Meat william Shitz (part II)

“You got ass cancer, Bill,” the big, burly doctor said to Mr. Shitz. “It’s inoperable and you likely have a year to live.”

“My God,” William responded, “how is that possible?”

“Well, since your factory manufactures uranium weapons, a piece of radioactive material probably snuck up your asshole…I won’t ask how that happened…where it metastasized into terminal cancer. So I recommend you get your affairs in order. Now kindly get the fuck out of my office because I’ve got more patients coming in.”

Mr. Shitz returned to the front desk and paid the $450,000 doctor’s bill. “Would you like to schedule your next appointment?” the receptionist asked.

William thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said.

He wandered back out to the Rolls-Royce where Archibald was waiting on him with the door open. “I trust your appointment went well, sir,” the butler inquired.

“I’m afraid not Archibald,” William replied. “I have cancer of the asshole.”

The news hit Archibald like a ton of bricks. “Is that so, sir?” the butler asked as he tried to maintain his composure. “Can it be removed?”

“I’m afraid not. It appears that I have only a year to live!”

Mr. Shitz’s longtime butler was shattered inside. He had a million things to say but there was not enough time to say it; Archibald wasn’t ready to tear down the façade of professionalism that held his world together.

“Will…,” the butler began to ask as his voice cracked. “Will you be informing Darla of this news?”

“In time, Archibald,” William replied. “Right now, there’s too much to be done. I must get back to work.”

Mr. Shitz and the butler returned to Shitz Estate. William immediately departed to his study while Archibald remained outside on the brick-paved driveway. The butler sat down behind the wheel of the Rolls-Royce and began to cry.

That’s when he noticed me. I was trimming the hedges along the driveway.

“Who are you?” Archibald asked me as he wiped away tears.

“I’m the new gardener, sir,” I responded. “I started yesterday. Is everything alright?”

“Yes yes,” the butler said, “I have terrible allergies this time of year.”

“I see,” I said, “I’m Jim Grey. You must be Archibald Duke, Mr. Schitz’s longtime butler.”

“Yes I am,” he replied.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I told him. “Mr. Shitz thinks very highly of you. In fact, I’d say that he regards you as his closest friend. You’re probably the only person, besides me of course, that truly understands him.”

A bewildered look fell over Archibald’s face. “How would you know anything about Mr. Shitz?” he asked.

I smiled. “I’ll just say that he and I have been inseparable for a very, very long time.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

meet william shitz (part I)

Alright, here’s the beginning of September’s story. Hopefully it will be tragic, heartwarming, thought-provoking, sappy, lovey-dovey, etc etc. Just like you’d find in any shitty Hallmark movie or 90’s Oscar-bait picture.

Don’t hold your breath though. I am pulling this story right out my ass. Maybe it’ll good though. I have a good feeling about this one.

William Shitz woke up the same time every morning: 4:30AM.

He’d look in the mirror, trim his mustache, and evacuate his bowels. He’d always use two squares of toilet paper. No more, no less.

His bowel movement was a little more painful than usual this particular morning. But he thought nothing of it. After wiping his ass, William departed to his study to read the morning newspaper.

“Can you believe this Archibald?” William asked the butler in his thick transatlantic accent.

“Belief what sir?” asked Archibald.

“The Dow 500 crashed 8 million points yesterday. We must be in a recession!”

“Nonsense, sir,” Archibald said, “you’re a billionaire. None of that will affect you.”

“Mmm, right you are,” William said as he sipped his Earl Grey. “Do tell me, have I missed any phone calls this morning?”

“It’s 5am, sir. It won’t be start of business for another couple of hours.”

“Right. Well I better get moving then, I don’t want to fall behind on the day’s schedule.”

William Shitz removed his smoking jacket, put on his business attire and ascot then climbed into the back of his Rolls-Royce Phantom III. As Archibald was driving the vehicle, he handed the gold-plated phone back to William. “Your daughter is on the line, sir,” he said.

“Darla Shitz,” William said into the phone, “how have you been my dear?”

“Dad, I’m ready to come home,” Darla replied.

“Now now, Darla, you know I wish to be called ‘father’.”

“Father, I’ve been in France for six years! I know that it was rough on you when mother passed, but I want to be back with my family!”

“Now’s not a good time, darling. I must be going, I have a busy day ahead of me. Goodbye.” William abruptly hung up the phone and handed it back to Archibald.

“How is Darla doing, Mr. Shitz?” Archibald asked. “I would love to see her again.”

“Oh fine, fine,” William replied, “but I’m afraid she wishes to stay in France a little longer.”

The Rolls pulled up to Shitz Factory, a large DoD contractor that develops and manufactures weapons used to drop on villages in the Middle East. It was personally owned by Mr. William Shitz himself.

“I haven’t had a day off in two years,” said Allan Funt, Vice-President of operations and William’s right-hand man. “I’m overworked, I’ve developed a drinking problem, and my wife is fucking the mailman. All I’m asking is a couple of days off.”

“I’m sorry Allen,” Mr. Shitz replied, “but I expect all of my employees to give the same dedication that I gave into building this company for a laughable fraction of what I make. That goes for you as well.”

Allan began to tear up. For a fleeting moment, William felt a degree of sympathy for him. “Now now, Allen,” William said, “you’re my most valuable employee. Keep up the good work and maybe I’ll give you a day off next year.”

Allan nodded, wiped away a tear, and diligently went back to work. As William was returning to his office, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

“Are you alright, sir?” Archibald asked.

“I don’t understand, Archibald,” William said, “I already had a bowel movement this morning.”

His stomach continued to cramp. He rushed into his private office and on into the bathroom then dropped his pants. He noticed that he already soiled his silk underwear.

William continued to spray shit out of his rectum and into his diamond-made toilet. After a violent two minutes, he grabbed his usual two squares of toilet paper and wiped his crack. When he looked back at the paper, he was appalled.

It was covered in blood.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Jack hardcock: Christian detective- a quick aside

My motivation for completing this story about a right-wing, ex(and now anti)FBI agent in Ohio has been depleted after some presumed MAGA dude was killed after trying to infiltrate the Cincinnati FBI field office.

It kinda sucks the fun that I was trying to have with this.

I know you don’t give a shit, but I need to say this to get it off my chest: I am not trying to make a statement with this story. My position with this blog has always been anti-political. In fact, I will continue to argue that our current political environment is indistinguishable from religious dogma and I want no part of it.

Furthermore, if you champion people getting killed to make a political statement, you are a part of the problem. You can waste your life arguing about some imaginary supernatural or metaphysical force that you want imposed on the world, OR you can live your life, create art, fall in love, and make the best of the short time we have on this extraordinary planet.

As an aside, my two biggest influences for much of my writing is Paul Verhoeven and some guy in rehab that tried to explain the plot of Momma Mia! Verhoeven’s schtick, particularly with Starship Troopers, was to tell the story from a fascistic perspective while simultaneously letting the audience in on the joke.

That concept blew my mind, so I picked it up and ran with it.

I’m intrigued by the idea of giving an audience the illusion of truth, but in actuality there’s nothing behind the curtain. It’s all dick jokes and insanity.

This is probably why I was so taken with the film We Are The Flesh. The review that I linked to in my last post called the film “anti-art.” And that’s essentially what I’m doing here. And that’s the motivation behind all of my writing.

There’s nothing behind the curtain. So embrace the madness while you can.

Jack Hardcock will return…

rip David Warner and Henry Kissinger

David Warner was a Star Trek legend.

My favorite role of his was when he played the Cardassian commander that tortures Picard for two episodes. Honestly, that’s my favorite two-parter in TNG. Yes, I like it better than The Best of Both Worlds.

Go cry about it, nerds!

Paul Sorvino was another TNG alum that passed away. But my favorite role of his was in Oliver Stone’s Nixon as Henry Kissinger. The ending was incredible. I’ll admit, I teared up a bit when Nixon and Kissinger bawled as they realized the end was near. But Sorvino aced the part.

It’s just sad that Henry Kissinger somehow outlived Paul Sorvino 😔

RIP legends

Rip Michael Krueger

If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times: I am to Tubi what raccoons are to trash. So if Tubi puts something up there to watch, by God I’m watching it and leaving a godawful mess while I’m at it.

Why though? Why would one put themselves through pointless agony?

I’ll tell you why: Mindkiller and Night Vision.

Before you read this, you probably never heard of either of those films. But now you have. So I’m providing a FREE public service: finding overlooked gems before they are totally and completely forgotten. I’m a historian, this is what I do.

Both films were directed by Michael Krueger and both…according to IMDb…were released in 1987. Unfortunately, Krueger died in 1990, presumably leaving both films to lie in obscurity until their resurrection into the public consciousness by Tubi.

You might think I’m being facetious over my praise of Krueger’s work, but I assure you, I genuinely enjoyed both movies. Sure, they might look like cheap after-school specials…the sound editing is particularly atrocious in Mindkiller…but a few technical issues aside, aspiring filmmakers should take note: where you lack a budget, you can make up for with heart.

As you all know, I have a horrible memory. So I don’t recall too many plot details. But Mindkiller, roughly, is about a dork librarian who reads some outlandish shit and he begins to control minds. I think. He then begins to control the mind of his love interest, played convincingly by Shirley Ross as a strait laced librarian.

Ross then flips the script for Night Vision, also as the love interest, as she plays a street wise video clerk showing her boyfriend the ropes. The streets of Denver have never looked so mean. Remember, this was the 80s, before all the hipsters moved in and gentrified the place. But supposedly Night Vision is also a horror film. I think a VCR is demon possessed or something. While I don’t remember being scared, I do remember being taken in by the film’s earnestness and Ross’ performance.

It’s a shame that Krueger didn’t have a longer career. But I am thankful for what we did get.

RIP

good news

I’m a proud employee at the toilet factory. They think so highly of me that they’re sending me to Toilet College for a week where I will learn how to make toilets for the rest of my life.

I’m illiterate because I dropped out of school in the second grade. So needless to say I’ll have my hands full.

Good news is that you can expect more shitposts over the next week.

Because Shit is my game, and shit’s what I care about. 🥰

fuck

I’m honestly embarrassed to admit that I bought this book.

I haven’t finished reading it. So maybe there’s some useful information in there somewhere. But I find self-help books to a pimple on the ass of the literary world.

I’m sure the author thinks that this is some philosophical commentary and not self-help. But really it’s just some bourgeois armchair philosophizing, which is how stoicism often comes across to me.

While I don’t consider myself a leftist (all political and religious ideologies require a healthy dose of skepticism) I do agree that there is a large portion of our lives that we have no control over. Even our preferences are largely predetermined by external circumstances. Free will is often recognizing this which then leads to angst, anxiety, and even suffering.

Following this line of reasoning, one might conclude that stoicism would help alleviate that pain. And it actually might to a certain degree. My primary beef with stoicism, and it’s current usage in the zeitgeist and world of self-help, is that it could actually contribute to one’s own delusion by masking real and justified emotional responses to very REAL problems.

It’s kinda akin to Jordan Peterson’s advice to “clean your room.” That’s basically “rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic”…and that idiom is the thrust behind self-help books.

I dunno, this is probably just a pedantic problem that I’ve created in my head. But if you’re in need of Axial-Age sage advice, I’ve personally found Buddhism…stripped of its spiritual and religious elements…to be far more useful as it teaches abstract thinking and encourages you to accept that the only constant in the universe is change.

Just let life take you on a ride man 🤷‍♂️

if Tom Brady is so great…

…then why does he suck so much on Madden NFL mobile?

This is bullshit.

It doesn’t matter how much I upgrade him, he still overthrows receivers and tosses an ungodly amount of interceptions. Yet on rare occasion when he hits his mediocre receiver, like Christian Kirk, it’s like a 30 yard gain!

I built up an incredible O-line! If I hand the ball off to Nick Chubb, it’s an automatic touchdown! Yet Tom let’s me down every time smh.

Of course, I’m only playing the app due to procrastination. Writing a novel and having a blog sucks btw. Still tho, the developers need to pull their head out of their ass!

Don’t let the sun go down on me

Slow day at work, so me and coworkers watched No Time To Die.

I was the only one that’s seen it prior. And I gotta say, it’s better on the second viewing. I think knowing how it ends, you can appreciate some of its intricacies.

There’s kinda a somber tone throughout. And the cinematography is incredible. The film constantly looks like it’s evening, like the sun’s going down on James Bond. And not just for 007, but for Blofeld and Felix Leiter, both established (and parodied) characters in the long running franchise.

It’s a shame that the Academy didn’t give Daniel Craig a Best Actor nod. He really gave a fulfilling performance for a character that didn’t have much depth prior to his portrayal.

But damn it, I knew how it ends. But I couldn’t help myself: I cried in front of all my coworkers.