How was the funeral?

I woke up to intense dreams. Apparently a lot of people had intense dreams last night. When I was in the shower I got a text from my mom about an old friend of mine that died. When I was younger I thought it was morbid that anyone would read the obituaries, but as I'm older I find myself scanning through it sometimes when I'm at the coffee shop and have given up on the crossword puzzle. I always do my crosswords in pen and draw a big dick on them when I get frustrated. If you ever pick up a paper with a half finished crossword in pen with a big dick drawn on it? that was mine.
  
 I didn't know how he died, but I cleared work for the day and made plans to go to the funeral. We had gone to grade school together since the first grade. Went to each other's birthday parties and spent the night at each other's houses. He was one of my few grade school friends that actually went to my high school. We always had pleasant words for each other but drifted apart. I can't remember the last time I saw him, so I'm not sad. Only thoughtful and respectful. People die. shit happens.

  I put on my suit and went out into the cold and rainy day. Just the day for a funeral. The funeral was at the Church of the River, on the bluffs overlooking the river. The views are beautiful and if I was going to go to a church I'd probably go to this one. At least you can stare out the window at the water. 
   I met his brother and sister, who didn't seem to remember me. I'm not offended. Last time they saw me I was a kid. Probably been 20 years at least. 
  
    His brother told me it had been a suicide. Typical. That seems to be the leading cause of death for people i know, followed by overdose. Every 6 months or so, I hear about another suicide or OD. I get it. I understand why. I suffer from a mild depression. It comes in waves. In 2010 it hardly reared it head at all. In 2009 it was around big time. It can be triggered by events, or even the weather. 
   
   I'm fascinated by suicide, but don't worry. I'll never do it unless I have some disease that reduces me to a shit and piss factory. I will die with dignity, goddammit. And if i did, i would make sure I had enough strength to get out to the woods. Let the crows and coyotes eat me. My parting gift to the world.

    There was a slide show on the wall with pictures of Grant. Pictures from when we played soccer together at St. Louis. Pictures of him as a grown man hiking in what looked liked Yosemite National Park. His brother told me he had been living in California, had a long term girlfriend and enjoyed hiking. At one point in my life I would have asked "with all those things to live for why would he kill himself?" Depression is not rational. When I'm going through a low spell, I could make a list of all the things I'm grateful for, all the people that I love and love me, and it still will not help. Depression is this ugly funk that comes from the center of your heart and it's hard to see anything else when it's around.
  
    I was interested in Grant's love for hiking because it's something I've been thinking about a lot lately. I recently read Into The Wild and then I just finished another book called A Walk In the Woods about a guy who tries to hike the Appalachian Trail. I've been fantasizing about doing that. Walking for 6 to 8 months through woods and mountains, camping every night with only what I can carry on my back. I'd give anything to try. And I know that if my depression ever gets too big a hold of me, that's what I would do. Instead of killing yourself, why not do the craziest thing you ever thought of. Walking the Appalachian trail you will either quit, succeed and learn volumes about yourself or die. I wrote a song once that said: "with nothing to lose, you could have let it ride instead of folding your hand. at least you'd still be alive. Just stand up and be a man." I wrote that about two other friends who had killed themselves. But then again, it's a rational mind that would think: "I'm miserable. I might as well go for broke". A depressed mind is totally obscured by dark clouds.

   During the sermon i stared out at the river. The words were delivered by stiff old men. They were all about praising god and worshiping god. I looked out in the grey cold and tried to imagine what it looked like before all the hardwoods were cut down, before everything was razed and divided. The idea of worshiping god was silly to me. The only reason we want for anything is because someone, probably a stiff old man devised a system so that they could have power and control and be rich. Everything we needed was out there for the taking and they took it from us. That's probably why people get depressed and kill themselves. This world was designed for the rich and shallow. Rather than have the biggest condo overlooking the river, I'd rather look at an expanse of river unpolluted my man's trivialities. God was all around us. It was not in a booming voice from the sky, but in the sun and the rivers, the animals and plants. These things would be abundant and if they were not, we would die and death is nothing to be feared. The dead get to sleep. the dead don't have to toil. The men who took over had not the wisdom to know this and I have little faith that the men who hold power now will ever know it either. Power is a liquor that causes madness.
   
Staring at the river made me think of Siddhartha by Herman Hesse where he goes to the river and is thinking suicidal thoughts.

Siddhartha walked through the forest, was already far from the city, and
knew nothing but that one thing, that there was no going back for him,
that this life, as he had lived it for many years until now, was over
and done away with, and that he had tasted all of it, sucked everything
out of it until he was disgusted with it. Dead was the singing bird, he
had dreamt of. Dead was the bird in his heart. Deeply, he had been
entangled in Sansara, he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides
into his body, like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. And full
he was, full of the feeling of been sick of it, full of misery, full of
death, there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted
him, given him joy, given him comfort.

Passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore, to have
rest, to be dead. If there only was a lightning-bolt to strike him
dead! If there only was a tiger a devour him! If there only was a
wine, a poison which would numb his senses, bring him forgetfulness and
sleep, and no awakening from that! Was there still any kind of filth,
he had not soiled himself with, a sin or foolish act he had not
committed, a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself?
Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was it possible, to breathe
in again and again, to breathe out, to feel hunger, to eat again, to
sleep again, to sleep with a woman again? Was this cycle not exhausted
and brought to a conclusion for him?

Siddhartha reached the large river in the forest, the same river over
which a long time ago, when he had still been a young man and came from
the town of Gotama, a ferryman had conducted him. By this river he
stopped, hesitantly he stood at the bank. Tiredness and hunger had
weakened him, and whatever for should he walk on, wherever to, to which
goal? No, there were no more goals, there was nothing left but the
deep, painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream, to spit
out this stale wine, to put an end to this miserable and shameful life.

A hang bent over the bank of the river, a coconut-tree; Siddhartha
leaned against its trunk with his shoulder, embraced the trunk with one
arm, and looked down into the green water, which ran and ran under him,
looked down and found himself to be entirely filled with the wish to
let go and to drown in these waters. A frightening emptiness was
reflected back at him by the water, answering to the terrible emptiness
in his soul. Yes, he had reached the end. There was nothing left for
him, except to annihilate himself, except to smash the failure into
which he had shaped his life, to throw it away, before the feet of
mockingly laughing gods. This was the great vomiting he had longed for:
death, the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for
fishes, this dog Siddhartha, this lunatic, this depraved and rotten
body, this weakened and abused soul! Let him be food for fishes and
crocodiles, let him be chopped to bits by the daemons!

With a distorted face, he stared into the water, saw the reflection of
his face and spit at it. In deep tiredness, he took his arm away from
the trunk of the tree and turned a bit, in order to let himself fall
straight down, in order to finally drown. With his eyes closed, he
slipped towards death.

Then, out of remote areas of his soul, out of past times of his now
weary life, a sound stirred up. It was a word, a syllable, which he,
without thinking, with a slurred voice, spoke to himself, the old word
which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans, the
holy "Om", which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the
completion". And in the moment when the sound of "Om" touched
Siddhartha's ear, his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the
foolishness of his actions.

Siddhartha was deeply shocked. So this was how things were with him,
so doomed was he, so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all
knowledge, that he had been able to seek death, that this wish, this
wish of a child, had been ale to grow in him: to find rest by
annihilating his body! What all agony of these recent times, all
sobering realizations, all desperation had not brought about, this was
brought on by this moment, when the Om entered his consciousness: he
became aware of himself in his misery and in his error.

Om! he spoke to himself: Om! and again he knew about Brahman, knew
about the indestructibility of life, knew about all that is divine,
which he had forgotten.

But this was only a moment, flash. By the foot of the coconut-tree,
Siddhartha collapsed, struck down by tiredness, mumbling Om, placed his
head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep.

Deep was his sleep and without dreams, for a long time he had not known
such a sleep any more. When he woke up after many hours, he felt as if
ten years had passed, he heard the water quietly flowing, did not know
where he was and who had brought him here, opened his eyes, saw with
astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him, and he
remembered where he was and how he got here. But it took him a long
while for this, and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by
a veil, infinitely distant, infinitely far away, infinitely meaningless.
He only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought
about it, this past life seemed to him like a very old, previous
incarnation, like an early pre-birth of his present self)--that his
previous life had been abandoned by him, that, full of disgust and
wretchedness, he had even intended to throw his life away, but that by a
river, under a coconut-tree, he has come to his senses, the holy word
Om on his lips, that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and
was looking at the world as a new man. Quietly, he spoke the word Om to
himself, speaking which he had fallen asleep, and it seemed to him as if
his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation
of Om, a thinking of Om, a submergence and complete entering into Om,
into the nameless, the perfected.

What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep, he had
been thus refreshed, thus renewed, thus rejuvenated! Perhaps, he had
really died, had drowned and was reborn in a new body? But no, he knew
himself, he knew his hand and his feet, knew the place where he lay,
knew this self in his chest, this Siddhartha, the eccentric, the weird
one, but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed, was renewed,was strangely well rested, strangely awake, joyful and curious. 

  Later on, I thought about the most retarded question in the English language. "How was the funeral"? Someone asks me every time. It sucked! It was a funeral for crissakes!

Why war with god?

   A lot of people have been writing me emails telling me that they're worried about me. People send me their prayers and I am highly appreciative of their wishes for me. i thought I'd explain a little bit more about my war with god.
   I'm really not at war with god. The idea to me is meant to be ironic. I don't believe in god the way most people do. You see, through my life experiences I've felt the connection between all things. I've stood in awe of the vast complexity of things, yet the same electromagnetic force that spins the electrons around the nuclei of my atoms spins yours. It is a force unseeable and minuscule but it's energy transcends dimension. Despite race, creed religion, sex and species. There is a force beyond names and nationalities that drives us. It is the same force that drives Christians, Jews, Muslims and atheists. Once you understand this connectedness, truly realize the timeless eternity of all this, you realize the folly of the silly divisions we draw between ourselves.


  see, i do believe in creation and destruction. once you realize the beauty of consciousness you realize that we have a choice, every day every moment. We are alive with these amazing tools. We will experience negativity in our lives, but we can absorb that in to our creative selves and make the choice to only create something beautiful. to be a part of the creative force. In saying this I know that I create my own fair share of negativity, sometimes through my writing. but my intent is to share my thoughts and to sometimes be funny, but ultimately to relate the things I've learned.


In understanding my connection to it all I've learned what things in life that most value that are illusion. Time is and illusion. Ownership is an illusion and Death is an illusion. You cannot posses a person, only reflect on them and appreciate their beauty, but friendships and marriages only provide a brief sense of security. If you never had it, it can't be torn apart from you. Property is an illusion. The things we expend so much energy to amass, we cannot truly own. In the end they will all be swept away and we will realize what we wasted trying to pursue them. It is an affront to the creation, to believe we can divide and parcel. All things existing belong to all. To disrupt the earth, to destroy other species so that we can own snuggies and eat mcdonalds is a disrespect. We are not the center of the universe, we only perceive it from there.


   We have an obligation to allow all life to exist. To lift up man as well as the beasts and the plants an the land itself. This truth is not always clear in ancient books. Through mans fears he divided himself from everything. to feel special we put our own human characteristics on the force of life and tried to justify our dominion over the earth. We do not have dominion over anything. we are intrinsically entwined to everything. We have to go beyond what man wrote in the books and listen to that force, to try and see what connects us all with our own eyes. then we can create heaven on earth and beyond.


People may cal this hippy dippy bullshit, but I promise I've had moments of clarity where pain is an illusion, where loss is an illusion and I've felt these things with my core and that was only through going beyond the books and the labels and tapping in tho the experience. If that force drives you and gives you life then you are as equally a part of it as any prophet. No one consciousness has authority over your spirit. You are bound to a greater consciousness and a greater spirit. the thing to do with this knowledge is to walk and act with respect and awe of the beauty of this whole thing.

8 maids a' milkin my prostate

I've hated Christmas my entire adult life. Fucking corporate holiday. When they start playing Christmas Muzak in the store right after Thanksgiving I know it's not to spread holiday cheer, but to subliminally make you want to buy shit. I always sing the words "buy people shit" to the tune of every Muzak Christmas song. Try it next time.
   But I didn't always hate Christmas. When I was a kid it was magical and rad. I remember lying on my back on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, watching the lights play on the ceiling and feeling warm and hopeful. That same year I had a bad split in my lower lip that was pretty painful for a 5 year old. On Christmas eve i prayed to Jesus to heal it and when I woke up the next morning, it was healed. This was proof of the existence of god to my young mind. Years later, I prayed to god again when i was in the midst of a terrible depression, but I was just left to flap in the wind and pick myself up by my bootstraps. Fuck god.


   Perhaps growing up in a dysfunctional family made me hate Christmas. As a young child I loved going to my grandparents. The food was good, there was a fire in the fire place, we were wearing sweaters and then there were the presents. My Grandparents were always generous with the presents. As a teenager, however something had changed in me. I loved my family, but noticed that no one ever "got real" with each other. Everyone wore a facade and conversations bounced off awkward walls and defenses. It seemed to me also, that the presents were given out of obligation. I began to resent the obligation. I never had any money and was never really good at equating my feelings for someone with a material possession. We just gave people we hardly REALLY knew tokens of our affection without knowing if they really wanted or needed them. I always just wished we'd just make dinner, get drunk and have it out with each other. Sometimes "getting real" is painful, but it's worth it in the end. I was always told that presents didn't matter, that I could "just make something". I was trying. I've been trying to make something of myself my whole life. I've been burning the candle at both ends for as long as I an remember, trying not to end up like the average mouth breather....but hey, I love you. Here's some socks. The truth is, I would have traded all the presents in the world just to get real with everyone in my family. For some of them, it's too late now.


   My favorite Christmas was my sixteenth. I left my grandparents with some money in my pockets and some new shit and picked up Charlie Wilkinson at his house. We went and picked up Drew who had some weed and drove around smoking out of my new pipe that someone (maybe Nicola?) had given me that had a real chicken's foot on it and listening to Descendent's. We had been trying to figure out how to get some beers when we saw a family broke down on the side of the road in the freezing cold. An older black woman and her two grown sons, and they were a long ways away from a gas station. I stopped to pick them up and all 6 of us somehow piled into my little Honda. After dropping them off at the Exxon, one of the sons asked how he could repay our kindness. I asked him to buy us beers and I saw him look at us, obviously underage and chew on this thought for a while. He finally went in and bought us 6 quarts of Old English or some nasty shit like we used to drink. All we needed now was a place to drink them....
   Drew and I had gone to St. Louis school together although he had been a few grades above me. Since I lived close to there I had discovered at some point that a door to the church was always open. I used to ride my bike there in the middle of the night and just sit in the massive silence and think. I had turned a place where I had bad memories of a bullshit religion shoved down my throat into a place of beauty and meditation. Actually I find something strangely comforting in the Catholic ritual and Icons....but then I think about it and it makes me want to vomit.
We sat up on the choir loft, drinking 40's and smoking for hours. I think we even lit our cigarettes off the candle burning on the altar. You may think I'm going to hell for this, but we were children....closer to god at that time than we've been since. That may have been my last good year for a while....after that the darkness came in to our crew. The Cringe, if you will.

The next night I totaled my car. After I had only been driving for three months. I had Amy and Stacy and Joey in the car and I was being emo and thinking my"woe is me" 16 year old thoughts (this is when I still had feelings, remember) and ran a stop sign. I was looking at the moon. I think it was full and half obscured by clouds when I hear Joey say "car". We got smashed into and spun around and went up into into someones yard and we weren't even a block from my house. We were OK, but Stacy was complaining that she couldn't see well until we figured out that her contact lens had made it into her ear somehow. I had to throw my chicken foot pipe into the gutter before the cops got there. I was sober by the way.
  That new years we decided it would be a great idea to eat some acid. I got sick with the flu, was fucked up about a girl and had just wrecked my car. Hey let's freak out. great idea.


But i don't really hate Christmas this year. I think that now it's on my terms, and I don't feel obligated to buy you shit. I'm poor. Deal with it. You don't have to buy me nothing, and don't expect anything in return. i love you, isn't that enough?
Plus, I'm not even a Christian, doesn't that absolve me? My god lives in the trees you cut down and put in your living room. It lives in the land that was cleared for the Wal mart you're shopping at.
If you really must give me something, go plant a Christmas tree and decorate it with the heads of republicans and tea baggers. Or go burn down a Walgreens. it can be our yule log.
Or you can get me this Christmas list:



12 drummers drumming the drum solo from YYZ
11 Piper Perabos
10 Traci lords a peeing
9 strippers dancing
8 maids a milking my prostate
7 Swanson's TV dinners
6 Geezer Butlers
5 Golden Girls DVDs
4 Larry Birds
3 French Maids
2 turtle heads poking out
and Laurie Partridge back in 1973.

The Party Bus, Dragon Cunt and Friendships

   Camille's party bus was amazing. I had such a great time and it makes me really appreciate the friends I have in my life.


but at the beginning of the night I saw THAT person. The person that I feel betrayed me as a friend above all others. Let me just say that I'm truly happy with where I'm at in my life. Mentally, physically and spiritually I've never been better. I pride myself on the friendships that I've made and maintained in my life. I never like to fully let someone go, if I once called you my friend. We have so much to learn from one another and even if we are apart for awhile it's always good to get together and share what we've done and where we're at and reflect on one another.
   I saw Dragon Cunt tonight. She showed up at the bar where me and my friends were. Now, I don't feel that I'm an overly dramatic person. I also pride myself on my understanding of human nature. People are people and you can't count on anyone fully. You just can only be a good friend and treat people with respect and hope that others will do the same. I'm friends with all my major girlfriends I've had and I have an immense amount of love and respect for those people. It's OK to realize that it's not healthy to be with someone, but still love them as a person. I am thankful for everyone of them in my life and I hope they know that. In relationships I value friendships above sex and It's always been about so much more than that.


   So when I see her and she looks away and pretends not to see me it makes my stomach drop. It's not like I want to be with her. It's not like I pine for those good times. I more mourn for that loss of friendship. and I can't understand not wanting to make things cool and achieve this mutual level of respect. Then we can reflect on the good times and how we've grown and smile about it. Now, it's just regret...no, I can't say that....I don't regret a thing.
I used to think I was this inhuman monster. Incapable of loving someone selflessly. I tried so hard in my long relationships to where it was unhealthy, but i was still trying, because of the respect that I DID have for those people. I used to beat myself up because I thought "who am I to question and be unsatisfied with these amazing people in my life?" But the world showed me cold. It showed me inhuman and disrespectful. It showed me someone who uses people and spits them out, demonizes them and forgets them. And that person is not me. I've been shown that the love I had for those people was and IS real, even if it means you don't have to hold on so tight to some people.
   Tonight I hung out with some good friends. I hung out with old friends that I've been missing. I strengthened relationships that were barely there and I made brand new friends. And I'll fight to keep those people in my life, because I can only truly see myself reflected in their eyes. It just sucks that I was used by a sick person, an insane person. I can't fathom one day being someone's best friend and the next, wishing they would fall off the planet. I make my friends for life and i hope I will always be this way.

Driving Japanese oh yes I'm driving Japanese i really think so.....

   I took a job driving around a Japanese film crew for a week. A Sunday evening prime time show in Japan where the host travels around the world doing crazy challenges. One show he swam with sharks, another he wrestled a bear...in this episode he would be halo jumping. Halo jumping is sky diving from twice as high as people normally do it. Usually people jump from 15,000 ft and this is from 30,000. It's so high that one has to wear an oxygen mask. There's a place outside of Somerville that does this kind of jumping, which is usually done by military. Apparently only 100 or so civilians have halo jumped. Would I ever do it? Even if it meant being a famous TV show host? Traveling the world, eating filet mignon and lobster and boning whoever I wanted to? Hard to say. I'd like to say yes, but I'm just fucking terrified of heights. But perhaps I'm more afraid of working my shit job for the rest of my life and always struggling. Yeah, I'd jump. To live that guy's lifestyle? I'd fucking jump.
   I picked up the van at 8:30 am and set off to Knoxville to pick up the crew. As I pulled out of Memphis I felt all my stress and worries wash off of me. I realized that I never feel more complete and alive as when I'm traveling. Something about being in between destinations and situations. You can't worry about what you just left behind because there's nothing you can do about it but change your outlook. You can't worry about what's in front of you because it could be anything...the possibilities endless. The scenery is warm and familiar, never changing because it is ever changing. Every truck stop and gas station you swear you've been in before and you look for evidence that you were there. Maybe there'll be a faded Pezz sticker in the bathroom. We used to carry a stack with us everywhere and leave our mark as we went.
   It made me miss the touring life and the ability to hit the road for a long stretch. I guess I really don't have many roots, but there's always too little money or a vehicle that just doesn't work right. I first fell in love with the road when my brother took me to Yellowstone when I was 13. There was still a restraining order put on him by my parents after they had me locked up in the psychiatric hospital. They wanted to believe that he was a bad influence on me, when really it was their failures as people that caused trouble in my life. My brother saved me from a life of conformity, mediocrity and spiritual emptiness. I owe everything I am to him. While my parents gave me life he showed me the path to spiritual discovery. Our road trip west was a big "fuck you" to our parents and it was my first real taste of peace and freedom.
   I went out again after high school. This time with Stacy and we spent a month camping and hiking. I had a taste of enlightenment on that trip, had a bear brush past our tent in the night and happened across two of our friends on a busy crowded street in Eugene OR that had left Memphis at the same time as us, but taken a different route, the odds of which are staggering.
   And then there were the tours. I would give anything to be able to spend 3 months out on the road right now with my closest friends, sleeping on floors and fighting over music. I used to get a sort of home sickness when I was out, but i get the feeling it would be gone now. I understand who I am a lot more. I understand it's in my blood to wander, as evidence by this feeling of peace. It's incredible when you realize who you are and finally accept it.When we were out I used to wonder whether what we were doing had merit and meaning, but the things I learned on the road was worth a thousand college degrees, a thousand committed relationships and all the stability in the world.
   We rode sometimes with no A/C in the brutal desert heat. We played to empty bars and to sold out clubs. We played bait shops, ran through corn fields and ate purple potatoes. We stayed with crazy people...New Mexico girls that went through our pockets in the night, skinny dipping in Kansas, driving Shawn to the hospital in Germany and getting stopped at a roadblock. We slept in an old SS barracks and refused to sleep where a junkie girl had died. We ate out of trash dumpsters and got fed gourmet meals. We fell in love at every show, survived a Nazi attack in Poland, babysat Wesley Willis, stayed at Jello Biafra's and every night we played our hearts out.


   The Driving job for the Japanese went OK. I drove the "talent" van. The Hosts and their assistants and the producers. The one person in my van that spoke English was a producer that lived in New York and she was beautiful. The female host of the show was stunning as well, but I never made any attempt with either of them. I just kept my eyes on the road.


   I think I'm just in love with the feeling of moving forward. You can't digress as long as you have a horizon that you're pushing towards. I think I would be miserable waking up to the same four walls everyday and toiling for the rest of my life. I haven't settled yet and wonder if I ever will. I'd like to leave my options open for the ultimate. Something tells me that everything I want can and will happen. It has so far. If I die tonight, I will have loved my life and been secure that I gave it everything I had. I have no regrets and no excuses. If I get the opportunity to jump if it means living the life I see in my dreams? Yep, I'll fucking jump.

Updated 10 Commandments for 2011!

   This is serious. While I was driving through Pigeon Forge, TN today...God spoke to me. He told me that I was to be his new prophet on earth. What, you don't believe me? Why not? Does that sound ludicrous? God speaking to someone? Well, you believe all the other prophets and they all lived thousands of years ago. You know me. I would never lie to you. Look me in my face and tell me I'm lying. Well, I don't care. If you don't pay heed to my words you will all burn in eternal damnation for all eternity, so says the man upstairs. I could give a fuck whether you listen or not.
   Now, everything gets updated. You wouldn't use the Webster's Dictionary from 1806 (the first year it was published). You wouldn't use a phone book from 1982. You wouldn't shop for clothes from a catalog from 1993. Well why the fuck would you base your entire morality and spirituality on a book written in the fucking Bronze age? God sent to me the amendments and corrections to the ten commandments and now I'm giving them to you. Enjoy.


1. I am the Lord your God.
    I know I created this perfect place, but then I filled it with sub moronic dip shits so that you'll never get to fully enjoy it. Eventually it will just be a big pile of shit, but isn't this a really fun game? Thou shalln't be seein no other gods or it's over.


2.You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth; you shall not bow down to them nor serve them. For I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and fourth generations of those who hate Me, but showing mercy to thousands, to those who love Me and keep My Commandments.- 
    
Ok, this is still the original, but I'm gonna have to call shenanigans against god here. If I did make a fucking statue of a pile of dog shit and started worshiping it, and praying to it and asking it for stuff I would probably get THE SAME FUCKING PERCENTAGE OF MY PRAYERS ANSWERED. Try it folks. Direct all your prayers for the next month to a pile of dog shit. I bet about 50% of em get answered, unless your asking for some bullshit like being able to sprout wings and fly. Now, on to the jealousy part. Isn't jealousy a sin? Isn't that something that 5 year olds do? If you're a fucking omnipotent all knowing all powerful being then why are you acting like my bitchy ex girlfriend? You're the one who never calls, always bein all mysterious and cryptic an shit. Of course we're gonna start seein other gods. And what's this about visiting iniquity on my kids and their kids and their kids? What are you gonna do god? Are you gonna surround everyone with morons who destroy everything beautiful on the earth? are you eventually gonna give us all cancer and take away our friends and grand-mommas and dogs and shit? oh, wait you were gonna do that anyways? Fuck off.


3. Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain-

   This is one of the biggest misinterpretations ever. Saying "goddammit" is not bad! In fact, you are simultaneously recognizing God's existence AND holding him responsible for some bullshit he created. It's really redundant, though because if something sucks bad enough that you want him to curse it, it's already been cursed! Being shitty is punishment in and of itself! Taking god's name in vain is when you tell people: "God wants me to go to war in Iraq", or "God wants me to bone your virgin daughter". THIS IS REFERRING TO WHEN YOU USE THE NAME OF GOD TO FURTHER YOUR OWN END. The shit I wrote above doesn't count because I'm not gaining anything from this. in fact, I'm wasting time and probably creating some enemies.


4. Chill out on Sunday. 

Or some fucking day of the week. Goddamn, you can't take it with you. Money ain't everything. Quit working so hard and smell the goddamn flowers. shit.

5. Humor thy father and mother.
   Yeah your parents can be dicks, but they're only human. They're not always right though and sometimes you gotta put them in their place. If you aren't one step ahead of them mentally and spiritually then you're fucking up. They made their mistakes for a reason. So that you don't have to. Just humor them and then go do whatever the fuck it is you want to do anyways. That's what grown folks do.


6. Thou shalt not kill my buzz.
   There's a lot of people out there trying to fuck it up for everyone. They were usually the hall monitor back in grade school. Then they graduated to bully/ jock/ dickhead. Now they're a fat ass cop with something to prove just trying to fuck with you. There are those people who get their jollies having power over others. There are people who are greedy and destructive and contribute nothing to the world. God says it's ok to murder those people for a while.

   Let's face it. The world is over crowded. Capitalism has created a glut of humanity. Something has to give. The books have to be balanced. I'm making murder legal, but you have to do it WITH SWORDS. Yep, don't be a pussy. War is still wrong because you're just a little bitch punching in coordinates and making bombs fall on peoples mommas and grand-mommas and babies just because Uncle Sam tells you to and you never read a book on global politics. With your 5th grade understanding of government you're willing to take people's lives. Well, you're a fucking pussy. I say if people want to fight, go hack at eachother with swords. That way you really have to get in the action. So feel free to chop up the guy that looked at you wrong in traffic or the guy using a leaf blower next door. We'll lose a lot of people really quick, but then I guarantee you people will eventually be nice as hell. They'll be plenty of elbow room and we'll all be friendly as shit to one another sos we don't get sliced in the face. Thus spoketh the Lord.


7. Thou shalt not commit adultery

   Unless you're not the cheater. Look, THEY made a commitment and it's not YOUR job to make sure some dude's wife isn't acting like a whore. It's also cool to have hot swinger action. Then thou shalt giveth high fives.


8.Thou shalt not steal from individuals.
   Capitalism is actually rooted in theft and murder and therefore inherently wrong. It used to be that all the indians were walkin around naked, huntin and smokin weed an shit. Then fucking white people had to come along and fuck it up for everybody. Some rich guy's ancestors killed some indians and now his decendants own Wal- Marts, are disgustingly rich and get blown by super models while licking the grease from mutton off their fat fingers. So steal from Wal Mart, chop these people up with a sword and commit adultery with his wife.


9. Thou Shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

  It ain't my baby, Maury. swab my mouth.


10. If your neighbor has a bunch of cool shit, don't be hatin' an bein all jealous an shit.
   His house is huge but he will work himself to death with the note. His wife is fine, but an insufferable bitch. He's rich but his kids will grow up like shit heads. His car is nice but he will wrap it around a pole driving home drunk from a shriner's meeting. Everything comes with a price. You're probably cool right where you're at.


   Lastly, God wanted to throw in some extra commandmets:
11. Thou shalt not talk in the movie theater. You know who I'm talking to.
12. Thou shalt not drive 30 in a 40.
13. Abortion is OK. (see commandment 6)

14. Being gay is OK. 
   Like I said, there's too many people. Think of it as nature's kind way of population control. And think about this. God created the universe in all it's immensity that stretches infinitely, not only outward but inward. The majesty of the highest mountain range and the largest, deepest ocean are but insignificant specks in the cosmos. Do you really think god gives a fuck about a dick in a booty hole? Use your fucking brains people. Plus it just means more chicks for the prophet, Mr Walker.


15. Use your fucking brain. 
   It's what i created it for. Think for your fucking self. You are as equal a part of the creation as anyone or anything else. You have a direct line to the spark which fires everything. The answers can be found within you and all around you. You don't have to listen to stone age superstitions and fairy tales. Thus spoketh the Lord.

As a child I was abused by Optimus Prime, Sargent Slaughter and Orko

I should have named this blog "I'm gonna piss in your Cheerios". I know I can be a Negatron sometimes and I do all my shopping at Negamarket, but who wants to hear about happy feelings and positivity and shit?
 
 Somehow people got it in to their crazy heads on Facebook that if you change your profile picture to a cartoon character from your past that it will magically stop child abuse. Ummm....what? I find it interesting to see the cartoons that people remember fondly. For the guys, I see a lot of GI Joe, Transformers and He Man.

For the girls: Jem, She Ra and Strawberry Shortcake. We as adults are getting nostalgic over cartoons we watched on tv. We spent our sacred minutes in our formidable years plopped in front of the tv with a bowl of Froot Loops watching these shows. But did you know this?
  
The He Man franchise is owned by Mattel which also owns Barbie, and a SHITLOAD OF OTHERS. GI Joe is owned by Hasbro which also owns Transformers, Jem, M.A.S.K and other classics as well as the Star Wars toys. My point is that the cartoons we loved as a child were produced by toy companies and when you watched them in your Fruity Yummy Mummy induced coma,
 then you had to sit through commercials for the toys of the very characters you were getting attached to in the show. Our fond memories were of a half hour commercial with commercials. Then you would get up and go bug your parents to buy you Starscream for Christmas, but they were too worn out from their shitty day job and failed marriages to fuck with you, so they'd say "Get out of my fucking face you little snot nosed shit. go watch tv". Then they'd feel bad and want to prove their love so they'd buy you a bunch of toys for Christmas and run up their credit card bill, and be forced to work extra hours at their shit job just to pay it off.

You wanted to show off to your friends how cool you are because you own such an awesome toy, so you bring it with you to the shitty private school you go to because your parents don't want you to go to school with black people. You show off your new Grimlock toy only to discover that fucking Sayle Robinson's parent bought him Snake Mountain!

 Now all the hot girls want to bone Sayle and not you because you have inferior toys. But look, Glen Mellon doesn't have ANY TOYS because his family is poor and they even have to get help from the school with tuition because his family doesn't want him to go to school with black people either, so instead of moping and feeling sorry for yourself you turn on Glen and berate him for his lack of toys and the Kmart BoBo brand clothes he's wearing.

   But you see, it's not Glen's fault. His dad used to work for Hasbro, but got laid off when the company moved to China. You see, the CEOs were not making enough of a profit because of all those pesky union and environmental regulations they had to follow here in the states. But in China, all that shit goes out the window and the toys are made by underage kids who would never be able to afford sugary cereal, shitty plastic toys or snotty private schools. They are made by little Lai Ming who worked until she lost a hand in an accident and then was forced to work as a whore on the streets of Beijing, producing a slew of illegitimate children who are now being groomed for life in the sex trade, but some of them are deformed because of the toxic effects of toy manufacturing in the area, so they only beg on the streets with their little up turned flipper hands.

   Turn off the fucking tv, don't buy your kids sugary bullshit cereal, don't be so wrapped up in money that you can't spend time with your kids, don't send them to shitty, snobby private schools and don't buy them all these bullshit toys. CAPITALISM creates abused children and fucked up people. Everyone go outside. Anyone know whatever happened to Glen Mellon? I want to buy him a beer.