Sunday, October 31, 2010

Christine O'Donnell for Congress!

I love Christine O'Donnell. She speaks to me. Not politically, hell no. I look at her and I see the woman that I pursued in the 80's. Cute, clueless and with a desire to be driven. Uh, if there are any women reading this that knew me in the 80's, or dated me anytime before 2007, then I'm not talking about you. You were special. I mean that, really.

When I hear that Christine utters stupidity, I Google her for photos just to ogle her boobs. Her mind is a sex-magnet. Her intellect screams, "Take Me! I won't remember it!". This is a dream to a man ... and some women.

Let's be honest, Christine is cute. No one has a complextion that clear unless copious amounts of self-diddling have taken place. And to think that said diddling might have occurred during naked rituals around the candlelit pentagram with Peruvian goat blood accents is a much more enticing thought.

This isn't a political thought ... this is a human thought. Appease the little head of the male voting populace. Doff the mom jeans, Christine. Don the Latex with zippers. You're selling fantasies, afterall. Might as well make 'em sellable to the ones who want you for who you are.

Harsh? Yeah. True. Oh, yeah. Put Sarah Palin in a thong and bra and have her do a lap at Talledega in a stock car and she'll be president.

Just sayin' ...

Peru, I am a Fan

Uh oh ... Peru is pissed. The entire country is livid and will possibly halt all trade with the United States due to their pissed-offedness. The Peruvian embassies within our land are calling for a revolution due to the utterance of a sentiment by a fictional character on the fictional television series, 'Modern Family'.

The offending dialogue comes during an argument between Jay, played by Ed O'Neill, and his Colombian wife Gloria, played by Sofia Vergara.

"Now, maybe in Colombia ..." Jay begins.

"Ah, here we go," Gloria interrupts. "Because, in Colombia, we trip over goats and we kill people in the street. Do you know how offensive that is? Like we're Peruvians!"

Oh. My God. this is just not acceptable ... (note my sarcasm). What is more unacceptable is the response by a respresentative of the Peruvian community here in the good 'ol U.S of A, the land of free speech.
"It's incredible that in a country where everything is politically correct, ABC would have a line of this sort," said Milagros Lizarraga, founder of Peru USA Southern Ca, an online community that communicates through social media.
Excuse me, Mr. Lizarraga, did you just say that we are a country where everything is politically correct? You sure as shit did. And for that, I give you props. You exposed the truth about this country of ours ... "Speak NOT and forever hold your tongue." Or something like that.
Now, I personally like Peru. I have a friend in Peru who expedites a monthly order, or two, of anti-depression products. All totally legal. The country has it's problems though. There are goats and, believe it or not, there are murders. Just because we live in Utopia and only dream of goats and have no murder doesn't mean we can speak of imagined things in other nations.
Wait, we might have goats. But certainly not murder. I watch enough 'COPS' on late night TV to know that murder never happens because the good guys intervene before a life is taken. And I'll tell ya ... If ever I'm watching Univision or Telemundo or KrautVision or any other national telecast and a program indicates that my country has people who raise chickens and drive mini-vans and suggest that we have overcrowded prisons filled with less-than-admirable people ... well, then I am going straight to that embassy to file a complaint.
How dare a fictional character on a sitcom suggest that life is less than ideal in any country. I had no idea that Peru was Heaven. I had an idea, due to the coca fields, that it was close. But, to suggest that there are goats and murder? So wrong, so very wrong. That's like saying that Germany harbored Nazis during World War Two and America is full of people not living the American dream of forclosure and job loss.
ABC, if you're listening, add a goat to your cast and have the family kill the goat to feed the family after unemployment benefits expire after Ed O'Neill loses his job. Them possibly, you'll appear to be politically correct. And then, when you become politically correct, you will lose your soul.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Pick Up Line

I am a creative man composed of linear lines.If one were to sketch my countenance from  a 3-D perspective there would be at least one pencil line that trails off into nothingness. No matter what someone draws as being tangible, there is a line somewhere that tapers off into nothingness ... it is called perspective vision .. perspective drawing. Art as reality in it's purest form.

Now, lines ... many references are attributed to the single, straight line. Line of Demarcation. Drawing the line in the sand. Don't step over the line. Property lines. Laugh lines. Line of thinking ... line of thought. There are many others. Ponder...

The word 'line' has but one true meaning, no matter the context ... 'confinement'. Either you are behind the line or you are over the line.

Lines are limiting. Lines define who you are, where you go and how you are perceived. I might have crossed the line with that assumption. Or, was that an assumption or a truth? Shit, I overstepped my boundary, my line, in suggesting that you consider an idea outside of the foour walls (lines) of your own thinking.

Here is a sobering thought ... the most telling lines that any indiviidual has are the lines at the corner of the eyes that show the true nature of the individual. The humor, the personality. Yet, lines dictated by society encourage many to step outside their own lines  and  erase the lines that define them. "You're aging," they say. Ironic, at best. Tragic, at worst.

Where are your lines? Are your lines drawn in pencil? Here's the hope for you, my friends ... Life isn't a 2-D box. Your life is a perspective drawing and your lines are faded at both ends. You also have an eraser.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Please Deposit a Dime Before Reading

Hi there. Why are you here? Are you just another glutton for punishment or do you simply enjoy reveling in my weakness in order to feel as if you are in control?

I'm writing  .. it's 2:31 in the morning but the ideas I present will speak to anyone at any hour. Ok, that sounds a bit presumptuous and egotistical ... still ...

I had a man tailgaiting me today on a two-lane road. I was driving over the speed limit yet this man, in a Toyota Camry, was snuggling up to my bumper as if he was wanting to sneak his radiator into my tailpipe. It pissed me off. So, being the asshole that I am, I pressed my brakes and mouthed 'F*ck off' as he encroached upon my bumper.

Normally, I'm a patient person. Today, not so much. What makes Camry-Man and his destination so much more important? How about the BMW that is closely guarding the Camry's bumper? Who's destination yields the most importance?

I simply wish to visit a customer's home and care for a child ... a pet. The Camry's driver is late ... possibly rushing to fulfill an obligation to an employer ... possibly to open the local biscuit joint. A noble cause .. man must eat. The BMW driver is late to an early morning meeting .. maybe a sale that will secure status within the company.

We are all alike. A sale. A career. A deadline. Breakfast. Yet, it's dog eat dog on the roadways. Your Egg McMuffin doesn't mean shit. Your big deal doesn't matter. Your early start to the day in order to finish so that you can have time for what matters to you ...  nada.

The road is a fickle bitch. The road defines you. Who you are and who you think you are is defined by your time behind the wheel.

I accept that I'm an asshole.I believe that if  Einstein and Stephen Hawking had drivers licences their IQs would drop by 100 points the moment they closed the door to the car.

My point is that the pursuit of one's own belief in what is important in life lies behind the wheel of a Lexus, or Mercedes or Ford. Maybe it's a Kia. Who gives a shit? You have shomewhere to go ... something to do. ... someone to impress so that you can take a step forward and be noticed.

Well, I notice your self-absorbed, programmed ass in my rear-view mirror. If you are reprimanded because you unlock the door three minutes after opening due to some dumbass that brakes for a dead deer on the side of the road, will you be fired?

If you don't send that all-important email that ensures the survival of the company (uh, that's a bunch of sarcasm) within thirty minutes of your arrival to the cubicle will you be called to the big man's office and chastised, belittled beyond belief?

Money. You spend  your early morning hours cursing and fretting because of money. Face it, you are a slave to money. No matter who you are, you are programmed to perform,  act, speak, breathe and exist for the purpose of  accumulation of money.

You tailgate. You cheat. You lie. You pray. You deceive yourself and your values inorder to achieve money. We all do it. We are all guilty of the pursuit and it is increasingly evident in  today's society.

Do you disagree? Then you are a hypocrite. I have nothing. Well, not any longer ... I've been there. My choices in life have taken nearly everything of material value. Yet, I feel that money would bring freedom. Maybe, with money, I could tailgate a Kia and feel as if I'm important.

Maybe, with scads of money, I could have a voice and impress others with more than my pointed, educated point of view ... Maybe, with money, I could sway my children to speak to me.

Then again, maybe, without money, I can grasp the reality of life and life's truths without bias. Really, whether God placed Adam and Eve upon this earth or the Big Bang scattered life in a universal orgasmic event to include currency, coins or bonds?

We've lost focus. The world and it's inhabitants rely on  the numbers printed on paper and metal instead of the currency imprinted on the human heart. Most would see my life as being worth a Happy Meal. I'm a small order of fries with a Big Mac mind. You are a Double-Down KFC sandwich with a nugget mentality.

Yet, we strive to attain that which wasn't created for our soul. What brand of car do you drive? What car do you strive to drive? Do you want those new jeans that might be snug, cost $100 but will make the clerk who sells them to you admire your fashion sense? How about that yard of yours? Is it evergreen during the harshest of winter months? Hey there ... do you feel feel  guilty about your the salary you bring home so you tithe a whopping $100 towards the homeless shelter during the holidays??

Money. There is a misconception that the Bible says that money is the root of all evil. That isn't true. The hanndbook for the misguided masses states that "The love of money os the root of all evil"....

Did you look at your portfolio today and smile? You might want to read your Bible. unless, of course, you don't follow that line of thinking. Then, you might want to stand in line with the rest of us to meet the operator of the galactic printing press. I personally want to ask  why my share of the green went to someone who claimed that my share was up for grabs.

Most any individual can speculate on who may be evil. Most can argue as to who is a detriment to soociety and the future. I offer my opinion ... take it for what you will. He stands roughly six inches long by 3 inches tall. His name is Bill and he lives in each of our homes and travels with us every day.

God is not an ethereal being sporting a white beard and judgement. This world's god is green and available in mmultiple denominations.

Look at yourself. Oh yeah, time to go to work..... Kohl's has a sale tomorrow.

Word to Yo Mama

*Breaking Glass*  The text message startled me. I don't know why I don't change the sound for incoming text messages on my iPhone. Breaking glass? C'mon ... breaking glass screams of unwelcomed, unexpected messages tied to rocks a la Ernest T. Bass and Mayberry.

My phone normally stays on *vibrate* mode so that I don't disturb the many others that accompany me during the day ... my posse. Well, not really a posse but more of a conglomeration of paranoia and seclusion that have taken up residence within my head. The only texts I seem to get are from my bebe, Pam, my sister and my mom. There are the occasional spam texts but I look at those as validation that I'm still wanted for more than my unconditonal love and unusually huge  ... heart.

So this vibration came to me in the early evening ... from my mother. Love your mama, by the way. The text simply said "Are you embarrassed of us because we watch FOX news?"

Uh, huh?

Let me digress ... if I may .... I consider FOX News to be the antithesis of journalism as it was intended when the god of prose said, "Let thou recount thy days as as truth." In all fairness, I consider all news media to be biased. So shoot me... please. But no other news outlet employs an arsenal of talking heads that are as inspiring as FOX News.

Inspiring, they are. Hannity. Beck. O'Reilly. Van Susteren. Grace. No matter the time of day, a seemingly intelligent, informed voice is speaking of the injustices occuring in your town,  state, country and throughout the world.

As inspiring as these pundits my seem, the mainstay media do the same .. ABC, CBS, NBC, Comedy Central ... ok, maybe not Comedy Central, although I'd pay a premium for a Comedy Central News Channel .. it would be the most centered of anyone ..

Let me digress my digression ... the question .. "Are you embarrassed that we watch FOX News?" ... How do you answer that question?
I was slapped in the face. Not in a bad way but in  a parental way. I tend to speak my mind and voice my opinions, as you might have noticed. I will be honest ... every time I write ... every time I present a topic on 'Breaking Taboo' on every other Monday night, I hesitate because of innate voice that doesn't want to offend or embarrass the ones closest to me. C'mon ... I've endured great pain. I've taken rides in an ambulance after overdoses. I've joked to nurses in the E.R. about eating chalk. I've befriended those in jail cells that could have shanked me and I provoked them to do so.

So, why would, "Are you embarrassed that we watch FOX News?" strike me as sharply as a surprise attack on the bunghole in a jail-cell shower stall?

I have pondered this a bit ... and, after much thought, I have determined that I'm not as much a detached, tough, world-weary crazy fucker as I see myself as being.

Here is a woman that accepted my phone call from jail in the wee hours of the morning and found the resources to post my $50,000 bail. Here is a mother and father that recognized my faults, my self-described 'craziness' and wasn't ashamed to claim me as their own ... even after jail Even after the miserably-failed suicide attempts. Even after the many years of my inattention to them. Even during the pain of separation and divorce, my pride pushed them  aside. But they were not embarrassed that I was a 'disappointment' to the family and society.

So why, now, would my mother, who I hold in the highest regard for the tribulations she has endured with her own health and raising me (and my questionable sister ((love ya Kelly, you're a gift!)) ), ask if I am embarrassed that she and my dad watch FOX News? Obviously, I have done something wrong. Or, more likely, I haven't done something correctly. They should be telling me that my words and opininions ... my actions, are an embarrassment.

Then, it hit me ... they are proud of me. They appreciate my mind and my points of view that don't necessarily coincide with their own. An more than that, they want to know that, regardless of their own habits and personal views of the absurdities of the world, they are still accepted by the one they love the most. Their child.

What a momentous slap in the face this is. I despise FOX News and all it stands for and espouses. Yet, I love my parents for all they stand for and the acceptance they show for me and my personal views. They have never belittled me for my change of heart on Christianity ... spirituality. They have never condemned me for my vices that continue to plague me. They embraced me as I intoduced to them the woman that most would consider as a homewrecker because they knew that my 'homewrecker'' was my soulmate. They were never embarrassed.

Am I embarrassed that they watch FOX News? No. Why not? Back in another reality, I used to watch FOX News. I gained perspective from Hannity and O'Reilly. I grew in many respects from their insights. It took a near-death experience for me to reallize that FOX News is a necessity in this world of unrestained media. I no longer watch FOX News due to the fact that it is not a news outlet ... it is an opinion outlet.

But I'm not embarrassed that my parents watch FOX News. If they accept me and my extreme life then they can accept the fringe of society thay FOX News and other media declare as being unacceptable. It is more than unconditional love for a child because there are many parents that dismiss those of  their own as being unacceptable by society due to the child's actions and beliefs.

Hello? I hope my own children are reading . ... although I'm not the example of of unversal acceptance an unconditional love, I'm willing to be an example for their life story one day. In any case...

I'm a total fuck-up. I really am. In many ways, I am the worst nightmare of a potential in-law, parent or friend. But, to my family, I'm a loved fuck-up. To my greatest love, Pam, I am a fuck-up but have some quality that is endearing. Maybe my armpits smell like Pina Coladas ... I don't know, I'll take it.

But, am I embarrassed that my parents watch the Satan Channel? Fox News? No. Never. I wouldn't be embarrassed if my parents had an orgy with other AARP members on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. As a matter of fact, I'd be proud.

But, I would watch the news coverage or buy the video.

Open your mind. Speak your mind. Be yourself. But remember that life is a Pantone chart of colors and that neither black nor white is a color.

Peace, brethren.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Deep Water and Holy Sharks

And YayYah! I say to the masses ... As I pass through the shadow of the valley of the absurd I saieth, "Come ye brethren to the land of the living! Pass by the devices of the soul-less ... thy phallic-shaped controls of the devil that can take the simple from HD to 3D with the press of a button ... all in surround sound!" Let me get an 'A', man. An 'A' for astute ... an 'A' for aware ... and thou shalt also get an 'A' man. Placeth your hand upon thy chest and feeleth your heart beat. Ladies, placeth your hand upon your breast and send me an email with exactly what you feel ... spare no detail ... it's for the betterment of your soul, afterall. Do you feel anything? That's the divine within you speaking and begging thou to turneth away from the influence of the inane.

YayYah! FEEL the divine! And the Divine saieth, "There are no eyes of a needle ... there are no virgins... not since the 1950's." And the Divine elaborated and said, "Didn't you watch Leave it to Beaver? and....."

 Whoa, whoa, whoa! .... hold on ... wait. Wait just a daggone second there, heathen.

Great ... not you again. Who you callin' a heathen? Did I crumple the tin foil on your heavenly space helmet again?

How dare you even consider that the Divine One is within you? That's just wrong and a sin. First, you ate too much tonight. That's a gluttony sin. Then, you said, 'Shih Tzu'... There's a naughty word in there, that's sin number two. Now, you're claiming that the Divine is part of you? You are SO damned. Jesus hates you.

You said, 'Damned'. You're cursed as a sinner. You're gonna burn too, hypocrite.

You and me both ... crap. We're in the same body and mind. I guess we're both fucked, eh? Forgive me, I can't believe I said that. You are a bad influence.

Lemme ask ya somethin'. righteous one. Why must you and your brethren be so black and white? You are all like a bank of two-ton steel doors surrounding a nuclear fallout shelter packed with the paranoid and uninformed.

Only the chosen few will meet Jesus.

I'm thinkin' that Jesus is gonna be in a hotspot like ... oh, Studio 54 in it's heyday, and a burly angel with a bondage fetish is gonna cut you off with the click of a velvet rope when you get to the door. "Too much of a prudish prick", he's gonna say. "Sorry, the J-Man has a policy ... no hypocrites allowed."

No. I'm a believer. I read my Bible. I work at the shelters during Thanksgiving and Christmas. I am voting along Tea Party lines. I am holy and saved and need to spread truth to the uninspired so that even if they won't be sitting beside me at the right hand of God, they have a chance of sneaking in the back door.

Uh, you're not doing yourself any favors. Why the hell are you even in my head? oh yeah .. programming and expectations. I want you to stick around though.. you provide inspiration for reason.

You're doomed, sinner. Jesus would throw rocks at you if he were here. He'd stone you with love, but you'd die for your evil words. I say that with a smile.

This is my conundrum ... I understand your mindset, self. I've been you. I've had your subjective, narrow views of the world, humanity and what is right and wrong. You just keep hangin' around to pester me but now, the pestering serves a positive purpose. Having seen life through your slanted eyes I can debate with an objective mind. Oh yeah, you're mis-;eading and full of shit .. not to mention hate, bias and judgement. I get it .. I was there, I was you. I AM you. But that part of me .. you ... is as consequential as a fart in the wind during a hurricane. I don't feel it, smell it or give a crap because what is real and evident is taking place around me as if I'm a blade of grass in a Dyson Ball vacuum.

You're damned. You're a sinner. You'll never measure up to be worthy of Jesus and his gift of salvation. Sinner. I'll pray for you ... really, I will. Right after Dancing With the Stars and the Joel O'Steen Hour. Hallelujah.

Do that. I'm gonna watch Cops and hope I don't see myself. Then, I'm gonna take a moment to gaze upon my soulmate as she sleeps ... Souls are fluid, self. Souls are timeless. Life is fleeting but deception shortens joy. Crap, America's Dumbest Drivers is on truTV .. Danny Bonaduce and Leif Garrett give that Tonya Harding a hard time. Her Pharisees, so to speak.

You're going to Hell. 

See ya there.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Allow Me to BackTrack a Bit..

Against my better judgment I visited my local Target store today. I was on a mission to find a staple of mankind's existence ... a clear, extra-long shower curtain liner. You know, when an asteroid slams into our planet and the cloud of dust from the impact covers the land, only a clear, 71" heavy-gauge liner will shield you from certain death.

Ok, that's an exaggeration, but if you approach every household purchase with that mentality you will certainly sleep more soundly and sound sleeping brings a greater chance of sex dreams. I think I might have hit upon a marketing campaign for shower curtain liners. ... In any case ..,.

So, I was in Target. I was strolling down a main aisle with liner in hand and headed towards the adult beverage aisle when suddenly before me appeared a man and a young boy holding hands. This story would take an altogether different direction had the man been wearing a white collar and rosary ... but no, he was wearing jeans and a goofy ball cap. The little boy was about three feet tall, just below my eye level, and was happy. As the boy pulled vigorously towards the candy aisle the capped man remained stoic and followed but calmly displayed an enthusiasm of restraint equal to the enthusiasm that the boy exhibited towards the candy.

I was then that I thought to myself, 'Jeff, you're forgetting something .... no, someone.'....

I've been a bit harsh towards children and over-parenting parents lately. What the image of the patient, ball-capped dad at Target did for me was remind me that I'm a child too. Yeah, I'm a product of another generation but I'm a spoiled, short, gray-headed product of two wonderful people who have every reason in the world to wash their hands of me ... much as I have done with my own children.

I'm red-faced due to the smacks in the face that reality has dealt lately. But, I owe this to my parents. They haven't given up on me. Quite the opposite ... and when I consider the tribulations that my mom and dad live with on a daily basis I feel ashamed of the concern I give to my trivial worries. **** Note... the forthcoming statement is meant to be taken in all seriousness ... don't get used to it... ***

If I can ever muster the strength to be as accepting and forgiving of others as my parents have been towards me with my shortcomings ... well, I don't think that's possible. But, here's the skinny ... at least I know it's possible. The little kid in the candy aisle doesn't see it yet. The ball-capped dad doesn't see it yet .. It might take forty-six years or more... or less... for the kid to grasp acceptance by the one that he never thought he could impress.

Like me, he will one day get it. Maybe it'll be between the Snickers and Twix in a big-box store. Maybe it will be after the ball-capped man is passed and someone mentions to him that his old man was a good man, even though he wasn't such a warm fuzzy guy ...

Anyway .. I'm thinking of hanging out at Target a little more often. It's fun to watch the chubby Mexican women buting extra-small clothes that accentuate their midriffs ... and Target gives me a great view of the cross-section of humanity that I call home.

I love you mom and dad. Thanks for putting up with my shit.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

A Late Night Conversation

WHAT the hell are you doing awake? It's 2:45 in the morning?

Hey buddy... you gonna help me? You're my sidekick, right?

Me? I'm always awake. When you're sleepin',  I'm up ... you're playin with fire, ya know. When we're both up and kickin' we tend to spout off.

Yeah, but that's ok ... as long as the Downer and the bad side are asleep, we'll be ok.

So, what's on your mind? It's too late to be thinking about trivial shit, ya know?

Yeah ... but keep your voice down. ... the trivial shit has a way of waking up and nudging itself into my thoughts. I'm tryin' to stay sane and positive.

Did you lock the door? Did you wedge that fucker shut? You might wanna stuff the keyholes with toilet paper. You know how determined those killer thoughts  can be.

Yeah ... I have them locked up tightI think they have a lockpick kit that is directly synched to the mood of the ones I care about the most. When I'm feeling good and motivated, the shit invades through the feelings oof others.

Yeah, you're human. You care about the well-being of the ones you love. It ain't all about you, is it?

Uh .... no. I guess not. Does that mean I'm not a free spirit? Does that mean that I must surender myself to another's life's path and destiny?

Nah... you support those paths as they relate to your own but you never surrender yourself to another. You did once. Everyone surrenders themselves once ...

Can you tell me something? ... Since the three or four other voices in my head are snoozing ... I want to know why the ones who are supposedly looking out for my best interests are not listening to the ones they are looking out for.
Why is it that Lindsay Lohan, a drug addiict and alcoholic, is granted so many opportunities to get well when others with lesser offenses are given harsher punishment for lesser offenses. Why is it that people with diseases ... people without jobs... people without homes ... people that want to retire and enjoy life after a llifetime of service .. all have to cross their finger in the hope that who they cast a ballot for isn't filled with empty promises?

I'll yell ya ... I can count on my mother, father, sister, Pam and my five fingers to survive. And, when all are gone ... and I'll be gone long before any of  them, there will be nothing left to judge the honesty of an individual but the eyes and the crease in the cheeks.

You didn't answer my question .. you skirtin' the issues?

No.. I don't know the answer. Lindsay Lohan is obviously of importance to somebody besides her mama .. her coke dealer maybe?
Hey, shhhhh ... I don't wanna wake up the other voices  ,,, but, I was arrested and given a $50k bond for making a phone call .. I'm relatively sane ... are you implying that if I had been an extra in 'Herbie The Love Bug" I would have been released with a warning?

Shut up, Jeff. You are riff raff.

No, you are riff raff, left side. I've listened to you for long enough. You yap and yap and yap yet you say nothing that makes sense. You are the Fox News of psychology. My brain looks at you as being the drop zone of a rollercoaster but, in reality, you are the moment of anticipation that is erased by exhilaration.

Be glad the other voices are asleep at this late hour ... hope, promise and a wee bit of mania can rule the next twelve hours. Bring what you will after that ... I can sleep but I know my limits and I know my possibilities.

We will meet another day ... another hour ...

Yes we will. I'll be here . Come and get me ... but don't bring a catheter.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

This is Meant For Myself and Myself Only. Please Read.

I have become too secure in myself and my self-awareness. My bathroom mirror is chock full of deception, lemme tell ya. The face I've been cringing at each morning hasn't been forthcoming with me. Ok, I'll admit that I notice the gray hair ... the scraggly bastard hairs that have taken up residence in my ears and nose are especially disconcerting ... It's as if my mind and my body are diametrically opposed and are in a life and death struggle for survival. (pssst.,,, hey, body, you're gonna lose. My mind is young and vibrant. Let your wrinkles, enlarged prostate, gray hairs and baggage-blackened eyes be nothing more than a facade for the vibrancy and timeless immaturity that resides within your skin.)

Physical appearance aside, Today I was beaten into submission and entered another level of self-awareness that had been concealed by my 'fuckitallfuckemiftheycan'ttakeajoke' by the individual I hold dearest. I wasn't physically beaten .. no, we reserve that pleasure for Saturday evenings after 'Catch 21' on Game Show Network .. I was pounded psychologically by my love with her utterance of four simple words ... "You are very angry".

Angry? Me? I consider everything to have a humorous slant. Everything. C'mon, I am the poster child for self-deprecating humor. I can find humor and a chuckle in anything, quite literally. Some might consider me callous and uncaring at times because of this gift... I consider this ability a survival instinct. Why would I be angry? Laugh and the world laughs with you, right? That's my take on things... after all, what in the name of Xenu could I be angry about? I'm alive and well. The multiple, botched suicide attempts are joke fodder as is my brief vacation at the Loudoun County mental ward. The mania-inspired arrests are but memories. Sure I reflect upon my incarcerations fondly ... the cameraderie, the friendships, the pat-downs and clinched anus ... good times, good times. Never mind that my arresting officers introduced themselves at the insistence of my former wife. Disregard the fact that a concoction of Effexor and Cabernet created the fuel for an epic mania that erases memory and inhibition. Oh yes, please  forgive the resulting consequences that swayed my very own offspring to disown me as a father .. even worse, disown me as a functioning human being.

Me, angry? I am alive. I survived the jailhouse floor. I feigned 'crazy' in order to survive and not be shanked or beaten. I have ingested enough charcoal to formally declare my local art supply store a grocery. Me, angry? Why would I harbor anger? I am an example of a survivor of mental distress, right? I'm grateful to mingle among the populace. You get my drift? I'm as happy as a newborn suckling on Angelina Jolie's ample bosoms. You can pick up what I'm putting down, right?

So, when I was smacked in the face with those four words, "You are very angry," I was taken aback. Then, after my fiber-induced morning constitutional and several hours of regaining sobriety, I said to myself, "Self, you are pissed off... you have issues." And here I am ... confronting the issues that are overtaking my humor and lightheartedness. What are these things that pisseth me off? They run the gamut from trivial to deep shit.. aka psychological. Trivial... Asian women in minivans on cellphones driving in the fast lane at 10 mph below the speed limit. Psychological ... my children disowning me because of my need to express myself as an individual. I haven't spoken to my now 16-year-old son in a year and a half. Try as I may, I am shunned. I am an embarrassment. Should I be angry? Nah .. hurt, yes. Angry, no.

The realization that I surrendered  nearly 20 years of my mind, life, goals, dreams and beliefs in an attempt to support and encourage another's life path shouldn't make me angry. I'm a giver, not a taker, after all, right? I should look at my giving nature as an attribute, don't you think?

Children .. I'll admit that I wasn't prepared to be a parent. But, I conformed. I played the role. I stifled my inner nature so as not to humiliate and embarrass those who looked to me for guidance. That's an admirable and natural act, right? I did a good job ... I was there for them but in the end I wasn't the ideal image of what a father should be. I ultimately chose to follow my own path. I expected unconditional love from those that I considered my own... Apparently self-awareness isn't written anywhere bin the definition of unconditional love.

So, I've lost my children. Those who are detached say, "Oh, they'll come back, don't worry." Okie doke .. whatever you say. I'm not angry though. Why should I be angry? The masses say that, "Hey, they're only kids. They'll come around." Never mind that they are 20 and 16 years old, they'll come around.

Angry? No. Why should I be angry? I'm a bag of 'happy happy joy joy'.

Fuck it. I'm pissed. I'm pissed at myself. I'm angry that I have allowed myself to be walked over. I should have an Empire Carpet commercial featuring a taupe shag carpet imprinted with my short-statured dumb ass. It may not sell millions but I know of at least two or three homes that will rip up hardwoods to install my face on the floor.

Angry? Ok, maybe. I'm a bit weary of being a doormat. Should I sit idly by and conform and succumb to the opinions of others? Should I contemplate mistakes I've made over the course of a lifetime? Should I blame anyone other than myself for my anger?

Nah. Yeah, I'm angry. But, I'm gonna use the anger... not in a belltower shooter way though. I would rather focus my hostilities inward and use my words to diffuse the  heat. I'm pissed. I need an outlet ... I don't wanna go back to jail and I sure as hell don't need another overdose-induced catheter. I scream like a 6-year-old gay boy when a catheter is thrust upon me. I need justification. My anger needs acceptance .. I need to thrust my frustrations 'tween the bosoms of a willing listener. Fortunately, I'm blessed with such a bosom ... I'd like to think that the majority of society are boobs that will willingly encompass my anger ..

The boobs part is probably spot on  ... the encompassing aspect may be a stretch.

Angry? Yeah. Time heals all wounds. until then, I'm gonna be angry. Like Charlie Chaplin once said ... " ....................... ........ .................... .... ................ " Insight is conceived from anger and dissent, Oh yeah, have a nice day :)

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Oh Crap ... This isn't funny. Somebody Slap Me.

Hello? Is anyone there? .... Geez, it's quiet... am I all alone here? Where is logic? Are you there, my friend? Where is hope? Confidence? Where is sanity? Am I alone in this swelling insanity that overshadows the reality perceived by most? Why am I asking myself so many fucking questions?

Try as I may, I cannot grasp the reality around me ... the reality that is thrust upon me incessantly by the media, the pundits, the power-mongers. Those whose grasp on reality is so diametrically opposed to my own continue to amaze, enamor, magnetize the masses. Yet, within my core, within my knowledge of what is true and right ... what is in alignment with the energy and direction that flows throughout the universe ... I know that most are confused, struggling, willing to surrender their voice to the one who they feel can speak for them. Sad ... so sad that the most basic trait, the most important trait, that we all possess is surrendered. Is it any wonder that most are followers? Is it a surprise that a select few prosper and prosper handsomely at the masses expense?

We are a people in search of answers. The answers are not in the words of politicians, preachers or scientists. The answers aren't found in books or the internet. There's no Google search that will yield the answers that humanity seeks. Every single individual on this planet, past, present and future, has within himself and herself the ability to discern what is true. Why do we continue to allow the words of those with a platform to dictate who we are?

We each came into this world as a single individual, well, except for siamese twins, but that's another story ... We will all leave this world as a single individual. We will love. We will act. We will speak. But will we speak as an individual that is capable of changing the world with a vision inherited through a universal truth? Or, will we speak as a mouthpiece of another individual simply because we are too afraid, too weak or too intimidated to expound upon that universal truth?

Look into a mirror... stare into your eyes. The individual that you see will either choose to amaze or frighten you. Who do you want to be today? .. What do you have to say? Who are you? Who speaks for you? Are you hesitant to speak for yourself? If so, you are not alone but you are a small cog in the wheel of the greater problem. Stop following and become a leader. Even if you begin leading with no one beside or behind you, you will conquer the masses because most are followers.

Stand up and embrace your quirks. Grasp your ideas and emotions and be proud that they are yours. They make you who you are. Do not allow anyone to define you. It's your life. It's your universe. No one owns you... no government... no person, no land.

This has been my envangelizing moment. Don't get used to it. Normally, I'm all rants and bullshit. Be yourself and I'll embrace you. Conform and I'll correct you.

Later, fellow homo erectuses ...

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Let's Rankle the Childhood Cockles

I have a theory. This theory will rankle some bones and chill some cockles. I like to bone-rankle and cockle-chill so I'm gonna put this out there. Let me ask that before you form an opinion and condemn me for the idea I place before you that you please read the entirety of this post. If then you choose to take issue with my words, then by all means, comment and tell me. On the flip side, if you agree with anything you read, whether in part or in full, comment and speak your mind. Communication is the foundation of advancement or education. If I don't speak my mind, I lose. If you don't speak your mind, you lose. Who wants to be a loser? (see how I let that slide without further elaboration? I'm not heartless.)

My age in years outweighs my age in mentality. I'm probably the most obnoxiously young forty-six and 3/4 year old man you will ever meet. I simply refuse to grow up and for that I am quite proud. That being said, I'll admit that I did attempt to grow up at one point in my life. I firmly believe that at the moment I raised the facade of maturity is the moment that my inner self took a tiny step forward and meekly mumbled, "uh, this ain't you, dickhead." Of course, I refused to listen. This brings me to my theory ... ready?

Mini-vans and soccer are the cause of lost individuality in this century's adults and the decline in respect for authority and self-sufficientcy in today's youth.

"You're screwed in the head," you might say. "What in the name of Hades are you talking about?" you ask. I say 'Yes' to the former and 'Wait, I'll expound', to the latter.

It's not as complicated as it seems. I once piloted a Mazda MPV. Yes, I of the anti-cul-de-sac mentality drove the frickin' wheels off the thing. But, why did I drive one to begin with? Could I not squeeze my spawn into my Honda Prelude? Surely, yes. How about the post-marriage Nissan 240-Z? Plenty of room for freshly-baked bread strapped into the necessary cargo area.

So, what was my imminent downfall? The minivan. And what eventually is the downfall of every child conceived in the past twenty-five years? Quite simple, the mini-van.

Allow me to elaborate ... may I? I'll tie soccer into this in a moment. Hold your venom, you'll have your opportunity ... But first, the minivan ... the vehicle conceived by a man who was browbeaten by a woman ... a man who discovered that by purchasing a home in a cul-de-sac somewhere in this great country, he surrendered his testicles which were promptly interred in the testicle graveyard by his signigicant other.
"Let us aquire a vehicle that will allow us to traverse the city, county, state and country as a cohesive family unit," were the words uttered. No matter if the words were uttered by the husband or wife. The ideal vision of family cohesiveness for the benefit of the burgeoning spawn had been cast by society long ago.

As such, a spoiled child is born. The MPV, the Windstar, the Town & Country, the Sienna, Pilot ... they do  not beong to the parent. These vehicles belong to the growing, spoiled offspring of those who chauffeur said vehicles. Oh, it is more than just dropping off at school and driving to grandma's house on the weekend. This is about catering to the every whim and fancy of an individual who's balls haven't dropped or can't properly text her BFF on her Droid.

Soccer? Weekend soccer is a social event for the parent. More than that, it's a way for kids to get what they want... a chance to score a goal, block a scoring attempt or simply prove that they can stand alert for twenty minutes without eating a booger. What will any of these milestones accomplish? Pride for the parents who long-ago surrendered self-identity for an image of society's ideal parent and acceptance for a child that did nothing but showed up in professional soccer gear and didn't eat his or her own booger.

And so it is that minivans carry our youth to universal acceptance. They will lose games on the field. They will win enough tickets at Chuck E. Cheese to redeem for a pencil. They will travel the quarter mile from home to school, holding their McGriddle and watching Spongebob on the rear projection DVD player in the 'ol family truckster ... Then, suddenly, they will be on the verge of adulthood and exclaim, "What have you done for me lately?"

They are our future. Let us ban minivans. Let us send soccer back to Europe. Hell, let's take a quarter of the troops from Afghanistan to search for the male manhood graveyard.

Or, let's just stand up and reclaim control from the little bastards that seem to know how to push mommy and daddy's buttons. It's as easy as trading the car and going bowling. Both takes balls.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Welcome to My World

I'm realizing that I'm a minority. No, I'm saying that I'm a minority because I'm a white, middle-aged male in America, although that may very well be the case. I'm saying that I'm in the minority because I am a white, middle-aged male with a diagnosed mental condition ... a diagnosis that is both a curse and a blessing. There are thousands like me ... both men and women ... that are ignored, shunned, overlooked, discarded and otherwise cast aside as worthless individuals. What is this terrible, ungodly affliction? Could it be that our inability to grasp the principles of algebra or our lack of concern for the growing national deficit define us as mindless, unknowing freewheeling lackeys? Maybe it is our radical idea that power, money and control are unimportant concepts after awaking from a depression-induced overdose of mood-enhancing medications.

Maybe, just maybe, the 'normal' reality that seems so remote to us as we watch those that live seemingly 'normal' lives is not normal at all but is juxtaposed to what is real and that our reality is what is right and true.

Deep shit, eh?

Welcome to the mind of the manic-depressive.It is 2:19am in the morning and my manic-depressive mind is racing. You see, there are many like me that are constantly thinking and trying to justify those thoughts. Sadly, many haven't reached the point of clarity. Tragically, many have reached that point of clarity .. a point that comes with a cost. Ironically, the gift of clarity is attainded only through loss of things held dear. It's different for everyone ... Money. Career. Relationships. Pride. Life.

The true irony is that those of us who are said to 'suffer' from bi-polar disorder are actually visionaries. We are nature's gifts to a world of conformists. We aren't suffering from anything at all ... we are normal. It is the world at large that looks at individualists like ourselves as ones that are different. We are shunned and looked upon as 'crazy' and undependable. We are free-thinkers, radicals, liberals, visionaries, criminals, dissidents. Nah, we are shapers of the human mind. We are the ones who will shape the future becase we will not put ourselves or our humanity in a box and expect it to conform to expectations.

I'm not preaching. I'm crazy. I'm bi-polar. I'm nuckin' futs. It's now 2:30am and I'm sleepy.

Time to deprive myself of sanity for the day ahead. We walk among you. We will outsmart you. Before you dismiss the next outlandish words you hear or see, open your mind and kick down a wall to that box you live inside ... we will welcome you to our world and you will thrive ....

Saturday, October 9, 2010

A word from the Bearded Creation-Monger

Yay, though we may walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we shall hold our balls tightly 'tween our thumb and forefingers ...

And although those that speaketh the gospel as writteneth by man, for man, in order to direct man's mind to believeth man's doctrine shall speweth forth opinions and self-promotional views in order to sway and wash the minds of those incapable of thinking for themselves, truth and individualism will remain available to those that turn-eth off the television and think.

And the lord sayeth, "There are charming asses and verbally astute peckernoggins that walk amongst you. Be not led to abandon your senses for idiocies scribbled upon a chalkboard or uttered before a camera. Thinketh for thyself."

"Oh yeah," sayeth the Lord, "know that if Jesus was amongst you today, he wouldn't be humble. He was a frickin' revolutionary the first time and he'd kick Holy Ass again. Thee who is conservative is to be surprised like a mutha ... I know ... He sings 'Highway to Hell' and slurps on fermented red water now just as he did the first time around. Where'd you get this idea that he's all low-key and humble? My boy is a liberal. Read that book you wrote that is supposedly inspired by me. Dumb shits".

.... But the mis-inspired masses would not heed the inner calling of their nature. They called for the judgement of those unlike themselves. The downtrodden... the homosexual ... the thief, the beggar .. these were the lesser amongst them and as such these were condemned as unworthy of the love of the one who proclaimed acceptance of all of creation.

Hence, hypocrisy flourished as spread upon the land. Smiles were abundant within the houses of the holy as hearts below the smiles slammed shut in judgement of those who would not adhere to an idea of salvation.

And throughut the land, throughout the earth, paths to salvation were invented through many faiths. Jesus, Mohammed, Yeshua, Buddha, Xenu ... all gained follwers. Yet, brethren, the coffers of the actuaries of the espousers of the faith are the beneficiaries of the converted faithful. And the converted faithful became lighter in pocket and less an individual by surrendering to the ideas of man at the promise of an eternity that is granted by a man that is no different that yourself.

Be not dismayed. There is still time to live. If thou canst read this, thou canst think. Be not a follower but feel within yourself what is right and real and true.

So let it be written, so let it be done. Amen and Holy Shit.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Lighten Up, Ass

I'm no sage. I'm no philosopher or subscriber to any particular religious dogma. I'm do not hold a card that says that I belong to any particular political party. I'm neither left not right. I'm neither black nor white... or any other shade of the color wheel. I am not southern, northern, western, midwestern or Canadian. I live in a country dubbed the United States of America which has imaginary lines drawn around each of it's fifty states that is placed in a position flanked on every side by other lands that are also divided into countries, states and provinces as illustrated with .008 fine tip black pen lines.

Think for a moment ... if you were to walk into a convenience store, a supermarket, a school, your place of business, a church ... and simply were greeted with a simple 'Hello', how would your mind react?

Would the 'Hello' or 'Howyadoin?' of a good 'ol boy tell your mind that you're in danger if a 'Deliverance' type experience? Would the staccato inquiry in a non-descript middle eastern accent inflame post-9/11 anger? Would opening your bag from McDonalds and discovering that your Hamburgesa Queso without onions has onions and isn't a hamburgesa queso cause you to curse the fact that you won't sleep well and fatten that heart of yours? Let's not even assume that the individual exhibits traits or appearances that suggest homosexuality. Whew , that would be way over the top. Foreign AND gay? You're in Bible Hell, eh?

Well, whether you care to accept the truth or not, you're racist. You're biased. You're not godly. You are a discriminatory, hateful, scared and ignorant individual.

Now, before you get your cockles rankled, let me tell you that I am one of you. You see, we are all in this group. We are all assholes. We are all judgemental, biased, opinionated assholes. You heard me. If you disagree with me then you aren't an asshole at all. No, disagreeing with the obvious truths of human nature would make you a pious, holier-than-thou, egotisitcal asshole. By the way, the word 'asshole', when preceded by 'holier-than-thou', 'pious' and 'egotistical' is not diminished due to increased titheing at church or the fact that your BMW or Benz isn't the top of the line.

Please, don't misunderstand me ... I'll be honest with you. I live in an area that has more women dressed head to toe in garments most likely purchased in the drapery department of Bed Bath & Beyond and per capita more mexicans than the surviving population of the northern Mexico drug-addled states. Where I live, vehicles for sale are advertised not in horsepower but camel or rickshaw power. Simply stated, I am the black-eyed pea in a pot of re-fried chicken curry kim-chee.

I harbor discriminatory feelings towards those things and people that I don't understand. I often level those feelings against those cultures that were not prevalent during my upbringing. But here is the difference ... where my attitudes differ from many of those in our penned-in country ... I will always joke about bad Asian drivers. I will always comment on 12 mexicans in a Toyota Tercel that has a tail fin. I will certainly relate my experience with a hedjam-attired driver of a fully-laden minivan who fails to signal when merging into the fast lane at twenty miles per hour below the speed limit and I will no doubt level reverse-discrimination charges at publicity-seeking dumbasses like Al Sharption and Jesse Jackson as they scream 'Racism' at virtually anything.

Am I any different than you? Really? Think about it. The absurdity of this way of thinking lies in the simple truths that we all disregard due to our individual perceptions. No matter how difficult it may be to understand the voice at the drive-thru asking 'Would you like combo?' we will undoubtedly draw a conclusion about the person speaking those words before we even drive forward and see the smiling face that uttered the words that incited immediate judgement.

There are no lines drawn on this planet. Tom Cruise's god, Xenu, doesn't differentiate Texas from Mexico due to perameters set by cartographers. Yet, here on our big ball of joy, we seem to not only discriminate based on those lines, both within and without, we discriminate based upon personal preferences, appearances, occupations and piss-ant things that run the gamut from a house to the shoes on our feet.

Face it, we are fucked up. We have lost our vision. We are all one species but we are divided by silly pride. Underneath the cultures, religions, politics and opinions of talking heads that is force-fed upon us is a single lifeforce that each of us share, down to the very atoms that everything in nature, nay, the universe, is made of.

This is my deep thinking for the day. Think for yourself. Be more tolerant. I will if you will.