Friday, April 30, 2004
So people these days, crazy. That is all I can say about that. Everyone obsessed with looks, attitude, social stigma. No one can formulate a thought on their own anymore. Everyone needs to feel the approval of someone. Be it friends, parents, classmates, fraternity brothers, God, etc. everyone needs approval. This bothers me. Because while everyone needs to feel this approval, but yet they cannot seem to interpret things. They cannot think on their own. They are more prown to believe what a complete stranger has to say about someone, rather than ask that person themselves. It is almost like intimate interaction is becoming the taboo today. I do not understand it.
Getting over there issues is really difficult for the average person these days as well. Something bad happens to me, but it doesn't phase me, and this bothers people. They all treat me with this false sympathy, acting like they really care, but all they really are, are psychic vampires.. They are sucking the (suspected) emotion out of me. No one really cares, but yet they do. Why do they "care"? They care in order to feel good about themselves. No one is happy for you when you are in a good mood, no one pays you any mind... but as soon as the mood shifts... oh man, everyone is coming out of the woodwork to see what is up, to offer you advice, to get you to spill your life story. This is because when something bad happens to someone else, it makes all your problems seem that much less. It allows people to escape from their realities for awhile... to bask in the happiness that comes with the thought of "damn, I'm glad that wasn't me."
What people really need to do is write down their problem. Every little detail about it. Then come find me. You are going to tell me your story like you just did. Write it all down. Tell that story over and over. Tell me your sad-assed story all night...When you understand...that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan...then we'll figure out who you're going to be. Then you will be over your "issue". We must not dwell on our problems. For the most part, these "problems" are nothing more than a mental hang up, it is getting stuck in a moment that you cannot get out of, and frankly, it bugs the shit out of me.
You are going to have to realize things. Things that are hard to understand. Things like the fact that we are all going to die. Things like the fact that the one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person. These things define us as individuals, but yet we must not dwell on them, we must accept them and put them behind us. How can one live a full live while living with the dread that their next day may be their last. We must overcome these fears, these petty problems. Because in the end, there is always something worse. Something just as trivial, but yet, for some reason that much more horrible. Be it your death, a break up of lovers, your dog getting hit by a car, blindness, burning, all of these things can be seen as horrible, but at the same time they can be seen as possitive things. You know how you look at ugly hunchback girls, and they are so lucky. Nobody drags them out at night so they can't finish their doctorate thesis papers. You look at burn victims and think how much time they save no looking in mirrors to check their skin for sun damage. The blind can live in the beautiful ignorance of how ugly this world is. And the dead, well, the dead have it the best. They do not have to put up with the trivialities of life. They do not have these petty problems that I write of. They are happy, in the purest since of the word...
Another thing I do not understand is the concept of a God. Well, I understand it quite well actually, but what I don't understand is the lack of worship. I mean sure, you may think of yourself as a good zealot, you attend church, you go to bake sales, you even help out with the homeless... but why is it then that the only time you call out to 'Him' is when you're in crisis and need something?
Shit... When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?
Fuck it... I'm out....
Getting over there issues is really difficult for the average person these days as well. Something bad happens to me, but it doesn't phase me, and this bothers people. They all treat me with this false sympathy, acting like they really care, but all they really are, are psychic vampires.. They are sucking the (suspected) emotion out of me. No one really cares, but yet they do. Why do they "care"? They care in order to feel good about themselves. No one is happy for you when you are in a good mood, no one pays you any mind... but as soon as the mood shifts... oh man, everyone is coming out of the woodwork to see what is up, to offer you advice, to get you to spill your life story. This is because when something bad happens to someone else, it makes all your problems seem that much less. It allows people to escape from their realities for awhile... to bask in the happiness that comes with the thought of "damn, I'm glad that wasn't me."
What people really need to do is write down their problem. Every little detail about it. Then come find me. You are going to tell me your story like you just did. Write it all down. Tell that story over and over. Tell me your sad-assed story all night...When you understand...that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan...then we'll figure out who you're going to be. Then you will be over your "issue". We must not dwell on our problems. For the most part, these "problems" are nothing more than a mental hang up, it is getting stuck in a moment that you cannot get out of, and frankly, it bugs the shit out of me.
You are going to have to realize things. Things that are hard to understand. Things like the fact that we are all going to die. Things like the fact that the one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person. These things define us as individuals, but yet we must not dwell on them, we must accept them and put them behind us. How can one live a full live while living with the dread that their next day may be their last. We must overcome these fears, these petty problems. Because in the end, there is always something worse. Something just as trivial, but yet, for some reason that much more horrible. Be it your death, a break up of lovers, your dog getting hit by a car, blindness, burning, all of these things can be seen as horrible, but at the same time they can be seen as possitive things. You know how you look at ugly hunchback girls, and they are so lucky. Nobody drags them out at night so they can't finish their doctorate thesis papers. You look at burn victims and think how much time they save no looking in mirrors to check their skin for sun damage. The blind can live in the beautiful ignorance of how ugly this world is. And the dead, well, the dead have it the best. They do not have to put up with the trivialities of life. They do not have these petty problems that I write of. They are happy, in the purest since of the word...
Another thing I do not understand is the concept of a God. Well, I understand it quite well actually, but what I don't understand is the lack of worship. I mean sure, you may think of yourself as a good zealot, you attend church, you go to bake sales, you even help out with the homeless... but why is it then that the only time you call out to 'Him' is when you're in crisis and need something?
Shit... When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?
Fuck it... I'm out....
Thursday, April 22, 2004
I have been asked by my dear fiend, err.. Friend... Nick to relate a Spring Break Tale. This is a tale of love, loss, fear, and loathing all set in beautiful Mexico.
For those of you not familiar with the geography of Mexico, we were located at lovely Campo Tres B. This is on the Baja Pennisula.
After driving from Claremont, California, through Brawley, Palm Springs, Desert Hot Springs and Palm Desert, we crossed the border at Calexico into Mexicali, Mexico. Proceeding south along the only highway out of the city, we passed an old whore house, Campo Mosqueda, and El Mayor, we came to a large tractor tire with 3 white B's painted on the side. We hang a left onto a dry river bed/drug running air strip. After driving a mile into the wilderness we came upon my house.
Now let me give you the run down of what was in my 1988 Jeep Wrangler. 4 people, 4 people's luggage, and over 200 dollars of alcohol bought at the duty free store. This was obviously going to be a week that we would not remember. After tons of nakedness, drinking, debauchery, and other random occurances, we proceed to San Felipe, a lovely fishing village on the coast of the Sea of Cortez. After a day eating fish tacos and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, we proceed to return home. On the way back we encounter a government sactioned fireworks stand. We enter the double wide trailer and find it inhabited by the most attractive Mexican I have ever seen in my life.
She looked 18 but was obviously closer to 16, wearing a catholic school girl outfit. The name on the breast was Candy Cherry 702. She was about 5'4, athletic, long black hair, brown eyes, and probably a large C cup. I was instantally in love. My broken spanish mixed with her broken english, (also when she got flustred over her english, she would massage her breasts) made for an interesting time. While i was bartering for Fireworks (aka Fuegos Artificiales) I was tempted to aske her to come to the United States with me. Fuck Guy, Fuck Nick, Fuck Stacy. She could take any of their seats and the unlucky fellow who would not be returning would be shot in the back of the head and placed in a shallow ditch along the bank of the Rio Harde.
But alas this was not to be... The fireworks were purchased, and my rather drunk companions wanted to go back to camp. I missed my chance to smuggle an illegal alien across the border, I missed my chance at love, I missed my chance at having my own sex slave, for christ sakes.
That is my story, I am sticking to it. I realize that this is alittle off topic compared to my rants of the past, but a request is a request. I told my tale, only one of many that occured over the week in mexico. Look for the book, it will be written and published after all parties involved had made their fortunes and the ridicule will not effect their lives.
That is all.
For those of you not familiar with the geography of Mexico, we were located at lovely Campo Tres B. This is on the Baja Pennisula.
After driving from Claremont, California, through Brawley, Palm Springs, Desert Hot Springs and Palm Desert, we crossed the border at Calexico into Mexicali, Mexico. Proceeding south along the only highway out of the city, we passed an old whore house, Campo Mosqueda, and El Mayor, we came to a large tractor tire with 3 white B's painted on the side. We hang a left onto a dry river bed/drug running air strip. After driving a mile into the wilderness we came upon my house.
Now let me give you the run down of what was in my 1988 Jeep Wrangler. 4 people, 4 people's luggage, and over 200 dollars of alcohol bought at the duty free store. This was obviously going to be a week that we would not remember. After tons of nakedness, drinking, debauchery, and other random occurances, we proceed to San Felipe, a lovely fishing village on the coast of the Sea of Cortez. After a day eating fish tacos and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, we proceed to return home. On the way back we encounter a government sactioned fireworks stand. We enter the double wide trailer and find it inhabited by the most attractive Mexican I have ever seen in my life.
She looked 18 but was obviously closer to 16, wearing a catholic school girl outfit. The name on the breast was Candy Cherry 702. She was about 5'4, athletic, long black hair, brown eyes, and probably a large C cup. I was instantally in love. My broken spanish mixed with her broken english, (also when she got flustred over her english, she would massage her breasts) made for an interesting time. While i was bartering for Fireworks (aka Fuegos Artificiales) I was tempted to aske her to come to the United States with me. Fuck Guy, Fuck Nick, Fuck Stacy. She could take any of their seats and the unlucky fellow who would not be returning would be shot in the back of the head and placed in a shallow ditch along the bank of the Rio Harde.
But alas this was not to be... The fireworks were purchased, and my rather drunk companions wanted to go back to camp. I missed my chance to smuggle an illegal alien across the border, I missed my chance at love, I missed my chance at having my own sex slave, for christ sakes.
That is my story, I am sticking to it. I realize that this is alittle off topic compared to my rants of the past, but a request is a request. I told my tale, only one of many that occured over the week in mexico. Look for the book, it will be written and published after all parties involved had made their fortunes and the ridicule will not effect their lives.
That is all.
"The best way to waste your life is by taking notes. The easiest way to avoid living is to just watch. Look for the details. Report. Don’t participate. Let Big Brother do the singing and dancing for you. Be a reporter. Be a good witness. A grateful member of the audience."
Please... Waste your life.... Post comments on the blog. With out your input I have no drive. So please, if you have a thought, post it, if you have a request, post it. That is all.
Please... Waste your life.... Post comments on the blog. With out your input I have no drive. So please, if you have a thought, post it, if you have a request, post it. That is all.
What do you call a caseworker who hates her job and loses every client?
Dead.
What do you call the police worker zipping her into a big rubber bag?
Dead.
What do you call the television anchor on camera in the front yard?
Dead.
It does not matter. The joke is we all have the same punch line,
We will all die. That is eventual. That is the great joke that we live our lives under the shadow of every waking moment, of every waking day that we are alive. Since change is constant, you wonder if people crave death because it's the only way you can get anything really finished. Reality means you live until you die. The real truth is nobody wants reality.
When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat? Questions we all must ponder.
What is going on here? I am insane... When i'm sobre life bores me. So i get drunk again. In other words, I have decided that my work here is much more productive when I am drunk and the sun is about to come up. Sorry for the shortness but I am spent.
Dead.
What do you call the police worker zipping her into a big rubber bag?
Dead.
What do you call the television anchor on camera in the front yard?
Dead.
It does not matter. The joke is we all have the same punch line,
We will all die. That is eventual. That is the great joke that we live our lives under the shadow of every waking moment, of every waking day that we are alive. Since change is constant, you wonder if people crave death because it's the only way you can get anything really finished. Reality means you live until you die. The real truth is nobody wants reality.
When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat? Questions we all must ponder.
What is going on here? I am insane... When i'm sobre life bores me. So i get drunk again. In other words, I have decided that my work here is much more productive when I am drunk and the sun is about to come up. Sorry for the shortness but I am spent.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
So, it is 2:54 am, and I am feeling alittle philosophic. Why are we here? Do you ever feel that you have a purpose on this planet? I don't. I feel that we are all in one big ass cosmic joke. What is the meaning of life? To die. That is the easiest ansewer, but yet the most difficult to swallow. I do not know about the rest of you but to me this feels like I am just another task in God's daily planner: The Renaissance pencilled in for right after the Dark Ages. The Information Age is scheduled immediately after the Industrial Revolution. Then the Post-Modern Era, then The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Famine. Check. Pestilence. Check. War. Check. Death. Check. And between the big events, the earthquakes and tidal waves, God's got me squeezed in for a cameo appearance. Then maybe in thirty years, or maybe next year, God's daily planner has me finished.
I am strangely okay with this. I realize that in time we must all face that grim realization that we are going to die. So I figure i am going to get my damn money's worth! Fuck sleep, you can sleep when you are dead. Over the course of an average week, the average human gettin the average amount of sleep (8 hours). That means that the average human sleeps 56 hours a week. Multiply that by 6 billion and you have alot of lost time! Imagine what could be accomplished, imagine what could be created, what could be destroyed, what could be understood, what could be discovered. Why waste all that time? I mean all God does is watch us... And kill us when we become boring.. That is when our cosmic slot on the day planner is up. We must never become boring!
And now for something completly different.
Nothing is good as a fantasy. Nothing is as good as you can imagine it. No one is as beautiful as she is in your head. Nothing is as exciting as your fantasy. When fantasy becomes reality, that is where the beauty leaves. Sex with someone you have lusted after is never as good as it is in your head. You are left dissapointed, you have no control over it, it is all in your mind. But still that is what happens. It is almost better to pass on the fulfilling of a fantasy because it will denigrate what you have in your mind. It will never be the same again. Remember this the next time you are at a party, and you have the chance to make the beast with two backs with the girl you have been lusting after for awhile, remember this when you have the opportunity to do something you have wished for with all your heart. Realize that this thought, this dream is more precious then anything in the physical world.
That brings me to another thought. Sex. Sex is the most precious thing in my life I think. It cannot compare. There is the old joke, "What is the difference between your wife, your meat, your eggs, and a blow job?" You can beat your meat, you can beat your wife, you can beat your eggs but you just can't beat a blow job. Now sure this is a joke, but think about it: For sure, even the worst blow job is better than say, sniffing the best rose... watching the greatest sunset. Hearing children laugh. I think that I shal never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut-hosing orgasm. Painting a picture, composing an operra, that's just something you do until you find the next willing piece of ass. Well for me at least. Another great thing about sex is it's acquisition without the burden of possessions. No matter how many women you take home, there's never a storage problem.
Alas that thought will have to be completed at another time... it is 4 am, and I am tired. Kind of ironic that I talk about not wanting to sleep, all the lost time, and here it is; case in point, what i was talking about. I cannot finish my creative expression due to my lack of sleep. I will finish later, it isn't like anyone reads this anyway.
I am strangely okay with this. I realize that in time we must all face that grim realization that we are going to die. So I figure i am going to get my damn money's worth! Fuck sleep, you can sleep when you are dead. Over the course of an average week, the average human gettin the average amount of sleep (8 hours). That means that the average human sleeps 56 hours a week. Multiply that by 6 billion and you have alot of lost time! Imagine what could be accomplished, imagine what could be created, what could be destroyed, what could be understood, what could be discovered. Why waste all that time? I mean all God does is watch us... And kill us when we become boring.. That is when our cosmic slot on the day planner is up. We must never become boring!
And now for something completly different.
Nothing is good as a fantasy. Nothing is as good as you can imagine it. No one is as beautiful as she is in your head. Nothing is as exciting as your fantasy. When fantasy becomes reality, that is where the beauty leaves. Sex with someone you have lusted after is never as good as it is in your head. You are left dissapointed, you have no control over it, it is all in your mind. But still that is what happens. It is almost better to pass on the fulfilling of a fantasy because it will denigrate what you have in your mind. It will never be the same again. Remember this the next time you are at a party, and you have the chance to make the beast with two backs with the girl you have been lusting after for awhile, remember this when you have the opportunity to do something you have wished for with all your heart. Realize that this thought, this dream is more precious then anything in the physical world.
That brings me to another thought. Sex. Sex is the most precious thing in my life I think. It cannot compare. There is the old joke, "What is the difference between your wife, your meat, your eggs, and a blow job?" You can beat your meat, you can beat your wife, you can beat your eggs but you just can't beat a blow job. Now sure this is a joke, but think about it: For sure, even the worst blow job is better than say, sniffing the best rose... watching the greatest sunset. Hearing children laugh. I think that I shal never see a poem as lovely as a hot-gushing, butt-cramping, gut-hosing orgasm. Painting a picture, composing an operra, that's just something you do until you find the next willing piece of ass. Well for me at least. Another great thing about sex is it's acquisition without the burden of possessions. No matter how many women you take home, there's never a storage problem.
Alas that thought will have to be completed at another time... it is 4 am, and I am tired. Kind of ironic that I talk about not wanting to sleep, all the lost time, and here it is; case in point, what i was talking about. I cannot finish my creative expression due to my lack of sleep. I will finish later, it isn't like anyone reads this anyway.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
What the fuck is up with women these days? I mean honestly... they fuck with our heads and our emotions... It is just not a happy thing. I mean at times women are all good and they are fun to be around, but sometimes its like being in thumbscrews. They know all the right buttons to push to either make you very happy or very mad. Either one once you are in that state of mind they reverse course either bluballing you or you end up with the ole' stink finger and mad as hell... We cannot win. That is why beer and animals are much better than women.
Reasons Why Dogs are Better Than Women
Dogs don't cry.
Dogs love it when your friends come over.
Dogs don't care if you use their shampoo.
Dogs think you sing great.
A dog's time in the bathroom is confined to a quick drink.
Dogs don't expect you to call when you're running late.
The later you are, the more excited dogs are to see you.
Dogs will forgive you for playing with other dogs.
Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dog's name.
Dogs are excited by rough play.
Dogs don't mind if you give their offspring away.
Dogs understand that farts are funny.
Dogs can appreciate excessive body hair.
Anyone can get a good looking dog.
If a dog is gorgeous, other dogs don't hate it.
Dogs don't shop.
Dogs like it when you leave lots of things on the floor.
A dog's disposition stays the same all month long.
Dogs never need to examine the relationship.
A dog's parents never visit.
Dogs love long car trips.
Dogs understand that instincts are better than asking for directions.
When a dog gets old and starts to snap at you incessantly, you can shoot it.
Dogs like beer.
Dogs don't hate their bodies.
Dogs never criticize.
Dogs agree that you have to raise your voice to get your point across.
Dogs never expect gifts.
Dogs don't worry about germs.
Dogs don't want to know about every other dog you ever had.
Dogs don't let magazine articles guide their lives.
You never have to wait for a dog; they're ready to go 24 hours a day.
Dogs have no use for flowers, cards or jewelry.
Dogs don't borrow your shirts.
Dogs never want foot rubs.
Dogs enjoy heavy petting in public.
Dogs find you amusing when you're drunk.
Dogs can't talk.
Dogs seldom outlive you.
And now why Beer is better than women
1. You can enjoy a beer anytime of the month.
2. Beer stains wash out..
3. You don’t have to wine and dine beer.
4. Beer never has a headache.
5. When your beer goes flat you toss it..
6. Beer is never late..
7. Hangovers go away..
8. Beer does not get jealous when you grab another beer..
9. Beer labels come off without a fight..
10. When you go to a bar you know you can always pick up a beer..
11. Your beer will always wait patiently in the car while you play rugby..
12. After you have a beer the bottle is still worth 10 cents..
13. Beer won’t get upset if you come home with beer on your breath..
14. If you pour a beer right you will always get a good head..
15. You can have more than one beer a night and not feel guilty..
16. A beer always goes down easy..
17. You can share a beer with your friends..
18. You always know that you are the first to pop a beer..
19. Beer is always wet..
20. Beer doesn’t demand equality.
21. You can have a beer in public.
22. A beer doesn’t care what time you come home..
23. A frigid beer is a good beer..
24. You don’t have to wash a beer before it tastes good.
Thats it for now
Reasons Why Dogs are Better Than Women
Dogs don't cry.
Dogs love it when your friends come over.
Dogs don't care if you use their shampoo.
Dogs think you sing great.
A dog's time in the bathroom is confined to a quick drink.
Dogs don't expect you to call when you're running late.
The later you are, the more excited dogs are to see you.
Dogs will forgive you for playing with other dogs.
Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dog's name.
Dogs are excited by rough play.
Dogs don't mind if you give their offspring away.
Dogs understand that farts are funny.
Dogs can appreciate excessive body hair.
Anyone can get a good looking dog.
If a dog is gorgeous, other dogs don't hate it.
Dogs don't shop.
Dogs like it when you leave lots of things on the floor.
A dog's disposition stays the same all month long.
Dogs never need to examine the relationship.
A dog's parents never visit.
Dogs love long car trips.
Dogs understand that instincts are better than asking for directions.
When a dog gets old and starts to snap at you incessantly, you can shoot it.
Dogs like beer.
Dogs don't hate their bodies.
Dogs never criticize.
Dogs agree that you have to raise your voice to get your point across.
Dogs never expect gifts.
Dogs don't worry about germs.
Dogs don't want to know about every other dog you ever had.
Dogs don't let magazine articles guide their lives.
You never have to wait for a dog; they're ready to go 24 hours a day.
Dogs have no use for flowers, cards or jewelry.
Dogs don't borrow your shirts.
Dogs never want foot rubs.
Dogs enjoy heavy petting in public.
Dogs find you amusing when you're drunk.
Dogs can't talk.
Dogs seldom outlive you.
And now why Beer is better than women
1. You can enjoy a beer anytime of the month.
2. Beer stains wash out..
3. You don’t have to wine and dine beer.
4. Beer never has a headache.
5. When your beer goes flat you toss it..
6. Beer is never late..
7. Hangovers go away..
8. Beer does not get jealous when you grab another beer..
9. Beer labels come off without a fight..
10. When you go to a bar you know you can always pick up a beer..
11. Your beer will always wait patiently in the car while you play rugby..
12. After you have a beer the bottle is still worth 10 cents..
13. Beer won’t get upset if you come home with beer on your breath..
14. If you pour a beer right you will always get a good head..
15. You can have more than one beer a night and not feel guilty..
16. A beer always goes down easy..
17. You can share a beer with your friends..
18. You always know that you are the first to pop a beer..
19. Beer is always wet..
20. Beer doesn’t demand equality.
21. You can have a beer in public.
22. A beer doesn’t care what time you come home..
23. A frigid beer is a good beer..
24. You don’t have to wash a beer before it tastes good.
Thats it for now
Tom Clancy: "I believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things money can buy."
Steve Martin: "You know 'that look' women get when they want sex? Me neither."
Drew Carey: "Sex without love is a meaningless experience, but as meaningless experiences go, it's pretty damned good."
Woody Allen: "Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand."
Rodney Dangerfield: "If it weren't for pickpockets I'd have no sex life at all."
George Burns: "It isn't premarital sex if you have no intention of getting married."
George Burns: "Sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope."
Lynn Lavner: "There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal in women. Among these is the Mercedes-Benz 500SL."
Harvey Korman: "Using Viagra is like putting a new flagpole on a condemned building."
Groucho Marx: "I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception."
Steve Martin: "You know 'that look' women get when they want sex? Me neither."
Drew Carey: "Sex without love is a meaningless experience, but as meaningless experiences go, it's pretty damned good."
Woody Allen: "Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand."
Rodney Dangerfield: "If it weren't for pickpockets I'd have no sex life at all."
George Burns: "It isn't premarital sex if you have no intention of getting married."
George Burns: "Sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope."
Lynn Lavner: "There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal in women. Among these is the Mercedes-Benz 500SL."
Harvey Korman: "Using Viagra is like putting a new flagpole on a condemned building."
Groucho Marx: "I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception."
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
What the fuck is up with this lack of creativity on television? I mean I don't watch alot of TV but fuck! ever time i turn it on it is one of 3 things... A shitty reality show, a shitty marriage show or else a decent rerun of a since cancelled sitcom. What the fuck happened to the concept of screen writing? Did the powers that be suddenly decide that creativity was out this season? I mean why make people work for their money when they can stick people on or in an (island, desert, house, the moon etc etc) and just indulge america's voyeuristic fantasies. Shit.... though i hated the fucking show... and it was absoulutely worthless but i miss seinfeild... good old fashion script writing... no wanna be "suspense" no greedy people just cutting out another part of the system. Its horrible... Also the quality of these reality shows are crap. I mean next fox is gonna have "when wild animals attack during dangerous police chases started from jilted weadings that started from another crappy fox show!" give it time... it will come to pass. so sayeth me.... but yea... we shall see... i hate those fuckers! almost as muck as the French...
Monday, April 05, 2004
So I haven't posted in a long while. I just haven't had the urge. A blog about how much a, essentially, suck at life, just doesn't make much sense and I figured that I would wait, paitentally, until something would strike me. Well (un)fortunately for me, it finally did. I was struck, and I was struck hard.
It's funny how you never think about the women you have had. It is always that ones that got away that you remember. This is the fine line between science and sadism. Between a crime and a sacrifice. I don't even know why I bother caring anymore. The fact of the matter is that I am tired. I am tired of being jerked around. Okay? So let's just not pretend. I don't have fuck for a heart. You people are not going to make me feel anything. You are not going to get to me. I'm a stupid, callous, scheming bastard. End of story. I am not good and kind and caring or any of that happy horseshit. I'm nothing but a thoughtless, brain-dead, loser. That I can live with. This is who I am. Just a puss pounding, seamreaming, fucking helpless addict asshole, and I can't ever, ever let myself forget that.
It's funny how you never think about the women you have had. It is always that ones that got away that you remember. This is the fine line between science and sadism. Between a crime and a sacrifice. I don't even know why I bother caring anymore. The fact of the matter is that I am tired. I am tired of being jerked around. Okay? So let's just not pretend. I don't have fuck for a heart. You people are not going to make me feel anything. You are not going to get to me. I'm a stupid, callous, scheming bastard. End of story. I am not good and kind and caring or any of that happy horseshit. I'm nothing but a thoughtless, brain-dead, loser. That I can live with. This is who I am. Just a puss pounding, seamreaming, fucking helpless addict asshole, and I can't ever, ever let myself forget that.
