Saturday, July 18, 2015
It’s a miracle I’ve remained this surprisingly normal.
I roll my eyes at many of you who aren’t trying nearly hard enough.
When all else fails, make fun of Asians.
DANCE AND ART AND LOVE AND SEX. DANCE AND ART AND LOVE AND SEX. DANCE AND ART AND LOVE AND SEX.
Clint Eastwood. On Westoil. (Explanation: Bill Clinton. Opposite of wood heating is oil heating). Fuck you, it was something.
Things you don’t hear often: A 29 year old man exclaiming: “HEY MOM! I GOT MY PERIOD!”
Did you touch my cats bunghole?
Who is the cool ass person in the English language who went and made sure that Granny’s and panties rhymed? That dude deserves credit.
When a chicken goes to heaven, it gets its chicken wings. It can choose hot or mild, and only hope it isn’t eating one of its relatives.
Advice to live by: Don’t ever shower with your grandmother.
Can you knock me off this writer’s block? I don’t think so. I’m balanced out by this chip on my shoulder.
Like a woodstove with a burning fire inside had sex with a hot female burlesque artist writer. Then, that kid grew up and mated with a spoon or fork. That’s what I’m like.
Writing is a great outlet. Now go stick a fork in it and create something magical.
The jester jokes, but speaks more truth than the politician. The politician, serious as all can be, creates more absurdity and laughs for anyone truly listening.
Don’t waste time attempting to jam your square peg life into the round hole society it doesn’t fit into.
Some things in life are private. Your income, email passwords, and parts.
Some of us they don’t have, some of us they can’t fool. No matter how hard they try, the mind of a true rebel will not buy into the bullshit. Stay rebellious.
There’s a large difference between misunderstood and insane. Some people don’t understand this. They might be insane.
There are the ballers that are there once in a while. There are the ballers that are there most weeks. There are the ballers that are there every week. Then, there are the ballers that are there every week and have been there every week for years.
They prey on the naïve and hopeful and those that don’t know any better…those innocent to the idea, those have yet to be jaded. The young of mind, naïve. The ones you have no bad intentions, those who are happy to be doing it, the ones wanting to live their dream. They take advantage of that type of thing. Be careful out there in the workforce. Be careful out there in the world.
Recycled humanity. Forever replaced. An unending cycle. But the same fears, flaws, emotions, feelings. Has it changed? Have we? Love, hate, sex. Continues on…forever. Recycled humanity, molds the same, feelings similar, not that much different. Recycled, replaced, reused.
My blood is young and won’t be replaced.
Two men meet up. They both have strong colognes on. There they are. Two men with competing colognes. Who will win? Definitely not us people sitting here having to smell this.
It’s time they just change the name to Fakebook.
I’ll hit you in the head with a fuckin piece of wood. Don’t worry, it will be fully seasoned. I know what I am doing. I wouldn’t dare hit you with some newly downed green piece. You must season the wood at least six months before hitting someone in the head with it. You will be able to tell the wood is ready to hit someone in the head with once you can notice cracks on the outside, and once the color becomes darker and more grey like. You will also be able to tell when it is time to hit someone in the head with the wood once the bark starts somewhat flaking off. Wood that still has a strong smell is too green to be hitting someone in the head with, wait until the wood has lost it’s strong scent before banging skulls with it. If you want to get really technical, you can buy a wood moisture reader and it will tell you the exact moisture content. You don’t want to hit someone in the head with wood that is any more than 20% water content. That wood is not ready to hit someone in the head with yet. It is best to leave the wood outside for at least six months, better if it is more like a year, before hitting someone in the head with it. You will also know that the wood is ready to hit someone in the head with when if you knock two pieces together, they make a loud, higher pitched crack sound. If you hit two pieces together and it sounds more like a thud, the pieces are not ready to hit someone in the head with yet. Cut the wood to the proper length perfect for handling so you can pick it up and hit someone in the head with it. Properly stack and cover the wood outside and let the wind and sun get to it. Then, in the right time, you will be able to use this wood to hit someone in the head with. Either that, or you can be really boring and just burn this wood in your woodstove. I’m not sure why you would do that, though, You don’t want to be wasting perfectly good, seasoned wood by burning it in a woodstove when you can be knocking bitches in the noggin’ with it.
Working in a Chinese restaurant, while walking in to the walk-in, Christopher Walken walked in to Wok Ein.
Llani is literally illiterate, llike a llama. Llike that? I sensed a lull in your llaughter. Llesbian. That last one doesn’t even go with it, but I lleft it.
Why is fire any more special than shit? Because of what it can give us? Why is fire more amazing than poop? I know all of what fire can do for us, but when you really get down to it, these things are only as special as we think they are. Fire and that lily pad are equal in a cosmic sense, just as humans are equal with a piece of a rabbit’s fingernail. It is only what we believe that makes them special. I guess what I’m getting at is that those amazing stars above us that we will never truly figure out aren’t any more special, unique, awe inspiring, or amazing than the idea of air pushing out of your uncle’s asshole so that everyone at the dinner table has to smell shit. This guy, and that lady, in a larger sense, are equal, and they are equally as awe inspiring as that moose you saw one time in the woods in it’s natural habitat. These things are all amazing. The greats works of art, that poem you read once that changed how you thought of things is in a way, no more special than a 12 year old writing dick joke graffiti at the playground. Drink up, this is life, enjoy all this random shit for what it is. Random shit. Nothing we understand or ever will. We sometimes think we do.
Let me save you some time: She aint mysterious. There aint nothing magical to figure out. She’s just fucked up.
Toys.R.Us. I want to come out with a more grammatically correct toy store called We Are Toys.
Some 20 something girl sings lines she didn’t write, think, or feel into a microphone out in California and makes millions.
Chinese is more ching chong ching, while Japanese is more wing wong wing.
I like those who get over in spite of the system instead of because of it.
Raw, real, unfiltered, naked, alive, free, ravage, animal, sweat, love, spit, taste, kissing, intense, heat, passion, fucking, feel, insanity, orgasm, explosion, intensity, nothing like it
My beard now reaches my nipple. I win.
Shut up Bob Dylan, I’m trying to listen to Tracy Chapman.
Shut up Obama, I’m trying to hear George Carlin.
Shut up people, I’m trying to hear life.
There are about 7 people worth listening to in life.
You always hear about world hunger, but you never hear about world thirst.
You can get violently close to someone.
A Pepsi logo painted into a bomb hole in Afghanistan.
Dad as we are driving down North Houghton Street and some lady walks across the street, “Marge is still alive, wow!”
Actual tagline to a movie, “One machines journey to become his own man.”
What worries you more…midgets or gingers?
I look like Johnny Depp. Just not as ugly.
Swim With The Dead Fish
Fall in line, mother fucker. Do as your told. Never expect to be treated as you should, and damn you for thinking that perhaps people would treat you as well, if not better, than you treat them. Don’t work hard at work, it is never appreciated, and it is definitely never rewarded, less given a thank you for. Don’t go above and beyond. Be mediocre. Fit right in. Swim with the dead fish. Let the flow take you. Don’t fight it. The undertow of mediocrity knows how to pull you in. One man being different, one man being brilliant, one man being special, out of the norm - himself, will never change the course of the stream. The heavy tide is too much. The pull of the masses makes it so. Fall in line. Do as you are told. Swim. Swim with those dead fish. Let the waters of banality take you. Succumb to how they are, how they have made it, never reach for anything more. Just go with it. You will not win this fight. Tread on, in their direction. Never take your own path, never go your own way. They don’t like that. Follow the way it has been already set. Do it. Go with what they know, not what you know. Don’t question. Fall in line, mother fucker.
I wish only to change the world.
Thanks for reading.
at 9:24 PM