If I Ever Hit This Point, do me a Favor and Shoot me in the Face

I spend summers away from my wife. Not really by choice, but more necessity than anything. And it gets lonely. Of course if you've read anything on my blog before you already knew that because I bitch about it all the time.

Cooking for one sucks. Cleaning up after cooking for one is even more depressing. Sleeping is almost impossible without her next to me. And of course there are the, y'know, "marital duties" that go neglected.

But if I ever reach the point where I am strapping a pulsating silicone vagina to my tablet computer so I can fuck it, you have my consent and indeed my personal request that you put me down like the feral animal I have become.

(video is sfw)

Tales from the Bus: The Ritual

Every morning the same: doors open and people trudge aboard the bus. 

Everyone stops at the bus driver to pay their fare. Some use dollars and coins, some use their little plastic city-issued bus credit cards, and some flash a transfer ticket to the driver. We all have to wait our turn to pay our way. There is little conversation, aside from maybe a cursory "Hello." There is even littler smiling. 

Here we are, a great jumble of humanity packed in a can like so much pink salmon, embarking on a journey together that will see us flung to varying parts of a vibrant city, and not a one of us seems happy about it. The days change; sometimes the sun is shining and birds are singing, sometimes the clouds are low and grey and the rain is pouring. But the ritual stays the same. 

Stand, wait, trudge, pay, sit. 


If Seth Rogen Gets me Killed, I'm Gonna be Pissed

North Korea regularly makes the news for threatening to blow up various countries, mostly South Korea and the US. They do it so often, in fact, that for the most part the rest of the world just sort of shrugs and assumes they're just trying to scare some food aid out of everybody. 

Actually, maybe not the entire rest of the world. It's easy to sit and laugh from across the Pacific, but maybe if I lived in Seoul where North Korean weapons could actually hit if they decided to do something stupid I would worry more.

So the press had to stop rolling their eyes and dutifully report the most recent threat from Kim Jong-Un et. al. to wipe America off the face of the earth over...a Seth Rogen/James Franco movie?

I guess North Korea's pissed because it makes fun of their government and the central plot involves (comedically) trying to kill their Dictator-for-Life. Yes, it's absolutely ridiculous for a nation to threaten war over ANY kind of movie, but if the roles were reversed and an Asian film detailing a hilarious assassination attempt on the sitting US President I think people would cry foul here, too.

But just imagine the horrific shame of dying in a horrific nuclear fire because Seth Rogen pissed some dude off. Millions of lives snuffed out in an instant because of this guy

Imagine a world where "The Seth Rogen War" is in history books. Maybe he'd be sent to The Hague. Maybe Seth Rogen would forever be vilified as a horrible monster who brought death and destruction to the world.

It's like one of the worst "What If...?" comics ever conceived.


The Double-Edged Sword of Progress

Have you heard about the "recent" controversy over the Washington Redskins and their offensive name? Basically in the '90s a group of Native Americans sued, arguing that having a football that calls itself the indigenous equivalent of "Washington Niggers" is sort of offensive to the people denigrated by the word "redskins" and maybe the team should change it in the interest of social justice and just general "not being huge assholes."

Naturally, they lost. Then the team's lawyers used an end-around to back-date the statute of limitations on the case before any appeals could be launched. A few people showed up at stadia with signs decrying the political incorrectness, and then it all sort of fell out of the media spotlight for two decades until recently, when the smoldering embers of controversy were suddenly stoked into a raging campfire of anger that turned up the pressure on cartoonishly-evil team owner Dan Snyder to just change the goddamn name already.

His reply: "Never."

Fans of the team (PS as a sports fan I totally get buying into the ideas of "tradition" and stuff, and not wanting your team to seemingly arbitrarily change its name, but come on man. Rip the Band-Aid off and let the healing start) and the usual cluster of media vulture talking heads who sit around waiting for shit like this took to the airwaves to decry the liberal pussies trying to ruin a good, honest businessman in the sake of political correctness gone amok. 

The two sides went back and forth, and even the fucking President and Congress felt the need to comment on the shit. But it seemed like a stalemate. Until today when the US Patent Office basically stuck its dick right up Dan Snyder's ass and invalidated the Redskins trademarks on the grounds that they're offensive.


Diary of Descent: July


July 1
It's taken four days of cat and mouse, but I've found him. He's on high alert, probably because he lost track of me the day I found Nicole and took off. I figured he would have the surrounding woods mapped out or even booby trapped, so I made a beeline for the main drag through town and booked it East.

No sign of Valerie.

July 4
It's been one year. One year since the world went off the fucking rails and everything changed forever. One year ago I was drinking to forget my stupid job and my girlfriend troubles. Today I'm stalking another human being with every intent of murdering him in cold blood before he can kill me.

And I have to do it without alerting the hundreds of undead corpses milling around looking to eat me alive.

Starting to figure out his schedule: he’s out every morning to clear out any biters that have stumbled near the house he’s camped out in. Then, if he’s got food, he eats. Last two days he apparently hasn’t had anything, though. At first he would spend most of each day spiraling out from his little base, and I think he was looking for me. Lately though he’s been heading directly for specific houses and looting them.

He’s back every night before dark. He’s always very alert, looking around, stopping at the smallest sound. No doubt he’s got a way to see out the windows without giving himself away. This is going to be tough.

July 5
I’ve been trying to ration out my supplies so I can eat regularly and keep my strength up, but I’m running out of options and I’m down to a can of refried beans and a can of corned beef hash. 

Not exactly what I’d pick for what might be my last meal, but I’ll make do. 

Tonight I’m going after James. I’ve worked this out in my head a thousand times, and every time I’ve delivered some sort of dramatic indictment of all his crimes before finishing him off.

But I can’t be dramatic. I have to find him and kill him. Quickly. Before he can kill me.

July 5
I feel like I should write some sort of last will and testament. If you are reading this and have found my journal, it’s likely I’m dead. Hopefully I’m not chasing after you trying to eat you. If I am, you have my blessing to end my suffering with a bullet to the brain. 

I don’t know what else to say, except that I hope you understand that I’m doing what I’m doing because there is a man out there who is a danger to everyone he encounters, and he’s cunning, armed, and more dangerous than any of the monsters walking the streets. He’s killed my friends. He’s tried to kill me. 

In fact, if you’re reading this and I’m dead, you should be on the lookout for him.


Uh, You First

I should confess that I don't even own a suit. It's something I think about rectifying every six months or so, when I'm feeling particularly scrubby and in need of a wardrobe upgrade or I have a funeral to attend. But for a long time I kind of prided myself on being the sort of guy who doesn't need a suit, which in the business world is a horrible and self-defeating ethos because at some point you will need to look sort of professional for somebody. That's the whole point of a suit, right? To look professional, put together, and well to do.

Which is why this is so fucking ridiculous:


You Know that Feeling?

Have you ever gone out on a date to a nice restaurant and overindulged? Not just "Oh, I had one drink too many," but "Oh god damn why did I order TWO Key Lime Pies?"

But then your date, inexplicably after witnessing your horrific display of gluttony, wants to head back to your place after? You weren't banking on that! You thought for sure this date was ending in no sex, otherwise you wouldn't have ordered the 38 ounce "Big Boy Ribeye!" So you decide to do the noble thing, suck it up, and treat your date to a night of beef-tinged carnal passion.

For some reason that scenario just came to mind.