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The pissed off game is afoot.

There is a special magic in seeing a group of angry old men playing chess in a Starbucks midmorning.

They play cut throat chess here.

Once the game begins, each player has one minute to make their move, then slap the big red button on the timer and then talk shit for 1 minute until the button is slapped again.

And the shit talking is stunning to behold.

Sexuality, race, geneology and hygene are on the table and are free play here.

I even heard a few mother slams thrown in there.

The distraction level is somewhere up in the rafters. But the game play is high level.

I used to study/play chess and I have seen several high end named strageties going on.

Add the distractions to the game restrictions and you have a setting that even Bobby Fisher would be someones prison bitch inside of an hour.

I saw video of Fisher playing once and he looked brittle like a chihuahua.

The high point of the morning was when the fight began.

For the sake of brevity, (And you know how I love to be brief) Iwill simply use the names they used.

John, it seems, tried to finish a move when time had run out, and refused to move his piece.

T, his opponent, is not having it.

Mel, observing/on deck to play next, is on John’s side.

Hack, observing but not playing, doesn’t seem to be doing anything, except talking shit.

John: My piece was moved. I made my move!

T: You have you hand on your piece, that is contemplating a move, NOT finishing a move! Time Ran Out. Put your piece back!

Mel: Man had his piece in place, thats a move.

Hack: Did you eat my cookie? (Not said to anyone in particular.)

John: You losing the game, just have some dignity, T.

T: Talk to yo momma about dignity, and while your at it, tell her you a cheat.

Mel: Aw, that ain’t right.

Hack: My mother died when I was 12.

At this point, the edge of the board was “Accidentally” bumped by the agitated T, who was TOTALLY losing at this point, knocking over most of the pieces.

And all hell broke loose.

T proclaimed his innocence, John proclaimed his guilt, Mel made generic guilt statements, and Hack found his cookie. (Who buys a cookie and puts it in his pocket?)

And then, the really big offense was made.

T gestured with his hand and knocked over the timer.

Holy shit.

You would think someone hopped up on the table, dropped trou and took a dump on the board.

And the “Fuck you, T!” was almost anti-climatic.

But the game is over for today, everyone is leaving like there was a fart in the car.

And then they were gone.

All except Hack, who just sat there eating his cookie.

Sorry never underestimate how serious some people take their hobbies.

Because nothing ruins morning coffee quicker than foul mouth old men.

And thats a damn shame.

Mmmmm coffee.

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Posted by on July 22, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Time for an autopsy.

It has been suggested by one of the meager handful of people I respect, that a previous post was a little too sexist. (Objectifying women, double standard… blah blah blah, you get the idea.)

So, in the spirit of the New more touchie-feelie Bittermac, I took some sensitivity training.

Or at least 10 minutes of it. (Go to Youtube and search “Sensitivity training”. Watch a few of those, you will be suicidal inside of 5 minutes.)

Aside from reaffirming that we are becoming a nation of metro-sexual pussies, I found 3 common points in both the training videos and the videos from women about sensitivity and sexism.

  1. Most sensitivity training goes against human nature and is loosely based on the premise that you should never offend anyone and float thru life on butterfly wings. (All of these videos are conducted by guys that were chosen last in every sport, cheated on by their wives and end up getting raped in prison for tax evasion. Side note- They are in prison for tax evasion, the rape is just part of the amenities.)
  2. The women that post reaction videos to applaud and affirm the training videos start off by demanding that it be an even playing field. By the end of their video-rants, they are usually wanting to spin the whole thing around to a female dominated/male being shit on playing field. (The bitter side of me applauds their thirst for blood, but it would set the scene for these exact kinds of videos being made by the guys in another decade.)
  3. Nobody seems to have the same agenda. Several of the training videos and the reaction videos took the point of view of sexual abuse, several attacked racism, a few attacked inherited wealth. (Interesting mix, its a forest for the trees. Stop arguing about what kind of trees they are. They are TREES, lets move on.)

So, once again I find myself sitting in my comfy chair up in my ivory tower, seeing the people and their flaws.

And here is what I have for you:

Let it go.

Jesus Christ, people! Life is unfair, always has been, and its not changing any time soon.

If you are a woman, men are going to be unfair to you in the workplace.

If you are a man, men in higher positions will be unfair to you in the workplace.

If you are a short man, women on dating sites will openly discriminate against you.

If you are poor, the rich will discriminate against you when it comes to money.

If you are rich, the government will discriminate against you for having money.

If you draw breath on this planet, someone will take advantage of that situation for their own personal gain.

The whole thing boils down to human nature.

Human beings instinctively strive to better their own situation.

Some do it in an almost brutally selfish fashion, while others are wildly selfless in their approach.

Think of the Clintons on one end and Mother “Saint” Theresa on the other.

And we are all in between.

The vast majority spend their time hiding their own activities and decrying the actions of others.

Me? I am an open book.

Kind of like a tawdry sex novel that gets you a little hot and bothered, but shocks you with how out of your comfort zone you get.

Intriguing, can’t put it down fascinating, but leaves you feeling a little dirty in the end.

Most people wander thru life with this child-like belief system that remains unexamined from the moment it was given to them till the day they die.

Here is the basic truth.

Do your best not to shit on people if its not necessary, be a good person when you can, limit your asshole instincts when you can and hopefully, when the shit hits the fan, you have banked enough goodwill that there are a few hands to help when you need it.

I will not mention Karma here, you all know my opinions on that. (Seriously, if karma worked even a quarter of the time, we would not need laws. They say karma’s a bitch. I agree. A lazy bitch that rarely pulls its own weight.)

I will leave you with a quote from Hunter S. Thompson “I understand that fear is my friend, but not always. Never turn your back on Fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed.“ (Not the original quote I wanted, but this one caught my eye and it is golden.)

 
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Posted by on February 26, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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The opposite of Sex

Anastasia Beaverhausen has changed her name.

Written by Molloy

Men. I hate men. Can’t live with em, can’t kill ‘em. It’s an old cocktail party joke, but so true on so many levels. I get now why so many of my ‘middle-aged’ girlfriends have gone lesbo. They used to be married to men – most have had children with them, but something in them finally snapped, and they decided to start playing for the other team.

And I totally get it. Guys: you get so disgusting as you get older. Maybe it’s because your mothers are now too old, or even deceased, and us women are too tired to tell you one more goddam time to pick up your shit off the floor, but you. Still. Do. It. Every day. Do you really need to be reminded every single day? Your boxers on the floor. Your stinky socks and shoes all over the house. Your sandwich makings all over the counter. Your crap. Everywhere. It’s like you are a dog marking territory. Women don’t do this. Everything gets put back away. And we smell like roses. All the time. You all seem to have forgotten that a nice clean man = horizontal play time. Oh, and putting your crap away = horizontal play time + blow jobs and possible ass play – if you’ve poured enough wine.

Women who have tossed out their men, and decided to shack up with a female partner are my inspiration. They have someone wonderful to talk to, a clean house, and don’t have to explain those weird house scents to visitors (girls, you know which ones I mean – those “man smells”). Female partners in the same house have fridges with wonderful foods, such as hummus, wine (tons of wine), cheese, fruit, and olive oil. They also have towels that smell of lavender, no hair in the tub, and no fear of anyone using their cherished tweezers on anything but their eyebrows. Trust me: you just can’t un-see that image of your man leaning over the toilet, scraping out the underside of his toenails with your BrowGal. Speaking of toilets: The coup de gras……..cohabitating carpetlickers do not have to deal with the toilet seat, piss on the floor, or unflushed toilets.

Aaaaaah……I heard choirs of angels singing when I thought of that…..no more toilet issues. I think the mid-life-crisis-sexual-preference changers might be on to something with just that issue alone. They might not be having sex with each other (pity), but at least they are in their own special spa oasis of their own design (can I get a whoop whoop for no more leather recliners, 75 inch plasma screens, and foosball tables gals?).

Seriously, men are just overgrown little boys who like to play with snakes and fart, while women are prettier versions of little girls with the skills and knowledge to color-coordinate and run the world while making a port wine reduction sauce and coaching her teen daughter on partial differential equations.

Men: Can’t live with ‘em, and who wants to anyway? I hate men.

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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The weaker sex.

Divorced women have a serious agenda.

When a man gets divorced, we go thru this juvenile “I’m free” thing in our heads. This leads to a lot of whoring around whenever possible, but usually a rejuvenation of the personality. Its like the filter of marriage dampens you down and shuts you up. In divorce, you suddenly find the handcuffs off that you didn’t realize were there, and you can now speak your mind.  This is sometimes a good thing.But what if you are kind of an obnoxious dick?

Take up blogging, works like a fucking charm.

Women, however, view divorce as a kaleidoscope of things.

Empowering, rejuvenating, reinvention, life changing. They start new businesses, join a book club, read these books. (Not even the trashy stuff, but stuff Oprah recommends) Often times, a support group erupts.

And that is when the trouble begins.

Oprah is not pro man. This is a given. She is part of that, “Men are the problem.” thing. Keep in mind that Oprah is single and has been for a long time. Never take your car to a mechanic that never learned to drive. She has a female friend, named Gayle, that goes everywhere with her, and a constantly missing man in her life named Stedman. If a friend in high school had the same scenario in their life, you would have called bullshit long ago.

I have a relative that has had a long time girlfriend, that no one has ever met, but hangs out 24 7 with his “buddy” and room mate. They even go on vacation together because they are such good “Friends”. (Putting quotes around anything makes it suspect.) No one is really fooled, but it has made for some wonderfully awkward Thanksgiving dinners over the years. The yearly answer to mom’s question of when is he getting married and having kids is met with stock quotes from the Liberace play book. “I’m working too much.” “I’m concentrating on my career.” Laughing in the middle of the silence that follows will get you chewed out by my mother in a heartbeat, trust me on that one.

Sorry, off on a tangent there.

Divorced women tend to get together to talk about something called “Feelings”

Stop laughing, I’m being serious here.

Divorced women should never be allowed to congregate together.

Whole lotta “All men are bastards!” Oprah shit going down. Its a mob mentality at that point as they support and empower the living shit out of each other. I’ve seen it and its a terrifying thing. Nobody ends up dead but suddenly, the alimony triples and she’s fighting over custody of your pet rock.

Because here’s the problem.

We are bastards.

Sounds simple, but think about it. It is like that old Aesop’s fable about the woman that finds the half dead snake, nurses him back to health, and when he bites her and she asks how could he do that? He says, you knew I was a snake when you took me in.

Exactly.

And no, I am not saying that all men will wander around with their penis out, 24 7, looking for takers. But we
do still slither around quite a bit. By the purist definition of a divorced woman men are bastards, even the good one. Ask a holy roller, born again Christian if someone that doesn’t go to their church is sinful. 10 for 10 they are a sinner.

Its the perspective the shapes the answer, even before you ask the question.

But we are still men. Most women want a man to “Be a man”. But only to a woman’s definition. Again, perspective. Sensitive, funny, caring, intellectual, loves my mother, good with children, has an eye for flowers and foreign films, loves cats, is not afraid to cry and loves quiche.

Those men are out there, but they’re gay.

Just to throw it out there, I like quiche, but very hetero. I have it on authority from a gay friend that I am
what is referred to as “Tragically hetero”, and that even faking it is not very believable. I asked him if thats an insult, and he said only if you are gay.

Women are complicated creatures, you hear that one a lot.. No their not, they’re nuts! Beware of any creature that can bleed for 3 days, AND NEVER DIE.

Women are from Venus.

Great, aliens.

It all comes into focus. Its pretty obvious that women didn’t come from this planet.
Because if women are from Venus, men are from earth.

Or, it could just be a bullshit metaphor.

Maybe we are just spending too much time over-thinking it.

Perhaps the basic truth of it all is this:

Are you ready for someone in your life?

Simple question, complex answer. One of those ass-clenching, night sweats type answers. The more I think about this one, the worse it gets.

Really ready. Not just “I hope I meet someone” while you are still in marriage counseling, or spending all of your disposable income on meth. Timing is a bitch, but it also pays to be realistic and prepared.

To be ready for someone in your life, you have to sort out enough of your baggage and shit and pare it down to have room for someone without it being sabotaged before it even starts. It means, if your feeling are backed up, like an emotional constipation, that you deal with it and get around it.

Got an addiction? Thats a lover all on its own, and a jealous one at that. You have to break up with her. Talk about hell having no fury. The ex from hell.

It all boils down to dealing with everything that can trip you up. All the collected shit that you have gained over the years and hangs around your neck like a weight, holding you back and pulling you under.

The alternative is to do nothing and watch whatever relationship you have go tits up like a dead cockroach.

And spending your relationship eternity in the dust behind the refrigerator?

It sucks.

 
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Posted by on August 25, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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