The Music of Obscenity
Favorites include "douchebag," "asshat," "shit stain," and, of course, any variation on the word "fuck." The Irish can use these words like Yo Yo Ma can play an arpeggio and I consider myself a near virtuoso.
Helpful Ways to Own the Libs
Quote Marjorie Taylor Greene whenever possible.
Vegas Diary: Part Tomorrow — The Lady Opportunist
This is not to say that I should have known better and come here earlier. No, you have to be ready for this place, unless of course you were born here and have been immersed in it your whole life.
I say you have to be ready, because Vegas finds a way of zeroing in on your vice. Finding your deepest weakness and exploiting it by offering you what you think you want while painlessly extracting its own needs.
I Believe... [Bag of Weasels]
I believe... that every relationship comes with its bag of weasels.
The Coffee Shop
“You know.” The stranger winked. “I mean, what if you pissed someone off bad. I mean really bad. And they wanted it taken care of? In a coffee shop? Say, this one? At,” he looked at his watch, then looked up smiling. “One o’clock and thirty-five seconds.” He laughed. “And the guy to do it was supposed to be me? Weird, huh?”
The Opinion of the Intelligent
If your personal truth is only informed by your experiences in the world, without some attempt to triangulate and educate yourself, it is by the very definition, "the certainty of the ignorant."
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of January 2, 2022
The season one, second episode of The Book of Boba Fett should have been called, “Dances with Sand People.”
Our year
There were splinters in our hearts the size of floorboards.
We waited, shivering.
GOP Reflects On January 6th, National Bean Day
Communist Democrats won’t celebrate this great national holiday.
A Brief Poem About a Writer Who Doesn't Write
They say—they being creative writing professors, esteemed novelists, and hacks with wordy Instagram posts alike—that writers write. Writers who get their shit out there—not all of it, but enough of it—are the real writers. True warriors of the pen and keys.
I Believe... [Bristling Elites]
...that when Pulitzer prize winners and people with advanced degrees bristle at being called “elites” the Emperor’s codpiece just slipped off his huge, highly educated, monied cock.
Sauna Talk is a Lot Like Locker Room Talk
"Well, that's racist."
Nine sphincters tightened. Nine old, wrinkly, half-naked white men almost held nine sets of breath.
I looked him in the eye. "What about that is racist?"
Y2K 2.0: One Man's Struggle with an Unforgiving Virus
Could I have used the watch as it was with its minor malfunctions? Yes. As a sport watch, sure. But Katie paid good money for KITT and I see nothing wrong with wanting new Christmas presents to work as intended. I also expect a lot from Apple products even if they do give me the heebie-jeebies. And they do. But not because I’m afraid of technology but because I carry the Y2K virus in my blood. I am a thriving host for this 21st Century strain of panic.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 26, 2021
We all want to be new versions of ourselves with each New Year. But change is hard and it’s much easier to love the one you’re with. To tolerate the one you are.
The One 2022 Resolution For Us All
After two years of COVID, social justice demands, insurrectionists, the fact the Trump won't simply die from a goddamned McDonald's fueled heart attack, economic instability, cyber-attacks, droughts, floods, bizarre heat waves followed by epic snowstorms followed by massive wildfires and urban blacks beating up old Asian ladies on video, trying to find some sort of positive, self help path forward seems impossible.
I Believe… [Simple Resolve]
...that if anyone still does New Year’s resolutions, they should include the goals to mind their own business, place their anxiety into perspective, and maybe take a few walks a week. Keep it simple for 2022.
The Best of The Ape 2021 | Most Read, Best Stuff
2021 was an odd year for everyone, globally speaking.
Merry Christmas from the Afterlife
I can see them when I sneak out from the basement, walk to the front of the house and peek into the windows like a pervert, but I cannot participate in their life. I can hear them occasionally talking about me, but the longer I’m down here, the less I come up in conversation. In another few days, I expect to hear the voice of a man telling Katie he’ll love Harry like he was his own just before he moves his shit into my house.
Unforging Marley's Chain: Cracking the Life Code via Dickens
I don't see myself in Scrooge much—not wealthy or particularly skin-flinty with dough—and I'm not Republican in any way yet I'm finding a bit more appreciation for Bill Clinton-style centrism. For me, it's those fucking chains of Marley that give me pause.
Notes from the Post-it Wall | Christmas Eve, 2021
Santa Claus is as real as the fact that this time next year, covid won’t be a problem.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.