The world through my eyes relayed to you through my keyboard.

The Donald Trump Phenomenon

I know I’ve been away for quite awhile, FB family, but I’m back. Okay, I don’t really know. I’m on for awhile, I’m off for awhile, I’m all over the place. I think what I have to say now is critically important, so I’m back, for now.
Donald Trump is a psychotic, sociopathic, narcissistic, bully who’d rather take credit for planting the seeds for children by a woman he’s never met than take a shit on a toilet that’s not made of gold. He’s dangerous. I know, but there’s a phenomenon even more terrifying than Donald Trump himself.
Mini, borderline Trumps walk among us. Forget the Republicans in the house and senate who have decided to hang by their mouths off of the penises of both Trump and pedophile Roy Moore. What about the cashier at your favorite supermarket, the server at your favorite restaurant, the people who care for or teach your children, or maybe even your own spouse? Borderline Donald Trumps walk among us.
Vote, goddamn it! I don’t care if you’re a street level drug dealer who hasn’t held a job in 15 years and traffic only because you want to break even on the amount you use. Get your ass to the BMV, and buy a state ID so you can help rid the world of the scourge that is Donald Trump. Stop with the even Steven drug selling, as well. It never works, and it never will. Get Trump out!


If I were to say that 2016 was a banner year for me, the the lie would be so huge that if I told it while strapped to a polygraph machine, every polygraph machine in the Midwest, Upper South, and East Coast would explode. For those of you who don’t know, on January 11 of 2016, I was in a fatal car accident while on my way to Whitestown, IN for work at Amazon.com. Of course, I wasn’t a fatality, but my 1993 Honda Accord with only 119,000 miles on it died so that I could live without so much as a scratch.

I won’t go into too many details, but in a matter of weeks I lost my car, my job, and my unemployment benefits. Amazon denied my unemployment benefits after denying me a 15 day leave of absence where they’d granted the same leave for workers with much less need. I just needed time to secure a vehicle. I made one timing mistake as far as filing. Unemployment made an information mistake. All that mattered was that all the mistakes fell on me. I appealed twice. I was denied twice. A third appeal would’ve cost me $250. It was ironic that the state denied me funds, yet required me to pay for another appeal. The State of Indiana and Amazon.com screwed me out of money that I, alone, had worked 2 1/2 years for. Times turned really dark for me.

Once again, I’ll spare you the lengthy details, but suffice it to say that the only time I wasn’t boozed up was when I slept. I slept more than a koala bear. I ate like a wren, and every time I closed my eyes I saw a group of revolvers firing indiscriminately into my left temple. That was kind of odd because I’m right-handed. Anyway, I was forced to move out of my lovely two bedroom, two full bathroom apartment in Eagle Creek, and into the cramped house on 12th Street where I grew up. My roommate is my 83 year old dad. It’s good, really. We look out for each other.

It’s Christmas Day, and, finally, I’m emerging from the darkness. It’s been nearly a year. That’s much longer than I wanted, but just the amount of time that I needed. I’ve cut my drinking by nearly 75%. I don’t want to stop completely, you know, because I want to have some fun, but that’s no small feat for me since not drinking caused my hands to shake to the point that I virtually had to eat like a dog, the nausea was so intense that I often vomited air, and during the week of my birthday in early December, I slept maybe eight hours. It was white knuckles all the way.

I guess I’m saying all that to say this: There’s always hope. You have to put in the work, though. I work a job that’s as physical as sharecropping, pays just about the same, and for which I’m ridiculously overqualified. I’m working, though. I’m earning income. By the grace of God I’m still alive. By the grace of me, I’m crawling into the light. I’m thankful to me. I’m thankful to my loving, supportive family. Mostly, however, I’m thankful to God. He’s save my life more times than I can count.


There’s a bounty on my sanity.

Clowns vs. Adults

This is all I have to say about the Presidential election of 2016. It was clowns vs. grownups. Clearly, the clowns won. What does that say about America, however? Well, you need only view the good old USA’s world ranking in education to see a significant part of the problem. The main reason why we the Americans have turned the White House into a Barnum and Bailey cable TV special, however, is really even simpler. America hates women.


Think about it. Donald Trump has insulted women on his road to the White House with the fervor normally reserved for those religious zealots that worship Jesus by dancing with poisonous snakes. He’s groped women’s vaginas with his tiny hands. He’s cornered women like a crack head rinses residue from a crack pipe. He’s said horrific, disparaging things about women, and lets not forget his creepy, sickening sexual obsession with his daughter Ivanka. If he hasn’t nailed her already, he’s sure to pull a Lewinski with her in the White House.


I saw a pre-election interview on “The Daily Show with Trevor Noah” where a Pennsylvania couple spoke with correspondent Jordan Klepper. They were White, and the wife was lithe and wispy whereas the husband looked as if he’d never met a beer he didn’t covet and consume. Anyway, the woman was fierce about her hatred for Hillary Clinton, and her love for Trump. She couldn’t explain why. Education.


I’ve never been ashamed to be an American. That has changed drastically.


A desert is how my writing mind feels all day when I either don’t have the opportunity to write, or am struggling to free myself from the quicksand of procrastination. At night, when I’m struggling to stay awake to watch The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, writing thoughts attack my mind like Donald Trump attacks sanity.


I know what false means. I think we all know what it means. Here’s a big example of it’s meaning. Bears. That’s right. I said it. Merchandisers and the like try to paint bears with a brush flooded with rainbow colors when the fact is that bears would just as well rip off your face, disembowel you, and lick up your viscera as they would shit in the woods. I pray that they, gorillas, ants, spiders, snakes, bees, and wasps never take over the earth while I’m still living on it.

A Gun Equals Lost Lives

While America continues to swim in the 2nd Amendment, twelve cops got shot – five died – because of gun violence precipitated by two Black men being murdered by cops who decided that shooting them was better than dealing with them like they would White men on traffic stops.


The smart people of America wonder how Donald Trump became the presumptive Republican nominee for President of the USA. That’s easy. The silent majority has existed since Dwight D. Eisenhower. It supported Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan. It got loud after Bill Clinton made the country better for people of color than the silent majority wanted. How dare Black people succeed. Now the silent majority is screaming that only Donald Trump can “make America great again” by making sure that the National Rifle Association supporters, and those who irrationally fear people of color, continue the march back into the 1950’s. Broadcasters and authors like Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and Ann Coulter have spent their entire lives ushering the silent majority into the 21st Century. People like them encourage the silent majority to bring their assault weapons, and their racist philosophies with them all.


Micha Xavier Johnson was a Black man with an exemplary record as a former serviceman and American citizen who murdered five White-American peace officers. His deepest desire was to kill White people. There was no reason to suspect him for any wrongdoing. He wasn’t a known terrorist. He took the coward’s way out. With him he took Rambo-like levels or guns with him to coward’s hell. The 2nd Amendment River will take him straight there.

A Lie Is A Life

I have to say that I love fireworks. That being said, I have to say that I don’t love the two elements of that single word, “Fire” and “Works”. Fire can keep you warm, and help you cook food. Fire, however, can also peel off your skin, and also poison the air around you and asphyxiate you. Work? I’ve done it most of my adult life, and I can’t think of a single job I ever really liked.


I mean absolutely no disrespect to my disabled Americans, but Donald Trump is like blind people at a fireworks show. The pretty colors virtually don’t exist, but there’s enough explosiveness to make a dung beetle puke.


Listen, politicians, defense lawyers, and every television personality at Fox News lies, but when we need liars to save our own skins they become virtual demigods. Ask OJ? Hell, ask any Trump supporter that isn’t already voting from an insane asylum.


Does Hillary lie? Absolutely. Is Bill Clinton doing everything in his power to sabotage Hillary’s presidential dreams? That’s as clear as the film that covers a crocodile’s eyes when they’re underwater. Hell, I’ve called off sick from work because I wanted to spend the day masturbating to soft-core porn.


Emails? Really? It sounds like grandma’ just can’t figure out how email works. That’s a far cry from building walls, imagined or otherwise, to keep immigrants out of America. I’m sure FBI Director James Comey will get a 1000-page fireworks book out of this.

An Old Person Is A Weird Person

I like to think that I’m getting older. I am, but so is a newborn baby. I’m way past getting older. I’m outright getting OLD, and, short of death, there’s nothing I can do about it. Here are some signs that I’m plainly and simply getting old.


I’ve been a fan of the TV show “Law and Order” for nearly its entire 100-year run. I tailed away in later years, so I’ve seen the latter episodes fewer times. That means that it’s less likely that I know the outcome. Even so, I find that I watch only the “law” part, and wait until nearly the end to view the outcome. I’m tired.


I judge my bowel movements. I use the two thumbs up system. The ratings utilize degrees of weak, medium, and strong. The more thumbs ups, the better, and more satisfying, and more voluminous the shit. Liquid shits get judged as well. They start with an automatic two thumbs up. My record is four medium thumbs ups.


I’m careful about blessing my food before I eat it, but not careful enough to remember to do it before I dig my incisors into the first bite every time. Once I realize that I’ve bitten before blessing, I stop. I speak my blessing, and then count the word “hold” 64 times in my mind, just in case God didn’t hear me.


I guess what I’m saying is that getting old is not just a bitch. Sometimes, it’s just kind of weird.

A Man In Trouble

I need to get this over with now. I’ve been out of any loop for over six months now. I wanted to post this story via YouTube video, but the lighting is tough here, and I hate watching the computer light reflecting from the lenses of my eyeglasses. No matter how big I make the font, viewing is blurry at best. On January 11, 2016, I totaled my very much-loved 1993 Honda Accord while on my way to work. I lost my car. My employer, Amazon.com, turned down my request for emergency 15-day leave of absence, robbing me of the opportunity to scramble up a vehicle. I was involuntarily terminated the next day. I’d applied for that leave so that I could cover for the fact I had no paid or unpaid time I could use. Hell, it was January. Only Amazonians with no lives had significant time off. I lost my job. Unemployment sided with Amazon. I’m appealing through the courts now, but I’m not optimistic. I lost income. In short, in a matter of weeks, I lost everything. I won’t lie. Times got dark. I drank more than I ate or bathed, and every time I closed my eyes I saw multiple revolvers firing wildly into my left temple. That was odd because, well, I’m right-handed. Listen. It’s not a pity party here. I’m alive. Family members have come to my rescue, and I’m looking forward. I’m the master of my destiny. The journey started on 1/11/2016.