Too many #s

#Update time:

Not #much #to #tell, added #more to flesh out the #story, put more of an #emphasis on #Sarah’s #storyarc rather than Morgan’s, because #Divertenti #Della #Amuletto really is about Sarah’s story.

That’s how I wrote it way back when I first #chortled it into a myspace blog, and that’s how I’m focusing it now.

Does it mean that the series will continue on that path?

#Unfortunately, no.

Much like my actual #friendship with Sarah, by the time Sogno Trono rolls around, Morgan and Sarah’s friendship deteriorates by the third #book.

Is it hard for me to get through the first two books without having some #reservations about not altering the overall story so that they remained friends?

Yes, most likely.

The way #everything #twists and #turns, the way friendships #bloom, their #roots spreading outwards and yet at the same time, interweaving back to their #homebase again, that’s what the book series is about.

As an #author, and in some screwed up way, a self historian, I must keep things as they were when the #series was first written, but somehow #enliven it to be something more #powerful.

Is there an overall #message?

Not to my #knowledge, maybe others will find it in their reading. If there is, when this is finally #published and released in its entirety, whatever message #you may think it is, please let me know. Or not, sometimes, the best message is one of #mystery, the #unknown.

I do know this for a #fact:

#Sogno Della #Dinastia is my #Magnum #Opus, I have never #wavered from that fact. I do not #purport it to be some #lifechanging #experience that will bend the minds of all who read it into some higher plain of #existence, nor would I ever think of it as some kind of #religious experience or #hidden #political movement.

There are hidden #truths from a #single #perspective, there are in your face #exaggerations, and some mind numbing #bullshit that you somehow wind up floating through, but by the end of it, you find yourself in a different place than you were before. In #small unknown ways, whatever they might be, in whatever #fashion they show up.

I am #continually #passionate about this, a work of both #love and regret, of forced #personal growth, and god fucking damn it, if this gets big, if this becomes something more than #realistically it’s ever supposed to be, than so be it.

If it remains #small and #unknown, #unread, #unpopular, or unpublicized, so be it.

I do know this: I will have #readit, #editedit, and #engorged myself on the feast of utter #batshit insanity that is the hugeness of the #undertaking I have ventured on, and god fucking damn it, I’m taking a sledge hammer and a stick of dynamite to this titanium #mountain and one day at a time, turning it into a #sandy #beach #paradise.

I seek the strange man.

You know that feeling in the back of your head when you’re onto something really great?
It’s an itching sensation that you can’t quite get to, and it never leaves you alone for long.
It’s a momentary lightning strike that leaves no trace, and like the momentary flash of brilliance, once distracted from it’s entrancing display, it’s gone, out of sight, replaced by something more ubiquitous than whatever the flying fuck is going on with the world right now.
It’s the feeling of loss, replaced by greater loss, yet still replaced by greater loss, only to be filled immediately by next small victory.
Because you have to count the small victories, you have to make those small things count, or else the whole thing would collapse, leaving you nothing more than a blubbering pile of salted insults upon an already dead horse, by which the beating stick has long since broken, but people still wish to use it on the same horse, even though there’s a perfectly good horse right next to it.
Why do people do this?
Why beat the dead horse with vileness and venom?
Why not try for a different approach that would make the next horse last just a little bit longer?
There’s no shame in revealing something old to a newer generation, but it has to be done right, or else you lose the essential impact the original content had.
Am I being vague?
Of fucking course I am!
not for vagueness sake, not for some melodramatic reveal that simply wastes the effort upon which the base of this post, or review, or whatever the hell this actually is might have.
But simply because I like doing things a certain way, to be less or more descriptive to hide a true intention, or maybe just because I like the feeling of wandering my way around a post until such time that my snappy assed brain decides right then and there to actually be direct. And by THAT point alone, I’ve already lost the original thread, but the post keeps on building, word by word, layer by layer, until there is a pivotal moment, a lightning flash that screams out into the blank void of my keyboard obsessed mind, it should scream, “Now wait just a fucking minute, you pedantic ass faced moron! Looky here! Fish string! now ain’t that a kick in the balls with a cattle prod!” and this might lead to someone questioning the logic prepared by that one statement!
How does one kick someone in the balls, or anywhere really with a cattle prod?
Do they kick the cattle prod into the balls?
Is the cattle prod already placed ball sack adjacent?
Where the fuck is this taking place and has Netflix already signed on for five seasons of build up to this one moment in which nothing is explained and we are left devoid of any joy whatsoever because we canceled our subscription and now season six is tied up on actors being dicks and demanding WAY more money than their ability should ever grant them?

The feeling is mutual, and the build up is grand, and the payoff is fucking tantamount to that of having your last orgasm before you die with a smile on your face and your preferred genital analogy writhing with utmost pleasure.

That’s how I felt watching Love, Death, and Robots.
Like a fucking god.
Now where the fuck is Season Two?

YouTuber Parents aren’t all complete dicks.

This former channel, Fantastic Adventures, is a haven of fucked up bullshit.
Let me repeat, Fantastic Adventures is fucked up.
the content is manufactured.
The kids were forced to take part.
And if they didn’t?
They’d be fucking abused.
Now, it seems like every time YouTuber Parents are mentioned, it’s always going to be some kind of monstrous fucking act. Some kind of emotional dick punch, like society is telling us that all YouTuber Parents are complete dicks.
They aren’t, it’s fucked up what’s happening.
Not to mention that the kids weren’t even hers.
Like, seriously, what the fuck is going on?
Hold on, need to reread the article to get properly pissed, believe it or not, there’s still a bit ofgas in the engine from this mornings writing storm.
Hackneye, hackney, whatever the fuck that dumbasses name is, is just another in a long line of asshole parents exploiting their kids for YouTube fame in the ENTIRELY WRONG WAY.
Look, I’m not a parent, and I’m not here to judge, but when I have kids, you can bet your ass I’m going to post vids of them doing their thing, NATURALLY, not show them off like a circus attraction and punish em for not remembering to do a certain thing, I mean what the fuck is this crazy ass bullshit!?
https://www.nbcnews.com/nightly-news/video/adoptive-mother-accused-of-forcing-abused-children-to-perform-on-youtube-1461955139539

I really am not lying.
Look, I get it, there are dance moms who scream and bitch at their kids for not doing the right thing, and then there are abusive fucks that have the self entitled right to fuck their kids up if they ain’t on the same page.
IT ain’t right, and The moment there’s suspect behavior, which often goes unnoticed for too long,  or too late, that channel should be taken down, that parent should lose their kids, and they should be behind bars.
End of sentence.
I could’ve just said period, but you know what?
Nah.
Tazed, pinched, pepper sprayed between the legs, locked in the closet for days without food or water? Ice baths?
All for forgetting lines or not wanting to take part in the videos?
What’s her defense going to be?
”I done did it fer the lulz!”
Nah, she’s guilty as fuck, ain’t no way in fucking hell she getting off easy.
The utter FUCK is going on with that chick?
There’s a difference between forcing your own failed dreams onto your kids and letting them explore their natural talents in their own ways, and clearly Hackney fucking forgot the first rule of parenting, never to do that kind of shit that leaves a psychological scar on their kids for the rest of lives.
These are fucking children, not some high grossing actors, you fucking bitch, that was aimed at Hackney, which I know, I know, blah blah blah.

Still the fact remains, first was the precursor Daddyofive, and that asshole was taken the fuck apart.
People obviously thought that shit had calmed down enough to the point where they thought this shit was okay, and one dumb ass brave soul wanted to leap on the abusive YouTube Parent with the flying grace of a thousand fucks not given and…. Well, this happened.
Like, really?

Is this where we are now?
Where the level of crazy needs to be such that you’re hurting kids in order to get some attention?
Thank god YouTube shut that shit down.
We don’t need anymore crazy.
Lemme repeat:
Not all Parent’s with YouTube channels are abusive assholes.
There needs to be a system in place, and it’s a fucking easy as shit one:
Reward those kids that take part after helping out with the video.
If they don’t, they don’t get rewarded, therefore, it reinforces the idea that doing videos leads to goodies.

Don’t fucking abuse the little guys and gals because they don’t feel like hamming it up for the camera that particular day.
Seriously, Hackney is better off, far, far away  from any child. Even her own.

And so the Clock Spring of the Cumulative Human Psyche Snaps loose again.

First off, yay.
Another shooting.
Just, what the utter fuck.
I mean, really, so soon after 50 people died in a shooting spree that spanned two mosques in New Zealand, some random ass hat goes on a shooting spree inside a fucking train in a Dutch town Utrecht.
No deaths so far, thank god.
Wish I had more to say on the matter, but I don’t.
Except, fuck these motherfuckers that think this shit is okay. It ain’t.
Also, I thought I had some amazing insights with that long ass title, but apparently, I have the honest to god insights of a blind chimp tazing a gimp in the sack with a cattle prod, and unironically, they’re handcuffed to each other, so trust me when I say, I feel your pain.
If you’re wondering about the title, the theory is this:

The solar system is a big fucking clock, yes, I swear, I ain’t apologizing! Lol?
Lol.
Anyways, let’s try this again!
Okay, so, think of humanity as biological, disconnected clock, with each category of human being a kind of piece in the great engine of said clock. The clock spring is the sanity level of the whole thing, and the cumulative human psyche is the clock spring that binds us all together, and, as you might have noticed at concerts, we’re kind of easilly lead in sing alongs. So take that initial example and replace singing along to crappy Nickelback songs with the potential for violence.
The looser the clock spring, the less chance there is for people to lose their shit, take bath salts, and rip their room mates heart through their asshole and eat it in the name of Cthulu to prevent the end times. The tighter wound the clock spring, the closer people are to simply losing their shit and doing the afore mentioned heart eating.
So, when the clock spring of the cumulative human psyche is wound too tightly, it snaps outwards, and whatever category of human it hits, and it takes a very specific category of human for this to happen, that person or persons will lose their shit, plan some violence, and in most cases by the end of it, take their own life.
To which I say, well fuck, less ass hats that do these kinds of things, the better.
So, the question remains, how long will this snapping out of the clock spring band take?
Well, unfortunately, its been going on for quite a while, and Donald trump getting elected, took most of the bat shit crazy momentum out of the damned thing and for two years, only stupid dumb things have happened since Donald’s absorbing most of the crazy being sent out.
So, I’m guessing this fucking thing has been going for a good ten years?
So, you’re thinking, where’s the proof?
What’s the evidence that this thing exists, even if its a theoretical metaphysical entity who’s presence is only ever felt when some crazy shit goes down?
Every mass shooting. (Large impact)
Every dumb ass Florida Man/Woman story you read. (small impact)
Every dumb ass fake anger about social media influencers (Small to medium impact)
Every fucking thing Trump has said/done/tweeted since birth (small impact, absorbs the impact)
Anything that has to do with out of the ordinary, boom, proof of the Clock Spring theory, and yeah, not the most scientific, but how can you be more scientific about some massive, theoretical, metaphysical thing in our lives?

Point being, shit be cray cray, and getting sometimes less or more cray cray, depending on what brand of cray cray we’re dealing with.

No other way to say it.

There seems to be a major disconnect, not the kind of disconnect that makes you think of a missed connection, or a frayed wire, but the kind of disconnect that makes one wonder what the shit is going on.
The old saying, “The family that plays together, stays together” Is very true, but what about the opposite effect?
In a three member family, Ma, Pop, and son, there’s a long standing dynamic that the family bond is supposed to be the strongest one, that no matter what, they have each other to rely on.
But what if one member of that family turns incredibly bitter over time, for whatever reason, and that bitterness turns into a form of control, what then?
How are the other two members of that family supposed to deal with that bitterness, wherever it may come from.
Is there a point later on down the line where enough’s enough?
That’s what I thought of the Lego Movie 2.

Impermanence: With the pull of a trigger

I normally don’t do scripted videos anymore, I like to be unfocused, let my mind wander. But for some reason, I can’t let this one go.
Too many dead.
Too much anger.
Too much is too much.
I’ve written scripts for videos on Mass shootings before, with the clear sight on anger, or confusion, or wondering just what the fuck is actually going on, and most of the time, it started off with anger, and then popped into a kind of cooled down rage.
Friday, Brenton Tarrant, Australian, and a former Gym Teacher who felt lost with the ideology instilled in him by his parents and society at large, who then went from place to place, trying to find something, anything that would fill his spiritual and ideological needs, went from bad to worse and finally landed on the White Nationalist ideology, and then took it one step further.
He planned a massacre with two other men and one woman.
Before he went about his merry fucked up way, Brenton wrote an 87-page manifesto filled with intolerance, hatred, and plain old racism, with phrasing in tune with ISIS, referencing Donald Trump, and calling for people to Subscribe to Pewdiepie for maximum damage beyond the scope of what a pulled trigger could do.
He carried it out, shooting and killing 50 Muslims worshipping at two mosques in Christchurch and another in New Zealand, and wounding twenty others as well, live streaming the whole 17-minute debacle through a streaming service, posting it on 8chan, and from there, the footage just spread like wild fire.
Please know that I fucking hate Brenton Tarrant, and any other person like him, someone who has lost their damned fucking mind, unsatisfied with their life, and clearly out of their damned mind. Someone who feels they need to take the lives of others in order for their own life, in their mind, to have any kind of worth.
New Zealand had been, until recently, inoculated from mass shooters because of its relatively small size and because it happens to be an island nation, yes, I know, but for simplicity sake, I’m calling it a island nation.
My focus and the effects of coffee don’t last as long as they used it.
Never the less, the response has been amazing.
Not long after the shooting, footage cropped up of New Zealand law enforcements beating the utter fuck out of Brenton, as all Law enforcement has the right to do to Mass shooters. At least, in my opinion.
Look, this isn’t easy for me to write, let alone keep my focus on, but I will say this, I’m not going to be one of those people who think that by not saying the person’s name or talking about it, you’re going to make the problem go away.
Know what that’s called? Digging your head in the sand.
Being a fucking Ostrich.
Don’t be a fucking Ostrich
Talk about the issue, talk about what the utter fuck is on your mind, stop hiding your opinion because that’s what the shooters want, if you stop talking about it, stop communicating, then how will we learn how to prepare?
I’m not one to be ashamed of my words, well, not anymore, when I state the following:
These past twelve years, in the scope of the sheer number of shootings, have been fucking horrific. Kids, teens, adults, men, women, old, young, civilian, former military, I mean, will it ever end?
The short answer is, no.
Not until we go the drastic route is making and slow and horrifying example out of the next one. I won’t go into detail, but dear god I REALLY want to.
Fuck it, let’s do this shit.
I think, we should televise the execution of the shooter, not in the classic way, not by the merciful bullet to the head or lethal injection, no, no, no, no, nooooo my friends. I think we should sit them down, and ask them one simple question:
We’re they able to get away with it, using whatever tools they had made available to them, and let them take as much time as they wanted to take their targets apart, what would they do, how would they go about it, how long would they take to get it done?
And how they responded?
Do the exact same thing to them, as per their own disgusting instructions.
Take them apart, piece by piece, as if the executioner was a mechanic, disassembling a car down its very bolts. Happen upon them what they would happen upon their targets.
Televise that shit, make it the only thing on.
Force people to watch.
Send the message that those who commit such acts on innocent lives will be dealt with in the same fashion, and their last words of disgusting intent be the words of their own undoing, and their last words will be of their own screams being cut short by the final merciful act of slowly, ever so slowly twisting their heads till they screamed like rabbits being prepped for the pot, their cries for mercy and understanding falling on deaf ears as their victims cries for mercy fell deaf upon theirs.
Tell them, in their final moment, that loved ones will not greet them, nor god, nor the devil. That their minds shall simply cease to be, their brains will shut down, and everything they ever knew will be nothing. Their body will lie, cold and in the dirt to be feasted upon and turned to compost by insects, and eventually all record of who they were shall be erased.
Whatever impact they held in life, will weigh as nothing in death.
The point being, and needing to move on to the next point of interest here, is that idiots are going to be idiots. That seems like a watered-down version of the thing I want to know, and knowing me, I’m going to say it somewhere else, but we need to do something about the chaotically unwinding clock spring of the collective Human Psyche. It’s snapped, and it aint stopping, yes, it’s slowed down some, and yes, Donald trump with his brand of crazy is absorbing the majority of the blows from this thing, but we need to figure out a way of stopping it completely.
The usual news cycle is going to play out, that Brenton’s a white nationalist, something broke in his head, thoughts and prayers are going to be flung out from across the world, and HOPEFULLY New Zealand makes good on its promise to change its gun laws, and from there, things will go the route they usually do.
Sad, but true.
And I don’t write those words easily.
I write them, knowing full well that lives were lost, families torn apart, sons and daughters will grow up never hearing their father and or mothers’ voices again, mothers and or fathers, brothers and or sisters, husbands and or wives will continue living on with a great hole in their lives where there was once comfort and joy.
We need to do better.
All of us.
In whatever capacity we can.
We need leaders that aren’t afraid of insulting their base when a tragedy strikes.
We need condemnation of Nazis.

All that we are.
All that we were.
All that we will ever be.
Within 200 years after our initial passing, everyone connected to us, all our works, all stories of our descendants, will be as nothing. Simply dust in the wind.
Data never to be viewed again.
Words never to read.
Voices never to be heard.
Within 200 years, if we’re lucky, and we’ve lived a life worth living, we will be remembered for that one spark of ingenuity that made us memorable.
All other details? Gone, until rediscovered.
If it sounds like I’m sucking the philosophical dick right now, that’s because I am. The Mosque shootings have gotten me thinking about the importance of things, the greater meaning behind it all, it’s kick started something in my mind that won’t let go, no matter how much I want it to.
Back in my twenties, when I was wild, free, not tied down by the twelve ton chains of the truth of life in general, that all actions, all words, all story lines, have been repeated countless times by countless others in one way or another, I had so many different theories about how humanity continued to be.
About how our seemingly infinite variety of facial and body designs, were in fact very limited in scope, and the only difference between you and that other, at least a hundred, at most ten thousand, other people who look almost exactly like you or had the exact same thought, interest, likes, dislikes, fears, and or non-fears like you were limited to that scope, because at our hearts, at our very cores, within that subset of values, we’re simply copies of people that came before us, and they, copies of people who came before them.
Yet, despite our similarities, what we share both mentally and or physically, the ways in which we go about achieving those interests, overcoming those fears, the technology we have access to changes with every cycle.

We are fucking amazing.

And yet, with the simple snapping of a mind, the spiral into the darker parts of the basic, primal, savage, lizard section of the human mind.
With the planning of the deaths of those incorrectly perceived to be threats to our own personal safety.
With the purchasing of weapons capable of carrying out such plans.
With the initiating those plans, aiming of those weapons, and the pulling of the trigger to take out those incorrectly perceived as threats, and the ending of those same lives…
Those copies of humans who came before, at least that particular lineage, for that person, if they do not have kids…
that persons story will end.
A kind of metaphysical, “BEGONE THOT!” moment.
We are only temporary, but the impact, the weight of what we, they, he, or she will have left behind can be felt immensely, as if to say, “Hear our voice echo throughout this mighty chamber, though I may be gone and my life now forfeit, my deeds, my actions, will haunt the ones that have done me wrong. For my soul was cast, not in the name of evil or good, but somewhere in the middle, so as I might choose my own path. Here my actions thunder throughout creation, for my name be but spoken, and judgement will come thundering down upon the that poor soul.”
Impermanence: Temporary.

How will you make your impact on history last eternal?

Fuck, that’s hot coffee.

And other amazing as fuck facts about life in general.
I mean, really. What did I think getting into this post?

That it’d be some amazing fact finding spree of inspiration, of such great heights that it would forever change the landscape of human discourse and force a great and powerful evultionary force!?
Should every post be something mindblowing?
No, I don’t think so.
If you like the post, you like the post, I’m not going to get all pissy because some fucking commentor that was marked as spam, shunts a half assed, grab bag of words into what can only be described as a brain damaged serial killers first words after losing his dick in a knife fight?

Fuck no.

And yet, I’m writing a post, simply for the fuck of it. Yes, I could discover some GREAT ANDD POWERFUL DIETY but why the fuck would I waste my time doing… whatever it was I was writing about?
More importantly, hot coffee is hot.. I mean, really fucking hot. I use Ice cubes to cool it off, because I like cold coffee, that’s just how my shit rolls, I mean, really, for all our accomplishments, you have assholes that like it hot, and those who like it cold!
I’m Mr. Winter, I’m Mr. Told you so, I’m Mr. Zero Fucks Given and no I’ll not give any to your pour.
I’ve literally forgotten the part WHERE MY FUCKING ANKLE ITCHES!
Itch taken care of.
Mission all complete.
End of Line.
Go fucking Voltron.
What the fuck am I talking about!? I don’t know, there seems to be a disconnect, there is a disconnect, I can’t remember what the utter fuck I was talking about, writing about, I’m not talking, I’m writing, why the fuck would I narrate this to myself!?

Fuck thee hard, with a rotating cactus Book of Faces!

First off, let’s get one thing straight:
Fuck Facebook, that’s all.
I mean, yeah, there’s more to it than that, and believe me when I say that I am one cynical son of a bitch when it comes to things to get mad at.
Seriously, I pitched an epic level bitch fit about an overblown beauty competition that seeks to first exploit women for their looks, than subvert the beauty pageant for and IQ quiz, as if women need to prove that they’re intelligent. They are, stop making them look like overstuffed tit fests you fucking sexist fucks.
I mean, yeah, I could be blowing that WAY out of proportion, but by todays standards, that shit was tame compared to what I would’ve put eight years back, and believe me, I was filled with fire and fury like the world would never have believed.
I was also filled with the idiotic notion that people would love my blogging skills despite overwhelming proof the only reason they ever read beyond the second word was to see how far into the post itself they could get before deciding, “Nah, fuck it, UNREADABLE GARBAGE!”
Because I did not edit worth a DAMN Back then.
I learned the hard way.
Like the Archbishop in Australia learned?

I mean, holy fuck. no worries, I’ll get back to the whole “FACEBOOK BE DOWN, EVERYBODY POST ELMO MEMES!”  shit in a second, I just want to talk about this idiot. He fucked two kids because he caught them stealing from the church, and these little guys were just minding their own damned business.
Anyways, legend has it that the guy that shit under wraps for DECADES before his own guilt ate at him to the point where he just up and turned himself in.
Whoa, and what the utter fuck?
I mean, thank god he turned himself in, but the shit storm he threw into the air among the cluster fuck sized hurrican of WTF the Catholic church is already going through?
Jesus…

Anyways, back to the point of this, fuck Facebook for being down even though I don’t really give a shit. Yes, there arep eople out there that get EVERYTHING from FB, and good for them, really… show’s something positive about the platform that ultimately means people are going to freak out every time the platforms down for a few hours to half a day.
I mean, where else am I going to see crappy adverts for games I already don’t give a shit about?
”OH MY GOD, THEY WERE RIGHT, THE GAME SO AWESOME, FACEBOOK THOUGHT IT WAS A CONSERVATIVE POST SO HARDCORE, FACEBOOK TOOK ITSELF DOWN!”  Wait… no, that doesn’t strike the right chord here.
”OMG, FACEBOOK IS NAUGHTY, DON’T LET YOUR GIRLFRIEND CATCH YOU PLAYING WITH IT, AND YOURSELF!” Nope, still not right.
”FACEBOOK WENT AND FUCKED ITSELF OFF THE INTERNET!”
Perfect.
Or, is it? I can never really tell.
I mean, really, to me, Facebook is the thing that I HAVE to keep an account on, not because I need to, but because it connects me to my fam, my friends, and my potential dates that never quite get to the actual date part. Which is, at the moment, how I prefer it.
But, for those who’ve gone the “MUST WORSHIP THINE BOOK OF FACES, OUR SOUL FOR BAD PAY TO WAIT TO PLAY GAMES!”
It’s almost as if Le Zuckerberg is testing out a theory, so he brought FB offline just to see what would happen, and holy shit, he brought out the popcorn  and had himself a marathon as people took to twitter to shit all over the website as if it were their drug of choice and their dealer was a no show.
Fucking beautiful.
Though, I could be wrong, I mean, I’ve been wrong about things before, so it wouldn’t surprise me if the given reason were that FB is going through the piecemeal process of updating its platform on a massive scale to combat misinformation campaigns launched by Trump supporters to further influence the 2020 campaign.
Now, don’t get me wrong OR right, there’s a chance we might have a second Trump Term, but then again, we might not… Like, really. I’m almost excited at the prospect of how  this election cycle is going to play out… Still, with FB being down, which might be a sign of the times, that the unyielding might of the platform, is gone, creates a vacuum.

My thoughts about working for Amazon

NOTE TO THEE: I originally wrote this while I was STILL working for them, it’s still relevant, and I’m trying to clear up my drafts, and I don’t delete any posts. what was written then, is still relevant today.

Dear god, it has been a while since I last posted, hasn’t it? Well, here I am, so let’s get this shindig out of the way! I’ve been working for Amazon for little under two months at this point, and I’m going to rant a little bit.

The hours are long, the work is simple, and since it’s ULTIMATE DEATHMATCH SPACE BATTLE EPIC PEAK SEASON ALPHA 2018!!! We’re under tremendous pressure to knock out as many packages as possible.
Dick joke, or work joke… YOU decide.
Anywho, the atmosphere is relaxed, friendly and jovial, and there are plenty of ways to keep yourself entertained throughout the ten hour shift, talking WHILE working, arcade machines in the break room, watching tv, eating, and working. They’ve even got a work based waterslide that only the packages can use! See? fun for the whole working class family! The inside of the place where I work has the design scheme of what the inside of a robotic hard boiled egg might look like, white and yellow, and it’s a maze of pillars, poles, conveyors, tape lines, barriers, and machines all over the place, it’s pretty amazing how everything fits together.

At the heart of it all, you’ve got the varying departments working in concert with each other, for simplicity sakes, I’m using abrievs bruh, abrievs, but you’ve got IB, OB, ID, OD, UR, and a few other bits and bites, each section is like it’s own little city, with it’s own little mayor and it’s weird, fun, and all that jazz. I’m in Ur, which is fun, kind of, it keeps me busy, entertained, and I get to watch other people occasionally slack off while the lines packed to the gills, but fuck them, we’re a team.

Like I said before, the work’s pretty fucking easy, and the only way to not have smooth sailing is to NOT PAY FUCKING ATTENTION, because there’s a big fucking thing right in front of your face, two of the, really, that’s telling you where each thing is going, and it’s the simplest bit of fun in the world. You’re essentially paying the easiest game of lasertag in the world, and that’s pretty much it.

That being said, the pay’s great, the options are shweet, plenty of ways to grow and climb up that ladder. The only thing some of the weaker willed people couldn’t get their heads around was the long work day, it’s only long if you pay attention to it, and it’s not like you’re bolted in place. You need to get some water? Go get it. Need to relieve yourself? Do it to it, in the restroom, obviously.

There are couples in the place, and there are plenty of chances to find love or friendship in the place, but I’m not there for that, I’m just there to work, get paid, and go back to work some more. But, humans being social creatures, finding friendship there is one of the mandatory things that happens whether you want it to or not. I’ve made plenty of awesome friends, and I’m getting the hang of things, and with the arcade machine (I LOVE THAT FUCKING THING.) I’m finding ways to keep myself entertained, I wanted to start writing again, I can probably do that during my lunch, since that seems to be the thing that’s on my mind the most.

That’s one of the weird things though, Amazon, the work afternoon, evening, night, and early morning tend to sap your creativity, or energy, so you have to wonder this: When something takes up most of your day (For good reason, you’re there to work, not fuck around, fun as it is, it IS still a job site.) I’m left wondering if I’ve got the time and energy to continue my own writing projects, after all, those are the things that’ve kept me going the longest, and I’ve thought about that very thing…. It’s all about finding a balance I suppose, one that I’ll eventually find.

There are a few gripes I have, those are far and few between, for the most part everything works as it should. For the most part. As with any tech, there are moments when things don’t work as they should, or things just go dark (Not the place, just bits and pieces of small level tech, mostly due to human error), and there are a few ways they could help improve the workflow a bit better.

As much as I want to continue, I’m reminding myself that discretion is the better part of valor.

Bottom line: Hours are excellent, pays good, plenty of room for growth, ways of keeping yourself occupied, friendly atmosphere, every level works easy AF, and blast past the goal markers, and it’s pretty cool over all!

Nazi Beer Pong, R. Kelly Crying, and Erasing Michael Jackson… What the fuck.

So, normally, or rather lately I don’t bother with the stronger stuff, I just don’t, there’s already enough examples of me getting pissed about dumb ass things that really… I shouldn’t get mad at.
Still, the Miss America Pageant can go fuck itself, I have my reasons.
So, what’s the new rager today?
I mean, if you have to ask that, ya’ didn’t read the title of this, did ya?
So let’s tackle the biggest fucker here, shall we?
Nazi beer pong. Teens who recently learned about the Holocaust, and saw the angry Austrian dude flinging hands around, who blamed Germany’s defeat on the Jewish annnnd subsequently decided, “AWRIGHT, LETS PARTAY!” first off, fuck em. fuck those idiots for thinking this was such a GREAT FUCKING IDEA in the first place,
Yes, I get it, they’re sorry, but y’know what? That’s the beauty of getting older, you start to give less of a fuck about the fact they’re sorry AFTER THE FACT and more pissed about the fact they did this shit in the first place.
Not to mention, y’know, the great sentient cheesy poof with a habit of flicking the word Fake News everywhere failed to condemn Nazis, and said there were great people on both sides… Yeah, I’m guessing that had a shit ton to do with why they thought this was a great theme for a party, which, HA, underage drinking and the usual dumbassery of thinking they’d get away with this was fucking brilliant.
Also, kudos to the dumbass that thought up the brilliant plan of flooding the principal with emails so he wouldn’t be able to expel them from school. yeah, no. If I were the principal of that place, I’d have thrown a fucking rally, invite the little bastards to the center of the auditorium, give a big ol speech, and hand them the expulsion papers, and yeah, while that’d be quick to solve the riddle of “Hurdur, can’t expel us if we’re gunna flood his emails!” and quick to piss a few parents off, I’d kindly remind the little shits that our school has no room, absolutely none whatsoever for that kind of bullshit.
And yes, the parents would have their opinions about “WE PAID SO MUCH MONEY SO OUR DARLING LITTLE ANGEL COULD HAVE THE BEST EDUCATION!”
I would have mine, “We sent good young men to their graves by the thousands to kill the Nazi sumbitch that was killing over 6 million Jewish practitioners, and the last thing we need is another rise of the Nazi, get your kid the fuck off my campus.”
My initial gut reaction over with… Let’s dial it back a little.

First, don’t get me wrong, I read the CNN article, and I’m happy that the Nazi Beer Pongers got a taste of reality, by way of Eva Schloss telling them about the horrors of the Holocaust, about how she and her Step sister, Anne Frank, hid from the Nazis in an apartment block, and survived the concentration camps while, unfortunately, Anne Frank passed away before her sixteenth birthday.
It’s refreshing to know that with the proper guidance and educational tools, as well as a little first person recounting of such horrifying events, the youth of today can become a better generation.
Seriously, Fuck Nazis.
I wanted to get that out of the way before heading into the second part.

R. Kelly crying… Just, okay, I don’t even know where to begin, so i’m going to start at the heaviest thing here:
The man’s accused of having relations with underage girls, imprisoning women in his house, being a controlling asshole, and… yeah, let’s zipline back to that first one, since, the other two pale in comparison:
R. Kelly is being accused of being a sexual predator.
Just… what the actual fuck. And when Gayle King interviewed him, and I love this part, because it shows that for a split second he premeditated and planned this shit out:
Robert asked if a particular camera was on him, and when it was confirmed, the dude purposefully flipped out, addressing the camera directly, screaming, punching his fist, flipping out, basically the god damned water works.

And I wasn’t focusing so much on the man baby being a dramatic asshole, I was much more focused on Gayle herself, she sat there, with poise, calmly trying to figure out a way to get everything under control, and she did just that.
He just continued pouring on the gas to the fire and went all out, and while I’m tempted to feel sorry for the guy, I can’t, I just can’t.
IF, for some reason, this was blackmail, or someone had kidnapped someone close to him, and he was freaking out about this, because they wanted something of his, but he’s like, “Nah motherfucker, my shit’s mine.” THEN and only then would I feel sorry for the guy. And if he’s proven innocent in the end of all of this, I will walk back my comments, but if he’s guilty of pedophilia, then all my fucks have simply run out and he deserves everything coming to him.
It’s sad to know that being a Celebrity comes with the known risk of someone destroying your life because of a fuck up, and yes, I am aware that nothing’s been proven yet, but Robert’s going to have to register as a sex offender, serve time in which he’ll get his ass handed to him many times over, his music’s getting pulled off the play lists the world over, and basically, his life’s work is over with.
Hopefully, the latter’s not the case, but if it is, fuck him. Never listened to his music that much anyways. And there will always be a dedicated fan base, no matter what. People, fans, that will listen to his music no matter what the hell is going on.

Which brings us to the final third of this: Because of a documentary aired on HBO, “Leaving Neverland”, basically the poison pill that kills the majority of love for the King of Pop, Michael Jackson is effectively and posthumously being erased from culture, why?
As stated above, there will always be die hard fans who’ve got eternal love for Michael Jackson, no matter what, but it will become more and more difficult to publicly show that appreciation for his musical genius, especially when there are parties out there, ever ready to continue their assault on his musical majesty.
The documentary has interviews from people claiming Michael molested them when they were kids, and I’m not going to lie when I ask the question, where the fuck were these assholes while he was alive?
Why did they only feel safe to come out of the woodwork ten years after he passed away, though there are people out there that say his doctor murdered him. And verdicts as well. Nother topic for another day, if I remember that.
What disturbs me the most is, that in this weird era we seem to be in, Which, hey, if it does the great deed of removing creepy fucks from positions of power, I’m all for it. But, if the movement assails the memory of the person after they’ve passed away, that’s just wrong.
Regardless of what the proof and verdict is, I will always enjoy michaels music, regardless of what the majority of die hard Celeb Status killers want to say.
Prove them guilty while they’re alive, while it has the most impact, don’t wait till their bodies have been cold in the ground for a decade to turn the cherished memory of the person into a pile of shit smelling ash.

So, in closing:
Nazi’s can go fuck themselves.
Robert Kelly needs to man the fuck up and stop pitching bitch fits at the camera.
Stop trying to kill the memory of his Musical Majesty, Michael Jackson, long may he moon walk over the haters.

Just needed to get this out of the way…

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