The REAL Men

Hello dear reader(s)!

I am not a REAL man!  The comments section on the intertubes certainly seem to think so, anyway.  I think every dumb fucking redneck in the country has told me that since Hollywood has been blowing up about sexual assault and harassment, although it has been going on really ever since I first suggested people are their own business.  It is because I believe women are treated like fucking shit in our society and it’s not even right, or natural given their importance to humanity.  I guess being against sexual assault and pedophilia is also a bad thing, according to these REAL men.  And apparently, being sex-positive, for equality, and for body autonomy is an automatic revocation of my REAL man card.  (Because only men decide what REAL men are, and if those REAL men are lucky, they get cards.  It’s like Valentine’s Day in elementary school, but for misogynists.)

I know I am not totally above the fray.  I am certain that in my early teen years I went along with the lewd comments about the girls who were my friends.  I probably said a few things to fit in, too.  Every boy did.  And I know for a fact that the word “fag” was a regular part of my vocabulary before I even knew what it was supposed to mean.  It’s what was expected.  That belief that anything but the patriarchal view of masculinity is wrong happens to be everywhere, and is being promoted.  I’ve never whipped out my cock to masturbate in front of the girls I liked, I’ve never grabbed them by their pussy, or any other body part, I’ve never assaulted them, but did I make some feel uncomfortable?  I’ve never hit a kid for being gay, or even openly purposely made fun of anyone who my peers suspected, but did I ever help make them feel unaccepted?  I’ve never been called out for that, but that means nothing, given how normal this behavior is within our society.

I would say that it is pretty likely that I have offended someone before with a little too many “jokes”, or a little too much “flirting”.  If any woman from my past is reading this, and I made you feel uncomfortable, I cannot express how sorry I am.  I would say that is pretty likely I have offended people with a non-textbook definition of patriarchal gender roles and orientations when calling someone a “fag” for something completely unrelated to my perception of their or any bystanders’ heteronormativity.  For that, I also offer my sincerest apologies.

However, unlike the REAL men, I grew the fuck up.  I learned it was wrong, and adjusted my attitude to understand that we are not entitled to anyone’s bodies, attention, time, or anything else they choose not to give us.  It didn’t take me until a media storm to realize it, or decades into adulthood when I should have fucking known better.

I’m not a REAL man because I accept the truth.  It is a simple truth, but because of our fucked-up society, it is actually quite controversial.  That truth is, “People don’t fucking belong to you.

Anyway, because I say this, I guess I am not a REAL man.  Apparently, I am a libtard, sissy, beta, cuck.  In fact, this has become a common “insult” string from the alt-right (Nazis) to any man who doesn’t believe that hyper-“masculine” white males are superior to anyone else.

Hmmm, okay, let’s break this “insult” down.

Libtard.  This is a combination of the word “liberal” (fuck you, I’m a Democratic Socialist, thank you), and “retarded”.  By retarded, I can only assume they mean the pejorative for someone who is less advanced in mental, physical, or social development than is usual for ones age.  It is important to note the people who use this word likely had to look up “pejorative” to even understand what I just said.

Sissy.  Well, I seriously doubt they mean a little sister (which I am not), so I am guessing they mean a weak and effeminate man, or someone into that particular kink.  So, to the first, yes, I am weak.  Surviving something that would make you put a bullet through your head can do that to someone.  Effeminate?  Well, I think most traits are human traits, so I am not even really sure that what means.  I would say based on the incorrect and arbitrary assignment of those traits to prospective genders and the constant reinforcement of those assignments in all of our culture, I likely still end up with more traditionally “masculine” traits than the falsely named “feminine” ones.  Or perhaps they mean transvestite or transexual, which I am not, to either.  However, I fail to see the insult there.  So what if someone is, or is not any one or all of those things?

Beta.  Oh don’t even get me started on this one.  I’ll just let Adam Conover help me out on this one.

Cuck.  Of course.  It’s like the Nazi insult du jour.  This word comes from the fetish of cuckolding, which for those who pretend to have never heard about it, (search tracking proves you’re probably lying), is basically a fetish wherein a man chooses to remain faithful to his significant other as he accepts her having sex outside the relationship, or encourages it.  There are various degrees of this fetish, and variations to include all partnered sexes and orientations, but it boils down to consensual activity between adults.  The fact that these people who use that as an insult typically support Presidential candidates that brag about sexual assault, or Senatorial candidates that are alleged pedophiles, should speak volumes.  Bottom line, I do not find this word to be insulting.  Just because I hope to be my love’s everything, doesn’t mean I disrespect those who would rather their significant other has more than they can offer.

So even though I fit none of the “insults” above, the fact of the matter is that I do not think any of those things are something insulting anyway.  (Except maybe the “libtard”, because liberals abandoned labor in favor of corporate cash, and I don’t think anyone should made fun due to developmental differences.)  The point is, if these REAL men think that anyone who fits how they use these words should be insulted, it also means that a REAL man must be a misogynist, homophobic, puritanical douche-canoe.

If being a REAL man means that I need to think that women are required to give us anything they do not wish to do so freely, or that anything we have mislabeled as feminine is to be derided, or that sexual activities between consenting adults are any of our business, then those REAL men can take their little man cards and send them to the people who are worried that they may be be forced into the unisex bathrooms in the FEMA camps during Operation Jade Helm with only their precious man cards to save them from the possibility of having to pee next to a transexual made in a liberal conspiracy to end all males using chemtrails.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go to a DNC donor meeting in my pink, frilly dress.  I’ll just stand there really passively while a fictional alpha man fucks my significant other with his AR-15.  Then I’m running right home to cash my check from George Soros!

I would feel much less ashamed about any of that than I would for thinking that those who don’t fit some bullshit version of masculinity is inferior.  Long story slightly less long, I would rather be a liberal, sissy, beta, cuck, than a racist, misogynist, transphobic, homophobic, white-trash, ignorant, Trump supporting asshole, any day of the week.  Especially on Sundays, because Jesus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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We Have No Justice Here

Hello dear reader(s)!

I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that the United States lacks a justice system.  It isn’t just that reforms are absolutely needed in the courts, public funding, and jails, but simply that our concept of justice isn’t justice at all.

American justice, is just some small-dick, white guy’s vengeance fantasy straight from every bad Dirty Harry movie or Hollywood Western.

From when a very large cop throws a hay maker to the face of a seriously intoxicated girl at a college football game, simply because she drunk slapped him in the back of the head as she was being carried out, to all the people who cheer when a protester gets run down…we don’t really understand justice.

In the incident in Miami, this woman was clearly no threat to the cop.  He had numerous other options to restrain her, but chose to respond with disproportionate force.  That isn’t justice.  This cop will get off, because he was struck first, and because cops always get off, and that isn’t justice either.

When the cop fanboys cheer that kind of thing, I ask what they would do if it were their own children who, in a tempter tantrum, tried some half-assed slap.  Would they punch the kid square in the face ten times harder to prove their point?  Or would they grab their hands (because you still don’t want a finger in your eye), and let them know that they are getting in even bigger trouble for trying to slap?  And don’t try to give me the notion that children are not as strong as adults and so these adults are threats, because in either case, the force difference is overwhelming.

Cops shoot unarmed people (mostly black people) for any number of imagined slights.  The internet army cheers them on.  “He should’ve complied.”  “He was a thug.”  “He should have reached for the ID the officer barked at him to get more slowly.”

If you survive a cop, there are two routes you can go.  The route with money will get a lawyer that will actually work on your case, and will spend time getting the court to see the human being you are outside of the crime in an attempt to mitigate any sentencing provided you are actually convicted.  Extra bonus points if you are young, wealthy, and white.  You probably won’t be convicted though, because your lawyer can spend the time to exploit any possibly weaknesses in the case made by the Prosecution.

The route without money is much worse.  You will get an overworked lawyer, with about six hours (if you’re lucky) to review your case.  About 95% of cases taken by a public defender result in a plea agreement.  If you dare to refuse a plea and take your case to trial, you will sit in jail longer as you await that trial.  Of course, you can buy your way out of jail, if you can afford it.

Sadly, most of the US doesn’t care.  “You did the crime, you do the crime”, they say.  But this is for people without a conviction.  This is a system that railroads poor people into pleading guilty when they may not be.  Americans believe that arrest equals guilt, which is the antithesis of what our justice system should be predicated upon.  Some people believe that any encounter with the police equals guilt.

Then, or course, there are the laws themselves.  Many laws are simply unjust.  Many laws infringe upon our human and Constitutional rights, but are enforced anyway.  For most of those laws, are selectively enforced, and that’s not just perception, the numbers back it up.

“Sorry random black kid with two ounces, you obviously have intent to sell, thug.”  vs. “Don’t worry little white kid, feels like an ounce to me.  We’re just going to write you a ticket, or give you a warning.  If I catch you again, I will tell your parents the next time I see them at Bennigan’s.”

No.  We don’t do justice here in the US.  We can’t call cops to help us, we call them to clean up the mess and exact our vengeance.  Cops can’t keep us safe.  They don’t stop the nutjob who opens fire over a crowd of concertgoers or parishioners; they either clean up the murder-suicide, or kill or arrest the perpetrator after it happens.  They don’t stop the break-in, they try to get an arrest and then cruise the pawn shops to get your stuff back after the fact.  Yet those arrests don’t deter the crime.  Our prison population includes a bigger percentage of our population than any other nation, and yet people still commit crimes.  What keeps us safe, isn’t the police, it is the fact that most of us are good people, who are not yet desperate enough to survive by any means necessary.  The home invader is either gone, dead or injured, or has harmed someone by the time police arrive.

Your local police aren’t some fictional TV show or spy movie.  They don’t stop the terrorist attack just before the bomb blows up ala NCIS LA, they pick up the pieces and try to arrest someone for it afterward.  They were too busy getting an easy arrest by raiding a place for cannabis.  Much easier to bust a relaxed stoner than it would be to investigate, infiltrate, and prevent a terrorist attack, after all.  Too busy harassing the guy panhandling on the freeway entrance.  Too busy working crowd control protecting Nazis’ “rights” to intimidate and call for genocide.

If it sounds like I don’t like police, I can’t really argue that.  I like the concept of police.  I do think that some actions should have consequences.  I do believe that justice still should carry an element of punishment for unjust offenses.  Where I don’t like police is their belief that those consequences only apply the way they choose to apply them, and never face them themselves.

But it isn’t personal, or just against cops.

Until we realize that justice isn’t vengeance, that justice needs to be equally applied, and that those who carry out justice need to be just people themselves, I don’t really like any aspect of our “justice system”.  We need a full cultural shift on what defines justice, if we ever want to live in a just society.

Until then, no justice, no peace.  That’s not a threat, it is what’s happening.

 

 

 

The Day After Yesterday

It was 19:06 when the author began writing his post in this here blog-type-thing.  A cool, autumn breeze blew past his window, but he didn’t really care, since it was closed.  Despite that, the fact it was not shitty, hot, stupid fucking summer was evident even inside his house.

The author reflected on the events that happened to him, just the day before.  He reflected on the special breakfast, the good wishes, the special dinner, the gifts, and of course, the traditional Dia de Los Josh, pumpkin pie.  For a moment, he smiled.

The smile quickly faded as he remembered the horrors that also happened on that day.  The screams of the post-Halloween jack-o-lanterns still echoed in his ears.  Then the images.  Pumpkin guts everywhere.  Orange all over.  Seeds, strings, and pumpkin meat littered the cardboard spread on the ground.  First a claymore, then a machete.  And his own hands yielding the weapons of the pumpkins’ demise!

He racked his brain, trying to figure out what had gotten into him.  Why did he kill those innocent jack-o-lanterns?  Why did he have to cut them into so many pieces?  And…why, why did he want to do it again?  What was the reason for his pumpkin blood lust?

Suddenly, he remembered.  It was Dia de Los Josh.

He knew that one day every year, it would come…and it did.  Yesterday.  And the day after yesterday, well…we all know what that is.  It is that which shall not be named, because it didn’t really like all of the names we had picked out for it.  I really liked Bob, but its grandparents objected.  Wait…

What?

Oh yeah.

Hello dear reader(s)!

So life is good right now.  I am getting settled in the new place, and things have finally calmed down from the move.  We had an amazing Halloween/Samhain with more trick-or-treaters than I knew existed on this particular planet.  We had some pretty kick-ass decorations, and it was a lot of fun.  Then yesterday, my birthday happened.  I got some great and thoughtful gifts, and yes, a traditional birthday pumpkin pie.  For fun, we took the six pumpkins we carved for Halloween and destroyed them with my claymore and machete.  We then had to clean up pumpkin, but it was Loreal.  Because it was worth it.

Today was just very chill, but with some running around.  Nothing too exciting, just a good find at a local shop.  But that was really nice, because I am a little sick of too exciting right now anyway.  Chill is good.  Tomorrow I am hoping I won’t even have to leave the fucking house.

Anyway, just checking in to say howdy.  Things are calming down, and though I do intend to really get working on my book, I plan to devote a lot of time to writing now, so I may just be able to get back into a regular posting routine complete with regular posts and routines at no additional cost to you!  But wait, that’s all!

 

A Good Day

Hello reader(s) of dearness!

Remember me?  No?  Probably for the best.

Anyway, I have to say that I think the wave might have finally broke, and things are going to get a little easier once again.  (You may applaud.)

Let me explain what all has been going on.

  • My health  It has been difficult ever since I got out of the hospital for the mild sepsis, or bacteremia, or whatever the fuck it was.  The last course of IV antibiotics that I had seemed to further set off my autonomic and peripheral neuropathy, causing a whole shit-ton of problems to get even worse.  Fortunately, I am now learning to adjust my life accordingly, and am also receiving treatment to try to keep out of the hospital.  Today, I got a lead on financial assistance for that treatment, which will help a great deal because even when I have the money, with that expense, it won’t last.
  • Being forced to move  Because housing and rental prices are through the fucking roof here, my fiance was forced to move because the owner of the house decided to sell.  This caught her off guard since it seems the owners bought the property for more than they can get for it now.  As such, there was not enough money for deposits saved.  Fortunately, I was able to take an early payout of some money that was already scheduled to be distributed to me, in order to avoid interest and fees on borrowing.  The hassle of trying to find an acceptable place in our price range was daunting, but we were able to find a nicer, larger house, for the same price that her previous model is currently renting for.  I love this house, and think it will be a nice place to call home for a time.
  • Registration issues  It seems every time someone moves a long distance, important documents get lost along the way.  So when my fiance went to get her registration done in this state, she realized that she was missing a document that our state requires.  Our state is shitty about it too, and her previous state is full of incompetent liars.  Her out-of-state registration was expiring, so she was not able to drive her vehicle.  Fortunately, my Beastess works great, and we have been utilizing it, but it sucks being down to only one car, especially when moving the last few items she has from her old house to our new one.  She rushed off, overnight, a letter and the fee to get a copy of that document, along with an overnight envelope, but the assholes in that state sat on it for 11 days before finally sending it back.  I just happened to have checked the tracking number today, and found it was delivered, just this afternoon.  She can now get her car back, and there is much rejoicing.
  • Government issues  I think the last time I posted, I was under Social Security Disability review.  Despite my paranoia about it, the government agrees that I am obviously disabled, and so my benefits shall continue.  (Even though the GOP might cut all that because they are scum sucking fuckpigs.)  Meanwhile, every single thing you see is some embarrassment to our country.  I really am just deciding that I need to find a way to live without any government at all, because I think that is where things are heading.  Of course, things would be different if I lived in a state that actually has programs, but I do not, and so fuck anyone who thinks I am not doing all I can, especially as they vote for the fuckers trying to take away what little there is.  At any rate, I feel more comfortable relying on my fiance, than I do a bunch of old, white, Christian conservatives who were born into money.
  • Miscellaneous issues  Between my cross-country move earlier in the year, moving into a former “friend”‘s house who wanted me to act more like a rent-paying house guest than a roommate – who then kicked me out when I stood up for myself, moving again, losing another “friend” who wouldn’t stop hitting on my fiance (and basically blamed me for stealing her as if she was ever interested in his married-ass anyway), having to give my cats to my mother due to primarily allergy and logistical reasons, and some other issues…this year has been a monkey-fucked donkey dick.

But this year has been pretty damn good too.

I met and got engaged to my lovely fiance.  I am absolutely stunned by the depth of our connection in such a short time.  Having her in my life has been amazing.

Even though we had to move, the house we are in now is like my dream home.  I love it.  We even found a couple spare hours (over the course of a few days) to decorate for Halloween.  I love the way it looks with decorations, and am really anticipating Christmas.

I have great friends that know and understand my limitations.  They do not make me feel bad when I can’t show up to most things, or cancel at the last minute.  They welcome me back anytime I am physically able to get together.

One of my friends surprised me by repaying a loan early, and in full, (rather than the payments we agreed upon), just when it was needed most.  Because when insurance sucks, medical treatment is expensive, and your income is peanuts, a large sum of money isn’t nearly as large as some think.  The timing was incredible, and breathing is now possible.

My cats are very happy with my mom, and I am so relieved.  They will always be my kids, even if they are now her kitties.  I am so grateful that she was able to take them, because otherwise I don’t know what I would have done.

And it is fall, and almost time for Halloween, Samhain (same day), and Dia De Los Josh!

Anyway, between getting the document, some work done to clean my fiance’s old residence, the news of possible financial assistance for my treatments, and just a general good feeling, I gotta say, today was a good day.

Struggling

Hello dear reader(s)!

I just wanted to let you know that I have attempted numerous times to return to posting.  I keep thinking there will be a better time but that time just keeps getting further and further out.

Everything I have facing me is probably nothing to a normal person.  There are more than enough hours in the day for me to believe that everything I need to accomplish should be able to get done and not send me into a tail-spin.  That is, if I was normal.

But I am not normal.  I am very damaged.  Both physically and mentally.

If I don’t feel awful physically (which is rather rare), I am probably in the midst of a covered anxiety attack.  Maybe some will even catch me in a full-blown panic attack.  Most probably won’t.  They take a look at me with my seemingly healthy body and the smile on my face and think I am fine.

It’s not that I try to hide the fact I am struggling, it is that sometimes I am genuinely happy to see people, so I smile.  Sometimes there really is fun going on in the middle of this shit-show and I just so happen to be relaxed enough to enjoy it.  Maybe, for once, my feet aren’t hurting so bad that they are making me reconsider my thoughts on certain medications.

Or maybe I just don’t want to bring them down too.  Nobody likes a Debby Downer unless they are laughing at the old SNL skit.

I have been trying to get help for how I feel physically for years.  I have been trying to get help for my mental illnesses, or disorders, or whatever the fuck you call them for years, too.  I have put myself into tremendous debt on a futile quest to get better.  That just adds to it.

I didn’t ask for any of this.  Contrary to the libertarian belief, there are some things you just can’t take personal responsibility for.  From getting a cancer that hasn’t been linked to any lifestyle practices, to being misled by doctors, to losing a career I was beginning to excel in, (or any ability for a workplace career again), to my financial issues, to constantly being made to feel like I am not a worthy human being for this society…I didn’t ask for one fucking bit of it.  It wasn’t my choices that brought it on.

I try as hard as I fucking can.  Harder than anyone I know.

I do my absolute best not to make people feel the way some have made me feel.  I let people know they are valued.  I’m not a fucking saint, but I try so hard.

I make mistakes.  In fact, I think much of my mistakes come from my good intentions.  Sometimes, I try too hard.  Sometimes, my attempts at keeping myself wanting to continue living lead me to make the mistakes I do.  But we all make mistakes.  Some of us don’t even try.

I’m tired.  I’m tired of trying so hard for people who will never accept me anyway.  I am tired of pretending that I can do this.  I am tired of pretending I know what I am doing.  I am tired of struggling against the force of the whirlpool that I have serious doubts I will ever be able to escape.

But what choice do I have?  Should I let myself drown and be as weak as those mocking me from the shore because they have never even been in the water?

I am tired.  I need help.  I AM struggling.

But I guess that is a good thing because struggling means I haven’t given up.

 

 

 

 

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Dogs, Cats…

Hello dear reader(s)!

I am not writing my book right now.  My computer is getting too hot, and I have a feeling it might take a proverbial dump on me, so I have put off the writing of anything important to me until I can be more assured it will not be lost to the sketchy electronics in this crappy lovely computer.

On the plus side, my blog-type-thing isn’t important to me, which means I can write here until my computer is resigned to the big recycling heap in the sky.  (Recycle it?  Not with MY browsing history!)

So…where did we leave off?

I think we were nearing the meeting of O’Rinn and Alexandra at the battle of Lethos.

Surrounded by the bodies of his fallen enemies, O’Rinn was still feeling the effects of the adrenaline.  He knew if he did not find an outlet, the beast within would once again emerge.  He could not risk his allies from the East learning his truth.  He wanted to tear into someone, but all his opponents were dead.  His blood felt as if it were boiling and his muscles tensed tightly, causing him to look more animal than human.  Indeed, he was, but he knew that to be a secret best kept to himself.  He began his attempts at meditation.  He visualized his home by the rocky shores of the western ocean and attempted to feel the serenity and peace he felt when home.  

Out of the water, she came.  Her dark eyes, both deep and piercing, held his gaze as he looked upon her beauty.  Her raven hair fell onto her pale shoulders.   Her warrior dress seemed to emphasize each and every curve of her body.  Rather than calming the beast, this image of her seemed to only stir the fire within.  As she approached closer, he saw the blood stains she proudly bore upon her clothing, and the ocean scene faded away.  The desolate, bloody battlefield reemerged and still she came closer.  He realized he wasn’t imagining her with the ocean, but knew she was straight out of his dreams.  

“I am eternally grateful to you, great warrior,” she began as she touched his cheek with her fingertips.  “Our people surely would not have survived this onslaught without your courage and skill.”  

O’Rinn replied, “No need to be grateful, we of the Albion have a common enemy.  Nothing more, nothing less.  We are also grateful for your fighters, and especially a woman so brave as yourself.”

“Queen.” Alexandra corrected.  “And since you were clearly ignorant of that fact, I will not be offended that you did not kneel before me.”

“I kneel before no one,” O’Rinn stated with a slightly annoyed tone.

“Your poor lovers,” Alexandra answered as she looked hypnotically into his eyes.  “I am quite certain I will have you kneeling before me by nightfall,” she continued as she removed her hand from his cheek and brought it down to firmly grip his co-

Wait, what?  We didn’t leave off there?!?!!  You mean I hadn’t been posting this story all along?   Oh, well…what do you want from me?

I don’t want to write about current events.  It’s too depressing right now, and there are plenty of people with a much larger influence speaking to it all better than I can.

Life is pretty good, with the exception of health and wishing I were more financially secure, so that is nothing worth writing about either.

I could go into more details about my health, but I am still coming to grips with the reality that there is no getting better from this.  I had always thought that if I could just take care of X, Y, and Z, that I could resume a somewhat normal and independent life, and learning that there is no taking care of X, Y, and Z is a little hard to handle.  Symptom management with little results seems to be all I can do.  At least I won’t be wasting as much co-pays on different specialists who can’t do anything for me anymore.  It is too depressing to think about for very long.

I fell backward and stepped on my phone last week.   My replacement phone literally just arrived a minute ago.  It is amazing how much you don’t realize you use your phone until you don’t have one.  It is pathetic how much I have come to rely on it.  I mostly miss the camera.  It is hard to take naughty pictures while holding up my computer.  (Kidding.  It is actually easy to take naughty pictures using my computer.)  (Kidding, I don’t take naughty pictures*, unless you count taking pictures of the naughty food treats my fiance spoils me with.)  (*Subject to change based on finances.)

Anyway, I guess what I am saying, is that I am probably back for now, but might just write a bunch of stories because there really isn’t much I want to talk about and I am not yet at the point where I need to start camming in order to keep afloat.

I hope you all are doing well, and are enjoying the day of labor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What In The Actual F-ck?!?

Hello dear reader(s)!

Guess who’s back?  Back again?  Josh is back.  Sorry.

I know I keep saying that I will post more consistently.  Then I post for a couple days straight, and drop off for like a week.  My bad.  I keep thinking I can actually manage this.  Lately however, I just can’t.  In fact, I literally can’t even.  Yes, one pumpkin spice frappuccino for McKenzie too.

So what in actual fuck, Josh?  Where you been?  Why the long face?  You’re not a horse.

Well, I’ve been here, mostly.  But I’ve been tired.  Tired as fuck.  In the world of fucked-up medical shit, we like to call it fatigue.  Actually, we like to call it napping, but tomato tomato.  I’m not going to call the whole thing off, however.  Anything you can do I can do better.  Anyway…

I’ve been furiously trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.  Between my GI symptoms, a few other ones, and the fatigue, I was getting scared.

Fortunately, my fiance (yup, I’m engaged), is a super sleuth and figured out what is going on that some really great doctors couldn’t figure out during literal YEARS of complaining.  (Literally.)  The tendency of doctors to look at individual symptoms as separate systems requiring separate specialists causing separate tests and separate co-pays and co-insurance amounts, caused them all to overlook something wrong that ties it all together and makes perfect sense given something else we already knew was wrong.  So now I know what the problem is, (besides run-on sentences) the only issue is that it seems to be one of those “tough shit, get used it” type of issues.  It is still somewhat comforting to know that I am not losing my mind, (well…totally, anyway), and there IS a physical reason for all of these issues.

Anywho, this is good news for my writing, as now I will likely be seeing less doctors to try to find something that isn’t there (That colonoscopy sure was shitty.  Get it?  Shitty?) and will be less likely to try to force myself to do things I can’t do.  That means more time at home, where a computer will likely be handy.

But…my writing may soon start to move away from this here blog-type-thing on a temporary basis.  I am going to begin considering beginning to plan the beginning of the study of whether or not I should begin to plan the beginning of the process for beginning to write my book, starting all the way from the beginning.  Good for my writing, bad for this here blog-type-thing.  Unless I get stuck, and decide to post in this here blog-type-thing as a way to break up the monotony, since Mono and Tony have drifted apart since becoming a Hollywood power couple anyway.

So now that y’all know what is up, I guess I should grace you all with one of my rants, y’all have come to know and despise.

Ready?  Okay!  Be aggressive, B-E aggressive!

YOU CAN’T BE A RACIST AND A PAGAN!!!!

You can, I guess, but you’re a fucking idiot and should call yourself something else.  In a system of beliefs of honoring many different Goddesses and Gods as a representation of the natural forces that created all, your superiority complex does not jive.  You know not of what you speak, you know not of what you claim to be, and if you show up to any of my pagan events I will personally cut your fucking heart out with my athame.

You are not welcome in my community.  You are not welcome near my path.  You should not be welcome anywhere on this planet, but not everyone has standards.  Fuck off, and die, you Nazi trash pieces of shit.  Tell your chosen Gods they can go fuck themselves if they support you.  (They don’t.)

If you are a pagan, and want more acceptance of your belief system, and less persecution from others, you need to be calling out these racist fucks trying to twist your path to justify their hate too.  Just because hardly any of the followers of the Abrahamic religions do it, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t too.  We need to tell these fuck-bags they do not have a home in our communities.  

On a happier note, I choose high C.  I think high C is a happy note.  Yes, if it is part of a minor chord, it could be sad, but the note itself is happy.  It is so happy, it 1046.502 hertz.

Okay, dear reader(s), that’s all for me.  Let’s recap what we have learned today, shall we?  No?  Too bad!

I will not be posting very consistently (big shocker, and nothing new), but for different reasons, and I hate my health.  Please refer any additional questions to my counsel, who doesn’t exist.

Finally, I will still try and read y’all from time to time, even when I am not posting, just because you is smart, you is kind, you is not really important since you’re just a tiny spec in this vast universe, but tell yourself whatever you need to sleep better at night.