Boredom is lack of connection, my anger is OTHER directed & also I flip the inverted pyramid upside down so it's like it's supposed to be

The best thing that's come from living in the Quarantine State is that many of you are finally experiencing the same lifestyle & circumstances that have left me tired of life. What am I talking about? A lack of meaning.  No connection to something greater than myself.  A boring an uninspired life.  A Repetition of fruitless tasks. Welcome to the milieu of the unskilled.  A place where we can not brag about our jobs.  A time when we are ashamed about our ability to provide for our families. The virus and all these events have left us worried for our physical safety in ways no American has for decades.

I know this because so many of you tell me how hard things are for you.  I know that many of you have lost your jobs.  And for most Americans having a job is really important.  It defines who you are.  It's the first question we ask each other. Though really that question is just an attempt at understanding our place in the social hierarchy.  But Americans don't like to think about class.  We fool ourselves. We call everybody middle class.  I think Bill Gates says he's still in the middle class.  

You probably had a job until 3 months ago.  But now you are living off unemployment, or aybe you are working from  home and have had to take a pay cut.  Maybe your job isn't as glamorous as the food clerk at your local grocery store.  You aren't "essential."  People don't thank you for your service anymore...they only thank me.   And maybe you are having a bad time about that.  

Don't fret.  At least you have a choice.  Most of us going to battle against the virus have no choice.  WE go to work because we can't stay home.  I didn't have much of a choice, how long do you think I could stay home making near minimum wage?  A choice of ability to stay home could save my life.  I've had cancer, my cancer was in the blood as they say and it damaged my heart and was in my lungs.  It left it difficult for me to climb stairs.  I need to go see a cardiologist, but who can afford that too?  So if I get this I'm probably a gonner.  I'd definitely trade places with you if I could.  Also, kinda tired of being thanked by my customers without masks anyways.  Not that I get gratitude that much anymore.  You are all ready forgetting who is doing what.  You are so damned bored that you are losing your minds.  You equate social distancing because in this pandemic with an intrusion on your rights.  Well, last time I checked, the right to live is first.  So take precautions when you are out there and you might just end up saving my life.  

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AS a guy who had lived his whole life in a perpetual state of boredom let me provide some self help for you.  I know how it feels to have a job that no one respects, or how it feels to not have a job at all.  Honestly this is just pride on your part and you can let that go real quick.  If you take a shit in your pants on the front line charging a machine gun, no one really focuses on the shit. No one gets embarrassed easily. They are just trying not to die.  

So instead of focusing on what you don't have:  A girlfriend, friends who respect you, a car, the ability to make your monthly mortgage payment, focus on the things that you do have.  Like that box of expired jello pudding snacks in the back of your pantry.  Those things don't really expire, so if you have some milk, you got pudding! 

Don't worry about your social status,  it's totally coming back!  In fact I would harken to say that class will be a bigger and badder thing in the near future.  The USA is finally going back to it's European roots and get a bit classy.  Meaning educated and rich people are going to be looked up at even more and the poor and the dumb will be stuck in dangerous and old fashioned jobs where we get coughed on by possible carriers.  

Americans in general can't wait to go back to mistreating clerks and the little man.  Most grocery store chains have already stopped the hero pay. Only consumer outrage has them backtracking and offering bonuses.  So I guess the second thing you could do is write an e-mail to the store you purchase your groceries from and request that those heroes get paid.  It will benefit you in the long run.  If you're rich, you will keep the tide of lumpenproletariat from tearing down your city.  If you are an unemployed bum benefiting from the extra 600 dollars of emergency money, you don't have to feel as guilty.  Though you should.  Because it is possible that your bartending job is going away forever and you will have to start work alongside me.  

[As an aside WTF are strippers going to do?  How many of you can really move your craft over to camming?  Do you just go to prostitution?  Won't that be even more dangerous that it was before?  Also, how much do you charge?]

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When you are broke and as socially inept as I am you have to watch a lot of TV and read a lot of books.  But I have noticed that boredom is less about the lack of things to do and more with the lack of connection to something bigger and to other people. 

If you are lucky enough to have a spouse or a partner then stick to them like glue.  They should be your guide in how to get through this.  Take care of your kids.  Visit your granny.  Wait take that back.  Call Grandma.  Don't visit her, you'll probably kill her if you go see her!  Wish her good luck too. 

You might take up playing video game playing.  I don't play them.  As a 50 year old single male who played Dungeons & Dragons and regularly visits forums on how to "pick up chicks" I figured why not just go full nerd and vegetate on some video games.  I do like war tanks after all. I have spent two weeks worth of vacation trying to decide if I want to spend $150 dollars on a starter gaming PC. I could use it for E-sports games and better word processing for this blog!  I have checked out Facebook Marketplace, E-bay, Craigslist, you name it.  I am watching all kinds of videos on YouTube telling me how to put together my own system.  I know the differences between SSD's and SSHD and HDD.  See this google search for more info:

While SSD stands for Solid-State Drive, SSHD is the Solid- State Hybrid Drive. SSD is largely similar to a USB flash drive, only much bigger on storage and much faster on processing. ... SSHD is similar to the traditional hard disk with a very small quantity of solid-state storage built in, approximately around 8 GB.

SSD vs SSHD: Compared - Platinum Data Recovery

Oh, another thing you could do is start a blog!  You could do one about how your hot wife likes to sleep around on you and how your spouse's cheating on you actually turns you on.  Maybe go deep into your childhood and try to explain why you need to revisit your parents infidelity. I'm sure it would make for some good reading.  Might even save you a trip to the psychologist!

To sum up:

You aren't bored.  There are tons of activities to do.  What you miss is your connection to your job which provided more for you than just a way to earn a living.  It provided things like your place in the society.  It told you who you could bully.  It gave you social interaction satisfaction. It left you on solid ground.  You did not have to question the proper place of people and goals in your life.  Today you are left wondering if all the people you didn't care about or need are more important than you are.  Maybe you are just a useless banker that does nothing but make pretend money for rich people who don't need it.   

But the pandemic is pernicious in other ways than just wrangling the air out of it's victims, leaving them gasping for air, alone, coughing and sputtering , their last spastic movements searching for comfort. It also provides the possibility to get rid of whole sections of people who you define as useless.  Get rid of the poor, the sick, the needy.  We will send the poor to the grocery store for us.  We will cut off their unemployment and raises. We won't worry about senior living facilitates, because then we can gut Social Security.  We won't provide treatment to the addicted or places to live to for the homeless.  We will let them congregate out of necessity and then, "Let nature take it's course."   

That course you wish to steer is history one you have dreamed about for years, ever since you came across that old WWII book in your grandfather's basement.  It was supposed to explain to you that draconian autocrats who use genetics to wage 'a war against the weak' are cruel.  But you really liked the idea.  You fancy yourself a survivor.  You fancy yourself, "one of the strong."  There would not normally be much support for this idea among the inhabitants of a strong middle class society with a respect for law and who had social norms that defended the weak.  But these aren't normal times.  We live in times where the diseased attack the healthy just through tthough their breath. 25% unemployment has hastened the arrival of a great mass of useless LumpenAmericans.  

The middle class has died.  Who is left? The takers and the makers.  The makers only need a small group of people to tend to the grass cutting or the nanny making.  The makers cry out,  "Let the Robots come!  Let the Poor die! Let the sick fall over in the street,  I will leave my house through helicopter cars, and I will be whisked away from protests and street crime by automated driving heuristics.  I have no need for my fellow man! And when I do, I command that you go out to the farms and the dirty cities and leave your masks behind!  Remember your freedom!!!! Remember A billion Bangladeshi wish they were you!!"

Day 4 of the Quarantined Vacation and nothing goes wrong

If you think it's hard to write every single day when nothing happens to you, and you base your blog on your real life experiences, then you would be correct.  So the thing is you just sit down and start typing and eventually something will come out.  It probably won't win any Nobel prizes and it will leave your old fans wondering why they even come back here.  They remember a time when this blog was funny and controversial. But as one a dear friend of mine has said, "The new you is grown up and world weary.  You aren't relying on sophomoric humor and easy racism." 

No today you won't get jokes about step-sister necrophilia.  Even though those jokes are still funny to me.

No.  Today I feel a kind of responsibility that goes beyond just t appealing to the kind of people I can shock.  Have I gone soft??  Maybe. Maybe I'm just not funny anymore. 

Well to answer that I'll invite you over to my house and you can listen in to me and my roommate.  When we get started together we seem to egg the other on until we get to a point that if somebody ever taped the conversations we had we'd probably both get arrested and every single decent human being who likes us would hate us and and then disown us.  Frankly, I couldn't be angry at them for doing it.  In fact if I ever heard the conversations I've had with this man from another person I would instantly hate those people too.  

And that got me thinking.  Maybe I am not really being fair to other people when I write something that could be taken the wrong way (or even the right way!)  Should I really make fun of the poor, if I count myself as an advocate? You know before I would say unequivocally "YES."  But today I hesitate before I say some glib thing online.  I have deleted a few comments or left them in draft form.  Take Twitter.  I used to love trolling.  Now I am not so sure.  Am I maturing?  Is that a good thing?  Because frankly, some people need a good troll in their lives.  Right Karen?  Though at this point I've almost started feeling sorry for Karen.  

Compassion is the thing more people need nowadays and it seems like it is always something that's in short supply.  Kinda like toilet paper in the apocalypse, am I right? OK.  Sorry for that joke.

So far I'd say my analysis is at least partially true.  That's because I might just be a wimp, not wanting to put myself out there anymore because trying is hard stuff. Talking about Suicide ain't easy.  Talking about how angry some of us are ain't easy.  You wanna get it right.  You'd like to add to the conversation.  You wanna bring something someone else hasn't. I mean you do if you have any integrity at all.  I'd like to think my writing had some integrity.  But if I don't that's okay too.  I never promised "them" that much here. Haven't you learned one thing by now? Don't put your faith in me.  Not here. Don't make that bet.  You're gonna lose it all if you believe in me. 

I know what you are thinking, "Maybe he can prove us all wrong."  But you and I learned that lesson long time ago.  They aren't wrong. 

We are.

Day 3 of the vacation

Daddy,

Day three of the vacation was quite boring. The roommate made cheese enchiladas. I made tostadas. I watched a little TV. I vacuumed the bedroom and my room looks so much better. I need 2 do that more often. 

Was gonna go the store but decided against it. I bought some Pepsi-Cola® the kind made from real sugar and it's the flattest tasting soda I've ever drank. Not sure if the 2 liter bottles have gone bad or what. But trust me so terrible.

I have yet to get to work on some of the things I promised to write about, but they are coming. The house took a bit of cleaning up and I'm getting used to my new freedom. I hope to write more soon. 

But just sitting here writing every day seems good for now. And maybe a few of you will remember coming here everyday and welcome my return. Perhaps that's all I need to get the creative juices flowing again. 

Tonight I'm trying writing out on my phone and I have to say that the typing experience is not too bad. I don't know if that is because typing on phones has become so good, or I'm just not used to a real keyboard anymore.

You can't do things like ad pictures or multimedia as well as with a big monitor and keyboard. But that's not necessarily surprising is it?

Really thinking about getting a low budget computer for around $150 that's for sale nearby. If I can talk him down to 100 it would be a great deal. Probably gonna change the battery in my Note 8. Best Buy will change it for 50 dollars. A smoking deal really. I won't make the gofundme joke that seems a prerequisite for complaints about money. Still no stimulas check. So I gotta buy everything myself. Not terrible, because I believe people ought to handle they business anyway. But the roommate will be moving out soon and I don't plan get another one. At least not for awhile. Maybe the next one will have to pay the actual going rate for rooms around here. That would make me some extra money. Money I should have, had I kept better hold of my finances. Cancer and internet girls stole it all. But I'll bounce back!

I think I missed you guys. I might just have to keep this up. 

Stay safe out there friends. 

Day 2 of the quarantined vacation

Day 2 starts with a bang.

HAHA not really.

I woke a little later than normal. My alarm actually went off.  I reached over and and dismissed the Pixel 2 and it's pop up alarm.  I then sat in bed for around 2 hours.  Mostly watching porn with the occasional e-mail check.  

It took a few hours for me to remember that I hadn't had a soda.  Eventually I grab a coke and my first meal.  It consisted of the remainder of last night's meal.  Tacos of the shredded beef variety including homemade shells.  It was quite good.  And a real change from the ground beef tacos that I have been consuming regularly for months now.  Next, I will make some beans.  

8:14 Eastern Standard

Beans are on the stove and cooking.  Should be a few hours to be good.  They go well with the Cheese Enchiladas I plan on having the roommate make.   

Today's movie watch?  The Man Who Fell to Earth.  It stars David Bowie and is a weird and sex filled Sci-Fi cult movie.  I remember watching the movie when I was on summer break in the 8th grade.  I was visiting my cousin Ryan.  I thought Ryan was the epitome of cool. He played games like Axis & Allies.  He visited France and came back with a case of culture shock.  I had never heard of Culture Shock before and certainly would have never been exposed to a person who could have suffered from such a thing.  

The only thing I knew about culture at that point was Omni Magazine and Space 1999 toys.  My cousin let me listen to his walkman and I heard music in stereo and high definition for the first time.  My cousin talked to me about his experience watching Flashdance.  It was a cultural powerhouse at the time and was moving the needle in communities where are you had on television was the Trinity Broadcasting network.  Trinity was a group of scam artists who fancied themselves heroes of the christian televangelism kind.  My cousin introduced me to David Letterman, so I spent the rest of the Summer trying to stay up to midnight so I could watch something that was probably over my head, but I still understood that I was watching something that hadn't been done before.  This wasn't comedy for MeMaw or my parents.  This was comedy for Kool Kids like my cousin and maybe me.  As long as I stopped waving goodbye to the Ryan's friends when we left their place from playing A&A.

Ryan was a pretty short for a guy maybe that's why he drove the MG Midget.  A small guy in a small car might not be the best decision, but then again what did I know?  I certainly didn't know how to work on a car like him.  I thought that was pretty cool, because Ryan was certainly the smartest guy I knew.  He was an intellectual in my mind.  He read books and no one made fun of him for doing it.  He argued with adults about politics, something I had no idea about and never even thought permissible.  

I had one 'real' discussion with one of my stepmothers and my dad when I came out as atheist and communist.   They warned me that I was, " ripe pickings for a cult."  I reminded them that no one has ever wanted me (including them) and they remembered how true that was and stopped worrying that I would get brainwashed because no one likes a loser with self esteem problems.   

You know never getting brainwashed in retrospect might have been a bad thing.  A scientific world view doesn't provide anything like being truly certain and correct with the TRUTH.  And I think life is probably easier and less anxious being certain.  Never doubting oneself or one's beliefs.  I could have stuck to WWE wrestling and mindless Christianity and how great Texas and aMErica was and lived in that bubble with little worry.  Maybe even being accepted by society.  Have a few kids and a middle aged wife. Teach bowling and the scouts. 

Instead I doubt all my beliefs,  I can't believe anything for sure.  In the end Reason turns back on itself and destroys the very foundations it provides to as a method for overcoming certainty. The method is doubt.  And while doubt is the perfect method to get towards conditional, truth I have no doubt that living with doubt is the least human way to live.  

House Keeping!!!!

I told you guys over on Twitter that I would be posting every day and I plan on keeping to my word!

If you are as obsessed with me as I am with with you then you are going to need to keep coming back to this page as I will refresh it several times throughout the day.  Frankly, I need to see the views on this blog go up for my vanity and sanity.

I started vacation today.

I just needed to get away from the grocery store and don't have too many plans.  Arizona is just loosening restrictions and things are beginning to open back up.  I don't feel too good about his idea yet. But if I get too bored I might take advantage and do something.  I am taking two weeks off in a row.  I am not sure if that was really allowed as I have rarely seen it done, but the front end leader we have is sort of weak a guy and I took advantage.

I have several plans that are for certain.  I am posting a lot on social media.  I am crock potting a lot.  I am finally going to get a primary care physician again.  I found a doctor pretty close to me and I have heard good things about this doctor.  I hope to get seen by him during my vacation.  If it happens he agrees that I need additional time off during this pandemic so be it!

This post is called house keeping for a reason.  Just catching you up on the person Romius T and this might be a little boring if you don't know me personally or don't follow the blog anymore.  But I figure I am going to let you know what's going on right now so that you can feel where I am coming from.  Let me assure you that there will be some interesting content coming.  Some of the titles I am working on and researching for the next two weeks include: The Myth of the Mediocre White Man, Should I get Angry?- working at a grocery store during the pandemic, Why not Suicide? The kind of Controversial shit you expect from this blog.

The Guidebook: 

I purchased something like 150 dollars worth of food over the last three days so I am pretty sure I am okay to stay inside for the most part.  Despite the large purchase (as a single guy that's a lot of food!) I didn't really buy any lunch meat or a ton of stuff for dinner.  It's mostly water, 8 two liters of soda, a couple of 24 packs of soda (my roommate helps himself to it so that's part of the requirement behind so much delicious Coke.)

For breakfast I have Carnation Instant Breakfast chocolate flavored milk.  Bagels with crunchy style peanut butter and the biggest box of Lucky Charms branded cereal that you have seen. I purchased the Lucky Charms awhile ago and I am happy to consume it finally as it expires in July.  I still have half a gallon or so of milk left but I will need to get more eventually.

This really is a giant box of Lucky Charms brand cereal!  Do you think I can eat all this cereal in 2 weeks?  Do you think I should post a poll and have you guys vote?  What DO YOU think?  Please add a comment to this blog.

After breakfast I will be looking to do dishes unless my roommate is working from home, if that is the case I will start writing.  I will update and correct my work throughout the day, so if you see a lot of typos and the like just refresh that page a few hours later.  You will see time stamps as I live blog.  Twitter and instagram will alert you to my progress.  We are going to make this a multimedia extravaganza. Sure all this comes many years after this blog is relevant but what the hell?  @romiust is my twitter handle and you can always DM for more social links if you care. I am starting a cooking series of uploads on facebook and I might upload them to Youtube if that's possible.  Otherwise you are going to miss out on all of that and folks can I tell you that you aren't truly missing out, but hey I need the attention during this whole stay at home thing.  Also, since I haven't had a GF in like 4 years hopefully you people can fill a void on the inside of me.

I will be taking walks in the evening or night time as during the day it is repulsively hot in Arizona right now.  I'll also update you to my watch list of exciting TV shows and movies.  As I have much better taste than you, stay tuned.

Currently watching Epix "War of the Worlds" TV series.  It's quite dark! There are multiple suicides.  Robot dogs that kill children and kidnap babies.  And a brother that rapes and impregnates his sister.  Also, oh yeah most of the people are already dead and killer aliens are hell bent on killing the rest of us off.

Other things I am looking forward too?

I am looking for a budget computer to game on.  Never been a gamer but decided I would like to try. Currently, my set up consists of a chromebook and wireless bluetooth keyboard.  Remember when I bought that wireless keyboard?  Well I have dusted it off and am using it.  It's going okay and typing isn't too bad.  Much better than the HP Chromebook x2 's smallish keyboard.  I have only a 12.3 inch screen so I'd like a full sized monitor and keyboard to type on for the blog especially since I am committed to bringing this thing back..of course that takes you to help.  I need you to join me on this journey and tell your friends.  I don't wanna sound like a dick, but if I can't get famous this way, there's always me getting a gun and shooting the fucking world up.  Let's try and prevent the fucking carnage, okay?

I am getting thirsty so lemme take a break and get a Coke. *

*I should mention no affiliate links are ever used and I don't get paid for this as Google deems my content too extreme.  So this is all for fun.  One day I'll set up a Patreon or something but really asking you to pay for this shitty content right now is asking too much.

I am looking at a few different kind of PC's on facebook, but I kinda want to get a iMac 27 inch.  I just need an upgraded 2013 with an i5, SSD , 8 to 16 GB of RAM and maybe some kind of discrete graphics card.  Only thing is you Apple freaks make that rather modest set up like $1200 dollars and I am not willing to pay more than $350.  I mean folks it's quite ridiculous.  I could get a new computer that would blow a modern MAc pro out for 1200 bucks.  Be sensible.  Okay well that is the first installment.  I will be adding pictures of the Lucky Charms Box I know you'll want to see!!!

29 views later...

I know I have been away awhile, but just 29 views for the last post I made?  That first blog post in months shows that I have a long way to go before I can say we have a community again here.

That's OK.  You have to earn eyeballs and I haven't earned anything lately.

If you find the quality of writing to be down don't be too disappointed.  It's going to take awhile before I am confident enough to let loose and present my best stuff.

For now you get what you pay for which is Jack Squat!

Got COVID 19?? How suicide seems less cool now ...

Don't think you guys owe me anything.  

Not that you didn't abandon this blog way before I stopped writing it. That's cool and all and if it helps I never expected much anyway.  But things have been shitty lately.  Like how we have this stupid run on toilet paper and this crazy 'Chinese' Virus that is going to kill us all.  Well kill you at least.  I hope.

Personally I am less suicidal, now that I know my days are numbered.

Many of you guys remember that I work at a grocery store so you'll be glad to know that I will get exposed to this virus any day now.

This alt Sci-Fi World we live in crazy.  Unlike you, I am a hero for working on the front lines.  You hoard paper products and load your gun like the cowards you are, but I turned down an offer from a friend to help with bills and take a few weeks off and avoid the possibility of massive exposure.  Instead I am putting myself out there for the sake of my fellow essential workers and  grocery co-workers and customers in a move that will more than likely end me all for the sake of my own ridiculous need to self punish.

I know what you are thinking.  You wished I started writing during the start of this panic.  Why?  Like you don't know to stop buying TP?? Or that this is all Trump's fault? Or wash your hands or the like.  Yes. I had some funny takes on this and yes some of my family and friends have enjoyed me on Facebook yelling at people to stay home and get off my lawn.  But you know me better than that.  What we have has always transcended lazy stuff like that.

We have a real connection. The kind where we just look at each other and a million times more information passes than a word or two can convey.  YOU GET ME and I GET YOU and they will never take that away from us.

SO I write this in days that seem so unfamiliar to all the new folks who never got what we were doing and where we are living.  That's because you and I have lived this life forever.  We self isolate, we live in constant dread and fear.  We are slightly paranoid, but right. And we gave up hope years ago..we stopped thinking we were in control and we never much cared how the world turned out because we knew we weren't included in "their" plans anyway.

Now we all get to be outsiders.  Now we all understand how futile we are.  Now "we get it" we know that all of this is being taken for granted.

WE sit here and tell the rest of you to KEEP ordering your Taco Bell online, and everything is going to be OKAY!  But you and I have a special knowledge, don't you? (;

Hugs and Kisses

Romius T.

Back from the dead for a limited time.

Monetization and Google

I stopped writing a long time ago because I couldn't make it any money at it.  It's also time consuming and difficult.  The reason I can't make any money off this blog is because Google won't allow advertising on my site because it is not "family friendly."

Google is a little bitch company that spies on you like your worst nightmare from 1984 and knows more about you than your family and friends do, but God forbid you talk about necrophilia or make fun of Mexicans. Because if you do they won't allow you to monetize your content.  Even though they let Boeing and Coke who kill core people combined than just about anybody I know.

Certainly companies that pollute, kill, or engage in felonies would never be allowed to advertise on the YouTube platform or with Google services.  Ha.  I think we both know that idea is full of shit.  Google don't give a fuck about actual crimes against humanity.  They are just worried that a few worry warts or Christians will boycott one of the big companies that spend millions on advertising.

I don't have a problem with that.  I just think it's disingenuous to pretend to get up on your soap box or moral high ground and tell content producers what is moral and what is good when all you really concerned about is making money and appeasing advertisers.  Just come clean and tell it like it real is.

Look I'll do whatever it takes to get back some money on this hobby.  I'd even stop talking about necrophilia.  Which I personally don't think anyone should have an issue with.  The person is dead what do they care about anymore?  And I say that as long as the body is still warm...play ball.  Just be careful because rigorous fucking is likely to expel something more than gasses.  It's the price you pay for fun.

Maybe you guys remember the movie Kissed?*

Or maybe Google could just let me start a new account. I promise to behave Google.  No more dead people fucking!!! I promise!

*It's totally not ironic that you can watch a girl kiss dead people on their platform, but simply discussing a concept that's taboo will get you banned from adSense for eternity.  Not just on your current blog but ANY blog or YouTube channel you try,

Go ahead

欧美免费观看全部完Go ahead

I’m bored. It’s the kind of boredom I think we all get, coupled with the kind of boredom only sociopaths get. The kind of boredom that says nothing will ever satisfy me again. The kind of boredom that says nothing is interesting, and nothing ever will be.

When you come across that kind of boredom, your brain starts to panic. It starts to freak out a bit. It decides all the normal parameters are out. It takes out all of the superficial or the societal limits. Your brain goes crazy for a bit. It decides that only the craziest impulses, the darkest thoughts, and weirdest impulses are what count. Are what matter.

That’s where ideas like choking yourself to sleep, or cutting your balls off come from. You gotta be careful man. If you ignore the brain long enough, if you keep it from active and meaningful stimulation long enough, then the brain revolts.

It will create the stimulation it needs. And when the brain creates without limits, well… Then you can’t be upset with it. You are bringing this shit on yourself.

Leonard part 6

I went to Las Vegas last week by myself. Maybe it was two weeks ago, I have a hard time remembering stuff.

I took the Greyhound bus there. 8 hours from Arizona. Greyhound advertised free WiFi but the speeds were terrible. Check your email, but that's about it.

I went by myself because I don't have any friends anymore, and I don't like people. I mean I still want to have sex with human females, but that's about the extent to which I'd like to interact with folks.

Conveniently, the bus drops you off right next to the Plaza Hotel and Casino on Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas. I love staying at the Plaza in particular and downtown in general.

Downtown retains at least some of the old time character of the old gamblers and dirty lifestyle that represents the true nature of Vegas. The strip is too sanitized with corporate feel good bullshit. Though in reality, either way you'll piss away your hard earned dollars in the casinos.

Hello friends

So weird that I don't write to you anymore, no? I yes , sorry. I am going to try this new thing where I just write short stuff to you. Nothing big. Nothing phenomenal. So today I had some pain in my biopsy place on my chest. I am not sure why. Maybe nothing, then again maybe something. I am not really looking forward to figuring that out. Instead I will just ignore it like I have ignored my health for the past year or two. I am still alive so hopefully I will continue to stay alive. Not that I give three shits of living. I still have nothing to love or to live for. . . I don't really care so much apathy...my keyboard won't let me break this into paragraphs without editing so I will do that much later perhaps...nothing interesting is going on...my mom sent me 140 dollars for my birthday that was nice...not sure what I'll buy....maybe a smartwatch...Donald Trump is still president elect? Correct? This can't be so....oh well you bastards really deserve him. Not Cameroon . I feel like the people of Cameroon have done nothing to deserve this, but who knows....maybe y'all are big dicks down there.

Oh shit. I'm pissed . I got the damn text to paragraph. Oh well. Love you guys. Talk to you later? Maybe I start podcast. I missed doing that , but I don't have anything to say. Not anymore.

Ok folks I got aBluetooth keyboard

I think I am going to start posting a lot more content since I have a Bluetooth keyboard to type on my nexus 9. I So much easier than typing on my computer, plus I get the swiftkey predictions, so I might even type faster than before. I I'm kinda excited so we'll see if it makes a difference .

Welcome back

I bet you guys missed me,  I am gonna say I miss you too.  I'm just keeping it real.  I feel like I need to get back to blogging a bit.  I have had a few good ideas and some nice turn of phrases and you guys have missed out all because I have been to lazy to write them down for you.

But I'm back baby!!

How am I doing?  Well things could be worse for sure.  I have no idea how my health is as I have been avoiding the doctors.  Had a little run of bad luck and costs got out of control. lost a doctor over it.  But I finally went and got another doctor.  I'm back on my blood thinning meds which is good as I am at risk for a stroke without them.

Going to have blood drawn this week so we'll see what's going on there.  I feel okay.  At least I feel good enough to power through the day.  Lots of weird aches and pains which could be just anxiety.  Or my heart.  Don't feel good enough to run or play basketball.  Running stairs is still a problem.  I just have never recovered my strength.  It's a bit disheartening but hopefully that doesn't signal something worse.

Today I smoked a little weed.  Last night I went to a casino with a couple of friends.  My debit card wouldn't work there for some reason.  A blessing I am sure. Otherwise I would have lost money most likely.

Currently just jamming to some UFO.  Saw them in concert a few weeks back. Which was awesome.

I'm in a good mood today which is rare for me so I am just taking advantage of that fact.  Chewing some bubble gum.  Drinking soda.  Pepsi with real sugar.  I purchased one of those PUR water filters.  They totally suck. Don't buy them.

Been rooting and modding my Oppo Find 7a.  Been breaking it and fixing it.  Currently running Color OS 2.1.5 which is the last and final upgrade from OPPO.

Feeling a bit social but all my friends are hiding on social platforms. No one is responding to my texts but Subway who keeps reminding me that they are offering subs for 5 dollars.  They fucking text me all the time.  They even ask if I am getting their texts.  Send me reminders and shit.  At least someone cares and I all I have to do is buy a few sandwiches a month and they are happy as fuck with me.

In a future post I am going to cover the SIX PILLARS of LIFE you should be living.  As part of the Self Help Guide (TM).

Well Folks We'll chat again soon.

Cuddles,

Romius T.

Anxiety is like a sinkhole, you never know when you are standing on quicksand

We are all alone. But somehow this knowledge leads us to a belief that we are unique or special.

When instead we should consider the more dreary likelihood that are not clever, nor special.

We are tumbleweeds. We drag our scythe across the mythic culture of our minds. We plant the soil with seeds of our sinister being.

The brains tiny folds and twists found in the forebrain, the reason we can be human, are in fact also thought to be ditches, irrigating the hatred of 3 billion years of evolution on to consciousness itself.

The screams of our forebears will outlive us all.

The cancer can't return if it never left

I don't know about you, but I am damn confident that the cancer has returned.  I am having trouble breathing again.  But this time I really don't care.  I think this blog should just be thought of as a really long suicide note.  I'll keep writing and one day after I am dead you will come along and read it.

One day you are going to miss me and the next best thing to me being there is reading my blog.  

So this will be all you have, and you'll probably read too much into the stuff I was kidding about and not enough into the stuff I really meant to say and care about, but shit man, that's just you!  That's why you let me die/ that's why you never really cared about me.

Are you lonely. Too bad. I don't want my words to comfort you.  You really don't deserve anything nice to happen for you because in the end you let me down,  Just like society, just like me parents. Just like every woman who spread her legs for me.  You all suck and you never cared about me.

That's okay I guess.  I care enough about myself for the two of us.  For the three of us really.  It's just self preservation mechanism so don't judge me too harshly. When you are unlovable and weird you have to love yourself.

I am not sure when I got so unlovable, but I know that it's no coincidence that I stopped carrying about the world as soon as it stopped carrying about me.

I have to get a new doctor as I am 1,000 dollars behind in payments.  He won't give me an appointment until I give him money.   Some strange sensations are in my chest.  Feels like they are caving in.  I am sure that is serious.  But I have an appointment with my cancer doc in Sept..  Hopefully I live until then.

I am thirsty.  I need a beer. If you'll wait I get a few and then maybe huff some PLEDGE and we can get the party started.

Is it pure cowardice to just let yourself die?

I think so.  But then again, I have always been a coward so I don't see the reason things should change.  I never got my radiation done.  I have no idea if I am cured.  Everyone around me acts like I am cured just because I gained 76 pounds of fat recently.

Yes. I am fat.  You can be fat and have cancer.  You can be nice, you can be an asshole.  Nothing seems to matter as to who gets it.  Just random chance.  I think my gall bladder is fucked though.  I will need a new one.  Or maybe they just remove the whole thing.  I don't care anymore.

I think I used to be funny.  But I don't think I am funny anymore.  I don't know what happened.  But I am really not funny anymore.  It really sucks, because I thought I could always hang my hat on that,  But I bore the shit out of myself now.  I hear my flat 'try too hard' comments and I'm like..."Who the fuck are you?  Please shut the fuck up.  You are like SO not funny now."

What else do I have though guys?

Have you seem my fat face?  It's kinda sad.  I am old and no one loves me anymore.  

OLD people depress me because I am a victim of the society that I live in.  I want eternal youth.  I just want to be able to play a game of pick up basketball again.  But my decapitated toe and my lungs just say fuck you.  I give in too easily to the depression and give in to the momentum of  my life which is mostly not leaving the house.  Mostly it's just me sitting here alone typing on screens and typing into social networks and drinking beer and cola and smoking pot that makes me a bit wired and crazy and forgetful.  I am losing my keys tomorrow for sure. But masturbating to weed is nice and way better than sex with girls though i am thinking that sex with girls is something I miss.

Women are turning against me because I am loser.  The good women I mean.  I can't blame them.

There is a trashy skank at work who might fuck me.  Let's just hope I get her pregnant,  I need to start a family with all my sickness, all the nothingness that eats at my heart, all the cancer that stops and starts and spreads before me.  Let it eat away at me.  Let me wither on the vine like Social Security during a Republican's administration.

Donald Trump is my hero.

I said it and 

i wont take it back

grizzly mom bear 

protector

TRUMP CASTLe

Rescue me. 

How to be A Kool Kid

Start with a pitcher of blue Kool Aid mixed with meth. It will taste bad. Have you ever accidentally tasted comet® while cleaning your bathroom? A splash of shit, powder chemical, and chlorinated water splashes your tongue.

Imagine your drink tasted like that except you have poured a whole bottle of comet® into a pitcher. It tastes bitter, your taste buds will explode with dissent.

This is how we contemplate life. A pitcher of blue shit shatters on the bathroom floor. The jagged edges stab your wrists and forearms. Blood flows towards the toilet, towards the shower, towards the drain.

Here. In this misery, I feel your pain. I feel your uncoiled tentacles grip. Release me. Grip.

You can stir comet® all day and the shit never dissolves. You can stir Meth all day long and the shit never dissolves. You can wipe your shit on the toilet. You can smear blood along the rim.

You already know everything. Why do people search for the truth? Truth is easy to find. It's with us all along. It's the gut feeling we've always had. We aren't stopping anytime soon. We will always need bath salts, meth, beer and weed. We will always tell ourselves we'll stop. And we will never stop.

The brain pops like microwaved eggs on a plate Sunnyside up. The brain regrets and acts like it has nothing to do with you. Serotonin receptors ping pong a tell-all to any doctor worth his salt.

The bags below your eyes swell with fluid. Stings of pain run along your backside like tiny scorpions. You pop in and out of existing. Your brain works backward like a camera obscura. Sentences stay stuck in dark recesses. Words are forgotten.

The Kool°AID man stares through the wall. Shards of glass jump to the death from your hands. Cascades of sliver. Cascades of ice. One more puff. One more snort.

An ass crack runs down the wall. An ass crack runs against the floor. A blood, shit mess. This world. This world is a blood stained, shit, mess.

AN URGENT MESSAGE AND CALL FOR ACTION FROM THE MEN'S RIGHTS MOVEMENT

This is an urgent MEN'S RIGHTS MOVEMENT (MRM) ACTION CALL to BOYCOTT KENNY ROGERS. Kenny Rogers is an incarnation of Evil.* He is Lucifer. He is the deceiver.

Kenny Rogers stopped caring about men the day he wrote the deliberately deceitful song Coward of the County. The song, ostensibly a celebration of non-violence, is in truth a celebration of the myth of the violence-loving man.

The song begins it's deception by lauding the hero/coward for his "turning the other cheek" and for his "walking away from trouble."

But soon we discover that a true hero never walks away from violence. What the song really glorifies when the coward "turns to lock the door" is an apotheosis of destruction and fisticuffs. We learn that a real man is defined as a beast, and that in the end HE MUST fight in order to be considered A REAL MAN.

Can we only blame Kenny Rogers? Or is there a sinister plot somehow involving Hillary Clinton here?

Kenny Rogers penned the tune during the 1970's, a period of time when feminism was rampant, bras were burned, and Hillary Clinton was prosecuting America's best president before Reagan.

In addition to running the corrupt effort to destroy a great American, Hillary Rhodam Clinton was a well known figure in the CIA program that secretly dosed high profile American male celebrities with LSD. Perhaps this explains the deeply rooted feminism found in the Coward of the County...

Certainly, I find it difficult to understand why such a masculine specimen like Kenny Rogers could pen a song that would disparage an entire group of men...We ALL KNOW that FEMINISM has a profound and secret revulsion at all things male like beards and masculinity and it goes with out saying that the 1970's Kenny Rogers was a PROUD and MASCULINE man with a massive and proud (and one could say) REGAL beard and I for one would not put it past a feminist like Hilary to be jealous of such a beard and to secretly pine for such a beard for herself or to at least date a man with a massive awesome beard like Kenny Rogers has (and should we mention that he makes an awesome chicken?)

The MEN"S RIGHTS MOVEMENT also takes GREAT ACCEPTATION to the women who convinced KEnny ROgers to get plastic surgery as we all know that it is only the craven woman who in her vanity requires the scalpel and sword to beautify her. I see no other reason a man like Kenny ROgers would entertain the idea of plastic surgery. Perhaps his affiliation will Dolly Parton was used to inculcate this once great man with the hidden agenda of Hillary Clinton.

To sum up: Stop buying Kenny Roger albums. And did you know that Hillary Clinton was running for office? She's running for president to take away your rights as a man. It's open season on white males in this country and we need to get our country back from the bra burning hippies like Bill and Hillary Clinton.

May god rest your souls and have a very blessed day.

*{Not to be confused with the Sci-Fi Fantasy series of books Incarnations of Immortality written by part time pedophile Piers Anthony.}

For more information oN the Men's rights movement please watch FOX news and Bill O'r Reilly.

Delusion: An epiphany at Appomattox, or I am a work of art.I will not allow you to fat shame me.Even though I be male. I am worthy.I am something.Consider me.Love Me.

My best friend is leaving town.  Not that it matters as we hardly see each other anymore since she moved back in with her parents a few months ago.  She only lives about 40 minutes away, but it might was well be on the other side of the country.  But now I won't be able to say,  "I could always go visit."

I am all alone.  I guess I will be alone for a long time.  My brother may someday move close to me, or I to him.  We are both 40 and single.  Something is wrong with him though,  I think he has real problems getting close to people.  Sometimes I think of him as a person with Asperger's disease.  He doesn't.  But I haven't been able to diagnose his problems.

My problems are easy to diagnose.  I hate myself.  I hate my life.  I have no energy, no meaning.  I would hate to put that out there and actually expose a woman to that.  Also, I'm quite bad looking.  So no woman will have me.  Currently I am entertaining a neck beard.  Also, I refuse to bathe.  I have forgotten to brush my teeth,  change clothes, or wash my sheets.

Truly, things have gotten quite nasty lately.  I have only myself to blame. Not that my initial impulse isn't to blame others.  I'm a lot like all the women on Tumblr...I have expectations that don't match reality.  300 pound women don't get Ryan Phillipe.  Just like 239 pound fat guys don't get wispy photog models who read Proust and explain his connection to Marx to you.

It just doesn't happen that way.  I know I need to change the way I think.   I have been lowering my expectations.  Two years ago I dated a homeless girl who was beaten by her ex boyfriends.  She had several children that she often couldn't take care of.  I couldn't keep her interested.  Basically she knew she could do better than me, and she was right.

At least I have stopped feeling sorry for myself.  I don't waste time crying over my situation anymore. Instead I cry because television makes me sad, commercials and prime time TV is really great at manipulating my emotions.  Six, seven times a day I tear up. Then I pop a anti anxiety pill and forget.

Denial.

I'm in denial a lot.  Like Cancer.  I eat like a pig.  I drink soda again.  I eat at McDonald's. I don't get my blood tests.  I can't afford some of the medications I am on.  I am skipping treatments.  I have to borrow money soon.  I'll have to borrow from my mother.  I have never done that.  Not in my life.  Either that or accept my brother's generosity (charity.)  I hate doing this.  I hate my job.  But I need to get back soon.  I need to pay back my landlord.  I owe them 2,000.  Jesus.  I am an asshole. Just go back to work and make some fucking money.  These people are allowing me to sit here and type.  Why?

I have no idea why anyone would help me live.  I have never done a thing, never lifted a finger for anyone else in my life.  I am broke human being.  I barely qualify as a moral being.  I should at least kill for money.  Then at least my life would have meaning.  Then the evil that sits in my heart could be released,  At least the world would make more sense.

People could say things like, "That guy was dirtbag."  And it would be true,  Instead, everyone has to donate money to my cancer fund because I'm just some sad sack that got cancer too early in life.  When we all know that the Cancer has been there all along.  Eating away at me from the inside.  Destroying my will to live, causing me to sit here pondering death.  Waiting for it all to end. God gave me this chance.  HE said/ Romius/ He's your real chance now. Fuck it and give up.  Let me take care of this.  Stop being a coward.

 Come home to me.  

Near the end

Unlike you, I am very aware.  Overly aware of everything.  Even the nature of my breaths.  I imagine that is why I am altering my CO2 levels.  It is why I am literally gasping for air as I write.  Too much thought and we mess up the unconscious nature of our living programs.  The animal in us was not meant to take control of the process of living as with such detail.  Though the doctors and the television will doubtless tell us differently.

  

Why are you reading about me on the Internet?

Sometimes I like mayo on sandwiches.  But only on sub sandwiches, not on regular bread sandwiches. And not a lot of mayo, just a little. Too much mayo ruins anything.

I'm not telling you this because I want you to tell me how much mayo you like on your sandwiches.  I don't care if you like mayo, or mustard.

 I don't care if you like sandwiches at all.

Suicidal Musings:Towards a Theory of the Social Psychology of Poverty

I poured a glass of coke into a plastic 16 oz red cup that is generally reserved for parties by teens and college students.  It was actually my second glass.  The first coke is my coffee and the second is my breakfast.

Winter is upon us.  Outside it's cloudy, dark and dreary.  It's only 3, but looks like it's 7.

I just got a call that told me that my insurance has been cancelled and that I will need to purchase COBRA insurance.  I am sure that will be a huge cost.  My nurse that follows my case was the person that called.  Not my insurance company.  They were just not going to tell me apparently.  I'm calling them tomorrow to find out what's going on.

My debit card is expired which is good news.  It will cancel the paper subscription I have tried to cancel for over a year.

After my second coke I decided to go the store to purchase flour tortillas.  I buy the kind that are paper thin.  They expire on the 7th which means I will be eating lots of tortillas.  If you are from the north or simply don't have a lot of experience purchasing tortillas, let me tell you how.  Don't but the ones that are thick like cakes buy as thin as possible.  Thick tortillas are terrible and inauthentic. Abuelita would never make them so.

The line was long at Food City.  Someone had food stamps, but forgot their cash and had to put back laundry soap.  I waited for 15 minutes.  I did not have a basket and the weight of my few items grew heavy because  the chemotherapy and my inactivity has reduced my strength considerably.

Next I visited the Family Dollar Store.  I need a yellow marker for the online Marxist course I am taking.  Also a group of notebooks.  I get over charged for the college ruled paper but don't make a fuss.

The store plays Lorde's Royals in between telling you that shoplifting is a crime.  They have cameras watching and encourage you to say something if you see something.

Two groups of crack/meth addicts walk in.  Among the first group one blond woman in her late 30's or early 40's has a nice body.  Kept trim by her addiction I consider whether I would give her money.  Luckily I jerked off last night and my withered nutsack is only vaguely interested in getting released.  Money problems prevent me from spending on prostitution as well. I have no problem with paying for sex morally.  I think it empowers women. Prostitution is like an ancient form of Katy Perry.  Girl Power and shit.

Everyone at the Family Dollar store is poor.  Most do not try and hide it.  The checkout girl has rat hair swept up in a loose ponytail.  She offers a weary smile.  I think it hides an invitation,  Like I'm cute of something.  I can hear the plastic tubing of my TAC line rustling under my shirt.

I haven't bathed this week and my shirt has some kind of oil stain on it.  But I don't look any different from anyone else.  Most people in the store are out of fashion.  They wear ill fitting clothes,  They can't afford to go to laundromat.

Why must everyone look so sad?  Why must they look so poor?  Why are they drug addicts, immigrants, and homeless?

Why I am here? I guess I am one of them.  This idea makes me sadder.  I haven't had any pain pills or Xanax to counter their effects today.   I am susceptible to glomming onto their milieu.

Fuck it.  After I get my change I walk back to my car.

Outcome dependent

They say we get but one life to live. That we ought be happy in our days.  They are swift and soon behind us. But is not such a thought capricious? As capricious as the life before us?

I will not forget the sword at my back, or the dagger at my throat. Our very lives always so tender. So close to the edge always.

"But glad tidings! Run along now little master."  "Forget this nonsense!" They will say.

But I will not play their game.

The outcome is predetermined.

We all lose in the end.

And the end is always closer than we think.

Is that a bad thing?

Cancer didn't change my life.  I mean I get to make more cancer jokes now, and you can't make feel to guilty about those, as I am cancer ridden.  I guess it's because I know I am not going to die.  My oncologist said so.  He's like, "Romius, you are totally going to live.  This cancer gets cured all the time.  I don't even know why I'm wasting my vast talents on you.  Are you sure you even want to all this Chemotherapy?  Maybe we could just give you a little and see what happens?"

And I'm like, "Wait didn't you doctors try that shit in Alabama once?"

And he was like, "No, that was with black people."

God is lookin' out for me

People are always saying that God is looking out for me.  He might be.  He might also be looking to kill me, and just isn't doing a bang up job.  I mean if you are going to give me Cancer, why give me one that's so curable?  Or is God still working on the assumption that we are still nomads with no more idea of biological workings than "stay the fuck away from Women when they menstruate. Because, blood? Right?

Wait. Blood.  Ancient times.  Blood carries disease.  For instance Ebola. These ancient rules really might work.  I guess some genius really did write that book after all. Stock on menstruation pads and and pluggers gentlemen.  You're lady folk might be trying to kill you.

Do not.  I repeat DO NOT ATTEMPT TO HANDLE YOUR WOMAN"S BLOODY EBOLA MAN KILLING REMINDER THAT YOU DIDN'T PRODUCE ME AN HEIR TWAT STUFFER!!!!!

Cuddles,

romius t aka the cancer boy

Cancer Boy is back with a Non-Cancer Blog Post

Is that possible? No, not really. 1

This just might be today's chemotherapy talking, but in my head I've been that funny all day.

I didn't have anyone to talk to today, so I have been amusing myself.  I should record my inner monologue, because it's that dang funny.  Like seriously funny.  I am thinking CBS sitcom funny.  I could get a way too hot wife, and take her out to the movies, and take her out to the grocery store, and I would just riff on all the stuff that comes to mind, even though she gets SUPER embarrassed by me and begs me not to, I totally ignore her and she just grins and bears it and that's how you make awesome sitcoms and run on sentences.*

*See what I did there?

Clever.  And more clever is what we need in this world.  And dammit I feel like I really stepped it up today, and the only the only person who got to share in that glory is me!  But when ya think about it, that's okay.  Because very few things amuse me.  None of you dudes are very funny, or insightful, or moving me to tears.

Sure, there are the classics, I could be reading Marx.  I not saying I haven't finished Capital, but I am more of a Western styled Neo-Marxist who appreciates the Early Marx* and not the antiquated economics (of which let's face it with it's 8th grade Algebra is really out of my reach/hardly my fault as my 8th grade Algebra teacher had enormous fake boobies and wore tons of make up.)

I don't have an ending for today's post.  But you can expect me to write a bit more for a bit longer.  At least I didn't use BYTE for Bit... 

*For the nerds this does NOT mean that I agree with Althussuer's infamous epistemological break. For a more complete description of my views of Marx see my The Karl Marx Blog.

1. insert canned laughter

I got {real} bad news

The creator of this fine blog has met with bad news. I have a blood clot. Fluid in my lungs and heart. They've also found a large mass in my lungs.

This don't sound like a program for long life expectancy.

I'll try and keep you informed if any regular blog readers care.

Cuddles,
Romius T

Can someone lend me Robin Williams' belt?

The end is near.

And it's much closer than we expect. I will die alone. In poverty and pain. My last meal will be a cold bologna sandwich eaten over the sink. I will wash down 6 Tylenol with a glass of half sugared Kool-Aid.

But something will happen this time. My liver won't make the correct enzymes, or will it simply implode from overuse. I will choke and stutter. The glass will fall and shatter from my hand. The orange drink will run down the badly stained tile. My head will reverberate several times from the awful impact.

My last vision will be a cockroach running out from behind the dishwasher towards me, his eyes smiling and triumphant!

Memoirs from the short fat bald white guy who sits next to you on the bus who wants to get your attetion, but quickly averts his eyes when yours meet

If you're writing your memoirs at age 30 it should be about something. Some kind of momentous occasion. Dave (I share a given-name and the inability to create fiction with) Eggers wrote about the death of his mother. But my mother is still alive. Alive and kicking as they say. Not that I'd wish death upon her just for some convenient pathos.

Maybe I could wish death upon a lesser relative like an unknown aunt or uncle. They could die just like in that Twilight Zone episode where you would be given a million dollars if you would agree to push a button that would kill a person you did not know.

The kicker being soon after you decided to push the button a man in a suit would come knocking on your front door asking for the button back. "So where is it going?" You would ask. "Oh, don't worry..." He'd answer in his best spooky voice. "We're gonna give it to someone you don't know."

So while I'd like a million dollars and the ease of an artificially created pathos, I guess I don't have the stomach for random murder "Twilight Zone" style even hypothetically.

I am not your father's Archie Bunker.
Whatever happened to fat, middle-aged, short, bald white guys being cool? And by cool I don't mean hipster.I know what "hipster" means even without having read a Reader's Digest in the last 25 years.

What's it take to maintain the interest of females these days? Don't you get me? Maybe we can just be friends? I know you like to hang out with cool, funny guys. We can sit around and berate your boyfriend's "made up on the spot" excuses for why he banged your sister.

We can sit next to each other on the couch and you can lean into me with an insincere intimacy. And in a moment of frustrated arousal I will grab for your boob. And you can be like "That's like totally gross! That 'totally' tries to change our relationship. I don't know if I can think of you the same anymore."

But I suppose you feel the way you've always felt about fatty (200lbs), middle-aged (34), short (Hey Doug Flutie is 5 '9 too!), bald(ing) white (so-not so tanned) guys.

Ssecretly you pine for us. You want to get down and dirty, nasty like with us. You have a fetish for sex with disgusting guys. I read about it in Maxim, or maybe it was Oprah's magazine? Either way that's pretty messed up. But most likely you'll just hold "it" all in, all your perversions and go on ignoring me like the rest of humanity does.

Go ahead. Try to ignore me. You can avert your eyes ... sigh and "put up" with me when I try to be cool. You can go make fun of me with the rest of the cute waitresses in the back of the restaurant.

But I will warn you and the rest of the nation, ignore me at your own peril. The meek Sunday morning pancake eating NFL watching white guy next to you at the sports bar is a shaken aluminum soda can full of rage. I just dare your ass to pop my top. I 'll spray all over you in a sugary coated syrupy mess. I'll get in your eyes and sting bitch.

You don't want to fuck with me. I can walk into a McDonald's and shoot up a room, then order a dozen chicken McNuggets to go. Who do you think does all the stalking? Who picks up all the little girls in unmarked vans and drives them out to the middle of nowhere? Single white males who get no attention that's who. So maybe it's time to start paying a little more attention to me-that's all I am saying.

You think Caucasians can't have pathos? Or maybe you're just looking for a little more ethnic in your gravitos? Why do you think only the ghetto makes you crazy? Try the suburbs baby. I want my props! Who do you think buys up all that Gansta Rap and Death Metal? Young white suburban males. We've been killing our species since Cro-Magnon met Neanderthals.Kudos to me for the longest fucking title of my bloggin career.
2 ....the number of women who have pleasured themselves to my writing. And you know who you are. Quit asking yourself "Will he fuck me?" Of course I will. Line up my bitches, you can get all three inches of my thunder.

Please pardon the cum stained pages from my journal this entry has come from. I have no idea how they got there. Let me repeat that, "I have no idea how they got there. I mean I am pretty sure they may have come from me walking around dripping looking for a towel after masturbating.

Had I noticed the cum stains I assure I would have cleaned them up. I certainly wouldn't have allowed them to sit around for several days. That would make running over the crusted up surfaces difficult witha pen. I'd like to think that I treat my pen with a bit more dignity than that.

Do y'all remember the movie "Revenge of the Nerds III?" Do you remember it's stunning and mournful theme song? Of course you don't. It was a shitty third tier Made-for-TV movie from USA Cable Networks "The Denny's of late night TV programming."

I think their slogan was "It's late, your up--we're on, so quit your fucking complaining. Plus we've got super special guest star "Booger" returning, and he doesn't exactly get paid scale these days."

I am the World and it Ends Tonight.

 I am the World.  And it ends tonight. <---Read this first

I need more friends that drink. Drinking with friends gives me the peace of mind you get when you're alone.

I take a walk.  I hope a walk would clear my head.  I walk toward my neighborhood bar and watch as the Sun beams it's last friendly smile down at me.  Feel the cool winter breeze on my skin.  I walk alone because I like feeling the insular protection of my singlehood.

As I walk past the local bar I know, I see a tattered eviction notice plastered to front of it's doorway. Just like the dwindling sunlight it's all gone now.  We've traded in locals bars for "brands" and upscale snobbery.

If I am going to drink at a bar tonight I'll have to walk to another bar.  The next closest bar is a few minutes away along a dying former interstate. The smell of exhaust fumes is thick along my walk.  I see cockroaches, but none scurry away from me.  They own these streets.  The roaches are bigger than mice. I keep my head down most of the way so I can keep track of them.  I don't like to step on them.

The next bar is more of a college bar.  It has some brand new outdoor patio.  I think I will sit on the benches and type my story here.  The beer is cheap and cold.  The bartender is usually pretty, but ignores me.  I used to think she had vacant eyes.  But I think the vacancy sign is reserved only for some.  For me there are no lights on and no open beds to rent.

I want to drink a lot of beer tonight. I don't want to have to order multiple times, so I order several beers at once.  The bartender frowns at my order.  I think I must have done something improper. I guess I should not order so many beers at once.  She confirms my suspicions when she asks me if I could, "just order one beer."  

I unfold my dollars carefully.  I count them out to her.  That way she will know I am not stiffing her.  She does not wait, but instead turns around to see to another order.  After pouring my beer she absentmindedly grabs my cash and stuffs it in the register.  I can't tell if she took my tip or not.  Then she sits down at the other end of the bar, far away from me near the window, and next to a pile of textbooks she is studying.  I wait to watch her take her seat and pick up her iPhone before I head over to one of the empty tables.  Each table has two benches made from scrapyard lumber and painted with one to few coats of "rustic" red paint. 

I don't really like this bar.  What the world really needs is more neighborhood bars.  Cramped rat holes with room for only six or eight people.  Low lights that you bump into on the way back from the filthy bathroom.  A place full of real drunks.  People who have stopped carrying what they look like to others and live only to drink.  I want the world to have more people like me.  Functional, but broken.  People should give up on their dreams.  They should go to work and save just enough to drink every night.  Go home afterwards and shower.  Don't talk to your spouses or children.  Just go to the bar and get drunk.  Maybe don't even to talk to anybody while you're there.  At the bar no one cares that you have problems.  Everybody at a bar has a problem.