This… could be interesting.

Sometimes I don’t think.
I just do.
Not in the inspirational way, not in the ‘Let’s go get ’em boys! Today’s our day!’ way, just the instinctual do.
It’s a strange thought, no more stranger than anything else I’ve tried to accomplish, but at the very same time, you have to wonder about the intellectual clockwork that might be missing from whatever thought processes weren’t there.
For instance, I decided to make a sandwich, and before I knew it, I had already eaten the sandwich.
My question:
Where did the time go?
Did it disappear into a vase only to be pushed off the ledge in a time space event known only to Dan Aykroyd and the security footage of my left nostril?
And suddenly this supposedly intellectual take on not thinking just took the metaphor, and released into the cruel world in reality, where bitches be crazy and The Bachelor and Bachelorette are shows about truly indecisive fuckwads where clearly the producer is crotch stabbing them with a cattle prod in order to the the results the Networks desire.
A… mazing.
Or is it?
for within these truly inspired works of total genius lay the one truth that has both pressed its meaty sausage against the peephole of life and hidden it’s Donald Trump sized shame in a fourteen year investigation about whether potatoes can ACTUALLY see from their, and I quote, “eyes.”
Before the very mental speaker, of which you are NO doubt mentally verbalizing a slightly drunk Ghost bosters era Dan Akroyd, lies a genie.
A Game Genie. and you, like thel ittle psychotic game hacker you are back in them id 90’s decided to put in a random code, only to watch as you NES went sailing to the cieling like a fireworks display, inside a mobile fireworks shop, being made currently, inside a fireworks factory. surrounded by fireworks.
A… Stounding.
truly, the width and breadth of humanity is on full display before your very eyes in plain black and white.
And this is why i should neverb e allowed ot have coffee at 2:33am, for this very reason.
Because the longer I make this blog post, the more insane and incomprehensible it becomes, and like every crack addicted actor in a rendition of MacBeth ever using only the power of screaming, boiling lobsters, clown puppets, and surprise punches to the crotch of every man woman, and child in that very theater, I will continue to fill your head with such vivid imagery that your brain never wanted.
Enjoy the night terrors of little Timmy Traumatized as the organ music blasts “Send in the clowns” but they are sent in the exact wrong way, and little Timmy Traumatized now spends the majority of his paychecks on Therapy and vicodin, knowing only the blind fury of the fact that now, you’re imagining Morgan Freeman narrating this, or Jerry Seinfeld, but most likely Alex Trebek as played by Stone Cold Steve Austin, POWER BOMBING THE UNDERTAKER IN WCW XIIIL!
Dan Aykroyd.
I should post this, but I won’t, but eventually, I will, fully edited to the peak of literary evolution, and made to shine like a gold plated pile of shit, andp owered by screaming nun gerbils. their little squeaks of terror bring the demon robot joy, in an ever evolving effort to turn their little adorable fur coats in the a blanket of snow white madness.
My god, the humanity would have been appropriate, but since these are currently misspelled words on a screen, humanity nor God, has anything to do with this.
And oh shit, it’s sunday, and I should get to sleep, but I refuse to, on the principle, that sometimes (you’re now reading this in Clint Eastwoods “Dirty Harry” era voice.) a man’s got to do with several jars of nondescript glow in the dark playdough, what a man’s got to do. And what that mans has to do?
Is build such a version of Frosty the Snowman that wanders the streets at night, screaming into the kitchen windows just as someones about to pour hot noodles into a strainer, and wreak his oddly specific vengeance upon the world roughly around dinner time each AND EVERY NIGHT!
This blog took a WTF turn, didn’t it?

Oh to thine own soul, I doth speak to thee

I speak a summer’s breeze of creativity, heavy and rife with intellect and naive of the mind’s own maze of batshit craycray.

Preface:
Caffeine was involved.
Copious amounts of caffeine.
No fucks or apologies issued, you knew wtf was going to happen.

Let’s get something straight here, I fucking swear in my posts!
“BUT WHY!?”
And I say to you this, my child:
Because, the human language has over a trillion words in various dialects, each with their own unique needs and wants and kinks, and sometimes, the word ‘Is’ likes to do the butt stuff. Hard butt stuff with mimes dressed as T-rex’s, each armed with fifty dildos and a crosed of broken glass, which MUST BE INSTRUMENTALLY INSERTED INTO THEIR NIPPLES LIKE A CROSS DRESSING FUCK KING!
So, yeah, I swear.
Right now?
right now I’m about to lay some knowledge into your faces heads, and in your mind anus, some infojizz will bloom the might horny person into the wellspring net of yahaolmyspace.com!
So… if you were expecting an intelligent and thoughtful, proviking stance on why longboats needed to be shipped into the email addresses of local midget villages, than you’ve… made a wrong turn somewhere, because here? Here is the MOTHERFUCKING MINDCICLES! Where the contrast between intelligent and ALLMIGHTYWHATTHEFUCK happens just as quickly as a dick stabbing squirrel dressed as a honey bee setting fire to the orphanages of all of Christmas Day!
Plus, straight coffee fucks with my head in magical ways. And yes! Yes my friends, my followers, there will be days where madness spits in your face nipples and your eye feet will run, SCREAMING INTO THE MIDNIGHT FORESTS OF THE DEAD SOUL DEER, AND NOTHING SHALL RETURN!
Except, a higher knowing of what you just read might become the stuff of legend. I say unto thee, I speak for the worms and the wood, and the wood winds, and the woods that break wind, fart and from that fart, know that you shall launch the moon monday penis into the sky clouds and hamper the laundry of the infinite sadness!
Wait, the fuck?
I don’t care about making sense, I just need to write something, anything, something that makes me feel like you follow me so that at one point or another, this Bob ross of a painting of words will somehow inspire your to greater heights. Maybe, somehow, somewhere, the minds that crafted the intranet, the internet, may one day VENTURE TO THE OUTERNET! and holy fuck I’m looking up the OUTERNET as soon as IO finish writing this! Like, fuck me, that’s an awesome idea, the inter, the intra, the outer, the through, the around, and the undernet…. MY GOD, MOTHER OF FUCK LORD’S GOD, WHAT HAVE I INSPIRED!? Nothing? Everything? Possibly something that may make the thought raptor of Seclusiondick 5 turn vegan ONCE MORE AND SOLVE THE DINO-CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS!? Well, that’d be a fucking amazing mashup, wouldn’t it? I mean, to literally be there while a SUPERSTEGO shoots dick beams of ice and fury…. that…. truly would be a FROST JOB!
I’m not going to be serious in the post, I don’t wanna be, there’s no need to be serious in a blog post all the time! Sometimes, you just need to say fuck it with the sanity, and go with the mental flow! After all, if there isn’t a blog post out there that speaks to the psychological inner workings of the mind through abstract constructs, then you’re just wasting the time of both the reader and the writer, for every step we take is another that someone else may one day too take. Maybe you two end up in a foot race of thoughts and ideas, each step taken inspires you further along the road of life, and your souls become synched, tuned, like fine instruments to be played at such a level only those with the finest hearing can truly see where it leads!
And I KNOW for a fact that some people follow me because of the sometimes insane ramblings I post, and others for the intelligent aspect. Or maybe you read because I’m just an interesting guy, I’ll never know, really. I just want to entertain you, like the MIND SLUG SQUIRRELS OF SCOUT TROOP 555- Kidding. Just think of every non sequitur as an idea for a short story, something bottled up and shaken around for a little bit, and finally let loose. I’ve been wanting to get back into writing short stories for a while, get my thoughts out to the world, you know?

MY work schedule just kind of drains me of that, day by day, hour by hour, scan after scan. IT just seems like I’m losing a bit of who I am, and like my man Paul always tells me, “HEY! KNOCK THAT DEPRESSING SHIT OFF!” I just wanted to keep myself pumped, at the same time, I’m just a little bit freaked out by the progress in my life. For the first time in a while, a LONG while, I’m finally at a job where I’m just knocking shit out left and right, where I’m surrounded by thinkers, doers, gamers, and people with a shit ton of experience to draw from.

those who’ve followed my blog for a while, know that I’ve been around the net for a while, that my posts are unfocused, a kind of stream of consciousness kind of dealio, but it’s all good. It just takes a while for me to get to the meat of the issue, and if you’ve read this far, welcome to the format, a thick layer of insane ramblings, and underneath the prospect of learning something deeper about me. Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t build a squirrel launching catapult.
Maybe, I shouldn’t dress the quirrels up in little Evil Kneivel costumes.
Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t aim said catapult in the direction of metro PCS. but this world of ours is full of surprises! and no matter what, we can all agree, that Trump is a fucking moron who’s going to kick off world war 3 by tweet alone.
Because fuck him, that glow in the dark son of a bitch! That fuck nutted shit for brains, used cheeto bag fucking, mushroom dicked, tiny handed, treasonous fuck munch of a human being! That rejected Garbage Pale Kid, that shit for brains ass face, that fucking moron, that diaper fucking ass for face! And yeah, I’m kind going all in, because like I said in the beginning of htis fucking thing, I swear in my blogs, and there are MANY MANY MANY layers to this thing, and sometimes, just sometimes, you don’t need to make sense, or focus on ap articular thing, or just fucking fuck shit up on a literary sense.
Sometimes, you just need to go all in, and as long as the thoughts are pretty much fucking unorganized little traumatized SPIDERS FROM A DEAD CLOWNS BROOM CLOSET, THE WORLD WILL SEEK THE UNDERKING OF THE NONTERNET, SLOOPY MCFARTNUTSACK! The stretchiest of Fartsacks the world has never cared to here.
Fart Sacks. The nuts of the human ass. The biological equiviliant of bending space and time so that the WORLD CAN’T UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL SCREECH CRIES OF THE TERABYTE BASED FLOCKAWAVES! They shall know only SORROW! Like the creeping insect voids of Therserererer Five nine eight! Wellp, whatever sanity this particular post had, has left the building, I mean, it WAS there for a while, and then shit just went left field, right field, pitchers mound, and ran the fucking bases.
Home fucking run.
Wait, I wonder if its possible to fuck and run and the same time?
I mean, seriously, the act is possible, on some level, by the sprints of each act will REQUIRE THE BEES OF A THOUSAND HIVES AND SEVERAL JARS OF JEFF PEANUT BUTTER!
Jeff, because while Mothers like jiff, Jeff has a bitching sports car, also the latest AC/DC Compact disk. Jeff Peanut butter, tastes like blood, motor oil, and getting chicks man!
God damn it Jeff.
Um, what was I going on about? The bee population is shrinking and no one really understands why, maybe Antisex groups are mkaing tiny bee condoms? Like, how does that shit even work? OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO SEARCH UP BEE DICKS. Also, fun fact, the size of Narwhal Penis is determined by the size of their Horn. Ladies, lmao. So the larger the horn, the bigger of the balls, and thaaaaat’s…. fucking disturbing the shit out of me. Not for the normal reasons, but because now?
Now I’m imagining regular bees, with regular narwhal hors, and giant ass testicles. So, there’s a bit of Nightmare fuel. How do Narwhals jack off? By slamming their horns into rocks or something? I mean, that make sense if you think about it… And you’re thinking about it.

I just invented Nogfee

It’s so fucking disgusting, you have no idea, but it’s just kick in the fuccking pants I needed to write this shit out. I guess, I mean, I’m not one to judge that bag of goldfish over there, but I think it’s going to kill me in my sleep. Fucking young link in smash bros is probably the weirdest sentence I’ve ever written, though right NOW I’m not trying to direct my flow, just let it go where it will, you know? But that’s the thing, as soon as I say I’m doing one thing, my mind’s like, “NOT TODAY BITCHES!” And we start all over, which is fine and dandy I suppose, since working at amazon, is kind of like working for one of those weird out of the way gas stations, and dumb asses are always ordering the weirdest shit.
Face dildos, like, really? The only possible reason to want a double sided face dildo is if your kink is deep throating yourself while you head bang into your girls crotch. and if that shit’s going down?
Listen to lamb of God, very relaxing music.
Speaking of which, I think I just set up a hookup situation with an older co-worker who’s kinda out of shape…. Like… what the fuck. I’m not comfortable with this at all, since A, she just flat out texted me, “WYD… wantafuck?” And me, not wanting to be a dick replied, sure, why not? Look, I did not sign up for amazon to get laid, I work for amazon to get paid And yes, that’s a fucking rhyme, and I don’t lie, I got the flow to make this work and fuck my life I can’t stop.
Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of rap, and the strange fucking thing is that I’m pretty good at dropping the beat myself, and it’s scary what you lose in the process of it all. For every one thing you gain, you lose something else.

Annnnd fuck my life I just gave a coworker a link to my blog. Not the one mentioned above, different one.
Welllll, meh, fuck it. Sup my man! I know, right? WE’RE FUCKING VIKINGS! Which I guess is a better statement than WE’RE VIKINGS FUCKING! Or the following:
1. Vikings, we’re fucking.
2. Vikings! We’re fucking?
3. Vikings? We’re fucking!
4. Fucking? we’re Vikings.
5. Fucking. We’re Vikings?
6. Fucking! We’re Viking!
7. We’re fucking Vikings!
8. We’re fucking Vikings?
9. We’re fucking Vikings.
10. We’re fucking, Vikings.
11. we’re fucking, Vikings!
12. We’re fucking, Vikings?
And so on, so…. yup. It sometimes gets a little deep up in this bitch, and we all know that sometimes, you just have to dress a weiner dog up in a little adorable hotdog costume and let the little fucker run around a room filled with people stoned out there mind.
It will either wind up being the funniest thing you’ve ever seen, or maybe a horrifying case why you should never call a breed of dog, that naturally looks like a hotdog, a weiner dog. Yup.
Dark.
Like fucking batman.
Or even fucking Bruce Wayne on either Mother or Fathers day.
Shit’s just… y’know… fucked.
“MARTHA!”

Fuck you Donald John Trump and everything you do.

Trump’s a bitch tart.

Dear Treasonous Trump,

You sack of shit. You utter fucknutted bitch tart. You sickly looking, shit filled, no good, rotten, scoundrel of a human being. you should be tried, charged, drawn and quartered, but just enough so that you’re still living (barely) and drug through a path of broken glass and salt.
You want to know how I really feel? That’s it. i fucking hate you Trump, and not because of 2016 (well, mostly for that, but there are other reasons as well, I mean, come on, 2016 was 2 years ago, right? SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT.) you annoy the utter crap out of me you son of a bitch, and for those politisnobs out there wondering the exact reason? fuck off! i don’t have to give an exact reason, there’s no exact reason for wanting a treasonous son of a bitch out of office and in the execution room filled with crack addled, razor toothed chihuahuas while wearing nothing but a Santa outfit made of drugs and raw meat!

There’s just justification for the incredible amounts of fucking shit that the assfucks been putting everyone through, and everything that I’ve stated FROM DAY FUCKING ONE IS COMING THE FUCK TRUE SO THE GLOVES ARE OFF YOU ORANGE FACED ROTTED DISTENDED TESTICLE LOOKING MOTHERFUCKER! Because in the end? Trump didn’t even matter after all, everything he’s ever done has fallen the fuck apart, and hwile there are great people on both sides of the dumbass spectrum, this motherfucker is king of them all! It’s like he doesn’t give a shit, yeah, he’s trying, but not hard enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got friends and fam that’re trump supporters, they’re great people, love’em to pieces.

I just really fucking hate Donald john Trump with a burning passion that makes me want to light some fireworks I guess, like, I really didn’t KNOW where I was going with that one, just lost my train of thought on ye old “Fuck Trump”¬† train.

I’m not giving any quarter to that fat assed, tiny sausage fingered little bastard, because he’s an utter fuck nutted shit brained, piece of ass fart who’s only stupid racist goal in his entire pathetic existence is to eek out an existence as an organ monkey looking for crack filled peanuts with the efficiency of a dumbass named Trump. IS there anything he’s done that I agree with?
Are you fucking with me right now? Did you NOT SEE THE TITLE OF THIS POST? It’s not called, “Fuck you DJT” because¬† I’m getting him a birthday card and was wondering whether or not to get him some birthday cake along with the egregious amount of shit I’m giving him, and the truth hurts, people, the truth hurts, but Mueller’s is going to fuck his shit up with the efficient of a god damned nuke going off in a fishbowl and there ain’t nothing anyone can do about it, not whitman, not sessions, that keebler elf looking fuckbag.

I’ve been so fucking silent on this whole thing, because I wanted to see how things were going to play out, andp lay the fuck out they did, because god damned, the soap opera that’s become out current president has become so fucking ridiculous that it makes me wonder if Stan Lee, before he passed away, in his great amazing wisdom, created the first true to life Super Villain and made him a complete fuckbag and sent him into the office. Because the only cameo that this motherfucker has going for him is a permanent place in hell, (Donald John Trump, not Stan Lee. Stan’s is in heaven, making the best damned comics the universe has ever see. RIP buddy, gonna miss ya.) Trump can suck my fat sausage, because that shit stain of a russian bitch is nothing more than everything I made his greasy fuckface out to be, a god damned traintor to these United States of America, and Treason is the reason of the season bitches, and it’s coming out in ALL THE FLAVORS OF THEM OTH, IVANKA, JARED, ERIC, DUMBASS JR. everyone of those little bastards is going to hell in one way or another, (Except Baron, that kid’s got good things coming to him, nothing against the little dude.)

Okay, nuff of this, gotta get ready for work, Morgan’s Mindcicles everybody, new and improved, and about damned time.

Coffee thoughts

make you wonder if there’s anything in my head worth wringing out… Because thought drops are shit enough without the proper things.

I’m sitting here in my underwear wondering why cheetahs and the name of the snack is so fucking hard to spell. Maybe I’m lazy? I could be lazy.

Either that or I just don’t want to pay attention to what I’m saying anymore. i’m seeing a therapist because recently, I tried to hang myself. I know, shocking, right? Actually, it is in a way.

I’m too bored at the moment to go through the whole process of reliving that shit, so I’ll just link the tweet thread at the end of the post. I drank a cup of coffee at the moment, so nothing I’m saying actually makes much sense. But i don’t think it’s supposed to, maybe i’m trying to be more than I want to be at the moment, but i really need to get back into the whole blogging thing. I love the stats of seeing how many people read my stuff, all across the country and all that, but I gave up trying to keep up with the times or what’s trending, because than I just lose the point of writing the blog.

which is to just keep my thoughts out of my head, and into your heart. or some strange fucking bullshit like that. I dunno, recently i’ve just been at a loss for words because of what I put myself though that it just seems pointless trying to find the right audience. Maybe there isn’t one? Maybe I just don’t know how to run a blog? Or maybe I’ve found the right audience, but at the same time, my skills at marketing it are kind of shit?
I really don’t know. the most important question I have at this point is why the moldy fat bridge troll Rudy Fuckedhisaunty thinks that the Truth isn’t the Truth, when in fact, the Truth, is the Truth. I’d like to punch him.

I don’t care if he’s a lawyer, or former 9/11 superhero, guys a fucknut, and I challenge him to a fist fight. i’d kick his ass. He knows it, I knows it, and now i’m speaking like Popeye, because fuck proper spelling at this point. Do you know how many hamster i’d like to fire out of a minigun?
Me neither, because I don’t have a gun license, a minigun, or a bullet belt with tiny enough hamsters to find out the answer to that very disturbing question.

I could be looking at a mirror, but then how would I write on the keyboard? this blog is a mystery. Some points are constant, others are just fuckled mysteries that need more explaining than people are will to put forth. though I don’t dare claim to be a great blogger, I’m just putting my thoughts out there, a Gonzo blogger if you will. there’s no hard hitting truth, no mystery of the universe 3, just one asshole, a cup of coffee and a wifi connection that’d make you wonder if there’s anything in my head worth wringing out… Because thought drops are shit enough without the proper things.

Maybe I just wanted to write something, I’ve been out of the loop, and as much as I want to rag on Trump for this or that, I just don’t have it in me anymore. Yeah, I could put more energy into my posts, add a picture or two, but really? i’m a lazy blogger, my entries are what they are, and despite all my efforts to try and cultivate an audience, my thoughts are kind of flat and boring. Do I let you into my life and get yelled at for it by my controlling parents or do I just dance around the topics that are long bothering me and leave you more disappointed than a hooker hired by a club of ED sufferers?

Okay, that one was pretty good. Sometimes I don’t get it, I try to make myself interesting in some fashion, it works out for a while, and then I get bored with it. Why? What’s the point?¬† Is there some greater purpose i’m supposed to be serving? Do I just go slowly insane talking to myself for weeks on end, gibbering in a strange language that only I and the shadows in a well lit room understand? Or am I just getting older with the knowledge that no matter what I try? My own futile attempts at some form of relevancy or just enough to make someone laugh for half a second before turning to something more interesting?

Maybe i need to get drunk off my ass again and write from that standpoint. I’ve been a bit angry at nothing for a while. Powder room with no lit fuse or something. Something to focus my energies on, something to grasp at straws. I’m good at being despondent, annoyed by things out of my mental grasp, and just in general, being a massive asshole to people on twitter, or maybe I’m not a massive asshole on twitter… maybe I’m just me, not fully grasping the nuances of comedy as as write this in the voice of a fucking noncy wine consumer.

Don’t know. Don’t care. Bored. I need to do something with my life….

I just drank a pot of coffees worth of caffiene in just a few gulps.

So let’s just get right into this fuck shit. I’m not angry, actually, I’m going with stream of consciousness and figuring out why peanuts are peanuts. Are they a Pea? Are they a Nut? Are they the rejected abortion of the people behind Peanut butter cups? Do they not get half sassed Christmas cards in the mail? Are their spiders in my brains? OH GOD! THERE ARE! send IN THE FLAT STANLEY, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK IS THE EQUIVALENT OF CLOWN PENIS! Well…. Aah, that got weird in ah hurry. But maybe I don’t feel like being smart today? No, I don’t feel like being smart right now, because I damn well can’t figure out a smart topic to write about. And OBVIOUSLY, that’s what you guys follow this blog for.

Right? Or is it just the random madness that pops up and goes “HERE THE FUCK I STILL AM! MAY HA HA HA!” Because that’d be awesome! Only the Rat King knows his nose from a mug shot line up of… People with fairly large noses. I guess? I can imagine the line of questions going on there.

Cop: Which one picked your nose!?
Rat King: THE ONE WITH THE MIRROR!
Cop: That’s…. Just the mirror.
Rat King: THEN, I, SIR JULIUS OF FRUIT SQUEEZING, HAVE WRONGLY PICKED MY OWN NOSE!

God, I miss screen writing, I love it so much, but at the same time, I’m trying not to be too focused on whatever the hell I’m thinking about. you know, trying to stay out of my own ass so I can see the SPIDERS IN MY BRAIN HAVE STARTED A DEMOCRACY! OH MY GOD, FAIR TRIALS AND FREE GAMES WITH NO PAY PER PLAY FEATURES FOR ALL! Things are looking up, but at the same time, you’re thinking: WHAT….What the fuck am I reading!?

Or maybe not. Maybe your train of thought has gone else where, or you’re now reading this in Morgan Freeman’s voice. Hello, I’m god. Ha, I just fucked a clown, and the world is my ostrich. Good news everybody, Jim Carey’s a… Twitter based philosophical god of random existential crisis tweets. I guess.

I dunno anymore, I thought it’d just be fun to write like I did in the olden times, back in the good ol days before I became blessed with having quality memes, or even a focused line of serious as fuck blogs about shit that I’ll slowly begin to hate with the VILE FURY OF THE RAT KING, JULIUS OF FRUIT SQUEEZING! That’s… Going to become a thing, I can tell. Maybe I can’t? I can’t tell, the sparkly blue hat I’m wearing prevents me from caring too much about any one thing, and for that, I thank you. No, I really AM wearing a sparkly blue hat. It’s taken me too fucking long to load up the sparkly hat picture, but just know, just know, I AM WEARING A SPARKLY BLUE HAT! Damn it feels good to be wearing a sparkly blue hat. This is my party face!20180220_185206

Holy shit, I am forevermore adding random pictures of myself to express different moods. Like fear:
20180220_185932

rage:20180220_185948

Kawaii:

20180220_190001
Rocking out:
20180220_190004
Complete and utter badassery.
20180220_190021

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