My New Fitbit

Inspired by the shenanigans of Mr. Poullo Oconne:

(Speaking of which, I'm sorely behind - *SMACK!* - on updating my blogroll/links... Of course I could boost my traffic if I just do a little legwork... Smart blogging, y'all!)

********

では,ちょっとお願いがあるんですが... ^-^

This Shit Is Bananas

Eureka!

Spark It Up!

(Well, I guess it's better than: "Your teen comes home smelling like semen, and the voices in your head tell you he's on meth. Now what? MYBRATISBOGARTINGPARTYFAVORSSMIRK.ORG...")

Apropos of Brexit... (Blech. Sit.)

Fee fie FOE fumble...

(My favorite part, of course, is when the party that fell flat on its face then pops up with a triumphant TA-DA!!!)

One of the Last of the Black Hats

Um, tangentially and apparently, Ed, when you hide from the world you miss a few things. Did you know there is a nationwide judge shortage? It takes about a year for a criminal case to see the inside of a courtroom for trial, and about three years for a civil case. I mean -- God! -- I am a drug-addicted loser who lives in the middle of nowhere with his mom, and even I know what's going on... (By the way, adding to stressors for the too few people on the bench, you're increasing the chances that yet more judges might resign. Smooth move, Ex-Lax.)

And from Tim:  "Essentially, Ed Lee blamed 'those liberal judges' for letting super-preadators (ahem) off the hook and back into 'our communities.' By arguing for mob rule in courthouses -- where pitchfork-carrying rural folk (William! Pay attention!) can pressure the judge to rule the way 'people's justice oughta' -- he's entered Trumpland."

Peripheral Stupidity Agency

How do you keep America safe when American civilians en masse can get the drop on you in the long game?  (And won't it be humiliating when you find out just what happened...?)

"Why Are We Like This When You're On Drugs?"

The verdict:  Guilty by reason of faking insanity.

The sentence:  Spiritual death by humiliation and degradation.

(Ironically, it wasn't exactly a speedy trial.)

(Also, was I supposed to keep quiet because everyone else involved was ashamed of their behavior?  That is asking a bit much...)

So anyway, I'm wondering if it wouldn't have been better had my sheepish, inarticulate, and only tentatively righteously indignant accusers  just put a dunce cap on my head, placed me naked and backwards on the back of a donkey, herded me past distracted and baffled onlookers down Eddy Street, until I reached where today's American iteration of Savonarola and the weepers whined at me for a few hours about my culpability regarding their disgusting sins.  It definitely would have driven the point, if there was any, home.

And then I could go back to being a scheming, gold-digging hussy on the make for her next unintelligent psychopathic victim.

Yay San Francisco!

Among Other Absurdities...

...I can't believe Frankie wanted to use his nifty psychic connection to get me in trouble for being high.

That must suck, being a telepath with a room-temperature IQ.  God, how awful!

Dignified Responses

When I was subject to whatever that program was during the last few years since 2009, one of the explicitly spoken imperatives was to me, for me to "be a man about things."  My response?  "Does that mean to shirk, complain and whine?"  It took a while, but I stopped hearing that one...

I Blame Barack Obama...

...For everything that embarrasses me or mortifies me in my quest for attention.

Who Didn't See This Coming

I've said it before:  if you're on welfare, that's pretty damn rough, and I don't begrudge you any drugs you want to do.  Besides, nobody proposing the drug testing of welfare recipients has a fucking clue about behavioral healthcare, addiction, or the root causes of poverty.

Anyway, cocaine is a helluva drug...

If "Star Wars" Happened On Facebook

LEIA:  Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope.
OBI WAN:  Sending thoughts and prayers.

Maybe The Pot Is Calling The Kettle Black, But...

Look, I'm bipolar II, with hypomania, depression, uncontrollable emotional outbursts. and psychosis.  I'm crazy as a shithouse rat.  I think telepathy and telekinesis are real, and that I've been the subject of secret government experimentation.  I've had visions, hallucinations, conversations with the dead, clairvoyance, satori, epiphany, theophany, have been inducted into mystery, and I've survived mind-rape.  I've been visited by ghosts, shadow people, various "thems," and the local sheriff's deputy who was serving a restraining order.  I dip my french fries in my chocolate shake and am convinced I'm the biblical Antichrist.  Sometimes I feel like a boddhisatva starring in a Dr. Who episode penned by Philip K. Dick.  I'm fucking out-to-lunch most of the time.

That said, I don't get libertarianism.  Professed libertarians call themselves pragmatists and realists, but they rely on and believe in (or want to be true) absolutely fanciful, delusional ideas that are completely at variance with the way people and the world actually behave.  As boneheaded as many American voters are, we will never have a libertarian president.  Most of my fellow countrymen are at least that in touch with objective reality...

I wouldn't consider libertarian notions irritating or a peeve, but the existence of libertarian candidates is amusing, IMHO.

Frankie Haros At The Movies

Frankie and I like movies, but seldom the same ones.  The following terrified or repelled Frankie, but I found them to have their charms:

• LUCY (2014):  An American party girl in Korea overdoses on some fly-ass dope and acquires god-like powers, without any apparent downside.
• MAMA (2013):  The bitch stabbed a nun and gets run down by a hunting party.  After death, she's got voices and moths -- I fold.
• CARRIE (1976):  "You get in that closet and you pray, little girl!"
• MATILDA (1996):  Okay, so Miss Honey should have killed this little monster and saved the world.  But Matilda is the hero of the story, and that's so deliciously immoral that I love it.
• FIRESTARTER (1984):  Go Charlie, it's your birthday!  Set that motherfucker on fire WITH YOUR GODDAMN BRAIN!
• X-MEN: THE LAST STAND (2006):  I love the scenes where Dark Phoenix goes apeshit and blows people up with her mind.

The next list gave Frankie a wide-on, whereas I could have done without seeing them, thankyouverymuch:

• FATAL BEAUTY (1987):  A bad batch of drugs is made and bagged by a naked Asian girl in San Francisco.  A poor, refrigerator-sized, unarmed black man gets high as a kite on those drugs, walks out of a house, and gets dozens of rounds put in him by the SFPD, which is so like them.  Frankie loves that scene, but I see it and want to beat Whoopi Goldberg to a pulp.  Goddamn you, Whoopi.
• THE HAUNTING OF MOLLY HARTLEY (2008):  Infuriating teenager Molly Hartley is spotted by the community as an unholy creature, and is persecuted and nearly killed -- including by a clergyman's daughter.  Finally, Molly embraces her true evil nature and joins the ranks of the sinister Them. Frankie wanted this to happen to me.
• THE OTHERS  (2001):  The voices Nicole Kidman hears are the living and she's the one who's dead...Boo!  Good one, Frankie...

We both liked CHILDREN OF THE CORN, and both wanted to be He Who Walks Behind The Rows.  I don't know what we would have done with SCANNERS...

"You Ruined My Life!"

♫ Be careful what you wish for
It might come true
Somebody might up and give
You to you
Then you'll see
How much it hurts to be
(You had no idea
So much comes for free)♫

- From the upcoming musical, "The Twisted Tweaker From 602," a show nobody has reviewed as Hunter S. Thompson's bats gone retarded.

It's Time To Play The Music...

Squaw Creek Inn

Ron turned up the volume on the bar TV.  It was his favorite show, STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION, and one of his favorite episodes, the one about the colony of Indians who settled on the planet Dorvan V.  In the episode, Wesley Crusher has a vision during a sweat lodge session in which he sees his father and chooses another, better path in life.  The bar was empty save for William, who was high and toasty on well vodka.  Ron was hip to William's drunk, and since it was just that, put up with his commentary.

"Jesus, Ron, could you imagine us on that flying freakshow, the USS Enterprise?"

"No.  I guess I've tried, but I can't."

"Picture it:  'Computer, please locate Ensign Wesley Crusher.'  You know what?

"What?"

"Crickets chirping, that's what.  And if you'd pressed her, she would have lied, because Majel was a good wife and treated Gene better than he deserved.  That computer, like every other sentient being aboard the Enterprise, loathed Wesley.  He was that precocious whippersnapper everybody prayed would die.  And I think he's the only redshirt who didn't.  (Probably because his mother, Doctor Beverly Crusher, was scarier than a Cardassian in-law at your holodeck wedding.  She was a horrible physician, and malicious.)"

"William, I like this show."

"Oh," continued William, drunk and so far oblivious,"but Deanna Troi was the worst:  'Captain, I think he's hiding something.'  I can't for the life of me figure out why no one just came out and said it:  'Damn, Counselor Troi, you want to know the truth?  We all rein it in around you.  Everybody has something to hide.  Bitch, give the man some privacy.'  She was the most terrifying member of the Enterprise crew."

"So, you headed home?"

"Yeah, I can't watch this shit.  That ship is scary."

William knew he had been 86'd and wobbled to the door."

"Oh, and one more thing, Ron."

"Yeah?"

"Never get quarters with a window.  That's just asking for a heart attack..."

Movies That Were Unintentionally Hilarious: LUCY (2014)

Scarlett Johansson is the girl to party with.  Just don't get on her bad side.

Basically, she gets roped by the Korean mafia into being a drug mule for some of the best dope ever manufactured.  One of the heavies kicks her in the stomach, into which a bag of screaming shit is sewed, and the bag breaks.  She immediately overdoses and catches fire -- I mean, for real.  The girl over-amps and it's not just in her head:  she physically, objectively levitates and hits the ceiling, then flies around the room like a witch from Club Universe.  It just gets better from there...  "Hello, my name's Scarlett Johansson, and I look hot in Versace while I kill evil motherfuckers with my god-like brain."  She discovers a taste for this rather empowering successor to flakka and meth, and instead of crashing, burning, and going to rehab, essentially becomes a deity.  And of course, there's Morgan Freeman in a cash-grab role as the stentorian (when is he not stentorian?), avuncular neurologist she contacts for "help."  Not help with twelve stepping, but help slamming and jamming until the bitch is time travelling and divulging the secrets of the universe in a way that would make Philip K. Dick put down his rolled up dollar bill.

This empty calorie action romp is gleefully immoral (drugs really help you transcend time and space to become a ruler of the universe) and sabotages any case Luc Besson wanted to make about his issues with women.  I give it 4 out of 5 stars -- it had me screaming at the screen:  "Ooh girl, I wanna party with you!  I got some shit, come on over!"  Highly recommended for those of you at Walden House (although it's more triggering than BREAKING BAD.)

Secret Squirrel Vs. Harriet the Spy

I have something absolutely fascinating for HUD, the IRS, and the FBI to have coffee over and chat about among each other.