Daily Archives: March 27, 2011

Satan Invented The Jack Russell Terrier

All Jack Russell owners have to understand at some level that this is not a dog. It is a tiny, four legged demon with no bladder that knows no master.

I have been close to getting religion as many of you know. This may be how I understand that the Jack Russell is a tiny tool of the fallen angel. I am not sure. It pisses. Great Scott, does it piss everywhere, outside and inside. It chews. Oh, does it chew. Bastard chewed my new reading glasses and now I would like to punt him airborne every fucking time I see his little stupid puppy face. He can’t get along with my big dog. His hair falls off of him faster than a cancer patient. I don’t want him here anymore, that’s how pissed off I am with this dog.

Oh, but he’s such a sweetums! Who’s a sweetums?

Fuck him. It’s raining, and I have to take this little fuck outside now.

Paranoia, Big Destroyer

I am reminded by my wife constantly that I am a paranoid. It’s funny; I’ve always been what one might classify as “timid”, but that is not the same thing. I have a LOT of healthcare issues I need to work out, most all are mental, if I am to believe in my shamans, the doctors at the VA. I would find it hard to argue with them and my wife that something has gone wrong. Some wire has gone goofy and I’m stuck trying to repair it.

I spent a few weeks in a locked mental ward. In case you don’t know, this is like jail without bars. You are stuck there because you have been sentenced as not well, and until you can convince the trustys that you are behaving well, you may get an early release. Believe me now and hear me later, but you don’t want to do this. Some people have to. It isn’t that I can’t do it. I just won’t do it anymore. Which means one thing; I have to stay sane outside the locked door. It’s like a challenge, like a gauntlet has been thrown down-we’ll give you some drugs, and then we’ll see how good of a little doggie you can be if we let you out.

Something is wrong here. It’s like being…banished to life, or something resembling it, but as Johnny Lydon once asked…is this living? This careering? I sure don’t have a job. I wouldn’t do this shit so much if I actually had something better to do than talk to oh, maybe five people on this blog because I’m still having a temper tantrum about this one fucking bitch that went to high school with me who dared call ME a racist on Facebook because I had an opinion about a black Tea Party member who doesn’t think much of free speech. That means, ipso fucking facto, that she is also guilty of disliking free speech. I think that’s just as rotten as actually being a racist, which everyone knows goddamn full well that I am not capable of racism to the extent that anyone can control such a rotten impulse in one’s head at all.


I am left with a decision. I am a good writer, and I like to tell stories and like to hit “publish”. Should I go back to Facebook and be back with my friends to share?

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