Whoa!

Whoa!

What have I stumbled upon? This looks like the blog I used to keep. Let me wipe away some of these cobwebs…….oh that joke didn’t age well…….bad grammar everywhere………astounding unprofessionalism……….that box of pop tarts is expired. Alright then! Here we go! Clean and ready for processing!

Howdy everybody! And by “everybody” I mean the two rando’s that pop in here by accident over the next six months because their weird porn searches somehow intersected with my brand of humor. Humour? Who knows?

So, the election happened while I was gone. Some might say it’s still happening. And it’s as bad as the movie The Happening. Just kidding. Nothing is that bad. Anyway, color me somewhat shocked but not really in the way it all went down. I’m probably in the minority here, but I’m of the belief that there was rampant voter fraud on both sides, which should be unnerving but is actually quite hilarious because this country gets who it deserves.

Ask yourself this: how does a cardboard cutout with beady eyes and hair plugs get the most votes in Presidential history? And how does the tactless incumbent spewing his own specific brand of racism while dumping ketchup on his steak get the second most?

Easy. Voter fraud.

Both sides are corrupt. That’s okay. America is corrupt. Might as well enjoy this ride we were born on till it crashes into that visible mountain not too far ahead.

But can we nix the dancing on the street? Are you really celebrating a 200-year-old racist and the former DA person of color that hates people of color? What are you doing? Nothing is going to change. They’ll still be in your pocket, just a little more subtle about it.

While I’m here, let me thank the ‘rona! Good ole coronavirus! Covid-19! It was so nice of you to go away during the election and then come back. Really gave us a break there. Suddenly everyone is worried again. You didn’t seem worried while you were protesting or cutting a rug during the first week of November. Did it catch you by surprise? Again?

Not me! I was ready this time! I brought nunchuks!

It’s really amazing how pandemic’s rip through the population and get a bunch of people sick and a bunch of others in the grave. It’s almost like that’s it’s nature. Hmmmmm…..interesting.

Wearing a mask? Check! Social distancing? Check! Washing your hands? Check! People still getting infected and dying? Check!

But that’s the arrogance of not only Americans but the human race. We think we can contain something uncontainable. I can’t wait till the next President gets credit when this whole thing is over after coming into the fourth quarter of a blowout and notching a half-sack.

America!

Journalism

I can’t do it anymore. I can’t read the news. Journalism is dead. And that makes me a sad panda.

If you read my last post which can be found here, you may think of me as some sort of psycho hack writer that doesn’t care about people, and I wouldn’t blame you. After going back and reading it myself nearly a month later, I can say that I was definitely blinded a bit by frustration and anger. I’m not sure I believe everything I wrote that day because, honestly, I don’t know what to believe.

And why is that you ask?

Because journalism is dead. I already told you. Keep up.

Everything the media and the news puts out is designed to scare you. Here’s a quick example: USA Today posted an article with an eye-catching headline that 5,000 people per day were expected to die from Covid-19 by August 1st. I knew it was clickbait but I read it anyway. Turns out the article is actually about a three-pronged model some company projected and the 5,000 per day death toll was the worst-case scenario.

USA Today, a highly respected publication that has been around for nearly forty years, used the worst-case scenario in that article as a headline to lure people in. Why? Because ad revenue and clicks are what drives the news in the modern world. It’s no longer about being right or even honest. Now, will that 5,000 per day death toll come to fruition? We won’t know unless we get there. But USA Today wants you think the worst because that’s what keeps you coming back to read their slop.

The news is negative by nature, always has been. It’s a matter of comparison for people. The average healthy person that consumes news about the pandemic can rest easy because it might not be directly affecting them, especially if they’re still working. They can look at the TV and say to themselves “Well, at least it’s not me.” And that, in turn, makes them feel better, even if only on a subconscious level. They can come back the next day and get the newest bad news and keep chugging along.

We are attracted by train wrecks, especially when we’re not in them. On the other side, when we consume news about a single person who has dedicated their entire life to fighting hunger in Africa, we can’t handle it. It doesn’t move the needle or drive revenue. Why? Because maybe we ate an entire pizza the night before and this person trying to make a difference in the world just makes us feel like shit. Nobody wants to feel that way, right or wrong.

The internet and the 24-hour news cycle killed journalism a while ago. Somewhere along the way opinions and news became interchangeable. It took a global pandemic to bring everything to the surface.

So, what do you believe? My advice: none of it. Believe only what your eyes can see. Stop reading and/or watching the news. You’ll be happier.

This too shall pass.

Things On My Radar: Covid-19 Edition

Howdy, Folks! I’m back with your favorite segment!

“Who are you?”

Don’t worry about it. Just read.

Did you know there’s a pandemic going on? Thank god the news is around to tell me the world is burning every five minutes, otherwise I might have been left out of the loop. Can’t have people walking around happy when a fraction of a percentage point of the world population is dying from a more potent strand of the flu.

I’ve got an idea! Let’s shut everything down! Let’s put everybody’s future on hold! Let’s destroy the economy! Let’s do everything we can to make sure suicides and domestic violence and animal abuse and starvation and drug addiction go through the roof! Let’s put on masks so we all look like train robbers in the old west! Let’s make all too real jokes about the amount of alcohol we are consuming in isolation! Instead of practicing caution, let’s panic!

WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can we, for once in this country, practice some goddamn logic? No? Because we’re all overstimulated, entitled, soft-bellied creatures of comfort with no survival skills? This is what happens when people no longer have to hunt for food in the wild with spears?

Interesting….

I know it’s serious. I know it’s a big deal. I understand these are unprecedented times. But take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if all this craziness is really necessary. The government and the media have healthy people walking around thinking they are carrying a virus inside them that will kill their elderly parents if they get within six feet.

Think about that last sentence.

What’s really shocked me (but not really if I’m being honest) is how quickly people have just given up their rights without a fight.

The government: Stay inside! Don’t go anywhere! Don’t do anything! Live like a prisoner!

People (Gump voice): Okay. Whatever you say government. I don’t have a mind of my own. When can I take my next shit?

Government: 9:30 tomorrow morning!

People (Gump voice): Okay.

When our glorious leaders came out last week and stated that 100,000 to 240,000 people were expected to die in the United Stated of Covid-19, I’m not ashamed to say that I laughed my ass off. Hysterically. Not because that many people dying is funny. But because it was such a dumbass, ludicrous number that didn’t match up with trends in any way. I am not a numbers guy. I hate math. It makes my brain stop. And even I could see the stupidity in those numbers. In order for that to occur this thing would have to persist for like five fucking years. And all you have to do is look toward Washington state, the first epicenter, to see that their numbers began to decline after a couple of months. Considering we were sitting at about 10,000 deaths at the time, it just didn’t add up.

Naturally they revised their numbers recently to about 60,000 which I still think is too high. It was based on the model they’ve used since the beginning. And since the beginning this model has been wrong. About everything. It was wrong about the number of beds and ventilators needed. It was wrong about the timing of peaks. And it was wrong about deaths.

Yet this morning I read an article about how their model predicts 200,000 people in the United States will die if social restrictions are lifted by May 1st. Hang on a minute, I have to get this out…

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH………

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH………

HAHAHAHAHAHA……

HAHAHA……

HAHA…

Okay. I’m good now.

Again, it’s not the deaths that are funny. It’s the total dumbassery of the number. Here’s my advice:

Stop using the model! It’s wrong! It’s been wrong at every turn! It’s clearly a flawed model! Just stop already! All you’re doing is scaring the shit out of people because that’s all you know how to do! For the love of god, just stop!

And the government aren’t the only ones that need to stop. People are spending more time on social media because they have more to spare. That’s a frightening thought because people already spent too much time on it before this mess. It’s no longer a wasteland, it’s full on scorched earth. I don’t need anymore updates about day twelve of your self-quarantine and how much Bubbles the cat is sick of having you around because he made a funny cat-face. Put down the cat, put down the phone, and go read a fucking book! Do something constructive while you have the free time. Tiger King will still be there when you get back.

And the last thing any of us need, and I mean the last fucking thing on earth, are these high-horse celebrities in their hillside compounds espousing the virtues of staying at home and social distancing. It’s easy to stay at home when six-inch thick walls of stone, a multiple camera security system, and piles of cash separate you from the rest of humanity. Some of us still have to go to work because we are deemed essential. The fact that all of these celebrities couldn’t be more adamant about never walking out the front door proves how valuable they really are to society.

If they really want to do something helpful, go find out who’s buying up all the fucking toilet paper, buy it back from them at a 5000% markup, and put together drives in which to give it away to the needy. Otherwise fuck off, you no-talent hacks.

Wow, this was long. I think I’m good now.

Peace out, hombres!

Fascinating Times

When the year 2020 began, my intention was to write and publish two books over the course of twelve months. I outlined those goals here. Then I switched course, deciding to fix up my house and sell it while also cranking out at least one new book. That goal was outlined here.

Then COVID-19 came along. You can’t dine in restaurants anymore, but you can still go play golf. Clubs have been shut down, but you can still handle fruit in the grocery store that’s passed through hundreds of unwashed hands. Grandparents are communicating through glass windows with their grandchildren because they’re afraid the little demons might be infected and they don’t have enough retirement savings for a lengthy hospital stay. And people are hoarding toilet paper because that’s what intelligent life does.

If aliens were to descend upon the Earth and say “We’re here to destroy you,” I would take them aside and tell them about the Coronavirus. Five minutes later they would ascend back into the heavens, convinced we will just destroy ourselves. And they would be correct. Why waste the energy and the time? Go destroy another planet. We’re right behind ya!

Now, don’t take this the wrong way. This virus is a problem. I recognize that. It’s an unknown, and a mad scramble to find drugs to combat it and a vaccine to cure it. But, at the end of the day, it’s essentially a different strain of the flu. Maybe more powerful, maybe not. It all seems to depend on underlying conditions or a genetic predisposition to fight it. If we would all just practice some caution, instead of panic, we could get through this relatively easy. There’s no reason to tank the economy and put everyone on lockdown for something that I personally don’t think will survive the consistently warmer weather approaching. I could be wrong. I could be right. Who knows?

One thing I do know is that people are inherently stupid and selfish. My hope in humanity has been hanging by a thread for years. Decades, some would argue. No more. It’s gone. Up and vanished like a fart in the wind. The grocery stores have been picked clean like a pack of fucking vultures, because that’s what people are. Fucking vultures. You can find photos online of people buying cartloads full of eggs and toilet paper and milk, as if nobody needs to eat but them, as if nobody needs to wipe their ass but them. Fuck those people. If you happen to see them out and about, feel free to say those words to their face. They deserve it.

If you are reading this and are one of those people, fuck you and please stop reading my shit. You are the worst type of person and I don’t want your clicks.

And then there’s the media and the politicians. Let’s start with the media. They love this shit. They can’t get enough. They can’t wait to get up in the morning and tell you the new bad news. Every article and video are designed to scare the shit out of everybody because that’s what drives ad revenue. They get off on the possibility of living in a world engulfed in flames. And the politicians can’t wait to politicize death and sickness for their own personal gain. If you’ve ever wondered if the ones you elect to office actually care about you, simply gauge their reaction to a pandemic and you’ve got your answer.

Spoiler: They don’t.

Imagine if something really bad were to go down, like a virus causing healthy thirty-somethings to drop dead in the street. It would be anarchy. Like the Simian Flu in Planet of the Apes. That might actually be worth stockpiling toilet paper.

Change of Plans

Well hello there.

I know. It’s been over a month since my last post. I promised to be more consistent and I have, thus far, failed. Unless you spin the positive side. I have been consistently inconsistent for well over a year at this point. Double negative? Glitch in the Matrix? Rip in the space-time continuum? Who knows? I don’t know. But I’m here now. And I have news!

I’m selling my house!

If you think back to my previous post which you can find here I swapped out both my toilets because one broke and the other was just gross. They were replaced with some nice Kohler thrones. After that I was just like “fuck it, let’s sell this joint for a million dollars, these toilets are sweet!”

Not really. I’d been thinking about selling it since last year because I bought it as a foreclosure nearly seven years ago and the market has shot through the roof and I owe significantly less than what it’s valued. It makes sense to get out now and find a nicer place and have a little cash in the bank. Hopefully. If everything works out in my favor. We’ll see. I’m optimistic. Right now, Dad and I are putting in work to get the place right, trying to increase the curb appeal. It’s coming along pretty smoothly thus far, though there’s tons more work to be done. But I’ll get there eventually.

It would help if these contractors around here would actually call a person back or follow through with their intentions. It’s like they don’t want my money. How are you even making a living?

Anyways, that’s where the change of plans comes along. My original intention was to publish two books this year. That’s not going to happen. But I’ll still get one done, and it’ll be a good one. Darkly humorous and surprisingly philosophical and one hundred percent fiction. I’ve done some preliminary work, but nothing too deep. I’m excited to get lost in my head for a bit.

But until then I have a house to sell. Anybody interested? It has a fireplace. Ooooh fancy…..

Toilet Humor

Howdy, folks!

So, my toilet stopped working….

Well, it technically still works. But the plastic piece that attaches to the handle broke off, meaning I have to remove the tank lid and reach into the water to manually raise that suction cup thing that allows the water to drain and set in motion the magical process of a flush. It’s actually kind of funny. I get a pretty good laugh every time I have to do it. I couldn’t really tell you why it makes me laugh, but it does.

It may be because I can imagine a segment of people out there that this has happened to that have resigned themselves to flushing their toilet this way for the foreseeable future. No repairs. No effort. Just a “fuck it, it still works” mentality, which I am guilty of having at times. But not this time. I’m not one of those people. I plan to replace it today. I’ve never done it before, but Dad has. So, he can walk me through it. Or maybe do most of it himself. I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.

It is my toilet. And the man that does the installation gets to break it in, right? Isn’t that how these things work?

In other news, I have not started on my next project because January is crazy at work. That’s my excuse. I also needed a bit more time to recover from finishing the memoir. I also procrastinate. Whatever. I’ll get to it when I’m good and ready! Stop pressuring me! I’m only a man!

I was 6-4 in my NFL playoff predictions. Not terrible. Not great. Above .500 at least. I wanted to see the Packers win, but the matchup we get tomorrow is going to be a lot of fun. I love watching the Chiefs play. Mahomes is a video game quarterback. And the 49ers are disorienting when they get that run game going with all the speed and misdirection, and their defensive line is just nasty.

I’m rooting for the Chiefs. But the 49ers are a nightmare. Either way, should be fun.

Peace out, homies!

A Long Week

I didn’t get anything done this week!

Well, that’s not true. I didn’t get any writing done. I spent forty hours in a warehouse on my feet because it’s a crazy busy time of the year for us. And I had to somewhat pet-sit for my parents who are out of town visiting my brother before he heads off to South Korea. Well, they were really visiting his new baby. He just happens to also be there. It just turned out to not be a good week to make any progress. And that’s okay. Those weeks happen. Next week should be better. Hopefully.

I did, however, manage to finally watch Toy Story 2! I know! That’s a twenty-year-old movie! And I thought it was awesome! I thoroughly enjoyed it!

I re-watched the original about a month ago because the 4th installment came out recently and I had never seen any of the sequels, so I decided to start from the beginning, which is a classic. Toy Story 2 was hilarious and had a great story and made me miss my childhood. The toy collector antagonist reminded me of a guy that used to run a comic book shop when I was a kid, treating children’s playthings as gold. It also reminded me of myself when I collected comics and action figures, which was a very long time ago.

Toy Story 3 was also enjoyable, though much darker themed, and a fitting end for the franchise with everyone being donated to a different child. I’m curious what the 4th movie is about and if it even needed to be made.

Or do we have another Jason Bourne on our hands? Solid film, but kind of pointless. The original trilogy wrapped up the way it should. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

And that’s all I got. I was 3-1 on my playoff picks last week. How about them Titans! It would not surprise me in the least to see them beat the Chiefs, though I do not think they will. I’m still riding Kansas City and Green Bay into the Super Bowl. The 49ers are kind of a monster, but Rodgers has always been a big game quarterback.

And stop talking about how the Seahawks would have won that game if they had more time. They punted on their last drive and never got the ball back. They were frauds relying on backyard bullshit football to win games. It might work against a broken team like the Eagles, but not against a solid and healthy squad like the Packers.

Till next time! Peace out!

Things on my Radar #2

Howdy, folks!

It’s always nice when goals are met. I completed the Kindle version of Front Porch Stories this week, had 53 different mockups made for advertising purposes, settled into a slightly different schedule I’ll be using moving forward, and I wasn’t eaten by cannibals. Solid week.

But that’s not why I’m here. I’ll be starting work on my new project come Monday, but right now it’s time to unload a few feelings of mine. These are the things on my radar. I’ve done this once before which you can check out here. Let’s get to it.

The holidays are always fun. There’s family and festivities and food. But it’s never intended to last forever. Once January hits, reality reemerges, and I have always been fine with that. Hell, I welcome it. I’ve always felt like having New Years Day off is pointless. We’re all going to spend the majority of the year working, so why are we ringing in the new year with a day off? It’s not indicative of how our time will be spent over the next twelve months. I guess it’s good for blackout drunks who need a day of recovery after New Years Eve. But that’s not me.

My issue this week is that the family and festivities have left while the food remains. Now, I love food, but I’ve had enough sugary junk over the last three weeks to last the next calendar year. And the people I work with keep adding more to the table where I eat lunch every day.

Stop it! The holidays are over! I can’t take it! My teeth hate me! My body hates me! I hate me!

Fortunately, I was able to reel it in after Tuesday. I felt like garbage. I was bloated. My skin was breaking out. I walked away and haven’t touched it since. It can rot or be thrown away or someone else can eat it. I’m done for a while. And wouldn’t you know that in only three days my body is back to normal and I feel great. Poison, man. Processed sugar is poison.

Let’s talk about the Golden Globes for a hot second. No, I don’t watch award shows. I don’t need to see overprivileged people pat themselves on the back for doing shit that doesn’t matter. I also don’t need to be told by these same people to “do better” in regards to the environment. You know that movie you just spent six months shooting? Yeah, that movie caused more of a carbon footprint in six months than I have in ten years. Also, all those private jets and gas spent to get you there aren’t helping your case. Neither are the thousand-dollar suits and dresses you wear one time. Fuck off.

I just found it hilarious that the only food made available at the event were vegan options. They’ve become so damn liberal they are now all caricatures.

I also find it hilarious that previous US presidents had chances to take down Iranian Major General Soleimani, who had been declared a terrorist threat, but declined due to possible “retaliations.” Then Trump comes along and is like “Fuck that guy. He’s a terrorist. Strike!”

By the way US politicians, enough with the fake outrage at taking down a dangerous terrorist threat. Your bullshit just makes the country look weak. Putin is over in Russia right now lying on a bearskin rug, shirtless, nibbling on a bowl of popcorn and laughing his ass off at how pathetic our elected individuals have become.

And, finally, let’s talk some playoff football! I went 2-2 on my picks last week. The Bills fell apart in the second half and the Seahawks beat an already broken Eagles team that got more broke when their quarterback, Wentz, was knocked out on a dirty ass hit that went uncalled. This week I’ve got all four home teams advancing; Niners, Ravens, Chiefs, and Packers. And I have the Chiefs and Packers in the Superbowl. We’ll see what happens.

The Saints lost the way they should have, in heartbreaking fashion. Fuck that dirtbag coach, his dirtbag team, those dirtbag fans, and his fake-nice-guy quarterback who promptly threw his teammates under the bus after the game when talking about a fumble that was his fault. You’re 40, have no arm strength, and only play your best when there’s a record to be broken. Go away, you stat whore.

And then there’s Brady. What a run. You’ve looked old for a while, but having arguably the best team builder in NFL history has covered up your warts. You’re not the greatest. You’ve never been the greatest. You never will be the greatest. Had you been drafted by anyone else you would have washed out of the league as a backup ten years ago. A pick-six is the most fitting way to end your legacy than I could have ever hoped for. I hope you do leave New England for an opportunity elsewhere. Because you will fail. Miserably.

As for the Panthers, I like the Matt Rhule hire. Time will tell. But right now, I’m optimistic about the future.

Peace out, homies! Till next time!

Welcome to 2020!

Ah, 2020! A new year! New possibilities! New horizons! New disappointments! I’m ready! Let me have it! Do your worst!

I’m just kidding. Sort of. My attitude isn’t that defeatist. It’s actually not defeatist at all. I’m a borderline aggravating eternal optimist most of the time. Can it be eternal if it’s only “most of the time?” That, my friends, is the million-dollar question. I don’t have a million dollars, so I don’t have an answer. Anyways…

Happy New Year!

So, I finally published the memoir. I sure did. You didn’t read that wrong. It took longer than I anticipated, but it’s out there. And I couldn’t be prouder. It turned out worlds better than I expected. Everything from the cover to the content to the formatting turned out damn near perfect. It looks and reads like a book you would pull off the shelf at a bookstore for purchase. That’s significant progress considering my first book “Ashbrooke City” (available on Amazon) is quite amateurish in its presentation and story structure.

That means I have evolved, like Caesar in The Planet of the Apes. Looks like it’s time for me to gather a massive following, move into the woods, and destroy most of humanity with an unintentional virus I have no control over.

*Spoilers for the recent Planet of the Apes trilogy, which you should have seen already cause they are all awesome films*

And it was nice to have it available by Christmas so that family could partake in the accomplishment. That’s always nice. The feedback has been positive. I wanted it to be a fun read, and it seems it is. And I feel like everyone I wanted to get a free copy to has gotten one. So, anybody else that wants to check it out will simply have to buy it. Unless maybe you take me to a nice dinner, charm me, woo me, try to get me out of my clothes like an adult. You know, treat me like a real lady.

This week I’ll be working on putting together a Kindle version because it’s currently only available in paperback. I’m also hoping to update the website a bit. Beyond that, I’m looking to write and publish two more novels over the course of 2020. Why? Because I’m a crazy person. But I’m actually stoked about the challenge. I’m ready to dive back into writing fiction. Hopefully I can also update this blog more regularly. No promises, though.

As for today, well, it’s time for playoff football. The Panthers turned into a raging dumpster fire by the end, but I’m optimistic about the future. Time to put that mess behind me and enjoy the tournament. As for my picks:

Go Bills!

Go Titans!

Go Vikings!

Go Eagles!

And, for good measure, fuck the Saints! It had to be said.

Peace out! I shall return…

Christmas Quandary

Merry Christmas!

I know, I know. I’m inconsistent. It’s been months since my last post.

I’ve been busy?

Actually, I have been busy. I finally released the memoir! Woo-hoo!

But that’s not why I’m here. I’ll dive into that later. Paperback copies are available if you’re interested, and I know you are. But I still need to put together a Kindle version and get the website in order and a bunch of other small, aggravating things. I’ll do all that sometime in January.

So, why am I here? For the only reason that matters this time of year. There’s a burning question that must be answered.

What makes a Christmas movie?

I know most of you are probably like “It’s about Christmas! Duh! You suck, Casey. Go jump off a cliff you raging asshat. Nobody likes you anyway.” I understand your thoughts and concerns, and I’m still searching for that perfect cliff, but hear me out.

Is a Christmas movie a movie about Christmas? Or is it just a movie with events that take place around Christmas? There’s a difference. A lot of people will cite a movie like “Home Alone” as their favorite Christmas flick, but “Home Alone” is not about Christmas. The events of the movie just happen to take place around Christmas. You could plug in any other holiday and the same things would happen.

So, is “Home Alone” a Christmas movie?

Now, there’s no arguing that films like “A Miracle on 34th Street” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “A Christmas Story” are definite Christmas movie classics. You could even throw “Elf” in there, though I’ve never personally seen it. But, if “Home Alone” is to be considered a Christmas movie, then I present the following others to be considered as well:

Die Hard

Die Hard 2: Die Harder

Lethal Weapon

Batman Returns

Trading Places

Edward Scissorhands

Now, I ask you, when you gather round the fire with family on Christmas day to spend quality time with one another, what do you want playing over the proceedings? Do you want George Bailey learning the true meaning of life and Christmas? Do you want Ralphie in his bunny costume? Do you want Will Ferrell acting like Will Ferrell?

Or do you want John McClane saving the denizens of Nakatomi Plaza from the vile, yet charismatic, Hans Gruber? The Dark Knight doing battle with the hideous Penguin? A guy with scissors for hands giving housewives haircuts?

I think you know the answer.

May Day

I’m back!

Again!

No, really! I mean it this time. Maybe. We’ll see. I’m such a procrastinator. Or am I just really busy?

I’ve done very little work on the memoir since the last time I posted. I could go into all the details and excuses and complaints, but those are all pointless and you probably don’t care anyway. I’m not even sure I care. Moving forward can be so hard sometimes. I did manage to clean up the introduction chapter. But chapters two and three need to be combined and completely rewritten. That’s my next goal. That and to clean up chapters four and five, which shouldn’t be as great an undertaking.

Hopefully.

I’ve got everything I need for the first half. I just have to put it together, man! Then me and Dad can get started on the second half. I will have this done by the end of the year. I am damned and determined to do so. Nothing will stand in my way. Not even the MCU!

Endgame was so many things. It was awesome and unpredictable and fitting and poetic. It wrapped up the way it needed to, but there seems to be such a finality that I’m not sure where they go from here. It felt like the end in so many ways. And that makes me a sad panda. But it also makes me curious as to the future trajectory. Cause it isn’t going away.

And to everyone complaining about Game of Thrones: shut-up. The episode was supposed to be dark. They’re fighting in the dead of night. In winter. In a slight blizzard. And that Arya moment was totally earned. She’s not some chick that wandered into Winterfell and just so happens to be a great fighter. They’ve been setting this up since the beginning. She’s basically a trained assassin. And she was fighting for her home. And her character is awesome. She’s a badass. The show is coming to an end for crying out loud. Put away your internet bitterness and hatred and overall malcontent and just enjoy the damn thing.

In other news, I read “The Jungle” by Upton Sinclair recently. That guy was a socialist. It was a solid read, dark and depressing mostly. It’s about life as an immigrant at the turn of the 1900’s and what it was like working, and trying to survive, under no labor laws. It also went into some detail about the conditions of the meatpacking industry at the time, which actually caused Roosevelt to implement changes. Another reminder, much like “The Grapes of Wrath,” how easy we truly have it in the workforce in comparison today.

But a lot of people won’t agree with that because that’s what we do now. We go out into the streets and complain about how unfair life is instead of taking steps to make it better. America!

This post was random.

See you next time!

New Year Ramblings

I’m back!

I guess. Feels good. Or maybe it will soon. Eventually. Hopefully. I don’t know.

It’s been awhile. The holidays passed and there was a lot of food and a lot of time off work and a lot of napping on the couch and absolutely no writing. I did read a cool little book called “Outliers” by Malcolm Gladwell. It was a gift from my brother. It takes a deep dive into the world of successful people and attempts to find out exactly why they are successful. Hint: it’s not because they’re smarter and more talented than everyone else. Those things are definitely aspects that helped push them along. But it mostly stems from placement and opportunity, being born into a certain time of the world and in a certain place and having chances that most others won’t have.

It was interesting. It really should be renamed to “Life Isn’t Fair: The Book.” However, you can’t deny that they took complete advantage of the opportunities given to them, regardless of how lucky they may have been to be born into a particular situation.

Football season also wrapped up. Thank God I got to see Brady win one more ring. There’s just no better feeling than to celebrate a relatively new year by watching Tom Brady play like ass and still win another championship. If I didn’t get to experience such a thing at least one more time in my life I may have just shit, I can tell you that. There were so many new and exciting things in the NFL this year. We could have seen Mahomes slinging it around in the Super Bowl. Or the old gunslinger, Rivers, maybe finally getting over the hump.

But nope! We got to see a backup from Michigan throw check-downs to a short white guy and an oafish bro with a duh face for three hours and walk away with another victory because Cooks couldn’t haul in two touchdown passes in the biggest game of the year. Thanks NFL! Thanks Rams! I’ll never get those three hours back!

At least the Saints were sitting at home. Couldn’t have happened to a better organization. Nobody likes your dirtbag, arrogant head coach or your dirtbag, cheap-ass team. You still had a lead after the blown call and you couldn’t hold on to it. You got the ball first in overtime and you turned it over. You lost. Get over it. Hopefully this drags into next season and completely sinks you from the beginning. Or maybe that mole on Bree’s face will finally completely takeover and give us our first real-life Bond villain.

Full disclosure: I’m a Panthers fan. If Cam had stayed healthy we would have rolled into the playoffs. Not saying we would have done anything. But the field would have looked a little different.

Anyway. I think I’m done rambling. For now. I’m starting back on the memoir soon. Keep you posted! 

Book Review - The Grapes of Wrath

It’s always an amazing feeling when you crack open a new book with no expectations and by the end it becomes one of your favorite novels. That’s precisely what happened with me upon reading “The Grapes of Wrath.” Steinbeck’s opus about the Joad family and the Dust Bowl migration of the 1930’s is haunting and eye-opening. It’s a window into a very specific time in American history where what we were converged upon what we would become.

“The Grapes of Wrath” is a lot of things. It’s a road narrative and a farmers gospel and a manifesto of the disenfranchised working class of the 1930’s. But these descriptions don’t do it justice. It’s about families being forced off their land, land settled by their ancestors, and pushed toward California with the promise of work. It’s about the dehumanization of a people suddenly thrust into the realm of not knowing where their next meal is coming from, or if it’s coming at all. It’s about men who just want to work for a living wage, but find themselves needing permission to do so.

Steinbeck is an amazing writer. According to the introduction he spent more time researching than actually writing, knocking out the narrative in 100 days. Clocking in at over 600 pages that is indeed impressive and inspired. Maybe even a little crazy. The dialogue feels incredibly authentic, meaning it would be a nightmare of red and green in a word processor. And the ending will have you feeling some sort of way, especially the final paragraph. For me it fit within the nature of the story and how it was told.

I’ve seen some buzz online about how “The Grapes of Wrath” is an allegory on the destructive power of capitalism and how it’s relatable today. That’s not a sentiment I buy into. The current issues of immigration and wage gaps facing America are, in my opinion, not even close to what Oklahoma farmers went through during the Dust Bowl. It actually feels insulting to compare the two. Nevertheless, people are entitled to their opinions. I just wish more research and thought went into it. But this is the internet! Receptacle for word vomit!

Anyway. Read “The Grapes of Wrath.” It’s amazing and might just change your perspective.

Memoir Update

Nine weeks ago I wrote a post about the next ten weeks and the goal of getting together a rough draft of the memoir. My hope was to have something I could tighten up and maybe release by the end of the year. But, unfortunately, my best-laid plan is not going to come to fruition. I’m not going to make my self-imposed deadline.

But that’s okay! Dad and I are roughly halfway there. We were going strong and then lost the entire month of October to weather and work and a bunch of other excuses I could throw into the air. My ambition got the best of me as it usually does. I pushed myself too hard and expected too much in too short a period of time. No worries, though. If not for that ambition I probably wouldn’t even be halfway there.

I recently took a couple of long weekends in an effort to catch up. That included a talk with Dad in which I was in a foul mood and distracted due to a water stain on the ceiling of my living room. There was also a three-hour block one morning where I wrote over 2000 words. So, needless to say, I had mixed results. But such is life.

Maybe I’m running against the wind here(Bob Seger reference!). It seems that every time I try to implement some kind of writing structure or strategy for myself it never pans out. Maybe I’m just not that type of writer. Maybe I need to just accept that my style is always going to be a bit unorthodox. Regardless of all that “inside baseball” stuff, I’m going to spend the remainder of this year shaping up what I already have. I haven’t gone back and read anything I’ve written to this point, so that should be an adventure. And then, hopefully come January, Dad and I can resume our talks. Stay tuned!

Book Review - Morning Star

The Red Rising Trilogy was a Christmas gift from my brother last year. He thought it would be something I’d enjoy reading. The first two were alright, not really my cup of tea. I already hated the main protagonist, Darrow, about fifty pages in. I didn’t care for the premise of an entire class system separated by color. Not color as in race, color as in crayons. It seemed a bit hokey. And there seemed to be a lot of pointless details and funny names and inconsistent world-building.

But I’ll read anything, even if it’s just for research. Then I got to the third book, Morning Star, and I’ve never been so happy to be finished with a trilogy. It was a bloated, overwritten mess. Darrow still sucks as a character. Every time he launched into one of his speeches I immediately began skimming as he shouted out the same self-righteous word-vomit as before. All of his crazy plans come spontaneously off the top of his head and they all work, which is frustratingly shallow story-telling.

By the end he’s basically test-tube Hitler. He’s an abomination created in a lab that succeeds in rallying millions behind his cause only to have most of them die. He’s also entirely too emotional and needy to lead any kind of resistance with any kind of success. He constantly laments death and the human cost of war, then has a chance to be a martyr to save millions. He chooses the opposite, which goes against everything he’s been characterized at since the first chapter of the first book.

I was behind Pierce Brown, the author, for the first two. He seemed like a good, talented writer. I just didn’t care for the subject matter. After Morning Star I’m convinced he’s a total hack. There is a scene lifted straight out of Good Will Hunting that is so egregious it’s practically plagiarism. He slips in the term “Bye, Felicia” somewhere in the middle of the story. Remember when that was popular for five minutes? He crams in so many pointless details and ridiculous naming conventions it’s like he trying to prove how creative he can be, how good of a writer he is.

But, C. M., isn’t that how you write a good book? No. You write a good book by telling a story.

If Brown had any balls as a writer he would have killed off Darrow at the end of the second book, Golden Son. He had a perfect opportunity. That would have allowed the third book to be told from the point of view of Sevro, Darrow’s best friend and the best character in the series by far. Darrow could have acted as the martyr he should have been as Sevro took up the resistance and finished what test-tube Hitler started. Sevro had more of a claim anyway as he was torn between two colors, two worlds, whereas Darrow knew nothing of a higher society until he was ripped out of his lower one.

Just my thoughts. I could go deeper but I’m ready to move on. Time to cleanse my palate with a classic read.

Things on my Radar

I read. A lot. Anything you put in front of me. Books. Articles. Blogs. Nutrition labels. Grocery lists. Cereal boxes. Underwear packaging. Anything. When I was signing all the mortgage papers at the closing of my house I attempted to read them all. If you’ve ever bought a house then you’re familiar with the phonebook size stack they present you with and how impossible it would be to read them all without taking a week off of work and moving in with the broker. I tried. I might be a little crazy.

I read at the same rate in which my dad listens to the news. I’m always telling him to stop doing so, that he’d be happier. I wonder if it goes both ways? I wouldn’t be happier if I stopped reading. I guess, sometimes, you just do the things you do. Coincidentally, most of my reading has come in the form of news articles. Being an opinionated guy from an opinionated family, these are the things on my radar lately.

You cannot escape the Kavanaugh drama in Washington. It is relentless and internet-consuming and exhausting. Sometimes you just want to look at puppy pictures and not constantly be reminded about how fragile the psyche of our elected officials are. Here’s the truth: it’s embarrassing, but not for the reasons they keep giving you. It’s embarrassing that the so-called “leaders” of this country are holding a person’s feet to the fire over something that may or may not have happened in high school under the influence. Really? If that’s the new standard then everyone up on Capitol Hill needs to be swept away because there’s not a soul there that didn’t do something they regret when they were young.

People grow up and change. I don’t give a shit about party lines. Hell, the party system in America is one of the biggest problems we have. It discourages individuality and critical thinking. Everyone needs to have a mind of their own. If he’s right for the Supreme Court, put him in. If he’s not, move on and find someone else. Don’t give me accusations and he said-she said drivel from thirty-four years ago.

Al Roker has also caught my ire, but it isn’t necessarily his fault. I’ve always found him to be an affable, lovable man. He would probably make a great neighbor. But I’ll be the first to admit that his presence and purpose baffle me on many levels. But that’s an entirely different rabbit hole altogether. What I’m referring to specifically is the reception he received on the Today show following his return from surgery. You see, ole weatherman Al had emergency surgery on his thumb and was back at work the next day and his coworkers just couldn’t believe it.

“Only Al Roker would come to work the day after having surgery!”

It was thumb surgery! He’s a TV weatherman! His job is to stand around and update the weather and pretend like Hota Kotb is an interesting person! He’s not moving boxes all day or typing away on a computer! He should have been back the next day! The man could literally have both of his thumbs removed and it wouldn’t affect his job performance at all! And am I the only one still disturbed by the fact that he lost all this weight but still has a fat-guy head?

Does anyone remember Jersey Shore? Remember The Situation? He was the guy that was real proud of his abs. That probably describes most of the douchebags on that show. I’ve honestly never seen an episode. Anyway, he’s going to prison. Yep, for tax evasion. So let me get this straight. You made a boatload of money being a narcissistic, irritating, Italian caricature of a man? AKA: being yourself. And then decided not to pay your taxes? And then further decided to falsify documents? Makes sense. I expected nothing less. Have fun trying on those dresses for Tiny down in cellblock D.

Quick story: I once met a girl during my brief community college stint that was quite attractive and seemed interesting. Then she relayed to me how big of a Jersey Shore fan she was and the attraction immediately died. If that makes me wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Hurricane Florence

I’m writing this in the middle of Hurricane Florence. Okay, not really. There have been a few bouts of high wind and an ass-load of rain, but overall it appears more in line with a severe thunderstorm than a life-threatening hurricane. Not to diminish what’s happening at the coast, they’re getting pounded. But here in central North Carolina it’s a bit of a far cry from what we were expecting. Or, at least, what we were told to expect.

I’ve been tracking this thing all week just out of sheer curiosity. I’m not a prepper or a worrier. I figure that if something is going to rip through my area and destroy houses and uproot trees and I get caught in the path, it was just meant to be. Buying bread and batteries and water doesn’t keep Mother Nature at bay. It’s just more crap to lose in a flood. I also have nowhere to go, so riding it out is an inevitability.

It started out as a category five and was projected to roll straight through NC, from the coast to the mountains. But with every subsequent day it appeared to get weaker. And all the forecasters kept telling us to ignore the declining categories and instead focus on the storm surges. If the storm surges are the most important part, then why do we even have categories? Then by the end of the week it had become a category two and was going to now hit the coast, move south, and curve back northwest, basically sending the storm around us. We’re basically getting the edge of a tropical storm at this point.

But man did they spend the week projecting the apocalypse. It worked. People ransacked the grocery stores and the gas pumps. The only thing I was worried about was getting my yard mowed so that the damn grass wouldn’t be knee-high by the time the storm passed. It just seems to me like the media wanted Florence to be the next Katrina or Harvey, which is a terrible thing to want because those were catastrophic events. Do you really want some hurricane leveling NC just so you’ll have something to write about? So you can get that ad revenue from them website clicks? Disgusting intentions.

And now I’m watching the LSU-Auburn game and every commercial break these local news clowns come on the air to tell me it’s still raining outside. Solid journalism.

The Next Ten Weeks

I’m always surprised at how much I miss writing after taking a week away. In the past I’ve taken months away, even years, and it’s always jarring at first. Eventually you move past it and find other ways to fill the time. But it’s been such a consistent part of my life this year that coming home from work and not “getting back to work” can best be described as unusual.

Part of the reason for the time off is that I got behind schedule. Life gets in the way. I had to really scramble to get back on track and, in doing so, burnt myself out a bit. I wrote nearly 3,000 words over a three day period which is a breakneck pace for me. Dad and I both have yards to mow and the weather hasn’t always been great recently, making it hard to find the time. Our last talk was a follow-up that took place under the roof overhang while it poured down rain.

It’s also the busiest time of the year at my day job. I work in a warehouse and spend my time on my feet walking and lifting and pushing and pulling. My job is not a sedentary one. Couple that with 5am workouts and I’m dragging ass by the time I walk through the door into the glorious AC of my house. After making dinner and sitting down to eat I’m often tapped-out. Sometimes I can gut my way through it, but it just becomes too much at times, physically and mentally.

But I’m good now. We’re still crazy busy at work, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. The plan is to wrap up the process over the next ten weeks and get a solid first draft of the memoir that I can work on polishing. That takes us to around Thanksgiving, which is right where I wanted to end things. The 50’s and 60’s was a bit of a trudge, but we made it. Now we’re into the 70’s, where Dad has shown excellent recall. It’s the decade where he got his license and started working and found independence. As always, good times await!

Online Dating

I’m taking a break on the progress reports this week to discuss a topic that’s really twisted me in all sorts of directions over the past three years. Online dating is fascinating and horrifying. One minute it can be an interesting, new-age form of connection technology. And the next it can become a soul-sucking, lowest common denominator shit show. Let it be known that my experience is strictly through free apps like Tinder, Bumble, and Plenty of Fish. I’ve never sunk any money into it. Those that have paid for online dating services may see things in a very different light. When a person’s hard earned pay in involved there’s a natural tendency to take things more serious. That being said, these are my personal thoughts.

Yes, Tinder has the reputation of being a hook-up app. But that’s really only true for men if you’re in the top 1% of good-looking guys or have no standards. I don’t fall into either one of those categories. I’m also picky about who I spend my time with because I’m a busy guy in my thirties and a firm believer that time is the most precious commodity we all have because we’re not getting any of it back. So let’s not waste each other’s. I don’t care how attractive you are if there isn’t much of a brain in your head. If I want to stare at vacant, hollow pretty people I’ll just go on the internet. I get the same effect and don’t have to drop $80 on dinner.

My foray into Bumble was brief because everybody just seemed to use it as a platform to gather more Instagram followers. And Plenty of Fish is a wasteland of gratuitous cleavage, duck-face, and unrealistic expectations. So I’ll keep it to Tinder because that’s what I’ve used most often.

It’s a simple enough concept; you swipe right on profiles that grab your attention, left on those that don’t. And it immediately becomes dehumanizing. We are so much more than a handful of strategically chosen happiness photos and a few words about the person we think we are. It’s the equivalent of lining up a row of whores at the brothel and making your selection. If one says “no” you just move on to the next, and so forth, and so forth. The nuances of connection and understanding and empathy are nonexistent. Human interaction is not a game, it’s a survival mechanism.

When you get past the shocking lack of humanity, you soon discover that profiles are riddled with old photos and lies. That picture was taken five years ago. How do I know you’re not missing an ear or living in a car? A lot can happen in five years. If you went to Spain three summers ago but have spent every weekend since eating Cheetos and watching Real Housewives of Who-Gives-A-Shit, then you are not a traveler. How can you call yourself a “gym rat” when it looks like you missed the exit driving to the gym and settled for Krispy Kreme instead? It’s false advertising.

I’m not a particularly shallow guy, never have been. If you’re intelligent or artistic then I’m usually interested. But there is a double standard that draws my ire every time I happen upon it. It’s called heightism. It’s when women dismiss a guy outright if he doesn’t meet a certain arbitrary height criteria she has convinced herself she needs in a man to be happy. It’s the same thing as me saying “no fat chicks,” which I would get destroyed for.

I've managed a few dates here and there, some fun, some alright, and some uncomfortably awkward. The problem is that people are different over text than they are in person. Humor doesn’t always translate the same and chemistry doesn’t always carry over. Often times, though, the trick is actually getting the date. Ghosting is far too common and completely rude. You’re having a nice, flowing conversation and then they cut off communication like they’re quitting smoking cold turkey.

Women do have it more difficult in online dating, I’ll secede that point. Men are aggressors, typically leaving ladies with a lot of matches and messages to sort through. I’m sure they have better things to do than answer Johnny Asshole’s copy & paste message he sends to every woman. But that doesn’t stop some men from interpreting it as an ego bruise and losing their shit at some poor girl that doesn’t even know who they are.

And the dick pics. C’mon, guys. Nobody wants to see that. You’re making the rest of us look like apes.

And therein lies the biggest issue; ego. One minute it can be a huge boost and the next entirely deflating. And I’m guilty of it. I’m guilty of all the things I just pointed out. I’m a part of the problem. The last time I left the scene I vowed never to go back. A month later I was elbow deep again because I felt defeated. I didn’t want to admit that I was a failure at dating. But I am. Dating is an artificial social construct that doesn’t mesh well with my personality. It got the best of me but my ego refused to admit it. I was back in for all the wrong reasons, and that’s not healthy behavior.

I guess it boils down to intentions. I’ve always viewed relationships as partnerships with the goal of making each other’s lives a little bit easier, as opposed to a little more complicated. Maybe that’s too much to ask of the spectra of online dating. Maybe I should spend more time around bookstores.

Like Water

I tested out my new approach toward the memoir this week and I was amazed at how well it worked. The words flowed like water. I was knocking out 600 in an hour, which is a crazy pace for me because I’m typically fairly deliberate with my words, sometimes a little too much that I tend to think instead of write. But this was bang, bang, bang.

It’s always a great feeling when you progress the way you envision. It so rarely happens the way you expect. Knocking out 2300 words in a four day span with all the other responsibilities of life surrounding me is either maturation, an outlier, or a damned miracle. But I’m not one to rage against the tide, so I move forward and continue to build. It’s the most surefire way of conquering something in this world.

Elsewhere I attended a continuing education class this week on the use of essential oils in cooking. It was fascinating stuff. They take herbs and spices such as oregano and rosemary and basil and condense it into an oil form, completely natural, and use a mere drop during cooking. Seems absurd, right? Well I tasted a few dishes and it works. In fact, there’s a whole culture around the use of essential oils. Everything from digestive issues to muscle soreness to allergies has a simple remedy that loads of people swear by. They also integrate citrus fruits and even fir. Fascinating ideas.

Afterward I traveled down the street with a co-worker to get some ice cream at this tiny creamery I’d never heard of. The inside was a total throwback with décor that seemed straight out of the 50’s. I also had the best banana pudding ice cream of my life, homemade, full of wafers, and absolutely glorious. Small town America, that’s where the real greatness lives.