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mr. iD

Whip batteries at it

Don’t like it

grab it

Attack it

Got an itch, scratch it

See a mole, whack it

Hear a joke, laugh at it

Then steal it

Take credit for it

Take it

Put it

In a vault and latch it

DON’T GIVE IT

HOARD IT

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#community (not the T.V. show)

What makes a community? A community is a group of people. To have a community you typically have a bunch of buildings. Communities have not only people, but people doing things. What kinds of things do people do? People go to church, people go to school, people have jobs, people go to restaurants, people are having arguments with each other, people are telling jokes, people are going to grocery stores. What makes one community different from another community? Communties have different levels of education, some communities have more trash lying around, some have meaner people, some have nicer people, some have areas of the city or town where people go to shop, sometimes those shopping centers have fancy cloths, sometimes it’s just a big box variety store. A community can be a town, a city, a suburb, a collection of farmers, a bunch of students, a group of cops, firefighters, or other government workers. Communities pay attention to their local sports team, a smaller group of people will say that they don’t care about those things. People usually have a consensus about general vibe of their living in that city, whether the city is a shithole or a swell place to live. Sometimes it’s just okay. Communities have people that usually speak the same language, but there are definitely communities where that isn’t the case. In Texas, where I grew up, a lot of people spoke Spanish and often you would see spanish on signs in certain parts of town. In that place where I grew up you either saw Spanish or English, but in another place I lived you saw Vietnamese, Cambodian, and Thai pretty often. I know in L.A. you’ll see Korean all over the place. A community to me means….well that’s why I started this journal I guess. I don’t really know. I went to church, yes, I went to school, yes, I had family, of course, but I just existed within those constructs, I didn’t define them. Obviously, that seems to be the point though, it’s very difficult to be a trailblazer in every moment of your life, like every moment you’re redefining genres and like, punk rock all the time. Really though, I don’t think I went far enough with any group of people or activity to really define myself by that community. I’m not really a writer, or an artist, I don’t have a skill or a trade, and jesus why is everything I write part of an existential crisis. Man up, you fucking coward, stop constantly looking inward, it’s really really really bad for you. You’re a nice guy, why do this to yourself all the time? Every panic attack you pull out of thin air due to a feeling of failure and emptiness shortens your life by a few minutes.

I make fun of my wife for being afraid of storms and constantly watching disaster videos on youtube. But fuck me for doing that, she watches that shit because she feels something by watching it, who am I to critique someone’s reaction to a natural occurance? Even if I percieve it as negative, she actually engages with the world around her. I feel like I never do that!!! Everything is a reflection of me, I see everything within the scope of my artistic or social interpretation of it. The fucking ego of that! WHO THE FUCK AM I TO ACT AS IF I SEE THINGS SO DIFFERENTLY FROM EVERYONE ELSE?

 
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Posted by on January 14, 2014 in depression, prose, random, writing

 

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#Useless Inventions Vol. 2

pillow6b

Filing this one under “Products easily replaceable by a common dish towel”, the Intimia Breast Cushion provides conflict resolution for your boobies.  Let’s be real about this, I’m not a lady so I can’t really attest to the usefulness of keeping your boobies separated when you’re sleeping,  but I know a gimmick when I see one.  Along with just the general comfort of putting a pillow between your breasts, apparently this is supposed to prevent chest wrinkles  as well.

This is all according to the Wonderful Doctor of Oz, who claims that it:

  • One Size Fits All |
  • Prevents chest wrinkles from forming in the cleavage area
  • Provides breast support and comfortable nights’ sleep for side, back or stomach sleepers
  • Reduces discomfort caused by tender breasts (PMS symptoms, nursing mothers, pregnancy, etc.)
  • Reduces or completely cures the appearance of existing chest wrinkles

All of this is fine, if the product wasn’t $59.95 on Amazon.  Listen, and I mean this, ladies have to deal with all kinds of stuff that us Y-chromosomes will never know anything about.  But don’t let people like Dr. OZ rob you blind by marketing overpriced bullshit to your demographic! I repeat, grab a dish towel and shove it down your shirt, you’ll be fine!

 

 

 
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Posted by on January 11, 2014 in cynical, random

 

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#basketballdiplomacy (a haiku by j. witcher)

Kim Jong Un and you

share the same regret, Dennis.

You weren’t in Space Jam.

 
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Posted by on January 10, 2014 in funny, haiku, poetry, random

 

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A False Need

I see your face through distorted, sepia-toned, trans-dimensional drifts, and I can’t tell if you’re a boy or a girl, and I can’t see how old you are or what you’ve become, but I know you’re there.  Somewhere.  You exist to me in the here and now, I love you so very much, and if I could just find that wormhole that would suck me in and bring me to you, maybe that huge void that’s been with me all along would make sense.

I was meant to be your savior, your lifeline, your friend and guiding light.  I would teach you the meanings of the words nuance, relativity, acceptance, and discernment.  I could give you the gift of music.  I could teach you how to dance, ultimately giving life and purpose to your every movement.  I would tell you it’s all in the wrist, keep your eye on the ball, just let if go, you’re better than that.

But is that how it would be?

More likely you would learn from me what everyone learns from everyone else;  propriety, limitations, regulations, the value of a dollar.  That false premise that you exist independently of those lesser creatures and archetypes.  You would have to be someone else when you’re with me and I would willingly accept whatever character you created for me.  If you showed me something genuine and imperfect, or something less than angelic, I’d extend to you a stoic, passive, smirking rejection.  And it wouldn’t make sense to you until you reach the retrospective haze of your mid-twenties.

But at the apex of your soul-searching you would find my legacy…

Extended to you, bequeathed to my possession, would be my void and need to create an existential crisis.  And the cycle perpetuates.  Feel my anxiety, you little clone….

 
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Posted by on January 10, 2014 in poetry, prose, random, writing

 

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Useless Inventions Vol. 1

358px-Ovilus_X

The Ovilus is an awesome invention that has thousands of words programmed into it, reads electromagnetic fields (a.k.a. air), and assigns a number based on how spooky the air is.  The device then finds the word associated with this number and says it out loud.

 

The Ovilus most apparent use is in the field of paranormal investigation (obviously) and allegedly can tell you what kinds of conversations ghosts are having (???)

 

Unfortunately, people have put multiple Ovuli (yes) next to each other and have found the devices can’t seem to agree what the ghosts are saying, as they blurt out random words and phrases with no synchronicity.

 

Alas, we are no closer to proving that your dead Grandma can control electromagnetic fields from beyond the grave.  Maybe next time.

 

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2014 in cynical, random

 

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Robots out of Boxes

Making Robots out of Boxes whilst watching Bubbles Guppies and the Christmas tree has been up a little too long.  I have no intention of taking it down despite the early 80s tree-topper erratically blinking and those fibers are most definitely not equidistant.  I love finding drawings of the crudest nature, limbs waaaay too long and someone forgot people have torsos.  It’s okay though, kids need not know of the kidneys of the world, or the appendixes, or the sinus infections.

Once upon a time if someone asked me if I was tired I would say “No” even if I was, or if I was hungry I would say “No” even if I was.  I remember that mystical aura surrounding the Saturday Morning Cartoon.  There was the expectation that people would make you beverages all the time but it’s not like you were an asshole or anything like that.

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2014 in random

 

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Judge me based on…

American Red Cross Stress Ball Shaped Like Blood Drop

Tweedy Owl Shaped Figurine

1990s Multimedia Speaker System

Two Printers, One Atop The Other

Crosley Cruiser Record Player (portable)

Eucalyptus Yankee Candle

Bag O’ Crayolas

Mayflower Golden Ale

Racecar Toy Wrapped In Electrical Tape

Elmer’s Glue Stick

 
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Posted by on January 9, 2014 in random, Uncategorized

 

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