I Believe… [Black Lives Matter But Not More Than Football]
...that the simple answer is to not watch the NFL anymore. Yes, that would require so many to give up spectating a sport that exemplifies almost everything wrong with Americans in general (except for the sloth part): male, domestic abusing, drug addicts beating the shit out of each other for points and million dollar salaries.
Of The Seven, Americans Suffer Sloth More Than the Other Six
Sloth is commonly defined as laziness but that is not the Deadly Sin. The deadly sin is that of spiritual or emotional apathy. And America is an entire country filled with apathy. In our search for things to be easier, for things to be faster and more convenient, we stopped giving a shit. Sloth is, simply put, no longer caring enough to put in the effort.
Life is a Highway...
I like to drive. I like the freedom that hopping in the car and just heading out somewhere allows. My parents are currently on a random road trip through the western United States and the trip is classic in that they have no clue where they’re headed until the date before. Driving for hours to land at a hastily booked motel and seeing America. I love that.
I Believe… [Let People Enjoy the Goddamn Wedding, Already!]
…that, while I didn't watch the latest Royal Wedding, I'm not going to piss all ver people who love that stuff. The bitterness and acrimony of people who can't do anything but take a dump on someone enjoying the idea of romance and love in our crushingly depressing times is just more dung on the heap.
The Rise of the Ubiquitous Cult Of Personalities: Lil Tay is the Rule Rather Than the Exception
Arguably, our anserine president is only in the Oval because of his cult of personality and that is the harshest truth to swallow. So many in the world are celebrating their mediocrity, placing the highest of values on the least amount of skill or craft, seeking fame and notoriety for just being themselves, that we elected exactly who they strive to be and the irony of that fact is completely lost on them.
They Didn’t Vote For Trump. They Voted Against Us
Like me in high school, we aren’t learning that that smugness doesn’t win elections it merely makes us feel warm and fuzzy as if our ineffectual resistance will be noted by future historians as somehow significant when figuring out how to persuade those out in the world of real, flesh and bone humans separate from the avatars of the digital world that perhaps we might be able to work together for the better of everyone.
I Believe… [Stop Calling the Cops on Black People, OK?]
...that calling the police should be reserved for genuine emergencies. Anyone who calls the police because they are uneasy or uncomfortable or slightly suspicious should be fined. It's a trigger that should be, like all fucking triggers, only pulled when all other options are exhausted.
She's a Real Mother!
Who was there when I, at three years old and with an aversion to baths, ran naked in the front yard wearing only a Smokey the Bear hat? All while the mentally disabled man across the street laughed at her, pregnant with my sister?
My mom.
The Downfall of Busey
Stories of Gary Busey out of control are as common as horrifying side effects of anti-depressant medications, but rarely do any of these stories get to the heart of why Busey has been so erratic. Some attribute his behavior to his 1988 motorcycle accident and the subsequent brain damage that was the result. While the accident is an obvious and convenient way of excusing the fall of a promising talent, the event that caused the true damage was due to ego rather than asphalt.
Your True Personal Story is About 60% Horseshit
Many in the storytelling scene tout the fact that the stories are true personal narratives. Some talk an awful lot about telling their Truth as if that is somehow more authentic or truish than truth. The fact is, they're all (mostly) lying.
I Believe... [Trump & West Sell the Same Snake Oil]
...that with the definition of service animals to include emotional support animals (previously known as "pets"), soon there will be a new classification — emotional support animals for emotional support animals. Your nervous chihuahua with the IBS and shivers needs support, too. Get him a pet gerbil for his emotional support and every anxious person in America will begin looking like fucking Dr. Doolittle.
Do Nothing. Try Something Different. Choose.
You are faced with a broken model of going about things. What the specifics of that model are are irrelevant. It simply is not working as either efficiently or pragmatically as you or everyone involved need it to be.
Humpty Dumpty Fell Off the Wall and Now Lives As a Paraplegic
An insidious side effect of social media is that, while in the world of flesh and bone I can craftily avoid those weaselly fuckers whom I find noxious and hateful, with the many fence-sitters on that Friends list, I am constantly surprised by things that remind me of them. The ease of not choosing online, of remaining detached and out of the line of fire, creates webs of connectivity with people whom we no longer want to be connected.
Comedy Is Supposed to Be Mean Unless It’s for Morons
The simple fact is that if someone laughs, it’s funny. Like that nutty dress that some people saw as gold and some saw as blue, comedy is really in the eye of the beholder and, if you can’t take being made fun of, best to quietly hide from the rest of society, content to be left out of the discourse and live out your life pain-free.
I Believe… [Avengers: Infinity War Was RAD!]
…that Trump doesn't lie more than other presidents. Trump just doesn't give a shit if he is caught in a lie.
Debate, Engage, or Namecalling: Only One Results in Results
As time passes, the Obama Administration both looks pretty idyllic (when showcased next to the past year and change of the Reality Star Dickwaffle, the administration of Warren G. Harding looks pretty special and productive) and a overly compromised journey through Healthcare Reform (kind of) and Drone Strikes.
When Deprivation Becomes Deadly
At the time, I just saw him as a big, stupid fuckhole. Turns out, he was an early adopter of what is now being called an “incel.”
Grandiose Romanticism or Politics: Zombies Drinking Lattes
The fact that in all zombie stories, we are the zombies seems to get lost in the tales of the survivors. We are the masses of unthinking, brain-eating undead creatures shambling about looking for the living. Next season, I hope they give the hordes of flesh connoisseurs access to a zombie Faceborg and the allegory will be updated.
I Believe... [Modern Partisanship Resembles a Preschool Bathroom Break]
...that nothing makes me happier than Hannity being exposed and Ryan leaving the House. If McConnell is discovered to have a cache of weasel pornography on his hard drive and photos of himself with him jacking off while eating dogshit, I'd be the Happiest Asshole on Planet OMG.
YAWP: An Homage to Ginsberg in These Times
I'm no poet. While this is true, it is likewise true that I love poetry and, from time to time, indulge in the urge to write some. If you're really interested, you can go on Amazon and buy a book of my poetry. As I started to search for the thread of the idea behind the piece below, it kept bringing me back to Ginsberg's Howl. It is National Poetry Month, so I went with it.
...that, as we age, good footwear is more important than a girlfriend.