Ripe for Revolution, one in a series

When it comes to predicting the arrival of revolution, try looking at the little things.

Here we have an article about the “Secret” Stupids that got caught cheating honest workers out of fair payment.  

These dopes embarrassed our nation and their Service, and though I despise the Hawaaiian-raised-by-marxists-in-muslim-Indonesia, this honest-to-Allah gaffe had nothing to do with him.

Apparently, getting fired was a good career move for these SS douchebags. Not only will they receive no prison time for alleged drug use, they’ve gone from being potential bullet sponges to enriching their worthless hides with outrageous federal pensions, all at taxpayer expense, of course!

Hey, if it were up to me, both hookers and blow (actually all drugs) would be decriminalized tomorrow. Let the States decide.

But that’s not the issue here.

There’s nothing I despise more (for the length of this rant) than a cop who will arrest a man for the same behavior he engages in. It’s why I’ll always have the titanium bones of a “spiritual” anarchist within this…dull conservatarian exterior.

You libs who hate those devilish CEOs’ fat paychecks and severance packages should take note of this one, it’s the same exact concept of rewarding failure, only instead of sharholders its you and me with our dicks in the blender.

Reflect on the 30 million Americans out of work, struggling to survive.  Now think of these fat-assed dirtbags reaping huge taxpayer-funded rewards for being disgraceful.

I read shit like this article and am ready to hoist the black flag and start slitting throats.

To help calm the fuck down, I’m adding this editorial cartoon from Nick Anderson of the Houston Chronicle, the funniest of all toons I’ve read this year:

bloodwords: We will not be undersold!

The bum on the corner holds his sign: ANY AMOUNT WELCOME GOD BLESS. Whether he’s scamming or not he’s superior, he can toss away self-respect or dignity long enough to collect coin, and everything he makes he keeps, no tax. What good is self-respect if it doesn’t pay off?

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Welcome to The world’s shortest love story! I found a matchbook in the street. I ignored all of the matches still intact, noticing only the space where one had been ripped out and used. That was the match I wanted.

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Kayaking. Why?

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Frisbee on the roof, neon orange plastic bleached white by the sun. What does this have to do with winter? It’s over.

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Giant tortoises never write books, or maybe they do, they just procrastinate the first 100 years.

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Why are you surprised by problems? So much of our economy is based on people that never learn.

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I read the obituaries, aka People You Will Never Meet. It’s the only part of the paper promising an end to suffering.

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Only very still fish prefer to swim in formaldehyde.

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I can’t cry.

Terminator Salvation and Transformers 2

Both Terminator: Salvation and Transformers 2 are frozen shit Popsicles. If I had to watch one of them again I’d choke down Terminator only because it’s shorter. If I had to choose between watching either movie again or suicide this would be my last post.

T:S was rife with clichés, unexciting action and zero-dimensional characters no one can possibly give a shit about, with the exception of the guy who played Kyle Reese (and Chekhov in the new Star Trek).

A post-apocalyptic Terminator film would be a challenge to make by the best filmers, because as the story begins, humanity has lost, rendering the better “prequels” irrelevant (even T3–which really isn’t so bad–is a masterpiece compared to this travesty).

There’s no getting around the fact that Christian Bale is a spoiled ass. I have no numbers to back it up but it’s my opinion the yelling-at-some-lackey-on-set (turned into a brilliant techno song) struck a blow against the buzz. His portrayal of John Connor had me rooting for the machines.

Salvation’s plot isn’t worth regurgitating. The movie is a total loss, but what kills it above all else is the way Skynet is depicted. For a murderous artificial intelligence it’s way too sane and collected, to the point I was wondering why it ever viewed humans as a threat.

Given the “rules” of the post-nuke Terminator universe it would be easy as hell to win a war against humans, simply by waiting them out. For human numbers to grow they need food, water, infrastructure. What’s time to a machine? Why don’t the ‘robits’ simply do nothing for 50 years, let the humans grow soft, while the machines gather or build neutron bombs for radiation attacks? Burn all the forests and arable land, kill everything green. So much possibility, all unexplored.

T3 and Salvation are dumb movies, which is fine, except they’re not fun. Movie audiences know too much so it’s time to put the T-franchise to sleep for awhile.

Transformers 2 is a rainbow-colored turd. Everything bad you’ve heard about it is true. The effects are seamless, yet it’s vulgar, cheap, bombastic, aimed to evoke mass guffaws from the lowest common denominator of society.  Pro-tip:  just because the target market is 8-year-olds doesn’t mean the movie has to be shit.

At 2 hours, 30 minutes Tran 2 is impossibly long; longer still if you can’t stand Megan “Fred Flintstone Thumbs” Fox, a spoiled ass in her own right. Yeah, she’s “pretty”, so what?– a lot of porn whores are as hot or hotter. Had Fox not gotten her break, she could easily be choking on Sean Michael’s blacksnake like Avy Scott or any number of strumpets.

By now you’ve probably seen both of these cineturds. Like circumcision, they only have to be endured once and you’re done for life.

There’s nothing cute about acute gastroenteritis

I’m guessing it was the lone strawberry I ate after dinner. On one side he was fuzzy and ugly with a small puke green patch on him…the other side was still a deep and succulent red. I nibbled the red side and it was sweet. Soon after my body temp plummeted and hours later I was pissing shit out my ass in a laserlike brown stream, funny because at work I enjoyed telling others: “If you can’t be happy for any other reason, thank God you don’t have violent diarrhea (and if you do have it, thank God you’re not constipated”).

Violent puking joined the dia-chorus an hour later and would continue at two hour intervals all night long. I’d be reading in bed when first the squirts, then the puking, then using an entire roll of toilet paper, then back to bed quaking with chills, repeat as needed. I was wearing three shirts, two pairs of socks, two pairs of sweatpants and lying wrapped beneath two giant blankets, the larger one made of super-insulating goose down, and I was still shivering.

During one of the liquid breaks I managed to get online (WebMD sucks, BTW, nothing like than struggling with an unintuitive POS website when you’re dying). I was terrified I had signs of appendicitis or a kidney stone, and though my insides felt like Mike Tyson’s heavy bag I still didn’t have the sharp pains that accompany each of the really bad conditions.

I must have squirted enough brown to fill an oil drum, and by the time early morn arrived, there wasn’t a single grain of rice or bit of fish (or strawberry) or drop of liquid in my system. The last round of puking, without any water left in my body to move it, brought up pure Alien grade acid from the pit of my stomach, burning the hell out of my throat. I was too weak to drink water, but eventually managed to get some down.

I was only too happy to miss work today, the downside being I still haven’t the energy to slink over to the grocery for Gatorade. Life’s been reduced to a quest for electrolytes. I prefer it to the existential pain of living every day as a healthy but gormless fugazi.

“Your new God is the absence of Light”

As the world burns green they tremble at their lost money, but it’s the end of their world, not mine. I’m already inside the Singularity where nothing matters. I’ve been here for years, numb. A handful of cake or a handful of shit, it’s all the same to me. I eat both. Stealing or giving, kissing or killing.

All the same.

Nothing surprises me for long. Death is nothing, a shift in fortunes and pale energy. A body dies, the maggots win the lottery.

You are getting exactly what you deserve. Should I rise while you fall, it’s meant to be. You believed this when you were on top and I was down.

Now we are both down.

I’m getting the last laugh and I stopped laughing years ago.

Ha.

Flowers in the Sciatic

The art of life is the art of avoiding pain. – Thomas Jefferson

Though disgusted by my recent bout with sciatica, I’ve been really enjoying these narcotic pills I have, so good they’re addictive!

Within 5 minutes of taking my (unprescribed) medicine I feel a spreading joy radiating out from my stomach, as if my muscles were made of knotted diapers soaking up an exquisite, urine-like warmth. The feeling of ax blades chipping at nerves in my legs and hip dissolve, the pain muting into a midget mime tapping in helpless silence behind his invisible wall.

If I notice any part of my body while drugged I feel only pleasure, a total absence of pain.  Compared to these painkillers marijuana’s high is too random, its euphoria waning quickly after the burning coughs.

I don’t know what I’m gonna do when the pills are all gone. 😦 Probably nothing.  The sciatica is 90% gone anyway; last week the fickle demon completely left one leg for the other, where it hasn’t been nearly as bad.

I’m embarrassed to admit I figured out the cause of this recent pain. My Rockport work shoes are over a year old and look like they’ve stepped on IEDs. They provide no cushioning, unacceptable when you’re on your feet most of the day. I tried looking for new Rocks last week, where I usually buy them every 6 months. The rude assholes no longer had them. I must find new assholes to save my feet, legs and back. Anatomy.

In the someday, what’s that sound?

Standing on the cusp of a week off, 5 whole days. I can’t be sitting around watching TV, eating junk food; it’s a living death.

I better write. Lots.

I should also be putting a resume together, cleaning the car, oil change. If I were a betting man, I’d say that shit will never get done. In the next 5 days, anyway.

The Student-Loan-Mafia takes 1/4th of what I make each month.

I’m a literal slave.

I’m not black, but I’m more nigger than racist, a financially-fucked fool with high smartosity, trapped in the apathetic body of a wage slave.

I’ve thought about burning my old school–which offered a fake education–to the fucking ground.  These days I wouldn’t wait until it’s empty, either.  But the fake school is back in California and I’m in Florida.

“I hate myself and I want to die.” — Cobain

Everyone seems to get trapped by something: ex-spouse, car wreck, pigeon drop, telemarketer, speeding ticket, non-fatal disease.

Everyone seems to get trapped by something.

This weather cool and mild we’re having would totally rock in hellish July, but in December it’s a hothouse travesty. This is the type of weather during which meteorologists can be justifiably killed.

Tomorrow there’s salmon for lunch.

FUCK FLORIDA. A Canadian-free* rant

It’s not right to shit in one’s own nest, but Florida has it coming. For many years I’d escaped this place, but being a failure has brought me back.

When I left, there were no jobs and a shit economy. Now there are tons more idiots and massive growth…and STILL no jobs and a shit economy!

The place was a Paradise when I was a kid, and it had truly been a Paradise 20 years before then. But the gears of destuction were already a whirring blur…air-conditioning and WW2 training awakened the locust human to the nectar of Florida, and they’ve been buzzing down here ever since, the massive out-of-control growth unstoppable.

I avoid Outside, but even I mourn the loss of natural beauty to condos, cubans, shitzakistan ethnics and the price of bread tied to a rocket to the moon. The housing boom bubble, now a bust, obliterated any hopes of cheap rent ever again.

The hordes never have a POSITIVE impact on anything. There’s no culture, night life, etc. Sure I hate all of that anyway and never go out, but still…

Everything closes down by 9PM like it was fucking Mayberry.

Fucking New Yorkers (which my parents were, but they moved here long BEFORE it was cool) sell out Yankees practice games, and their fucking asshole politics…good Christ. You can own a gun and even pack heat here, but how long will that last with these liberals constantly moving to town? Even the lowliest New Yawk shithead can sell his shit-shack for 200 grand, which can buy a nice McMansion down here (no state income tax). Their fucking cawps retire with disability pensions from New York, often claiming a debilitating injury, then come here and go back to work again (What does New York State do about this fraud? Nothing! They just raise taxes). Oh, and this place is so OVER-policed, the fuckers are snoring in their cruisers on every street corner while the streets themselves all have speed limits 15 MPH slower than they should be. The thing that infuriates me the most about Yankee transplants is their high taxation and liberal approaches to crime and other problems is what made their home cities way too expensive and crime-ridden to grow old and gray in, so now here they come, having learned NOTHING, and fuck up Florida. We don’t deserve this. Mr. Smith from the Matrix called humans a virus. The pixel-nigga was right.

No one in FL can drive worth a shit, except me. Over the decades the myriad driving styles from retard transplants across the country have not fused into anything civil, logical or safe. I felt safer doing 90 on the LA freeways in my Geo in a sea of SUVs then I do here driving a few miles at 35. The weather is fucked like a Thai hooker…it’s almost the ass end of October and it’s still blazing hot like it was July. Fuck YOU, Sun! I’d also like to add that I’ve never gotten laid e.g. fucked e.g. had sex within the State of Florida, and I’ve lived here most of my miserable life. I can’t even begin to describe how much I hate worthless humanity for that one. Fuck Florida. I’d burn this place to the fucking ground if I could, sparing only one palm tree and one manatee. The rest can go to humid hell, ‘cept it’s already there.

* I lied. Fuck Canada…quit clogging up Costco, assholes! Those cheese samples are for AMERICANS.