January 5th, 2009 - Fuck You Number 21

December 31st, 2008 - #21

Goodbye, 2008.

You were a year that gave me many things to be grateful for. You introduced me to a few beautiful babies throughout the year. You allowed the Miami Dolphins to resurrect their lifeless program. You took me on a whirlwind of a ride across the United States to a place loved by many, called Myrtle Beach.

But, you also placed me in some very interesting situations. You picked up a 120 pound couch from the bed of a pick-up I was driving, and threw it in front of the Hyundai following close behind, thus increasing the time period I'm required to use an ignition interlock device to operate my motor vehicle. Then there was the time that you forced that bottle of Crown Royal down my throat, causing me to act extremely irrationally, and without a care in the world. I believe I awakened the next morning with a black eye, and a blonde I did not recognize lying next to me, half-naked. I'm not complaining by any means, but I could have done without the black eye. Finally, there was the time that you coaxed me into venturing out on that camping endeavor. You remember? The one where I lost myself in the middle of the northern Arizona woods for approximately half a day, without a person within earshot.

Yes, 2008. That one.

The good thing is, I can look back at you now and learn from the obstacles you placed in front of me. I overcame several issues, severe, and small, and I did it with great perseverance.

I pray 2009 can be as gratifying, both on an educational, and experiential level.

Fuck you, 2008.

Bring on 2009.

Cheers.

November 4th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 14

Last night after watching Two and a Half Men, I was reading through the art card at the end of the program provided by my main man, Chuck Lorre. For those of you who are without a Tivo-like digital television recorder, I highly suggest acquiring one, or at least visiting the man's thoughts here...Chuck Lorre's Vanity Cards

Last night's was absolutely priceless.

Some people say there's no god. I disagree. I think there're actually four gods: The god of money, the god of medicine, the god of war and the god of technology. Like it or not, these are the gods that rock our world. I mean, when stuff goes seriously wrong who do you call? Your priest or your lawyer? Your rabbi or your doctor? Your minister or a cop? Your monk or the smug little geek who set up your home entertainment system? But while the gods of tech, medicine, guns and money give us the illusion of being safe, they don't give our lives meaning. For that we need other gods. And who are these other gods? Well, look around. They're sports stars, movie stars, rock stars, the occasional political and business figures, cute chicks who become princesses, and rich chicks who don't seem to require food. These are the deities who connect us with our abandoned inner selves. Their joy is our joy, their suffering is our suffering. We love and fear them, and occasionally crucify them. 

Thank you for that Chuck. Thank you.

Cheers.

October 28th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 12

Okay, so, please read my previous post. Let's get it clear people. You have to READ the post. You have to understand the words in the context of the sentence they are used in.

For example, if I was to say, "I love this thing, more than life itself," I'm not really suggesting that I love the object in question here more than life itself. That, would be absurd. Life, even in a society characterized by capitalistic schmucks, is better than not-life.

Read into it people. It's the clothing. A metaphor, if you will. I speak of the way we've all begun to take less respect in our appearance. Largely in part to our laziness. There once was a time when we as a society would wear our Sunday's finest out to Wrigley Field to consume hot-dogs, while watching America's finest baseball team lay pine-to-leather in America's most famed ballpark. 

The point is, care for your appearance. Some people can pull the "hipster" look off, because they live the lifestyle, and simply look cool doing it. Shit, Axl Rose wore leather every day of the week...I'm guessing those that followed in his footsteps aren't sitting in on any, "board of directors" meetings. For the rest, dress in a way that's gonna allow you to interact with others on a more personal level. Whatever garb you decide to throw over your head, make sure it's fitting, and it makes you feel comfortable. You'll feel better about yourself, which in turn will allow our society to grow.

After all America, that's my only purpose to composing these posts, to facilitate America's positive growth.

Fuck those people who try to find something to complain about (whoops, kinda me). Seriously, read through it, and try to find the underlying meaning of things. You'll learn more.

Cheers.

October 21st, 2008 - Fuck You Number 7

What gives?

This morning on my way into the office, I approached a traffic light that was green, giving ME the right of way. I noticed that there were cars in the lanes adjacent to me slowing down, so I copied their actions, and began to apply pressure to the pedal on the left. As I nearly came to a stop, I emerged from the cars on each side of me, and I saw the obstruction that was prohibiting traffic from moving in the direction in which it should have been. A silver Prius sat in the middle of the intersection waiting to turn left. His light was red. He’d been sitting there as I drove up to the light, for at least 30 seconds, while multiple cars made their feelings known to him. Once all of the traffic in the intersection had come to a halt, this almighty man made a left hand turn into my lane.

I looked to my left and right and saw my fellow drivers shaking their heads erratically, some of them pumping their fists in the air and screaming obscenities behind the glass windows of their vehicles. One thing was for certain; from here on out, I was going to be driving amidst a sea of extremely pissed-off motorists.

Sure enough, as I flipped on my blinker to signal to the drivers behind me that I would be merging into the lane on my right, I was greeted by the middle-finger of the driver behind me. What a lovely man. As I nudged my Mazda across the white line separating the two lanes, the driver behind me veered into the left lane and immediately applied the weight of a thousand men onto his accelerator. He was apparently extremely inconvenienced by my vehicle's necessity to occupy the lane from which I’d be turning in a few short moments. I received yet another friendly gesture coupled with the blaring of his horn as he sped by me.

Fuck road-rage. Fuck that fat son-of-a-bitch in the white Escalade whose day was seemingly ruined when he had to unexpectedly stop at a light which was instructing him he could move forward.

Cheers

October 9th, 2008 - Fuck You Number 2

I was sitting at a stop-light yesterday on my lunch break. The new album from the Cool Kids echoed the words, "I, I, I'm Mikey, I, I, I rock this," and the half-cracked window let escape the smoke from the cigarette I was sucking on like a whore giving a blow-job. I looked across the intersection through the traffic, and I swear to you I saw Honesty and Integrity strolling out of a Starbucks. 

Impossible. 

They were seemingly banished from society several, several years ago. If memory serves, the last time I ran into them was when I was slipping out of my mom's uterus covered in my own after-birth and fecal matter. Now, I'd be lying to you if I told you I remember how enamored my mother and father were at this moment in time, but I know my parents; I'd bet you their faces were filled with more trust and real love, than Mother Teresa's ever was. I'd also bet that too was the last time you saw Honesty and Integrity.

What happened to doing what you said you were going to do? Where is the person who would tell you what was on their mind knowing very well it might not be what you want to hear? Why are we unable to give without expecting something in return? What a conniving and disrespectful ball of water and rock we're turning into.

We've become an army of ants stopping at nothing to reach the top, and the queen. We step on one another in the halls of high-rises. We lie to one another in the rooms of hospitals. We publicly humiliate [willing] human beings on the extravagant Hollywood stages of inexplicable reality-television shows. We do all this, for our own enjoyment and monetary gain. All to get an extra buck, because we've been shown happiness is directly correlated to the number of zeros in the far right column of our checkbook registry. 

Can all of this distress and all of this pain and all of this deceitful behavior be attributed to money? Why can't we treat each other with the dignity and respect we all deserve as people? 

Fuck you, greed. Fuck the voice that has been placed in our minds telling us we'll be happier if we can only get more of that proverbial, "cheddar". 

Cheers.