Wibbley Wobbely Woo

uh, what the
fuck                                 ?






This keeps on getting bet

Bawhumbug... (Merry Fuckin Christmas)

So... Haven't been here in awhile... Uh huh. Yessir.

Just some weird shit that randomly careens thru my mind:

1) The word homage. If pronounced the way it's spelled, would sound like "Hommij" or "Home-ij", but has always been pronounced with a silent h and short o, like "ommij", well, that is until the phony, pretentious yuppy fucks got ahold of it, and tried to Frenchitize it, like "Oh-Mahzh" which makes the speaker sound like a pompous douchebag, in my opinion, kind of like when they say "Awn-velope" for envelope.

2) The word sugar. Why do we pronounce it "Shooger" and not "Soo-Gar"? Why does Suge Knight spell his namd Suge, which should rhyme with spooge, instead of just spelling it Shoog? Must be a G thing, I guess.

{I was thinking about that while taking a shit this morning.}

3) Andy Kaufmann didn't have a cow in his name, it rhymes with Hoffmann.

4) Yeah, I've probably written about this before, but I can't remember because I suffer from CRS (Can't Remember Shit), and I enjoy smoking pot. They say it fucks with one's short-term, uh, what is that fuckin word again?

So, on account of it being December 25th and all, I decided to make this post half red and half green. Woo fuckin hoo.

I'm going to smoke a li'l nuggy now.

Mmmm... Better! Now where was I at again? Jacob Marley. Aw Bob Saget. (There. There's an homage to Ebenezer Scrooge and Danny the Tourette's Guy.) [Fuck you and every mall santa that looks like you!] {& somewhere in the back of your mind right now is Bob Marley.}

Ah!   There He  Is!!



I'm a man of very little capital this December 25th, thanx in part to the weather, bills, and the InFernal Revenue Service. (Yep, them fucks.) And, as a direct result of being a man of very little capital, I'm also a man of very little bud remaining. :(

Anyways...

Since dragging my fifty-year-old ass up out of bed this morning, approximately two hours ago, I have searched and read about the evolution of the Jeep, studied the local weather forecast [fap-fap], listened to CW McCall relaying a musical anecdote about crossing the great divide in a semi, and perused some interesting pictures and video footage of women with bizarre ink inserting bizarre (sometimes living) objects into bodily orifices... Then I was bored enough to write.

   So.    I'm not a very Christmasy sort of dude. I used to go thru the motions of my upbringing, get a tree, string lights on it, hang shit on it, etc. And no matter how much you water it, it drops needles everywhere, cats climb it, dogs piss on it, and inevitably some drunk motherfucker falls into it and down it goes, along with Grandma's antique family heirloom blowed-glass Christmas balls. Thpbt.
Fake trees don't fare much better. Besides, fake trees suck.

So I have this bag of old lights that I intercepted on its way from a job to the dump. I saved the ones that still work. I was thinking about haphazardly throwing them on the bushes in front of the house, just for the fuck of it, but it's raining outside. Someone dreamed of a wet Christmas.
December 25th, 2015 - It's 70 degrees and thunderstorming. The neighbors were blowing up fireworks last night. Not the drunks across the street either, someone one street over. Maybe I'll build a fire in the yard and throw the rest of the leftover fireworks we have laying around into it. But it's fuckin raining. Coffee beckons. Merry fuckin Christmas.

Spew...

I think I'm gonna spew my coffee.  All over my keyboard, monitor, worktable, my lap, everything.  Is it possible to sympathy spew?  I don't know.  I got fat when my ex was pregnant, I grew a sympathy belly, so maybe.  Maybe I'm just sick of the current state of society...

I have a friend who won't stop drinking alcohol, and at least three friends, probably more, currently under the spell of heroin.  And when I look at the world all around, sometimes I can't really blame them.  Who wants to read about war and death and government fascism and police brutality and GMO food products and children starving while bankers count their money and killer vaccines and goddamn politics every day?  ...I've been pondering "What does a nervous breakdown feel like?"

Where is a Bodhi tree when one needs one?  ...Or have the corporate fascist bastards bulldozed them all to build another parking lot?  I'd really like to smoke some pot.  I'd like to hold a little twenty-something girl in my arms and just sleep all day.  There are a lot of things I'd like to do.  I'd like to be an Eagle, soaring high above it all, oblivious to humanity and all its suffering.  But I'm a man, not an eagle.  Not a hawk.  Not a dove.  Not a wolf, or a puma, not a donkey or a prairie dog.  And not a mouse either.  I'm part bear, because my great Grandmother was a Bear, but I'm just one man.

There's a story.  The legend of Jumping Mouse.  I tried to find a version of it that I could copy/paste here, because I don't feel like typing that much right now, but the best I could find was this: The Legend Of Jumping Mouse

Everything is falling apart.  It's not a facepalm.  It's a Flippedysquit.  And it's surely Flibbertyjibbitz.

Fuck the IRS. Fuck them right in the pussy.

Motherfuckers.  Damn dirty motherfuckers.  What more is there to say?  "Get your filthy, shit-stained paws off my motherfuckin money, you damn dirty IRS!"  Damn dirty government.  Yep, yep.

  Damn dirty government thinks they can just rob the working folks of this here land and they expect us to just roll over and spread our cheeks.  Well fuck them.  They have no right to legalize robbery.  And that's exactly what they've done, but not across the board, just when applicable to themselves.  They made it legal for them to rob private citizens for their own gain.  Ha ha, good joke.  You say that it's ok for you to rob me, because you write the stinkin laws, and fuck me if I don't like it.  Yeah?  Well fuck you too.  Fuck you!  You hear me, motherfuckers?  Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, and the bankers whose coat tails you held onto, and the Italian suit and silk tie you got with money you stole from taxpayers, and all the free shit you get as perks of the position.  You need to bend over and assume the position, because you all deserve forty whacks, and I aim to give 'em to you.  With a stainless steel boat paddle.

I'm a dangerous subversive.  Subversive, because I love America and hate government, and dangerous because I have the audacity to exercise my right to free speech.

  The 16th Amendment (above) states that congress shall have the power to tax income from any source.  It does not suggest that they have the right to do so.  I assert that they have no such right.

This rant today all stems from the fact that I'm sick and tired of being taxed into poverty by a bunch of rich bastards who do no actual work, and I'm sick of the funds they rob from me and you going to pay for the enforcement of unconstitutional laws, militarization of police, and into the pockets of the military-industrial complex.  And don't even get me started on the federal reserve bank.  Fuck.

Bottom line is, I signed a blank W4 and trusted the intelligence of a clerk in an office to fill it out correctly.  He/she/they filled it out in a manner which allows me more per pay, but leaves me holding the bag come tax time.  I should have known better.  I've given instruction to change it for future reference, but unfortunately it isn't retroactive, so fuck me.  I shot myself in the foot, and now I have to deal with it.  Have fun with my money, Sam.  But I'm seriously contemplating just not filing this year at all.  I have until April to think about it.  I mean, what are they gonna fuckin do?  Put me in jail?  I've been in jail before.  Take my house away?  Too late motherfuckers, my house went away twelve years ago.  I still have a pot to piss in, but that's about all I have as far as material things.  I have my truck, and my computer, a couple guitars, power tools, chainsaw, etc.  They can't take any of that because they would be affecting my livelihood, and thereby my right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  They affect my pursuit of happiness anyway, with their standard-issue, everyday bullfuck.

Nine - Fourteen - Fourteen

So...  Another lovely September day.  Some wispy cirrus clouds in an otherwise blue sky, temperatures in the 70s....  A good cigar burning between my fingers.... 

Anyone with even the slightest bit of awareness knows there is something wrong.  Humanity was not meant to be what it has become.  There is some force pushing us in the wrong direction.

  Call it what you will, its existence cannot be denied, except by idiots and the brainwashed.  Leaders of nations and leaders of religions do not have the best interest of humanity or our home at heart, rather they are interested in manipulation and exploitation for their own selfish ends.  This percolates down to the common man via the programming and conditioning of his mind from early childhood.  People are taught to be greedy, self-centered consumers, useless eaters keeping the big machine running for the benefit of the 1%, livestock and draft animals in abject servitude to the illuminati masters.  In order to break the vicious cycle and break free, one must first become aware of what is happening around them.  Then they must pass this knowledge on to others.

  The more who become aware, the closer we get to the overthrow of the overlords.  You can choose instead to deny the truth, even as it stands before you smacking you in the face, and to go on about your delusions.  That is unfortunate, but the programming is hard to undo.  Throughout history there have been those who try to break the chains, unlock the cages, and set humanity free...  Most of them are killed in a violent manner, often by those whose freedom they are trying to achieve, because the programmed minds are unwilling or unable to admit the truth to themselves.  This is where pride gets in the way, saying, "I'm not an idiot! I couldn't possibly get swindled into believing lies! My church/government/teachers/etc. would never steer me wrong, they are beyond reproach! How dare you insinuate such?! You must be the liar, then!" (Etc, etc, ad infinitum) This is known as belligerent denial.  I have not yet found a sufficient means of smashing that wall of denial and forcing folks to look at the truth, and without some "positive empirical proof", some "concrete evidence" that cannot by its very existence be doubted, I know no way yet of freeing humanity.  I still keep on searching.  Deep within there must be the answer I seek.
There has to be a way to smack even the most belligerent delusional mind awake.  When I find it, all will know.

It's  hard, exceedingly so, not to become jaded.  It's hard not to get angry, anger born of frustration, frustration at the seemingly dimwitted examples of sheeple who aimlessly roam thru life, sometimes speaking opinions which are not truly their own, but rather are what they have been told to believe by some "authority" figure or another.  It's difficult to make myself understand that it mostly isn't their fault, (bless em) that they have been manipulated by outside forces mind-fucking them.  To try and get thru to them is like nailing jello to a tree.  {Goddamn sonofabitch! I coulda fucked a mule!}

I try just to make my peace with The All That Is, simultaneously judging myself harshly for judging others.  I tell myself that everyone and everything is Divine and Sovereign, even those bastards that I hate.  It ain't easy carrying this sack of rocks on my back.

If I had a woman to share my burden, but no.  None of them ever quite understood.  It was always fun for awhile, getting some pussy, but then the arguments would ensue.  Who can be expected to understand the mind and the heart and the soul of a crazy person?  So I carry this sack of rocks alone.

Maybe one day that big black triangle will return, with the cute blonde who speaks to my soul with her eyes.  Maybe she will come and take me away with her.

I know there is a purpose to it all.  There has to be.
Fuck, fuckedy fuck fuck.

Muckin Puckin Motherfuckin Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

Howdy.  Greetings.  Salutations.  Hello.

It's been a minute.  It is what it is.

When I was twenty, I never suspected that at forty eight I'd be an old, grey-haired, cigar-chomping, miserable fuck.  Yeah.  But here I be.  ...in the blogosphere, as it were.  Yeah.

So, what are they doing down in the tunnels?  I don't mean subway tunnels under any given city, either, and I don't mean highway tunnels either.  And when I say they, I mean they, them, the hidden ones, etc.  You know to whom I refer.  Mount Shasta, CA and Dulce, NM... Area 51... Yeah.

The network of tunnels is vast, if what I have been able to investigate is any indication of surface-scratching.  In fact, it's possible that our Mother is not what she appears to be, she may not be a naturally occurring planet at all, but a manufactured one, in essence, a spaceship.  Like the Death Star.  And our Moon as well.  So what I ask is, who resides inside?  What are those little grey anthropomorphic things with the big wraparound eyes?  People use the word "alien" to describe them, but I don't think that is entirely accurate, is it?  The word alien means not from here, from elsewhere, so it could be correct if they are from another planet, or another dimension, or another time.  But what if they are from here?  What if they live underground, like mole men?  It could explain the pasty complexion and the large eyes.  What if they were here before we were?  Maybe the gods created them first, to live in tunnels underground, and mine minerals....  Then they created us to live on the surface and, I don't know, herd aminals maybe, or something else.  Maybe to be the guardians or caretakers of the surface, or to be visible for other races to observe, as opposed to the hidden.  Maybe they created man with the intent of creating a being which is capable of transporting their essence, an avatar thru which they could interface with this world.  But something went awry... Something... A fault in the system, a ghost in the machine, a glitch in the program... Somehow we became sentient on our own, capable of reason, capable of our own volition, our own freewill.

I don't know, man.  There are so many unanswered questions, so many variables, so many unknowns.
Find x.  For 1 to 1gulptillion, x=ae/y ~ EADGBE ;; DADGAD ;; EIEIO (and sometimes w) so find the motherfucker, I triple dog dare you!  And.... yeah.  There it isn't.  Good cigar, though.

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, meaning it doesn't have any weed in it.  Maybe tomorrow they'll legalize recreational marijuana consumption nationwide, in which case, a whole nother variable is introduced, and whence hereupon my cigars may contain more than just tobacco, but for this moment, yeah.

Here's a little random video clip:

Irregardless of what a cartoon character may or may not like, It's gotten into the American vulgate and it's a whole nother thing to think you can just make it go away all of the sudden like. Actually, in all actuality, I could care less about it. I could also care more, however, I don't. Webspeak, lolspeak, txtese, and ebonics have all worked their way into the everyday vulgate, which means the language of the people, regular folks, as opposed to suit-wearing yuppy fucks, or English teachers, or other hoity-toity types who walk around with their noses in the air, acting as though their shit doesn't stink. Some of it is just silly, and some of it sounds retarded, such as 'axe' for ask, or the improper usage of there, their, and they're, or your and you're, where, were, and we're, etc. But it's just a reflection of the substandard "education" rampant among products of the regimented, institutional brainwashing and conditioning machine (AKA public school system) in this country. {And presumably in others as well.}
I dropped out of high school in 1982 because I was sick of the rules and the regimented nature of the system. (The scene from Pink Floyd's The Wall with the kids marching into the grinder and coming out as worms comes immediately to mind.) And I had my GED in my hand before my class graduated. I aced a college English class afterward, so I obviously know the proper English, though I choose to use regular construction-site vernacular in my everyday speech, peppered with fuck, motherfuck, shit, goddamn, sumbitch, and other colorful words and phrases, because I feel comfortable speaking that way, and because I can. [Sticks out tongue and thumbs nose at society]
Television is mind-numbing drivel, designed to distract the sheeple from observing the world around them. I suggest reading books. Aldous Huxley's Brave New World is a good place to start.
Peace, y'all.

You Can't Bite Your Teeth...

...Unless... If you pull them out one at a time, and bite it, but eventually you will run out of teeth, so you most definitely can't bite the last two, so you can't bite them all then, so you can't bite your fuckin teeth. Case closed.

You also can't take a bite out of a redbrick.  Go ahead and try it, I triple dog dare you.  Bite that motherfucker!  ...Ok.  Now that's out of the way,
Where is flight 370 at?  In the ocean?  In a hangar somewhere, getting repainted?  North Korea, maybe?  I'm betting on the Giant Mothership angle myself.  Swallowed up in a nanosecond, like so much space debris.  Picture a blue whale eating a prawn.  That's how a giant mothership would swallow a 777 in flight.  Gulp!
Keep in mind that these ships do not originate in this dimension, and therefore do not obey the same laws of physics.  They can become visible briefly and then vanish, taking whatever/whomever they want back with them to their realm of existence.  They could poof up in lower Manhattan and snatch up Gary Sinise, John Malkovich, David Peel, and Kevin Bacon (because everything is better with Bacon!) and then just quark off in a nanosecond, and the camera might not see anything...  David would fire up a joint for the ride...  Uh, so, where was I at again?  Oh, the giant mothership.  Right.
Yeah, and 239 Chinese folk... Ok, they weren't all Chinese, were they?  How many Thai hookers were onboard?  Any?  They should turn the investigation over to Kinky Friedman.  If he can't find it, I'm sure he can come up with at least one good reason why not.  "Ok, so why would 'aliens' snatch a 777 out of midair?" You say? Well, for the Kung Pao Duck, of course!  Or maybe just for the fuck of it.  Maybe it's Operation Northwoods.  Look it up.  Maybe all those passengers became lizard food.  Maybe they were taken for a breeding program.  Maybe they are all on Mars, working as slave labor in the mines.  The point is, Who knows?  Somebody knows.  Somebody knows, but they aren't saying.  And the ones who are doing all the talking don't know jack shit.  That's how it usually goes.  I hear some food calling me.  Later-bye.