All that rasp

Sat down for a heart to heart. After 23 yrs of marriage there are no heart to heart talks amongst spouses. All those sweet talks, starring deep into each others eyes, lashes stroking each others hearts and feelings, are all now a thing of the past. Talks now focus mostly around the kids or about what the other spouse isn’t doing, or just doing wrong, or not doing enough of whatever it is theyre doing wrong. Never is it a genuine outpouring of feelings. And when it is, it doesnt come out constructively or even coherently. It kind of just comes out, wrapped in whatever flavor of cuss happens to be the latest flavor. So to sit, and say “look here” and not sound like a failed dad talking to his daughter, that was a life moment. Theres a blues song by John Lee Hooker… raspiest mother fucking blues cat to ever make it big mainstream. Says one part of the song “so listen here, man”… its just his rasp, his curtness and that bass driving every syllable in. Its how i imagined it sounded when i said “so listen here, love”, the rasp of my gut pouring out as the bass in my head kept the pace. Wasn’t negotiable, wasnt meant to be. Explained I didn’t want to be home. Caged in the same four walls, living the same life on repeat wasnt for me. When your walls don’t move or change, your life doesn’t either. You cant grow knowing a circle of 36 people and only learning from them. Raspy me even went on to explain, my rasp almost broke there, that the 36 people I was referring to were mine and her family and some close friends. With conspired tactfulness I solicited her alliance when i said “well, we both know they are all idiots”. The deafening silence in her look, brought about a gulp in me that only went halfway swallowed. Wasn’t sure I wanted continue and swallow it through, or try regurgitate and take back what i had just said. Too late. She didn’t blink and i wasnt falling for a bluff. On i went… “so listen here, man” i am going to retire… and these walls won’t hold me and neither will anything else (still too scared to say “you”) i will travel, i will learn, i will train, i will grow and you, you listen here, man. Talk was over… and only talk left was between me and my golden honeyed splashes of heaven. I liked my scotch as much as I’ve liked anything in life. But scotch i can have freely, though i can do without the whining from those that claimed that they whined for my good. They whined for their own self preservation. Too scared to dabble, they instead pointed fingers and chastised those who did. They didn’t actually know why they did, but someone, somewhere along the line told them it was best to not drink. I suspect the same someones that told them the farmed routine was the right life to live. Left alone, to the company of myself, i played back in my head, rasp and all “listen here, man….this routine ain’t for me”.

Pray to Gun

image     Guns and religion. Never quite realized how similar they really are until after I spent the last couple of days browsing through social media in the wake of the Paris slaughters. This much I’ve gathered:       All you libtards that get all worked up when logical, free willed Americans want to preserve their constitutional rights to bare arms, you sound as ignorant as all the birdbrained yeehaw bigots that blame Islam for acts like yesterday. Its not the gun that kills people and its not religion that perpetrates terrorist acts.

A gun is a harmless tool without someone yielding it. Islam is as useless and harmless and innocent (unless you’re Jewish) a fairy tale as any one of the other religions. And each and every religion in the history of ever has been manipulated by those in power and the shepherds in charge to lead their sheep to kill and be killed. Same can be said for all the savages on our streets here. Its not their guns that kill, its the animals holding them. Guns or no guns, last week a bunch of soulless bastards lured a 9yr old to an ally and executed him. They would’ve done the same with any other tool.

Just the same, ISIS leaders and shepherds used religion as the tool with which to recruit their brain dead sheep to carry out their orders. ISIS did this, not Allah, not Muhammad, not any other sandal wearing camel jockey they pray to.

As it is, ISIS is a self declared caliphate (thats goat herder talk for religious state). Luckily for us they now have clearly defined borders, so we should know exactly where to drop the nuke. Smack in the center of their shithole ISIS state.

Raising a proper drunk

     

  In most cultures alcohol is an integral part of the traditions shared amongst them. Most cultures anyway. There are some that exclude alcohol from their lives, and its been thoroughly documented that they are just sad, angry and explosively bitter over it. 

     How kids are first exposed to alcohol and raised into their respective alcohol consuming society can play a big part in shaping their adult lives, behaviors, personalities and socio-economic status in adulthood.

     I was first exposed to alcohol at a christening around the age of 10. Wine was on the table (as always). i asked for a sip and went on to sneak down 3 small glasses of wine.  Then, some time after, a few beers here and there and maybe a couple of Calvin Coolers after school (wine coolers are just one of many reasons the 80s sucked). Finally, my first hangover was achieved at the age of about 16 after half a bottle of Jack Daniels. Drinking and playing primitive games on the Commodore 64 was a more commonly practiced release for a teenager than re-enacting a coup d’etat against defenseless school children; at least during those years. 

     Fast forward through the drunken blur that was college and eventually I grew up to be a fairly responsible, working and contributing member of society that still enjoys a bit of alcohol. Its not a drug I abuse. Its simply something I need almost daily to regulate my blood alcohol levels and to avoid murdering, or even worse, hurting the feelings of some people; mostly the stupid ones.  

    Various studies have been conducted through the years that evaluated how young adults/teens are first exposed to alcohol, and to what types of alcohol, and that effect on their adulthood. I need not remind you that this is 2015, aka the internet/social media age.  As such, I need not disclose my sources, just rest assured its on the internet and therefore its to be valued as fact.  

     The first group. Children raised on cheap beer and cheap beer only. At a young age, any beer will do. However, what you’re exposed to and have access to is what you’ll end up drinking. Such kids, studies have found, tend to grow up to most commonly become day laborers. A high percentage of them (highest among the groups studied) are heroin junkies loitering outside meth clinics and pharmacies. This is also a testament to the success of the Anheuser Busch marketing campaigns through the years: “Drink shit and be proud, you, redneck shits”.   The small percentage that didn’t end up as junkies, or low level blue collar grunts, grew up to be the most successful of all the groups studied. This is theorized to be due to actually appreciating anything you did get in life and working hard to get more of it.    

     The next test group consisted of kids exposed to a wider array of beers and wines and the occasional leftover bottle of Wild Turkey or the such. This turned out to be the middle class of society, if you will. No greater than 18% of this group ended up belonging to any one particular socio-economic group of adults. This basically concludes that this is the best way to raise a child. Give them access to the booze and cross your fingers.  

     The last group of young adults studied were the ones that were first exposed to alcohol at a later age. Not only at a later age but their first experience was typically a mimosa or a Grand Marnier in a snifter at a country club or a 30 yr old scotch at a poem reading. These young adults almost exclusively grew up to be pompous, elitist, deuchebags that never appriated anything ever given to them. The lot of them usually burned through their inherited fortunes, contributing to society nothing more than a market for hairpieces and plastic surgery. The closest analogy I can think of is this: if the first baseball game you ever went to, you were in the first row behind first base and you thought shaking hands with all the players and being handed foul balls was the norm, you’ll have a very hard time adjusting to the real world of being in section 515 overlooking a stadium helipad. Having only been exposed to nose bleed seats I appreciated when I was finally handed field level box seats (I still can’t afford them). The downside was I had to sit in a section filled with Chads and Bradleys demanding organic duck fat butter for their popcorn and Chimay beer served in a matching stein.  

Another eco friendly fucktard

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image Summer is on the way and most people lucky enough to have a bit of outdoor space take this time to look for outdoor furniture sales. I couldn’t be happier than when I scored adirondack styled chairs for about 15 bucks each from a big box retailer. Boring job that i have, this happened to be the water cooler topic when my cardigan wearing co-worker walked in. Before he had the opportunity to unload his vintage leather satchel he was beginning to frown and nervously stroke his sculptured face pubes. Acknowledging the gravely unethical nature of my actions he offered for me to consider his “Loll” adirondack chairs. Beaming with a sense of unexplainable pride he went on to explain how Loll chairs are made from repurposed milk jugs (I looked it up, he wasn’t kidding). Five hundred dollars a chair was a small price to pay for the opportunity to support small local business while minimizing his carbon imprint on the planet. Besides, each chair came with its own bottle opener as added value. Libtards do not care much for added work I thought, so this perk seemed to fit the product. Besides I couldn’t imagine his buttermilkish hands ever prying off even a twist off cap. He wasnt done there. Clearly he mistook my shock for awe and he went on to boast about his 4,500 dollar platform bed, made from humanely forested woods harvested exclusively by illegal undocumented aliens that were paid $20 an hour above the minimum wage. This was the reason, he explained, it took 28 months to build such a masterpiece as the company can only afford to pay them 12 hrs a week at those rates.      “You fucktard hypocrite” were the words I heard come out of my mouth while I was still in the process of formulating my rebuttal. My response was a not so polite version of the following: What was the last time you turned off the light when you left a room. Any room, including the shitter at work? The hallway light when you’re the last to leave the office? Maybe even the light in the shower stall at the gym as you prance back to your locker. Perhaps be as bold as shutting off the god damned fucking tv when you’re not watching your CNN propaganda. Practice any of those habits and you’ve just done more for the environment than gifting 500 bucks per chair to some genius capitalizing on idiots like you. I mean you thought it wise to pay 500 bucks for a single fucking chair.  That alone speaks volumes for your not so mainstream “intellect”.  If you’re really that passionate about minimizing your carbon imprint I have a suggestion for you. Walk down any Brooklyn street on garbage day, find a minimally stained couch and lay claim to it. Of course this won’t fit on the city bus, the subway, in your mother’s whiney 1.2 cylinder Prius, nor can you drag him home behind your Vespa. So, go on and whatsapp some of your similarly bearded hipster friends and maybe they can help you carry it home. That might not be a successful solution though, as I doubt any of them have ever done an ounce of manual labor during their pathetic existence. Next time you’re sipping your Appalachian rain barrel water microbrew and discussing the latest in PETA approved beard dyes with your cuntrag friends, take a moment to weigh the carbon imprint of a manufactured/stored/shipped product (regardless what its made from) versus outright used furniture. Still concerned about leaving a carbon imprint on the environment? Catch a flight to Syria and try to freely share your politics there; your casket wont cost a fraction of your Loll chair.

It’s Christmas: Everyday

 

     Weekend rolls in and its ON, baby.  We kind of, sort of, almost watched our diet aaaaaaall week and now its ON!  Lets not waste any time, its Friday night, I mean it IS Friday, right? We’ve deemed it to be grander than the holiest of holidays.  And we celebrate it like so, each and every week.  Fuck cooking at home, we did that shit this week already, all week. Okay, maybe twice but it was a busy week.   I say we round up the family because we’re feasting tonight!  We have no bills, we have no worries, we have no care in the world because its the weekend!  Local pizzeria, Red lobster, TGIFs, and Applebee’s, thats for the common folk.  But for us, its nothing but the fanciest, latest yelp sensation, talk of the water cooler, some famous twat ate there, kind of joint. Besides, we worked hard all week.  Well, exceptMonday when we went in late, or Thursday when we worked from home and caught up on DVRed TMZ episodes.  Still we earned this, and the big boy brunch on Saturday that we’ve been planning all month.

     Rolling into Saturday afternoon, its BBQ TIME!  Its been a long winter; almost feels like we were in communist Siberia. Except for a few scattered sparse events to celebrate along the way, we barely did ANYTHING all winter.  Take away our Disney trip, a week and half long gorgathon for Christmas and New Years, a five day glutunous splurge starting with the Wednesday before Thanksgiving we did nothing near celebrating and letting ourselves enjoy some treats we randomly enjoy.  How can any sane person argue with overindulging on Christmas.   Christmas is  about Jesus, love, sharing, cards, extorted gifting and treating ourselves to tons of food, candy, dessert and drinks while in the company of our loved ones and our in-laws.  Just once a year.  Other one  day events and shakedown gimmicks like valentines day, mothers day, our anniversary, 4 snow days, 5 sick days, 14 birthday parties, 4 weddings, 3 christenings, a Halloween party, 2 state fairs, a karate school yellow belt ceremony, 3 recitals and 40 or so family get togethers, we really didnt over eat any other time, ever.   Easter doesnt count; its the one other time a year we treat ourselves all week long. Besides, we own a treatmill and have gym memberships, and those are always paid diligently, and on time, with the utmost discipline.

     We’re always so hyperconscious of what we eat, but this Saturday afternoon’s BBQ its no holds barred.  We rarely enjoy hot dogs, burgers, kilbasa and ribs.  Its even rarer that we have 3 servings of each.  So its ON.  Besides, there is softball practice Sunday  morning and there is something traditional about baseball and non athletic athletes.  The dozen donuts at the field that everyone brings are just a quick bite to eat, 6 of. Sunday afternoon we kind of had no choice but to grab a bite on the run as we spent the entire day at the mall (necessities: shoes of every style and in every color, for everyone), bounce U ( a rare treat for our deprived children), and then Carvel, because we had a coupon.

     I know i know, it might be over the top, but it was the first nice weekend in a while, and its not like all of June, July and August is coming up.  Doubt we’ll do this every weekend, on Fourth of July, on Labor Day or every sunny weekday in between.   Besides, Christmas seems so far away.

Dadbod, for me

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The “dadbod”. Its illogical to think of it as a preference based on looks alone. When a chiseled hunk of a Greek god lookalike walks by, there isn’t an ovary left standing that isn’t rendered twisted and achy, nor a male ego left devoid of envy. But, in most peoples lives, a Greek god is an anomaly. Sadly, the norm consists of a few beaten up old retreads that found the gym as part of an “awakening” (due to a failed marriage) or a former high school jock (physical therapy major drop out) trying to hold on to a few more, hardly glorious, Friday  nights. The reality is that most of us are, or are surrounded by shapely men and women resembling the fruit in most baskets. Round, or a derivative there of, and on the verge of being thrown out.

Along came the dadbod. Without boring you of its overly exaggerated appeal, I instead will explain to you the logic in the acceptance of the dadbod. There is an old adage that goes something like : “its better to be the big fish in a small pond, than the small fish in the big pond”. We can debate this till the next great flood, but ultimately the argument I make is that I have a better chance of surviving, and even prospering in a small pond. Reality is i might struggle greatly and may not even survive in a big pond filled with bigger fish.

I have applied this analogy and have concluded that I prefer to be the not-so-grotesquely fat, on the verge of flabby, yet somewhat deceptively presentable dadbod guy amongst a field of fat farm contestants. The alternative of being the lone fat guy in a gym filled with insecure, testosterone filled dudes that can play the keys to piano man on their pectorals, is somewhat less appealing to me.

So, full bodied beer in hand, I salute you from afar for being a sad and hypernourished, dedicated craftsman of physique. I, instead, shall now happily feast on my tenderloin of joy.

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