themisanthropicoptimist.com

It has been far too long since I have put pen to paper but I have an excuse: I haven’t had anything to say. This may come as a shock but let me clarify, if you will. I at times, feel as if I am being repetitive. So, this combined with life in general had led me to take a small break. Of course anyone who knows me knows that this is not completely true. I can never completely shut off, just disconnect a bit. I don’t care who says it or how, shit bothers you and it bothers me. If you say that for instance you are happy as long as you a collecting a paycheck you are lying to everyone around you as well as yourself.

Doesn’t it take an effort to pretend as if you do not care about the environment around you? In this instance we will say, the work environment. Isn’t it sort of like going to work and doing as little as possible instead of actually working? Which takes more effort to actually do? I know from personal experience that it is harder to “not” work than it is to actually do my job. So it stands to reason that the same thing applies to changes in the work place and acting as if it is only a paycheck for you. I am going to call you a liar sir(s). You don’t spend 20 or 30 years in a place and say that it is just a job and a paycheck, it is your career. Like it or not, for good or ill, what may have started out as a crossroad turned into your life and just because you don’t not live in reality does not mean that others can not see through your shallow façade.

On to beliefs and their place in our society:

Where do your beliefs belong? I can answer but one way, I can tell you where they don’t belong and that is being rammed down to world’s collective throat. I really, truly am getting sick and tired of these holier than thou fucktards and their absolutely appallingly twisted logic and revisionist’s who are trying to undermine actual truth and history. Then again who is more to blame, those who spread this bullshit or the weak willed and unquestioning moron’s? I do not mock because I can, I mock because I have to. The world seems to be once again on the brink of the dark ages and we are to believe as always that a supreme being will take care of his own only to fuck everyone with another belief system or no beliefs at all, for we are all going to hell. (Even though I don’t believe in their hell either but life is funny like that I guess.)

If you can not realize that if you are living for an afterlife you are not living at all then I do not know what to tell you. If you have to tell others just how often you “do things” for those around you then you aren’t praising an almighty, you are simply praising yourself, period. Do something for someone and don’t tell anyone and don’t expect false platitudes in return. Isn’t that what it is supposed to be done anyhow? We are animals my friends and if you can’t deal with this then you should just check out and stop soiling the world with your hate and lies and misdirection.

Of course you could turn it around on me but really you are just misreading passion for anger. I am not angry; I just refuse to kowtow to your inane belief structures any longer. (Not that I have since I was a teenager and could think my own thoughts; question with my own question, the reality that this is.) If you can not live and let live maybe all you really need to do is look in the fucking mirror for your god damn answers instead of the ancient stories of deluded madmen.

Golgotha and the Chocolate Hollow Bunnies

Words are fire, stinging and burning my skin
Spoken or written it matters not
Causing some internal damage, deep down within
Careful for that branding iron is very hot
Preaching, teaching, almost screeching your original sin
When in fact, you’re so blind you can’t even tie a knot

Chocolate hollow bunnies are nailed to their crosses
Golgotha is calm this day; blank stares from the crowd below
C.E.O.’s laugh as they look at more gains than losses
Dark clouds seem to flock like birds as a strong wind slowly grows

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” cry the bunnies in unison
People below now in the millions, or so it would seem
A few a crying, but most are laughing and poking fun
The bunnies just wishing and praying this is all a bad dream

Suddenly, as if their prayers have been heard
The wind is gone and the clouds disperse
Out comes the mid-day smoldering hot sun
Once it is over they will not even need a hearse

The bunnies melted that day way back when
In the land that time forgot, so full of turmoil
Down into the Earth they went
People still fighting for that little bit of oil

Yes children that is how oil was made
God struck down the hollow chocolate bunnies
They did not believe in him, so a price had to be paid
Go to church
Go and repent your sins
Ask the lords forgiveness
Else Satan will win
Or do what I do on Sundays
And just sleep the fuck in . . .

From April 2006
The MySpace Years

In Memoriam of Bill, I give you this repost:

“Talk hard, I like that. It’s like a dirty thought in a nice clean mind.” ~ Mark Hunter

I often wonder if people came here under false pretenses or with the misconception that this was something that it is not. It all started with a pencil and a wire bound notebook when I was in high school. From there it turned in to several volumes of notebooks and then the internet(s) became more accessible and I became less skeptical of said technology. As a side note this is very odd since I grew up in a house with a computer in it since I was about 12 years old. Sure it was just a TI-99/4A but still it was a computer nonetheless. Then I went through my anti-tech phase in the mid-1990’s and now, well now we know where we are. At least I hope we do.

See I am a writer and this isn’t a fucking blog. I have grown to hate that word: BLOG! Fuck you bloggers! (Well not all of you, just the ones in your mom’s basement writing your gay-ass fan fiction in your under-roos.) I write what ever leaks into my brain and it may not make sense at the time (even to me) but in the end it usually comes round full circle. So today we have this, a first in a while, an actual piece that is not poetry, even though my poems rock, this is more about social media and how people do not actually read the words on the screen. They browse; they peruse; they cherry pick. Am I wrong?

How are most arguments started? Well I would have to say miscommunication; a breakdown in how we perceive what the author’s intent is. In my case, it is not in fine print, it is right there, out in the open. If you do not enjoy sarcasm, mockery, satire, caustic remarks and very rarely something Panglossian irony, then you’ve come to the wrong place or lost the face of your father. Please go take yourself too seriously somewhere else. This is a refuge of humor. One of the last bastions of jocularity left in the ever shrinking world of ours. (Okay that’s a stretch put still pretty good.)

Megalomaniacal pat on the backs aside, this is a place where I talk about whatever is pissing me off. Sure it isn’t news but it is fucking funny. (Well to me and the Wookie anyway). So if you find yourself here from clicking a link that does ACTUALLY work on Facebook, this message is for you few; you sad and lonely few who just don’t seem to get it. So I will end this quickly, abruptly and almost pain free, with this quote from my goD:

“The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it’s real because that’s how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it’s very brightly colored, and it’s very loud, and it’s fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, “Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?” And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and say, “Hey, don’t worry; don’t be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride.” And we … kill those people. “Shut him up! I’ve got a lot invested in this ride, shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real.” It’s just a ride. But we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok … But it doesn’t matter, because it’s just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It’s only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings of money. Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one. Here’s what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defenses each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would pay for many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace.” ~ William Melvin Hicks

Do I owe my readers an apology or just one for myself? With so much going on in my head and in this insane place that we call “Earth”, where does the real world end and the asylum begin? How does one stay focused on the task at hand and furthermore what is my fucking task in the first place, because at this point it all seems so convoluted.

You try to be a good person, not a righteous person, just a good one. Two feet planted firmly on the ground unless of course you’ve had a limb removed for various, unnamed rather graphic reasons. But what is good and what is evil; are they not just constructs of current and past human norms and mores? Stealing and murdering in the name of some common good only to have it renamed an atrocity a hundred years later? Good people have always done horrible things all in the name of what they thought was right. The prosaic, “road to hell is paved with . . . blah, blah, blah,” seems fitting here.

Where is this all going, you ask? Well, actually no where I guess. I am at a cross roads of feeling insane in a normal world or normal in an insane world. Which road do I choose or are they in fact the same road and we have no choice in the matter whatsoever? Do I worry too much about the small stuff as well as the big things or do we not focus enough of the actual effects that the small things have on the out come of the big things?

Are we supposed to feel this way at all and if we do, at least as men, are we less masculine for feeling as such? Well for this I have an easy answer and that is a big fuck you. There is a time and a place to show these emotions and empathy and fortunately for some it is most of the time. For if it were not for we few, we sad and lonely few, all would be lost of what little remains of our humanity as well as our so called sanity.

/to be continued or not to be continued . . .

I love spam.

/end sarcasm.

Why do spammers assume that I do this for money? Better yet, why do people assume that I do this for any other reason than that of to amuse myself? I can not be bought. Sure, most won’t believe that but it is true nonetheless.

I could give a good goD damn about readership. Furthermore, I could give a good goD damn as to what most of the internet(s) twonks even think of me and my writing. I write because I am a writer. People confuse this with someone’s cry for help that they want their 15 minutes of angry handy “J’s”. I write because I am a writer. Am I good, well I think so but this is a moot point as well. (See the first sentence in this paragraph.)

I write poetry and caustic, sarcasm laced pieces. Period. Prosaic, yes but, it is what I do. So once again, spammers and nut job religious zealots can fuck right off a short plank into the blackness of the abyss of oblivion.

Think of it is pirate radio if radio were still relevant. Sure every motherfucker on the planet has a blog o micro blog; some sort of gay, lame ass Tumblr account or some other free internet fan fiction laced, my parents were mean to me, bullshit drivel. This is not a blog. Some days, I am not sure what the fuck this fucking shit is but I know for a fact it does not fall into the guidelines of a personal blog. It’s a fucking funded website that I pay for and as a bonus there are no ads for anything what so ever. No spam, no pop-ups, nothing.

If I write it, they will not come. I learned this the hard way years ago do I stick with my niche of followers and that is that. In a nut shell I am just sick of bullshit spammers and posers who somehow thing that trying to overload this website will accomplish anything at all.

But hey, if you want send me an address and I will send you a present. Either me at your front door or I will mail you a bag of deep fried donkey dicks to munch on. Num, num, num. . .eat’em up fatties!

Nothing makes me want to prove them all wrong more so than when some arrogant piece of shit says something inane. Here is a prime and most recent example: “Why bother man, the system has always favored them and not us. You are actually only hurting the ones that you are trying to help.” Wait, did he just call me “man” and should I respond with a, “but dude”? Fuck off idiot.

If this is really your ideology then why get out of bed in the morning? Should you not just remove yourself and those with a similar outlook on the state of the world from the equation? By the way, that was my “nice” way of saying eat a fucking bullet you useless assclown. I mean fuck, I’m a god damn misanthrope and even I think that there is hope for our species when it comes to how we treat one another. But you, well you obviously don’t get out much.

Let me explain it in terms that everyone here can easily understand: “There are those among us that are not for sale; not now, not ever. Call me naïve if you like but I live in a world where when push comes to shove, apathy and mediocrity do not rule the day; a world where empathy and compassion eventually, albeit, slowly, always prevails.

Short and sweet is all I’ve got this time around; well short at least.

I find it odd that I have so few visitors yet I am somehow important enough to be inundated with spam bombs on a daily basis. Seriously, your fucktards have nothing better to do?

Enjoy your cancer you fucking low life douche nozzles.

If your version of the “good life” is striving to be on a reality television show I hope that you get your wish and then get cancer and die. (Is that too harsh?) Of course I want no one to get cancer but I do want people to die because we’ve pushed the 7 billion button and no one has yet to say, “STOP THAT!” So where is your goD now? What’s he doing up there anyhow, man-scaping his one testicle? Obviously he only has one nut because if he had two he would have done this shit right the first time around.

We’re a selfish lot down here aren’t we? We want what we want and we want it now. We need our instant orgasm infomercial and it better be in the mail . . .TODAY! We leave our box of a house to go to work and get into our box on wheels and before we are even out of the driveway, we are on the mobile talking to, “who the fuck cares”, and “why the fuck are you calling them this early in the morning?” At what point exactly did we become so self important and narcissistic? I have a feeling that even Narcissus would be ashamed of humanity at this point. (If he were real that is.)

Your prosaic saying, “He who dies with the most whateverthefuck” has run its course and needs to die. Our world is in shambles yet people are still out there buying, selling and trading their souls just so they can have a bit more than the next guy. Speaking of the next guy, fuck him as well. Fuck your socialist, communistic, hippy mindset. Don’t you just love it when some idiot comes along and strings together a bunch of different so called ethos’ and they actually have no fucking clue as to what they just said or wrote? Fuck off!

We are here for one reason and one reason only: to help each other through it all. Point, set and motherfucking match. You either get it or you don’t. It’s just a fucking ride man. Of course that’s Bill Hick’s but I seriously doubt he would care if I borrowed it once more unlike that thief Leary. There maybe no cure for cancer Denis but there is a cure for being a lying piece of shit asshole and it is called my fist.

Stop being consumed with being a consumer and do something with you life. Spend time with your family; make a fucking memory, because those my dear readers, are the things that fucking matter. It’s dark near the end and we all slowly burn out like a spent candle in the end. Don’t let the new age assbags tell you differently, we all die alone. It doesn’t matter how many people are at your side on your death bed because they are not dying, you are. They are simply there to help themselves cope, not you. I know it sounds cold but it is true. You know what’s going down, YOU’RE FUCKING DYING! Sure I would like my wife and kids there to have that one last kiss and hug but when the light goes out, it is just me; it is just you and it is just blackness.

I shed my tiny bit of fear on being out spoken years ago and my wife says that I am even better at it now than I was when we first met. I don’t give a fuck about what people think and neither should you. We get one shot at this roller coaster so do it right, do it the best possible way that you can. Am I right or am I wrong, well that is not for me to decide, it is for you to sack up and give it a go. Will people laugh at you; mock you; think you’re nuts, you bet your dead mom’s ass they will but guess what: it’s their fear of you and of life that they are laughing at. It is that uncomfortable laugh when someone tells a joke that someone somewhere told you that you should not laugh at but you do anyway. Maybe a classic “dead baby joke” or a “insert your stupid belief in a fairytale place that never existed in the first place joke,” and they laugh because deep down they are scared, as are most people, of the inevitable demise of their physical form. I for one enjoy every breath that I take. (Even the angry ones.) But I also long for that unavoidable day when I return to the stuff that stars are made of and can become one with the cosmos once more.

Stop for a second and ponder just how insignificant we are and then take a deep breath and exhale, for you are also blessed to have been gifted with this amazing thing called, “reality”. You don’t need a box to see it; you do not need a pompous host to tell you about it and you definitely do not need to be on an island with a bunch of other douche bags to experience it. All you have to do is . . . go outside and live each moment as if it will never, ever happen again because you guessed it, it won’t.

Find your Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo, even if it is only in your mind and never leave. In other words, find you bliss; to steal from the immortal Joseph Campbell.

Somewhere the saving and putting away had to begin again and someone had to do the saving and keeping, one way or another, in books, in records, in people’s heads, any way at all so long as it was safe, free from moths, silver-fish, rust and dry-rot, and men with matches. ~ Bradbury

A homeless man with is street sign of proclamation
The end is nigh is now worn by millions throughout the nation
It’s all a conglomerate so why bother lifting your hand to change the station
Drunk with false power the false prophet enjoys his toxic yet short lived inebriation

With his hand in the puppet he tried spewing hate filled lies
His audience was slow and large or at least not very wise
In the front row were the gnats and the back were the flies
Every time he opened his mouth more and more humanity would die

Wake up young man before the clock strikes its death knell
Watch the madman at the pulpit; search quickly for his tell
Push the buttons, don’t waste too much time or you’ll be caught in the swell
See insanities world quickly crumble; in a glass asylum he did dwell

We’ve fooled ourselves into false cultural offenses
I’ve memorized my books until the world comes to its senses
Striking the match and burn it all down for I will not lower my moral defenses
A book is a loaded gun but if used properly it can tear down many useless fences

*Inspired in part by Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451*

I’ll close out with some hope from Mr. Joe Strummer:

Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros

We are not a number or a derogatory label
Nor a made up dream and a misguided fable
We are more than people that occupy a vacant place
We are in this together; this crazy thing called that some call the human race

Some can only compartmentalize while others thrive off of being used and abused
Though the silent majority scratching their heads seem very, very confused
Nothing is wrong with this picture until it is them who are directly affected
Until that moment occurs we are laughed at and all of ours claims are rejected

We do not want to be rich; we simply want to live and to not be so poor
What we certainly do not want is to be some corporate bankers lackey or whore
Your indifference to those you look down upon will certainly be your undoing
The time of kowtowing is at an end; there will be no more subduing

I am not a number; I am but a single free man
A wrench thrown into the cog of your diabolical and sadistic master plan
Just how long did you think that your temples of greed would stand before they crumble?
Prognosticating the future, I see is the minority quickly learning how to be humble