Well, Fuck.

I've never figured out why a suburban motherfucker needs one of these.

So, Bad News around the house today.Here's the story:

This morning as I'm making Tiny some grits with cheese I spill some cheese on the floor. So, I go to the door to call the dog in from his morning pee to eat the cheese. I call the dog, I hear his collar jingling and I focus on the sound and see that he is going to come across the road. l also hear the rev of an engine and then it happens. Just as I'd seen it thousands of times, the dog runs across the road. I have enough time to see the dog breach the bushes encroaching upon the road, look at the oncoming, speeding, non-braking, non-stopping SUV, and then the thump. It sounded like you took a slab of brisket and wailed on the fender of a car, except more brutal.

Then the dog is yelping, yelping, yelping. He spins in the road and I see his limbs flailing, I swear I can see the terror in his eyes. I think, "Holy Fuck, now I have to go out there and bash his head in with a rock because he is totally fucked." Then I go get my phone to call Felicia's Uncle to ask him if he can come shoot Rommel so I can go bury him somewhere. As I'm dialing I go to check that the dog is still in the road and I don't have to run him down. To my surprise, he's up and running, and not gimpy either. Maybe it's the adrenaline but he comes up the steps, under the crib, and he (naturally) has an insane look in his eyes.

I decide that I can't have him puking up blood in front of the children and all over our stuff so I get him and take him downstairs to the garage. I check him out: no bloody spittle, no compound fractures, no overtly recognizable broken bones. In short, he's not only lucky to be alive but he's on the lower end of horribly injured due to a hit and run.

We don't have money to take him to a vet to X-Ray him and tell us that his ribs are broken and that he needs rest to recoup or else he is just going to die. So, fuck it. He's at home. He looks like you would imagine a dog who survives an impact with a two-ton, speeding, lump of metal. Hell, he looks good. I figure that if he lasts until morning, he'll make it.

In closing, if you own an SUV, you not only are killing the environment, pouring money into the coffers of governments whose citizens are willing recruits for Jihad, you also have a hand in the suffering of a small Pembroke Corgi in Alaska.

Feliz Cumpleanos

My wife turns 27 today. As we all know 27 is almost 30, which is almost dead, because if you haven't made whatever "it" is by 30, then you never will.

Seriously though, Felicia is pretty great and I would advise everyone to go out and get one.

You Know What Would Be Fun?

If this guy is the messiah then get my fucking pitchfork ready.

So last night Felicia and I are watching cable over at the inlaws house after her birthday dinner. We don't get cable so when we spend the weekend over there we typically indulge in copious amounts of wine and television. It's fun because the few hours we end up watching are more than enough to satisfy our viewing needs and a little crazy to think that TV is this huge media outlet for millions of Americans and it's easy to see how one could form some of the most backwards ass, retarded, asshole opinions if those opinions were provided by TV programming.

Wait, where was I going? Oh yeah, Felicia turns on this show about some crazy ass cult in New Mexico or some shit that has the asshole pictured above proclaiming he is God incarnate and how the world will end on 31 October 2007. What a fucking douche. Anyway, the show was good, mostly because of the guy who interviewed these crazy motherfuckers. He would ask these pointed logical questions that poked holes in this absurd prophecy and then caught the "messiah's" and his followers' answers on tape. It was priceless to see this fucking loser bumble fuck around with answers about the coming apocalypse. I couldn't figure out if the show was supposed to be a documentary or some kind of farce because it was so fucking funny/scary to watch these people.

Anyway, the most striking thing about this were the looks in these people's eyes when they talked about/looked at their god. Specifically, the women had these looks of ecstatic and fervent belief when they looked at this turd. I mean, come on, if that fucking hick of a whitebread motherfucker was truly divine, don't you think he could, I don't know, maybe miracle up some better digs than trailers in the middle of the desert Southwest? I'm pretty sure St. John didn't describe any fucking wheeled rectangular metal boxes when he penned that ludicrous shit about heaven. In fact, I seem to remember something about streets paved with gold and milk and honey or some shit. Fuck it, go read the crazy shit for yourself.

The point is that these fucking people are so mind fucked that even while this guy fucked their wives (because God told him to) and naked cuddled with their adolescent daughters (because the children wanted to) nobody did shit. Crazier than a motherfucker. I mean I just don't know how these people live with the cognitive dissonance that behaviors such as the ones stated above must create in their minds. Seriously, didn't anyone think to test this guy? Didn't anyone think, "If he's so fucking holy then I can crack his skull open with this shovel and he won't be fazed, right?" I mean, come on, even Jesus is reported to have done some crazy ass showboating for the masses. Water into wine? Fuck it, let's keep the party going. Hell, he even made a point to come back and prove to Thomas that he had, in fact, been killed and resurrected by making the doubter finger his gash. Heh.

In any case, children, the message today is that you should always think critically, avoid the confirmation bias, and watch out for the fundamental attribution error. Thus endeth the lesson, go in peace, bitches.

Nothing, Really

So, I don't really have anything. I mean, I do, but it's nothing so extraordinarily shitty that the entire fucking internets need to know. I think I'll just tick off some random shit and see where it takes me.

I'm kind of bummed about John Edwards. I like the guy, he's human, he fucked up, but if he had only done cocaine and skipped out of Air National Guard duty instead of fucking some woman who wasn't his wife, he'd be pres-o-dent. I don't know, I'm totally pissed about the stupidly dual nature of the American public who simultaneously hold mutually exclusive worldviews but can't be bothered to see any shade of gray on other issues. (I'm looking at you, the American response to recent Russian incursions into a sovereign nation and the country's view on the invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan juxtaposed with, let's say, Gay Rights, abortion, the environment, health-care, etc.).

Something else I saw today but can't be bothered to link: The USA Today reports that Americans are totally stupid when it comes to anything. Some shit about how vast swathes of America have opinions of things about which they know nothing. Wow, stop the fucking presses. See the above paragraph.

You know, I don't like a lot of people.

It was my 27th birthday recently. I had the refreshing thought that, "Hey, even if I die at 55 I still have an amount of time left to live that is comparable to that which I have already experienced." It made me feel good because I've lived 27 years and can't begin to remember all the shit that's happened, so some of it must have been good, hell, even ecstatic, right? I must confess that I do feel old, though. I mean, goddamn, if this were the Paleolithic I'd either be dead already or only have maybe 10 good years left.

Felicia and I are moving to Anchorage by the end of the month. I am excited to live in a metropolitan area where I can get shit at any hour. I hate the suburbian/rural America. What a fucking dump.

God-Fucking-Dammit

Everything that I know about raising children, I learned from this man.

I saw the news, like many of you, today and I am truly saddened. Goddammit, the man was supposed to recover and keep making me laugh. I can't say any more to add to him. I think he said it best, "I'll kick a kid ass."

Yeah, Yeah

My life isn't solely existential crises and binge drinking. Sometimes, I make cobbler.

So, yeah, I've been a little more than fucked up lately. What of it? It's a very fucked up and hazy line I stumble along: mindfulness interspersed with wanton alcohol abuse, rage sitting side by side with bliss, and rampant misanthropy coupled with an unending hope for the future of humanity. What can I say? The world is a very fucked up place and while I am not an original person at least I am complicated.

There's a lot of shit on the docket so be prepared. First things first, I suppose.

Today I was at the post office with both children in tow. I'm holding Tiny and Bug has decided to fuck up his shoes so that he has to walk at half the speed he usually does. So I get inside and stoop down and begin to fix Bug's shoes with my free hand. A lady comes over to where I am, bends forward at the waist and asks in a tone reserved solely for the cognitively impaired, "Do you need some help? It looks like you have your hands full."

I think, "What the goddamn holy fuck?" But I manage to say, "No I've got it. Thanks."

Not only is it enraging to be condescended to by some random lady who is giving off the air that just because I am a man, by myself, with two children who is doing the same shit you see women doing all the time, it's baffling that she thinks she can help. What the fuck is this random stranger thinking she is going to do for me? Hold my infant? Velcro my pre-schooler's shoes? Go check my goddamn mail for me? Go pick up my fucking groceries while I am swamped at the post office?

Asshole.

Also, Felicia and I qualify for WIC, so today I go to pick up the checks for all our sweet government provided cereal, milk, and cheese. I have to sign some forms that say if I get WIC checks from any other office I am a fraud and will be prosecuted. The lady at the counter says that I have to sign three forms. It turned out that I had to sign four forms and so the lady says to me, "Oh, you poor man."

Yeah, pity me because I'm not only poor, I'm male. Hey, you know what would make me feel better? Suck my dick behind the Child Care Assistance/ WIC office, bitch.

You know the worst part is it's okay to say/do these insanely offensive things to men with children but if I were to ask some woman with four kids if she needed some help shopping at the fucking Wal-Mart I'd be, at worst, pepper sprayed, or at best, looked at like I had a goddamn dick growing out of my forehead.

Fuck all that noise. The cobbler I made was fucking delicious, and Kraft now has a Mac-n-Cheese that is 50% whole grains so there is like five times the amount of dietary fiber of regular Mac, which is good if you have kids and worry about trivial shit like, you know, their digestive and nutritional health.

Hey, Gavin at the Matanuska River, getting ready to chuck some rocks into the water. Whoo!

Shut Up!

All of you, seriously, shut the fuck up. None of this matters, you are unimportant. The world keeps spinning.

Life as we know it is pointless.

Even-keeled, Hopefully

Yeah, I felt a little like this guy.

You know that scene where HAL 9000 is talking to Dave and pleading with him not to undo his higher logic, or whatever, circuits and Dave is doing it anyway, and HAL just degenerates into this kind of simpering sideshow who is a shadow of his former self? That's what the fuck I am talking about.

Yesterday was not good. Let me set up some back story for you all. I have to take a pill because I no longer have a thyroid gland. This is usually no big deal unless I forget to take it for an extended period of time, or the dosage of the pill is a little off, in which case I kind of turn into this crazy hormone deprived freak. Deprivation of said pill usually manifests itself as lethargy/apathy. The fuck-side of that is after admitting the proper dose (this is for myself personally, I don't claim to be a physician) the lethargy/apathy gives way to suicidal ideation/rage, quickly followed by a return to normal emotional states. Usually, I'm back semi-on-top-of-things within a few days. Now let's talk bout what I'm talkin' bout.

This past weekend we went to Fairbanks and I forgot to take my pill for 4 or so days. So I crashed. Then on Tuesday of this week, I realized I hadn't taken it for a while so I started to. The first day, I was all lethargy, the second lethargy/apathy, the third day was the worst.

I called Felicia on Thursday because I was at the end of my rope. The kids were pissing me off, I was too violent, I felt my methods were becoming "unsound". I had told Gavin at the store earlier that (because I felt like blowing my head off) this is "why we don't keep guns around the house." In short it was fucking scary, not only to the kids, but to me. I really thought that this was it, I was losing it (whatever "it" might be), and that the uncontrollable swings from rage to despair would finally get the best of me. It was like being pushed over the edge of a cliff with an infinite drop, barely able to cling on, and only doing so because the alternative was the event horizon and I could just sense that whatever was in there was much worse than anything that I had already experienced.

I'll let you in on a little secret: Friday afternoon is the best day to go to the store. All the hot bitches are out. Word.