4th of July Mofos

OMFG as if the big beautiful bill of bullshit wasn't freaky enough, motherfuckers around here started blowing shit up on 4th of July EVE / last night / on the day of its passing from the great orange anusface into the world he has commandeered as his personal gold-plated toilet spattered with right wing loose stool head-up-the-ass disease. Yeah, you dumb fucks have got so much to be proud of and look forward to and celebrate: more fires, more destruction, more sound and fury devoid of any meaningful contribution or SENSE. More death and unmanageable levels of disaster. GOOD JOB, DIPSHITS.

Like ... IT'S NOT EVEN THE ACTUALY HOLIDAY YET! Do you REALLY have to start blowing shit up at dinnertime on Thursday the day before?!? Can you fucking WAIT a minute and let us have a couple more hours of of imaginary fucking PEACE before you ejaculate smoke and fire and NOISE all over everyone in hearing range?

Of course, right as I'm on the verge of wishing for these morons to blow their own fingers off, I realize that if I had my own bunch of explosives and a semi-appropriate place to set them off, YOU KNOW I WOULD. I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WOULD. I would be making so much black powder noise and choking singed-finger sparkler smoke and having a whole disguised-by-my-LLC yacht party super-show of giant sizzling light-up-the-sky pyrotechnic magic, your fucking eyeballs would melt looking my way.

Love/hate relationship: with fireworks. With noise. With this motherfucking country.

Bitchy Little Treats Plate

I wrote a whole post bitching about housework, but I'll spare you the agony.

Instead of posting my housework complaints, I'll just post this little saucer of goodies I prepared for myself as a reward / naughty meal after hours of housekeeping:

Lemon cream wafer biscuits, thin dark chocolate Reese's peanut butter cups, blueberries, hot tamales, mini peanut butter M&Ms, peppermint patty, red hots, and a chocolate brownie flax seed muffin with peanut butter on top.

I am grateful for having so many goodies, courtesy of my wife, along with my vintage dinerware. I love the colors and shapes all together, and the super dark french press coffee I enjoyed with it along with peppermint mocha creamer.

While I'm not yet feeling certain that my housework efforts were worth the time and energy, this pretty, colorful photograph makes me feel like I did something worthwhile.

Honestly, the blueberries and muffin were the best parts of my tiny treat platter. I could have done without all the candy, but the arrangement and visual appeal of it sending me such a decadent message of abundance did provide extra satisfaction, and fed me spiritually with its cuteness, visual interest, and textured joyful variety.

Summer People

Fucking SUMMER people. With their loud outdoorsy PRIDE, and their loud outdoorsy PARTIES. Their smokey fires and their social bullshit.

I miss Washington state weather before global warming's extreme changes. When it would still be cool and probably even RAINING the first week of June.

Instead we have these fuckers stoking fires, making the air unbreathable the day before a heat dome is projected to be dropped on us with suffocating heat. When we SHOULD be preparing by getting our homes as cool as possible,  and sleeping as peacefully as we can before the unsleepable heat.

I wish I had magical powers to rain copious amounts of divinely-just diarrhea down onto their fucking fires. Enough to extinguish the flames and fully spatter their always open yak yak yaking numb fucking mouths.

Whistling Fucks

JFC how I want to slap the living shit out of motherfuckers who WHISTLE indoors. Restaurants, for example. Or, like now, in a hospital waiting room. 

99 times out of a hundred: MEN. 

Surrounded by fuckers coughing and THIS ONE SONOFABITCHING WHISTLING FUCK.

You Can Take Your Mirth and SHOVE IT - Springtime Edition

 I hate the sound of our neighbors' laughter.

Actually it's not that bad and I don't really hate it. That much. Tonight.

But just for tonight I also do not really hate myself for being the kind of person who does kind of hate the sound of people having fun, and scowls on the other side of the fence from it.

I'm just very tired. And I haven't gotten paid / Im missing three payouts / this is the third week in a row of no money arriving when I *should* have money arriving, and now I can't pay all the bills we have to pay tomorrow. But it could be worse. The neighbors *could* be louder. They *could* be yukking it up all the time, but honestly this is one of the few times so far we've heard this type of outdoor socializing. They are too close, but they actually *could* be closer. So there is much to be grateful for.

I finally forced myself to "contact support" today about the missing payments, and they did actually provide a modicum of support. More than is typical in this industry. They didn't resolve anything (I should've done something much sooner to help it get resolved), but I feel pretty safe in betting that it *will* get resolved and that I *will* get my money.  If not this week, then next. And that I can continue making that source of income my primary money-making game.

If I were a REAL bitch, you know I'd have contacted support long before this. But I am not actually a real bitch. And I *will* be able to sleep tonight -- and fall asleep within a few minutes, even -- regardless of the laughing neighbors. Which means it all *could* be so much worse. But ... it isn't. And I am so so glad.

On 2nd Thought...

I just came here to write a post shitting on myself about what a miserable bitch I am, but then I saw the last post I wrote here, and it made me laugh, and I thought ... I'm not really so bad after all.

Taking my own advice to heart: just like a whole year shouldn't be thrown away as 100% shitty just because it contains some notably terrible moments and bad vibes, you can't throw a whole person away because sometimes (or even often) they are a miserable bitch. Especially if that person is your own self. You have to give the good days some credit, too.

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.