Well, sheeet. I guess you all know what I look like now. Special shouts at Erik Reichenbach for giving guru a total makeover.
The other day the world came and took a shit on our front door.
Wow. Have I mastered the art of the literary opening or what? -Ed.
Anywho, we came home and found a flyer had been stuck in the front door of our house. Just like I documented recently, our house is always Under Siege.
Yes, sadly, so far we haven’t been able to raise the money for guard towers with machine guns and snipers. Maybe I should list my modest home defense project on KickStarter? How much would you donate?
It was an 8-1/2″ x 11″ piece of standard printer paper. This flyer was done on the cheap.
For those keeping track, that’s two warning signs already and we haven’t even talked about the content of the flyer yet.
Already hating the guts of whoever was responsible, I finally took a look. It was a B&W ad for a landscaper dude. It was amateur hour all the way. Even I could have done a better job. And the most prominent part of the ad? A blown up and grainy closeup photograph of the dude’s face. Maybe he was part real estate agent, too?
Strike Three! Strike Four! Yer outta here, chump!
I googled the guy’s name and found that he had been cited by the state for landscaping without a license. Yup, yup.
That’s about the time my wife muttered something about needing yard work done, picked up the phone and gave the guy a ring.
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!
Continue reading →
I rather like this shot. I used an iPod with the sun behind me and to my right. Logistically I had to hold the iPod far to my right to avoid my shadow in the shot and I could barely compose because sunlight was reflecting from the display directly into my eyeballs. To complete my bitching, the way I was holding the iPod made it very hard to touch the button to take the shot.
I ain’t sayin’ this is a work of art but I still like how it turned out. For once one of my pictures actually tells a “story,” something that has been beaten into me repeatedly. What the hell. At least it ain’t another sign shot! And for those of you who thought this photo might be some other kind of “weed” oasis I offer my apologies for wasting your time.
I originally shared this photo on Twitter under the title, “Miracle of Life.”
Coming soon to a state ballot near you: marijuana AKA cannabis.
Seems like all I hear these days is pro-legalization news. Pot was criminalized on a lie. Pot isn’t all that bad. Look what you can do with hemp. Driving while stoned isn’t as bad as being drunk. Yada yada yada.
Well, BAH FUCKING HUMBUG!
I often find myself on the wrong side of the popular vote. I guess that makes me a Lone Wolf. A renegade. A man outside the law. Meh.
How many laws are on the books that you don’t agree with? Well shit. What’s that got to do with it? Most laws in our country existed before I was even born. There was no “acceptance period” when I reached a certain age where I was ever asked which laws I agreed with and which ones I didn’t. That’s just tough noogies for me. I have to live with it. That’s life in a democracy like ours I guess.
When marijuana comes up for legalization in my neck of the woods – which is an inevitability – I will personally vote “hail no.” I find that shit utterly disgusting. I don’t like the way it smells, I don’t like the “culture” built around it, and I don’t understand the overwhelming desire to intoxicate oneself. For the record, however, I understand that some folks may have a legitimate need to ease pain and suffering in their lives. In that narrow definition I can support use. Of course, “medical marijuana” is one of the most abused concepts of all time. That makes it ever-so-tempting to shut the door on all use. The rest of this post has nothing to do with those who have a legitimate need.
I get it. Life sucks. Life is hard. Life is pain. But you can choose how you respond. You have choice. You have free will. You can decide to take on life and grapple with it. Or you can check out and go to La La Land and float on a cloud. In my ever so humble opinion the time spent on that cloud is time wasted. (Pun intended.)
I’ve been reading and hearing about the “whaaaaa!” situation in Humbolt County, California. The county is economically depressed. If it wasn’t for marijuana, proponents claim, the county would be even worse off economically than it is now. They say that marijuana is the county’s #1 cash crop. I saw a video of a self-styled Humbolt County “businessman” in a fucking suit extolling the virtues of the plant. Is it just me or did he take the easy way out by basing his livelihood on an illegal business, one that is highly profitable, and one that he now wants to legitimize and have a head start on corning the market? I could give a shit less about him. Me? I’m just a humble law-abiding citizen who’s salary is a pitiful fraction of his. Why the fuck should someone choosing to obey the law matter? Why should the criminal be rewarded?
According the Wikipedia’s cannabis page, marijuana is the #4 cash crop in the United States. Imagine the market that exists to support that? Wow. And in states like California, New York and Florida it is the #1 or #2 cash crop.
You know what that tells me? That too many damn people are spending too much damn money to intoxicate themselves and live on a cloud rather than deal with real life.
When you factor in what we spend on pot, alcohol, other illegal drugs, and abused pharmaceutical narcotics I can only imagine what a whopping number that must be. For completeness we should probably include cigarettes (perhaps the most addictive force known to humankind). Hell, throw in caffeine (Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Red Bull, etc.), too. It’s all drugs, right?
Stop and think about what we do as a society. The need to check out of reality is incredible. What if all the resources, time, money and energy spent on all that shit could be used for good? Can you imagine how different this world could be???
Pop quiz, hot shot.
Who do you think a gerbil considers to be his good friend? The parent raggin’ all the time about making choices for a better tomorrow? Or, perchance, the neighbor with the big bowl of weed who is more than willing to share?
“You just don’t understand me!” yells the gerbil on the way out the door to visit the neighbor who “understands” way better than we ever could.
Hey, gerbil. Listen up. No doubt he thinks your nose ring is great. Maybe he thinks it is awesome that you don’t have a job. Perhaps the fact that you dropped out of school impresses the ever-lovin’ shit out him. Ear lobes gauged to the limit probably turn him on. A physical appearance that makes local employers want to hurl is probably the shiznitty bomb. If that is “understanding” you then maybe I don’t fucking want to.
I have a question? Where will mister wonderful neighbor be 20 to 30 years from now? Will he even be around? Will he love you and care about your welfare the way we do? Talk about not “understanding” something. Where will your good buddy the neighbor be when the shit really hits the fan and you have no where else to turn in life? Where will he be when you face living in the gutter?
And to you, Mr. Neighbor, let me just say this: Thanks so much for everything you do for our son. Really. I can’t thank you enough. Will you be around to pick up the pieces that are left when our son finally comes face to face with reality? Where will you be when that happens? Do me a favor, will ya? Please go die and rot in hell. You’re in your 30’s now for heaven’s sake, you’ve got young kids of your own, you’re almost married (if shacking up counts) and you are playing hooky from your “manager” job at the local bank with your fake back injury. When the hell are you going to grow up? Some fine example you set for our son. You are too injured to work yet every single night at your house is party time and the beer and smokes and pot are offered up at a never-ending buffet.
Our son is lost. He’s going to have to eat the shit sandwich and come out the other end before he gets a friggin’ clue and learns to deal. But thanks for the added bonus of your help, asshole. Thanks for being there for our son.