Daily Archives: January 14, 2011

Faster Than A Bullet Train

I like being a male blogger. Some of us are really good at it.

But I can’t keep with the girls.

I can’t. I am a very, very angry person, but I am getting my ass kicked left and right by several female bloggers so far as politics goes. Actually, last time I did this, I couldn’t keep up with them back then. Now that I have become a bit of a better writer, a better father, and a better husband, and a better son instead of a guy with so much hate that I couldn’t keep it out of my own house,  I am apologizing my happy ass off to everyone I love and suddenly, things are not bothering me as much anymore.  It seems I am doing what some would call an “exorcism”. Most people reading this will say, “Oh, Ron is finally adjusting to his medication.”

No. No, you idiots. All I am doing is being sorry for making a big mess out of everyone’s life that I love. This is not supernatural, this is not psychiatry, this is just feeling sorry for myself. Read those words very fucking carefully. Because it is not “feeling sorry for myself”. Those are separate words, not a fucking phrase. I am feeling very sorry for some of the things I have been doing to everything I actually like, which as I have said, is pretty much everything. I have hated for very, very long, hated all of humanity and the earth and the stars for way too long, because it pretty much didn’t acknowledge my existence as a human being.  Now it seems that some people are realizing I exist, and that means good things for everyone. I can tell you this-I have been through more than a monkey should handle, and it is completely reasonable that I should explode like a nuclear bomb. NONE of you will ever fully comprehend what I have seen-none of you. I will never understand all of it, how the fuck would you? It seems that the only one has understood all of it is my father. He doesn’t know what I have been through, but so far in my life he is the only one that has listened to all of it with patience I have never known. I don’t know if he will read this, and he probably won’t, but I do not care, because I have already told him some things that needed telling and he picked it all up. Somehow my dad, this guy who has been declared about ten times as “sick” in the same terms that I have been described as…as bipolar, as too violent to his wife and kids(and he was, I’m just a harmless crank with a vocabulary the size of Germany), he got it. He listened to a good chunk of what I have to say about what I have seen. That’s a hard act to top; I mean, yes, all of the people I know have waited for me to fucking calm down and I have made them cry a lot, but my dad actually asked all the right questions. For too long, I have tried to interpret myself through the bizarre reactions of others to me, and last night someone just decided to hear and ask questions instead of trying to tell me I was demented. He read me right back to myself. That is all I have ever wanted.

Now I can be nicer, and just tell stories of where I have been and where you all have sent me. But I am no longer going to take it out on you, now I just get the opportunity to take it with you.

I don’t know what that means. It doesn’t matter to me, and it should not matter to you. You are all going to do whatever it is you do. All of a sudden, I do not mind that you are doing it. I even went outside today and raked some dog shit and broke some ice with a rake. I got a big kick out of it. A big one. I threw the rake against my house. It felt good.

If you know what I mean, if you know the joy of work, then you are a friend of mine. Now I get to tell you how much I enjoy you instead of how much I fucking can’t stand any of you. There are plenty of you who get this. I don’t care what you call yourselves. My wife is the only one who will ever really get it, because she is my best friend. I can’t beat that; neither will any of you. I have tortured everyone and now I am OK. That is an apology. To everyone I have known, to everyone I know and will ever know, that I am sorry I did that.

Basically, the only person I have really laid waste to is myself. There are reasons for that that I can’t explain. Lots of you are laying waste to yourselves. It doesn’t matter, you take your road and I shall take mine. You can all take whatever road you want, because I have finally claimed mine, and you have too. The only thing all of you have to do is go get your own, because mine is a long one that is impossible for anyone to travel, least of all me. There’s nothing worse than death, and since it hasn’t happened yet, you don’t need to worry. You’ll have a nice life until that time.

Mine will be nicer. I mean it. As in I will be nicer from here on. I can make it. Thanks to everyone who got me here. Now, all of you who hate people had better watch their ass. Because I am back in the game, and I promise I will fuck you up if you hurt my family. I will come at you with fire and death and destruction and all of the hate that I have gathered and I will use every word I can think of to make you feel like you want to die. Because when you get right down to it, they are just words, but they have great meaning. I will probably fuck you up if you fuck with any of the people who didn’t leave me. I am a very mean monkey, and you will not get in my way.

But dig this: I like you anyway even if you bump me a little. That is what keeps me happy. When you bump into me, I feel that everything is right. Don’t bump too hard; there will be consequences. That is not a threat, that is not a promise, that is merely a warning that I am still on fire. I have burned myself. You can burn yourself on a fryer, or on the stove.

Whatever it is that can cause you to burn works for me! Now go read Pam Spaulding or Amanda Marcotte for some quick-witted politics, because they get pissed off quicker than I do. They are on the right side. Over there. The right side of this blog. Go see them instead. I’ll see you guys soon.

When The World Wants You To Shut Up

Last night, I finally got actual sleep, the kind that you are no longer afraid of lest you die in it. I’m told this is a good thing.

People have been telling me for months that I must “get some sleep”. Most of the time, I interpret this to mean “I am the one who is tired and I would like you to shut up so I can get some”. I try not to take this personal, because as we all know, being tired is what we are good at. It’s one of the few things anybody can do. As far as I am concerned, sleep is usually an utter waste of time.

What usually happens when people sleep?

They wake up tired.

Something is wrong here. Generally, people get their eight hours, wake up, and the first damn thing that comes out of peoples’ mouth is “Wow, I’m tired”.

I can’t stand hearing this most of the time. Yes, yes, you are tired. I know. That is because you sleep too damn much. The more consecutive nights that you get too much sleep, the more tired you will find yourself. This is not because of work. Work generally tends to increase the body’s power, or at least it should. Ask any of the people in love with themselves at a gym. You won’t have trouble finding them. Usually they are on a stair stepper, or if they are men, they are trading dumbbells back and forth between the shorn, overblown hunks of flesh they call “lats” or “tris” and pretending to work out “together”.

Oh, I know what you two want to work out on. The only thing between the two of you and having sex with each other is that dumbbell. I bet when you guys sleep, you dream of each other. I couldn’t care less if you did. It is your personal prerogative if you would like to “pump iron” or pump each other. I don’t want to see any of it since I find both to be unusual activities(and I swear to whatever God you feel like believing in if you come here to tell me that “unusual” means that I find any of these activities to be odious is in for a very, very nasty surprise if I come back and find you here telling me I am not a friend to gay people. You evidently do not understand your own language, because when you put together the prefix “un” with the word “usual”, it means that it does not happen very often. It does not happen to me, so it stands to reason that I would find it “unusual”).

Jesus, I get some sleep and now I am tired just like the rest of you. Thank you very much for taxing me so that I had to pass out for seven hours. After all, that is what sleep is-passing out because you are unable to stand the world as you know it anymore. That is not my fault, it happens to be yours. I haven’t cursed anyone yet in this particular chunk of writing, and this is how you know that I am sleepy. When I am awake, I usually say “shit” and “fuck” and try generally to upset you as much as I can because I hate you. Today, I am in a much better mood. I hope it doesn’t last very long, because thanks to sleep I cannot see very well  from mucus deposits on my eyes. I am having trouble keeping my sentences together. This is not much bother, but it is annoying. So are you. I have a slight headache. I drank too much wine because all of you said “Ron, you sure could use some sleep”.

Thanks to my better mood, I am currently unable to curse you anymore. Someone might as well have hit me with a billy club. But I will probably return to my old self at some point by missing a dose of the drugs you have me on that are supposed to keep me “quiet”.  I can feel the heater on the side of my face. It keeps hitting me.  Literally.  Sooner or later, I am going to turn it down and hopefully regain some sense of myself and suffer. Because that is what nature does, make people suffer. It makes all things suffer, including the rocks. The rocks are tired of becoming lesser elements. As am I.

I’m not sure who is responsible for this “sleep”, but if I find out, I will say very nasty things that you will not want to hear. Some of you may actually like this. I have a friend now, some random person on “Facebook”, who celebrates everytime I tell her to go fuck herself.  Evidently I am getting some enjoyment out of this, because she keeps requesting that I say it to her and I keep doing it.

This is a person who alternately scares people and would like to hurt them as well. She is a girl. That is what girls do, break male hearts. It’s probably the only reason a male is attracted to a female. Be glad that we are monkeys and not spiders; when girl spiders mate with boy spiders, sometimes they eat the boy spider in order to nourish the tiny spiders that the dumb male spider has decided to put in them, thus making more spiders. I like spiders, but I am wary of them.

Most of you are human spiders; that is why I am wary of YOU. I have no idea what that means, because I am tired. I am shut down temporarily by your requests that I pass out, and that means I must find better things to do than be associated with the Internet this fine morning, which I guess I will try to enjoy because I am frickin’ exhausted.




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