Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Did You Hear What Happened to Romeo?
Apparently, the dude offed himself when Juliet "died".
Now, I love Shakespeare. Anyone who knows me will confirm that. However, for people to say that this is the greatest love story to have ever been written? Well, that's just silly. This story is a tragedy. What's worse is when people want to compare their own love story to Romeo & Juliet. Especially these days.
The only people who can even, REMOTELY, compare themselves to Mr. Montague and Miss Capulet are kids who are in high school and here's why. Their relationships last about as long as R&J's did. They have way more rules placed on them by their parents; like R-Dog and J-Lady. Their relationships are about as deep as these two "love at first sight" fools. Romeo and Juliet had a relationship that lasted about a week and couldn't be anything more than a lusty, superficial desire for each other. I mean, seriously, when did they have time to get to know anything about each other?
Hey, Romeo, when is Juliet's birthday?
Juliet, how many women has Romeo slept with?
These are two, really simple, questions that neither of them would have known. And, lastly, after the relationship, inevitably, ends; they want to kill themselves. Romeo and Juliet were only high school kids, themselves, after all. If this is the greatest love story ever written then every kid in high school has already lived the greatest love story of their life. And you and I both know that's just not true. It's high school. It's petty. It's cruel. And it ends with the promise of greater things after it.
So, any of you out there who insist that you're Juliet and Bobby Blowjob down the street is Romeo, I immediatly demand you stop. You'll then find out either my address and/or phone number and I want a personal apology from you. Then! I want you to fly your happy ass to England, unless you already reside there or are there on holiday, find Shakespeare's place of rest and apologize to him for trivializing one of the greatest works of literature ever written.
Do this and maybe, MAYBE, I can find it in my heart to forgive you.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Def Poetry Jam
To fulfill one's destiny is like growing from child to adult
Neither road is easy to traverse, filled with heartache and sorrow
Forks in the road lead to dead-ends and unpassable
canyons; decrepit bridges cross tumultuous rapids and unspeakable
perils wait in the dark for those wandering too far off the righteous path,
while every turn is blind with no way of knowing what is lies ahead.
However, for those willing to make the trek and follow the
path of to self-enlightenment; the reward is everlasting.
Neither road is easy to traverse, filled with heartache and sorrow
Forks in the road lead to dead-ends and unpassable
canyons; decrepit bridges cross tumultuous rapids and unspeakable
perils wait in the dark for those wandering too far off the righteous path,
while every turn is blind with no way of knowing what is lies ahead.
However, for those willing to make the trek and follow the
path of to self-enlightenment; the reward is everlasting.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Short Story 'lude #2
Tears were streaming down her face; coal black from the eyeliner and mascara that she always wears. Her thin, pointed nose was cherry red from her continually wiping away the dripping mess that was coming from both nostrils. Her, normally, cobalt blue eyes were a dull grey, puffy and smeared in a black warpaint. On most days, her chestnut hair was straightened down to the tops of her shoulders in a veil of perfection. Today, it was tangled and strewn around like she'd been standing in one of those machines that simulate a hurricane.
I used to think she was so pretty.
How people look on a daily basis, it isn't how they really look. It's all a facade; a masquerade designed to attract the right friends, to attract the right mate. It's been my experience that you only see how people really look in rare circumstances. The first is if they are sick and/or in the hospital. Most times people already feel so bad about themselves that they don't see the need to put on that mask. The second is if you break their heart. That's when the people we are become exposed for the entire world to see. The best is if you break their heart in public. Watching them try to stay composed and keep that wall up so the world stays out is worth any slanderous, derogatory and vindictive thing hurled in your direction. That's how this all started, actually.
Marie.
I used to think she was so pretty.
We met in a coffee shop. Pretty cliche' right? Like every other love story you hear about, we hit it off right away.
Laughing.
Flirting.
Fireworks.
Again, like every other love story, when we were together nothing else even mattered. Blown tire? Whatever. Lost job? Who cares. Shitty day at work? There's always tomorrow.
Everything was a paradise; flowing smoothly day in and day out. Then, one day, something changed. I can't even put my finger on what it was that changed but, everything was different. There was no laughing.
No flirting.
No fireworks.
I knew something had to be done about it so, I decided to be proactive. That's when she said it.
Leave me alone.
And
I don't love you, anymore.
That brings us back to the here and the now. That brings us back to why I'm sitting in my living room with Marie's blood staining itself into my hands and smeared across my face. That resolves the reason that Marie is propped up in the leather recliner across from me with her throat slit; bloody knife lying, shiny and crimson, on her lap and her head lulling to the side.
I used to think she was so pretty.
I used to think she was so pretty.
How people look on a daily basis, it isn't how they really look. It's all a facade; a masquerade designed to attract the right friends, to attract the right mate. It's been my experience that you only see how people really look in rare circumstances. The first is if they are sick and/or in the hospital. Most times people already feel so bad about themselves that they don't see the need to put on that mask. The second is if you break their heart. That's when the people we are become exposed for the entire world to see. The best is if you break their heart in public. Watching them try to stay composed and keep that wall up so the world stays out is worth any slanderous, derogatory and vindictive thing hurled in your direction. That's how this all started, actually.
Marie.
I used to think she was so pretty.
We met in a coffee shop. Pretty cliche' right? Like every other love story you hear about, we hit it off right away.
Laughing.
Flirting.
Fireworks.
Again, like every other love story, when we were together nothing else even mattered. Blown tire? Whatever. Lost job? Who cares. Shitty day at work? There's always tomorrow.
Everything was a paradise; flowing smoothly day in and day out. Then, one day, something changed. I can't even put my finger on what it was that changed but, everything was different. There was no laughing.
No flirting.
No fireworks.
I knew something had to be done about it so, I decided to be proactive. That's when she said it.
Leave me alone.
And
I don't love you, anymore.
That brings us back to the here and the now. That brings us back to why I'm sitting in my living room with Marie's blood staining itself into my hands and smeared across my face. That resolves the reason that Marie is propped up in the leather recliner across from me with her throat slit; bloody knife lying, shiny and crimson, on her lap and her head lulling to the side.
I used to think she was so pretty.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Recollections 2011
As we're winding down the clock on 2011 I figured that I would share with you, my faithful readers, some of the things that I've learned this year.
1: Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, some things just don't work out. And that's ok. What is important is making the effort.
2: It is NOT ok to pay for goods and/or services with gold pants.
3: People will forgive most anything if you're good at sports.
4: I have the potential to be a successful writer.
5: A majority of women only care about how a guy looks or how much money he makes.
6: Despite the increased accessability to knowledge, each generation gets dumber and dumber.
7: My generation was the last good generation.
8: People will only protest in a way that is convenient to them.
9: While a lot of people won't even work one job that they consider to be beneath them; I was able to work three.
10: There is nothing more important in life than having a group of great friends. They can get you through anything.
I've learned many, many more lessons. But, those can be saved for another day. Thanks for sticking with me, readers. It means a lot.
1: Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, some things just don't work out. And that's ok. What is important is making the effort.
2: It is NOT ok to pay for goods and/or services with gold pants.
3: People will forgive most anything if you're good at sports.
4: I have the potential to be a successful writer.
5: A majority of women only care about how a guy looks or how much money he makes.
6: Despite the increased accessability to knowledge, each generation gets dumber and dumber.
7: My generation was the last good generation.
8: People will only protest in a way that is convenient to them.
9: While a lot of people won't even work one job that they consider to be beneath them; I was able to work three.
10: There is nothing more important in life than having a group of great friends. They can get you through anything.
I've learned many, many more lessons. But, those can be saved for another day. Thanks for sticking with me, readers. It means a lot.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Fresh, Hot Deals
Well, here we are again.
Black Friday, you bastard.
If this isn't the epitome of where the world is going wrong, I don't know what is. I really don't know who to even blame for this terrible phenomenon's increased presence each year. The customers, whose rampant consumerism drags their over-stuffed and under-slept carcasses out of bed at all hours of the morning(?) in the foulest of moods to store after store after store; treating, not only, their fellow savages like the scum of the Earth but, even worse, treating the clerks and proprieters of the establishments they're ravaging like a harem of whores there to do whatever they demand. Or the stores who open earlier and earlier every single year, dragging its employees away from their families on one of the few holidays that retail workers STILL have (for now) to be subjected to the abuses that are heaped upon them like a smorgasboard of rotting Thanksgiving leftovers. Maybe it's an unholy combination of both.
Regardless, this needs to stop, people. Soon, Thanksgiving won't even be a holiday because retail is going to force it's employees to work that day (Old Navy) and people aren't going to be eating dinner with their families and spending time together because they'll be too busy shopping on Gray Thursday. Then, of course, stores are going to be open at 4 a.m. on Gray Thursday with all the raging deals and best buys of the year...until Black Friday...when the deals get hotter and more exclusive. Ultimately, this can all be attributed to the commercialization of Christmas, which, apparently, instead of being one day (December, 25th for those of you who have forgotten) is, actually, two months long; starting on November the first. What better way to celebrate the things you're thanful for in your life than to berate and belittle your fellow man?
Since, Occupy is the new big thing, here's my suggestion: Let's Occupy Christmas. 1% of people have to work 99% of the holiday. That seems unfair. I'll set up my hippie commune in the middle of the mall; I'll see you there.
Cyber Monday; you can continue as you are.
Black Friday, you bastard.
If this isn't the epitome of where the world is going wrong, I don't know what is. I really don't know who to even blame for this terrible phenomenon's increased presence each year. The customers, whose rampant consumerism drags their over-stuffed and under-slept carcasses out of bed at all hours of the morning(?) in the foulest of moods to store after store after store; treating, not only, their fellow savages like the scum of the Earth but, even worse, treating the clerks and proprieters of the establishments they're ravaging like a harem of whores there to do whatever they demand. Or the stores who open earlier and earlier every single year, dragging its employees away from their families on one of the few holidays that retail workers STILL have (for now) to be subjected to the abuses that are heaped upon them like a smorgasboard of rotting Thanksgiving leftovers. Maybe it's an unholy combination of both.
Regardless, this needs to stop, people. Soon, Thanksgiving won't even be a holiday because retail is going to force it's employees to work that day (Old Navy) and people aren't going to be eating dinner with their families and spending time together because they'll be too busy shopping on Gray Thursday. Then, of course, stores are going to be open at 4 a.m. on Gray Thursday with all the raging deals and best buys of the year...until Black Friday...when the deals get hotter and more exclusive. Ultimately, this can all be attributed to the commercialization of Christmas, which, apparently, instead of being one day (December, 25th for those of you who have forgotten) is, actually, two months long; starting on November the first. What better way to celebrate the things you're thanful for in your life than to berate and belittle your fellow man?
Since, Occupy is the new big thing, here's my suggestion: Let's Occupy Christmas. 1% of people have to work 99% of the holiday. That seems unfair. I'll set up my hippie commune in the middle of the mall; I'll see you there.
Cyber Monday; you can continue as you are.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Welcome Back
I realize that it's been a long time since I've written to you, my adoring fans (fan?). But, I'm back and I plan on sharing a lot more with you. There have been some interesting event in life and a lot is going down around the world. Moammar Ghadafi, for instance.
Get fucked, Moammar!
What else, what else. Oh, you Occupy bastards. I have an idea. Instead of sitting in a park outside of Wall Street, collecting money that you have NO idea what to do with and basically just being a complete WASTE of time; instead of all of that, why don't you do something useful? Why don't you petition the government? Why don't you find a politician you believe in and help campaign for him/her? Why don't you march on Washington? That's what all the really big movements did. They went straight to Washington and didn't piddly-ass around with meaningless, trivial gestures that don't do anything. MLK. Where did he go? Washington. And look how that worked out for his movement. Fuck, they even had sit ins and got sprayed down by fire hoses. They did something important and they'll be remembered forever. You're doing something because you're bored and you'll be forgotten by next month.
I'm getting back into writing again, soon, as well. So, you can fully expect another short story interlude in the very near future. In the meantime; get out there and do something to change lives. Even if you're just changing your own.
Get fucked, Moammar!
What else, what else. Oh, you Occupy bastards. I have an idea. Instead of sitting in a park outside of Wall Street, collecting money that you have NO idea what to do with and basically just being a complete WASTE of time; instead of all of that, why don't you do something useful? Why don't you petition the government? Why don't you find a politician you believe in and help campaign for him/her? Why don't you march on Washington? That's what all the really big movements did. They went straight to Washington and didn't piddly-ass around with meaningless, trivial gestures that don't do anything. MLK. Where did he go? Washington. And look how that worked out for his movement. Fuck, they even had sit ins and got sprayed down by fire hoses. They did something important and they'll be remembered forever. You're doing something because you're bored and you'll be forgotten by next month.
I'm getting back into writing again, soon, as well. So, you can fully expect another short story interlude in the very near future. In the meantime; get out there and do something to change lives. Even if you're just changing your own.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
10 Years: A Rebirth
It was ten years ago, today, that the greatest tragedy in our lifetimes, possibly in the entire history of our grand country, took place in New York City. It was today that extremists took control of our airplanes and used them to try and strike fear into our country. To try and break our will and melt down our mettle. It has been ten years since the darkest day in any of our memories has started to yield its gloom to a brilliant dawn.
September 11, 2001 was the day that terror failed to assassinate America. Instead, all the terrorists succeeded in doing was to reunite us, Americans. We had become comfortable and complacent in our lives and had started to forget what it was to be an American. We had let our differences come between the one commonality that we all forgot that we had. We were starting to forget that to be American was to be indivisible. The terrorists thought that this was the time, that if they struck and hit hard enough, that they could put permanent fractures into our society and splinter us apart.
Blacks. Whites. Hispanics. Asians. Rich. Poor. Educated. Ignorant. Men. Women. Christians, Muslims and Buddhists.
They miscalculated, though. They misjudged what America is, fundamentally. They failed to realize that the BEST thing about our country is that in times of hardship, in times of crisis, where most others do fall apart and splinter away, America puts aside her petty differences. She puts away anything that might further drive the stake of segregation and we unite.
We unite under fifty stars and thirteen stripes. We unite under three colors; Red, White and Blue. We unite under a Pledge of Allegiance that promises indivisibility, liberty and justice for all. But, most importantly, we unite regardless of race, sex or creed.
On September 11, 2001 we said "We Will Never Forget" and we never will.
On September 11, 2011, when it comes to what it means to be American, I say;
"Let's Never Forget Again."
September 11, 2001 was the day that terror failed to assassinate America. Instead, all the terrorists succeeded in doing was to reunite us, Americans. We had become comfortable and complacent in our lives and had started to forget what it was to be an American. We had let our differences come between the one commonality that we all forgot that we had. We were starting to forget that to be American was to be indivisible. The terrorists thought that this was the time, that if they struck and hit hard enough, that they could put permanent fractures into our society and splinter us apart.
Blacks. Whites. Hispanics. Asians. Rich. Poor. Educated. Ignorant. Men. Women. Christians, Muslims and Buddhists.
They miscalculated, though. They misjudged what America is, fundamentally. They failed to realize that the BEST thing about our country is that in times of hardship, in times of crisis, where most others do fall apart and splinter away, America puts aside her petty differences. She puts away anything that might further drive the stake of segregation and we unite.
We unite under fifty stars and thirteen stripes. We unite under three colors; Red, White and Blue. We unite under a Pledge of Allegiance that promises indivisibility, liberty and justice for all. But, most importantly, we unite regardless of race, sex or creed.
On September 11, 2001 we said "We Will Never Forget" and we never will.
On September 11, 2011, when it comes to what it means to be American, I say;
"Let's Never Forget Again."
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Interlude
And then there were none.
The birds had stopped singing and the smell of the roses outside my window had ceased to stir the emotions that were once burning inside my heart. Last week, Roseanna left me. She left this world. Escorted to the other side by two tons of American steel spearheaded into the passenger side door of her 2001 Toyota Camry by a sixty-five year old steel worker who had one too many after work beverages. She was on her way home. She was on her way to see me.
I was in bed, sick, and she had just come off the night shift at the hospital. She called me on my cell to see how I was feeling. She was always so considerate. She insisted that she stop and pick up some medicine for me, against all my objections and assurances that I was fine and this was only a temporary bug. She wouldn't take no for an answer. Stubborn. So, on her way from Wal-green's with NyQuil, aspirin and microwavable chicken soup, two blocks away from my apartment that steel worker in the pickup ran the red light. I could hear the crash through my window. It sounded like the world was coming to a horrifying, screeching destructive end and, I guess in a way, it was.
The police showed up. They dragged the old steel worker from his truck, barely a scratch on him. They handcuffed him and they placed him in the back of one of the waiting cruisers to be taken to the precinct and processed. Left in a cell overnight to sleep it off and then to be told in the morning that he was a murderer. Then they pryed Roseanna out of the driver's side of the car. The car that could scarcely be called a car any longer. They put her on a stretcher. They lifted her into the back of the ambulance and they drove her to the same hospital she had just come from.
All I could do was watch. Watch from my bed as the woman I loved was taken from me that night. As she was taken from me forever. Unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to cry.
Still, here I sit. In this same room, at this same window. Waiting for her to show up at my door.
Everything is going to be ok.
The birds had stopped singing and the smell of the roses outside my window had ceased to stir the emotions that were once burning inside my heart. Last week, Roseanna left me. She left this world. Escorted to the other side by two tons of American steel spearheaded into the passenger side door of her 2001 Toyota Camry by a sixty-five year old steel worker who had one too many after work beverages. She was on her way home. She was on her way to see me.
I was in bed, sick, and she had just come off the night shift at the hospital. She called me on my cell to see how I was feeling. She was always so considerate. She insisted that she stop and pick up some medicine for me, against all my objections and assurances that I was fine and this was only a temporary bug. She wouldn't take no for an answer. Stubborn. So, on her way from Wal-green's with NyQuil, aspirin and microwavable chicken soup, two blocks away from my apartment that steel worker in the pickup ran the red light. I could hear the crash through my window. It sounded like the world was coming to a horrifying, screeching destructive end and, I guess in a way, it was.
The police showed up. They dragged the old steel worker from his truck, barely a scratch on him. They handcuffed him and they placed him in the back of one of the waiting cruisers to be taken to the precinct and processed. Left in a cell overnight to sleep it off and then to be told in the morning that he was a murderer. Then they pryed Roseanna out of the driver's side of the car. The car that could scarcely be called a car any longer. They put her on a stretcher. They lifted her into the back of the ambulance and they drove her to the same hospital she had just come from.
All I could do was watch. Watch from my bed as the woman I loved was taken from me that night. As she was taken from me forever. Unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to cry.
Still, here I sit. In this same room, at this same window. Waiting for her to show up at my door.
Everything is going to be ok.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Can I Be Your Memory?
When is it acceptable to keep having strong feelings for someone you're not with and when does it just become pointless? 6 months? A year? Two? .......Three?? What is it that causes these feelings to linger inside your heart, ghost like, haunting you at every turn like some B-rate horror movie? A Paranormal Activity of the heart, if you will. Is it an unfulfilled potential? Is it from something that ended far before it should have? Maybe, it's from a relationship that never had the chance that it deserved.
On this blog, I pretend that I have all the answers for all of life's questions. I'll sit here at my keyboard and I'll tap-tap-tappity out some snide comment about the ridiculousness of following a set of religious rules or I'll condemn the American populace for idolizing a 40-something reality t.v. star. However, I can't (and won't) sit here and pretend to be above such things as longing for a feeling that you used to have.Yearning to just sit next to that person one more time, if only for five or ten minutes. In fact, these are the types of things that I think people should invest more effort into instead of only wanting a bigger house. Or a faster car. Or a swimming pool filled with gold coins. Do you really want to be Scrooge McDuck that bad?
If you've ever felt strongly about anyone....ever....it's crucial that you hold that memory close to you, that you remember what it's like to be able to feel that way about another human being. Regardless of how painfully it may have ended (or, if you're incredibly lucky and have worked incredibly hard it's still going). Without these desires to be with another person, without these burning passions that we share with our fellow human beings, we may as well be dead already.
It's been said many times before by people much more intelligent than I am and much more skilled with putting it into words; but passion, desire, love....these are what make our world go round. Not money. Not fame. Not being a psuedo-celebrity on a two-bit MTV reality show. People do these things because they think it will increase their odds of gaining the ONE thing that they, and everyone else, really want.
They want to be your memory.
On this blog, I pretend that I have all the answers for all of life's questions. I'll sit here at my keyboard and I'll tap-tap-tappity out some snide comment about the ridiculousness of following a set of religious rules or I'll condemn the American populace for idolizing a 40-something reality t.v. star. However, I can't (and won't) sit here and pretend to be above such things as longing for a feeling that you used to have.Yearning to just sit next to that person one more time, if only for five or ten minutes. In fact, these are the types of things that I think people should invest more effort into instead of only wanting a bigger house. Or a faster car. Or a swimming pool filled with gold coins. Do you really want to be Scrooge McDuck that bad?
If you've ever felt strongly about anyone....ever....it's crucial that you hold that memory close to you, that you remember what it's like to be able to feel that way about another human being. Regardless of how painfully it may have ended (or, if you're incredibly lucky and have worked incredibly hard it's still going). Without these desires to be with another person, without these burning passions that we share with our fellow human beings, we may as well be dead already.
It's been said many times before by people much more intelligent than I am and much more skilled with putting it into words; but passion, desire, love....these are what make our world go round. Not money. Not fame. Not being a psuedo-celebrity on a two-bit MTV reality show. People do these things because they think it will increase their odds of gaining the ONE thing that they, and everyone else, really want.
They want to be your memory.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
We're the Kids in America
When did it become ok to be a shitty parent? Was there some sort of memo that went out to the generation above me and they forgot to pass it down to me that said being a shitty parent was the only true way to parent? Remember the good ol' days; days when crime wasn't as prevalent, days when people were moral, days when children knew their fucking role in the world was to do what their God damn parents told them to do? During those days, parents knew how to raise a child. They knew that if you spared the rod you turned the child into a pretentious, self-absored asshole. (I think that's how the saying goes, yeah?)
Now, if you even look at your stupid kid the wrong way, it's, apparently, tantamount to nailing him OR her in the back of their stupid little head with a Louisville Slugger. So, what do the pussy parents do these days instead of disciplining their kid? They threaten them with bribes.
"Jimmy, if you don't stop peeing in that man's food, you won't get your cookie."
"Katie, if you don't stop jumping on top of that woman's dog, I won't let you watch Hannah Montana."
"Bobby, if you don't stop stabbing that hobo with a rusty nailfile, you're not going to get to ride the rollercoaster."
This is why kids grow up to build pipebombs in their parents' garage and then go shoot up their school. Don't blame that shit on Call of Duty and Marilyn Manson, CNN. Look at Mr. and Mrs. I-Don't-Believe-In-Spaking-My-Rotten-Child. Because you refuse to give them a REAL punishment and you only threaten to with hold a fucking COOKIE (doesn't that just SOUND ridiculous?), they don't think there are going to be any real consequences for anything they do. Even if that something is shooting 52 students in the face with a sawed off.
My suggestion? Next time your shithole of a kid mouths off to you, take your hand (open palm) and just smack it across their tiny little cheek. Not full strength, mind you, only enough to let them know that you mean business. Then point at them and tell them not to do that shit again.
To all you bleeding heart faggot parents that CLEARLY don't know how to parent (and were probably disciplined too much when you were growing up because you couldn't fucking learn to NOT be an asshole), you can also do something for me. You can kill yourselves. Don't call the discipline of a child "child abuse" you cock lickers. YOU are the reason why children today get away with murder. Literally.
In closing, I would just like to send a special shout-out to the father that I saw discipline his child at the mall. Dude, straight up, took his son into the bathroom, dragged him into a stall and spanked him right there. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Three smacks on his stupid ass and then told him that he better never act a fool in public again. Props to you, sir. Keep fighting the good fight.
**Edit: I just had this thought: Isn't it weird how pet owners are lawfully and financially responsible for any and everything their pet does. But, to be a parent means that you aren't responsible for anything that your kid fucks up?
Now, if you even look at your stupid kid the wrong way, it's, apparently, tantamount to nailing him OR her in the back of their stupid little head with a Louisville Slugger. So, what do the pussy parents do these days instead of disciplining their kid? They threaten them with bribes.
"Jimmy, if you don't stop peeing in that man's food, you won't get your cookie."
"Katie, if you don't stop jumping on top of that woman's dog, I won't let you watch Hannah Montana."
"Bobby, if you don't stop stabbing that hobo with a rusty nailfile, you're not going to get to ride the rollercoaster."
This is why kids grow up to build pipebombs in their parents' garage and then go shoot up their school. Don't blame that shit on Call of Duty and Marilyn Manson, CNN. Look at Mr. and Mrs. I-Don't-Believe-In-Spaking-My-Rotten-Child. Because you refuse to give them a REAL punishment and you only threaten to with hold a fucking COOKIE (doesn't that just SOUND ridiculous?), they don't think there are going to be any real consequences for anything they do. Even if that something is shooting 52 students in the face with a sawed off.
My suggestion? Next time your shithole of a kid mouths off to you, take your hand (open palm) and just smack it across their tiny little cheek. Not full strength, mind you, only enough to let them know that you mean business. Then point at them and tell them not to do that shit again.
To all you bleeding heart faggot parents that CLEARLY don't know how to parent (and were probably disciplined too much when you were growing up because you couldn't fucking learn to NOT be an asshole), you can also do something for me. You can kill yourselves. Don't call the discipline of a child "child abuse" you cock lickers. YOU are the reason why children today get away with murder. Literally.
In closing, I would just like to send a special shout-out to the father that I saw discipline his child at the mall. Dude, straight up, took his son into the bathroom, dragged him into a stall and spanked him right there. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Three smacks on his stupid ass and then told him that he better never act a fool in public again. Props to you, sir. Keep fighting the good fight.
**Edit: I just had this thought: Isn't it weird how pet owners are lawfully and financially responsible for any and everything their pet does. But, to be a parent means that you aren't responsible for anything that your kid fucks up?
Saturday, July 30, 2011
For You
The years they took their toll
And all the things I can't control
Come back to haunt me now
Almost taunt me now
Whats left to be afraid of
We found out what we are made of
And we've come this far
We both have the scars
Have I ever judged a book by how its bound
Am I lost or am I found
And are you with me
Are you with me now
Come back from the dead
You've been inside your head for too long
Are you with me now
Find the places that scare you
Come on I dare you
Sometimes, some things, just remind me of you. This is one of them.
And all the things I can't control
Come back to haunt me now
Almost taunt me now
Whats left to be afraid of
We found out what we are made of
And we've come this far
We both have the scars
Have I ever judged a book by how its bound
Am I lost or am I found
And are you with me
Are you with me now
Come back from the dead
You've been inside your head for too long
Are you with me now
Find the places that scare you
Come on I dare you
Sometimes, some things, just remind me of you. This is one of them.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Jesus, Muhammed and YOU!
Gods, Prophets and Deities. For some reason, these things drive people insane. For some reason, these things cause people to fight. For some reason, these things cause people to even go so far as killing innocent individuals to satiate their god's thirst for blood. But, why? What is it about religion that if the school down the street from you has one practicing Muslim in it, you need to go and blow up the entire building? (I'm looking in your direction, Norwegian dude..)
The sad part is, this isn't an isolated incident. It doesn't happen in just one part of the world and is a far more common occurance than most people want to even fathom. Right now, in Iraq, the Shi'ites are fighting the Suni for religious control of the country. I, obviously, don't need to remind you that a small, extremist Islamic faction flew fucking PLANES into our buildings AND actually believed that God, Allah, Muhammed....whatever...was going to reward them with 72 virgins upon getting to Heaven not all that long ago. From 1095-1272, Christians SLAUGHTERED anyone who didn't believe in the Lord, Our God. That's almost 200 years of Christians telling the Muslims to go fuck themselves on their way to Hell. (And the media wants to blame kids' violent behavior on video games and rap music.Tsk tsk mass media.)
It's no wonder that more and more people I talk to care less and less about any sort of organized religions these days. With events like these happening every other week, it tends to drive away the common man and attract the nut case who wants to stab a school full of children with a screwdriver. Why can't we all remember that all of our major religions were based on a prophecy of peace? What happend to loving thy neighbor? To put all of this in perspective, I'm going to close this out with words of wisdom straight from the horse's mouth.
In the words of Jesus Christ:
"Don't be a dick."
The sad part is, this isn't an isolated incident. It doesn't happen in just one part of the world and is a far more common occurance than most people want to even fathom. Right now, in Iraq, the Shi'ites are fighting the Suni for religious control of the country. I, obviously, don't need to remind you that a small, extremist Islamic faction flew fucking PLANES into our buildings AND actually believed that God, Allah, Muhammed....whatever...was going to reward them with 72 virgins upon getting to Heaven not all that long ago. From 1095-1272, Christians SLAUGHTERED anyone who didn't believe in the Lord, Our God. That's almost 200 years of Christians telling the Muslims to go fuck themselves on their way to Hell. (And the media wants to blame kids' violent behavior on video games and rap music.Tsk tsk mass media.)
It's no wonder that more and more people I talk to care less and less about any sort of organized religions these days. With events like these happening every other week, it tends to drive away the common man and attract the nut case who wants to stab a school full of children with a screwdriver. Why can't we all remember that all of our major religions were based on a prophecy of peace? What happend to loving thy neighbor? To put all of this in perspective, I'm going to close this out with words of wisdom straight from the horse's mouth.
In the words of Jesus Christ:
"Don't be a dick."
Sunday, July 24, 2011
For Better or Worse...
In sickness and in health, til Death do you part?
Traditionally, this is what is agreed upon when people enter into a vow of marriage with another human being. But, in today's world of quickie marriages and quicker divorce, this idea of staying together until Death has all but vanished.
I've never been married. I can admit that. I can also understand that admitting to that may also give you the idea that I have no business speaking on the idea or institution of marriage. You might think to yourself, "You don't know what it's like to be married to someone. To see them everyday. To be responsible for them in that way." Well, you're right. I don't. That's because I have not and will not just jump into a marriage like it's no big deal. My dad has been divorced, but I've been fortunate enough to only have ever known him being married to my mom. I've seen what it takes to stay married. I've seen the trials and the tribulations that people who want to be together have to go through to STAY together. There have been numerous times when either one of them could have walked away. But, they didn't.
Better. Worse.
Sickness. Health.
Richer. Poorer.
Ask yourself before you go to the chapel, church, city hall....where ever you're going to tie down your life to another person...ask yourself; Is this really who I want to spend the rest of my life with? Ask yourself; Am I going to be ok with waking up next to them next year? In five years? In 20 years? I want you to think about it. Chances are, if you REALLY think about it, you're, either, not ready to hear "Til Death do you part" or you're not ready to commit to it with that person. If you can answer all of these truthfully and honestly with yourself and you STILL want to get get married. Then:
I now pronounce you...
Traditionally, this is what is agreed upon when people enter into a vow of marriage with another human being. But, in today's world of quickie marriages and quicker divorce, this idea of staying together until Death has all but vanished.
I've never been married. I can admit that. I can also understand that admitting to that may also give you the idea that I have no business speaking on the idea or institution of marriage. You might think to yourself, "You don't know what it's like to be married to someone. To see them everyday. To be responsible for them in that way." Well, you're right. I don't. That's because I have not and will not just jump into a marriage like it's no big deal. My dad has been divorced, but I've been fortunate enough to only have ever known him being married to my mom. I've seen what it takes to stay married. I've seen the trials and the tribulations that people who want to be together have to go through to STAY together. There have been numerous times when either one of them could have walked away. But, they didn't.
Better. Worse.
Sickness. Health.
Richer. Poorer.
Ask yourself before you go to the chapel, church, city hall....where ever you're going to tie down your life to another person...ask yourself; Is this really who I want to spend the rest of my life with? Ask yourself; Am I going to be ok with waking up next to them next year? In five years? In 20 years? I want you to think about it. Chances are, if you REALLY think about it, you're, either, not ready to hear "Til Death do you part" or you're not ready to commit to it with that person. If you can answer all of these truthfully and honestly with yourself and you STILL want to get get married. Then:
I now pronounce you...
Thursday, July 14, 2011
19th Century Schizoid Man
"There's something wrong with the world today, I don't know what it is."
A once popular and relevant band had the balls to say this to the world back in 1993. Well, it's almost 10 years later and things haven't been any better. If you don't mind, I'm going to offer my two cents as to what is wrong with the world today. Take it. Leave it. Do what you want with it. But, don't tell me I'm wrong.
First: What in the FUCK happend to people caring about being educated? There was a time, and it wasn't even that long ago, that people cared more about WHAT you knew, rather than WHO you knew. These days, you can have the average IQ of three comatose gerbils and a quasi-intelligent slug (Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, "The Situation" etc.) but, if you know the right people, you'll be sitting pretty in some high rise office, draining the assets of a multi-billion dollar company, while John Smith, with a college degree from a reputable school and an IQ over 100 runs register at McDonald's for minimum wage.
Second: Get over yourselves. Who gives a rat's ass if you can bench 300 pounds, have abs that you can wash your laundry on or have three percent body fat? In the grand scheme of life, having that stuff ranks right above being able to wipe your own ass. I take that back. Being able to wipe your ass is actually useful. Nobody needs to spend three hours in the gym and pumping your body full of so many supplements that GNC is a legitmate business. Do you know how many hours the veterans of World War II spent in a fucking gym? Zero. And, you know what, they're better than you.
*Pro Athletes: You can kind of skip this one. In fact, you should get in the gym more, maybe hit the sauce a little. Chances are you're braindead anyway, you need to be able to have some function in the world.
Three: This one goes out to the kids. You're not going to be a professional athlete, musician or actor. You won't be hitting World Series winning homeruns. You're not going to win an Oscar for Best Actor. You will NOT have a platinum selling record. I know mommy and daddy say that you can do whatever you want. But, mommy and daddy are fucking liars. If they're pushing you into doing this stuff, tell them to go live their own lives. Just because they failed at their dreams, doesn't mean that they get to live them through you. Stay in school. Study. Learn a useful trade. Be a contributing member of society. That is what you need to focus on. If you want to be a Nobel winning scientist? Bravo. Pursue the SHIT out of that dream. If you want to write for a news publication, exposing scandal and trying to make the world a better place? Fuckin' A! Do that shit to the max! Hell, if you want to work at GameStop, shilling out vidja games for the rest of your life, do it. Not every dream has to reach for the moon, Scotty.
It's not too late to turn this boat around and get back on the right track. It isn't too late to tell people like "The Situation" to go fuck himself. It isn't too late to go back to what matters.
A once popular and relevant band had the balls to say this to the world back in 1993. Well, it's almost 10 years later and things haven't been any better. If you don't mind, I'm going to offer my two cents as to what is wrong with the world today. Take it. Leave it. Do what you want with it. But, don't tell me I'm wrong.
First: What in the FUCK happend to people caring about being educated? There was a time, and it wasn't even that long ago, that people cared more about WHAT you knew, rather than WHO you knew. These days, you can have the average IQ of three comatose gerbils and a quasi-intelligent slug (Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, "The Situation" etc.) but, if you know the right people, you'll be sitting pretty in some high rise office, draining the assets of a multi-billion dollar company, while John Smith, with a college degree from a reputable school and an IQ over 100 runs register at McDonald's for minimum wage.
Second: Get over yourselves. Who gives a rat's ass if you can bench 300 pounds, have abs that you can wash your laundry on or have three percent body fat? In the grand scheme of life, having that stuff ranks right above being able to wipe your own ass. I take that back. Being able to wipe your ass is actually useful. Nobody needs to spend three hours in the gym and pumping your body full of so many supplements that GNC is a legitmate business. Do you know how many hours the veterans of World War II spent in a fucking gym? Zero. And, you know what, they're better than you.
*Pro Athletes: You can kind of skip this one. In fact, you should get in the gym more, maybe hit the sauce a little. Chances are you're braindead anyway, you need to be able to have some function in the world.
Three: This one goes out to the kids. You're not going to be a professional athlete, musician or actor. You won't be hitting World Series winning homeruns. You're not going to win an Oscar for Best Actor. You will NOT have a platinum selling record. I know mommy and daddy say that you can do whatever you want. But, mommy and daddy are fucking liars. If they're pushing you into doing this stuff, tell them to go live their own lives. Just because they failed at their dreams, doesn't mean that they get to live them through you. Stay in school. Study. Learn a useful trade. Be a contributing member of society. That is what you need to focus on. If you want to be a Nobel winning scientist? Bravo. Pursue the SHIT out of that dream. If you want to write for a news publication, exposing scandal and trying to make the world a better place? Fuckin' A! Do that shit to the max! Hell, if you want to work at GameStop, shilling out vidja games for the rest of your life, do it. Not every dream has to reach for the moon, Scotty.
It's not too late to turn this boat around and get back on the right track. It isn't too late to tell people like "The Situation" to go fuck himself. It isn't too late to go back to what matters.
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