Saturday, April 21, 2012

Who I Hate Right Now # 2

You know what I hate, more than anything in this world, right goddamn now?

Pseudo-intellectual, liberal, douchefuck cock-knuckles who post some idiotic, bleeding heart twattling babble, about having peace in our hearts, and not engage in hateful, mean, or distasteful rhetoric concerning our Dear Leader, because it is sooo mean and hurtful.

Fuck you.


99% of you liberal pricks spew the most vile, hateful, ridiculous shit about Republicans, Libertarians, and pretty much anyone that disagrees with you, your calling for consensus, and unity, and wholeness, what-the-fuck-ever, is at best, fucking laughable. Are you even intelligent enough to understand your hypocrisy?

You're a bunch of spoiled, whiny children.

Say whatever the fuck you want, about everyone else, and it just means you're so much deeper than the rest of us, edgy and cool.

Slander, smear, denigrate, piss on, shit on, set on fire, any and everyone, but, oh, fuck, someone says something about your guy, and then you play the angel in white, trying to calm the world with a healing touch.

Do not tell me it hurts us abroad, or that it emboldens our enemies.
Whatever the fuck you do, do not say that.
You never once, in the eight years Bush was in office, ever thought to keep that in mind.
Yeah, I hear you gasping from here.
But it was different then, right?
God, I fucking hate you.
Fuck sake, Obama's first term is almost up, and you simple bastards are still blaming everything on Bush.


Bush's fault.


Bush's fault.

Global warming.

Bush's fault.

Michael Vick torturing dogs.

Bush's fault.

The dark clouds in the sky.

Bush's fault.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of Bush or the GOP, but Christ.


Morons. Shut up.

It's not the differences in our politics or our worldviews that I find infuriating.

I'm over them. I don't even care about that anymore.

I'm so close to not caring about politics at all anymore, it's not even funny.

What sickens me, is you. Your persons. The way you act.

As if you can't believe anyone would ever say something negative about your Sacred Lamb.

After all the things you've said.

All the things you still say.

You're no spiritual guide.

You hold no sacred or divine knowledge.

You don't even know yourselves.

Fuck you.

Simple fucks.

Conversation from the Gun Range #1

“Is this a good gun for home defense?”

“No sir, not really.”

“It's not?”


“What about for someone new to shooting?”

“Sir, this is a horrible gun for pretty much anything except as a toy.”

“Well, I told the guy over at the store, I was new to guns, and I needed something for home defense and target practice.”

“So he sold you a chrome Desert Eagle with a 10 inch barrel, in .50AE? Wow.”

“He also sold me a Smith &Wesson MP 22 pistol. That way, I could leave the big gun at home with my pregnant wife and take the little with me to work.”

“Let me get this straight, you didn't just walk in, and throw down a lot of money, and said, “Shit, motherfucker, I want that big bad motherfucker! Set some shit off in this bitch, sheeeit!?”

“Uh, no.”

“You went in there, and told them what you just told me, and these are what they sold you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Let me guess, dark haired guy, glasses, mustache? Looks like he should probably be selling used cars?”

“Yeah, that's him. So, you're saying, he didn't hook me up? I didn't get a good deal?”

“Kid, the truth is, he fucked you. He fucked you, and he's probably laughing about this, while he counts your money.”

“What would you suggest?”

“I would suggest selling this shiny piece of shit, taking the money, and buying a used Glock 19 and a used pump shotgun of whatever make strikes your fancy, lots of ammo, and shooting the hell out of them. Get some training from a reputable teacher. You'll have enough money left over for steak and scotch. Lots of steak and scotch.”

This is an actual conversation I had with a young man who had just turned 21. I stayed an hour and a half, off the clock, teaching him how to shoot and clean his guns, as well as showing him several guns that would be much better choices. Not long after this I lost my job. My truck was in the shop for a month, and they replaced me. Honestly, I think they were looking for a reason. Which is fine, I was looking for a reason to leave. They looked down on my because I was fat, and knew what I was talking about, and I looked down on them for being crooked pieces of shit that would sell a .50 AE Desert Eagle to a kid looking for something for home defense.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

In My Head, Right Now.

I sat down to write about five different blogs early this morning, and don't have much more than a few paragraphs on any of them.

I'm so far behind on my writing, it's not funny.

I need to get to some magazine articles if I ever want to go legit.

I need be going over book 3 carefully, taking notes, because there is no legitimate reason why it shouldn't be done a year from now, save my own machinations and metabolism.

Actually, it should be fucking done well before then. It's basically done now, and has been for a couple of years now.

Things holding up it's progress -

Continuity.- I want the characters in my books to evolve. I want them to age, to grow and mature, to fight their demons. In my head they're living and breathing. In my head, they have lives. They're as real to me as the people I interact with everyday. More so than a lot of them.

But, the thing is, it's not just a matter of characters aging. The fall in and out of love. They lust. They hate. They fall on and off the wagon.

And I want them to all do these things in a way that is both realistic, yet entertaining. I need certain things to unfold in their own course.

My chaotic, jumbled, booze soaked mind.- I'm not nearly as drunk as I was a couple of years ago. Holy shit, I'm almost normal. At the time of this writing it's been several days since I even had a drink. You would think, this would clear my mind, let me slow down and focus, right? Fuck no, not for me.

I sat down to right a bit of satire, about one of the people I hate on Facebook, and instead, I'm writing a few paragraphs of a sci-fi story, based on this insane dream I just had, and the next I'm looking up recipes for prime rib, and wondering if I should wait until Sunday to try and make it. Next I'm taking apart my Blackberry to try to clean/ unfuck it, and then I'm really proud of myself until I put it back together and it's not unfucked.

At any one time, my mind is going through a newsreel of thoughts that might look something like this. -

I just know there's a place for a pistol gripped shotgun without a stock in the tactical toolbox.

Fucking shit ass, asshole Blackberry. Fuck you.

What time is it? Fuck, too late to go to the pool. It'll be filled with old people and I'll hit traffic coming back. Fucking shit.

Should I wait till Sunday to make prime rib? We could get a few days out of it.

Pistol gripped only shotguns are fucking stupid, you goddamn fat poser bitch.

Melissa Joan Hart is 36 today? I would still totally do her.

I need to go to the grocery store.

I need to call in my prescriptions.

I need to call in my grandmother's prescriptions.

I need to seriously start developing panels for the comic strip. That's a fucking gold mine there.

I need to learn to cook ribs.

I really kind of wish I had a Walther PPS.

I want another Glock.

I haven't taken Pops out to eat lately, maybe she'll be down with Tex- Mex.

I need to get Murphy his yearlies.

I want to drink. Thank God there's not enough vodka left to really matter.

No, don't think of the scotch, don't think of the scotch!

Whatever happened to Shyla Foxxx, anyway? She was my favorite.

A Ruger LCR might be the ultimate BUG.

I'm never going to hear from those magazine editors.

I'm never going to hear from my book editor.

I should go to the garage and swing kettlebells.

If I go to the garage and swing kettlebells, Murphy will throw a shit fit.

This new girl I met seems really nice.

More so than the last fifty.

Fuck, I hate college.

Fuck, I don't want to go back.

Fuck, I need to.


Maybe I'll sell the movie rights and get rich.

Probably not.

Which book should I concentrate on now?

Should I do the Jeb at war doing shady shit for the government book next?

Should I leave that a mystery? Unravel that slowly over the course of several books?

Should I work on my Great American Novel instead?

The western trilogy?

Bear's stand alone?

The Sc-fi novel?

The other Sc-fi novel?

The RomCom?

I should totally work on the RomCom. That shit'll make me rich. Fucking women. They watch the worst shit, really.

Is it wrong to hope Obama gets reelected just so my conspiracy theory assassination book will be relevant whenever I get around to it?

Fuck, I can't believe I found a positive reason for Obama being president.

I need booze.

I need coffee.

I have to get my phone shit situated.

Jeanna Fine has been retired for how long? That's a bad bitch.

I watch too much porn.

Can someone watch too much porn?

Are there any chicks out there that are genuinely bi, that don't have fucked up hardwiring from sexual abuse as a child?

Is it just the chicks I meet?

Oh, look, THAT GUY is turning another thread on someone else's Facebook wall into his story about his crazy ex-wife. Again. Jesus. I'm starting to hate that guy.

I shouldn't hate him. He's nice enough. Just sad. And pathetic. No wonder she cheated.

Obviously she puts out. I wonder where she is?

I need to do some shotgun work.

Pistol gripped only.

See this list? That's all shit, in my head, vying for attention, each moment.

It's worse when I'm sober.

Like now.

I had the thought earlier, maybe one of the reasons I started drinking so heavily, wasn't just self medication for pain, and then depression, but to slow my fucking brain down as well.

Fuck. Where were we again?

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Cops, Culture, Dogs, and The Police State

Cops have a shitty fucking job.

They see the worst humanity has to offer, day in and day out, in a never ending cycle. Everyday they deal with thugs and drug dealers who keep dogs as status symbols, weapons, and gladiatorial athletes instead of beloved family pets. And they have to find a way to compartmentalize their job from their lives, for the sake of their health and sanity. It's not surprising many cops are said to only associate with other cops, nurturing an “Us vs Them” mentality.

We also live in a world that is quickly coming to resemble Orwell's mad dream at what seems like an exponential pace.

Facial recognition software, Armored Personnel Carriers, unmanned drones, The Patriot Act, the rise of the surveillance state, and Corporatic government that knows no bounds. Our ridiculous, never ending War on Drugs, and the heavily armed cartels on the other side.

This technology doesn't just affect the way we view cops, but the way they view us as well. In a world where a heated verbal misstep caught on camera can, coupled with a sensationalist, corporate controlled, 24/ 7 news cycle can cost an officer his job, the distance between cop and civilian increases.

It creates a distance in perspective between the two. They become more and more like automatons, and we become more and more like targets.

The militarization of police has been a topic of concern all my life. I think, for a long time, the grounds for this have not always been completely warranted. I believe as technology advances at such unprecedented rates, and we find more and more flaws within our systems of government and way of life, that the issues it brings become incredibly more significant.

But it's not just the technology, it's not just the potential Orwellian nightmare it represents around the corner.

Take into account the inherently aggressive, Type A personalities that are often attracted to police and military work, and the internal driving forces inside the worst examples of those in uniform. The need to exert power over others. The competitive urge to see action, and be seen as a gun fighter. To have those bragging rights.

I once overheard a conversation at a local IDPA match, where a cop did indeed brag about the number of dogs he had put down. It's not speculation, it's not something I made up. It happened. He talked about it with boastful pride, and good humor. I was disgusted, and had to walk away before I my anger got the better of me.

A simple Google search will pull up page after page of incidents where police have wrongfully killed a family pet. I'm not alone in worrying these are on the rise.

To be in a profession of arms, while the country has been in a shooting war for a decade, one can only suspect the need to prove oneself through violent action might be intensified, at least in certain individuals.

You may be wondering where I'm going with all this.

Culture changes. It ebbs, and flows, grows stagnant where still.

As our culture changes in the macro, police culture will change in the micro.

It will happen.

There is no way around this. You would have as much luck fighting an earthquake, or volcano.

I don't believe in easy answers.

I will never hold self-defense against anyone.

I worry greatly that incidents like the recent one in Austin are indeed on the rise, and what that means culturally speaking.

If that is the case, and it is indeed indicative of a harsher view of the world from a cop's perspective, then it is cause for worry.

What is more worrisome, I fear, is that the best chance we have of changing that cultural outlook, is from within the ranks of our nation's police.

I would be lying, if I pretended to know how that might go.

Monday, April 16, 2012

People I Hate On Facebook # 1 The Self Appointed "Pot Stirrer"

Fuck you. I fucking hate you. I'm so goddamn sick of putting up with your shit. You know who you are. The first to decry the loss of civil discourse, the first to ignore the chance for it every single fucking time you feel the need to spew your inane bullshit.

Jesus, I want to eat your fucking face.

So bad.

You think you're “pot stirrer”. No, you're just a half rate, half whit, fucko.

I hate you. I hate your snark. I wish I could punch you in your bitch face.


Every single post you make is some snarky, condescending, ego-maniacal, viscous, twatwaffling steaming pile of shit.

Railing your solipsistic affirmations like a monkey at the zoo, jacking off in his cage.

Things you need to realize-
Just because you're educated, doesn't mean you're intelligent.

Just because you have an opinion, doesn't mean you're right.

Just because we're engaged in a discussion, trying to foster responsible political discourse, doesn't mean you get to prance through with your dick in your hand, pissing all over everyone like a spoiled child.

You don't like my politics? Fine. Respond in a rational, adult manner.

By rational, and adult, I mean use logic, reason, and critical goddamn thinking to form an argument, thus enhancing the rational debate which you so energetically interrupt every single motherfucking chance you get.

Stop bringing up Bush.

Stop it.

Shut your cunt mouth.

So ready to tell everyone else how to live their lives, righteous indignation dripping off every word.

While you play act defensive.

How cunt-tastically passive aggressive of you.

You know why I hate you, you sad, pathetic, motherfucker?

Because, for all your over the top rhetoric, all you are is a shill.

You pretend greater knowledge, yet fail to see the truth.

It's all kabuki.

It's all bullshit.

We're all puppets on a stage.

The real discussion should be how to cut our strings, and set ourselves free.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Some Things I Hate Right Goddamn Now-

        1.The Republican Party (except Ron Paul)-

        Fuck you, you fucking twatwaffling douchefuck cock-knuckle fucktwits. You're not even trying. Notice I didn't say, “It's like you're not even trying.” You're not trying. You suck. I fucking hate you. All the years I bemoaned Ron Paul's foreign policy, and we're so far fucking gone I don't even care anymore. Couldn't give less of a fuck. As a matter of fact, since I'm not too sure the very best reason not to go to war is that it is obviously just one more thing government can't do right, it might actually be the best course of action. My line used to be, “I vote Republican (when I can stomach it), I tell people I'm a Libertarian, but deep in breast, the heart sick song that is sung is one of Individual Anarchism.”

        Well, everyday I'm less and less inclined to vote at all. Last election I voted a straight Libertarian ticket. The one before that, I was in too much pain, and too drunk and high on Army issued opiates to care. I don't know what I'll do this election. My plan was to be a Ron Paul guy until the nominee was picked, and then grudgingly vote for whomever against Obama.

        The thing is, I don't think it really matters at this point. Some rough times are due us. If you can't see that, you're probably retarded. Now, I don't know what these rough times will consist of, or what the answers are, but I'm pretty fucking positive we're fucked no matter what.

        2. Prissy, Egomaniacal, Cult of Personality Nurturing, Uber-Tactical, Bi-Polar, End-All-Be-All Firearms Trainers.

        Holy fuck, I love guns, but hate gun trainers. Jesus Christ. You'll never find a bigger collection of know it all macho douchefucks than you will in the “tactical community”. It's like they bathe in HGH and gun oil.

        No, I'm not going to name names. There are too many to name. I'll give you the names of good trainers all day long. There are some really good, squared away individuals out there who care more about the material, and the purpose of teaching it, than they do stroking their egos. By stroking their egos, I mean they're so insanely narcissistic they basically jack off in public. They care more about their egos, their celebrity, and surrounding themselves with sycophants than anything else. I'm speaking of no one in particular, though a couple people do automatically come to mind.

        I will never hold building a successful brand or business against someone, as long as they do it with a reasonable degree of responsibility. By nature the training community is one well stocked with hardcore, type A, meat eater motherfuckers. Ego is the monkey on all our backs, and ignoring human nature is folly. If you're not self-aware enough to take stock, and keep counsel with those you can trust to hold a mirror up, to feed you your crow, then it is only a matter of time until you crash and burn. I really shouldn't act like this is a condition particular to the training community, everyone has seen examples of this. But if you're going to call yourself a warrior, than I expect you to have a code, and to damn well act like it.

        3. My fucking hair. I need to get off my lazy ass and shave this shit.

        4. Mainstream writers that get everything wrong. I'm not talking about little things, or different opinions about what might be a better weapon choice, I mean fucking wrong. Whenever I read someone mention driving a nose bone through the brain, killing someone, I go into a fit of fucking rage. Apparently, I was more dangerous, and had a deeper knowledge of human anatomy at twelve than most mainstream authors do as grown ups. No wonder glittery sparkly vampires are best sellers. I want to strangle them.

        5. Writers who seemingly only write books on writing, and how to get published. Until a couple of years ago, I had no idea this cottage industry existed. There are, evidently, authors who actually make money doing nothing but telling other people how to do things, many don't seem to have actually done. I've been at this a couple years now. I mean that literally, and I'll be the first to tell you, I don't know everything. I barely know something, and I'm not sure what the fuck that is. I'm probably the last person that should give advice on anything, much less publishing. I study the industry in fits and spurts, checking certain blogs every week or two, trying to find my way through the darkness. The only thing I can tell you, is if some glossy fuckwad tries to get you to buy their book, at the least, check their creds. If they haven't written anything except books on how to write and get published, I would put that snake oil down. The exception to this would be those who, while not actually writers, but are involved in the industry in other intimate ways. Editors and publishers both certainly should know a thing or to. But from what I see, most of it is shit.