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I Haven’t Went To The Bathroom Yet

December 12, 2011 Leave a comment

I had a charming little semblance of a day, yeah?

The cloudless winter days are the coldest. That isn’t a factual statement by any means, it’s just something I’ve noticed in my life. I have my theory, and I did a little google research to back me up, and found nothing that my feeble mind could grasp, so I can only assume my theory is right (Hear that children? Whenever you can’t find the answer you want just assure you were right in the first place) I’d be a happier man if I lived by that rule (remember to edit out the joke “I mean I am happy, I’m just not a man”). But basically I took what I know about global warming – and if you don’t believe in global warming this theory probably won’t make sense to you, but hell, if you don’t believe in global warming most simple things don’t make sense you to, ha! take that you non green dudes and dudettes – and with global warming the more smog the more heat that is trapped on Earth, thus warming it and melting big ice chunks that could be put to better use in my martinis – I don’t drink martinis and do martinis generally come with ice? – and it throws off the seasonal balance thus ruining the Earth, and also for good measure let’s say it was behind 9/11 as well. So my theory is more clouds more crap to hold the heat in the atmosphere and that’s why in the winter it’s warmer on cloudy days than sunny days.

My room is horrible. When it’s cold it’s fucking freezing and when it’s hot I’m literally – not literally literally, but you know – in hell. But on days like today, where it’s cold and sunny it’s somehow decent. The sun heats my room and for some reason it’s spared from the cold, so after I shower I’m able to sit around in my towel for an hour before I garner enough effort to put underpants on, and I only did that because I wanted to leave my room for sustenance. The few days previous to this when waking up I could barely get out from under my covers because it was so cold, and I slept in full regalia, which I hate doing. I’m usually a boxers man, because I like to have some freedom but I don’t want things going too crazy down there. But in this cold I’ve got on sweat pants, two shirts, a beanie and two cock socks. Not because my penis is cold, but because my fingers get cold and I lost my mittens.

On the most recent episode of the podcast my pod mate buddy Christopher brought up an interesting point that you – but especially you – should hear. He loves music. You know the way you love sex? No, you don’t? Well you love sex a lot. And he loves sex a lot. And all you literal fuckers who have sex love sex so much and you love it almost as much as you throw it in the face of us literal assholes (literal?) who have never had sex. Well that’s how much he loves music. Only actually probably not as much. But anyway, he hates 99% of the music he hears. As do I. And a lot of people hate a lot of music. But still they love the music they like. But it’s just weird that people say they love music even though most of the music in the world they probably don’t like. Unless you’re one of those asshole snobs who just goes through life loving everything with your fucking stupid smile brightening everyone’s day and generally making this Earth a happier place…wait, why am I angry at them? (Because their happiness is jealousy invoking) oh yeah. Fuck them. Literally fuck them straight into the hell that is my bedroom in the summer. Not literally of course.

Anyway the bathroom is calling, and a shorter way to say that would have been nature is calling but not necessarily because nature is calling is shorter than the bathroom is calling because then I would have of course made mention of Jim Carrey’s hit film Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, which my memory recalls little of so I don’t know why I’d bring it up, but rather because had I said nature is calling with the subsequence Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls mention it still would have been a lot shorter than all of this which I have just written, so jokes on me because I really need to pee, and for some reason I validate that as an acceptable reason to end this blog even though I’m not going to post this until after I get back from the bathroom, and if you like bathrooms listen to the Closer To Clarity podcast, where we talked about pee for a moment or two, so that segue worked better than I would have imagined when starting it.

A Link to the Pastcast…I mean Podcast.

Categories: crap Tags: , , ,

I Can Only Think Of 46 Other Times When I’ve Been More Disappointed In A Pornstar

November 2, 2011 25 comments

On this week, or maybe last week, or many many weeks ago, or quite possibly some time in future weeks, of the podcast Chris and I got together to discuss items that no one, including ourselves, care about, such as the whole debacle with the football player who you’d only know if you watched a lot of football or were from the New England area, Ron Gronkowski (he’s not super unknown, but little known enough for someone who watches football religiously every week to mistake his name for Ron, when it’s Rob) and up and – this seems like an obvious place to insert cumming but I’m going to stick with – coming pornstar Bibi Jones, who I had better known under the name of Britney Beth.

God damn that Jersey is lucky...every sunday it gets to be covered in that hunky man's sweat...see, I zigged when you thought I was going to zag. Clever, right? And now everyone thinks I'm gay.

The reason this became a news item was because pictures surfaced of a shirtless Rob Gronkowski with Bibi Jones who was wearing his football jersey. The Kraft family, owners of the New England Patriots and not the best store bought Mac and Cheese – that’s right bitch, I said what we were all thinking – weren’t pleased with this, because apparently we’re all supposed to believe these athletes who make millions of dollars and are in great shape don’t sleep with slutty woman, or at least maybe they do, but God forbid they sleep with a porn star, because porn stars are so much worse than your average slutty woman.

Okay, a little tangent that might turn into a big tangent bur probably not, but actually probably will if I don’t actually ever get to the tangent. I think I respect female porn stars more than general slutty woman, not that I necessarily disrespect either of them. First of all we can’t over look that porn stars provide the highest of pleasure to boys going through puberty and middle aged men in sexless marriages, which by the way probably helps keeps the cheating numbers down – when woman cheat I think they usually want more than sex, but when men cheat it’s almost always about sex, at least this is what I gather from hearing stories and knowing a few people who have cheated, so instead of a guy having to go out and look for a situation where he can cheat, because this isn’t like Mad Men where every woman Don Draper runs into is powerless to is sex aura, which is essentially him giving off the vibe of, “Yes, you want to fuck me, I know it, you know it, but I don’t give a fuck, and you do,” the real life guy instead just browses the internet and watches women perform acts that he’d never get to experience in real life, so this sounds crazy, and obviously I exaggerate a little, but porn helps save marriages.

Also, and this is still part of the tangent but I’m starting a new paragraph because people tend to hate large paragraphs, also people seem to hate when the writer describes their thought process, also people hate when people tell them what they hate, porn stars are looked down on because they get paid for sex, which is basically prostitution, except they don’t get paid by the person having sex with them, they essentially get paid by the people watching them, so they’re one level beyond strippers, take the viewers away and they don’t exist – by the way, I think prostitution should be legal and regulated and what the hell, why not taxed. So what’s the difference between a slut and a porn star? The porn star respects their self enough, and isn’t ashamed, to actually ask for money. Again, in both situations I don’t necessarily disrespect the person. I don’t necessarily want a girl who likes to mess around with a lot of boys, although it seems that’s what I’m most attracted to, but I find that out after the fact, and if you’re one of the girls I’ve liked and you read this I apologize, but back to not disrespecting these people, a person can do whatever they want to their body as long as it’s not hurting someone else. So sleep with whoever you want, however many times as you want, just as long as they’re not already in a relationship which you’re trying to ruin, which segues me back into what I was originally talking about.

Bibi Jones is apparently known for sleeping with athletes, and not just young guys like Rob Gronkowski, but athletes who are married, which is someone I very much don’t respect, and will forever make it hard – not in the way you’re thinking pervert…yes, that was addressed to me – for me to watch the porn star who was on her way to becoming my favorite.

That’s why this was a big story to me, because I had recently been admiring the works of Britney Beth, who I later found out was Bibi Jones, who I later found out is not so decent of a person. Again, I don’t care that she’s in porn, and I don’t care that she sleeps with a lot of athletes, but I can’t get over her sleeping with married guys. What makes this worse is that after doing all this research (research equals hours of porn) hey, in order to find out who a person really is you need to find out how their insides work, and I definitely got a real good look at her insides, some would say a much deeper look than I really cared for…I would say that. But after all this I found out she’s from Scottsdale Arizona, which makes sense that she hooked up with Rob Gronkowski because he went to the University of Arizona, but how this relates to me is that my former love who’ve I’ve spoken about a lot on this blog lives in Scottsdale, so now anytime I see Bibi Jones I’m gonna think of my former love, which means that I can no longer have sex with Bibi Jones, not that I want to anymore, or ever did because she was in porn and therefore I could never compete sexually, but had she been a decent person we could have cuddled. I don’t care how big those dicks she had were, they can’t cuddle like I can. But now she can kiss my cuddling ass goodbye, because I ain’t no cuddle whore.

Click here to listen to the podcast where me and my friend Chris talk about this, Ron Paul, The only black republican – no offense other black republicans…I say as if there are really other black republicans – and all sorts of other stuff.

Should I Feel Ashamed That I Actually Want To See Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes?

August 5, 2011 1 comment

I woke up roughly around midnight which is not good considering I just figured out my helping my mother with work tomorrow schedule and it turns out I won’t be able to get all the work done possibly until ten at night, which means I’d be starting at about eleven in the morning and going until ten at night, which sounds worst than it is because most of my time will actually be spent fucking around, and by fucking around I mean listening to podcasts, or writing in my little notebook for the long stretches in between working.

The job I’m helping my mother with isn’t a 9 to 5 type job, meaning it’s based on hours. It’s a you’re done when you finish everything you have to do type job, so I have to take into account the show times at the two theaters I’m going to be working at in Vancouver Washington and how long it will take me to walk from one to the other (35 minutes) and eat lunch (could be ten minutes could be an hour depending on the laziness factor) and whether I want to watch Rise of the Planet of the Apes in one sitting or spaced out over two or three viewings between working.

Part of the job I help my mother with is watching movie trailers over and over again, and over the past couple months I’ve seen I think four different versions of the Apes movie – I’m just going to call it that to save me time typing and you time reading, because I value your time – probably, I’m and not joking, more than 100 times. A couple weeks ago in one day I watched 77 trailers. It was probably a total of ten different trailers but mostly just the same six over and over again, one being the Apes movie trailer, which I’ve been seeing every time I help my mother with work for months now.

It started out looking horrible and like Hollywood was just rehashing old shit that worked before in a way to make nostalgia money. Although I suppose I can’t always call it nostalgia anymore, because is anyone in the summer of 2012 going to see The Amazing Spider-Man thinking, “I want to relive that feeling I had ten years ago when the first Spider-Man came out.” Not only do I hate the title The Amazing Spider-Man, mostly the “amazing” part, but the trailer doesn’t seem promising to me, not that it really shows a lot, but it just doesn’t seem too drastically different from what we saw ten years ago with the first Spider-Man, not that it has to be drastically different, except I kind of think it does since they’re so close together. But anyway,

I have to work this movie but I in now way want to watch it even though I enjoy Jason Bateman, and Olivia Wilde is beautiful, and I have a completely irrational hatred of Ryan Reynolds which sounds like a negative towards seeing the movie, but I love enraging my jealously...because I'm fucked up like that?

The first Apes trailer I didn’t care for, but after the second and/or third it started to look like it might have some substance. And then when I saw the most recent trailer I was like, “I’m probably going to regret it but I have to see this mother fucking movie,” which is saying a lot because I get to watch movies for free and most of the time I don’t. I worked Cowboys and Aliens for two days last week and had three different periods in each day where I had about two hours to kill and in all six of those combined periods I never decided to watch the movie. Instead I listened to my ipod. Granted that’s not saying much because it didn’t look like that great of a moive, but I still could have watched Captain America, or Crazy Stupid Love, or even Harry Potter if I wanted, but I didn’t want to. It’s weird that my family has this job with great movie watching benefits and I have very little desire to ever take advantage of it. But not today, or tomorrow, or last week, or 30 years from now when monkeys have taken over the planet, or whenever you maybe be reading this, because I’m going to watch Rise of the Planet of the Apes – I may have even more free time so I might watch Crazy Stupid Love as well since it’s getting kind of good reviews, right?

The monkey has feelings. That’s what got me in the trailer. The story, if you didn’t watch the trailer I hopefully linked to, is that James Franco is working on a cure for Alzheimer’s and he’s testing it on monkeys and he takes one monkey home and he gives the possible cure to the monkey and also – I’m assuming this based on the trailer – John Lithgow who appears to be suffering from Alzheimer’s. The monkey gets smart, and in the trailer when Lithgow is trying to eat his eggs with the wrong end of the fork and the monkey grabs it and flips it around for him the right way and the monkey looks at him with that look of sorrow I almost tear up. This movie looks like it has some emotion to it. No doubt it’s going to be a big CGI action fest, but I’m getting my hopes up that there’s an actual story the audience can connect with.

I think I know how it’s going to end. That sounds completely ridiculous because it’s a prequel so we know where it leads. But just like in the horrible Star Wars prequels we knew that Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, but we didn’t know what made him become Darth Vader. The trailer of course gives away how the monkeys got smarter, and alludes to how the main monkey may have gotten a chip on his shoulder which led to the revolution, but I think the ending is going to have a twist, or at least an unexpectedness to it. I’m not going to say what I think it is because if it is right, which I’m sure it won’t be, it will be a spoiler in the sense that if you see the movie and it does happen it won’t have the same impact because much of the shock will be taken out of it because your mind will have already thought of that possibility.

I feel weird. Like I didn’t know I wrote this much, nor did I plan to write this much. I was just going to kill a little time before I have to get ready for work in like six hours. I don’t even know what I all wrote, so I’m sort of curious to read it over and find out how boring it all was (the reread happened and it turns our incredibly boring). Like I know I wrote about movies, but really what could I have possibly said that takes up about a page and a half of word document space?

I podcasted with Christopher earlier today before I took my nap which led me to wake up at the unfortunate time of midnight leading to my probably more than 24 hours of being up today. The podcast went a lot better than the podcasts in July, which I was hoping for because I was getting really discouraged with how poorly I was becoming at entertaining. I now believe that it was partially because I was more depressed in July than I had been in recent memory, but also because I hadn’t been preparing well, which also has to do with being depressed. I prepared more than usual for the most recent episode, which isn’t saying much, and I think the product shows that. Christopher was on his game as usual and I added some good moments here and there, so if you have time to kill and you enjoy a mixture of wacky, somewhat perverted, sarcastic, explicit humor that never takes itself too seriously and every once in awhile actually says something thought provoking on a topic or news item you should give the podcast a listen.

I’m still depressed, not as much as before because I’m feeling a little better physically which helps me emotionally in thinking maybe my body isn’t raging against me, but overall I’m feeling more optimistic in life. I’m just kind of saying this out of nowhere without really having much to say about it, but I think it’s good to say it, or write it down, or just get it out in some way that I’m not great, but I’m doing better, and it’s something to feel good about.

If Trees Could Think

October 25, 2010 2 comments

I’d like to think that trees really can think. And I think these are their five most common thoughts.

5: Why is this kid peeing on me?

4: Holy mother of God someone’s cutting me down!

3: I want to believe in Tree Jesus, but I just don’t think I have enough faith.

2: Why did I have to be a conifer tree living in Canada and not a deciduous tree outside of a New York strip club?

1: Holy crap, this kid is peeing on me again.

Apparently with uses of the words Jesus, God, Holy (twice), and faith I’ve decided trees have many thoughts on religion, not necessarily for or against it. I’d imagine they’d have to hate God. I mean if they could really think. For one they would hate God for making them a tree, and not one of the many living things that can actually have sex. The only thing worse would be a bed with a conscious. Constantly knowing that people are having sex on it, yet it will never get to know the join of having sex with a sexy female bed with two nice big pillows. Or in the case of my bed it’d be confused as to why I’m trying to procreate with my hand.

To listen to me and Chris talking more on this podcast you can click here, and only here. Everywhere else will lead to porn.

Categories: crap Tags: , , , , ,

If My Hands Were A Million Penises I Guess I’d Wash Them

October 16, 2010 1 comment

I advocate the use of urinal divides at every urinal. I don’t want to see some guy’s penis, especially while he’s peeing, but even more especially when he’s holding it to aim better while he’s peeing, because then it’s way to close too much like masturbating; he’s got his hand on his penis and stuff is coming out. I usually don’t leave my hand on the penis, the my penis to be precise, when urinating anywhere, even a coke bottle in the back of my grandma’s dodge caravan last Thanksgiving, but it’s not for the excuse of not having to wash my hands, which I’ve seen used many times before. I’m sure this is news to no one, and a fellow blogger wrote about this not too long ago, but not very many guys wash their hands when using the bathroom. Hell, I’ve seen guys come out of stalls without washing their hands, and we all no what guys do in the stalls; blow each other. Although poop is also an acceptable answer.

I don’t care about germs, I just don’t, but that doesn’t mean I won’t wash my hands. I don’t do it for my own benefit. I touch my penis, whether for pleasure or whatever, like 90 times a day. Do you really think I care that much if I’ve got penis on my hands? No, in fact I love penis on my hands. Not really, I just wanted to have that said somewhere so someone could take it out of context and try and prove that I’m gay. But either way I don’t mind having touched my own penis, and I don’t even mind having touched my penis, then touched the urinal flusher that has been touched by thousands of hands who have touched their own penis, and then touch my penis again and then not washing my hands. Wouldn’t bother me in the least bit. But I do respect that other people don’t want to be touching my hand after it’s essentially touched millions of penises, many of which probably have some kind of STD. So I don’t wash my hands for me, I wash my hands for other people, and really that’s why people should wash their hands, out of respect for their common man, or women, who deserve less respect but still enough to shake a clean hand, just as long as they don’t make eye contact. I’m kidding. You guys all know I love women. I’ve single handedly put 6 different women through college which they paid for using a pile of dollar bills.

If I Peed Myself

October 14, 2010 2 comments

I can’t imagine what I would do if I ever pissed myself during class. I especially can’t imagine doing it now, if I were in a college class. Actually I know exactly what I would do. I’d pawn it off as humor. As soon as one person noticed the pee on my pants I’d just stand up in front of everyone and say, “look at me, I’m so drunk I pissed myself,” and I’d walk around off balance and then because I’d be super nervous and thinking poorly on the fly I’d say, “wait, look I’m retarded, durr, I peed myself,” and do that thing where I hit my limp hand against my chest. And I’d continue with a slur, “I’m so stupid I thought the toilet was in my pants, durr.” Then I’d snap back into normal me, “just kidding folks. I poured some water down my pants to make it look like I peed myself because I thought the class could use some entertainment. Anyway I’m going to go run to the bathroom and change. I’ll be right back.” Then I’d leave the class and never be seen again.

Thinking about peeing in the middle of class during school made me think about wetting the bed. I wasn’t a bedwetter, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t partake in the fun. I can’t recall the exact number of times I wet my bed as a small youth, but from the time I was officially expected to not wet the bed until now I think I wet the bed like three times. There’s always that immediate shame when waking up wet, unless you wake up during the act of peeing, in which case the immediate shame is prefaced by the greatest relief ever felt. I know this because the last time I wet my bed, which was years and years ago, or last night, oh how the days blend in (it was actually in the middle school, or possibly early high school years), I woke up during the act of peeing and it felt wonderful. Oh how many times I wished I could have peed in my bed but had to get up and walk those damn 13 steps to the toilet. And now here I was, peeing in my bed. Of course then when I realized I was peeing in my bed I immediately felt shamed, but then I remembered no one would ever find out about it, so who cares. It’s like watching animal porn. It’s nothing to be ashamed of unless someone finds out you watch animal porn. I don’t watch animal porn. But if I did I’d probably watch a mouse fuck a giraffe, if that’s even possible.

I’m always really scared of pissing my bed. I drink a lot of water and I wake up about six times a night having to go pee really badly but instead go back to sleep. Whenever I spend the night at someone else’s house I always make sure to use the bathroom 16 times before I go to sleep, and just to be safe I tied my penis in a knot ensuring that nothing can escape from it. This turned out to be a bad move the one time while sleeping at a hot female friend’s house I’ve always wanted to have sex with when she decided she wanted to do me but unfortunately for me in the Girl Scouts they apparently don’t teach you how to untie a fisherman’s knot.

Link to full episode of Chris being interviewed part one. The following is a snippet of that episode in which Chris discusses peeing himself in class in elementary school.

Annoying Girl In History Class

March 15, 2010 9 comments

There seems to be a positive (yet ironically negative in a different sense) correlation with my age and how easy it is to annoy me. Each year that passes it seems like people chew their gum louder and louder. I’m sitting in class trying to learn how to factor out a fraction and how the fuck learning it is going to help me become assistant manager at McDonalds – my dream job – but all I can think about is the stupid kid in the corner who seems to have made it his goal to get in the Guinness book of world records by breaking the sound barrier (you do realize the sound barrier isn’t actually broken by making loud sounds, but rather by traveling faster than the speed of sound?) I realize that now, which is why I meant that the kid was chewing his gum not only loudly, but so fast that it broke the sound barrier (good recovery) it’s what I do best.

The other day in History class I reached the point where I wanted to smack a ho, whatever that means. I was sitting in class listening to the teacher who I now think teaches history more enthusiastically that any college professor ever, when I glanced over at this girl sitting near me and noticed she was playing solitaire. First of all I was extremely annoyed because she was blatantly playing it right where the teacher could see her. She was in the front of the class for God’s sake. The audacity of this girl was astonishing. The teacher is right in front of her telling a thrilling story about Theodore Roosevelt knocking out a gunslinger with two punches and this bitch is basically slapping him in the face with a smelly cock. Not the best analogy but it’s the best I could do. I can’t imagine what was going through the teacher’s mind when he was telling the story and seeing a student playing solitaire instead of giving her full attention and learning about her own country’s history. I imagine it went something like this:

“Oh my God, this stupid bitch is playing solitaire and basically slapping me in the face with her cock rather than listen to my awe inspiring Theodore Roosevelt story.  When I get home I’ve got the perfect bullet to introduce to my brain.”

See, that stupid girl caused that poor teacher to commit suicide, hypothetically I mean. But that wasn’t the worst of it. After she was done playing her first game of solitaire, which she of course lost because she’s a dolt, she starting playing again, but of course if you’re starting a new game you must first shuffle the cards, but surely she wouldn’t do that during the class while the teacher is talking. Wrong! She shuffled the cards. Not once, not twice, but three times, per game, and she played about five games. And after she was done she shuffled the cards some more, for no apparent reason other than to annoy me. I kept looking around the classroom but no one seemed to be put off by the shuffling. And that was even more annoying. The fact that no one else appeared to be annoyed made me more annoyed almost to the point of insanity. I don’t like confrontational situations, whether they directly involve me or not, but I was praying to the God I don’t believe in that the teacher would tell the bitch to shut up, but it didn’t happen. It’s times like those that I wish I was emotionally unstable, I mean more so then I already am, so I could get up take the cards out of her hands, attempt to rip them up but fail, throw them up in the air, yell at the bitch to respect the teacher and the class, and sit back down calmly telling the teacher to continue teaching unimpeded and pretend as if nothing had happened. But no, instead I just sat there and saved up all my annoyance until I got home so I could write about it in my blog.

The thing that made it so annoying is that she wasn’t being respectful to the teacher and the students. The noise didn’t bother me too much. I mean it of course distracted me and was annoying but stuff like that doesn’t anger me. I’m the type of guy who can, and has, read a book during a party with a drunk person coming up to me every five minutes asking me if I’m a nerd. I just hate when people aren’t respectful. And yes, I do realize calling this girl a bitch probably isn’t respectful but for one she’s not going to read this so it won’t do her any harm, and secondly I feel the more apt cunt isn’t a word I’d like to use in one of my blogs. People pay to go to college, and I’m of the belief that generally most of them don’t care to learn but rather just want a degree, but some actually would like to learn so the fact that a person makes it more difficult for a room full of students to pay attention, and harder for a teacher who is one of a few very good teachers to teach, really pisses me off.

In the same class a few weeks previous these two girls were sitting in the back of the class watching a movie or something on their laptop. The whole class could hear. I don’t know if they thought they were invisible, or that the sound was so low that only their super sensitive ears could hear, but either way these dumb asses had it in their mind that what they were doing wasn’t bothering anyone, at least that’s what I hope they were thinking. Because if they knew what they were doing was bothersome and just didn’t care I would like nothing more than an anvil to fall on their heads and then have a cartoonish mountain like bump spring forth and then I would like the word dunce to be tattooed in scarlet letters on it, so at least everybody will know what they’re getting into before starting a conversation with these societal scum.

I’m a grumpy old man damn it. But in a selfish way I am grateful for all these hindrances because they help distract me from all the depressing things I think about during the day.

….

Me and Andreane talk about Hockey and a few other things including why she hates The Mighty Duck movies.

I, David, and Quy talk about some scientific prediction and in the process we manage to sound more stupid than we ever have before.

I talk about the march madness college basketball tournament and in doing so make no sense whatsoever.

I AM GOING TO CRUSH THE MOON

March 5, 2010 6 comments

If you want to hear me read the story or hear me talk about the story click on the link and you shall be taken to a magical world filled with nasally drones.

link to nasally drones

The Story begins now… (p.s. that was not part of the story)

“So did you hear the news today, Karl?” Murphy said

“Yep, that’s why I’m here.”

“Thought so,” Murphy said taking a seat on a rock facing towards the lake. “You always come here to think.”

“I’m not thinking today.”

“Just staring?”

“Just staring.”

“Well staring is good too.”

“Ignorance is bliss they say.”

“They don’t say that anymore,” Murphy said. “Remember they outlawed it two years ago because it gave being dumb a better image. All those kids dropped out of school citing knowledge as the leading cause of depression. Remember all those college professors who got sued? Philosophy courses were banned across the nation for almost a decade. During Richard Dawkins visit to South Carolina he was hijacked and burned at the stake. Then they burned his corpse again for good measure. But I guess that’s what you get in return for disproving God. To be honest I would have been a lot happier if I still believed in God.”

“I bet Newton couldn’t sleep at night.”

“I blame him for this.”

“Why? He didn’t invent gravity. He just discovered it.”

“What, you didn’t hear?” Murphy said. “As of last week it’s now official that Isaac Newton invented gravity. There are some who say he did it for the sole purpose of getting his name etched in history and forever being known as the man who made the moon fall to the Earth.”

“What if we’re falling towards it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that wouldn’t make any sense. The Earth is perfectly happy. It doesn’t need, nor want, the moon. The moon is the one who’s lonely.” Murphy skipped a rock into the lake. “The Earth is filled with animals, plants, oxygen, dirt, hell even people. The moon has nothing.”

“It’s got rocks.”

“Rocks are nothing. They don’t keep good company. They’re almost as bad as Antarctican’s.”

“That’s racist.”

“Well fuck them, they need to keep their damn mouths shut and mind their own business.” He threw another rock into the lake. He sent a good dose of anger to keep it company. “I liked it better before we found out they existed.”

“Arabelia has Antarctic roots.”

“With a name like that I’m not surprised. She was never good for you. She can fuck off.”

“The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Nah, fuck the trees, the lake is where it’s at,” Murphy said getting up. “Bye Karl.”

“Bye Murphy,” I said still looking towards the trees.

Two weeks later I sat on my rock staring at my trees as they blew in the wind when Murphy arrived. I didn’t see what he was wearing or if he had finally cut his hair like he had been promising to do for the past two months, but based on the sound of his chewing throughout our conversation and the crinkling of a thin foil-like bag I’m pretty sure he was eating chips.

“So did you here the news today, Karl?” Murphy said.

“Yep, that’s why I’m here.”

“Thought so,” Murphy said taking a seat on his rock looking towards his lake. “You always come here to think.”

“I’m not thinking today.”

“Just staring?”

“Just staring.”

“Well you can stare all you want, but we’ve only got about a year until they say it lands on us, just enough time for everyone to go crazy again.”

“Give a sane man a minute and he’ll go crazy with 45 seconds to spare.”

“Amen to that,” Murphy said. “They still aren’t sure where it’s going to land.”

“Crazy, they can put a man on the moon but they can’t figure out where it’s going to land.”

“Didn’t they teach you in school that all the moon landings were a hoax?”

“I was making a joke. People used to complain about us being able to put people on the moon but not being able to do what seems like much simpler stuff. Like perfectly toasting bread without it burning.”

“I know the origin of the saying. I didn’t find your joke funny. Remember in 2012 when Sarah Palin was running for president and to gain publicity Fox broadcasted her going to the moon and while walking on the moon she tripped on a chord and knocked down the back drop.”

“I can’t believe she still won.”

“I think it was her Playboy spread that gained her the independents. They’re all perverts.” Murphy took a bite of what I firmly believe was a chip. “Barack’s Playgirl spread was much more impressive than his presidency but boobs will always hold more power than a penis no matter what size.”

“At least he didn’t blow up Antarctica.”

“They had it coming.”

“Arabelia cried for weeks.”

“Her tears alone were worth it.”

“Hawaii is under water now.”

“Makes for a great snorkeling trip,” Murphy said.

“Half of Australia’s population was wiped out.”

“Small scientific miscalculation,” Murphy said. “They weren’t supposed to be harmed.”

Murphy pretends not to care about people dying but I know he does. If I were ever to die he’d cry for a century. He loves me. That’s why he hates Arabelia. She hurt me. He wants to be the only one that hurts me. That’s what love is now. They changed the definition when Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt overthrew the British government and become the King and Queen of New America 2, the second New America since New America 1, formerly known as the Middle East. I’m not sure what relevance this has to do with love but the government tells me it’s pertinent, and nowadays the people listen to the government. I don’t listen to the government. According to the Government Arabelia loves me but I don’t love her. That’s total bullshit.

“You’re quiet,” Murphy begun, “what are you thinking about?”

“The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Nah, fuck the trees, the lake is where it’s at,” Murphy said getting up. “Bye Karl.”

“Bye Murphy,” I said still looking at the trees, and thinking.

It was two weeks later and I was staring at a hawk perched upon one of my favorite trees way off in the distance, further than many closer trees that I had denied the privilege of being one of my favorite trees. There isn’t anything special about the tree. In fact for the first three weeks I got it confused with the other trees around it. There’s a high probability it’s not even the same tree I originally designated as one of my favorites. I started the paragraph with the intentions of talking about the hawk and ended up talking about the tree. On second thought I don’t even think it was a hawk.

“So did you hear the news today?” Murphy said.

“Yep, that’s why I’m here.”

“Thought so,” Murphy said already sitting on his rock with his lake in view. “You always come here to think.”

“I haven’t thought in years.”

“Just staring?”

“I haven’t seen her in years.”

“You’re going to go see her aren’t you?”

He knew I was going to see her. In eleven months the moon was going to land on me. Well I can’t be so arrogant to think it specifically picked out me. But I can’t be so naïve to think it’s not possible. They determined the Moon was going to land exactly over this lake and crush the nearby city, but I’m not worried about that. I’m more worried about my trees.

“Yes, I’m probably going to see her.”

“Don’t,” Murphy begun, “come with me? I have a cousin who lives up in Canada. I’m going to stay with her. You should come too.”

“You know I can’t.” I don’t know if he was looking at me but I damn sure wasn’t looking at him. “I love Arabelia, not you.” I could hear a rock go flying into the lake.

“What do I have to do to make you love me? Tell me. I’ll do it. I’m bringing the God damn moon to the Earth for you.”

“I’m still not convinced it isn’t the Earth falling on the moon.”

“Don’t be crazy. You can’t tell me I’m not pulling the moon to the Earth.”

“No, conventional wisdom tells me I can’t. But you know me well enough to know I don’t always follow conventional wisdom.”

“Why don’t you love me?” Murphy said.

“The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Nah, fuck the trees, the lake is where it’s at,” Murphy said with sadness in his voice and perhaps a tear running down his face. “Bye Karl.”

“Probably,” I said.

“What the fuck are you doing, Karl?” Murphy said ten months later.

“I’m sitting, staring at the lake, thinking about everything and much more. I’ve never really looked at the lake before. It’s actually beautiful. I think I could have learned to love it more than even the trees. Right here behind me the whole time yet I never acknowledged it. What a fool I am.”

“I hope that’s not a metaphor?”

“It was an accidental metaphor.”

“Things didn’t work out with Arabelia?”

“Things certainly did not. She’s married with a kid. Beautiful little girl named Addelyn, got her father’s smile. I met the man. More of a man than I’ll ever be. Works for the Government, so of course he’s got a sense of humor. Treats her real nice, big house, nice car, and all that good stuff. She’s really happy. I’m happy for her. But I hate it too. I don’t know how to feel.”

“I met someone in Canada.” Murphy was looking me in the eyes for the first time in what conventional wisdom tells me is forever. “Her name is Andreane. She’s German Canadian. She was part of Hitler the third’s guerilla force that overthrew the corrupted French Canadian government. I live with her in Quebec, Montreal to be specific. It’s wonderful there. I’m really happy. It doesn’t smell great but at least the moon isn’t falling on it. ”

He was lying at this point. I didn’t care. I would let him get away with the lie. If I wanted him to he would stay here with me and be crushed by the moon. He’d find it romantic. I wouldn’t. I still don’t love him.

“I don’t love you.”

“I finally realize why,” he said, I suspect lying. “There’s pain in those eyes of yours. There’s love too but I can see it’s not for me. You’re still welcome to come with me back to Canada.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know,” Murphy said, “but I can always ask.”

“Not in a month. In a month all the questions will be gone, or as close to it as possible.”

“So you’re going to die, and forever be nothing.”

“Forever includes the past, so I won’t be forever nothing,” I said it louder than I expected. “Arabelia told me you should believe in God again. And that there’s a reason ignorance is so pleasing. And that it was wrong for the Antarcticans to unleash the truth upon the world.”

It’s true that she told me all this. I’m not sure if she meant it though. She lied to me a lot. She was always so much smarter than me so she always knew it was better to lie. I always told the truth. It was stupid of me.

“She’s a liar,” Murphy said.

“Yeah, we both know that. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“Yep,” Murphy sighed. “The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Yeah, I know, but I think I should spend some times staring at the lake.”

Murphy slowly walked away not looking back once. I don’t know what happened to him. I assume I’m never going to see him again. If there’s no heaven, which has been proven, and if there’s no hell, which is still heavily contested, then I can only assume if all goes as planned that I’m never going to see him again. But conventional wisdom tells us that the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. Or was that Robert Burns? Either way he was an Antarctican.

Today is the day of the historic moon landing, but this one is not a hoax. The sky has been pitch black for days now. There are not many people left in the city or anywhere around it. My neighbor is an old lady. She will not leave. She’s lived in her house for 84 years and by golly she’ll die in that house. There is a homeless man who has made a home of the supermarket down the street from me where I go to get my food. He is a nice man. He pretends to be the cashier when I am there and I give him money and he rips it up and we laugh because we both know money is no longer good to us, just like it was a few years back when the 46th president declared the new currency to be seashells, because after all a sand dollar is prettier than a paper dollar. California finally bought themselves out of debt, but immediately returned to it after Caligula Jr., as we called him because he looked just like Caligula and not at all because he was crazy, was impeached on the grounds of being crazy and a detriment to our government. He was replaced by who we call Abraham Lincoln Jr., whose nickname was given with the same theory behind it as to why so many fat men are called tiny. Those few years sent the Civil Rights movement back a long way.

But look at me going on and on about nothing. It’s funny how one can find so many things to talk about when death is upon him.

I’m going to lie under the moon now. I don’t know why but I’m at ease. I often thought the moon was the loneliest place in the universe. There are galaxies without beings for many light years.  But they are ignorant. They do not know what they are missing. The moon had to spend its whole existence staring at life develop on Earth but could never partake in the fun. The moon has been taunted for almost ever, but no longer. I shall save it from loneliness and it shall save me.

A little writing and a few links

February 27, 2010 2 comments

I just got back from the store (and why are you blogging about it?) well let me get to the point will you (let’s be honest, we both know there will be no point) there will, it just doesn’t necessarily have anything at all to do with me going to the store (well do us all a favor and make this quick) everything I do is ; ) Is that a winkie face? (I have no idea). So I went to the store because I needed chips. Not wanted, but needed chips. I’m not like you humans where I want things I don’t need. If I want something it’s because I’ve been engineered to need it. Hence my 2 o’clock craving for chips meant I needed chips immediately or else the likelihood of me dying would be increased to nothing from slightly less than nothing. But more importantly I would bitch all day because I didn’t have chips. So I went to the store to buy the chips I so desperately needed.

When I got to the store and grabbed the chips and went to the counter, with coupon in hand, I watched as the multiple cardboard cylinders of chips got rang up – cardboard cylinder container for chips should be a dead giveaway that I bought Pringles, which by no means is my favorite but they’re cheaper and I had a coupon for them. So after the lady rang up the chips the price seemed to be adequate and perfectly acceptable to me, but the pregnant lady saw the coupon in my hand and asked me for it. So as any normal person would do I handed her the coupon so she could make sure I was getting the right price for the chips. Wait, no I didn’t. I protested that the chips were already rung up correctly and the coupon had already been accounted for. I thought this because at Walgreens – which is where I happened to be because of its convenient location next to my household and my inability to drive a car which meant I had to walk everywhere – they usually have it so when items are rung up the coupons in their little coupon paper are already accounted for, but the pregnant lady wasn’t so certain.

So the pregnant lady rudely demanded that I give her the coupon by saying, “I just want to make sure you’re getting a good deal.” So in the spirit of Gandhi I spit on the coupon, rubbed it on my bare ass and then handed it to the lady (if that were true, which it most certainly is not, why would you spit on the coupon before rubbing it on your ass?) Because the spit will help make my ass stench stick to the coupon. But really I just handed her the coupon and looked away to avoid making eye contact when she would punch it in the computer and realized it had already been automatically accounted for and her face would turn rampant with embarrassment, much like when Ashley Simpson got caught lip-syncing on Saturday Night Live, but this time the embarrassment couldn’t be covered with a funky looking jig type dance, and no apology would be able to rid the pregnant lady of the shame that would assuredly be entrenched in her genetics and passed on to her child and forever be synonymous with the future family heritage.

“You saved 54 cents,” the pregnant lady said smugly after entering in the coupon. If she wasn’t pregnant I swear to God I would have slapped that bitch back to China. That’s not racist because she wasn’t Chinese. She was some other kind of Asian (that would arguably be more racist if it were true) okay she was white. I was just under the impression that slapping someone back to China was an expression that could be applied to anyone free of racism.

I really said, “you win,” and then I didn’t say, but I wish I had said, “I’ve now been embarrassed at Walgreens, Fred Mayer, Wal-Mart and Costco. Safeway here I come!” After things happen I always replay them in my head and think of all the better things I could have said. Anyway the point of this story is that I have a couple new podcasts up at my website and I just wanted to let you know but I would have felt guilty if I just posted a link to the podcasts without actually writing something (you’ve wasted everybody’s time) but most importantly I’ve wasted mine.

This is a link to a podcast of me talking to my Canadian friend from most likely Canada about Canada and the Olympics being held in Canada and a few other things. It’s quite okay, but don’t take my word for it, I have a direct quote about it from someone who you’ve never even heard of: Chris said, “I actually found the podcast with Andreanne to be compelling. As someone who listens to a lot of podcasts, that was the first one of yours that sounded like a regular podcast.” So see, this Chris guy I may or may not have made up seemed to enjoy it, so maybe you will too, but probably not.

http://blog.closertoclarity.com/2010/02/24/closer-to-clarity–ep5–andreane-gets-interviewed.aspx

This is a link to a podcast of me and David talking about deadly foods and I also make mention of a weird dream I had merely hours before recording the crappy, I mean wonderful podcast episode.

http://blog.closertoclarity.com/2010/02/27/closer-to-clarity-ep6-deadly-foods.aspx

And this is a link to a podcast done by Quy and David where they talk about anime. I listened to it and I didn’t fall asleep. Okay so right now I’ve only listened to half of it and I listened to that half while I was watching college basketball but I’m going to listen to the second half at some point and if you like anime then at least give it a try or at least leave them a comment telling them you liked it even though you didn’t even listen to it. Pity them please. But first pity me!

http://animeniacs.wordpress.com/

me talking two

February 17, 2010 1 comment


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