Random Rants
July 18, 2003

It doesn't matter what you write, it only matters that you write something, anything at all. Just the act of putting thoughts together and recording them somehow is a step in the right direction. So I'm just going to start writing total rubbish and maybe if we're lucky a real clever weed will sprout from this manure.

And so we begin with…

Your brain works in strange ways. Ok, well…MY brain works in strange ways; I'm still not convinced YOUR brain works at all. From what I understand, your brain has all these creative…uh…"thingies" (it's a clinical term, you wouldn't understand) going on and they need some kind of an outlet. Some people paint, some sing, others put mass produced after-market products on their Honda Civic and drive like assholes. Regardless of what you do, your brain needs that outlet of creative energy or else you will slowly become a country music fan.

Speaking of brain damage…

I once saw a man walking along a city street stop in his steps to head butt a tree. Not hard enough to do damage to the tree, or him unfortunately, but it certainly wasn't an accident. The guy then continued walking down the street, stopped at a signpost, and head butted it as well. Occasionally there is this old broad who wanders past my house who shouts at either herself or her imaginary friend. She's my favorite nut job in this town, so far. The mayor used to be my favorite, but it turns out he wasn't insane, just really, really dumb. It makes me feel secure to know that mentally ill people are given freedom to roam the streets in my area. When I am finally diagnosed as "Nuttier than a Pecan Roll" (it's a clinical term, you wouldn't understand) I sure hope I am allowed to go on my merry way around town. I don't want to be tied to a bed and fed pills. What fun is that? Half the fun of being insane is trying to figure out where you are and how the fuck you got there. Not unlike how George DUHbya must feel.

On the topic of dwarves…

I met Danny DiVito in a Toys'R'Us once when I was a kid. I doubt he'd remember me though; I've changed so much since then. That was my 15 minutes of fame compressed down to 9 seconds. I feel cheated. It wasn't until about 2 weeks ago I realized that Danny DiVito is a damn fine actor, but it's so hard to realize that when all you can imagine is that slimy prick from Taxi hitting on Elaine and making fun of Latka. I liked Latka.

Which has almost nothing to do with…

Let me get this straight: I am an atheist, white male between the ages of 18 and 35 born in the United States of America, and I can't get student aid for college because, apparently, I'm not a minority. How many atheist, white males between the ages of 18 and 35 born in the United States of America do you know? Including me, dumbass. I can think of one, me, off the top of my head. It's not like I want to go to MIT or Harvard at $11,000 per credit. It's $70 a credit and it's cheaper than housing me in the state penitentiary.

Segue into…

A life of crime does not sound all that bad these days. I'd be able to set my own hours, I wouldn't have to use my own vehicle, and I'd be my own boss. Sounds like everyone's "dream job" description, doesn't it? What are the drawbacks? Jail? Oh, scary. Meals, a bed, clothes, and cable TV for free? Sounds like prep school or ROTC. I understand some jails even have classes you can take for college credit. The biggest drawback I can see is that I'd be surrounded by people who think I am the devil. Kill Whitey! Damn the man!

Speaking of uh…what were we talking about?

"The Whistler" just went past my house. He's this guy whom, every morning at 7:30ish, goes to the mini-mart across the street to buy a paper and coffee. He whistles everywhere he goes and it's just friggin' creepy! How can someone be so damn cheery, especially at sevengoddamnthirty in the morning? He must be one of the mentally ill folk allowed to wander this town I mentioned earlier. I wonder if he bangs his head on things. I can't help but think how much time he'd save if he bought a subscription to the paper and a coffee maker? But then he wouldn't be "The Whistler"; he'd be "Every Guy In America". He's doing his own thing and I gotta respect that. Or at least give him a wide berth so he doesn't try to head butt me.

Which brings me to…

Being "alternative" is the norm. Go ahead, read that sentence again. I have nothing against little Goth teenagers, except they are cuter than I am and have more fun, apparently. But trying express yourself by looking like everyone else is an oxy moron, like adult male, or cafeteria food, or Dodge Ram. This applies not just to goths, but also to hippies, beatniks, and anyone else who wants to be an individual. How can someone be an individual when they belong to a group so large it is officially recognized and has a name that appears on dictionary.com? Once your clique gets a title, you cease being unique.

One plus side is that you will have a lot of friends with similar interests. Something everyone needs/wants, even if they constantly claim the opposite. (Yes, that was a dig at myself.)

Doing your own thing and dressing the way you want is more alternative than "alternative" and doesn't attract stares and giggles. I know, because I used to get the stares and giggles...now I give them. Oh man, kids look fooking funny these days. I went down that road when I was in high school: Combat Boots, chains, shorn head, bad attitude, and etc. Nothing has changed, actually. The combat boots became work boots, the chains became keys to a truck/house, the head is shorn because I hate wasting time with conditioners and hair gel, and the bad attitude is best if we don't mention it.

Speaking of hate, which seems to be a common topic around here…

Why is it that people who are different hate those that aren't? Let me explain. Why do lesbians hate men? Ok, that's a bad example. Perhaps I should move on to the next random thought before a militant lesbian ex-marine sharpshooter puts a .50 caliber penis shaped object in my dangling bits.

While we are on the topic of dumb bitches…

My ex.

And lastly…

I don't know how to end this. I'm sleepy and I want my security blanket.