Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Quote Me Not; Quote These Folks Instead...

"To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, and be nothing."---Aristotle

"Great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from weak minds."---Albert Einstein

"Nature is beautiful...until something gets its guts ripped open."---my boyfriend

"2839 fucking o'clock. I hate stupid people."---my best friend

"I want a fuckin' dollar, not a dick."---my 2nd mama See

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Pseudo-Authority Figures (And Why They're More Pathetic Than Your Local Hobo)

   Today I'm going to touch on a topic that's been eating away at me for a couple of weeks now. I'm not going to delve too deeply into it, but just share a few theories and a few examples to back them up.

   We've all had them in our lives at one time or another. The older woman who feels like she has a right to tell you how many times to fuck your husband because she thinks she's your mom. The husband or boyfriend who tries to map out every move you make because he's either consciously or subconsciously trying to fill the role of your father. And then at work, you have the people who have been given positions of very limited authority, if any at all, who try to be your boss.

   My theories? Women who try to tell you what to do are trying to make up for lost time with their own children. They are trying to fix what they believe went wrong in their own children by trying to force you to be their "kid".

   Men who try to tell you what to do, especially the ones who fill a romantic role in your life but are trying to do otherwise, have a problem with their masculinity. They figure telling you what to do will make them feel like their balls are heavier than the average male's. "Why aren't they trying to pretend to be my father like the example you used above?" you may ask. "That sounds awfully sexist to me."

   Well, it's not. But if you want to think that, go right ahead. I won't stop you.

   The answer to that is: I've never met a man who wanted to be someone else's father. Men have enough trouble filling their biological roles as fathers as it is. Why would they want to pick up "children" that don't belong to them already?
   Women are inclined to have maternal instincts, so this is why I give these theories. Of course, some women are just downright nosy as fuck. That's another reason why they like to tell you what to do.

   And for the last example, my favorite: the people at work who try to be your pseudo-boss with pseudo-authority. They are usually workaholics who have no hobbies, no intelligence, no other outlets in which to purge their stress. They figure if they can pretend like they're important enough to boss you around, their life has some meaning. Even hobos have hobbies. They sit on street corners, drink wine, and like to convince you to buy them some more. See? Pathetic!!

   The best way to handle all of these people? Tell them politely to fuck off. If that doesn't work, tell them outright to fuck off. Nobody has a right to tell you what to do except your parents, and that's only until you're 18. Once you get of "legal age", you're an adult and you should be making your own decisions. Even if they turn out to be mistakes, they are yours to make.

   I only suggest listening to police officers and your actual boss, and that's only if they are telling you the "right" things to do. Your heart, even if it is as black as mine, will always lead you in the right direction with that one.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Dark Passenger Rides Again

   I absolutely love the television show Dexter that comes on Showtime. However, I do not have Showtime and I never intend to get it because I consider most of their programming inferior. So I wait for it to come out on DVD and then I Netflix it or buy it, as in the most recent case with Season 5.

   I would consider this season to be the best one yet. For those of you who do not follow the show, I highly suggest you backtrack and check out Seasons 1-4 as well as Season 5. If you're confused about anything I'm about to say concerning this particular season, feel free to do some research so you're not left in the dark.

   I've always felt a bit of a kinship with Dexter, and I think that he is probably one of the most sympathetic and human characters ever shown on television. He berates himself constantly and considers himself a monster because of the people that he kills---but he kills people who truly are monsters. Child molesters, serial killers, and the rest of the low-life scum of the Earth become science projects for Dexter's table where he stabs them into their final oblivion.

   He cannot be considered a monster just because he kills people. He's a vigilante, most definitely, but with the legal system being as fucked up as it is, you can't blame someone for wanting to rid the world of shit. You also can't blame someone for trying to exorcise their demons the only way they know how. Some people drink, some people do drugs. Dexter just happens to murder people who murder innocents. He's doing the world a favor, so he cannot be considered a monster.

   He has also found avenues of showing affection and self-sacrifice, and even love. That's not something a psychopath is capable of in any form. He finds a love interest in this particular season, and her name is Lumen. For awhile, the audience is convinced that she is going to stay, be his partner in crime, and help him exorcise his demons while she simultaneously tries to be rid of her own.
   But then she finds that she is healed a lot sooner than Dexter, and her "dark passenger" is no longer with her anymore. So she leaves. And with her leaves a sense of stability, of Dexter finally being able to trust someone and know that a person can know the "real" him and not run away.

   I was overwhelmed with sympathy for his character after finishing up Season 5 with my boyfriend yesterday, and I really hope they bring Lumen back to Dexter. I think everyone deserves to have someone who they feel understands them. Even so-called "monsters".

Friday, August 26, 2011

Flirting With (Natural) Disaster

   People love a good natural disaster, especially the people that live in the small, shitty little village that I unfortunately call home at the moment. It seems as though every summer, they're talking about thunderstorms. Their eyes turn to full moons and they stand around, with their lips quivering and their mouths agape: "It's gonna rain! It's gonna rain! The power's gonna go out!"

   And then fall comes, aka hurricane season. Even though I live about 200 miles away from the beach, people at work today and yesterday were still sitting around, lips and mouths moving idiotically to the tunes of, "Be careful! A hurricane's a'coming! We're gonna get it!"

   When Christmas is over and we're all yearning for the sticky sweet heat of summer, people are going to do pretty much the same thing, except their moronic stares are going to come from beneath parkas and wool caps. "It's gonna snow! We're gonna get a blizzard!"

   It's like when you're driving down the interstate and suddenly traffic starts creeping along. You wonder what the hell is going on, figuring there must be an accident. Usually there isn't, but if the vehicles in front of you think for a second that there might be a dead body, some blood, or even a broken leg to behold...rubbernecking will commence and the usual twenty minute drive will take about an hour.

   We as human beings crave disaster. The more bored and desolate our lives, the more we crave it. I think that's why the people in my home town freak out with glee every time something like Irene occurs. Sure, there's going to be some wind and probably a bit of rain...but that happens all the time. It's called regular, run-of-the-mill weather. It's called life.

   So keep that in mind the next time someone you know starts building up an upcoming weather event to be something apocalyptic. They're probably just very, very jaded with life and want something horrible to happen to them to brighten their day. It sounds crazy, but usually the most crazy sounding of theories turn out to be true.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

How I Love Thee, Phantasmagore...

   Deadsy has been one of my favorite bands since I was a young, moshing lass decked out in spike bracelets with handcuffs attached to my oversized, baggy pants. I first saw them live when I was 16 years old, and it was probably one of the most amazing live shows I've ever seen. Granted, I was coming down off of an alcohol buzz in Greenville, SC that evening, (for some reason, the ancient, wrinkled crone handing out Budweiser bracelets gave me one), but it was a great experience. I ended up taking tons of photos from my second row perch, but I was unable to see any of them because some asshole stole my camera during the show. I'm smart these days; I keep my camera looped around my wrist. That way, if anybody tries to take it, it doubles up as a weapon. I'm all for every day items that can double up as weapons.

   Anyhoo, back to Deadsy. They're on a bit of a hiatus at the moment, and I'm not quite sure why. They're very talented, delving into a genre of music that lead singer Elijah Blue calls "undercore". He is the son of Cher and Greg Allman, so it's hard not to be talented when you come from such excellent genes. But he's also crazy due to his genes; he once revealed that he took a swim in the lake of Paris Hilton unprotected, and scrubbed his cock with Tilex to wash off the offending nastiness he figured he must've contracted. I shit you not about that one; google it if you don't believe me.

   Their first album, Commencement, is not fabulous. The only songs I really like on it are "Key to Gramercy Park" and "She Likes Big Words". Their second and maybe even final album, Phantasmagore, is about fifteen steps up from their first. There are more guitars as opposed to synthesizers, the lyrics are a little more easy to digest, and their cover of the Stones' "Paint It Black" is better than the original, in my not-so-humble opinion.

   So what is Deadsy up to nowadays? After a change in line-up and the announcement of their taking a break, Elijah Blue has since moved to Germany and is allegedly working on a solo project by the name of Elijah Blue and The Trapezoids. I believe this to be an occult reference due to what I know of Elijah; I think he's big into Aleister Crowley and the Order of the Trapezoid, but don't quote me on that.

   If you're interested in checking it out, go to YouTube and look up some of the sample songs from Elijah Blue and The Trapezoids. This material has the potential to be bigger and better than anything Deadsy ever released.

  Also, if you're a bit of a deviant, check out the single "Itsy Bitsy Titsy Girl" by Deadsy. That was one of the first songs I was ever introduced to by them, and it is horribly wonderful and funny. I put it on a mixed CD and played it at one of my then-best-friends' sixteenth birthday parties. I don't want to ruin the surprise of the meaning of the lyrics, so that's all I'm gonna say.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Why Being Nice is Bad For Your Health

                People who say they get warm, fuzzy feelings when they do good deeds for others are probably mistaking that sensation for menstrual cramps. Yes, men too; I don’t care what anybody says. Doing good deeds for people you don’t know does NOT give you a sense of pride and accomplishment unless your brain is made of popsicle sticks.
                In actuality, if you’re willing to admit it to yourself and accept your inner cackling demon, doing horrible things to people makes you feel good about yourself. Think about it this way: you’re in Walmart, and you have to go get a bottle of multi-vitamins because you recently had the flu and you’re trying to build up your immune system. You’re weak, tired, and a little cranky…and reasonably so. You want to get in and get out, so to speak. You only  have one thing on your list. So what’s going to be the issue you deal with today?
                Well, pals and neighbors, you’re going to end up running smack dab into an 8-year-old little shit who’s wearing Healys (those God-forsaken shoes with little wheels on them to maximize aggravation for everyone but the child). That Healy-hellion is going to run into you, cause you to trip and fall because of your dizziness due to a recent illness, and you are going to tumble onto the hard linoleum floor of Walmart and possibly bust open a kneecap.
                “Sorry!” the little kid will sheepishly smile, and that smile will tell you what he’s really thinking: that he’s not sorry at all. Why? He had no proper raising. But that’s another blog for another time. I digress.
                You can’t possibly tell me that if you start carrying around a bag of marbles in your pocket and if you take out said marbles and accidentally-on-purpose dump them onto the floor near a child wearing Healys in Walmart that you will not giggle like a demented schoolgirl when they tumble to the floor and skin their knees, boo-hooing and braying like the sheep that they are.
                If you tell me no on this one, you’re lying. And everybody knows Jesus hates liars.
                The next time you have something that you want, try being mean about it instead of being nice. I guarantee you’ll get positive results. People respond to mean; they take advantage of nice. If you learn nothing else from me, learn that, please.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Jimmy Cracked Corn (Over Your Effin Head)

   My head has been in a very dark place lately. That's the only way to describe it. Regardless, I'm going to try to keep this blog as interesting and educational as possible for you, my dear readers. Part of the reason why I started this blog in the first place is because A) I fancy myself a writer. And I'm not the only one; I've written countless stories and poems, songs and even a novel and a couple of compilations of short stories that people have read, loved, or hated. B) I hate the fact that some people I know live the most boring lives ever and document them via the internet and try to push them on everyone else, like a coke dealer in a back alley trying to make the rent. "Hey, man, I've got an 8 ball for ya! I know you're not interested, but..."

   I think if I had been born in another century, I would've been burned at the stake as a witch, mostly because I like to dabble and study up on occult practices that make most people cringe. I don't believe in that happy-slappy, dancing-through-fields-and-asking-Mother-Nature's-permission-to-pick-a-leaf bullshit either. I believe in serving yourself, not being apologetic about it, and stepping on anybody's toes who gets in your way.

   Floating cinders spread fast, and so will word of how much of a bitch I am here, I'm sure.

   Bottom line, I'm going to do my best not to bore you with what my nail polish collection consists of, or the fact that I collect a certain type of purse, or the fact that I like to bake fattening foods to stuff between my fat jowls.

   My jowls are not fat, I don't like to bake, I don't have a nail polish collection, and I don't collect certain types of purses. That was a stab against someone I know who keeps the most horseshit excuse of a blog ever. I read it at work when I'm bored and I have nothing better to do but laugh at how pathetic she is and how she thinks the whole world is fascinated with every detail of her lowly, domesticated existence.

   No, I will be telling you how I feel about certain topics on a daily basis. I will not sugar-coat anything. I speak my mind about religion, politics, people, society, music, movies, and life in general. I hope you're prepared. If not, feel free not to read this. It won't hurt my feelings either way.

   But for those of you who are brave enough to listen and commiserate with me, welcome. Let's talk about something interesting. This blog may end up being a big collection of rejected editorials. That was my favorite thing about journalism in high school, and my teacher thought if she published what I wrote, I would seem "pathetic to my fellow students". Really, she was just afraid of being brutally honest and didn't want me to have the luxury of doing so either. So fuck her. Among others.

   Feel free to give me suggestions about stuff you'd like me to talk about, although I have a feeling I'm going to never run out of things to talk about. I'm a very opinionated person, you see. And I don't consider my opinions to be any more correct or "right" than anyone else's.

   I just have way more balls than your dad probably does, that's all.