I used to think that I had control over my writing, and in retrospect, it seems like I did.  Not so anymore, dear reader.  It works out, more or less, because I’m working on so many projects, there’s usually a place for everything I write.  This weekend, for example, I’m really hoping to make serious progress on The Book.  And I can have that intention, but that’s about it.  What will actually happen is that I’ll sit in front of this computer and after putzing around for a couple of minutes, I’ll write something, but chances are that it will not be for The Book.  Which is fine, though frustrating most days.
Anyway, some things are just kind of goofy riffs that don’t fit anywhere, don’t really say anything, and aren’t even particularly good.  Anyway, here’s such a thing, for no good reason at all:

People are always asking me how I eat pounds of what is essentially garbage all day every day and never seem to gain any weight. Well, here’s my secret: It’s a tapeworm.  Yep.  Big ol’ creepy looking pasty white tapeworm.  Back in 2013, I ingested a tapeworm while eating under-cooked pork belly tacos while on a motorcycle race across Brazil. At first, I’ll admit I wasn’t crazy about it, but after a few months, I not only began to appreciate what Ernesto (of course I named my tapeworm…to spend day and night with a parasite in your intestines actively depending on you for survival…it would be weird not to name it) could do for my waistline, but I also really enjoyed the company of my new friend, Ernie. In a lot of ways, he’s become much more of an anxiety-reducing therapy worm than a health-threatening parasite to me.  He really is just great. Anyway, as attached as I have become to Ernie over the years, I feel it is now time for me to go it alone and try to digest all of my own food for a change. I think I just need to prove to myself that I can do it.  But just because Ernesto and I will be parting ways doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t need a friend. And, of course, a host/hostess.  I mean, I just think it would be cruel to kick him out onto the mean streets of California, especially after all he’s done for me.  So I wanted to reach out to any of my friends who might be looking for a tested, reliable tapeworm…let’s talk.  I mean, he is obviously literally a parasite, so any relationship is going to be pretty one-sided.  But that doesn’t mean Ernesto doesn’t experience and express love in his own weird intestinal-worm-like way.  If it seems like I’m really trying to sell how great Ernesto is, that’s because I am.  I probably don’t have to tell you that the adoption rate for rescue tapeworms is abysmally low.  And it would just be a shame to see such a hard working and loyal parasite have to be put down or sold as bait or whatever.  So if you’re interested in adopting Ernie, drop me a line and we can arrange an exchange date and place.  Serious inquiries only please,  

 

Yeah, no clue.

N.P.: “Over My Head” – King’s X

You know, no matter how shittily your day may have gone, when you reach in your pants pocket and pull out the surgically sharp switchblade that has been bumping up against your junk every time you took a step for the last 17 hours and you see that the safety was off that entire time, you have to think, “Today could have been a lot worse.”

N.P.: “Cry Little Sister” – Carfax Abbey

There are about 149 reasons I can thinking of off the top of my head that I want to get this book finished, but the biggest one, dearest reader, is so that I can finally talk about this shit.  Before this book was conceived, and after my previous experiences with such things, I had decided that I would do no publicity for whatever I wrote next.  No interviews, no signings, no readings, nothing.  But I’m going to have to totally reverse course on most of that due to the nature of this book.  I make a lot of assertions and posit a lot of conclusions that differ from many widely held beliefs in psychology.  So I’m going to have to defend a great deal of it to some people with rather a lot of letters after their names.  Which I’m fine with, but that means I have to be precise and exacting with the language and overall writing, much more so than anything I’ve done previously.  Hench the ludicrous amount of time it is taking.

N.P.: “Lunatic Fringe” – Red Rider

Today is the eater of dicks.  It started off okay enough, but by 10:00 I was looking for friends to talk me down from the mushroom-cloud-laying mood that was rapidly setting in.  No luck.  And things have only gone south.
99 days.

N.P.: “Sad But True” – Metallica

Aw fuck, the stupid Oscars are on.  Another masturbatory, self-congratulating salad toss of an awards show.  Honestly, those things ceased being relevant long ago.  Did they ever find anybody to host this cinematic circle jerk?  Thought they might have The Juss do it…why not?  He’s not doing anything these days.  Hell, they should have asked me…I’d’ve done it.  I would have hosted the shit out of the show.  Meh.  Maybe next year.  #fuckHollywood

N.P.: “The Dope Show” – Marilyn Manson

Okay, dear reader, I promise I’m going to stop reading the news.  But there’s so much intrigue!

Anyway, I think the American ISIS brides, women who knowingly and intentionally traveled to ISIS territory with the explicit purpose of joining ISIS (and/or getting married to and banging ISIS fighters) should absolutely be let back into the United States.  And shot upon arrival.  Unless they are to be detained, brought to Washington, and then shot on the White House lawn.  That would also be acceptable.

N.P.: “Saladin” – Hybrid

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This shitbag.
It’s been a couple of years since I published my People I Want To Fight list, mostly because it hasn’t changed, and it’s dumb to keep publishing the same list year after year.  But this asshole just made the list.
He, like millions of other Americans who seem to lack any ability to think critically, drank the Kool-Aid long ago on a particular narrative that simply isn’t true, but it’s very awkward to find oneself living life according to some narrative that doesn’t actually exist or that does not accurately reflect reality.  That amount of cognitive dissonance is unacceptable and intolerable for some people.  Despite all the evidence reality may have to offer, their neural pathways are so deeply carved to be allegiant to the narrative that they simply cannot alter the template of the narrative to fit over reality.  So they choose instead the only other option…change reality to fit the narrative.
Which is what this idiot did.  After spending years in Chicago, walking the midnight streets as an openly gay black man, he couldn’t get anyone to pick on him. So he cut letters out of a magazine and sent a threatening letter to himself at the studio where his stupid show is filmed.  Exactly nobody gave a shit.  “What does a brother have to do  to become the victim of a hate crime these days?” he must have thought.  And his answer to that was, evidently, pay a couple of other black guys several thousand dollars to pretend to pick on him.  .
For some reason, the thing that made me want to fight this guy the most was when recounting his fictional events onstage to a crowd of tens (by reading from an index card?) , when he was done reading his bullet points, he concluded with, “And most importantly, I fought the fuck back,”   Jackass.  Maybe that’s why this makes me want to fight him: just:to demonstrate what The Juss would and wouldn’t do in a fight.
I have always disagreed with the idea of “hate crimes,” differentiating the severity of the charge and the severity of the punishment from one case to another based on the victim’s race, orientation, religion, et cetera.  Suggesting that an assault or murder or terrorist act is somehow worse because of what the perpetrator was allegedly thinking?  Moronic.  And unjust  But the reality is we have something called hate crimes.  So fine.  Either this guy committed a hate crime (just because a racist, sexist attack is in no way mitigated because he committed it against himself.  Or he’s only guilty of filing a false police report and repeatedly making false statements to the police.  He should also be charged with all manner of libel, slander, and calumny for the direct accusations he heaped upon an entire group of people.  Regardless, whatever the penalties are should be augmented and enhanced just as the penalties for the hate crimes he falsely alleged would have been augmented and enhanced.
But yeah, fuck this guy.
N.P.: “Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums” – A Perfect Circle

The Case Against Jussie Smollett Goes Deeper Than Anyone Knew.

Image result for jussie smollett meme

CHICAGO (JG) — As authorities laid out their case against “Empire” actor Jussie Smollett, it became clear that the deception in this incident went far deeper than anyone could ever have guessed. 
 
“At this point, I think I just need to start drinking again,” Police Superintendent Tommy Jackson told reporters. “Y’all better brace yourselves, cuz you ain’t gonna believe this shit.  Mr. Smollett is neither gay nor black.  That isn’t even his real name.  The man we’ve been lead to believe was Jussie Smollett is really a straight white guy from Connecticut named Kevin Kevin. That is his full name: Kevin is his first name, and his last name is also Kevin.”
 
Police say Kevin could possibly be the whitest person in America.  The 26-year-old was born and raised in New Haven, CT, and studied acting at a community college.  
 
Police released parts of Kevin’s confession: “I knew I could never break into professional acting the traditional way, so I decided to take on the ultimate challenge and I created a character called Jessie Smollett, who was going to be a 24-year old white girl into country with big dreams.  I was going to move to Nashville, get a job at a country bar, then achieve extremely moderate success as a professional singer. But I did not want to spend three years or however long it would take in heels or cowboy boots and daisy dukes. So I changed the spelling to Jussie and made him a gay black guy.  I moved to Hollywood and for several years lived 24 hours a day as a gay black man.  I had an entire life.  Some of the sexual parts of the dating life I wasn’t too crazy about, but even that was better than wearing heels.  Anyway, I eventually started to believe that I really was a gay black guy named Jussie Smollett, and I became frustrated with the stagnation of my acting career.  I decided that if I could convince the entire culture that I was not only gay and black, but that I had been the victim of a hate crime, then people would have to acknowledge the greatness of my acting ability.  So I did what I did.  And when Reverend Al and Kamala Harris showed up, I thought, “You did it, Kevin. You actually pulled it off.”
 
“Holy fucking shit,” said Superintendent Jackson, as he took another huge slug from a whiskey bottle on the podium and shook his head in disgust.  “His attorney say that Kevin is refusing to make any additional statements unless he is nominated for the Best Actor Award at this years Oscars.  And now we got to figure out what to do with this case. Is this a white guy that paid two black guys to beat up another black guy who is secretly white?  Shit.  Who knows?  I think everybody involved is guilty of numerous hate crimes and should be shot.”  
 
Adding to the confusion was the discovery that Kevin once identified as a gay black man.  “If that is the case, then this whole case just imploded in a convoluted cloud of weirdness. I think everybody just walks and we forget about the whole thing.  Jesus,” told reporters before finishing the bottle of whiskey that the superintendent had brought to the podium.  
 
“And one more thing,” slurred superintendent Jackson, “Don Lemon is a racist, idiotic jackass.  Fuck you, Don.”
 
The companies that make “Empire,” Fox Entertainment and 20th Century Fox Television, issued a statement Thursday saying that they were “evaluating the situation” and “considering our options.”
 
N.P.: “An American Dream” – Love and Rockets

Sorry, dear reader, but tonight I’ll have to keep it brief.  See, tonight, while I was walking home from Subway in below-zero cold, two black dudes wearing Obama “Hope” hats viciously attacked me.  They beat me, screamed, “This is Obama country” at me and called me “hetero cracker breeder” and poured black paint on me.  Then they sort of cuffed me with plastic toy handcuffs,  Then they just ran off into the icy night.  Because I fought back.  Good news: Even after all that, I managed to not drop my sandwich.  So I’m gonna eat that, then probably report this racist and sexist hate crime.  This is America in 2019.   And be sure to check out my show nobody watches, “Vampire” this Friday on Lifetime.

N.P.: “Fame” – David Bowie