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I wish I could quit you

Ok, I am willing to be the first to admit that I have been a lazy shit for a few months.

I haven’t written a post for quite awhile.

But can you really blame me?
I mean, I started the blog coming up on 7 years ago this June and have written almost 700 posts and close to three quarters of a million words on a blog that I can’t honestly prove anyone actually reads.

I mean, masturbation at least gets you a money shot, but this form of literary/intellectual fapping denies me even a foul smelling crunchy sock.

So why am I here today?

Iz is why I am tapping away here.

Iz is the poster child for whats wrong with this country/generation/the kids today.

She is worthless even for a millenial.

She is on her phone at a Starbucks. (What else would she be doing?)

Her entire manner of speaking is that of someone terminally bored.

All sentences begin with a sigh.

And she cleaves to the latest trend among the you and worthless.

She has her phone on speaker, you know, so the rest of us can enjoy her conversation too.

“Sigh, I was going to go to work today, but I so can’t right now.” (Can’t what? Take responsibility for yourself and earn a paycheck?)

On the phone is someone equally worthless.

“Sigh, I know, right? I went for my morning vape break and didn’t go back.” (This is normally how adults get fired, but I am willing to bet money that her company gives days off if you “So can’t right now”.)

More from the mouth of Iz.

“I feel like they take whole thing too far, its no fun.” (Awww, poor fucking baby!)

Time to get involved. (I recently realized that I am too old to care anymore. If she is going to include me in the conversation, I get to speak.)
“Why don’t you just quit whining and go to work?”

The look on Iz’s face is a mix of surprize slap out of nowhere and unexpectedly shitting yourself in church.

Then she decides to be angry. A child’s scowl darkens her spoiled little face.

“Excuse me?” (Whoever her half-tarded friend on the phone is, she is bewildered and saying “What?” over and over.)

“I said, why don’t you just quit whining and go to work?” (I keep my voice nice and even. This whole situation can turn on me in a heartbeat and I know it.)

Pause.

“Oh. My. God.” (It never occurs to this ditz to take her phone off of speaker, that would be the normal reaction of a self aware person.)

“This guy is yelling at me.” (To a millenials, anyone who disagrees or chastises you is yelling.)

She left, but I was so disappointed.

I had been hoping for at least some shitty comments.

Not an OLD guy, not some FAT guy (Lost a bunch, but still have more to go), and not even this guy is an ASSHOLE.

I am weeping even more for the future than I normally do.

Let me be clear.

I was not looking for her to leap across the table and try to prison-shank me, but anything but passivity would have been nice.

I have thought a lot of things about the generation in question before, most of them not nice.

But I never thought of them as pussies.

And that is just sad.

I would feel worse, but I got a Sumatran pour over today and the last sip made me cum a little bit.

Mmmmm coffee.

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Posted by on May 4, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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The travelling freak show.

Travelling can be a great way to broaden your horizons.

And by horizons, I mean people watch in a new location.

I am over a thousand miles away from my usual stomping grounds.

The Pacific Northwest.

The region responsible for inflicting Starbucks on the world. (That is one of those blessing/curse things.)

The nicest thing about people watching in a new place is that you get to see the local freak talent.

They may be blending into the background for the regulars around here, but I am getting my eyes on them for the first time.

So, here is a round up of the locals in beautiful downtown portland.

  • There are two homeless guys in line behind me that left their signs propped up next to the front door. “I’m not gonna lie, I just want a cold beer” and “Give till it hurts, I don’t mind”
  • The guy standing next to me as I wait for my coffee is so stoned he keeps dozing off and almost falling.
  • This is a general thing. Half the population of this Starbucks is women. And ALL of them are wearing glasses. Not a one with proper vision or contacts in the bunch. I happen to be of the opinion that women with glasses are the hottest thing this side of long thick hair, (Along with the nervous tendency to play with that hair when you think no one is looking. You know who you are.)

The two homeless guys are the most annoying.

The guy that wants the cold beer is a liar, he ordered a coffee drink.

And being a begging homeless guy pays a lot better than it used to, he ordered a $7 coffee drink.

The stoner guy may have hurt himself.

He got his coffee and made his way into the bathroom.

Soon after the door closed, I heard a crash like he fell headfirst into the toilet.

I would have checked on him, but I am not my brother’s keeper.

At least, not this one.

As for the bespectacled women?

I sat and sipped my coffee with a full chubby for the better part of an hour.

And then I saw her.

Or him.

Or it.

Not to be bigoted, and everyone is free to live whatever life you want, but if your basic sex is not within the realm of even guessing, I reserve the right to judge the shit out of you.

Man, women, man, women…… ADAM’S APPLE AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

He/she had a great ass, I will give he-she that much.

I finished my Venti house drip, thats 22oz of caffeinated goodness, and took the cashier’s offer of a free refill for being a visitor and got more caffeine.

There is a certain giddy edge to ingesting 950mg of caffeine in a short period of time.

The State of California defines being “Under the influence” of caffeine at an unsafe level as having more than 200mg in a 4 hour period.

This is how bad things happen.

There is a streamlined cerebral frenzy that goes on when your brain is mainlining legal speed in quantity that only meth heads or astronauts can understand.

Shitty, sarcastic lines so vile you tend to avoid eye contact with others for a few hours just from the sheer travesty of the imagery.

Music is awesome and really annoying at the same time.

You want more than anything to argue with people you don’t even know.

The safe move is just to keep typing and don’t inflict this kind of random mayhem on strangers.

Mainly because you might want to come back to this Starbucks before you leave town like a man making a jail break.

It is wildly hard, almost impossible to be asked not to come back to a Starbucks without an arrest being made, their corporate whore-like money greed is that strong.

I have been banned twice from various Starbucks.

One for, and I quote, inciting an insurrection.

The manager had a flair for the dramatic, but basically, my crime was egging on a crazed homeless man who was arguing with a painting on the wall.

The second time was making comments under my breath to the ultra-sensitive liberals having a meeting at the big table.

They complained bitterly to the manager and then I did it again while he was asking me to stop, and that made me laugh so hard I got the hiccups.

None of this is illegal.

The last thing Starbucks wants is the police involved.

Starbucks just wants to sell coffee.

And I just want to drink it.

Mmmmm coffee…

(Tastes different up here, must be the water.)

 
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Posted by on August 5, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Have some freedom.

This is a don’t ask, don’t tell blog.

The two ladies coming into my favorite breakfast place appear to be a couple. (“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Seinfeld circa 1993)

I wear my hair short and one of them even have me beat.

One lady is wearing mom jeans and a tshirt, shoulder length hair.

Lets call her Julie. (Why not?)

Her partner is close to 6 foot. Broad shoulders. Super short hair. Scowling.

Khakis, steel toed chuckaboots, and a faded Springsteen “Born in the USA” tshirt.

Let’s call her Mike.

They stand in front of the menu, looking at the breakfast goodies.

Julie says, in a soft voice, “Breakfast burrito sounds good.”

The cashier takes that as a sign to start taking orders.

“Breakfast burrito, would you like ham, bacon or sausage on that?”

Julie takes 1.9 seconds to open her mouth to answer.

And that is too fucking long for Mike.

Angry mouth 2 inches from Julie’s ear, Mike has had it with her shit.

“Are you going to fucking order?”

Wow.

0 to 60 1.9 seconds has to be a record of some sort.

There are 2 more explosions from Mike before the order is taken.

The cashier looks a lot like a horse in a forest fire, eyes rolling, stuttering and looks like she might bolt at any moment.

The weird part is that it is a large open room that seems to absorb the tension so that no one around them seems to notice.

Except for me.

But only because I notice everything.

The Fates are kind at times and today is one of those days.

Mike and Julie take a seat at the table behind me.

I can hear pretty clearly.

And it is a conversation that makes ADD look stable by comparison.

Here is a 5 minute sample:

  • Shitty comment.
  • Inquiry about upcoming 4th of July Party.
  • Inquiry about the time thru angry clenched teeth. (Still don’t get that one.)
  • Compliment about patriotic tshirt purchase.
  • Shitty comment that included the use of the “C” word.
  • Mention of interracial porn likes/dislikes.
  • Shitty self deprecating comment.
  • Desire to see a movie tonight.
  • Shitty comment.

It was exhausting to follow and keep in mind, I talk to the homeless on occasion.

In the end, it was simply a couple in a bad relationship, having a bad morning.

And the take away for all of you is, no matter what your choice of relationship is, avoid the toxic ones if you can.

But it was entertaining.

There is a joke that plays on the observation that a lot of lesbians get serious way too quick.

What gift does a lesbian buy for a second date? A Uhaul truck. (That joke was told to me by lesbians that I hold in high esteem and in the right circles, that joke kills.)

The take away for me, is the image of Mike, angrily eating pancakes and muttering fuck into her coffee.

And that is what America is all about.

Happy 4th of July.

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Till death do we part.

“You aren’t listening to me, are you?” (Angry)

“What?” (Too loud)

“You never listen to me, do you?” (Angrier)

“What?” (Louder)

“I could drop dead and you wouldn’t lift a finger to help me, would you?” (Kind of a simmering cold anger that is even worse.)

“What?” (Like a freight train, brutal and unstoppable.)

There is a magical kind of drama, and drama is such an inadequate word, to a couple that have been married and lasted long enough to grow REALLY old together to the point of hatred.

It is awesome to behold.

They hate each other, they really do.

But divorce is not even in their vocabulary, not a chance.

Love, honor, cherish, till death do they part.

The only thing left is the Till Death part.

And they are both waiting, nay HOPING, that the other dies soon.

It is a vile and beautiful thing to witness.

She looks a lot like the Crypt keeper from that old horror show. (Google it, I’ll wait.)

Got the visual?

He has a look of permanent terror on his face.

He has been seated the whole time I have been observing him and the missus, but I am willing to bet he takes 2 inch steps when he walks.

We are a weaker generation that we think Fuck You is the ultimate verbal attack.

There is a true gladiator’s feel to the skill of a true Fuck You conversation.

I am in awe.

This pair of wrinkled old warriors are lions, to be feared and respected.

This kind of fight is not a sprint, its a marathon and you cross the finish line when you opponent keels over.

I am in a dark place right now, and its a brutal place, scary and forbidding that makes you look at the beauty of a long time marriage and then stew in these kind of seriously vile thoughts.

And salvation is just around the corner, in the form of coffee.

Hot and fresh and available for just pennies.

Live is good, sun is out, birds are chirping, and the adorable old couple could not be cuter.

I love caffeine as a drug, it can fill the tank in a ridiculously short amount of time.

Addiction, with cream and two splendas.

And then they try to chip away at my drug induced Dome of Solitude.

“Did you hear what I said?” (Its him being angry this time.)

“What?” (She is truly playing this card.)

“I just told you something!” (Angrier.)

“What?” (This is a masterstroke of the fuck you genre of hot mess replies.)

“Ah, you are to old to talk to!” (He even waved his hand at her in dismissal. I almost shit myself trying to keep from laughing.)

“What?” (Now I KNOW they are just fucking with me. You could see this scene playing itself out as if it was written on a page.)

But it has not touched my euphoria.

And I am leaving before I am sucked into the vortex of negativity.

Because if you ungrateful shits know anything about me, you know that I am all about being positive.

I try to keep the bad stuff from staining my Disney-like purity and innocence.

Outside, there is a breeze, on the chilly side, but the sun is out. Low 70’s with a wind chill.

I am dressed in Southern California winter wear.

Shorts, running shoes, and a hooded winter coat.

Mmmmm good coffee.

 

(Here is how twisted up my head is. I have been laughing for the last 5 minutes because of the line immediately above this one. All of that shit, then “Mmmmm, good coffee.”  Once again, it occurs to me that this blog is a lot of the time, just for me.)

 

 
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Posted by on November 20, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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600 is a lot of anything.

“Into the valley of death, wrote the 600”

Lord Tennyson would shit himself in his grave if he read that, he was never a fan of paraphrasing.

So why the arguably dumb paraphrase?

Because the number is 600.

Since starting this vulgar little blog over 4 and a half years ago, with this post, I have now written 600 posts.

That is a LOT of public mental masturbation in print.

I am not sure if I should be proud or ashamed.

Its an accomplishment, but so was 2 girls – 1 cup and that was nothing to be proud of either. (Side note. Despite all of my references to that film over the years, I have never actually seen it, till recently. I am damaged because of it, no bullshit. You go to hell for things like that, even if you are atheist.)

I mentioned this little milestone to someone who has never read the blog before, and they asked an interesting question.

What the hell have you written about for 600 times?

Good question, so I did some research, basically, I read the blog, something from every month, from the beginning till now.

God, I am a fucking genius.

Once my erection subsided, I began to see a few recurring things.

  1. People are horrible to each other and their environment. Caligula had a better command of common courtesy than most of modern man.
  2. The only thing people mistreat more than each other and their environment is themselves. There are people that treat themselves like a split personality that is half crack hoe/half angry pimp. And someone has a beating coming.
  3. My views of the world vary wildly from an almost a sociopathic emotional conscious to a Christ-like benevolence. (Take a moment for that one to sink in. I’ll wait. I know, its a disturbing sentence.)
  4. I have some sort of thing about the homeless. (It has been argued that I both care deeply about them, yet view them as pets. Both are true. However, I view most people as pets and toys to be messed with.)

In a nutshell, thats it. Its an emotionally damaged nutshell, but you take what you can get these days.

As far as blogs go, this is closer to the movie Max Headroom than anything else. Random thoughts and odd sound bites that exist for no reason other than to upset the dumb and stimulate the few intellects that seem to get it. And TRUST me, you fuckers are few and far between.

The one thing missing from the “Recurring things” list is caffeine,

Ah, caffeine, what can I say?

Its the founder of the feast, as it were.

Without it, I am grumpy, mean and don’t like to write.

With it, I am grumpy, mean, and like to write.

As far as addictions go, its a mellow one.

Like a pimp that doesn’t leave visible bruises, the concern is appreciated.

Coffee is the most polite form of caffeine addiction, to be seen at church socials and fine restaurants.

Red bull is like shooting up in a dirty alley.

Both accomplish the same thing, but at least coffee allows you to keep lying about it not being an addiction.

But at its worst, you are just risking insomnia and being irritable.

You are never in danger of having to perform oral sex on your dealer just to get your fix.

And that is a pretty big difference.

So, just to bring things to a close, I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has ever read the blog, whether you liked it or hated it.

Without you, this is just a sad rambling to the universe.

Like a literary tree falling in the woods with no one to hear it.

So, in a rare show of gratitude…

Thank you all.

Sincerely, bite me.

 
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Posted by on October 30, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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The politics of being a polite asshole.

Interesting conversation the other day.

Having lunch with a few friends, 1 who is a huge blog fan and a friend of her’s that is not.

Just to choose a name at random, lets call the non-fan Shiteyes.

The subject turned to the blog and this was the comment Shiteyes had on it.

“I have never actually read your blog, but I hear its entertaining.” This was said with a scrunched up nose.

Translation? “I have an agenda based on hearsay I am going to try to force on you because I am convinced I am an intellectual.”

I’m not dumb, I can recognize my cue when I hear it.

“It’s not for everyone. I enjoy writing it.”

“I’ve heard you like to hurt people’s feelings.” Ah, here we go.

Social Justice Warrior. Don’t step on toes, never hurt feelings, passive, passive, passive.

My response freaked her out a bit.

“Like it?” Leaning forward, hands on the table, intense.

“I fucking love it.” Said without heat or anger.

I spent the next hour baiting and screwing with this adult child’s head.

Fuck her sensibilities. Gangbang her sensibilities with a vengeance.

Got her to the point of crying twice.

I look at it this way, if you can’t fight, don’t go looking for one. But if you do start it, at least be able to take a punch.

But, it got me thinking.

I don’t like to hurt everyone’s feelings, rampaging like a mad dog. I am a little specific about the feelings I choose to rampage on.

More like a boxer or a soldier, there are rules of engagement.

Here is what I have figured out:

  • I am allowed to defend myself. That is where the whole “You came into my yard” “Welcome to Thunderdome, bitch” I will be moderately polite until I hit the defensive point, then I become an asshole.
  • I never swing first unless I know for a fact that the other person is up for it.  For instance, I have a brother that honestly looks forward to being screwed with by me at family BBQs. Its a sick thing, but he thinks I must be angry at him if I don’t.
  • My restraint is lacking. It really is a joy when someone who thought they were going to verbally put me in my place gets to a point where, no, they can’t deal with it. And it is that point in time that I get vicious. Nothing to be proud of, but it is what it is.

Its important to understand yourself, even if your an asshole. It makes it easier to figure out how others will react to you.

Plus, and this one is pretty important, if you don’t know what is lurking deep inside your subconscious, you are going to be reacting to what someone tries to stick you with emotionally instead of intellectually, and that is where vulnerability lives.

Jeez, this is like Superman describing how to make kryptonite.

But, before you toddle off to take a swing at creating the mental weapon of mass destruction, understand that the overwhelming mass of humanity are REALLY not ready to crawl around inside their own heads.

It can get ugly.

And most people don’t handle ugly well.

Mainly because its, well, ugly.

 

 
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Posted by on October 23, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Pride goes before getting fucked over.

It is an odd thing to watch someone losing their fucking mind in public.

And before we go any further, I realize there is a percentage of those reading this that have their panties in full twist mode just because I may or may not have prematurely F-bombed in the first sentence.

And I tried not to, I really did.

I rewrote the opening line several times.

And it just doesn’t work without the “fuck” in there.

So here is where we are at, physically and sarcastically.

Panera Bread in Redondo Beach.

The outside patio.

I started off inside, glorying in the delicious air conditioning because its hot out. (Its the middle of October, for fucks sake!)

And then I saw him.

The salesman.

And when I say, “Losing his fucking mind in public.” maybe I am sugar coating it a little bit.

He’s a suit, expensive one, the shoes have a power shine on them and his tie defines “Success”.

Except that the suit is slightly off

The tie has been loosened.

The first two buttons on the shirt are undone.

This opens the shirt more than the loosened tie will let it and makes the whole look even more off.

His face is twisted up into a painful grimace. (Not even that somewhat creepy Grimace from the McDonalds commercials, circa 1970.)

He is pissed.

I will call him Suit, because it really is a nice cut. He has taste.

But I gotta see this up close.

I have my headphones on, its important that he think I can’t hear him, and I carry my open laptop outside and park at a nearby table, completely engrossed in what is happening on my screen.

There is nothing on my screen, but he doesn’t need to know this.

“Lanny! You are a fucking rapist!”

This is the first thing I hear him say and as far as opening lines go, it is hands down one of the best I have ever heard.

A quick internet search for the proper manners or etiquette for publicly shitting yourself yields nothing concrete, so I am going to have to wing it and just keep listening.

Here is what I learned over the next 5 minutes:

  • Lanny, a business partner, has just screwed Suit over to the tune of $10’s of thousands. (The salesmen that are reading this are nodding their heads, its the nature of sales.)
  • Suit is somehow convinced that Lanny will give up those untold thousands if Suit berates him long enough.
  • Suit keeps referencing “Dan and Lori” and that they will not sit still for this. (They may be the bosses of this little evil empire. Jury is still out.)

In the end, Suit wound down and it finally seemed to settle in that he was fucked.

What really struck me was how long it took him to accept the fact that he was fucked.

Lanny was never going to give the money/sale back. I never even met the man and I figured it out well before Suit did.

Dan and Lori, being the bosses, don’t give two shits. They care that the sale was made. Thats it. I have worked for more Dan and Lori’s than I like to remember.

But, like the business version of a goldfish, Suit will forget his pain 30 seconds later when he closes another deal.

Sales is like that. It has no mercy and recognizes no friends other than money, and the relationship could hardly be called friendly.

I wish Suit well, and hope he closes something wonderful soon.

While I don’t particularly care for him, I do admire his taste in clothes.

Lanny, rot in hell you retched bastard, I have also worked with a lot of Lanny’s before.

And they are all assholes.

 
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Posted by on October 16, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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