I got arrested for possession of marijuana on Wednesday. I’d been minding my fuckin business and taking it easy, but life is life, so here’s Doug Stanhope.
Stay schemin’, San Diego!
I got arrested for possession of marijuana on Wednesday. I’d been minding my fuckin business and taking it easy, but life is life, so here’s Doug Stanhope.
Stay schemin’, San Diego!
For future reference, if any of you are interested in what books I’ve read or are currently reading, I update my goodreads account fairly regularly. It’s like Facebook, except there are hardly any retarded people to ruin your feed… there’s always that one person though, statistically speaking of course…
Here is the quote:
“The United States Magazine and Democratic Review summed it up by arguing that whereas European powers “conquer only to enslave,” America, being “a free nation,” “conquers only to bestow freedom.” . . . Far from antagonistic, “empire” and “liberty” are instrumentally conjoined. If the former stands to safeguard the latter, the latter, in turn, serves to justify the former. Indeed, the conjunction of the two, of freedom and dominion, gives America its sovereign place — its Manifest Destiny, as its advocates so aptly called it.” -Wai-chee Dimock, Historian, with regards to American media distorting public view/opinion during the 18th and 19th century, with regards to American internal affairs
Stay woke, San Diego!
Words… what are they? Are they really just words?
The old nursery rhyme, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” must only apply to children. There are too many sets of pointless standards and morals we are taught as I know I’m not alone when I read the irony and hypocrisy in Twain from works well-over 100 years from his passing*. If words aren’t dangerous, then what’s censorship exist for? Dangerous, how?
Why, I thought you’d never ask. Oh, you didn’t ask that? Well I’ll fuckin tell ya anyhow.
Fuck shit ass cunt bitch nigger gay faggot gook cracker anus dick pussy queer hoe are all examples of words you should never say around women or children. They’re okay to say among men. I have been told that I need to watch my language… okay, I’m just asking… or else, what?
I’m a 31 year old man sitting in my rented bedroom on a desktop PC with a bootlegged operating system. The shirt and socks I’m wearing have faded and have tiny holes. I read as much as I can and when I’m not writing about anything I’m probably thinking about what I should be reading or writing.
I’m not out to hurt anyone, I’m just here for the dialogue. Or is it only cool when it’s on TV and dickfucks like the Kardashians prance around and tear this society apart by its psychological seam because people statistically mostly not like yourselves make it happen. I say not like yourselves because if you’re reading this far you’re my caliber of people and I love you and thank you.
I keep to myself but I think and I read others and learn… what’s so dangerous about some fucking letters strung together that sound awesome together: e.g. F-U-C-K FUCK FUCK FUCK!?!?
I live in a city that’s investing billions into the downtown/waterfront section of town, but my amigo and I avoided 6 car accidents taking Columbus Dr from 15th St to fuckin’ Dale Mabry. Who is in charge, something is fucked here, let’s please start spreading the wealth out more. Oh, AND the book store was closed when we got there… ironically, it was closed because the building didn’t have internet capabilities. A store that sells books closed because there wasn’t internet? You can’t make this up, folks, I’m sorry, you just can’t. Even though we still made the best of the trip and beer and pizza was involved, I said “fuck it, I’m off the diet, the universe wants me to be happy tonight” because you know happy or sane, pick just-one? anyways, that was last night and I chose happiness. Today, I began my 3-day-long fast to carry me to the full-moon with super powers, thus I have chosen sanity this time. You do the math. Don’t be discouraged from trying to wrap your mind around that. It may require thinking, it may not, but I hope it does. For more information on the power of fasting, see: Dick Gregory. I digress…
So… I was outside smoking this afternoon, soaking in the sun when I noticed a peculiar honey bee floating by like a drunken blimp operator, like- one who has been secretly getting drunk on the job but he’s so good at what he does and he’s so drunk always that he’s what some doctors would call a ‘functional alcoholic’ who happens to always sticks the landing on the flowers with such amazing grace and beauty, one yellow flower to the next. It was so imperfectly beautiful.
Then- I thought- my God, I’d give my middle nut for an easy schedule like the one a honey bee has, so that so I didn’t have to care so much about human life and what all it takes to get by in this society. Can you imagine the difference? 1. Wake up– check. Or do I just not ever sleep and sip that honey mead bees probably get drunk on in the hive most nights. Either way– check. What next? 2. Fly to some flowers? K, so- go drag my nuts across a bunch of flowers while I ‘fly amazingly through the air’ to a bunch more flowers for what I assume is all day long? Do we know for sure if these bees are not slave-driven? Are they seriously programmed in such a way that they love flowers so much that they’ll risk getting swatted or eaten just so the queen is happy? Are we aware if possibly the bees are addicted to what I would call getting some of that good ol’ bee-pussy, there can’t be anything better than crawling around on a flower that’s the same size as your whole body [as a bee], unless that mead sizzurp is really that good, either way, do we know what’s going on in that hive of theirs? I digress…
Then- I thought- but are they so unsober, are they so un-intelligently programmed by some greater being intentionally on a molecular/chemical level, so unaware of the dangers they face in their journey outside the gates of the proverbial Hive, do we know for sure there isn’t some super-addictive euphoric bee-feeling that they get from flying around to giant flowers all day? They’ll risk their lives for that high so the queen is happy? She gloaks inside the walls sippin sizzurp all day, maybe it’s a fair trade but what makes her so special? I imagine that they probably don’t have any idea that by simply watching one of them buzzers fly around today, it literally made me think about all of this specific content you’re reading right now that comes from sharing this free-written writing session. I like to think the bees are happy doing what they do because when ya put it on paper, it doesn’t sound like such a bad gig, but I think we’re missing part of the bee-hive story. But that’s in my perfect world, so assuming that isn’t the case on account of I can promise anyone with my life that this is the furthest thing from a world just that, promising you that it’s not a perfect world– I’d like to propose that maybe bees have a serious flower addiction and I think they need our help. I digress.
But then- I thought- it’s not up to me to decide what’s best for the bees. That’s up to the bees. We have to fix the human things first then we can help the bees. To stay on the Louis CK subject, it’s like we’re in a plane and the plane’s about to have an emergency happen and the fuckin’ airbags drop down with the tube and the mask and all that shit, or like in the military when we used to have to do our gas mask tests in case we were going to unknowingly engage in chemical warfare with people we don’t know, something like that, where you’re supposed to make sure you have a proper seal on your own mask before you stop and help others get a seal with theirs if they’re struggling to remain calm and cool enough to actually save their own life– to stay on that subject– don’t you just sometimes wish you’d rather pass out from shock and not being smart enough to save your own life by simply putting on a mask properly, and not-so-very-consequently your reward for not being able to put to figure something simple out is being unconscious when you slam into a fuckin building full of our neighbors with a giant aircraft, something like the World Trade Center if that helps? Sounds like a catch-22 if you ask me.
I’ve been to Hell and back and then some. I just don’t know why I keep coming back. Well, I used to know, then I used to not know, and now I think I know again. It’s nice to be back but not really. One day we’ll fix all of this, I’m sure…
I finally saw the movie Good Will Hunting the other night. I’ve read the book he references in the clip below two times. I feel like a broken record but one of these days, with any luck, people will start to take their veterans of war seriously. Till then… weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*.
*/Shout out to Chris Joseph @FinsNation
Rest In Paradise, Ryan Muller. I’m doing my best in your name and I can only hope there is an afterlife that we can laugh about this all together sometime. I am sorry I did not listen. I’m still learning from that mistake.*
Someone sent me a brochure for some weird PTSD treatment fad along with some other gifts and it really put me into the xmas spirit so I decided I would make a wish list for the first time in a decade or two. In Jesus’ name.
“All I want is a new shirt and a bumper sticker”, I thought to myself after I watched this:
Peace be with you.
The Democratic Party, throughout history, has been deceitful and hateful throughout their existence. If you haven’t figured this out yet, you probably don’t listen very good, read very good, or think very good. That’s one-hundred as fuck.
If you’d like a history lesson, I’d be happy to walk you through it. Just let me know which point in time you’d like to discuss and I’ll pinpoint you in the right direction for a new approach to wisdom. The truth serum awaits.
I’m currently reading Edward Bernays’ Propoganda and it’s full of acorns that dropped in the vicinity of my feet from the shaken tree of truth. Bernays was the nephew of Sigmund Freud. He was a propogandist and a damn good one, unfortunately-kind-of. Though all of his efforts weren’t completely malicious in intent, the goal of using propoganda is always to gain leverage in power over the mass subject of the audience members– which in this case, includes a vast amount of the ‘United’ States of American people.
Here (below) is the video that sparked my sentiments tonight. Like many of you who end up reading this, I’ve dealt with wayyyyyyy too many people who remind me of this poor young lady in the yellow shirt:
/alarm going off
//yellow shirt girl hits snooze
///not time to wake up yet I guess
Sleep tight, chillens.
It’s come to my attention several times that my writing is a little aggressive. Well, tough chocolate chip cookies, I’m writing with high-octane soulfulness. So, let me guide ye through another true story to gain perspective into my world of Hell.
Unlike some of the popular culture icons who threatened to leave The USA (and then didn’t) if the Giant Douche were to win , I was fully prepared to move to Costa Rica if this country were going to be led by the Terd Sandwich. She was the Secretary of State during more than half of my career in the military. I was deployed to an undisclosed location in Southwest Asia in support of Operation: Iraqi Freedom, Operation: Enduring Freedom, and Operation: New Dawn during both the assassination of UBL and the Libyan ambassador assassination on 9/11/2011– is it weird to say that the entire mentality of our base did not seem to change after either of these events. Many of us were scratching our heads… “so, like, UBL is at the bottom of an ocean somewhere, soooo, do we go home now, or– ?” Even when the Government shutdown occurred, we still went to work and nothing seemed any different. So in November ’16 I went to sleep early while the votes were being counted and I dreaded opening my eyes when I woke up- afraid to learn the results. I was absolutely ready for a getaway to Costa Rica, but I was so thankful when I read the verdict as it stood.
How was Terd Sandwich even allowed to work as a government official let alone the Commander in Chief? Here comes the pitch.
Somewhere in the summer of 2013 when I was in the last 2 years of active duty I sponsored a first-term Airman who was coming to MacDill from his technical training in Mississippi. He was highly-motivated, extremely smart, and would become one of the most reliable people in our work-section, surpassing several of his superiors within just a short amount of hands-on job training. He joined the Air Force in hopes of landing a comfortable living while he gained experience and paid off his student loans. Because education isn’t cheap, especially earning an out-of-state bachelor’s degree from an Ivy League school in Upstate New York, this particular stellar performer would end up being relieved of his duties within about a year because he wasn’t able to obtain a Top Secret security clearance, which is required to work on some of the systems we were maintaining and managing.
The reason he wasn’t able to obtain the necessary clearance: the subject becomes a high security risk susceptible to bribery from adversaries when its personal debt is too high. So, if a few tens of thousands of dollars’ debt disqualifies an efficient person at a low level… then… like… what about someone like this at the highest one:
Top video is from CNN, bottom is from Terd Sandwich’s own campaign. Top video shows her not answering the question, bottom video shows 2 people not helping answer the question.
How is this happening? You heard her. “I honestly don’t know.” I’ve got some ideas, but they’re not popular because in mine- nothing is free. Do you want free school? Serve your country then. But make sure you don’t have debt before you join, because they probably will kick you out. But don’t worry, you can still run for President when you hit 37, and you can take reigns of command of the military you were once not allowed to serve in, I guess. What in the actual fuck, you guys? What? In the actual? Fuck?
Mueller. Muller. Mueller. Muller.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Thank goodness for that first e. I would hate to have the same last name as that Robert dude. We’re in quite a bit of a cahoots, literally. Down below is a video of a guy that is in the spotlight of the clusterfuck that is our justice system. *Big tall doofus man.
Follow the money. You’ll learn a lot about your country.
Boner petite. I’m having a fucking awesome day.
I’m transcribing my hand-written writing, which was written here in the car at a gas station parking lot, and is being transcribed from the same parking spot, and I have not left my post since I got here. The reason I started to write, was I had an encounter with what I am led to believe was a racist cashier. This belief comes from probably 10 transactions. I drive for a living and I drink coffee arguably for a living, and I like to come to this gas station for convenience and convenience only. Don’t “oooo Nick you’re over-reacting” me, bitch, you wasnt with me when I was shooting at the gym. I’m a fair and fairly honest fellow, and I can honestly say, I have determined the cashier to be a racist old man. With good reason not to like white people, he was a black man, and if you ask any fairly honest man, they’ll tell you it is reasonable, or else you havent asked an honest man. Here is the hand-writing:
Just a quick ‘thanks’ to all of the people who have a hard time with seeing past the skin-color of other people. Thanks to you for making this life interesting. Life is literally a never-ending mother-fucker-of-a-struggle. (Mac- I know that life is a bitch, I just thought she’d take a cab by now.) Never. Ending. I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this bullshit if it wasnt.
If it wasn’t a struggle, I’d be home right now, writing and making music.
If it wasn’t a struggle, I’d not be sitting parked at this Wawa gas station across Hillsborough from the casino with a coffee, waiting for a couple friends I just dropped off to have their fun, so I can insure they have a safe ride home.
If it wasn’t a struggle, I’d have already made enough music at home today, I’d be parked across Hillsborough, and I’d be inside the casino drinking casino-coffee served by a chick around my age who might wanna get my digits, I’d be gambling, telling jokes and laughing all of my boners off without any care in the world.
If it wasn’t a struggle I’d have brought the bookbag with me that I never leave anywhere and then I’d have grabbed the $7 cash that’s wadded in the top pocket and turned it into $50 by throwing it in the gas tank and driving around some drunk hoes, I wouldn’t have cared about the cashier, I’d-a had shit to do. I still would have posted an Instagram story about it but then I would most likely have went about my life and swept this under the rug with the rest of the shit, who knows what…
If it WASN’T a struggle, I wouldn’t have ever had to come here to write this. I wouldn’t have had to pay an absurd amount of money to have my own separate media medium to dislodge myself from association from all the bullshitters venting their petty nonsense on free social media, clogging up the stream so that us good mother fuckers cant put some words in your mouths for a change. I wouldn’t have had to do this, but because the black cashier who took my coffee money definitely doesn’t fucking much care for white people who have my face. Or he just definitely hates all other men, because the lady in front of me must have been a Goddess if you compare the two encounters, except she was black too so it really doesnt help solve much. She was also closer to his age than I. I dont think they were family because I dont think any black people are from West Virginia. That was a joke about incest and also a joke about there not being any incestual black folks from West Virginia. Because I’ve never heard of any is why I say it like that. If you know of any, please correct me. I’ve definitely been wrong before.
Just take my fucking word for it- racism is alive and well. So, thank you, again- all the generations before the last couple. Thank you. Thank you so god damn much for helping me write this.
In other news…
So I was watching a Malcolm X speech today on YouTube, but I never finished it because I had to run. So, I’ll just post it here and you can fill me in on how the last 10 minutes go.
Also, the weed I just smoked to get high enough to feel like writing– let’s just say it was included as driver gratuity. It’s not the first time its happened (only been driving for income for the last few weeks). Will it be the last? No– God-willing, of course.
Same Jamaican passenger who gave me the ganja clued me in on the biggest secret I’ve heard since I learned the Roosevelt family gained its family successive wealth from illegal opium markets– BOB MARLEY’S DAD WAS A FUCKING GRINGO! HE WAS A MIXED KID! (He didnt just blurt that out like I just did, we worked into it, but I don’t have the time or the energy to reconstruct in my mind and write out the conversation. I will say that the conversation started because I was listening to Reggae in the automobile we were all cruising in. His girlfriend was here, too.
Here’s the exact picture the homie showed me while I was driving.
I could not believe this shit and I still can’t 3 hours later. I’m willing to bet I wont believe it tomorrow either– says the guy with no money parked across from the casino.
Serendipity. Serendipity. Serendipity.
Recorded in August while in my hometown of Bath, NY. Ripped and produced by Robert Bidwelack.