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In God We Obfuscate

Last week, a photo surfaced from the White House of a bunch of Evangelical pastors laying hands on Donald Trump in the White House. One prominent evangelical leader immediately tweeted out the image with the caption: “President Trump is bringing God back to America.” So this is God, huh? It’s funny, during my many readings of the bible, I came to understand Jesus as one who didn’t turn his back on anyone, including the people that wanted to kill him. In political terms, Jesus is the kinda guy Trump Supporters love to bash. I can guarantee you, when Jesus gave his sermon on the mount, he didn’t say “Love thy God and kill the gays. While we’re at it, let’s denigrate white people (this was the middle east after all, it would be counter productive to denigrate brown people).” Whether you like to hear it or not, Christianity (as with all organized religions) has always been about control. It’s been the single greatest tactic of division in human history. Hell, look at all the wars started in the “name of God.” At least in the Middle Ages you knew who the enemy was because the Vatican made it quite clear. It was not a good time to be a witch or a brown person (has it ever been?) These days though, Evangelicals have turned Christianity into some really weird reality television version of Magic The Gathering or a role playing game. All you have to do is watch one of those doofy televangelists at work. “Are you feeling spiritually drained? Call this number now, make a $10 donation, and we will send you a bottle of prayer water.” Or my personal favorite from Benny Hinn: “Ward off energy draining demonic attacks with my prayer cloth.” Seriously, there was a time I used to think God was Colonel Sanders from Kentucky Fried Chicken, now I’m beginning to think he’s actually Gandalf from Lord of the Rings.  Half the time these daffy fuckers talk, I think I’m in the middle of a Champions of Norrath quest.

I guess my point to all this, is that Evangelicals have muddied the Christian waters so much, that it’s impossible to tell who the enemy is these days. Some days its the gays other times its brown people. According to Pat Robertson, last week it was anyone who criticized Trumpenstein. It’s almost like these people have no idea what they are talking about and are just making it up on the fly. But hey, at least in times of need they can surround you and put hands on you. The only way that sounds appealing is if there’s a happy ending. “In the name of the father, the son, and the holy load.” Too sacrilegious? I don’t care. You lost your ability to be faux outraged when you stood behind pastors like Joshua Feurstein when they went on live television and supported the terrorist attack in Orlando because the terrorists targeted gays. Enjoy Mike Pence while you can. You want salvation, and yet all you offer is confusion and division. The spotlight you are standing under may be warm and comfy right now, but it is starting to dim. When it finally burns out, you are going to wish you had a God on your side.

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War No More

This morning I heard a man talk about the dire need for this country to bomb North Korea as they are “becoming a major threat.” I could only shake my head as the words tumbled out of his mouth. How long is it going to take? How many wars? How many needless deaths before this species finally understands? Anytime there is a problem, our first solution is to bomb the unholy fuck out of it. We are the first grade child who doesn’t get their way and starts to throw things. The human race talks peace and love, but it’s a charade. We are a tantruming race of war mongering children. Its in our DNA. How many wars have been fought since the dawn of the human? How many battles over meaningless specks of land? Leave Earth’s atmosphere and float in the blackness of space. An ocean that stretches so far and wide you cant even comprehend it. A stretch of darkness that should inspire greatness and highlight the fragility and rarity of human life, and yet, we ignore it. We fight for chunks of land that in 500 years no one will ever remember the reasons why. We look across the ocean and see people that look different than we do and immediately find hate instead of curiosity. We find anger in a terrorist attack that kills Americans, but find no pity when we drone bomb an innocent wedding. The problem is not war, it is hypocrisy. It is this misguided, foolish belief that our lives matter more than others. That somehow, our resident country is so much more important than anyone else’s. Our self importance is the same sham shared by the English, French, Spanish, and every other goddamn empire that grew out of the piles of dead bodies. When are we going to stop looking at the small picture and finally take a gaze at the whole?

Fuck it. You can have your wars. You can have your bloodshed and your guns. You can look at a person who is different than you and choose to find some fault. I’m not. Not anymore. This life is too short and too full of potential to spend playing armchair general. If war is your mantra, just understand that you are no different than the millions that have come before you. The ones who chose violence over life, war over peace, and hate over love. If you want too truly experience what it is to be human, try love for a change. Maybe it’s not as exciting or as adrenaline filled, but it also doesn’t leave families broken, widows grieving, or a pile of dead bodies in it’s wake.

Trumpty Dumpty Sat On A Wall

I am due to be up in 4 hours, and instead of sleeping, I find myself staring at this infernal screen wondering what kind of hideous forces have conspired to keep me up tonight. Every single time I close my eyes, I see Sarah Huckabee Sanders standing in front of me. One eye aimed slightly off center, and the other looking at god knows what. I never thought I’d say this in a million years, but I wish the human potato Sean Spicer would climb out of whatever bush he’s hiding in and save us all from this Goonies-esque fucking monster that has taken his place. Apparently the only qualification to be Trump’s press secretary is a willingness to yell incoherently and throw Alex Jones like facial expressions out into the cosmos. I shudder at the fact that right now, a whole bunch of babies are being born in this country whose first words will more than likely be “FAKE NEWS.” This is what happens when you allow Uncle Father’s to marry their Daughter Nieces. Yes, I just went there Trumptards. You are more than welcome to fire a few shots in return. By shots I mean insults just in case any of you brainiacs had fantasies of going all Rambo in a pizza joint. You ask why you should have to justify your support of this goofy haired wombat. My response is this: for years you nutballs have demanded that people like me justify our belief in not voting for our own oppression. Not fun now that the shoe is on the other foot is it? It’s okay though, I’m not going to make you answer. The last thing I’d want you to do is put your foot in your mouth and give yourself a horrendous case of athletes tongue. Instead I’m going to sit here and insult you endlessly, you hairless, dickless, turtles. If I had a dollar for every brain cell you idiots have in your head, I’d be on welfare. It takes a special kind of dumb to support someone who is going to fuck you six ways to Sunday. But hey, what do I know, I didn’t graduate from the Alex Jones School of Crackpots. Speaking of crackpots, I couldn’t figure out why Jeff Sessions looked so familiar until I saw an episode of King of the Hill. Suddenly Hank’s dad makes so much more sense. Now I know what you tools are thinking. “Why is this asshole making fun of us?” Simple. You deserve it. You run around yelling snowflake at anything or anyone that doesn’t drive a monster truck and wear overalls. This is hilarious considering the fact that the giant nutsack that you elected president happens to be the biggest snowflake of them all. He’s a $2 hooker in a ten thousand dollar suit. The man is one of the greatest carnival barkers in history, and you schmucks bought his sales pitch hook line and sinker. You know what’s making America great again? Nothing. We have officially become the passed out guy at the frat party that everyone draws permanent marker dicks on. The world is laughing at us because we have a 70 year old man child as our president.  “Oh sure, like you’re contributing anything productive.” I never said I was. At this point, I’m standing on the outside watching this train wreck with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a middle finger extended on the other. The only thing I had to lose this past election was the last shred of respect I had for the public.

Fucking hell, look what you bastards have gone and made me do. I’ve been so busy making fun of your sister wives and outhouse weddings that I forgot what my original point was. Have no fear though, this is the age of revisionist history, so as far as Im concerned, the last paragraph never happened. I’m just going to drag out my cardboard cutout of Sarah Huckabee Sanders and yell fake news for the next hour. That should pretty much cover it. By the way, how can you function with one eye looking straight ahead, and the other one looking at Neptune? God forbid I ever run into her in public. I can see it now: “Look me in the eyes and apologize!” Geez, I would if your other eye wasn’t too busy staring at the moon. Yeah I know, I took the low hanging fruit on that one but you know what? God is her guide so I’m sure he’ll lead her into paradise, provided her funky eyes don’t lead her into a tree first.

Well, there is nowhere for this piece to go but up at the current moment. I’m kinda thinking it won’t happen, but let’s give it a shot shall we? The whole point to this three paragraph insult, is to show that this whole calling people snowflakes thing is absolutely retarded. If any of you Tangerine Dream supporters are still reading, I’d imagine you are creating a list of insults to fire back. Which, is hardly surprising. After all, we have a sitting president who instead of actually leading, spends his time insulting people on twitter when they say things he doesn’t like. The leader of the United States is so thin skinned, that all you have to do is go on television and say something he disagrees with, and he has a meltdown. By your very definition, he fits the mold of a snowflake. To run around yelling “cry some more snowflake” when the very guy you supports has a temper tantrum every ten minutes is about as hypocritical and stupid as it gets. So before you get all “fuck you libtard snowflake” on me, just remember that I am doing nothing that your savior hasn’t already done every day since Inauguration Day.

The Downward Spiral of the Dumb Part 4: The Return of the Suckfish

Good morning weirdos! It’s been a long time since I’ve put together two Bastards pieces in under a week. I kinda feel dirty heh. Actually, that dirtiness I feel is in no thanks part to Republican state senator from Wisconsin Jesse Kremer. This genius actually threw out the following quote recently: “The Earth is 6,000 years old. That’s a fact!” My fucking gods. It takes an incredible amount of ignorance and stupidity to come to that conclusion. Then again, that’s apparently the new norm here in the United States of Ignorance. For the last few years, we have seen an astronomical rise in nutballs who believe the Earth is flat, and those who believe the Earth is anywhere from 4,000 to 6,000 years old. Dick Cheney has taken shits that are older than that. How is it possible to look out at things like fossils, the stars, mountains, even that Ten fucking thousand year old tree in Iceland and say that the world is only 6,000 years old?!? Are you fucking kidding me? Who are these fucking cretins? How do you get off being a public official and making decisions about education and science when you’re so goddamn doofy your beliefs don’t even allow the existence of dinosaurs? And who the fuck votes for these idiots? How can you in good conscience walk into a voting booth (I should end the sentence there but for lengths sake lets keep moving) and say to yourself: Wow, this guy thinks Jesus rode dinosaurs. Fuck yes he is going to make a fine decision maker. I sometimes wake up in the morning and feel like I’m in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode. A few years back, Ken Hamm (He of the amazingly weird Creation Museum fame) actually put out a video where he manhandled a banana and spouted off about how bananas are proof that evolution doesn’t exist. We actually live in an age where a guy can jerk off a banana on youtube and that is considered evidence. What a magical time to be alive.

As for the flat Earthers, holy hell, I want to party with you guys. Anyone that can come up with the idea that NASA is using holograms to convince us the world is round, is bound to have some damn good drugs on them. I’m really hoping that all these peeps are just folks who had a bad acid trip that never ended. “Jesus man, the Earth is Flat and the sun is unzipping itself! Christ, James, your mom turned into a dragon! Fuck NASA!” Or maybe we really live in a world that encourages this kind of dangerous stupidity. Personally, I’m putting the blame solely on the religious right. Here’s why: For years the religious right has cried out anytime they see a violation of their rights or their “free speech” and yet when they do it to other people, suddenly its okay. Evangelical pastors can come out on live fucking tv and say that their followers should beat/kill gays and it’s “religious freedom.” People decry the state of Kentucky using tax payer funds to build a goddamn Ark for Ken Hamm and his Creation Asylum, and suddenly its religious persecution. Seriously? You can go to church whenever you want, you can pray in your own home, you can even wear crosses around your neck in public. You’re right, that’s definitely persecution. Meanwhile, the rise in Neo Nazi membership here in the states has skyrocketed. Fuck the jews, right? By the way, if any of you swastika sporting dickheads comes across this, maybe you can answer a question for me. Why, if you hate Jews so much, do you dutifully follow the words of a…half Jew? I mean not for nothing, but that’s like me saying I hate black people yet running around preaching the words of  Barack Obama. I mean seriously, did you guys decide to get together in a room somewhere and say “Fuck Jews…well, except this one. He’s kinda cool.” I’m not even going to get started on the whole muslim thing. But yes, let’s talk about how Christians here are persecuted. When you are allowed to make education/science decisions based on a belief that is completely fucking wrong, you are not fucking persecuted.

Jesus fucking Christ I have completely lost my grip on this. You dingbats are so out there it’s not even funny anymore. It used to be. Shit, there was a time when a guy would come out and say that dinosaur bones were put here by the devil to lead people from god, and the country would laugh at him. Now it’s seemingly the other way around. A guy comes out and says the Earth is billions of years old and suddenly the response is: “Hey Craig, get a load of this wanker He thinks the Earth is billions of years old. Can you believe this guy??”

I used to love the movie Idiocracy. To me, it was an extreme version of what we are. Now, not only do I hate the movie, but I hate Mike Judge for making it. It’s only a matter of time before we start hearing “Welcome to Costco, I love you.” At that point, the Downward Spiral of the Dumb will be complete and the suckfish will have won.

Ramblings From the Twilight Hall

It’s currently 2am and I’m watching Scooby Doo. No, not the shitty movie with Mr. Bean in it, the badass original cartoon. You know, the one where all the evil ghosts turned out to be old white men. After seeing it as an adult, I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty sure Jeff Sessions was the Miner Forty-Niner ghost. I’d say Sixty Niner, but that would require him removing his head from Trump’s ass long enough to seduce Steve Bannon. How’s that for a ghastly love triangle? Ugh the thought of it makes me want to puke all over Mike Pence. Why, you may be asking, am I shitting all over the Trump administration this late at night when I should be sleeping? The answer is fairly simple: Because I fucking can. Let me ask you Trumpanzees out there a little something: How the fuck can you possibly stick with this guy?!? Remember when George W nearly killed himself when he choked on the pretzel and banged his face off a table? All his supporters were slightly embarrassed and for the most part admitted that yes, maybe they had voted for a dunce. Trump throws out an illegible Covfefe tweet and y’all are like “Yes! Look at how great our mighty Orange President is!!” Seriously? And what’s the deal with this whole calling people snowflakes thing? You do realize you support the biggest one of them all right? If there was a snowflake pope, Trump would have a three foot tall hat. I will say (in his defense) that he is the most entertaining president I think we’ve ever had. I mean honestly, I can watch Melania Trump’s reactions to his attempts at affection all day long. It’s almost like she’s being caressed by some slimy, vile, disgusting creature…

That aside, his twitter rants are getting more and more ridiculous. Our thin skinned Orange in Chief just recently went after the muslim mayor of London. Right after a terrorist attack. Yes, let’s all stand in admiration of this man. I really wish Tony Blair had publicly ripped Rudy Giuliani after 9/11. I can only imagine the shitstorm that would have hit here. Hell, this is the country that got so angry at France for refusing to bomb Iraq with us, that we changed the name of French Fries to freedom fries and had wine bottle breaking parties. If Tony Blair had ripped Giuliani like Trump just ripped Khan, there would have been another fucking Tea Party in Boston Harbor. “Fuck you and your English Breakfast!” Actually, now that I think about it, Trump is the perfect president for our time. We live in a country in which a bunch of dopey “Patriotic” rednecks can take over a deserted federal gift shop at a bird sanctuary and be compared to the founding fathers. We live in a country that is so obsessed with being the best, that any opinion to the contrary is met with “You can just get the hell on out of here if you don’t like it.” The only things we are best at these days are wars (224 years out of 241), religious delusions, Incarcerations and science denial. Yay Team!

The more I listen to team Trump and their “Make America Great Again” bullshit, the more I understand just how much of a ride some of you got taken for. The carnival popped into town, the tents were pitched, and this orange carnival barker drew you all in with promises he would never be able to keep, and labeling himself as the ultimate outsider. He said he was going to play tough with everyone. That he was the only one strong enough to deal with foreign leaders…and then he hopped in a golf cart at the G7 summit because he was too tired to walk. I mean, when it comes right down to it, you basically elected the adult version of that shitty kid from Problem Child. I get being angry at the system and throwing a collective Fuck You at it, but when that Fuck You turns on you and you still support it? Son, that is some serious Stockholm Syndrome shit right there. Then again, this country has always ignored history anyway, so why start paying attention now right? At least there’s a silver lining to all of this. When this ship hits the iceberg and goes down, at least we’ll know why.

Confessions from the Emotional Cellar

“My biggest weakness is my sensitivity. I am too sensitive a person.” – Mike Tyson

What a wonderfully weird fucking thing for a guy who bit off another guy’s ear to say.  The sad fact of the matter, is that I’m right there with him. I’ve always been a highly sensitive/emotional guy. Which, is a shit thing to be when we live in a society where John Wayne is considered the ideal American guy. I remember being at military school my 7th grade year standing in my TO’s office in tears after watching the kid in the room across from me get stomped like a lizard by 5 other kids. He asked me why I was in tears and I said it was because the kid was screaming in pain and I felt bad for him. My tactical officer, without missing a beat, said: “Williamson, you’re either a pussy or a fag, right now I’m having trouble figuring out which one it is.” That was when my first wall went up.  Unfortunately, it only got worse the older I got. As a kid you don’t understand societal norms. As you get older though, certain things stick out. Like, men are not supposed to be emotional. That shit is best left in the kitchen with the women, cause fuck acting human.

My father was not a very emotional man at all. We rarely hugged, it was always a handshake and a “Fare thee well, lad” or “See you tomorrow, young man.” But behind the formality of that handshake, I also felt love. He may not have been good at expressing it, but it was always there. I, on the other hand, emote all over the fucking place. I feel bad for Shelby sometimes, because I mush all over her. It’s not that I’m trying to win her over (already have) but the kind of love I feel for her is so ridiculously strong that that’s how it gets expressed. Which, is funny as hell sometimes, because she is a lot like my dad in the emotional category. The running joke between us is that I’m the chick and she’s the dude. And that brings me to the point of this whole mess. Why do we as a society insist that men be John Wayne and nothing less? Yeah sometimes I cry during tv shows or movies, but I also spent years boxing and could split your head like a coconut. So what? In the long run that means nothing. What matters, and this is where things get confusing for me, is who they are as people and what contributions they make to society. How can you place a guy like “The Duke” on a pedestal when he basically shit on an entire race of people by saying they (Natives) deserved to lose their land because whitey needed it more? Yes, that seems exactly like the kind of character I would want my son to be.

I hate the following word because there is such a social stigma to it, but the word is Empath. It’s a word that a lot of people consider to be bullshit but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s real. I can walk into a room fully energized, and 20 minutes later be so emotionally drained that I can’t function. Every time I walk into a crowd of people, it’s like walking into an emotional brick wall. I get hit with everything. Going to funerals is my least favorite thing to do on this planet. Not because it’s sad and I’ve lost someone in my life (thats part of it) but because the waves of emotion are never ending. They are relentless and it changes from person to person. I’ve kept this part of me hidden for so many years that it’s now starting to keep me up at night. Hence the reason I’m verbally throwing up on you today. Despite what I should feel, I am ashamed to be this way. I grew up in a society that beat up kids like me because we were “pussies” or “fags.”  I got into at least one fight, usually two, on a daily basis at military school because of this very thing. On the other hand, I don’t do emotions anything short of 100% warp speed. The love I’m capable of feeling is so intense that it gives me a natural high that can last for days, if I’m lucky, sometimes even weeks. Same with every other emotion we are capable of. Yes, I wound easily. I’d rather be stabbed a thousand times with a swiss army knife (death by a thousand cuts) than have someone I love (family, friend, wife) be mad at me. You could beat me within an inch of my life and I’d find a way to take it, but one short sentence from a loved one can cripple me.

It’s an interesting time to be a highly sensitive person these days. The foghorns all blaring out of Trumplandia these days all blast the same one note song: “Snowflake!” I find the term an interesting one given that under the right circumstances (namely being inside watching through the window next to a fireplace) snowflakes can create the most amazing sights. If this piece of self indulgent vomiting gets me labeled a snowflake, so be it. I’m done hiding this part of me. This is the 4th time I’ve gotten deeply personal since The Bastards started up 5-6 years ago. This will more than likely be the last as you don’t read these to “learn” about me. I can promise you that there will be a return to form soon. Until then: Fuck your feelings  😀

Ruminations on Death and the Weirdness that We Call Grief.

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*** The following mess of words is not really a typical Bastards piece. In fact, it’s really only been written because I didn’t have any other choice. It is certainly not a topic I would have willingly chosen, but sometimes that option gets taken from us. In all complete honesty, it’s a piece written solely for me. If you choose to read it and find something of value in it, great. If not, there will be no hard feelings. In truth, I wasn’t going to post this at all. I was going to write it, appease the shitty little muse who planted it in my head, and then delete it. Unfortunately, something keeps compelling me to post it. So here we are. An array of thoughts about a dead man most of you never knew. Ain’t life grand?***

 

“The muses are ghosts, and sometimes they come uninvited.” – Stephen King

I’ve had a recurring nightmare recently, in which my now dead father jumps out at me when I open my closet door and drops me to the ground while rattling off any number of business transgressions I have committed since his passing. To those of you who weren’t at the memorial and haven’t heard the story this particular nightmare steals from, you won’t fully understand the abject terror it has caused me. I think it’s only natural to think in terms of ghosts and supernatural when a loved one passes, as it gives us hope that they might still be around. There is no ghost, however, that is more terrifying than that of memory. The kind that sneaks up on you in the still of the night when you least expect it and punches you in the chest so hard that your eyes widen in shock and breathing becomes difficult. Stephen King may be right about the ghostly muses, but it’s the latter of the two that has compelled me to stare at this infernal screen and try to find some way to rid myself of the nightmares that currently plague me.

It is no secret that the Five Stages of Grief are an actual blueprint for handling loss. What they don’t tell you, is that you can float between them like some kind of sado-masochistic bird that can’t decide whether to attempt flying into the eye of a tornado or just saying fuck it and landing in front of the meanest feral cat you can find. My favorite stage thus far has been denial. It was a lot easier just pretending the man had trotted on down to Acapulco for a wild ten days than it was to admit I’d never be seeing him again. Bargaining has probably been the weirdest stage. The idea that there might be a way to sell yourself to the devil of the universe in exchange for one more day is, in all honesty, quite comical. I admittedly laughed at myself when I realized what I was doing. Depression has been the easiest of the stages to handle as it’s something I wrestle with every fall/winter and at times like this, it almost feels like home. The stage that has been the hardest and that has caused the most discomfort (and the one in which I currently reside) is anger. It started last Thursday morning. I woke up raging at the world for reasons I didn’t understand. I am not by nature an angry man, but this has caused me to pick fights with family members, yell at people on the street (though some have argued that they deserved it) and nearly caused me to pick a fight with my significant other whom I would never aim a hurtful word at. Now before the idea escapes that I might be angry at my father for dying, I am not. I am mad that he is not here anymore, but I am not mad at him. Which makes this a terrible stage for someone like me to be in, because I have nowhere to direct this. There isn’t a DMV for the dead where I can walk in, kick over the ‘Take a Number’ kiosk, and wreck unholy hell upon whatever poor bastard happens to be behind the counter. There is no one to blame for this. Not a doctor, not a drunk driver, no one. It was a pulmonary embolism and that was it. For someone like me who finds logic in emotions, this anger is directionless and illogical. It won’t bring him back, it won’t ease the pain, and it certainly won’t make life easier. So, I think it has manifested itself in the form of nightmares. Nightmares that do a complete disservice to my father. It gives me someone to be angry at. Not the ghost dad, but me. Again, completely illogical, but what about dealing with death isn’t?

I realize this is a complete departure from my usual style/subject, but I woke up this morning to find that I had been visited by one of King’s ghostly muses last night. When I opened my eyes at 5am, there was a mix of images and words scattered across my mind. Some were clear as day, others were like looking through a fishbowl. They floated around my head like some kind of airy dance of death, begging me to pay attention to them and give them life. In my weakness, I acquiesced. Now I find myself asking what kind jabbering goat would force something like this on the public. After all, there are very few who have any sort of stake in the above words, and they will most likely never read this. Maybe it’s because it’s how I’ve always handled things. Or maybe, it’s to appease the ghosts of the past that have moved themselves into the present.  Either way, I hope that by doing so, the darkness once again becomes a friend.