a quiet life (part I)

Is it possible to write a story that lacks conflict, heroes, or villains?

Let’s find out

****

My guts were boiling.

I climbed out of bed, dropped my pants, and evacuated my bowels. It was a good shit.

Afterwards, I shaved my balls. And ass. I climbed in the shower and measured my penis: 3.5 inches soft, 5in hard (5 1/4in from the taint).

I shoved some eggs and toast down my throat and grabbed a coffee. As I was walking out to the driveway, my neighbor confronted me.

“If you blast your radio at 2am again, I am calling the cops!” he said.

I pulled out my Glock. “Look buddy,” I replied, “you’re on my property. That means I have the right to unleash holy hell right into your skull. So don’t fuck with me!”

Then I got into my car and turned up the radio. I bounced up and down all the way to work to the sound of ‘Big Fat Funky Booty’ by the Spin Doctors on repeat.

When I arrived, I walked into the office. “Hey baby,” I said to the receptionist, “when are you gonna give me a shot at those titties?”

“I’ve already reported you to Human Resources,” she replied. “Please don’t speak to me.”

“You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart,” I said.

I went to my desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “A little early in the morning for that, isn’t it Bill?” my boss asked.

“You know I’m never sober before 8am, Dick,” I replied.

“Damn it Bill! I should fire you but you always do your best work drunk.”

“Thanks Dick. Say, when am I getting that raise?”

“Once when we get those lawsuits settled from all the faulty products you designed, you’ll get a 20% raise.”

“Fuckin snowflakes,” I said. “A little cancer never hurt anyone.”

“I think the judge will agree,” Dick replied. “He should. We paid him enough money.”

“Thanks Dick. You’re the best.”

Dick went back to his office and I pulled up porn on my work computer. It was a productive day.

TO BE CONTINUED

facebook (update)

(Update: I’m 119 years old and I don’t understand technology. It doesn’t help that I lost the use of my left side brain at the Battle of Verdun. So forget all of this. It never happened. But I’m leaving this up because some of it is funny. I dunno. Then again I’ve been off my anticonvulsant meds the last few days)

So I was watching The Beastmaster when the Tanya Roberts bathing scene came on. I was about to “master” another “beast” if you know what I mean 😉😉😉 (Rip Torn gets me hot), but then I thought “I should create a Facebook page for my website!”

First, I tried setting up a business page, but Facebook forbids that with WordPress sites or some crap (or I have to buy some add-on, but I ain’t paying for that shit) so I set up a group page instead.

Here’s the link:

(not available)

“Why Facebook?” a question you’re probably not asking.

Because it’s the only social media site that doesn’t make me want to hire a hit man to set me on fire.

So come join! If you don’t then you probably have a tiny penis anyway. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just saying that you’re less of a man if you don’t join my group.

So if you want to regain your self-respect, you better join the Internet Ruined Everything group and meet other weirdos just like YOU.

baruch “the no spin zone” spinoza

“The world would be happier if men had the same capacity to be silent that they have to speak” -Baruch Spinoza

Ludwig Wittengenstein infamously had a similar quote: “Whereof one cannot speak, one must be silent.”

This is true. There’s no use in filling the air with senseless chatter about things we do not understand.

Like I don’t understand why I got laid off. I’ll spend hours in the basement with a bottle of Jim Beam and a loaded 22. My wife will ask if everything is alright and I’ll respond with “whereof one cannot speak, one must be silent.”

Truer words were never spoken.

4 the record, I do wear masks

I’m only saying this because my posts “i ain’t wearin no masks” is currently my most viewed of the month and almost no interaction.

So I feel the need to explain a bad joke.

I just want to say that there’s nothing to worry about, I was just trying to make a post that would offend everyone. No big deal.

I do wear a KN95 mask when I go into public. BUT, it should also be noted that I was doing that BEFORE the pandemic and will continue to do so long after.

I ONLY go into public incognito.

I ALSO got the vaccination. Again, not because of a “pandemic”, but because I will inject my body with anything at least ONCE. In the case of the vaccination, I did it THREE times (the two initial shots PLUS the booster) because it was that damn good.

Like I said, I don’t believe in overwhelming scientific evidence that says that there’s a raging pandemic going around the world. Science is liberal bullshit.

I’m a Jehovah’s Witness. I have God’s protection.

life is suffering

Remember between the end of the Cold War and 9/11 when such overrated classics like The Matrix, Fight Club, and American Beauty reminded us that we are bored with life and need to escape reality?

Then a few planes crashed into some buildings and everyone was like “how horrible!” but were secretly like “oh thank god! Something interesting is happening in the world” because we’re sick and terrible people?

There’s something deep-seated in the human psyche that draws it towards suffering. It’s like we need it to be reminded that we’re still alive.

It’s sick.

We are sick and terrible people and a meteor needs to strike the earth to put us out of our misery.

But until this happens, we have to occupy the time in between. So don’t forget to install those gutters, paint your walls, and plant those gardens….

Visit the Home Depot…

…How doers get more done!

albert Eisenstein

I sometimes wonder: do people not know when they’re insane?

I mean, obviously if they did know they were crazy, then they wouldn’t be crazy. That makes sense, right?

But has society made insanity somewhat permissible? And has this become apparent to some people but not to others?

I grew up around rich kids. My parents weren’t rich. They liked to think they were but they weren’t. Everyone knew they weren’t rich…at least not as rich as they were…so everyone kinda patted my family on the head and said “nice try, but you’re not in the club”. So I had an unusual upbringing where I was at the bottom of a rather exclusive and rarefied ladder.

I’m not asking for pity, I had it pretty good overall, I’m just saying: I grew up on the outside looking into a party of insane, sociopathic people.

Now all my rich friends are grown up. I don’t talk to any of them, but I CAN Facebook stalk them and what I find is extremely gratifying: many of them have been arrested and/or have drug problems.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in the same situation, but those were youthful transgressions by comparison. I didn’t have a career or family and people just kinda accepted that I was a drunk asshole. But eventually there came a point where I said: “this is not acceptable” (or rather, a judge said that).

But by looking at the Facebook profiles of a bunch of 30 and 40 year olds, that thought hasn’t occurred to any of them. I mean, how many domestic violence arrests do you need? They do know that bail and attorney fees costs money right? The police are “harassing” you? But you’re white and rich!

Like I said, reading this shit is like Christmas to me. Is my life much better? Maybe not monetarily. But at least I’m not in a state of denial about being an asshole and a menace to society. You can have sympathy for them, but these people contributed to my inferiority complex. So until I get an apology, fuck em.

But I guess when you live in that rarified atmosphere, you can double down on your bad decisions. Some smart guy supposedly once said: “the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” And if you’re rich enough, you can afford to do that.

No I’m not bitter about being condescended to by rich people as a child. I have a lucrative job at the toilet factory and run successful blog. Why should I be jealous?