Today Is Your Dearthday!
When I hear Christian music I often ask myself a question.
Jesus Christ across the galaxy
Bringing toys and goodies for you and me
Are you singing for His glory? Or your own? You have to dig deep for the true answer.
That might be an awkward opening, but here’s the point of this post:
Today is a new day. It’s my friend’s birthday. So I decided to go on Facebook and send him some cheese-ball greetings. “Congratulations for being alive on a day that signifies the number of rotations of this planetoid around its star being a whole number. Jolly good, chum!”
I expected to see Facebook jam the birthday in my face. But it didn’t. There was no mention of my friend on the birthday dailies. Hmm. What to make of this?
Using logic and deduction, I theorized that my friend didn’t share his birthday with Facebook. Wise move. Extrapolating further, I reasoned that my friend probably didn’t wish his birthday to be generally known. That seemed to me to be a reasonable hypothesis that fit all the known facts.
What to do? What to do?
I had a choice. Post publicly on his wall, thus announcing the occasion to all of his friends, or respect what I assumed were his wishes and keep it private?
Since it was his special day, and not my own, I decided to recognize that he’s an individual who exists in the universe and has feelings. I decided to show respect for that.
I sent my greetings in private.
Feeling warm and fuzzy about being a considerate friend, I went back to my homepage to see what other flotsam Facebook had washed up on my beach. I do this daily to remind me about the true nature of humanity and such.
Bazinga!
There it was, on the very top of the news feed. Someone else just wished my friend a happy birthday. In public. For all to see. Bastard! Quickly his Facebook was overrun with the bloody things. They say it’s the thought that counts. So how do you take a good thing and convert it into the equivalent of peeing in your so-called friend’s Wheaties?
There it sits.
Happy birthday to you? Or me? Who exactly are we celebrating here?
“Psst! Hey, everybody! Look at me! Look at how wonderful I am remembering my friend’s birthday and shit. Aren’t I good? Don’t you love me? You love me, don’t you? Why hasn’t everyone liked this? Click like or you’ll be unfriended! Somebody call the whambulance!”
Again, to this birthday interloper, I ask: Whose glory is motivating your behavior, you narcissistic creepazoid?
I’m One In A Million
“What is the nature of existence?” no one asked me.
“You asked,” I replied. “So I’ll tell you…”
Imagine being born into a society. Congratulations! You were the sperm that won. (Unless the fertilization process was technologically interfered with and/or took place inside of a test tube. In that case, here’s your “participant” ribbon.)
For most of thus that’s exactly what happened. We came into existence and then, presumably sometime later, we attained some sort of consciousness. And without knowing what we were doing we began to absorb. Mostly from the idiots who surrounded us.
Nice plan. Now you’re totally fucked.
Continue reading →
Loving What You Regurgitate
Another Regurgitation Sunday is upon us. Time for me to reach deep into the annals of blog history and dig out another piece of poop. I do hope I spelled that correctly.
This morning whilst searching the internet for a motivational quote related to the word “ascribing” I came across the following nugget of joy:
Naturally that reminded me of the good old days back in November 2009 when I wrote a steaming piece of shit entitled: Thoughts on “loving what you do”
Those were good times so that instantly became today’s pick of the kitty litter. I’m not one to stare down the barrel of coincidence and blink. I’m not about to ignore the fates that brought this piece of digital flotsam my way.
If you will allow me the temporary hubris of paraphrasing Steve Jobs:
The only way to produce great shits is to shit what you shit. And have a
shitboss in position of authority above you.
–Tom B. Taker
Unless you love what you do, please click the following link to be transported to the magical land of yesterlore.
Regurgitated: Thoughts on “loving what you do”
Monday Magic
I recently had a deep thought.
Life is lived one week at a time.
–Tom B. Taker
Let’s take a look at a typical week then, shall we? We’ll use my patented Poop Colored Glasses with Capitalism Tint.
In other words, this look is founded on a work-based viewpoint.
A lot of work-based people tend to favor Friday. They have it up on some kind of pedestal. Well, not me! Why? Because Friday is the work day closest to Monday. And it’s still a day where you actually go to work. Sorry, Friday. That puts you squarely in the Shit bin.
“Holy Time” is my description of the time between Friday at 5pm and midnight. Seven golden hours of goodness. This section of time is the most removed from going back to work. Unfortunately it’s also the smallest damn piece of the whole friggin’ pie.
Saturday is a pretty good day. It’s preceded by Holy Time, which is good, and to its credit, is also followed by a day that is not work. Therefore this day is “Good.” That’s high praise from the likes of me.
Sunday is a bit of a quandary. Since it is followed by a work day, it’s a very melancholy time. Yeah, it’s not as bad as work, but it is being chased by an ominous black cloud of death. Technically speaking, Sunday is a day tainted by evil. But it’s still not work. So this day we will classify as Tainted and/or Mediocre.
This graph is actually incomplete. It’s missing the slice that consists of the last two hours before bed on a Sunday night. This slice, if it had been shown, would have been represented with the terminology “Despair.” Technically it’s know worse than any work night yet is somehow amplified by the freedom that was just tasted.
The rest of the 168 hours in the life unit known as the “week” fall into a bucket known simply as Shit. This is, by far, the biggest piece of the life of pie. And I think that pretty much sums it up.
Let Them Not Eat Cake
“Hey, that cakes looks delicious.”
“Thanks. Want a piece?”
“I don’t know. Has it been vetted? I only eat straight cake, motherfucker. That’s how they get you.”
Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world.
If you grow up, though, then you’re on your own. Jesus has got places to go and things to do. He has a very full schedule.
This post is about three bakeries (and probably more) that are in the business of making, among other things, wedding cakes, but have policies against providing their cakes to weddings for gay couples.
Those bakers have gotten their batter in a bother. Yes, the sacred art of stirring flour, sugar and eggs must be defended. No matter the cost. This is jihad.
OK, I’ll bite. This will be my attempt to leaven things up with a dash of reason. As always my two bits are the icing on the cake.
For dessert I’ll be serving delicious Bread of Shame, so bring your appetite! I’m generously offering to slice off little pats of my anger to be used as a topping. I’m currently off dairy.
Continue reading →
Choices
What do you want out of life???
I don’t know if I’ll try to answer that question. But I do know this: Watch both Zeitgeist movies, a few choice TED videos, and finish it off with the Story of Stuff and you might just say, “Brother, it sure as hell ain’t this!” And then depression sets in…
In my study of gerbils I have pondered mysteries both great and deep.
For Abyss newbies:
“Gerbil” is the term I have coined for younglings that fail to empty nest on schedule. And then, later, when they belatedly emerge from the nest sans high school diploma and any discernable life plan, they do things like go on food stamps, obtain medical marijuana cards (sore back), drink lots of alcohol, sleep until 5pm, stay up until 5am, take pictures of themselves smoking and post them on Facebook, and avoid jobs, school and self-improvement at all costs.
That’s the modern genus of gerbil that I am familiar with.
A Rush song famously said, “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.” Indeed. The modern gerbil lifestyle is a choice!
I took a gerbil aside one day and offered words that I thought, in my hubris, might somehow be wise.
Trust me on this. It ain’t easy coming back from a gerbil bite.
Creep Thoughts
Little known fact: This sculpture was originally called “Man on Toilet Frustrated by Crossword Puzzle.” True story.
Today I was pondering the nature of existence. No biggie. Mostly because I woke up and shit and had to deal with it. What can I say? Being alive one more day is outside (mostly) of my direct control. And I’m too damn lazy to do anything differently. Like expend actual effort.
I decided to tackle this problem logically and treat it like a “proof” in the geometrical sense. Although I haven’t official “solved” anything yet, this is what I came up with so far…
Shouts from the Abyss 
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