Everything has gone to shit. There, I said it. You could call it karma, but if you said that to my face I would choke you to death. Sure, call it karma, call it every seedy, deviant, insidious thing I've ever done coming back to haunt me. Call it universal retribution for the felonies and the crimes, the lies I told as a child, or all the women I've plowed through, heedless of them as emotional beings, as anything but a fucking hole to waste some time wallowing in. Call it your god's way of seeing to it that I'm made aware of my every transgression, or call it shit-luck, the proverbial gene passed down from generation to generation in this family that ensures each of us will claw our fucking way out of the mud only to be shit on. Call it whatever you like, but the fact remains: Everything has gone to shit.
I'm angry, is what I'm saying. No, anger doesn't do this justice. This is rage. This is wrath. This is Old Testament God-style fucking monstrous, consuming, utterly impotent anger. It is preternatural, supreme in its occupation. There is no bastion holding out against the tide, just this white-hot sea of roiling, destructive energy. I want to tear out your gods damned eyes and force-feed them to your children. I want to tear your dick off and hurl it into the sun. I want to pull your organs out and fuck them one at a time, and eat whatever's left. No one is safe, no one is sacred, and every one of you looks like prey. Let's rock and fucking roll.
I've got no motivation here. No rudder, no direction. I have nothing but this. No conscience stops me, no moral fiber restricts these midnight prowls. I've burned away all the lust and the love and all of my vices have amounted to nothing. All my vaunted self-control is worthless here. All the tricks and talents I've developed to keep this shit subdued are long used up, and all my desire to protect and to cherish are exhausted. This is me at my most primal, and that delicious feeling of power is more addictive than any body, any drug, any substance or surface that I have ever imbibed. I want to rage until I've erupted, and then I want to burn you all alive with the aftermath.
The worst thing about all of this, is that it feels so fucking good. I can't keep the adrenaline from flowing, the hate from spoiling the scent of everything near me. I can't keep the anxiety in check, or the sheer excitement from shaking my hands. Bloodlust, maybe. There is no clear target to this, no reason for it that I can find. I'm simply here. I feel like I've been gone for a long time, buried in the earth like so many rotten corpses.
I'm back from the dead, assholes. And I'm taking all challengers.
I defy you to regard this as so much bluster, so much bullshit spewed from testosterone and maybe the ill-effects of a recovery from a long period of depression. I realized recently that I'd been stuck in one of those, although the epiphany did little to stem the tide of what was coming. Please, call it nothing but talk. Give me a single fucking reason to teach you how little you know. I have taken so much pleasure in being nice, in protecting people, in riding that high horse. But I've never taken more pleasure in that than I have in absolute destruction. Ask, and you shall receive.
Rot, you loathesome parasites, and get your claws out of me. This husk is dessicated, eviscerated. There is nothing left for you, nothing to slake your thirst or sate your hunger. The flesh is stripped, the blood consumed, the bones snapped open and the marrow taken. There is nothing left but perceived revenge, but the rage that sustains me, and constant beat of drums. Rest assured, I am coming for you. I've come back this far, and by daybreak, nothing will keep me at bay. The howling cries of the madmen will be all you hear, all the warning you receive of my approach. By the time the lights flicker and die, I'm already too close for you to escape. One by one, if that's how it must be. That way, I can burn out in peace.
Yours,
-S.R.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Separation of Church and State
Before I start this, let me explain where some of the ire you're about to witness comes from. I find myself at a lot of political functions these days, something for which I am at times grateful and at times wrathful. However, some manner of religion is present everywhere at these things. Much of it is lip service, and the rest is utter bullshit. The rest of it comes from a mixture of places, things I've seen here and there, or heard from the mouths of people (some of whom I care enough about not to murder, some of whom will probably never be found) or in print. Lastly, it stems from some comments by a man I both respect and detest: Chuck Norris. Mr. Norris, despite his fearsome roundhouse kick and other talents, is a highly conservative man and some comments he made in a recent book sparked the thought process that led me here. So, by all means, take these things into account as you read.
Now, I'm about to rant. Violently, by all indications. However, before I rail against anything (because who knows where this will actually go once I get started?) let me tell you what I believe. I believe that religion, or I should say religious faith, is a wonderful thing for practical as well as impractical reasons. It can be therapeutic, it can be a safe place when we endure trials and tribulations, and it can provide the framework for a healthy life. However, I believe faith is individual. No one believes exactly what you believe or what I believe. No one will interpet their faith exactly the same way. My religious beliefs are fairly simple. I honor my gods (the norse gods, if you're still in the dark about that somehow) and I give them my praise because they are dear to me. I thank them and worship them privately, because doing otherwise seems retarded to me. I believe if I lead a good life, if I die honorably and without cowardice, I'll spend my afterlife in Valhalla with the greatest of men and when Ragnarok rolls around I'll march back to Midgard and lend my arm against evil. That's it. There are no real rituals, no real ceremonies. I celebrate in my own way and if people want to join me in these things I welcome it but by no means encourage them to take my beliefs and my methods as a scaffold for their own. We are all different, we all believe differently.
Which is why I think organized religion, particularly as it pertains to politics, is fucking stupid. Look, I don't care what you believe in. Really, it means absolutely fuck-all to me. It has no bearing on my life save for judging how batshit insane you may or may not become later in life. We can discuss it, we can share ideas, we can do those things and then go back to our own respective places and continue living. That's my favorite thing about the hypothesis America represents. A melting pot, a place of culutral diversity, of religious differences, a place where we don't have to worship the same gods and we're not condemned for our varying faiths.
So why the fuck would we need faith in government?
Look, the Founding Fathers were Christians. And like all good Christians they brought their faith into their actions. That's great for an individual. As I said, whatever rules you believe your faith encourages you to follow are probably there for the betterment of everyone. The problem is that, as I said before, we all believe differently. Certain things are close to universal, sure. Mindless killing and stealing are wrong. But that's why we have laws. If a governing body creates laws but can't enforce them without invoking some manner of all-powerful God, then that governing body has failed. They might as well scrap the entire system and start over with theocracy, because they're inefficient at governing any other way.
Likewise, those same Christian Founding Fathers were the ones who proposed a separation of Church and State. They recognized the inherent wrongness in governing based on religious philosophy. Or governing with the aid of religious philosophy. It takes power away from civil service, from the people, and puts it in the hands of the most convincing guy who speaks for God. Prior to America's birth, wars were fought constantly for dominance based on religion in Europe. Protestant kings overthrowing Catholic ones and vice versa. It became more about faith than about ruling. That same problem would have existed one a much, much more violent level in a place that they envisioned as a utopia for all people, regardless of differences in faith.
So religious people make a big deal about toting the last bastions of faith present in our governing system: "In God we trust" on the money, "One nation, under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance, prayers before government meetings. These things are a link to our past, they'll say. They're what stand between us and a bohemian wasteland populated by greed and promiscuity and all manner of nasty things. The truth is, that that's bullshit. The reason we continue doing these things is simple inertia. It has been part of our heritage long enough that it becomes an essentially meaningless, kitschy little thing we do out of habit and tradition, rather than widespread belief that its necessary.
Why do we need the Ten Commandments on government buildings? We have laws crafted to mirror those ten holy rules. We enforce those laws based on a fairly successful judicial system. We don't need, in other words, to flout the fact that our laws are based on the laws from God Himself. Doing that would undermine the power of our human system and, in addition, be utterly pointless. Everyone knows where the basis for law came from. Why be redundant?
Furthermore, blatantly favoring something that is Judeo-Christian in nature, regardless of your intent, is unconstitutional. You can't display things like that and still expect America to remain diverse, the next step is incorporating more religious pomp and circumstance than we've had before, and guess where it will come from? I understand that the Christian denominations are a majority here, but it doesn't make them any more worthy of having their bullshit carved into our walls than anyone else. That isn't how America works.
I think, even more than the stupidity and lack of sense involved, my problem lies, as usual, with organized religions. Now, as I said before, I don't believe the same thing as you do. You, in turn, don't believe exactly the same thing as anyone else. I don't, however, begrudge you your beliefs. I encourage them. By all means, have faith in something. Don't try to force it on me, don't look down on me because I disagree, because that's a really fast way to punched in the fucking throat. But please, believe.
The organization part is what I loathe, not the religion. See, an organization has to, by its very nature, have a heirarchy. That's something I don't think can be brought into religion. I don't think its right, or feasible, to quantify devotion or belief. Therefore, how can we say who is more pious? How can we say who is more holy? Or more deserving? I'm even supportive of people gathering for similar religious things, but why do we need a leader? Why can't it simply be a gathering of like minds to share in something profoundly dear to them?
Because somebody needs to make money. Churches, regardless of what they'll tell you, bring in a lot of money. We're talking Microsoft levels of money. And while they certainly provide a great deal of that money to charitable pursuits, none of it goes to taxes. None of it goes to, say, infrastructure. Why does the church get to hold itself aloof from government in that way, but still demand to be part of the lawmaking? The governing? Seriously, the hypocrisy of it makes me want to tear out my fingernails and rage-fuck a Scotsman in the Vatican, just to display my vulgar distaste for the whole affair.
Likewise, if those same churches paid taxes, who is to say we couldn't orchestrate a fund, a secular fund, mind you, that would donate that money to non-profit charities that are already doing what the fucking church does with less revenue? Why couldn't we do that? Because if such was the case, I'd encourage the church to participate the way any other corporation does: by buying politicians.
I pick on the Christians, but all churches are the same when it comes down to it. Organized religions all sing the same song, they just do it in different languages. But I speak the universal language: I Call Bullshit.
Feedback is appropriate here, so by all means toss some at me like rotten tomatos at a Carlos Mencia show.
Faithfully Yours,
-S.R.
Now, I'm about to rant. Violently, by all indications. However, before I rail against anything (because who knows where this will actually go once I get started?) let me tell you what I believe. I believe that religion, or I should say religious faith, is a wonderful thing for practical as well as impractical reasons. It can be therapeutic, it can be a safe place when we endure trials and tribulations, and it can provide the framework for a healthy life. However, I believe faith is individual. No one believes exactly what you believe or what I believe. No one will interpet their faith exactly the same way. My religious beliefs are fairly simple. I honor my gods (the norse gods, if you're still in the dark about that somehow) and I give them my praise because they are dear to me. I thank them and worship them privately, because doing otherwise seems retarded to me. I believe if I lead a good life, if I die honorably and without cowardice, I'll spend my afterlife in Valhalla with the greatest of men and when Ragnarok rolls around I'll march back to Midgard and lend my arm against evil. That's it. There are no real rituals, no real ceremonies. I celebrate in my own way and if people want to join me in these things I welcome it but by no means encourage them to take my beliefs and my methods as a scaffold for their own. We are all different, we all believe differently.
Which is why I think organized religion, particularly as it pertains to politics, is fucking stupid. Look, I don't care what you believe in. Really, it means absolutely fuck-all to me. It has no bearing on my life save for judging how batshit insane you may or may not become later in life. We can discuss it, we can share ideas, we can do those things and then go back to our own respective places and continue living. That's my favorite thing about the hypothesis America represents. A melting pot, a place of culutral diversity, of religious differences, a place where we don't have to worship the same gods and we're not condemned for our varying faiths.
So why the fuck would we need faith in government?
Look, the Founding Fathers were Christians. And like all good Christians they brought their faith into their actions. That's great for an individual. As I said, whatever rules you believe your faith encourages you to follow are probably there for the betterment of everyone. The problem is that, as I said before, we all believe differently. Certain things are close to universal, sure. Mindless killing and stealing are wrong. But that's why we have laws. If a governing body creates laws but can't enforce them without invoking some manner of all-powerful God, then that governing body has failed. They might as well scrap the entire system and start over with theocracy, because they're inefficient at governing any other way.
Likewise, those same Christian Founding Fathers were the ones who proposed a separation of Church and State. They recognized the inherent wrongness in governing based on religious philosophy. Or governing with the aid of religious philosophy. It takes power away from civil service, from the people, and puts it in the hands of the most convincing guy who speaks for God. Prior to America's birth, wars were fought constantly for dominance based on religion in Europe. Protestant kings overthrowing Catholic ones and vice versa. It became more about faith than about ruling. That same problem would have existed one a much, much more violent level in a place that they envisioned as a utopia for all people, regardless of differences in faith.
So religious people make a big deal about toting the last bastions of faith present in our governing system: "In God we trust" on the money, "One nation, under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance, prayers before government meetings. These things are a link to our past, they'll say. They're what stand between us and a bohemian wasteland populated by greed and promiscuity and all manner of nasty things. The truth is, that that's bullshit. The reason we continue doing these things is simple inertia. It has been part of our heritage long enough that it becomes an essentially meaningless, kitschy little thing we do out of habit and tradition, rather than widespread belief that its necessary.
Why do we need the Ten Commandments on government buildings? We have laws crafted to mirror those ten holy rules. We enforce those laws based on a fairly successful judicial system. We don't need, in other words, to flout the fact that our laws are based on the laws from God Himself. Doing that would undermine the power of our human system and, in addition, be utterly pointless. Everyone knows where the basis for law came from. Why be redundant?
Furthermore, blatantly favoring something that is Judeo-Christian in nature, regardless of your intent, is unconstitutional. You can't display things like that and still expect America to remain diverse, the next step is incorporating more religious pomp and circumstance than we've had before, and guess where it will come from? I understand that the Christian denominations are a majority here, but it doesn't make them any more worthy of having their bullshit carved into our walls than anyone else. That isn't how America works.
I think, even more than the stupidity and lack of sense involved, my problem lies, as usual, with organized religions. Now, as I said before, I don't believe the same thing as you do. You, in turn, don't believe exactly the same thing as anyone else. I don't, however, begrudge you your beliefs. I encourage them. By all means, have faith in something. Don't try to force it on me, don't look down on me because I disagree, because that's a really fast way to punched in the fucking throat. But please, believe.
The organization part is what I loathe, not the religion. See, an organization has to, by its very nature, have a heirarchy. That's something I don't think can be brought into religion. I don't think its right, or feasible, to quantify devotion or belief. Therefore, how can we say who is more pious? How can we say who is more holy? Or more deserving? I'm even supportive of people gathering for similar religious things, but why do we need a leader? Why can't it simply be a gathering of like minds to share in something profoundly dear to them?
Because somebody needs to make money. Churches, regardless of what they'll tell you, bring in a lot of money. We're talking Microsoft levels of money. And while they certainly provide a great deal of that money to charitable pursuits, none of it goes to taxes. None of it goes to, say, infrastructure. Why does the church get to hold itself aloof from government in that way, but still demand to be part of the lawmaking? The governing? Seriously, the hypocrisy of it makes me want to tear out my fingernails and rage-fuck a Scotsman in the Vatican, just to display my vulgar distaste for the whole affair.
Likewise, if those same churches paid taxes, who is to say we couldn't orchestrate a fund, a secular fund, mind you, that would donate that money to non-profit charities that are already doing what the fucking church does with less revenue? Why couldn't we do that? Because if such was the case, I'd encourage the church to participate the way any other corporation does: by buying politicians.
I pick on the Christians, but all churches are the same when it comes down to it. Organized religions all sing the same song, they just do it in different languages. But I speak the universal language: I Call Bullshit.
Feedback is appropriate here, so by all means toss some at me like rotten tomatos at a Carlos Mencia show.
Faithfully Yours,
-S.R.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
What Women Want, If They Know What's Good For Them
I've been trying to decide what, in my mind, is the worst quality in people. This is purely an exercise for me, as I feel like I am rather less than qualified to identify a bad person (because I am a bad person), but one I've decided to see through to the end. In doing so, I've also come up with some ideas for what qualities I like in people on the rare occasion that I like people. By combining these opposing concepts with my favorite subject behind drinking, racism, and Star Wars (that is, women) I have developed a series of no-doubt informative paragraphs regarding what I would seek in a potential mate and what would send me screaming from the relationship like a Christian from a talking snake.
I have also succeeded in taking virtually everything I have ever been taught about how to structure an opening paragraph and forced it to suck my cock.
I'm not sure why, at this point, I've elected to do this or how successful it will be to conduct this excercise in full view of you, my adoring public. I have, as I said, been thinking about it a great deal lately. Maybe I need a girlfriend. Maybe I have brain cancer. Point is, you are about to get an education in my personal philosophies, and if you verbally dispute them I will become very angsty, dye my hair black, and call you a whore.
So, what do I dislike about people? What qualities are more likely to fill me to the brim with rage-lava than make my heart swell with love juice?
Envy. Envy tops the list because it find it has an inherent duality and that can mean only one thing: people will make it negative. See, some kinds of envy can be powerful motivators. My brother is heaped with praise for how good he is at sports and I, craving that sort of positive feedback, resolve to get better at the things I enjoy. This, in turn, fosters a friendly kind of competition and a desire to improve.
However, if I'm envious that my friend is getting tons of sex I might remedy this by getting black out drunk with a fat girl and contracting herpes. This, obviously, would be a negative thing. Far more appropriately, envy is kind of the central source of jealousy. That, I can not tolerate.
Envy can be good for a relationship in moderation. I think a girl that craves my attention is a wonderful thing, and being what I'd call "playfully jealous" is cute in my book. By all means, tease me about the amount of time I spend with my friends. But when it becomes overbearing, we'll have issues.Contrary to popular belief, I'm not much of a liar or a cheater, and I find myself unable to relate to jealous people because I see no reason for it. Your significant other will do what they're going to do, regardless of how much pressure and suspicion you pile onto them, and doing things like searching their phone or following them after they leave your house, or checking their Facebook status to see if it mentions another girl's name and then losing your shit will only make them feel more entitled to do those things.
If you suspect me of something and refuse to believe it isn't true, I might as well make it true, in other words. So, for me, jealousy is irrational. Not to mention my aforementioned ineptitude when it comes to lying and cheating in the first place. I have no use for lying. I find the truth much more invigorating.
Static cling is a close second. Look, everyone wants to be adored. There is nothing, nothing, more satisfying than looking into a person's eyes and seeing that they are wholly devoting all of their attention and affection for that moment to you. We all like to be appreciated for the things we're good at, for our physical appeal, for the size of our genitals. Again, in moderation. When you become obsessive, that adoration becomes stifling and oppressive. Instead of wanting to show off how good I am at something (let's say gangsta rap) so you'll find me more pleasant to be around, I want to smack the shit out of you with a brick so you'll leave me alone.
See, clinging to someone actually repels them. You become like polar opposites in magnetism. It's wonderful when your partner shows an interest in something you like, but it's terrible when that person wants to become so utterly involved in that thing that you start to hate it. People have different interests, even people in relationships. You don't have to like every obscure black metal band that I do, but I do expect you to respect my taste. Likewise, I won't pretend to be salivating at the thought of hearing about how much you love your new job but I will listen intently to how your day went, or that dream promotion you're working on. You can share passions, of course, but those things should not be wholly overlapping. The specific interests that define my personality will not, under any circumstances, be the same ones that define you.
In regards to the clinging thing on a personal level, I like my solitude sometimes. We all do. I like to see my friends without my girlfriend tagging along. This doesn't mean I'm ashamed of you, or that I don't want to spend time with you. It means, on some level, I think we're close enough not to be sewn together every waking moment. Likewise, I expect that sometimes we'll see friends together and sometimes you'll give me twenty bucks to get lost for the night so your friends can come over and watch Dateline or whatever. These separations are healthy.
Attraction and criticism are tied because they're kind of tied together. Look, I'm not Brad Pitt. Or Keanu Reeves. Or whoever represents the ideal male physique to you. I'm overweight, I'm a little out of shape, I have physical flaws like all normal people. What I mean is, I'd like to think I'm a pretty decent looking guy, but I am by no means a greek god of manly physical stature. Nor are you Audrey Hepburn. Of course we'll be attracted to each other, without attraction we couldn't very well have a physical relationship. I will fawn over the features I find beautiful about you and, more or less, ignore the less attractive ones. While I certainly don't expect you to drool over me, I also don't expect derogatory remarks, particularly about things I'm unhappy with about myself.
To be fair, this isn't something I've ever dealt with personally. Typically, people who find something unattractive enough about me to warrant attention aren't interested anyway, and they keep those things to themselves. I have, however, seen this in other relationships where a party will mercilessly point out physical shortcomings. That's wrong, and you're an asshole.
Likewise, critcism can be constructive. If I mention my weight, for instance, you might suggest a gym. Or something to that effect. You might even teasingly poke my love handles. That is the extent of it. Further than that and I'll point out how one of your boobs is bigger than the other, your feet look like hobbit feet, and your nose is wide enough to land planes on. Not because these things are true, but because I'm vindictive. Why? Fuck you, that's why. That sort of constructive criticism (and I'm using the example of physical things here, but it applies to any aspect of a person) should be used sparingly and carefully. Hurting someone, especially over something they're insecure about, for any reason, is a real dick move and should incur dick punches. For women, it should incur forced anal. Because it makes you a nasty cunt, and no one wants a nasty cunt.
Moving on, I'm obligated to talk about sex. It's part of the contract I signed with Satan to earn this gift of gab I've abused so often, I have to mention sex every time I speak. Sex has to be invigorating. Plain and simple, I've broken off more casual flings and become dissatisfied in more semi-serious relationships as a result of boring sex than damn near anything else. I have said, probably a billion times, that I revel in things like this. If the sex is bad, chances are the conversation is bad and, in my experience, one or more of the negative things I mentioned above is prevalent. Likewise, I have a lot of sexual quirks. I don't expect you to cater to them all, and I may not want to cater to all of yours, but there has to be enough fertile ground between us for a healthy sex life to bloom. Not too liberal, not too conservative. If you're not into anything more than brief, lights-out, missionary sex I am absolutely not interested. I need a lot more variety than that to thrive and, frankly, you probably do too.
More succinctly, I am not interested in someone that isn't interested in exploring.
Lastly, stupidity. I shouldn't elaborate much on this, because it seems obvious enough, but for the sake of balance I'll do just that. Conversation is a big deal to me. We have to be comfortable talking. I'll make jokes about my many, many failures and shortcomings as a human being, but a lot of the things I'm told I excel at I firmly believe. Being intellectual is one of those things. Understanding this, I will also never talk down to someone. I'm trying to make a career using words, and despite the occasional snide remark about grammar or word choice, I don't expect that everyone will be on the same level as I am all the time. Likewise, I expect you are well-versed in a field that I may not be as competent in. We should be able to learn from each other, and I'm fairly liberal in what I call a field. If you have kids, you know a shit ton about raising kids that I don't know, but I'd damn sure like to learn about it.
The point is, someone that has nothing to offer me intellectually, who can't offer me a stimulating conversation every now and again, has no business sharing my life. I like to be told I'm intelligent, but hate being told I'm smart by someone with a lower IQ than a box of nails.
So, what does a guy like me look for? An attractive girl (believe me, that's pretty broad) that isn't half-retarded, that adores me for the things I'm good at and lets me adore her in return. A girl that doesn't mind my flaws because she has some of her own, flaws we can work on together. A girl that is neither wholly submissive nor wholly domineering. A girl that likes herself some sex, but doesn't find my fascination with it disgusting and encourages me to find new and exciting things to try. I want a girl that is interested in my life, not interested in running it.
Additionally, I have a pretty nice dong.
The line starts here, applicants can expect a response in five to ten days.
Orgasmically Yours,
-S.R.
I have also succeeded in taking virtually everything I have ever been taught about how to structure an opening paragraph and forced it to suck my cock.
I'm not sure why, at this point, I've elected to do this or how successful it will be to conduct this excercise in full view of you, my adoring public. I have, as I said, been thinking about it a great deal lately. Maybe I need a girlfriend. Maybe I have brain cancer. Point is, you are about to get an education in my personal philosophies, and if you verbally dispute them I will become very angsty, dye my hair black, and call you a whore.
So, what do I dislike about people? What qualities are more likely to fill me to the brim with rage-lava than make my heart swell with love juice?
Envy. Envy tops the list because it find it has an inherent duality and that can mean only one thing: people will make it negative. See, some kinds of envy can be powerful motivators. My brother is heaped with praise for how good he is at sports and I, craving that sort of positive feedback, resolve to get better at the things I enjoy. This, in turn, fosters a friendly kind of competition and a desire to improve.
However, if I'm envious that my friend is getting tons of sex I might remedy this by getting black out drunk with a fat girl and contracting herpes. This, obviously, would be a negative thing. Far more appropriately, envy is kind of the central source of jealousy. That, I can not tolerate.
Envy can be good for a relationship in moderation. I think a girl that craves my attention is a wonderful thing, and being what I'd call "playfully jealous" is cute in my book. By all means, tease me about the amount of time I spend with my friends. But when it becomes overbearing, we'll have issues.Contrary to popular belief, I'm not much of a liar or a cheater, and I find myself unable to relate to jealous people because I see no reason for it. Your significant other will do what they're going to do, regardless of how much pressure and suspicion you pile onto them, and doing things like searching their phone or following them after they leave your house, or checking their Facebook status to see if it mentions another girl's name and then losing your shit will only make them feel more entitled to do those things.
If you suspect me of something and refuse to believe it isn't true, I might as well make it true, in other words. So, for me, jealousy is irrational. Not to mention my aforementioned ineptitude when it comes to lying and cheating in the first place. I have no use for lying. I find the truth much more invigorating.
Static cling is a close second. Look, everyone wants to be adored. There is nothing, nothing, more satisfying than looking into a person's eyes and seeing that they are wholly devoting all of their attention and affection for that moment to you. We all like to be appreciated for the things we're good at, for our physical appeal, for the size of our genitals. Again, in moderation. When you become obsessive, that adoration becomes stifling and oppressive. Instead of wanting to show off how good I am at something (let's say gangsta rap) so you'll find me more pleasant to be around, I want to smack the shit out of you with a brick so you'll leave me alone.
See, clinging to someone actually repels them. You become like polar opposites in magnetism. It's wonderful when your partner shows an interest in something you like, but it's terrible when that person wants to become so utterly involved in that thing that you start to hate it. People have different interests, even people in relationships. You don't have to like every obscure black metal band that I do, but I do expect you to respect my taste. Likewise, I won't pretend to be salivating at the thought of hearing about how much you love your new job but I will listen intently to how your day went, or that dream promotion you're working on. You can share passions, of course, but those things should not be wholly overlapping. The specific interests that define my personality will not, under any circumstances, be the same ones that define you.
In regards to the clinging thing on a personal level, I like my solitude sometimes. We all do. I like to see my friends without my girlfriend tagging along. This doesn't mean I'm ashamed of you, or that I don't want to spend time with you. It means, on some level, I think we're close enough not to be sewn together every waking moment. Likewise, I expect that sometimes we'll see friends together and sometimes you'll give me twenty bucks to get lost for the night so your friends can come over and watch Dateline or whatever. These separations are healthy.
Attraction and criticism are tied because they're kind of tied together. Look, I'm not Brad Pitt. Or Keanu Reeves. Or whoever represents the ideal male physique to you. I'm overweight, I'm a little out of shape, I have physical flaws like all normal people. What I mean is, I'd like to think I'm a pretty decent looking guy, but I am by no means a greek god of manly physical stature. Nor are you Audrey Hepburn. Of course we'll be attracted to each other, without attraction we couldn't very well have a physical relationship. I will fawn over the features I find beautiful about you and, more or less, ignore the less attractive ones. While I certainly don't expect you to drool over me, I also don't expect derogatory remarks, particularly about things I'm unhappy with about myself.
To be fair, this isn't something I've ever dealt with personally. Typically, people who find something unattractive enough about me to warrant attention aren't interested anyway, and they keep those things to themselves. I have, however, seen this in other relationships where a party will mercilessly point out physical shortcomings. That's wrong, and you're an asshole.
Likewise, critcism can be constructive. If I mention my weight, for instance, you might suggest a gym. Or something to that effect. You might even teasingly poke my love handles. That is the extent of it. Further than that and I'll point out how one of your boobs is bigger than the other, your feet look like hobbit feet, and your nose is wide enough to land planes on. Not because these things are true, but because I'm vindictive. Why? Fuck you, that's why. That sort of constructive criticism (and I'm using the example of physical things here, but it applies to any aspect of a person) should be used sparingly and carefully. Hurting someone, especially over something they're insecure about, for any reason, is a real dick move and should incur dick punches. For women, it should incur forced anal. Because it makes you a nasty cunt, and no one wants a nasty cunt.
Moving on, I'm obligated to talk about sex. It's part of the contract I signed with Satan to earn this gift of gab I've abused so often, I have to mention sex every time I speak. Sex has to be invigorating. Plain and simple, I've broken off more casual flings and become dissatisfied in more semi-serious relationships as a result of boring sex than damn near anything else. I have said, probably a billion times, that I revel in things like this. If the sex is bad, chances are the conversation is bad and, in my experience, one or more of the negative things I mentioned above is prevalent. Likewise, I have a lot of sexual quirks. I don't expect you to cater to them all, and I may not want to cater to all of yours, but there has to be enough fertile ground between us for a healthy sex life to bloom. Not too liberal, not too conservative. If you're not into anything more than brief, lights-out, missionary sex I am absolutely not interested. I need a lot more variety than that to thrive and, frankly, you probably do too.
More succinctly, I am not interested in someone that isn't interested in exploring.
Lastly, stupidity. I shouldn't elaborate much on this, because it seems obvious enough, but for the sake of balance I'll do just that. Conversation is a big deal to me. We have to be comfortable talking. I'll make jokes about my many, many failures and shortcomings as a human being, but a lot of the things I'm told I excel at I firmly believe. Being intellectual is one of those things. Understanding this, I will also never talk down to someone. I'm trying to make a career using words, and despite the occasional snide remark about grammar or word choice, I don't expect that everyone will be on the same level as I am all the time. Likewise, I expect you are well-versed in a field that I may not be as competent in. We should be able to learn from each other, and I'm fairly liberal in what I call a field. If you have kids, you know a shit ton about raising kids that I don't know, but I'd damn sure like to learn about it.
The point is, someone that has nothing to offer me intellectually, who can't offer me a stimulating conversation every now and again, has no business sharing my life. I like to be told I'm intelligent, but hate being told I'm smart by someone with a lower IQ than a box of nails.
So, what does a guy like me look for? An attractive girl (believe me, that's pretty broad) that isn't half-retarded, that adores me for the things I'm good at and lets me adore her in return. A girl that doesn't mind my flaws because she has some of her own, flaws we can work on together. A girl that is neither wholly submissive nor wholly domineering. A girl that likes herself some sex, but doesn't find my fascination with it disgusting and encourages me to find new and exciting things to try. I want a girl that is interested in my life, not interested in running it.
Additionally, I have a pretty nice dong.
The line starts here, applicants can expect a response in five to ten days.
Orgasmically Yours,
-S.R.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Art and Criticism: A Bullshit Relationship
I want to talk to you about criticism. I don't mean the sort of criticism you incur when you walk into your parent's living room in a tube top and miniskirt at thirteen (or, as it happens, at thirty-three) or the kind the police will give your sense of humor when you inhale half a can of paint and take a shit on the hood of their squad car because "that shit would be totes ridic". I mean legitimate criticism, specifically of the art world.
Now, to clarify, I'm talking all manner of art and things that can be loosely defined as art. So, your books, your poems, your movies, your music, your painting, your sculpting, your artistic but utterly functionless buildings, your television shows, your video games, and your theater. I am not talking about fashion or reality television because my personal definition of art doesn't include these things. Also, at least when it comes to fashion, I don't understand their terms.
However, the forms of education and entertainment (as most of the art I've mentioned can be one or both) I'm talking about are just a framework. The meat of this is in criticizing them. You'll find book and movie and t.v. reviews in most respectable magazines and newspapers, in addition to volumes upon volumes of reviews, critiques, and slanderous venom-spitting on the internet. Those are important to note. Additionally, you'll find yourself confronted (if you study literature as I did, for instance) with scholarly criticism, which is more than deciding whether or not something sucked more ass than the gritty reboot of Rainbow Brite. Scholarly criticism often focuses on a piece from a particular perspective, and there are as many of them as there are black folks at a KFC in Harlem.
Of course, with this variety, you'll encounter some bullshit. In fact, a ton of bullshit. So many metric tons of bullshit, they could easily be scuplted into the Dubai of Bullshit. Let's begin.
Take, for instance, Left 4 Dead 2. This is a first-person shooter that entails essentially blasting your way through hordes of zombies in a post-apocalyptic world. With the continued mainstream popularity of zombies and their ilk, through films and television (most recently AMC's original series The Walking Dead) these monsters have found their way into our culture and bonded themselves there. With insertions of zombies into artistic works, from the aforementioned visual media to sculpture, performance art, and literature (notably World War Z and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies) zombies have become a sort of artistic medium all their own. Agree or disagree, it really matters little. My point, is the criticism this game, and others like it have received. Willie Jefferson from the Houston Chronicle wrote, in a review, that many of the infected creatures in the game appeared to be African-American, and implied a racist undertone in the game. While another "journalist" alleged that because Resident Evil 5 was set in Africa and (obviously) the majority of the creatures were African, that the game was overtly racist.
Fucking, really? Look, Left 4 Dead was set in New Orleans (another point of contrition for the fuckhead writer because of the widespread destruction "remniscent of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina") a city with a diverse population. Including colored people. One of the protagonists, I should also mention, is black. In Resident Evil, one of the central protagonists is also from the area. How the hell is that racist? Furthermore, why are we reading racism into something that isn't meant to convey that kind of theme? Here, some films, like some television shows and video games, are meant to be profound. Their stories carry messages, they involve deep thinking and evoke emotion. These games are supposed to be about two things: Scaring the shit out of you, and mowing down hordes of monsters. There is a dehumanization in these types of media because portraying any protagonist murdering hundreds of people via gunfire is no way to market a product.
So you're calling something racist that has no intrinsic ability to be racist. If you omitted character models because of skin color that would be fucking racist. It would be displaying a total lack of immersion and confidence in your product out of fear of criticism from some half-wit hack that failed a literary analysis course in college for confusing every drawing of a sword with a man whipping out his dick.
Speaking of which...
Fuck feminism. More specifically, fuck people that read things from a feminist perspective that have no business reading a fucking phone book, much less a piece of classical literature. How can you look at Shakespeare or Milton or fucking...Beowulf from a feminist perspective? Or a communist perspective? Or any one of a dozen other perspectives?
You'll call swords and scepters phallic symbols and read a mysogynist attitude out of a piece of literature, or a work of art, that was created long before the idea of feminism. That's not only an excercise in futility, its utter, batshit insanity.
My point is that in order to criticize something in a relevant, logical, meaningful way, you must first take into account what it is you're looking at. Art, for all its imagination and creativity and forward-thinking, is still bound pretty strictly by the time period and cultural beleifs in which it was created. Beowulf didn't include bold, strong-willed female warriors and undertones of free exchange economics because Anglo-Saxon women were not warriors and they were subservient to their men and free exchange hadn't been invented yet. So you can't look at it from a feminist perspective because that perspective is irrelevant. You can't examine it for economics because bartering and earning posessions through acts of heroism aren't legitimate ways to build an economy.
So, if your culutre treats women like property, or looks at warriors as barbarians and scholars as gods, you will naturally be inclined to portray those roles in your art. Another culutre can't come along and say its wrong or bad, or anything really, based on their own culutral beleifs. To do so is foolish. It's like fundamentalist religious sects calling our Hollywood movies blasphemous because they don't include a "Praise Jesus!" or a cry of "Allah!" in every other line of dialogue. It's like Japan claiming every martial arts movies ever made is slanderous of Japanese culutre. In other words, fucking retarded.
Take your source material into account before you comment on it. Make sure you're attributing themes and attitudes and messages that are appropriate for the material. A video game about slaughtering zombies or an epic poem about a viking adventure are not valid places to inject profound emotion and complex thought.
Besides, black zombies and white zombies both want the same thing.
All we wanna do is eat your brains.
Subsequently Yours,
-S.R.
Now, to clarify, I'm talking all manner of art and things that can be loosely defined as art. So, your books, your poems, your movies, your music, your painting, your sculpting, your artistic but utterly functionless buildings, your television shows, your video games, and your theater. I am not talking about fashion or reality television because my personal definition of art doesn't include these things. Also, at least when it comes to fashion, I don't understand their terms.
However, the forms of education and entertainment (as most of the art I've mentioned can be one or both) I'm talking about are just a framework. The meat of this is in criticizing them. You'll find book and movie and t.v. reviews in most respectable magazines and newspapers, in addition to volumes upon volumes of reviews, critiques, and slanderous venom-spitting on the internet. Those are important to note. Additionally, you'll find yourself confronted (if you study literature as I did, for instance) with scholarly criticism, which is more than deciding whether or not something sucked more ass than the gritty reboot of Rainbow Brite. Scholarly criticism often focuses on a piece from a particular perspective, and there are as many of them as there are black folks at a KFC in Harlem.
Of course, with this variety, you'll encounter some bullshit. In fact, a ton of bullshit. So many metric tons of bullshit, they could easily be scuplted into the Dubai of Bullshit. Let's begin.
Take, for instance, Left 4 Dead 2. This is a first-person shooter that entails essentially blasting your way through hordes of zombies in a post-apocalyptic world. With the continued mainstream popularity of zombies and their ilk, through films and television (most recently AMC's original series The Walking Dead) these monsters have found their way into our culture and bonded themselves there. With insertions of zombies into artistic works, from the aforementioned visual media to sculpture, performance art, and literature (notably World War Z and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies) zombies have become a sort of artistic medium all their own. Agree or disagree, it really matters little. My point, is the criticism this game, and others like it have received. Willie Jefferson from the Houston Chronicle wrote, in a review, that many of the infected creatures in the game appeared to be African-American, and implied a racist undertone in the game. While another "journalist" alleged that because Resident Evil 5 was set in Africa and (obviously) the majority of the creatures were African, that the game was overtly racist.
Fucking, really? Look, Left 4 Dead was set in New Orleans (another point of contrition for the fuckhead writer because of the widespread destruction "remniscent of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina") a city with a diverse population. Including colored people. One of the protagonists, I should also mention, is black. In Resident Evil, one of the central protagonists is also from the area. How the hell is that racist? Furthermore, why are we reading racism into something that isn't meant to convey that kind of theme? Here, some films, like some television shows and video games, are meant to be profound. Their stories carry messages, they involve deep thinking and evoke emotion. These games are supposed to be about two things: Scaring the shit out of you, and mowing down hordes of monsters. There is a dehumanization in these types of media because portraying any protagonist murdering hundreds of people via gunfire is no way to market a product.
So you're calling something racist that has no intrinsic ability to be racist. If you omitted character models because of skin color that would be fucking racist. It would be displaying a total lack of immersion and confidence in your product out of fear of criticism from some half-wit hack that failed a literary analysis course in college for confusing every drawing of a sword with a man whipping out his dick.
Speaking of which...
Fuck feminism. More specifically, fuck people that read things from a feminist perspective that have no business reading a fucking phone book, much less a piece of classical literature. How can you look at Shakespeare or Milton or fucking...Beowulf from a feminist perspective? Or a communist perspective? Or any one of a dozen other perspectives?
You'll call swords and scepters phallic symbols and read a mysogynist attitude out of a piece of literature, or a work of art, that was created long before the idea of feminism. That's not only an excercise in futility, its utter, batshit insanity.
My point is that in order to criticize something in a relevant, logical, meaningful way, you must first take into account what it is you're looking at. Art, for all its imagination and creativity and forward-thinking, is still bound pretty strictly by the time period and cultural beleifs in which it was created. Beowulf didn't include bold, strong-willed female warriors and undertones of free exchange economics because Anglo-Saxon women were not warriors and they were subservient to their men and free exchange hadn't been invented yet. So you can't look at it from a feminist perspective because that perspective is irrelevant. You can't examine it for economics because bartering and earning posessions through acts of heroism aren't legitimate ways to build an economy.
So, if your culutre treats women like property, or looks at warriors as barbarians and scholars as gods, you will naturally be inclined to portray those roles in your art. Another culutre can't come along and say its wrong or bad, or anything really, based on their own culutral beleifs. To do so is foolish. It's like fundamentalist religious sects calling our Hollywood movies blasphemous because they don't include a "Praise Jesus!" or a cry of "Allah!" in every other line of dialogue. It's like Japan claiming every martial arts movies ever made is slanderous of Japanese culutre. In other words, fucking retarded.
Take your source material into account before you comment on it. Make sure you're attributing themes and attitudes and messages that are appropriate for the material. A video game about slaughtering zombies or an epic poem about a viking adventure are not valid places to inject profound emotion and complex thought.
Besides, black zombies and white zombies both want the same thing.
All we wanna do is eat your brains.
Subsequently Yours,
-S.R.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Lead Me Into Temptation
I feel like drinking. Not drinking as is my habit, imbibing until what seems to be and what should have been are blurred together and the significance runs away from both like water down a storm drain. I want to drink stars. I want to drink worlds and lives and memories. I want to feel unimaginably huge, unimaginably powerful. I want to be the ineffable thing that lingers at the furthest corners of the mind, that haunts the periphery and vanishes from sight. I want to be radiant, incandescent with the permeating light of a trillion worlds, a trillion suns all burning in my guts. I want to drink like the gods and spit hellfire down the throats of my opposers.
I find that there is an emptiness here. In me, I suppose although I've never given much thought to it. For all I'm aware, it is all emptiness. Or loathsome things. Or big fuck-off dildos with fangs and eyes that prey on children for sustenance. For all the soul-searching I've pondered doing I haven't gone very far down that road. Most of the time I know my heart well enough and the rest of the time I'm content to let it do its own thing. And yet, that empty feeling persists.
Let me be clear, you can't fill it. No one can fill it. This isn't some void to be patched up, filled in, built over, bridged, spanned, leaped, plumbed, exploited, mined, or looted. There is no chasm yawning out into the untapped fathoms of my emotional being. That kind of existential bullshit is best reserved for people with small minds and smaller dicks. I don't need to put love or companionship or pussy in place of this little bit of emptiness. I just need to know what the fuck it's doing there and why it demands so much of my attention. I've cut people out of my life for shit like this. Sometimes for less.
Well, sometimes I cut myself out of other people's lives. I rarely just forget about someone. Forgetting just isn't an acceptable quality in a creature like myself.
I think maybe I've misplaced something. I used to have something in that place. Not something big, the hollow left behind is shallow and not very expansive, but maybe it was something important. Important things can be small, yes? Maybe not. I could be imagning the whole thing, in which case, the feeling will likely dissipate before too long.
But maybe not.
Some days, I can't help but feeling I missed an opportunity somewhere. Like a turn I should have taken down an old dirt road that, with thanks to the hectic nature of the Universe, was not clearly marked. A road that didn't show up on my map. I like to think there's an alternate route, maybe an exit ramp up ahead I cn use to swing around and head back, but I doubt it. I hate asking for directions, and I'm much too stubborn to just turn around and take it slow so I don't fly by again.
It is possible that this is a ubiquitous feeling, and my interpetation is slightly off. Then this would be nothing more than an exercise in futility, explaining something everyone feels in their own special way.
Then again, I've never been much of a follower anyway.
Disgustingly Yours,
-S.R.
I find that there is an emptiness here. In me, I suppose although I've never given much thought to it. For all I'm aware, it is all emptiness. Or loathsome things. Or big fuck-off dildos with fangs and eyes that prey on children for sustenance. For all the soul-searching I've pondered doing I haven't gone very far down that road. Most of the time I know my heart well enough and the rest of the time I'm content to let it do its own thing. And yet, that empty feeling persists.
Let me be clear, you can't fill it. No one can fill it. This isn't some void to be patched up, filled in, built over, bridged, spanned, leaped, plumbed, exploited, mined, or looted. There is no chasm yawning out into the untapped fathoms of my emotional being. That kind of existential bullshit is best reserved for people with small minds and smaller dicks. I don't need to put love or companionship or pussy in place of this little bit of emptiness. I just need to know what the fuck it's doing there and why it demands so much of my attention. I've cut people out of my life for shit like this. Sometimes for less.
Well, sometimes I cut myself out of other people's lives. I rarely just forget about someone. Forgetting just isn't an acceptable quality in a creature like myself.
I think maybe I've misplaced something. I used to have something in that place. Not something big, the hollow left behind is shallow and not very expansive, but maybe it was something important. Important things can be small, yes? Maybe not. I could be imagning the whole thing, in which case, the feeling will likely dissipate before too long.
But maybe not.
Some days, I can't help but feeling I missed an opportunity somewhere. Like a turn I should have taken down an old dirt road that, with thanks to the hectic nature of the Universe, was not clearly marked. A road that didn't show up on my map. I like to think there's an alternate route, maybe an exit ramp up ahead I cn use to swing around and head back, but I doubt it. I hate asking for directions, and I'm much too stubborn to just turn around and take it slow so I don't fly by again.
It is possible that this is a ubiquitous feeling, and my interpetation is slightly off. Then this would be nothing more than an exercise in futility, explaining something everyone feels in their own special way.
Then again, I've never been much of a follower anyway.
Disgustingly Yours,
-S.R.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Predator
My heart beat like a galloping horse, like the drums from "Run to the Hill", like a thousand refugees fleeing for their lives from a cavalry charge meaning to ride them down with lances and bows. I was crouched, waiting, watching my prey. I was certain she would hear it, the beating of my heart, the thunder of blood in my ears, so keen were her senses. Yet, she continued to walk unperterbed through velvet darkness, speared here and there with safts of silver moonlight. The thirst came upon me then, as it always does when prey is near. The need. The ache that begins in my guts and works in two directions: down, first, where it lingers in my loins, and then up where it takes root in my mouth. The same sensation each time. Each time it feels like the first and nothing like the last.
She paused beside a pool of pristine water, fed by a creek that hummed softly across a bed of small, smooth stones. Clear, clean water. She dipped her hand in to drink, brought it to her lips and tilted her head back. Soft white throat. The ache, stronger now. I checked my spear, my footing. The ground between she and I, prey and predator, was flat, clear of all but soft, slightly damp grass. She would turn soon, her eyes would face away from me.
Now.
As if in slow motion she turned her head away, glanced back over her shoulder. Perhaps she heard some sound she thought might signal danger, but there was no danger that way. Only endless forest, dark as the Ever Black. No, the danger sprung at her from the underbrush. I lurched forward, powerful legs rushing soundlessly at her from the bush. She turned back toward me, satisfied that there was nothing behind her, and her eyes grew wide, though not with understanding. That would come later. They grew wide with confusion. How could I have eluded her senses? Crept so near without her knowing? Questions to which the answers no longer mattered.
I speared her there, threw her flat on her back and took my fill of her flesh. She writhed and screamed, perhaps in agony, perhaps in ecstasy, with my weapon in her guts. Her hips rocked and bucked, her teeth gnashed at me, snatched at my shoulders and hands, but I drove it in deeper and finally, finally, she was still. I was sated, the hunger left me.
This, I thought, would be the last hunt. There had to be a final hunt. Always I thought, this will feel like the first and this will be the final time. Always I am wrong.
Once more, perhaps.
I hunger,
S.R.
She paused beside a pool of pristine water, fed by a creek that hummed softly across a bed of small, smooth stones. Clear, clean water. She dipped her hand in to drink, brought it to her lips and tilted her head back. Soft white throat. The ache, stronger now. I checked my spear, my footing. The ground between she and I, prey and predator, was flat, clear of all but soft, slightly damp grass. She would turn soon, her eyes would face away from me.
Now.
As if in slow motion she turned her head away, glanced back over her shoulder. Perhaps she heard some sound she thought might signal danger, but there was no danger that way. Only endless forest, dark as the Ever Black. No, the danger sprung at her from the underbrush. I lurched forward, powerful legs rushing soundlessly at her from the bush. She turned back toward me, satisfied that there was nothing behind her, and her eyes grew wide, though not with understanding. That would come later. They grew wide with confusion. How could I have eluded her senses? Crept so near without her knowing? Questions to which the answers no longer mattered.
I speared her there, threw her flat on her back and took my fill of her flesh. She writhed and screamed, perhaps in agony, perhaps in ecstasy, with my weapon in her guts. Her hips rocked and bucked, her teeth gnashed at me, snatched at my shoulders and hands, but I drove it in deeper and finally, finally, she was still. I was sated, the hunger left me.
This, I thought, would be the last hunt. There had to be a final hunt. Always I thought, this will feel like the first and this will be the final time. Always I am wrong.
Once more, perhaps.
I hunger,
S.R.
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