Fucknuggets.

Some days aren’t great, but I ain’t about to fuckin talk bout that shit, let everyone talk about that shit, Imma talk about… well, now I can’t rightly say, or maybe I can, but I don’t want to, so I might not be able to say what I was about to say before the moment where I could’ve said something about something else but now, this is just a recurring loop of broken ideas and stupid logic.
Everyone has stupid logic.
Even birds.
Yes birds, birds have stupid logic.
Not like stupid human logic, but stupid bird logic.
Squirrels are just fucking stupid, regardless of level of intelligence. But don’t discount sharks.
Fuck sharks.
And spiders.
And clowns.
Actually, fuck any and all combination of the three of those things, because any and all of them are just bad.
really bad.
So bad it makes you think that no matter what, you’re about to find out some shit that don’t make sense, but desperately need to because in a way, Earnest Hemingway did not drink enough.
But then again, stupid Squirrel logic infects everything we do on a level never before seen.
I have not zoomed out.
Not, I have zoomed out, don’t ask why I haven’t zoomed out, maybe I was zoomed in?
Maybe I wasn’t? Maybe I couldn’t be zoomed out or in to save my life, or maybe there’s a need to be more zoomed in than out in this day and age where being zoomed in has more an impact meaning than one would assume.
But you know what they say about assuming things, right?
That donkey’s shouldn’t speed.
Or drive. But they do anyways, because there asses, and they’re a danger to you and me on the road.
Ass Zooming. that’s assuming they know how to drive using those clods hoppers of a hoof on their feet.
But they only have one hoof between all four feet.
Well, they might be transformers.
Hey, we live in a day and age where anyone can be anything or any gender they choose.
I once dated a woman who identified as a ketchup bottle.
Which made sense in a weird way, a way I leave to your imagination, because that’s the kind of logic we’re dealing with here today.
Stupid squirrel spider shark clown bird logic.

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?

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.

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….

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