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I reserve the right to be a dick.

I get hate mail from time to time.

The funny thing is, 95% of the hate mail comes from the same people, week in week out.

The emails all start more or less the same, a claim that they rarely read the blog, this despite the fact that they email EVERY week.

And its not even original stuff, its the same whiny-ass stuff every week.

I would say like a broken record, but its not enough. A broken record that lives alone and has over a dozen cats and not one blood relative that is willing to talk to them.

The reason I am bringing any of this up, is that one of them, a mewling little soundbox from Australia that goes by the dumb name of TinyMouse, asked a question that you think all of them would ask.

Why are you so rude when you respond to my email?

Let me explain.

For a long time, my first response was “Fuck off”. Short, sweet, to the point.

And then, like so many things, I got tired of it.

So the reply emails became a blog post all their own.

Just really obscene and insulting in a personal, mean spirited way.

Sometimes I will cut and paste obscene pictures from online into the email. (Is that admissable in court? No clue. I don’t think its harrassment, they are all responses.)

To me, I would not email any asshole again if I got this sort of response.

However, TinyMouse has gotten over 3-4 dozen of this type of email and still emails me every week to chastise me. And the phrase “Belligerent cis-male” is always included. (I always counter that with “Cat rapist” which seems to flip her out, she has a lot of cats.)

And yes, there is a sane part of me that realizes how childish this is.

However, the logical me gave it up a long time ago. The 800lbs gorilla that is the childish me has been running the show. And he’s a dick.

There has to be a psychology 101 textbook that can lay out the basics of sociopathic blogging, but I have yet to run across it.

And now, allow me to insert something different here.

Like a mental sorbet to cleanse the cerebral pallet.

I just visited the bathroom and someone came out of the men’s room just as I walked up.

AND HE STANK LIKE SHIT ON A HOT DAY!

Homeless, but that foamy neck kind of unwashed homeless.

God, I miss Manhattan Beach homeless. They had standards.

Needless to say, I am not in Manhattan Beach.

And it shows.

Back to vile email.

As a group, the critics of the blog are a whiny bunch of Chatty Cathy dolls that pull their own internet strings non-stop.

Its as annoying as it is humorous.

Much like playing chess for money with a retarded, crackhead, welfare mother, its only funny for the first few minutes. After that, its just sad and really annoying. (And if that last, carefully crafted sentence doesn’t get those fucktard’s panties in a twist, I don’t know my shit.)

You have to wonder what it is about obsessively reading and criticising a barely read blog that does it for this bunch of shit wads.

Activism should involve an element of chance that you will make a difference.

They really need to piss on the fire and call in the dogs, because they lost this fight way before they started.

But, like I always say, its important to have a hobby.

And, their hobby is to point out social improprieties to the literary malcontents of the blogospere.

Just like my hobby is to fuck with them.

Works for me.

Bite me.

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Posted by on March 20, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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I hate you too, pumpkin.

This may come as a shock, but there are some people that hate this blog, and by extension, me.

And I am ok with that.

I didn’t start this weekly screed to make friends, I just wanted to have someplace to literary vomit on a regular basis, the fact that you read it is not something I will be held responsible for.

But, and this is the whole whiny point here, why read it if you don’t like it?

I got 5 hate emails last week for my post.

And not one of those 5 people who emailed were new to me.

EVERY one of them had emailed me before to bitch at me for something.

I had the C-word thrown at me again.

Not that one, Cis-male.

For those that don’t know, a cis-male is someone who insists on being the gender they were “Assigned” at birth. But there is a really pissy connotation like you are just choosing it to be an ass.

So, for my crimes of both being born with testicles and a penis and going the further step of calling myself male, I am getting hate email calling me a “Belligerent cis-male.”

As far as hate email goes, this is the weakest crap I have ever seen.

Part of insulting someone means that you at least use a vernacular that they will consider insulting.

I am a male. That is a physical fact and really does not leave room for debate.

I cannot claim to be a woman because I am, in fact, not.

Even if I go the route of the “Woman trapped in a man’s body” I would still be a man.

Gender is not something that you can argue.

Correction, you can argue about anything you feel like, but if you argue gender, you are wrong.

The physical is the default, that is the way it is.

Now, if you want to surgically alter the physical, that is different.

I am all about personal freedom, just don’t get stupid about it.

And when it comes to insulting me, you have to understand something.

Insulting is my game, welcome to Thunderdome, bitch.

Honestly, here is what insulting me does.

It identifies you as an eligible receiver in the game and screams “I’m open!”

Most of these people that email me are somewhat controlled yet insulting in their first email.

And then they get my reply.

And their second reply is where they lose their shit.

Because my reply doesn’t even try to be polite.

If my reply and polite were in a prison cell together, polite would not be allowed to pee standing up. (Wait for it… Wait for it… BAM! You got it.)

And can you blame them?

The dash off a poorly written, grammatically spotty email to chastise some blogger and the response is obscene, attacking, and, in some instances, against the law in several states.

The utter horror you get back when you call someone’s dog a cunt and intimate that it is a pedophile is stunning to read. The woman I pulled that little stunt on wrote back a 300 word reply that boiled down to “I don’t know how to respond but I hate you.”

I live for those ones.

Its an ugly side of me that I made peace with long ago.

And its gotten worse.

Its like the lunatics have taken over the asylum, but they are doing a better job of running it.

 
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Posted by on August 22, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Open Seseme…

Oscar the grouch.

Represent, bitches.

Oscar was a grumpy shit way back when. Back when you were young enough to get in trouble for being in a bad mood.

I think it had to do with living in a trash can and being the unspoken homeless guy on the show.

Bert and Ernie had a house and they didn’t seem to have jobs at all. They were either mediocre kids, living without parents or retarded adults who might be gay.

Take your pick.

Back to Oscar.

I seem to end up dealing with the homeless a lot on this blog and I can’t figure out if it is an obsession or just good choices on writing content.

I saw a new Muppet Movie is coming out and it got me thinking about Oscar.

Oscar came at us during a time in our life when we were being bombarded with vanilla, black and white views of life. The cartoons reflected either a good guy or a bad guy. The good guys were always good and the bad guys were always bad.

And then there was Oscar.

Oscar was a good guy that bitched about everything. but everyone seemed to like, and he was just kind of made fun of, but he spoke his mind and was more or less accepted by the majority.

All without getting a time out.

I am seeing scary similarities between myself and Oscar.

And, in a way, I kind of like that.

Oscar pretty much demanded that you accept him and his shitty attitude at face value. He taught us to be pushy and outspoken way before that was allowed by school or our parents.

And never once did he get the recognition.

Hell, some of us have personalities based on it.

Willy the grouch.

Has a nice little ring to it, ay?

When my kids were growing up, I started watching Sesame Street again. I was a little twisted up by it at first.

The Muppets were puppets and never aged, so all my old friends were still vibrant and funny.

But the people changed.

They were older and what was once friendly and helpful was now kind of creepy and moist? and made me afraid to leave my kids alone in the same room with them.

But I got over it and sat with my daughter and clapped and sang. Daddy stuff.

And then your kids grow up and, at least mentally, you put the Muppets on the shelf again.

Until the grand kids show up. Then you can watch again.

And I will still be creeped out by the overly sugary-sweet delivery of the cast of humans then, too.

But the Muppets will still be there.

And, fuzzy pound for fuzzy pound, Kermit the Frog is the elder statesman of childrens television. He kicks the shit out of Spongebob with one thin furry arm held behind his back with a little black stick.

And he will bitch slap Hello Kitty without working up a sweat.

Although, Hello Kitty has a Japanese following that is fanatical and well monied, so maybe that’s a bad comparison.

Getting back to Oscar the Grouch, I like to think he was a roll model for some, if not all of us.

He catered to the inner asshole.

Thank you Oscar.

I would follow you into Muppet hell, you magnificent fuzzy bastard.

 
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Posted by on September 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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To rebut is human……to forgive is not.

I am a little angry today.

So what else is new?

I have received a second email from an anonymous source about the “Ronaldo’s Son” blogs. The first was a simple admonishment about being harsh.

Fine, I sent back a “Sorry you feel that way” email and asked them to post on the blog page. I prefer to make a public scene.

The second was more, and I take it personal.

Despite my request that I would rather you comment on the blog on the actual blog page, Ms. X has elected to continue emailing.

Fine.

Then I will rebut all the lines of your email here.

First of all, eat me.

I have never read anything this pathetic in my life. Every soft-headed platitude in the book or books is there.

“An addict is not responsible for his actions.”
Two things. First, Ronaldo never said his son was an addict, I never said his son was an addict. Second? Bull! We are all responsible for our actions. An addict always has the option of getting help.

“Walk a mile in his shoes before you judge him.”
I could be in the Battan Death March in his Nikes before I would shit on my father to the degree this piece of garbage has.

“Judge not lest ye be judged.” Ah, biblical. Mathew. Sermon on the mount. It was part of a sermon on ostentation and not meant to be a “get out of jail free” sinners card.

The really interesting thing is that, for all of these dark and dour crimes, you assume he is an addict and auto forgive all of his actions.

What about me?

How do you know this isn’t my 11th out of 12 steps or something? Where is the automatic assumption that I too, am an addict. Where the hell is my auto-forgiveness?
(According to MyAddiction.com Caffeine is a really serious one too. All of my behavior is now golden. Yah!)

Back on subject.

I know a little something about addiction. I have family that is in the rehab biz and the general consensus is that taking responsibility for your actions is in there somewhere. It is also one of the twelve steps.

But lets look at all the people you have turned your back on in favor of the Demon Son.

Ronaldo. The meth lab on the premises gets his retirement-funding house seized. It also is a huge betrayal of his parent. (This is a biblical issue too, or did you miss that?)

The girls. Smuggled into this country and forced to do drugs and make porn films. A sizeable portion of their life is ruined. I hope they get some peace down the road on this one. I see them as victims.

The parents of the girls. They will most likely find out at some point. Could be the biggest nightmare a parent could face.

Anyone in the film distribution chain that is simply trying to make a living. They have been given films that contain illegal actors. I assume the economy sucks all over and they can’t afford hits to their bottom line either.

Because actions speak louder than words, I have a challenge for you. When Ronaldo’s son gets out of jail, take him and Charles Manson as room mates.

Let me know how that goes.

You may as well go fishing with Fredo, because you are dead to me.

So, to sum up, take your excuses, your platitudes, your obvious self-issues, your blind eye forgiveness to any crime that does not directly affect you…..

And stick them. In the biblical sense.

Have a nice day…………..ass.

 
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Posted by on September 8, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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The sound…….of Silence.

There is a vicious, scorched-earth, fully bi-polar argument going in Starbucks right now. Shit is being thrown out there that you should never say to someone you are sleeping with, much less a loved one.

In total silence.

There is a guy at a corner table who is deaf. He has his Iphone propped up against his coffee cup, and if I casually lean over, there is a dark haired woman signing furiously and angrily into her webcam.

I have no clue whats being said other than the expressions, unlike Spanish, which I can sound out. I don’t even know how to sign what day it is.

He has been signing furiously for thirty seconds and now slowly licked several of his fingers and it has seriously pissed off the woman on the phone even more than before. Sign language seems to have newer options for going dirty.

This is absolutely fascinating.

And then its over, he gets up and leaves, in total silence.

He may be deaf, but he still has the same issues we all do. Some more than others.

I couldn’t be deaf, I would go insane. Anger demands noise, that is basic human nature.

But on the same note, being deaf would make me impossible to be around as well. Most deaf people accept it and grow to enjoy it.

Not me.

For me, it would be like having a permanent case of the shits. Always there, always annoying. I would exist in this permanent cloud of pissy that would make me even more unpleasant than I am.

And I can be pretty unpleasant.

But I started wondering why the deaf guy has an Iphone to begin with, its not like he can use it.

And then it hits me like a smack with the big “Hey dumbfuck!” stick.

He is using his phone.

Maybe not how I would, but now everyone can use a phone. The technology has now caught up with the needs of the deaf.

In other words, the people that don’t need phones? They now need phones. And not just any phone, but one of the most expensive, high end phones on the market, with one of the costliest rate plans.

Very clever, AT&T. Or shall I just call you Mr. Jobs?

I can see it all now.

This is world wide conspiracy shit. This is like an Internet grassy knoll, data plan goes back….and to the left, broadband-Da Vinci code type thing.

Chilling.

Should I suddenly meet with some sort of suspicious accident, be aware that “They” had a hand in it.
(And by “Accident” I don’t mean like a child fouling himself. I have only done that once and it involved a lot of grain alcohol.)

I have begun poring over my cell bill, looking for some sort of code. Unfortunately, I think I have a better chance to crack the Beale Cipher, (Google it), than I do of figuring out the AT&T/Apple master plan.

But at least we know there is one.

 
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Posted by on August 18, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Do you realize what you are saying?

  We live in a world where 50% of everyone you see on your way to work is on their cell phone. And with the advent of more communication, more marriages are breaking up due to “Lack of communication.” We are talking more, but hearing less.

  And then theres me. I hear a lot. Certainly not what’s said to me, ask my ex-wife about that one. But I hear what people say to others around me.

  In other words, I listen in.

  There is a guy on his phone in my favorite Starbucks right now, that is talking on his cell phone to a friend, possibly his attorney, about his strategy to F-over his soon to be ex-wife. Loudly, with everyone around able to hear it. At the same time, he is making side comments to a woman I believe he met in line. They are both waiting for they’re coffee creations. She is being polite and I think he imagines himself to be sweetly dangerous with the ladies. I appreciate an asshole attitude on occasion, but this guy is a complete bastard.

  Judging from the expressions of everyone around him, the crowd agrees. I think I just saw the Barrista spit in his latte.

  From the look on his face, his lawyer just tried to call him on his proposed behavior. His only comment?

  “The kids are young, they’ll get over it.”

  Wow.

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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