Monthly Archives: February 2018

Shhhhhh nobody cares.

There is a fine line between being lost and finding your way.

A lot like sexual harassment, if both of you are into it, its just flirting.

But if only one of you is in the game, you could end up in jail. (And they play a different game of sexual harassment there.)

Ignorance only needs a split second of enlightenment to become educated.

But desire kind of drives both.

I was watching various debates on FB. (I am really taking liberties with the word “Debate”. FB exists in this childish, low-brow intellectual place that the truly ignorant think of as enlightened and the enlightened just pity the fuck out of you and tolerate it.)

And there really is no desire to change minds or put any actual original thought out there.

There is only the desire to type-vomit your opinion on others and rage at those who do anything but applaud your outburst.

Actual quote from FB: “Either you get it, or you are a Fucktard and don’t get it!”

Nothing really drives your perspective home than an intellectually enticing word like “Fucktard”.

The ignorant view it as an passionate response and once again, the rest of us tolerate it and realize that you are not able to talk with the adults.

To correct you and try to explain why you have destroyed any credibility in your argument would be like trying to explain string theory to the cat. (Cats are many things and mostly evil, but they have no talent for theories and concepts eating smaller animals and triggering your asthma.)

So, how do we have a civil debate on FB?

The real answer that you don’t like and want to argue, is that you can’t.

Its not a forum made for the actual trading of ideas.

It is a construct of the ego, nothing more.

It exists to allow you to feel connected in an increasingly isolated society.

But I have always believed that masturbation should be done in isolation, no matter if its physical, emotional or mental masturbation, keep it to yourself. (You learn this in Catholic school.)

There was a perfect example of the vacuous facade that our society as it stands.

Snapchat, an app that exists to simply be another flavor of social media, saw its stock drop 7% because Kylie Jenner made a disparaging Tweet about it.

The absolutely pathetic part of all this is that the Social Media crows are screaming about how horrible it is that this one person has that power to damage a company.

And the one thing nobody wants to point out is that Social Media invented that squealing pack of overrated hoes to begin with.

You should not be allowed to bitch when the golden calf turns on you.

For better or worse, you made your own bed here.

Now shut up and go to bed.


Note to self, don’t write before you have your coffee.

I tend to be dark and a little more bitter than usual.

Now that I have a Venti of java in me, I just noticed that the couple across from me are involved in an odd form of public foreplay.

She has been texting in her phone, then without looking, she dips he finger into her iced coffee something with whipped cream and sticks her finger in his mouth.

He is texting and never looks up, he just sucks on her finger for a few seconds.

Every now and then, he will reach over, again without looking, and run the back of his knuckle over her nipple.

I am not sure if this qualifies for a #metoo moment, she seems to be into it, but its hard to tell because neither one is making eye contact or seems to have any expression or emotion going on.

The vibe is one of awkward creepiness.

Not made for polite company, but perfectly suitable for your second cup of coffee in the morning.

Mmmmmm coffee.  

Leave a comment

Posted by on February 23, 2018 in Uncategorized


Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Can I have some more, please?

I have been accused of being uncaring.

I am not denying it, but I did have to ask for clarification about WHAT I am not giving a shit about. (I may be an asshole, but I am a specific asshole)

Turns out my rude critic was talking about the fact that I have not written a post in 2018, and THAT was why I was uncaring.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I haven’t written anything BECAUSE I care.

I haven’t seen anything that has gotten my sarcastic muse wet in the panties.

The well has gone dry, I am burnt out, I may never write ag-

I was walking down the street and saw an old dog, laying on a porch, licking his balls, and then it hit me.

We are all here for a reason.

Time to get back on the horse.

So I went to Starbucks and looked for inspiration.

And it turns out that inspiration keeps a tight delivery schedule.

Sitting next to me was the coffee shop version of Job. (To those on you unlettered heathens, its pronounced “Jobe”. Job was the whipping boy of the scriptures. God let the Devil gang beat him like a ginger and he never lost his faith. Thank God it was him and not me, I don’t have that kind of fortitude. I get a papercut and I am questioning my existence.)


The story of Job.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…etc.

Blah, blah, blah, you know the rest, its the opening line from A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.

Here’s the thing about Dickens.

He was an asshole when it came to life.

Everything being dark and sad and people living in such shitty conditions that the kids in the UNICEF commercials would be willing to take a break from waving the flies out of their mouths for a few minutes and pony up a couple of bucks.

So, if you ever want to ruin your day and shift into a “What’s the use? I may as well kill myself” type of mode, pick up a copy of anything written by Dickens.

Why the hate rant on Dickens?

Because the guy next to me has the saddest story I have ever heard and his name is Oliver. (Started out as Job, then morphed to Oliver. Its a reach, and I acknowledge that, but fuck you, its my blog, I am God here, and it is what we are going with.)

Oliver, it seems, has lost his job. (Pronounced “Job”, if you are a millennial, you are probably wondering what a job is. Ask your parents, if they will still acknowledge you in public.)

And, “Hanna” has left him for someone he knows. (Wife or girlfriend, I am not quite sure. But she is out there, legs in the air, doing shit that career fetish hookers charge high dollars for and its all pro-bono. (Pro-bono isn’t the right word there, but the hooker-bono linguistics are spot-on funny.)

And if that sore on his lip is an indicator, Oliver has a little herpes going on. (Either given to him by or he gave it to, the disloyal skank Hanna.)

Turns out Oliver is wearing those special ortho shoes that has one sole taller than the other, indicating that both of his legs are different lengths. (I almost left this one out, even I have a hard time believing that little detail.)

“But what is your biggest problem right this minute?” I hate getting involved, but someone has to ask the obvious question.

Oliver pondered, went to take a sip of coffee, stopped and shook the empty cup, laughing.

“I’m out of coffee.”

And then he hobbled his unlucky ass up to the counter for a refill and a scone.

At least he has his priorities straight.

Mmmmm coffee.


Posted by on February 16, 2018 in Uncategorized


Tags: , , , , , ,