DAY OF WRATH

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring DAY OF WRATH by Content Creator My Happiest Days. Now it has been a While Since We Dived Head First down a Dark and Ominous Rabbit Hole to Find Some Serious Weird fucking Shit. Well the Wait is Over as We went Hunting into the Ether for Truly Bizarre WTF Type Content. Then We stumbled Across the VERY SMALL Channel called My Happiest Days and Were Quite Intrigued by Content on the Channel Though there isn’t Much.

CHANNEL STATS:

  • Subs: 3.2k
  • Joined: July 16, 2021
  • Total Views: 54,102
  • Total Number of Videos: 14
  • About Section: Blank

           

SHIT WE FIGURED OUT (Or At Least We Think We fucking Did):

  • The Theme of the Channel According to One of the Posted Videos is the Following: “In Late 2017 I found a Huge Cardboard Box filled with VHS Tapes My Dad made During the Late 70s and Early 80s.”
  • The Binary Code in the Video Translates  “ONE WITH THE MACHINE”
  •  The Date August 12, 1981 was the Day that the IBM Personal Computer was Released.
  • At 0:08 the White Text is a Quote from Zephaniah 1:8-18 which We Believe has something to do with the DAY OF WRATH’s Theme.
  • We Believe the Sound in the Background is in fact a Slowed and Distorted Version of Dies Irae which means “Day of Wrath”. And We also Believe that Dies Irae was a Hymn that was Sung at Funerals back in Olden Times.
  • 0:25 It Says  “You will always have the Poor among You, but You will Not Always have Me.”

              

 

 

It is What it Is,

 Presented By Les Sober

Behind Dreams Mask

Welcome to Todays FYB Post Featuring BEHIND DREAMS MASK by the One and Only MeatCanyon.  MeatCanyon who’s Real Name is Hunter August Hancock better know by His online user name MeatCanyon. Hancock is an American Youtuber, Animator, Voice Actor, Comedian, Writer, and Director who makes Parody Animations of Popular Characters (say Sponge Bob for instance). Some viewers of MeatCanyon’s Animations  have been Described them in just One Single Word “Horrifying”. A common on going gag in Hancock’s video’s is that Something Normal or Mundane gets You Killed or Possible Worse.

Synopsis: Raise ing a Teenager can be a Living fucking Hell with the Raging Hormones, Shitty Attitude, and Every Other Unpleasant Attribute Known to Man. But for a Single Father His Teenage Son’s Transformation from a Child to an Adult turns into a Horrific Nightmare.

It is What it is,

  Presented By Les Sober

My Dad is Dead and My Uncle Donny is a DICK.

It’s No Secret that The 2 Sides of My Family are as Opposite as Night and fucking Day Believe You Me. While My Mother’s Side of the Family is Close, Supportive, and Loving My Father’s Family were/are Cold, Closed Off, and Insanely Self fucking Centered.

I have never Visited My Uncle Donny and His Family (Wife and 2 Kids) at His House not Once Not Ever. To be fair My Uncle and His Family only Visited My Family’s House for a Total of Twice. My Grandmother You see lived in The Big City that just so happened to be right around the Half Way between Our Family and My Uncles. Needless to say We utilized My Grandmother’s location to No End.

Every 5-6 Months We would all load up in the Car and Drive the 90 Minutes to My Grandmothers where We would meet Up with My Uncle and His Family. We’d sit around in Virtual Silence just Staring at the fucking Walls like Our Own Personal Waiting Room in Purgatory. The whole thing was Horribly Mind Numbing to say the Least.

       

Finally either My Father or My Uncle would decide it had been Long Enough sitting Idly around My Grandmothers Small 1 Bed Room Apartment, and We would head out to a Chinese Restaurant, but usually We just Frequented a Near By Italian Restaurant. The Meal would be almost exactly the same as Sitting Around My Grandmother’s Apartment like a bunch of Irrational Assholes. The only difference was the Setting and The Food other than That the Social Dynamic NEVER CHANGED.

My Uncle Donny spent a Majority of His time during these Estranged Visits catering to His Demanding High Maintenance Wife who I will refer to as Picky which She was in Spades. Picky was a OG Drama Queen who not only was a Legend in Her own fucking feeble Mind She was the most Self Centered Person I have ever Encountered.

My Brother and I hung out with Each other to help Pass the Tension of Time since My Uncles Kids were as Socially Outgoing as Their Shitty Parents. The Daughter who was the Eldest of the Two I believe truly meant well She just didn’t have a fucking Clue how to Navigate through this Certain Shit Show. She ended up getting Married and has a couple Kids I think, but We have NEVER Communicated outside or since the Joint Visits to My Grandmother’s, and that goes for the ENTIRE fucking Family for that Matter.

       

My Uncle Donny’s Son was a Silent as They come which People wrote off to Him being Seriously Introverted and thus rather Socially Awkward. I’m still waiting to See Him on the News for being Arrested as a Prolific Serial Killer. Socially Awkward My Ass He’s a fucking Sociopath. I heard years ago He was working in the City and Shit got out of Control, and He returned Home all fucked up in the Head. The Last I Heard He works in fucking Thai Land where He has some Day Job and at Night He Kills Prostitutes which would be far easier to do in a SMALL 3rd WORLD COUNTRY (Just Saying).

My Uncle was (He is Retired Now though I don’t know for How Long since I have No Idea when He actually Retired) a Lawyer’s Lawyer. Self Involved, Money Worshipping, Reputation Driven, Success Obsessed Egotistical Son of a Bitch. He lived for His Work and seems to care NOTHING about Anyone Else or Anything that doesn’t directly relate to Him. I’m not kidding.

He NEVER contacted My Father, My Father always had to reach out to Him. Once My Father finally caught Up with His Brother all My Uncle Donny would do is Talk about whatever the fuck was going on Currently in His Life. It was all about Him, His Job, His Friends, His Family, His Wife Etc. HE NEVER ASKED MY FATHER HOW HE OR WE WERE because My asshole Uncle could have Cared Less. My Father over time began to reach out less and less until He came to the Conclusion trying to Maintain a relationship (even if its just VIA the Phone/Email) simply WASN’T WORTH IT. His Brother was a Life Long Douchebag, and Had No Intention of Ever Trying to Change. Once a DICK Always a DICK as Some Say.

       

Now I know this sounds like just some Run of the Mill fucked Up Family Issues, (Let’s face it where there’s Family there’s going to be Issues), BUT as a Rule of Thumb Family sticks Together. The Point Being You have to Love Your Family, YET You Don’t have to Like Them.

My Father was Diagnosed with Terminal Liver Cancer and Fought it for the Better Part of a Year before Finally Succumbing. When My Father Died it fell on His Second Wife’s Shoulders to be the preverbal Bearer of Bad News. Of course the First People She contacted were Family Members and that included My Asshole Uncle who had Done little to Nothing even after Learning His only Brother was Terminally Ill.

My Father’s Second Wife called My Asshole of an Uncle to inform Him of HIs Brother’s Passing, BUT first and foremost She spent 15 fucking Minutes waiting for mY Uncle to remember Who the Hell She was. Once the My Idiot Uncle remembers Who She is She tells Him My Father Died, and the First fucking thing out of His fucking Mouth is and I fucking Quote “Well We Can’t Make It To The Funeral.”

       

Now Mind You My FAther’s Second Wife NEVER SAID If there was Going to be a Traditional Funeral (which it wasn’t as mY Father wasn’t Religious, fuck He didn’t want an Obituary either), Where it Would Be, or What the Time and Date would be. He just immediately Stated He (and His fucked up Family) WOULDN’T be There. None of My Family Member nor Myself ever Heard any Condolences of Any Sort from My Uncle, No Letter, No Email, No Phone We received a whole shit ton of Absolutely NOTHING.

Who the fuck Wouldn’t be Upset by Their Only Brother’s Untimely Demise, and more over WHO THE FUCK WOULN’T ATTEND THE FUCKING FUNERAL OR TALK WITH FELLOW GRIEVING FAMILY MEMBERS??!

My Asshole Uncle Donny Thats fuck Who Apparently. I have vowed that if I ever have the Misfortune of Laying Eyes on the Miserable Sack of Shit again in My Life I’m going to Punch the Fucker right in His fucking Face. The ironic thing is the Asshole moved not Only to The Great Southern Swamp when I resided there, BUT He moved to a Town that was 20 minutes from My fucking House.

One part of Me was Thankful I didn’t know when I was Living there because I didn’t get in Trouble because You better believe if I hit the Filthy Fuck He’d call the Piece of Shit Police. The Other Part of Me thought “WHO the fuck Moves 20 minutes away from a Fellow Family Member and DOESN’T Mention it to Them?!”

MY ASSHOLE UNCLE DONNY THAT’S WHO.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

Similarity Of Father and Son

One Person I rarely talk about is My Deceased Father. While it is True that from My Teens through My Twenties We had a very Tumultuous relationship (and that’s a fucking understatement) We reconciled luckily quite a few Years before He died of Liver Cancer. What the fuck is with Cancer Nowadays in Particular? All I mean is it seems like everyone I hear about Dying Died of some fucking Form of Cancer, and now all I’m left thinking is Jesus the Entire fucking World gives You Cancer or at least has the Potential to. For now though I digress.

There was one aspect of Life that My Father and I always had in Common was a Desire to Enjoy the World Alone. What I mean is My Father always woke up at an Ungodly Hour in the Morning (Typically 4 am), and Loved it. I on the Other Hand was the Polar Opposite in I was a True Night Owl who generally was going to Bed as My Father was getting out of His.

     

We discovered many Years down the Line that the reason that My Father loved the earliest Hours of the Morning, and I Enjoy the Latest Hours of the Night was the EXACT SAME REASON. The Reason was that at Both Times the World was Simply Still Asleep.

It’s actually Peaceful as No One is Awake to Bother You. The Hassles of the Day  haven’t begone Their Daily Grind. You don’t have to contend with all the fucking Noise Society Creates and Generates during the Coarse of the Day/A Day. Your Cell Phone falls Silent No Texts, No Calls, No Emails, nor DMs/IMs Won’t be coming for a While at least. Held at Bay with Time hough only Temporarily.

       

The Cars are Quiet, and So Are the Other Machines. The Construction/Landscaping Equipment such as Industrial Mowers and Gas Powered Weed Whackers along with Power Tools, and Dump Trucks, Cranes, or Bulldozers. Road Crews  Jackhammering away at Old Asphalt Only to replace it with Scolding Hot and Pungent Fresh Asphalt.  18 Wheelers haven’t started Rambling Down Roads and Clogging Up Highways while Spewing Whisps of Foul Black Smoke. At these Times the World has Gone Silent, Dormant, Waiting for Its Return to Action.

At These Times One can Think Clearly in the Zen like Still of a Muted World. For My Father it was in Preparation for the Day at hand While I End My Day unwinding from the Day’s Trials and Tribulations.

       

For once the Day revives Itself it will Crank Out Oceans of Chaos Continuously until It’s next Period of Rest. The Stress and Strain of Social Constrains Cripples Consciouses, Constrains Reason, Lowers Logic, Alienates Intelligence, Ethics Eroded, Morals Mangled, Dreams Suspended, Over Powering People’s Personalities, Itemizing Identities, and Slowly Slaughtering Souls.

For Now I bide My Time until I can Be Myself without Limitations or Laws, Judgements or Persecutions. I wait for the World to Once Again Succumbe to Slumber.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

The Paradox of Family

Along the course of one’s life they will experience a multitude of different people. Some of the individuals will have a nasty and negative affect while others will have a productive and positive influence. There lies a third personality that will knock you down into a sea of negativity only then to throw you a life preserver. I am not a person who grew up with bullies for me that third personality which influenced me to become the core of who I am through both negativity as well as positivity during my grade school years would be my father Stephen Lawrence. My father was my hero and at the same time my tormenter as I grew up.
The most positive characteristic of my father’s that helped me become the man that I have would be that he was well educated he graduated high school, college, got his masters in English, and went on to teach English at Temple University. Now one must remember a person can be well educated , but that doesn’t mean they are intelligent. My father had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge that lead him to be a prolific reader averaging up to three or four books a week. My father read up on a myriad of subjects, fiction and non fiction alike, to satisfy his intellectual curiosities. My father also became extremely interested in cooking and decided to teach himself using cooking shows as well as reading cooking books. By the end of his life he was truly an accomplished chef. My father also loved to travel. He traveled everywhere from Costa Rica to France but he never wanted to be the generalized cliche American tourist. My father taught himself Spanish, French, and Italian for the purpose of being able to converse with the locals as opposed to just being able to hail a taxi or find a bathroom.
I am proud to say that this thirst for knowledge has greatly influenced my life to this very day so much so that I used to joke that I must have been a cat in all of my previous lives. My father taught me to not only question anything and everything, but to research the facts, pertaining to a subject for myself. I’m definitely a “Must see it to believe it” person. Thanks to my father, I also share his enjoyment of learning. Whatever it may be that sparked his passion for knowledge; I am the same way. The best way I can sum up my father’s and my pursuit of knowledge is thus “No one ended up on their death bed wishing they didn’t know so much.”
Unfortunately the worst personality trait of my father was his terrible and intimidating temper. My father would loudly criticize the other party and then he could/would hold a grudge for up to and including decades. My father was also fond of his own version of the cold shoulder. He started the usual way of just coldly ignoring the person he was angry with, but periodically he would walk past the person he had taken issue with and glare at them with intense contempt and unparalleled disgust. He would maintain this icy stare until he was recognized at which point after a minute or so of unholy silence he simply would walk away not saying a single word. My father could get himself so enraged that even the most honest heartfelt apology would accomplish nothing. The issue was only considered resolved when my father was satisfied with the current state of affairs. Then and only then was the argument over. With my father it was never his fault for anything. It was always someone else complicating his life with nonsense, and this served as a constant and all encompassing excuse for his tremendous temper. My father was born with the proverbial chip on his shoulder and nurtured a “The world vs. Me” attitude.
I’m sad to say that I inherited in many ways my father’s abominable anger. I can be criticizing to the point of cruelty, but unlike my father I do not indulge in the cold shoulder concept. Instead of being cold I come in hot and only get hotter as my anger feeds upon itself growing more enraged with each passing minute. Unlike my father who was above insult and profanity I am most certainly not. When angry I swear like a sailor with Tourettes and have no trouble lowering myself to the low level of hurling insults upon one’s character. I, like my father, will only be satisfied when I feel the issue has reached its end and then in my mind it is actually over. Yet through all of this my father’s ill temper has also helped me become a better person in the end. I’m fully aware that my temper greatly mimics my father’s, but once I turned thirty I realized I don’t want or need to be like my father when anger rears its combative face. I started (and still am) working on my anger issues and how I can /could learn to control them before I totally become unhinged to say the least. Now to give credit where credit is due my father attempted and succeeded greatly to control his own anger, but he didn’t start this so called transformation of character until he turned 61. Part of my realization has been, if he could change at 61 then I have the opportunity to not only change my ways, but to do it with a thirty year advantage.
Another major influence my father had on me was his fear of illness as my father was a consummate hypochondriac. My father never had just a common cold he always had cancer. Thats to say my when my father got sick he would immediately go to the worst case scenario and then act accordingly. My father convinced himself he got sicker more often, for longer periods of time, and had the most severe symptoms out of anyone he knew who may have contracted the cold thus far. My father also made a point of making it abundantly clear that he was suffering each and every time he got sick as if he expected that at any given moment he would end up an invalid on his death bed due to his current horrendous state of heath. I possess the same brand of hypochondria with a few exceptions.
Growing up with my father instilled an intense instinct to remain healthy. If my wife or coworker for example were coming down with a cold/flu I automatically go into decontamination mode. I will start to take excessive amounts of vitamins, spray down communal areas with thick clouds of Lysol disinfectant, obsessively wash my hands, and avoid the infected person as much as humanly possible. When I do contract a cold I too assume the worst and begin to compulsively monitor my symptoms for signs of improvement constantly until my previous good health is restored in full.
I think the most admirable thing about my father was his incredibly strong work ethic. When my father took on a task/job or had a specific goal he wanted to achieve nothing short of death could stop him from accomplishing task/job or completing his goal. My father never procrastinated, delayed or did anything half way, for my father it truly was all or nothing. My father gave a hundred percent while staying intently focused on the work at hand, and if the job in the end wasn’t a hundred percent then the job was a total and complete failure. My father knew failure was unavoidable and he none the less detested it.
My father’s incredible work ethic is more than likely the strongest influence my father had on me growing up. When I have a task/job or goal to accomplish I too have to give it a hundred percent or nothing. I won’t let anything get in my way either and will not stop working from the beginning to the end relentlessly. With that said the influence of my father’s work ethic has a definite up side, but it also for me has a detrimental downside as well. I have unintentionally become the most ferocious perfectionist which causes me to be extremely hard on myself. I am most critical of myself above anyone else to the point which I beat myself up over the littlest things making mountains out of mole hills as the saying goes. I at some point along the road decide that nothing so far is any good and I can convince myself the entire project is flawed thus rendering it a futile waste of time and effort.
Once again we can see life is far from being simply black and white. In fact most of life falls into an enormous grey area. While it is true there will be specifically negative influences such as bullies or bad bosses, also there will be positive ones such as siblings or significant others. Most people you encounter will have a mixed influence upon your life and character. There will be some good along with some bad. It all comes down to the following: no matter who or what the influence may be, remember you can take what you like from the situation and leave all the rest behind.