OH MY FUCKING GOD

I was thinking about the grand scope of the universe and why it was the squirrels get the best stick in life, like an ACTUAL fucking stick, I mean, if it were an actual FUCKING STICK that’d be questionable, because then you’d see sweet old ladies screaming for their lives with bags of broken crackers, all the while a fuck ton of squirrels with oddly bloody twigs would be chasing her, and you KNOW shit’s about to go down when you see that kind of bullshit happen.

I once saw an octopus. No reason really, it was just there, and I was having the time of my life just looking at this fucking thing, and I was like, “Hey, octopus.” And the thing did say a word, because it has an ass mouth. That’s right, you heard, Octopi have ass mouths, they can be masters of talking shit, because of their ass mouths, and there’s nothing you or I can really do about it.

There’s such a thing as redundant torture, where you do something utterly inane to someone else over a large or short period of time, and they’ll finally be all, “Hey, what the fuck.” All calm like, but you know deep down they’re sad.
Or… something, I don’t fucking know.

Maybe we’re all just in a simulation and the robots are the real players here, because that’d be absolutely amazing, if ready player one wasn’t about the time space-continuum because a vacation inditing the mass roach riot of 20:14 military time, because I like fucking with people’s perception of things every now and then. It’s just a thing I do, you know how I know? Because you aren’t me, and even if you were, I’d still be the one writing this fucking thing, so you can’t stop me no matter who you are!
Yes, I ripped that from Ace venture, which is honestly my favorite movie of all time.

I don’t wonder why time traveling eggs don’t time travel, they’d be too chicken by the end of it. Ha.

Dumb jokes for smart people include:
1. My dating life.
My hair line.
The fact I more famous than a regular potato.
Every knows a regular potota. Or potato.
Fuck pototas. They’ve done nothing for humanity.

Those assholes.
This blog was brought to you by the overwhelming need to fuck around on the interenet and write some weird bullshit that’ll make you question if I’m high or not.
I am 6″5 or six foot five inches. Why does my jaw feel like a peice of toast ready to pop the fuck out of a toaster? Oh yeah, gravity. I keep forgetting that’s a thing.
Kinda like Brangolina. Or Bracheal.
Or Bennigan’s.

Coffee Thoughts in the morning!

God I fucking love coffee!

Seriously, nothing more satisfying in the mornings then hcocking down some random shit I no longer care about writing.

Well, not that topic anymore, I don’t write these morning blogs just to be all philosophical and shit, I write them to just fucking say what’s on my mind, and there’s not really much on my mind, no, really!

I used to try and make sense of the world, try to unlock it’s various dick shaped puzzles, and try to be something more than my mind actually was:

Infinite confuckled about everything stupid and trying to be more intelligent than a methed out gerbil being stupid funny on a facebook live of a Captain Hook porn parody where no one’s having fun, and everything just seems fucked.

More or less, I’m sure the clown in the corner, sadly jacking it to a rendition of “hurt me more” by the Sugarpops and Daddy6969 is truly just wonderful.

Outside of that, I drink coffee and slap my face against the keyboard because i need to more freeform with my thoughts, try not to bog em down with the heavier shit, because that’s what the fuck I was doing for a long fucking time, you know?

Understand the mysteries of the universe, logic it all out.

There’s nothing to logic out, it’s all impulse!All fuck this, blow up that, make fun of this person, why?

What’s the point?

Aren’t we fucked enough already without that added pressure of the constant shit talking?

Maybe we just need to shut our minds down for a bit and relax, not worry about what the others are doing as Jack and beanstalk simply refers to the act of getting a blowjob from a snaggle toothed, broken jawed hooker during an earthquake on a rickety roller coaster.

Or maybe it’s something more which I don’t have the mental patience to deal with?

I dunno…

I just do not know.

I’ve spent so much of my life looking at a keyboard that it’s really the one constant thing, more constant than staring at a screen for one reason or another.

Although it does seem a bit more fun than backwards fisting a zombie in the ass.

Maybe?

Yeah definitely don’t want to think about reverse fisting anything that’s decomposing.

Ha… You’re thinking of it aren’t you?

LMAO!

that’s the thing I love about coffee thoughts, you can just say whatever’s on yer mind and not really have to worry about a fucking thing!

It’s a freeing feeling, something I’ve continually missed as i’ve plugged away at this project or that project, wondering when and if I’d get back to the one thing that really matters, randomly blogging about nothing at all, or making some sort of sense to the five people that actually read this thing, all over the world…

Did you know I used to be read all over the world?

Seriously, that shit was insane, yeah, I used to talk mad shit about people over at VVC back when there was shit talking to be done, but I was fucked read all over the place.

Sometimes for good reasons, other times for bad, sometimes for reasons that  seemed a bit obtuse, no, no intelligent words.

BAD BRAIN, BAD FUCKING BRAIN!

Point being, I guess no matter what I do, I’m going to have some kind of draw, some kind of gravitational pull, even if I don’t think I have one. After all, hits are hits, regardless of how many times or how many minutes people read or watch. not that i’m complaining, it’s just a natural fact of life that now a days, if you’re aren’t shit talking someone, you’re not a part of the cool crowd, though to be fair, I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of the cool crowd?

Maybe?

I’m not really sure anymore, everything’s a bit fuzzy in the memory, sometimes I get flashes of the person I used to be in my twenties, and I look back at the things I wanted to accomplish, and look upon my many failings, and see that there is a veritable graveyard of them. But I can’t give up!

Not giving up!

Ever since I tried to hang myself, I’ve come to the realization that my life, my efforts, my everything really, is more important than just some one off project that for one reason or another needs to be slapped together in the form of a blog or something to make others happy.

It’s a way of keeping myself motivated for the future, to punch that sun right in the fucking dick!

To proclaim to the world that all should HAIL BILL FUCKING WATSON!

To make the most badass shoutout videos in the world and keep people smiling.

I lost the goal of that in the course of chasing high hit counts and wanting people to subscribe to me.

I lost that point, maybe that’s why my follower count hasn’t risen or fallen? Maybe that’s why I’m struggling to get anymore traction?

Or ,maybe I just secretly gave up the rat race once I figured out the truth of the matter, that no matter what I try, there’s always going to be someone to shit on my parade.

So I need to shit on theirs first, because of course that’s going to be a thing, right?

I create because it’s what I’m excellent at, I’m godlike when it comes to creating things.

the question is, how do I turn that creation into profit, more importantly, how did I go from using all of my finger to only using five? that shit confused the hell out of me.

Is it to match my internal voice when it comes to… thinking?

I dunno, don’t care, batshit crazy thought time:

So a penguin with a machete and a tiny top hat went on a tiny adorable rampage at a library and that shit went sideways with the chihuahua FBI showed up and was all “BARK BARK MOTHERFUCKER!”

I KEEP FORGETTING THE PURPOSE OF THIS BLOG, TO NOT MAKE SENSE, TO HAVE FREE FLOWING THOUGHT IN A WAY THAT’S NEITHER CONSTRICTING NOR CAUSES ME TO PAUSE, LIKE AN ECLECTIC COLLECTOR OF LECTURES. HA! I DID A THING THAT MADE ME SMILE ON THE INSIDE.

PEOPLE SAY I NEED TO SMILE MORE, WHY? WHAT’S THE POINT? WHAT AM I SMILING AT?

THE SUN?

THAT SHIT’S BEEN THERE FOR TRILLIONS OF YEARS, AND NO AMOUNT OF SMILING IS GOING TO CHANGE THAT.

OH, SHIT, I’VE HAD CAPS LOCK ON THIS ENTIRE TIME.

There we go, that’s going to read very weird, people are going to be like “Why is he yelling about smiling at the sun?”

Puppies, I don’t know, that’s just the word I was focused on when my fingers hit the keyboard, and now this blog is getting more metaphysical than I’d actually like. I need to practice using more than just two fingers- SHUT THE METAMINDFUCKING PHYSICAL BULLSHIT DOWN!

There we go, hate it when that happens, because than I’m just focused on the random bullshit that’s going on, and you see what’s ACTUALLY going on instead of enjoying a nice nonsensical blog about shit that no longer matters ten minutes down the road as you focus on which Forte Nite skin to use to do the same thing over and over and over and over again. Because really, that’s all gaming really is, and maybe I’m over extending my reach as John Wick 3 is just about John Wick going on a murder rampage because someone took his plate of nachos at golden Corral, and john’s had enough of that shit.

The movie will be a veritable and verifiable week long in running time. And it will be just millions of senior citizens rushing John in an attempt to fuck with death itself.

Wow, that’s on my mind heavily, maybe it’s something more, or something less.? I need to go to the mental gym more often and work on the mental gymnastics required to keep this train of thought going?

Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t give a fuck anymore about trying to make sense, nope, old topic, moving forward, moving on!

I like writing songs, it’s a pretty fun experience, to hear the flow of the music as you slap a ham sandwich against the way and make fart noises and than you think, well this isn’t making music, just making a mess.

Where art thou?

Love ends, the search begins, and a memory of a sexy Code Girl rises.

Don’t let the picture fool you, I’m now single.

there’s a slightly heartbreaking sentence.

The failing of a relationship to hold together, merely on the basis of the man’s inability to get the woman pregnant. mind you, said woman is not legally divorced, and is only legally separated.

Oh, and she had just turned 30.
So, I’m guessing, THAT’S a valid reason to break up with someone?
We weren’t trying for kids, we had talked about the possibility of kids AFTER we had gotten married, only getting married AFTER she had finalized the divorce.
Maybe she’s just looking for another baby daddy?
Yeah, I’m guessing that’s it.
Because she straight up told me that she’s passed the point of recovery and is moving forward.
Well, I’m happy to hear that, good for you!
REALLY.
Good… For YOU.
Because let’s face it folks, when a relationship ends, there’s only one real way to deal with everything, and NO… you sick little fuckers, it’s not to buy the original Kermit T. Frog puppet on Ebay and have live streamed fuck session with it, because THAT’S not what I did.
Nope, I just sat there, stonefaced, like a boss, cut to the point, when she tried repeating old arguments, I cut her off, stating plainly that we’d already talked about that. And she tried FB shaming ME.
I’ll give you a minute to laugh, because I’m laughing as well, in fact I haven’t stopped laughing about her attempt at controlling the break up like it was a fucking press release, and I straight up told her as well, “Break ups aren’t like a clothing release, you have no control over that whole thing, and since you’ve already let me know what this meeting is already about, I’ve ALREADY got the emotional part out of the way.”

I was like motherfucking Obi Wan.
“I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND ASHLEY, IT’S FOOLISH! I LOVED YOU LIKE A WIFE, YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE, YOU WERE MEANT TO BRING BALANCE TO THE FORCE, NOT TIP IT OT THE DARK SIDE!”

Nope, not feeling bad, I ended the relationship, i’m owning it, not letting the little twerp take that shit away from me. Because you know what? After a month and a half of absofuckinglutely nothing? I felt nothng in return, I treated her in that short 20 minute conversation, as she treated me, and it felt WONDERFUL.

She tried making the tears, and I just continued looking her in the eyes, not a tear drop forming in my own. She knew what the hell she was doing when she sent that text, and I knew what the hell it meant, so I waited a full day before reacting, because if there’s one thing I REALLY hate? It’s being left in suspense.

I’m sorry, this ain’t “Dukes of Hazard”
“Looks like them Duke boys got a notice of potential break up from Daisy, wonder how they’ll get themselves out of this one? Stay tuned and find out!”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Fuck that bullshit. We were together for two years, and I learned a thing or two from her, always prep for the best, mehhest, and worst scenario, have things in place ahead of  time, and the let the fucking odminos fall where they may.

i’m thinking to myself the whole entire time, like, “don’t tear up, don’t tear up, don’t move, don’t react., don’t even blink. Don’t blink, you blink, and that’s when she’ll attack!” Like it’s an episode of Doctor Who and she’s a weeping angel, lmao.

i’m choosing to find the humor in this situation, because I can’t find anything to be mad aboooooout…. Yes, yes I can, one thing, always one thing. She was constantly late, she said she’d be there at a certain time, she’d never, EVER be there on time. Until the second year in the relationship, where she MAGICALLY got all the timing right.
Yay.

Small victories folks, small victories.
For some reason, she always hid me away in her room, like she didn’t want me talking to her folks, like she had already known that ANY man she’d met on Tinder was just a rebound dick, and should NEVER develop any kind of friendship with her friends or family.
bitch please, herding me is like herding twenty cats without any treats, my ass is all over the place, talking to every single person in the room if there’s something sparkly on them. Like, “Well, we’re going over there- SPARKLY THING PERSON IS HOLDING, BRB ROFLCOPTER!”

There were a bunch of things she did, small things, annoying things, things that stayed under the radar because A, those small things happened behind the smoke screen of, “It’s okay, I’ll be patient, because at the moment, I love, respect, and want to make sure she’s amazingly happy. Plus, I fuck like a mother fucking BEAST, and she ain’t NEVER finding dick like me ever again should she leave me.”

Words to live by folks, words to fucking live by. And I get it, people grow apart over time, things change, and sometimes a breakup needs to happen for those people to find their true happiness, and in the end, despite all the jokes, because at the end of the day, despite what looks like a massive, dickishly mean, asshole take down of this woman?

We were perfect together. We completed each other in so many different ways that we both honestly believed early on that it could’ve led to marriage. She laughed at nearly every joke I made, and I laughed at every joke she made, even if I didn’t connect with it. I loved her, as one would love the air in their lungs.

I loved her, her daughter, her family, her brother, and I connected well with her friends and extended family. I feel no guilt over how things ended, for a while, I understood completely, she supported me during my time in Great Lakes, sending me perfume scented letters and pictures, letters, pictures, gifts which I still keep to this day, granted, she returned the picture I made for her, bitch move Ashley, total bitch move, but, I understand the motivation for it.

We had both been thinking of ending the relationship, I just got to the finish line first. there was no breakup sex, she could’ve been offering, but I had my laptop with me, getting some work done, and I just didn’t feel like spending four minutes packing up after only being there for an hour or so.

It’s… it’s for the best, right? She’ll find someone, I’ll find someone, and those few precious memories not captured on picture or video will slowly fade away, as… as they were mean’t to.

It’s been a few weeks, and I can’t even remember what her voice properly sounds like, so… Progress, I guess?

Before we met up in person, there was another woman, just one singular meeting, mostly nonverbal. A Kirsten, Chirsten, Kristen, Christien… She was absolutely astounding, she was Caucasian, around five foot six inches, maybe taller, brown hair, cut short, buzzed on the sides, made into a small pony tail, eyes that you could REALLY fall into.
She was programming an A.I. for a hospital, she worked in the I.T. department, I think. She was wearing a white tank top, might’ve been either a C or B cup, nice body, beautiful voice, I wanted to kiss her right then and there.
I’ve always had a thing for women with tattoos, as there’s always a story behind every one, even if it was just someone liking the design.
We talked intermittently as we both worked, striking up a conversation only when we had finished the majority of our work, though, secretly, I think she might’ve been one Kim A.K.
But, that’s just a theory, a identity theory! Thanks for watching!

Kirsten sent me a text one night after Ashley and I had finished making love, she asked who that was, and i told her all about Kirsten, and she was pretty cool about it. In the text, Kirsten asked what I was up to, or if we wanted to meet up, and I apologized, that during the time we had last seen each other, I had found someone else, and that we had been going out for a few weeks. She asked for a picture, so I sent one of Ashley and I at the park during one of the days I was trying to study for the ASVAB.

I wished her much happiness in her search for the perfect guy, and she wished us much happiness and a long and healthy relationship, and outside of a few times where I sent her a ‘How’s it going?” text, I hadn’t heard back from her.

My only question for her at the moment is this:

“Where art thou?”

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

An Open Letter to YouYube.

Dear YouTube, hi. How are ya? I’m fine, more importantly….

Image result for Youtube broken

What the fuck took you so god damned long to figure out that Logan Paul is an atrocious shit bag? Did you not see the warning signs that he was becoming more and more unhinged? Did you think that, “Oh, derp, he’ll get back in line!” Look, ya dumb asses, every time Disney let’s go of one of its stars, they go through a bat shit crazy period and then finally fucking calm the shit down.

I get that you’re probably sitting on your thumbs as Advertisers break off the little money orgy you had going on, but at the end of the day, you just need to silence the adfessive mother fuckers once and for all. Hitting their wallet? Yeah, that helps, but really? You just need to shut their fucking channels down, like, delete and IP ban them, show other SmallTubers that you actually care!

Look, at this point, your Algorithm’s a teenager, looking to post all the dark, gritty, offensive BS that it can and seeing just how far they can push it till you have to take the reigns, and for a while, it got away with a bunch of weird BS. The Limit was the Suicide forest and then you waited until Logan tazed a dead animal, and even then, it wasn’t until after Peta got involved that you really did anything.

You really need to stop prioritizing the Creators based on how much money they make you and start focusing on the content that they post, and yeah, the 4,000 hours watch time for those SmallTubers, like myself who’ve worked their asses off trying to hit, but for some reason, our subs just subscribe to us because we’re a meme to them or something else.

At this point, I know for a fact there are smarter people out there with the facts and figures and numbers,  but for the life of me, can you tell me in your own words just what is going on with trying to curb stomp the crap out of crap content makers like Logan Paul whose content poses a very real threat to the community? It’s influences like him, and those who subscribe to the shock value of things, that make it hard for guys and gals like myself still trying to maintain our ability to make money off of your site?

Because I guarantee you, that if you continually make it harder for us SmallTubers to make it big on your site, we’ll probably just end up going somewhere else… Like Facebook… Ugh.

 

Love,
Morgan James Does Games

We see the truth, but only through the static Trump creates.

We know what he’s done.
We want to prove that he’s done it.
We want to focus on what Trumps done to fuck the core of our Democracy.

But we’re constantly distracted by all the other shit that Trump’s pulled, too much so. I’d say that at this point, we’re the detective with ADHD that has all the clues, the confession, the footage, everything and keeps getting distracted by little things. It’s fucking ridiculous. We know of EVERYTHING and yet we’re still dickin’ around, playing with the news as if it contained something precious!

Why? Why can’t we just punch through the Trump Static and learn the truth? Why is the news beating around the bush? What is taking so long? Why can’t we just oust the fucker from office, charge him with treason, put him on death row, and move on from the fucking thing? Are we that enamored with this whole thing that we just can’t get to the end?

This isn’t crying, or raging, this is asking the essential simple question:

How are we getting to the root of it all, and more importantly, when will the other shoe drop?

My ear feels weird…

Last night I had a weird dream, and in the dream, I was trying to figure something out. It was like I was lost in the woods, trying not to focus on what was right in front of me, even though that was the important part, and focus on everything else that was happening in the area. It seems stupid, I know, but that’s how I am now a days ever since coming home from being Separated from the Navy for catching pnuemonia andfalling behind in training.

They did something to me, something that I’m not able to account for, they broke me, and in turn, broke a little bit of who I was away. I can’t find that peice, I’m easily distracted if over stimulated, and more prone to getting angry than I was before. Normally, I’m a pretty calm person, but lately, I dunno, it’s almost like I’m not my old self anymore. Like I’m trying to fight my way through a smokeyroom, but I’m the only one there, left to my own paranoia about who else might be in there with me.

It doesn’t make any sense to continually dwell on this, but at the same time, it feels perfectly normal for me to want to talk about this kind of thing. And while I know for a #realnews fact that my Lady Love, friends and family will be there to talk to, there’s always been this more visceral, more thorough satisfaction in writing out whatever’s bother me!

Lately it’s trying to get past that initial wall of surface level thoughts, but that’s like diving into wet cement trying to get through to the other side, there’s always so much resistance, that I can only write or say what’s on my mind, whats ACTUALLY on my mind, after repeated attempts to breach the subject. Sometimes they are depressing, other times enraging, and other times there’s nothing there.

I’ve been blogging nearly my whole adult life, and in some instances, way before then. So I’ve got a lot of pages under my belt… I still need to get everything organized… But I’ll get it done, and published. I just need to stay focused…. My ear feels weird.

I have blogger’s anxiety.

Okay, so it’s been a while since I’ve written a blog entry here, like for a REALLY long time I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write. I was worried that whatever I was going to write wasn’t going to be trendy or funny, or catch people’s eyes, not to mention that the pressure of social media to be trendy or cute, or whatever the fuck is happening in the world is almost too much.

So I trapped myself in the world of fiction, I put myself there for so long that I no longer felt like I had anything else to write about in the real world, where as in the past I was BOLD, brave, reckless, ready to offend and not give two shits about whatever it was I was oging to go off about. That route made me somewhat popular, but at the same time it had me worried that I was going to offend the wrong people with my words. MY FUCKING WORDS.

In truth, my parents kept interrupting me whenever I was writing something down, almost to the point of being a super coincidental annoyance. I Guess that’s my biggest gripe about blogging, I want to start there and work my way out, because it’s super hard for me to stay focused, and sometimes I need to talk about what’s bothering me. After all, this IS morgansmindcicles.wordpress.com right? RIGHT!?

I love my parents, I REALLY really do. thing is, I’m a writer, writing is what I love to do. It’s my morning bread and butter, it’s the thing that makes me want to reach my arms in the air and fist fuck the sun until it explodes! I don’t consider it a good blogging experience until I’ve written about ten to fifteen paragraphs, which also explains my publishing speed when it comes to Sogno Della Dinastia. brb.

Thing is, mother fucker…. every single god damned time…. No wonder I have fucking anxiety. God that coffee is fucking weak as shit! Anyways, I dunno where my anxiety is stemming from, but I do know for a fact that I’d likje to punch the air so hard it creates mini black holes and shove them right up Donald Trump’s ass! The guy is a complete and fucking idiot, or #fuckidiot because reasons! I usually lead off with something serious then go into the weird inane bullshit because I want to lead away from the topics I’m thinking about, kind of like a certain fuck headed tiny limbed, shit burger fucking Placeholder in Chief.

Donald Trump is like the edgy teen that kicks geesein the face, then claims the police reports are #fakenews. Only thing faker than his perception of the news is how much longer his marriage is going to last and I don’t see that bit of reality being disproven any time soon!

Did you know cupcakes are a thing? I think they are but I’m not too sure. I once wanted to be a porn star, but now after seeing the news, I nolonger feel that way. I should run for President, they’d vote for a porn star? They would, because if people have already seen junk go into your trunk, there’s not much else they can really say. I mean yeah, Stormy would get lots of questions in regards to how thick the dicks were, what position was her favorite, and eventually it would fade into the usual polotical questions and her leanings. Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least. But have no fear, Oprah’s winning the 2020 and we won’t have to worry about a god damned thing anymore.

Call me a Snawflake, but when I shake the mountain, your asses are dealing with a fucking blizzard! Speaking of which, I redownloaded Starcraft Remastered out of nostalgia, and… well, it’s pretty much the same game it’s always been, not going to lie. Like it’s the same game, same way of playing, same everything, but at the same time, youre left wondering what was the point? True, you could use the remastered to introduce new players to the old game play conepts and then ease them into the sequel, but at the same time… I need something new.

I like the map making aspect of it, and I used to be completely boss at making UTGOTY maps like crazy! I came up with some pretty fucking badass map designs, and I’d spend hours making, texturing, and placing the wlak path nodes for the bots. It was a fucking blast! There was this one map, set in space, two basses on a connecting asteroid orbiting the planet? Hell fucking yeah, I loved that shit! I also dabbled in RPGMaker, which I haven’t checked to see if they updated or released a new version of yet.

But I had a pretty bad ass concept, there’d be the classic good versus evil concept, but it wasn’t the usual case of “WE’RE GONNA DEFEAT YOU BECAUSE CHEESECAKE!” It was more like they were an old married couple, and they’d do this as foreplay for when the REAL shit was about to go down, so they’d flip a coin, who ever lost had to be the “Evil”  one, so they’d create four blank souls each with their own story line, but always leading to the outcome of having to face off against the “Evil” side. I put so much fuckign effort into the first attempt, always working on it whenever I had the time and patience for it.

And then the file crashed, so I tried it again, same concept, it was always the same concept, but no matter what I tried, I just couldn’t get it to stick. I thought at first the problem was the scope of the game, so I tried making a small game to ease into things, set the bar low, y’know? No dice, couldn’t even finish a “Point A to point B” game.

Finishing something, getting to the goal. Knowing that you never had to look at it again and that it was off in the world doing it’s thing… That’s my issue. I mean, the process of writing, editing, formatting, and publishing books is a pretty good example of that… I’ve published a number of books:

The Dorikame Saga: Birth of Change

The Dorikame Saga: Broken Omen

Songs of the Soul

The Wrath of Puppy Monkey Baby

Messages to an Illegitimate President

The Debate of Factions

The Six Strings of the the Highlander’s Guitar

But… This is the way of things… Y’know?

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