Murder By Life.

Well some of you might know that I have a Grandma. She is drunk almost all the time, and is quite close to insanity. She can be very annoying, and petulant, but she has a special place in the hole where my heart used to be, so I can't help but have sympathy fot her. To her, I will always be that chubby, sweet little boy she knew me as long ago, and while this is sometimes problematic, it is also somewhat endearing. She has no idea what a massive pile of useless I have become, nor what an asshole I can be. She was also the only adult in my life that did not react with that pandering, "he'll grow out of it and get a real job" when I said I wanted to draw and write for a living. That always stuck with me and so I try to help the poor old lady.

That being said, I wish she would die.

She has lived a long time, and had her run at things. She had a pretty good life, but the good times are done. Everyone in her family, her husband of 40 years, all her friends, they're all fucking dead. Her life is as lonely as I can imagine is possible, with me her only friend (certainly a fate worse than death) Add to that the fact that the world has completely left her behind (she was born before electricity for fuck's sake!) and it's no wonder she's constantly wasted. She's trying to kill her self daily with piulls and booze, but because of some fucking ancient religion bullshit about suicide, she can't just off herself. "Why won't God let me die," she has often lamented. Maybe God is just a serious asshole.

This whole situation makes one thought surface in my skull. I do not fear death. I fear getting old. I don't mean turning 40 (though I do not relish that inevitability) I mean outliving your life, your body and mind failing, and watching everything you know and love change and disappear. Think about it, every person you ever made laugh, every person you ever fucked, every bastard you ever met on myspace, your mom and dad, brothers and sisters, all the people you remember, no longer exist, and you will never make new memories with these people. No one even knows what a Playstation 5 is, and all your favorite actors and bands are dust. No one wants to hear about life bfore cybornetic limbs and computer chip brain implants. You have nothing to look forward to and the past only brings pain. Existance is a painful limbo were all potential is lost, and thanks to the Republicans, you have to work at Wal-Mart just to have enough cash to stay drunk.

Hopefully, I'll get hit by a bus or a falling meteorite soon. That way my funeral will be full of grieving people, lamenting my untimely demise. You don't wanna be the last one to go with no one left to carry your coffin.

end transmission.

I am sooo sorry.

It has come to my attention that I am an insensitive, intolerant hate monger, with anger management issues. Man, I apologize to everyone for my injudicious views on, what are very truly, super important world issues.

I will be checking myself into a social sensitivity rehabilitation center. Hopefully they will help me care more for people I don't even know and allow me to avoid my terribly incorrect, yet surprisingly funny over generalizations, about people and their bullshit. Hopefully my blog will soon reflect my personal progress in the upcoming months.

Thank you all for sticking with me in my most dire time of need and weakness.

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I'm not gay, but you are.

Wow. First of all i got suckered into watching Grey's Anatomy, once. I am a sucker for medical shows, and this one qualified, but it is the shittiest TV show I have ever seen, and labeling it a pandering, "chick" show would be very insulting to chicks. (PS if you watch and/or like that show, I will hate you, I promise).

That being said, I can't escape this "controversy" about the black dude that called someone on the cast a fag or some shit, i don't even know who he said it to. It doesnt fucking matter, really. The entire situation is ludicrous. Like I said I don't even watch it, but I still know about it, (aren't we at war or something?) and that angers me greatly.

They're actors people! COME THE FUCK ON! They are not the characters they play. Who cares if Dr. Dreamboat hates fags in real life? Apparently everyone but me. His job is to pretend he is someone he's not, if your gay and you like his character, well that just tells me he's good at what he does.

And what kills me is that this poor bastard is going into counseling over this shit, to change his obviously incorrect views on the gays. What the fuck kinda bullshit is that? If i was that guy I would have said, "You know what. Eat shit. I called him a fag, and he is a fag. And fuck you for telling me what I can and can't say, or what I can't and can't believe. I might have said it at the time just to hurt him, with no real anti-homo sentiment behind it, but now, fuck you all."

but that's just me.

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Coping with Insignifcance.

This weekend was a very good time indeed! I got to hang out with some of my oldest palls, drink until sickness and tell stories about shitting and make fun of stuff. I got to go see NOFX (which was amazing, It's been almost 4 years since the last time?) and hanging out with real punk kids, both old and new, people who share a love for sarcasm, PBR, and being assholes to everyone. No dude make-up either. Finally hanging out with good music everywhere, not a DJ in sight.

I had almost forgotten that there were any of these people left, but be assured they thrive! I haven't laughed as much as I did this weekend in many moons. Kelly and Chopper were out here, as well as Scott Kaplan, and Virgil and a veritable army of Suburban Home/Denver Punk peoples, drunks, nerds, and losers all around. We had an amazing time, and I'm now loathe to return to my normal life.

I haven't had that much fun in a long time. I would like to thank all of you, (even Fat Mike, who was a dick to me, just like always) even the new people I met whose names have faded in a beer inspired amnesia. Sorry for the unusual lack of vocabularic pinache, but my brain is literally exhausted, and elated for the pain. I have to get some fucking sleep now.

end transmission.

Finally, I know who gave the best onscreen BJ in 2006.

So last night was an excitig night at work. The AVN convention is currently taking up the floorspace in the convention center of THe Mandalay Bay. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's the largest Adult Video/Product convention in the U.S., and last night they had their award show. A kind of Acadamy Awards for porn, if you will.
When the show was over, the party spilled into the casino, and you can just imagine what that was like. Strangely enough, porn stars do not feel the least bit shy in a public setting. I haven't seen so many topless hot girls making out and finger fucking since my Grandma's 73rd birthday back in '92.
Honestly, all you had to do was look for a big crowd, and in the center of that crowd was any number of hot girls, tearing their clothes off and making out. Not to mention girls just standing around topless, gambling, drinking, all that shit. It was an eye candy bonanza.
Of course, the women I work with were all very confounded and noteably snooty. "Why do men have to be such idiots over tits?" or "Stop looking at those three girls practically fucking and get back to work" or "they're just tits and most of them aren't even real."
Their pleas fell on deaf ears and their attempts to ruin the spectacle were in vain. I mean, I might have been just as apprehensive if the casino had been overcome with statuesque male doctors from some kinda underwear model/mensa convention, but that kinda thing just doesn't happen in Vegas, or anywhere, who knows?
I also got invited by some dude to audition to be in porns on his website. Apparantly the interview is as follows:
1. Daub walks into room. Room has a few dudes and a camera.
2. Daub strips.
3. Daub achieves erection by manual means.
4. Daub masturbates and must be able to cum on command.
3. Success = a call back and I get to fuck some random girl and have it webcast throughout the planet.

I said I would consider it, took the man's business card, but declined to shake his hand.

end transmission.

I hate Bono.

So we're sending 20 something thousand more poor highschool dropouts to the middle east. I try to avoid politics in this thing because I like talking about myself more, but I watched that speech good 'ol George gave on the TV and it made me want to fucking assassinate him, well more than I already did.

You hear that secret service! I want the President of the United States dead. If I dissappear suddenly in the night you guys know what happened.

Anyway, fucking fuck! That asshole talked (well, sounds came out of his mouth in stuttering stream) for so long but he basically only said one thing. The fact that that anus sniffing fuckface told us with a straight face that sending more soldiers over there was the first step to getting them all home...well I was pretty drunk and now I have to buy a new TV. How stupid does he think we are? How does that even make sense? I might not understand all the nuances of American politics, but this makes no goddam sense. Fuck that guy. It's so frustrating.

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The Rejection of Salvation.

The human being who is condemned to death is, at least, magnificent before he disappears, and his magnificence is his justification. The Daub creates his own unity by aesthetic means. But it is an aesthetic of singularity and of negation. The Daub is, by occupation, always in opposition, He can only exist in defiance. He can only be sure of his own existance by finding it in the expression of others' faces. Other people are his mirror. A mirror that quickly becomes clouded, it is true, since human capacity for attention is limited. It must be ceaselessly stimulated, spurred on by provocation. The Daub, therefore, is always compelled to astonish. Singularity is his vocation, excess his way to perfection. Perpetually incomplete, always on the fringe of things, he compels others to create him, while denying their values. He plays at life because he is unable to live it. He plays at it until he dies, except for the moments when he is alone and without a mirror. For the Daub, to be alone is not to exist.

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Don't confuse your truth with your pain.

Well I've taken a break from my Tiger Woods 2007, I double bogey'd the last hole putting me at +6 for the Tour, which is really shitty. That game is like crack. I wonder if real golf is that much fun? Hm..

So 4 days deep into 2007 and there is really nothing to report. A funny anecdote...

I was working, well I was standing around at work wondering what would be better to be burned alive or to have a white hot copper wire stuck in my pee hole, when a cocktail waitress came up to me and said,
"Daub, who is that guy, he's famous isn't he?"
She was indicating a real tall skinny black guy, his hair mostly grey, and he had a cane.
"yes, that's Dr. J." I told her.
"Oh he's a doctor, I thought he was an athlete or something."
Then she walked away. Now I'm no sports freak, but I know who Dr. J Erving is. I went over to him (me and the Doctor kinda bonded earlier talking about how cool it was being so much taller than everyone else...I told him about how men over 6'2" are the largest minority in the world, we got to talking about all kinds of other shit, he's a real cool dude) and I told him what the girl had said, and he almost choked on hs beer laughing. When he recovered he told me that such a misunderstanding made him feel old.

Welcome to the club Dr. J.

end transmission.