Life

Life. Or something like it.

   Everyone wants someone to “open up”. The big problem is that that opening up can be catastrophic.

   I was recently asked to be extremely truthful about some periods of my past, and I  have found that the unburied corpses still are quite awake, and quite pissed off.   Some of you who know me are figured in this matrix, those who aren’t are dust.

   I mean dust in the sense that some shit just  doesn’t  matter.  If I told you that you looked “ fat in those pants” it was because you asked. I don’t ridicule people until I am ridiculed…and then get set for a MG42.

   Two people who mean the world to me have asked me to open up, and I don’t think life has ever been so painful since.

   We all do things that we sweep under a rug, and pretend that they just aren’t there. Now, I am coming to grips with some of the shit that I have pulled on others, and I am gagging hard.

   I have never thought of myself as being nasty or mean-spirited. At all. Yeah, I can pull a few pranks, but I have stopped others from happening when I knew they were over the top.  A bit of hi-jinks is ok now and again, but when it causes pain, it is too far down the path for me.

   I basically drove one woman who loved me to death to hate me, just because I was pissed off about a trivial circumstance. I miss her dearly.

   There is no excuse for that. None. I was an asshole. Picking fights about junk, worrying about things that really didn’t matter?  WTF?  I got into a fight with her about the validity of “modern combat jets” once.  Christ…she was a horse trainer ! She knew more about horses than anyone I have ever (or probably will know) been around, and I had to pick a fight over fucking fighter jets.

   Man, sometimes my knickers are just to friggin’ tight.

   A while ago I was asked by two friends of mine who love me dearly to start actually being real, and not working the words around every subject.

   I don’t know if I like me much anymore.

   I have always been taught to look at one’s self  in the mirror, and judge what manner of man I have become.

   My dad would kick my ass.

   Thank god for my owl.  Archimedes is my “ go to’ person.   No, he is not just an owl, he has a spirit that keeps me somewhat sane. Somewhat.

   Archimedes looks at life somewhat more simply, and 100% more honestly than I do.  What do I need today to eat. What do I need for tomorrow..

   I’ve failed a lot of you over the years, and trust me, I don’t forget any of my screw-ups. I did what I did, and I do  take the full burden of the idiocy.

   I’ve shut a door on many a person that did nothing more than to want to have friend. Likewise, I’ve spurned love when it was offered to me, because I thought “ I could do better”. Gag.

   Life isn’t about power points. Life is just …life.  I am really, really, really trying to do better with what I was granted, and that would be the love and friendship that those of you out there have just given me freely, with no restrictions.

   I do believe I shall worship you, from now on, if that is o.k.

sometimes I can be a dick

I’ve realized that war is just stupid. It is typically fought by people who really don’t want to fight at all, but get talked into it via propaganda and silly movies like “The Last Starfighter” or “Rambo II” .  At least in Rambo  1, they portrayed the government as how it really is…inefficient and corrupt.  The sequels play into this “band of brothers” bullshit that seems to be popular these days. What a load.

Talk about inaccurate, at the end of the “last starfighter”, Maggie decides to leave her family behind to go off into space with her soul-mate (don’t even get me started on that crap),  dumping her grandma in a run-down trailer park and….the most unbelievable…without taking any clothes.

Show me a chick who goes ANYWHERE without at least three changes of clothes (if it is more than a day), and I will grab its balls.  Women without matching underwear are almost impossible to find, and sure as shit, they are not going to go into space without tampons, bon-bons, and any thing else they could possibly fit into the cargo hold.  Where the fuck is she going to get that heavy duty ‘80’s eyeliner?  How will she keep her cheeks from looking they have broken out again without face powder, facial scrubs, and a crapload of makeup?

Some men argue that women should be allowed to fight in combat. I say: NO.  I don’t have enough room in my pack to carry all of that shit around, because you know they will talk you into it. They can talk you into anything. When a pretty girl smiles at you and blinks, there is some part of your brain that just shuts off from normal thought processes.

Women like to say : “men think with their dicks”. This is impossible. The penis is mindless, unlike the secondary brain function that some of the archosaurs seem to have had.

Nope. A dick is just a dick. Hey, I should know, I’ve been one often enough.