No Chance

Focus now, zeroing in on the target these days gets a bit harder and bit more blurry each night. Each day that turns into night is just the concrete proof that November is coming, and when it does the hammer falls. This election will be one that no one is proud of. There will only be the destroyed and the less destroyed. To declare a winner in this worthless parade of douchebaggery would not only be an insult to past presidents but to America in general. On the right, a literal Professional Presidential Candidate. A man that for 16 years, was not good enough to even get on the ballot with AL GORE, is now the only hope we have. And, what a sour hope that is. To your left, a man so destined for doom that he cries himself to sleep at night to the sounds of trains crashing and ships sinking. He knows he can change the World. What he doesn’t know is that this World will never change.

It is rumored that the Electoral College will stop counting votes as soon as they receive word from Saturday Night Live that cracking on Barack Obama’s Tiger Woods-esq appearance is far easier than achieving John McCain’s comb over.

TBC…

Leave your mark

The most basic human characteristic is the Will to survive. Just beyond that, in select individuals is the Will to live on. Anything you do should reflect you as a person. I don’t care if it’s Speech, Sport or Sex. If you can’t leave an impression, you shouldn’t bother.

I’ve mastered survival so I’ve progressed to level two. Anyone who knows the author of this monumental waste of thought, knows that he is a whore of self-expression. We live in a place where it’s allowed and more importantly excepted pretty widely. So, with that said, open wide.

This started with Sport. Back in the golden age of my youth I was a wildly unexpected success in the local baseball scene. For me it wasn’t about home-runs and on base averages, it was more about giving the folks a show. Many of my friends always said that if you took the pitcher out of the game and replaced him with a pitching machine the whole thing would be more interesting and would end a lot sooner. I hated that. I was a nominated pitcher for every team I played for simply because I looked like some of the opposing teams breakfast ( I was pretty tiny in those days) They just wanted to see how badly I’d get wailed on. As fate would have it, I was an anomaly. I threw a ball 89 miles an hour at 5′2 115 pounds. The first time I released a ball, it sent the kid to a hospital. Speed is only good as the control behind it…I missed that part. As I got older that progressed and crowd attendance was higher than any other teams. Before long I wore out and got bored with the mindless satisfaction of being a tiny little shit that could break your back with a change-up, but before departing the sport forever, received the career all-star award in a division I never played in. The plaque rests in the meeting hall in Virginia’s fine state capitol for anyone interested. Mark left.

Fast Forward 5 years. I found a lot of people that I could call my friends and those individuals were not into sports, quite the opposite actually. These people were not physically fit, they were barely able to walk, much less run. For a long time I couldn’t figure out what they did for fun until we were all at my residence in rural Virginia sitting around talking and out of nowhere they all get up together and head for a car of one of the visitors. Keep in mind these people were significantly older than I at the time. I walk in line down to the car and strap in and we start the car. Before the first word is spoken the car filled with the thickest white smoke imaginable. Bliss. The beat the shit out of running poles. I sat in that car for 3 hours before falling out and going ape shit. To top it off, this wasn’t the fun part! No No, this was a warm-up. Twenty minutes later a van full of amplifiers and recording equipment roars into the driveway and two guys that looked like Tom Hanks at the end of Cast Away start hauling this shit to the upstairs room in my house. What followed was a musical orgy full of drums and guitars that would forever change my life. It should be noted that this change of character happened instantaneously. This wasn’t a slow progression at all. I was Andy Athlete when I woke up that morning and Johnny Pot Smoker when I went to bed that afternoon. Everyone romanticizes their first drug related experience and I won’t be the exception. It’s cliche for a reason.

These people changed my life forever. They bread me to play this music stuff and once I learned it was like Crack. You can’t put it away, you can’t turn it off and you immediately feel the need to tell EVERYONE about it. Since that day to the time of this posting I’ve written and recorded hundreds of my own music and others. Mark made.

After that prolific experience where could I go? That is more than most people get in a life time. However, I still didn’t feel like I would be remembered for much more than being an accommodating tool. So we press on.

What followed was a career move. The business of being a legend is one that drives most people broke and I was feeling it. A dear friend of mine wrote me a letter from the west coast with an audio sample from the local news about some 12 year old from San Diego that crafted some computer program that lifted 200 credit card numbers from a public ATM machine and was only questioned when he tried to buy 3 plane tickets to China because he was scared shitless that it worked. The letter was entitled “Legends Never Pay” Good point there.

“Genius’s around the World stand hand in hand, and one shock of recognition runs the whole circle round.” ~Herman Melvill

I took this as an open invitation to move into the digital age. Run through school, learn the language, take the money and run.

It’s been 4 years and I have seen things that have left their mark on ME. The World isn’t ready for computers, I’ll leave it at that.

Whatever you decide on, make it big. Make it with your head and being clever never hurt anybody.
~RQS

An Ending Spoiler

There aren’t many more feelings I have left to deploy on this rotten job. Every one of them so far has been changed, altered, or destroyed completely. Be prepared kids. The college life you love will so tactfully graze you away in your perceptions that the dream you’re paying to walk through, springs mazes that you may not have signed up for. It’s a tough gig having your dream an honest 5 years before your close friends. It’s the comments about the Money and the Stuff that kill me the most. Our Doomed Generation endures through socioeconomic peril and down right terrible behavior for nothing more than the hope of worthless crap at the end.

Now how could you understand this? What new information might I share with you here? Not a God Damned ounce. Just like all lessons in life, someone, hell…Everyone, could tell you all about them and teach them to you, but until you stick your head under and inhale the salt water you will never understand. This message comes to you with a detailed Warning, though. It has never been in my character to let someone fall if I could prevent it. I hope to see all of you in a good place one day.

1) When asked a question, Tell the truth. It doesn’t pay to lie and it gets harder to keep up with as you get older. Brutal honesty will dominate any situation and will produce fewer requests for explanations. This rule is tricky to deal with sometimes and if used incorrectly, it could render the same outcome as a Lie. Best rule of thumb, if the truth gets you fired, you’re in the wrong place.

2) Be prepared to suck. There are 6 billion people on Earth. You aren’t unique. You probably aren’t the best, and chances are you never will be. Normally I would suggest you rise to the challenge, but it’s safer to prepare you for sucking.

3) Cloudy with a chance of Shit Storms. Life will suck for you sometimes. People are basically rotten and if you are young and innocent and have less to lose, you will be sacrificed. The key to coping with a shit storm (as there is no way to prevent one) is a wide vocabulary. You may have fucked something up, or said something wrong, but with the right choice of words you can turn it into a sunny situation.

4) Money isn’t everything, until you figure out how to get more. Statistic time! Last year in the United States a poll was gathered for the amount of raises given to men and to women. 89% more raises were give to men than to women, any idea why? BECAUSE WE ASK FOR THEM! If you think your boss is going to come around a slap you with an extra Benny for just being Neat, you’re doomed. Put on your big boy pants and turn up the bass and sling some bullshit. This works better if you actually do some work, but it’s not required.

These are the grim realities that you’re working so hard for. What you’re doing, is competing for a chance to play The Game. If you win, you get to keep playing. If you lose, you get to start all over again. The one with the most at the ends wins. Happy Hunting.

Infliction of Personality

I’ve always been a troublemaker, a corruption of the soul, the notorious ‘Bad Influence.’ The people I came across were good people that had some kind of sick desperation in their lives and I was there to give it something to do. I was pipe connoisseur to the Dope addicts, the accomplice for break-ins for the Pill thieves, and the bartender for the alcoholics. I catered to the whims of every person that came to me and for nothing more than the Will to do my Job. Friends aren’t hard to find when you’re only looking to get them high. For years I had no fear of any harmful side effects until one by one I started watching good people taken in for really terrible crimes.

All I wanted out of this was an army of people that were just as impulsive and obsessive and addicted as I was. Every addict’s best friend is another addict. I led people to acid but never induced the Trip.

Here recently I’ve strayed away from the faces I use to find hope in and swore the hobby off forever. Conflicts of morality. I still can’t fight the feeling that I subconsciously still do it. I don’t want to be that person you have to be ripped in front of to be heard. I’ve witnessed people become sort of cartoon characters to their own lives because people find them to be just a caricature of themselves.

There’s no money in crime, addiction, or bondage, only more crime, addiction, and bondage. This life that looks so appealing is indeed, but it comes with a heavy fucking price tag. Not one of monetary value, just one of the conscious mind. If you can live with corrupting minds and advocating substance for a living, you may already qualify.

No Sympathy for the Lost

It isn’t hard to spot a lost person. The awkward steps, the confused looks, the pokey speed, the tears. A lost person has forgotten how to function like a normal human and has entered into a state of bare instincts. Beneath the complacent stare is the heart of a beast caged in fear. You can’t communicate with this person because you aren’t talking to the brain, you talking to the heart. While this is going on, on the surface, the World is still cranking along unknowing. The person is ignored, passed, even annoying. No one wants to deal with this problem because everyone has been a victim. ‘Figure it out yourself,’ is the phrase that comes to mind.

Banksy said in a tag, “If you want to be truly invisible, put on a neon vest and a hard hat.” No one wants to know you, cares what you’re doing, or thinks about you after the sight. You’re in the way. You’re slowing us down. MOVE.
So if you ever find yourself drunk behind the wheel of a car, or in lack of mental awareness for any reason: Slow down to a crawl, slap a dead look on your face and cry for help. Not only will you avoid jail time, you may find the solitude you so desperately need.

No sympathy for the Lost.

Along with the lost lie the confident. The two share a common demise. The confident person is ignored because they command respect from the lost. While a confident person yells “Fuck you, learn to drive!” to a lost person, the lost person is screaming back, “Fuck you, get out of my way!” The two combat until they are one in the same and then back again, reversing roles up and down America’s highways all day.

George Carlin said once, “Every person driving faster than you is a maniac, and everyone driving slower than you is an asshole. There are a lot of maniacs and assholes out there.”
I have no preference, I’ve played both roles to the end of the show. The lost are often hated and the confident have astronomical legal fees.

I credit sanity to everyone. It rarely pays off, but eventually some rise to the challenge. The whole world fakes brilliance, but this is different. This is embedded. This trap, this rotten game, it’s smoke and mirrors. I know where this stands and I know where it’s been. I know that in the back of this mind It’s fearless and impatient. This is just a scar that won’t stop opening. So my question isn’t why, it’s when. Why every movie starts, climaxes and ends the same way. We still go see new ones every week, yet they never change. It’s the ‘Blah Blah Blah’ that you ask for, and when it comes it stays irrelevant. Hypocrisy should be the cause of death.

In the 1980’s Pro Wrestling came under fire for being scripted and planned. No one could understand how a seemingly unstoppable hero could kick so much ass in the first 4 minutes, fool his opponent with fancy foot work and use the same finishing move every time. How could the underdog be so damn dumb? Everyone’s screaming the next move, and just before he body drops him for the set up, the crowd goes nuts, and the hammer falls.

I believe firmly now the outcome was planned. The story was scripted and the finishing move is flying over head. There is no winner in this match, just a pending statistic.

Benjamin,

I feel it is only fair to post these incredible bolloxing’s in the public air. As premium members of the Sub-Human Race, our distaste for one another over the years is a love that can’t be tagged in any conventional sense, nor should it be kept away from our throngs of adoring stalkers. I received your contribution to the magazine and my God are you retarded. For some reason, and I can’t put my finger on it, I can’t justify 4 weeks of product testing with ” dude, it’s fuckin’ bulky.” Next time draw a picture or something, just stay away from words. You fucking disease, beg all you want, you’re a waste. I’m staring at a telephone that hasn’t stopped ringing in 30 minutes because of you. Stick to surfing, at least when you say things like, ” dude, it’s fuckin bulky” we know what you’re talking about. Oh and Mrs. Fallin says she wants her doll back, regardless of it’s current condition. I told her to think twice about that last stipulation. She didn’t laugh either. I know you haven’t been near the modern World in ages, so I’m sending this with a God Damned hope that you get it before Christmas. Aside from the deafening 7 seconds of silence you captured in your last attempt at recording the Carolina Conference, it was a good take. As always my advice stands, stay away from women in pant suits and take an English class.

-Michael

I have nothing to say, and wanted to document that.

thanks.

When You Wish Upon a Car

I’ve thought about it nearly all of my life. Most people do, I think. You see it in all the movies and you hear about it on the News. Here it is, you have five seconds to live, what’s your dying wish? I have to admit I was a little disappointed with myself for the way I responded initially. I am the type that will look you square in the face and tell you I’m going to kill myself at 50 because anything after that is greedy. However, in this quick rush of panic I couldn’t calm myself. I couldn’t accept my fate, and I couldn’t concentrate. I truly believe I’m here still, because God wanted me to have my wish and be at peace when my death is upon me.
I had parked my car at the top of a fucking steep hill, with nothing in front of me but a grove of trees and a large body of water. I had to move it down the hill about 25 feet so I ran up the hill, got in and without thinking took my parking break off. It was all down-hill from there, literally. The car started to roll immediately. I turned the key, nothing. Stomped the breaks, nothing. Turned the wheels, nothing. I was going into that lake whether I wanted to or not. The whole ordeal probably took 7 seconds but it felt like an eternity. Over the hill I went and straight down into the water, hitting everything in my way including a man-made dock that broke my fall. 35 miles per hour to a dead stop. No airbag.
As I sat there, the water started to rush in and it was then that I started to calm down. If the fall didn’t kill me, 4 feet of water won’t either. It was quite a sight. The entire front end of the car was fucked. As I crawled out I walked over the broken headlight glass and stared at the gaping hole in the dock. People were coming outside to see what all the noise was about and for good reason. There was a reasonably new Bright Red Honda Civic parked like a boat in a residential dock. What a rush.
For the next 2 hours and roughly 3 weeks I would run that day through my head trying to figure out if I was really in danger or if I subconsciously put myself there. I’ve always lived by the standard of having “No small wrecks.” If you’re going to hit something, hit it HARD. My face felt like I’d taken a flat head shovel to the nose, and my ribs felt like they had multiplied and divided.
And that’s the story. The point here is that until you can close your eyes in panic, smile on deaths door and scream ‘I’m free’ while going over the edge, you haven’t passed the class yet; Life 101 ladies and gentlemen. So decide what you really want in life and remember it well. So well that when you’re being hurled down a hill at top speed you find yourself satisfied rather than terrified.