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Tuesday, October 19, 2010

My mailorder bride died on the UPS truck Original to Facebook 6/14/2010

Check the calander - it's been a while and I got some stupid stuff stacked on the shelves in my head. Here we go. A bit of a warning though - this one may not be for the faint of heart .

* First off - Fuck you BP. Not for the spill. I understand the spill. I do not like the spill, but I understand it. It was an accident. Accidents, no matter how hard we try to prevent them, happen, Thus we call it an accident. If not, then it is done on purpose, and that is a whole different rant. But you had a fire, folks died, you huge platform sank - and I feel sorry for you. I do. Yes, even with the spill, I feel sorry for your loss. But fuck you all the same.

Why? Because you are being way to fucking smug right now. Your apologies seem trite, your management comes off as vapid assholes, and hello - it's been almost two fucking months now. Now we are getting past accident and into serious " you better fix that mother fucker before people start burning your goddamn gas stations down in a pissed of if yet unguided sense of protest" territory.

* Next - dear spell check - what is the deal? Like all the programmers in the cyber world do not use profanity? Evey time I drop an f bomb you underline it - do you really think I misspelled a word, or are you calling attention to my boorish behavior? I don't know, so fuck you, too.

* Tiger Woods who?

* In one week from waking up in the morning I will be 35. I cannot help but think that over half my life is past. I do not expect to pass 70, but if I do, I'm gonna be one worn out son of a bitch,because I'm gonna live now like I'm gonna die tomorrow. I can think of nothing sadder than laying in a nursing home, living inside of my own head, with thoughts of things I wish I had done but had not. I think we can regret the things we did and accept them and learn from them, but we can never regret and accept what we did not do - how d we know how it would have turned out?

* I got a friend named Dave. He has had cancer, looked it in the eye, and beat it. Twice. And he is two years my junior. Damn. But he is as positive of a person as I know. He has a wonderful wife, whom I have met a few times and genuinely like. They have been blessed with a son ( I call the kid Tadpole) and I can tell you I know of no two other people in the world outside of my wife and myself whose becoming parents has excited me as much. I'm not going to step into any religious or cosmic vein here - but I do think that forces greater than ourselves, undefinable, are often at work, and that this blessing upon them is the work and reward for their perseverance and dedication to one another.

* In the thread of something all together different, I found an opening line for Hilton's next short story. It's gonna be gruesome.

* I was listening to an R.E.M. cd today, and the song "End Game" popped up. This song, along with "Good Feeling" by the Violent Femmes always squares me away and makes my mind instantly go peaceful. I also, every time I hear this song, think of the summer before my Senior year, to when I was very first dating my sweetums, which was the summer of '92. ( makes sense since the liner notes have a copyright date of '91 ) But the interesting thing is the song makes me thing of Will Butler. I do not know if he played it and sang it one day and I am getting a shadow of a memory of it, or if he played it while riding around a lot ( don't seem to think so - seems like that was the summer of blur and Mr. Bungle ) , but whatever - the harmony and the light guitar kicks up, and I think of comic books, salads at Olive Garden, incense and riding with the windows down. Good times. Happy times.

* I have never been really good at remembering names. Sorry. I usually play it off with a lame joke about "smoking a lot of reefer as a kid" but the fact is I just plain suck at remembering folk's names. Which is interesting in the post-facebook times - I have more "friends" here at one time than I ever cultivated in the real world. Recently I have bumped into folks at different places and had no fucking clue who the hell they were, and they are telling me how they loved " that thing you wrote about your buddy so and so " or "where did you find that video of such and such". This does not help my often feeling nervous in public settings one damn bit. It doesn't take a goddamn shrink to understand that sometimes my over the top comments and such are simply my brain blowing off nervous steam. I have given thought to just deleting my whole damn page and going back to just writing shit and burning it.

* My littlest kid is gonna be a kindergartner this year. My oldest will be in driver's ed. I work all week to be broke. I am the average American.

* Who are you? Who are you? Tell me who you are? who are you ? I have a right to know who you are! WHO ARE YOU?

* Sorry - couldn't help myself.

* As I get older, the less I give a shit about what other people do. Seriously. You know why? Cause I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want to anyway, so why even bother worrying about what you do? I would call it the "live and let live "philosophy, but it's closer to the " Whatever the fuck " philosophy, which, while closer to the point, probably will not get me on Oprah any time soon.

* I'm going to the beach for vacation ( and not work ) in a month. Part of me hopes that when I get there there is some tar balls or oil or some shit on the beach, just so I can bitch about it for the rest of my life. I'm taking me a big ol pickle jar when I go just in case. Gonna get me some oil dammit!

Have fun kids. It's a mean mother fucker of a world out there right now - look out for one another.

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