   Jarrod enjoys showing off his phone to me.  He allows me to run through the various home screens, and shows me all the various features of the phone like the 8 mega pixel camera.

What I am truly impressed with is the speed of the browser.

"The internet on your phone is faster than the internet on my home computer."  I tell Jarrod.

Jarrod nods and smiles at me.  "Wow."  He says.  "That's pretty crazy."

The only complaint Jarrod has about his phone is the short battery life.  In the middle of our conversation Jarrod excuses himself so he can leave to recharge his phone.

Part 2 is when Jarrod returns to discuss clubs, hookers, and ecstasy, and why all the girls on his Facebook are insanely hot.

My modem died

If you don't follow me on Twitter then you might not know that my internet modem died a few days ago.  I am in the middle of upgrading my service to a whopping 12 mpps.  A dramatic increase over my 5 mpps DSL line.


I think my set up needs fixing!

I'm getting a true fiber optic line instead of the phone line that I have now.  I was promised that it will really increase my speed as my current line is buggy and needed 300 dollars worth of repairs to get the 5 mpps I was paying for.

It will cost me an extra 10 dollars a month.  Don't worry with all the donations my readers give me this won't be a problem.

I hope you know I am being facetious.  But I won't complain.  Even though I just did.  I cut off my Netflix to get the extra juice so I hope it's worth it!

Internet maybe spotty as  I did the install myself.  Also there will be disruption when the new line comes in.  So if you are hoping for lots of posting, then you can keep hoping but I am not sure how much I will be blogging over the next few days.

The real problem with me getting the upgrade is the cost of the install and such.  I am getting 2 months of service free and the install is being spread over 3 months so let's hope that thee is no sticker shock with this upgrade or I will be left holding a very fancy modem (2 antennas) and not much else.

If I get super broke there is always gambling.  I could take my check out to the casino and play some 8/16 Texas Hold'em.  If I win I be set.  If I lose, not much difference in my financial situatuion really.

Things are looking up for me, just the way you are trying to look up Miley Cyrus' dress- I guess you have no understanding of 3 dimesions

Things are looking up for me.  Well not really, but I figure you get tired of me saying the same thing in every post about "how things are looking bad for me," or that "I am sitting in feces" and "melting in my apartment in the 90 degree heat."

I've turned on my air conditioning, and that means that the shit is basically staying in my ass.  I even bought some of those preparation h wipes for the ass, and my hemorrhoids seem to be a little more under control.  At least I don't have the uncontrollable urge to scratch the inside of my ass anymore.

My landlord was over today and has promised to put in a new couch for the apartment, along with a carpet cleaning, and some other stuff to get the house looking nice for the new roommate I will get.  He is replacing my old roommate who did not like paying his share of the rent for 2 years.

So maybe things are looking up for me after all.  That is until I get the electric bill next month.  Then all the shit hits the fan as they say.  But until then I am eating double cheeseburgers, and drinking malt liquor, and getting ignored by family members and friends.  All the things the now "second best" looking serial killer of all time enjoys doing.

I'm not really getting ignored by my family members.  They are just "indifferent" about listening to the new podcast.

I get asked for my number

It's not every day that I get asked out by a black girl.  From what I have read black women have a hard time of it in the dating world, because black men are all in prison or in the NFL, and if they run touchdowns for a living you can bet they are dating white woman, because white women are tired of waiting for white men to have enhancement surgery (if you know what I mean.)



The woman that asked me out is the daughter of 2 elderly customers that come in to my store to buy rum once or twice a day.

I guess I should feel lucky that anyone would feel the desire to ask me out.  The same way you should feel lucky that I decided to post this blog, because it had been almost a week and you had no heard from me.

I know that gets you worried, but the truth is that I was just sitting at home drinking Full Tilt Malt Liquor and wondering how that made me any different from the ghetto black woman I turned down the drink with.

Is it that I don't go to the grocery store drunk and shout at my mother and grandma to buy me shots and then drunkenly ask out random fat white dudes?



Leif said I should have gone out with her, and maybe I should have.  But I am still waiting for Miley Cyrus to turn 18 so that all the stuff I want to do to her will be legal.

Now for a second bit of good news.  I've uploaded another podcast.  Go check it out at the webpage I created for it.  You can subscribe to i-tunes and various other RSS feeds and the like there.  You can also check out new episodes via the widget on this blog.  It's the green monstrosity that you can't miss blinking to the left at you.

The podcast only allows me to upload about 100 megs a month.  So I have reached the max that free subscribers are allowed.  We will have to get this podcast so popular that I get enough donations that I can buy the pro service they offer.  Or you can just wait till next month for you podcast getting pleasure. I'm sure I know what will happen.

The one about my attorney and the 12 year old Mongrel child

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Christina Ricci still has a giant head and Miley Cyrus may be a slut, but I am going to celebrate my new reader, whomever he or she is

I just got my newest follower on blogger.  That makes 26 people who read this blog everyday.  I love my followers, because I am sure they are just like me.  Sitting in squalor on a feces covered cushion in front of their computer with their leg hopping up and down like they are coming up on coke or meth (most likely meth as we both know you can't afford the good shit.)

So what if both of our breaths smell like Comet?  Mine is mostly from this long term experiment I am running where I try not flossing, and I only brush my teeth in the morning, and yours is from mixing bathroom chemicals in your bathtub and snorting the resulting compounds.

I imagine the results you are getting from your white trash drug making are similar on the brain to the effects one gets sitting in a 91 degree apartment for hours on end.  Only at least you get a buzz.  All I get are sweat stains in my underwear that leak something awful on to the folding chair that doubles as my computer chair.

It makes for a smelly fucking place to be at.  But what the hell?  Like covering your giant forehead with bangs it seems that all my plans are doomed to fail, if not fail at least make me look like an ass that "sweats the fact" that she has a giant forehead even though half the fucking population wants to use me as their personal sperm incubator.

I don't have problems like that because obviously I am a talentless schmuck who's 40 years of laziness and stupidity have finally caught up with him, and now I am reaping what I have planted which is anything but a good time now that I can't afford Ecstasy or air conditioning.

I don't mind sucking.  Because sometimes I think that not sucking would suck.  If you don't suck then you have to spend all your time learning how to flaunt your adolescent sex appeal to overage perverts who get off to your muffin puff and camel toes. You can't afford to not appeal to as many people as you can possibly appeal to because you've got hundreds of people depending on you for their dinner.

I may be poor but I can afford to sit here and complain to you   even though I am sure that the experts would argue against it, because anytime I start sharing my life you start getting depressed for me, and we all know how Americans hate being depressed.

The only thing Americans hate more that depressed people are people with bad attitudes or negative people with low expectations and winy cynical senses of humor that suck the life out of the party that Nero-like is somehow still going on here in America.

The place may be burning down, but we are still going to have fun.  We just need to stay positive.  The emperor may have no clothes.  But any day he's gonna plug that mother fuckin' hole.

Either way it's all good with you.  I know when it comes to my new readers that I can get away with saying whatever I want, otherwise how the hell would I have grown this motherfucking blog from nothing to over 26 readers in just under 7 years?

Bootstraps, motherfucker.  Bootstraps.  I got'em.  And I am going to be pulling these motherfuckers up till I am sitting in the apartment on feces-less chair, texting on my Droid 2 rocking Android 2.2 and a1Ghz Snapdragon processor and feeling the cool breeze from my air conditioner pumping out at me at a chilling 84 degrees.

It'll happen bitches.  And then you are going to be impressed.  You are going to want me to write my memoirs, which you promised you would buy for 16 dollars each on Lulu.com, but which you won't because your roommate taught you how to steal pdf files and save them to your i-phone 4g.  All because you are like some kind of Apple fan boy who never learned that i-Tunes is a bullshit hippie Nazi scam that was probably instituted by Goldman Sachs in some short selling derivative scam that is too complicated for me to explain in under 2400 words and which you have probably read about by listening to pbs' this american life.*

*All you need to know is that the Jews did it.  I am sure of it.  Just like the Jews keep me from getting my novel published, and busted up my the non-binding pilot offered to me from Comedy Central (all we ask is that you tone down the- antisemitism--even after the public relations disaster of attacking unarmed peace activists?---yes, but maybe you go roundabout and try masking your shit with anti-antisemitism---if I could pull off that shit, I wouldn't be working in a grocery store ass-hole!

Fuckers.

If you've got kids then you need to read this post

In case you were wondering this is Miley Cyrus' camel toe.

Sitting in my undies and the house is 92 degrees today.  In order to prevent dehydration I've got two fans pointed at me, and I am drinking decaffeinated ice tea.

I have a lot of things on my mind, but the thing I am most worried about is how the Reddit.com link I submitted is getting down voted. Current status? I have 2 down votes to 1 up vote.
No one on Reddit seems to get that my submission was a joke about time travel (which should play well with all those nerds and geeks that read Reddit), but it turns out that the geeks and nerds that read Reddit.com are just too young to get sarcasm even though they have never know a life that was not distanced by irony.

Whatev's.

I am trying to decide if I want to take a shower and go get something to eat.

I don't have to.

I do have some left over bean/meat burrito mix which was quite yummy last night, but what I really want to do is get a cola or some soda or caffeine as the tea I am drinking has none so it makes the whole idea of eating left overs unappealing.

Another bonus for going out is that the temp is super hot in here and going out would enable me to cool off for a bit inside WhataBurger's awesome A/C.

I was supposed to go to luch earlier today, but the whole world ditched me in favor of going to the welfare office (or some such and other activities all of which include not hanging out with me.)

I wonder why anyone would ditch me when I could enamor them with tales of a not finished post on Memorial Day?  (A post that I now have to back date, because I waited too long to write it.)

The post has nothing to do with war, but so what?  When do any of the things I write stay on topic?

I should run to the store and get a coke and eat some burritos then I could stay home and finish the old post (not that any of you are waiting on my next post so what does it matter, eh?)

I think I am bummed out because way too much sweat is collecting around my ribcage, and I have a shit load of laundry to do.

I know what you are thinking.  Does this mean you are trying to get "real" and make this blog like super personal like you were a 19 year old girl?  I have no idea, though I am out of testosterone since I just jacked off.

I should have gotten up earlier, so I could have had Indian food for lunch.  I love Indian food and live close to the best Indian food place in the Valley.

I think I could live on Naan bread alone for the rest of my life. If given the choice of just one food item that had to be eaten for eternity I would choose Naan.

Speaking of hypotheticals, would you torture 2 children to save  5 million people?  That's the story line from the movie Unthinkable.



I got to say I think I would.  Ironic, since I oppose torture on principle.  But you got to think if you have actionable intelligence then maybe you got to torture.

Here's how I'd do it.

First you split the kids up.  Next you take the first kid and take him to daddy.  Shoot kid in face.  Don't even ask dad a question.  Next tell dad that you are video taping this.  Tell him you will show video tape to second child while he is dying.  Tell Dad you will kill child by having him eaten to death slowly(maybe by tiger or some kind of flesh eating virus.)

While dying, Kid has to watch tape of father refusing to save boy. We promise to resuscitate child as often as possible so that he must die several times.

Second child would be watching interrogation/our plan for him.  Bring child in to show father he is still alive.  Offer a chance to have father give up info.  If father refuses start torture of child.  Tell father that we may keep him alive just to make him watch child die by being eaten to death.  We may kill him and revive him as well as much as it takes.  Maybe give him a few months of relaxation to get him to forget and start over.  This time with cousins, random children, any other family members you can find.

*random factoid* If you Google "how to kill your baby and get away with it" you will get no useful information.  Somebody ought to fix that.

I think I will.

Don't use bleach.  It does not get rid of blood stains.  Do not buy cleaning supplies.  This is obvious to police investigators.  Do not Google "how to kill your baby" this is also obvious.

More hints on the way so make sure to check back to this page as I will update it as often as I can!

I defend the Nazi's on Memorial Day because I chase controversy the way Tara Reed chases tequila shots with beer

Happy Memorial Day!


Remember that when you are at war...anyone against you is your enemy.  The enemy is your "enemy" only because he is dangerous.





I like to speak in tautologies. 


That's because stupid people (here I mean you) are always thinking that they've heard something profound whenever they hear a sentence that "uses different words to say the same thing twice where the additional words fail to provide additional clarity when repeating a meaning."


At the risk of offending some, I don't have that much to say about Memorial Day.  


I won't lecture you about grilling steaks and taking your 3 day holiday for granted, because I don't believe in giving lip service to the banalities that you hear on TV.  And I am not going to tell you how I honor "their service" because I don't.  


The sad truth is I never think about the "sacrifice" all "these people" make to secure me my freedoms.

According to the Onion I am no different than anyone else who is not a member (or a family member) of our Armed Fighting Forces

I may not be a super patriot, but I won't defend myself by  guiltily regurgitating the silly left wing reaction that "because service men volunteer to join the Army  just to blow shit up" we should get to mock the white trash that take bullets for us in far off strange countries.


The truth is that getting to blow stuff up is a great reason to join the Army, and if the service did not require push ups to enlist I would have joined up for the very same reason.


But don't go jumping to conclusions.  I  have problems with military service.  For one, I don't think we should defend this country.  I have my reasons.  Allow me to enumerate. 

1. We do a lot of bad shit in the world.
2. We have a history of doing evil.
3. We do evil shit to ourselves (like the working poor and middle class who do the fighting for us thereby letting the rich win the class war.)

These are just facts.  If you don't like them, then you should avoid caring about facts the way Sara Palin does.


Now that we have thought about those facts for a second let me extend to you a corollary to these facts.  Nazi Germany may have worked out okay. You know sometime later.  In the long run that is.  Because overall the Germans are a civilized  people and would have seen the errors of their ways just like Americans eventually decided that slavery was bad.


Most Americas even feel guilty about the genocide that we committed at the hands of the Indigenous population that was here before us.

There used to be a hell of a lot more Buffalo than there are now.  You fucking Genocidal American. 

If America can overcome the history of genocide that started this country, if it can overcome the heinous sin of slavery that allowed it to prosper, and learn from those experiences to become the beacon of light that allowed it to kill 200,000 Filipinos in the 20th century without blinking,  then surely we can fathom a future * side-place where the Germanic people could have overcome their little "Jewish problem."


So if the Armed forces aren't necessary to defend us against the greatest evil of the 20th century are they really needed at all?  Muslims don't have much in terms of an army.  And none of the countries we are currently bombing and killing are able to do much other than grab a few box cutters on commuter flights.


I told you I don't think we are worth defending.  And the second point was that I am not sure if I think we need to...


But Happy Memorial Day to you G.I. Bill getting mother fuckers anyways!


*see Lost and the "flash" sideways if you want to discuss.

Go Forth and Die

In my room under my bed there is a white towel.  A crusty white towel with stains on it that I can not identify.  I pick up the towel and walk into the bathroom.  Someone has scattered dirty q-tips on the floor.  The toilet is unflushed.  My toothbrush lies useless though the cap on the toothpaste is open.

There is a commercial lying to me on TV.



I would shake my fist at you.
"They are only pants."
I would say
"They don't solve anything."

The monkey on your back is a living breathing thing.
It sucks up the oxygen in the room.
Like I am doing now.

In the shower
you let the cold water
run down your toes
You stare into the drain
for eternity.

In a few minutes
you will make a joke
or you will have a
snarky reply

I would be like you
if I could.
If I could ignore the center
of my being.

It would be a better life

do not think about the
the emptiness
of existence.

Like you
I pretend I do not see
anything

Instead
I  look up
prescription pills
on the internet.

It makes me feel better
just knowing
Xanax
is out there

and someone
lucky
is not
feeling today

My little cinnamon girl is actually a Nazi sympathizer with a hard on for Irish men who shave their pubic area

"Are you gay?"

Those were the first words Kevin heard as he sat down next to us.  Kevin looked over at the bartender like he needed to wipe the poop out of his ears.

Kevin used to be fat, but now he is not. Kevin shaved off all his hair on a whim a few days ago. If you add the shaved head to the orange t-shirt that he layered under a red vest, and then stuck a pen behind Kevin's ear, you might understand why he got asked what he got asked.

Kevin looked kinda gay, but I am certain that they don't teach bartenders to scream out at patrons  potentially embarrassing  questions like, "Do you mind if we remark upon your possible sexual disposition?"  Even at the English Bar Tending Academy of Assholery (albeit they would be talking shit with an English accent and an accent makes everything you say seem cool.)

I was sitting next to SweetLeif and farting when Kevin walked into the bar.  I think my farting is somehow connected to the fact that I am shitting yellow again.

I shit yellow because my liver is melting apart like an AIDS patient on his fourth med cocktail.  If you don't know anything about AIDS, and the multiple medications they give you to control the disease, and how when mixed those multiple medications literally eat your body apart, then do yourself a favor and try not to imagine your insides liquefying into a gooey mess that leaks out of your anal cavity onto the floor into some extra heavy duty colostomy bag.

Kevin sat down without mentioning my farts and tried to wipe the shocked look off his face.  He mumbled something to me about never "dressing down at work again" and he asked me if he looked gay.

I told him "ya." But I only tell him that because he is a homophobe, and I don't want him beating the snot out of some rinky dink twink who gets the idea that Kevin could be his "sweet daddy bear."



The bartender is obnoxiously drunk, but for some reason I am the only person in the bar who realizes this.  I keep trying to tell Leif and Kevin that the bartender is really drunk but they keep telling me that she "looks normal."

I ignore their protests, because I am on "pep pills" and pep pills give me near super human powers of observation.  I stole three of the "pep pills" Leif uses as a "diet aid" right out of his car before we both walked into the bar.

Leif is a skinny bitch that has all the girls at Wal*Mart telling him how they'd love to have his "figure."  Even though Leif is as skinny as an Olson Twin he is still trying to squeeze an extra 10  pounds off his already too thin frame.  I imagine that Leif has the same conversation with himself that the Olsen Twins have every morning before they brush their teeth together in their twin sinks.



The conversation goes something like "how fat they are," and "how they could stand to miss a few meals," and then something about "how homeless people have all the real style in the world," and how it's "too bad" rich people can't spend thousands of dollars on a outfit that makes them look like they've taken heroin for two weeks and are on a comedown and now they've stopped caring about things like showers and clean clothes, or stuff that matches, and instead they have replaced all those common sense ideas with the theory that they should "from now on" only wear stuff that looks "insanely big on them."

Thinking about the Olsen Twins has gotten me irritated, or maybe it's just the pep pills that have got me revved up, but now I am pissed off at the crazy Irish man sitting across the bar from us screaming at me how he is "Irish" and he how he needs to know if "we are" and "if we are not Irish what ARE we?"

"NOT Irish."  I tell him.  By emphasizing the "not" I hoped the drunk would get the hint that I was not interested in playing any of his ethnocentric labeling games.

But the drunk did not get the hint.

Fed up with the drunken Irish guy and the obnoxious bartender  I grabbed the pitcher of beer we were drinking and followed Leif outside to the smoking patio. Kevin walked out to his car to find his drinking cigars.  Kevin "only smokes cigars when he drinks" he liked to remind us.  Like after he smoked a cigar I was going to make him count 4 Hail Mary's or something.

"I may like to touch little girls."  I tell Kevin.  "But I am not your priest."

I don't remember why the bartender began to argue with me.  I do remember she repeated a lot of the same stuff that Robert the 5 tour Vietnam Veteran had to say to me the last time I was in the bar.

I was in a mood to argue with someone.  I like getting a rise out of her Kristine the bartender.  Though whenever we debate we mostly talk over one another.

That night her arguments consisted mostly of and ad hominem attacks on my personality (that happen to be true) like "how I am too much of a coward to defend my country," and "how I never do anything with my beliefs in the real world- if you don't count yelling at people I don't like at bars and the like."

"All true."  I tell her.  And then I remind her that I never told her that I was a "good person."  Then I told her that "just by thinking that some people" (in her case military people) "have more of right to say about how things 'ought to be' could easily lead to situations like Nazi Germany."

Now, I know that whenever a liberal like myself uses the Nazi Card that we have scrapped the bottom of the barrel when it comes to making an argument.  But like I said before, the girl was obnoxiously drunk, and not listening to anything I said, and basically kept sticking her giant finger in my face and spilling Miller Hi Life on my Converse sneakers.  She was getting annoying, and I figured calling her out as a Nazi was the best way to get her to shut the fuck up and listen.

Only what she said next got me to shut up, because she basically said that Nazi Germans were "right" to follow orders and that Nazis were better people than "faggot little commies like me" where she took "faggot" to not mean gay "Cuz I mean no disrespect to you (she points to Lief and Kevin) and your faggotey friends."

You would think things would get weird then.  I mean a drunken bartender just called me a commie faggot, and then the she defended the extermination of 6 million Jews under the pretense that people who train to kill other people should be more involved in the organization of the social order.  You might think this would cause even the backwater rednecks that populate this neighborhood bar to take a step back and think.

But it did not.

In between hugging her goat-bearded, badly tattooed, Irish, ball shaving, adulterous companion, my bartender complimented me on "having the balls to be outspoken" and "for standing up for what I believe" and "for living in a country where we can take all this freedom for granted" though I am not sure what I had to do with the last part.

I do know that the squirrelly Irish man did not appreciate that I  could keep up with his woman during a debate, and how she fawned over the challenge that I presented to her in the form of my nuanced rebuttals of her patently fallacious theories.

The final pièce de résistance? Our bar tab was free.  She insisted that we owed nothing when we asked to settle our account.

My friends left her a generous tip, and I offered to pay their way at WhataBurger.  My attempts at gallantry was soon rebuffed by the automated payment system at WhataBurger where my card was impolitely declined on no less than three separate occasions.

The evening was capped off by the inhalation of several viles full of the legal plant Salvia which at the modest 5x strength  imparts to its participant nothing more than the warm feeling of  bemusement at life's inner tragedies.

Good Nite and Good Luck to ya,

Romius T.,

Libertarianinsm is a cult.

Today I met a girl who looked just like the girl pictured below.



Really.  That pretty.

Though it turned out she was Mormon and was probably only being nice to me so she could indoctrinate me into her cult.

Women this pretty are only nice to me if they think they can get something out of me.  Usually the thing they want is cash.  Which in my case is not a lot.  I usually only carry 4 dollars in change and a bus pass on me.

My poverty only pisses off the strippers that unluckily end up sitting next to me.  The conversations we have are usually brief, but sometimes they are hideous entertaining.

The girl I met at work today smiled at me a lot.  She had the prettiest little smile you have ever seen.  It was a smile that showed something of her soul.  It was like she really was as nice as she appeared when she gathered up her grocery bags and told me to have a "really great day."

I was basking in the glow of her comment when my
Mormon courtesy clerk told me that "that chick you thought was hot, was a Mormon."

My face just crumbled.  I sighed and shrugged my shoulders at him.  "I guess there is no hope for me after all."  I said.

My bagger just nodded at me.

"It's funny how you still get your hopes up after all these years." He said.  "Your so old."  He reminds me.  "When are you ever going to learn?"

I guess maybe never.  Just like the American people never learn.  The Texas Bumpkin with the funny economic beliefs might be a racist, xenophobic, Christian  fundamentalists, who would rather offer up his daughters to a rape craving crowd before he'd ever hire watch a couple of dudes play Howdy Doodie in the parking lot of his Holiday Express.



The girl at the grocery store is just like Rand Paul or John Stossel.  She dresses nice and seems like a normal person.  But you can't take anything she says seriously.  Remember, she's in a cult. 

I should have been wary of the sparkle that girl had in her eye for me.   Just like you should have been wary of the sparkle in John Stossel's eyes, or in the folksy charm of a crusading Texan and his melon headed offspring.

People on a mission always have a zest for life.

I bet if you ran into the path of one of the crusaders  he would have sat you down and insisted on telling you about the "invisible hand of the free market" that guided him down to this spot.  He would have told you that rational thinking is silly.  He would tell you we should give up on thinking and just relax.  Let the market take its course.

Then he would have fed you some bullshit about how companies are "constitutionally protected people with civil rights."  With feelings as well i guess since we aren't allowed to insult BP.

All I know is that corporations serve at the pleasure of the government.  And hence is you want the protections and privileges that are now provided in perpetuity (like not paying taxes) then you have to understand that the corporations are not "private entities" but are in fact "vehicles of public accommodation."

That fact is plain and apparent to everyone (even to an asshats like John Stossel.)  The fact that he and others (I'm talking to you Rand and Ron Paul) would try and conflate the private individual (with his rights and protections) with a public entity like the corporate stock company makes me more than sick to my stomach. (It gets me a little gassy too.)

You can try a trick like insisting that corporations aren't "public" but "private" but only if you are under the influence of an all encompassing world view that structures your every thought and belief.  In short a cult.

Let's be honest.  I'd convert for a cult where I got to keep a hot chick on my very own planet.  But that's because Mormonism is my kind of cult.  Unlike Libertarianism.  Which is a cult.  But a cult with only one hot chick.

I should have put a ring on it

I'm sure you've all seen the latest video making headlines around the world.  It features a group of 7 year old's dancing to a routine they call "All the Single Ladies."

Some say that the dance routine is "pretty out there."  Though it does validate my idea that I should buy a van and get a personal license plate that says "Ilostmypuppy" because nobody will care.*

I'll get away with my idea as long as I can suggest to the public that what I am doing is some kind of "art display" and that the kids have a "good time" in the back of my van playing with all the masking tape and making construction paper dogs while we drive around looking for "their" lost puppies.

White Man, I don't understand how any of you can still get upset about social problems when you've got 7 years old's being nasty but being cheered on by their pedophiliac parents.  But I guess white people are a lost cause.

What about the Mexicans?  A reader of mine asked me to share my thoughts about the whole anti-immigration stance Arizona's government has taken recently.  I bet he thought I was as upset about the craziness as he was.



But frankly, I was just surprised by his question.  Arizona has been anti-immigration for so long that the latest craziness is  just lumped together with all the other shit  Sheriff Joe does like his raids on public libraries and the constant "rat tat tat" of the right wing machine gun in this state.

What you brown skin sympathizers need to know so as not to worry is that The Right Wing is "fighting back" only because the brown people are slowly winning over the state and that inevitable victory is what gets the white people living here  antsy.


None of this will matter soon, because all the white people will just move to Utah anyway.   I just hope I haven't alienated enough of the white race that they start to consider me "brown too" when they begin their slash and burn retreat to Utah.

I have no idea what White people plan to do after they surrender Arizona, but I am guessing it involves thousands of pounds of fertilizer.  I guess that because as a white man in Arizona (under the latest law) I am required to keep a few hundred pounds of fertilizer in a storage facility.  The government pays for everything, so I don't mind.

And the only people who seem to mind the new law in Arizona are the Mexicans.  They show up a few hundred or few thousand strong at marches and demonstrations.  But they are just pissed that Abulita might get tossed back to the dirt floors of her pueblo.  "Her bare feet scratching on the floor."

Nobody cares otherwise.  People make jokes to their Mexican friends about taking their i.d. with them.  But no one I know yet has been really hassled.  Though you will see the occasional alarmist pretend that he got pulled over and asked for I.D., but since the law has yet to be put in effect I am sure the people telling stories about driving while brown are just looking for attention and sympathy from the 6 liberals that live in this state.  And frankly it's kind overwhelming at this point, so can you please wait for the law to get in effect before you complain to me.

Also, you need to be placed in jail before I am going to get upset.  But don't expect any sympathy from me when NaNa gets sent back across the border.  She was never legal, and I have no idea how she qualified for food stamps when my broke ass making 14,000 dollars a never did.

You may want me to sympathize with your plight and join your marches because, "she has been in the USA for 50 years," but she still speaks broken English.  (Though she made me some awesome tortillas the other day!  Thanks NaNa!) But the thing is I don't even protest against the shit that effects me.  Why I am going to stand up for you, Jew-boy?

Unlike the liberal outsiders I am not going to worry about proposed bills from the Arizona legislature.  Heck, every year some idiot proposes some new law.  Like the guy who thought it was a good idea to allow people to take guns into bars and clubs.  You know to curb drunken violence.  I am sure that law worked.  I hardly ever get shot at now when I go drinking because all the gangsters now think that the rednecks are carrying concealed weapons too!

One more victory for white America.

But like I said we all know this is the "end game" here.  The Mexicans may have lost the shooting war, but they are way better prepared than the white man for the population war.  The Mexicans will continue to breed like good little Catholics who have never heard of Trojan condoms, and the only hope white people have of maintaining their customs is to marry some of the lighter skinned Mexican girls who feel dirty when they get in bed with a dark skinned Latino.

The truth being that Mexican women love white men more than any other race.  This is a fact that I can speak to personally.  My store location is 40% or more Mexican, and I get looked up and down by the middle aged Mexican women they way I look at...well let's not worry about who I am looking at...just know that these girls can't get enough of me and I have to beat them off with a stick.



So don't worry White Man.  Sheriff Joe is not going to arrest you.  And most likely that law wont pass muster and the Supreme Court will not allow Tempe cops to arrest NaNa.  She will continue to sell her tortillas outside the grocery store, and and maybe some of her cute nieces won't get fat (if you inculcate the snobby white girl attitude into her that you love so much), and while that means they won't cook or clean for you, it does mean they will be a little dirtier in bed than your white ex wife, because we all know immigrants bring their loose morality and their  indigenous promiscuity to the bedroom.  Just pray you don't get the Aztec STD as I hear it takes a blood sacrifice to get rid of that one.  And I hear the blood sacrifice involves 7 year old's and a strange fertility dance routine.

What I am saying is that there is no reason to panic about Race wars.  Just go back to playing the Atari 2600 or if you parents are lucky enough to have bought you the 5200 then play with that.  That's what I am going to do.  That is until I am outnumbered and outgunned.  Then I unlock the storage faculty, and hop on a bus to Utah, where we have a decent pro basketball team (even if we do have  few more black people on it that necessary!)

*Best thing about the Mexican takeover?  The 7 year old dance troupe video will be on prime time TV and all the grandmothers will gush how cute it is! I'm thinking Governor Terminator outta just let Arizona be the land of the pedophiles.  He don't need that whole island thing when the culture that is taking over already sexualizes their children to the point that most hebophiles get uncomfortable.

When I get my hands around your throat it will be a good thing. All I need to do is feel the life come out of you. One breath at a time.

If I could only get to you fuckers when all my shit is fresh then you would be eating out my hands.  I still wouldn't feed you much.  I like you better when you are thin and hungry.

I have a lot of work to do this weekend.  I have to file an answer to a wage garnishment.  I have to get a haircut.  I have to buy one of those 2.5 mm to 3.5 mm headphone adapters so I can listen to V-cast videos on the Env3 when  I ride the bus home.

I have to write my long term review of the Env3 and send it in to Phonedog.com as part of a plan to get a gig writing reviews.

I was going to incorporate two of my latest rants into the review of the cell phone, but both are so long forgotten that all I can remember is a tweet from one of them.  It went something like, "Dear Middle class: You have been abandoned by all the political, economic, and cultural institutions of America.  Please understand this. The middle class is dying.  The rich have won the class war.  Now it is time to blow this shit up and start over again."

That is the TELL and not the SHOW of it because I can't remember the SHOW of it anymore.  So you will just have to deal with the lame crappy over handed TELL.

Again.  Deal with it people.

But that whole idea got me thinking and getting pissed off at lawyers and I had a big ass rant about how they don't know anything "they just know how to look stuff up."

It's true.  Ask a lawyer anything and all you will ever get as a response is "it's complicated but.."

The simpler the question you ask a lawyer the more the lawyer will look at you like your dog does when you try and explain quantum physics to him.

That's because lawyers don't know anything. Unlike say a doctor. Ask a doctor a fucking easy question and he gives you a fucking answer.  Ask a doctor a difficult question and she will start telling you some shit that you can't follow even when she condescends the conversation down to your level.

Doctors are pretty smart.  I bet most doctors are smarter than me.  But that's not the case with lawyers.  I'm probably smart enough to be a lawyer, and that should make you worry.  All you need to be able do to be a lawyer is know how to look shit up.

It took me 5 minutes on the internet to find out how to answer a wage garnishment and find a way to make around 200 dollars of my income a week except. I'm sure some lawyer would have charged me two grand for that which would have made the whole thing a push and sent money from the working class to a member of the moneyed elite rather than one of the evil institutions of financial power.

Either way working people all fucking lose there!

All that got me thinking about all you posers out there with your fucking rockabilly outfits, and your fucking scarfs, and your leather pants, and all the fucking winter hats you wear in the fucking summer, and I began to want to puke on my self from the fucking retarded nature of your shit.

None of you are fucking rebels.  None of you want anything other than to be nostalgic for the immediate past.  You want a biographer so that you can pretend that everything you do has some kind of quasi importance.  That's why you twitter yourselves every three seconds. You Facebook. You have take fucking pictures till the albums come out of your fucking ass.

None of you want to change anything.  None of you want to risk anything.  You are all perfectly happy chasing alternative versions of the American dream that some marketing asshole has thought up while chewing on Kraton and wearing a 134 dollar t-shirt and rocking one of those obnoxious trucker hats.

He's fucking laughing at you all the way to the bank.  And you've traded away real security for access to cheaply made commodities.  (I'll hyper link some this later you fuckers!)

Well at least you have lowered your expectations to getting things like the coolest cell phone and the nicest pair of shoes because that's all you'll be getting.  Your gonna lose your homes.  Your gonna lose your retirements.  Your gonna lose your medical care.  Your gonna watch as we repeat the mistakes of the 60's and 70's.  Your gonna watch how we never stopped the war.

Fucking hippies.  They think they stopped a war.  What?  20 years too late.  After we had committed genocide and determined that only a full scale nuke attack would prevent the yellow man from attacking us.  Then you see all those generals getting sick of war.  Suddenly they don't have the stomach to fucking wipe a race out.  Now they want to leave, and all you fuckers getting mellowed out on Quaaludes thought you had something to do with that.  Whatever.

Just like the fucking emo crop of losers we have now who sit back and let the volunteers kill as many Muslims as we can.  We are no fucking different.  We are a bunch of fucking losers.

We, Collectively that is.
Not YOU!
You are a fucking winner!
I saw you at the fucking peace rally.

Like I give a shit.  This society is beyond repair.  What the fuck.  Go out and fend for yourself.  Just don't stop at trinkets. Go get yourself something.  Go on a real bender.  We've got nothing to lose anymore.  This is not even a society anymore.  This is moral decadence that even the Nazis could be ashamed of.   Our moral decay world would silence the crowd at a Roman Vomitorium.

Make us proud, DADDY! And choke on your puke!

I never killed 40 innocent Asians, so I guess I ain't never done nothing to deserve to fucking be an American

By not knowing me in real life you missed out on the best night ever!  You're just fucking blog readers so you have no idea how great it is to be my friend!  I can't even describe to you what last night was like.  But it was awesome!

I was in rare fucking form tonight!

I pissed off a fucking 5 tour Vietnam Veteran at the TailGate bar.  I was going off on how the ruling class is "stealing all your motherfucking money." I must have pissed him off because then this mother fucker asked me the most bullshit question ever.

He's like, "what the fuck have you done to deserve fucking being an American?"

Now I should point out how I was already in a fucking shit hole of a fucking mood.  I opened my mail earlier in the day to discover yet another fucking wage assignment against my paycheck.  My third.  More than 25% of my salary which is against federal law.  Not that fucking knowing any fucking lawyers as friends has helped my fucking ass here.

So I am pissed that the worst of America is fucking going against me already, and I am ready to take on all the comers who have something to fucking say for this shit forsaken bullshit crap ass country of ours.

Now is there any of my blog friends who wants to hang with me when I am going off on a 60 year old 5 tour fucking Vietnam Vet for saving our country from them Evil Comms?

I fucking doubt it.  It's fucking uncomfortable to tell off a man for killing people after he tells you that he has killed no less than 40 fucking VietKong to, "serve his country."

You have to call this man a fucking murderer.

Have you ever called someone a fucking murderer?

They don't take it fucking lightly.  And this murderous asshole was no exception.

"Tonight is going to be fucking epic."   I told Leif.

I know the thought was just like a thought out of a character from a Chuck Klosterman novel.  And the truth is it fucking was.

Now, I know I won't be able to fucking transpose the shit that went down like Chuck would.  If you feel like you have to confirm what I am telling you, just ask Kristal.  She listened to maybe 10 minutes of my "epic going off."  And she was not one of the recipients of my verbal blasts, she was just a lucky a bitch that got to listen to me go off on others.

"Look none of these people KNOW anything.  The mere fact that they are HERE proves to me that they don't KNOW anything, because anyone who knew ANYTHING would not be HERE!"  I yell into the cell phone at Kristal.

I am not screaming this so much as I am "telling it" at top of my voice.  What I am doing is talking as loud as I can without seeming like I am screaming.  I am doing this because the MBA bartender behind the bar is staring at me again like she can't quite figure me out.  She worries about me like I am some kind of freak.  Like my idea of fun is dipping my genitals in peanut butter and heading out to the local pound.  But I am not just some kind of fucking Chuck Klosterman archetype.  So while I think the whole idea of 66 year old forgetting her responsibilities and dipping her genitals in peanut butter and getting it on at the local pound is hot, it's not exactly my idea of fun (if you can catch the fucking David Foster Wallace allusion there...)

Weird thing about Chuck Klosterman.  His arms are fucking weirdly old looking.  I saw a picture of him on the internet and her was wearing a blue sweater with an untucked dress shirt beneath, it just like he described one of the characters in his work.  The only thing is that he never discussed how he or the character had arms (and I am speaking here specifically of forearms) that were excessively old for this age.  Like forearms that were 40 or 45 years to old on a 34 year old.


Creepy old fucking arms, dude! My arms look 10 years younger at 5 years older!

Here's my problem:

Imagine you are my friend and we are at a Chinese buffet for lunch.  This has nothing to do with how Chuck loves Chinese Buffets. (Really, just a weird coincidence.)

I don't want to be at lunch with you, because the last time we talked you mentioned how "I am not such a great friend" and then you mentioned "how much of a loser I am" and how you never "asked much from me as friend" but whenever you did ask for  small favors from me "I never seemed to be able to answer the call."

I won't dignify that with a response.

But I will tell you how last night I mentioned that if I ran into "one of the cats that ran the fucking world" I would break "one of the marble statues they own over their fucking heads."

I think I repeated that several times. Each time I said it louder, because the easiest way to create drama is too fucking repeat shit slowly, and louder.

"Look."  I tell you.

"I don't think you want to fucking fuck with me today."

"I went head to fucking toe with a 5 tour Vietnam Veteran about how I deserved to be a fucking American more than he did."

Like I told that Vietnam Vet, Vietnam was never a threat to America.  If you can't get you head around that and you want to offer me the "we won it so bug off bitch" defense then I guess you can get down with genocide you Hitler, racist, sonuvabitch.

You can see how this idea might be correct from a certain point of view.  That the killing of innocent brown men is what started this country and kept it going.  And they might be right.  I mean I am pretty sure white people killed a lot of innocent colored people, or kept them in chains, and that was pretty much how we got this country, and how after we got this country we spent something like 750 million dollars on developing super close 5 razor blade system shavers that get closer than any single razor blade ever got in the 17th century without much of the risk that once associates with single blade shaves that one thinks about when one thinks about early American barbers and their barbaric practices like hot towel shaves.

But maybe I digress because maybe after all white people are not defending genocide but simply defending the technological advances of 5 blade systems over the the pathetic, technologically inferior shaves of our ancestors.  And if this is all they are trying to do then I am taken aback with my stupidity.

But on the other hand if what they are defending is the brutal system of exploration and destruction that controls the world as we know it, then I think I am on firm ground with the WIKI of the basic causes of the Vietnam war which goes something like "we don't like democracy if the votes go against us and in favor of economic systems that 'in theory try to benefit' the masses over the ruling classes."

Instead we break down the salt of the earth in our hometowns and convince them that killing strangers with different colored skins is a good idea for democracy.

I need to find a a fucking statue.

Are we all doomed because one day robots will be smarter than people? What's left of morality now? Decadence?

A long time ago this blog lost its edge.  The blog lost its edge because it stopped being about you so much, and started being  more about me.  That's when you got bored of this blog, and that's when I got bored of writing for it.

Now I just write in this blog for the hell of it.  I don't write for the chance to get an unpaid internship at a cell phone review site. No, I write for the chance to get pimped by some Pharmacy Tech School (via a linked key word in a buried article written some two years ago) just so I can score the hundred bucks I need for some random electronic device I want.

Shit.  I'll take their money.  And I'll take yours too.  If you got a hundred or more dollars I can link your to your ass, and you can get the benefit of literally dozens of hits a year.

But it's your money, go ahead and waste it for all I care.  You probably will.  Just like the girl who wastes her time bending at the knee in full length body shots because she read how that, "elongates the body and makes you appear thin and model like."



Whatever.  You still have thick, chunky thighs like the kind that Tom Landry would salivate over when he drafted middle linebackers.

You can try and hide that shit with those big ass boots and short shorts ala Miley Cyrus, but at your age no one is buying it anymore, or at the very least no one could look past your huge thighs knowing that at least the secret treasure of undisturbed, underage pussy awaited.

Or maybe those are just my hang ups written large.

All I know is that we are doomed.  And no matter what we do... We are Doomed!

If we make the world a better place that just provides time for the robot takeover.  The human soul is dead, and if it is not dead yet it soon will be if we let the computational man take over.  Robots (and computational men) have no need for the soul they just need computation statistics and mobile phones.*

The above link is 7 pages of required reading.  Here is the teaser:


Could you live your life like this? Do you know anyone who does? A report on what it’s like to live your life based on what your life’s data you’ve recorded on your computer say you should do, in the New York Times:  (link from Disinfo.com)


*If you can't read it go away.  I don't need you clogging up the internet pathways (or tubes for that matter) that lead to this blog and from this blog to the truth!

The Robots I fear will be like the people from the article above.  People just like you and me.  Only different because the new people will not have souls.  Those "people/robots" are judged by me to be soulless, because they will live in a world where it will no longer be an "imperative to see through our daily existence into a truth buried at a deeper level. Instead, the self of our most trivial thoughts and actions, the self that, without technical help, we might barely notice or recall, is understood as the self we ought to get to know."

In case you did not know let me tell you as loudly as I can that "we are living in a time of transition from human to the robot."  We have been living in that time since Nietzsche pronounced the death of God though we did not know it then.

Back then Freddy felt it was okay to live in a decadent age like ours, because he thought that the future was at least semi-open. How sanguine.  Freddy even thought we could even become masters of our fate.  Who knew the father of the Holocaust could be such an optimist?

But he was wrong.  The future is not open.  The future is dead.  And all we have to become is the humanless.  All too humanless.

Somebody should tell the FBI that Miley Cyrus has a new video out

Miley Cyrus has a sexy new video out and I think you should check it out.  And by check it out I mean masturbate to it.  Unless masturbating to minors is illegal in your state.  In which case I would never suggest doing things that are illegal, because from what my attorney has told me, "even suggesting to someone that they should do something illegal, can itself be illegal."

Well, isn't that a bitch?

All I can say about "that" whole idea is "that only a lawyer would come up with an idea like that."  I mean just telling someone to jump off a roof when you're six shouldn't get you in trouble- even if you are the older brother.

I thought the little fucker could fly, or in any case at his weight I figured the fall would do him no harm.  Like a lady bug that gets dropped from a tall plant and falls harmlessly to the ground.

I mean it's not like I had a degree in physics in the sixth grade, and I am sure my brother was old enough not to have to listen to me.

He had free will! 

(According to my Pastor who spoke in my defense-god love him!)

Either way, now I have to walk around with a felony on my record.  The only thing worse is that I am made to suffer from the constant watch of the authorities (all because I am the number Google search for FUCK THE FBI BY BUYING AN SVU ON CRAIGSLIST.)



Is it me or do things not seem fair in the universe?

On to less fair shit...

I'm gonna be losing my phone and internet service, because I have a lazy and incompetent roommate who avoids work like I would avoid you on the street.

In addition to the LRS (Lazy Roommate Syndrome) I have no money because I have 2 garnishments on my wages.  Which is just another way of saying that if I was a naturalized Pakistani you might not want to cell me any fireworks or alarm clocks if I drive up next to you in a tinted Land Rover.

I prefer Land Rovers.


What can I say?


How about I promise that if you give me money I will buy a Land Rover, but even if I get it the windows tinted (I live in Arizona) I will not go out of my way to blow shit up.

So if in the next few weeks or months you notice I am not blogging it all has to do with the fact that I can no longer afford  basic cable, phones, or even the internet.

Send me your cheap laptop!

I will need something WiFi because I plan on sleeping at the local 24hr WhataBurger, because at least they have air conditioning, and I don't because I don't have an extra 300 dollars a month to buy electricity anymore.

Are we happy Capital One?

I bet you are you fuckers!

Did I read that the SVU terrorist wanted to blow up the financial center of NY just like in Fight Club?

Maybe we should have given that guy a tutorial on ignition switches.

p.s.

Happy Miley Cyrus Masturbation Day to ya!

Mr. Adada has a message he'd like to share with you about CHARITY FUNDS

Like a middling rock band past their hey day you sit and type into your computer.  Like those rockers you have no expectations, and nothing to prove. You know no success will come of it.

But you are not worried about the future.  You never have been.  The  future is not real.  You are Zen Buddha, motherfucker.  You live only here... in the now.

But somewhere in the 21st century "living in the moment" got mixed up.  You don't feel authentic even with the freedom to do nothing.

If you had any passion you'd get really angry about the second wage garnishment they just slapped on your wages.  You'd go after those fuckers, or at the very least you should have put up a fight and gone to the hearing.

You could have put on a show at that court house.  You could have wasted hours of the court's time talking about the shady practices of loan companies like credit card companies and student loan providers.

You.  The victim of scuttle bucket efforts.  Vain attempts  to remain solvent in these decadent times.

But what is that sliver of truth that cuts at your mind just as you get the righteous anger of the indignant?  Is it that you owe the money?  That the markets and justice system are right?  That society has sanctioned you, and you should accept its judgement?

Don't we live in the best of possible worlds?  Who are you to cry white man?  Don't the silent just whimper and die?  Don't the starving masses wish for your life.

Have you not yourself asked others to get mad about something important and not the naked self interest that sits behind the mask of self pity?

"That's not a call for impotence."  Some part of your mind reminds you.  Funny.  Some part of you mind demanding reason from you.  But you are used to ignoring that part of your mind.  Even the neurons that clamor for your attention in some Minskiesque show down realize how futile such a request is for you.



No.  You are way past learning from your mistakes.  You are just a wagon on the road.  The wagon goes where the road does.  Newton works his magic here.

Karma is a lot like undisturbed momentum. Maybe that's why you hate Karma so much.

Fuck Karma.  Fuck responsibility.  Fuck the little magic man in the sky for not coming down to save you.

And most of all.  Fuck the momentum of it all.