The Old Days Were Terrible Days

Today it’s going to be hot in New York. It’s going to be almost 90 degrees Farenheit. Underneath my balcony right now, kids are walking. They’re holding long cables connected to adults. They just stopped when someone said, “About face!” Then they all turned around like little soldiers. Now they are all walking back under the balcony, back to the school or daycare or whatever.

I bought some patio furniture yesterday. Now I set up my iPad on my new seven dollar plastic made in America stool and I’ve got my bluetooth keyboard on my lap and I’ve got my coffee and Morgan is asleep inside and it’s just me out here. My wife, we’ll call her Molly from now on, is at work. She had to go early because she’s the boss this month. It’s turning her into a little neutron star of stress. I work today at 3. It’s 10 AM now. I don’t have shit to do. I have a lot of things to do, but since I know I won’t do them, I’ll just pretend I don’t have shit to do.

To be honest I’m scared to be honest. Some days it seems very simple. Some days it seems unnecessary. And on days like today it seems difficult and possibly not worth it. It’s hard for me to even be honest with you any more, now that you know me so well. I think about what you’ll think of me now. I think about what I’ll think of me when I’m you, sometime in the future, re-reading old bullshit.

I’ve got a lot I want to talk about, but I’d like it to seem well-written. Self-censorship is good when you’re writing for an audience. Only an egomaniac would go on about whatever he wanted to for three thousand words and then hit publish. Well, if I’m a fucking egomaniac, I’d better just shut the fuck up about it. I don’t even know if egomaniac is a word. I usually prefer the term narcissist. I don’t really know how the two are different, but narcissist sounds more classy.

I know what I could do, to make this easier for you and pretty much, though not exactly, the same for me. I could break this up into pieces and schedule them to be posted in the future. Since I feel like writing an epic rant about whatever the fuck, I might as well set myself up for the next few days and then I won’t have to actually write things on days that I don’t want to write things. Man I am good at doing exactly what I want.

Dopamine, Texts, Likes, Approval, Money

Texting, the modern art of sending written words from one phone to another instantaneously, is a scourge.

Too bad I love it.

Just another thing popping up on your phone giving you a hit of dopamine. Makes me want to download more apps that have counters on them. Those red circles at the top left corner.

Someone else cares about me. Someone else approves.

The red circle means you’re ok, you’re better than ok.

I’m going to make a kind of spider program that sends me texts from made up people and then trolls my blogs and shit and clicks like a bunch of times. Then I can unleash it on other people and we’ll all get so high with our newfound success.

Until we try to monetize it and no one buys any of our shit. Likes won’t jump a pay wall.

Should I just get rid of all those apps? Or should I lean into them and try to become a social media sensation? Will the effort I put into becoming a social media sensation be less than the effort I could put into getting a job that would pay just as well?

Why am I obsessed with money anyways. Just going to end up hoping people will text me while I’m sitting on the beach.

Here’s Those Giraffe Thoughts I Was Telling You About

It seems like I am missing out on my life or something like that. Look at this fucking giraffe for instance.

This picture shows a stamped kind of graffiti on the pavement depicting a giraffe riding a bicycle to hilarious effect.

Here is a giraffe.

This mother fucker does not give a fuck. She’s just seconds away from crashing into that crazy ass rat thing in front of her and she could not eternally give a fuck less about it.

That’s the kind of shit I want to do. Instead I think and think about shit constantly and then I get on WordPress and write things that I thought and hope people will like the things so that I don’t have to do anything in my actual life. Not like this fucking giraffe. You think she ever put some shit on WordPress? No fucking way. Mother fucker is like, bitch I’m a giraffe, I ride bicycles, get the fuck out of here alrrrright?

Milestones Aren’t Literal Rocks, Steven Covey

Tree Branches on the Sidewalk
A huge tree limb lying on the sidewalk.

This tree branch is fucked up.

There’s this thing where eventually you quit everything. I’m about to quit posting every day. I have good ideas, somewhere, but I can’t get to them because I’m forced to spend five minutes just typing random shit on here.

Five minutes is not really five minutes, though, of course, because how do I write a blog post? I read my most recent posts, I read other people’s posts, I check my stats from every conceivable angle, and by that point it’s time to use the bathroom.

I’m into productivity entertainment, so I often read self-help books in general and organizational books especially and people are always telling you to do the Pomodoro technique, which is working flat out for twenty-five minutes and then resting, and then seeing how many of those you can do a day, and, maddeningly, these things are referred to, unironically, as pomodoros; the semi-colon here means that I have license to do whatever the fuck I want with this sentence since no one knows what a semi-colon actually does, and so on, or some other technique like perhaps the one thing a day technique espoused by minimalists and their hangers-on where you find something that is actually important, something that, if you got it done, you would count the day a success, and you just do that thing, and the other things take care of themselves, and this is related to the days of Steven Covey when people would go around getting paid thousands of dollars to stand on a stage putting sand in a container, and then pebbles, and then large rocks and showing you that it didn’t fit and then they would reverse the order so the big rocks go in first and then the pebbles and magically the sand would just slide around that shit and it would all fit perfectly in the container and they would say, take care of the big things and the small things take care of themselves, and then finally you have some people who say don’t worry about being productive just ‘trust the process’ and all of that well, you know recently I said to myself fuck all of that.

Which is easy to do, people say fuck it all of the time and we never really know what they’re talking about do we except for a general notion of fuck societal norms I’m a rebel I do what I want and shit like that generally but anyways…

Sure, do some technique why not, it’s got to be more effective than long periods of gearing yourself up for something followed by hasty run on sentences.

But guess what, post for the day? Done. I’m out of here. Thanks for reading my blog!

Yay! Oh Man How WONDERFUL!

Shit I considered going back on my promise to post once a day until the end of 2017. I must have been on drugs or something, no one needs this kind of aggravation every day.

But I never do anything that I say I’m going to do and I usually feel bad about that so I’m making a mother fuckin change y’all.

I’m going to post today! Yeah! Fuckin A!


What do I even care. If my blog got popular I could never cash in on it anyways or else people would know it was me. What do you think I have some kind of artistic integrity or some shit? Hell no, fuck, most of these posts took as much time to write as they did to type because I did both at the same time. Who cares with this theme I can say anything and it looks great. Most of y’all don’t even know that because you read in the WordPress Reader, which is exactly what I do. I don’t know what the hell kind of weird themes you people are using.

Well I have to go to work now!

Stop feeling guilty all the time! You didn’t do anything wrong!

Housekeeping 2017

A little housekeeping is in order, y’all.

Aw man I love the way that sounds. It sounds like I built a house here and now I got to clean it up. This shit ain’t even an apartment any more. Four or five years and three hundred posts in we got ourselves a split-level fixer-upper going right here.

First thing to tell you is that I got rid of those mother fucking insidious WordPress enabled ads! Fuck these fucking “visitors may see ads here” or however that shit is worded. I had this blog four years and I been railing against advertising and shit like that and meanwhile ads are sneaking up on my site and shit just because I want to save $35 so I can buy a month’s supply of cinnamon Altoids. No more! I took control of that shit. If anyone wants to thank me, give me money! Preferably enough to buy a year’s worth of Altoids, and keep in mind I got CHRONIC halitosis.

Secondly…mother fuckers I am about to put pictures all over this fucking blog. You know why? Because I don’t give a fuck any more. I like taking terrible pictures and then using the Photos App on my iPhone to give them hokey ass filters and shit to make them look “artistic.” Ansel Adams would have had to take a job at the mother fucking toothpaste-cap-screwing-on factory if he was alive in this day and age of bullshit ass filters, and I love it…I fuckin love it!

Also: Holy Shit!!!!! The Dog Days Are OVER y’all. Someone I count as a good friend, the renaissance woman known to us only as Pickled Sparkly Moose Princess (occasionally Duchess), has returned from sabbatical and is posting again at Accidental Tentacles. Get on that shit ASAP!

Speaking of brilliance, where’s my old friend Babe? She’s convalescing somewhere in paradise and, as far as I know, remains on this side of death’s door. I’m ’bout to write her a public letter later. Got to get back in that open letter writing groove! Shit!

Speaking of Babe, what happened to Hijacked Amygdala? That shit went viral y’all! One of Anna Spoon’s badass collages got freshly pressed or some shit like that and people were like dammmmnnnnn. And then most of us were like, yep I’m good! And now we post more sporadically. But that shit still looks good though, especially taken as a whole in front of a computer with a big ass screen. Beautiful photos and collages and shit and haunting ass words about all kinds of fucked up shit. Just in case the world got too plastic smiley for your ass all the sudden. Or rather slowly but surely. Or rather quickly and inexorably. Anyways go read my stupid ass poem I wrote today.

Yeah so anyway, moving on, I been posting a lot, right? You’re god damn right. It’s March Madness right now! Will this shit continue? Yes, this shit will fucking continue god damn it. Unfollow if your feed is getting gummed up with inane BULLshit and you can’t take it any more! Because this shit is going to go all year! A stupid ass post every god damn day until 2018! I’m not just building poorly planned castles in the sky this time, I swear to JESUS CHRIST on my fucking…no I mean on YOUR…ok on someone mildly tolerable’s LIFE…I swear on THAT.

Lastly, thank you, members of the band Tool and makers of JBL bluetooth speakers, for helping me to write this post. Just so you know, Tool is playing a show in NYC this June. That is not a misprint. Tool is playing at The Governor’s Ball (whatever the FUCK that is). I think I’m going to go! If anyone else wants to go, I would be there under the name of Gordon Flanders and we can get WILD. No contact information or real names will be exchanged. Just throwing that out there for anyone who might want to go to a Tool concert but doesn’t have someone super fucking cool to go with (like me) but is also afraid of catfishing and human trafficking and annoying creepy texts from married men late at night and all that kind of shit that can happen when you meet someone in real life. Let me know via the comments.

Love ya, bitches!

Slipper Plan

Hey y’all I hope the weather is nice where ever you are.

I’ve got a new plan. It has to do with slippers. I’m still putting it together. It could be a while.

You know how everyone talks about flow? You enter a state of flow and the time just flies by and they also say the more time you spend in a state of flow the happier you are in general. That’s what I’ve heard.

Every time that starts to happen to me I stop and walk around the house and think of something more boring to do so that my life doesn’t fly by.

I think it has something to do with guilt.

Housekeeping / New Petition Plan / Old Man Clam Jam

I don’t got much time and I don’t got much to say today but I do need to know: is the font on this blog annoying as fuck? I love it but I wear two pairs of glasses at all times so my visual accuity is off the charts. Y’all got to let me know because I’d hate to make it even more difficult than it already is for people to really appreciate this fantastic blog.

Next thing is how come y’all not signing this goddamned petition I created? You know how much time I spent on this? I think I know why you don’t want to sign it, and I understand. I created a false identity in order to set up an iPetitions account because I didn’t want the government to put me on its list of subversives. Only the babe is crazy enough to sign her real name to something like that.

New plan: comment on this post if you want Tony Single to make a new crumbcast.

What else then? Nothing.

Oh but for my readers in Saskatchewan if you do happen to see a tall, arrogant old man with a white beard and a mischevious glint in the eyes, that black jacket he’s wearing is not fucking Armani I don’t care what he says. Don’t be fooled.

Fred Colton Said What I Was Just Thinking and Now I Feel Better About Myself and Therefore Can Enjoy Life a Little More Than Usual for the Next Five Minutes Barring a Manifestation of the Wrath of God in the Form of a Seemingly Random Tragedy

 Here’s the link:

Check it out. I was going to comment, but I had too much to say, so I’m pulling a Seth Godin move and I’m going to respond on my own blog.

Colton complains that he has nothing new to say and yet he still has to post, so maybe he’ll just talk about what he’s doing right now. Ha! That’s what I do almost every single damn time. I don’t even know why I feel compelled to write shit since I recently proved that I can forget all about commitments to other people real fast. Probably because proving I’m a genius in a world where no one has to listen to you is really tough and if you’re writing something on a blog and people see it every day you can at least fool yourself into thinking that you are proving something.

Colton listens to podcasts by millionaires?! I listen to podcast by millionaires! But I don’t know anyone else who does. One time I listened to Robert Kiyosaki’s podcast. He wrote a bunch of financial education books that I read as a ten year old. Or maybe I was fifteen. Anyway, obviously I didn’t pay attention. Kiyosaki’s podcast is ludicrous! I’m speaking from a place where I’ve listened to one hour long episode, but it was out of fucking control. But you know what, I’ll probably listen to that shit again because, even though Robert Kiyosaki and his bought and paid for friends are as obnoxious as a koala bear who hangs around after you’re done cuddling it and using it to attract sexual partners, that cocky mother fucker is rich as hell! For white nihilistic narcissists there really is no alternative to having a shit ton of disposable income. Sorry, idealistic side of Gordon Flanders. You lose!

I listen to those podcasts to make myself feel like I am accomplishing shit, as opposed to actually accomplishing anything ever, because I don’t know if you tried it but accomplishing something or even talking to someone face to face about accomplishing something is hard.

Everyone is better than me, I am better than everyone else. Totes! Hell yeah I said totes, it’s apparently 2010.

Ha! Colton talks about writing fiction and how it repels blog readers. I don’t know if it’s true all the time, as I don’t have enough traffic to really do any analysis, but god damn! That shit makes perfect sense. Because who’s reading blogs? Writers, that’s who! Why are we all here? Because we want some mother fucking readers to pay us a shit ton so we can continue to write every time we stop drinking. Ok, maybe not all of us. Some of us have simple enough desires not to need more money and some of us are super genius scientists who just enjoy writing and others…well fuck it nevermind. Me and Fred need to be paid. Yeah and so we get on a platform for writers and we think, I’ll write a story so everyone will buy my other story and then other writers are like, I’m sure that’s a great story dude but I’m trying to be productive over here so I need to read blog posts about how to fucking WRITE. Fuck your story. Probably didn’t spend more than ten minutes on that shit anyway.

Colton says he’s sick of rebooting himself and trying new things. Jesus Goddamn Christ when are we going to be the right person already? I don’t fucking know. I’m in the middle of a reboot my damn self. This is day 21. Did you see how many blog posts I put up last week? That’s like my output for a month. Why? Because god damn I’m sick of living with myself! Sometimes I think, just go with the “natural mold,” just really love yourself, you know? And then I lay in bed all day loving myself and then I remember I have student loans to pay and also why don’t I care about the poor and opressed and also why was I born anyway and how come the universe makes perfect sense to Carl Sagan and also why do so many people pretend to be happy in public god damn I hate those fucks. Fuck all that it’s day 21 mother fuckers and I ain’t gonna fuck it up today god damn it.

I’m going to stop there because I could just keep writing all day about this but I want to keep this blog post to a readable length for any potential people who read shit who are looking for a new person to read shit from and found their way here and are now thinking, man if this guy keeps this post brief I’m totally going to become one of his thousand true fans.

And while we’re on the dick sucking train, let me tell you about my favorite podcast, The Crumbcast. There are eleven episodes and somewhere in the beginning of February the creator, Tony Single, wrote a blog post saying everyone should check them out. That’s great, check them out, but if you’ve already done that, why not sign my petition to stop Tony Single’s brutal austerity measures? Together we can destroy Single’s artificial bottleneck and allow the supply of Crumbcasts to reach sustainable levels:

Haters gonna hate!