I’ve got The Angst.

N.P.: “Hungry Like the Wolf” – The Rain Within

Good lord, dear reader…today was non-stop.  Last night was no picnic either.  But I got through it, got everything done.  Didn’t write shit.  No, wait…that’s not true…I wrote a couple hundred words in the car.  I got pissed off at politics and instituted a personal policy that if you text my fucking phone with political bullshit, I automatically vote against whatever it is you’re pushing.  Which is unfortunate, because there is one particular proposition that I was in favor of and was going to vote for, but I’ve now gotten two texts from people I don’t know, to whom I did not give my number, encouraging me to vote for this proposition.  But now?  Nope.  Fuck ’em.  I don’t have a dog in the fight, really, so I can easily throw my support behind the opposition.  And I don’t even like the opposition.  But the opposition hasn’t unsolicitedly texted me.  If they do, and both parties have overstepped, I won’t vote on it at all.  Uncivicly dickish, I know.  But there are boundaries, dammit.

N.P.: “Shot in the Dark” – AC/DC

Today was hectic, tomorrow will likely be more so.
Wheels tend to turn slowly, but they are turning.

N.P.: “Goin’ Out West” – Tom Waits

The Office of the Governor of California, perhaps the worst state in the U.S., issued the following statement:  “Going out to eat with members of your household this weekend?  Don’t forget to keep your mask on in between bites.  Do your part to  keep those around you healthy.”  Jesus.  You know, you spend a lot of time in childhood looking at the adult world and shaking your head and thinking to yourself, “Look at these idiots…they have absolutely no business being in charge of anything, but somehow, they’re in charge of everything.  Maybe I don’t want to grow up.  And then you grow up, and you realize that you were absolutely right as a child: The governor of a state larger than many countries is officially telling people to take a bite of food, then put on a mask, masticate, swallow, then remove the mask, take another bite, repeat.  Morons.

Speaking of morons, the various cowardly corporate entities who so blatantly displayed their willingness to absolutely sell out and abandon their own customers at the very threat of a hashtag campaign by an ignorant mob are suddenly slapping their corrupt corporate foreheads as they start to understand the damage they’ve done to their bottom line, which was, is, and always will be their only genuine concern.  If they think there is money in mouthing virtue-signaling platitudes, then that’s what they do.  And that’s what they thought, but then the ratings started coming in and, oddly enough, Americans don’t appreciate being falsely accused of racism by aggrieved parties who are enjoying multi-million dollar annual incomes for playing a game and bitching about being oppressed.  The NBA Commissioner and obsequious turd Adam Silver attempted to delicately deliver the news earlier this week, having suddenly noticed that the NBA’s viewership is in the toilet: the bullshit virtue-signaling social justice warrior bullshit will be left off the court and off the jerseys next season.  Mr. Silver and the NBA deserve every bit of grief they’re going to get from all sides about this.  It’s going to be fun to watch.

Meanwhile, over in Tulsa, the city government finally sacked up and removed a stupid and illegal BLM™ painting on one of its streets.  There were protests, natch, but nobody cared.

The first and best reality show in the history of television, “Cops,” resumed production recently.  Cancelled by the Paramount Network in a humiliating display of pusillanimity, the show has no intention of resuming that relationship.  Episodes being produced now are strictly for overseas markets.
The same bullshit happened to “LivePD” over at A&E, but Dan Abrams recently promised that the show is “coming back.”  I hope someplace other than A&E, because fuck them.  And Paramount too.  Cable’s dead anyway.

N.P.: “Put It in the Boogie” – Zach Deputy

Tonight we’re drinking to Uncle Eddie.  Thanks for teaching the rest of us how to play guitar.

N.P.: “Eruption” – Van Halen

I was invited to attend some online conference, which conference described itself as “a safe space” to talk about whatever bullshit the conference was about.  I immediately deleted the invitation.  Despite their invitation, they really don’t want me there.
Chief amongst my very few fears is ever being labeled a “victim.”  I have an active fear of someday being interviewed on TV because I was present at some catastrophic event and having the Chyron underneath my name say “Victim.”  I would sue the network.
I think a certain (embarrassingly large) segment of American society has it’s entire identity wrapped up in victimhood.  If you take away their identities as “victims,” there’s not much left.  And it people who have been taught and then bought into the notion of victimhood who need to be told by someone else that a certain space is “safe” in order to even consider going there.
Understand that I’m not talking about actual victims of actual trauma here…I’m talking about the delicate little entitled flowers who were raised playing scoreless sports and are now operating under the delusion that the world must bend around their delicate sensitivities so that they never ever be Offended (gasps…clutches pearls).  People whose most significant trauma to date has been the cancellation of SXSW this year.
More often than not, when some entity labels a space “safe,” that merely means you won’t be exposed to any opinions divergent from those of the organizers because differing opinions will not be tolerated.
I would think it would be extremely “empowering” (another term I loathe (because if you are “empowered,” what power you now have was given to you…it wasn’t yours in the first place, it had to be given to you by someone else, which is not real power at all, is it)), to know that whatever space you inhabit is a “safe space.”  You do this by knowing (not telling yourself, not listening to those idiots on The View, or The Talk or Oprah or whatever) it is safe because no matter what anybody says, you are unaffected.  Knowing that no matter what anybody says, you can defend yourself and your ideas and easily demonstrate why the opposition is wrong, embarrassing them in the process if you think that’s what the situation calls for.  And if you can’t do that, maybe it’s time to reexamine your ideas.

N.P.: “Saladin” – Hybrid

Made some headway putting the new studio together today.  Then things kind of got away from me and suddenly it’s nighttime.  Time does not behave the way it used to.

N.P.: “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” – The Police

I don’t really feel like talking tonight, dear reader.  I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.

N.P.: “Fuck This Shit I’m Out (feat. Youngblaze)” – The Theme Song

I’ve got a long list of goals, and there’s some pretty bold stuff on that list.  But they are actual literal goals…things I fully intend and expect to achieve.  But there are two things that sort of stand out as things that haven’t happened yet, that aren’t likely to happen in the normal course of things, but that I would like to do.  These could be said to comprise my bucket list.
1) Ride a horse.  I’ve never ridden a horse.  I lived on a fucking ranch for several years, and I’ve never ridden a horse.  I’ve ridden a goddamn elephant.  Ridden a camel.   But never a horse.  I just think it would be weird to live an entire human lifespan and exit life on this planet without ever having ridden a horse.  No need to get crazy…I don’t need to have an adventure or weird cowboy fantasy.  Galloping will not be necessary.  Galloping will not even be desired.  Galloping actually won’t be tolerated.  Hell no.  I want an extremely elderly horse, maybe slightly infirm.  Just this side of dead.  And not far, just from here to there.  Just far enough so that I can legally say that I have ridden a horse.
2) Fly on Air Force One.  So long as the Presidency is an elected position, I will never be President.  Which is really probably the best thing for all parties concerned.  I’m fine with it.  But I wanna fly on that fuckin’ plane.  It would probably be more valid if there was a President on the flight with me, but that’s not essential.  I know a dude that flew on AF1 once.  He described the take-off like a fighter taking off from a carrier.  Sounded intense.  Anyway, this dude’s a bit of a prick, and I don’t like him walking around being able to say he’s done cooler shit than me.  But never mind  that, I’ve always really wanted to fly on Air Force One.

N.P.: “Somebody Call My Momma” – WWE, Jim Johnston