Wednesday, August 9, 2017

RE: gಠ_ಠgle

That Google Memo is causing a major shitstorm on the intertubes. I feel like it is super relevant right now, considering the current dumpster fire's White House's attempt to cull equal rights and affirmative action.

Now this guy, James Damore (henceforth lovingly referred to as JD Fuckington III) says a whole lot of really stupid shit in his memo. I mean A LOT. I mean his stupidity is close to Next White House Communications Director level. Let's take a look at some of the dumbest things this guy wrote.

1. Women on average show a higher interest in people and men in things

WOOGIE WHAT? "Women be Shoppin'" is the like the number one most sexist joke on the face of the planet. You can't usually buy people, so what the fuck does he think women be shopping for? Even the most spartan of women have at least 30 pairs of shoes. What's worse is that he even goes on to say "Considering women spend more money than men". Which is it, Mr. Fuckington?

2. Women on average are more cooperative

AGAIN, DA FUCK? "Women always wanna be right" is like the number two most sexist joke on the face of the planet. If a woman ever seems cooperative at the work place, its probably because you're not listening or ignoring them when they speak. Not to mention Stereotype Threat, where a woman is more likely to remain silent or under perform because, oh, assholes like Mr. Fuckington think they aren't capable of doing their job!

Two statements in and I've come to a bit of a conclusion: This person has never actually met a woman.

3. Discriminating just to increase the representation of women in tech is as misguided and biased as mandating increases for women’s representation in the homeless, work-related and violent deaths, prisons, and school dropouts.

I'm sorry Mr. Fuckington, WHAT? Are you seriously saying that attempting to get more Women into a lucrative career (to normal human beings, this is usually a good thing) is equivalent to wanting women to experience more homelessness, more prison sentences, and more DEATHS?

4. Reconsidering any set of people if it’s not “diverse” enough, but not showing that same scrutiny in the reverse direction (clear confirmation bias)

What kind of oxymoronic bullshit is this? This is basically the "All Lives Matter" of diversity hiring. So because the company strives to have more diverse workers, they also have to strive to have less diverse workers or it is discrimination? How does this even qualify as confirmation bias???

5. These programs are highly politicized which further alienates non-progressives.

Diversity programs alienates Conservatives? Conservatives, as Mr. Fuckington himself stated with a huge superiority boner, who are against change? You mean to tell me, that attempting to change an industry which is dominated by men by taking active steps to include women alienates men who are afraid of change?

Mr. Fuckington's memo is text book White Male Supremacy. His thesis relies solely on studies that HE misunderstood, the assumption that everyone thinks that women and minorities are biologically inferior and that we should stop trying to shoe horn them into positions they don't deserve. This idea that a non-white non-male can't do the job causes an unrealistic expectation of perfection that no white man ever has to experience (Again, Stereotype Threat).

Example: Mass Effect Andromeda. Somehow, a studio which has made dozens of games, with dozens of staff, where only maybe 50% of them were actually good, their latest lame game somehow was blamed on, YOU GUESSED IT: 3 non-white non-male employees. How nice is it to be able to exist in society and fuck up and just be a fuck up? When a white guy gets a job, fucks up, and is fired, we move on in our lives. But let a woman or a minority fuck up and suddenly a company should re-think their hiring practices.

There was HBR Article on how, get this, Diversity negatively effects White Men! Now don't get me wrong, I know there are poorly implemented diversity initiatives which look to fill quotas and have shady hiring practices. Do I feel bad that a white dude thinks he won't get a job because he is not the right gender or color? FUCK NO!

99.99999% of the time for every aspect of their lives, white men have been and will be the right gender and color. They've had the benefit of being white men since time immemorial. The purpose of diversity initiatives are not to introduce people to industries where they do not belong, but to make up for the fact that White Men in positions of power have deliberately kept women and minorities from getting the education and support to excel in these industries. If they wanna whine about having to deal with "adversity" because of their skin color and gender, they need to remember that there are brilliant mathematicians who are still alive today who couldn't even use the same fucking bathroom.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Cradle Attraction

My wife and I are constantly debating whether we are going to have children. Will we adopt? Will we conceive? Can we conceive? We're nearing the age where it may be too late to have children, for many reasons. Reasons such as not wanting to be the geriatric lech "accused" of staring at the young girls during high school graduation. But one things for certain, it's a decision we'll need to make soon.

As a man it's pretty simple to just launch a couple of sailors into the abyss and wait for the treasure, but the real work falls on The Woman. That's a 9 month burden she will have to bear, and heaven forbid she make a god damned decision about it. One moment she's like "You know, i'd rather not have a human parasite burst from my pelvis" and the next she's like "I WANT TO BE PREGNANT RIGHT NOW" and burns her birth control in a dark fertility ritual.

If it only were so simple.
We've also talked about the option of adoption. I mean it has it's advantages. You can bypass 9 months of pregnancy hell, possibly even the stages of diaper diarrhea, projectile vomit, and toddler mayhem. I am always torn on that front, however. I definitely want to sire a new being with my Super Sperm. Who doesn't want to look down at a sweet little bundle of joy and proudly say "I created that with my penis and the soulful voice of Maxwell."

The wife assures me i'll have the same bond with an adopted child that I would with my own. "It'll be like with Beau" she says, forgetting that I am rational person and that as much as I love my doggo to death, I still see him as a damned dog. She's right though, I would love the adopted child as my own, but IF AND ONLY IF I am allowed to dramatically reveal that we are not their birth parents at some point.

Probably with more explosions

I get jealous sometimes, when I see parents out with their kids doing all kinds of fun things. I think about my own childhood; all the great things I experienced, all things I missed out on. I think about the chance to make up for that with my own kids. I think about my brother and his daughters and how much joy they bring each other. I think I would be a great dad! We'd do all kinds of cool stuff. Go to museums and to see movies, play in the park, solve mysteries. It could subject the poor child to all of my fiendish whims!

On the other hand, I think about having to be responsible for another human life. Sometimes I debate not getting off my own ass to handle my own basic needs, how can I be expected to handle the needs of a child? Hell I almost murdered my wife and I the other night making rice. FUCKING RICE. I see those stories about the horrible gamer parents and I don't think "Wow how unfortunate" I think "Well shit what If that happens to me?" That's not a good sign people! That's a lot of pressure for one inept man to handle.

The wife and I think about if we're ready to bring a child into this world. I mean, I already hate most people on this pathetic blue pearl. But with a child, I would have to actively interact with even more of them, including the murderers, rapists, furries and libertarians. As a black man, I already fear that some fragile white person will decide that I must die in order for them to not suffer a minor inconvenience, so it's not easy to contemplate subjecting my child to that fear.  Bringing another life into this world is like going to a really shitty party where people are literally dying and then calling someone up and telling them to come through.

"What's the blood curdling screaming sound? Oh its just Panic at the Disco"
I can say this; should the life of a child be thrust into my arms, despite the horrors and obstacles in this world, despite all of my fears and hesitations, that child will have the coolest fucking name in existence.

Drake Tempest
Steel Sideiron
Jax Cockburn
Lady Savage
Belladonna Murderface
Tsunami Sue

Best. Names. Ever

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

The Phone

A young man by the name of Donald was moving from Milwaukee, Wisconsin to Poplar Grove, Illinois to work a new job that he was to start in Rockford. It was his first job out of college, and he had little money, but was able to find a 2 bedroom home for rent which came fully furnished. Donald had not seen the house in person before agreeing to the lease, but he wanted to snag the deal before it was too late. The pictures online looked good enough for him: he led a rather spartan lifestyle and was not much for flair.

The weekend before move in day he drove down to the house to sign the lease and get the keys from the owners. The house was the center of three houses along a poorly lit gravel road off the main road leading into town. The area was enclosed by thick trees on each side that had no apparent end, the only way in and out being the gravel road. All three Houses were dutch colonials of similar design and only slightly varied in coloration. Donald assumed they were part of the same development.

Donald pulled up to the drive way where the owners stood waiting, an older couple in their late 60's, he surmised. The husband was a tall, slim and pale Caucasian with very piercing blue eyes. The woman was short and stocky, of Latina descent with streaks of gray in her auburn hair. The woman did most of if not all of the talking.

"Hi Donald I'm Dotty and this is Reginald" she said, extending her hand. Reginald simply nodded. "Now before I show you around let me remind you that everything is included in your rent: gas, electricity, water, heating etc. Please try not to run up the utilities or damage any of the furniture. Anything in excess will be taken out of your deposit. Got it?" Donald nodded in agreement and Dotty and Reginald proceeded to show him around. Donald found it odd that Reginald remained silent the entire time: not so much as a sigh or cough.

The house was simple yet well kept, with somewhat modern furniture and appliances, probably all from the early 2010s. "Now we'll be out of the country for the next few weeks so if you need anything you can go to the next house over and talk to Miss Caroline, our neighbor. She lives alone with her granddaughter. I'd introduce you but they are both away for the weekend. Any Questions?" Donald had nothing to add so they bid him farewell, Dotty with a huge, unexpected hug and Reginald with an expected, silent gaze.

The following weekend Donald arrived to his new home with a few bag of clothes and linens. There was a station wagon parked outside of Miss Caroline's house. The other house, the first on the road, remained unchanged. Donald realized he did not ask Dotty about the residents of that house. Donald shrugged it off and began to unload his car. After moving everything into the house, Donald heard a faint ringing sound coming from inside the house. Before he could act a slight knock at the door stole his attention.

Donald opened the door to see a lovely young woman, around his age standing there. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a head band from which short black curly locks erupted. Her dark skin was smooth and flawless. She greeted Donald with a gentle, toothy smile. "Hi I'm Sonya, my grandma lives next door. You're renting from the Mitchells yes?" She said, Donald noticing that the faint ringing from within the house was still going. Before he had time to speak, Sonya continued.

"My Grandma has not been feeling well recently so she asked me to help you out with what you need while the Mitchells are away" Sonya went on, as did the ringing. It seemed to get her attention as well. "I'm sorry, did you need to get that?" Donald responded confused: he wasn't sure what it was.

Donald invited Sonya in and they proceeded to find the source of the ringing, properly introducing himself along the way. The ringing continued uninterrupted, the sound growing more pronounced as the pair got close to it's source. Donald found the door leading into the basement, and upon opening the door the ringing became clear. It was a phone. He turned on the light and descended, Sonya on his heels.

The basement was unfinished and use primarily as storage. Old furniture and boxes were scattered about and covered in a thin layer of dust. The illumination provided by the single light fixture was inadequate, to say the least."Why would they have a phone down here?" Sonya pondered as she and Donald tread through the cobwebs to the source of the ringing. Toward the back of the basement was an old desk with an even older phone on it. It was an antique rotary phone. The base of the phone was shiny brass with fine engravings all over. The receiver looked to be made of brass and ivory. The receiver shook almost violently with every ring, oddly not disturbing the dust gathered around it. This was not as odd to Donald as the fact that the phone did not have a speck of dust on it; the phone cord running into a small opening in the wall behind the desk was equally clean. Everything else was covered in dust. All the while, the phone continued to ring.

"Should you answer it?" Sonya asked, looking down at the phone and back to Donald. After hesitating, Donald picked up the receiver and placed it against his ear. His greeting was initially met with silence, but he soon heard an continuous, inaudible whispering. "Who is it? What are they saying?" Sonya inquired. Donald shrugged and handed her the phone. "I think... it sounds like a person. Whatever they are saying, it's the same thing over and over." Sonya shivered and handed Donald the phone back. "This is creepy. You should hang up." Donald nodded in agreement and hung the phone up.

Donald and Sonya went back upstairs, leaving the odd phone behind. Donald continued to unpack and Sonya stuck around. She talked non-stop and asked constant personal questions, but she seemed nice and he didn't dislike her company. She invited him over for dinner with her Grandmother but he decided to head into town and pick up some food and other house needs. They exchanged cell phone numbers and she took off.

It took longer than Donald expected to unpack and get settled, so when he returned home it was late. The gravel road leading up to the homes was nearly pitch black except the dim light radiating from Miss Caroline's porch. The first house remained darkened, as if abandoned. He grabbed all of his shopping bags and headed to the door, where he could hear faint ringing coming from inside. He sat the bags down to pull out his phone for light as he could not see which keys was which. The ringing continued.

Donald finally got inside and sat his bags down in the entryway. The faint ringing coming from the pitch black bowels of the house sent chills down his spine. He flicked on the lights which brightened the room, but not his bravado. He put away all of his purchases, turning on every light he came across, the ringing going on without pause. Donald became aware that the phone had no intention of stopping, so he mustered as much courage as he could and descended into the basement. The dim light did it's best to illuminate the large basement, with small specks of moonlight seeping through the windows helping the best they could. The awful ringing continued, beckoning Donald to the back of the basement.

Donald nervously approached the phone. A single beam of moonlight shone in a nearby window onto the phone, spotlighting it ominously. Donald could feel his heart rate increasing exponentially for every second he hesitated. He let out a long sigh and swiftly picked up the phone. There was a second of silence on the other end, but that was soon replaced with incessant whispers, more audible this time.

"teaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfourteaeyeinwhyyouareeldotseaohemsluhashelpeawhyyoueightsixfour" the soft voice repeated.

Donald slammed the receiver down and tried to unplug the receiver from the base, but there did not appear to be a way to do so. He tried to unplug the phone cord, but it too seemed to be manufactured into the phone. He followed the cord to its termination at the wall, but there was no apparent jack from which he could unplug it. The phone was obviously very expensive, probably worth more than his deposit several times over, so he was reluctant to damage it. With no ideas of what to do, he gave up and went upstairs. The phone remained silent for the rest of the day.

The next day Sonya came over early. She invited Donald out for lunch and to show him around town. Donald accepted and the two went into town in his car. Sonya, talkative as usual, told Donald about how her parents were military and were stationed in South East Asia but she didn't want to leave. "So that's why I'm staying with my Grandma." Donald told her about the phone ringing again and the inaudible whispers. She told him that she talked to her Grandmother about it, who said that the man in the first house, Mr. Ross, used to collect antiques, and that he must have given the phone to the Mitchells as a gift. Donald asked about the man, and Sonya's countenance changed drastically. "Well, my Grandma said he left one day about 2 years ago and hasn't been back. The lawns are tended to by a housing association that Mr. Ross, my Grandma and the Mitchells pay into monthly, and apparently he is still making payments."

Sonya soon changed the subject, asking more about Donald and his family, and after spending much of the day in town, they returned home. Sonya picked up a movie in town and convinced Donald to invite her over to watch. As they exited the car, Donald could already hear the faint sound of a ringing phone from inside the house. "Oh my God, what is going on?" Sonya said as she joined Donald at the door. When he opened the door, the sound of the ringing exploded out of the darkness of the house, louder than it had been previously. Donald flipped the light switch but the house remained in darkness.

"Donald why won't the lights turn on?" Sonya asked, griping his arm tightly. He pulled out his mobile phone to use as a light as he stumbled around the house looking for a working light with no success. "We should just leave" Sonya said nervously. The ringing was continued on, it's volume as if it was right next to them. Donald felt compelled to answer the phone and informed Sonya of his intention. She reluctantly agreed and the pair carefully descended into the basement.

The sound of the ringing became deafening once they entered the basement. They could barely hear each other speak. When they made it to the phone, Sonya and Donald looked at each other for confirmation, and then Donald picked up the receiver.

Sound exploded from all directions in the basement as if the walls were lined with speakers.


"HANG UP THE PHONE DONALD PLEASE" Sonya cried out, covering her ears with her hands. Donald located the receiver and slammed it down onto the base, and just as soon as the sound evaporated, light returned to the room. "This is insane Donald. You can't stay in this house. Let's get out of here!" Donald agreed and the two fled the basement and ran outside.

Miss Caroline allowed Donald to stay the night, but she was very old fashioned and asked that Donald remain on the main level while her granddaughter slept upstairs. Donald agreed and Miss Caroline gave him linens to sleep in the guest bedroom. Late that night he received at text from Sonya.

"Don i thnk i figured out what the phone was sayin" the message read. Donald did not receive any additional messages from Sonya, so he went to sleep.

The next morning Donald woke to bright sunlight pouring into the window. The house was quiet, with no signs of Sonya or Miss Caroline. He called out to both of them, but no one responded. He checked the drive way and Miss Caroline's station wagon was still there, and their shoes were on the rack by the door. Concerned, Donald went upstairs to Sonya's room where the door was slightly cracked. Inside he could see Sonya sitting at her desk, but she appeared slumped over.

Donald rushed to the chair and was overcome with grief upon seeing her. Her once youthful, brown face was gray and sunken. Where her eyes once rest was nothing but an empty void. One shriveled hand clutching her computer mouse tightly, the other her cell phone. Donald fought back tears as he cried out to Miss Caroline, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed something on her desk. It was the phrase that horrible phone taunted them with. Sonya had managed to make something out of it.

Before he could read it fully, the phone slipped out of Sonya's cold hands and clattered against the floor. The screen was open to a text message to him, her final words reading "DON DONT G" before ending abruptly. Guilt washed over Donald. Had it not been for him, she would be alive. She would have never ended up like this.

He couldn't explain it, but despite her warnings, he knew he had to otherwise he could not live with himself. He was not sure if he wanted to. He took a deep breath and once again looked down at Sonya's decrepit corpse wrestled the mouse from her other hand.

He opened up a browser and slowly, nervously, typed into the url that Sonya died decoding.

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

The Artifacts of Life

Hey gang! First of all, new walls!

They are much higher than my previous walls so I can cover them in all kinds of nerdy stuff.

Moving on to this year's week's musing: since we last spoke, our new Supreme Leader, Citizen Drumpf, was elected into office. What a time to be alive, right? The Era of Anti-Intellectualism, the New Dark Ages, The Reality TV Prequel to Idiocracy. Whatever you call it, facts are near null and void. His election, his continuous lies and fact-less blunders, as well as all the other mouth breathers who support him are a sure sign to me that facts are now, aptly, artifacts. That and whoever thought making The Great Wall was a good idea.


You know who is worse than the F students who support him? The F students who don't support him. They are just as responsible for the degradation of facts. The Media, for example, which should be champion of fact based information, just fucks it all up. Just this morning there was a segment on CNN where they discussed Citizen Drumpf abruptly ending his interview with John Dickerson over his wire-tapping claims. We don't need a 15 minute segment of a left-leaning talking head debating with a right-leaning talking head over it. He got annoyed and left. He is a blustering man-child who doesn't like to be called out on his lies and idiotic statements. THAT IS ALL. There is no ulterior motive as to why he walked away or what it means to the country. There's no need to bloat a 3 minute event into 30 minutes of "news".

And that is where the media loses. They put pundits and insiders and other wanna-be know it all's on TV, hand them one little shitty event, and then ask them to speculate and argue about obvious shit for HOURS. We'll continue to see and hear pundits go on and on about how anyone with a brain knows that Andrew Jackson died before the Civil War. They'll go on and on about how it's wrong for Citizen Drumpf to be honored to meet with fellow Glorious Supreme Leader of Best Korea, but we probably won't see or hear a peep about Jordan Edwards again from them. We get it. We know Citizen Drumpf is about as smart as the folks who went to Fyre Festival. It's not news worthy.

Fyre Festival is, however.

And you chest pounding, circle jerking liberals, are not helping either. The Right doesn't deal with facts anymore. They mean nothing to them, and no amount of facts will ever change that. If you've got a dog that doesn't understand human speech, you can't keep yelling words at the dog and expect him to listen to you, especially when he has a master with a dog whistle.

You can't just go around tossing facts and truths around and expect people to suddenly change. This is why we still have things like Fat People, Reality TV and Call of Duty. Hell, more often than not, unless you are actually well read, many of these facts are second-hand or worse, from Wikipedia. Not only are you trying to change someone with facts you don't have much investment in, there's a good chance you may even be wrong.

So before you go arguing with some southern Loyalist on facebook about the true reason behind the Civil War, remember that you probably only learned the truth about it a few years ago. That person has probably been told their truth their entire life, as did their parents before them, and their parents before them. They have a family heirloom. It's +5 Armor with immunity to facts. And we have to find a new weapon to penetrate it. And no, memes aren't it, sadly.

If only.......

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

License to Feel

Not too long ago, one of my favorite funny men Mel Brooks said to Bill Maher that he wouldn't be able to do Blazing Saddles in Today's Politically Correct Climate. The resulting world-wide pearl clutching event in response to this statement not only proved his point, but the force actually knocked the planet .1012 dm off of its normal orbit, and Earth is now on on a 246 year collision course with Venus.

The price of comedy
Blazing Saddles could easily be made today, but the internet would not stand idly by. It's not really an issue of political correctness, but the fact that everyone has an opinion and an outlet for said opinion: the intertubes. If people actually read this blog, I can assure you that there would be a micro-community somewhere already ready to debate the validity of my take on Earth's inevitable celestial fender bender. You see, for every thing which has ever existed ever, in all of space and time, concrete or abstract, there is at least one person who's underutilized neural system has somehow managed to develop a way to take it personal.

I personally believe that this stems from the fact that for decades, so many people (read: anyone not a white male) were discounted or treated like shit. Over time as we progress, our society as a whole is less and less likely to ostracize others for being different. It was the status quo for this to happen, so people just sat idly by as they were oppressed. If someone called me a Nigger a few decades ago, no one would bat an eye and many a pearl would go unclutched; not calling me one would have been more of a problem. This is now unacceptable for (hopefully) obvious reasons, so not only do people not do it (in public) if it is done, there are plenty of white knights who will swiftly ride in to combat their intolerance.

Fair Negro, Telleth me of the knave who said such things to thee!
However, somehow when the universe applied it's most recent update to the human condition, it over-compensated and swung waaaaaay too fucking far on the other side of the sensitivity scale. We somehow went from "bottle your feelings up, this is the way of life so get over it" to "Let your feelings free! We'll stand with you regardless." So now not only do people react to almost everything, they are encouraged to have a reaction and now have the internet to broadcast it to the whole world.There is literally absolutely nothing that can be done on this earth without someone feeling some type of way about it.

Now don't get me wrong. I have total respect people for being unable to react to their personal triggers. Sometimes they extend from irrational fears, some from traumatic experiences: the brain is a crazy thing and there is no written rule for how it should work. Myself for example; if I am in the presence of a loose sharp object (Saw, sharp Knife, etc) for an extended period of time, I tend to get the mental image of said sharp object slicing my hands or my tongue. Actually just typing that now gave me the chills. Also, if I am in the presence of a large insect (mainly spiders) for an extended period of time, my overall ability to function as a normal human being begins to degrade.

This is how I die
As much as I would loath for knife-riding spiders to exist, and no matter how much that horrible feeling is a detriment to my own physical and mental being, it registers a whopping 0 on the "shit that actually matters" scale. People get so caught up on how they feel about something, they tend to forget that they are, in fact, not the Scarlet Witch, and that their individual feelings hold no water in the grand scheme of things. We have to remember, that no matter how much we may feel about something, our feelings are not always grounded in reality. I'm 6'2". I can literally smash a spider with my hands. But I won't, because reasons. While I find it completely acceptable to reward anyone dumb enough to prank me with a giant fake spider with a rousing round of punches, this is not an acceptable thing to do fuck that guy he deserved that shit.

Things get scary though, when those individuals and their feelings harness their spiral powers, combine, and become a movement. You see, in the very recent past, many movements were formed because of very real issues such as the Civil Rights Movement, because black people were literally being treated like animals and the Vietnam War Opposition, because why the hell were we over there again? This is, you know, shit that actually happened. However, thanks to our old friend anti-intellectualism, we now have movements for Anti-Vaccination, for those who feel like vaccines cause autism; Flat Earthers who think that the earth is not spinning because we would feel the motion, and Trump Stumps who will vote for Donald Trump because they feel that America is no longer great.

This just in: NASA reports that The world-wide face-palming event caused by this insanity corrected Earth's orbit.
Feelings are running rampant in all aspects of American life these days, and we should be kind, understanding, and listen to those feelings. FALSE. My feelings don't matter, and your's especially don't. Life existed before you and will after you. Every time you feel tired from working your 9-5 there is someone who's tired because they can't afford to eat. Every time you get offended that some woman is "exposing" herself in the media, there is a woman being raped because she refused to do so. You think the US isn't great? Try living in a country who's number one import is privileged tourists and number one export is sex slaves. You and your feelings are only as important as the impact you make on others around you. Without friends and loved ones you might as well be an undiscovered alien on a planet that is about to be blown up by space pirates.

So please, fair reader(s), before you get caught all up in your feelings about something, take a moment. Calm yourself, have a drink, do some research, share with a loved one, and maybe, just maybe, you'll find out that hey: feelings are fleeting, and reality has a long list of fucks it doesn't give.

That sumbitch is written in stone, too

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Lord of the Dies

As a large, black man, it can be scary sometimes living in this world. At any given moment, some white, frail person may instantly feel threatened by my presence and I could be arrested or shot. I mean, how dare I be large and black on a Tuesday Morning? I wondered one day, if maybe life would be easier if the universe had decided to deny my body the right to melanin. Would it be easier and safer to be white? That all changed when I pulled up the horror section on Netflix.

I guess I shouldn't take it personal when I inadvertently scare white people. They are afraid of everything.
If horror movies are any indication of actual fears, then white people can't do ANYTHING without fear of being brutally murdered to death. A fucking routine elevator ride can't happen without claiming the lives of 3+ white people. In fact, let's go through a list of things that, as per horror movies, white people can't do without dying horribly meaningless deaths.

Go Camping
Don't go camping white people. If you don't get murdered by a deranged person or dismembered by a crazy backwoods monster, you'll get possessed by a fucking book or catch some weird sickness.

Go On Vacation
Foreigners hate white people, especially their vengeful ancestors and creatures of lore. Incidentally, they also love white people, and will keep them forever.

Planes don't give no fucks either, and will crash leaving you to die in sweltering heat or bitter cold. Killers also love planes, because there is nowhere to run.

Go near Water
If you don't drown, a shark will attempt to eat you, not to mention whatever other eldritch abominations which are dwelling in the deeps.

Return From Vacation
Just in case you do make it home from vacation, there are plenty of murderers and kidnappers patiently waiting for you outside the airport.

Apparently there is a direct relation between the amount of consecutive hours a white person spends in a car to the number of things that will try to kill them. Car accidents, deranged truckers, and whatever nonsense the universe can come up with.

Go to College
There's nothing a killer loves more than a curious white person fresh out of high school and no parents to deter their poor decision making skills. Also, that secluded, prestigious school is run by a cult.

Get a Job
In the event you do make it out of college alive, your job will pick up the slack. If you want horrible things to happen to you, your career of choice should be home nurse.

Become a Graduate Fellow
In the event you say "screw work I'm staying in school", the only things you'll learn are new ways to die and unearth things that want your soul for brunch.

Buy a House
That house you just bought? If it wasn't built on a burial ground, it's last owner did some pretty horrific shit before you bought it. Either way chances are something in the furnace will eat you.

Buy Anything Else
People can be sentimental and grow attached to objects. So attached that they will possess it after death and fuck up the next white person to buy it. Whether it is a doll, a puzzle, a car; it will attempt to suck your insides out through your navel cavity.

Get Married
Your spouse will be insane, abusive or try to kill you for your money. Stay single.

See a Medical Professional
Your doctor, dentist, or nurse will lovingly perform horrific operations and experiments on you just because you have an odd eye color.

DON'T See a Medical Professional
It's really not a good idea to let that rash "heal on its own". It may be deadly, supernatural, extraterrestrial.

Go Outside At all
Lord willing you make it from your front door, to your destination, then back, there is a chance someone has broken into your house and is waiting to kill you.

Stay at Home
Perchance you say "Fuck outside" and stay in, someone might just decide to break into your house and kill you anyway.

Watch a Movie
For white people, somehow watching an old VHS is literally a death sentence. We have them to thank for the invention of the DVD, I guess.

Answer The Phone
One out of every Eight phone calls to a white person is an attempt to kill them. Better off not answering the phone.

Don't Answer the Phone
Unless of course, you want to receive a voicemail from the future of you dying a horrible death. Better just send them an email.

Use The Internet
Just stay clear of some websites and definitely do not share tasteless videos. In fact, just screw technology and send them some snail mail.

Use the Postal Service
Yeah don't open any mail either. It may be some crap credit cards or a murderous chain letter. Might as well just go to sleep

Go to Sleep
White people can't even go to sleep without a severely burned pedophile  trying to kill them in ironic ways. Hell, you'll probably wake up to find your spouse motionlessly standing over your body for no reason at all.

Did I say foreigners hate white people? Everything hates white people. If you are white, something, at this very moment, is trying to kill you. Being white is like living in a Rube Goldberg Machine of Inevitable Corpses.. You go to prom? You die. Go to the carnival? You die. Go to a party? You die. A white person's very existence is always at stake. Maybe that explains white fragility.

"Don't talk to me about racism, the racist guy always dies first. I mean I love black people!"

This is also extra enlightening regarding some white people behavior. "Shit, well since I'm persistently in danger of being sold into white slavery to some dude in Saudi Arabia or have my soul devoured by an angry indigenous spirit, I might as well go chase Tornados, climb mountains for the hell of it, or resurrect fucking dinosaurs. What's the worse that could happen?"

You would die, fictional white person created for the sake of this post; you would die.

Monday, February 22, 2016

I Have No Brain and Must Scream

This past week, after playing video games  being a productive member of society I decided to browse the Facebooks. What I saw spurred me to toss my phone into the depths of Oblivion. But I was too lazy so I settled for the depths of a Few feet from the couch. What horrors did I see? Do you truly want to glimpse into the madness? OK Sure here yah go:

I get that the Internet is a haven for expression and free speech. It's one of the reasons I am able to create this amazingly awesome blog. Unfortunately it is also why stuff like this is able to exist. I didn't know "Beyoncé is an agent of Satan" is a real thing and has real people on Facebook talking to other real people about this in all seriousness. Here look!

This is real, people
At what point in your supposedly God-fearing life does this make sense? To anyone ever? Did this person just wake up, late one night in a cold sweat like "Illuminati! Beyoncé! It all makes sense! Thank you Jesus I'll report to facebook on your behalf right away! Lesbians!" I haven't been to a church service in a while, but is this the kind of shit the pastor covers at service now? This isn't just one insane person coming up with this stuff. This is a full blown, "I saw it on the internet so it must be true" conspiracy where people are deeply analyzing videos to find triple 6s and upside down triangles and any other pieces of nonsense they can find to help their reasoning sound legitimate. At this point Beyoncé is probably up there with video games and Dungeons and Dragons as evil incarnate.

I may have missed this game in the series...

People crank out malarkey on their mobile devices and keyboard faster than what science can barely classify as their brain is able to verify the viability of it. Phrases like "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" or "think before you speak" mean nothing when you have the anonymity of the internet to protect you. OH WAIT. Most of these people will openly post using their Facebook accounts without a thought! Politicians, music entertainers, teachers, and even that one old guy at Costco will brazenly display their stupidity. People will miss a joke and lash out violently or say shit like The NFL has been around longer than the government  because hey; who has time to think, fact check, and make sure I don't make a fool of myself when I can respond right damned now! Some people's ignorance is so far behind current standards that they have embraced lost ideologies of the past.

I routinely post nonsense on the internet which I think is funny, But that's exactly what it is. Nonsense that I find humorous. Half the time I don't even believe the stuff I am saying. Usually when I think of something profound whilst taking a shit, I take some time and think about how not profound it is before I eventually blog about it here. But there are living, breathing, VOTING people who have brought children into the world and work jobs where people's livelihoods are at stake who routinely say the most incomprehensible shit imaginable and mean it and these people will not take a first thought before posting. Needless to say, hilarity ensues.

This is totally reasonable commentary for a White police officer in Flint, Michigan after two black people are murdered.

The desire to share one's thoughts to as many people as possible for praise and recognition should come after one first confirms that they, in fact, have a significant thought to share. Every stupid thing you say on the internet is like a mini time capsule which could be opened at any moment by anyone. Whether it's your boss seeing your Instagram photo with racist and sexist comments at a restaurant, your kid seeing all your Facebook posts debating your previous desire for an abortion, or an angry Predator who saw you live tweeting AvP and claiming that you would have kicked his ass; some things are better left unsaid. There's a thin line between looking like a fool online and losing your job because you thought it would be funny to make a post about hoping President Obama would be assassinated.

I think i'll avoid social media for some time and just read more professional articles. At least they check themselves before they wreck themselves.

Well, fuck.