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Tag Archives: superstition

The smell of doom.

I am not sure how much more I can take.

Everyone has been acting all week like this is no big deal.

Like I have not been in danger of shitting myself at any moment.

Friday the 13th, like its nothing to worry about.

Here is a fact:

  1. 18 years ago, on FRIDAY THE 13TH, I broke a toe on the doorjam of my kitchen.
  2. 22 years ago, on FRIDAY THE 13TH, I not only walked into a spider web, but I inadvertently swallowed a spider. (Pucker factor alone made me throw up a little in my mouth just now.)
  3. In the last 30 years, the following job-ending activities have happened within a few days of FRIDAY THE 13TH: 2 layoffs, 1 boss died, 1 fire and the accidental killing of the boss’s wife’s cat by my own negligence. Lotta negative shit here, people.

Now that you have a little back story, you can see the clear connection to a random number on the calendar and how it will be directly responsible for my oddly suspicious death.

So feel free to tempt fate and wander around today while death tries to fit you onto its schedule later today.

I will be hiding under the bed with my coffee and numchucks.

What I don’t get is that people wander around like everything is fine.

Would I be under the bed if everything was alright? Of course not.

Which reminds me, I need to sweep under the bed.

But I think we have all forgotten the fact that the FEAR of bad things happening on Friday the 13th is founded on scientific principles, proven as fact again and again.

I read that on a website on the INTERNET, so you know it’s true.

The only thing that would make it more true is if someone posted it on Facebook, the you know its a fact.

And there are those that choose to be ignorant and belittle those of us with the experience and wisdom to see the foul karmic shit storm today poses. Let them stew in their silly denial of the truth, then cry like slow children when fate takes a shit on them.

Me? Safe under the bed, highly caffeinated and heavily armed.

Outside? Zombie holocaust. Or something. I wouldn’t know, really. Not gonna look. Its horrible, whatever it is.

But, if the fates are kind, it won’t be too bad.

I gotta go to work tomorrow.

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Posted by on November 13, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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The Bitch is Back

We’re all gonna die.

These things happen.

Simple fact.

Probably soon.

Today is Friday the 13th, second month in a row.

Do you have any idea how rare that is?

Its like a unicorn being gang raped by a leprechaun and Santa Claus, and they all have winning lottery tickets

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

I don’t remember the last time there was Friday the 13th two months in a row.

I have had a few people tell me I am being superstitious and paranoid.

Hey, I don’t make the rules.

To paraphrase, Hate the game, not the scared player hiding under his bed.

There are those that say that Friday the 13th is just a day like any other day.

Yeah, and there are those that are against vaccinations too.

Perfect example, I got out of bed on Friday the 13th last month and immediately slammed my baby toe into the dresser.

Need I say more?

I can hear the doubters right now “That proves nothing. “

Fine, I’ll say more.

Not more than 5 minutes later, I got a papercut.

[Microphone drop.]

I NEVER get paper cuts, I have skin like a lizard.

If you still doubt me even in the face of empirical evidence, here is the final piece of proof.

I lost my car keys. LOST MY CAR KEYS! Are you bastards even listening?!?!

So for the second Friday in the 13th in a row? Screw it, I am not going out of the house today.

I have thought long and hard, employed rational thought, common sense and a little immigrant wisdom, and here is what I have come up with.

Drinking coffee and hiding under the bed.

Go ahead and laugh, but when the land around us is a charred pile of rubble, I will be probably still be hiding out, having coffee.

Will there be Starbucks in the wastelands of the future? Magic 8-ball says it seems likely.

God forbid I have to make my own, then I know we’re screwed.

Did the movie Mad Max teach us nothing?

For those not in the know, Mad Max was Mel Gibson’s first movie. (This was back before he became a misogynistic, anti-semitic, racist who evidently didn’t know that the red light is blinking when you are being recorded. See also Donald Sterling.)

And it was a low budget post apocalyptic car and violence fest set in Australia.

What did we learn from it?

First, without franchise coffee houses, the people descend into anarchy and join punk rock biker gangs.

Second, when the shit goes down, Australia is the last place you wanna be.

Although I hear Syndey is lovely in season.

Could the apocalypse be moved to Southern California?

The weather is better and there is a Starbucks on every corner.

It would make the wasteland much more pleasant.

So, that is what today is all about.

Hiding, drinking coffee and trying to figure out which post-apocalyptic coffee houses will have wifi.

Thank God for Keurig, the pod coffee machine.

It makes an acceptable cup.

Trust me, you don’t want my drip coffee.

If the coffee depends on me, I inadvertently make it strong enough to give a meth-head the shakes.

That is not enough of an ability to make me a warlord of the coming wasteland, but it does have me stockpiling Keurig.

To sum up, Coffee, nuclear holocaust, Australia, and support the troops.

We all on the same page now?

And, if you are stupid enough to go outside on Friday the 13th, despite all my warnings, don’t come running to me when all hell breaks loose.

If you are set upon by rabid dogs, gangs of Chicago children (Like a finishing school for murderers that place) or a Jehova witness stops you to force a copy of the Watchtower on you, you had it coming.

And if anyone is looking for me, I will be under the bed.

Nursing my coffee like a Canadian baby on a United Airlines flight. (Google it, people! Do I have to do everything for you?)

 
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Posted by on March 13, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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We’re all gonna die. Just saying.

I try not to work on Friday the 13th, as a general rule.

This is not new, we’ve discussed this before.

Its not because I’m superstitious or anything.

I just have a healthy respect for tradition and also, I am convinced that bad luck and an old gypsy woman’s curse will kill me horribly on that day.

Call me a pussy, I don’t care.

If you ask me, there is not enough respect for fear-driven urban legend.

And I am not talking about the “Don’t flash your lights at another car that have their’s off at night, its a gang initiation, they’ll turn around and kill you.” Kind of modern day crap.

I am talking about the ones that are several hundred years old, well, like Friday the 13th.

No wonder they made it into a scary movie.

Scary movies exist to scare us, that much is true.

On the surface.

But underneath, there is a whole other psychological game being played.

Scary movies exist to rub our noses in the primal fear of death.

That is what they are really about.

Primal fear is a gift you acquire at birth and it follows you thru life, like a combination lost puppy/grim reaper that you cannot shake.

Not to be confused with Catholic guilt, which is another type of guilt entirely, self inflicted and even harder to shake.

Primal fear and Catholic guilt are both irrational fears.

Catholic is only slightly easier to navigate.

Primal fear encompasses everything in the world that could kill you.

Catholic guilt encompasses everything in life that you might do wrong.

Subtle difference, but a discernible one.

Sometimes, they crossover and are the same fear.

Except, especially at those times, fixing one doesn’t necessarily fix the other.

That concept of fixing a problem and it still not being fixed is a tough one to get the first time it occurs to you.

Mainly because it is an unsatisfying answer, and unsatisfying answers are never easy to swallow.

They are the “Cod Liver Oil” of answers. They may do the job, but they make you feel sick while doing it.

Its a little like being in a relationship and having an argument.

You may win the argument, and you are still screwed.

Like winning the battle but losing the war.

Except this is worse, you are sleeping with the enemy as it were.

Myself, much like all vermin, I thrive on conflict and confrontation, preferably as a witness.

I would use “Fly on the wall” but I find them repulsive. (The whole eating thru vomiting thing is tough to get around. Imagine two girls one cup National Geographic style.)

What does any of this have to do with Friday the 13th?

Today is the day when I avoid human contact.

If I avoid dealing with people and/or machines, they cannot blow up and try to kill me.

That sounds paranoid, right up until you look at insurance company statistics.

More insurance claims are made for accidental death and dismemberment list today as the day of infamy.

I don’t need that kind of pressure.

I am perfectly capable of maiming myself without nature lending an evil hand.

 
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Posted by on June 13, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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If it weren’t for hockey.

Rain has come to Southern California.

You would think it was a plague of frogs, judging by the over reactions of some people.

Its just water, for Christ’s sake.

Here is a verbatim conversation from the table next to me.

“Look at that.”

“Dude.”

“Man, how am I gonna get home?”

“Dude.”

“Thats not safe!”

“Dude.”

The participants in this little exchange are late teens to early twenties, totally lending credibility to my theory that pretty much everyone in that age range are functionally ‘tarded. (Don’t email me, I mean it in the good way.)

And, just judging from the hip, both of these boy’s Kush cards are up to date and probably well worn.

But, hey, no brains, no headaches.

Back to the subject at hand.

Water.

Its about as basic nature as it gets.

But people like these two still freak out.

And the sad thing is, its not even raining too hard.

This is one of the side effects of living in Southern California.

The ground may shake every now and then, but you can still go surfing afterwards.

But let the skies weep a little bit and half of the local indigenous population will shit themselves.

Could be worse, I’m just not sure how.

I lived in Portland, Oregon for a few years, and they are the exact opposite.

It rains roughly 9 months out of the year, so you are always a little soggy.

You don’t even notice it after awhile.

That is how you know a tourist in Portland, they are the only ones carrying umbrellas.

But, a little after my 3rd month of moving in, there was a 2.6 earthquake, really rare.

Within 30 seconds of a shaker so weak you could barely feel it, my neighbors were out in the middle of the street, some in their pajamas.

There was some talk of the need to hoard canned goods and drink toilet water.

I think everyplace has something that the locals will freak out about.

Its in human nature to pick out something that rarely happens and then treat it like the terrifying first time every time it happens.

Gotta wonder how this started.

Probably in Canada somewhere.

And I only say that because, in the grand scheme of things, the Canadians are the guilty red-headed stepchild of North America who’s only redeeming contribution to the world is the great sport of hockey and Wayne Gretzky.

I am sure the Canadians started the trend of fear that now plagues the world.

Some Canuck ran into something unusual and freaked out. Something that you rarely see in Canada, like a bar of soap or a job, then all hell broke loose.

(I love smacking Canada, they’re such victims.)

All kidding aside, its the frightful superstition that really shapes our traditions.

Most holidays are based on them.

Would we have Halloween without someone, somewhere, being scared shitless about something the Canadians had done? (Did you really think I was done with that?)

Fear is a great motivator in life, don’t discount it.

Fear can be a better motivator than sex.

In that period immediately after you finally get sex of any sort, you can be afraid of something.

Hell, depending on who you had sex with, you could be afraid of what your new found friend might have given you.

(Better hope she’s not Canadian.)

 
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Posted by on March 3, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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A day for clenching your ass cheeks.

Friday the 13th, are you fucking kidding me?

I hate this day.

When I was younger, I figured I would come to a point where it wouldn’t bother me anymore.

Not working out.

From the moment I see it coming up on the calendar, I am filled with a sincere feeling of dread.

My ass is in full clench from the moment I get up to the moment I fall fitfully to sleep.

And there is a voice in the back of my head that is SURE that the second I relax I will get rickets or aids or bite by a dog or something.

Like a foamy mouthed pitbull.

The breed used in the line above is to piss off a friend that rescues pitbulls.

I like to stack the “Piss off” deck every now and then.

Maybe it is due to still recovering from a lack of sleep after flying in on that flying gulag known as SouthWest airlines.

(Also got an email protesting my description of what SouthWest did to my flight schedule as “Slipping it a roofy and raping it without a condom.” And that is STILL funny.)

However, it could be a sense of dread that comes with the understanding that Friday could be the day the shit hits the fan.

Not sure, zombie holocaust type of shit, but definitely shit of some sort.

I gassed up my car and checked the oil.

Checked my stockpile of canned goods and potable water.

Made sure my ammo stash is full.

Dropped by the church and lit a few candles, I am hedging all bets at this point.

And I am still not ready.

But there is only so much you can do, other than hiding out and laying low on the day in question.

Which I am planning to do.

Don’t call me, don’t text me, and don’t even think about trying to Skype me.

I am not answering shit.

If you see me Friday, its because you are hiding in my closet and what the hell is wrong with you?

The internet is not helping.

I just found a website that has dozens of horrid things that have all happened on Friday the 13th.

The last thing I need right now are facts, mainly because the fantasy in my head is powerful enough to keep me sleepless for weeks.

So, let that be the only warning I will give.

Lay low, avoid strangers and strange things, and above all, keep me out of it.

 

Wrote the previous a few days ago.

Seems a little dour on the re-read.

Good.

I wouldn’t want everyone but me to take this less serious than I.

My plan? I will spend my day with a rabbit’s foot in one hand and a St. Christopher medal in the other and both ass cheeks in full clench for the entire day.

Swamp ass? It goes without saying.

 
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Posted by on December 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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