Well it's that time of year again. This is when I regal you with one of my tales of terror. This year is going to be different. Instead of a story from the past I'm going to tell you about something frightening as hell that's going on as we speak. That's right the Presidential election and the fact that America will soon be controlled by a muslim. Before all you faggoty liberals start thinking I'm a McCain supporter let me clarify that. I'm not. I believe Palin has no business being President and she would be, if McCain were to win. He's too old to survive the presidency. So sooner or later Caribou Barbie would be in charge.
Back to the scary story. Obama is going to win. That's scary enough. But there is something I need to show y'all.
OSAMA BIN LADEN. Take the "S" in Osama and change it to a "B". All you have to do is add a straight line to the front of the "S" and complete the loop at the top and you have a "B". Now you have OBAMA BIN LADEN. I know it may seem goofy, but I ain't finished yet. Now take OBAMA BIN LADEN and lose the letters "NLA" and you're left with OBAMA BI DEN. Well just push the "BI" over to the "DEN" and now you have OBAMA BIDEN. What about the "NLA", you ask. They're still there. They stand for "No Longer America" which is what we will be after Obama takes over. I just tied Obama to the super muslim.
Face it. Obama is a fucking muslim. I don't care if you think I'm just another cracker, trailer dwelling, racist, bigot, inbred redneck. Obama is a fucking muslim. My hate for him has nothing to do with the fact that he's less than 10% black. HE'S A FUCKING MUSLIM. I'll vote for a black man. Put Judge Joe Brown on the ballot and I'll vote for him. So see it has nothing to do with skin pigmentation. It has to do with handing our country over to our enemies. Yes, all muslims are our enemies. I can prove it. Muhammad fucked goats. Now every muslim in the world wants me dead. See. Enemies.
You see what's going to happen is shortly after Obama takes over is there's going be talk of incorporating "Sharia" (Islamic religious law) into our law. Some will want our Constitution amended around it. Before you call me crazy, do some research. You will find that this is taking place in countries all over the world including Great Britain. First the muslims get one of their own into public office (President of the USA is the ultimate public office) then they slowly and methodically change things to fit their way. Before you know it we all will be running around in sandals wearing robes and turbans and bowing seven times to the east.
So if you love mom, apple pie and baseball. If you love your country. If you have any level of intelligence at all. Vote for anyone but Obama. There's lots of people to vote for (write in Trashman). Don't let white guilt determine your vote (you have nothing to feel guilty for). For my black readers, don't vote for him because he's black, he's only 10% black, you'll be voting for 90% something else. If none of that stops you from voting for Obama then there's no hope for someone with your level of stupidity.
Fuck Obama. Fuck Biden. Fuck Bin Laden. Fuck muslims. Fuck anybody voting for Obama/Biden/Bin Laden/muslims. And fuck the goat fucking Muhammad.
I am the banana nuts in Jens muffin top.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Common Not So Cold
First things first. I want to say thank you to all the people that commented, emailed, called and sent tuna cheese casseroles (it's a southern thing). Having friends like y'all helps.
Now on to the subject at hand. Anybody that knows me well, knows that I love me some COLD drinks. So cold, that my teeth hurt when I take a sip. So cold, I get instant brain freeze. As cold as something really fuckin cold. When I prepare my icy cold beverages the first thing I do is over fill the glass with ice. Then I pour in the liquid of choice and let it melt some of the ice. Now if all goes right I have a nice cold tasty beverage. Lately not all has been going right. My ice doesn't work anymore. It doesn't matter where I get the ice from either, it's not just my homemade ice it's all ice I come in contact with. My drinks ain't cold. I've been forcing Jen and the boys to taste my not so cold beverages (and I don't drink after anybody including my wife and kids). I'm trying to prove my drinks ain't cold. They think I'm crazy. I think they're part of the conspiracy. I just want something cold to drink.
Maybe I'm in hell and I want ice water.
Now on to the subject at hand. Anybody that knows me well, knows that I love me some COLD drinks. So cold, that my teeth hurt when I take a sip. So cold, I get instant brain freeze. As cold as something really fuckin cold. When I prepare my icy cold beverages the first thing I do is over fill the glass with ice. Then I pour in the liquid of choice and let it melt some of the ice. Now if all goes right I have a nice cold tasty beverage. Lately not all has been going right. My ice doesn't work anymore. It doesn't matter where I get the ice from either, it's not just my homemade ice it's all ice I come in contact with. My drinks ain't cold. I've been forcing Jen and the boys to taste my not so cold beverages (and I don't drink after anybody including my wife and kids). I'm trying to prove my drinks ain't cold. They think I'm crazy. I think they're part of the conspiracy. I just want something cold to drink.
Maybe I'm in hell and I want ice water.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Heaven Or Hell?
Y'all know I'm not a secrets kind of guy. I'm not looking for sympathy either. I'm writing this more for me than anything else. I'm hoping by saying some things out loud it will help me to get past some things and accept others. So here goes.
I've sat down several times to write this post but I've never been able to finish it. I'm not sure you'll even read this. I'm really surprised at how hard I've taken this whole thing. My mother and I have always had a different outlook on death. We both always considered it as a part of live. There's no used in getting upset, life goes on, blah, blah, blah. Yet here I sit, torn up beyond belief.
Right now she's in the top of my closet. The plan is to spread her over a blue bonnet field next spring. She loved blue bonnets. She loved gardening, bird watching, reading, and eating. She gave up each one of these things one by one. We should have seen it coming, but nobody noticed. That's part of my guilt. I didn't notice. That, and I didn't visit as often as I could and should have.
I find it hard to leave the house. I have panic attacks when I do. I want to be alone but when Jen and the boys are gone the panic sets in. I've been having weird chest pains, not the heart attack kind, just a strange kind of I'm gonna start crying kind of thing. Don't worry I'm not gonna cry. It just feels like I am. I have had some moisture in my eyes, but I think it's from the cigarettes.
Right now I have a garage full of memories. I sold some of them this weekend, I need to get them out of here. It's funny what reminds me of her. Water for instance. She always had a bottle of water with her every where she went, Now when I see one, I think of her. I'm not trying to forget her. I just don't want to be bombarded with memories. It's already hard enough.
I thought she lived life to the fullest. She was never afraid to try anything. She did it all when I was a kid. We spent a lot of time on the river. She went tubing, canoeing, dam sliding and even swung on a rope into the water, all after the age of 50. She continued to enjoy these activities with her grand children when she was in her 60's. I always thought she should wear a giant "S" on her chest. She was super in my eyes.
I just found out this last week that she had a weakness. It seems that when she was a small child a Southern Baptist preacher got into her head and filled it with hell fire and brimstone. According to a reliable source she thought her life was one big sin and the older she got the more she worried about it. She was afraid of going to hell. The reliable source also disclosed the fact that her arthritis was far worse than anyone knew. She said that the pain in her neck was so bad that if it wasn't for the fact that she would go to hell, she would take a handful of pills and end it all. This coming from the most anti-drug individual on the planet. She suffered severely for the last three years. She suffered so bad she wanted to die. She wanted to die but she couldn't end the pain because she didn't want to go to hell (I guess she didn't want to see my dad again).
I guess when food got boring, a deeply buried part of her brain saw a way out. She slowly starved her self to death. She went out one of the most painful ways possible. Even at the end when the nurses tried to feed her she would grit her teeth. My last phone call to her, the nurse told me she was calling my name and when she wasn't doing that she was crying. I didn't want to talk to her but the nurse poured on the guilt so I did. She begged me to come get her, but for once in my life I was helpless to do what she asked. Sooner or later I'll pay for that, she'll see to it. At the very end she was calling for her sister and her mother and father to come take her home. I'm glad I wasn't there.
The part that confuse me is that all my life she told me she wasn't to sure there was a God, because if there was and He was the loving God that He claims to be then He wouldn't let the bad things that happen, happen. So I wonder since she questioned the existence of God is that why she suffered so bad, or does shit just happen, or is she right about God not existing. Where is she now? Or is she? I believe in God, after all I have seen the devil. If there is a devil then there is a God. I just wonder why she had to suffer to the point that she wanted to take her own life.
I've heard it all. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes when God answers your prayers, the answer is no. God has a plan for us. Well I don't buy any of it. I think God stuck us on this rock floating in space and He spends His spare time laughing at us. That's if He even remembers that we're here. If God were the loving God that the bible speaks of then she wouldn't have suffered. She wouldn't have had to starve herself to death. It makes me question His existence.
The really wild thing is that my older brothers checked their dad and our mom into the same nursing home on the same day. Their dad died at 5:30 am and our mom died at 6:44 pm on the same day. Checked in on the same day and checked out on the same day. Now as bad as I feel I have to wonder how bad they feel. Both parents on the same day. They have been divorced for 38 years. They haven't seen each other in at least 22 years. Now they get put into the same old people storage facility on the same day (they didn't know about each other being there). Then they die on the same day. What are the fucking odds? You got a better chance of winning the lottery.
I been writing this post for about four hours and it's beginning to look like y'all may actually get to read it. I had to stop a few times and go smoke a cigarette, funny how smoke gets in your eyes. Doesn't really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Jen's been wanting me to talk to someone about my feelings. Problem is I only have one feeling and I just talked about with y'all. Plus it didn't cost $75.00 an hour.
I've sat down several times to write this post but I've never been able to finish it. I'm not sure you'll even read this. I'm really surprised at how hard I've taken this whole thing. My mother and I have always had a different outlook on death. We both always considered it as a part of live. There's no used in getting upset, life goes on, blah, blah, blah. Yet here I sit, torn up beyond belief.
Right now she's in the top of my closet. The plan is to spread her over a blue bonnet field next spring. She loved blue bonnets. She loved gardening, bird watching, reading, and eating. She gave up each one of these things one by one. We should have seen it coming, but nobody noticed. That's part of my guilt. I didn't notice. That, and I didn't visit as often as I could and should have.
I find it hard to leave the house. I have panic attacks when I do. I want to be alone but when Jen and the boys are gone the panic sets in. I've been having weird chest pains, not the heart attack kind, just a strange kind of I'm gonna start crying kind of thing. Don't worry I'm not gonna cry. It just feels like I am. I have had some moisture in my eyes, but I think it's from the cigarettes.
Right now I have a garage full of memories. I sold some of them this weekend, I need to get them out of here. It's funny what reminds me of her. Water for instance. She always had a bottle of water with her every where she went, Now when I see one, I think of her. I'm not trying to forget her. I just don't want to be bombarded with memories. It's already hard enough.
I thought she lived life to the fullest. She was never afraid to try anything. She did it all when I was a kid. We spent a lot of time on the river. She went tubing, canoeing, dam sliding and even swung on a rope into the water, all after the age of 50. She continued to enjoy these activities with her grand children when she was in her 60's. I always thought she should wear a giant "S" on her chest. She was super in my eyes.
I just found out this last week that she had a weakness. It seems that when she was a small child a Southern Baptist preacher got into her head and filled it with hell fire and brimstone. According to a reliable source she thought her life was one big sin and the older she got the more she worried about it. She was afraid of going to hell. The reliable source also disclosed the fact that her arthritis was far worse than anyone knew. She said that the pain in her neck was so bad that if it wasn't for the fact that she would go to hell, she would take a handful of pills and end it all. This coming from the most anti-drug individual on the planet. She suffered severely for the last three years. She suffered so bad she wanted to die. She wanted to die but she couldn't end the pain because she didn't want to go to hell (I guess she didn't want to see my dad again).
I guess when food got boring, a deeply buried part of her brain saw a way out. She slowly starved her self to death. She went out one of the most painful ways possible. Even at the end when the nurses tried to feed her she would grit her teeth. My last phone call to her, the nurse told me she was calling my name and when she wasn't doing that she was crying. I didn't want to talk to her but the nurse poured on the guilt so I did. She begged me to come get her, but for once in my life I was helpless to do what she asked. Sooner or later I'll pay for that, she'll see to it. At the very end she was calling for her sister and her mother and father to come take her home. I'm glad I wasn't there.
The part that confuse me is that all my life she told me she wasn't to sure there was a God, because if there was and He was the loving God that He claims to be then He wouldn't let the bad things that happen, happen. So I wonder since she questioned the existence of God is that why she suffered so bad, or does shit just happen, or is she right about God not existing. Where is she now? Or is she? I believe in God, after all I have seen the devil. If there is a devil then there is a God. I just wonder why she had to suffer to the point that she wanted to take her own life.
I've heard it all. God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes when God answers your prayers, the answer is no. God has a plan for us. Well I don't buy any of it. I think God stuck us on this rock floating in space and He spends His spare time laughing at us. That's if He even remembers that we're here. If God were the loving God that the bible speaks of then she wouldn't have suffered. She wouldn't have had to starve herself to death. It makes me question His existence.
The really wild thing is that my older brothers checked their dad and our mom into the same nursing home on the same day. Their dad died at 5:30 am and our mom died at 6:44 pm on the same day. Checked in on the same day and checked out on the same day. Now as bad as I feel I have to wonder how bad they feel. Both parents on the same day. They have been divorced for 38 years. They haven't seen each other in at least 22 years. Now they get put into the same old people storage facility on the same day (they didn't know about each other being there). Then they die on the same day. What are the fucking odds? You got a better chance of winning the lottery.
I been writing this post for about four hours and it's beginning to look like y'all may actually get to read it. I had to stop a few times and go smoke a cigarette, funny how smoke gets in your eyes. Doesn't really make a difference in the grand scheme of things. Jen's been wanting me to talk to someone about my feelings. Problem is I only have one feeling and I just talked about with y'all. Plus it didn't cost $75.00 an hour.
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