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.

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.

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.

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

I repeat. Stupid Teens piss me off.

There’s this twitter group chat I was pulled into that I wanted nothing to do with. Called The Spooky jungle 2. Three Teens, all 17, looking at me like I was a god damned hero. Well, I’m an adult, and I’m all the fucking wiser, turned out, all their praise and ‘Yay! You’re you!’ was just to get a rise out of me, just calling me babe was a fucked up way of trying to get me pissed at them. Well, ya know what? I didn’t care, I was focused on getting books written and published and I’m not the same idiot I was way back when, before I tried getting into the Navy. I’m smarter, busier, chiller. And these kids were doing their damnedest to try and piss me off, but ya know what?

I didn’t let em. there was this one idiot, I forget his name, he was a forgettable piece of shit, and mind you, all of this took place on Twitter. I hate stupid people, and more importantly, I really fucking hate stupid teens that end up pissing me off for one reason or another. You want to know why? Especially on the internet, I had spent a good couple of hours helping these little fucking idiots out with all their stupid drama and problems and how do they thank me?

They start hammering on me like I’m just some dumb ass, calling me a fuckin’ meme, like that’s supposed hurt my fucking feelings? Bitches, I’m a motherfucking Living Meme, you calling me a meme is like saying the blue shit above our fuckin’ heads is called a sky!

No fucking shit I’m a meme, ya don’t think I know that? They kept calling me their sugar daddy, which I wanted no fucking part of and to be honest, their YouTube channel was fucking shit anyways. According to them, the only way to get anywhere in life is to be an annoying shit bag filled with dicks, or at least that’s their approximation of it anyways. These motherfuckers kept pinging me on twitter like I was their lord and savior, I’m sorry.

No, No I am fucking not. If anything I’m an easily irritated man who put up with their stupid BS because hey, they called me friend! Boohoo fucking them. So, after they get all weepy eyed because I ain’t playing their game, after I gut whatever piss and shit filled pants drama they were going after, after all I fucking do for them, they turn out to be just regular fucking shit bag teens, like I said, there are smart, good teens that know their asses from a hole in the ground and then there are the fucking assholes doing the tide pod challenge as if their Social Standing on Instasmackedface needed it. These little fuckheads, were exactly the second category.

Look, I can understand wanting to get to know me, that’s cool and all, but when you go and turn ass hurt over me not talking to you over the course of a few days, that’s when I know your parents didn’t smack ya hard enough when you did something stupid in their presence.

I ain’t going soft here, if anything, I’m still very much pissed, parents need to control these little shit bags on tighter leashes and prevent this kind of bullshit from happening. I’m not going to go back to being friendly after you spend an entire four hours pinging a group chat on twitter calling me a fuck head because I’m not playing the role you assigned me ya stupid club penguin playing piece of shit!

I honestly can’t stand that type of needling shithead, I really can’t! so what? I’m not doing shout out videos for anyone anymore, but you know what? I’m a fucking human being with feelings, and if the underdeveloped logic center of your tiny, fucking, idiotic brain can’t handle the fact that I’ve got better shit to do than heed to the whiny, bitchy, ignorant, crying pants shitting that you and your stupid fucking idiot teen friends on twitter are currently crying about, so the fuck what?

Boo fucking hoo, Kim kardashian liked a photo of a former friend of yours, but didn’t like your own!? OH THE FUCKING WORLD IS ENDING BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T GET YOUR WAY! Well, lemme call Dr. Fucking Phil and we can have ourselves a fucking pow wow and get all touchy feelly with whatever Hot Topic based emo bullshit you’re going through!

Fucking ay… These stupid fucking teenagers… Yeah, I could rip on Millenia’s, but why bother? Every stupid idiot trend they set, they’re paving the way for the future. But when 16 year old Becky Whogivesafuck from Idontgiveashit creates a new design for earbuds!? OH MY GOWD, LEMME SNAPCHAT THE SHIT OUT OF THAT FUCKING NEWS BECAUSE NO MATTER WHAT, THAT’S GOING TO MAKE THE FUCKING HEADLINES FOR GOOD DAY LA OR WHATEVER THE SHIT NEWS PROGRAM currently has a case of the fucking happy feelly get #metoo’d right in the face!

I’m not sorry at all. I’m very much still ticked about the whole entire situation and while I can understand the irony of me bitching about stupid teens on the internet being stupid fucking teens, there’s a line I usually draw in the sand, a huge line. I don’t care for the idiotic memes, I don’t care for the reckless idiocy, I don’t fucking care about whatever fucking beef is being had by whatever two music idols that can’t fucking sing without a fucking iphone attached to whichever of a thousand genders is going down I don’t fucking care about any of it.

My thing is this, you treat me nice, I treat you nice. We’re friends till you start being a shit heel towards me. “Look at your YouTube channel!” What about my YouTube channel? Are you going to point out anything specific or are you going to leave the insult half finished like whatever stupid fucking idiocy is running through your heads at the moment!?

I long suspect that no. Teens today think that a question is an insult. They think that eye rolls are insults. They think that asking questions, regular questions, or telling you to look at something, is a fucking insult. It is not. It’s just a fucking question or a direction to look at something, that’s pretty much all it fucking is! You see the Kardashiwhogivesashits point at the camera man going, “Ugh, look at your ankles, you’ve got weird ankles!” Well, I wouldn’t put it past them to try something stupid like that. Because in the age is fuck headed ass monkeys, there are no bigger fuck headed ass monkeys like some of the teens or young adults on twitter i get to put up with.

Another great example is when I tweet something that i believe in, and then you have a fucker that constantly, at every possible moment in fucking time, decides to reply with some stupid shit! Example:

@MorganGavin

Today is going well!

Reply by @fuckfacemcgregtard

Yeah, but I’m going to jail!

My initial response used to be: Well, okay then. Still a nice day.

My response now is: You did something to deserve it you stupid shit bag!

Look, the process for all forward growth is conflict. Without conflict, competition, and survival of the fittest, we wouldn’t have good people and shit heels. If you’re a good person, good for you, I already like you. If you’re a shit heel, go fuck yourself, never blemish my day with your very shadow, ya shady as fuck idiot. God damned… feels good to get this off my chest.

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?

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?

Of Mice and Mentality, or, screw that noise, I wanna watch Spongebob!

Okay, this past week has been a bit of a blur for me, so let’s start off with a topic everyone can agree to:


They’re arguing about sandwich shops. Please god, let them be arguing about sandwich shops!

so, everyone’s still bugging out about Ben Affleck being a horrible, nightmare inducing, more terrifying than a flying bottle to Justin Beiber’s head, rage terror inducing choice for the next Batman. Because if anyone is more suited to play the Dark Knight, it’s the dude who starred in Giggli… giggly… WTf the movie is.


Say it with me, “I am the night! I am justice… I… Am… Affleckman!”

So, outside of that trauma inducing choice, because you and I both know that with Affleckman cast in the new Affleckman v Supergigli Movie, there will be blood!


Sparkly, sparkly blood!

But… More subjects of conversatin’ await than just the horrid nightmare’s of Cinema, I’ve gotta talk about what the hell is going on in my own life, because Society can kiss my hairy red Haduken:


Or… Just, y’know, whatever the hell screaming nightmare this came from.

Lately, things have been super crazeh:

MY EYES! DEAR GOD, MY EYES!

Because the (Yes, let that image sink in.) semester is quickly wrapping up in more ways than one, I’ve yet to do any actual work for the class outside of hoping beyond hope that our groups presentation is good, if not better then an Avengers movie with all the worst possible actors being cast as all of the characters in the next Avengers movie… Or y’know… a My Little Po-


WHICH ONE IS THOR!? WHICH MOTHERFUCKING ONE!? IS THE MIDDLE ONE APPLEJACK!?

Not surprisingly, me finding my blogging spirit again has been a pretty awesome experience, getting in touch with my inner Internet fueled Rage Demon has given me a bit of a new view point on everything, from class schedules, dating, avoiding trouble, and of course, venting whatever pent up frustratins I have against whatever is ticking me off at the moment. which, considering all possibilities, I’ve been pretty calm in regards to socializing, as well as just getting the presentation done.

However, there are a few gripes I’ve got to take care of-


I-I-I… My inner child is screaming bloody murder and cookies. Yes, that’s a real recipe.

However, thanks to previously mentioned Prayer Circle, things are looking up, mostly because I’ve just been not looking for dates/girlfriends/Slash Cosplayers:

It’s a TRAP, I mean, Chimichanga!

but we’ll see how everything starts to pan out. I need to get my classes organized for next semeser, and I’m actually looking forward to it. My folks are slowly hinting that I need to get a steady paycheck going, and for the most part I agree. Though the author gig is awesome…


I sometimes need to hit the writers block with a Hammer and scream, “Run, damn it!!! Just run away!”

Anyways, I feel I’ve got things in the bag now, though I’m feeling a little like-


AAAUUUUGH, MY EYES!


MAKE THE BLEEDING STOP! MAKE IT STOP, FOR GOD’S SAKE!


WHY DOES THIS NOT HELP ANYTHING!?

Holy Hot Women Batman!


So today was pretty interesting. Despite getting a stick chucked at my knee spear style, walking with a lsight pain in my knee for a few miles, and making an awesome Chili-Noodle Surprise, oh yeah, and getting the full 25 points for The Observation ’cause mah Teacher is epic like that, those weren’t the chart toppers today. Nope, Today, we’re talking Prayer Circles.

Boom. Feel that? Of course you didn’t, because if there are three things the Internet is powered by, (Nerd Rage, Cat Videos, and Anonymous), Prayer circles aren’t one of them.

Yup.

I got to take part in a prayer circle by chance. Seriously, I had just celebrated getting my Student ID back with a trip to the 99cent store and I made an epic Chili Noodle Surprise, heretofor renamed as “Epic Meal Time Super Stomach Punch Attack!” I passed a group of women holding hands. ‘This,’ I thought to myself, was an unusual sight to behold. I had been on campus for near eight or nine years, give of take the five year hiatus, and not once in all my meanderings, had I ever come across a Prayer Circle. Ever.

It was almost as rare as seeing a midget in a rascal, if not rarer, since I happen to be a fan of Genetic Abnomalities of the Heighth Persuasion…. Or G.A.H.Ps. that’s right internet, I, Dr. 3 Arms, Love Golden Astronauts that Hide Ponies. Deal with it.

First selfie in space. You can’t see the duckface, thank god.

but it was an interesting thing. I got to talking with them, put my sacred Chili-noodle soup down for a few minutes, and joined hands with Amy and Raquel, and we just did it, man. Wasn probably a weird experience at first, but I started things off with a general prayer, and everyone pretty much daisy chained the hell out of it from there. Pretty good experience.

Kinda like this ball of AWESOME!

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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