Posts Tagged 'nature'

HISTORY, CIVICS, AND PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY PART 3

HISTORY, CIVICS, AND PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY PART 2

HISTORY, CIVICS, AND PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY PART 1

HISTORY, CIVICS, AND PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY PENSACOLA’S FIVE-FLAGS DISPLAYS

VICTIMS OF THIS GODLESS DIGITAL AGE

In my fifty-one years of age

I have never encountered such inhumanity

In humanity

Such inhuman

Humans

As in this godless Digital Age.

And this is why I know

That as we true humans remaining

Die

Victims of this godless Digital Age

The death of human civilization

Of which every holy book

And every holy man

Has ever spoken

Will occur.

And this godless Digital Age

Will finally be damned

For all eternity.

Thank God.

MY FIRST FIFTEEN MINUTES OF FAME

[These two videos were originally posted March 30, 2014]

IF ONLY I WERE FAMOUS

“…You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful–I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet.  Just kiss.  I don’t even wait.  And when you’re a star, they let you do it.  You can do anything.”

“…Grab ’em by the pussy.  You can do anything…”

Donald Trump is not suitable to be President of the United States.  But this is not a reason why.  From the moment I heard the private conversation Donald Trump had with Billy Bush in 2005, I was appalled–not at Trump’s words, but at the deceitfulness of the American press, and at the hypocrisy of Republican politicians.

This private conversation was exposed for blatantly political reasons–allegedly by the same Republican politicians who chastised Trump so hypocritically.  We could be sure that Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell, and even Mike Pence had made very similar comments during their lives.  The fact was that no man alive had failed to engage in such “locker room talk” during his life–and no woman either.

And of course the press completely lied about the comments–stating that Trump had bragged about sexually assaulting women–when it was clear that he simply hadn’t.  In this “locker room talk”, Trump was speaking of sexual relations with women–with their consent.  That’s not sexual assault.  Furthermore, he was simply speaking the truth–the same truth that Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, and Jimi Hendrix had known.

When you’re a star, women will let you do just about anything–even “grab ’em by the pussy.”  Not all women–not even most women–just a lot of women.

I envy President-elect Trump–in fact, I’m jealous of him.  Everyone in the world latches on to his every tweet as if it’s the last word on everything.

I wish I were a star–I wish I were famous.

Yes, if I were famous, women would indeed let me grab their lovely pussies.

Better still, they might let me have wild, wonderful, sexual intercourse with them.

Better still, they might turn their goddamned smartphones off, and actually let me read my poetry and prose to them.

Or enlighten them on some old, forgotten subject–like history.

Or even share with them my ideas on how we could stop changing our world for the worse, and start changing our world for the better–how we could all be human again, and save humanity itself.

If only I were famous.

EASY ON THE EYES #25

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FIRST WILL AND TESTAMENT

It’s a horrible way to die.

Yeah, well I didn’t ask to die this way.

What way?

Slowly, agonizingly–from a combination of psychiatric drugs whose effects my body can no longer tolerate (because there are no safer drugs available) and fast food saturated with a deadly amount of fat and salt (because I can no longer afford healthier food).

Ironic–you are in far more danger writing a sober post, your head tight, your calves tight, your eyeballs rolling around with some kind of dyskinesia and/or sodium poisoning than writing a drunken post, your body and mind totally relaxed under the influence of alcohol, your blood pressure lowered to a safe level.

Yeah, well I can’t afford a large, healthy dinner to absorb a large, healthy amount of alcohol.  And I can’t obtain medical marijuana to replace these far more dangerous psychiatric drugs, because it’s not legal yet.  And I can’t simply stop these deadly psychiatric drugs with nothing safer to replace them.  I can’t even replace these deadly psychiatric drugs with a moderate amount of alcohol daily, because there’s alcoholism in my family history, and there’s no Mediterranean component to my Old World ancestry.

Even if there were a woman in my life who could cook the healthiest, yet tastiest food for me, calm me with her body, nourish me rather than drain me, complement me rather than control me, accommodate me rather than dominate me, I could safely write such a sober post as this one.  But there isn’t–there never has been, and there probably never will be.

So let me die writing, since I am to die alone.

I was in the second or third grade.  It was about the time I’d started this trend of chasing the girls around the playground to kiss them.  Other boys had caught on–and we had to stay in, during recess one day.  This put a stop to that.

Then another boy came up with a different way to catch girls–impressing them with daring.  Other boys caught on, other boys including me.  There was a very high slide in the playground.  And this boy, instead of sliding down, decided to jump off the back of the slide.  The ground was dirt and grass–but there was a square of strong support bars midway down.  This boy jumped, and he was okay. Others followed, and they were okay.  Then I jumped.  Maybe it was because I was taller than the other boys, maybe not–but I didn’t fall straight down on my feet like the others.  I tumbled into the square of support bars.  Remembering, it seems like I was suspended in midair–or moving in slow-motion.  There was no pain.  But my arms hit the bars, my legs hit the bars, and my head hit the bars. Yet I got to my feet–and the very girls I’d tried to impress checked on me, making sure I was alright (the other boys had split).  And I was alright–no fracture, not even a bruise.

Not long after, neighborhood kids got the idea to play a game in Robby’s pool.  I think it was called chicken fighting.  The smaller, lighter boys would get on the shoulders of the larger, heavier boys in the shallow end of the pool–then try to push each other into the water.  Of course it was far more dangerous for the larger, heavier boys.  Smaller, lighter Jeff sat on my shoulders, and his opponent pushed him into the water.  And I was trapped, of course.  All I could do was hold my breath, as I waited for Jeff to get off my shoulders.  This was different than the incident with the slide–I was aware of this, I was aware that I was about to drown.

This is probably another reason the wreck of the Sunset Limited affected me more seriously than the 9/11 catastrophe–those who died in that wreck probably died in a much more horrible way.  Those who jumped from the Twin Towers were likely the only 9/11 victims who suffered as much terror as the victims of the Sunset Limited wreck.

Imagine this–you’re on a train going over a bayou bridge in the dark.  And your rail car crashes into the bayou.  If you’re lucky, the crash will knock you out–so you won’t know what hit you.  If you’re not, you will be desperately trying to find a way out of that car before it fills up with water–along with countless other screaming passengers.  It’s totally dark–there are no lights over that bayou.  So not only are you unable to find a way out of the car, you don’t even know which way is up.

But Jeff managed to get off my shoulders–just in time.

The last time was a suicide attempt.  It was the only suicide attempt–because I lived and learned how nearly impossible it was to kill oneself.  Prozac is bad stuff–the worst.  It didn’t make me want to commit suicide–it made me delusional so that I thought God wanted me to commit suicide.  There I was on the floor dying. I was at peace, with the sensation of floating in deep space, yet breathing, stars surrounding me.  And something literally possessed my body–made me get up, and dial 911.  At first I thought that something was the Devil.  Then I thought it was God.  But in time, I realized it was my primal brain–that bit of tissue that contains the one bit of emotion every animal has–the fear of death.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I despise money–perhaps more than anything else.

Money is not something I want to have–only something I have to have.

Money has absolutely no value–ever.

And money is completely useless–until it is spent for products and services that have value.

Even when money is saved, it is only saved to be spent at a later time.

Even when money is invested, it is only invested to acquire more money that is still completely useless until it is spent.

Even when money is given away, it is only given away to be spent by someone other than oneself.

Money has absolutely no value–ever.

And money is completely useless–until it is spent for products and services that have value.

Why wouldn’t I despise money?  Why wouldn’t anyone despise money?

If I have money, it has no value–and it is completely useless until it is spent for products and services that have value.

But if I don’t have money, I cannot acquire products and services that have value–products which include food, services which include disposal of food remains.

This is the worst time in American history to be poor.

In the past, the poor in the United States could get help from their families and communities.

But there is no more family in the United States.

And there is no more community.

I’m obsessed with obtaining money–those without money always are.

“Here come the rich man in his big, long limousine.  Here come the poor man, Lord, he got to have his green.”

A couple weeks ago, there was a homeless woman with a dog.

She held a sign that read, NEED MONEY FOR TAMPONS, DOG FOOD…

I had fifty dollars in my wallet–all I had.

If I gave her this fifty dollars, I thought, would someone in turn give me five hundred dollars?

“Pay it forward” would work like this:

I give her $50–all I have.

Someone gives me $500–all she has.

Someone gives her $5,000–all he has.

Someone gives him $50,000–all she has.

Someone gives her $500,000–all he has.

Someone gives him $5,000,000–all she has.

Someone gives her $50,000,000–all he has.

Someone gives him $500,000,000–all she has.

Someone gives her $5,000,000,000–all he has.

Someone gives him $50,000,000,000–all she has.

I give her $500,000,000,000–all I have.

Someone gives me $5,000,000,000,000–but it’s not all she has.

If only I knew, I thought.

But I didn’t know–so I didn’t give her my fifty dollars.

There’s a $429 bottle of Scotch that’s at least thirty years old–I’ve mentioned it in a previous post.

Ever since I first saw it, I’ve wanted to purchase it–just to see if drinking it would transport me to 1986 or before.

But even the few times I had enough money to purchase it, I didn’t–because I didn’t know it would transport me anywhere anytime.

That eighteen-year-old Scotch I drank at the Shark Fin during that dinner with the Singletons of which I wrote in a drunken post (particularly of the Zionist bastard who embarrassed me in front of my friends–not because I was talking too loudly, but because he disagreed with what I said) that Scotch didn’t transport me back eighteen years.

So why would that $429 bottle of Scotch transport me back thirty years or more?

Because I would drink the entire bottle–not just a glass.

Still, it’s just a fantasy–to my knowledge.  That’s why I don’t sell everything I can to get the money to purchase it.

With sales and sin tax, it would be far more than $429 anyway.

Delaying the inevitable–this is all I’m doing each day, these the worst days of my life.  Having no money has knocked me down–yet circumstances keep kicking me anyway.  Every day, I delay the inevitable–the loss of everything but my life, my freedom, and whatever I can carry on my shoulders.

Yet we all delay the inevitable–all our lives.

From the moment we’re born, we delay the inevitable–which is death.

Even as newborn babies, we choose to nourish ourselves from the breast or the bottle–delaying death.

And though the pursuit of happiness is not our primary purpose in life, most of our time spent toward a greater purpose is constantly interrupted by our desire to delay the inevitable.  Our most basic human needs serve only the purpose of delaying death.

I started this post when I had enough money for fast food.  Now I only have enough money for store-bought food–peanut butter, cheese, bread, cottage cheese, and sliced ham.

This stuff–this cheapest of food–is far more dangerous than any fast food because it has even more salt.  It’s loaded with salt.

Can’t eat the cottage cheese–too much salt.  Can’t eat the sliced ham–too much salt.

Every store-bought food has too much salt because it’s used as a preservative.

The ham was the saltiest of all–I had to put the remainder in the front yard for stray cats.

The more salt a food has, the more it tightens my head and my muscles, makes my eyeballs roll around, and creates sharp pains in my legs–especially in combination with these goddamned psychiatric drugs.

I’ve never suffered such agony in my life–and only because I have no money, and no family or community to give me any support.

IF THIS OFFENDS YOU, I’M NOT SORRY

No more honeybees.

No more bumblebees.

No more fireflies.

No more hawks.

No more bats.

No more butterflies.

What’s next?

Something is driving these creatures to extinction.

It started with the honeybees–and cellphones were suspected.

That suspicion was quickly silenced–by media sponsored by the cellular establishment.

It was believed also that cellphones caused brain cancer.

Apparently they don’t–too bad.

Because I have always hoped they do.

Brain cancer is a terrible way to die, I’m sure.

I would rather you mobile device addicts die a less agonizing death.

But I still hope your goddamned mobile devices kill you–somehow.

With your mobile devices, you are destroying your relationships with the people in your lives–because you’re not communicating with them face-to-face anymore.

But this doesn’t bother you.

With your mobile devices, you are endangering the lives of everyone on the road, including yourselves–because you’re using them while driving. Sooner or later you will kill or permanently disable someone–it is inevitable.

But this doesn’t bother you either.

What about the environment?

You believe the “science” of the cellular establishment–the “fact” that cellphones are not killing off honeybees and everything else.  You want to believe the cellular establishment–because it would be so inconvenient for you to give up your goddamned mobile devices.  You know something is killing off the honeybees–and the bumblebees, and the fireflies, and the hawks, and the bats, and the butterflies.  And for all you know, it is your goddamned cellphones, iphones, and smartphones–your Digital-Age pacifiers–and the cellular establishment is lying to you.

You want to take that chance?

You want to keep it up?

When all Earth’s creatures are extinct, what difference will it make what killed them off?

They will be gone forever.

You can afford landline phones.

And if landline phones are discontinued altogether, you can live without telephones.

But even if you can live without honeybees, bumblebees, fireflies, hawks, bats, and butterflies, you can’t live without “all creatures great and small.”

If you won’t get rid of your mobile devices for your relationships with your fellow human beings, or for your safety on the road–why don’t you get rid of them for the preservation of the environment you claim to cherish?


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