I know who you are, motherfucker!!

December 29, 2012

This I meant to bring into my beloved Great State but a conscientious objection that screamed “attention whore, much?” popped outta nowhere like a lurking troll and redirected it here, to the trash can.

  I don’t have the slightest idea where my sarcasm ends and where my stupidity begins anymore… that shit ever happen to you? Fuckin right it has- I can read you like a book. You’re sitting there with all these questions that you’ve never asked, only because you never gave a single fuck about the answers to any of em. And I’m gonna bring answers to the table.

   An author’s dream come true. I am the motherfucker that given the slightest bit of an opportunity, will see more in your character, more in the gesture, more in the comment, more detail in the scenery than was ever there, or ever will be there again. Just one microscopic weak spot in your reality projection is all it takes and in less time than it takes a crackhead to rationalize snatching your purse (wallet) out of your shopping cart (back pocket) as you bend over to grab that bag 30 pound bag of Alpo… I have redefined you to the way you oughtta be.
   Every time I get shitty with you, and you do not annihilate me despite probably being able to (lol, probably)… It wasn’t because you truly didn’t give a single fuck and forgot it entirely by the time you forgot even bumping into me eight minutes later. It was because you chose to spare me, having me fixed in your peepsights, elevation and windage dead on. You don’t really even know why… hell you just got done bitchslapping at least a half dozen other unfunny attention whores over the last day or two no different than I am. Yet you purposefully chose to allow me to slide, and for no fucking reason you could put a name to. But you felt in some way like you were more than you had been just a few minutes before.. You pushed pause on an easy kill, and maybe I was not entirely too ignorant to catch that, or maybe I was. More likely I had no fucking clue, but you did and it was enough. It was pity, or maybe something else, or neither that stayed your hand….  the small, undefined, and vague hope that this gesture might… just might one day take Sauron the Great smooth the fuck out.
   WTF do they even call this shit? I mean there’s gotta be something a little more relevant than that old, tired ‘delusional’, right? Ain’t the new DSM-V on the magazine/bookshelves Walgreens?

   You aren’t lulzy, or witty, or on topic, or sexy, on this end… You’re fucking fully murderous. But that’s only if you give me just the slightest opportunity. I’m so sick of reality I’m ready to teabag a laundry bag full of sun ripened dirty socks and guzzle that shit unsweetened, just to make everything taste a little bit better afterward


Searching for Rock Bottom

December 27, 2012

For Nora  

So I’m sitting here having a discussion with myself, like I usually do about this time every night, and I got to wondering about something. Rock bottom. Where the feck is it?    I couldn’t come up with a definitive answer for myself, which was kinda unusual for me. My choice of roads to take through life has put me in a rather advantageous position for knowing the answers to questions like this, right off the top of my head on a typical day. So I decided to research this shit a bit. I went to the old, tired, but relevant base of memes I have first:rock bottom

   But they were invalid- I knew it; that ain’t rock bottom, or even close. Even that guy pictured would not say that was rock bottom. It’s a relative thing, mostly. Much of society would agree on this being rock bottom:florence prison

florence prison2

lethal injection



   And most days, I would agree. But are there lower bottoms to be found? I had once been able to talk to some guys who were on their way to that very destination, at Florence AZ years back. I was an outside trustee, my job at that time was raking the perimeter outside the fences. They would be brought out in white paper clothes and spend a few hours picking vegetables which were served in the convict chow hall. Anyway, there were at least 3 of the 9 or so guys that were actively fighting to get their appeals shot down, and fast tracked to the needle room. For them, rock bottom was no longer death, but life.

  I was no closer to a definitive location for rock bottom… Just more potential locations for it.fakebook troll


Because not only does this place change, from person to person, it also changes for the same person, from time to time. When you’re young and narrow minded, it’s easier to come up with difficult answers.op sucks

For this one, it’s usually some fate, some set of circumstances that are unfamiliar to you, and that scare the shit outta you. Death row, maybe.    But as you get older, things start to dawn on you… On death row, you have the luxury of at least knowing there’s nothing you can do.. You can relax and accept your fate, if your mind will allow it, because what the hell else can you do?Hu8x7

 Now a person who does not have prison walls around them is in a different game entirely… A lot of possible courses of action to avoid rock bottom, wherever that might be.doing drugs


ecstasyAnd then one day, when your rock bottom has undergone many shifts of location.. longitude, latitude… altitude- I think it’s possible to start to narrow rock bottom down a little, finally.

 It’s got nothing to do with location, or where you are at in age, per se. It is more a function of your horizons… closing in on you. Knowing… just knowing via experience and wisdom, that whatever action, or possible path you could divert your journey to, it has no real effect on those horizons. Once unlimited, and now closing the distance faster with every year, every month. JTs Journey

   I think Dante Alighieri had it right. When the last of your life’s supply of hope has run out… take a look around you. Because regardless of how much of every other possible commodity you might possess,    when the hope is used up- welcome to rock bottom.

fakebook rock bottom

 Here it is.

Protected: sarcasm and tribute to a star

March 13, 2012

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February 4, 2012

   Once upon a time, I knew someone…..

 I was very close to this person; “in cahoots” …. partners in crime…… someone I will always remember. Perhaps the one person in the world that I had ever known who I was truly able to …. simply BE with. All walls removed; unguarded. Instinctively in tune with.    ‘Friend’ seems such a pale shade of color for the relationship I had with this person.

    We had personal demons…. both of us. There was misunderstanding…. and pain.

Bad days came to stay.

This person overcame one of their demons…. And when the bad days went away… I could not help but see that this person… Once so important that words fail…..
Had become a pale imitation of what I had known, and loved about her.
 Here’s to conquering demons…… and the price that is paid.
   I will never have another friend like that again…. because she no longer exists.
And now my existence is a pale imitation of what I had known, and loved about it.


January 11, 2012


I never know how to begin these things…

Corrie Fisher, a friend of mine on the internets has passed away, and I would like to say a few words about her that should have been said…

when it mattered. But I no longer have that option, so I’m going to say these words to you that knew her. I know beyond any doubt that this will not give me any comfort, or lighten the heavy fucking regret that has [rightfully] settled upon me… Too little, too late. I should’ve said it to her; hindsight is just about the most worthless attribute a person can ever possess.

I didn’t know Corrie as well, or for as long as I wish I would’ve, but I knew enough to recognize what it was that set her apart from other folks I have encountered while lurking and aimlessly wandering through the internets. I’ve gotten to be way too judgmental; I am always judging everyone pretty much 100% of the time. Getting older will do that- the parallel between decreased life expectancy/ tolerance for ordinary ‘normal’ fuckwits… You only have time for folks that are interesting, or extraordinary in some way.

With Corrie, there was more than one category which merited the passing of judgment, and which compelled me to seek her friendship. The first was (oddly enough) her habit of being NON judgmental toward folks. She’d befriend anyone, from any walk of life, and not give two shits regarding their popularity, religion, position in society, sexual pref, whatever… Respected everyone who gave it in return. Despite my own deficiency in this, I still admire it because it is unusual.

She could not be pressured, and no amount of persuasion or sarcasm or clever rhetoric would make her budge from whatever her moral compass or beliefs were on a particular issue. She had a knack for deflecting it all like water off a duck’s back and often enough would give credit to anyone’s insults, provided they were humorous and original. Once I witnessed her being recognized, then nominated, and then confirmed by due process for a prestigious honor… only to have it rescinded for some reason or other which was unknown, by person(s) unknown, who had the authority to strip this honor from her. The composure and bearing she fielded this with was of the likes that I typically only remember seeing in the military… and at any rate exceedingly rare in women (or men for that matter).

But for me, the most extraordinary thing about Corrie was her capacity for loyalty. If she was your friend, she would back you regardless of the weather, or whether or not you appeared to be worthy of this loyalty, or any other factor that I could perceive. I have personally watched her speak in behalf of someone who was FAILing so consistently (at this particular time) and to such a ridiculous degree that even someone like myself, accomplished in FAIL far above the average dumbass…. Had to facepalm witnessing this trainwreck. Though it sometimes appeared to be unappreciated, and even scorned in return…. She never did withdraw her support of the friend. The effect of this upon the person I am referring to was… unusual as well, and I will simply describe it as ‘positive’.

Corrie Fisher was the type of person….. that I have always had need of in my life, yet so rarely was lucky enough to call ‘friend’. To say that my own, all ready small list of unusual and extraordinary disembodied intellects on the Internets, which I call ‘friend’ ………is less than it was- when it held her within it…..

.. is an understatement that my limited ability with words fall short to describe the way I feel it. God. Damn.

Rest in peace, Corrie

Maybe This Might Clear Up The Confusion

August 6, 2011

Here we have our mystery contestant, as he is in the process of attempting to bully Metalfan off of the site. Note his paranoia in assuming some evil plot to “kill the site” Metalfan is now a traitor? He’s all ready succeeded in getting Weissdorn booted off.

How about now? Still wondering what I was talking about?

Here we are shown that Metalfan is on trial, and faced with the burden of proving his innocence of some wackjob conspiracy theory. It is trickier than it might seem. Metalfan is fighting for his life lol

Can someone read the last paragraph of Metalfan’s comment? Our bully cannot.

A final judgment, from the star of the show, and evidently also the one in control of this place? I would have to imagine that it is something else entirely that is “stabbing this site in the heart” And despite there being no open mention of what that is in the screenshots, I would venture to guess that it might be visible to the naked eye, just the same. This is only one entry- one occasion. I haz quite the collection of pictures. Originally intended for future lulz, but somehow it just doesn’t seem funny.

PS: Here is a link to an entry where our boy here is doing precisely what he attacked Metalfan for, and what he got Weissdorn booted over:


And here’s an excerpt, in case it disappears when he realizes the hypocrisy:

A Seamless Transition from Dream to Reality

August 28, 2009

And with such thoughts in mind,  I was unprepared, The ground before me opened up and consumed me entire- closing up afterward with no more evidence that I had ever existed than a couple of drops of blood drying upon the happy path that I had walked upon just moments before. Within a month, no more than that, there was not one single human  being who would have had anything but the most vague recollection at the mention of my name…. Within two months time even that was gone; I had never existed.
And waking from this dream, I saw that it was no dream at all.

An 11 Year Old Boy’s Introduction to Karma

March 7, 2009

We must travel backward in time to 1979, a prehistoric time for those of you fortunate individuals who had yet to be born. My parents had all ready been divorced for a few years by then, and every summer, my brother and I (ages 9 and 11, respectively) would fly from Ft. Lauderdale, FL, where we lived with our mother, to stay with our father for a couple of months, wherever he happened to be at the time. At that time this was the San Francisco Bay area city of Walnut Creek, CA, where our grandparents were also living. Both my father and grandfather were avid fishermen, and as you can imagine we did alot of fishing, as there were an unlimited choice of spots for this in that area of California, both freshwater and saltwater (not to mention “brackish” water, which is used to describe where freshwater and saltwater meet, such as where a river flows into the sea).

Often we would saddle up at dawn and drive to a promising location to spend a few hours fishing, sometimes accompanied by my grandfather. This was one such occasion. We arrived at my grandparents house at about zero dark thirty that morning, myself and my brother still half asleep, and stayed just long enough to pick up my grandfather. Not content with the promise that we would “stop and eat somewhere on the way,” I managed to wake up sufficiently to scarf down 7 or 8 deviled eggs, which my grandmother had sitting on the countertop. At the tender age of 11,  I was blissfully ignorant of the concept of gluttony, its status as one of the seven deadly sins, and the wages that I now had owed to me as a result of  that furtive act of pre-sunrise gluttony. This particular area of my blissful ignorance now had a remaining life expectancy of less than one hour.

Our destination that fateful morning was a waterway (brackish, if my memory serves me correctly) known as the ‘Montezuma slough,’ and is found somewhere in the vicinity of the city of Antioch. The sun had just appeared on the horizon to take command of the day when we pulled into a  completely isolated bait store which doubled as a restaurant of sorts, depending, I suppose on how liberal your definition of ‘restaurant’ happens to be. I do remember that all four of us were served grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, which suggests a fair possibility that the menus of this establishment could be printed on a matchbook, with room to spare. But, I am getting ahead of myself;  oh yes indeed. I was in a very bad state by the time we had pulled up to this place- the words “anguish” and “desperate” pale in significance to what I was feeling just then.

When we finally arrived, I got out of the car very carefully and proceeded into the place, walking stiff- legged, as if I had plaster casts on both legs. My hindquarters I had clenched with such force that carbon ‘coal to diamond’ conversion would require no more than 10 seconds. There were maybe eight or ten people inside the store when we got to the counter and just as I was going to ask to use the restroom, dad yells out “that boy’s gotta shit!” at the top of his lungs. Everybody is laughing but I don’t even care as I shuffle past them in the direction that the man pointed. There are two doors that say ‘poles’ on one and ‘holes’ on the other; I don’t have time to figure it out, so I just picked one and hurried to the toilet, unbuttoning my pants on the way. God, it stunk in there! But I made it! That’s all that matters.

I had all ready let loose as my cheeks  were hitting the toilet seat. On the way down it barely registered that the toilet had an appearance of not having been flushed after a previous occupant had evacuated his (or her, in all fairness) bowels with almost as much force as I myself had just done.  For some reason I got the distinct impression that this event had transpired months before, and this should have set off warning bells, but the relief that I felt had given way to a tremendous sense of gratitude that I had not had an ‘accident’ which undoubtedly would have been exploited by my 3 fellow fishing partners. My father is of the type that would have absolutely no problem in announcing to the occupants of the bait store/ restaurant with all of the same enthusiasm “Look! That boy done shit his pants!” as he had demonstrated with his original comment. And so, still not done with my task, I reached back and executed what is known in some circles of society as a “courtesy flush” in an attempt to clear the air of the cloying fecal bouquet, which was so thick and putrid (almost ‘tangy’) that you could just about see it’s molecules saturating the air as you breathed it in.

It took me by complete surprise when the filth that had been accumulating in the toilet for God knows how long (mixed with that which I had just added) rose up until it made widespread, solid  contact with my unsuspecting asscheeks and genitals. Time seemed to slow with that nightmarish quality that is sometimes experienced during fast paced, traumatic events (i.e. car wrecks). I looked down, dumbfounded, as the horrible glop had just begun to slop over the rim of the toilet and spill into my underwear and jeans.

And my last coherent thought was the rather detached, disassociated observation that there were a countless number of very active looking maggots that were passengers among the concentrated evil that was making its way into my life.
That is all, and good day to you.