Three Reasons Not to Suicide:

1)  You’ll spoil your record of perfect attendance.  You’ve been alive since you were born. Even when you’ve been knocked out cold you were still alive.  You’ve survived chicken pox, the dentist, learning how to ride a bike, maybe even had sex once or twice.  If you kill yourself, that all gets wiped out.

 

2)  Death is not an escape.  You know how life works, it’s the same shit over and over again in different packaging.  Do you really think the Designer of so nefarious a world would provide such an easy way out?  Have you ever tried getting out of a cell phone contract?  It doesn’t have to be the threat of a fiery Hell to stick around either:  you could come back to earth, only with a smaller penis, or as a Siamese twin, sharing a smaller penis.

 

3)  Death is guaranteed.  No one ever got to the ticket window and heard, “I’m sorry, we’re all out of death.”  Death is coming anyway, why pay extra for 2-day shipping?  God only kills happy people.  Make Him do the work.

 

 

There you have it, three reasons not to suicide.  Not very good reasons, but some kind of lubricant is always better than none.

From May 2014

“The Dawn of Zen”

When I was a liberal, nothing changed except for the worse.
When I was an anarchist, nothing changed except for the worse.
When I was a Libertarian, nothing changed except for the worse.
When I was a Conservative, nothing changed except for the worse.
When I was a Trump Voter, nothing changed except for the worse.

No matter who’s in charge, taxes go up.
No matter who’s in charge, prices go up.
No matter who’s in charge, freedom fades.
No matter who’s in charge, the bad guys win.

God is in control.
Satan is in control.
You are not in control.

It’s always been this way
Will always be this way

So relax and get those dishes
done.

“when it goes to shit”

 

when it goes to shit
you will feel the teeth in each drop of rain
you will see steel shine
as bones filled with blood
break against it,
you will see a flower killed in battle, now floating down the gutter
toward the sewers.

you will think of her and put meat in her memory
but your hand will pass right through her.

you will never keep a movie stub again.

you will look in the mirror and wish for something else
you will see rain in the small frosted window above;
pattering paws
on cold glass
and think, ‘that has nothing to do with me.’

you will quietly put the lesson away
as a wrinkle, scar or gray hair.

you will never keep a movie stub again.

It’s Too Late

I have no fans, and that’s fine with me. Much has happened since I last picked up the keyboard for more regularly blogged bullshit. As filmed, the story would be minor happy events in an overall tragedy as opposed to some bloodless low points in a comedy. Sounds about right for almost everyone.

I’m slowly dying of some rare blood disease that damages only the kidneys. Really, I wish my kidneys would fail already. I would quietly collect SSD and get dialysis 3 times a week if it meant not having to ever work again, facing the ugliness of the human race every fucking day.

There are still a few good things left in life:  Oreos, cannabis, taking a shit, internets, reading history, jacking off. There are even hookers that will come to your door!

Contrary to what salesfolk are forever claiming, there is a time when nothing you do or try or buy will save your sorry ass. That time is called “It’s Too Late” and for me, it’s already here. I never try to tally up the reasons I have to live another day, there really aren’t any. I’ve abandoned this life…the mp3 player is still counting the song from both ends but the music stopped long ago.

I told the Guru I HATE God, but I told him in an email.  No response.  That was years ago.  When he does answer it’s usually with, “Have you tried meditating?”  He’s not being a smartass.  God is.

Sadly, there is no Satan to worship. Don’t matter who you cry out to; no god—good or evil—returns messages.

I want to get black t-shirts made with IT’S TOO LATE right across the chest in bright yellow. More than any demon, those words frighten people, with truth.

The Jeopardy! Clue Crew Hotties

I got nothin’, not even any new Jeopardy! hotties to comment on, so I’ll turn my attention to the Clue Crew hotties, Kelly Miyahara and Sarah Whitcomb.

I don’t want to take away from their intellectual accomplishments but I find them quite hot, which is the point. Both have fantastic, rockin’ bodies but for me Miyahara has a slight edge ’cause even in a post-surgery world you don’t see many stacked Asian women, not like that anyway.

I’m greatly disappointed by the dearth of images of these women on the intertubes, but it makes sense, they must deliver important information and they’re distracting enough fully clothed.

I am not the nerd in this pic but I would like to be, a nerd of meat in a Clue Crew Sandwich (or for you more refined intellectuals, a ménage a clue).

In other news, I’ve decided to commit suicide in 2013 if certain goals of mine aren’t achieved. That way, if the world ends in 2012, no one will notice.

Life Explained in 6 words minus the ending

“Satan is King!”

“Sometimes He is.”

THE END

Struggling for second place

“I have found God, and he is insufficient.” -Henry Miller

Henry, I feel the same way. Earth is just a giant waiting room and I’d feel better as a ball of energy than a meatsack human being. This body is nothing but trouble, a festering cesspool for the ego to roll around in.

The mind is a crumpled paper airplane in a hurricane, but the ego thinks it’s a fighter jet.  The capacity for self-delusion is bottomless.  The mind is its own worst enemy; why it throws fear at itself I understand, it’s a survival mechanism. But why does the mind attack itself with doubt?

Life was brutal for the caveman but far simpler: at any given moment he was either alive and afraid or unaware and eaten. Attempts at poetry or deep thought were ended by saber-toothed tigers.  Now there’s nothing to stop bad poetry.

Sorry God, but I’m ready to go back. I won’t learn anything else here, life is all reruns now. I’m too lazy to meditate, I’d rather sleep.

I’m having trouble remembering why I didn’t commit to suicide when I was an atheist.  If it was all meaningless, why didn’t I end it?  The Satanist proclaims pleasure the greatest virtue.  I couldn’t extract pleasure out of anything except being an observer and surfing over others’ hypocrisy.  Obviously I survived.  But lived?

I was alone then, before then, and now.

My pal Hal swears if he won the lottery he’d build an underground house and never leave it.  Everything would be ordered and brought to his door.  I don’t blame him.  “Hell is other people,” is the greatest line ever written.  Everyone else with a pen or keyboard only struggles for second place while the moon shits cold fire and the women sleep with other men.

Guess which one they crucify?

America is a nation of laws: badly written and randomly enforced. –Frank Zappa

A mentally-unstable breeder who already had 6 kids (damn near in a row) now has EIGHT more at once with unholy science procedures. Having already suckered the state (bankrupt Commiefornia, now there’s a surprise) for nearly 200 grand in disability and wearing her poor parents to nervous breakdown, the breeder now “shops around” for a tv show/interview that will pay….

After 30 years the FBI still can’t nail the monster who is likely the Tylenol Poisoner as well as a suspected murderer and all-around piece of shit con man…

But Michael ‘Phish’ Phelps? All but crucified for a picture of him taking a hit off a bong.

I’m no Phelps Phan but I like the guy, he’s made a lot of people happy, which is more than can be said for any 11 assholes anywhere in government.

You can be a suspected murderer or breed children into a poverty-stricken environment with no father, but take a puff of God’s smoke and they want to kill you.

Enough is enough.

Incidentally, a spokesjoint for NORML was on the local talk radio station this morning. He says about 35 out of 60 Congressfolks would vote to legalize marijuana tomorrow, which, of course, is not enough.

How ’bout a recipe?

Reading the news today it’s as if someone was trying to deliberately encourage me to hate people.

Not that they need any.

Now I don’t hate everyone. Some people have done some very nice things for me over the years, from Tijuana hookers to 3rd party pot providers to the good people at Kevorkian Limited who offered to send the missing piece to the Suicide Home Kit I ordered years ago.

Instead of ranting, how about a recipe? I tried it and found it very agreeable, except I substituted “spinach” with a pound of “ground beef”.

I bought bags of individual “ravioli squares” which I had to arrange. Next time I’ll get the boxed ravs.

“LAZE-ONYA”

2 pkgs frozen cheese ravioli
1 jar spaghetti sauce (e.g. Classico Tomato and Basil)
1 pkg shredded pizza cheese (Sargento)
1 pkg frozen spinach, defrosted and drained

Place ¼ cup sauce in bottom of large casserole dish. Place ravioli in single layer atop sauce, followed by spinach and topped with cheese.

(Each successive layer begins with more sauce).

One layer from bottom up =

cheese

spinach (or meat)

ravioli

sauce

Number of layers depends on size of dish.

Place in 350° oven for 35-40 minutes.

Cheese should be bubbly and ravioli hot throughout.

Obama crack corn and I don’t care

Obama comes across as an uninspiring, arrogant phony but I don’t hate him, I almost pity him. I aleady know how the story of the next 4 years goes. Would you like a sneak preview?

Obama enacts Same Old New Deal and expands government’s size and illegitimate power. Economy eventually recovers, taking much longer than it would have if government did nothing. Team Obama takes credit for what the free market did.

OR

Obama enacts Same Old New Deal and expands government’s size and illegitimate power. Economy fails to recover fast enough to people’s liking. The half of the country that didn’t vote for Obama takes up arms. Cleansing begins.

Either scenario is fine with me. You can’t let politics prevent you from enjoying your life, even if your life story includes being swept up in a revolution. No government agency, politician or President has ever brought me prosperity, pussy or anything else. What I want is up to me. How I’ll get it is also up to me.

Due to laziness, there will probabaly be a real civil war or insurrection before I write about a fictional one.