Fate

Hello dear reader(s)!

It has been a fortnight or so since last I posted.  I fear that my dear reader(s) may be vexed by lack of consistency and so I have therefore chosen to fall upon the sword of my shame rather than argue the valid points as to why my posting has not been up to the high standards I know that my dear reader(s) deserve.  I humbly apologize and beg the forgiveness of my dear reader(s), and hope they do not cast me into blog-type-thinging exile.

Alright, so now that I got that bullshit out of the way, let me ask y’all a question…

Do you motherfuckers dear reader(s) believe in fate?

I do.

Kind of.

Lemme explain.  No there is too much.  Lemme sum up.*

I think fate takes you only so far.  I believe you create your own fate.  I believe you help create the opportunities and bizarre alignments that one would call fate.  Sometimes you do it through thought.  Sometimes through intent.  Sometimes through action.  Sometimes by stepping back and doing nothing at all.  Sometimes you just need to put something out of your mind so you can recognize it when it lands right at your foot door.  Of course, usually the only thing that lands at your front door is a shitty local newspaper’s promotional copy, but that is neither here nor there.

So you’re going along, minding your own business, when suddenly you notice some sort of fated event.  Say, I don’t know… someone you know of with something major you have in common likes a comment you made on a local news story… and the next thing you know you’re connecting on a very deep level but all of these things had to align at the right time and in the right order to allow that connection.  That’s just an example.  I do not know about anything like that, honest.  But let’s just say that happens…then what?

Well, you don’t fucking make fate do all the work.  Fate has brought you to a point.  The rest is up to you.   You must now continue the effort to make the fates continue to align.

Opportunities do occasionally come up.  Are you going to be brave enough to seize them?  As an example, fate has given you the opportunity to read this post today.  Are you brave enough to read all the way through, like, share, and comment?  You owe it to fate!

Fate is awesome.  I am a big believer in fate.  I have seen too many strange things happen to produce too many things that seemed to be impossible or were simply exactly what should be at the time they came to pass in order to discount it.  So it is always going to be three easy payments of $49.99, no matter who is advertising a similar product for less, sorry.  No discounts.

But I also believe in myself, in energy, in magic, and in effort.  Once you recognize the existence of fate, you will recognize the opportunities it presents.  But you still have to do something with those opportunities if they lead to what you desire.  In doing so, you create more ways for fate to align for you.  No matter how badly your local area maintains their roads, if you put in the work, your fate will stay in alignment without dealing with mechanics and their ridiculous shop fees and attempts to upsell you on parts and services you don’t need.

When you go about your day today, pay attention.  Try to see if fate is sending you a message.  Look for the opportunities that fate provides.  Then don’t just sit there watching fate flashing in your face like a sick fucker who gets off on showing their junk to unsuspecting people in public.  Do something about it!  Take fate and run with it.  Unless Fate is the name of a stripper or something, in which case let Fate come to you.  Kidnapping strippers is not good, Bob.

Fate is calling to you.  So let her out of your trunk, Bob.

*Stolen shamelessly from the Princess Bride.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Ostara Greetings

Hello dear reader(s)!

Blessed Ostara!  Or Happy Spring Equinox!  Or Happy Vernal Equinox, for those of you Vern worshipers.

I’ve decided that I need a Stonehenge.  I think it would a be a really great addition to my local community and I believe it should be installed post-haste.  I would like to see it up on a hill, surrounded by fields.  And none of this half-crumbling shit either.  I think it should be constructed as originally intended.  And I could charge a fee for entry to anyone who wanted to see it except on the equinoxes and solstices when it would be free to all who wish to bask in the glory of the light of the sunrise as it aligns with the structures.

Maybe I should start a Kickstarter.

Tonight I have an Ostara celebration to attend.  I am rather excited, except my post-nasal drip is still bothering me.  It needs to stop, post-haste.

Like the other equinox (that which shall not be named, today anyway, because it isn’t all about that one), today is a day for balance.  That is a good thing, because my post-nasal drip has really fucked up my equilibrium so I can use all the balance I can get.  I do not intend to drink tonight as it would be hard enough to balance during a field sobriety test stone-sober (although being stoned, isn’t exactly sober, so I really don’t get that term).  I shall not be stoned either, unless I got some bad Sudafed.

I intend to do a spell to increase the power of the Sudafed that I shall take so I am hopefully not coughing or spewing mucus all over the new people I meet.  “Blessed (cough!  hack!) Ostara!!!”  {Extends slimy hand outward for people to look at disgustedly before running away.}

The festivities are potluck style, so I need to bring something.  I was thinking deviled eggs, as eggs are traditional to the whole fertility, rebirth aspect of this particular festivity, but deviled eggs are a pain in the ass and need to be kept cool in order not to give everyone Ostaritis, an Ostara specific food poisoning.  I may just do some phallic shaped bread (easy enough, most bread loaves are cock-shaped) and like an artichoke dip or something else low maintenance.

Today is expected to be the last good weather day here for a while.  In fact, this evening, it should rain.  I can live with that.  As long as it doesn’t snow, I will be a happy camper, only I am not camping anywhere.

Today is a good day to grow your intentions, just as a farmer would be growing crops to harvest later.  I need to think about what mine are.  I know a few, but I really need to make them more concrete, as this cement alone is just too weak.  Besides, having an intention like, “I intend to make that woman cum more times that she ever thought possible.” is great and all, just probably not the most beneficial intention to have for my life.

I actually do have a few real goals.  Real goals I am progressing toward despite my post-nasal drip.  I must take those goals and the momentum made toward them and transform them into Autobots.  I must take those goals and combine them to determine what they mean for an overall intention of how I want to live the remaining time I have here in this life.  I must prevent them from transforming into Decepticons.

I need to get up and shower, so I can go get the food.  I need to take Sudafed, so I can make it through the shower.  I need to end this post-nasal drip post-haste, and make it a no-nasal drip.  I need to stop saying things like post-haste.  There, those are my intentions.  That shit was easy.

Blessed Ostara one and all, and to all, a good day or night.  Or both.  You know what?  How about a good as long as you want it to be good?  Why not?  Why should I be stingy with my good wishes?  What are we teaching the children?!?!

 

 

 

Things That Make Me Happy

Hello dear reader(s)!

It is I, Sidney Feldman.  * (Not really, that’s from Grosse Pointe Blank.)

It is me, Josh.  I am here once again, because there are things I should be doing that are more important than posting, but I am tired and don’t feel like getting going yet, and I miss posting and reading, and am drinking my coffee and having a bagel trying to wake up anyway, and I enjoy writing run-on sentences, and things are on my mind that make me want to post, and I want everyone to know that I have not abandoned, nor do I plan to abandon this here blog-type-thing now or at any time in the foreseeable future, provided nothing catastrophic should happen, (knock on wood), and that I even intend to return to daily or more posting in a couple of weeks, and that I really should have made these separate sentences but I didn’t because I enjoy frustrating Nazis, whether they are of the grammar variety or not.

I am actually in a fairly good mood this morning, despite the recent loss of yet another relationship that I really believed had potential to stay happy for a very long time.  I’m actually happy for the lesson learned.  It was a new one, when I thought I pretty much knew what to look for, and what to avoid.  Like sores.  I know to avoid sores.  I’ve known that for a long time, and that has always been quite beneficial.

Learning is just one of the many things that makes me happy.  I like when the lessons are a bit easier than the last one, because I didn’t need to learn it so harshly, but I am trying to look on the bright side here so get off my fucking back already.

What else makes me happy?  Well…

  • Coffee  I mean, sometimes, sitting quietly and drinking a cup of coffee can be the most soothing feeling in the world except right after you cum.
  • Friends  I have periods of time not speaking with a lot of my friends.  Sometimes, they deserved it, sometimes I did, and sometimes, it was just a circumstance.  But some of my friends have been there for me over and over again, and I really appreciate them.  Except for you, Bob.  You’re a dick.
  • Road trips  Ones through places where the weather is expected to cooperate, going somewhere I really want to be, and getting away.  Like the one I am leaving on for in 5 days.  Ones where I do not have car trouble, gas is cheap, and the drive is safe and leisurely.  (Knock on wood.)  Ones where I do not have to be cavity searched by a cop unless she is really into me, which I guess she would be at that point, but I mean on a non-professional level.
  • People who are strong enough to overcome their Stockholm Syndrome  Gee Josh, that’s an awfully weird thing that makes you happy.  What can I say?  I like what I like.  Maybe for you, it is raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens, which both are fine, even though that song is shit.  For me, it is people who are strong enough to overcome their Stockholm Syndrome.  Don’t judge me, or else I will imprison you and then indoctrinate you into my cause until you sympathize with my plight and are under my control.
  • Music  I recently upgraded the stereo in the Beastess from the factory model cassette deck to a CD/Bluetooth receiver, and that, has made all the difference.  Not, taking the road less traveled by.  The car stereo.  Now I decide what music I hear, not some corporate executive.  That is the real resistance.  Freedom!
  • Art  A Picasso or a Garfunkle.  (Yes, that is Barenaked Ladies, but it’s one of my favorites.)  Besides, I mean it.  I love art, in most of its forms.  I may not love the finished work, but I usually love that someone decided to express themselves creatively.  I say usually, because, let’s face it, what some call art, I call fascist propaganda designed to divide the proletariat amongst themselves when they really should be made aware of those who are profiting from the strife.  And also, sometimes it’s fucking ugly.
  • Sex  Who’s blog-type-thing did you think you were reading?
  • Fun  We only live once.  Here, in this world, with these bodies.  Who knows what happens after, but I can honestly say that anyone who is 100% certain of it is delusional.  So have some goddamned fun!!!  NOW!  Do IT!  Don’t cry!  You’re having fun!  Right?   Say whee!  SAY IT!!!!!!
  • People who help other people  Especially in times like these, we need all the people who still have good hearts and empathy that we can get.  We need these people now more than ever.  We need these people to take up arms against those who don’t and mow them down like a field of daisies – haha just kidding I am not advocating violence, please don’t throw me in a private, for-profit, slave-labor camp so Jeffy Boy can masturbate to the thoughts of all the undesirables making profits for him and his buddies, since money and oppression are the only things capable of getting him off.
  • Satan  For the record, I do not believe in Satan.  But Satan believes in me and does my bidding.  And, it really is nice when someone believes in you.

Well dear reader(s), I hope reading about what makes me happy made you happy.  If not, maybe you are just an unhappy person who can not be helped even when cavity searched by an attractive officer of the opposite sex unless you are into same-sex relations which is great so long as everyone involved is happy about it.

St. Valentine’s Day For Stupids

Hello dear reader(s)!

Happy St. Valentine’s Day!  If you’re stupid, you may not know what St. Valentine’s Day is all about.  You may not know proper behavior or customs for this day.  Never fear, this article is here to help you avoid the common pitfalls of this day, to keep you from making a major faux pas (facsimile paw) and end up sleeping out on the couch while your significant other is getting railed in your bed by someone else.

The history 

“In order to succeed in the present, one must know the past, provided it is an approved Christian-friendly version of the past that celebrates white supremacy and traditional values of boring sex and loveless servitude-based marriage.” – Betsy DeVos

It all starts in a little town somewhere in Italy which doesn’t matter because it is not in America…

Street Valentino was a young man who was seeking a better life for himself.  A hard worker, and nice guy, he just wanted the opportunity to succeed in something other than the fishing and cheese making his little Italian town was known for.  He decided, like many people, to come to America, land of those who believe they are free.  Before setting sail on the commercial airline, he changed his name to Steve Valentine in order to appear less Italian to the racist and xenophobic Trump supporters.

Upon landing at JFK in New York, Valentine was detained by Customs and Border Patrol thugs because he might be too dark.  After 18 hours of extreme vetting, including multiple cavity searches performed by Billy Billy, and checking all of his social media accounts to ensure that Valentine was not talking shit about Führer Putin or his puppet Trump, he was granted entry into the United States.

Valentine drove to Little Italy.  He loved it, but he thought there was too much concrete.  He missed the rolling hills of his beloved little Italian town and decided he needed to move to somewhere with more open space.  Since he loved Bocce Ball so much, and it reminded him of bowling, he decided the best place to go would be Bowling Green, KY.

The people of Bowling Green were hostile to the newcomer.  Valentine was inundated by comments like, “You need to go back to wherever you came from, you dirty Muslim!” whenever he would try to stop a man from raping his sister.  Even the men’s sisters were hostile at first, because they would shout, “Mind your own business, you dirty Muslim!”  Valentine’s defense that he was actually Roman Catholic fell on deaf ears.

The St. Valentine’s Day Bowling Green Massacre

One day, walking down the street to his job as a pinsetter, Valentine heard cries from a woman yelling for help.  He was hesitant, since every other time he had tried to intervene in a rape he had been told off by both the victim, and her brother, but her cries sounded so sincere that he ran to her aid.

She and Valentine successfully fought off her brother.  As he helped the young woman to her feet, she embraced him in a hug of gratitude.  Unfortunately for Valentine, Kellyanne Conway just happened to be walking by at the time, and in a fit of rage over an obvious Muslim hugging a white woman, she reached into her purse and pulled out an AR-15, shooting Valentine, the woman, the rapist brother on the ground, fourteen innocent bystanders, a poodle, and conveniently for her boss, Michael Flynn.

After police searched the pockets of Valentine, they found this letter to a woman in Italy in his pocket.

Dearest Maria,

I am coming home.  America is not what it used to be.  The people here are crazy, uneducated, and revel in their ignorance.  I long to hold you once more in my arms.  I love you so very much, and though I was going to send for you once established here, it is clear to me that we could lead a far better life back home, or anywhere else, really.  

I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone in Italy first that I discovered the cure for every cancer ever.  

Yours always,

Street Valentino

Tips to make this the best St. Valentine’s Day ever

  1. Resist  
  2. Educate yourself
  3. Love
  4. Be kind
  5. Don’t just do it today
  6. Smile
  7. Enjoy life
  8. Tell people how you feel
  9. Turn off the television
  10. Check sources

Well, dear reader(s), I wish all of you a great and happy St. Valentine’s Day.  Remember that anything else you hear about this day is fake news, and my version of this story is to keep the country safe and shall not be questioned.

 

MyThursdayPost

Sandalwood remained in the air for days after she was last in his arms, only serving to make it even harder for him to think about anything else.  He was doing his best to distract himself from his thoughts of her, but was failing miserably.  Despite his miserable failure at self-distraction, he was far from miserable.

He was ecstatic to be missing someone so greatly.  He knew she would return to him.  The emptiness he felt in his arms was just a side effect of the anticipation and excitement he felt for the next time they were together.  And the time after.  And the time after that.  He started to look at the things he knew were upcoming, and to imagine her there by his side.

Their chemistry was incredible, but there was so much more than that.  She was a friend.  She understood him, and he understood her.  They matched each other or complimented each other in every matter of importance they had so far come across.  They had their own unique take on things that didn’t conflict with the perspectives they individually held so dear.

So yeah, I can’t wait to see her again.

Anyway, my appointment yesterday sucked.  I basically paid $40 for another referral.  Good thing I got referred to him, and not the people he referred me to.  So ridiculous.  My records were already there.  He already knew he wanted to refer me to other doctors (a good idea), but why not call me and cancel the appointment first, and set up the referral?  So he could bill my insurance, and get my co-pay, that’s why.

I have a terrible stomach ache.  It is better than yesterday and the night before, but it still hurts.  I’m sure whoever I end up talking to about it will refer me to another specialist who might refer me to a different specialist who will do nothing.  I’m so motherfucking sick of the healthcare system in this country, and Trump hasn’t even gotten his grubby, tiny hands on it yet.

On a related note, I wanted to say goodbye to all of you, since the likelihood of all life on Earth ending increases exponentially starting tomorrow.  I will likely say goodbye on all my posts, just in case.

I’m about to reschedule my therapy appointment.  I had to cancel due to the last time the roads were too icy, and delayed reschedule until after the ice storm that never came.  The extended forecast looks good, so I think I will try again.  I could really stand to get some things off my chest, like this shirt, because it is party time!

I got laundry done today, so that was nice.  I wasn’t supposed to be in town today, but something happened that required postponement of the plans I had made.  It is a good thing, not what happened, but that my plans were postponed, since I am feeling kinda cruddy and needed the rest.

Then I penned this letter to my family…

Dear family,

We have just returned from a trip into a few blocks away in Missouri where we got big amounts of everything to eat and everything we eat is so good to me as I had been starved out so long on protein powder, all that we got while we were here besieging Independence.  Over there we got sweet potato fries, chickens, molasses, and Peach Nehi.  How I do wish I could be at home now, for it is getting late in the afternoon and the General says that we shall attack at Dawn.  This makes me sad, as Dawn always seemed rather nice, and is a good dish soap.  The enemy still holds their positions in Independence, and we have now returned from our trip and taken the high ground above them near a car lot.  You must excuse this letter as I have written in great haste.  The General wants me to wear my assless chaps to her tent again, and be there in 5 minutes.  My love to you and all, except for Amy, because she’s a bitch.  Write when you can, and make it a long letter, because I’m anxious to hear from you.  Oh, and send money.  

Ellis Albert Swearengen (Just kidding, C-NT!)  

Anyway, yeah, today is a nice rest day.  I hope you are all well.  I miss you.  Say hi to Margaret and the kids.  Tell them that their father asked me to look after them because he didn’t make it back from Independence, but I declined, because they are rotten bastards!

 

 

 

GPS Works

If you aren’t stupid.

Hello dear reader(s)!

I’m in the waiting room of my new oncologist.   Finally.

I have a new phone, which has working turn-by-turn GPS directions.  Which would be great, if I would’ve entered the correct destination.   Instead I went a good 25 miles out of my way and ended up being about 20 minutes late.  Fortunately, they’re running behind too.

Wish me appointment luck.  Hope you’re all well.

Double check those destinations.

Here’s What It Really Means When He Doesn’t Write A Story

Hello dear reader(s)!

Have you been following a blog-type-thinger who has been talking about writing a story for a few days, but keeps delaying?  Oh sure, you believed him yesterday when he said he was just in a bad mood and didn’t feel like writing.  But then, today, he still isn’t writing his story.  Now you’re not so sure.

He claims that he doesn’t want to start the story on a Saturday because that always means lower page views, because Saturdays should be more lighthearted, and because he is in too good of a mood to really bother imagining a story.

But how could that be, when he was in a such a terrible mood yesterday?

Well, here’s what he really means when he says that.

He means what he says, you twit.  Maybe instead of reading click-bait articles, you should actually ask someone what their motives are.

I am in a great mood today, dear reader(s)!

Has anything changed since yesterday?  No, not really.  Just my attitude.

You see, when I get down, and things become overwhelming, sometimes I just need to vent and take steps to change my attitude.  I hate staying in that negative place.  There are other things besides venting that I do to try to change my fucking attitude, and because I am a kind and benevolent Josh, I have decided to tell you, my dear reader(s), what they are.

So, whether you are ready or not, here is how you can change your fucking attitude, you negative fuckhole…

  1. Stay away from WordPress, especially as they are rolling out a new shittier Reader because it will fail to load properly as you scroll down, thus causing endless frustration as you try to read what others are posting  I failed on this yesterday.  I got so pissed off.  I don’t subscribe to everyone via email because otherwise I would get way too many damn emails.  This means I rely on the Reader to read.  You know, because what the fuck else would something called a Reader be for?  Mowing my motherfucking lawn?  Fucking WordPress fucks.  Jesus fucking Christ.  (Which, for Christians, would just be Jesus masturbating, but I digress…)  I wonder if they pay someone at WordPress to say, “You know, things have been running awfully smooth for too long right now, let’s fuck that up!”  Which brings me to item #2…
  2. Vent, loudly and with profanity  See item #1, and apply that to any problem.  Don’t just post a sanitized version on WordPress, go outside and scream about it until the police show up.
  3. Exercise  I am still recovering from what I believe was a nasty sinus infection that only started to move to my chest but was likely caught before it could become too severe, so exercising was off the table until today.  Now I am exercising on the table.  Hopefully it will hold.
  4. Have sex and/or masturbate  Obviously I am going to put that as a step.  It’s like you don’t know even know me anymore.  No wonder I masturbate so much.
  5. Remember that not every problem and/or issue that appears at once must be solved at once  There are exceptions to this.  Like if you were simultaneously getting attacked by a bear and a moose, and must figure out how to disable both at the exact same time or else face getting mauled and trampled.  And although I’m no statistician, I’d say there is only a 30% chance of that happening to you.
  6. Find something to laugh about  I choose those who still support Trump, and episodes of the IT Crowd.  Also, kitten videos, fail videos, and children’s tears.
  7. Remember that as lousy as things are going for you, someone has it far worse than you do  Take sadistic joy in their pain.  No, really, just try not to think that the universe is out to get you.  It really isn’t.  I know, because I control it now, and I have better things to do.  You aren’t that special.
  8. Watch a funny movie  It’s the holiday season.  Watch a funny holiday movie.  Like Elf, or A Christmas Story, or Back Door Sluts 9.
  9. Dance  Dance like nobody is watching.  So that means seductively.  Naked except for your tiara.  To Do They Know It’s Christmas (Feed the World).
  10. Make someone else smile  Tell them a joke.  Send them a cute message.  Run them a bath.  Towel dry them off with a warm towel.  Pour them a glass of wine.  Go down on them until they are shaking and are so exhausted that they just can’t take it anymore.  If they still aren’t smiling, just tie them down, grab the corners of their mouth, and hold it in a smile until you are satisfied or they use the safe word.

For more information on changing your fucking attitude, visit your local library and take your shit out on the poor local librarian because I don’t want to hear any more of your shit, Josh.