All Women Are Unique

Be it the way a woman looks at you, the way she smiles at you or the angle of her hand when she waves, every woman is unique.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what happens when you see beauty in every one?  This one has a dimple in her chin, that one has a extra curve in her booty.  The one over here has a sparkle in her eye, the one over there has a aura of greatness around her like a golden haze.  That big lady you call ugly has the heart of a queen, this skinny girl has the soul of a demon.  We always swear we are not judgemental pricks with surface value desires, at least I know that is true for me.  Even though I have only dated women of color, I have dated all sizes, shapes and shades.  None of us are perfect, if I find the perfect exterior, usually the inside is lacking.  When you find a woman who is soulful and intelligent, usually, she lacks somewhere physically.  Did I say I was perfectly right with my judgements? Hell, no.  But am I being completely honest?  You're ducking right, I am.  And why shouldn't I be?  Life is too short to lie to everyone, about everything.  Why not do our best to show the world they're wrong about us as the fall of mankind with our manish needs and carnal desires?  Why do we find it necessary to paint a picture built on lies and deceit?   Are we that shallow?

Depression & Suicide

Why do we get depressed?

How is it that some of us are effected differently by this source of sorrow?

Picture a beach in your mind, sunny and sandy with clear skies and golden beaches.  Now picture clouds moving in over the horizon,  lightning and thunder blocking out the rays of the golden sun.  This is a pretty exact description of what happens in my mind when the feelings set in.  What happens then?  I see the sparkle in a rusty razor blades edge.  I have the arcane urge to laugh at the most sinister of current world events.  I paint my windows black like it's midnight all day long, I let the crickets roam freely through my home.  Those last two things, I don't really do those things.  Why?  Because I get too depressed to bother.  I sleep all hours I'm not at work, I sit in the bathtub for hours on end, pondering if I should sink to the bottom and open my lungs to the hot water around me, or maybe, cut into the soft flesh of my wrists submerged under the water, a warmer red caress surrounding my body as the world starts to fade to black.  But then, one thing, and one thing alone, stops me.

Thoughts and images of my children, and their reactions, to my final statement of greed and self worth!

A Cheating Society

Why is it so hard to be faithful?  Why are we determined to ruin good relationships with side chicks and emotional chaos?  Why does the life one leads have to appear to be extravagant to pass for important?  I guess a better question would be, why is it so easy for modern civilization to cheat?  Why is being a side chick acceptable and why are so many women okay with it?  One guess, these women have been hurt so many times that they would rather be a side option, where only a little bit of time is required.  These women have no expectations of Prince Charming and the happy ever after, because it has never been placed before them in a plausible manner.  But what of the men, can women truly be expected to take the blame for this trend in society?  More to come as I gather my thoughts, not my thots, they've already all left by now I'm sure.

Easter, Pagan Holiday of Depression

Here we have a holiday invented by the powers that be to make the consumer feel guilty if the basket isn't full enough, the dresses and suits aren't bright enough in color.  Ladies and gentlemen, how do we lie to our children about perverted bunnies and old men that sneak into our houses for years, then wonder why they do not trust us through their teenage years?  Believe in the higher power of choosing, but be smart enough to know when something else is at work.  That is all I ask.  Stop giving whole hearted faith to a mythical being that may in fact be your downfall.  To celebrate the resurrection of chosen Savior is one thing, to hunt eggs like the Roman's hunted through empty tombs is entirely another.  #PEACE

How Do We Move On?

Can I fix these things with a blog?  No, but will a few people take something away from this?  Yes.  Will it lead to them talking?  Hopefully.  Will they act on anything I have said here?  Maybe.  But the important part of the healing process is to talk.  An egg is laid in the mind, only to hatch into an idea.  The institution is collapsing, failing us, failing our children, one day at a time.  The teachers are being paid less, the students are being led by a carrot!  The parents are stuck with super couponing and whimsical purchases on sites like Wish.com.  What's for dinner?  The McRibs are on sale but the new crab cakes at Seafood Shotgun Shack are two for one.  Smash the televisions, send your kids out to play.  But send them out with pepper spray and a shotgun because the perverts are lurking around.  I get so tired of nostalgia but when I was a kid, the sun setting was the house call, the distance I could travel before then, was my limits.  As I grew older, those distances increased.  But now, kids can't go out front of the house for fear of getting shot, raped or kidnapped.  So turn the TV back on and forget this whole epic speech.

Coming Tomorrow!

New blogs about life, love, sex, drugs and Fanboy!

How Did We Get Here?

You want to know what led to this?  I'll tell you, I'll be blunt, I'll be honest.  Goody Powders.  Those little cocaine looking packets of headache medicine in blue boxes, it brought us here.  Goody Powders brought us to this point of digital interaction.  And at this point, it is entirely possible to do everything except purchase a pack of cigarettes without interacting with another human being, be it physically or vocally.  You have stay at home jobs, self check-out registers or even grocery purchases online.  Social interaction is no longer required to exist in the world.  Where was I?  Goody Powder.  My mother had been addicted to them for years, 15 or 20 a day.  Multiple ulcers, countless lesions.  Bleed-outs had happened, but she just couldn't give the things up.  I really don't want to go into the details right now, so I'll just say this.  They killed her, led to a massive rupture and bleed-out when one of those ulcers opened up and within seconds she was gone.  My mother died alone that day last August, and I haven't written a word since then.  Until now, I mean, why should I?  Whose gonna read this shit when they have TV, XBox, YouTube and PornHub to take a gander at all fucking day long?  We live in a society of over-stimulation and under-saturation!

In The Beginning

Blog 1: How Do I Start?
How do I start a blog? Why does it even matter? Nobody is going to read this shit anyway. And if they do, they probably won't come back. We live in a society on the edge of destruction, a self induced wave of stupidity. The problems we have are created by us. We live in a world ruled by technology but the generations are slowly getting dumber. If the so called fact is on the internet, then the photoshopped image and message must be true. Why should anything be remembered if we can use Google and Wikipedia? Bret Easton Ellis wrote of emotional wastelands in the valleys and beaches of 1980s California, but those wastelands void of feeling, purpose and caring about right from wrong have spread across America like a plague. We'll, I guess I answered my own question with this glorious diatribe about the crumbling of modern society. PEACE!!!