life ain’t fair

Yeah I hate living. It’s a cursed gift from the universe. And I think life sucks because everyone before you and me didn’t do shit to make the world a place worth living in. So sure, enjoy life because it’s the only one we’ll get. But also, it’s a responsibility.

So if your approach to living is to get what you can out of it then die: fuck you. If that’s the case, life really does lack meaning. But to bring purpose to our meaningless existence, then we gotta recognize our responsibilities to others and this planet.

Unfortunately I’m lazy. So this responsibility to do good is my burden to carry. If you think about it, I’m much like Jesus Christ: every good deed is like a nail in the flesh. And also like Our Lord and Savior, there WILL be a second coming.

Cuz I always come TWICE. And when I don’t, it’s cuz of the meds.

Anyways, it sucks to hear about Dwayne Haskins. I enjoyed his season as a starter for Ohio State…I mean, THE Ohio State University. It’s a shame his NFL career didn’t go as planned. Many blamed him personally for his failure in Washington. But then again, he was drafted by WASHINGTON, aka the Biggest Dumpster Fire in Sports. I’m convinced no one can succeed there.

Unfortunately, another young life senselessly taken 😞

on being a lazy sack o’ shit

If any “alcoholic” tells you that it is easier to quit alcohol than to quit nicotine then you know that they aren’t a real alcoholic.

Quitting nicotine has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Sure, I got pissed off a lot. I cried a few times. Hell, some days I’d even stare into the void and ponder ways to kill myself. But I overcame it.

And through these trials and tribulations, I’ve come to realize something: this blog is a pain in my ass.

As usual, I keep coming across the same old solution: I need to stop doing so much.

Is life a race?

You’re damn right it is. I want to get all this living over with. But why make life more painful than it needs to be?

That’s another thing that pisses me off…why does it take so much for people to be happy? You’re breathing right? You can pay the bills, correct? You have access to internet pornography? What fucking more do you need?

“But I gotta feed my kids 😭,” you say

Or

“I gotta have insulin for my Type II diabetes 😭.”

Don’t worry about it. You know why? Cuz God provides.

“God will provide for my crippling gambling debts 😀?”

He sure will.

Of course I don’t need God. I’m much too powerful for that bullshit. But you do.

It takes real strength to admit weakness. At least keep telling yourself that. As for me, I have no weaknesses.

But the point is you gotta recognize your own weaknesses before you can start making improvements. And I’ve realized that my so called “weakness” is trying to take on too much responsibility.

So actually, I don’t have a problem at all. I’m just a too damn good of a person.

So say ‘no’ to paying your bills and staying healthy, and ‘yes’ to more drugs and internet pornography.

I’m just doing what my therapist told me to do 🤷‍♂️

An interview w myself

Tell us a little bit about yourself.

That’s none of your goddamn business.

What made you start blogging?

That’s an interesting question, self. I think it was because I was trying to quit dipping so I was PISSED 24/7. Not at anything in particular, ya know? I just just wanted to be another lunatic yelling into the void of the internet. That’s the motivation behind all of my writing: I hate you, I think you’re stupid, and the world would be a much better place if everyone thought exactly like me. Some of that anger has tapered off though. Mostly because I went back to dipping.

Have you always been an angry person?

Actually, once upon a time, I was able to let most things roll of my back. But then I got got caught up in a pseudo-cult where I was emotionally abused daily, so I’ve got a lot of untreated PTSD.

Why do you think the world is dumb?

I didn’t say the world is dumb. Stop spinning my words. I said that it was stupid and pathetic. And that’s completely due to the fact that I’m not in control of it.

What would do if you were?

You know, I’ve thought long and hard about that. And speaking of long and hard, I’d probably make the metric system universal because 10.16 cm sounds a lot bigger than 4 inches.

What would you do about climate change?

I don’t see what the problem is. Florida’s gonna be underwater in a few years, so I say let it happen.

Who was your biggest hero growing up?

George Clinton

What would you do if you had $10 Billion?

Put it all on the Milwaukee Brewers winning the World Series. Also, probably light a few bills on fire.

What’s your proudest accomplishment?

Most people would say “graduating from college”, or “birth of a child”, or “becoming financially stable” or blah blah blah. Nah. For me, it was in high school when some girls made a ranking of the hottest guys in school and I ranked. It’s been all downhill from there.

What advice would you give the next generation?

Do all the drugs. Except meth. Have some respect for yourself for fuck’s sake.

When are you gonna finish writing According to Simon?

Having some story problems. Turns out that I’m not a historian. Plus there’s not a lot of opportunities for fart and piss jokes. So give it some time.

Thank you for your time

Who the hell are you?

this one Hurts

So I was filling out my pimpin’ March Madness bracket (obviously UK is gonna win it all) when word got to me that William Hurt died.

According to Marlee Matlin, maybe Hurt wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around (to put it mildly). Which is another reminder that Hollywood is a terrible, godawful place filled with fragile egos and needs to be nuked off the map entirely.

But this is also a reminder that some of my favorite artists and actors are passing on and we should appreciate their art while they’re still fresh in our collective consciousness. Some of my favorite performances from Hurt are in Ken Russell’s Altered States, Lawrence Kasdan’s The Big Chill, and David Cronenberg’s A History of Violence.

RIP

mr. bright side

As we settle into the Cold War II and the ever present threat of nuclear war, it’s time to look at the silver lining: we might get better movies.

One thing I miss from the first Cold War is character study films of the 1970s. They should make more movies that look into the depraved lives of ordinary people in an uncritical manner. I’m sure they still make em but they’re probably shit.

Jack Nicholson was the king of these movies back in the day. Perhaps the best example being Five Easy Pieces.

I’ve decided to get back to my roots and start building up my Criterion Collection. So I recently purchased Five Easy Pieces along with Paris, Texas (The only time I saw Paris, Texas when I stayed up late and watched HBO when I was 10 years old. It blew me the fuck away. I had a weird childhood).

When you have a toddler running around that gets PISSED if you watch anything other than Blippi, it’s hard to find time to watch these movies. But I got far enough into Five Easy Pieces to watch one of my favorite scenes in film history: Sally Strothers’ random heartbreaking monologue on being forsaken by God.

The essay pamphlet that accompanies the Five Easy Pieces blu ray is pretty good. Apparently this early 70s state of being, where everyone’s fucked-upness was a given…and people talked while others listened…is an existence that’s no longer.

So it’s refreshing to look back at a time that was no less deranged, but far less judgmental.

golden years

I’m looking forward to middle age.

Why?

Because it gets me one step closer to being a dirty old man.

“But getting old sucks.”

For you maybe.

For me, I get better with age. Better looking, better at detecting bullshit, better at fucking (not that I ever have sex). Getting old is great.

For example:

-Get to take viagra. Not recreationally…like I do now…but because you HAVE to.

-Don’t have to drive

-Can blame everything on impending senility.

-Piss and shit yourself

-Don’t have to have sex anymore

-OR you can fuck all you want because who gives a shit anymore?

As you can see, the pros vastly outweigh cons when it comes to getting old.

Aren’t you afraid of dying?

Fuck no! Living has been an epic pain in my ass.

“Why not try suicide then?”

Good question. But then that would deprive me of old age. So fuck that.

pennies for the dead 💀 (part v)

“I don’t know Sheila,” I said, “you’ve faked demonic possessions before.”

“Try me, asswipe!” she replied. Then I pumped a few bullets into her chest.

Nothin

“Alright, so I guess you’re Jezebel,” I said. “Where’s Pete?”

“His soul resides in HELL for all eternity!!!!”

“Good, he’s a Boston sports fan,” I said, “he needs to know how that feels.”

“You will join him soon enough!”

“Sorry sister, I already live in Ohio.”

I pulled the trigger again but I already emptied the revolver. I threw the gun at her and started running down the hallway while screaming for my life.

I hid in the closet under the staircase. Of course, it didn’t take long for her to find me. Using her demonic powers, Jezebel began to eat my soul. I started praying. “God, I regret everything,” I said.

Then God responded. Thunderbolts began raining down on Jezebel from some unseen force and she retreated into the shadows. I was still alive.

I crawled out from the closet. In front of me stood a wizard-like figure dressed in white robes and holding a staff.

“Thank you Jesus,” I said.

“I’m not Jesus,” the figure replied. “I’m Joe Morris.”

I stood up. “Joe Morris? Shouldn’t you be 120 years old?”

“119 to be precise.”

Then Pete ran down the hallway. “Ty! I’m still alive!” he said.

“I thought you went to hell,” I replied.

“I did. It ain’t such a bad place. I got to meet Dave Cowens.”

“He’s still alive dumbass.”

“Are you sure? By the way, did you piss your pants?”

“I did. It’s a side effect of my elavil prescription. Where did Jezebel go?”

“She went back to hell to lick her wounds,” Joe Morris said. “We must go to the cellar, return to hell, and make sure she never returns.”

“Fuck that,” I said. “This ain’t my problem. I’ll just collect the money from Dorthy and be on my merry way.”

Right then, a possessed Dorthy flew down from the ceiling and attacked me. While I fought her off, Joe Morris released more thunderbolts from his staff. Finally, she flew off of me and began writhing on the ground before whatever cursed spirit that possessed her left her body. Dorthy was dead.

“Mother!” Pete screamed.

“She hasn’t been your mother for a long time,” Joe said.

I took a moment to gather myself.

“Alright,” I said, “I need to change my pants before we go to the cellar,”

TO BE CONTINUED…

a quiet life (part iV)

Well I’ll be damned.

It looks like we’re actually getting somewhere. But without a plot, conflict, hero, or villain, the story simply becomes another character study, therefore making the main thrust of the story “man against himself” or some pretentious bullshit like that.

That being said, let’s close this thing out…

***

After returning home from my weekly STD checkup, there was a package on my doorstep. It was addressed to my neighbor, but I took inside and opened it anyway.

In the box was a stuffed teddy bear and a letter from someone named “grandma”. I thought that was a stupid name but continued reading anyway. The letter said:

Dear Mikey,

Grandma and grandpa love you very much. We hope that you feel better soon.

Love,

Grandma and Grandpa

I put the contents back into the box and poured a drink. I was supposed to start taking medication for something called “syphilis” but I threw that shit into the trash.

“Maybe I should return the box,” I thought. But I wasn’t so sure. I lit up a cigarette, shot up heroin, took a bump of coke, played a round of Russian Roulette, then taped up the box.

As I was laying the box on their doorstep, my neighbor opened the door. “Get the fuck off my porch,” he said.

“This is YOUR package asshole!” I replied. “UPS wrongly dropped it off at my house.”

“Why should I believe you?” he asked after he pulled out his .38. “You’ve played your drums, lit off fireworks, and engaged in target practice with your shotgun at ungodly hours of the night. You’ve also ding dong ditched my ass, used my WiFi, and played peeping Tom on my wife. Well guess what PAL! You’re now on MY property and am well within MY right to blast YOUR ass!”

I raised my hands. “Now calm down John,” I said. “We’re both sensible adults. We can talk this out.”

“No,” he replied. “I’M the sensible adult. You’re an asshole.”

John then fired his .38 into my gut and I laid there bleeding out in his front yard. He picked up the package and opened it.

“Well I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he said, “you finally did something right in your life.”

I lifted my head up while holding my guts in. “Please call an ambulance John,” I said.

“Sure, I’ll get right on that.” John then looked up into the sky and smiled. “It’s nice finally getting some peace and quiet around here,” he said.

He went back inside and shut the door.

THE END