Wrote a lot today. Didn’t do too badly yesterday either. But these three hour nights have to stop. Good lord. In fact, on that note, I’m going to bed.

N.P.: “Slither” – Velvet Revolver

Reader, what the fuck are we going to do? This culture…it is absolutely intolerable. I suspect you feel the same way. Like Idiocracy isn’t nearly as funny as it used to be because it fucking came true. Arguably the worst, least interesting, and stupidest culture in the history of the world. And we’re stuck here. In the middle of it. I have felt very much as if I’m in The Matrix much of the time during the last few months. Just walking around, looking at these people and inside thinking, “You poor pathetic fucks. Everything you know is wrong. Everything you think is of paramount importance or essential is at best an illusion, at worst, a brutally cruel joke.”
I don’t know, dear reader. But I’m open to suggestions.

N.P.: “Weatherman” – Dead Sara

What’s crackin’, dear reader. So the other night…when was it…Saturday? Yeah, Saturday…I wrote a bit about the importance of hate. It’s a topic that “triggers” the psychologically weaker among us, their pathetically fragile little psyches being simply too delicate and fragile to handle certain brutal truths of life, like hate, vengeance, death, unfairness, and the overall arbitrary chaos that seems to govern our universe.
As I said then, I was not specifically endorsing hate, nor was I advocating choosing hate over love or anything like it. My comments were directed to the rather vocal snowflakes whom, in their quest for an unrealistic and actually impossible constant positivity, attempt to not only repress their own “negative,” primal, animalistic emotions, but to also oppress these emotions or feelings in everybody else. Which is absurd, and, as I said, ultimately impossible. The more one tries to repress, suppress, or oppress these emotions in oneself or anyone else, the worse the result will be when these emotions or aspects of the human personality inevitably boil over and run riot over and destroy their captors.
But the people decrying hate the loudest, the “politically correct,” are not talking about actual hate at all…they are talking about anyone who has opinions that differ from their party line. That’s been going on for decades, most noticeably and disgustingly in our education system, from grade school through post-grad school. Now there is talk of attempting to ban or make illegal “hate speech.” It’s getting late, so I’ll cut to the chase: certain constructs do not suffer qualification. These concepts exist in their essence, and to slap qualifiers and modifiers in front of them actually void their meanings. Here’s what I mean: take the concept of justice. There is either justice or there is not. Something is either just or it is unjust. That’s it and that’s all. Put a qualifier in front of it (e.g. “social justice”) and you’re asking for trouble. Here’s why: if you can even accurately define “social justice,” you’ll find that the social injustices that it allegedly targets are really, simply, just injustices. Who or what would it benefit to attempt to cleave this set of injustices off from all the of injustices in the world. I’ll let you figure that one out yourself, but here’s a big hint: just look at this “banning hate speech” horseshit. The concept of speech is the same as the concept of justice: it doesn’t need any qualification. There is speech or there is not speech. And because it’s not just you and me here, dear reader, I should probably explain to the members of the herd that “speech” here does not mean talking or using one’s voice. It means the right to express your or anyone else’s opinion in written or verbal form, or through any other media. In the United States, using the definition I’ve just propounded supra, virtually all speech is protected. Yes, I know about shouting fire in a theater, talking about bombs whilst in an airport or on a plane, making terrorist threats…these are not what we are not talking about when we refer to “speech.” So there is no qualifier that can in any way mitigate our First Amendment rights. The Bible – protected. The Quran – protected. The Torah – protected. Mein Kampf – protected. The Satanic Bible – protected. My bullshit – protected. All of it. It is all constitutionally protected.
But the politically correct are so fragile that they can’t possibly even exist in the same world with scary concepts that are different from there own. So they are attempting to label as different and thus separate and thus maybe not protected by the Constitution something they call (but cannot really define) “hate speech.” Like the social justice example above, anything that could be considered “hate speech” is really just, still, simply, “speech.” As “hateful” and mean-spirited and antisocial as it might be, as long as it is just the expression of ideas, it is speech, and it is protected.

N.P.: “Woke Up This Morning (The Sopranos Mix)” – Alabama 3

Edgy as hell today, dear reader. Almost defenestrated a small child through a stained glass window (I didn’t do it, but he totally had it coming), and gave The Glare at a couple of morons who wilted instantly.
I had planned on continuing last night’s screed here tonight, but at this point it’s probably better for the greater good if I just put myself to bed. I’ll find you here tomorrow.

N.P.: “Happens to the Heart” – Leonard Cohen

We should probably talk about hate, dear reader. Yeah, I know…it’s a weird thing to want to talk about in these hypersensitive and pussified times. But that is sort of the point. I am not at all advocating hate or hateful behavior any more that I’m endorsing any other emotion. But that is also rather the point.
Here’s the deal: I was educated by Jesuits. And my absolute favorite religious philosophers is St. Augustine. As such, I was taught (and firmly believe) that there can be no good without evil. There can be no virtuous behavior unless it is chosen as opposed to sinful behavior.
And love cannot exist unless hate also exists. It is an existential imperative.
Back in the hazy days of the 90s, when I was Truly Raising Hell, I was an all-black-leather-clad bastard who listened to some very angry music played by German guys with mohawks and shit. And I kinda got along with everybody. Because of that, when I moved to San Francisco, I was hanging out with anybody and everybody. I fell in with a group of ravers. They were great. Another subculture that lived and breathed electronic music. I had dreads and facial piercings, they had dreads and facial piercings. Brilliant. Let’s do this. And we did that. We did a lot of things. And it was fantastic. For the first couple nights, then I’d have to take a bunch of Xanax and drop out for a few days and recover. But they were just raving their ecstatic asses off. And they were just so positive. Like constantly positive. And I would actually talk to some of them about it. “You know, everything is not always positive and good all the time. You need to acknowledge your Dark Side a little bit. Otherwise, it’s going to build and grow and break out of whatever cage you were trying to house it in and it is going to immediately kick your ass.” And they would always look at me as if I was really annoyingly harshing their buzz, and I would just shrug it off and wait for the Hammer To Fall. Which it inevitably did. Hard. They would end up in rehab, jail, or just “a really dark place” that involved them spending a lot of time rocking back and forth on their shower floors, trying to Figure Things Out.
That didn’t happen to any of my people…we had long been receiving mail on the Dark Side, so when the shit eventually and inevitably hit the fan, we were prepared, psychologically. The Shiny Happy Ravers were not. And when they fell, they fell hard.
Okay, look…it is simply existentially impossible to be able to love unless you are also capable of hate. My opinion (which I acknowledge is shared by not many people at all) is that all emotions are equal. They are basically silly and pointless things that should never ever ever be used as a basis to make any significant decision. But one is no better or worse than any other, in much the same way no cloud is any better or worse than any other. But just as good simply cannot exist without the presence of evil, so love cannot exist without the presence of hate. Acknowledge that you are capable of hate. And if you feel it, let yourself feel it, then same way you let yourself feel love.
This rant may or may not have made sense to you. I will try to clarify tomorrow. Right now there is music to make.

N.P.: “On Top of the World” – Mike Patton

Spent rather a lot of time today arguing about the usage of “timely” as and adverb. This, like certain other usage issues, is a tough one to argue with people who whom have good ears for the language. Because to those of us with such ears, “timely” as an adverb sounds awkward and potentially even wrong. However, “timely” is, in fact, an adverb as well as an adjective, though it is used adverbially primarily in legal writing. Por ejemplo, “Therefore, all completed executions MUST be reported to the Personnel Specialist timely.” Or “Contractors are expected to accurately and timely complete all necessary paperwork related to explosions or detonations.”

N.P.: “Everything I Got” – The Heavy

I am working on some cool shit, dear reader, and I cannot wait for you to read it.
But because I’m working on said cool shit, I don’t have much left to put down here. But know that that’s only because I’m working on such cool shit.
Aight den…

N.P.: “Don’t Change” – INXS

For the second time this week, I was charged by a spider. And for the fifth time this week, I murdered a spider by hammer-fisting it. Actually, that’s not accurate….there were a couple of stomps mixed in there.

These are strange times, dear reader. Someday it will all be told.

N.P.: “Matthew 24; Luke 4” – Mike McCready/Johnny Cash

If you’re trying to lose weight, consider ordering super-spicy wings. A bunch of them. And make them your only option for dinner. You will eat less, I assure you.
Yrs. truly order one metric fuck ton of wings last night, but there was apparently a mix up, and when I was expecting to bite into Asian Zing, I got Mango Habanero. When I went for the Hot BBQ, I got goddamn Nashville Hot. I felt like I’d been peppered sprayed in the mouth.
And that’s what it felt like again tonight. And that’s what it’ll feel like again tomorrow. Cuz, again, dear reader, I ordered a LOT of these things.
Anyway…Nashville Hot is no joke. Should you choose to go down that road, proceed with caution.

N.P.: “Zero” – Rabbit Junk