f-your blog

Fat Shaming is Motivation You Fucking Cowards by Spacedog

It was 4 in the morning at the end of December, but the one thing I was not doing was writing a letter. I was a bit mortified of what stared back at me in the mirror. Mainly because it was a lot larger then I was used to. With a great deal of sloth and investments in GrubHub, I had packed on roughly 40 pounds in the past year. I wasn’t quite sure what I said about a year before that resulted in the great big “Fuck It” but it happened.

So as people began their New Years resolutions trying to better themselves, improving the world and living with more virtue the only thing that struck me was this. Let’s go all in. I wanted to see what would be like to be super fat. Well on the edge of morbidly obese that is. I decided to get started right away.

For the next month I wanted to see what it would take to do so. More then likely I probably ate roughly 6 months worth of food and consumed 2 years worth of alcohol compared to what I was accustomed to at my normal weight of 160. The goal was to pack on enough weight to hit 250. I ended up at 248 for a staggering gain of 28 pounds in one month. I tried hard at those last 2 pounds but honestly I felt horrid and miserable the entire time and needed it to end as soon as possible.

I cannot fathom how one would willfully ever decide to get this large on their own without going into a complete freak out panic mode. I literally was going into one the second week in. Sure if I had stayed drunk the entire 30 days, I probably could have gained more weight but I wanted to at least have some idea how these extreme excess weight made me feel and not be in some perpetual blackout.

The somewhat average weight and height of 5’10 and 200 pounds being a male in their late 30s gives one a certain anonymity. As I got slowly heavier and heavier it gave quite the opposite effect. I got disdainful stares. I no longer could slink my way into doors at the convenience stores with people next to me. I no longer received the same niceties when frequenting retail establishments. I got stuck wedged between a toilet and a door on a bathroom floor. It goes on and on.

I signed up for a fatty cattle call hook-up meat market app called Bigger City. I really ginned up my profile, well instead of interests or anything interesting I just listed food. Instead of a headless torso, I just put up a picture of my giant ever-growing gut. Immediately I got 5 responses. I was a bit taken aback but willing to listen to what these “chasers” had to say. For those of you unfamiliar with gay slang, a chaser is someone that specifically desires a fatty. I will not bore you with the first 4 responses but the response number 5 was a humdinger.

Apparently, this is a thing. I shouldn’t be surprised that anything is a thing these days with the billions of people living in our world. I’m sure someone out there shits in their meatloaf and feeds it to their unsuspecting family or there is someone that only eats bagels they allow to soak in beer overnight. This man wanted me to come over and basically feed me copious amounts of food. I really thought about doing it for the sake of the blog but discomfort and a preference to feed actual whales rather then this whale being fed turned it a big hard NO.

Another harrowing encounter was at a nightclub. This was one I totally brought on myself early on evening before the drunken blackout occurred. I went with a sober friend to a local nightclub called The Raven. My goal. Attempt to find the hottest guy in there, preferable younger, to just make overt sexual advances at in the hopes of rejection. While being more of a local stop and less of a destination for perfect tens, I found someone that reasonably looked like a 9, though my sober friend said 7 or 8. Good enough I thought. I casually passed by and for the first time in my life I sorta made a half hearted “woof” sound at him. Personally, I think that gay mating call is not only retarded but like retard with an IQ of 70 so not like functioning retard.

It all happened quite quickly and fast after that. Much I do not remember. The drinks are quite strong at the Raven, enough so there is a 3 Long Island Ice Tea max and you are cut off. I’m pretty sure I must have been somewhere deep in my third. Anyway I’m not really sure what was said but eventually I go out for a cigarette with this guy after buying him a drink. He went into some winded diatribe about how I personally was what was wrong with the gay community and why would I ever think someone like him would ever consider a beached whale such as me. Now normally, this would leave me dejected but it was exactly what I was looking for. Mission accomplished. Thanks for the motivation green eyes.

So now that I am morbidly obese (I just barely made it at 35.4 BMI and probably higher body fat at least in the middle) it is time to cut out the bullshit. It really will not be that hard. While a bit disconcerting that I cannot really handle doing more then 5 minutes of my Insanity and Tapout DVDs nor 98 percent of the crossfit activities I am foaming at the mouth to do I kind of accept it. Losing weight is honestly the easiest thing in the world. I am completely fucking tired of people who moan and groan and bullshit about this all the time.

The worst are the ones who say, “I hardly eat.” Hi, if you are 300 pounds and staying that way and not bound to a wheelchair or on some shitty medicine then guess what you eat too much you gluttonous fuck. Get up, move. Shut your pie hole.

Even worse are the women who gab and gab and gab on the treadmill while walking at not even 3.0 mph, try 2 mph. If you are 500 pounds you or can barely walk you get a pass but seriously no pain no gain. If you do not bleed, do not sweat, do not get the chubrub thighs, or get a little bit angry move along. I hear the diner down the road has great cream pies.

I’ve done this before. Lost 60 pounds, gained 80, lost 100 gained 120. I am officially done with the seesaw. I wanted this time to be more dramatic though. I have personally visited three of my exes in the past week so they can experience the full glory of the horror. I want to smear myself in their faces when I am through. Well not really. It just is some great motivation. What good is it to do something completely dramatic if no one is there to bear witness. It is no fun indeed.

Anyway this is easy people. This isn’t finding your Romeo and Juliet soulmate. This isn’t searching for the ultimate orgasm. This isn’t auto fellatio on your tiny little dick. This isn’t going from a homeless mute to an Academy Award winning actor in less then a year. It is too fucking simple.

One last thing I’m actually no longer 248 pounds. Down to 233 now in a little under 3 weeks. I’ve entered a few cash weight loss competitions and sadly I may have to eat more then the 2000 calorie a day diet I am currently on as to not lose too much weight and get disqualified from one of them. It is a bit ironic that I may have to literally stuff my face again because I am doing too good of a job. I haven’t a drop of liquor in 3 weeks and fear I may have to drink quite a lot of rum to even have the desire to consume so much food. Life is not always fair, even for those who choose to thrive.

By SpaceDog

Less Sober Begrudgingly On Less Sober

Ask and You shall receive they say well I hold more with the saying be careful for what you wish for because you might just get it. In this case in particular Your Gonna Get It Ladies and Gentlemen. I fully understand especially in the age of social media dominated by millennials that someone attracts the exact attention I don’t want. See the less you say about yourself now a days the more ravenous the curiosity of others grows and abounds. So for those who wanted to know so goddamn bad that they annoyed me to the edge of sanity this ones for you so with that said I don’t want to hear anymore personal questions about me from here out.

Here some facts in Bullet Note form:

Age: Old enough to be considered Ancient.

Looks: Like a Basic Human with 10 and 2 of everything required.

Right or Left Handed: Ambidextrous

Education: Street Smarts with a Collage Education.

Occupation/Vocation: Writer/Expert Cryptozoologist on Chupacabras.

Salary: I’m chronically broke, but I can pay my bills.

Social Status: Social Deviant

Marital Status: Married to my Wife

Ethnicity: Unknown due to the fact that if I were a dog breed I’d be a Ethnic Mutt.

Accent: Slight Southern Accent that slips in occasionally.

Tricks: Getting people to buy any absurdity based on Reasonable Doubt

Polotics: I agree with George Washington when he said “A Two Party System will DESTROY AMERICA.

Hobbies: Sharpening my knife collection or cleaning my guns while thinking about people I hate.

Addictions: Ex Junkie, Heavy Drinker, Fast Food, Death, Doom and Destruction, People Watching.

Pot Smoker: Yes daily

Social Media Used: Twitter and FaceBook only for Blog Promotion nothing else.

Obsessions: Sociology, Death Metal, Horror Movies, My Dogs & Snakes, Revenge, Under Dogs, Anything Anti Authority, The Occult, and more.

Beliefs: I do not believe in organized religion of any kind, I prefer Spirituality. I also fully endorse Karma.

Superstitions: Murphy’s Law, It’ll Get You Ever Time Without Fail.

Attitude (General): Stubborn, Aggressive, Impulsive, Opinionated, Demanding, High expectations of others and most of all self, Vengeful at times, Anger bordering Rage (Terrible Temper), Sceptic, Natural Born Pessimist, little to no Patience, open minded, Sarcastic, Trust Worthy, Loyal to a Fault, Witty, Entertaining, and Extreme Story Teller to name just a few.

Prejudices: I hate the Rich, The Police, The Government and any Institution of Authority such as the FCC. I hate millennials with a undying passion. I hate technology but use it as it becomes a necessity because the public integrates it into social life. I hate big pharmaceutical companies, Lobbyists, Politicians, The Legal System, Taxes, The Health Care System, Large Corporations, Bullies of any kind, SUVs, Rules and most Laws. Think thats enough to list for now.

Ambitions: To make a comfortable living as a writer and to get this Weblog financially self sustaining. Becoming a Marijuana Millionaire in the Medical/Recreational Marijuana industry. (It be nice to get paid for what I know as opposed to be sent to prison for it.)

Medical History: I had Hep-C and was treated making a 100% recovery. I have never broken a bone, BUT I’ve had more stitches then I can count, and I had my Appendix removed TWICE (but thats another story all together)

Sex: I was born with a penis so obviously Male.

Fears: There will never be justice.

Pets: English Bulldog, French Bulldog, Miniature Dachshund (who is completely deaf and only has 1/2 her vision in her left eye) Ball Python, and a Colombian Rainbow Boa Constrictor. Also 3 evil ass cats.

Tattoos/Piercings: No Piercings, 6 Tattoos with plans for many more

Handwriting: Shitty, my handwriting makes Doctor’s handwriting look legible.

Friends: Small Handful of people I have met throughout my life. I generally dislike people and avoid them a great deal.

Personality Type: EXTREMELY Introverted

Favorite Movie: The Toxic Avenger

Favorite Singer: Chris Barns (formally of Cannibal Corpse now with 6 Feet Under)

Favorite Band: Currently for the last 3 years or so Ghost (also known as Ghost BC in America due to copyright laws)

Hometown: Cliche USA

Currently Living: In Parts Unknown to Man and Beast

Country of Origin: Antartica

Astrological Sign: Maximus

Personal Heros: Nicola Machiavelli, Nicola Tesla, Vlad the Impaler, Genghis Khan, Hunter S. Thompson, Lloyd Kaufman, George Remero, Les Claypool, Tobe Hooper, Eli Roth, Doug Benson, Sam Kinison, Samuel Jackson, G.G. Allin, Kevin Smith, Kevin Spacey, Ron Jeremy, Popcorn Sutton, Johny Cash, Tommy Chong, Scortese, Dr. Ray, Jerry Springer, Doyle, Merle Allin, Dave Brockie (aka Oderus Urungus), Mr. Lordi, Werner Herzog, Micheal Jordan, Cliff Burton, Clive Barker, Wes Craven, and thats plenty for this piece.

Favorite Color: Black (the absence of color)

Favorite Song: Bite It You Scum by G.G. Allin & The Murder Junkies

Siblings: Yes 1 younger brother Moore Sober

Instruments: Used to play Bass guitar, but gave it up along with my teenage dreams of being a rock star.

Height: The National Average for my demographic

Weight: Could stand to lose 3-5 pounds.

Sports: I do not play any sports and am anything but a sports fan.

High School: Ignorant High

Favorite book: Tie between “1984” and “Animal Farm”

Favorite Place: Inside my own head

Its All A Matter Of Perspective

I just bought a new property somewhere in Podunkville East Cackalacki and hired a new contractor (not new per say he’s worked with my family on a myriad of projects, but this is the 1st time he will be working with us) named Rock EnRoll. When I was returning home I texted Rock the following text:

“The side gate by the pond in open”

All that meant was exactly what it said as its only value is face value.

Rock called back in less than 90 seconds and was all worked up talking so fast all I heard was his thick as tar southern accent. I was a tad bit stoned and rather exhausted so I handed the phone to my Wife stating to Rock she was the one who locked the property up.

As it turns out Rock doesn’t text and a rule of thumb is you shouldn’t text Rock. This is because in this small part of the country people keep their fucking cell phones in their pockets out in public (that includes placing their phone on table as if to say, “I swear I won’t check it every 2 fucking seconds to see if I got a text or a fucking FaceBook like for the picture of my goddamn dog in a cowboy hat.”) Now due to this technology differential Rock, among many if not almost all, have no idea or concept on/for interpreting the context of the text. I’ll explain.

Rock received the text, read it and interpreted it as some James Bond 007 super secret 911 code for an emergency AND he needed his help immediately. Why did he draw this conclusion I have truly no idea to be blatantly honest.

I mean when Rock read it did he possible think one or more of the following issues was at hand:

My Wife or I had had a severe and most likely life threatening accident.
There were hostile renegade poachers attacking from the cover of the woods.
A Home Invasion was going down complete with guys in ski masks and machine guns
My Wife and I were battling insane Moonshiner’s over still site(s)
Ali Baba and his 40 thieves were attempting to steal shit.
Wife and I were being “TAKEN” by Liam Neeson.
Wife and I were being abducted by Aliens.
Viciously rabid woodland creatures were surrounding my Wife and I.
The house was engulfed in flame and my Wife and I were stuck upstairs.
My Wife, The House and I were being swallowed up by a sinister sink hole.
Leatherface was running at us with his Chainsaw revving up like a fighter jet engine.
The Hills Have Eyes.
Cannibals were trying to kill us and turn us into BBQ.
Bigfoot was real and holding us hostage.
My Wife and I were in fact secret agents for the CIA and were being targeted by either the drug cartels, mafias, gangs, terrorists or foreign evil governments, and needed impromptu assistancte/help.

That though is only the first part, the second being the gate open part. If we were in fact in immediate danger of some sort why the hell didn’t we say so?! You’d think in an emergency we’d texted “HELP!”, “HELP US”, “911 EMERGENCY!”, “ACCIDENT! Need Help” or “Come Quick we’re in life threatening danger!!” but I didn’t text anything remotely like that that could be misinterpreted or at least that what I thought when I sent the text.

What about the gate being open?! Did Rock think this message of the gate by the pond is open was code for “Help Us, Come Quick! the side gate is open so you can access the property and swoop in and save us from whatever the hell you think the trouble is!”

Well I will never know how a simple one sentence text was thought to be a coded plea for help in a direly dangerous and potentially violent emergency , BUT I did learned my lesson, NO MORE TEXTING ROCK.

Sexual Ambiguity By Spacedog

Subject Contradictions:
He takes his coat off as he slowly enters the room. A swift, precise glance of the inhabitants reveals copious laughter but their smiles are nylon. This is unamusing to him so he creeps out the back door.

He sees a child drop an ice cream cone and begin to cry.

He sees a parapelegic ringing her little bell and sitting on the sidewalk. He wonders where her wheelchair went?

He hears a train whistle but sees no tracks.

He steps in a big wad of horse shit and walks with a more pronounced anger.

Walking further down the narrow roadway, he spots a man and woman arm in arm. Every four steps or so the woman takes she gazes a loving glance at this man. The man gazes back at her but in the exact moment she looks away, he lustfully gazes at the ass of the man in front of them.

He walks down the street and wonders when his chance will be. When he will be the ass that they gaze upon. He’s a virgin though and waiting for marriage. Then he remembers that he is gay.

Wait! We can’t marry!

So he decides to take matters into his own hands. He turns around abruptly. He takes off his shirt. He is cold and his nipples harden, among other things. He walks back into the room.

I need something acceptable, he thinks. He turns his nose to the air. He smells alcohol, roses, and faint scents of sex. He walks towards those of course. He realizes it is darker in the corner of the room. Someone motions him into a doorway.

He enters the room.

Twenty minutes later…….

He’s no longer a virgin. He goes home.

Believe it or not there is a point to the story. It really has nothing to do with sex but sex gets people’s attention for the most part. All the things which are “forbidden” to us when we are children do. Sex, drugs, alcohol, crime, purposefully hurting others.

I have dabbled into all of the above. A lot of them quite often. Never all of them at the same time. You grow out of one bad habit and there is always another. We all have them. If we are defined by them and ruled by them therein lies the problem.

So I don’t care what people do in their own time. Each of the things I mentioned above have their risks and their rewards. As adults we know what they are. We still do them though. We have sex until we get the HIV or anally seep or walk a little funny. We do drugs until we have no more veins or no more teeth. We drink alcohol til we need a liver transplant and then we get a new liver and drink some more. We evade taxes, invade minors, and jaywalk. We hurt others and then we are hurt and then they are hurt and it goes around in one big limitless circle like Simba and his fuckin pathetic Circle of Life.

Then we go to church and we pray and put on our Easter bonnets and some of go home and celebrate Jesus and some the Cadburry bunny, while others still just go off and celebrate their birthday suits together. One big happy family.

Then we go feed the homeless. Then we hop a train to the city in the clothing we just bought at the Salvation Army and go panhandle.

After that we pick up our grandmother to go to bingo. She sits there contently. Dabber in one arm, flask in the other, bible in her purse. She sees another 70 year old man there, one with all his teeth, and promptly leaves you to dab balls by yourself. Apparently grandma knows a lot more about balls then you thought.

It never ends. It is eternal, it is disturbing but it’s not. We all do it. Extreme or miniscule. It exists.

“This is the biggest mistake I could think would save me. I wanted to give up the idea I had any control. Shake things up. To be saved by chaos. To see if I could cope, I wanted to force myself to grow again. To explode my comfort zone.” -Chuck Palahniuk

I have so been there. Ripping myself apart just so I could see myself bleed and try to fix things. That’s human.

And that’s why even though people are flawed to a repulsive extent, they deserve a chance in my book. Otherwise we would all be sitting alone by ourselves in caves, fleshlight in one hand (ummmm i guess dildos for all the bottoms and women out there) and a bottle of whiskey in the other. 🙂

Murder And Mayhem At Trump’s Insidious Impromptu News Conference Of Death & Damnation

Have you ever woken up in the morning and the first though you have is that you really want to pick a fight? I have many times and today I decided the person I was to pick a fight with would be the one and only Donald Trump. I ,along with the rest of the American people , have been bombarded by Donald Trump on television, printed interviews/articles in newspapers and magazines alike, Twitter, Youtube, and even radio. I must be clear I hate Donald Trump politically and personally as he is an extremely shitty person to begin with. Now why, or for what reason do I dislike Trump so highly?
Donald Trump looks quite similar to the past 44 presidents (excluding Obama obviously). He dresses in expensive high end suits worth thousands, predominately wears red or blue ties, is a 70 year old white man, and has a rather large belly. That is where the similarities end. Trump’s unique physical characteristic being found in his ungodly fake spray tan that leaves him looking like he has the worst case of jaundice in recorded history. The second primary physical characteristic is his hair which has remained a mystery for so long it can finally been called the 8th wonder of the world.
As for Donald Trump’s personality characteristics they are truly deplorable as he seems to have a Pandora’s box of bad behavior. Trump is a narcissist of Freudian proportions who’s extreme ego borders on megalomania. Also, for being completely ignorant of the American political system, Trump is over opinionated as well as ruthlessly aggressive on every front and every platform because his unquenchable thirst for power and control are unparalleled. For a president, Trump seems ignorant of the issues and takes every negative comment as a personal attack upon his character. Trump’s immature attitude has him tweeting like a tween and seems to cater to his child-like mentality that causes him to have terrible tantrums reminiscent of a 2 year old. Trump also is a sexist who’s views are almost on par with pedophilia. He is a closet racist and blatant anti semite. Trump is not only rude and insulting, but he always remains unapologetic as he points his finger at anyone but himself.
I just so happen to live in Florida and am located so geographically close to Trump’s Mar-a-Lago mansion that when I saw he was due for another visit I decided this was my chance. I drove to the Palm Beach Post newspaper headquarters down in West Palm Beach to meet up with a buddy of mine that works for the paper. He hooked me up with an official press pass and credentials which (unless you were in the know) made me look like a legitimate reporter. I then made my way to the Trump National Golf Club also located in Mar-a-Lago where Trump was due to throw an impromptu press conference. I strolled past the news truck barricade parked directly out front and past the handful of reporters shooting pre news conference pieces. I entered the club’s front door where a large security man who scowled at my press pass before ordering me through a metal detector. On the other side of the metal detector I was met by another rather large looking security man who gave me a pat down that was so intense it was more like a massage. I made my way into the conference room and managed to finagle my way into the 2nd row front and center where I waited for my prey to enter the room.
It didn’t take long before the rest of the press personnel were herded into the conference room like cattle. About a minute later Donald Trump entered from behind a curtain lazily wandering over to the podium as he smiled with self satisfaction. Once behind the podium Trump proceeded to slowly scan the room from side to side with his classically vacant stare. The conference was a fiasco and made little to absolutely no sense at all as Trump dodged questions, made false allegations and rambled on about subjects that weren’t addressed in the news conference. After 45 minutes or so Trump finally wound down his inane diatribe and opened the floor to questions. This was my opening because to fight Donald Trump your best weapon is Donald Trump. All one has to do to pick a fight with Trump is to say anything remotely critical about him and he launches himself into a terrific tirade which surpasses self defense. He then plunges head first into full on attack mode.
By the time fourth or fifth question had been asked Trump was already leaning aggressively forward over the podium his face flushed with outrageous anger. Trump’s facial features had twisted and contorted into an insane mask of rage filled disgust and endless contempt. He was cracking quickly and I knew it was now or never. I raised my hand and was lucky enough to have him call upon me.
I simply asked the president how he plans to make America great again if his bartenders at Trump’s Bar and Grill couldn’t even make a proper cocktail? Without pausing for a millisecond I continued by explaining. A patron of his eating establishment photographed a $22 gin martini because it was served in wine glass filled with a generous handful of ice. I was some unknown brand of gin, and had a very weak looking olive.
This was the straw that broke the Donald’s back as it were. Trump started waving his hands in the air like a demonically possessed air traffic controller screaming at the top of his lungs that in fact, the world has been making martinis wrong, and Trump’s bar staff actually know the correct recipe. Thats when the shit really hit the fan as they say.
Trump’s private security burst open the conference room doors with the force of an atom bomb and came charging in like rabid bulls. Unfortunately the private security team had had a miscommunication issue as to what was happening and who they were supposed to subdue. This miscommunication led Trump’s private security personnel to engage in an all out fucking fist fight with the Secret Service who too where there for the protection of the president. Steve Bannon appeared out of no where holding a copy of “Mien Komf” which he immediately started reading in German. I wanted to punch Bannon in his white nationalist fat fucking face, but I didn’t want my hand to stink of cheap whiskey, sweat and nazi for the rest of the day. Mike Pence, being the giant pussy that he is, had been methodically backing up since the opening of the Q and A to the curtain behind the podium, which he now utilized to hide with only his expensive Italian loafers poking out from the bottom. Reporters scrambled to defensive positions tripping over each other’s camera cords, and misplaced chairs in an attempt to capture as much footage as possible. Kellyanne Conway showed up to pander to the remaining cameras and reporters jumping around like a jack rabbit on crystal meth. Kellyanne was trying in vain to convince the reporters that this was not a riot of any kind, BUT it was a rally born of over exuberance, love and support for Trump. This over exuberance had caused a spontaneous outbreak of fanatical joy and sincere celebration. Moments after appearing on the scene Kellyanne was struck violently on the top of her head in the misguided attack by a Trump supporter armed with a confiscated boom microphone. The boom microphone crashed down upon Kellyanne’s skull with such brute force it split her head in half in a volcanic explosion of blood. Kellyanne’s body wavered a second with her eyes still blinking in such a way it was reminiscent of a Hammerhead Shark before collapsing lifelessly on the floor. Just then I spotted the one person I hate worse than Donald Trump, the British journalist Milo “I will say anything or back anything outrageous for attention” Yiannopoulos who is employed by the GOP to run interference using the most vile propaganda to distract the public from the president. Milo was dressed in a British school boys uniform to accommodate his latest travesty of defending, exuding and virtually promoting pedophilia. My attention was drawn to Yiannopoulos. He was fleeing franticly towards the fire exit at the back of the room when he got knocked flat on his back by an improvised nazi salute from Bannon. I ran over to Milo and informed him I was the vice president of NAMBLA (may all members of NAMBLA be castrated and left to bleed out)and I was here to help him escape. Once Milo was on his feet again I led him to the center of the conference room directly under the industrial fan that was humming like monster truck engine.
Once we were positioned under the gigantic fan I bent down, grabbed Milo behind his legs under his buttocks, and hoisted him strait up into the fury of the fan blades. The fan blades turned Milo’s head, arms and upper torso into minced meat with a shower of blood, bone and body parts raining down upon the entire room. I dropped Milo’s mutilated and mangled carcass and looked back at Steve Bannon. Bannon had worked himself into such a fury he had triggered a massive fucking heart attack. His face as white as his KKK hood, sweating like a pig at the slaughtering house, gasping for air and clutching at his heart with his right hand while still kept on reading. Seconds later Bannon dropped to his knees, explosively shit his pants and fell over dead as a door nail, and his eyes looked like 2 fucking blowfish due to Bannon’s extremely insane blood pressure right before death. The chaos was reaching a climax when I realized if I believed in self preservation this was time to make my exit. Trump’s security had surrounded him and were ushering him out the door with great difficulty because Trump kept stopping to turn around and yell ridiculous claims such as this was a media plot to destroy and discredit him, this is part of the Liberal agenda, this was in all reality fake news, the electoral college, the boarder wall, molesting women, his bank account, Putin and how it was mother Russia marrying father America, questioning Obama’s birth certificate, China hackers that plagued the election, hair care, tanning tips, advertisements for Trump Towers/ Trump casino’s/Trump Hotels, unifying America, Rosie O’Donell, preaching he never once went bankrupt, the annoying planes that fly over his mansion, tweeting, and vast voter fraud. I ducked and weaved my way to and fro, out the conference room door into the foyer. As I made a beeline for the club’s front door I saw radio personality and Trump lover Alex Jones standing in the middle of the foyer like he was the eye of a hurricane. Jones was spouting Trump propaganda and undying support for him, like a deranged circus barker. I couldn’t resist so I got in front of him and when he opened his mouth for another decree I rammed my microphone into it, and then proceeded to jam the microphone as far as humanly possible down his throat into his esophagus rendering Jones silent as well as dead the mic cord hanging out the corner of his mouth like a wayward piece of spaghetti.

As I strode towards my car drenched in blood I thought to myself what a wonderful little riot that was.

Catalog Of Humanity (The Vile Version)

The once grand city fell into the continuing chaos of decades of decay,

The businesses and those with money have abandoned this sickening city,

The whores loitering outside of the local liquor store looking for love,

The strung out narcotic zombie working the corner cleaning windshields to feed his abominable addiction,

The open festering sores that line the limbs of the homeless,

The panhandler suffering through withdraw from drink or drug fidgeting in the door way of a flea bag motel,

The flop house littered with junkies cooking up and shooting up nodding their nightmares away,

The constant flickering of lighters from the derelict row home windows reminiscent of fire flies as the crack pipes burn on,

The entire city is a cess pool engulfed in the putrid stench of a sewer,

The crooked cops riding around in the streets high on their own brutality like Nazis scumbag sons of bitches,

The dirty little convince stores selling single cigarettes and lottery scratchers to the soulless and the suffering,

The dim florescent glow from dive bars windows beckoning the bums inside for a glass of piss poor beer,

The screaming machinery bellowing like a banshee from the chop shops,

The junkyard dogs chained up in yards of dirt, clumps of weeds, and piles of its own shit,

The pimps perched like perverted gargoyles waiting to be paid by their beaten and broken bitches,

The asshole teenagers from the suburbs driving into the city to prey on the unfortunate,

The drug dealers posting up on the street corners peddling potent poisons,

The gangs who wage an endless war of horror over disputed territories,

The bouncer ejecting a greasy client from the shadows of a back room illegal casino,

The overlapping layers of spray paint so thick one can’t tell the walls original color,

The plagues of rats and roaches devouring the city turning it into shit,

The cold gray fermentable walls of the State Prison looming large casting its silhouette across the southern side of the city,

The now defunct factories slowly rotting away in the winds of time,

The dead Vietnam vet who overdosed in his cardboard condo decomposing as his body waits to be found,

The piles of foul garbage that choke up the entrances to allies,

The deep brown tap water thats murky like mud,

The squatters that inhabit the vast city cemetery emerge under the dark cloak of the encroaching night to forage for food,

The front stairs of the court house teems with lawyers and defendants debating their legal fates,

The Public assistance offices are over crowded and under staffed as the government gives up on the poor,

The sea of condoms that surround the dumpster out back of the check cashing store where hookers trade in dick for dollars,

The methhead on a 4 day bender thats furiously fucking a dead pigeon in the desolate park,

The the old deranged mentally ill man who wonders the streets arguing with himself and losing,

The inhabitants of tent city sit around their make shift fires roasting their catch of stray cats for diner,

The bankrupt arena the city built without proper parking at the corner of Rape and Heroin,

The drunken man beating his kids since he wore out his wife before his tv diner,

The dead and the dying wallowing in squalor and their lost faith,

The cries of an unwanted baby unceremoniously deposited in a garbage dumpster by a terrified teenage mother,

The distinct crunch of empty crack files mixed with broken beer bottles under ones feet as they walk down the street,

The nightly fist fights that break out in the city’s central soup kitchen,

The crumbling churches now just idle monuments to a bygone god,

And this city of shit could be any city, all cities dying from industrial death,

And forgotten by history and humanity alike.

A Catalog Of Humanity (Respectable Version)

The line of movie patrons shuffles forward to pay $20 for the latest CGI travesty,
The mother locked in the eternal battle to control her wildly unruly children as they run around her in circles laughing, yelling in excitement and screaming at disappointment,
The aging 30 somethings that chase trends to help them feel young and relevant,
Hipsters dressed like lumberjacks stand face to face like giant bookends each holding a vaporizer the size of a laptop, and blowing copious amounts of vapor in massive clouds that envelop their entire person upon exhaling,
The homeless man’s faithful dog who waits patiently outside the liquor store as his master pops in to buy a cheap bottle of booze,
The Grocery store bag boy who’s happy to be on cart duty as it allows him to utilize his cell phone,
The Millennial who almost runs a woman over in his massive SUV because he was preoccupied posting what he ate for lunch on FaceBook,
The Latino landscaper hanging outside the check cashing store waiting to cash his paycheck after a long and laborious day that has left him reeking of roofing tar,

The teenaged boy dressed in all black and sporting a bright red mohawk holding the door open for a little old lady proving chivalry is not only alive, but can be found in the unlikeliest of people,
The shrunken old man and his tinier wife who walk to their local diner everyday for breakfast,lunch and dinner for the past 42 years,

The withered old woman wrapped in countless shawls and blankets being pushed by her home health aid as the women rants about how when she was young a world like todays would never have been allowed to exist,
The small child fighting in vain to coax his bulldog to stop sitting stubbornly in the grass to get up and finish their walk to no avail.

The bulldog sitting in the grass without a care in the world sunning himself in the mid day rays as he continues to refuse to acknowledge his child master as he stairs vacantly into bulldog oblivion,
The ragged Tomcat that saunters through the neighbor hood with his large head and giant jowls fully believing himself to be the king of his suburban kingdom,

The sinister senior citizen on the board of the local HOA standing at the end of his driveway glowering in disgust at his neighbor’s lawn for being half an inch too high,
The baby with his family dining out in a noisy chain restaurant that refuses every attempt by her parents to get her to eat because she is severely overstimulated her wide eyes of wonder scanning over her brand new world,

The cashiers that looks like their job has left the bodies lifeless transforming them into mindless drones dragging merchandise across the loudly beeping scanner eyes half shut,

The undying commitment of the college student trying to raise money for a local soup kitchen as he is overlooked by people passing by him on the sidewalk feigning ignorance at his presence, The high school student who is dragging her feet on the way home because her parents know nothing of youth today,

And at the end of they day they go their way as I go mine,
And tomorrow we all will be back fulfilling our daily routine,
And we will see each other again the next day as well,
And we will continue to live our lives side by side never acknowledging one another.

Is What You Believe Worth Fighting For? By Spacedog

There are times in everyone’s life where they do not try hard enough or persist or do what is right in their heart.

They simply follow the crowd. They ignore the causes that are near and dear to their hearts. They ignore their friends because well that person may not be as liked or as popular as they so wish them to be.

However there is one constant with all of these things. You see people come and people go. When you take away all those people and all the material rubbish you are surrounded with, all you are left with is you. Nothing more, nothing less. And no matter who you are or how flawed you may be or what masks you wear to the world, well you know what it is that you believe.

“Reputation is for time; character is for eternity.” -J.B Gough

It just really saddens me to see how we as a people don’t fight constantly enough. For our world’s belief (belief as a whole), for our friend’s beliefs, for our core beliefs. What a sham(e).

Belief on the Whole

When the whole of something deteroriates all we are left we is parts that are somewhat combined and somewhat fragment.

Thankfully most of us voted in this election. The majority spoke when it came to the presidency. However one of the things that makes me most proud is that despite the unfortunate ruling in California people are peacefully protesting Prop 8. They are not bombing abortion clinics or looting stores, they just want to be heard.

Keith Olbermann. Whether you agree with him or not this man has a lot of passion and the kind of fight that more of us need. We all need to express and not repress and listen to each other. Well I let him say the rest:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVUecPhQPqY

Frankly for his belief and his expressions well that helps the world on the whole. If not helping the current vote or current situation it maybe helps move people in the future. It’s not about shifting the view of one or two or three, it’s about a shift in the generations to come. If generations didn’t progress forth from their predecessors well then we wouldn’t have a black president now, would we?

Belief of Friends

Obviously none of us believes everything another individual says. Friend or foe, husband or ex-boyfriend, wife or mistress we all have disagreements and similarities. The thing that we must remember is that WE chose to have this people as our friends. We are not forced. This is not an arranged marriage (sorry for those of you that it is).

Once upon a time, one of my really great friends in life had a great mutual respect for me and I for him. Yes, he was overprivledged and yes he was over the top a good deal of the time but I believed in him as a person, as a friend. I stood up for him many a time. I will admit on occasion this wasn’t the “popular” move. I even lost touch with a few acquaintance type friends because of this. Still I believed in his inner goodness.

Not everyone sees this good in other people. Everyone has good in them. People usually only put emphasis on the bad. It’s a sad fault but that is life. I saw the good and it caused me to perish in ways but sadly not everyone in life can accept your choices and not everyone can be your friend.

“If it harm none, do as ye will.”

Also in the same aspect if we agree with our friends and they get persecuted for it we need to stand up as well. And vice versa.

If they don’t believe in going home with someone from the bar, I need to tell that other person to back off when they get too agressive and my friend can’t do it himself.

If they didn’t do drugs and I was I wouldn’t glorify it and push it down their throats.

It’s all about respecting one another and standing up for what you ascertain to be true.

Yes, we are not perfect. I am guility of not fighting at times when I should have but am getting much better at this through the years. Yeah my depression gets in the way at times, but if I ever had to be there for my one of my true friends I would. My situation, financially, emotionally or spiritually, would not effect this. I have done some pretty stupid things to try and protect the people I love but I would do them all over again.

Belief of Our Core

Perhaps the most important set of beliefs that we have are the ones that lie at our core. When the day is done and the lights are out at night, all you have is you. You are the only person whose own beliefs you can control. You must stand up for them at all costs.

Call them morals, call them creeds, call them principals, call them what you will. They are all uniquely ours. Some people live by more beliefs on a consistent basis and others fly by the seat of their pants. Without these beliefs, there is but a shell of a person, a body without a soul, a face without a name.

As I stated before we are not perfect. I believe in love, but that does not mean I haven’t ever had sex with a stranger. I believe in respecting others, but I’ve definitely been an asshole my fair share of times. I am not going to list all my beliefs one by one since I know what they are and hold them close to me and they affect the way I lead my daily life.

People can be very devious creatures. They find out you believe in love; they try and pull you around by a string. They find out you are generous; they blatently take advantage of this. They find out you are honest; they lie their teeth off. Opposites do attract and at times this can be tumultuous.

In a room crowded full of people acting completely fake to one another, would you be fake as well?

“Many a man’s reputation would not know his character if they met on the street. ” -Elbert Hubbard

How very true. You see what we portray to the world is not necessarily who we are. If people strived to make their two sides less in conflict perhaps we would all live in a world Mr.Hubbard would be more proud of today.

So truely ask yourself, are you fighting for what you believe in? Even if you are only fighting for the beliefs in your heart it is a start. Inside each and every one of us within the deepest darkest core and tucked away through all the recessess of pain, misfortunate, and chaos is one thing that always burns. That one thing is love.

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie Part 2: Concert Of Carnage

G.G. Allin strode out on stage from behind Dino the Naked Drummer with a look of hateful disgust contorting his face. G.G. was wearing a pair of unlaced combat boots that kept tripping him up (it didn’t help that G.G. appeared to be severely drunk or drunk and high perhaps.). G.G. was sporting his token jock strap with “EAT ME” written in black sharpie on the front. Lastly G.G. had on a tattered tan trench coat that had been tagged by a black Sharpie which was used to scrawl “G.G. Allin & The Murder Junkies” down the back. G.G. made his way to the front of the small stage which in reality was more of s slightly elevated platform, and paced back and forth like a enraged tiger that had gone insane from captivity. G.G. grabbed the microphone from the stand like it owed him money and started singing ,but it was more or less yelling his lyrics at the top of his voice making the words hard to decipher at times. The 40-50 person crowd that had piled in behind us at the very last minute became electrified with a combination of fear and absolute awe. I then remembered what Unk had said about the safest place at the show being behind G.G. and thinking whatever happens we’re proper fucked. Due to the crowd forming behind us now Mike, Chuck and I had effectively moved forward into the front of the audience putting us on the front lines. By the time G.G. and The Murder Junkies ended the first song “Bite It You Scum” I was hooked, I had to see for myself what all of the hype was about first fucking hand.

To say G.G.’s reputation proceeded him would be the understatement of the millennium BUT thats another story all together so I digress for now anyway.

After the song ended G.G. tore off the duster like a wounded animal and addressed the crowd. “Did you miss me?!” asked G.G. like a demented drill sergeant “Yeah the fucking pigs, the goddamn pig judge those motherfuckers locked me up, they tried to break me, but they didn’t know shit, I’m fucking unbreakable!!” he continued angrily. By now the crowd had backed up forming the body of the audience into a U formation leaving a wide berth in front of the stage. It was in this vacant space that a couple of young fans in black metal t-shirts and torn jeans were slam dancing. G.G.’s tyrannical rant continued “I’m here and I’m really fucking pissed, you’ll being hearing a lot about me in the next couple of months THATS for sure!! Look into my eyes and hate me!” as the band started banging out the G.G. fan favorite “Look Into My Eyes and Hate Me”

I was in shock, frozen like the preverbal deer in the head lights with my eyes wide open fixated on G.G. ,and remembered a quote I had heard that said G.G. Allin was his own one man version of a freak show. How true those words rang now deafening in my head. It was then that some drunk kid with a shaved head did something to piss G.G. off who responded by bounding off stage onto the show floor. G.G. damn near ran at the guy who didn’t see G.G. coming because he was aimlessly spinning in a circle, and once G.G. reached the kid he hauled off and punched in the kid in the face. The startled kid swung wildly in self defense as G.G. continued to punish this kids discrepancy with his fists. After a minute or so a couple of other fans stepped in and dismantled the mayhem as one fan grabbed G.G. around the waist, swung him a 180 degrees, and then shoved him words the stage. G.G. jumped back on stage and picked up the microphone which he had dropped before getting into the fight with the shaved head kid. G.G. picked up right where he left off ending “Look Into My Eyes and Hate Me” flawlessly. Little did I know that the chaos I had witnessed was just the beginning as this engine of insanity was just warming up.

The next 15 minutes of the concert I can sum up by song:

“Die When You Die”- during this popular G.G. anthem G.G. poured a pitcher of cheap beer over his head, slammed the microphone repeatedly into his head until he bled, and left the stage this time to writhe on the filthy cement floor flopping around like a fish out of water that was set on fire.

“Legalize Murder”- during this particular song G.G. played with himself several times, ran out into the audience crashing into fans like a drugged out bumper car. G.G. then returned to the stage where for the rest of the song he cut his chest with a crumpled up beer can while flailing around like a man possessed by demons during a Meth binge. At the end of the song G.G. took a few minutes to ask where the sluts and whores were at as he quickly drained a pint of Jack Daniel’s, and asked the audeince who of them likes to drink,fight and fuck before finally playing the next song in the set.

“I Wanna Fuck Myself”- G.G. look a leak in the corner, played with himself repeatedly, had another fist fight this time with the beer junkie over G.G. helping himself to a couple of beers with no intention what so ever of paying. G.G. slammed his head violently against a pipe that lined the east wall of the venue a couple of times, and G.G. throwing garbage cans into/at the audience all the while bleeding like a stuck pig his face a veritable crimson mask.

“Shoot, Knife, Strangle, Beat and Crucify” was the next song during which G.G. ditched his jock strap and ran completely naked through the crowd and around the perimeters of the basement the show was being housed in. G.G. stopped singing intermittently during his manic antics some times never finishing the song as The Murder Junkies played on not missing a beat.

“Gypsy Motherfucker” was highlighted by G.G. throwing the mic stand into the audience, shoving a female fan to the floor, a Microphone malfunction, and more of G.G.’s ranting this time over the microphone’s failure.

“What kind of dive bar piece of shit is this? Bunch of goddamn bullshit, can’t get a decent cocksucking mic, who do I have to kill to get decent gear really? Cuz I’m about to find that fucker and murder them!” G.G. asked aggressively to no one in particular.

This served only to incite the crowd into further rowdiness as fans yelled out their support for G.G. with a growing angst and enthusiasm. G.G. got off stage for the umpteenth time to wander around the concert venue pounding beers along with cocktails he grabbed out of the fans hands as the microphone issue wasn’t being addressed. The Murder Junkies stood around loitering on the stage in some state of confusion as G.G. handled his complaint. Finally some rail thin greasy looking stage tech scrounged up a back up microphone from the bowels of the bar. G.G. snatched it from him immediately and plugged it in as if he was trying to murder the mic by stabbing it with the cord.

“Alright now we’re talking, what the fuck was that bullshit fucking unprofessional assholes” G.G. announced mumbling to the crowd as they became yet more frantic by the minute. You could feel the energy escalating, higher and higher as the adrenaline was flowing freely kicking in the intensity of the fight or flight principle. Tensions were so strained that at any moment it seemed the room could erupt in a full on, full blown riot of biblical proportions.

“Now we’re going to play is what the fuck I am a Son Of Evil!” G.G. snarled in a low growl of sorts. 15 seconds into the song the lights went out. Mike, Chuck and I were now standing side by side in total blackness, not darkness mind you I’m talking black like the finality of death itself. The only lights as I’ve mentioned were the stage lights which now had become enveloped along with everything else in the pitch black of the bar’s basement. The stunned crowd started chattering like a swarm of locusts as people tried to deduce what had happened or what had possible just happened to cause the black out and so suddenly at that. Several minutes passed as the questioning crowd grew more irritated than fearful over the total lack of light. The sounds of frustration started to ring out, the breaking of glass beer bottles, the loud and violent yelling ( “Lets fuck shit up!” “Fuck this shit!” “Burn this shithole down” “Fuck this I paid 5 bucks for a fucking ticket and I get this bullshit! “Hell fucking no!” are a few examples of what I heard.) and other various sounds of impending destruction all around us.

As the crowd wound itself up to a fevered pitch I had a reoccurring thought.

“If anything happens we’re proper fucked.”

God & Satan Enemies Of A Different Color

Preface: Most people know the story of God casting Satan from Heaven because Satan wanted to take control of Heaven.

It all started when God got bored and created people to entertain him (the original reality t.v.) which pissed off more than a few Angels due to their jealousy of God’s infatuation with his new creations.
Satan was not only an Angel he was the Angel of Light effectively he was God’s right hand man. Satan gathered a group of like minded angels bound together by their hate of humanity and God’s preferential treatment of people. Once Satan had assembled his crew they picked a fight with God by trash talking Humans, a fight that Satan lost.
God banished Satan (along with his traitorous posse) from heaven.
BUT GOD DID NOT BANISH SATAN TO HELL. God decided if Satan hated man more than anything then Satan’s punishment was to walk among man for eternity.
From this point out God and Satan were deemed to be immortal enemies clashing in a constant war of conflict as each tries to win more souls than the other.

The Question: Now I have read the Bible and I like most have a few questions. The first and foremost I question the relationship between God and Satan as far as the traditional belief. As I stated earlier in #5 God and Satan are supposed to be the ultimate foes, yet in the Bible there seems to be a good bit of dialogue between God and Satan. This alone strikes me as odd considering their intense and eternal war of good versus evil after Satan got his ass evicted from his Heavenly home.

The best example in my mind of God and Satan’s rather unorthodox relationship lies in the story of Job. Here is a brief run down summation of the story of Job as told by me (Less Sober).

One day God and Satan (post battle for Heaven) were hanging out together which seems to me like a mighty oxymoron. Why would God and Satan hangout together if their such intense enemies that they actually went to war against one another?

While God and Satan are lallygagging about God starts to brag a good bit about his follower Job and how much Job loves God with undying loyalty. Satan decides to bust God’s balls a bit about this oh so holy and devoted Job guy. Satan makes a side comment to God that its totally obvious the only reason Job gives a shit about God is because Job has a sweet life. Job had a big house, a lot of land, a wife, tons of kids and a productive farm, BUT if Job didn’t have all the perks then he’d abandon God flat out.

Now this conversation seems to follow suit with the relationship described in the Bible between the two Deities, God says something positive and Satan then undermines it with negativity. HOLD ON MY FRIENDS This Is Where It Gets Really Weird.

God decides based on what Satan said to make a bet. YES IT WAS GOD who made the bet WITH SATAN. In some versions of this story some of the faithful claim Satan proposed the bet to God, but sadly no it was all God’s idea.

The bet is this: God allows open hunting season on Job enabling Satan to do whatever horribly wicked shit he could think of to torment Job. If Job remains loyal to God in spite of all the suffering Satan rains down upon him God wins, but if Job succumbs to Satan’s vile endeavorers then simply Satan wins.

Satan then proceeds to run shop on Job. Satan kills all of Jobs crops, kills all of his animals, all of Job’s servants, burns his house down, and kills all of Job’s sons and daughters while they ate together. Job remains standing God.

Round Two Satan struck Job with sores from head to toe. Here Job’s wife does something strange she tells Job to CURSE God and then die. Its the dying part that confuses me because why would she want her husband dead considering Satan killed the rest of the family at this point. Anyway I digress. Job for his credit did not curse God nor did he die, but he did at one point wonder why his God was allowing all this foul shit to happen to him, and at one point even asks God to let him die (assumedly to avoid further torture). Job through it all sticks by God and remains faithful by not sinning in cursing God.

God immediately declares himself the victor to Satan, and then shoots down to Earth to tell Job to shut up and stop asking questions for God works in mysterious ways.

In Summation allow me to state my opinion on the story/subject matter at hand. This is how I see it in all honesty. It appears to me that instead of being eternal enemies God and the Satan had a more personal relationship (as opposed to one ruling Heaven and the other Hell completely independent of one another). To me its more like two best friends who started a business together and the business started to flourish making all involved very happy. Then one friend makes an executive decision about staffing without consulting his friend and partner first. This leads to resentment, tension, stress and anxiety plaguing the friendship driving the two friends apart. Finally one of the friends has had enough and attempts a hostile takeover of the company only to fail, and thus the partnership dissolves spectacularly along with the friendship over an argument on how the company should be run. As the years pass the two friends begin to reconnect yet both are still pissed about their falling out as each blames the other for their failed friendship. Though God and Satan don’t ever reconcile they form a new love-hate relationship because though they had a shitty falling out their friendship out weighs the one vicious fight over difference of opinion.