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.

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.

What is goin on!?

More likely, their doing to us, what we’ve done to squirrels for decades, and some of those little bastards are now in charge of Google getting their sweet, sweet, Tracker Tat revenge.

So it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything on this peice of crap blog. But I’m not gonna slam my own posts, because that’s what douchebags with no social lives do! See, I teach you things! Really! Anyways, let’s get this thing started off with a big ol wire hanger up the cooter, right? Abortion is no laughing matter, but since it’s bunch successful in only bringing up peoples lunches with pictures of horridly mangled fetuses, I’d like to point out that getting cornered by this picture posterboard carrying sons of bitches right after I’ve eaten my meatball and noodle sandwich in heavy velvet tomato sauce, is pretty much a good way to turn a attempt at traumatizing with education about abortion, into a reverse paint throwing, with the pain being the contents of my stomach, and the fur coat being their face, neck, and chest.

Sometimes, I get lucky, and it lands on their expensive shoes. They argue that I should pay for a new pair of shoes, I argue that should buy me a new lunch. All uin all, they eave me alone, and I have nightmares. The actual procedure of abortion is kinda like a game of hungry hungry hippos. Where the Mr. Fantastic hippo is the wire hanger, and well, the poor little bastards are those annoying white plastic balls. now I’m not going to talk about this, because I seriously think that ultimately, who the hell are we to tell a woman what to do with her kid? More importantly, are the new line of Furby dolls possessed by the tears of disappointed six years olds? I say yes.

Furbies are fucking evil, and if you bought one for your kid, there is a special placei n the deepest level of hell reserved for you, Reality TV producers that thought honey Boo Boo childs TV show was a great idea, and Bill O’reily, cause that little jack ass has it ocming to some extent. Speaking of polotics and the evil doe eyed dolls it produces, Dem’s, Indies, and Repubs are arguing all over the place whether or not Obama’s glitchy as hell healthcare system should be given a Rocky Franchise number of chances, and if they do, should the Mascot be a Furby, because A) It might be evil, possessed of many flaws, and often mistaken for a stuffed ferret that got addicted to meth. B)It’s something that Special Interest groups that lobby for Big Insurance are vehemently throwing mounds of their own bullshit at because, why theh ell not make a simple thing complex?

I argue that Obamacare be given a chance. Yes, I voted for the guy on the premise that he’s not a republican, nor Jeb Bush, and that’s a win on both counts to me. I am a left leaning middle of the road kinda guy. And to those of you that bring up the point that Pres. Obama is the Antichrist/Worst president Ever/(Or, for those Racist assholes out there) It’s called the WHITEhouse for a reason, I counter with this:

He’s the Democratically Elected POTUS, and Y’all are jackasses, especially the racist ones.

While I don’t normally yap on and on about things that don’t interest me, I’m gonna put my foot in your mouths while you’re sleeping on this point. When Bush was elected… Twice, He made love to this country, and left us all with a horrifying case of “WTF Space Crabs” in the form of a few wars we didn’t need, a globally recognized “Kick Me” note stabbed to the U.S.A’s Reputation, and most importantly, he decided to throw us all over a cliff at the end of his second term while singing “Bye Bye Birdy”.

In other news, I support Gay Marriage, since, you know, the persuit of happiness is in the fucking constitution, and the GLBT community deserves to be just as happy as the rest of us. Also, it’s none of our damned business about how/where/with who/when/why/where/what they do their business. I’m simply happy for happiness sake, and to be honest, the High Desert, in general, though a very lovely place to live, has the most paint peelingly horrid pessimism levels ever incountered. This does not apply to everyone, just the ones that’re always dumping their bad news all over my pretty damned good day.

More pressing then that, Google is apparently becoming the Devil more and more. If you’ve ever seen the movie, Left Behind, with that one dude that was theh ero in 3DO’s The Horde, there’s this bit about getting tatted up so Satan’s little techies can keep an eye on you. Mind you, I’m religious, but not to the extent that creeps people out. just I’ve just done to myself. Anyways, there’s talk of a Giggle Tat out there with cyber ink, not the cyber you’re all thinking of you dirty, dirty person you. Apparently, they’ve decided on squeezing the T-1000 into a tat needle and jamming that jerk right into people’s necks, just a little bit at a time. Isn’t our privacy supposed to be, you know, PRIVATE? We’ve got FB screwing us in the front, the internet in the back, and now Goggle’s decided to jam shiny shit into our necks and claim it’s for cTech communication purposes.

More likely, their doing to us, what we’ve done to squirrels for decades, and some of thosel ittle bastards are now in charge of google getting their sweet sweet Tracker Tat revenge. Then there are all the little things I’ve missed out on yapping about, like PETA being a giant bag of dicks, because they care. Just… Not about Fashion, hard work in that soul sucking, vacuum formed sub culture of pissed off anorexic women who can never turn right, and must treat the stage like their own personal NASCAR track.

Yes, I’m talking about the always mockery filled world of Fashion, abusive managers, and labor in third world countries that produce those awesome shoes you’re wearing thus far. I’m in yo’ computer, searching through your internets, hide your browser history, hide your cookies, and hide your stash of horrible, horrible, adult videos, cause… I’m not in your computer, and half of you freaked out like I was. The internet is pleased. I have nothing more to say…

For now!

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