Angel and Devil

I sort of feel as though I have an angel and a devil on my shoulders, which many of us have seen on TV and in the movies.  I'm trying to quit drinking, but I'm faltering.  It's difficult.  I've been sober for 8 days now.  When it comes to a list of pros and cons, not drinking slaughters drinking.  Drinking led to me being arrested for the first time, which was not a pleasant experience.  Alcohol is a depressant.  People with depression, like me, shouldn't drink it.  I've done stupid things while drunk.  I've gotten bruised.  I've lost my phone.  There are plenty of reasons to not drink.  However, there are some items on the "pros" list.  Drinking gives me more endurance to sit at the computer and write.  There is a long history of writers who drink.  I've definitely been writing less during this week of sobriety.  Drinking is also sort of fun, however, it does not make me happy.  I'm sure of that. 
I have the day off tomorrow.  If I'm smart, I'll go to a local mental health center and make an appointment to get some help, because my depression and OCD have gone untreated for a while now.  If I'm stupid, I wont go.  Instead, I'll go to the liquor store, which I believe are evil places, no matter how many times I've visited one.  Alcohol was the reason why I didn't get help the last time I sought it.  I talked to a counselor who asked me about drinking; I told her about it, and she recommended treatment for it.  As a result, I stopped seeing her after one visit.  I chose alcohol over getting help for my mental health issues, which, obviously, isn't smart.  That's been the most annoying thing about getting help; they want you to stop drinking.
I can't help wondering if it isn't just better to end up like Bon Scott, Jimi Hendrix, or Amy Winehouse, who, I found out it a documentary, apparently found sobriety to be boring.  Drink till you die.  What is there to live for?  Pain?  Shit?  Misery?     

Good Worker

A good worker gets to work on time.
A good worker doesn't call in sick too often.
A good worker takes a lot of shit without giving it back.
A good worker endures depressing, soul-crushing boredom.
A good worker does what he "should" do as opposed to what he wants to do.
A good worker lives a miserable life just to keep a roof over his head.
A good worker is a sucker.
Opinions vary, but I'm a good worker, and I'm sick and tired of being one.
By the way, it could easily be argued that Sick of It All is the best, realest band name ever.  I've been sick of it all for quite a while now.  I'm so miserable at this job, and I'm worried it will be that way with any other job I might be able to snag.

Arrested

I used to be able to say that I've never been arrested: not any more.  I am a memoirist, so, for now, I'm thinking I'll save the full story for another one of my seldom-read eBooks.  Suffice it to say that I'm at the lowest point in my life so far, and that's saying something. 
I've been dealing with the aftermath: court appearances, appointments with lawyers, and asking my job to let me go to these things.  I have a long road of pain-in-the-ass shit ahead.
Also, this has been a very shitty weekend as far as my asshole neighbor fucking with me goes. 
I'm thinking I don't care about my life anymore.  Because of the depression I have, I've thought that the further I slide to the bottom, the better.  I'd rather be dead than alive.  I'm only alive because I'm a coward: too scared to commit suicide.  Life is a nightmare.  It really is.  And when I read stuff written by intelligent people, they back me up on this.  It really is insane that people procreate they way they do and continue this cycle of misery, pain, and suffering.  But I'm just repeating myself. 
Fuck life in society on this planet.  Life is shit (in society) on this planet.  I'd throw it all away and be homeless in the wilderness if I wasn't addicted to toilet paper and showers.  Fuck you society, for getting me addicted to toilet paper and showers: the only good things you came up with.

Independence Day: a Shitty Day for Animals

I was planning to title this post "Fireworks Should Be Seen: Not Heard," but I changed my mind.  Not being a child, or immature, I don't like fireworks.  I don't like the noise they make.  I heard a lot of loud noise from fireworks yesterday.  There, obviously, will be more tonight, and, in my experience, in the days, weeks, or months to come. 
But, for me, it's just an annoyance.  The sound of fireworks terrifies animals.  There is no doubt that fireworks have been used to injure, torture, and kill animals. 
Then there's the issue of barbeques.  Meat eaters are cavemen and cavewomen anyway, but the summer months are when they show who they really are.  They roast the flesh of murdered animals over an open flame: just like their Neanderthal ancestors probably did.  
Also, this is the day that they hold the famous hot-dog-eating contest on Coney Island, NY.  I heard about it on the radio today as I was driving around after buying vegan food.  It's considered to be so funny.  Those who think it's funny obviously don't give any thought to the animals who suffered before and during their murders to provide that meat.  The winner, if memory serves, ate 70 hot dogs.  I wonder if he (or she) intentionally vomited all that tortured animal flesh after the contest was over.  It seems quite possible.
Today, as I went for a walk, I walked through a park.  A woman was allowing a little girl to constantly chase ducks.  As I walked by, I said, to the woman, "They're not toys for her to play with, you know."  She looked at me.  I kept walking.  I looked back.  It seemed as though she wasn't chasing them anymore. 
Days ago, I saw a woman leave her dog in a (probably) hot car with the windows rolled all the way up.  I had just shopped after a full day of work, so I didn't' want to deal with this stupid bitch, but I did anyway  I followed her into the store.  I was thinking that I needed to keep track of the time the dog was in that car.  She came out again shortly after.  To my amazement, she left the dog in there again with the windows all the way up before heading back toward the store.
"Don't you think you should leave the windows open?" I asked her.
"I'm only going to be a few minutes," she replied.
"But it's hot," I said.  It's true.  It wasn't crazy hot out, but it was in my car.
"I would if I was going to be longer, and the windows are tinted," she replied.
The conversation wasn't going anywhere, so I gave up.  The more I argued with her, the more time that dog would have to spend in the car.  WHY WOUDLN'T YOU OPEN THE WINDOWS ON A HOT DAY FOR YOUR DOG, YOU STUPID BITCH?!
I think I'll be more aggressive in the future.  The thought of an animal dying, while trapped in a hot car, is horrible.  "Open your windows, or I'll smash them!" comes to mind.
  

Father's Day

Another bullshit holiday.  The only fathers who should be honored are good adoptive fathers.  Good adoptive parents (who only adopt and don't procreate) are heroes.  Biological parents are selfish misery spreaders.
This one is dedicated to all the people who don't have fathers: like me.  I've written it here before, but it's Father's Day here in the states, so cut me some slack.  I'm the result of a teen pregnancy, which led to a shotgun wedding.  My father left when I was 2 years old.  I saw him occasionally over the years, but I haven't seen or heard from him since I was a teen.  He is the typical deadbeat dad.  He doesn't care about me, and my mother had to take him to court at least once to get him to pay child support.  He is, as far as I'm concerned, trash. 
Today, I was watching a movie called Antonia's Line.  There was a character in it that reminded me of me.  He said things like, "The best thing is to never have been born.  The second best thing is to die."  He said other things like that.  Like me, he believed that to live on this planet is to suffer.  If memory serves, this film won the Oscar for best foreign film.  I think it goes to show that people appreciate reality in their entertainment. 
As far as the world we live in is concerned, the other day, a coworker told me that one of our fellow employees shot himself on the way to work.  He killed himself.  I didn't really know him.  I can't picture who he was.  I Googled him: but to no avail.  All I know is that he is free from pain.  Meanwhile, my foot pain is severe, and I must stand fulltime for my job.
So many fathers have been little or nothing more than sperm donors that I think we should abolish this bullshit holiday.  People like me don't need to be reminded that plenty of people have been lucky enough to have decent fathers.  I see it everyday at work: fathers with sons that are older than I was when he stopped going to stores with me (if he ever did).   

Vicious Circle

"I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up," a typical adult thinks.  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
The baby is born, grows up, and thinks, "I'm miserable.  I'm suffering the pain and disappointment of getting older.  I'm gonna have a baby to cheer me up."  But the "cheering up" doesn't last.
This is how we get to a world of violence, pain, and misery that contains over 7.5 billion people.  How many of them are miserable, disappointed, depressed, in pain, and wishing they had never been born?

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.