I've spent most of my life getting as little sleep as possible. Since I don't have insomnia, narcolepsy or any other trendy new sleeping habits, my attempts have usually culminated in getting 4-6 hours of sleep for a few nights in a row and then getting 12 hours when I can't take that shit anymore. My habits were self-induced sometimes because of Asthma, but just as often because of the sexyness and mystique of restlessness and stories of admirable people who didn't sleep much.
Interestingly enough, when I moved out of my parents house, I didn't turn into a cliche youngster, burning the midnight oil for... some reason, and staying up all hours of the night looking for liquor and whores; or whatever it is young men are supposed to do. Instead, I've turned into Benjamin Franklin, early to bed and early to rise; usually sleeping 9-10 hours a night.
Changing my mind is one of my favorite things to do in life. It doesn't come easily for me like it does for the majority population of flakes and neurotics, so I've got to come clean on this one. Sleep is important. Skipping hours every night is just as bad for the mental form as skipping meals for the physical one. It can be done, and should be, when time needs to be bought once in a while. But the reasoning to be a lifestyle sleep hater falls flat.
Buying "waking hours" by cutting your sleeping (or just lying in bed) time, is probably not worthwhile. I've found that any time that I've forced myself to be awake needlessly is simply more depressing, more out of focus, and stretches on forever. It's a ridiculous reality to embrace; trading your unconscious problem solving time and recooperative rest for more "productive" hours.
Though personal and anecdotal; I can tell you that I feel more powerful, curious, effective and stronger than I ever have before, and I am almost certain it's because of sleeping 7 days straight as long as I pleased, guiltlessly.
I don't know why I ever thought being awake was so cool.
Cobe's methods for beating the greater depression
The economy is in what economists commonly refer to as "the shitter". Most credible current reports say that it won't be as bad as the great depression of the 1930's. But it's important to remember that before the great depression happened there weren't a whole lot of people, save for WW1 veterans in the throws of PTSD flashbacks, forecasting it's onset. In my experience, it's always best to prepare for the worst. I'm confident I will survive this next "greater" depression and probably come out of it as some type of kingpin. You can do the same. Here's how:
-Cut the car. If you have a lifestyle for which you don't need a car, Then sell it now before confidence in the dollar plummets and cars are being bought and sold with chinese currency. Cars incur far more cost than their fuel. Insurance, inspections, state fees, tickets, and the human cost of being shot when you try to steal someone's license plates when you fail to live up to those responsibilities is expensive.
-If you must drive, steal. If you can produce your own fuel, do it. Whether it's in a backyard distillery for biodiesel or your neighbors house with a fishtank pump and alot of emptied 3 liter fanta bottles, finding fuel by any other method than a gas station is worthwhile.
-Save food. Pour your 2-day-old coffee into the chicken soup, clean off your plate simply with your tongue. Food will be the second most valuable thing when money is better used as welcome mats. I suggest the wide implementation of "food shots". If you can still afford a refrigerator or a damp basement crawlspace, take all food bits that are undesirable and place them in a blender. When there is quite a bit of crumbs in there, blend until liquid. Take the shot, and chase with liquor to kill bacteria. It will be gross, and if you don't do it you'll die.
-Hoard water/find water. Sooner or later municipalities will realize it's not cost effective to keep citizens hydrated and they'll raise the price into oblivion or tell you they're going laizes-fare with the water supply. Collect it from your neighbors hose, your gutters or a big barrel left in the rain. Bacteria infested water is better than no water at all. Chase with liquor to kill bacteria.
-Dumpster dive. Unless the employees take it first, many food and food like substances will still be thrown out everywhere. If not technically edible, place in "food shot" maker for later use. If located in a higher-income area with trash compacters, wait and ambush employee taking out the trash for his bagels/pizza/used napkins.
-Get a gun. If they don't pass out first, motherfuckers will try to rob you for food and water. Place a sign on the door to your house that says "resident has a fully loaded gun and doesn't sleep". Which will be true when REM sleep is less valuable than dumpster diving for donuts. Chase with liquor to kill the pain.
-Cut the car. If you have a lifestyle for which you don't need a car, Then sell it now before confidence in the dollar plummets and cars are being bought and sold with chinese currency. Cars incur far more cost than their fuel. Insurance, inspections, state fees, tickets, and the human cost of being shot when you try to steal someone's license plates when you fail to live up to those responsibilities is expensive.
-If you must drive, steal. If you can produce your own fuel, do it. Whether it's in a backyard distillery for biodiesel or your neighbors house with a fishtank pump and alot of emptied 3 liter fanta bottles, finding fuel by any other method than a gas station is worthwhile.
-Save food. Pour your 2-day-old coffee into the chicken soup, clean off your plate simply with your tongue. Food will be the second most valuable thing when money is better used as welcome mats. I suggest the wide implementation of "food shots". If you can still afford a refrigerator or a damp basement crawlspace, take all food bits that are undesirable and place them in a blender. When there is quite a bit of crumbs in there, blend until liquid. Take the shot, and chase with liquor to kill bacteria. It will be gross, and if you don't do it you'll die.
-Hoard water/find water. Sooner or later municipalities will realize it's not cost effective to keep citizens hydrated and they'll raise the price into oblivion or tell you they're going laizes-fare with the water supply. Collect it from your neighbors hose, your gutters or a big barrel left in the rain. Bacteria infested water is better than no water at all. Chase with liquor to kill bacteria.
-Dumpster dive. Unless the employees take it first, many food and food like substances will still be thrown out everywhere. If not technically edible, place in "food shot" maker for later use. If located in a higher-income area with trash compacters, wait and ambush employee taking out the trash for his bagels/pizza/used napkins.
-Get a gun. If they don't pass out first, motherfuckers will try to rob you for food and water. Place a sign on the door to your house that says "resident has a fully loaded gun and doesn't sleep". Which will be true when REM sleep is less valuable than dumpster diving for donuts. Chase with liquor to kill the pain.
seeking new infections
I had a moment of clarity that startled me a bit today. Perhaps as the result of manic-depressive black and white thinking, perhaps as a result of pessimism and general negative thinking, I don't define things in term of health, ever.
Even when referring to myself or people I greatly admire(like myself) I don't often phrase characteristics as healthy or positive. Instead of someone being a "hard worker and avid coffee-drinker" they are "a coffee addict and a workaholic". This can really be applied to everything, I see excess, sickness and desperation in all actions. Any positivity arising from that sickness is a by-product.
It's just hard to believe that after somebody takes their thousandth shot from a bottle of liquor that they simply "like drinking". Yes, that is certainly the case, but because of addiction. Not that they're addiction has neccesarily done them any harm.
I've always had this outlook and applied it to myself no differently. Instead of seeking activity, I seek sicknesses. My only curiosity is in seeking the right combination of things to be sick with. Being healthy has never, ever been important to me. I hate all things which wish to cure me, or anyone else, of the only thing that keeps them going: need and satisfation.
Fuck anyone who wants everything, person around them and themselves to be "healthy". Healthy is another word for "just ok"
Even when referring to myself or people I greatly admire(like myself) I don't often phrase characteristics as healthy or positive. Instead of someone being a "hard worker and avid coffee-drinker" they are "a coffee addict and a workaholic". This can really be applied to everything, I see excess, sickness and desperation in all actions. Any positivity arising from that sickness is a by-product.
It's just hard to believe that after somebody takes their thousandth shot from a bottle of liquor that they simply "like drinking". Yes, that is certainly the case, but because of addiction. Not that they're addiction has neccesarily done them any harm.
I've always had this outlook and applied it to myself no differently. Instead of seeking activity, I seek sicknesses. My only curiosity is in seeking the right combination of things to be sick with. Being healthy has never, ever been important to me. I hate all things which wish to cure me, or anyone else, of the only thing that keeps them going: need and satisfation.
Fuck anyone who wants everything, person around them and themselves to be "healthy". Healthy is another word for "just ok"
gimmickry
Gimmicks that don't work:
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll take a few shots of liquor, which will put me in the right mood to be productive. Then, as a reward I'll take a couple more. Then, when work is difficult, I'll take som-... When did I go to bed?
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll wake up real early in the morning, eat a big breakfast, drink some coffee and then... oh, time to go to work.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll drink alot of coffee. Then, I'll wait till it kicks in while I check my email. What? My orders late? I'm gonna call and straighten this out right now. *phone rings* "Hell yeah I'll cover a shift! money time!"... ah fuck.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll stay up real, real late and work on i...Damn, I have a headache. I better watch some kids in the hall till the feeling passes, and also eat some fat-filled snack. Zzzzzzz...
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll write one page for every cup of coffee/piece of tobacco/shot of liquor. Well, I'll make up for this cup/piece/shot later. Shit, I'm behind 4 pages. Nevermind.
Gimmicks that do work:
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll get started.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll take a few shots of liquor, which will put me in the right mood to be productive. Then, as a reward I'll take a couple more. Then, when work is difficult, I'll take som-... When did I go to bed?
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll wake up real early in the morning, eat a big breakfast, drink some coffee and then... oh, time to go to work.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll drink alot of coffee. Then, I'll wait till it kicks in while I check my email. What? My orders late? I'm gonna call and straighten this out right now. *phone rings* "Hell yeah I'll cover a shift! money time!"... ah fuck.
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll stay up real, real late and work on i...Damn, I have a headache. I better watch some kids in the hall till the feeling passes, and also eat some fat-filled snack. Zzzzzzz...
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll write one page for every cup of coffee/piece of tobacco/shot of liquor. Well, I'll make up for this cup/piece/shot later. Shit, I'm behind 4 pages. Nevermind.
Gimmicks that do work:
I know! If I want to get alot done, I'll get started.
The robotic grocery store
It was the cry of mid 1900's industrial laborers that their jobs were being replaced by machines. They however gave no reason that their jobs shouldn’t be, beyond of course their livelihoods; which the state and capital-holders of course did not feel obliged to provide them.
This is the only point I will side with the capitalists and state on. Technology is not the enemy, and the application of technology capable of replacing labor should not be foregone to placate laborers whose skills have obviously been obsoleted.
Imagine this. One day, you walk into a grocery store and pharmacy and are greeted with 40-50 laborers, all being paid minimum wage or superficially more to keep the operation running. You need certain products, and the laborers help you locate them, check them out so that you pay their slave-master the correct amount, and send you out of the door. You have just contributed to their exploitation, the capital-owners cache of capital, all for your own welfare.
The next day, you walk into a grocery store and greeted with no people, but a completely automated, interactive interface that locates all your necessary items, accounts for all of them, collects your payments and roboticly says “thank you” when you leave.
What change has occurred? Those interested in the welfare of the grocery store have taken a tip from the unmanned laundromats, and decided that their labor could be performed by machines instead of people. Those interested in the welfare of laborers, though their hearts are initially in the right place, are outraged at the lost jobs.
What they are not considering is that these laborers were not taken out behind the dumpsters and shot dead(hopefully)- they are somewhere else. Those 40-50 laborers are now in coffee shops, bookstores and bars waiting for discussion. They are in groups plotting and scheming how to make a decent living. They are playing guitars and drums in the street to supply petty cash. They are 40-50 more people who no longer have to perform obsolete labor for a capital-holder who would gladly exploit them for longer.
Labor is not our friend. The less labor that needs to be performed by actual people, the better. Because some labor still has to be performed, it ought to be compensated justly and accounted for. But if a machine can do it, than a person doesn’t have to. This is something that should be embraced by leftists, not fought. If the mindless leftist, hater of technology, vague primitivist with unspecified anger had his way, the laborers in the grocery store would remain employed unnecessarily, perhaps being paid the full value of their labor- but at what physical cost, and why?
These displaced laborers are available to do something that is still necessary for people to do, join radical movements, or get drunk with at a bar. In all cases, they are doing something better for society than wearing out their muscles and minds on something a well-oiled machine could do.
This is the only point I will side with the capitalists and state on. Technology is not the enemy, and the application of technology capable of replacing labor should not be foregone to placate laborers whose skills have obviously been obsoleted.
Imagine this. One day, you walk into a grocery store and pharmacy and are greeted with 40-50 laborers, all being paid minimum wage or superficially more to keep the operation running. You need certain products, and the laborers help you locate them, check them out so that you pay their slave-master the correct amount, and send you out of the door. You have just contributed to their exploitation, the capital-owners cache of capital, all for your own welfare.
The next day, you walk into a grocery store and greeted with no people, but a completely automated, interactive interface that locates all your necessary items, accounts for all of them, collects your payments and roboticly says “thank you” when you leave.
What change has occurred? Those interested in the welfare of the grocery store have taken a tip from the unmanned laundromats, and decided that their labor could be performed by machines instead of people. Those interested in the welfare of laborers, though their hearts are initially in the right place, are outraged at the lost jobs.
What they are not considering is that these laborers were not taken out behind the dumpsters and shot dead(hopefully)- they are somewhere else. Those 40-50 laborers are now in coffee shops, bookstores and bars waiting for discussion. They are in groups plotting and scheming how to make a decent living. They are playing guitars and drums in the street to supply petty cash. They are 40-50 more people who no longer have to perform obsolete labor for a capital-holder who would gladly exploit them for longer.
Labor is not our friend. The less labor that needs to be performed by actual people, the better. Because some labor still has to be performed, it ought to be compensated justly and accounted for. But if a machine can do it, than a person doesn’t have to. This is something that should be embraced by leftists, not fought. If the mindless leftist, hater of technology, vague primitivist with unspecified anger had his way, the laborers in the grocery store would remain employed unnecessarily, perhaps being paid the full value of their labor- but at what physical cost, and why?
These displaced laborers are available to do something that is still necessary for people to do, join radical movements, or get drunk with at a bar. In all cases, they are doing something better for society than wearing out their muscles and minds on something a well-oiled machine could do.
Screwy Reviewy: 10 mph
This is a movie about self-described "guys from corporate america" who decide to travel across the US, from seattle to boston, on a segway(those fruity things you see cops on)
This movie would be okay if it was just simple documentations of their experiences- which are pretty interesting(follow any 3 jerk-offs on a trip and it will be), but instead it's overburdened with voice-over and covered with transitional screens.
I hate when a system of organizing a piece of film falls completely flat. One such instance is in Flight of the Conchords, when "Tuesday" or "Friday" pops up on the screen, and the viewer is forced to think "is this in one week or something?" for no reason.
This movie is partitioned with "words of wisdom" from the locals they meet on their trip, and the words or wisdom are the kind of uninspired statements that exacerbate boredom and depression rather than sooth it.
Unimpressed.
This movie would be okay if it was just simple documentations of their experiences- which are pretty interesting(follow any 3 jerk-offs on a trip and it will be), but instead it's overburdened with voice-over and covered with transitional screens.
I hate when a system of organizing a piece of film falls completely flat. One such instance is in Flight of the Conchords, when "Tuesday" or "Friday" pops up on the screen, and the viewer is forced to think "is this in one week or something?" for no reason.
This movie is partitioned with "words of wisdom" from the locals they meet on their trip, and the words or wisdom are the kind of uninspired statements that exacerbate boredom and depression rather than sooth it.
Unimpressed.
screwy reviewy: Pootie Tang
I had high hopes for this movie, which is based on a sketch from the Chris Rock show, is a parody of Blaxploitation films, and is directed by Louis C.K. All of those hopes were met.
This movie is hilarious in so many ways. What's most striking about it, to me, is it has a high production value. Made in 2001, this was right around the time many comedy movies and shows turned grungey. This movie, to me, shows the value of giving something your all. It couldn't have been the same movie without great performances, writing, and directing from all those involved(which is alot of really good comedians).
The only problem that I see is that they run out of jokes about 3/4 through the movie, and it starts to repeat itself a bit. But by that time, You're just waiting for a grand finale, and get it.
The material itself is a biography of "Pootie Tang" who is "too cool for words" and speaks in nonsense that everyone loves. Yet, he condemns destructive behavior; and because of that, he both parodies black culture and demonstrates something of a "final say" in its direction. Excellent. Download it, and watch it. Wah da tah.
This movie is hilarious in so many ways. What's most striking about it, to me, is it has a high production value. Made in 2001, this was right around the time many comedy movies and shows turned grungey. This movie, to me, shows the value of giving something your all. It couldn't have been the same movie without great performances, writing, and directing from all those involved(which is alot of really good comedians).
The only problem that I see is that they run out of jokes about 3/4 through the movie, and it starts to repeat itself a bit. But by that time, You're just waiting for a grand finale, and get it.
The material itself is a biography of "Pootie Tang" who is "too cool for words" and speaks in nonsense that everyone loves. Yet, he condemns destructive behavior; and because of that, he both parodies black culture and demonstrates something of a "final say" in its direction. Excellent. Download it, and watch it. Wah da tah.
No Appetite
I usually have an enormous appetite for food. Today, in an effort to save money on a long car trip, I only ate chocolate donut holes when I felt hunger pangs.
It worked, and when I got home planning to eat anything I could find I was surprised to find that I had very high energy and no appetite.
Since then I've drank water, and used more snus(smokeless tobacco) than I usually do, feeling more light-headed than usual. If I stop paying attention, which is happening alot, I'll start rocking in my chair.
My desire to "put out the work" is at least doubled, but my confidence is shaken, knowing that I couldn't adequately win in a fist fight or a freestyle battle right now.
My only conclusion is that This is not for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and consume the entire world.
It worked, and when I got home planning to eat anything I could find I was surprised to find that I had very high energy and no appetite.
Since then I've drank water, and used more snus(smokeless tobacco) than I usually do, feeling more light-headed than usual. If I stop paying attention, which is happening alot, I'll start rocking in my chair.
My desire to "put out the work" is at least doubled, but my confidence is shaken, knowing that I couldn't adequately win in a fist fight or a freestyle battle right now.
My only conclusion is that This is not for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and consume the entire world.
screwy reviewy: Kodiak Premium Mint Dip
This is considered a very scary product- and it is. The first time I bought a tin, opened it, and observed it in its natural habitat... I thought "hmmm... this doesn't seem that bad". That's why it's dangerous. It's a bear in tobacco's clothing.
"wrestling with the bear"(as users refer to it) feels great. It feels better than great. Somehow, your body seems to move to perform necessary tasks all on its own, and when surprises do come up, you don't care. Frustration literally seems impossible
So the only frustration arises from the product itself. It smells like mint, if mint grew testicles, and it tastes as if York peppermint patties were dehydrated, shredded, rehydrated, and cause cancer. At first it doesn't even cause that much salivation.
Only use this stuff if you are absolutely outside, or absolutely not in danger of having to swallow! I, having a job that requires constantly alternating between being outside and being inside where I absolutely can't spit(though I have in elevator shafts), was a fool to think that if caught in an emergency, I might be able to swallow some.
I've done it before with skoal products, and it kind of sucked- then I forgot about it. Swallowing Kodiak was like swallowing some kind of detergent. 5 minutes later I had painful hick-ups(really!) and 5 seconds after that... I thought, 'maybe this stuff isn't fit for human consumption, in any form'. Kodiak has a mysteriously high nicotine content, and that nicotine is more accurately delivered through a very high pH, which is unlike food products.
Kodiak did exactly what they tell you smokeless tobacco should do- it made me feel elated and struck fear into my heart. Well, maybe they don't tell you that, but that's what it did. Scary stuff. So scary that my lip is full of it right now.
P.S. this is what parents should make their kids do if they catch them using nicotine
"wrestling with the bear"(as users refer to it) feels great. It feels better than great. Somehow, your body seems to move to perform necessary tasks all on its own, and when surprises do come up, you don't care. Frustration literally seems impossible
So the only frustration arises from the product itself. It smells like mint, if mint grew testicles, and it tastes as if York peppermint patties were dehydrated, shredded, rehydrated, and cause cancer. At first it doesn't even cause that much salivation.
Only use this stuff if you are absolutely outside, or absolutely not in danger of having to swallow! I, having a job that requires constantly alternating between being outside and being inside where I absolutely can't spit(though I have in elevator shafts), was a fool to think that if caught in an emergency, I might be able to swallow some.
I've done it before with skoal products, and it kind of sucked- then I forgot about it. Swallowing Kodiak was like swallowing some kind of detergent. 5 minutes later I had painful hick-ups(really!) and 5 seconds after that... I thought, 'maybe this stuff isn't fit for human consumption, in any form'. Kodiak has a mysteriously high nicotine content, and that nicotine is more accurately delivered through a very high pH, which is unlike food products.
Kodiak did exactly what they tell you smokeless tobacco should do- it made me feel elated and struck fear into my heart. Well, maybe they don't tell you that, but that's what it did. Scary stuff. So scary that my lip is full of it right now.
P.S. this is what parents should make their kids do if they catch them using nicotine
screwy reviewy: God Grew Tired of Us.
This is a movie, more of a documentary really, that follows some Sudanese refugees. It starts with their amazing story of a malnourished trek through africa and a camp they set up in Kenya with U.N. rations. From that camp, the U.S. snatches up some of them to pay taxes in the U.S., and we follow their experiences in america afterward.
The movie makes an excellent spectacle. We get to watch the new immigrants cook crumbled ritz cracker and milk soup(sounds really good actually. Shortly after, we see the culture shock of stores being "intimidated" by the groups of 3-6 dark men attempting to patronize their stores.
Well, we don't get to see it. This movie presents their tales like a fairy tale. They mention that one of them has a mental breakdown, and they mention that americans are bothered by their presence, and finally they mention; actually the principle subject mentions that the young sudanese who have immigrated "lost their way"; and we only see briefly those youngsters acting like idiots, saying they are from "Kansas city" and showing us their bling.
Of course, if you take a big group of immigrants and follow them, some will be great citizens, most will be minor contributors to society, and some will be thugs. This movie doesn't explore that reality, however, only making some passing references to it, and then showing the golden ones amongst them.
At first this movie comes with a cultural interest angle, asking "How do immigrants from a very different place adapt?" but when any negativity begins, the movie changes gears to say "War in sudan is awful", as if we didn't know. 2 halves of a movie glued together. The first half is better.
The movie makes an excellent spectacle. We get to watch the new immigrants cook crumbled ritz cracker and milk soup(sounds really good actually. Shortly after, we see the culture shock of stores being "intimidated" by the groups of 3-6 dark men attempting to patronize their stores.
Well, we don't get to see it. This movie presents their tales like a fairy tale. They mention that one of them has a mental breakdown, and they mention that americans are bothered by their presence, and finally they mention; actually the principle subject mentions that the young sudanese who have immigrated "lost their way"; and we only see briefly those youngsters acting like idiots, saying they are from "Kansas city" and showing us their bling.
Of course, if you take a big group of immigrants and follow them, some will be great citizens, most will be minor contributors to society, and some will be thugs. This movie doesn't explore that reality, however, only making some passing references to it, and then showing the golden ones amongst them.
At first this movie comes with a cultural interest angle, asking "How do immigrants from a very different place adapt?" but when any negativity begins, the movie changes gears to say "War in sudan is awful", as if we didn't know. 2 halves of a movie glued together. The first half is better.
Nicotine: Formidable foe, or Fucking awesome?
My earliest experiences with nicotine:
1- watching my dad attempt to quit smoking cigarettes with every socially acceptable method(no nasal snuff or human sacrifice), even pretending he had quit and sneaking cigarettes, to no avail.
2- watching a video in health class that had a former minor league baseball player "speaking" on the dangers of smokeless tobacco with half his lower jaw missing. Around the same time, hearing that people I generally didn't like were users.
Because of this, I wasn't going to predispose myself to any of these eventualities: hopeless addiction, deceiving people, missing parts of my body, or being a dick; just for the sake of the effects of a very mild drug.
Regardless, I ended up smoking mini-cigars and clove-cigarettes, not inhaling; believing that I received enough effect, with little compulsion to repeat afterward. It worked! Well, at least I thought it had some effect. One day I got the courage to inhale a clove cigarette. Not only did I feel fantasic while doing it and afterward, but I wanted one the moment in was extinguished and I looked at my empty hand.
Knowing I was at a crossroads, I gave the rest of the pack to a friend who smoked, knowing that if I had just one more the battle would be lost. I won that one.
Not knowing that smokeless tobacco was deliciously flavored, I assumed it tasted like plain cigarettes- which would be disgusting. But I slowly started noticing those shiny, inviting tins in convenience stores came in about a dozen flavors- many which sounded great. I still resisted, remembering how much I enjoyed a fully functioning jaw and mouth. One day a coworker(I worked outdoors) packed a huge lip of mint skoal and started spitting because he wasn't allowed to smoke.
The battle was on again. After researching that loose-leaf tobacco(instead of shredded) had the lowest cancer risk, I found some. It was called days-o-work plug tobacco, and it instantly sent my mouth on fire. Sometimes it tasted like chocolate, other times like a demons cum. I learned to focus my senses on the pleasant flavor, control the wad in my mouth and enjoy the buzz.
The buzz honestly didn't last through the whole pack, as I needed such huge portions of this stuff that it was nauseating. Before I knew it, I had purchased "straight" skoal. I assumed "straight" meant mostly unadulterated, but this had some kind of minty shit taste. The buzz...
I didn't know what a nicotine buzz was before using dipping tobacco. putting it right in the lower lip, you can almost feel pleasure rush into your body. Notably, it made my legs feel uncoordinated, my head very light, and on a few occasions- nauseated me, not unlike drinking alcohol.
After finding a flavor that wasn't terrible(peach), I went to town. The buzz was still so intense that I didn't use much- maybe once a day. I knew that I could never go back to being a complete non-user. Though the idea of maintaining a buzz throughout the day sounded awesome, that minor league baseball player still spoke to me, letting me know it wasn't all fun and games, making me feel ashamed to try to do it more than occasionally.
And then I heard about snus- a kind of oral tobacco which is not fermented, then steam-cured, rather than fire cured. This is comparable to the difference between black and green tea- and green tea kicks ass. As it turns out, much of the cancer-causing properties of tobacco are because of it's fermentation and curing. Snus eliminates almost all of the cancer risk, while also eliminating the need for spitting!
After I found out that snus can be bought mail-order, and the price even with shipping taken into account is the same per volume as mid-grade american dip tobacco, I was defeated. Nicotine has won the battle, but is that such a bad thing?
I tell my story because I consider myself lucky. Many snus users are using it now to stop or severely cut back their smoking. I have not inhaled more than one cigarette, knowing that smokeless is an option. I am also lucky that I didn't get hooked more effectively on american dip tobacco- never really finding my "every day brand" and succumbing to the urge to do it all day. Now, I can use snus without any real pull of the weasel to go back to dip or cigarettes.
I will have only a slightly elevated risk of cancer(hardly noticeable, read up!), no need to salivate constantly like some kind of mental-deficient, and be able to get a buzz on for the rest of my life(snus is 4-15 mg nicotine per portion instead of 1-3 mg for ciggs). My shame or doubt is gone, and my snus is coming in the mail.
Though many are not as fortunate as me to be smoke-free already, I suggest this course of action for anyone who likes nicotine. Cigarettes have twice the mouth cancer risk of even american dip tobacco, without even bringing up the lung damage. The buzz is better(with the right kind of snus), and you won't have to spit.
P.S. heavy caffeine intake + smokeless tobacco is sublime
P.P.S. "camel snus" and other american brands are not as effective as their swedish counterparts. mailorder it.
1- watching my dad attempt to quit smoking cigarettes with every socially acceptable method(no nasal snuff or human sacrifice), even pretending he had quit and sneaking cigarettes, to no avail.
2- watching a video in health class that had a former minor league baseball player "speaking" on the dangers of smokeless tobacco with half his lower jaw missing. Around the same time, hearing that people I generally didn't like were users.
Because of this, I wasn't going to predispose myself to any of these eventualities: hopeless addiction, deceiving people, missing parts of my body, or being a dick; just for the sake of the effects of a very mild drug.
Regardless, I ended up smoking mini-cigars and clove-cigarettes, not inhaling; believing that I received enough effect, with little compulsion to repeat afterward. It worked! Well, at least I thought it had some effect. One day I got the courage to inhale a clove cigarette. Not only did I feel fantasic while doing it and afterward, but I wanted one the moment in was extinguished and I looked at my empty hand.
Knowing I was at a crossroads, I gave the rest of the pack to a friend who smoked, knowing that if I had just one more the battle would be lost. I won that one.
Not knowing that smokeless tobacco was deliciously flavored, I assumed it tasted like plain cigarettes- which would be disgusting. But I slowly started noticing those shiny, inviting tins in convenience stores came in about a dozen flavors- many which sounded great. I still resisted, remembering how much I enjoyed a fully functioning jaw and mouth. One day a coworker(I worked outdoors) packed a huge lip of mint skoal and started spitting because he wasn't allowed to smoke.
The battle was on again. After researching that loose-leaf tobacco(instead of shredded) had the lowest cancer risk, I found some. It was called days-o-work plug tobacco, and it instantly sent my mouth on fire. Sometimes it tasted like chocolate, other times like a demons cum. I learned to focus my senses on the pleasant flavor, control the wad in my mouth and enjoy the buzz.
The buzz honestly didn't last through the whole pack, as I needed such huge portions of this stuff that it was nauseating. Before I knew it, I had purchased "straight" skoal. I assumed "straight" meant mostly unadulterated, but this had some kind of minty shit taste. The buzz...
I didn't know what a nicotine buzz was before using dipping tobacco. putting it right in the lower lip, you can almost feel pleasure rush into your body. Notably, it made my legs feel uncoordinated, my head very light, and on a few occasions- nauseated me, not unlike drinking alcohol.
After finding a flavor that wasn't terrible(peach), I went to town. The buzz was still so intense that I didn't use much- maybe once a day. I knew that I could never go back to being a complete non-user. Though the idea of maintaining a buzz throughout the day sounded awesome, that minor league baseball player still spoke to me, letting me know it wasn't all fun and games, making me feel ashamed to try to do it more than occasionally.
And then I heard about snus- a kind of oral tobacco which is not fermented, then steam-cured, rather than fire cured. This is comparable to the difference between black and green tea- and green tea kicks ass. As it turns out, much of the cancer-causing properties of tobacco are because of it's fermentation and curing. Snus eliminates almost all of the cancer risk, while also eliminating the need for spitting!
After I found out that snus can be bought mail-order, and the price even with shipping taken into account is the same per volume as mid-grade american dip tobacco, I was defeated. Nicotine has won the battle, but is that such a bad thing?
I tell my story because I consider myself lucky. Many snus users are using it now to stop or severely cut back their smoking. I have not inhaled more than one cigarette, knowing that smokeless is an option. I am also lucky that I didn't get hooked more effectively on american dip tobacco- never really finding my "every day brand" and succumbing to the urge to do it all day. Now, I can use snus without any real pull of the weasel to go back to dip or cigarettes.
I will have only a slightly elevated risk of cancer(hardly noticeable, read up!), no need to salivate constantly like some kind of mental-deficient, and be able to get a buzz on for the rest of my life(snus is 4-15 mg nicotine per portion instead of 1-3 mg for ciggs). My shame or doubt is gone, and my snus is coming in the mail.
Though many are not as fortunate as me to be smoke-free already, I suggest this course of action for anyone who likes nicotine. Cigarettes have twice the mouth cancer risk of even american dip tobacco, without even bringing up the lung damage. The buzz is better(with the right kind of snus), and you won't have to spit.
P.S. heavy caffeine intake + smokeless tobacco is sublime
P.P.S. "camel snus" and other american brands are not as effective as their swedish counterparts. mailorder it.
IQollosal waste of time
Intelligence Quotient is a measurement, that may or may not be changeable or may or may not relate to subjective happiness or objective actions, of how well a certain person performed at answering problem-solving questions, supposedly applicable to real world tasks, as compared to others who took the test beforehand under maybe similar, but just as likely dissimilar conditions and circumstances for individual unknown reasons.
Or...
You do something, or you don't.
What's your criteria for a persons worth?
Or...
You do something, or you don't.
What's your criteria for a persons worth?
Fantasy wikipedia page
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress[1] Also known as Cobe Steels, The Human Metronome, and Cobe Soldo (June 28, 1987 – ?) was an American entertainer, musician, writer, and the subject of one of the most high-profile disappearances in contemporary American history.
In a career spanning more than 30 years, Cobe was initially known for being a cofounder and anchorman for “The New Low News Show”; a news show founded on Gonzo principles. He went on to produce music, write columns and direct films.
Mr. Never Fails To Impress fathered over 2 dozen children. He started a well-known campaign called G.A.L.O.T. "get a load of this!" in which he donated his semen to homosexual female fans who wished to have his children and raise them in same-sex couple households. Heterosexual women were denied. The organization is still run with frozen semen.
[edit] Early life
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress was born in Jessup, Maryland, on June 28, 1987 to ---censored!--- and ---censored!---.[3] When asked in an interview about his ethnic heritage, Mr. Never Fails To Impress replied "that's a stupid fucking question".[4] His family moved to
During his childhood Cobe S Never Failed To Impress entertained very violent ideas, often speculating that he was going to "blow this motherfucker[school] up" to classmates. These threats never materialized however, instead, Cobe S often urinated on his local public schools doors late at night, and occasionally in the day. Witnesses tell that he would invite them along, to "smoke some reefer". Then, apropos of nothing, Cobe S would urinate on the doors(often in excessive amounts) and say immediately afterward "I have to go now".
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress suffered asthma thouought his life. Unable to afford adequate health insurance most of the time, Mr. Impress swore by his use of "too much coffee" and epinephrine inhalers to minimize symptoms.
Cobe S Never Fails To Impress has often expressed his desire to return to high school to “drop out like I should have”.
[edit] Career:
After “The New Low News Show” got it’s start on the popular streaming-video site youtube, The American network Showtime picked it up for the fall 2009 season. Opening to lukewarm ratings, the show was rumored to have only been able to achieve a second season by the shows members going on a highly-publicized hunger strike. It then maintained a respectable popularity that continues to this day. Cobe S continued to contribute to the show until his disappearance, although he stopped anchoring in 2022.
His musical debut was his first official album with the rap “group” Sub Urban Defiance Alliance entitled “Fuck Y’all”. It was released via internet file sharing, receiving low download rates despite the popularity of the The New Low. Mr. Fails to Impress has personally referred to the unique brand of rap as "Just rap"[2], distinguished by impressive word counts(his magnum opus totaled 15,001 words), and eclectic sample sources. SUDA, as it is sometimes called, maintains a loyal cult following, with the last album as a group being released in 2025.
Mr. Never Fails To Impress began his writing career with the hyper-modernist tour-de-force “No Treason: the re-up”. It received wide critical acclaim and he continued as a regular essayist until his disappearance.
His latest work is a direct adaptation of Joseph Heller's novel "Catch-22" in episodic installments for television. The work has been criticized for being "pointless" as it is an exact copy of the story and dialogue of the novel. One critic went as far as saying “Cobe S indeed Fails To Impress… this reviewer speculates that caffeine created this, not a man”.
[edit] Sickness:
Doctors later in life found a cancerous mass on his lower lip, assumedly from his use of smokeless tobacco products. After informing him of their discovery, Cobe S Never Fails To Impress reportedly said "nah, that's not cancer". When the doctors insisted he seek treatment, he told them "I have to go now".
Cobe S recieved treatment for his cancer on live TV, being performed by his long-time collaborator Satan Himself. No anesthesia was used, instead, the only drugs involved were a liter of Wild Turkey Bourbon, consumed by Cobe S, and magic mushrooms consumed by Satan Himself, because he "was going to do shrooms that day anyhow". The cancerous mass was removed, and failed to grow further.
[edit] Disappearance:
The last time Cobe S Never Fails To Impress was seen was at a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream Shop in
Many theories exist as to Cobe’s whereabouts, spawning the The New Low News Show’s segment: “Where in the world is Cobe S Never Fails To Impress”. People who believe him to be alive are disparagingly referred to as “Alivists” by Satan Himself, who still anchors the show. Alivists often listen to old SUDA records and watch old episodes of the new low to find clues as to his current whereabouts.
Cobe's world famous cliches
When life gives you lemons, that really sucks.
Waste not, want alot.
Men are from earth, Women are the same species so they are also from earth.
Count your chickens before they hatch.
Early to bed, early to rise is an interesting sleep schedule.
Beer before liquor seems like an ineffectual way to become intoxicated. Liquor before beer is slightly better.
Work very little, Play when you feel like it.
All issues are black and white.
Better to have never loved at all than to have loved and lost.
Coffee in the morning makes me feel alright, coffee in the evening also makes me feel alright.
Women: you can live with them if they're agreeable; you can also live without them if you find that suits you better.
Life's pretty interesting and then you'll probably die.
Waste not, want alot.
Men are from earth, Women are the same species so they are also from earth.
Count your chickens before they hatch.
Early to bed, early to rise is an interesting sleep schedule.
Beer before liquor seems like an ineffectual way to become intoxicated. Liquor before beer is slightly better.
Work very little, Play when you feel like it.
All issues are black and white.
Better to have never loved at all than to have loved and lost.
Coffee in the morning makes me feel alright, coffee in the evening also makes me feel alright.
Women: you can live with them if they're agreeable; you can also live without them if you find that suits you better.
Life's pretty interesting and then you'll probably die.
screwy reviewy: An American Crime (movie)
I really didn't know what to expect when I began watching this film over supper. I briefly read half of the NetFlix-provided description, absorbing only "the true story of the torture and..." and put it in. I figured that I had seen really dark movies before, and this would simply be another one.
I had no idea what I was in for. The plot begins with a father dropping off his 2 young girls to the care of a woman he had never known before, who has 7 children of her own, and agrees to pay her $20 a week. Slapping starts off the abuse pictured within this movie- and it simply spirals from there. At first the abusive foster mother appears to be equal-oppurtunity, but quickly she singles out one of her 2 foster children. The first time the girl is beaten, she has her own daughter do it, while her very young son holds her down.
What is so spooky about this movie is just that- the woman is not doing alot of the abusing- she's simply instructing others to do it. All of them give her second looks, but when yelled at, simply follow orders. This seems to climax in a scene when the mother forces the young girl to put a coke bottle in her vagina- while all the children watch. 2 older children come into the home, and demand to know what's going on. Instead of the situation diffusing, the girl gets thrown down the stairs and locked in the basement. The mother tells everyone that she was sent to "juvi". Meanwhile, she appears to make moves on a young boy who has a crush on the missing young girl.
The kids in the neighborhood gradually learn that the girl is locked in the basement, and at the prompting of some of the woman's own children(in particular the youngest boy), they all begin torturing her. It starts with cigarette burns, and then anything you can imagine. This is where the movie started making my heart beat out of my chest, and my arms shake. The first time a neighborhood kid(unrelated to the situation) hits her, it took me by amazing surprise.
The situation(which is a completely true story) is clearly illustrating that people will do what they're told, or what the group is doing, as well as the possible sadism inherent in all people. While those are good subjects to touch on(they usually use nazi germany as the example)- it's fucking creepy to actually see it, undecorated.
2 false salvations for the tortured girl occur, and they both are truly cruel to the viewer. One is when a social worker visits the home, asking to see the girl. The woman simply tells him that she "was sent to juvi", while she acts very faint. He simply says he "wants to see her in his office" and leaves! The entire movie up to this point, is the viewer waiting for this horrible situation to be discovered. Right afterwards, as if that wasn't bad enough, the woman writes "I'm a prostitute and proud of it" on the girls stomach, while neighborhood kids watch. She then forces the children to heat up a needle. She brands the first 1 or 2 lines into her stomach, while children watch, and then passes the needle to the boy who has a crush on her. He says "I can't do it", she says "please", but then goes up the stairs. At this point, I assumed that the boy and the children wouldn't continue, knowing that the woman wasn't in the room anymore, and that is was crazy. Instead, the boy does it.
It was actually hard to continue watching after that. This is the only time I've felt that way. When the boy brands the girl's stomach, he looks concerned- which makes it even worse. He looks like "what the hell am I doing?", but he does it anyway. At this point, I figure that has to be the climax of the abuse. I think I am proved correct, as the girls sister rescues her, and puts her in the custody of the boy who has a crush on her. He apologizes, and drives her to her real parents. Her parents go back to the womans house, with their daughter in the car. The daughter says "I have to do this" and walks in alone! At this point, I knew that something was terribly wrong, as her parents weren't going in with her and hadn't called the police.
At this point, the girl walks in on a scene of her own corpse being prompted by the other children to "come on, breath!", as the woman just passively insists "she's fakin...she's fakin". I knew at this point this was the end, and the "rescue" by her sister was all a dream. Not only is it the first dream or hallucination in the movie- so it can't be anticipated, but it's the second time you think the girl will escape with her life. She doesn't.
The ending is simply the last testimony from those involved- involving the children telling the court "I was just doing what I was told" or "I don't know" when asked why they tortured her, and the woman denying what happened. Then she is sentenced to life in prison. The tortured girl narrates at the end from beyond the grave, seemingly apologetic for the abusive woman- which drives me nuts because not only is it a complete conjecture of the girls actual opinion(because she's dead), but because they also mention afterwards that the woman "took responsibility" for the events much later in life, as if that was good enough. The little girl says she herself "went back the the carnival, where I always felt safe" which pisses me off even further, because she didn't. She just died and that was it, and this ending insinuates some kind of heaven eternity.
The movie saves itself slightly in my eyes by the little girls narration saying something like "Pastor ____ always said god has a plan in everything, but I can't see the plan in this"... clearly commenting on the absurdity and purposelessness of abuse and circumstance. They mention that most of the kids who tortured her got at least a couple years in jail- but that the mother got out on her life sentence(from 65) in 1985 on parole and died in 1990.
This movie was painful to watch, and had an incredibly frustrating end. From about the last half on, you really couldn't tell if there was going to be a happy ending. First the viewer roots for the girl being saved, then for the kids to stop the torture, then for the abusive woman to die or get locked up forever. None of those things end up happening. Though this is a true story, so they couldn't invent a happy ending, this is the only time I wish with all my heart that there had been one. Ultimately, I'm shocked (I was physically shooken up for about 45 minutes afterward). I have no problem with portraying human darkness in a movie if neccesary, but I have the sneaking suspicion that this darkness has absolutely no point.\
P.S. WTF?
I had no idea what I was in for. The plot begins with a father dropping off his 2 young girls to the care of a woman he had never known before, who has 7 children of her own, and agrees to pay her $20 a week. Slapping starts off the abuse pictured within this movie- and it simply spirals from there. At first the abusive foster mother appears to be equal-oppurtunity, but quickly she singles out one of her 2 foster children. The first time the girl is beaten, she has her own daughter do it, while her very young son holds her down.
What is so spooky about this movie is just that- the woman is not doing alot of the abusing- she's simply instructing others to do it. All of them give her second looks, but when yelled at, simply follow orders. This seems to climax in a scene when the mother forces the young girl to put a coke bottle in her vagina- while all the children watch. 2 older children come into the home, and demand to know what's going on. Instead of the situation diffusing, the girl gets thrown down the stairs and locked in the basement. The mother tells everyone that she was sent to "juvi". Meanwhile, she appears to make moves on a young boy who has a crush on the missing young girl.
The kids in the neighborhood gradually learn that the girl is locked in the basement, and at the prompting of some of the woman's own children(in particular the youngest boy), they all begin torturing her. It starts with cigarette burns, and then anything you can imagine. This is where the movie started making my heart beat out of my chest, and my arms shake. The first time a neighborhood kid(unrelated to the situation) hits her, it took me by amazing surprise.
The situation(which is a completely true story) is clearly illustrating that people will do what they're told, or what the group is doing, as well as the possible sadism inherent in all people. While those are good subjects to touch on(they usually use nazi germany as the example)- it's fucking creepy to actually see it, undecorated.
2 false salvations for the tortured girl occur, and they both are truly cruel to the viewer. One is when a social worker visits the home, asking to see the girl. The woman simply tells him that she "was sent to juvi", while she acts very faint. He simply says he "wants to see her in his office" and leaves! The entire movie up to this point, is the viewer waiting for this horrible situation to be discovered. Right afterwards, as if that wasn't bad enough, the woman writes "I'm a prostitute and proud of it" on the girls stomach, while neighborhood kids watch. She then forces the children to heat up a needle. She brands the first 1 or 2 lines into her stomach, while children watch, and then passes the needle to the boy who has a crush on her. He says "I can't do it", she says "please", but then goes up the stairs. At this point, I assumed that the boy and the children wouldn't continue, knowing that the woman wasn't in the room anymore, and that is was crazy. Instead, the boy does it.
It was actually hard to continue watching after that. This is the only time I've felt that way. When the boy brands the girl's stomach, he looks concerned- which makes it even worse. He looks like "what the hell am I doing?", but he does it anyway. At this point, I figure that has to be the climax of the abuse. I think I am proved correct, as the girls sister rescues her, and puts her in the custody of the boy who has a crush on her. He apologizes, and drives her to her real parents. Her parents go back to the womans house, with their daughter in the car. The daughter says "I have to do this" and walks in alone! At this point, I knew that something was terribly wrong, as her parents weren't going in with her and hadn't called the police.
At this point, the girl walks in on a scene of her own corpse being prompted by the other children to "come on, breath!", as the woman just passively insists "she's fakin...she's fakin". I knew at this point this was the end, and the "rescue" by her sister was all a dream. Not only is it the first dream or hallucination in the movie- so it can't be anticipated, but it's the second time you think the girl will escape with her life. She doesn't.
The ending is simply the last testimony from those involved- involving the children telling the court "I was just doing what I was told" or "I don't know" when asked why they tortured her, and the woman denying what happened. Then she is sentenced to life in prison. The tortured girl narrates at the end from beyond the grave, seemingly apologetic for the abusive woman- which drives me nuts because not only is it a complete conjecture of the girls actual opinion(because she's dead), but because they also mention afterwards that the woman "took responsibility" for the events much later in life, as if that was good enough. The little girl says she herself "went back the the carnival, where I always felt safe" which pisses me off even further, because she didn't. She just died and that was it, and this ending insinuates some kind of heaven eternity.
The movie saves itself slightly in my eyes by the little girls narration saying something like "Pastor ____ always said god has a plan in everything, but I can't see the plan in this"... clearly commenting on the absurdity and purposelessness of abuse and circumstance. They mention that most of the kids who tortured her got at least a couple years in jail- but that the mother got out on her life sentence(from 65) in 1985 on parole and died in 1990.
This movie was painful to watch, and had an incredibly frustrating end. From about the last half on, you really couldn't tell if there was going to be a happy ending. First the viewer roots for the girl being saved, then for the kids to stop the torture, then for the abusive woman to die or get locked up forever. None of those things end up happening. Though this is a true story, so they couldn't invent a happy ending, this is the only time I wish with all my heart that there had been one. Ultimately, I'm shocked (I was physically shooken up for about 45 minutes afterward). I have no problem with portraying human darkness in a movie if neccesary, but I have the sneaking suspicion that this darkness has absolutely no point.\
P.S. WTF?
ways to avoid working on a project:
-'I haven't had much sleep, I'll get a good nights sleep tonight and be fresh tomorrow'
-'I should read more about it before I start'(immediately afterward, don't read about it)
-'time to eat', then 'time for coffee', then 'time for a night-cap'(buys you an entire evening)
-'hmmm... a friend called me a few weeks ago, I bet he's sitting patiently waiting for my call'.
-'time to check my email', then 'time to check facebook', then 'time to check the news', then 'time to look up futurama episode guide on wikipedia'.
-'this netflix dvd needs to go back soon, so I'll go ahead and fulfill my duty to watch it'
-'I could work, but I have to finish reading this book, and reading is always mental enrichment.'
-'Well, I still have that blog post to write, and I don't want to let down Graham Andrews, Zach Wilson, Jon Feng and Alex Greenland'
-'I should read more about it before I start'(immediately afterward, don't read about it)
-'time to eat', then 'time for coffee', then 'time for a night-cap'(buys you an entire evening)
-'hmmm... a friend called me a few weeks ago, I bet he's sitting patiently waiting for my call'.
-'time to check my email', then 'time to check facebook', then 'time to check the news', then 'time to look up futurama episode guide on wikipedia'.
-'this netflix dvd needs to go back soon, so I'll go ahead and fulfill my duty to watch it'
-'I could work, but I have to finish reading this book, and reading is always mental enrichment.'
-'Well, I still have that blog post to write, and I don't want to let down Graham Andrews, Zach Wilson, Jon Feng and Alex Greenland'
get your head out of obama's ass
I am truly elated that John McCain wasn't elected president. I'm elated that there is not, and never will be, a president John McCain to draft me to "fight" a "war" in Iraq or Iran(also called the "armpit"... not of anything... just the armpit). For this piece of mind, I have Barack Obama to thank- the only person in the democratic party with enough charisma to beat a mean-spirited old man with an unattractive sounding political platform.
That, however, is all I have to thank him for. I won't thank him for all the things I assume he'll do, but in actuality can't, and doesn't intend to anyhow. Why? Because I'm not racist, despite what I'm about to say.
Voters elected a president for the U.S.A., not a baby daddy. Barack Obama, despite being black. Isn't that cool. He has no intention to legalize cannabis, release drug offenders from prison, provide a citizens wage to alleviate poverty, or even provide universal healthcare. He's not the mythical electable leftist, he's a centrist, and if he were white, he wouldn've been forgotten at the primary debates like more qualified candidates Bill Rochardson, Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel.
If you have Obama fever, be prepared for a cold sweat. He's not king; he can't do anything unilaterally. Even if he did take strong progressive positions with the democratic-majority congress, they wouldn't follow suit, because they're all megalomaniacs and corporate whores. The system is just as inaffectual as it's always been- the only difference is that now the people are daring to be even more complacent with a vapid symbol for their figurehead.
Don't believe the hype.
That, however, is all I have to thank him for. I won't thank him for all the things I assume he'll do, but in actuality can't, and doesn't intend to anyhow. Why? Because I'm not racist, despite what I'm about to say.
Voters elected a president for the U.S.A., not a baby daddy. Barack Obama, despite being black. Isn't that cool. He has no intention to legalize cannabis, release drug offenders from prison, provide a citizens wage to alleviate poverty, or even provide universal healthcare. He's not the mythical electable leftist, he's a centrist, and if he were white, he wouldn've been forgotten at the primary debates like more qualified candidates Bill Rochardson, Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel.
If you have Obama fever, be prepared for a cold sweat. He's not king; he can't do anything unilaterally. Even if he did take strong progressive positions with the democratic-majority congress, they wouldn't follow suit, because they're all megalomaniacs and corporate whores. The system is just as inaffectual as it's always been- the only difference is that now the people are daring to be even more complacent with a vapid symbol for their figurehead.
Don't believe the hype.
Election Day Coverage
It's election day, November 4th 2008. I am currently in Winston-Salem, NC. I woke up at 6AM, which I am trying to make a habit. I reset my alarm for 7:30 immediately afterward, anticipating that I would need all my strength to fully take in this "historic" day.
I listened to public radio, which has up-to-date election coverage. Of course all there is to cover before votes are counted is "people are voting", "people are having trouble voting", or "this is important, important shit". I listened to every bit of it, while I checked wikipedia for more up-to-date coverage. I assume wikipedia, being able to be edited by anyone else listening to public radio, would somehow offer even more up-to-date info. Wikipedia's current info essentially lists polling results, and from that speculates which states are "battleground" states.
North Carolina is one of those battlegrounds states. Obama has been shown in polls to possess a 1-2% lead, which is counterintuitive as it has voted for the republican nominee in previous elections since modern conservatism(militant neo-liberalism) has been out of the closet. I voted 3 days ago. For local political clowns, I did the "monkey-wrench" vote, with little forethought. For every candidate who controlled money, I voted conservative, and for every candidate who controlled social policy, I voted liberal. Wherever there was a Libertarian candidate, I voted for them on the (un)safe assumption that they would do better to protect civil rights. If my vote were mandate, then government would be unable to do much of anything at all. That's the idea.
I went to work, a food delivery job, at 11AM. Before arriving, I put a pouch of apple-blend Skoal smokeless tobacco in my lower lip. It was the patriotic thing to do. I spent the day leaving as soon as possible, staying out for as long as possible, and when I had to return to the store- spending unneccesary time in the bathroom and hard-to-be-seen-in corners so that I wasn't asked to do work. It was the patriotic thing to do. I felt "buzzed" from nicotine all day, stole sweet-tea to rehydrate myself often, and left early. It was the patriotic thing to do.
Upon arriving home, I re-heated leftovers and ate them, along with bourbon and coffee. I again turned on public radio, but instead of election coverage, I heard a segment on the sources and treatment of migraine headaches. It was a relief, ironically. Shortly thereafter, election "coverage" resumed. I decided to cover my time on election day, just to have an accurate picture of life on this day to someone researching american life, history, elections, or Cobe Soldo in the future.
I now intend to find a friends house with a TV-antennae, hunker down, continue my consumption of bourbon, and watch the election results. It's the patriotic thing to do.
I never found a TV- It's like I live in the stone-age. I did, however, continue my consumption of bourbon- it's like I live last century. I turned on public radio once again(which I pledge to never do hereafter). Results were slow, so I decided to go pick up a pizza. When I got home, in addition to eating said pizza, I decided to start watching a disk of Trailer Park Boys that I got with NetFlix. It's the patriotic thing to do.
When I was finished, I tuned back into public radio, as well as finding BBC coverage of the election online. I put it on mute while I listened to NPR. The "live feed" BBC set up was pretty unimpressive, so I started drinking more heavily. When I returned from the kitchen, as if by magic, the election had just been called for Barack Obama, and all the goodies ensued: a concession speech, an acceptance speech, and commentary I could've written if I had been given $10 and a reason.
While McCain was giving his concession, an interesting sensory mishap occured- BBC's video coverage materialized a few seconds slower than NPR's audio coverage. As a result, the entire event appeared phony. The emotions, which I heard ahead of time, had time to play in my psyche before I saw the very disgenuine faces morphed to match them.
This sensation continued until NPR decided to call it quits, very literally, and reverted to orchestral music(which was far more interesting). I've stayed awake and waited for the results of the election in North Carolina, for curiosities sake, but have not been graced with it yet. I heard that McCain was ahead with a few thousand votes, then Obama, and now I don't care because it's a moot point anyhow, even though I was "involved" somehow.
I will now go back to watching Trailer Park Boys, have some snacks, and P.T.F.O(pass the fuck out). It's the patriotic thing to do. Good night, and Good luck.
I listened to public radio, which has up-to-date election coverage. Of course all there is to cover before votes are counted is "people are voting", "people are having trouble voting", or "this is important, important shit". I listened to every bit of it, while I checked wikipedia for more up-to-date coverage. I assume wikipedia, being able to be edited by anyone else listening to public radio, would somehow offer even more up-to-date info. Wikipedia's current info essentially lists polling results, and from that speculates which states are "battleground" states.
North Carolina is one of those battlegrounds states. Obama has been shown in polls to possess a 1-2% lead, which is counterintuitive as it has voted for the republican nominee in previous elections since modern conservatism(militant neo-liberalism) has been out of the closet. I voted 3 days ago. For local political clowns, I did the "monkey-wrench" vote, with little forethought. For every candidate who controlled money, I voted conservative, and for every candidate who controlled social policy, I voted liberal. Wherever there was a Libertarian candidate, I voted for them on the (un)safe assumption that they would do better to protect civil rights. If my vote were mandate, then government would be unable to do much of anything at all. That's the idea.
I went to work, a food delivery job, at 11AM. Before arriving, I put a pouch of apple-blend Skoal smokeless tobacco in my lower lip. It was the patriotic thing to do. I spent the day leaving as soon as possible, staying out for as long as possible, and when I had to return to the store- spending unneccesary time in the bathroom and hard-to-be-seen-in corners so that I wasn't asked to do work. It was the patriotic thing to do. I felt "buzzed" from nicotine all day, stole sweet-tea to rehydrate myself often, and left early. It was the patriotic thing to do.
Upon arriving home, I re-heated leftovers and ate them, along with bourbon and coffee. I again turned on public radio, but instead of election coverage, I heard a segment on the sources and treatment of migraine headaches. It was a relief, ironically. Shortly thereafter, election "coverage" resumed. I decided to cover my time on election day, just to have an accurate picture of life on this day to someone researching american life, history, elections, or Cobe Soldo in the future.
I now intend to find a friends house with a TV-antennae, hunker down, continue my consumption of bourbon, and watch the election results. It's the patriotic thing to do.
I never found a TV- It's like I live in the stone-age. I did, however, continue my consumption of bourbon- it's like I live last century. I turned on public radio once again(which I pledge to never do hereafter). Results were slow, so I decided to go pick up a pizza. When I got home, in addition to eating said pizza, I decided to start watching a disk of Trailer Park Boys that I got with NetFlix. It's the patriotic thing to do.
When I was finished, I tuned back into public radio, as well as finding BBC coverage of the election online. I put it on mute while I listened to NPR. The "live feed" BBC set up was pretty unimpressive, so I started drinking more heavily. When I returned from the kitchen, as if by magic, the election had just been called for Barack Obama, and all the goodies ensued: a concession speech, an acceptance speech, and commentary I could've written if I had been given $10 and a reason.
While McCain was giving his concession, an interesting sensory mishap occured- BBC's video coverage materialized a few seconds slower than NPR's audio coverage. As a result, the entire event appeared phony. The emotions, which I heard ahead of time, had time to play in my psyche before I saw the very disgenuine faces morphed to match them.
This sensation continued until NPR decided to call it quits, very literally, and reverted to orchestral music(which was far more interesting). I've stayed awake and waited for the results of the election in North Carolina, for curiosities sake, but have not been graced with it yet. I heard that McCain was ahead with a few thousand votes, then Obama, and now I don't care because it's a moot point anyhow, even though I was "involved" somehow.
I will now go back to watching Trailer Park Boys, have some snacks, and P.T.F.O(pass the fuck out). It's the patriotic thing to do. Good night, and Good luck.
The untrustworthy 3
-anyone involved in piercing an infants ears
-people who knit
-policemen
-those who dress to look good for their driver's license photo
-those who take more than 5 photos at a party
-artists
-anyone who misses/advocates inferior technology(cassette tapes, floppy disks)
-black people with business cards, but no work clothes on
-managers
-assistant managers
-fellow workers
-drivers of convertibles
-anyone wearing stripes
-people who dye their hair
-anyone dressed in scrubs
-anyone with glasses and a visible pen
-caucasian primary care physicians
-honest people
-drinkers of decaf coffee
-men with neatly edged beards
-the undead
-people who knit
-policemen
-those who dress to look good for their driver's license photo
-those who take more than 5 photos at a party
-artists
-anyone who misses/advocates inferior technology(cassette tapes, floppy disks)
-black people with business cards, but no work clothes on
-managers
-assistant managers
-fellow workers
-drivers of convertibles
-anyone wearing stripes
-people who dye their hair
-anyone dressed in scrubs
-anyone with glasses and a visible pen
-caucasian primary care physicians
-honest people
-drinkers of decaf coffee
-men with neatly edged beards
-the undead
cobe's maintenance drug use guides
It is often beneficial in day-to-day life to "get a monster buzz on". It is not often beneficial, however, to "get cranked-out", "get shit-tanked", or "puke". When one feels as if the active ingredient(s) in their substance(s) of choice has(have) commited an armed burglary of their brain, they often decide to "cut back", "quit... maybe", or "knock this shit off". The results are usually not positive.
Instead, follow Cobe's the "Cobe's maintenance drug use guides". I can only speak to the drugs which I have personal experience with.
Coffee:
-In the morning, don't drink more than 3 cups in a row. You will feel nauseaus at worst, or it will be a waste at best.
-Afterwards, don't drink more than 2 in a row.
-Don't waste money on hi-qual shit except for the afternoon. You can't taste anything but phlegm and plaque in the morning anyhow.
-Pink Bubblegum kills coffee breath.
Dipping Tobacco:
-Don't tongue and pull your lip tight around your wad. It will only cause unneccesary spit.
-Don't "spit one last time" and try to get it all out before going into a place where you can't. It will only encourage more spit response.
-Dip pouches when trying to hide it. Loose stays in your teeth.
-Do 2 in a row, no more. More can cause diziness(at work)
- The best times to dip are when you are tired or when you are angry.
Drinking Alcohol:
-have 2-4 standard drinks, depending on your "need", and sit pretty.
-when you are sure the feeling starts to go away, have 2 more
-when that feeling starts to go away(it takes a while), have 1 more. At this point, you will feel like "2 more will be even better! why wouldn't it?" Well, 2 more will send you to 2 more and then blackout, or sleep.
-If you "need" to drive "buzzed"(on a rescue mission, or to claim a winning lottery ticket), freshen breath, swallow bubblegum spit. Having a hammered person in the car is a risk factor.
-at least eat something.
-Don't try to be slick and drink alot of water when you feel sick. just wait it out.
Everything:
-don't brag, asshole. Don't even share your state of mind. Just enjoy.
Instead, follow Cobe's the "Cobe's maintenance drug use guides". I can only speak to the drugs which I have personal experience with.
Coffee:
-In the morning, don't drink more than 3 cups in a row. You will feel nauseaus at worst, or it will be a waste at best.
-Afterwards, don't drink more than 2 in a row.
-Don't waste money on hi-qual shit except for the afternoon. You can't taste anything but phlegm and plaque in the morning anyhow.
-Pink Bubblegum kills coffee breath.
Dipping Tobacco:
-Don't tongue and pull your lip tight around your wad. It will only cause unneccesary spit.
-Don't "spit one last time" and try to get it all out before going into a place where you can't. It will only encourage more spit response.
-Dip pouches when trying to hide it. Loose stays in your teeth.
-Do 2 in a row, no more. More can cause diziness(at work)
- The best times to dip are when you are tired or when you are angry.
Drinking Alcohol:
-have 2-4 standard drinks, depending on your "need", and sit pretty.
-when you are sure the feeling starts to go away, have 2 more
-when that feeling starts to go away(it takes a while), have 1 more. At this point, you will feel like "2 more will be even better! why wouldn't it?" Well, 2 more will send you to 2 more and then blackout, or sleep.
-If you "need" to drive "buzzed"(on a rescue mission, or to claim a winning lottery ticket), freshen breath, swallow bubblegum spit. Having a hammered person in the car is a risk factor.
-at least eat something.
-Don't try to be slick and drink alot of water when you feel sick. just wait it out.
Everything:
-don't brag, asshole. Don't even share your state of mind. Just enjoy.
Re-up: humanism--a better religion than christianity
Original article found here. I will now say the same thing
To believe"Human life is intrinsically worthwhile" takes a leap of faith, that has been leapt by all of us who are alive, and not actively trying to die.
We are all having "whiles" right now. Because we are not trying to end our lives, we have deemed our whiles, worthy.
The worthwhile-ness of our human lives is intrinsic, because our human lives have already manifest, for whatever reason.
In this way, all people who facilitate and continue their lives, whether Religionist, Atheist, Nihilist, or other, are Humanist at their core.
Self-preservation is humanism. If you don't think so, go lie down on railroad tracks and wait.
To believe"Human life is intrinsically worthwhile" takes a leap of faith, that has been leapt by all of us who are alive, and not actively trying to die.
We are all having "whiles" right now. Because we are not trying to end our lives, we have deemed our whiles, worthy.
The worthwhile-ness of our human lives is intrinsic, because our human lives have already manifest, for whatever reason.
In this way, all people who facilitate and continue their lives, whether Religionist, Atheist, Nihilist, or other, are Humanist at their core.
Self-preservation is humanism. If you don't think so, go lie down on railroad tracks and wait.
cobe's romance theory of drug addiction/cobe's drug addiction theory of romance
Imagine this. You know a woman who you love to spend time with. Being with her always makes you feel good, and she's always available. You know with absolute certainty that she will be around for the rest of your life. When you are not with her, you feel longing and unhappiness. Wouldn't you fall in love?
And what good reasons would you have to stop seeing her? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are with her goes away
2) Though she makes you feel good, the longing and depression you feel when you are not with her is not worth it
3) She is overly demanding and taking up all of your time
4) She does something unforgivably bad to you, and she may do it again
Imagine this. You have tried a drug that you love to be on. Using it always makes you feel good, and it's always available. You know with absolute certainty that it will be around for the rest of your life. When you are not on it, you feel withdrawal and/or depression. Wouldn't you become addicted?
And what good reasons would you have to stop using it? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are on it goes away
2) Though it makes you feel good, the withdrawal you feel when you are not using is not worth it
3) It is taking up all of your personal time, which you would rather have
4) As a result of using it, something unforgivably bad happens, and it could happen again
I think my theories are proven in the typical failure of trying to treat drug addicts when they don't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop using, and the typical failure of trying to get a friend to end a relationship when he doesn't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop seeing the person. And honestly, those efforts should fail.
And what good reasons would you have to stop seeing her? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are with her goes away
2) Though she makes you feel good, the longing and depression you feel when you are not with her is not worth it
3) She is overly demanding and taking up all of your time
4) She does something unforgivably bad to you, and she may do it again
Imagine this. You have tried a drug that you love to be on. Using it always makes you feel good, and it's always available. You know with absolute certainty that it will be around for the rest of your life. When you are not on it, you feel withdrawal and/or depression. Wouldn't you become addicted?
And what good reasons would you have to stop using it? well...
1) The feeling of happiness when you are on it goes away
2) Though it makes you feel good, the withdrawal you feel when you are not using is not worth it
3) It is taking up all of your personal time, which you would rather have
4) As a result of using it, something unforgivably bad happens, and it could happen again
I think my theories are proven in the typical failure of trying to treat drug addicts when they don't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop using, and the typical failure of trying to get a friend to end a relationship when he doesn't possess any of the 4 reasons to stop seeing the person. And honestly, those efforts should fail.
Psychonautics
There is a term- "Psychonaut", which historically refers to a person who explores their consciousness, which for many is synonymous with the use of psychedelic drugs. Less often said is how these individuals take on altered states of consciousness in many ways besides drug use too.
I am anxious to adopt this nomer and lifestyle, or I would be, except for the tendency of these individuals to embrace the "spiritual" world. With the notable exception of Aldous Huxley, possibly all notable psychonauts where open to the possibility of supernatural happenings.
It's strange, too, that someone who intentionally distorts their perceptions would read more into a psychedelic drug experience than altered brain chemistry. You may see patterns moving, or your walls swirelling while on drugs. It doesn't mean that they're moving and swireling in reality; it's just your perception. Similarly, if you have a "spiritual" feeling or experience while on drugs, it doesn't mean that there are spirits.
I am anxious to adopt this nomer and lifestyle, or I would be, except for the tendency of these individuals to embrace the "spiritual" world. With the notable exception of Aldous Huxley, possibly all notable psychonauts where open to the possibility of supernatural happenings.
It's strange, too, that someone who intentionally distorts their perceptions would read more into a psychedelic drug experience than altered brain chemistry. You may see patterns moving, or your walls swirelling while on drugs. It doesn't mean that they're moving and swireling in reality; it's just your perception. Similarly, if you have a "spiritual" feeling or experience while on drugs, it doesn't mean that there are spirits.
vehicles
If you drive a compact car, you feel like a student or a minimum wage worker, whether you are or not.
If you drive a pick-up truck, you feel like you're late for work, and work's important, whether you are or not or it is or not.
If you drive a suped-up(or "teched-out) foreign car, you're an idiot.
If you drive a van, you feel like a rapist or a venture capitalist(essentially the same thing), whether you are or not.
If you drive an SUV, you thnk you have something to protect, like a child, or human dignity
If you drive a pick-up truck, you feel like you're late for work, and work's important, whether you are or not or it is or not.
If you drive a suped-up(or "teched-out) foreign car, you're an idiot.
If you drive a van, you feel like a rapist or a venture capitalist(essentially the same thing), whether you are or not.
If you drive an SUV, you thnk you have something to protect, like a child, or human dignity
the absurdcycle
Mile one: Curiosity. Joviality. Even Acceptance. At this stage of being involved in absurd event, you may be studying it closely. You may be searching for little bits of sense and reason in it's existence. You may even FIND it. But you're still trying to put the big picture together and find purpose in it. Good luck. I mean that sarcastically.
Mile 2: Outrage. By now you realize that this is absurd. You're probably repeating to yourself "bulllll... shit!", "are you fucking kidding me?", or "I can't take this anymore" in your inner monologue. You respond to the flare up of absurdity with mean-spirited jokes. Everyone laughs, except you. When you start to say something in uprising against the absurd, you can feel that your vocal chords and mouth just don't want to do it anymore. You may turn around, and go back to where you came from.
Mile 3: Exhaustion. Now you've had it. Your very existence is painful. Things are not going according to plan. You feel like you're the victim of abuse, whether you are or not. No matter how much brainwashing you endure, you never feel clean. You would quit, or escape, but you can't muster the energy. You make a very strong conviction to suffering instead
Mile 3B: You are filled with such seething anger that you leave the room/turn off the TV/skip town. Maybe you can make it back to reason and sense... but you might just end it all instead.
Mile 4: Beating absurdity at it's own game. Ok, fuck it. Absurdity is going to yell and scream at you until you yell and scream back. Let it know you're not afraid of it anymore, and you're bigger than it. You're not; not even close, but at least you can go out swinging. Make mean-spirited jokes, and insist on their veracity with force. Don't admit for a solitary moment that you can be beaten or the stress can get to you. After all, everything; really, everything, is absurd.
Mile 2: Outrage. By now you realize that this is absurd. You're probably repeating to yourself "bulllll... shit!", "are you fucking kidding me?", or "I can't take this anymore" in your inner monologue. You respond to the flare up of absurdity with mean-spirited jokes. Everyone laughs, except you. When you start to say something in uprising against the absurd, you can feel that your vocal chords and mouth just don't want to do it anymore. You may turn around, and go back to where you came from.
Mile 3: Exhaustion. Now you've had it. Your very existence is painful. Things are not going according to plan. You feel like you're the victim of abuse, whether you are or not. No matter how much brainwashing you endure, you never feel clean. You would quit, or escape, but you can't muster the energy. You make a very strong conviction to suffering instead
Mile 3B: You are filled with such seething anger that you leave the room/turn off the TV/skip town. Maybe you can make it back to reason and sense... but you might just end it all instead.
Mile 4: Beating absurdity at it's own game. Ok, fuck it. Absurdity is going to yell and scream at you until you yell and scream back. Let it know you're not afraid of it anymore, and you're bigger than it. You're not; not even close, but at least you can go out swinging. Make mean-spirited jokes, and insist on their veracity with force. Don't admit for a solitary moment that you can be beaten or the stress can get to you. After all, everything; really, everything, is absurd.
past winter misfortunes
(1) I go out for a day of sledding, alone, while it's still snowing and I know no one else would be out. All I have to wear at the time is skateboard-shoes. I start heading back when my feet are numbing badly. It's snowing fiercely. What starts as knee-high snow slowly grows as high as my thighs as I trek through it. Unknown to me at the time, snow clings to corduroy pants, which I'm wearing. I start to feel cold water on each leg.
Suddenly, as I'm walking, I fall about 3 feet deeper into an unrecognized snowdrift. In a slight panic, I toss my sled aside, and try to climb out of the hole. I'm able to get mostly out, but the heel of one of my shoes doesn't want to come with me. I stay halfway out, with one leg in the hole trying to pull out the shoe with the toe of my foot. Instead, each attempt only opens up the heel of the shoe to have snow blown into it, and each successive attempt packs it down and chills my foot more. Finally I realize I have to abandon the shoe.
I climb out triumphant, with one foot only dressed in a single soaking wet sock. I hobble home like some kind of snow pirate.
(2) I wake up, with only enough time to ride my bike to school, which I do daily. There is frost on the entire lawn(a poor-mans thermometor; I estimate it's 25 degrees or so), so I suit up accordingly. 2 pairs of sock-style convienience store gloves, cloaked in leather gardening gloves. A thick woolen hat, 1 T-shirt, 1 waffle-print style long sleeve shirt, and a corduroy overshirt. corduroy pants over waffle-print "long johns", 2 pairs of thick socks and hi top basketball shoes.
Nevertheless, After climbing up the first hill on my bike, my fingers were frozen instantaneously. My exposed face... hurt. I pinched my lips together so they didn't crack or possibly bleed. As I rode, faster and faster, the chill in my wrists began to climb up my arms like someone pulled the blood out of them with a blood magnet. My toes became numb, and slowly my mid-foot in the same fashion. I finally made it to school, this being the only time I was glad to be there, and noticed that there were only 2 cars in the parking lot and class should be starting... now.
Assuming the obvious but not wanting to believe it at this very moment, I rode up to the door. "closed due to inclimate weather" is what the piece of paper hung up with sotch tape said, by an overworked janitor excited to leave. I looked at the trees. The branches were still as could be. I looked up. The sky was blue and clear. Nothing was stirring, not even an angry kid on a bmx bike. I thought of a warm house, breakfast, and daytime talk shows and took off. All of my sensations continued on the way home, with the addition of frozen ears(within my woolen hat) and drying eyes as I went down hills, feeling like Ice water was running across their surfaces.
When I got inside, I felt my hands and feet thaw out. It was like an N64 rumble-pak was malfuntioning inside of my palms, and the battery acid was boiling inside of that. I turned on the news, it still being the only thing on this early. I looked about 2 or 3 times back and forth from the time to the screen. 8:20, 8 degrees. 8. Meaning a half an hour ago it was likely 7. It took my last finger and toes and astounding hour and a half to become fully warm again.
Suddenly, as I'm walking, I fall about 3 feet deeper into an unrecognized snowdrift. In a slight panic, I toss my sled aside, and try to climb out of the hole. I'm able to get mostly out, but the heel of one of my shoes doesn't want to come with me. I stay halfway out, with one leg in the hole trying to pull out the shoe with the toe of my foot. Instead, each attempt only opens up the heel of the shoe to have snow blown into it, and each successive attempt packs it down and chills my foot more. Finally I realize I have to abandon the shoe.
I climb out triumphant, with one foot only dressed in a single soaking wet sock. I hobble home like some kind of snow pirate.
(2) I wake up, with only enough time to ride my bike to school, which I do daily. There is frost on the entire lawn(a poor-mans thermometor; I estimate it's 25 degrees or so), so I suit up accordingly. 2 pairs of sock-style convienience store gloves, cloaked in leather gardening gloves. A thick woolen hat, 1 T-shirt, 1 waffle-print style long sleeve shirt, and a corduroy overshirt. corduroy pants over waffle-print "long johns", 2 pairs of thick socks and hi top basketball shoes.
Nevertheless, After climbing up the first hill on my bike, my fingers were frozen instantaneously. My exposed face... hurt. I pinched my lips together so they didn't crack or possibly bleed. As I rode, faster and faster, the chill in my wrists began to climb up my arms like someone pulled the blood out of them with a blood magnet. My toes became numb, and slowly my mid-foot in the same fashion. I finally made it to school, this being the only time I was glad to be there, and noticed that there were only 2 cars in the parking lot and class should be starting... now.
Assuming the obvious but not wanting to believe it at this very moment, I rode up to the door. "closed due to inclimate weather" is what the piece of paper hung up with sotch tape said, by an overworked janitor excited to leave. I looked at the trees. The branches were still as could be. I looked up. The sky was blue and clear. Nothing was stirring, not even an angry kid on a bmx bike. I thought of a warm house, breakfast, and daytime talk shows and took off. All of my sensations continued on the way home, with the addition of frozen ears(within my woolen hat) and drying eyes as I went down hills, feeling like Ice water was running across their surfaces.
When I got inside, I felt my hands and feet thaw out. It was like an N64 rumble-pak was malfuntioning inside of my palms, and the battery acid was boiling inside of that. I turned on the news, it still being the only thing on this early. I looked about 2 or 3 times back and forth from the time to the screen. 8:20, 8 degrees. 8. Meaning a half an hour ago it was likely 7. It took my last finger and toes and astounding hour and a half to become fully warm again.
ya'll're colorblind
They say the grass isn't greener on the other side.
Consider what you're "into". If your life is in pretty good working order, it's probably a total of about 3 or 4 things. However, that's not proof-positive, for example; I'm into 3 or 4 things and my life is absolutely not in pretty good working order.
You likely have one thing you're "into" that is supreme. If you have your priorities straight, you'd like to spend as much of your time as possible on it. That's not proof-positive, however, for example; I'd like to spend as much of my time as possible on one thing, and I absolutely do not have my priorities straight.
This thing could be drinking, writing, fucking, thinking, collecting, eating, killing people, breeding animals, using drugs, raising a "family", making music, performing, directing, choreographing, dancing, talking, speaking, learning, observing, running, walking, exercising, playing a sport, praying, begging, or career criminality.
Unfortunately for the thing, this thing is not an object, but an action or idea that needs your involvement to exist. As such, the thing is dependent on you and you are dependent on your environment.
Whichever vocation is yours is probably wilting and withering away from stagnation. You've fed it all the resources on your property, and it's worn a dirt circle around where you have it chained up. It stays in it's house and sleeps most of the day and night.
How green is the grass on the other side now?
Consider what you're "into". If your life is in pretty good working order, it's probably a total of about 3 or 4 things. However, that's not proof-positive, for example; I'm into 3 or 4 things and my life is absolutely not in pretty good working order.
You likely have one thing you're "into" that is supreme. If you have your priorities straight, you'd like to spend as much of your time as possible on it. That's not proof-positive, however, for example; I'd like to spend as much of my time as possible on one thing, and I absolutely do not have my priorities straight.
This thing could be drinking, writing, fucking, thinking, collecting, eating, killing people, breeding animals, using drugs, raising a "family", making music, performing, directing, choreographing, dancing, talking, speaking, learning, observing, running, walking, exercising, playing a sport, praying, begging, or career criminality.
Unfortunately for the thing, this thing is not an object, but an action or idea that needs your involvement to exist. As such, the thing is dependent on you and you are dependent on your environment.
Whichever vocation is yours is probably wilting and withering away from stagnation. You've fed it all the resources on your property, and it's worn a dirt circle around where you have it chained up. It stays in it's house and sleeps most of the day and night.
How green is the grass on the other side now?
steal this post
Tonight I was being introspective, which I don't suggest, or even condone. As a result, I read through my old posts, and noticed a few things:
1) some old posts seemed really recent to me
2) some newer posts seemed really old to me
3) I only had faint memories of some of them. The extreme of this was being able to read 1 and 1/2 paragraphs, feeling like someone else wrote it, before I recognized a thought of mine.
These mental notes have got me questioning my abilities to mentally notate. My memories, and my "insights" are completely non-linear. What are the far-reaching implications? I'd say it's that any thought, expression or even life experience of mine doesn't reach far or implicate anything.
Any time I wanted to write in here, I thought it was worthwhile, and assumed that I was atop a 21-year+ mountain of connected conclusions and learned lessons. It is clear to me now, whether the time was "yesterday", or "last year", that my "functioning" brain simply fishes for a few feelings, sentiments and aesthetic odds and ends, and throws them together.
Hard work and discipline just don't pay off.
1) some old posts seemed really recent to me
2) some newer posts seemed really old to me
3) I only had faint memories of some of them. The extreme of this was being able to read 1 and 1/2 paragraphs, feeling like someone else wrote it, before I recognized a thought of mine.
These mental notes have got me questioning my abilities to mentally notate. My memories, and my "insights" are completely non-linear. What are the far-reaching implications? I'd say it's that any thought, expression or even life experience of mine doesn't reach far or implicate anything.
Any time I wanted to write in here, I thought it was worthwhile, and assumed that I was atop a 21-year+ mountain of connected conclusions and learned lessons. It is clear to me now, whether the time was "yesterday", or "last year", that my "functioning" brain simply fishes for a few feelings, sentiments and aesthetic odds and ends, and throws them together.
Hard work and discipline just don't pay off.
doing things is the new black
good reasons to do something:
it's mysterious
it was in a good movie/book/song
an ill-fated idol of yours did it
everyone else is
it's dangerous
to relieve the tension
you got away with it the first/second/every time
to look cool
to start a fight
to risk your life
for attention
bad reasons to do something:
your parents did
it's what your teacher reccomended
it's responsible
to save a life
it's what's expected
you need the money
it worked well before
it's morally justified
to help those less fortunate
it says to in the directions
for physical fitness
it's mysterious
it was in a good movie/book/song
an ill-fated idol of yours did it
everyone else is
it's dangerous
to relieve the tension
you got away with it the first/second/every time
to look cool
to start a fight
to risk your life
for attention
bad reasons to do something:
your parents did
it's what your teacher reccomended
it's responsible
to save a life
it's what's expected
you need the money
it worked well before
it's morally justified
to help those less fortunate
it says to in the directions
for physical fitness
how to be a coffee addict
Most people don't have the dedication and sheer desperation it takes to be a coffee addict. Coffee addicts are people who have realized that the only "value" they can find in life is through really, really inconsequential accomplishments. Because they literally can't apply themselves to completing a task on their own volition, they consume copious amounts of caffeine until they feel more uneasy idle than while moving.
(1) Make sure you set up the coffee at night, so all you have to do is press a damn button to fill up your ceramic. Some coffee makers have "timers" but I've never found that works quite like you imagine it would. Hearing the gurgling chug of the coffee maker doing its thing is part of the experience. Set up your coffee maker before you go to bed to brew 3 cups(usually the "6" mark on the pot).
(2) The next morning, imagine the smell and taste of coffee. Think to yourself "Coffee is my sole reason for living today". Don't stop by the mirror, you vein bastard. Don't stop by the refrigerator, you fat tub of shit and definitely don't stop by the toilet, you regular bowel-mover. Remember the coffee will take a little while to make 3 cups. Make sure the first thing you do, before putting clothes on or anything else, is push the "on", "start", or "help" button on your brewer. When the coffee is done brewing, drink it. The first cup will seem like nothing compared to the second, and the third(especially the first time) will make you nauseous. Don't worry about how you feel, worry about how the coffee would feel if you didn't drink it.
(3) Unpleasant sensations will soon give way to a lightheaded, happy energy. This may be accompanied by a feeling of superiority to people and things around you. Observe carefully as you beat friends and coworkers to the punch on various minor and unimportant problem-solving tasks. In the early afternoon, you will start to feel tired. Don't sleep! You have to stay caffeinated all day until your limbs feel alarmingly weak(more on that later). Instead of a nap or a careful reconsideration of your priorities, have 2 cups of coffee, hot or iced. You'll be back to moving and thinking way faster than your environment in a matter of minutes.
(4) It's 2-3 hours before your normal bed time, and you're having doubts, like "I feel really, really goddamn tired, maybe this coffee thing isn'-" STOP RIGHT THERE. Who are you going to trust? Yourself, who's been on the planet 10-110 miserable years, or coffee, which has had 1200 years of colorful history and experience? In all honesty, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for denying coffee free passage into your digestive system only because of the time of day or sensations in your chest. Brew some more coffee, 3 cups just to be safe, and stare at the slowly filling pot apolegtically, even if you're not sorry. When finished, enjoy. Pay no mind to tears welling in your eyes; another cup will put an end to that. Notice how pleasantly alert your mind is until bed time. You'll know it's time to go to sleep only when it's really hard to lift your arms or walk around without feeling faint. Repeat step 1, and get 4-5 hours of caffeiene influenced sleep.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You've consumed about 1 and 1/3 pots of coffee, and I bet you feel SLIGHTLY BETTER. You may notice after a few days that your consumption must increase slightly. Very few people get over the 2 pot limit, so just go with it and if you do get over the 2 pot limit, brag. Enjoy the everlasting effects of unwelcome energy.
(1) Make sure you set up the coffee at night, so all you have to do is press a damn button to fill up your ceramic. Some coffee makers have "timers" but I've never found that works quite like you imagine it would. Hearing the gurgling chug of the coffee maker doing its thing is part of the experience. Set up your coffee maker before you go to bed to brew 3 cups(usually the "6" mark on the pot).
(2) The next morning, imagine the smell and taste of coffee. Think to yourself "Coffee is my sole reason for living today". Don't stop by the mirror, you vein bastard. Don't stop by the refrigerator, you fat tub of shit and definitely don't stop by the toilet, you regular bowel-mover. Remember the coffee will take a little while to make 3 cups. Make sure the first thing you do, before putting clothes on or anything else, is push the "on", "start", or "help" button on your brewer. When the coffee is done brewing, drink it. The first cup will seem like nothing compared to the second, and the third(especially the first time) will make you nauseous. Don't worry about how you feel, worry about how the coffee would feel if you didn't drink it.
(3) Unpleasant sensations will soon give way to a lightheaded, happy energy. This may be accompanied by a feeling of superiority to people and things around you. Observe carefully as you beat friends and coworkers to the punch on various minor and unimportant problem-solving tasks. In the early afternoon, you will start to feel tired. Don't sleep! You have to stay caffeinated all day until your limbs feel alarmingly weak(more on that later). Instead of a nap or a careful reconsideration of your priorities, have 2 cups of coffee, hot or iced. You'll be back to moving and thinking way faster than your environment in a matter of minutes.
(4) It's 2-3 hours before your normal bed time, and you're having doubts, like "I feel really, really goddamn tired, maybe this coffee thing isn'-" STOP RIGHT THERE. Who are you going to trust? Yourself, who's been on the planet 10-110 miserable years, or coffee, which has had 1200 years of colorful history and experience? In all honesty, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for denying coffee free passage into your digestive system only because of the time of day or sensations in your chest. Brew some more coffee, 3 cups just to be safe, and stare at the slowly filling pot apolegtically, even if you're not sorry. When finished, enjoy. Pay no mind to tears welling in your eyes; another cup will put an end to that. Notice how pleasantly alert your mind is until bed time. You'll know it's time to go to sleep only when it's really hard to lift your arms or walk around without feeling faint. Repeat step 1, and get 4-5 hours of caffeiene influenced sleep.
CONGRATULATIONS!
You've consumed about 1 and 1/3 pots of coffee, and I bet you feel SLIGHTLY BETTER. You may notice after a few days that your consumption must increase slightly. Very few people get over the 2 pot limit, so just go with it and if you do get over the 2 pot limit, brag. Enjoy the everlasting effects of unwelcome energy.
call it fall
When autumn falls, I like to call it fall. I like to call it fall cause all in all that's what it is. The leaves swim to the streets and stain them, paint them, until they're a muddy mush. Look up and see the trees naked, standing proud like mannequins. They may feel shy but they're managing. The sky is alive when it's a blue corpse and looks like death's arrival when it's shiny gray. If I'm in your way, I'll step aside. Just tell the lawn I said he looks good in orange.
coffee
After half a cup, you'll feel your eyes opening and a pleasant amount of sweat beading on your forehead. After the rest, and half of another, the aches in your neck and head will disappear, and your ears will start honing in on sounds you never knew were there. After completion of the third cup, the world will appear like a puzzle, and your eyes will be able to easily manipulate the pieces from a rooms length. After drinking a 4th cup, you will feel uneasy sitting still. You will stare at one focal point, but only pay mind to your peripheral field. You will start to feel nauseated, and realize the only way to stop the nervous energy is to do something. You've just drank 4 cups of coffee.
something's wrong
Man A is a family man. He makes sure to have supper with his family at 8 o'clock sharp every day. Except this most recent day, when he arrives home to find his son asleep in bed, no supper ready, and his wife reading. He demands to know what's going on, and his wife explains that they went to the park earlier and the boy got exhausted from playing. She made him a light meal and let him go to bed. Man A becomes infuriated, and wakes his son up from sleeping to eat dinner. He demands that his wife make supper, or he'll give the dog away. She does, and throughout cooking he insults her in front of their son. When it's ready, the boy says that he's not hungry. Man A takes him on one knee and spanks him. Then he eats, while crying.
Man A has committed no crime.
Man B is a family man. He makes sure to have supper with his family at 8 o'clock sharp every day. Except this most recent day, when he arrives home to find his son asleep in bed, no supper ready, and his wife reading. He demands to know what's going on, and his wife explains that they went to the park earlier and the boy got exhausted from playing. She made him a light meal and let him go to bed. Man B is a little upset, but says "ok" and then, knowing his son is asleep, retrieves a large bong and becomes intoxicated on cannabis.
Man B has committed a crime.
Man A has committed no crime.
Man B is a family man. He makes sure to have supper with his family at 8 o'clock sharp every day. Except this most recent day, when he arrives home to find his son asleep in bed, no supper ready, and his wife reading. He demands to know what's going on, and his wife explains that they went to the park earlier and the boy got exhausted from playing. She made him a light meal and let him go to bed. Man B is a little upset, but says "ok" and then, knowing his son is asleep, retrieves a large bong and becomes intoxicated on cannabis.
Man B has committed a crime.
Re: the open conpsiracy
original post can be read here.
The politician says:
"George Bush lied to get us into war...
but the ends justify the me-" WRONG
so vote for me and-" WRONG
but now we can't lose so-" WRONG
and that war is costing us lots of mon-" WRONG AGAIN
so let's send a message of ho-" REALLY WRONG
but I won't stop voting on bills to send fu-" WTF?
but defeat is not an op-" AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
so let's gather evidence, build a case, and apprehend him for war crimes. Then we'll work with neighboring nations on a way to stabalize the area, apologize for US involvement, and pay reperations to rebuild" CORRECT
The politician says:
"George Bush lied to get us into war...
but the ends justify the me-" WRONG
so vote for me and-" WRONG
but now we can't lose so-" WRONG
and that war is costing us lots of mon-" WRONG AGAIN
so let's send a message of ho-" REALLY WRONG
but I won't stop voting on bills to send fu-" WTF?
but defeat is not an op-" AHHHHHHHHHHHH!
so let's gather evidence, build a case, and apprehend him for war crimes. Then we'll work with neighboring nations on a way to stabalize the area, apologize for US involvement, and pay reperations to rebuild" CORRECT
Dine and Ditch
Prudence was a woman with diverse skills and an open mind. That’s why she could never seem to get what she wanted. Her best friend was Curiosity, and together, at a bar that was curiosity’s favorite, they met Adventure. Adventure took them around town, and introduced them to many more friends. No friend of adventures was quite as interesting as her, though. Adventure was always fun, but sometimes really hard to track down. On the occasions that Adventure called, she was very demanding. Prudence continued searching for friends. Curiosity kept trying to develop closer ties with Adventure.
All Prudence knew is that she wasn’t satisfied. Then she met Comfort. Comfort was very warm, happy, and forgiving. Prudence and Comfort spent all their time together. Curiosity couldn’t stand her, and kept calling Adventure, but Adventure would ask what Curiosity had in mind to do. Curiosity would tell her, but Adventure didn’t think she’d enjoy it very much. Then Curiosity was struck with an idea. Maybe Adventure would find it interesting to meet Comfort.
Prudence, Curiosity, Comfort and Adventure all met for a night out. It started off well enough at the restaurant, but after a few drinks Adventure was clearly making jokes at Comfort’s expense. Curiosity was first trying to hold her laughter, then openly laughing, then teasing Comfort as well. Comfort wasn’t too upset, probably having dealt with these types of people before, but Prudence was.
At the end of a very surreal evening, Adventure came up with the idea to run out on the check. Prudence loudly objected, and Comfort didn’t speak. Curiosity was upset with Comfort’s influence on Prudence, and called her a coward. Prudence announced that she didn’t think they’d really do it. Adventure told them that she and Curiosity certainly will, so they might as well, too. When the Hostess, Oblivion, walked away from her podium, Adventure and Curiosity left quickly and abandoned Prudence and Comfort with the check. Prudence and Curiosity never spoke again. They had new friends now.
All Prudence knew is that she wasn’t satisfied. Then she met Comfort. Comfort was very warm, happy, and forgiving. Prudence and Comfort spent all their time together. Curiosity couldn’t stand her, and kept calling Adventure, but Adventure would ask what Curiosity had in mind to do. Curiosity would tell her, but Adventure didn’t think she’d enjoy it very much. Then Curiosity was struck with an idea. Maybe Adventure would find it interesting to meet Comfort.
Prudence, Curiosity, Comfort and Adventure all met for a night out. It started off well enough at the restaurant, but after a few drinks Adventure was clearly making jokes at Comfort’s expense. Curiosity was first trying to hold her laughter, then openly laughing, then teasing Comfort as well. Comfort wasn’t too upset, probably having dealt with these types of people before, but Prudence was.
At the end of a very surreal evening, Adventure came up with the idea to run out on the check. Prudence loudly objected, and Comfort didn’t speak. Curiosity was upset with Comfort’s influence on Prudence, and called her a coward. Prudence announced that she didn’t think they’d really do it. Adventure told them that she and Curiosity certainly will, so they might as well, too. When the Hostess, Oblivion, walked away from her podium, Adventure and Curiosity left quickly and abandoned Prudence and Comfort with the check. Prudence and Curiosity never spoke again. They had new friends now.
a cat to copy
I fear mediocrity strongly. I always have, since I was a child. I don't know where it came from. When I consider it completely objectively- It's not so bad. But my "feelings" and my "intuitions" a.k.a. absolutely nothing bite at my belly and tell me to do everything I can to avoid it.
So I must be unique. I must be eccentric. I must be worth reading about. Because I feel this way, I have never considered just how imitative I really am. It's well-known and recognized that children learn basic mannerisms and modes of functioning from their parents. Afterward, it's not so well-known and recognized that adults continue the same imitation- just not of their parents.
I am essentially imitating a few dozen people I admire, hoping that through copying their work habits, life choices and even inconsequential food and drug choices that they'll rub off on me and I will morph into a unique new figure.
There's nothing wrong with this initially, but in my psyche it's joined with stubbornness. When I try to copy a hero in some way; if I'm either incapable, or receive no benefit from it, I will try to stick with it until it works. But sometimes, it just won't work for me.
So now I vow to imitate only one thing, this Bruce Lee Quote:
"Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it."
So I must be unique. I must be eccentric. I must be worth reading about. Because I feel this way, I have never considered just how imitative I really am. It's well-known and recognized that children learn basic mannerisms and modes of functioning from their parents. Afterward, it's not so well-known and recognized that adults continue the same imitation- just not of their parents.
I am essentially imitating a few dozen people I admire, hoping that through copying their work habits, life choices and even inconsequential food and drug choices that they'll rub off on me and I will morph into a unique new figure.
There's nothing wrong with this initially, but in my psyche it's joined with stubbornness. When I try to copy a hero in some way; if I'm either incapable, or receive no benefit from it, I will try to stick with it until it works. But sometimes, it just won't work for me.
So now I vow to imitate only one thing, this Bruce Lee Quote:
"Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it."
drinking for friends
I started a new job only a few weeks before I decided to stop drinking for a while. Within those few weeks, I was asked by more than one person if I smoked pot or drank alcohol. When I told them I drank, they’d ask what, when or where. This is clearly a move to become friendly outside of work- which is good.
The opportunity to materialize that finally came when I don’t have serious urges to drink. It’s not too awful to say “I’m laying off for a while”, so that’s what I’ll do, but it got me remembering…
Before I had ever had a drink, I typically bounded this gauntlet of questions:
STRANGE YOUTH: Do you smoke… you know… pot?
COBE S NEVER FAILS TO IMPRESS: No.
SY: Cigarettes?
CSNFTI: No.
SY: Do you drink?
CSNFTI: No.
SY: Have you ever done any of those things?
CSNFTI: Nah
SY: Would you ever want to?
CSNFTI: I don’t think so.
Then the Strange youth would stare at me like I was an animal in a zoo, and follow up with:
SY: Wow. Well. Do you go to school?
CSNFTI: No.
SY: Are you going to?
CSNFTI: I don’t think so.
Having exhausted all the possibilities in their mind of what a young man’s activities could ever be, They would either never talk to me about my life again, talk about me like I’m scary, assume I’m religious(unless they ask me) or talk about me like I’ve “got my shit together”(meaning absolutely nothing, fyi).
I’m glad I can at least say “I used to drink heavily” to grease the wheels, even if I don’t currently. Socialization is ridiculous.
The opportunity to materialize that finally came when I don’t have serious urges to drink. It’s not too awful to say “I’m laying off for a while”, so that’s what I’ll do, but it got me remembering…
Before I had ever had a drink, I typically bounded this gauntlet of questions:
STRANGE YOUTH: Do you smoke… you know… pot?
COBE S NEVER FAILS TO IMPRESS: No.
SY: Cigarettes?
CSNFTI: No.
SY: Do you drink?
CSNFTI: No.
SY: Have you ever done any of those things?
CSNFTI: Nah
SY: Would you ever want to?
CSNFTI: I don’t think so.
Then the Strange youth would stare at me like I was an animal in a zoo, and follow up with:
SY: Wow. Well. Do you go to school?
CSNFTI: No.
SY: Are you going to?
CSNFTI: I don’t think so.
Having exhausted all the possibilities in their mind of what a young man’s activities could ever be, They would either never talk to me about my life again, talk about me like I’m scary, assume I’m religious(unless they ask me) or talk about me like I’ve “got my shit together”(meaning absolutely nothing, fyi).
I’m glad I can at least say “I used to drink heavily” to grease the wheels, even if I don’t currently. Socialization is ridiculous.
day 4, part 2
My only lasting physical discomfort on this 4th day sober is that my eyes are quite dry, and the corner of one of them feels achy. I can’t be sure, particularly when it’s such a minor thing, what is causing the sensation. Physical discomfort is possible without any silly reasoning.
born-again sucker
Speaking of silly reasoning, what upsets me most about my long period of daily drinking is not the drinking itself, which seemed to add up only to negligible physical/emotional damage, but how I believed in certain bullshit to keep up my compulsion. Being a user or an abuser of a drug is shameless, as long as you’re not hurting anyone but yourself. However, I think there’s plenty of shame in being a sucker.
My original reasoning for not indulging in any recreational drugs was pretty monochrome. It was essentially that the human brain has a way of working emotional issues out, and coming out on top, with healthy coping mechanisms and a positive disposition, and heavy drug use will interfere with that process. Well, as you may have been able to tell from the muscle twitches you had while reading that, alot of it is presumptuous and how shall we say, not true.
I'm an all or nothing kind of person. So when this reasoning started to fall apart in my mind, I simply thought "which drug is for me?". Alcohol seemed a very natural choice, but only because of more bad reasoning. Well, now I’m skeptical of everything but the kitchen sink, and I realize that there’s bullshit all over the question “To drink, or not to drink”.
Modern Drunkard Magazine is a magazine that most people can’t believe exists- and it didn’t, until fairly recently. It does not preach moderation of any sort like other drinking-related magazines might. It is really made for drunkards- and as such, never questions the greatness of alcohol and drinking. Well, they certainly have some –true- things to say that you won’t hear from MADD or your public high school(though you might see those things in your biology teachers thermos).
For everything that’s commendable about that, they also have some pretty shitty reasoning. Every time the question of alcohol’s effect on personality comes up, they mention a fairly short list of lovable and famous drinkers. This reasoning falls flat because they leave out the list of winos and barflies who are nobodies, and sober people who have left a huge mark in history.
I used to buy this nonsense. I’m glad that I proved to myself that drinking, and other recreational drug-use, is not bad by default. But that doesn’t mean that it's good by default either. All I did was temporarily trade in one bit of bullshit for another. And whether I drink or not after drying out, What's most important to me now is not being manipulated by my feelings or chemical dependencies but by my reasoning.
My original reasoning for not indulging in any recreational drugs was pretty monochrome. It was essentially that the human brain has a way of working emotional issues out, and coming out on top, with healthy coping mechanisms and a positive disposition, and heavy drug use will interfere with that process. Well, as you may have been able to tell from the muscle twitches you had while reading that, alot of it is presumptuous and how shall we say, not true.
I'm an all or nothing kind of person. So when this reasoning started to fall apart in my mind, I simply thought "which drug is for me?". Alcohol seemed a very natural choice, but only because of more bad reasoning. Well, now I’m skeptical of everything but the kitchen sink, and I realize that there’s bullshit all over the question “To drink, or not to drink”.
Modern Drunkard Magazine is a magazine that most people can’t believe exists- and it didn’t, until fairly recently. It does not preach moderation of any sort like other drinking-related magazines might. It is really made for drunkards- and as such, never questions the greatness of alcohol and drinking. Well, they certainly have some –true- things to say that you won’t hear from MADD or your public high school(though you might see those things in your biology teachers thermos).
For everything that’s commendable about that, they also have some pretty shitty reasoning. Every time the question of alcohol’s effect on personality comes up, they mention a fairly short list of lovable and famous drinkers. This reasoning falls flat because they leave out the list of winos and barflies who are nobodies, and sober people who have left a huge mark in history.
I used to buy this nonsense. I’m glad that I proved to myself that drinking, and other recreational drug-use, is not bad by default. But that doesn’t mean that it's good by default either. All I did was temporarily trade in one bit of bullshit for another. And whether I drink or not after drying out, What's most important to me now is not being manipulated by my feelings or chemical dependencies but by my reasoning.
boredom
I realize I may have been a bit preoccupied with the physical sensations of withdrawal and neglected the mental ones. In that respect, withdrawal is no different than the rest of life for me.
I talked about how it was hard to think. That lasted about 2 days. When I talked, it would come out, out, you know, umm, it came out kind of like this. Every time. Small daily problem solving was difficult. Now that’s gone and I feel pretty sharp.
The other thing that happened is extreme boredom. Not just “I’ve run out of things to do” boredom; A double scoop of boredom, sprinkled with indecisiveness and lethargy, with the sneaking suspicion that anything I’d do wouldn’t yield happiness anyhow on top.
Actually, boredom is still there, but it always was. I’m now remembering some of my initial reasons for avoiding the crazy water, or any other hard drug, until I was 20. One of the reasons was that when a person gets bored, as they typically do, that they should strive to do something fun or adventurous instead of just getting inebriated.
There are 2 excellent exceptions to take with this reasoning: 1)my life’s plans involve being bored in school/work, so during that time, why shouldn’t I make it easier on myself, and 2) being inebriated is fun and adventurous.
These are excellent reasons to use recreational drugs, but the problems arise when these good reasons fade into simple compulsion. If you drink to make school or work passable, then just do it then. If you drink because it’s fun and adventurous, be weary of when it’s not fun and adventurous anymore- but just a habit.
I talked about how it was hard to think. That lasted about 2 days. When I talked, it would come out, out, you know, umm, it came out kind of like this. Every time. Small daily problem solving was difficult. Now that’s gone and I feel pretty sharp.
The other thing that happened is extreme boredom. Not just “I’ve run out of things to do” boredom; A double scoop of boredom, sprinkled with indecisiveness and lethargy, with the sneaking suspicion that anything I’d do wouldn’t yield happiness anyhow on top.
Actually, boredom is still there, but it always was. I’m now remembering some of my initial reasons for avoiding the crazy water, or any other hard drug, until I was 20. One of the reasons was that when a person gets bored, as they typically do, that they should strive to do something fun or adventurous instead of just getting inebriated.
There are 2 excellent exceptions to take with this reasoning: 1)my life’s plans involve being bored in school/work, so during that time, why shouldn’t I make it easier on myself, and 2) being inebriated is fun and adventurous.
These are excellent reasons to use recreational drugs, but the problems arise when these good reasons fade into simple compulsion. If you drink to make school or work passable, then just do it then. If you drink because it’s fun and adventurous, be weary of when it’s not fun and adventurous anymore- but just a habit.
let the elderly get plastered
I've been thinking about this quote:
"A man is a fool is he drinks before he reaches the age of 50, and a fool
if he doesn't afterward." - Frank LLoyd Wright
This sentiment, coupled with the fact that Aldous Huxley was injected with LSD on his death bed, makes me reconsider recreational drug use and age. Question:
Man A is just now full-grown. He keeps himself busy, and doesn’t use drugs for recreation. He reads, He might exercise, he could write, or otherwise learns a trade or hobby that sustains him and his life. He thinks deliberately and carefully about what's important to him in life. When he contracts arthritis and diabetes later in life, he has a completely fresh brain and liver to effect with all types of intoxicants, as well as plenty of saved money to spend on it. He goes out in a painless, intoxicated stupor.
Man B starts using drugs daily, early in life, sometimes to the point of complete oblivion. He is constantly spending his disposable income on it. Later in life, he starts having health problems and dependency issues as a result. He detoxes just in time to soberly enjoy incontinence, failing eyesight and hearing, and possible dementia.
Which sounds like a better life to you?
"A man is a fool is he drinks before he reaches the age of 50, and a fool
if he doesn't afterward." - Frank LLoyd Wright
This sentiment, coupled with the fact that Aldous Huxley was injected with LSD on his death bed, makes me reconsider recreational drug use and age. Question:
Man A is just now full-grown. He keeps himself busy, and doesn’t use drugs for recreation. He reads, He might exercise, he could write, or otherwise learns a trade or hobby that sustains him and his life. He thinks deliberately and carefully about what's important to him in life. When he contracts arthritis and diabetes later in life, he has a completely fresh brain and liver to effect with all types of intoxicants, as well as plenty of saved money to spend on it. He goes out in a painless, intoxicated stupor.
Man B starts using drugs daily, early in life, sometimes to the point of complete oblivion. He is constantly spending his disposable income on it. Later in life, he starts having health problems and dependency issues as a result. He detoxes just in time to soberly enjoy incontinence, failing eyesight and hearing, and possible dementia.
Which sounds like a better life to you?
day 4
I went to sleep last night expecting to catch a fever during sleep, so I wore my clothes to bed and 3 blankets to try to break it. It either worked or I never had a fever and I was hot; either way I woke up uncomfortably sweaty. I slept the rest of the night feeling a pain in my neck when I woke up, but that's all. I have a headache now that I can only feel when I cough or try to spit- sinus pressure.
day 3, part 2
After some Tylenol, a hot shower and a 4 hour nap- I’m feeling better. Also coffee and cheap mini cigars help ease cravings and headaches. My sore throat doesn’t seem to be getting worse or better. I use a numbing spray when it’s bothersome. I didn’t have much appetite today, until the evening, and now I’m pretty hungry.
Unless I fall off the wagon and fall in a vat of rum(not a bad fate, all things considered), I’ll keep this up, because if the withdrawal is going exactly according to schedule, it won't be that hard from now on.
day 3
Now I'm pretty certain that I have an infection- but it could be caused by abstaining from alcohol. This is pretty dodgy "science"; but here's my idea. The last night I drank(wednesday), I drank alot. Alcohol in huge amounts can weaken one's immune system. After that night, I quit cold turkey, and therefore stopped taking shots of alcohol- a disinfectant.
Because of this, my throat is very sore, and I feel like there's a lump in it. I'm still having feverish feelings and aches and pains. Another thing to consider is coffee withdrawal. I haven't been drinking my usual 3-5 cups daily, and this morning I had the nerve to actually put off consuming it at all. but my head felt exactly like it did before When I quit drinking coffee.
So now I'm juggling possible alcohol withdrawal, caffeine withdrawal and being sick anyhow. I can't really be certain which one is causing which symptoms. But I feel like shit.
Because of this, my throat is very sore, and I feel like there's a lump in it. I'm still having feverish feelings and aches and pains. Another thing to consider is coffee withdrawal. I haven't been drinking my usual 3-5 cups daily, and this morning I had the nerve to actually put off consuming it at all. but my head felt exactly like it did before When I quit drinking coffee.
So now I'm juggling possible alcohol withdrawal, caffeine withdrawal and being sick anyhow. I can't really be certain which one is causing which symptoms. But I feel like shit.
day 2, part 2
I didn't know this was going to be so uncomfortable. My scalp feels sore- like it's been working out. but it hasn't, cause it doesn't have a cardiovascular system. My feverish feelings increased, and I took 2 high-strength tylenols. Now I have continuing aches in my shoulder blades, and various muscles in my body are twitching- like what happens when you sleep 2 hours instead of 9 in a night.
thoughts are not connecting very effectively. I owed my father some money, and I kept trying to budget a way to drive 500 miles away to pay him until my friend suggested "send a check in the mail". I was flabergasted by having not thought of that. I'm staring at things- alot, and then not remembering what I was thinking about.
they say the 2nd and 3rd day is the worst, with a feeling of normalcy creeping in 10-30 days later. We'll see.
thoughts are not connecting very effectively. I owed my father some money, and I kept trying to budget a way to drive 500 miles away to pay him until my friend suggested "send a check in the mail". I was flabergasted by having not thought of that. I'm staring at things- alot, and then not remembering what I was thinking about.
they say the 2nd and 3rd day is the worst, with a feeling of normalcy creeping in 10-30 days later. We'll see.
day 2
I really can't say whether I'm withdrawaling from alcohol or I'm coincidentally becoming sick. Since I'm not very often sick, and this is one of the longer stretches of not drinking I've had since starting in earnest, I'm inclined to think it's withdrawal.
Firstly, I can smell better. This is a bad thing when using the toilet, and a good thing very rarely. Second, I crave coffee and mini-cigars. It's not by chance that AA meetings are stuffed with coffee, fatty foods and cigarette smokers. They need something. Finally, after 2 days, I'm feeling feverish and getting headaches.
It crosses my mind to drink, but I'm just about on my last dollar. I have to set the precedent now- that my priorities are to create the right conditions to drink in, rather than letting drinking set the conditions for itself.
Being a wino isn't all that bad- and having that to fall back on does give me comfort. But at the same time, I like to know that I'll continue to have a warm place to drink in.
Sorry so serious,
cobe.
Firstly, I can smell better. This is a bad thing when using the toilet, and a good thing very rarely. Second, I crave coffee and mini-cigars. It's not by chance that AA meetings are stuffed with coffee, fatty foods and cigarette smokers. They need something. Finally, after 2 days, I'm feeling feverish and getting headaches.
It crosses my mind to drink, but I'm just about on my last dollar. I have to set the precedent now- that my priorities are to create the right conditions to drink in, rather than letting drinking set the conditions for itself.
Being a wino isn't all that bad- and having that to fall back on does give me comfort. But at the same time, I like to know that I'll continue to have a warm place to drink in.
Sorry so serious,
cobe.
day 1
I'm quitting drinking for an indeterminate length of time. Why, you didn't ask? :
1) I'm listening to a song on a recently acquired album, and note that all dozen times I've heard this song I haven't been sober
2) I plan on writing something... but black out, and wake up the next morning, to hear I did nothing but play with a cat
3) It's 5PM. I head out(walking!) for an evening of drinking, already drunk, but rip my pants. I start heading home... but black out, and wake up on the sofa at 10PM
4) The paneling along the doorway to my house is cracked. My keys are on the floor 3 feet inside. I don't remember.
5) I try to feed a pet snake a live rat. He doesn't eat it, and I have to remove it, but I've gotten intoxicated between then and now and am afraid the rat will outwit me.
6) I drink bottom shelf Triple Sec, straight. ... That's all
7) I'm too drunk to fuck at 1PM.
8) I convince a Jamaican guy to take a shot of jameson with me at a bar. He winces like he's going to puke, and I laugh. (actually, that was awesome)
++++Post Script: not really exaggerated++++
1) I'm listening to a song on a recently acquired album, and note that all dozen times I've heard this song I haven't been sober
2) I plan on writing something... but black out, and wake up the next morning, to hear I did nothing but play with a cat
3) It's 5PM. I head out(walking!) for an evening of drinking, already drunk, but rip my pants. I start heading home... but black out, and wake up on the sofa at 10PM
4) The paneling along the doorway to my house is cracked. My keys are on the floor 3 feet inside. I don't remember.
5) I try to feed a pet snake a live rat. He doesn't eat it, and I have to remove it, but I've gotten intoxicated between then and now and am afraid the rat will outwit me.
6) I drink bottom shelf Triple Sec, straight. ... That's all
7) I'm too drunk to fuck at 1PM.
8) I convince a Jamaican guy to take a shot of jameson with me at a bar. He winces like he's going to puke, and I laugh. (actually, that was awesome)
++++Post Script: not really exaggerated++++
Re: Escape in a mug (parenting magazine)
I just moved into a rented home, and a natural result of this is that we get the old tenants mail. Among this mail is "parenting" magazine which I of course read cover to cover in order to feel superior to the creators, writers and readership.
something I'd like to share with you is a recipe called "escape in a mug". It is written and punctuated exactly as follows:
Escape in a mug
"2 Cups apple cider
2 cinnamon sticks
1 orange wedge
4 whole cloves
Splash spiced rum
(optional)
1. In a Small saucepan, combine
cider, cinnamon sticks, orange,
and cloves. Bring to a boil over
medium-high heat.
2. Remove from heat and let stand,
covered, for 5 minutes. Remove
cloves and orange, and pour cider
into 2 mugs, garnishing each with
a cinnamon stick. Add rum, if desired."
As soon as anyone presents a recipe for "escape in -drink container-" we know exactly what they're talking about. They didn't call this recipe "tasty cidery shit in a mug", they called it "escape-". Why be so apprehensive about the escapist purpose of alcohol with language like "optional" and "if desired"? Certainly everything in the recipe is exactly as "if desired" as the rum.
To whatever drunkard authored this recipe in parenting magazine, be up front. Acknowledge that sometimes mommy need to get a buzz on so she doesn't beat little Johnny for stealing skittles from the Wal-mart. Don't pretend like anyone can "escape" with a bunch of cake-recipe spices and apple juice heated up in a pan, no matter how good it tastes. They may need rum, and quite an elaphantine "splash" of rum, to escape the hell of parenting.
something I'd like to share with you is a recipe called "escape in a mug". It is written and punctuated exactly as follows:
Escape in a mug
"2 Cups apple cider
2 cinnamon sticks
1 orange wedge
4 whole cloves
Splash spiced rum
(optional)
1. In a Small saucepan, combine
cider, cinnamon sticks, orange,
and cloves. Bring to a boil over
medium-high heat.
2. Remove from heat and let stand,
covered, for 5 minutes. Remove
cloves and orange, and pour cider
into 2 mugs, garnishing each with
a cinnamon stick. Add rum, if desired."
As soon as anyone presents a recipe for "escape in -drink container-" we know exactly what they're talking about. They didn't call this recipe "tasty cidery shit in a mug", they called it "escape-". Why be so apprehensive about the escapist purpose of alcohol with language like "optional" and "if desired"? Certainly everything in the recipe is exactly as "if desired" as the rum.
To whatever drunkard authored this recipe in parenting magazine, be up front. Acknowledge that sometimes mommy need to get a buzz on so she doesn't beat little Johnny for stealing skittles from the Wal-mart. Don't pretend like anyone can "escape" with a bunch of cake-recipe spices and apple juice heated up in a pan, no matter how good it tastes. They may need rum, and quite an elaphantine "splash" of rum, to escape the hell of parenting.
ABC stores: north carolina's black eye
North Carolina regulates hard liquor, or as they call it: "spiritous distillations". The way they do this is by running ABC(alcohol board of control) stores, and making illegal all private selling of spiritous distillations.
I wouldn't be too surprised if this was the way of life in Uzbekistan or California, but this is North Carolina we're talking about. One of the only states that has refused to give into the anti-gun, and anti-cigarette, and other anti-fun campaigns. The cultural attitude here is to be suspicious of all government interference and fight new taxes as if they funded murder(oh wait, they do).
Which leaves me asking why alcohol is the particular "neat thing" that they've decided to hate on. I can only assume it is a regional, appalachia-esque vibe of "my granddaddy used to drink, and then he ran over my cousin with the tractor for calling him a fat ass". The ABC's express purpose, as expressed by them, is to "regulate the sale of -insert antiquated term for hooch-".
Regulate how? It's not as if they insert a chip into drunk drivers, violent people, and native americans that sounds a warning alarm whenever they enter the store. They don't regulate out of any public safety concern, which would be their only(still ridiculous) reason to. They "regulate" only to be the only stores and charge whatever they like(average 1-5 dollars more than prices in MD).
What's sad is that people who've lived here all their life respond to the idea of privately owned liquor stores as if they were a fairy tale; some far away, distant utopia. They are unaware that their state only has this reidiculous system because of prohibition. The local laws stood up after prohibition ended, and lawmakers piggy-backed a ridiculous cultural stigma of alcohol in order to make sure the state solely profits from it's sale.
NC is known for it's low taxes, only if one ignores the $300 speeding tickets, and the extra few dollars it makes on every handle of bottom-shelf booze straight out of drinkers pockets. Don't believe the hype.
B
I wouldn't be too surprised if this was the way of life in Uzbekistan or California, but this is North Carolina we're talking about. One of the only states that has refused to give into the anti-gun, and anti-cigarette, and other anti-fun campaigns. The cultural attitude here is to be suspicious of all government interference and fight new taxes as if they funded murder(oh wait, they do).
Which leaves me asking why alcohol is the particular "neat thing" that they've decided to hate on. I can only assume it is a regional, appalachia-esque vibe of "my granddaddy used to drink, and then he ran over my cousin with the tractor for calling him a fat ass". The ABC's express purpose, as expressed by them, is to "regulate the sale of -insert antiquated term for hooch-".
Regulate how? It's not as if they insert a chip into drunk drivers, violent people, and native americans that sounds a warning alarm whenever they enter the store. They don't regulate out of any public safety concern, which would be their only(still ridiculous) reason to. They "regulate" only to be the only stores and charge whatever they like(average 1-5 dollars more than prices in MD).
What's sad is that people who've lived here all their life respond to the idea of privately owned liquor stores as if they were a fairy tale; some far away, distant utopia. They are unaware that their state only has this reidiculous system because of prohibition. The local laws stood up after prohibition ended, and lawmakers piggy-backed a ridiculous cultural stigma of alcohol in order to make sure the state solely profits from it's sale.
NC is known for it's low taxes, only if one ignores the $300 speeding tickets, and the extra few dollars it makes on every handle of bottom-shelf booze straight out of drinkers pockets. Don't believe the hype.
B
cobe's world famous jokes
Q: why do black people buy congac instead of brandy?
A: because they want to feel rich after centuries of oppression
Q: What do you call a dead baby?
A: A tragedy
Q: Why do truckers have "handles"?
A: because it's amusing, and they work long hours with no human contact
Q: why don't blacks marry puerto ricans?
A: because of cultural barriers
Q: Why are hippies high all the time and smell like shit?
A: because they are better at prioritizing their life than you
Q: what do you call a white guy on a boat?
A: suspicious
Q: why are gas prices so high?
A: because of many factors both in the international and local market
Q: Why do asians love to eat rice?
A: because it's a very nutritious, economical, and easy to grow foodstuff
Q: Why is the homeless man drunk on fortified wine all the time?
A: because it feels better than being sober, fortified wine is very cheap, and he doesn't have operate heavy machinery
Q: what do you call a few dead kittens in the coffee maker?
A: A prank in the veterinarian break room
A: because they want to feel rich after centuries of oppression
Q: What do you call a dead baby?
A: A tragedy
Q: Why do truckers have "handles"?
A: because it's amusing, and they work long hours with no human contact
Q: why don't blacks marry puerto ricans?
A: because of cultural barriers
Q: Why are hippies high all the time and smell like shit?
A: because they are better at prioritizing their life than you
Q: what do you call a white guy on a boat?
A: suspicious
Q: why are gas prices so high?
A: because of many factors both in the international and local market
Q: Why do asians love to eat rice?
A: because it's a very nutritious, economical, and easy to grow foodstuff
Q: Why is the homeless man drunk on fortified wine all the time?
A: because it feels better than being sober, fortified wine is very cheap, and he doesn't have operate heavy machinery
Q: what do you call a few dead kittens in the coffee maker?
A: A prank in the veterinarian break room
dipping poetry
strangely, there's very little(if any) poetry written about throwing a lip in. So I wrote some
The first one hurts but makes you feel dandy
the second one's warm and tastes like candy
the third is cool but the drool makes you angry
the next can replace a snifter of brandy
now you can't call me low-class. I wrote a poem.
The first one hurts but makes you feel dandy
the second one's warm and tastes like candy
the third is cool but the drool makes you angry
the next can replace a snifter of brandy
now you can't call me low-class. I wrote a poem.
ugly old man
I want to be
an ugly old man,
with rough skin and brown teeth
it shows I was bold
I wondered and I planned,
how to win- 'till I was beat
I don't mind
if they stare and their scared
as far as I'm concerned, they should be
It'll be my turn
to yell from my chair
at the nurses, while I have a woody
I'll shrivel and twist
to the form of a prune
while no one comes to visit
I hope I get
all the time to myself
to laugh as I count the obits
an ugly old man,
with rough skin and brown teeth
it shows I was bold
I wondered and I planned,
how to win- 'till I was beat
I don't mind
if they stare and their scared
as far as I'm concerned, they should be
It'll be my turn
to yell from my chair
at the nurses, while I have a woody
I'll shrivel and twist
to the form of a prune
while no one comes to visit
I hope I get
all the time to myself
to laugh as I count the obits
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