Welcome to 2020, I’m your host, Dan Rather!

I talk about things, work, friends, projects, that kind of thing. Your kind of thing!

Holy shit, if he does NOT make that joke, I’m going to be so pissed.
So, how was your New years? Like mine, uneventful, kinda like the rest of the holidays, but I do have some slight changes to the usual programming. Annnnd that’s right… I keep forgetting that I have this thing, and rather than use  this  platform ot vent my various complaints and or treasures, I choose to instead post pointlessly bad videos and tweets that go unnoticed for a while and now I’m sad.
But, not anymore, thanks to the power of Arabian fucking coffee.
Yup.
It’s gon’ be like that today.
Anyways, I’ve been working my as off at amazon and aside from the ride situation changing for the better, apparrently, I now have a group I hang out with, well, I’ve got several groups I hang out with, but one more consistantly than the others. The weird thingis, I dunno how it all, oh wait- Yes, yes I do.
Think it might’ve been during that wonky period of time where I’m just extra flirty or something, happens every once in a while. But I just told this one gal, V, that I didn’t know what it was about her, but I liked her. And it’s true. There’s something about her I can’t put my finger on, but it’s there.
Anyways, I think I met her friend, A, first, and we had a quick conversation about something or other, then after shift, I talked her V, and then after that I introduced myself to I.
Weird thing is, thanks to I’s  wanting to hang out after shift, I now have a group of peeps That I hang out with after shift. Which is refreshing, but at the same time a bit worrying. Now, don’t get me wrong, these women are fucking amazing, and I’m really thankful I’m friends with them.
Just old paranoias and what not.
The reason I flit from group to group has something to do with a fear of rejection if interest in a gal is expressed, and then it just becomes slightly awkward, so I subconsciously fade away for a few weeks to let things cool day and act as if it’s just normal.
It’s the built up anxiety of repeated rejections and the knowledge and slight annoyance that that’s just going to be a part of things. And I really love working for Amazon.
But it really is a small town unto itself, so there is lies the problem, or, I don’t think it’s a problem, just something I’m slowly but surely pushing through.
2020 is going to be a new year, I’m no longer attached to Ashley, though the memories are bittersweet, they are slowly fading into the hazy fog that is the past.
Though I don’t believe I’m ready for dating, my subconscious has other ideas, and I’ve been noticing slight changes in my behaviour that supports that theory.
At the same time, I really do need to have some kind of social life, so if hanging out with friends after work is the way to do that, who am I to complain?
Besides, love is love, though it might be unreliable, love always finds a way. And just like every Jurassic Park movie, love is the T-Rex that will fuck yo sadness up in terrifying and hilarious ways.
Well, might as well dive into this. Or not, I’m still trying to sort everything out myself, but I think my problem is I over think things, and sometimes, I just need to dive into the deep end, and say “Fuck logic, I will enjoy mustard and toast at the same time!” Or maybe that’s my subconscious way of trying to deflect from the realization I might just have feelings for someone, and I’m slowly ramping up to asking them out.
The weird part is that it won’t be over a dating app. Which is just a fucking thing of its own.

That aside, I’ve started working on weird little pipe cleaner figures I like to call Piplaeners, why? Well… I don’t know why, but there awesome, and I’m slowly world building with every one that I create. Let’s see if I can pull a few up.80831662_471927350176422_7036172946527748096_n80900903_834241123681085_7729425855453069312_n80811702_2546410082263326_6814933365725069312_n80697408_3717571861618355_8067890323717619712_n80272528_590025335152853_5579368598624796672_n80357608_2566402456747613_7203153398026207232_n

I really like making these. They honestly don’t take that long to make and I’ve gotten down to a science, but so far, I’ve got the Golden King, The Red Queen, the Cursed Prince, the Queens Guard, and Dequadra.
Haven’t figured that one out yet. And it’s my newest work too! I’m also working on a massive one and I’m still planning out, and with every Piplaener made, I discover new ways of making them sturdier, I might actually have something going here!
Kind of exciting when you think about it!

Youtube’s still a thing, and I’ve now got a podcast going, which, I should really get cracking on the next episode, god I’m so bad at procrastinating…

Technology! it’s a good thing!

Or… maybe not, it all depends on what you’re looking for. Really, look, I get it, you’re looking for quality, meme producing content, or you might be a blog snob, but fear not, for I give zero fucks, and you my friend, are in the right place after all! Sometimes i wonder if the things we think about are the things we should be focused on,. Lemme explain y’all something, right?
Okay, so the things we focus on aren’t exactly the things we need to focu on at the moment, because there are tons of other things going through our heads at any one point in time, it’s a combination of douche fuckery that’s both entertaining and dissuading at the same time, and I get it.
You have a set schedule and limited shit to do, but for me, something that might need to be focused on is suddenly and irrevocably distracted by some idiot wondering into my field of view or just a dumb ass random action which will invariably cause a mediocre avalanche or other things and…. well, nothing will get done.
I’m starting to think I might have ADHD, or maybe my blank mind is so zen that, well, I float like a butterfly and fuck like a bee…
Wait, that’s not how that saying goes, but fuck that, let’s move on to whatever random and mind fumblingly dumb bull shit we seem to have forgotten about or moved onto today, shall we?
Because that’s the law of averages, and sometimes, you just need  that fluff and filler to vacuum out the smarter shit in your life.
Those who know me and have had conversations with me while I’m in my unfiltered or unfocused state, kind of like a flashlight with courgettes, or however that words spelled, will no doubt have had one of those moments, where nothing makes senses, but at the same time, you’re like, well, this is different, let’s give it a go!

And that’s what I’m all about, the random ,the mystifying, the weirdly dumb and sometimes funny. Because while yes, I could do what the rest of the world likes, and follow one stream of thought or another on how many fucking selfies I need to take with various filters colors or stupid manufactured bull shit, that’s… not what I’m about. I can’t handle all that prep just for a single picture that will invariable be ignored by the majority of social Media addicted brain slugs that crawl among us, hidden in their own ethereal covens of giggles coffee, and tiny mustaches. I have a BEARD DAMN IT!

And that beard is like a sex magnet, if… that were only the case and I could stay focused long enough to actually try and be a sex magnet.

Let me tell you about the God of All Things, Randy. that was a weird as fuck segway, but I swear, everything will connect on a level you never saw coming, and this is why I continue to only get a few interaction on my blog at a time.

Randy is a magician at what he does, but lemme tell about something else entirely, why? Because I take a few weeks to finish blog posts for some reason, and my cats keep doing the thing, oh shit! I forgot to get the laundry started, annnnnd that’s now a thing.
but more then that is the concept of loving who you are or what you are.
Males?
We got the dick ball combo, nothing wrong with that, that’s just how we’re built.
The Ladies?
Y’all got boobs, vagina, and the uterus, which, in all honesty, put y’all one step ahead of us… I think.
Okay i’m going to talk about this, because I’m kind of tired of the whole mentality that guys are taking a step back in media, cause we’re riding the same wave as you girls, and y’a know what? it goes around the sun, and no matter what, Furbies are still fucked.

They truly are fucked in the head, little adorable creatures that for no real reason will start yapping their plastic asses off because that’s EXACTLY what I want to hear in the middle of the morning, that sweet sweet release of, “ME LOVE YOUR SOUL!”

Yeah, that’s kind of fucking priceless right there. THIS IS QUALITY CONTENT PEOPLE! Like and subscribe if you feel the need to validate my existence, which I know you don’t!
Because free will is willingly free, or we’d all be paying a subscription fee, which I think we already kind of do, since you know, Amazon Prime and all of that, but that’s neither here nor there, I use a lot of the same sayings from time to time don’t I?
Shit, now i’m a bit self conscious, but there’s smoke and fire, sometimes you’ll find a hobo whacking it with lighter while smoking a soggy cigar.
Why?
Cause that’s how this shit sometimes rolls y’all!
We got to keep it real, or virtual, because sometimes what’s being read or written isn’t really what’s being said. Because then we’d all be taken way the fuck too literally and there’s nothing wrong with that, if you can call that living.
Actually, on the topic of living, is there such a thing as too much living? I think there is, like, really living. Cells multiplying more than they should, but relatively speaking, I think that’s just called cancer.
But why is cancer called cancer?
doesn’t that feel a bit ironic for peeps who are Cancers via the astrological sign, who get cancer, and they’re like, “Well, HA!?” And that just sets up the whole domino effect of what ifs by comparing similar words to similar situations, all though I could be wrong about that.

god, I miss just being about to write whatever comes to mind, because then it’s such a freeing experience, you don’t have anyone tripping balls in your general direction and yes, I know!

this was such a promising blog post, and then the stinginess of the topic went away and I started being myself!

How fucking weird is that!?

Anyways, I’ve just reached 1030 words totals on this thing. Time to post for no reason.

 

Oh, Shadow, where art thou?

So, yesterday was an adventure in what the fuck.
What’s this!?
An actual blog about actual things, not just random bullshit!?
FOR SHO MOTHAFUCKAS, FO SHO.
Anyways, I was Water Spidering for Universal Receive, and at the start of shift, one of our PAs, Starlight, tells me that a new guys going to Shadow me and I get to show him the ropes.
Yes! I love it when peeps Shadow me, meaning I get to teach people! This is going to awesome!
So,  I introduce myself, and the day goes smoothly, I tell him about picking up Prep, taking care of Transship, Down Stack, Palatalizing, where to put AR and NYR Prep, whether to use a Cage or U boat on certain lines because of the support beams, and we get to work.
I think everything’s going great and he gets pulled aside for another task, because hey, that happens, happened to me, and I was thrown into the deep end and had to ask a lot of questions in order for me to get my bearings, but once I did, I just knocked everything out.
So, I’m knocking things out left and right, and on occasion my Shadow pops around to ask the occasional question and  I do my best to answer him.
But then I notice something, every time I ask him to help me out with something, he asked if he could use the restroom, I think nothing of it, because as a Water spider, you don’t have to ask to use the restroom, you just go, do your thing, then come back.
Five or ten minute would pass before I see him again, and at this point, I starting to get just a little annoyed with him.
Juuuuuuuust a little.
So instead fo talking to Starlight about the issue, I think that I should try and nudge him along, so next time we’re collecting prep, I ask him how he feels about rate and recieving, and since he’s 18 and just out of High-school, he says meh, to most of it, so I ask him if he enjoys Water spidering, and he says that he’ll do it if he’s asked.
I have to remind myself of how I was at 18 in order to refrain from going verbally full bore on the kid, so I gently tell him that if the PAs, Problem Solvers, and AMs see him knocking things out left and right, that they’ll want to use him more. Anyways, gotta get ready for the day. I’ll finish this up in another part.

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.

Masturbation is healthy.

Well, with a title like that, you’re sure to be wondering about all the amazing smart sounding bullshit about to flow from the intelligent and sophisticated parts of my head, right?
Right!?
No.
This is called Mindcicles.
Not Mindlopedia.
Y’want smart shit, go somewhere else.
You came here for my dumb ass and whatever insanity flows from my weird ass toes.
As the title states, Masturbation is a healthy thing, both male and female species do it.
How the fuck do birds masturbate!?
WHY IS THIS A QUESTION I’M ASKING!?
It is a release of built up fluids in the body, and also pretty fucking fun!
But more importantly, it’s a reset button, it’s a way for the body to just chill the fuck out and sometimes, it’s a very much needed thing.
Is there such a thing as too much masturbation?
Is there a comparison between such words and either a wet piece of beef jerky or block of Swiss cheese?
Yes.
And that answers that question.
But, it is healthy, and sometimes, other people can help you masturbate.
Hopefully, they don’t have you cornered.
Unless you want them to corner you.
You fucking freak.
It also helps you get to sleep faster, and gets you more focused. Why?
Because you don’t have that urge that punching you in the fun zone going, “Oi, mate! get yer’ fahcking hands down ‘ere and play wi’ meh!
Just remember, there’s a time and place for everything.
that time and place will always be when your alone and need to get the job done right.
Like using a monster truck as a golf cart.

Can I tell you something?

I’m shy.
I know, I know… Let it sink in.
I’m normally a talkative person, at least, I was a talkative person, then I had the accident, and… well, everything kind of shifted perspective.
Everything except one aspect of my life.
Writing, it’s been the one thing I can always come back to in case anything ever falls apart of if I need to vent, because off the internet, I don’t feel very powerful.
Even on the internet, I’m not some kind of Demiinfluencer, or star, or anything like that. I’m just me.
All I have are my stories to occupy my time with, and that’s it.
Seriously.
I used to think that all I needed was a bit of luck and persistance and things would work themselves out and for a long time, that’s exactly how I thought, I’m not exactly proud of the results, but I can say that for whatever reason, I have the skillset I do, because I persisted in writing.
Maybe it’s because I have a from of control over whatever happens, or lack of control if I get too deep into the story itself?
Or maybe it’s a god complex?
You know, where you can make or break anything with a few simple keystrokes?
Authors complex, or something, outside of writing, I’m just me.
And, through a lot of self reflection, a bunch of accidents, relationships, a fuck ton of sex, and more than one time where I’ve gotten blackout drunk, or been roofied, I’ve gotten to where I am… Whereever that is.
I’ve got a lot of victories on the board, but for some reason, they don’t feel like victories, they feel like just another day, another step forward, another clank of the gears in the great clockwork of the universe.
I mean, I feel appreciated at work, and sometimes at home, and for a while, I used to feel appreciated on the internet, and in some cases I still do.

Maybe I just want someone to love now a days.
Yeah, I think that’s it.
I need someone to love, someone to come home to and talk about my day and not feel like I’m about to be over taken by some inconsequential thing.
I thought I had that with Caasi, Ashley, and Sarah, and Amy.
Amy was a sweet woman, still is. Just… I wish things had worked out with her, I was actually making real progress with her, and… I just took too long.

There it is, the thing that’s bothering me.
Things taking too long. Maybe patience, or being too patient is the problem? I need to act, need to make impulsive, but smart, decisions! I need to get out there and make short work of supposedly long decisions! I need to put myself out i nthe sun and learn to live with whatever ashes it makes of me!
But… I’m too cautious.
Ever since the accident.

Ever since the accident, survival is the only thing that matters, everything else, including finding love, is secondary…
Kinda sad.

I’m giving myself ten minutes…

Fuck, I thought I had a lot more time than just ten fucking minutes to get a god damned post out, but that’s what happens when you schedule pretty much consists of Eat, sleep, work, repeat, and trying to find time to get something enjoyable done is a fucking nightmare when it takes someone a long ass time to get their asses where it needs to be when it needs to be there, but that’s life, right? when life gives you lemons, you get lemon aid, or Lemo Naid. The worlds lamest spy, just stands there, watching you, like you did something wrong, occasional taking a puff out of a Sherlock Holmes looking ass pipe and just… staring.
but shit… gotta go, lot is happening, wish I had more time…

Well, I’m annoyed. Maybe.

There’s something to be said about being annoyed.
Maybe it’s the fact I personally have no fucks to give?
Or maybe it’s because there are so many shit titles to great articles that everything’s either “OMG SO INSANE!” Or, “Donald Trump’s NOT going to like this!”
who give’s a fucking shit about that kind of thing, not to mention I got a auto generated spam email from a ‘Hacker’ AND… it’s STUPID, MILDLY INCONVENIENT, and I keep losing track of when I have the caps lock on… Kind weird how that whole thing plays out. But, rather then get into a whole idiotic rant about how the whole of the idiotic world can go fuck itself with ten cactus patches, I’m going to tell the world at large to go fuck off with this inane idiotic bullshit that simply pops up.

Okay, guess I know what I’m focused on today, this should be fun. I’m not that worried about things that annoy me as much anymore. After going through what I’ve been through, not much bothers me anymore. Do I sometimes get confused? Yes. Do I forget shit all the time?
Of course.
Do I give idiots the time of time simply because they’re idiots?
Not all the time, but everyone needs to feel special at one point.

Point being, cycle of stupid repeating itself, over and over, minor changes, blah fucking blah.
Or maybe I’m just irate over something that’s out of my control, and my writing this out is the only way I feel like I have some as-semblance of control?

I honestly don’t know. It’s almost like I forgotten how to be myself since meeting so many people, and maybe it’s a bit confusing because I haven’t had the opportunity to figure myself out yet?
I mean, I have, to a point, though not to the point where I can simply be myself. Well, I can be myself to a point, I’m kind of a people pleaser, but I need to step up the protesting bit…. I like pop-tarts, they’re pretty cool. Sometimes I’ll just snack on them, two at a time!

Fuck you forever, @realDonaldTrump

So… We’re doing this… Again.
I feel so… so happy.
Really.
I mean, let’s get the big thing out of the way, the Woodward and Mueller reports… Like, holy shit dude, first, y’didn’t want the job, then you fucked us over by taking hte job y’didn’t want, and than you fucked yourself by doing a terrible fucking job of the job you never wanted, and NOW you’ve fucked your whole family name by staining it so badly, even thatl ittle fucker from the Grudge ain’t touching your shit.
Can we please talk about the more obvious:
Your ass.
Deathrow.
2020 unrelelection.
Like, you do realize you’ve fucked yourself SO hard by not releasing your taxes right?
RIGHT!?
Not in the, “Well, there’s a dead hooker.” Fucked over, but the, “Well, there’s a dead hooker, the cops just burst in, and I’m still fucking the corpse.” kind of plain ol fucked.
You are beyond ever measure of doubt, a guilty as fuck person, BANNED from campaigning in 33 states because you won’t release your taxes.
Think hard on that, there are ONLY 51 states in the union, and you’ve fucked yourself SO hard, you don’t even stand a chance of winning 33 states without outside help, so… I hope russia is looking at this and going, “We need more potato power!” because unless putin sticks his dick in your ass again, you ain’t winning shit this time around.
And again, let’s bring your supportters into this fray again, because I don’t thinkyou think very much of them, unless their spinning rims and gold plated diamoinds, you think so little of them, really you do. your whole life was spent working from nothing to inheriting your dads money and getting bailed out so many times, it makes me think you’re actively running this country at a permanent loss, because god damned.
I stopped faulting your supporters the moment they realized what the fuck you were doing, and started faulting you directly.
Because, you’re false advertising.
You’re the fine print on a medication no one except the racist ignorant twats asked for.
You’re the exposed, hidden nazi, and we all know this to be true.
I actively empathize with your support base, they knew what they were getting into, and yet, they still stuck a fork in the outlet and were surprised at thep ain they’ve been feeling ever since.
Go ahead and lie to yourself that you’ll be fine, because you really will not be.
the law is like water, patient, still, powerful.
You, are the jackass trying to slap the flood away.
Pointless. Idiotic. Tragic.

I wish I had more anger saved up, more rage, more unkempt disgust at the very fabric of your being, but I don’t. Not after understanding the slug of a person you are.
And nah, I in’t pointing out examples, people want specifics, they can read other things, me? I’m a reactionary guy, splash damage be skull fucked with a cactus.
i’m just angry enough to point out the obvious and just lame enough not giving a fuck to publish this.

There comes a point where coffee tastes bad.

This has nothing to do with that, but it has something to do with taste.
Let’s get something out of the way here, I’ve not had sex in nearly two years.
Yes, this might be the thing we’re talking about here, my lack of penis in vagina activity.
Nope, no regrets.
I’m not going to go off, fuck it, yes I am, because in my self love journey, I’ve been to some strange as fuck place, and… I dunno how I feel about the whole thing.
The sex part, when I was having it regularly, was amazing? I dunno. I only ever finished once, and that took an amazing amount of time, and a lot of focus.
Yes, I’m an easily distracted sex machine.
No, you can’t plug your phone in my ass to charge it.
Yes, I’m very well aware that’s a kind of fetish.
No, I do no want to receive “The Power of Zues” through my ass.
No, I’m not into that kind of thing.
Look, point being, I need to get laid, but in this day and age where any attempt to either get some or get love is a frightening ordeal, because, at any point point, either you or that one super bitchy girlfriend of yours can just up and claim I’m harassing you. The very moment I detect something off, that’s it, I’m cutting myself off from talking to you, and will only engage if absolutely needed.
Now, I know how to treat women with respect, I know how to behave myself, and would much rather things develop organically as opposed to, “Well, time to fuck and see what happens.” Being a guy now a days is… to be honest, a confusing experience in everyway possible.

The basis of the Metoo movement is to make sexual assaulters pay dearly for their crimes against whatever gender their creepy little mitts are wriggling towards. That’s it, and then for a long while, it seemed like every guy was fair game, and men bounded through the tall grass like majestic walruses, “OORPH”ing their way towards a better and brighter future, only to be stopped in t heir tracks by a false claim of grabbin’ some boob.
And trust me, I get it, I truly do, Y’all have put up with enough of guys weird bullshit from the dawn of time, and the damn finally burst, and men were like, “Oh…. Well fuck.”
Now that the tables have turned, so is the dating scene steps, where it’s usually the women who have to initiate Ye Ol’ Dating Ritual.

Which, hey, more power to you.
It’s just a terrifying, scary, nightmarish, and dick shriveling level of anxiety that gets built up into the core of men’s souls wondering whether or not they should go ahead and make a move on Susie Sunshine or be left in the cold icy grip of the Night King, otherwise known as whacking off.
And let’s talk about that for a second, really. Because now there’s a law in Texas, about to pass, that states that men are legally not allowed to whack off, on the premise that it’s killing unconceived children. So, our physiological need to expel built up waste is now under attack in Texas.
Because, really, that’s all that is if it’s not being used to make babies, waste.  Like, really?

I get it, the reproductive rights of women in terms of abortion has been a hotbed of WTF for a long time, with them main question of the debate being, “When does life begin? At the moment of conception, or the moment of birth?”

Well, my answer is this: Until the heart fully develops and starts pumping and the brain develops to the point where the growth stops being a growth and starts being a little human, that exact moment is when life begins. Of course, I have no authority over what women do with their bodies, I can only give my thoughts on the matter and leave it at that.

Anyways, getting back to what I was talking about, dating…. Actually, it’s around 2:27 and I’ve got to get ready for the day.

Fuck, I’m so god damned sore.

I’m back, I guess. Okay, so fuck it, I am back, but for good fucking reason! I’m fucking sore as fuck because they need their fav water spider to collect all the shit, do all the things, and basically be the annoying as fuck voice of “WAKE UP!” because these ten hour shifts?
Oh my god, let me tell you about these fucking ten hour shifts OH MY FUCKING GOD I CAN BARELY GET A POST OUT WITHOUT GETTING FUCKING DISTRACTED BY SOME ANNOYING AS SHIT THING!

But let’s head back to then ice, friendly neighborhood of what the actual fuck.
So, I’ve got no problem helping out where I’m needed, I knock out the rate for the week, I’ am beautiful to help out where I’m needed, go do the things, knock everything out, but yesterday!?
Yester-fucking-day?
There were just four of us. Fucking four.
And one of us had to get audited, or something like that, so it’s all good.
But, holy shit.
We needed that woman, to help ease our burdens, I mean, yeah, three of us knocked that shit out like no tomorrow, and we did get a lot of things done, but it seemed every five minutes we were switching between Down Stack, Tetris, tote Inject, Work Inject, ATAC sweeping, Prep sweeping, Tote boosting, and everything else, and after hour 6 I was just waiting for the damned thing to go balls up!

I ain’t mad, just how I write, and it was a bit stressful you know? But, with my friends, Co-Workers, and a shit ton of caffeine, I knocked the day out and repeatedly kicked it in the balls. I woke up, so woke, and so fucking sore, holy fucking shit, I wished to fucking god, they just let me receive that day, because I was in so much pain from the last two hours of it all, I mean, four lines went into AGL, and god damned, people needed to work the fuck faster, I get it, y’like to talk, talking’s great, but at the same time, the reason we went into AGL in the first place is because there were people there who simply just did not give a shit, or were picking only the good boxes!

Like, really?
Fucking really?
I’m out there, busting my ass, taking every single fucking box that passes by my station, and you, like a fuck nut, need to next level cherry pick that shit? What the utter fuck!
I had this one gal, tiny, adorable, and … just the sweetest thing ever, tell me to get her a golden tape wrapped box, and I’m in the middle of making sure the damned line gets some fucking space on it, I’m thinking fuck no, get back to work, let me do my thing!
But, I’m not a dick, so I did the perfectly balanced, I simply moved the box to a place on the line that wasn’t so crowded.
I mean, someone else got the box, of course, and her friend was laughing her ass off, but I had work to do, so I did it. If I’m working, I’m focused on that work only. I don’t take shit from no one, and if there’s a perfectly great reason why you want to do things a certain way, I am more than happy to let you do your day, but let me know and I’ll make sure that you do your thing, that way, both our days are amazing.

Outside of that, I had a pretty standard day, got a lot of work done, stayed focus, talked to people when the work flow was a little low, but over all, I stayed busy. Today’s the final boss of the week, so I’ve got to make double my usual mix, I’m getting better at saving my money, and I’ve set a budget for myself, so I’m getting enough together for a deposit, which has been a bit hard, but I’m knocking it out, still need to find a decent place, and save up about four more weeks, so 550/week, that’s about 1,600 to 2,100, enough for the deposit, and a buffer zone for other expenses as well. So that’s the goal… 2,100 in the account. If I can save up that much, I’ll be golden, and won’t have to worry about much.

Well, that’s enough from me, despite how everything reads, I’m having a lot of fun during this mini-peak, and Prime Day is popping around the corner, so it’s good practice for when things heat up again, I’ll just be happy to have my Sundays back… dear god, I’m so fucking tired…. But, hopefully, when I’ve got my own place, I’ll be happy as shit, and be able to post vids again without hesitation…

Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve written a proper blog…

Although, what the hell is a proper blog post? Is it a collection of like minded thoughts?
Because, you know, if that’s the case, than I am properly fucked. I don’t think I’ve ever had a series of like minded thoughts, just a bunch of confused bullshit that people are like, “HA! Shweet.”
And you know what? I’m fine with that. I’m fine with being in a world in which my channel flippy brain gets confuzzled halfway through a thought and decides that buttercream screaming butterflies are the perfect valentines day gift, for the person you REALLY fucking hate.
And, you know, I’m not blind to my underuse of exclamation points, really!

Today I want to talk about love. And Workplaces.
And amazon.
And the holy shit storm of why either their a good thing or a bad thing, or maybe I’ll just continually switch topics, because I’m a rebellious bastard and you love me for that.
“Today, we’re talking puppies and the monster trucks who love them. Way too much.”
Yeah, so strap in for some enlightened as fuck shit, because this god damned thing is filled to the brim with swearing and clown beastiality referees. I meant to write that.

Yesterday, we got put in 5S, and me being me, I began to draw, something I do to pass the time. One of my friends then asked me a bunch of questions, some personal, others not, most I can’t remember, but she was cool.
Then my other friend, Karen, Who I think might have a crush on me? I don’t like to assume anything anymore, I just leave it up to the winds of chance and whatever seems to be going on that day to figure shit out, also talked to me about my drawing, and we got to talking for a while, and it was a pretty good conversation, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, and you fucking hate the fact I’m not giving you the deets!
Well, I can’t remember the deets, so we’re pretty much in the same boat here.

Anyways, i leave to go to the bathroom, come back, and I get snagged into Water Spidering, which is indirect work, but still critical, for Prep… And for about 40% I would say, I knocked things out of the park, I kept tote lines going, swept, moved pallets and cages, just in general, was an amazing beast of burden. Or unburdening, that’s like an Anti-Donkeh, right?

There was this one woman, really tiny, like, ridiculously small, looks almost like a kid, but she isn’t. She doesn’t talk much, but she’s got an amazing smile, which, hey, bonus points for getting her to smile! Anyways, she’s a sweet person, much luck to her in whatever she chooses to do in life.

Meanwhile, i’m apartment hunting, I’ve got my eyes set on a place or two, as well as the bedding needed to make sure I conserve as much space as possible, and was kind of blown away by the fact there’s a triple bunk bed, like, holy shit people! A triple bunk bed! that’s like witnessing a majestic Unicorn horn fuck a leperchaun right through the face, while the little fuckers barfing gold bars! I mean, yeah, it’s a bunk bed, but a fucking triple!?

Jesus fucking christ.

Oh, I also made my first communion.
Every once in a while I’ll still upload a video or two, but I haven’t been as interested in it. Growing my channel has become annoying as fuck, and I just decided, fuck it, not going to bother. I are there people who’ll enjoy my stuff? Maybe, I’ll never know.. I get just a bit depressed thinking about it, too many trolls, or algorithms or whatever, or maybe I just upload bad content, fuck if I know or care anymore. While there are peeps out there, my hearts just not in it anymore. That’s the long and short of it now a days. My hearts not in making vids anymore, and it’s not making me any money, so why should I bother?

Yeah, there was for the enjoyment of it, but constant criticism about the whole thing has whittled away at my enthusiasm for it, and until I get my own place, I don’t think I’ll be able to really get back into it. Things change over time, needs change,

It’s been a minute or two, hasn’t it?

So, let’s dial back the weird as fuck shit for a second and talk about what’s going on in my neck of the woods, why?
because obviously, what’s happening with me is INFINITELY MORE ENTERTAINING THAN WHATEVER WEIRD BULLSHIT I KEEP COMING UP WITH.

That was way too many Caps in the sentence, I seriously only meant to have the infinitely in caps and nothing else.
Okay, so I’ve been working the night shift at Amazon again, which is AMAZING, because for the first time, I’m not completely screwing the pooch, my rates up, I’m regularly talking to hot chicks with no intention flirting with them (kay, I lied, maybe a little. Come on, they’re hot chicks!), I made friends with a Little Person, and he is AWESOME, and almost everyday, EVERYDAY, there’s been a shortage of work because of how great both Day and Night shifts been.

But therein lies the problem, Amazon keeps hiring on new people, despite the lack of work… So does this mean we’re looking at another Mass Hire/Fire situation, where after a few months, they’re going to let us go? hopefully not, took me long enough to snag this one again.

The reason I’m asking, is because there was a strange announcement at stand up, part of one of the programs they’ve got set up, to transfer to other locations, and I’m starting to understand why now, but at the same time, I’m not going to worry about it. Or should I?

With the increasingly apparent lack of work coming in, and more early leaving times, maybe we’re doing our jobs too well? Or is it that there’s going to be a new Cross dock location opening up soon, so more work is being sent over there and we’re being left with the overflow? I dunno, but it is a bit worrying to say the least. And I’m just spinning my wheels here on the subject, there could be a whole bunch of things I could be getting wrong here…

Anyways, nuff about that!

What else is happening?
Oh, right!
For about a week or so, my brain’s been stuck on the idea that fish are naked.
And they are.
But, my best bud Blake pointed out they aren’t.
Know why?

They’re dressed to the gills!

I know, completely stupid, but it’s the best connection i’ve made, but really. Fish are naked.
also preordered MK 11, I’m not great at fighting games, but I’ve been wanting to play Mortal Kombat again for some time, and 11 seems like a pretty good jumping point. There are a few characters that are Rushers, Zoners, and just plain Combo machines, so it’ll be cool to fuck around in practice mode to try and knock something out. 
I still haven’t finished Skyrim, I think I’m nearing the end of the main story, which is great, since in each Bethesda free roam game, I manage to kill off nearly all the not needed NPCs in the first go around, find the exploits, become suped up, and go on a in game murder spree the likes THAT instance of the game universe has never seen.
Smash Brothers still has my attention, mainly for the multiplayer aspect.
Splatoon 2 simply got boring.
Brawlhala has its moments.
I don’t bother with Onigiri anymore. Soon as it got to the “O NOEZ ANIME GIRL IN TROUBLE!” Trope, I stopped playing. I dunno know I’ve got trouble getting passed the whole “Strong Female Protagonist” thing, I personally think it’s great. Maybe it’s just a displacement of the previously natural story telling gender roles? where the male was the strong one, the female was the smart one, and the villains were just dumb asses with too much time on their hands and not enough porn?
Shit, I think that’s what Evil’s problem is just in general.
They can’t get laid, i mean, sex solves all the worlds problems, if just temporarily.
But, I’ve noticed the change myself in my own editing of Sogno Della Dinastia, with Divertenti Della Amuleto focusing on the female main character, I kind of have to make that shit work out, and so far, it’s doing a pretty good job of it.

speaking of writing, and snapping back to work, whenever there’s been a lag of work and I’ve had some time, a pen, and some scrap of paper laying around, I’ve drawn a quick picture, and started scribbling notes on it like a madman. Story plotting is kind of relaxing, breaking away from just standing there, feels like I’m recharging my batteries or something of the like.
So far, I’ve knocked of two of the little darlings:
”Azmael and the Chest of the Forever Coaled”
”Felix Hogbuny goes on Vacay”

Fun little exorcises.
Lets see, what else?

Oh, right, mah carpool buds, Paul, Joseph, and John.
Paul I’ve known for a while since Peak ‘18, great guy, passionate about work, we connect amazingly. Paul’s also a Gamer, which is awesome, since I like gaming too, and we sometimes talking about gaming. Yes, that was a dumb sentence. No, I’m not erasing it. Yes, you’re stuck with it. He’s got an amazing family, and really, that’s all I’m saying on that front.
Joseph? Also a great guy, has a faster sense of humor, good taste in music, likes to ask me random questions, and overall, he’s got a lot going for him! He too, Kicks the ass at work. That was worded weirdly. Joseph is… hard to explain exactly. He’s super intelligent, and I think it might be the super coffee wearing off at this point, but, yep, super intelligent. We all work well together, yeah, definitely the coffee wearing off.
John? Super chill guy, doesn’t say much, but doesn’t really need to when at work or when it’s just us carpooling. When the Turtles are carpooling? different story all together, the dude quips amazingly. We get along amazingly, and i’m going to have to write more about the other two just to give them all equal page time…
I call us the Turtles because we each encompass a different personality type.
Paul’s definitely Leonardo.
Joseph’s Donatello.
John’s Raph, he’s got a little bit of fire in him.
And I’m Michelangelo. Why? Mikey’s been my favorite. Also, I’m writing the post, so I’m Mikey.

Whatelse? Nothing of note, just been doing my own thing… Yes, I’m cutting this short.
Why?
The super coffee is wearing off, and I’m kind of getting bored of writing the post, plus, I’m hungry. Oh, so fucking hungry for breakfast. Not to mention, the more I write, the more I’ll have to edit. Peace!
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I seek the strange man.

You know that feeling in the back of your head when you’re onto something really great?
It’s an itching sensation that you can’t quite get to, and it never leaves you alone for long.
It’s a momentary lightning strike that leaves no trace, and like the momentary flash of brilliance, once distracted from it’s entrancing display, it’s gone, out of sight, replaced by something more ubiquitous than whatever the flying fuck is going on with the world right now.
It’s the feeling of loss, replaced by greater loss, yet still replaced by greater loss, only to be filled immediately by next small victory.
Because you have to count the small victories, you have to make those small things count, or else the whole thing would collapse, leaving you nothing more than a blubbering pile of salted insults upon an already dead horse, by which the beating stick has long since broken, but people still wish to use it on the same horse, even though there’s a perfectly good horse right next to it.
Why do people do this?
Why beat the dead horse with vileness and venom?
Why not try for a different approach that would make the next horse last just a little bit longer?
There’s no shame in revealing something old to a newer generation, but it has to be done right, or else you lose the essential impact the original content had.
Am I being vague?
Of fucking course I am!
not for vagueness sake, not for some melodramatic reveal that simply wastes the effort upon which the base of this post, or review, or whatever the hell this actually is might have.
But simply because I like doing things a certain way, to be less or more descriptive to hide a true intention, or maybe just because I like the feeling of wandering my way around a post until such time that my snappy assed brain decides right then and there to actually be direct. And by THAT point alone, I’ve already lost the original thread, but the post keeps on building, word by word, layer by layer, until there is a pivotal moment, a lightning flash that screams out into the blank void of my keyboard obsessed mind, it should scream, “Now wait just a fucking minute, you pedantic ass faced moron! Looky here! Fish string! now ain’t that a kick in the balls with a cattle prod!” and this might lead to someone questioning the logic prepared by that one statement!
How does one kick someone in the balls, or anywhere really with a cattle prod?
Do they kick the cattle prod into the balls?
Is the cattle prod already placed ball sack adjacent?
Where the fuck is this taking place and has Netflix already signed on for five seasons of build up to this one moment in which nothing is explained and we are left devoid of any joy whatsoever because we canceled our subscription and now season six is tied up on actors being dicks and demanding WAY more money than their ability should ever grant them?

The feeling is mutual, and the build up is grand, and the payoff is fucking tantamount to that of having your last orgasm before you die with a smile on your face and your preferred genital analogy writhing with utmost pleasure.

That’s how I felt watching Love, Death, and Robots.
Like a fucking god.
Now where the fuck is Season Two?

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.

Impermanence: With the pull of a trigger

I normally don’t do scripted videos anymore, I like to be unfocused, let my mind wander. But for some reason, I can’t let this one go.
Too many dead.
Too much anger.
Too much is too much.
I’ve written scripts for videos on Mass shootings before, with the clear sight on anger, or confusion, or wondering just what the fuck is actually going on, and most of the time, it started off with anger, and then popped into a kind of cooled down rage.
Friday, Brenton Tarrant, Australian, and a former Gym Teacher who felt lost with the ideology instilled in him by his parents and society at large, who then went from place to place, trying to find something, anything that would fill his spiritual and ideological needs, went from bad to worse and finally landed on the White Nationalist ideology, and then took it one step further.
He planned a massacre with two other men and one woman.
Before he went about his merry fucked up way, Brenton wrote an 87-page manifesto filled with intolerance, hatred, and plain old racism, with phrasing in tune with ISIS, referencing Donald Trump, and calling for people to Subscribe to Pewdiepie for maximum damage beyond the scope of what a pulled trigger could do.
He carried it out, shooting and killing 50 Muslims worshipping at two mosques in Christchurch and another in New Zealand, and wounding twenty others as well, live streaming the whole 17-minute debacle through a streaming service, posting it on 8chan, and from there, the footage just spread like wild fire.
Please know that I fucking hate Brenton Tarrant, and any other person like him, someone who has lost their damned fucking mind, unsatisfied with their life, and clearly out of their damned mind. Someone who feels they need to take the lives of others in order for their own life, in their mind, to have any kind of worth.
New Zealand had been, until recently, inoculated from mass shooters because of its relatively small size and because it happens to be an island nation, yes, I know, but for simplicity sake, I’m calling it a island nation.
My focus and the effects of coffee don’t last as long as they used it.
Never the less, the response has been amazing.
Not long after the shooting, footage cropped up of New Zealand law enforcements beating the utter fuck out of Brenton, as all Law enforcement has the right to do to Mass shooters. At least, in my opinion.
Look, this isn’t easy for me to write, let alone keep my focus on, but I will say this, I’m not going to be one of those people who think that by not saying the person’s name or talking about it, you’re going to make the problem go away.
Know what that’s called? Digging your head in the sand.
Being a fucking Ostrich.
Don’t be a fucking Ostrich
Talk about the issue, talk about what the utter fuck is on your mind, stop hiding your opinion because that’s what the shooters want, if you stop talking about it, stop communicating, then how will we learn how to prepare?
I’m not one to be ashamed of my words, well, not anymore, when I state the following:
These past twelve years, in the scope of the sheer number of shootings, have been fucking horrific. Kids, teens, adults, men, women, old, young, civilian, former military, I mean, will it ever end?
The short answer is, no.
Not until we go the drastic route is making and slow and horrifying example out of the next one. I won’t go into detail, but dear god I REALLY want to.
Fuck it, let’s do this shit.
I think, we should televise the execution of the shooter, not in the classic way, not by the merciful bullet to the head or lethal injection, no, no, no, no, nooooo my friends. I think we should sit them down, and ask them one simple question:
We’re they able to get away with it, using whatever tools they had made available to them, and let them take as much time as they wanted to take their targets apart, what would they do, how would they go about it, how long would they take to get it done?
And how they responded?
Do the exact same thing to them, as per their own disgusting instructions.
Take them apart, piece by piece, as if the executioner was a mechanic, disassembling a car down its very bolts. Happen upon them what they would happen upon their targets.
Televise that shit, make it the only thing on.
Force people to watch.
Send the message that those who commit such acts on innocent lives will be dealt with in the same fashion, and their last words of disgusting intent be the words of their own undoing, and their last words will be of their own screams being cut short by the final merciful act of slowly, ever so slowly twisting their heads till they screamed like rabbits being prepped for the pot, their cries for mercy and understanding falling on deaf ears as their victims cries for mercy fell deaf upon theirs.
Tell them, in their final moment, that loved ones will not greet them, nor god, nor the devil. That their minds shall simply cease to be, their brains will shut down, and everything they ever knew will be nothing. Their body will lie, cold and in the dirt to be feasted upon and turned to compost by insects, and eventually all record of who they were shall be erased.
Whatever impact they held in life, will weigh as nothing in death.
The point being, and needing to move on to the next point of interest here, is that idiots are going to be idiots. That seems like a watered-down version of the thing I want to know, and knowing me, I’m going to say it somewhere else, but we need to do something about the chaotically unwinding clock spring of the collective Human Psyche. It’s snapped, and it aint stopping, yes, it’s slowed down some, and yes, Donald trump with his brand of crazy is absorbing the majority of the blows from this thing, but we need to figure out a way of stopping it completely.
The usual news cycle is going to play out, that Brenton’s a white nationalist, something broke in his head, thoughts and prayers are going to be flung out from across the world, and HOPEFULLY New Zealand makes good on its promise to change its gun laws, and from there, things will go the route they usually do.
Sad, but true.
And I don’t write those words easily.
I write them, knowing full well that lives were lost, families torn apart, sons and daughters will grow up never hearing their father and or mothers’ voices again, mothers and or fathers, brothers and or sisters, husbands and or wives will continue living on with a great hole in their lives where there was once comfort and joy.
We need to do better.
All of us.
In whatever capacity we can.
We need leaders that aren’t afraid of insulting their base when a tragedy strikes.
We need condemnation of Nazis.

All that we are.
All that we were.
All that we will ever be.
Within 200 years after our initial passing, everyone connected to us, all our works, all stories of our descendants, will be as nothing. Simply dust in the wind.
Data never to be viewed again.
Words never to read.
Voices never to be heard.
Within 200 years, if we’re lucky, and we’ve lived a life worth living, we will be remembered for that one spark of ingenuity that made us memorable.
All other details? Gone, until rediscovered.
If it sounds like I’m sucking the philosophical dick right now, that’s because I am. The Mosque shootings have gotten me thinking about the importance of things, the greater meaning behind it all, it’s kick started something in my mind that won’t let go, no matter how much I want it to.
Back in my twenties, when I was wild, free, not tied down by the twelve ton chains of the truth of life in general, that all actions, all words, all story lines, have been repeated countless times by countless others in one way or another, I had so many different theories about how humanity continued to be.
About how our seemingly infinite variety of facial and body designs, were in fact very limited in scope, and the only difference between you and that other, at least a hundred, at most ten thousand, other people who look almost exactly like you or had the exact same thought, interest, likes, dislikes, fears, and or non-fears like you were limited to that scope, because at our hearts, at our very cores, within that subset of values, we’re simply copies of people that came before us, and they, copies of people who came before them.
Yet, despite our similarities, what we share both mentally and or physically, the ways in which we go about achieving those interests, overcoming those fears, the technology we have access to changes with every cycle.

We are fucking amazing.

And yet, with the simple snapping of a mind, the spiral into the darker parts of the basic, primal, savage, lizard section of the human mind.
With the planning of the deaths of those incorrectly perceived to be threats to our own personal safety.
With the purchasing of weapons capable of carrying out such plans.
With the initiating those plans, aiming of those weapons, and the pulling of the trigger to take out those incorrectly perceived as threats, and the ending of those same lives…
Those copies of humans who came before, at least that particular lineage, for that person, if they do not have kids…
that persons story will end.
A kind of metaphysical, “BEGONE THOT!” moment.
We are only temporary, but the impact, the weight of what we, they, he, or she will have left behind can be felt immensely, as if to say, “Hear our voice echo throughout this mighty chamber, though I may be gone and my life now forfeit, my deeds, my actions, will haunt the ones that have done me wrong. For my soul was cast, not in the name of evil or good, but somewhere in the middle, so as I might choose my own path. Here my actions thunder throughout creation, for my name be but spoken, and judgement will come thundering down upon the that poor soul.”
Impermanence: Temporary.

How will you make your impact on history last eternal?

Fuck, that’s hot coffee.

And other amazing as fuck facts about life in general.
I mean, really. What did I think getting into this post?

That it’d be some amazing fact finding spree of inspiration, of such great heights that it would forever change the landscape of human discourse and force a great and powerful evultionary force!?
Should every post be something mindblowing?
No, I don’t think so.
If you like the post, you like the post, I’m not going to get all pissy because some fucking commentor that was marked as spam, shunts a half assed, grab bag of words into what can only be described as a brain damaged serial killers first words after losing his dick in a knife fight?

Fuck no.

And yet, I’m writing a post, simply for the fuck of it. Yes, I could discover some GREAT ANDD POWERFUL DIETY but why the fuck would I waste my time doing… whatever it was I was writing about?
More importantly, hot coffee is hot.. I mean, really fucking hot. I use Ice cubes to cool it off, because I like cold coffee, that’s just how my shit rolls, I mean, really, for all our accomplishments, you have assholes that like it hot, and those who like it cold!
I’m Mr. Winter, I’m Mr. Told you so, I’m Mr. Zero Fucks Given and no I’ll not give any to your pour.
I’ve literally forgotten the part WHERE MY FUCKING ANKLE ITCHES!
Itch taken care of.
Mission all complete.
End of Line.
Go fucking Voltron.
What the fuck am I talking about!? I don’t know, there seems to be a disconnect, there is a disconnect, I can’t remember what the utter fuck I was talking about, writing about, I’m not talking, I’m writing, why the fuck would I narrate this to myself!?

Nazi Beer Pong, R. Kelly Crying, and Erasing Michael Jackson… What the fuck.

So, normally, or rather lately I don’t bother with the stronger stuff, I just don’t, there’s already enough examples of me getting pissed about dumb ass things that really… I shouldn’t get mad at.
Still, the Miss America Pageant can go fuck itself, I have my reasons.
So, what’s the new rager today?
I mean, if you have to ask that, ya’ didn’t read the title of this, did ya?
So let’s tackle the biggest fucker here, shall we?
Nazi beer pong. Teens who recently learned about the Holocaust, and saw the angry Austrian dude flinging hands around, who blamed Germany’s defeat on the Jewish annnnd subsequently decided, “AWRIGHT, LETS PARTAY!” first off, fuck em. fuck those idiots for thinking this was such a GREAT FUCKING IDEA in the first place,
Yes, I get it, they’re sorry, but y’know what? That’s the beauty of getting older, you start to give less of a fuck about the fact they’re sorry AFTER THE FACT and more pissed about the fact they did this shit in the first place.
Not to mention, y’know, the great sentient cheesy poof with a habit of flicking the word Fake News everywhere failed to condemn Nazis, and said there were great people on both sides… Yeah, I’m guessing that had a shit ton to do with why they thought this was a great theme for a party, which, HA, underage drinking and the usual dumbassery of thinking they’d get away with this was fucking brilliant.
Also, kudos to the dumbass that thought up the brilliant plan of flooding the principal with emails so he wouldn’t be able to expel them from school. yeah, no. If I were the principal of that place, I’d have thrown a fucking rally, invite the little bastards to the center of the auditorium, give a big ol speech, and hand them the expulsion papers, and yeah, while that’d be quick to solve the riddle of “Hurdur, can’t expel us if we’re gunna flood his emails!” and quick to piss a few parents off, I’d kindly remind the little shits that our school has no room, absolutely none whatsoever for that kind of bullshit.
And yes, the parents would have their opinions about “WE PAID SO MUCH MONEY SO OUR DARLING LITTLE ANGEL COULD HAVE THE BEST EDUCATION!”
I would have mine, “We sent good young men to their graves by the thousands to kill the Nazi sumbitch that was killing over 6 million Jewish practitioners, and the last thing we need is another rise of the Nazi, get your kid the fuck off my campus.”
My initial gut reaction over with… Let’s dial it back a little.

First, don’t get me wrong, I read the CNN article, and I’m happy that the Nazi Beer Pongers got a taste of reality, by way of Eva Schloss telling them about the horrors of the Holocaust, about how she and her Step sister, Anne Frank, hid from the Nazis in an apartment block, and survived the concentration camps while, unfortunately, Anne Frank passed away before her sixteenth birthday.
It’s refreshing to know that with the proper guidance and educational tools, as well as a little first person recounting of such horrifying events, the youth of today can become a better generation.
Seriously, Fuck Nazis.
I wanted to get that out of the way before heading into the second part.

R. Kelly crying… Just, okay, I don’t even know where to begin, so i’m going to start at the heaviest thing here:
The man’s accused of having relations with underage girls, imprisoning women in his house, being a controlling asshole, and… yeah, let’s zipline back to that first one, since, the other two pale in comparison:
R. Kelly is being accused of being a sexual predator.
Just… what the actual fuck. And when Gayle King interviewed him, and I love this part, because it shows that for a split second he premeditated and planned this shit out:
Robert asked if a particular camera was on him, and when it was confirmed, the dude purposefully flipped out, addressing the camera directly, screaming, punching his fist, flipping out, basically the god damned water works.

And I wasn’t focusing so much on the man baby being a dramatic asshole, I was much more focused on Gayle herself, she sat there, with poise, calmly trying to figure out a way to get everything under control, and she did just that.
He just continued pouring on the gas to the fire and went all out, and while I’m tempted to feel sorry for the guy, I can’t, I just can’t.
IF, for some reason, this was blackmail, or someone had kidnapped someone close to him, and he was freaking out about this, because they wanted something of his, but he’s like, “Nah motherfucker, my shit’s mine.” THEN and only then would I feel sorry for the guy. And if he’s proven innocent in the end of all of this, I will walk back my comments, but if he’s guilty of pedophilia, then all my fucks have simply run out and he deserves everything coming to him.
It’s sad to know that being a Celebrity comes with the known risk of someone destroying your life because of a fuck up, and yes, I am aware that nothing’s been proven yet, but Robert’s going to have to register as a sex offender, serve time in which he’ll get his ass handed to him many times over, his music’s getting pulled off the play lists the world over, and basically, his life’s work is over with.
Hopefully, the latter’s not the case, but if it is, fuck him. Never listened to his music that much anyways. And there will always be a dedicated fan base, no matter what. People, fans, that will listen to his music no matter what the hell is going on.

Which brings us to the final third of this: Because of a documentary aired on HBO, “Leaving Neverland”, basically the poison pill that kills the majority of love for the King of Pop, Michael Jackson is effectively and posthumously being erased from culture, why?
As stated above, there will always be die hard fans who’ve got eternal love for Michael Jackson, no matter what, but it will become more and more difficult to publicly show that appreciation for his musical genius, especially when there are parties out there, ever ready to continue their assault on his musical majesty.
The documentary has interviews from people claiming Michael molested them when they were kids, and I’m not going to lie when I ask the question, where the fuck were these assholes while he was alive?
Why did they only feel safe to come out of the woodwork ten years after he passed away, though there are people out there that say his doctor murdered him. And verdicts as well. Nother topic for another day, if I remember that.
What disturbs me the most is, that in this weird era we seem to be in, Which, hey, if it does the great deed of removing creepy fucks from positions of power, I’m all for it. But, if the movement assails the memory of the person after they’ve passed away, that’s just wrong.
Regardless of what the proof and verdict is, I will always enjoy michaels music, regardless of what the majority of die hard Celeb Status killers want to say.
Prove them guilty while they’re alive, while it has the most impact, don’t wait till their bodies have been cold in the ground for a decade to turn the cherished memory of the person into a pile of shit smelling ash.

So, in closing:
Nazi’s can go fuck themselves.
Robert Kelly needs to man the fuck up and stop pitching bitch fits at the camera.
Stop trying to kill the memory of his Musical Majesty, Michael Jackson, long may he moon walk over the haters.

Just needed to get this out of the way…

Women… Phhh

First off, y’all… are strange as fuck.
And, here’s why that’s a good thing.
you are innovators.
you are geniuses.
you are teachers.
You are muses.
you are inspiration.
You are literally the engine that keeps humanity going, and yes, talking about crotch stuff. Well, belly… you know what I’m talking about. TALKIN’ BOUT EJECTING A TINY HUMAN FROM CROTCH HOLE AFTER FUN FUN TIME!
Men are just as insecure about mating as women are about men being insecure about mating.
Here’s the thing, and fun with girl logic memes:
A gal, hanging around with some guy friends, in some cases, has to claim she has a boyfriend, (I said in SOME cases) so that any potential annoying flirts will be knocked away, like a fluffy cat, batting at a piece of string. The string of hope, it dangles. Like old man balls. Bat, fluffy cat, bat.
Getting off track, I honestly have no fucking clue where I was going with this, needless to say, it’s hard for me to transition from friend to boyfriend, because then I get caught up in what’s allowed versus not allowed because then it’s a whole new ballgame, and I’d rather meet someone new with the sole intention of getting with them, and while the friends first thing works out a ton, it just confuses the fuck out of me, because if things don’t work out, and I’m sending you the “go ahead” signal, but you don’t send it back, wtf does the mean?
Try harder?
Stop trying?
Eat at Joe’s?
Where the fuck is Joe’s?
What do they serve?
Are there annoying yelp reviews that I can make fun of?
Most importantly, with women, in this day and age, dating is fucking terrifying, because ya don’t know how the gal is going to react, what the hell is going through her head, and more importantly, what the percentage of success you’re going to have is, I’m not talking how often is it going to end up in sex, I’m simply talking getting to the next date and so on and so forth, especially with the ingrained perception that YOU MUST HAVE AT LEAST THIS MUCH TO EVEN QUALIFY FOR A DATE!
And even then, it’s a fucking mystery as to which women will reply to what messages in what style and that’s another set of SHERLOCK BOOKS THAT TAKES YEARS TO GET THROUGH and the whole time you’re thinking to yourself, ‘The fuck. Could be at home watching porn!’
But nooooooo!
That’s always the wrong answer, porn is never the right answer, unless the question being asked is “How many feathers can I get away with?”
But now you’re just focusing on the feathers instead of the date and that’s how you wind up ordering the Chicken when you REALLY just wanted the steak!

See!?
See what I mean!?
Now I want more chicken.
So, in short, dating is fucking terrifying, I want more chicken, and women are the perpetual motion machines of humanity, because you help slap the stupid out of men. Also, my cat has a furry monoboob… need to get that thing checked out.

Let’s talk about what guys want.

Okay, we got this.
“What women want” was an interesting premise, a peek into the female mindset through the lens of a guy… But, in truth, was it accurate in displaying what y’all ACTUALLY wanted, or was it just another dick stab in the dark?
right around the corner is the movie which asks the question, “What if the roles were reversed?”
Now, don’t get me wrong, the AGE OF WOMEN is incredible and has lead to a LOT of awesome and hilarious things popping up, (I still don’t get the draw of cat fight videos on facebook though.)
What men want, at our base is three very crucial things, to kill, to mate, and reproduce. At our base, that’s what drives us.
Now, before you get all “OMG, GUYS WANT TO KILL EVERYTHING!” To be fair, humans in general are just fucking vicious as all fuck, it’s just to the point where we don’t really notice it anymore.
What I mean, well, add protect to that list as well, is that while, YES killing is definitely there, it’s more in the metaphorical and in the need to survive. And in some ways, the most pettiest of ways.
Let’s be honest here?
300?
Spray on abs?
What the fuck.
Anyways, I’m skeptical as hell about this movie, I’ll still give it a chance, no doubt there, but at its core, will it live up to the hype?
Is it the perfect movie in the age of the #MeToo movement? OF course it is, as it’ll prove to the more intense girls and women out there that boys and men aren’t just sex driven meat machines where the only intelligent part is our dicks.
yikes, that just sounded a bit bitter, doesn’t it?
Oh well.
My point is that my lizard brain see the premise of this movie and doesn’t like it. it wants the reviews, the ratings, and the comments to be as horrific as humanly and inhumanely possible. that’s more or less my fear and natural paranoia setting in. HOWEVER on the flip side:
This could be a pretty good movie…. I don’t know why, but movies have the ability to change societies, or at least parts of society. And since all of society is one, big, psychological clockwork, those affected parts, will in time, affect the rest.

Seriously though, humans are vicious as fuck. Your sisters comment on that last dinner picture you uploaded? Holy fuck, hidden venom.

More intelligent than a dumb ass next to a switch

I walk in, do my thing, go to the sink to wash my hands, and the dude slides out like he’s Kramer from Seinfeld, like, “HEY YA JERRY! I’VE GOTTA TELL YA SOMETHING!”

Yeah, I fucking swear, UHMAHGAWD leave me alone~ Or some other weird bullshit like that, I dunno, maybe I do? Either way, we’s gon’ get drunk annnnnnnnnd blog. About random bullshit, I like mac n cheese, but not the kind of mac n cheese that’s mac n cheese. I’m fucking hipster like that, or not, fuck those idiots that claim to like things BEFORE they were cool. And Yeah, I know, old gripe, but can we PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING GOD, make the other days of the week food related? We’ve already got Taco Tuesday.
So let’s have Menudo Monday, Waldorf Salad Wednesday, Turkey Thursday, Fuckfoods Friday, you know? food that you eat after you have a good fuck, like shit you REALLY want to eat right after sex, I’m talking the kind of food that you just want to chow down on right after you get done chowing down on. Me?
Personally? A bowl of fucking lucky charms! Like, fuck yeah!
They’re magically delicious because SO AM I DAMMIT!
It’s all good. My cat is proving once again, that they do indeed rule the universe, because while i’m writing this, she’s doing everything in her power to role on my keyboard. So, every sentence is like a battle of wills between my wanting to knock out a post, and her wanting me to pet her. MOTHERFUCKER, I AM A GOD DAMNED BLOGGER, let me do this shit. I’ll give you scratchings behind the ears later.
Like a goddamn boss.

I’ve been working for Amazon for what seems like forever now, and I’m getting used to the flow of the same damned thing almost everyday, there’s there far away prospect of getting Blue Badged, at least, it seems like a far away prospect, in truth I’m not really sure when they’ll offer, but there are constant whispers of it up and down the lines, in the break room, and pretty much in the one bathroom stall that’s always occupied by the same guy.
No fucking joke.
Every single day, same stall, same guy.
I walk in, do my thing, go to the sink to wash my hands, and the dude slides out like he’s Kramer from Seinfeld, like, “HEY YA JERRY! I’VE GOTTA TELL YA SOMETHING!”
Funniest damned thing since it’s usually a PA, KBS, or AM, depending on the day, and what they felt like doing at the time. There’s two times where they have the departments gather called stand up, and it’s not that interesting, basically it goes:
1. People gather around.
2. Stretching.
3. any tips from the audience, (I usually get ignored, no matter how loud I am.)
4. Who to give props to. (also get ignored)
5. The mad rush to get to a station.

During any one of these portions, people are always talking, and the PA’s can BARELY be heard on the speaker system they’ve got set up, it’s the weirdest fucking feeling in the world. SEPS was the same way, only except people were fucked to speak during inspections. I almost kind of want Stand Up to be like inspections, just a little.

The job, love it, love everything about it. Made a few friends there, one of my best friends from work is also my ride, and lately, what we’ve been doing is going to a different place everyday. Sometimes the food’s great, sometimes it’s a bit lacking, but we try every place we can, and make the mad rush to get to work afterwards. Which is a treat in and of itself.
Because let it be known that there are fucking idiots on the road, who will drive twenty three fucking miles, with a god damned traffic cone stuck to the under carriage of their car, and it’s the funniest god damned thing in the world, like a car based unicorn with day glow viagra, it’s a god damned rarity.
Also a treat is the driver trying to constantly pass us if we’re going the speed limit and the dumb ass’s girlfriend starts taking a picture of the car? OH my fucking god, it’s… great!
Cause I flipped that dumbass off, and I’m kind of wondering what they were trying to get a picture of. But so far, so good, nothing new to report. We’re alos gaming buddies on the switch, which reminds me to snag Splatoon 2.

I just invented Nogfee

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

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

Working at Amazon is a bit… interesting.

Yes, I’m gonna bitch a little about Amazon, just some much needed stress relieving, that’s all. I still love you BABEH! Anyways, one fucking thing that bugs the utter shit out of me is the popping of bubble wrap. There’s piffing, and then there’s people that squeeze the fucking shit out of that stuff like there’s both crack and money inside of it.
And, I get it, I really do! Trust me, Popping bubble wrap is fucking amazing, almost like having an orgasm and it’s literally a fucking release of air. But then again, you have the asshats that stare at you WHILE they’re popping the stuff, like, really dude?
Are you trying to tell me something? Am I going to be sleeping with the fishes? Am I part of a bubble wrap based civil war and you know what’s really going on? Did the PA’s tell everyone to just stare me, right in the fucking eyes while you slowly squeezed the shit out of the poor thing, only relenting after that oh so satisfying POP? I mean really, if you want to give me a hug, go for it, just…. just don’t treat me like you do the bubble wrap every chance you get, because… well, there’s another way of ending the bubble wraps pathetic existence.
Stabbing it with the box cutter, and the piff noise is so much more depressing. Because it almost sounds like something screaming their last, and I’m thinking to myself, “OH GOD YES!” because when the bubble wrap wars start between the Poppers and the Piffers? box cutters will be the unfortunate victims of their own hubris!
And I’ve forgotten what theu tter fuck I was talking about, sorry, random booger or something, I dunno.
Working at Amazon is easy enough.
The works easy.
Pay’s amazing.
So what’s the biggy?
i’ll tell you.
The fucking Rate system they have in place, and it’s fucking ridiculous.
Okay, when I first started working there, the rate was around 319 items, and that’s reasonable, right? Because we’re there for about 8 hours normal and 10 hours if there’s MET, and 12 hours if we vote for the 4/10, which I guess is cool, but it all averages out, I’ll have to check the latest numbers, but you get the idea, right?
Anywho, so there’s a group rate and an individual rate, not saying fuck it, ers has the individual rate, and vegantarians have the group rate, and we have to hit those numbers on the daily, between 65% and 100% is the magic number, and those dailies average out the weekly, but the way the numbers are crunched is based around three different theories, but they all mean the same thing:
1. Size of the box scanned
2. Recieving V Sorting
3. Number of scans total

So using those three things, they knock out the number, and it’s not an issue. The issue is that what we receive is usually a mix throughout the day, and I’ve begun noticing a pattern, in the beginning is mostly receive, towards the middle is a 50/50, and towards the end is mostly sort.
Not to mention there’s a thing called cherry picking, which is when people only take the boxes that are good and large numbers, which fuck the rest of us over. Because from what I’ve heard, the higher ups both condemn and silently promote cherry picking at the same time depending on how it’s affecting the bottom line. Not to mention it fucks the rest of us over.
There’s an easy way to fix this, and I’ve mentioned it to the higher ups, make a group rate based on the overall Sort/Receive of an entire line, therefor eliminating the Cherry Picking situation all together, because no matter the box picked, it all goes towards the Line Rate, and everyone gets to do their thing.
There are also those that like to scan something, then talk for minutes on end, then scan something again just to keep that TOT timer from screwing them over. Whihc, hey, more power to them, but at the same time, not only does that screw their rate over, it fucking slows down the amount of work getting done. we’re there to work, not chit chat about shit that doesn’t matter. If it affects how much work you’re getting done throughout the day in a negative fashion, fucking don’t do that shit. No place for it.
because when they don’t do THEIR work, we end up having to carry their asses. And the FC’s only a year old, so the higher ups are still trying to optimize the best ways to make everything work together. Another thing that feeds into the cherry picking is the individuals strength. Because you got the following ages groups:
18 to 29 – these guys and gals kick ass all over the place, but there IS a habit of spending more time talking than working.
30 – 49 – my age bracket (I’m 34), we tend to be a bit more focused on our work, not talk so much, and knock out the majority of the things the 18 – 29 miss.
49 – 69 – they tend to talk and cherry pick because their strength ain’t what it used to be. In a way, it does make sense, but it’s still doing a thing that goes against the grain.

Anyways, I’m starting to spin my wheel just a bit, so I’ll end it on a positive note, the higher ups are always taking feedback, ideas, and other things to their higher ups, and in turn trying to figure out the best way to make those things happen.

Worker placement is also a thing, but meh, not interested in writing this anymore. Anyways, just wanted to knock something out, have a good one!

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