Everybody’s Hugging Everybody: The Great Unification of 2018


Everybody’s Hugging Everybody.

Everybody’s hugging everybody. Champagne and other alcohol fly in every which way. Little pieces of paper descend from the sky. People turned to gravity and said, “Hold my nachos.” Whether people were shockingly disappointed or super duper excited, people dropped whatever they were holding and clung to one another. The Eagles won, or so I’ve heard, the internet wouldn’t lie would it?

Not That I Care.

I didn’t watch the game. In fact, I wasn’t even planning to capitalize on the trending beast, then I had a thought. America loves football, a lot. Either people love those teams outright or hate one of them enough to root for the other. If nothing else, people like snacks and need something to talk about between throat lacerating fistfuls of Doritos.

Then I Had This Thought.

At some point in time last night, a Republican and a emocratD unwittingly treated one another with the decency that is given to everyone. I’m not talking about people who know how each other voted. I mean strangers at bars and at parties. Those people who just joined in comradery or be a contrarianism. Who chose to hate or love one of those teams at some point in their lives. Whether it was fifty years ago or two weeks, they were unified.

In those final moments, they consoled one another or tossed a cold one the other’s way. That had to happen somewhere in the 9.8 square kilometer* of country. People left the MAGA hats and the “I Watched Hamilton and All I Got Was A Boner.” t-shirts at home.

I Could Be Wrong

That is of course unless every democrat chose to cheer for the deep state establishment called the New England Patriot. Not only would that be typical, that would mean that there were a lot of green jerseys and red hats. I have to admit, that sounds very festive.

#DrainTheSwampEaglesDrainTheSwamp

Err.. I mean.

#FLYEAGLESFLY!


*google the miles.

The Toiletfire Continues: 2018 Begins


The Toiletfire Continues

The toiletfire that will define 2018 is off to a roaring start! How could it not when 2017 went out in a blaze of glory? Might as well address that we all have the Bon Jovi song in our head at this point and if one doesn’t, then one is broken. Imagine those last few days of 2017, the final moments, set to that beautiful piece of music. Now imagine the version worthy of 2017, which is covered by a band of people who don’t know how to play, except for the oboe player – who’s just fucking on point, and said band is fronted by legendary comedian Gilbert Godfrey.

We’re halfway through January, which is a mixed bag of good news, bad news. Which means it all averages out to okay news! For instance, a good chunk of people have given up on their resolutions. Treadmills sit vacant, stairwells have tumbleweeds rolling down them, facebook accounts have been reactivated, and twitter is once again brimming with A-holes.

My Resolutions

As for my new year’s resolutions, I retroactively created two. The first one was, change a tire for the first time in over thirteen years. Completed and created on new years day, in that order. Crushed it! Boy did I feel great!

The next day, still high with accomplishment coursing through my veins and seeing an exodus of people, my second resolution was created, take the stairs at work less. If stairs are generally slower than taking the elevator, then the stairs at the first of the year are even slower. There’s a zillion people – each and every one of them with good intention in their hearts – shambling up the damn stairs, moaning, groaning, and wheezing.

So much so that nutter doomsdayers and fans of The Walking Dead get all excited because they think “This is it! The big one! The day uncle granpappy trained me for!” Grabbing duffle bags and cocking the guns they picked up on their way to work, they form a defensive line at the top of the stairs flipping over couches and plugging the gap between said couches and wall with the ficas*. Triggers squeeze, hammers rear back, and then, “Oh! Hey Bill from accounting! You look great! Did you get that fitbit for Christmas?” Bill can’t answer, he took the stairs. Avoid getting shot by the guy that thinks military boots are acceptable as “everyday wear.” Take elevator. Treat yo’self!

As For Other People’s Resolutions,

From what I see on social media, the resolution of be a better person was a fairly unpopular one this year and those that did resolve to be better people inserted “at holier than thou condescension” in the middle. For an example, of use, see the previous sentence.

That Guy On Facebook

The guy that’s facebook tile says he is unemployed and studied at school of the hard knocks ought to be a red flag. If that is a rando transient hobo bot 600, then the part that says he has a great sarcastic and ironic sense of humor, yet is angry at The Onion, well, he truly is a master of irony or an idiot.

Year of the Dick

2017 was the year of the rooster and as we should all know – without having to go to thesaurus.com – another name for rooster is cock. Under the guise of a big veiny bastard, 2017 starts to make a whole lot more sense. It flopped from left to right. It was hairy, stinky, and looked dumb. Then it ballooned for absolutely no freaking reason. People tried to run, but most just got pinned to the wall and had to stay there for four hours.

Of course, if one could reach their phone, those four hours were spent arguing with someone on social media. No one could tell if they were being yelled at by fake shitheads or real ones who think the pasty German Olson twins from The Matrix Reloaded are still cool and get raging four hour car door slamming boners each time they see a “What if I told you,” meme. Hell, no one seems to know anything anymore.

The Toiletfire Continues To Continue

Fires have a tendency to spread. Toiletfires are no different. Whether that toilet be in the boonies, the suburbs, or a prison, it doesn’t really matter. A toiletfire is a toiletfire. And a toiletfire doesn’t necessarily have so much to do with the contents of the bowl, but rather the amount of flammable material found in the water supply. Flush it once, avoid the backdraft, and now all the toilets are on fire.

At the moment, I’m joking about fire water. Yet I can’t help but think, that’s an all too plausible scenario. Hell, under an administration that seemed to give a shit, Flint had rusty water. Now we have folks that don’t give a flip about the masses water supply one bit. Not wanting to wear a tinfoil hat, but it could happen.

Especially with the repeals of laws and erosion of protection for the environment.

When laws were in place to protect water, land, and animals, they weren’t hurting us. Meaning it would be better to have them around than not have them. I mean, I’m not trying to bang my step-mom on the family yacht, I don’t need impress upon her how masculine my junk looks by cramming elephant tusks up next it. I also don’t have barrels of hazardous waste just sitting around that I don’t know what to do with. Nor have I ever thought, “this national park is way too big and would be improved by the addition of some fucking condos or a Wal-Mart.”

 


Only eleven and half months to go!

*What the actual fuck is a ficas? I hear it a lot. I say it a lot. It’s a funny word, but I don’t think anyone would know what a ficas looked even if it went all The Happening and head-butted them in the no-no’s.

 

Covfefe: Obligations and What-Not


The ‘Fefe Was That?

Not meaning to toot my own horn, but “toot-toot!” I went the entire day without sayin’ boo. Covfefe? More like covwhofuckin’cares? I’m going to take high road travelled by grumpy old men and look down on anyone who jumped on the bandwagon. For shame!

So gloats the great horn of irony! It’s not lost on me that this post is a contradiction, but I needed something to write about and I might as well go where the money is.

What the hell was it all about anyway? I can’t be bothered to google it or look into much more than the shallow end of twitter, but I believe it was intended to be “coverage.” I typed it like I was playing accompaniment air guitar on a Jim Brickman song. Meaning, so gently I didn’t depress a single key.

My investigation concluded with substantial evidence that everyone is an idiot. The person who typed it, the people who jumped on it and made it go viral, me for writing this. We’re all in this together! We just spread a virus. Symptoms include shrinking of hands and being an idiot. Covfefe, catch the fever!

 


See you in the funny papers. Which now happens to be every paper.

 

If It Isn’t Trump, It’s The Introverts


 

Holy freakin’ smokes! Has anyone else hit their limit of political posts they can see within a day? That’s basically all facebook is now, just post after post of the leftist doom and gloom or the victorious chortles of righties. Thankfully, twitter is still full of erotic authors trying to sell me their bigfoot on alien action, but that isn’t enough. Not the bigfoot on alien action, the respite from politics.

I just can’t do it anymore! I’m not calling it quits on politics forever, but there are only so many posts one can read that solidify their viewpoint to the consistency of cookies made from concrete. That’s why I’ve decided to quit reading anything that has a whiff of the political. Whether it be from the U.S., Canada, or anywhere in the world. Kelly Leitch’s odd video was the last, for the time being. I thought it was a good place to stop.

A New Day

It was with this new found resolve, that I waded back into the primordial pool that is facebook. I had my bullshit waders on and one big water wing around my entire head. I sounded like Darth Vader passing gas, couldn’t see shit, and felt happy. That was, until I scrolled headlong into, at least, three posts about being introverted. I don’t know what they said because, before politics, introvert posts were the thing I swore off of.

For a group of humble people who don’t want to draw attention to themselves, introverts sure do love sharing articles on how to tell if you’re one of them, how to talk to them and how great it is to be one. There are so many of these dang posts that people can’t help but click on them. If curiosity kills cats, then cats must be an endangered species*.

Poets and Penis Wrinkles

There are only so many times I’m going to fall for the possibility that I could be an introvert that slipped through the cracks. I’m not one, I know that and so does everyone who knows me. Although, I do like to hang out by myself and sip scotch while reading a book on a Saturday night more than my extroverted ass should. That doesn’t mean that I am an introvert and that is the problem with these posts.

They have convinced hundreds of thousands of extroverts that they are introverts. Just because they like to be quiet sometimes. Furthermore, the articles typically make introversion sound far more appealing than extroversion. Quiet, hard working, organized. Forms fiercely loyal friendships with a small number of people. Good ghawd, what isn’t to like? That sounds so much better than the implied loud, brash, fist bumping, macro brewed rice lager chugging, slutty social butterfly venture capitalist who’s too busy talking or being a choad blaster to look at their calendar and make note of one of their acquaintance’s birthdays.

It’s no wonder that extroverts think they are introverts, that they wish they were introverts. Who wouldn’t want to be hip, cool, and reserved instead of, I don’t know, socially sweaty? But enough’s enough, if it isn’t Trump, it’s the introverts and neither is on my “Want to read” list. For now.

 


I’m going to go read!

 

*Not that that matters any longer, because Trump

The Blaring of Trump’s Noise


So Much Noise…

Sweet Geezus, it’s a fucking quagmire! One no longer goes online without getting pulled into Trump bullshit. Whether it be for him, against him, or whatever the hell there is in between. There is simply so much shit, so many opinions. Who has the time for this? Does anyone really want to spend their time talking about this guy? Get a hobby! Play with a model train!

Otherwise, it’s like running into a lake from the shore. You’re tracking pretty well then you’re feet hit the water and you begin to slow, just a bit. As the water raises to half-calf, you begin to feel the drag and start waddling. You’re really high-kneeing it a step or two after. Your feet a sinking into the sand ever so slightly. That’s when it happens, you step off the shelf and fully fall in. You gasp as the icy grasp of water enshrouds your no-no’s. The gasp, causes water to enter your airway. You cough to force the water out or your airway and it sounds super disorienting as your underwater. In the state of discombobulation, you inhale once more to cough again. Which causes your lungs to fill. It’s at this point in time that you recall that you can’t even swim. Curious what you were doing running toward the lake with such excitement in the first place. You sink into the silty muck below.

Phew!

This is more of an observation really. I mean, I’m guilty of contributing to the online noise. I’ve written plenty of blog posts, tweets, and even some facebook posts on the matter. Not that these do much good, or so I hear. People seem to pretty much have their minds made up and are unwilling to budge. I can appreciate that. It’s hard to convey a belief altering thought in a tweet and it’s even harder to find a headline that invites people to have their views challenged. Not to mention that you have to find a person willing to click it in the first place.

Keep On Being Loud!

That being said, in fact, all of this being said, keep doing it. That’s what we’re supposed to do. Acceptance is for people who don’t get the punchline to the joke that we’ve just been told. Complacency is for those who don’t even realize they’ve been told a joke. Keep posting stuff. Good, verifiable stuff. Try to stay as classy as possible. Don’t spread lies, that weakens the cause. Be sure to click on the other sides links to. Then read those things, with an open-ish mind, just in case there isn’t a literary flaming bag of shit inside of that article.

And if anyone wants to make an app or extension that filters out Trump stuff, that would be great. Although, I caution people not to run it all the time. Just when you need some time away.

 

 


I’m going to go buy a donut.

Inauguration Day: The Last Day of The Rest of Your Life?


 

Well, here we go.

Today’s the day. We’ve been waiting in anticipation for quite some time. The suspense is killing me or, at least, it’s making me constipated. In other words, I’m not looking forward to it. In fact, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I’m not sure if it’s in the pit of my something or somewhere else. Somewhere ever so slightly out of the range of my vision, always at the edge, no matter how fast I turn. Other people really seem to be enjoying it though. To the point that some have big ole boners cloaked in red MAGA branded condemns crowned with a shockingly straight and thick blond pubic patch. It’s Inauguaration Day!

I’m not happy, but I am excited. After all, this is one of those days that the U.S. political system was crafted to keep in check, splitting up power and keeping it in line. And, oh holy shit, if it’s not going to be stress tested. Blatant cronyism and cabinet appointments, so ironic, that they make me wonder if Donald Trump isn’t the self-serving businessman that I think he is, but a hipster.

I get it, it’s certainly different. Maybe this is the change we needed, but I doubt it. This whole situation seems like a ‘roided up version of what got us in the trouble that began over sixteen years ago. It’s almost like that trouble is coming back in final boss form. We’ve given the inmates the keys. Is this what his supporters actually wanted? For the life of me, I can’t empathize with anyone looking forward to what’s about to happen.

 


Today, I don’t care what you do. Yet, I really do.

Kidnapping Is So Passe’


 

When I woke up this morning and saw #BLMKidnapping* trending, I was floored by what I saw and read. Is this where the U.S. is at? The damn thing is a powder keg that seems likely to blow at any moment. Say what you will about baskets of deplorables and Trump’s rhetoric, it takes two to tango. That’s right, both sides are to blame and in this case the dance floor is full and partners are being swapped with nary a care.

Not that it helps being slammed into two groups. Conservative and liberal being used to loosely define a whole lot of people doesn’t seem to be working.  In fact, it seems to be making things worse. How terrible would a sports league with two teams be? Something tells me there would be a lot more hate and resentment at the games. And sure we can side with another subgroup or philosophy. Be libertarian or socialist, it doesn’t matter. We will still be put under the liberal and conservative silos.

Quite possibly the larger issue currently, is communication. Stereotyping, and a deep desire to label people and groups into quick digestible details is wreaking havoc. Wading into social media is a frustrating nightmare. Everyone is just yelling and pointing at another group from the group they’re a part of. People are strangling themselves to label groups as a whole. Will we ever realize that just because some bad people exist in a group that doesn’t mean the rest of the group is bad? You know that person at work who is a total asshole? Well, just because they exist doesn’t mean everyone at work – including yourself – is an asshole. All gun owners aren’t assholes, a fact proven by all of us still being alive. Not all liberals are assholes, nor conservatives. In fact, both groups have some really good people in them. I have friends in both.

In closing, at the risk of sounding corny – but mostly because I just signed up for Amazon Prime – we need to start accepting others and get along. If you haven’t made any resolutions yet, I just gave you one. Accept, get along, and no more kidnapping.

 


Now to Amazon Prime!

*From what I’ve read, they have nothing to do with BLM. I am not labeling this kidnapping as part of BLM. To do so would be the opposite I’ve what you’ve just read/will read – totally depends on when you read footnotes.

President Trump, Maybe We’ll Laugh


 

Well, the election didn’t turn out how I’d hoped. I assumed it would be a nail biter, but I figured Hillary would have come out on top. I hoped beyond hope that many historical republican voters would turn against Trump. My fingers were crossed that Bernie supporters – like me – would let it go. I’d wished for the progress, that had started eight years ago, to continue. That many would not allow Trump’s hate filled rhetoric to come to describe American’s.

That didn’t happen. Instead we got some guy who is a tumor of the current system – the same system many claim to hate and want changed. I don’t trust him nor agree with him. I don’t think he can do the job. Nor do I want him representing my country.

His words and actions have riled up everyone on both sides. First it was his supporters, by stating or insinuating that everyone not white and straight was the reason for all their problems. Now, the anti-supporters are riled up. Because his policies and everything he has said, is about going back. Every hard earned step toward acceptance and away from humanity’s base fears and emotions is in jeopardy. The all clear has been given to be an entitled hateful chode pasture and while not all of his supporters demonstrate such behavior, many do. Sadly at the moment, many of the anti-supporters do as well.

To Those Who Voted For Him

I get that things need improvement – I wasn’t happy with everything either. Shockingly, we may align on more things than who we voted for reveals at first glance. I know that some haven’t been as lucky as others. Jobs have disappeared and your way of life is endangered. You felt marginalized. The existing powers haven’t done right by you. That you wanted change.

Yet, you re-elected almost all of that non-working congress. An embodiment of the partisan, career politicians, that have been corrupted by lobbyists and work against you. Which was the exact thing you said you were against. If you wanted change so bad, then why aren’t they gone? Was that something you didn’t think about, intended to fix in the next election, or is it because you didn’t really want change?

Perhaps you wanted to not have to aspire to be better any longer. To go back to a simpler time that only exists in John Mellencamp songs and your misunderstanding of Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” Just simple straight white people and jobs. Jobs, jobs, jobs! Who cares about the world economy that your favorite, President Regan, helped set in motion. Screw equality and progress. Fuck the environment! Although, it is hard to have jobs when the fucking planet is on fire. Ironically, we won’t need the goddamn cars you want to make when we are under water!

To All of Us (I’m Almost Done Gripin’)

Maybe it won’t be as bad as I fear. Perhaps Trump – like many politicians – won’t make good on many of his campaign promises. I would be fine with that. Maybe he did it all, just to appeal to the most base, greedy and fearful qualities in some Americans. If nothing else, we get to stress test the shit out of checks and balances and see how well The Founding Father’s designed this governing system.

So, maybe in four years – gahwd forbid eight – we will look back on this and laugh. Things may be different. The sky may be red, cities may be burned out shells, and ambient foreboding dystopian synth loops may be on repeat from the heavens, but we could laugh. I may have an eye patch, developed a love for cigars, replaced my severed right hand with a cybernetic one, love me a leather trench coat, not own a single t-shirt with sleeves, learned to ride a motorcycle, and have a black muscle car with a trunk full of weaponry, but we could laugh, laugh, laugh.

“Get the fuck down!” I yell at you while punching you in the ear and shoving you toward the floor a bit harder than necessary – can’t deny that wasn’t because you voted for Trump. I am continuous motion as my cybernetic hand whips out a kick ass fully automatic shotgun, while my left – still stinging from you ear – pulls out a dystopian future modded uzi. Both open fire on the screeching winged demon that was about to haul you back to its nest and I feed you to its babies. Because that is what the future looks like. Roaming packs of fucking winged demons! All because some fed him after midnight! But we could laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh!

 

 


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