People look at me strangely when they hear or see me yelling at computer interfaces at gas pumps and grocery stores.  It’s been happening a lot, lately.

I’ve been yelling at and occasionally punching computers that say things that both they and I know are bullshit. It’s something that’s been pissing me off for well over a decade now. It started with the enforced polite kindness written into negative responses in the credit card swiper/computer at the gas pump. You slide your card (I know that 10 years from now if anybody is reading this, they will think it extremely dated because “remember when people used to slide cards?”), and the machine asks you some sort of rude question, usually a blatant attempt at upselling or credit card acquisition, an enrollment attempt for some unnecessary service, or an offer to donate to some charity that the business happens to endorse. Which, okay, fine, I guess, whatever, do what you’ve got to do. This issue I have is with the options you are given. It’s either, “Yes!” or “No, thank you.” While my response will of course be an enthusiastic “No,” I have no interest in thanking these assholes for wasting my time with some bullshit patronizing offer that, because I didn’t solicit it, should be obvious I have no interest in. No, I don’t want your stupid offer, But I sure as hell don’t want to thank you for it. But I’m left with no choice: either accept their dumbass offer, or thank them politely for offering. That is fascist. I decide to buy my gas elsewhere. But guess what…elsewhere has similar offers, with the same stupid preprogrammed gratitude. So I decide since I’m no longer going to buy gas, I might as well head to the grocery store to stock up on food.

I go to the self-checkout aisle and scan my first item. “Have you scanned your Club Card?” the idiot computer with the female voice asks. Bish, you know damn well I haven’t scanned my fucking Club Card. If I had scanned it, I’m confident you’d be the first to know. I don’t appreciate your patronizing attempt at cheap, unilateral Socratic banter. Don’t ask me questions if you don’t have ears or the ability to hear my answer. I say at least some of this out loud, as I notice that people are looking at me. Not all of them with condemnation, however…there are a few sympathetic souls who, now that I’ve said it, seem to be thinking, “Yeah, you know…he’s got a point.”

N.P.: “You Keep On Buying It” – Son of Dave

Holy shit, dear reader…I am spent.  “Sunday…the day of rest.”  Yeah, right.  From the same people who brought you the “virgin birth.”

Anyway, yeah…I’m beat.  Must crash.

N.P.: “If All Is Lost” – Eric McFadden Experience

The new book is essentially a psychology book (though it shouldn’t feel like it when you read it).  In it, I challenge a lot of ideas presently being taught in psychology programs today, but have to keep myself limited to one central idea.  So I thought I’d share a couple of my contrarian notions that will not be addressed in the book:

1.  The explosion in diagnoses (mostly self-, but many clinical-) of ADD/ADHD is really a mislabeling of the result of the prevalence, the omnipresence of attention-taking devices.  Even when silent, your phone is tempting you: unlimited music, videos, movies and TV, every picture you’ve taken in the last 10 years, et cetera, ad infinitum.  But then the damn thing rings with phone calls, chirps with texts, voicemails, email, updates, news alerts, weather alerts, all proactively, aggressively, intentionally disturbing you and shattering your concentration.  Our attention spans are getting shorter and shorter, and we remember them being longer, or if we don’t, we find activities like reading a novel in a day to be quite literally impossible and seem totally unrealistic.  It is true: we are having trouble concentrating and focusing, but it ain’t ADHD…it’s the logical result of living full time with and essentially becoming addicted to smart phones.
2. What many armchair mental health professionals along with many licensed clinicians mistakenly diagnose as narcissism is really more accurately an obsessive sort of perfectionism.
3. Gender dysphoria is not best dealt with by catering to the delusions of the patient (i.e., scientifically incorrect pronouns, et cetera).  In fact, catering to and participating in the delusions can be as harmful as catering to and participating in the delusions of schizophrenics or psychotics.  I get a lot of push back from some psychologists about this one, but this particular population has a ridiculously high suicide rate (I haven’t checked in a while, but the last time I did it was over 60%) doing things the way they are being done.  If a particular population of patients has a suicide rate that is more than double that of all other delusional disorders, I would do some very critical questioning regarding the efficacy of present treatment protocols and, oh, I don’t know…try something different.

N.P.: “Go Insane” – Lindsey Buckingham

Starting a cult would probably be pretty profitable and no small amount of fun.  The thought does cross.  Get a few friends together and head out to the desert and start a “family.”  Maybe after this book comes out.  Hell, it’ll probably be inevitable.  Heh.

N.P.: “Helter Skelter” – Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson

The future really was so much better in the past.

Make another serial killer laugh today.  It was actually probably more of a chuckle.  Still counts.

There will be no next time.  This was it.

N.P.: “Fear Inoculum” – TOOL

Just busy as hell, dear reader, with all sorts of non-writing, lifey things.  Still managed to get a few pages down.  Now I must collapse.  I hope you are well.

N.P.: “Crank It – Living with Ghosts” – John 5

It’s August.  And down in Mexico, that means it’s bullfighting season.  It might be time to head back down to Tijuana to dance with the girls in the red dresses.

Or maybe not.  Maybe I should just sit tight, lay low, hunker down here in Room 5, and not come out until I finish one or more of these goddamn books.

N.P.: “Bombshell from Hell” – Scum of the Earth

The good news is that I didn’t start a bunch of new projects today.  The bad news is I didn’t finish any old ones, either.  Still, progress is being made.  I can probably do another page before collapse.

It occurred to me last night/this morning that the main book is maybe closer than I thought to being submittable/salable.  Unsure.  We’ll see.

N.P.: “Come On – Thomas Tank Remix” – The Notorious B.I.G.

“Even a stopped clock gives the right time twice a day.  And for once I’m inclined to believe that Withnail is right: we are indeed drifting into the arena of the unwell..making an enemy of our own future.” ~ I

Just a weird weekend.  Sort of annoying because there was a lot of waiting and seeing going on, so the whole thing felt like being on call,  I’d like to think that things will calm down tomorrow, but they won’t.  I could probably benefit from some therapeutic couch time.  Or I could just keep working on these books.  That’s been pretty cathartic of late.

N.P.: “Doc Holliday” – Volbeat

Me: Cheers.

He: Cheers.

Me:  Why did the chicken cross the road?

He: Why?

Me:  To get to the idiot’s house.  Knock knock.

He: Who’s there?

Me: The chicken.

He: You fucker.

Me: Cheers.

He:  Asshole.

N.P.: “Hard Time Killing Floor Blues” – Chris Thomas King