Thursday, November 30, 2017

The Burrito Thing

The Burrito Thing - A Comprehensive Analysis 
About thirty minutes ago I opened the door to my microwave oven to discover it lying there on the glass plate rotater, still wrapped in wax paper - the burrito thing. 

Logic insists that I must have put it there, but I simply have no recollection of how long it's been languishing in my microwave, or how it even got there in the first place. I suppose for the sake of thoroughness, and to set a good example for the children, that I should also have no recollection of whether or not a burrito thing is safe to eat. It's probably a moot point, but isn't that what microwaves are for? Nuking the little critters that lurk inside of burrito things? It might not be safe to eat right this minute, per se, but I'm not unduly worried. Anyway, back to the mystery! 

Here I am in the present tense. I'm hungry, I'm tired, there's a burrito thing here, and the clock is ticking. In order to solve this mystery I should start by looking for clues. I'll need to be scientific and methodical, like Sherlock Holmes. I'll begin by breaking the process into manageable chunks or steps, as they say in the scientific community. 

Step 1. Find the facts! 

Fact number 1: I know that the ridiculous size of my tolerance for alcohol precludes blackouts nowadays, and that's a fact. 

Fact number 2: Hell, I can't even remember the last time I was drunk, and... 

Fact number 3: I disappear into my liver two big ass bottles of 190 proof Tomahawk distilled spirits every week! 

Now that I'm armed with the facts, I'm able to deduce that I absolutely do not remember putting the burrito thing in my microwave, because it's impossible for me to get drunk enough to black out. The scientific method is already producing quantifiable results! I'm pretty sure those are all the facts. 

Step 2. Retrace your steps, Ash! 

Ok, let's see... I was at the microwave, puzzling over the newly discovered burrito thing. Before that I was lying in bed watching Frozen for the eleventy-zillion-and-a-halfth time and possibly getting hungry. Before that I'd gotten home from work and fixed myself a great big drink with lots of that 190 proof Tomahawk stuff I was talking about a minute ago. Before that I was at work. Before that I was at home watching Frozen for the eleventy-zillionth time. Before that I was asleep. Before that I was scrounging for food after work. Before that I made a great big drink... and on and on, ad nauseam. 

Ok, this is obviously the wrong approach. If every day is just a repeat of the previous day, then there's no way I'll be able to locate this mystery burrito by retracing my steps through thousands of repeats. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack! Wow... that's brutal. Basically what this means is that every day of my life is just a rerun of a pilot episode that was so shitty that it never even had the dubious distinction of getting canceled after the first season. Hell, it never even got canceled, it just got thrown in the trash. Oh my God, how depressing. I need a drink. 

Since the scientific method of searching for clues didn't pan out, it's time to consider a less rigid, more right brained approach. I'll start by framing the problem of the burrito thing as the pilot episode of a reality show that's centered around my life, which I like to call: 

The Search for Food 

Catchy, huh? Kind of like STAR TREK 3 - The Search for Spock. I think it adds just the right amount of drama that's needed in order to give it a false sense of appeal. I'm not suggesting that a reality show centered around my life wouldn't be appealing; it's just that most people have to be lied to before they'll believe anything. It's a hook, you know? Lie to them, get them to watch so that they can see how much you've lied to them, and BAM! They're hooked whenever they discover the truth! Moving on.

Usually whenever I conduct a search for food I start by digging through the trash at work for write-offs... and whadda you know. Upon closer inspection, I see now that this burrito thing is definitely a write-off from work! NOW I'm getting some results! Now all I have to figure out is this... how did a burrito thing get all the way from the trash dumpster at my workplace to the inside of my microwave oven? That's the mystery, and I'm too tired to solve it right now, and I was too tired to solve it when I went ahead and ate it ten minutes ago. Sorry. 

Please enjoy instead a comprehensive review of the burrito thing that's probably a write-off that I don't remember digging out of the dumpster where we chuck the expired food that's gone bad at the 7-Eleven where I work. 

'The Burrito Thing Experience'

All I originally wanted to do was warm up my 4-Loko Tomahawk boilermaker in the microwave so that the carbonation didn't hurt my throat when I chugged it. That's when I discovered the burrito thing. After some quality ruminating, I decided that a minute and a half would be enough time to nuke the poison to death, so I nuked it for a minute and a half and ate it. 

My conclusion is that it wasn't very good. It was all breakfasty, and not enough like dinner when you're in the mood for dinner. Plus the ever-present thought of the possibility of dying with every bite helped to make it less enjoyable. 

All in all I'd rate the burrito thing as adequate emergency sustenance for Russian peasants in the event of a nuclear attack.

Everything I Hate about My Favorite Movie, Frozen

You know that movie, Frozen, right? That goddamn animated Disney epic that came out a few years ago, based on some fairy tale that nobody outside of Russia has ever heard of? The one with the two most smokin' hot cartoon princesses ever made, hotter even than that little mermaid chick? Speaking of that mermaid chick... you totally get to see her bare naked ass, right after she grows legs and almost drowns as she's swimming up to the human world. It's kind of hard to see because you have to pause it JUST RIGHT, but man, it's frikin' awesome! 

Anyway. You're probably gonna think I'm hating on that movie Frozen, but I'm really not. In fact, I'm pretty much hopelessly in love with Frozen. I've watched it exactly eleventy-seven-and-sixteen-fiftieths times, to help cure my aloneliness on my otherwise intolerable days off. Mostly I have it playing in the background while I'm on the pot. I really do love that movie, it's just that I have a bunch of nitpicks with it, the same as I do with everything I love. 

Firstly, what's the story with that Christoph kid? I used to think that maybe he was an ice apprentice, but all he does is spend the entire day fucking up. Apparently he isn't learning anything about ice mining, so why is he even there? The ice miners sure don't give a crap about him... I mean, here's this little boy, scampering around among hardened ice miners who are constantly singing about what a dangerous job ice mining is, and nobody says anything about the little kid! Weird. 

Speaking of little kids, way before Elsa grew up and became a neurotic bitch, she and her sister Anna used to have fun playing eternal winter inside the castle. Remember when Elsa was magickng those taller and taller piles of snow to catch Anna as she jumped from one to the other? You could just see it coming, that Elsa was only one or two catch me's away from screwing up royally (heh). So why didn't Elsa poof up some smaller snow mounds? Why did she keep making them BIGGER and BIGGER? That was just dumb, Elsa. 

Then just as everything is going tits up, Elsa slips (on her own ice!) and hits Anna right between the eyes with an ice dart! King and queen anonymous freak out of course, and after thumbing through a book which shows an illustration of a positively evil looking troll waving it's claws over a royally garbed figure laid out on a stone slab like the Aztecs would put you on before ripping out your still beating heart, the King decides that these nightmare creatures are the only hope for his daughter, and he gathers up the entire fam and hauls ass to troll country. 

What's the deal with those things anyway? They're definitely not carbon based life forms. Their organic chemistry is likely based on long chain silicon molecules, what with them basically being living rocks. Far out, huh? Well, if you've done as much research as I have into what makes those lovable little fuckers tick, then you'll know that silicon life would get along MUCH better in a permanent deep freeze. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Food for thought? Hey, I ain't pointing fingers! 

Since it's pretty much established immediately that stone trolls are the 'good guys' for curing Anna, then why did that grampa troll go out of his way to scare the shit out of Elsa? Do you think he'd considered the possible consequences of showing a little girl a vision in the sky of her own blood red powers attacking from every direction and stabbing her into oblivion, pretty much guaranteeing that Elsa would be scared shitless of her own nature during her formative years? Why would grampa troll do that? Because he's an evil fucker? Kinda makes you wonder about those trolls, huh? Hey, just sayin'! 

Ok, let's give those filthy trolls the benefit of the doubt for a second. Maybe that's how trolls raise their little troll kids, by scaring the shit out of them. Maybe rock trolls are just stupid, like a bag of rocks stupid, and they thought that Elsa was just another rock. But if rock trolls are just a pack of idiots with good intentions, then why did grampa troll throw in that memory wipe for Anna? The King seemed to agree that it was 'for the best', but what the hell does he know? To him, a satanic ritual is just as good as real live medicine! 

The only thing that memory wipe accomplished was to confuse the hell out of a little girl, leaving her with no idea as to why her best buddy would suddenly just up and start hating her. The entire situation is completely fucked up! It's no wonder that one of those little girls grew up to be a paranoid, cast iron bitch, and the other one so desperate for love - any kind of love - that she'd understand it as simply a furtive glance in her direction. See what I'm saying about those dirty silicon based life forms? 

Oh yeah. Don't forget about the troll woman who basically kidnaps Christoph when he's just a five year old kid. "I'm gonna keep you," says the troll woman to the little boy and his moose puppy as she wraps her cold, heavy arms of stone around their fragile little necks. What the fuck, man? I mean, discounting the horror of being embraced by a Golem, even if Christoph was an orphan, there's no way that troll woman could have known that. Creepy! 

Ok, enough about the trolls. Here's a puzzlement. Why don't Elsa's gloves freeze when she's wearing them? Those manacles they clapped onto her hands when she was in prison sure froze though, didn't they? SO WHY DON'T HER GLOVES FREEZE? Could the reason be that the whole touchy-freezy thing is a neurotic condition, stemming from a traumatic childhood experience manipulated by those dirty, filthy silicon life forms? HUH? Ok, I'm done now with the trolls, really. 

Let's move on to another thing that pisses me off, which is really the only completely unforgivable nitpick that I have. Why is it unforgivable? Because it's not a plot hole or a character flaw or anything like that... it's simply sloppy song writing that borders on the obscene. 

Allow me to elucidate. Remember that part where Queen Elsa fucks off to the hills after her disastrous coming out party, and how she sings her way through magical puberty and finally embraces her womanhood by transforming from a stupid fraidy cat little girl into a sexy, sexy ice queen? And how she lyrically referred to a snowflake as a fractal? Remember how STUPID that was? Didn't you just want to slap the shit out of whoever it was who wrote those lyrics? I'm talking about the 'Let It Go' song. 

You know... 

'My power flurries through the air into the ground 
My soul is spiraling in FROZEN FRACTALS all around' 

...that part! 

I'm terribly, grievously sorry, but there's just no possible way without invoking a couple of generations of math wizards into the storyline that Queen Elsa would have been even remotely aware of the fractal nature of a snowflake. Hell, the basic concept of a fractal would have melted her primitive, medieval brain! It's simply unforgivably sloppy on the part of the song writer who came up with those stupid, stupid lyrics. Shame on you, whoever you are, you stupid, lazy song writer who made that fractal snowflake crap into impossible song lyrics! 

Some more nitpicks. Why do so many Disney animal sidekicks act like dogs? I'm armed to the teeth with examples. Here goes... 

Lilo and Stitch. Stitch is an alien. To Stitch, dogs are aliens. Stitch acts like a dog. 

Hercules. Pegasus is two pretty awesome animals smooshed together into one even awesomer animal with no sign of dog anywhere. Pegasus acts like a dog. 

Tangled. Maximus is a genetically perfect horse with exemplary morals and intelligence on par with a human. Maximus could act like a firedrake if he chose to. Maximus acts like a dog. 

The Fox and the Hound - Copper is a hound dog that's been mercilessly brainwashed to murder his childhood friend. Copper should, by all rights, act like a sociopath. Copper acts like a dog! 


Why, these things?? 

Now back to those filthy, dirty trolls. No, I ain't done with them yet. 

Those stone trolls sure sing a good story about true love while simultaneously trying their damndest to force two strangers into getting married, don't they? One of them is even engaged already! But do those stone hearted bastards give a shit? Hell naw, they have their own agenda, and it ain't about true love. I mean, how can anyone really think that those petrified horse apples are even capable of giving a single flip about true love, based on what we know about them now? It's obvious that they only want to marry Christoph to a princess as quickly as possible for political leverage. They're outright bastards, through and through, those rock trolls. I'm not pointing fingers though, I'm just sayin'. Those fucking rock trolls are nothing but a pack of bona-fide evil manipulative bastards. I hate 'em! 

Just one more thing and I'm done, I promise... 

Some may find the following negative critique of the Wandering Oakens Trading Post to be unwarranted - after all, when Princess Anna's horse bolted and left her to freeze to death just south of the North Mountain, I must admit that if it weren't for the Wandering Oakens Trading Post, princess Anna would have surely perished. 

Still, can we please expect store proprietors as a general rule NOT to be greedy assholes? Or if not generally, then at least according to special circumstances, such as eternal winters? That's a special circumstance, right? The eternal winter thing? You know who I'm talking about... that big fat Swedish meatball who runs the Wandering Oaken. Screw that guy. 

Oh, he comes off all nice at first, but then after trying unsuccessfully to rob Christoph he throws him out into the storm to die! And why? Because Christoph called him a crook? Which he is, by the way. What, you can't handle the truth, you big smiling lunkhead? 

What he does next is just nauseating - he tries to sweeten up to Anna with a free jar of fish heads! Why? Because Anna had just witnessed an attempted murder? What kind of sleazeball tries to bribe a murder witness with a jar of fish heads? Could it be the kind that keeps his family locked inside a sweat locker during the hottest part of the year, barring eternal winters? How many murders do you think his family has had to witness, imprisoned in that broiling torture chamber that he generously calls a sauna? Are those people even his real family? What a psychopath! 

Him and his big summer blow out. I mean, yeah, it's summer and everything, but there's a big frikin' snowstorm going on in July! If there's a big frikin' snowstorm going on in July, you don't say, "Hello, yoo hoo, big summer blowout!" to everybody who walks into the store, even if it's summer, because nobody is going to want to buy whatever you had for sale for your big summer blowout if there's an eternal winter going on! What an asshole. 

And what the heck is a wandering oaken supposed to be, anyway? That makes zero sense for the name of a trading post that's permanently attached to the side of a mountain. 

Anyway. I sure do love that movie, Frozen!

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

A dream - running from the giant

A dream - running from the giant
I was underneath a rocky overhang, hiding from the giant. It was about as tall as a sodium vapor lamp, about sixty feet high. There was a young girl in my charge hiding with me. My best friend was nowhere to be found, and I'd lost my horse.

It was raining in torrents, and I couldn't tell the footsteps of the giant apart from the peals of thunder. I peeked out from beneath the overhang and saw the giant, about twenty meters away. It had a man in its hand, and I watched as the giant bit off the man's head and chewed it slowly, savoring the flavor, and then threw the rest of the man away.

After it finished chewing and had swallowed, the giant sniffed around, trying to locate me and the girl. It seemed to home in on us, although it couldn't see us. It began to cajole us, complimenting us with our success at eluding it, and promising not to bite off our heads if we revealed ourselves. Then it began to berate and belittle us with insults in an attempt to persuade us to emerge, resigned to our fate. Then it lost its mind in a rage and stamped about, furious and frustrated.

The girl whom I was protecting gasped out loud, and the giant made a step toward us. Frantically and silently, I tried to calm the girl, but she struggled and then let out a piercing whistle. I thought we were doomed, and then my horse came running underneath the legs of the giant and toward us. I picked up the girl and ran beside the horse and caught its bridle. I slung us both onto the horse's back and we rode away at full gallop.

The giant was enraged, and it roared deafeningly. I could feel its thunderous footsteps slamming into the earth as it chased us. I slapped my horse on the neck, urging it to run faster, faster, faster! I glanced down and saw the horse's hooves cycling in a blur, churning up the rain soaked mud like an overpowered machine for digging furrows. I glanced back once and was dismayed to see the giant about a hundred meters behind us, and gaining close to ten meters with each stride.

About a thousand meters ahead was a long ridge that spanned the horizon from South to North, and the setting sun was shining brightly underneath the trailing edge of the storm front. I leaned forward and buried my face in the horse's mane, urging it to please go faster, and I could feel the arms of the little girl in my charge squeezing tightly around my midsection. There was a secret redoubt on the other side of that ridge, with a hospital buried underground... but I knew that we weren't going to make it.

Then I heard a voice shouting from ahead of us, and I shielded my eyes with my hand and saw, atop the ridge, the gesticulating figure of a man. He started down the hill at an angle roughly perpendicular and to the right of my path, running wildly and yelling:

"I've gottim, I've gottim! Go thataway! I've gottim away from ya, go thataway! Thataway!"

It was my best friend. I'd thought he had deserted us, but there he was, running down the slope of the ridge, and drawing the giant torward himself and away from us. I clenched my teeth and squeezed shut my eyes to stop the tears, and yanked the reins to the left and away from my friend as he ran on a suicide mission to lure the giant away from me and the girl.

We made it to the top of the ridge, where I paused to get a look and to find my bearings. Down below on the other side I could see the exposed roofs of the redoubt stretching away to the left and to the right. I spotted a trail that would take us down to the nearest roof, and before descending I turned around to get a brief bead on the giant.

I cried out with a wordless sob when I saw that the giant had already finished with my friend and was sprinting all out, covering at least twenty meters with each stride, and was nearly to the base of the ridge. When it arrived it paused and raised its massive hand to its brow, then bellowed like Hells Bells as it spotted us at the top, silhouetted against the sun. The giant immediately began sprinting uphill.

I spurred my horse down the trail. Upon reaching the roofline, we followed it North until another path appeared, leading us to ground level. I dismounted quickly, the girl in my arms, and dashed to the nearest entrance and inside. With the girl perched upon my back, I raced down hallways and past many people, each of them with a growing expression of perplexity as we ran by.

I was searching hastily for a stairway to the underground hospital when I heard a mighty crash just a few tens of meters behind us. I stopped and turned to see a giant foot thrust through a jagged hole in the roof of the redoubt and planted in the middle of the hall, followed immediately by the thunderous cacophony of a giant fist as it made another hole in the roof, much closer to myself and the girl.

I ran with the girl on my back as sections of the ceiling cracked and fell around us. I passed a woman holding a broom in mid sweep, stuck to the spot, her face frozen in horror at a vision that I didn't turn around to see. There was a spiral stairway ahead that led down, and I leaped toward it with all of my strength and tumbled down to the next floor, just as the roof collapsed above us.

I picked up the girl and, holding her in my arms, I continued downward.

Saturday, November 25, 2017

The umptiness.

The... 'poem'... that follows is the kind of stream of consciousness crap that's constantly barging through my brain, pretty much 24/7. I can't stop it, it does what it wants. I even have to utter this insanity out loud, half the time. Call it a phenomenon, an infliction, a permanent brain bunkle... I dunno, but it's constant and incessant, and it's always RIGHT THERE, INSIDE MY HEAD.
Booger brains and booger bears
Riding the flying jacuzzi hairs
Stomping on the beetlebots
Through half rotted slime
And kerbango snots.

Filching more unruly stares
From tarded and uncooly squares.
Hacking up a phleghmsly blud
Face down in a quagmire
Of squatswater mud.

Slapping slovenly the scabs
Of butt-encrusted corpse fed crabs...
A headless tooth under the bed
Scrunged up and alive,
With the maggoty dead!

The skumble-bumping innardslinks,
The uneschewed unblevined stinks,
Upon the choice of sliddled skin...
Peeled from the flesh,
Or churned within?

Fagnasticating murderbirds!
Craptaculating rancid curds!
The stunchered stumps of umptiness,
Make sweet the kiss
Of deaths caress!

YEE-HAW!!! There's no escape.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Primate behavior

I just watched a fascinating display of nature in action.

I was on my way to the SchmelvenElven to do a little tidying up in the cooler, and as I was passing by Voertman's book store on Oak Street (the parking lot of which is commonly used by sprunciled duncelings as a vehicle repository during the small hours, since it's only about a hundred meters from the bars on Fry Street), about eight young troglodytes bouldered into view, fresh off the Night Train.

They were loud and boisterous, and I watched as two of them began to wrassle in a competitive manner, as sapient homos are wont to do when they're falling down drunk after a hard night of strutting around and without any females in hand to show for it.

As the two hominids wrassled, what began as a game escalated into a bona fide competition, which quickly became a tangle of arms and legs and shouts, all of which collapsed into that ditch area between the Christian campus center and Voertman's.

One of the spectating homos, yelling "Break it up, break it up!" jumped into the fray, and I watched as his mighty leap delivered the momentum of his outstretched fist right into the jaw of one of the wrasslers in the ditch. That's when all hell broke loose.

Suddenly it was an amalgam of pinwheeling arms and legs as the other five or six males joined the melee. Lots of tussling followed, the action of which quickly formed into two groups trying to pull away from each other. It reminded me of cellular mitosis, when chromosomes stretch and divide down the middle. As the two sides were about to come apart, a fist from one side connected with a nose from the other side, and chaos erupted once more.

Most of what followed consisted mainly of taunts, threats, insults, and lots of chest inflating and bowing up of one side to the other. It was then that I was reminded of a couple of packs of chimpanzees going at each other with a lot of bluster, but very little real bite, and I laughed out loud. As I was thusly occupied, a stranger strumming a guitar appeared and stopped next to me to witness the spectacle.

"What's happening over there?" he asked me.

"Primate behavior," I replied, after I'd caught my breath.

The guitar guy busted out with his own laughter and walked away strumming.

Friday, November 17, 2017

Funeral face, again.

Today was another slow motion day.

Once every month or two, I wake up disconnected - slightly removed - two shakes shy of real life - plumbing the depths of the dark behind the daylight - ensconced within a roll of soaking wet cotton batting threaded with fibers of lead - according to no rhyme or reason.

Like the mortal agonies, waking up half dead and stuck inside the slow-flowing sap of apathy and despair is a seemingly random phenomenon. I'm clueless as to the unholy clockwork which motivates these inflictions.

On days like today, managing a facial expression feels like lifting weights. Speaking above a whisper feels like suffocating. Every action is accompanied by a desperate prayer located just below my awareness:

Guide me, protect me, as I'm forced through these motions.

Bad brain chemistry, triggered by unknown ingredients... that's the best explanation I can come up with for these little dips into hell that come every so often.

My boss got onto me today for having 'funeral face', as he puts it. Funeral face... that's a good name for it.
Why you have funeral face? You scare away customer! What wrong with you today?

Geez, I dunno, Chiy. Nothing is wrong, I just wake up like this sometimes.

Customer ask me what wrong with you, I try to protect you, I tell them, he have back pain, but customer leave and don't come back! It hurt sales!

I'm sorry, Chiy. I can't just force myself to pretend that I'm happy.

What wrong with you? Something bothering you? What happen?

Nothing's wrong, Chiy. I just wake up like this sometimes, there's no reason for it! I'm having a bad day. People have bad days. Customers have bad days, I have bad days.

You need help me out, I'm losing sales...

It's not my fault.
And I move through the entire day in slow motion, like a puppet submerged in syrup, scaring away customers and freaking out my boss because my brain chemistry is experimenting with recipes from a forgotten appendix of the Necronomicon.

Thank God these events only occur a few times a year.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

The bestest idea that probably won't kill me.

Oh man, I just had the best idea that I've ever had in this world. I dunno what brought it on, it just hit me like a 59 lb bag of Angel feathers! Here it is:

Sometime soon, preferably on a cold night with low clouds and lots of ice on the ground, I'll gather up all of my necessary accoutrements, such as:

Fully charged internet
Thing to write with
Camera drone
HotHands hand warmers


Spare alcohol


Coffee in a thermos


A couple packs of smokes

and maybe...

A slim jim

And then I'll find a place to perch myself, as high up as I can, possibly at the top of a tree. I've got a couple of tree locations imbedded in my to-do memory banks that would work. I'll wanna get perched no later than 3:00AM, because I'm gonna need several hours of perching to get ready for the daylight. Anyway!

Then I'll wait for the dawn to roll over the horizon, in whatever shape it takes. After that, whatever happens, happens. Maybe I'm so overcome with emotion at the beauty that I lose my grip and fall and break my neck and die (tragic).

Maybe I'm so disappointed at the gray dawn that I slit my wrists and stain the white snow and ice with blood and then I die (that would be the most rad).

Maybe I fall asleep before the crucial moment and lose my grip and fall and break my neck and die (lame).

Maybe I stay awake the whole time waiting for the sunrise, and when it finally happens I forget to watch, and in my discombobulated state, I lose my grip and fall and break my neck and die (hilarious).

Maybe I get tired of waiting for the dawn and just say fuck it and decide to kill myself and then change my mind and just go home (probably).

What I'm counting on though, is a Dawnrise moment that will cure me of all the symptoms of death, kinda like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes that day, except in real life and not a lame cartoon.

Damn, that's an awesome idea, Ash! This winter, that's what I'm gonna do.

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Stupid kids fucking with me

Saturday night after work I set up the telescope in the parking lot of the SchmelvenElven so that Sam and Josh and David could see the full moon through it. As I was taking a couple of ganders through it myself while I was waiting for them, a car load of kids pulled up. Before they even came to a stop, the driver was yelling out of his window:

"Hey, astronomer guy! Check out the scientific astronomer! Watcha lookin' at through that thing? Wave to the aliens!" Fuck those guys, I'm trying to get the moon into focus.

They all spilled out of the car, four of them, and headed into the store. One guy brushed against the scope, knocking it out of alignment. He apologized profusely. The guy sounded sincere."Hey, no prob," I said.

When they came out of the store the driver was back at it. "Yo, astronomer guy! What the hell are you looking at, bro?" Then to his companions, "Check out the scientist in the parking lot!" Uproarious laughter. Fuck those guys, I'm changing lenses.

Then, as they're backing out, this from the driver:

"Yo, astronomy guy with a telescope in a parking lot! Hey, scientist guy! Check out the scientist! Fuck you man!" Ok, I'd just about had it with this asshole.

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid, drunken moron," I said.

ERK! Went the car as it stopped backing up. "What the fuck did you say to me?" went the driver.

"I said shut the fuck up, you retarded, drunk idiot. Get the hell out of here and go finish being drunk somewhere else."

The guy was incensed. "What if I got out of this car and kicked your ass, huh?"

Ok. In this type of situation, it's always at least three against one. Shit talking only occurs when the shit talker has a minimum of two buddies with him. It's NEVER a one on one thing, EVER, and every time something like this happens - and it happens often - I know that there's a possibility of a physical confrontation. It's why I didn't say anything until the driver said 'fuck you, man'.

I mean, come on. That's a flip switcher, and I have no control when a situation escalates to that point. Am I supposed to just let an asshole be an asshole with impunity? Maybe, but I can't help it when my mouth shifts into automatic mode. I looked back into the eyepiece of the telescope and said:

"Dude. Get your dumb ass out of here if you don't wanna go to jail, because cops can smell drunk and stupid." Boy howdy, did that piss him off.


All of this as I still have my eye to the scope, acting as though he's beyond my attention. I can see with my peripheral vision that he's slowly starting to back up again. Feeling relieved and pretty sure that he wasn't going to get out of the car, and while I was still peering through the scope, I couldn't help one more jab:

"Yeah, get out of here before you get arrested, you drunken infant." The guy hauled ass out of the parking lot.

See the kind of shit I have to put up with? And what for? Huh? Why?

Who else does this kind of crap happen to regularly? Is it just me?

Friday, November 3, 2017

Jelly Bean Apocalypse

At WinCo, standing in line. Two guys in front of me have a tub of jelly beans. Craploads of jelly beans in one clear plastic tub. Then, well, somebody must have lost a grip on the tub I guess, because next thing everybody knows...


That's the sound of fifty trillion jelly beans exploding as a tub of them hits the floor.

"Fuckin hell," I remarked.

"That about sums it up," said one of the guys.

 I knelt down to help round up the critters, because it was definitely a three or more person job. As I'm catching escaped jelly beans and shoving them into a herd, I hear one of the guys, way far away where some other jelly beans were roaming free, say to his friend...

"So, exactly how germaphobic are you?"

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

I'm officially a published author now...

...kinda. Online. The point is, somebody I don't know read something I wrote and liked it enough to publish it for me.

Click that link, right there under these words. I wrote that article. Man, I sure crack myself up.

Everything I Hate About My Favorite Movie, Frozen

You went too far. Click the link above these words.

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Mortal agony

Oh wow. Oh man... oh boy, did that ever SUCK. Tonight I suffered a mortal stomach agony for the very first time while I was up and motile, and not lying prone after having just awakened. Before tonight, they've always crept up on me early in the morning, waking me up with increasing nausea that finally transmogrifies into a mortal agony. I've always felt safe and shielded, knowing that mortal agonies only have power during one very narrow slice of my temporal physiology. Not anymore, I guess.

I was walking home from WinCo, listening to really, really loud music, when the nausea began to come on. That's not necessarily unusual, but it's definitely unpleasant and inconvenient. I was crossing the Baptist Church parking lot on Malone when it started. I stopped near the baseball field near the high school and tried to throw up, and that's when the pain began to creep up. I was still a quarter mile from home. I tried to throw up so that I'd get that little burst of feeling ok in order to brace me for the remainder of the walk home, but I couldn't make it happen. I stood up and hurried on my way.

Oh, it just got worse and worse, exactly like I was terrified that it would. I started to sweat. Nothing makes you sweat in rivulets like mortal agony, and nothing makes you pray out loud in desperation like some more mortal agony piled on top of mortal agony. As I staggered and lurched, I passed Friday night party goers here and there, and I wondered with a small, sequestered piece of my awareness what they must have thought of this man struggling along and doubled over, moaning 'Oh God it hurts so bad, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy', over and over.

I finally reached my compartment complex and somehow made it up the stairs. When I got inside, I collapsed onto my mattress. The pain immediately began to relent. Oh man, I just cried myself to sleep with tears of relief.

That was about three hours ago. When I woke up, the stench of stale sweat was ubiquitous. I was actually hungry, which was hard to believe. I nuked a TV dinner and here I am. I think it's time to sleep again, now. I hope I don't wake up again to mortal agony, part 2.

Saturday, September 2, 2017

Oh, it's just a... sad, pathetic tale of whoa.

Preface - lots of cussing coming up. I've cooled off a little since all this shit happened (whoops, pardon my Klingon) and I'm now a teensy bit more, less, emotional. Thus my presence of mind to include this warning. So. On with the shitshow.
Man am I pissed off... oh, so pissed off! Mighty pissed off! You'd be pissed off too, if you had to inhabit this creaky, rotten, son-of-a-bitchin wretched miserable corrupted and fucked up meat machine that I have wrapped around me 24/7!

Is that not clear enough? Is my meaning not seeping through in a satisfactory manner, like some kind of putrid osmosis? Well then, let me get more concise! I can do that, yeah!

Here's what happened. Just about 30 minutes ago, I was walking along and singing a song. Just the happiest bird in the world, tooling along down the avenue, not bothering anybody. Content for a rare couple of seconds. I almost felt like skipping! Isn't that fucking stupid? Yeah! I actually almost felt like skipping!

Ash... you retarded idiot! You teensy weensy, tiny whiney, pee-waddling little man!  An instant of bliss is EXPENSIVE, DUMBASS!


Then you wanna know what happened next? Huh? Do you? Huh? Do ya do ya do ya? Are you hanging onto the edge of your seat, waiting for the other shoe to drop, right square on top of my gonads? Right there, in the middle of my testes? Are you ready for that great big merciless stomp that completely smashes my nuts? That's what you're waiting to hear, aren't you? I know, I know! That's all you wanna hear about! You just want to fast-forward to the part where my balls get demolished! You wanna fast forward to that part? To where my testicles get pulverized?

Who wants to get to the good part? I do! Let's go! Yee-Haw! Okay, let's fast forward to the part where I get sterilized by a jackboot!

Like I said awhile ago, I was just walking along, singing a song, thinking about nothing in particular. I probably had a stupid little grin plastered across my face, and my eyes were probably rolled up in this vague little gesture of contemplation about nothing in particular. Why, I might have been scratching my butt. Maybe I was smelling my finger. I could have been picking my nose. It's possible that a little drool could have been escaping my jaw. It was one of those almost perfect existential moments, you know? It was too good to be allowed to exist, because, fuck you, Ash! And that's when my right ankle decided to just up and say YAWN! ::: stretch::: g'nite, asshole, and then it just went BPPPHHTHHBBBTTHHHH!!!

I'm talking about my pristine, uninjured right ankle, not my recently recovered from a twist left ankle! That's my RIGHT ankle, just up and deciding to fuck off to the Blue Hills because it's funny! Tell me that's not premeditated.

Well, I shouldn't have to say that I of course went tumbling, ass over teakettle, and pain was involved. Pain, which quickly transmogrified into blinding white rage. Rage at the injustice. Rage at the scheming. Rage at the mutiny. Rage at the distrust of my body of the captainship of my own mind. Rage at the rage of the rage toward the rage at the rage from the rage of the rage. RAGE! Rage at the word rage because it sounds retarded!

Ok, I'm getting sidetracked by the pure, seething, retarded rage. Whatever, who cares. I survived the tumble and nothing expensive got broken! Fuck you, me! You hear you, me? Fuck me, you!


And now everything is all okay again.


Wednesday, July 19, 2017

An introduction to The Nonplussed by Anon

The Nonplussed

An Introduction
     Hi! I don't have a name, but you can think of me as Storyteller, because that's what I do. What kind of stories do I tell, you might be wondering? Well, true stories would probably be the most basic way to describe them. Whoops... hold that thought! I know what you're probably thinking, and the most basic way to describe the stories I tell would be, ah... biographies. Kinda. I don't tell the stories of single individuals, though. I tell the stories of entire civilizations. Maybe 'historical accounts' would be more accurate?

     Ok, here it is... the purpose I've tasked myself with is the preservation of the memory of Universal Civilization, which means learning the stories of every civilization that exists or has ever existed, and recording those stories for posterity. But as stories, as opposed to a simple recitation of facts.

     Now you're probably wondering where I get my source material. Right? Mostly I just take what a civilization has already recorded as their own history and use my own words to turn it into a story that's way more interesting. Don't worry, nobody cares. A lot of these civilizations are already dead, you know.

     Ok, now that that's been explained... first things first. What follows is the true story of a recently discovered civilization of uniquely intelligent creatures, known to themselves (mostly) as humans. That's just the most common word they use for self reference as a species... there are many, many, many more, a few of which are: humankind, human beings, humanity, homo sapiens, terrans, earthlings, dirtlings, earthmen, man, men, mankind, the people, the folk, the fallen, all God's children, children of Adam, children of Cain, children of Abraham, children of Sol, children of the sun, the Earth's gonads, hairless apes, cro-magnons, troglodytes, super simians, mighty mammals, carbon units, ugly bags of mostly water, mostly harmless, the Nonplussed, and dozens more names for their collective selves in even more dozens of different languages. Isn't that strange? Well, they're a strange race, as you'll soon discover for yourself, if you choose to continue reading.

     By the way. This is a story about humans, of humans, and for humans, so If you're reading this and you're not human then it probably won't make any sense to you at all. You can still read it if you want to, though. Maybe you'll like it, who knows... but I doubt it. You'll probably just want to file it away somewhere and get on with your totally gross and disgusting alien business. That's probably what a human would say.

     However! If you're human, and I really hope that you are, then I recommend that you continue reading because this is YOUR story! It's all about human beings, just like you - smart, retarded, hilarious, insane, evil, benevolent, funny looking, socially inept, miserable, deliriously happy, beautiful, disgusting people - plus a few really exceptional ones thrown in here and there. Statistical anomalies, you know.

     You may be wondering (if you're human)... what right do I have to tell your story? If you're that disgusting alien again, this isn't your story so shut up. I've read your story and it's disgusting. Go bother what's his face - he's the one who had the stomach and the will to actually write your disgusting story. If I were a human, I mean, that's what I would have said.

     Anyway, sorry about that, human sir or miss. The reason why I have a right to tell your story is because I discovered it, and having been the one of my kind who discovered it, I'm now obligated to tell it, because a story exists to be told, and I'm a storyteller. Logical, no? Plus, it's just a stroke of luck that your story happens to suit my preferred telling style, because I'm naturally inclined to look at things from an angle of absurdity. And you guys... well. What can I say? I love you guys.

     I really hope there are some humans around to hear this, your story. It would be a crying shame if it turned out that, after all of this, your civilization never made it across the threshold, because your species is truly a rare gem - an idiot savant civilization, to borrow one of your metaphors - and a brightly shining diamond in a galaxy filled mostly with toys and trinkets. I often wonder if a species like yours can ever truly understand its worth as it takes that purposeful step over the threshold and into oblivion, laughing all the way... you know, I just can't stress it enough, how rare a phenomenon it is that you and yours represent. I truly hope you've survived, and I say that with all seriousness and against my better judgement.

     You're also probably wondering (if you're human) just what the heck is up with that threshold I've mentioned two or three times now. To all of the disgusting aliens following along with my narrative - stop interrupting! Everybody knows that you all survived your own disgusting thresholds, and I'm not sorry to say that I'm sorry that you did! So either shut up and listen, or go fuck off and die! That's the last time I'm gonna tell you all. I'm sorry, humans, for cursing. Those damn aliens...

     My apologies again for the interruption, senors and senoras. Please allow me to continue. You see, the thing with the threshold is... well, it's like a... a point of no return, or more like a line of no return. No... well. I mean, yeah. Those are metaphors, the point and the line, meaning a crucial place in your own story where the collective mentality of your entire species loses its mind. Don't worry, it happens to every intelligent species throughout the universe that develops a technological civilization. It's natural, see. It's just that it's so... odd, that you guys actually made it that far as a civilization... that you became capable of going insane. It's rare, as I've said, and even rarer with an idiot savant civilization, like yours. The rarest of civilizations. Do you understand now how you make the galaxy shine? We all love you and we're rooting for you! We just hope you didn't fuck it all up at the threshold.

     So! Are you (if you're human) ready to embark upon a fast and furious adventure filled with action and intrigue, festooned with heroic deeds of derring-do, performed by the common man against withering odds? An adventure that's going to end in tears for everyone? If you're human, then the culmination of your story either begins here or ends here - at the threshold. If you're still that disgusting alien, just go away already.

     Once again, please accept my apologies. If you've survived to read this, then hopefully you'll understand that the universe is filled mostly with disgusting aliens. So sayeth would the human.

****rough summary follows****

     Anyway, here I've compiled a quick rundown of the global events which comprise the story describing the deterioration of your collective mental condition as a global civilization. Revisions may be necessary, but please accept this rough draft, for now.

     In 2019 North Korea nukes Antarctica to destroy American morale by taking out Santa Claus (based on faulty intelligence) which triggers a larger nuclear skirmish involving the entire Middle East and parts of Asia, with everybody calling dibs on the batters box at the same time. It only took four days to transform Mumbai, New Delhi, Karachi, Islamabad, Mecca, Cairo, Damascus, Tehran, Baghdad, Pyongyang, Seoul, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem into a bunch of radioactive, crater shaped mirrors smoking in the desert. With most Muslims somewhere in the upper atmosphere, the United States declares an end to The War on Terror, and immediately starts sniffing around for something else to wage war upon.

     Since it's long been established that when the United States wages war on something, that it absolutely does not go to war on that thing, but instead just spends billions of dollars to make it look like it it did, so it also was that after winning the War on Terror, the United States declared a new war - the War on Nuclear War. The defense budget was immediately quintupled and spent on fast tracking the development, production and immediate dismantling of 50,000 brand new, 500 megaton PlanetBuster bombs, which really, really pissed off the state of Georgia when the other 49 States just kind of chucked the bill for all of it onto Atlanta's doorstep.

     The world-wide cold snap resulting from the nuclear skirmish of 2021 effectively negates global warming - which is finally revealed simply to have been an elaborate SNL skit concocted by AL Franken that had 'gotten out of hand'. Sea levels rise by five meters, as nuking Antarctica causes the Western Antarctic ice shelf to fall into the ocean. Figuring that the worst effects of global warming went ahead and happened anyway, the carbon footprint is quadrupled by a world no longer concerned with greenhouse gas emissions. After almost two decades it's becoming clear that global warming is a thing again, and this time it's for realsies.

     In 2034 the Goolsby administration declares a War on Global Warming and orders the development and construction of a freeze ray to freeze the moon in order to halt the effects of moonlight on global warming at a cost of trillions of dollars. It's referred to secretly as 'The Two Dog Night Light Project'.

     Do you see what I mean about you guys going insane?

     Georgia refuses to foot the bill for the freeze ray and secedes as the Confederate State of Soviet Georgia in 2041.


     In 2041 the aircraft carrier carrier USS Donald Trump is launched, carrying an arsenal of aircraft carriers and 1000 planetbusters to make a statement to Georgia.

     See? See?

     The Flying Turtle is launched, the first interplanetary space vessel with a practical EM drive.

     The Two Dog Night Light is launched aboard the Flying Turtle.

     Civil war ensues between the US and the CSSG in 2042.

     Russia allies with the CSSG.

     WWIII is imminent, until Bobby Kay Rudolph, an American physicist working at The Larger Hadron Collider, opens a rift to the Eleventeenth dimension of the Far Flung Hunger by smashing martini molecules together at light speed.

     Emperor Cannibalus the Starvling invades the solar system.

     Isn't that funny?


The events of The Nonplussed occur as the human race approaches a critical threshold of social and technological development and population density as a civilization. Upon crossing this threshold, Mankind collectively goes insane as a species, and will either survive the inevitable trauma of the ensuing chaos or destroy itself; if not as a species, then as a civilization. This is a natural occurrence in the development of all intelligent races throughout the universe which achieve a technological civilization - some survive; most do not. North Korea is the first example of the collective insanity taking hold as Mankind crosses over the threshold. By the time Trump is elected president of the United States in 2016, the entire world is joining in, and by 2041, Humanity as a surviving species is well on its way to hell in a hand basket.


Then the truly unexpected and impossible improbable occurs. An American particle physicist and drunken alcoholic without any shits left to give proves the pseudoscientific theory which ruined her career by openening a gateway to a parallel universe, purely by accident, and at billions to one odds by slamming the hair of the dog into itself at light speed using the Largest Hadron Collider, a particle accelerator which spans the globe at the equator. An entity known to itself as Cannibalus the Starvling emerges through the gateway from its own realm, which it calls The Far Flung Hunger, and into our universe. It takes the form of a petulant child, about eight years of age, and declares to all information processing systems, machine and organic - from a virus to a thermostat to a termite to an 8 bit game console to a supercomputer to a dog to the advanced AI imbedded in the global internet, and finally to humanity - in an all reaching, all demanding, all encompassing, supremely peurile, infinitely self absorbed, ear splitting, mind shattering declaration - that it is STARVLING, and that it expects LUNCHEON, and it's looking to US to provide it.


My brain hasn't discovered this part yet.

The Nonplussed - a timeline of Trump's War

The Long Madness gestates.

2016 - Donald Trump is elected President.

2017 - Tensions escalate between North Korea and the US as North Korea successfully detonates a hydrogen bomb.

2018 - Trump uses Twitter to provoke Kim Jong Un (see attachment).

2018 - Kim Jong Un promises to 'utterly destroy' the United States (see attachment).

2018 - Trump orders the Navy to steal back the USS Pueblo and leaves one of his personal yachts in its place (see attachment).

2018 - North Korea declares war on the United States and threatens to 'utterly destroy the heart and soul of America' if the United States doesn't surrender immediately.

2018 - Trump orders a surgical strike on the Pyong Yang Hotel and destroys it.

2018, December 25th - Kim Jong Un launches a nuclear strike on the South Pole and threatens to destroy Easter Island next unless the United States surrenders immediately.

2019, January 1st - Trump informs Kim Jong Un via Twitter that Santa Claus lives at the North Pole, not the South Pole, and that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are children's myths that never existed to begin with.

2019 - Dennis Rodman is assassinated by North Korean agents for providing faulty intelligence.

2019 - Trump fires Kim Jong Un, declares North Korea null and void, and replaces the entire nation with Virtual North Korea, on online reality show with the winner at the end of the season becoming the new Dear Leader of North Korea. Trump urges all nations to participate under pain of nuclear annihilation.

2019 - The United Nations Security Council declares President Trump insane and urges worldwide sanctions against the United States until somebody does something about Donald Trump.

2020 - Donald Trump declares himself King of the World.

2020 - Lieutenant Colonel Dempsey Witt and Staff Sargent Ferlin Goolsby, United States Army, orchestrate a coup to oust President Trump. Ferlin betrays Dempsey. Dempsey chooses to abandon an almost certainly successful coup, at the cost of his own life, to save his skin. He regrets it... oh how he regrets it.

2020 - The West Antarctic Ice Sheet, weakened by the thermonuclear attack by North Korea in 2018, falls into the ocean, causing worldwide sea levels to rise by five meters. All coastal cities are destroyed and hundreds of millions of people die.

2021 - The Mediterranean Sea floods several Middle East Nations. Nuclear war inevitably breaks out due to widespread confusion, panic, and lack of communication. The entire Middle East, including 90% of the world Muslim population, is destroyed. The entire world now officially hates North Korea more than Donald Trump.

2021 - King Donald Trump abdicates the throne to himself as President Trump and declares Kim Jong Un as the winner of the reality show thing, and the brand new Dear Leader of North Korea. North Korea digs underground.

2021 - President Trump declares and end to the War on Terror, due to the practical death of Islam via nuclear annihilation, and immediately declares a new War on Nuclear War and orders the production of 50,000 brand new 500 megaton thermoquantum planetbuster bombs, and then presents Georgia with the 6 trillion dollar bill as forced restitution for hosting the attempted coup. He then orders the immediate dismantling of 49,000 of the new 500 megaton thermoquantum planetbusters, in accordance with the War on Nuclear War disarmament treaty, in accordance with the entire world.

2022 - Global warming is revealed to have been a hoax all along by Al Franken, who says the whole thing began with a Saturday Night Live skit that 'kinda got outta hand', as he put it.

2023 - Al Gore commits suicide.

The Long Madness begins.

2041 - This is where the book starts, officially. Everything before this is just introductory exposition.


Donald Trump provokes Kim Jong Un
Trump tweets: 'What was that noise? Oh. Just boys playing with toys. Be careful Kim, you could put an eye out with that thing!'

Kim Jong Un promises swift retribution upon the United States.

Trump tweets: '@ Kim - You say swift, but could you please hurry it up a little? Our aircraft carriers and nuclear attack subs and AEGIS equiped destroyers and dozens of nuclear armed Predator drones are getting tired of lollygagging right off of your coastline with impunity, month after month.'

Kim Jong Un threatens the United States with total annihilation.

Trump tweets: 'lol Good luck with that, Kimberly.'

Kim Jong Un promises to visit a nuclear hellfire upon the United States.

Trump tweets: '@ Kim - Go ahead, gourd head.'

Kim Jong Un promises to unleash such devastation upon the United States as to wipe it utterly from the surface of the Earth.

Trump tweets: '@ Kim - Uh, were you homeschooled or something?'

Kim Jong Un's cyber warfare department hacks President Trump's Twitter account and deletes it.

President Trump retaliates by stealing the USS Pueblo while North Korea is asleep, leaving a fully loaded, 50 foot cabin cruiser in its place.