Dreams Reunited?

I actually wrote the blog I’m about to type below offline. I had a very traumatic event (that I caused in full) which led to my banishment from a certain place. I will keep this matter private. The lesson here is do not brag about your lack of misfortune. It may and will come back to bite you in the ass.

DREAMS REUNITED?

Life is very strange on occassion. Well most of the time. People rise that were long thought to be dead. Misfortune brings some of us together; while

on other occassions good omens actually can tear people apart.

And in between all the quicksand, betwixt the most recent firestorm I created something strange occured. I began to become aware of my dreams.

Not the things I want to do in my life, not the things like that. But the dreams we all have occuring somewhere deep in our unconsciousness, deep in our sleep.

The dreams at first became apparent to me at a time I would least expect them to do so. I am under firm belief that these dreams came to me because of my recent alcohol blackout. While I know it is highly unlikely that this triggered some mechanism in my head, it makes more sense then not.

You see, I had not remembered a dream or having a dream in a very long time. Six months to be exact. Six months since the time my doctor thought that a good experiment on my brain would be to give it Ritalin. They have not occured since that moment.

Yet I would trade back all the dreams I have had the past three days if I could do so. These dreams have been nothing special, nothing I could turn into great (or even mediocre) stories, movies, cures for cancer, you name it. But this price I paid for the recent dreaming is never worth the dream I suffocated.

I’m not really sure what this dream was. I’m not even sure if it was ever mine or ever tangible existed. It did on some level but I do not choose to analyze which at this moment. Yet I kept myself so incredibly dilluted with seriousness and plans of grandeur, which would take months or years to acheive not the days or hours which I so desired, that left me unable to sleep on this dream.

I will never know for sure. Yet apparently now I have an eternity to sleep on this dream. I’m not even sure that I can really do anything about it. I know I cannot, not directly. It may have never even been my dream. I may never know.

It is now simply one of the dreams I wish upon everyone.Peace, love, and happiness. I cannot or should not expect to be able to deliver this gift to another, not at this given moment. Not when they do not exist within. I am an expert at moments of all of these attributes, yet a master at none.

Do any of us ever truly master these things? I always feel there is more work to do. No matter how good, no matter how bad things might be. People have repeatedly used me for all of these attributes. I need to learn to keep more of these to myself.

I am 31 years old right now. It is my turn to try a lot harder and not just grace the masquerade ball wearing the mask of trying hard.

There is a point of hope that began in my life on May 22nd. Perhaps I am speaking too soon. I don’t really care. I need to have this hope. I can whine and complain all I want but I would rather be an inspiration. I do not know how to be this or much of anything but I NEED to try. I cannot afford to put that torch down ever again.

I want to carry the world on my back, but I must carry my own reignited dreams, first and foremost.

By SpaceDog 

A Longstanding Joke Goes From Funny To Fubar* In Seconds.

When I was growing up there where two eccentric’s if you will. One I have already written about in a previous post who was known as Smiley Jesus among the neighborhood kids. This post pertains to the second.

She was a woman in here mid to late fifties with long mostly white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a full length goose down style winter coat no matter what time of year it was. She was always sporting  Jackie O. like sunglasses the ones with the huge circular frames. She also had applied so much rouge that it fully covered both of her cheeks in giant clown like circles. Her uncommon attire also included a Golf Visor, and lastly a pair of cheap white velcro sneakers. This may have well been her official uniform because it NEVER changed EVER.

Aside from her bizarre sense of fashion the other key aspect about Her was she never spoke. Not a single word. At most she might have flashed a quick smile as she walked by with her hands in her jacket pockets. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever saw her hands out of her jacket pockets.

Now we fast forward a bit and I’m now 16 or so and dating my first real Girlfriend/High School Sweetheart who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I asked her one day if she had seen this odd woman walking around in her neighborhood as well growing up. Not only did she yes she had, but she went on to tell me that the Woman in question actually lived somewhere  in her neighborhood.

We tried half assed measure in lame attempts to locate the weird Woman’s house to no avail. We had all but lost interest when we got some additional information pertaining to the peculiar Woman’s back story.

The information came from my Girlfriend’s Mother. It turned out that her Mom grew up at the same time, in the same town, and went to the same school as the strange Woman. Apparently the Woman was not what you would call popular by any means. In fact she was bullied pretty brutally from the few stories we were told by my Girlfriend’s Mother, and she was as guilty as the rest when it came to relentlessly tormenting the Woman as a Girl.

The one story I remember was my Girlfriend’s Mother telling us she and her gang of friends from school lured the Woman then just a girl to some near by woods. They then tied her to a tree and berated the shit out of her non stop for over an hour. Once they got tired of teasing her to the point of tears they up and left her there tied to a tree. No one knows the exact details but obviously someone heard her crying for help or passed by and cut her free.

Needless to say as the story got darker the more I found myself fascinated by the morbidity of it all. A months or so after hearing the tortured tale of the Woman’s unhappy childhood (on no day in particular) my Girlfriend and I decided to go for a late day walk. It was the middle of July so we hid inside clinging to the Air Conditioning until dusk when it was cool enough to venture outside.

We had only gone about 5 or 6 blocks when all of a sudden we became aware of a extremely heated argument. This wasn’t surprising since being Summer many people left the front door open optimizing their screen doors to enjoy the cool Summer evenings.

The chaotic commotion was coming from a house to our right that stood atop a small hill. The front door was indeed wide open allowing anyone passing buy to hear the insanity inside, and I do mean insanity. We heard a lady screaming at the top of her lungs, and we knew that we had accidentally stumbled across the Weird Woman’s house. We both turned and stared at one another in shear shock and awe at first, and then we returned our attention back to the madness raging inside of this otherwise absolutely normal looking suburban home.

The sounds emulating from the front door where like none I had never heard before in my life, and have rarely heard since. The Woman was in the middle of what seemed to be an argument that was spiraling out of control. The Woman was intensely enraged and her blood curdling screams in were purely primal.

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck the argument was about, but that is more than likely because we only heard one side of the argument. This was due to the fact that whoever the Woman was yelling at so savagely DIDN’T EXIST. They weren’t imaginary either like a hallucination (though now that I’m mulling it over she could have been hallucinating, but not because of Drugs but due to Mental Illness of some sort.) Anyway for all intensive purposes it appeared that the Woman  having a knock- down-drag- out fight with her Dead Husband.

We stood there for several minutes completely mesmerized by the madness we were witnessing. It was quite clear that this Woman was just an eccentric  she was legitimately batshit crazy. Once the terrible trance wore off my Girlfriend and I hightailed the hell out of there, and didn’t even pause for a brief second to look back.

And ever since that fateful evening We have  never passed by that house again even though the psychotic Woman passed away many, many years ago.

(*FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

The Backyard Beasts Big Break

It was just one of those mundane and utterly uneventful night a few days back that was until 4:07am. And then all fucking Hell broke loose. My Wife had passed out in her favorite Lazy Boy Recliner around midnight or so, and I dozed off around a little before 3 am.

The Backyard Beasts had been more vocal than usual that evening which now that I think about it was some serious foreshadowing. It was the wailing, Whining, loud, and virtual nonstop barking of the Backyard Beasts that woke my very unamused Wife who then yelled about being woke up due to the son of a bitch beasts. This in turn immediately woke me up and I glanced at the clock which read 4:07 am.

My Wife was shuffling like mad around looking for a flashlight and her shoes. My shoes where near by under the coffee table so I snatched them up, put them on, turned off the alarm system, found my keys, unlocked the door, and bounded out to the front porch.

I start scanning the yard squinting like a motherfucker because we don’t have street lights being so far out in the woods. I cursed out loud for not getting a hold of a flashlight myself as I stared into the night. The I saw it. It was big solid black silhouette standing at the edge of the yard between two trees. The only reason I could see that much was thank to the aid of our neighbors rather promenade out door lights. Their lights backlit the street just enough to see the contrast between the black of night and the black of the beasts.

I yelled to my Wife that there was another Beast out here and that was exciting ours evidently though I was completely wrong. This is not uncommon here in the Woods where people let there dogs roam like free range chickens out and about at all hours doing whatever they please.

I then had a odd feeling and then it clicked. This wasn’t a neighbor’s Beast, it was one of ours, the Brother Beast. I ran down into the yard words the Beast shouting his name, and He came right over. I took hold of his collar with an steely grip of a fucking Bear trap.

My Wife had ran directly to the back gate (instead of entering from the house where the Beasts are forbidden to go) and opened it to go see what she could find the fuck out. In opening the back gate she inadvertently let out the 2nd of our pair of Beasts (their a Brother-Sister Team who are the absolutely inseparable. The Girl won’t follow her Brother so she stayed put in the yard and lamented loudly pleading with her Brother to come the fuck back already.)  The Girl then decided to go rejoin her Brother and tore off like a fucking rocket into the dead of night.

My Wife ran passed me to corral the Sister Beast as I passed her with the Brother Beast in tow. I put the Boy Beast back into the confines of the backyard, and went to help my Wife. All of a sudden I hear her proclaim allowed that she has BOTH Beasts now. I holler back that I’m going to get some leashes to tie up the Beasts while I go inspect the backyard to see where the Beast escaped from.

I searched relentlessly checking the fence, the yard, and looked for any clues such as did he go under or over the Fence? Was the back gate to the yard eft unlocked? That kind of shit. Well after inspecting the backyard I was stumped. So I did the only thing I could and that was to take the gamble. The gamble being that if I had my Wife return the Beasts to the backyard that instead of waiting for me to leave and then escaping again, but rather the Boy would be stupid enough to just go for it right in front of me. Luckily it was the latter.

The dumb bastard trotted around to the opposing side of the house, walked over to the far side of the Air Conditioner, crouched down to the ground by the section of the fence that meets the Home Office, and started to crawl under it like some solider at boot camp running a obstacle course. I hurried over, bent down, and grabbed the Beast at the base of his large tail. As I retrieved the Boy Beast from out under the fence I informed my Wife I found his way out.

I then set to work fixing the issue the best I could with what I had available at 4 fucking AM. First I used some small fence stakes to secure the bottom of the fence like doctor Frankenstein stitching up his Monster. I the placed to long and rather weighty spare wooden beams at the base to help block the dig site/zone. My Wife and I went inside to catch our breath. Then the Mournful Howling started up again. I ran out front and again spotted our Boy bouncing around gleefully in the front yard without a care in the world. I managed once again to catch hold of his collar and wrangled him back into the backyard.

I immediately went to inspect the escape site and saw he had maneuvered the beams out of the way and tore up/out damn near every fence stake. So this time we decided it be best to just section off that small 5 foot long and 3 foot wide area until morning (when I could go to Home Depot and load up on cinder blocks to line the bottom of the fence with. Dig under that you big bitch is the motto) We had a massive and heavy piece of Ply Wood left over from the construction of my Art Studio I had held onto. This was perfect for the job of blockade. It was Long enough to block the space,  tall enough neither Beast could jump or climb over or under it, and it was pretty damn heavy.

My Wife and I were on the porch winding down off our adrenaline fueled frustration when we heard deliberate scratching of claws against wood. We both ran out back again and saw that the leaning Ply Wood wasn’t going to cut it by itself as the Boy Beast was creeping through the space behind it. I went and got the previously used beams and wedged them up against the Ply Wood, but we still need more. I found some old, solid wood barn type doors left over from the previous owner and I knew they had some serious weight to them so I leaned both of them up against the ply Wood, andante again my Wife and I retired to the House.

Yet again We heard the Boy Beast testing the viability of the Ply Wood wall and for what seemed like the 5,000th time went to go evaluate the escape situation. We came to the conclusion the Ply Wood needed yet MORE securing so I went and fetched some of the mock rout iron gates that came in sections down at the Home Depot’s gardening center. I used the pieces of gate the pin the Ply Wood to the Air Conditioner, and it held fast.

Finally my Wife and I got a few more hours of sleep before waking for work. My Wife went off to work as per usual, and I fired up my Lap Top. Then after about an hour or two I heard the Girl Beast’s cry of desperation. I ran to a back window and peered out only to see that fucking son of a bitch Boy Beast standing on the dirt road behind our home office happier than a Prize Pig in shit. I went out and pretended I was giving his Sister a treat (I always give the Beasts a treat before heading out anywhere.), and just like a sucker at a used car dealer he bought it.

I then called my Wife in a foul fit of anger (and exasperation) and told her what happened, and that outside of killing them or myself had come to the end of my rope. She instructed me to house the Beasts on the front porch until she got off work. She said right after she got off she’d head over to Home Depot and pick up the cinderblocks.

I followed her lead and stashed the Beasts on the front porch for the day. I couldn’t help it though I had to see how the hell the Boy had pulled off yet another escape. I was truly surprised at what I found. The Ply Wall was perfectly still intact. After further inspection I realized the Boy Beast I climbed up and over the Air Conditioner Unit to circumvent the Ply Wood, and then simple jumped down the other side into the separated section to dig under the fence.

That evening my Wife returned home with the cinderblocks, and I went about building a Fence Bottom Cinderblock Barrier. Before I laid the cinder blocks down I used a couple sections of the mock fence as anchors. I simply slid the legs of the section of mock fence between sections of the chain link thus pinning it to the ground. The Boy Beast did try and escape again to no vail, but not due to a lack of trying. All I had to due to secure that bottom section of the fence was to tweak the cinderblock’s formation. And all is quite on the Western Front as some would be apt to say.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Life Without Beer??? WHAT!!!

So recently I decided as an experiment to put down the beer for 2 weeks. I put down the hard liquor and all that other stuff and drugs, but couldn’t help myself to a few whipits, I mean the jackassed government only gives me $14 of food stamps a month and I can’t use this on smokes or beer so what better.

So I did this experiment, still felt like shit and got drunk. I went overboard but whatelse is new. Hard liquor, control, and my presence usually equal drama. For as little drama as I supply sober, I more then make up a few shots, no wait it really only takes one drink to get the drama train started.

Yeah blah blah blah. So I went back to beer. Drama really doesn’t happen with beer unless I’m drinking because I’m sad and well I’ve only done that drink beer sad thing twice in the past year. First time ended with a broken emergency supply kit in my vehicle (and a very angry friend’s grandmother who wants to crucify me) and the second time ended with a seven hour phone call. Maybe longer. Not sure, was worshipping the porcelin god in my bathroom.

So twice in a year isn’t so bad. It’s far worse with hard.

Long story short. I think I have a gluten allergy. Which means no beer!!!! I can get over the lack of chips and pretzels and processed crap and bread but no beer!!!!

All I know is I am A LOT happier the past week and certain ailments (most notably dry skin and random happy 31st birthday acne) have mystically cleared up.

Right now, I feel like Courtney Love probably felt when she was becoming an actress like, “Oh shit I need to put on a dress AND underwear??? And pose like a lady ??? And not get drunk that bad!!!!???? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!”.

Well she only lasted well maybe a year or two before she was drunk and screaming at Madonna on MTV.

Anyway that’s how I feel. I am not ready to put on professional people clothes and wear ties and drink glasses on wine with equally stuffy people sipping on cosmos. NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!

I mean I’m more a box of wine type, but there’s no good place to put that in my car. It’s like when I used to travel with my hooka, it was great company for trips by oneself but I like red wine and I’m a bit of a mess.

So does anyone have ideas of either A) What I should drink? B) Where I should drink? OR C) The next establishment they would like to see me banned from. (and YES I have not been bannished from anywhere since “ASSGATE” in Philly. Almost 3 years ago!!!!!)

Brought to you by,

SpaceDog

 

Lollipop Chainsaw Ep. 1 The Beginning and The End Look The Same

Why is that fucking alarm going apeshit?!

I’m strapped in a fucking seat, Why am I restrained?!  Goddamnit if I squint I can’t really see shit?!

Where the hell am I and how the hell did I end up here?! I can’t remember shit. Fuck Me I bet I have a serious concussion just my fucking luck as usual.

Alright I think I can make out a control panel of some sort lit up like Las Vegas suffering a Cocaine Psychosis.

I haven’t a clue what the fuck its for so fuck it.

There was a brief reprieve from the chaotic hell that I found myself  in a brief moment of clarity.

I realized that I was more or less fucked.

The actual question at hand is how fucked am I?!

Prepare for the fucking WORST?

Who the fuck was that and what do they know that I damn well don’t?!!

Worst of what? Worse than what? What is the possible Worst here?!

Holy  Shit I’m not alone.

I need to figure out pretty fucking quick if thats a good or a bad fucking thing.

Oh shit theres a door, wait, its a hatch in the ceiling  like on a Space Craft or some shit like that.

Also it appears this thing is made of metal.

I’m pretty fucking sure NASA doesn’t use metal as a building material in any of it Project, too fucking heavy.

Could this thing be from a Ship possibly a Naval Ship?! I got to get the fuck out of this thing.

How the hell do I detach this seat belt thing and get free?! Theres got to be a release button or some switch, but where the fuck is it located at for fuck’s sake.

OH COME THE FUCK ON!

WHERE IS IT?! WHERE IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS FUCKED IS IT GODDAMNIT TO HELL!

What the fuck is grabbing me like some cracked out Kraken?!

FUCK!  I wish I had a weapon, at least a goddamn pocket knife.

Remember if shit goes down hit first, and hit hard.

Oh fuck its some strange Guy grappling with the seat belt deal to free me.

Jesus I’m sure happy as hell for this Guy whoever he is.

Goddamnit he’s run into a problem getting me free, keeps tugging and making unhappy grunting noises.

Come on GUY GODDAMNIT!

Help get me out of this fucking chair now before something else fucked up happens!

“Come on we need to evacuate this piece of shit.”

Who the fuck is this Guy to give me fucking orders?!

I don’t him from a fucking whole in the ground.

Fuck it. I have no idea what to do so may as well follow this Guy’s lead for now.

Ok he’s going to open the hatch in the roof of this Iron Bubble or whatever this thing is we’re in.

This has got to be fucking NASA accept the fact neither of us are wearing Space Suits so I don’t know.

Goddamnit this shit sucks so bad.

. Alright he got the hatch open.

Fuck where is something to grab onto to so I can hoist myself out?!

Ok OK theres some basic ladder system on the opposite site, like a pool ladder. Time to get the fuck out of here.

Now how do I get the hell off the top of this contraption, right theres the ladder down.

I wonder where exactly we are, but more over what the fuck is here with us.

What fucking time is it?!

From the daylight its either the ass crack of dawn or the darker end of dusk.

Right theres the ladder down.

I can’t make out any damn details everything is a solid black silhouette.

Theres a bank of trees presumably a forrest on my left, and a large body of water to my right.

ITS too large to be a Pond or average  Lake.

Where the hell did that Guy go?!

There he is just standing over there like some sort of asshole.

This fucking Guy is going to be a real fucker to deal with I’m sure of it.

Well I guess its time to introduce ourselves and I guess I’ll have to walk over to him.

Damn I walking on sand, black sand at that. Its beginning to make my fucking legs ache like a son of a bitch.

I’ll wave first and see if this Guy turns around and sees me.

There we go he sees me.

The fucking Guy is looking right at me walking over, waving, and he’s still just standing there like some sort of fucking dick.

Oh good looks likes he’s about to say something. Can’t wait to hear this bullshit.

ok so he’s saying we need to find the Others IF their still alive before we all DIE.

Other who? People? Crew? Both I would assume?

Oh what the hell is going on?!

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! REALLY?!

DIdn’t we almost die just now?!

We just narrowly survived some sort of emergency escape without dying, and now this dick is telling me were right back in danger of dying?!

I’m afraid this is going to get very strange fast.

Look For Lollipop Chainsaw Ep.2 This Fucking Guy COMING SOON.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Vahalla Rising: The Boy & The Bridge

The Boy stood perfectly still in the pitch black as his eyes strained to make out any detail through the omnipresent darkness. Ever so slowly the Boy’s eyes adjusted enough that he could see two long lines of light outlining some sort of Bridge stretching out into the ocean of darkness before him.

The lights were in fact torches wagging an eternal war to illuminate just a small fraction of all encompassing gloom. The Boy cautiously crept towards the edge of the Bridge shuffling his feet as if he was a institutionalized mental patient from the 1970’s doing the Thorazine Shuffle.

The Boy stopped just short of walking onto the actual Bridge itself, and found the Torches flames were burning in black and white utterly devoid of any color. The dull white of the ghostly flickering flames were all there that contrasted with the infinite night.

The Boy stood there a minute trying to remember anything about life before finding himself abducted into this Endless Abyss. The more the Boy struggled trying to force himself to remember the farther the memories seemed to dance just out of his grasp.

He had no recollection of his Mother or any family member for that matter. He couldn’t remember where he grew up, any possible friends,where he went to school, currently lived or even simply what his name was. This was horribly disorienting. The Boy’s immature mind hadn’t yet to even remotely begin to understand what was happening to him.

Seeing no other option other than to cross the Bridge in front of him the Boy cautiously lowered his foot down as he took his first step upon the mysterious Bridge. As soon as his heal planted itself the Boy heard a low variety of horrible and troubling sounds rising invisible from the Bridge itself. The Boy heard the deep growls like a rabid badger with only its next meal in mind, but there were other accompanying the aggressive growls. There were moans that resembled those of animal suffering a lingering and painful death, and above those were savage Banshee likes howling wails.

The Boy froze in a paralyzing fear as time seemed to stand still. He knew he was no match the bevy of Beasts hiding in the shadows, yet he was so scared he had become immobile like a living human statue incapable of movement. The panic set in as the Boy’s young brain began to run through countless scenarios of carnage, violence, and death at the hands  of the unseen Evils laying in wait beyond his field of vision in the ceaseless oppression of the lightless Abyss.

What the Boy saw next was the things of Nightmares so overwhelmingly ominous that they haunt the dreamer for the rest of their days until death. The deck of the Bridge started to ripple and roll as it transformed into a dark liquid sludge before the Boy’s eyes. The Boy clenched his eyes shut trying to maintain his own sanity until they burst open frantically out of fear desperately searching for viable dangerous threats.

To the Boy’s horror saw were several emaciated looking ghouls pulling themselves up out of the sludge straining to free themselves. They sinister Spirits had large empty eye sockets, and large deformed mouths that hung open displaying multiple rows of rotting teeth. The Spirits crept towards the Boy their spindly limbs outstretched like a bunch of bastardized beggars wondering the barren and empty streets as they starve. Their feeble bodies slowly wasting away ravaged by a overpowering and unsatisfied hunger.

Adrenaline flowed freely through the Boys veins like high test rocket fuel as his fight or flight principal reached a feverish pitch. The Boy felt a building power within himself that could alleviate the crippling terror that encased him to make a run for it. Where he ran was of no concern as long as it was away from the frightful Fiend’s as their gray skin stretched precariously across their skeletal frames as their twisted gnarled limbs contorting as they groped the air with their long, thin spectral fingers, and clawed at the foreboding sludge that now comprised the Bridge’s deck.

The Boy turned to run he looked back to see how far a ways behind him were the evil entities, and saw something standing behind the gaggle of Ghouls that terrified him to the point he involuntary lost control of his bladder. As the warm stream of urine ran down his legs the Boy couldn’t take his eyes off of what loomed behind the ghastly Ghouls like an executioner about to bring his Ax down upon the neck of the guilty. The creature standing behind the grizzly Ghouls was a Tall human like form with a height of at least 7 feet tall, yet it had no discernible features thus resembling more of a shadow than any mortal man.

The Shadow Man strode through the gang of Ghouls with no opposition or resistance as he made his way to the front of them. Once The Shadow Man reached a several feet in front of the gangly Ghouls he immediately blocked their path by blocking the way off the Bridge.

Next he knelt down on one knee and plunged his hands deep into his torso. After a minute The Shadow Man pulled his hands out from with in his chest, and in them he held a small variety of colorfully decorated bowls. In each bowl there was some money, a piece or two of fruit, a tiny bit of tobacco, and several sticks of lit incense. The Shadow Man then proceeded to set the bowls down upon the Bridge’s deck spreading them out over approximately a yard or so before returning to a standing position once again.

To the Boy’s amazement as each of the abominations reached the end of the Bridge they each gravitated towards one of the bowls that the Shadow Man had laid down. The monstrous specters picked up each one of the bowls and carried it in their hands with their freakish fingers wrapped around it like mutated tree roots. Once the ghastly Ghoul had a bowl in their possession they crawled, slithered or dragged themselves  back onto the Bridge sinking back into the sickening Sludge. When the last of the gruesome Ghouls had descended from view succumbing to the Sludge the Bridge’s deck re-solidified instantly.

The Shadow Man walked purposefully over to the Boy. He then leaned down and whispered hoarsely

“Always be sure to put out an offering to feed The Hungry Ghosts”

Look For Valhalla Rising : The Boy and The Shadow Man COMING SOON.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Fake Doctors: Blah, Blah, Bullshit

Ever since I was a young child, I have been affected by other people’s emotions and thoughts. No I cannot read the minds of people that I do not know and most of the time cannot read the minds of people that I do know. Sometimes I wish I could; most of the time I’m glad I cannot do this the majority of the time.

Yet when I have felt the feelings of others, the majority of the time this has frightened me. This has caused me to turn to alcohol (mostly) and turn to drugs the remander of the times. Usually there is so much negativity when I enter a room or false hope or fake smiles, that I have a proclivity towards not really associating with the general public all that often. 

I have taken recent steps to try and change this. I cannot and will not shut these feelings off anymore with psychotropic drugs, legal or street, ever again. It is rather hard for me to accept these kind of things as being real or being a blessing instead of a curse but I know they do exist. People have tried to label me in the past as having depression or bipolar disorder or (name a disorder ) they’ve probably said, “Yes! You do have THIS!”.

 

Newsflash to all those wonderful people that wear the biggest masquerade ball mask of all! This would be psychatrists to those of who may be wearing a mask of your own.

First of all, I do not accept your practice as a genuine medical science. It is a cash cow. Simply put: We are all human. We all get depressed and anxious and have mood swings and get too happy for things that we shouldn’t be getting so happy about. 

Another reason I do not accept your practice as legitimate is due to the fact that while, yes, I have in fact met the definition of clinical depression in the past but all that antidepressants have done is either make me more depressed or caused side effects so great that the idea of facing the world in any way, shape or form was most undesired.

What you may ask are these side effects? Everything from numbing of the face to sharp pains in my side (presumably my kidney) to having auditory hallucinations (which included by were not limited to hearing all music and sound a semitone lower then what actually was occuring) to homicidal nightmares to headaches that lasted for weeks on end to not having the full functionality of my brain available to me. 

Of course, all doctors and professionals in their field will tell you to bear through the side effects and they will go away. However I have to much of my brain to go without my brain. I’m quick with my mouth and well when it takes 30 seconds to coming up with something clever or meaningful to say versus 2.3 seconds (or less), I am completely dull and worthless to myself and others. 

How then did this depression go away? I made a choice to at least try and be happy. Do things that make me happy. See people that make me happy. Listen to music that makes me happy. It’s pretty amazing how a bunch of little things add up sometimes to complete the puzzle. 

No, I’m not perfect. I still make tons of really stupid decisions but the level of stupidity is going downward. I am the most relaxed I have been in my entire life. 

I am not really afraid of anything except writing. I love to write and since my life is relatively simple now, there is no excuse for me to not drop everything when I get a thought or idea. I guess fear stops me. I’m scarred right now. lol. well not that much more tired. 🙂

I just wish more people could see things the way I do. I don’t want to get into all kinds of specifics right now though, I’m too tired to think much more and too private to reveal all my intracacies in a public blog. Or most people wouldn’t believe what I am saying, at least the ones that think they know me. 

And with that I say naught more. 

By SpaceDog 

A Peak Behind a Particular Pet Store’s Policy

It was a couple of years ago at this point that I walked into a particular Pet Store which I’d love to call out, and name said Pet Store but I won’t. Why You ask? The answer is I don’t want to run ANY RISK of some asshole reading this, and narcing Me out so then I get sued by this Pet Store for Slander/Defamation of Character.

Anyways I walked into this Pet Store because My Ball Python (Monty and if you get the reference give yourself a pat on the back. The Pet Store had one annoying issue which was even though they didn’t/don’t work on commission get right up in your fucking face like some possessed Used Car Salesman soon as you set a single foot on the floor.

This Employee (who I wouldn’t name here either, but I honestly have no idea what his actual name was/is) was a Assistant Manager or perhaps an actual Manager. He of course came striding up to me with a greasy fake smile that made him look like a fucking Child Molester on Meth and asked Me what I was looking for. I told Manny I was there for a couple of Mice, and Manny cut Me off at the knees. As soon as I said Mice I was going to get the fucking whole rigamarole about being a Snake Owner. What I mean by that is Manny cut me off to ask if the Mice were for Pets or Food and I of course said food.

At this time Pet Stores were considering what to do about the growing Public Opinion on the subject of Reptile Owners feeding live Rodents to their Pets. I won’t take but a moment to address this happy load of Horseshit. First off REPTILES EAT RODENTS, its a fucking FACT OF NATURE. You don’t fault a Nile Crocodile for killing a fucking Wilda Beast do you?!

Second as I wrote PREVIOUSLY there are Dead Frozen Rodents for sale (a half assed attempt to solve the growing tension as Reptile Owners prepared to go head to head and toe for toe with the General Public over the issue) BUT it requires all kinds of nasty prep work because they Reptile will only eat its Prey if its either alive or has just died mere moments ago. You won’t  find a Zoo Staff feeding Frozen TV fucking Diners to their Lions and  other Big Cats housed there would you?!! If you don’t get what I’m saying here just think about it for a few minutes.

Instead of acting like a self righteous, judgmental piece of ignorant shit in gauged Me in a conversation pertaining sole to My wanting Live Mice to feed a hungry snake. It is pertinent that I mention here for those of you who aren’t aware Male Rats / Male Mice fight constantly which results in serious injuries, I mean think about how sharp their teeth are (not to mention they also have 5 sets of claws so having those are well handy in a fight.) Manny went on to mention that they had the issue with their Stock of Mice/Rats.

See No Pet Store is going to pay a $40-$60 for an initial Vets Visit for a $1.99 Mouse or $4.99 Rat. They also aren’t going to have their employees medicating the injured Rodents with liquid Antibiotics for 7-14 days while applying Topical Ointment. Now on the other hand they also can’t sell the injured Rodents because No One would buy one, No One wants damaged goods. So what can They do about it. At this point in time One Major Pet Store Chain Stopped carrying Live Rodents altogether while another simply decided not to sell Male Rodents as their the aggressive sex. Yet that is Now and this was back When.

Manny continued on to tell me that the Pet Store would be willing to sell Me the injured Mice at a Discount because as far as the business was concerned some money beats no money, but it had to be on the Down Low as the Pet Store didn’t want to upset the General Public. Manny went on to mention that this Pet Store’s policy was if they couldn’t unload them at a discount to Reptile Pet Owner’s they would crate them back up and send them to be Euthanized I’m sure they got a deal for bulk.

I took Manny up on the Back Door Deal of unloading injured Mice for profit and promptly left. I returned a few weeks later again in need of a few Live Mice to feed My Snake (well one of them, it was the Ball Python again as it were.) ,and because of the semi shady grey area the Pet Store was operating in I asked for Manny much like meeting your Pot Dealer at their place of employment. Turned out that Manny wasn’t working that day so another Employee asked how they could help me? Not wanting to possibly get into a heated confrontation with this Employee on the subject of feeding Reptiles Live Rodents (or Prey Animals) I figured fuck it and just went for it.

I told the Employee about My previous arrangement with Manny and it went over like a Pregnant Nun in Church as some would say.They Employee was first and foremost on of those impractical Anti-Live Feed People so that was no help. Second while the grimace on her fucking face showed her disgust for Reptile Owners on the issue of Live-Feed her eyes where busy narcing her out. Her eyes told Me that she damn well knew about the injured Rodent Unofficial Policy, BUT she also knew it was her job to totally deny it. And thats exactly what she did she feigned Shock and Disbelief at what I had said, and then informed no such policy existed (and if Manny did make a deal he was acting on his own, an employee gone rouge if you will.)

I respond by tell the Employee that I didn’t believe a fucking thing she said, and that as far as her personal views on Live Feeding that she needs to keep them to her fucking self (at least while on the job AT A FUCKING PET STORE LIKE AN ASSHOLE) I then told her the issue was far from fucking over and left.

If your pissed I didn’t name this Pet Store I can tell you this. This National Pet Store Chain’s Name STARTS WITH PET and ends in Well you can figure it out based on that I’m sure (or damn well close enough.)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Dr. Ignoramus’s Monumental Misdiagnosis Results in Near Death

Recently my Heart tried to kill me since the Chain Smoking, Binge Drinking, Shitty Diet, Shooting Heroin, Smoking Crack, Other Assorted Narcotics, and Hepatitis C couldn’t get the job done first. Ironically the issue with my Damnable Heart is more than likely due to my prior Drug use earlier in My wayward Youth. As usual People tell Me I’d feel better off if I wrote about whatever it is currently vexing the shit out of me (like My Hellish Heart) if I write about it. Well no shit Sherlock. The reason I never would have mentioned My Shitty Heart scenario is because its none of anyones fucking business but Mine, and I’ll handle it so Everyone Piss Off. I also hate People who always seem to be bitching about there fucking health always seeking sympathy. I don’t need nor want anyones sympathy.

Well with that said I’m using this post as an Acid Test to see if in this case writing about it helps, so We will see here We go….

I had been having increasing trouble breathing to the point it was disrupting My Sleep and Appetite. At this point even though I detest no despise Doctor’s, Hospitals, Health Insurance Companies, and Medical Testing decided it was time to check things out (though I was already convinced there was nothing to worry about so I’d get it checked out.) I ended up at a Local Hospitals Urgent Care Satellite Office because Hospitals are now desperately trying to cash in on the Walk-In Urgent Care Field.

This makes perfect sense as Hospital ER’s are loosing increasing amounts of income due to the fact people opt for Urgent Care Clinic’s (usually because of convince and most of all Price. You see as soon as you walk into an ER your tab starts at $1,000 and thats just for utilizing the ER everything else they do costs extra as every fucking thing they due is itemized and comes with a hefty price tag. $22 for a fucking 800mg Aspirin?! I mean its fucked up as a patient you get charged just for occupying a semi private room for $1,200 – $1,500 a day like some Wealthy Elite 5 Star resort in fucking Dubai. Well Back to the Story.

I checked in, and was escorted promptly to an Examination room. A couple of minutes later the Office’s Physician’s Assistant (or PA for short) who is one rung lower on the Medical Ladder than an actual Doctor came in. I explained what was going on and based on what I said He decided the best course of action was to run a Cardiac Work Up which is standard practice for anyone presenting with the medical definition of Chest Pain. To Me Pain fucking Hurts, so a what I deemed a minor respiratory issue doesn’t constitute Chest Pain, but in the World of Medicine it does so fuck me.

There 3 parts to a Cardiac Work-Up the first being a EKG to monitor your hearts current behavior, a Cardiac Blood Panel, and a Series of Chest X-Rays which they did. Now based on the Combined Test results this imbecile of a PA diagnosis me with fucking Anxiety, Gives me a fistful of asinine Ativan, and told me to look into seeing a Shrink.

What He should have done was send me immediately directly to the closest ER for Admittance, in spite of preforming the correct Tests He made a gross and grave misdiagnosis.

Case in point, I saw that ignorant Idiot on a Wednesday, and on the Morning of the following Monday I was being admitted to the Hospital via the ER as Doctors/Nurses scrambled to treat me as I was in danger of going into massive cardiac arrest followed most likely by death even though at that point I was surrounded by The Hospital’s assorted Medical Staff.

Since My Recovery I have contacted the 2 Agencies of the American Medical Association has in place to handle complaints by investigating the Patient’s claims. Doctors hate these 2 Agencies because they actually fear the fuck out of them. Thats because BOTH AGENCIES can level hefty fines, suspend the Doctor’s Medical license, and Even Revoke The Doctor’s License thus ending their career. I called and filed a complaint with BOTH Agencies. I have not yet decided wether or not to pursue a Medical Malpractice Law Suit, BUT I did find out the Statute of Limitation in which I have to file a  Suit if I so wish.

Thats All. Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober