Fakebook and Shitter

Two very popular social networking websites, that shall remain nameless here, I'll refer to as Fakebook and Shitter.  I'll admit that, on Fakebook, I have quite a few fake friends.  They're not real friends.  I don't really know them.  And I'm not the only one: not by far.  So tons of people have fake friends.  Why do I have fake friends when I claim to be so real?  I only joined Fakebook and Shitter to promote my writing.  It hasn't worked out so well.  It's no surprise, though.  The average person would rather stare at their phone than a book.
Technology has gone too far.  It's got people staring at their phones like zombies.  I'd rather look at a beautiful sky than the screen of a smartphone.  Who can get the most "likes?"  What a pathetic culture; what a pathetic society.  We're going down the tubes with this shit.  And, of course, if we do, the animals will be much better off without us.  What do they need us for?  Beatings, torture, and murders?  I don't think so.  Long after we're gone, the rain will make grass, plants, veggies, fruits, and trees grow (if we haven't completely destroyed Earth by then).  Even "man's best friend" has been devastated by humans: the price to pay for trusting evil, violent people.
Which segues into the shitty things I've had to hear at work.  A guy (I refuse to call him a man.) was buying rat traps.  "My neighbors keep feeding chipmunks, and I keep killing them," he said to me.  So confident he was in his cruelty.  Surely most people are chipmunk haters, is perhaps what he was thinking when he said that to me.  What did I say?  I either said, "oh," or I said nothing.  I'm not completely sure.  I'm trying to survive.  I need this job to do that.  I have contemplated being homeless in the wilderness and have concluded that I can't live without the resources needed to wipe and wash my ass (the OCD).  I have officially filed for bankruptcy.  There is no relying on credit anymore.
Another guy was buying quite a bit of charcoal.  He told me that he cooks a whole pig.  Again, he said it with such confidence.  What person, after all, would care about a pig?  ME!  I have cuddled with, and petted, pigs.  They, along with every other animal, deserve to be treated well.
I don't know how I make it through the day.  My pain, physical and emotional, is enormous every single day.  I was watching a good movie.  It was about spies.  This man said to a room full of them, "If you're caught, just prick your skin with this pin we've given you.  Death will be instantaneous."  I was very jealous.  I wanted one of those pins.        

Taking Shit

Life is all about taking shit.  Now that I'm employed again, this is clearer than ever.  I've had to take shit from coworkers: but mostly from customers.  My coworkers have also had to take massive amounts of shit from customers.  Perhaps society is breaking down.  Some think that America is headed for a major fall.  Perhaps this is part of it.
I'll give you an example.  I was working, as a cashier, in the outside lawn and garden area of the store where I work.  A man was there with his woman.  I rang up the purchases, and he paid for them with his credit card.  When one uses a credit or debit card to pay, one approves the purchase amount first, so that's what he did.  After he did that and paid for the merchandise, he had a problem with the price of one of the items.  According to him, it had been put in the wrong place or the price was wrong.  According to him, it should have cost a lot less than it did.  But here's the problem; he approved the total purchase amount!  And now that it's gone through, there's nothing I can do to right this supposed wrong for him.  Returns must be done at customer service.  I told him that, and it made him very angry.
"You mean I have to go all the way over there?" he asked.  He said it like it was a mile or so away.  It wasn't.  It was much less than that: just a little bit of a stroll, which, considering his fat-ass physique, he wasn't very used to navigating.  Then he said, "Fuck it.  I'm not going there.  I'll hold up the line too.  I don't care."
I knew what to say to that, but I didn't say it, because it could have gotten me fired.  I would have said, 'Why did you approve the purchase amount if you had a problem with it?"
Here's another example.  A woman, with an English accent, approached me while I was manning a cash register.  She was a little bitchy, which turned out to be foreshadowing.  The store I work at has it's own credit cards.  We allow our customers to use them even if they failed to bring them to the store for their purchases.  We can look them up on the computerized registers.  That's what the bitch wanted to do; she wanted to use the credit card she failed to bring to the store.  So I looked it up, and the computer said, "no account found."  I told her that, and she got very bitchy
"I have an account here!" she yelled.  I double-checked all the info she had given me: no dice.  My memory is a little fuzzy, cause I've been drinking, but I think she requested the assistance of a manager.  She arrived and assisted. 
The manager, Trixie, asked "Could it be under your husband's name (which I had asked)?"
"No!" was the response,  "It's under both our names.  I think he (me) typed it in wrong."
It turned out that it was under her husband's name.  She had been a bitch for no good reason and fucked with two people who couldn't retaliate unless they were OK with losing their jobs.              

No Bullshit

I've been pretty opinioned: especially about 3 subjects: meat eating, procreation, and, to a lesser extent, religion.  Now I feel like getting more opinionated: with no bullshit.  There are exceptions to my comments.  I don't direct any of them at children, the mentally disabled, people who literally depend on others for survival (quadriplegics, etc.), and the helplessly elderly. 
 
If you eat meat, you are not an animal lover; you are a violent killer of innocent animals.  You are supporting the horrific treatment, and murder, of animals.  You don't need meat to survive.  Violence is wrong: whether it's against a person or animal.  Paying for meat is the same as paying a hitman to kill your wife or husband.  The good news is you can change.  You can become a vegetarian and be a good person.  Then perhaps you can become a vegan and be a better person.  Care about the environment?  Then become a vegan.  Veganism is very good for the environment. 

Bringing a person or animal into this world is an act of extreme cruelty.  As I've written here before, this is a violent world that is full of pain, misery, depression, suicide, shit, rape, molestation, suffering, and death.  People bring people and animals into this world for their own sake.  People procreate so they can have a cute baby to cheer them up and give them a reason to live.  They also do it so their sons and daughters can take care of them when they're too old to take care of themselves.  They bring animals into this world for profit or out of ignorance (People shouldn't be letting dogs and cats procreate, because there are always tons of unwanted dogs and cats languishing in shelters.).

The only legitimate excuses for believing in god (Note the lowercase spelling.  It was intentional.) are being a child, mentally ill, or hopelessly elderly.  Otherwise, you're just weak, a follower, or stupid.  In thousands of years of human society, there hasn't been a shred of proof that god, etc. ever existed.

Tattoos and piercings are stupid.  You want a tattoo?  I'll write "I'm stupid." on your face.  You want a piercing?  I'll pierce you with a knife.  I'd just be doing society a favor.  These people pay others to mutilate their bodies.  How fucking stupid is that? 

Fuck The Walking Dead and Fear of the Walking Dead.  They're just following in the footsteps of Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead.  I gave The Walking Dead a try.  It's all the same.  Zombies attack, the non-zombies fight them off, and there's some fucking talking in between zombie attacks.  That's it.  That's all it is: over and over again.  It's so annoying to hear people extol the virtues of these shows.  This is a real quote from a coworker that he said in the break room (to the best of my memory); "Have you seen Fear of the Walking Dead?  What's good about it is it shows them going through water."  Holy fucking shit, have you had a lobotomy or are you just STUPID? 

If you're always looking at your smartphone, you ARE a zombie.  I'm so sick and tired of seeing people staring at their phones.  As far as this issue goes, technology has gone too far.  It has created a REAL zombie apocalypse, where most people are captivated by their phones.  I'm not a part of it.  I don't have the Internet on my phone.  I read a book at lunch in the break room.  When I look up from it, I see people looking at their phones; it's scarier than any fictional zombie apocalypse.

 

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day here in the states, where so few have so much, and so many have so little.  Here is my Mother's Day message to my mother: FUCK YOU!  I'm also sending that out to all the other shitty mothers: fuck you too.  I hate my mother.  It makes sense to hate your parents.  They brought you into a world of violence, misery, pain, and shit.
Mother's Day and Father's Day are very backwards "holidays."  Instead of honoring biological (I have absolutely nothing against good adoptive parents.) mothers and fathers on these days, perhaps we should beat the shit out of them instead.  That would make more sense.
I was gonna write this post anyway, but, before I left work, I had to deal with 2 assholes, which only solidified my position that my mother is a cunt that deserves to be hated.
Also today, as I walked by some Canadian geese, one of them hissed at me.  It was because she was worried about her babies.  She was warning me to stay away from them.  I smiled at her and told her she had nothing to worry about.  She's a much better mother than mine ever was.   
I'll tell a little story about my mother.  Only a few years ago, I had moved in with my mother because I needed help.  I had tried to commit suicide, so I thought my policy of being alone might not be working.  Anyway, I was walking down the street I had grown up on.  Just before I reached my mother's house, some guy in a car stopped me.  "Excuse me," he said.  "But we've been having some burglaries on this street lately.  What are you doing here?"  I don't remember exactly what he said, but ti was definitely something like that.  It must have seemed so strange to see someone walking when most fat asses wouldn't dream of doing that: just drive everywhere.  So this asshole obviously thinks he has more rights that the police do.  
I pointed at the house I grew up in, and said, "That's my mother's house.  I grew up here."  Then he backed off.  I know I was pissed off, as I had every right to be, so I said something that made him give me a dirty look and say, "Okay, okay, " as though I was the asshole: not him.  That's when my mother made the scene.  She's an attention whore.  She saw me talking to someone, and she had to get involved.  She desperately needs attention.  The situation was explained to her, but instead of being angry at the man for accusing her son of being a criminal, she had a friendly chat with him, because attention is more important to her than her son is.
You might be thinking, that's not so bad.  Well, I know my mother, and I know she's stupid, lazy, uncaring, and selfish.
I'll tell another story about her.  As a teen, I was molested by a male family member because she failed to protect me.  She knew he was gay, but she allowed him to sleep in the same room as me.  Now, I know that being gay doesn't make you a child molester, but this one was.  I told no one about it until after he died.  Then I told my mother.  Every time I mentioned it to her, I've been disappointed with her reactions.  I don't know if she doesn't believe me or what the problem is.  When I went to stay with her, after my suicide attempt, I saw a certain picture displayed proudly on her bookcase: a framed photo of my molester.  It wasn't just him; his sisters were in it too, but what sort of a mother would display a picture of her son's molester in her home?  I confronted her about it, and she acted like she couldn't believe how jerky I was acting as she waddled her fat ass over to the photo and put it in a drawer.  What a piece of shit.             

Pain & Suffering

I've accepted that life will bring pain & suffering every day.  Every day DOES bring pain and suffering.  The pain is physical, mental, and emotional.  The suffering is mental and emotional.
But it's nothing compared to what animals have to endure because of selfish people.  At work, I have to deal with so many people buying deadly mousetraps and other animal killers.  I want to say something to them, but I don't want to risk losing my job.  I'm trying to live.  Without a job, suicide is more of a possibility.  I want to suggest they use humane methods to trap and release them: unharmed.  If I ever stop giving a fuck altogether, which is a distinct possibility, I might say things like that.  They even buy gopher poison.  I don't know if there are gophers around here, or if they're just targeting my beloved groundhogs.  I'm not in favor of killing either, but it really saddens me to think that people want to kill groundhogs.  They are so cute.
I'm also forced to see a sea of leather.  Some sickos are turned on by leather.  It's dead cow skin.  Cows are peaceful vegetarians.  It's disgraceful, and caveman-like, to wear leather.
At a department store I worked at during the X-mas season, I heard and saw a real cretin in the break room.  She was hideously ugly: inside and out.  She was talking about some sort of family gathering.  "We had 2 things of meatballs, which I didn't need!  I also had sausage."  She told some story about kids who were allowed to shoot birds, which is disgusting and despicable.  She thought it was funny,  In fact, she said a pastor was fine with it: killing for fun.  There's religion for you; people matter (because they put money in the collection plate) and animals don't.  She said she sent a thank you card to the family that contained the bird killers that had a picture of birds on it, and she thought it was hilarious.  Apparently, the father of these kiddie killers got pissed off when squirrels stored nuts in his boat.  She mentioned that, in the card, she wrote that the kids should shoot squirrels instead, and she thought this was very funny.  Hey bitch, animals are cute, and you look and sound like a walking, talking pile of shit.  Fuck you.          

Shit

 
I shit every day
Every day, I have to deal with shit (literally and figuratively).
Currently, I'm dealing with 2 computer-related glitches: I can't get my printer to work (No surprise, I haven't successfully printed anything in quite a while.), and this blog keeps counting my own page views, which I don't want to happen, and I haven't been able to fix it.
Death would be so much easier.  There's so much shit to do: so much shit to remember.  Life is such a gigantic pain in the ass.  Say what you want to, but, except for that phase where I posted fiction about a groundhog with superpowers (Yes, I did.), this blog is REAL.
I know I've covered this before, but this whole business of bringing people into the world is such a crazy cycle.  Unhappy people, in a desperate attempt to be happy, bring people into the world (for their own sake).  These people start their lives off by crying.  Babies cry a lot.  Perhaps they're smart enough to know they've been brought into a brutal world of pain, misery, and death.  Of course, things will get (a lot) worse for them.  It blows my mind that people have become successful by creating a line of clothing that has "Life Is Good." printed on it.  What bullshit.  Living the lie.  That's what the creators and the buyers are doing: living the lie.
By the way, don't EVER Google images of shit (like I did for the purpose of this post).  You will see real images of human shit, which I can't deal with.  On the other hand, it's probably a good appetite suppressant.  

Not Such a Bad Day (So Far)

I've decided to file for bankruptcy.  I didn't really have a choice.  I can't pay my expenses and my minimum monthly credit card payments on what I earn.  It occurred to me what a loser I am.  When a local legal aid society said they would represent me for less than most lawyers probably would, it sort of made my day.  Successful people's days are made when they make loads of money.  Today, I got another boost.  The legal society sent lots of papers for me to fill out.  I did as soon as I received them.  I worked a full day, then filled these papers out for at least 4 hours.  With all the questions about what I own, I became a little paranoid.  Are they gonna take my CDs?  Are they gonna take my car?  I called the legal office, and they said I wouldn't lose them. I had a bunch of questions, and I liked the answers to most of them.
Having a job gives me purpose.  I'd still rather be dead than alive, but, in a weird and stupid way, I'd feel guilty about killing myself, because I wouldn't be able to show up for work.  I'd be letting people down (that are depending on me).
Twice now, I've seen shows about people killing others by poisoning them with antifreeze, which I've contemplated doing to myself.  It seems like a gradual process: not a one-day thing.  One of these poisoners said that you can kill someone in 10 days with antifreeze poisoning.  Since I have a job, it seems like a bad idea to do that to myself.  I wouldn't want to get really sick, or fall, at work, cause then I'd probably get rushed to the hospital and maybe get "saved," which would defeat its own purpose.  Apparently, if you get saved from it, you could be left with brain damage.  Life is already hard enough without that.
They tried to deal with the birds-trapped-in-the-store situation I mentioned previously.  After the store closed for the evening, they set up nets.  Then a hawk was released.  The hawk herded the birds into the nets.  That's all I heard about it.  I hope the birds were released: unharmed.  At any rate, once again, there are plenty of birds in the store.  These poor birds are trapped there without water.  It just goes to show how humans dominate and harm animals even when they don't intend to do so.       

Hell Is Other People

I'm really down at this point: even more than usual.  My credit card debt is out of control.  It's never far from my mind.  I'm obsessed with it: and for good reason.  This month, I probably won't be able to make my minimum monthly payments for the first time.  Of course, for a while now, the only reason why I was able to make those payments is by taking out monthly cash advances from my credit cards.  I was just denied a debt consolidation loan by Lending Club.  I sent an application to a local low-cost legal aid organization for help with filing for bankruptcy.  I'm waiting to hear from them.  I don't know if they'll help me or not.
Suicide seems more and more like the best option.  It's too hard, though.  It' should be easy.  If you're an adult, and no one is depending on you (kids, pets), then you should be able to go to a pharmacy and purchase pills that will kill you peacefully and painlessly in your sleep.  I'm not a bad guy.  I don't deserve to die a painful death.  I don't deserve to fail and end up paralyzed.  I could jump off a nearby bridge, but what if it didn't kill me?  I'd be a total mess.
Every day brings more and more reasons to die.  At work, some customers treat me like shit.  One of them bragged to me about how much money he has.  He started with, "It's nice to have money."  Then he told me his father-in-law is a millionaire, and he saved $300,000 from a job.  Now he has a job that pays him better than the other one.  I'm consumed with my very depressing financial situation, and this prick rubs his money in my face.
I've really come to dislike a coworker of mine.  She happens to be a young, attractive woman (stupid and boring, though).  She and I started at this company at the same time.  However, she must see herself as some sort of a leader.  When I'm working next to her (which I'd rather not), she doesn't mind her own fucking business and instead pays attention to what's going on with me.  I'll be doing something, and she'll start instructing me.  The problem is that I don't need her instruction; I'm doing just fine.  It's distracting and annoying.  
And to top it all off, I'm reading a book that mentions suicide repeatedly.  It is so hard to get through work.  It's so hard to get through the day.  It's so hard to live.

Human Punching Bag

 
My "friend" has kicked me out of his house twice and attempted to kick me out of his car once (It wasn't moving at the time.).
At work, customers have fucked with me.
My neighbor hates me and tries to bother me  He is full of anger towards me.
I'm not happy at home, at work, or out with my "friend."
Only the threat of incarceration, homelessness, and injury keeps me from lashing out against my tormentors.
This is life.
Life is shit.

Work

It's so surreal to transition from unemployment to working full time.  There are times when I'm just standing there:waiting to service customers (I'm a cashier.).  Oh well, I'm miserable when I'm home; I'm miserable when I'm there.  At least there I'm earning money and socializing to a degree.
I've noticed certain things at work.  There are birds in the store.  I had seen this sort of thing before at Wal-Mart.  Birds come into the store.  Then what?  I think, in most cases, it's over for them.  Their chances of escape don't seem to be very good.  I think they would most likely die of thirst or hunger.  It's so sad to hear them calling out to their friends or family.
Someone bought a large poster.  It was a drawing of someone holding bacon in their fist, and the caption said, "bacon power."  It's obviously supposed to be funny.  It isn't funny at all.  Bacon is the result of the murder, and, most likely, cruel confinement of pigs.  It disgusts me that people are so callous that bacon has become a funny thing to them.
In the break room, I overheard someone casually saying that someone was going to get rid of their dog because they were worried about their baby.  That sort of shit is so typical.  Get a dog, then get rid of the dog because you're worried he or she might hurt your child.  Animals aren't things to be returned to the store.  Many dogs have been devastated when they've been rejected by (what they thought were) their families.  They often go from a house to a cage in a shelter: dog prison.  But they haven't committed any crimes.  Hey assholes, have some foresight.  Don't get a dog if you're just going to get rid of him or her once you have a kid.    
A lot of old folks come into the store where I work.  It's horrible to see what old age does to people.  It beats them down.  Some of these people are barely standing: let alone functioning.  They are walking dead.  They are nearly complete messes.  I hope I die before I get old(er).
And, ultimately, as usual, I ask myself, why shouldn't I throw my tired old broken, pain-ridden body off a bridge? 

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

The Smiths

Haven't blogged in a while.  There's at least two reasons for that.   First of all, I'm a complete mess, and, secondly, I have a job.  I got a job working for a major home-improvement chain store.  I'm still facing major credit card debt.  I might have to file for bankruptcy if I can't get a loan to pay off these credit cards.  But this job is difficult to tolerate.  To do what I'm doing, full-time, is a bit of a nightmare, but, as I and others have mentioned before, life itself is pretty much a nightmare.  I really have to tough it out to make it through the day.  To me, work has become an endurance challenge.  It's driving me crazier than I already am.

Here's a new section on the Bald Vegan!  It's called "thoughts."  I hope you like it!

I"m sure that life sucks.  Sometimes, when I'm in the midst of a deep depression, I remind myself that I can commit suicide anytime I want to, and it cheers me up a little.

I don't' believe in heaven, but I believe in hell, and this it it.  This planet has a history of violence that is staggering in its scope.

I'm jealous of the dead.

After death, even soft, healthy skin will rot.

That's thoughts for this week.  I'll end with a poem for a poet.

Who am I?
How do others see me?
How do I see myself?
What do others think of me?
Is that really me in the mirror?
Do I exist?
Will anyone miss me when I'm gone?