2020-2025 WORST Year(s) Ever?!?!? STFU

Here we fucking go again. People bitching and moaning and crying, throwing away THE WHOLE ENTIRE FUCKING CALENDAR YEAR because of bad & sad stuff happening.

ohhh god when will this year be OVER!

SO READY for 2020 to be OVER!

2024: WORST YEAR EVER!

This has been the WORST year! Can’t wait for 2024 to be OVER!

2025 just started and it’s already a dumpster fire crycrycry going down in history as the cruelest year ever I’m done with it already blah blah blah

I can’t be the only person noticing this trend.

Listen, I too am really sad David Lynch died and our new “president” started out his freshest term of raping squatting misappropriating and pillaging by demanding we all disrespect Jimmy Carter. I too am freaked out that the country and republic I live in is being shit on and flushed down a hateful greedy violent gold-plated toilet by a bunch of walking talking catfished truck nuts and fake not-really-Jesus freaks FOR NO GOOD REASON and setting us all adrift to cannibalize each other on dead oceans of fire on The Raft of the Medusa, BUT I’m not stupid enough to think buying a new calendar and throwing away every possibility and morsel of GOOD in a 365-day period that will happen and IS happening alongside everything BAD will change *anything*, except one single digit in these ridiculous melodramatic mopers’ sad sack social media posts.

Is this something dramatic motherfuckers have been doing since before pandemic and I just happened to notice it then and grow weary of it? Regardless of whether it’s a new this-century “post”-pandemic thing or a long-standing bitch-ass tradition I’ve only recently become aware of, I’m extremely sick of people who bemoan a whole 12-month YEAR as a diseased catastrophe, behaving as though a new date is going to provide some kind of fresh slate free of suffering, upon which they will be ready to trash another 365 days as nothing but another requirement for 12 refills of prescription anti-depressants.

Maybe the problem is that a really large number of people actually had GREAT totally suffering-free years prior to this, free of hardships, so the grief and fear they feel in recent years actually does stand out to them as significant and unusual in their sadness.

I DON’T KNOW.

But CRACK A FUCKING BOOK. LOOK THE FUCK AROUND YOU. There are and have been in my whole life people living and dying in FUCKING REFUGEE CAMPS. DETENTION CENTERS. PRISONS. Standing in lines for stale bread. Babies going hungry, tyrants being terrifying, air being filthy, water being stolen and poisoned and misappropriated, and inexcusable shit going down. And *long* before 2020, there have been so many fucking danger signs that allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll of this would likely come to pass, but you crybabies couldn’t get your priorities fucking straight. And now? Now you think you can just request a do-over every year where some shit happens that you notice is deeply unpleasant. IT DOESN’T FUCKING WORK THAT WAY, DUMB FUCKS.

You don’t get a fucking do-over for the whole year. And why would you fucking want to because THIS IS WHAT *EVERY* YEAR IS MADE OF: LIFE AND DEATH AND SHIIIIIIIIT. SHITTY SHIT SHIT! EVERY FUCKING YEAR HAS IT, HAD IT, and *WILL* HAVE IT unless you are extremely fucking lucky and have your head stuck so far up your privileged fucking ass that you never fucking noticed or thought your luck OUR luck might most likely run out someday and we should fucking GET THE FUCK READY or at least show some fucking gratitude and try to protect and preserve allllllll of the good shit we’ve been rolling our oblivious asses around in in years prior. 

Is the shit happening now unprecedented here? YES. Yes, it is. I agree, these fuckers are taking things to a whole other unheard of level in North America in modern times with current technologies, and, even worse, a whole big-ass segment of the population IS COOL WITH IT, which is the worst part, and has been “emboldened”. The crazy train is gaining steam on mob autopilot and the people with brains appear to no longer have the numbers, the brawn or the bravery to stop it. But listen, kids — the ramp up and the buildup (and the taking-shit-for-granted in the meantime) has been going STRONG for *decades*. If you were alive and paying any attention at all, you can’t say this is *totally* unexpected  or coming out of left field. 

Anyhoo. There are 46 weeks and 6 days remaining in 2025. Don’t throw the babies out with the bathwater. Unless you suffer a truly debilitating personal loss and/or are under the thumbs of legal guardians and/or close-enough-to-touch neighbors that you cannot safely escape from, 2025 is not actually a year to just THROW THE FUCK AWAY or a number to blame everything on. So suck it up. Be specific in identifying problems. And be strategic by LIVING IN THE SOLUTION(s).

We are ALL going to die. Five or ten or fifty years from now, are you going to be on your deathbead moaning about how 2025 was the worst year ever and you couldn’t fucking enjoy anything or ambulate or mobilize because you were waiting to see if 2026 would be better? BITCH IT WILL NOT BE FUCKING BETTER!

LIVE NOW, STUPID!!!

What would David Lynch do? What would Prince do? What would Jimmy Carter do? What would motherfucking JESUS do?!? Because next year when you have fucking lunch* cancer or other COPD because of all that smoke and burn pit inhalation and you’re carrying around an oxygen tank and the power goes out while your portable tank runs out and your electric one has no fucking power because the grid is DONE because we handed all our resources over to the billionaire boys club and associated mafias, you’re going to think 2025 and 2024 and fucking covid lockdowns actually looked pretty damn good, when you are choking and tears are welling up in your eyes trying to say “I can’t breathe” but there’s nobody there physically kneeling on your neck, it is just you, complicit in so much of what has led to your own suffering.

I don’t want to hear any more about how THIS WHOLE YEAR IS RUINED! You haven’t seen anything yet. You all can shut the fuck up about that unless it is the actual year you got diagnosed with cancer and only had a limited amount of time to live, and/or a very close loved one(s) did and/or died or was rounded up by these fucking shithole DHS goons and/or insurance denied a lifesaving treatment. THEN you can say 2025 is a whole bonafide year of shit, if something like that happens to you/your mate/your dependants.  Like our friend whose truly too-young son just passed away - she can absolutely say this is the worst year ever if she wants to. But I am pretty sure she will not frame it that way, and that true grief and loss like this does not ever confine itself to a single year, even if The Thing happens on a very specific date that changes everything for you. Which is part of why I find this “throw-the-whole-year-away” type of social media bellyaching so offensively dumb; if you associate your current suffering with a container labeled with a year and you can neatly package it up within those 365 days? You’re not really fucking suffering that much yet.

The number of the year IS NOT the problem. And “next year” will bring no magic-eraser pain-relief solution to whatever is fucked-up, broken, and diseased right now.                                                                                               

My Limit: Print-on-Demand T-shirts

I do have a limit when it comes to what kind of fast fashion I will purchase, and it is a certain kind of graphic t-shirt.

First, I am super tired of everybody having "merch", and most of it un-unique and totally unnecessary. At the same time, though, I understand the appeal of tangible goods to fanbases that might not otherwise spend money to support your work, but will totally go for the tee (or hoody or hat etc). I have considered getting some of these things. Maybe I've even bought some.

Where I draw the line, though, are these printed t-shirts with just a rectangular image or photo on the chest or back. Just ... a big rectangle. It's like the laziest, ugliest, stupidest fucking thing to put across your boobs and such a shitty waste of money and sweatshop labor and materials and resources and body space.

The only exception to this is if it's a knockout print, like where the graphic is a rectangle BUT the background and many (preferably MOST) of the rectangle's edges are the (unprinted) color of the fabric of the shirt. Usually these are one-color graphics. I think these are called knockouts, but I'm not 100% sure and I'm too lazy to look it up. But I promise you, if I were to sell shirts and whatnot, I WOULD ABSOLUTELY VERIFY THE BASICS OF THIS KIND OF THING FIRST.

Obviously the "problem" is people using on-demand print and clothing sales platforms who do not have even the slightest concept of printing or style or JFC any basic good taste. But then I see people who absolutely do have enough of an eye and background in art and composition and shit selling this crap and OMG it's like fingernails on a chalkboard to me visually.

I'll admit, though, sometimes I'm fucking tempted to see how this shit sells. Just ... print a fucking picture I've snapped on a white fucking t-shirt and call it good. {{{shrug}}}

(NOT) Truly

Written on April Fools' Day last year, but not a joke; just publishing today:

Of course. The day after Easter Sunday. Sun shining warmly. Spring in the air. Birds singing.

AND THE SHITHOLE NEIGHBOR TURNS ON LOUD TALK RADIO OUTSIDE RIGHT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF OUR FENCE.

Without pausing to consider, I fumed out loud, "TRULY, DIE IN A FUCKING *FIRE*".

Immediately following saying those words, the radio was shut off.

*****

While I'm grateful their self-centered, insensate, inconsiderate noise ceased, I still felt stressed out. Why does one have to complain at all for somebody to stop and consider the unwanted negative SPREAD of their noisy disease and its impact on others, and choose NOT to do that?

I do not actually want to have confrontations with neighbors. I do not actually enjoy verbalizing and spreading unpleasant feelings. I just cannot comprehend how so many people do not see forcing noise on strangers or people living in close proximity as a deeply upsetting personal attack and openly hostile display of not giving a fuck about anyone around them.

People who shit on others without shame are NOT TRUSTWORTHY. That is how I feel, anyway. But I know with my rational mind that many, if not most, of these noisemakers are not intentionally shitting on others. They are mostly oblivious, or careless, or do not process sounds and other stimuli the same way as those of us who hear and feel it like hammers pounding in our heads and guts. They do not care about birds, nor are they capable of enjoying sunshine in silence.

*****

I do not truly want our new shithole neighbors to die in a fire. If I saw them on fire I would rush to help them. I would even rush to help them if their house was burning even if I knew they were not in it.

Probably the worst I really wish for is the ability to blow up their stereo using the power of my mind and melt its surrounding container into a pool of angry lava without actually hurting anybody. Okay, maybe I do want a cinder or two to land on their crotch and singe their jeans and blister the head of their hipster needledick just enough to raise a single blister and leave a tiny scar.

Fuck Jordan Peterson's Podcast

FUCK Jordan B. Peterson & is stupid fucking podcast.

How can I get Amazon to stop showing me his smug-ass face?

Sweet Follows

It is amazing how seeing a new follower on social media who just posts sweet kind things and pics of their smiling face can deflate my bitch energy and refill me with calm love and happy vibes.

Not everyone can be that person and few actually are, so when authentic sweethearts cross your path it really is valuable. The instant mood alteration is noteworthy; I'm grateful for it, and those rare pure souls who show up with it.

House Rules: Justified or Just Bitchy??

Love this thread:

https://x.com/gunsnrosesgirl3/status/1878152966009463264

What do you think?  Are some of these house rules justifiable? Or are they all written exclusively by crazy controlling bitches?

It's NOT a Day Off

It's not a day off for me if it's a day off for other people.

Their days off and my days off are mutually exclusive.

Maybe this is why I never feel like I have a day off, and have such a hard time planning for and taking them.