Category Archives: Blog Thought

All in Good Time

Fuck moderation: enjoy life rapaciously.

If you are making a bucket list, you aren’t really living.

Bucket lists are for those afraid of today.

The only thing left, for me to experience –is death.  Life’s last big adventure.

Bring it baby.

I only hope I have time to give her a wink and a crack on the ass before she puts me to bed. She’ll show up eventually, she’ll take me on a new ride; one with no ticket or list required,  guaranteed.


Black Lives Matter?

Huh.  Niggers, fags, dykes and Jews matter?

I didn’t think any of us did.

Hearing “I wish you were never born,” screamed at me by my mother from age three to seventeen,  led me to believe we were ALL pieces of shit, and none of our lives mattered.

Maybe we really do,  maybe mother was incorrect.

Maybe my gay, black ass is worthwhile after all.

Does it really matter?


Give it a Go

If I’m not my biggest fan, who will be?

If I need a pat on the back for a job we’ll done, who’s gonna always be there to give me one, other than me?

Telling myself I fucked up again comes easy, soothing myself with the words, “I’m alright, I’ll be ok,” now that’s a tough one.

I looked in my mirror and said, “give it a go.”  I literally used my left hand to grab my right elbow,  and I pushed it skyward.  I had enough leverage to use my right hand to pat myself on the back.  It felt nice;  I smiled at the image in front of me.  I look better without the tears in my eyes that innevitably appear, upon delivering myself reminders of having had, “fucked up again.”

I want a pat on the back daily; I’m alright, I’ll be ok.

I’ll give it a go.  If I don’t, nobody will.







Older dead than alive

Happy thirty-second death day, Merrick Spencer Thorson.

I hope you’re comfortably numb and I do wish you were here, if nothing else, simply to see how fucking wrong we were about the future. It hasn’t been so bad, I think you’d have found some good times –along with the shit.  All the same; if you were here, I’d still recognize your,  “I know something you don’t know” smirk, thirty two years later; you beautiful, eighteen-year old,  “the world is my oyster”, mother fucker.  You’re still here, as much so as I.

Two Dollar Power

One point three billion dollars all for you for a mere two dollar bill.

You may win, this fact is true.

When I noticed that dollar figure, saw that in the prior drawing no one had won, I thought to myself this is outta hand and no longer fun, simply disgusting, a poor reflection of us all.

The fact that Americans, our society as a whole, can easily cobble together more than a billion dollars, two bucks at a time with lint filled loose change, easy to spare and not to be missed, for a glimpse of a dream that we all know won’t be realized.

The driving force of each two dollars spent, “deciding the color of my third new Ferrari, if only I would win.”  With that bundle of cash, wild spending would ensue to an insane degree no more worries at all anymore.

That thought made me want to puke, to get physically ill when I saw an old man standing in front of a store, under the glowing red light Powerball sign, holding his hat, asking passer byes for a single sole dime.

The Powerball is so fat, the signs light up in triple nines, there’s no more room, it’s at capacity at nine hundred ninety nine million, more than a quarter of a billion dollars short.

All I could think of was the last Christmas letter I received from Seattle’s Union Gospel Mission requesting twelve dollars to feed a few homeless this past holiday season.

It struck me like a gravity bong hit of high density “Alaska Thunder Fuck” I don’t need any money it would only be a want and the cat with the hat seems to really have a need.  For me to spend two dollars fulfilling a want, when there’s another human being truly in need, I’d be another selfish American with sights set on greed.

Before going into the store to get my tall boy beer I asked the old guy, “what would two dollars do for you?”

“It would save me from asking twenty people more for a dime to spare, most not acknowledging me just giving me a blank stare. More than that it would calm my morning shakes cuz two bucks will buy me a can of malt liquor and that my friend, is what I really need.”

I passed on buying a Powerball ticket and bought the old boy a tall beer like mine.  My beer is a want, his is truly a need.  I realized in doing so I’ll be passing on the glory of becoming a billionaire and with that I’m ok.  I have everything I need and most of what I want, now so will the old guy as I handed him his twenty four ounce can.  He said, “Thanks” and gave me a smile noting that his alcohol withdrawal was getting near.

It’s not my place to judge him but being human I can’t help it.  Treatment and therapy, could in the least, help make his life better.  How many old cats, ladies and kids could a billion three help?

We’ll likely never know but I am sure the lottery office is designing revised Powerball signs with a fourth numeric slot to whet the appetite of more Americans wants, neglecting more needs.




An Open Letter to ISIS From an American Terrorist

Dear ISIS,

I’m an American terrorist droppin’ bombs all day

They begin with letter “f” and end in a “k”

Y’alls can’t get creative and give us anything new

The best ya got is a suicide vest or maybe a bomb in a shoe

I’ve seen your films they gave me a chuckle, have you seen “Apocalypse Now” Isis?

Now there’s a creative beheading

This North American can go back even further… “Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia”

Such a great movie it still makes me laugh, boys ya gotta come up with something new, maybe cut the heads in half?

See Sam Peckinpah, a real bad ass motherfucker, wrote that flick in America over forty years ago

And shot the whole thing with our Southern friends on a drunk in Mexico

Wish I was there

The atrocities you perpetuate, the best you can do…

Was already done by us way back when your most senior military tactician was still in diapers which were full of his smelly poo poo

Poor bastards’ y’alls got nothing new!

However the things which you’re doing that’s really pissing us off (I’ll take this one world, I got your six and I write on an unapproved basis for your behalf), why we all want to kick your ass , Iris

For each head you sever and hold up high, another little girl’s daddy just died.  We can all be replaced that’s not a big deal (again, I got you rest of the world and on an unapproved basis write to ISIS on all our behalf).  We’ll take care of baby girl we’ll all do our best to get her love and support because we’re seven billion strong and because us real human beings have an idea of how bad she’ll feel

This type of activity assures you a deservedly needed long dirt nap and when you pull the chord on your dynamite vest, regardless of how many “non-believers” you kill in the blast be assured that if your lil daughter is left requiring love the world will give it no questions asked

See, the bulk of us (no qualifier required) and I mean the rest of the world iris, are compassionate loving human beings

My bad ISIS, Iris was the ugly fat chick everyone hit back in high school because she was so easy, you remind me of her.  If I say any more on that this might get cheesy

So in the spirit of Christmas I will leave you with the three words that best describe you ISIS and I quote,

“Stink, Stank, Stunk”



Damn Action of Energy

The action of energy does not necessarily reflect it’s intended purpose.  Its intended purpose is designed by nature and is initialized at (birth) the formation of that  specific energy (human) existence.  The unbalanced disposition and discord that can be found in energy (a person) when it is not in motion as nature intended, is due to the “nurturing” (or interference) of another energy.  I look to the Three Gorges Dam on the Yangtze River as an example of this thought.  It took fourteen years for human beings to complete the project and by altering the river’s natural course, it has been in distress ever since.

I was the Yangtze River being altered by energy other than what nature intended for me.

I corrected my course as to flow through the rest of my life in complete harmony as nature intended.  I blew up the dam that was blocking me.


LOL Made Me Cry

I live in a world where I find that many individuals greatest extent of self-expression, when they are trying to convey joy and happiness, is limited to “LOL”

Self- expressionism being unique to each of us and being aware of its limits…

I will not be surprised to receive a text that reads “MMC” someday from someone doing their best at extending condolences due to a family members death

Made Me Cry

Knowing that LOL is the best expression during a “good time”  I doubt I would even receive the “MMC” because that might provoke an actual feeling during a “bad time”