Another day of drizzle

Compared to yesterday, things went semi-smoothly today. Got up late after staying up until 3AM.

The locksmith shop was open, manned by a friendly geek. I had 3 keys made, totaling almost 15 dollars; money well spent, since had the original snapped (or I’d eaten it) I’d have been fucked like butter in Hell.

I made one last run by the asshole bookstore, hoping there’d be a big stack of the paperback I wanted (nope). Last night Wal-mart didn’t have it either, but they did have Orson Scott Card’s Empire, about a 21st century American civil war. It was on sale and now I’m 50 pages in. So far it’s decent.

The Word-Maker is doing well, I’ve been getting more writing done. I should’ve already been using it instead of dicking around online, but at least there’s a device dedicated to the seperate challenge of writing.

I don’t have any desires for Xmas crap save one, and that’s nobody gets me anything so I don’t have to get them anything. Unfortunately, it’s never worked out.

I’m not thankful for anything. Cripples doesn’t make me happy I can walk, the blind doesn’t make me grateful I can see. The earth is a tin-foil wrapped turd, sparking in the microwave oven of space.

Here’s hoping the giant asteroid makes earth’s doom quick and efficient.

More so than usual

Nothing has been going right today, more so than usual.

The Prick Disposable Cell Phone Company (their real name) was supposed to send me a new cellphone weeks ago.  I swung by the post office box and…nothing.  I didn’t need it, but they offered.  Like all assholes, they failed to deliver.  Literally.

Last night I dreamed I ate my car keys, so today I went to get spare keys made at a locksmith shop.  I arrived to find one of those “WILL BE BACK” clock signs hung in the window.  I’ll wait ten minutes but not twenty, I’m not in line for a fucking wee-wee nidento.  Say what you will about “evil” giants like Target and Wal-mart, but there are  excellent reasons they’re winning while these goddamned mom-n-pop stores are going out of business.

I drove in rush hour traffic only to discover the bookstore did not have the book I wanted.  I could forgive a store for not having a book if it was a supermarket or convenience store or hair salon or Subway sandwich shop.  I could even overlook an actual bookstore not having a rare, esoteric tome.  But for a bookstore to not have a series’ mass market paperback with a huge fan base in stock the day after it’s released is inexcusable.  “On Reserve” doesn’t cut it, assholes.  I want it NOW.

Jesus Christ is an American.  He loves you, I don’t.  Get a grip you stupid motherfuckers, and start making things EASY.

France and Learn

Do you remember American history class, when you learned about European immigrants flooding into America in the 1920s? Remember how the Germans, Irish, Italians, Poles, Jews built a country up from nothing?

They did it with roving gangs of unemployed and undereducated youths, shooting at police and demanding money from the government.

(I should be more judicious in my use of satire: with so little American history taught in government schools, you might actually believe that.)

The French have always had a breeding problem–a dearth of it. They like screwing but not kids. That would be all right except they need French folks to run things, speak French and protect their borders and culture.

In the past France’s population problem was usually solved by invaders, only this time the invaders are not conquerors from countries with similar underlying traditions but rabble from failed societies.

To get a glimpe of America’s coming demise, observe France.

More Quiet than Riot

I’m taking the mysterious death of Kevin DuBrow, lead singer of Quiet Riot, harder than even I would expect.

Being not-right in the head myself, it took mere minutes to go from mildly mourning to: “Metal Health had no chance to drive him mad” and “Was he found wearing The Mask?”

All the info you could even want about DuBrow is already online.  What I care about is he’s a symbol of my own mortality (if I end life the natural way).  I don’t want symbols of my bitter youth taken away like captured chess pieces, my tiny generation is fucked enough already, flanked on one side by goddamned socialist hippies trying to recreate America in Karl Marx’s image and cowering nihilist Gen-CrY-babies on the other.

Kevin DuBrow, you will be missed. 

Quoticle – She can’t write but here she’s right

Jealousy is all the fun you think they had.

~ Erica Jong

Which reminds me, TV still sucks

One more knife in the heart from Smallville occured a few eps back.  It must’ve been around Thanksgiving on the show’s timeline or something, for there was a happy, Rockwellian slow motion of almost the entire cast sitting around a bountiful table, passing heaping plates of food.  Every character at the table had either held guns or shot the others at some point in the show’s run.  Lex Luthor alone has a body count akin to the Green River Killer.  It’s as if S-ville’s dickhead crew filmed the cast having dinner then stuck it in ’cause they lost some real footage.

There, now the shame can heal.

Regarding more TV, Dirty Howie writes:

“I don’t watch t.v. shows at all. I stayed with The Sopranos and Lost as long as I could but lost interest.  The Sopranos last show was a gutless copout by a writer who did what he did because he was mad that he had to write that show for as long as he did.  So he just ended it without ending it. How the show’s producers allowed this to happen is beyond me but maybe they were sick and tired of it too like everyone else. As for LOST who knows when that fucker will ever see airtime again. It ended with Jack the dumbass calling for help when the leader guy of the island, who he just beat the shit out of, told him not to call for help because those “helpers” were really after the island and its mysterious powers and would kill everyone on the island so they could have it for themselves. Besides, Michelle Rodriguez had the best character on the show, a no nonsense bitch played very well by her since she is a no nonsense bitch, and they up and killed her almost as fast as they put her in the script. So Lost pretty much lost me when they offed my favorite character on their never-ending show. Maybe they should rename the show to Lost: Where’s The Last Script At, Niggo?”

END HOWIE.

For awhile there I don’t think ANYone was watching SOPRANOS, even before the year-long hiatuses.  The last season was great until the end…regarding the last episode I agree on all counts, it was like a steaming turd hanging from the butt, refusing to drop…and when Hillary Clunkton does an unfunny parody to advertise herself, how hip could it be?

I was dismayed to read there was no explanation or additional info on the final episode on the Sopranos final season DVD release (maybe the asshole writers are saving something for the entire series box set).  Regardless, I ain’t never going to buy any of that until 2015, when the entire last 30 years of ALL televised shows will fit on something the size of a credit card.

I gave up on LOST when they killed off the fat guy’s potential girlfriend.  And yes, killing Rodriquez was a major mistake.  I hear Baldy Blue Eyes (the crip who could walk again after the plane crash) and Mr. Scary Negro have also been offed.

Someone told me of a skit on SNL where guest star Matthew Fox is in an elevator and one after the other, cast members leave saying, “You know what I love about riding this elevator?  Unlike your show, SOMETHING HAPPENS”.  Ha ha ha.

A switchout of writers is what fucked LOST up.  LOST fans of late are happy to have the original writers back…but I was already gone and will stay that way.

HEROES also took too long to get to the fucking point.  Serializing any series so that if you miss one episode you’re totally lost is foolish, even with Tivo.  I didn’t even make it to the end of Heroes’ Season One.

TV continues to suck ass.  We all have our guilty pleasures, but it just sucks.  Always will.

A preemptive rant

Might as well get this in early, since the closer we get to X-day the less relevant the rant:

 

 

FUCK XMAS.

 

Hell yes, I’m one of the Xmas haters! If you’ve read my stuff you already guessed this rant will be harmonious with the overriding hatred-of-everything theme around here.

Xmas is just buying crap for yourself through other people. Too often it’s crap you would never buy for yourself, so you have to pretend you care about the lack of thought that went into it. I hate wrapped gifts, cause then you have to feign surprise on top of disappointment. Give me a portable x-ray machine this year so I can be prepared.

Xmas is unnecessary. Living in America, we can get just about anything we want at any time, including non-seasonal fruit. To counter this obvious point, stores on Black Friday have been slamming prices to the mat like pro-wrasslin’ midgets, turning Best Buy parking lots into wealthy squatters’ camps.

December is my favorite month. It’s cool and cold but usually not freezing where I’ve lived most Decembers. Even if my birthday was hidden in some other month, I would still love the word “December”. I’d name my daughter December if I was ever going to have kids (I won’t). But Xmas vomitus overshadows the glory of the month itself.

The whole fucking thing stinks. If you hate Xmas as I do, you agree. If not, so what. Most people cherry-pick what they like about the hellidays, just like they do their religions. I’m not condemning them, it just is.

FUCK XMAS SIDEWAYS! Asshole Santa agrees:

The turd of life rolls on

With the Blog Views, I never drop to zero after missing a day or two, which is good since I’ve only got average 130 posts.  It means there’s a little fire here; even the flare of a match is enough to burn down a forest.

The Word-Maker arrived last Monday–a day early–I wrote about it on it, then didn’t bother to upload the words it made.  True to prediction, I’m getting more real writing done with the device, still not enough overall but more than zero (just like the Views).

The lottery refuses to bend to my will, so it’s writing for me (please no “artiste” commentaries on how writing is about Art, not money.  I’m the only one around here who makes a fool of himself).

Still eating turkey leftovers…still delicious.  The Fam got an “organic” bird this year, which could mean a thousand things; here it was only important the bird not be a Dolly Parton Butterball with only white meat.

Onward towards motherfucking Christmas.

T-Day

Thanxgetting was a whole lot of mild nothingness with some good turkey thrown in.

I’m supposed to feel grateful, but I don’t.

I feel bad to be trapped, but not bad enough to do anything about it.

When you fall from 1000ft and hit the ground or other hard surface, the water inside you is still traveling at 120MPH.  Your body explodes like a water balloon filled with meat, liquifying.

Have a nice Turkey Day.

Hottest on TV

Presently the hottest chick on TV is actress Olivia Wilde, who plays “Thirteen” on House.

That’s it.  I’ve got shit to do.