It's fun to create thematic playlists for the books you write. Maybe it's the incurable boredom that comes in between books. I just hope it's as fun to listen to these playlists. Maybe there are clues, maybe the sounds give some hint to what the book reads like. I do not know for sure. But more importantly, keep your eyes peeled for Invasion of the Weirdos this Spring from Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing!
Ugh, the news. Am I right? Sheesh. I ignored the news for a week. Here's what I did instead.
1. I stared at my college aged neighbors as they drank their cheap beer and threw cigarette butts at my cat. I couldn't figure out if they were G-men disguised as aimless youth or if they were just aimless youth. But I live behind a cell tower so they must be part of Trump's hostile takeover of my tiny neighborhood.
2. I read the neighborhood updates in NextDoor. A lot of people sell vitamins. I decided to stock up. Even though I wasn't reading the news, I was sure the world was collapsing. I could see Russians everywhere. What if the vitamin salespeople were part of a Russian conspiracy to turn American frogs gay and turn Americans into frog-fucking weirdos.
4. I went on a strict beans only diet for half a day because I couldn't figure out what to do with the other half of the day without news. This at least set me up with a date shitting my brains out on the toilet. My toilet isn't yet Wi-Fi connected so the sound of Joe Scarborough leveraging his laughably short term as a Florida representative as evidence he knows everything about politics and people. Get over it, Joe. You know as much about politics as you know about guitar and you won't shut the fuck up about that either.
5. I wrote poetry about things nobody else knows like how much more enlightened I am because I read articles on Medium.com. Here's a stanza:
I'm not reading articles on medium Right now Because I read an article on medium About how much better life is when you fast From the news Fuck the news FUCK the news I said Fuck the news Also, I skipped A Number
6. I enjoyed the little things like putting ants under a magnifying glass delighting in my power to end worlds and steadily progressed from insects to fish, back to insects, then fish, then merely contemplating mammals, but ultimately sticking to insects.
7. I became an artisinal hot dog encaser. I read about it on medium. Opened an Etsy.
President's Day is a day for Americans to reflect on a long, unbroken chain of exceptional sales throughout our nation's history. Here are just a few to think about while your flip flops gently flap against your disgusting feet, you no good, jobless hippie.
1. Tom's Feed Store Half Off grain sale of 1800.
Tom was a simple man. In fact, sales on President's Day can be traced all the way back to him. Grain was in abundance thanks to the great trade war of 1798. While skinning a cat, halfway through Tom thought, "this cat's half off just like my grain sale!" And thus, the first Geico commercial was born. It was a hit with the local folk so much so that Tom came up with new door busters every year until he died at the hand of a coward who shot him in the back and took his lady.
2. Millard Filmore hosts a cheese and wine bacchanal at his local 7-11.
President's Day sales at 7-11 are no longer common because a Japanese conglomerate now owns it. They have Emperor Respect Holy Time Forever Deluxe Extra Special Day across the puddle, as they say. But in old F-more's day, they were quite common. Where Millard wanted a Slim Jim and some Barefoot wine, he'd call his donkey and they'd ride to 7-11. The manager got a great idea to throw a party every time the President came in on President's Day. If you bought the President some Hot Cheetos, Skittles, and some High Life, you got a free scratch off and an extra portion of nacho cheese. Needless to say, condoms were invented shortly after this tradition started.
3. George HW Bush sacrifices a baby at a WalMart
Surprisingly little is known about why HW did sacrifice a baby at a Walmart on President's Day but Walmart accountants reported a tenfold increase in sales of microwaveable chicken nuggets. HW never repeated the act but did honor the baby by making macaroni portraits of it every President's Day thereafter.
Tired of all the happy couples strolling around town, holding hands, and having public sex at every Jack In The Box dining room they can find? You don't have to be jealous! You can do it, too! Why go for regular fries when you can get super crispy, ultra sexy?
1. Stick a dirty sock in your love interest's back pocket. Make sure to write your phone number with a note that says, "Lost sock! If found, call (###)###-####." They'll call and you can say, "Hey, I know a great place that serves crispy fries. I know the owner. His name is Jack. Jack Inthebox."
2. Like photos of them from their college days at least four years ago on Facebook. Be sure to get the likes up to the double digits. This will blow up their phone and they will be forced to find out who is giving them so much wonderful attention! Just like Singing in the Rain!
3. Insert yourself into their memories! This is very important. If they say, "One time when I was at McDonald's this old lady asked me to wipe her ass for her." You say, "No, no, no. I was there. It was at a Jack in the Box and there was no old lady. It was me."
4. Find the tallest building in town. Climb to the top with a very large poster of your love interest's face. With a loudspeaker say, "DON'T MAKE ME JUMP FOR YOUR LOVE!" This will guilt them into at least one fish sandwich at Jack In The Box. And if fish isn't on the menu, maybe you can give them a little kiss.
5. Continually submit missed connections to your love interest on craigslist. Make them very specific like: "Barney Gumble, I am your co-worker, Zenith MacTastrophe. I am in love with you and would very much like to treat you to a couple of buttermilk ranch packets at Jack In The Box. I know the fry cook. He can give me them without charging ten cents."
6. Buy a wedding ring and wear it around. Unprompted, tell people it's a motivational wedding ring. Point to your love interest and say, "I'm going to marry that bitch right there."
7. Be exotic. Whenever possible, embellish your talents and interests. If someone asks you what your favorite animal is, say, "My unyielding sex drive. I masturbate ten times a day." If someone asks you what your favorite food is, say, "The dogs that are constantly chasing me in my dreams." If someone asks you why you're calling them at midnight, just breathe very heavily into the phone until you cry.
Equipped with these tips and tricks, you'll find yourself eating from the brunch menu at Jack in the Box for two!
Luke Spooner whipped up quite a cover for Invasion of the Weirdos. Check it out. Keep your eyes in their sockets for April because that's when Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing is unleashing this puppy into the world.
There's a debate raging among liberals. All sides of this argument are generally well-meaning; after all, this current political climate is being framed as a righteous holy war by BOTH SIDES. When you're righteous, how could you be wrong? Punching a Nazi seems so right.
I hate to say it, but it just ain't. First, let's just get into the stupid game of semantics. Nazi has a definition. Who gets to decide that definition and does the definition expand based on who the puncher feels morally outraged at?
Let's separate that cretin Spencer from the question. What if it was just some guy who said something off color? Is he a Nazi? Does he get a punch in the face? Does a racist comment put you in league with Nazis, who were a historical political party that advocated for racial extermination? I hate Nazis. I hate racists. But the idea that people can be lumped in with one of the most evil historical organizations is ludicrous.
That guy Spencer is a Neo-Nazi by any observer with a brain. He's a white supremacist that believes in "peaceful genocide" which is absolutely stupid because forcible removal from territory based on race is one of the definitions of genocide. There is no peaceful genocide. It's just genocide. In my heart, I would get immense satisfaction from punching that Neo-Nazi in the face. But let's get down to the heart of the matter.
I am a white male who bears little to no consequence for punching him the face and running away. Who gets the blame for this violence? The people Neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and fascists hate. They get blamed for the violence. Violence affirms their irrational fear. All they need is one good lie. For the actual Nazis, it was the Reichstag fire. For the Nazis emboldened by our Idiot President, it could be a well-placed punch. It could be a death at a rally. It could be another burning building. It won't even matter who did it. If liberals cede the moral high ground and start saying violence is okay when fighting hateful rhetoric, they win. They can manipulate any act of violence at one of their gatherings and make minorities pay tenfold.
But, you say, we defeated Nazis in World War II with violence. War is war, y'all. People get killed. I'm no pacifist. I believe wars can be necessary even if the moral justification isn't the real justification for war. World War II was necessary. Stopping genocide, though, was not why FDR went in. We knew a genocide was going on and we waited to get bombed by Japan. Genocide was far from the top justification for war. It was one of the justifications but it was not the top.
But, you say, Captain America is always punching Nazis. Yes, that's true. Captain America is fiction and I love watching his knuckles break jaws. But because he is fiction, things usually go Captain America's way. Captain America can punch a Nazi and the enemy is vanquished. Unfortunately, it is my belief that when one Nazi is punched, you've created two more. That imbecile Spencer uses getting punched as propaganda. All he needs to do is say, "See! Look, they are uncivilized! They are to be feared!" and all of the sudden you get your regular run-of-the-mill racist idiot lacing up his combat boots.
There's a lot of Monday morning quarterbacking going on. Many people are saying Bernie would have won. That may be true and, as a Clinton supporter, I tend to agree that Bernie may have had a better chance of making inroads with the working class in the Rust Belt. But liberals are also saying that everyone who voted for Trump is a white supremacist, racist, fascist, Nazi sympathizing idiot. If that were true, a Jewish Democratic Socialist would have fared no better against a resurgent white supremacist movement. I do not believe everyone who voted for Trump is a racist. They cast their vote for the wrong person, yes. But to lump them all into the racist category means there are a whole lot of faces to be punched and I don't see any of my white male friends who are buying t-shirts and pins and posting memes about punching faces doing that.
I also believe in the paradox of free speech. A moron speaking will betray his own intellect. Loons talking crazy will be ignored. If we didn't spend so much time labeling Milo as the most dangerous writer, he wouldn't be perceived as the most dangerous writer and therefore forbidden and desired. He's at the top of the charts. His base of followers is minuscule compared the mainstream but the mainstream gets lapped up in righteous fury bring attention him. That's what he wants. That's his whole brand. He annoys liberals. We can't waste any time playing into these profiteers' machinations anymore.
We are in troubling times. Liberals have a tendency to eat each alive. I am not writing this to cast any judgement on any of my friends who believe that these times call for violence. I just ask that we separate our moral outrage from our action. Don't give any ammunition to the other side to create their own Reichstag fire. Their worldview requires your violence. And think about what your violence and your advocacy of violence means for people who aren't white.
If you don't agree with me, that's fine. Let's talk. I promise I won't punch you in the face.
Hey there, folks! Welcome to another episode of Synergetic Happiness Strategies or SyHaSt, for short and stupid!
We here at SyHaSt like to think that you like to think we're experts. We like that we like to think that you like to think that! It gives us that sweet, sweet, exposure on the Influencer Markets which rates Pure Bullshits with Unadulterated Profitability! And we want you to profit!
Here are some time-tested ways to get your office happy again.
1. The boss gots to bring a TUNA SALAD and leave in the office refrigerator! Your commoner workfolk will point fingers about the smell for WEEKS at each other. But here's the best part, nobody will clean it up! The smell will get so bad that they avoid lunch breaks altogether and their paranoia and suspicions will stop them from talking to each other when they should be SHITTING OUT EXCEL SPREADSHEETS FOR YOU, the BOSS!
2. Call in the same person to your office every day. Stare at their eyes in silence. When they start to shift uncomfortably or fidget like they're about to get up just shake your head very, very slowly without averting your gaze. After about fifteen minutes, laugh like he just told the best racist joke you ever heard and slap him on the back as you walk him out of the office. To him, it's a power move. You neuter him on the reg. To your workfolk, it's a sign of favoritism. They will bite each other's butt holes to get into that room with you. Look around the office. Everyone is happy. Everyone has a job. There are no robots coming yet.
3. Fire the coffee boy. Nobody needs a coffee boy in the world of automation. Have you ever heard of a little machine called MR. COFFEE? Put a sign next to it that says, "CAN'T WAIT TO BUY A MR. WORKER!"
4. Choose the most inept employee to scream out, "Hey, Bud! How are you liking that little raise, huh? Should help with your little coke problem!" This creates competition among your workers. Your spreadsheets will look fabulous. Regional is going to love you!
5. Stop showing up altogether. Instead, install 40 inch Vizio HDTVs all over the office with your face Skyped in, eyes darting around, saying things like, "Good, good, good. Bad, bad, bad. FUCK!" Lead office wide jumping jacks but do not participate. Complain that MR. COFFEE does a better job than any of its human counterparts. Announce your intention to turn this regional sales office into a MR. COFFEE coffee shop. A self-serve coffee shop. You'd make more money and you'd be jumping on the trend to de-bohemianize everything. It's coming.
Hope you enjoyed our advice from Leading Synergy Efficiency Experts. Remember, a happy worker is one with a job. Check out the last post
Hey, look! A video and a text post! If you hate waiting through videos, just read the post. If you hate reading, watch the video. If you can't read, fuck you! You can't read this anyways!
Morgan Spurlock changed the world when he released Super Size Me.
The motherfucker doesn't even know it. Now he runs around in a fat suit and cries more when people recognize him than when they don't.
But that one glorious moment in 2004 changed the world. This was when John Kerry holding-in-a-fart voice still seemed to have a chance at annoying global leaders as the "leader of the free world." Well, friends. Morgan Spurlock made the world a little less free.
I go to McDonald's now and I see nutrition information. I look at the low calorie options and think, "Holy shit, the salad has 500 calories and the Big Mac meal only has 700. That's only 200 more for something that I actually stepped into a fucking McDonald's for."
When I was a kid I always ordered super size fries. Now I look into the mirror and say, "It could be worse."
What I'm saying is that movie is responsible for fast food chains even bothering with salads. It's also responsible for John Kerry forcing his wife to step down from the Heinz cartel. And now a fast food slogging flesh robot is President.
I love fast food.
Let me tell you how Morgan Spurlock changed the world.
In 2004, we were okay. We fucked up with George W. Bush but we were on our way to correcting it. Ol' Johnny Burp Vocals was putting crowds into intense trances all throughout the campaign.
Then this fucking movie comes along and wakes up the sleeping demons of the American electorate. We're not going to give up our goddamn fast food but we had to put up with the morning shows following every dildo who "disproved" that Morgan Spurlock couldn't get a boner anymore after eating McDonald's for thirty days. Some of these people included a person who ate McDonald's for a week and exercised. Not exactly following a similar regimen but, sure, go ahead Mr. Fartknocker. Prove to the world you still look like no American ever with your goddamned muscles and your smug self satisfaction.
We were inundated with this shit.
We went to McDonald's for an escape and what the hell were we confronted with? We were confronted with banners proclaiming that they had salads and nutritional information available upon request. They also added the great feature of getting rid of the super size.
Friends, this made us irritable. This made us question our neighbor's political lawn sign. This made us vote for other candidates out of spite. This caused us to throw rocks at each other. We sat at opposite ends of the McDonald's dining room and stared holes into each other's hearts. We went mad.
We just wanted to eat in peace, knowing full well we were doing the equivalent of smoking cigarettes. It was useless escapism. It was a small middle finger to death but a huge 'fuck you' to life. More than the teenager drinking shitty beer, we were teenagers truly living on the edge. We were eating Chicken McNuggets and more than the daily recommended amount at that!
You know who else was eating at McDonald's?
Donald Trump.
Yeah, that Donald Trump.
Guess what he was doing?
Getting as angry as we all were.
Nobody wants a fucking salad, Morgan Spurlock. If I wanted a healthy cigarette, I'd be wearing hemp sandals, listening to Bob Marley, and smoking weed. We knew what we wanted.
Now we have Donald Trump, a product of our fast food wars. He's the pink slime of chicken nuggets left uncooked for too long and became sentient; a perfect amalgamation of our collective hatred for each other.
By getting rid of the super size, you fuck, you created a super super big league size. And now we're all eating salad at McDonald's. Get it? It means we're eating shit. We don't want to eat it.
I found this website on a friend's Facebook profile. It's an executive order generator.
Here are a few of mine. I'll probably sprinkle these here and there randomly to keep things fun and light-hearted and not at all miserable.
Obviously, President Trump is a fucking liar. Aerith is dead. STEVE BANNON KILLED HER.
Nice poem there.
The original release. Not the ten year anniversary that included, "Superstar Punani." Although Trump loves that track, he thinks it best to stay on their beloved collection of b-sides, "Secondhand Smoke." That whole album is now the theme song to The Wire.
