So I was dropping acid at a Hoobastank concert when I got punched in the face.
“What the hell man!” I yelled.
“Oh, sorry sir, I thought you were my wife.”
Unfortunately it was at that moment when the acid kicked in. By the time band played “Naked Jock Man”, I was on an intergalactic journey with Carl Sagan.
I woke up in the ICU and the lady doctor told me that I had a “concussion and picked up an STD.” After I was discharged, I went up to the doctor and asked:
“Hey, wanna get a drink?”
“I don’t date patients,” she replied.
“Who said that this was a date? It’s just two people getting together over drinks.“
“Sir, you have hepatitis A, B, and C. You’re on the verge of both kidney and liver failure. You obviously have a massive pill addiction. AND you have crippling diabetes. If you don’t change your lifestyle right now, you will be dead in four years,” she told me.
So I was watching porn on my work computer when I heard the sounds of death blasting from my co-worker’s phone.
I said, “Dale, what are you watching?”
He said, “It’s a documentary about the Battle of Tannenberg during World War I. It was a nightmarish time in global affairs. Men were senselessly butchered for the sake of gaining a few yards on the battlefield. How callous were such leaders? To permit the deaths of so, so many people? Is human life that meaningless to those in power? How could god permit such suffering? Have we been forsaken?”
“We’ll keep it down over there,” I replied.
So I went back to minding my own business when I heard Dale loading his Colt Cobra.
I said, “Dale, so help me god, if you don’t quiet down I will grab that gun and use it myself.”
“Sorry,” he replied “I’m just a little suicidal from my multiple bankruptcy filings and sexual assault charges.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I said
Finally when there was a little peace and quiet, Dale comes around the corner pointing his gun at me and crying profusely.
“I’m sorry Jim”, he says. “Everyone has abandoned me. My wife left. And my kids won’t talk to me.”
“So what do you want from me, Dale?” I replied. “My wallet? The keys to my car?”
“I want someone to listen to me for once in my life! I had a very lonely childhood. My parents never listened to me, I had no friends. I suffered from dyslexia and all my teachers thought I was stupid. Just absolutely stupid! I’m not a bad person. I’m just misunderstood and have been my entire life. Just for once, I want someone to understand me! That’s all I’ve ever wanted!”
Out of frustration, Dale fired his Colt directly into my computer. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what would happen next. As I looked into Dale’s eyes in terror, I knew that he didn’t have the heart to shoot me. He was just a broken man and out of options.
Finally, he laid the gun down and sat down then buried his head in his hands. We both sat in silence for a few moments.
“Well,” I said. “How about I just give you my wallet.”
Thank you to the wonderful, fascinating, intelligent, beautiful, outstanding, great, fun, hilarious, engaging, charismatic, smart, intelligent, super, warm, talented, and outstanding Sophie at the Starting Today blog for nominating this page for the #BrainstormsAward.
To think that people actually enjoy reading fart and cum jokes in addition to my occasional thoughts on movies and football is truly an honor.
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1. Thank the one who nominated you
2. Tag your post with #BrainsStormsAward and follow BrainsStorms if you are willing!
3. Display the Brainstorms Award logo
4. Display the rules on your blog post.
5. Talk a bit about your blog, why you started it, what you write on and your goal for your blog.
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A Bit About This Blog
I started writing when I woke up hungover, confused, and fearing for my life in the back of a Ford Probe in Mexico. The cartel decided to let me live if I spent the rest of my life humiliating myself. Thus, this blog was born.
I try not to confine myself to any one subject. If I have a story, joke, thought, etc. fall out of my brain, I try post it here. I don’t really think of myself as a “writer” or as an artistic type really. Nevertheless I have a ton of ideas that I would eventually like to translate into a novel, screenplay, or whatever. So I like to think of this blog as “target practice”, if you will, to keep myself in the habit of writing (before the cartel uses ME as target practice 😕)
1. What is your biggest regret and why?
When I was a young man (back in the 1940s), I stretched myself too thin. I was trying to go to college, start a career, and be a party animal all at once (being shot at by the Germans was a problem too).
I wish I focused on one thing and not be worried about everything all the time.
2. Can you do a cartwheel?
When my arthritis isn’t acting up.
3. Are you a lone wolf? Or extremely sociable and outgoing?
I believe that it was Cormac McCarthy who stated that drinking is a workplace hazard for writers. When one commits to the blogging lifestyle, there are many such hazards and obstacles. One HAS to be a lone wolf, even in social settings…even at the cost of their own mental stability.
That’s the price of art.
But as to whether I’m naturally a lone wolf or social butterfly, I guess it depends on which drugs I’m hyped up on.
4. If you could start your blog over again what would you do differently this time?
Write it on an actual computer and not on my Nokia 8110.
5. Who are your three favorite writers of all time?
God (for writing the Bible), Charles Bukowski, and Cormac McCarthy.
I’ve only been on here for a couple of weeks but the WordPress community has been awesome. Unfortunately I feel like a selfish bastard for not getting acquainted with very many blogs since starting here due to my manic behavior (and being in and out of jail). But I pledge to be as supportive for this community as you all have been for me.
That being said, the following blogs have stood out for their perspective, creativity, and hard work. They’re an eclectic mix of poetry, creative writing, science, and language. They all deserve a shoutout:
“I’m James and I’m an alcoholic,” I was told to say in AA. “I’ve wasted the last several years of my life. I’ve lost my career, my family, and respect…all because I can’t stop drinking. I’d do anything to get it all back. But it doesn’t work that way. Yet today is a new day, and hopefully coming here will be the first of many steps towards getting my life back together.”
“Thanks for sharing, James,” the crowd said back.
Then my sponsor said “I’m Jack, I’m an alcoholic, and I hate k——— and ——— and fuck the Dutch too.” He then gave a 20 minute racist tirade in front of 50 people.
“But Jack”, I said “My kids are Vietnamese. Do you hate them too?”
“I hate anyone who ——— then ———- and ———- my penis!”, he replied.
With the crowd stunned, Jack yelled “this is where you can stick the Big Book!” Then he dropped his pants and exposed his anus.
Since I haven’t seen Jack in weeks, I have to find a new sponsor. And without a sponsor, AA bylaws don’t require sobriety 🤷♂️
Went on a date for the first time since 2003. With a woman. When she came to my house and noticed the pictures on the wall, a collage of all the important people in my life, she asked “is this your father?”
I said “No, that’s Coach Eric Taylor, molder of men. The greatest coach of high school football in Texas history.”
Puzzled, she then asked “umm, is this your brother?”
I replied “No, that’s Matt Saracen, the quarterback for the Dillon Panthers during their championship run. He was thrusted into action after Jason Street suffered a life altering injury. He wasn’t the most talented quarterback, but he had a lot of heart. Are you fucking stupid?”
Friday Night Lights is the greatest television show of all time. Probably always will be.
I have a lot of regrets. I spend a lot of time thinking about them. And it’s very hard to capture that feeling of reflection…of nostalgia…when you reflect on events in one’s life. Movies and TV definitely have a hard time capturing that that sensation.
This is where FNL excels. Watching it is like reaching back into one’s past. Complimented by its dreamy soundtrack, the cinematography is an achievement in its own right.
Honestly, the cinematography, music, and actors bail out what is occasionally terrible writing. I mean, one season is about how a character murders somebody…and amazingly gets away with it. It’s a misstep that any other television show could never recover from. But FNL did.
Also, after spending three emotionally charged seasons with an outstanding set of characters, we get introduced to a different set of characters that take over the storylines. Few shows can pull that off.
It also changed my life. I couldn’t watch the series finale because I was crying too much because I was REALLY fucking high.
“But James, I don’t like American football.”
That’s horseshit and you know it.
As Coach Taylor says: “Everyone loves football, they just don’t know it yet.”
After crashing my 97 Geo Metro into a tree, my family staged an intervention. My mom cried the whole time, saying “your dead father would be disappointed in you”, and my ex-wife said that “if you don’t stop drinking, you will never see your son again”.
I sat there listening to this shit until it was my turn to talk. I said, “I recognize that I *might* have a drinking problem. But…and I’m just making a suggestion…have you guys considered that YOU might have a sobriety problem?”
The cops later arrested me for property damage and I was court ordered to attend rehab. They sent me to a Fort Lauderdale treatment facility where they told me that I’m a “manic depressive” and “have unresolved issues stemming from childhood trauma”. I told them to fuck off, that psychiatry has been proven to be bullshit years ago.
Nevertheless the judge told me to attend AA. My sponsor, Jack, said that sobriety sucks and that there’s nothing wrong with alcohol because it’s a natural product from completely artificial processes.
Besides, lots of great things were done under the influence of alcohol. Ever heard of World War II?
So no, I will not be taking my clozapine and naltrexone. Things like “mental health” and “science” is liberal bullshit.
So what if Randy “exposed” himself to an undercover cop or frequented massage parlors “owned” by known sex traffickers or “threatened” to shoot up a Home Depot or sold drugs outside of “middle schools”?
This is America. And in America we have this thing called free speech.
Ever heard of it?
But anywho, some of y’all make me sick. You keep saying that it “serves him right” that he’s been denied bail due to “being a flight risk pending an investigation into sexual relations with a minor and the disappearance of several women dating back to the 1990s” by the “Los Angeles Police Department”.
Do any of y’all have a heart?
I met Randy while hitchhiking on I-10 in 1992. He told me “Get in kid, I have something to show ya”. We pulled off into an abandoned rest stop and he told me there was “precious cargo” in the trunk of this Pontiac Firebird. He handed me the keys and told me to meet with a “Carlos” in Phoenix. He also handed me a Ruger 22 and told me to “get rid of the evidence”.
I met with Randy two days later in Barstow and I crashed on his couch. Then he gave me $1500 and said “you’re alright kid”.
So when I was down on my luck, Randy gave me a chance. He put clothes on my back and a roof over my head. Sure he came home drunk some nights and took liberties with my penis. Sure I cried about it every night. And sure it gave me a crippling methadone addiction. But come on! Every man has sucked off their best fried, right?
Randy is a good man.
So despite the numerous victims in the wake of his crimes and misdeeds, Randy deserves your sympathy. Stop being a heartless bastard.
Now as the Los Angeles County DA offers me full immunity in exchange for testimony, stop being a snowflake by moaning about “justice for the victims” and think of poor ol Randy sitting there in county jail. No man deserves that fate.
My buddy Randy got really drunk and started watching 9/11 videos.
“Never forget”, he told me.
“How could I?” I replied. “A bunch of people got trapped above the site of impact on the Twin Towers and either suffocated or leaped to their deaths. Can’t think of a worse way to go, ya know? Having to chose between choking on fumes or falling hundreds of feet to your gruesome death.”
But Randy forgot. And that’s kinda the point behind the “Never Forget” sloganing and the virtue signaling behind saying it, right?
The unfortunate thing about honoring and mythologizing tragedies is that it helps mask over the absolute horror behind such events. This is true for not just 9/11, but pick any war. I’m sure that soldier was really concerned about getting a posthumous bronze star after getting his legs blown off and bayoneted.
Sure, I can say that this due to some conspiracy from the government to feed us propaganda and keep their war machine fueled, which is true. But the fact is that it is much easier to focus on the mythos, revenge fantasies, and conspiracies regarding tragedy rather than on the tragedy itself.
To do so means recognizing that death is ever present. It can strike with no warning, no rhyme or reason. The universe itself is completely indifferent to our condition. In fact, it seemingly despises us. So love today, laugh when you can, because it can all be gone in an instant.
Anyways, started taking viagra today. They caused me to pass out in the Walmart bathroom, but at least they gave me a boner. Just can’t go back to Walmart anymore. 😩
A couple of punks were yelling at me the other day, saying “get the fuck outta here old man!”. I was about to pull out my .22 when the police escorted me out. I received a lifetime ban from the roller rink.
Of course this upset me. Apparently it’s no longer socially acceptable to “be intoxicated and yell obscenities at children in family establishments.”
But times are a-changin.
As a homeless Chinese man once told me: “The only constant in life is change.” And boy, don’t we know it…
Can’t even smoke at a gas pump anymore without someone bitching at me. And sexual harassment? My boss used to grope me all the time!
But those days are gone.
Perhaps there’s no such thing as “the good ole days” anyhow. Things don’t improve or get worse…they just change.
As I was told in Alcoholics Anonymous one time “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the courage to change the things I can”
There was this time when I got kidnapped by Marxist insurgents while on a drug run in Columbia. I was starved and sleep deprived for 72 hours, then afterwards came the long and torturous process of Soviet brainwashing. Those were the days!
Despite years of physical and mental therapy to overcome this horrific experience, I almost completely forgot about it until I started watching Dr. Phil and Judge Judy! After I finished convulsing, I suddenly remembered what those crazy commies taught me: the ruling class tries to control the proletariat through the means of “mental production”.
So I started thinking, “who the hell watches this shit?”
It turns out the answer is “a lot of fucking people.”
If the world is anything like me, which I presume it is, then we do a lot of self-loathing. We wake up each day, counting down the days to our inevitable deaths, when our bodies will rot and return to the earth, and we will be quickly forgotten…like we never existed at all.
So what do we do with the time in between? We waste it by interacting with meaningless products and services. One of these services is daytime network TV which feature the long running shows of Dr. Phil and Judge Judy.
Are they a real doctor and Judge? I dunno. They might’ve been one at one time, but they failed their way upwards into getting their own show.
It’s a pretty good gig if you can get it.
But because neither of them are current practitioners of medicine or law, their opinions are practically useless. However networks don’t really care if you were ever a “good” “doctor” or “lawyer”, they just want to know if you can mock and laugh at poor people and their problems. And Phil and Judy are pretty good at their jobs.
Occasionally we watch the guests on these shows and think “at least my life is not as bad as theirs.” But it is. It’s worse, actually. And we’re sadomasochists for watching. Not only are we sick for watching these people get embarrassed on national TV, but we’re disgusting because we secretly want to be chastised by two rich people for being stupid and poor.
That’s the entire purpose of these shows: so that the TV execs and the ruling elite can remind you that they are better than you and you should know your place.