image stolen from kimt.com
A friend asks:
Have you made the move to the Alt-Right yet?
I know you lean Left on social stuff. As do I. But as far as racial shit.
I’d love to be racist. But I don’t have the moral authority. I steal and sell drugs and threaten people. I fuck a million women and never use condoms. I collect unemployment and get my insurance through the government. My relatives watch Kirk Cameron Jesus movies, so I’m not gonna talk shit on Tyler Perry Presents: Some Shit You Stumbled on on Basic Cable That Made You Think Maybe “The Bell Curve” Is Right. None of this except Kirk has been true for two years but I’m one pint of hobo brandy away from it. One pop away from walking to skid row in my gay shorts, smoking black tar off a Philly cheese steak wrapper from a trash can with a homeless bridge dweller whose race is irrelevant. I have more in common with a black junkie than a white office worker. At least black people talk about pussy. Continue reading
Tell me you love me. Come see me, stop drinking and start going to bed at 9PM, get over your need to be with rich guys; stop fucking douchebags and doing cocaine but don’t ask me to stop fucking Tinder cretins. Live in my apartment like an appliance. Be a refrigerator for my dick. A dishwasher for my balls. A garbage disposal for my ideas. Tell me how great I am and that my chicken is delicious and then leave. Come see me and stroke my ass like the old Chinese lady who jerks you off at the shady massage place but do it for free and let me beat you at Scrabble. All you have to do is be pretty. And want nothing, or want so little that what I have is enough.
image stolen from pinterest user nativo411
She was in Mexico and she’d left him. He’d bought her a plane ticket to visit him. She said extracting money from men made her feel love. He acquiesced. Then he said a mean thing on the internet. She read it. I don’t think it’s a good idea to see you anymore. Take care, she said, on Whatsapp. Above it her picture smiling like the sweetheart of Sigma Chi.
What to say back. You don’t mean this. You’re crashing off ecstasy, off coke; you’re drunk and fucking some meathead but you’ll remember you love me when you’re back. Continue reading
The last thing I haven’t given over to God. Women. I’ve surrendered work money emotions friends family… everything. Go out in the park in the morning, hear the wind hiss in the leaves. Know that I’m a puny mote in the universe. All will be taken care of. Or it won’t. And I’ll die. And it won’t matter.
But women– there’s no let it happen. I’ve been waiting 40 years for fucking reverse Cinderella to come knocking. And– well shit, it happened once but, a) because of my web site and b) she fucking took off. Continue reading
Need to write something. But I fucking hate writing. I have nothing. Thoughts too scattered. Never write anything good again. So what. I’ve done more than most. I’ll never be satisfied with this shit. Spent last night pitching AA to crazy retarded people in a nuthouse. A fat psychotic meth smoking chola eyeballed me like she wanted the dick, and I thought about it. I sponsor an AA newcomer. I do it by mail because he’s in prison, for murder. Top that St. Francis. Still, when I wake up I just want to take a fucking drink. Continue reading
image stolen from twitter user @amymek
Shut the fuck up about Donald Trump. Donald Trump will not save you. You will die. Everyone you love will die. The planet will die the sun will die the galaxy the universe, etc. etc. Donald Trump does not matter. He won’t even meaningfully affect your taxes. He won’t ban Muslims and he won’t stop immigration. He won’t kick out the Mexicans. It can’t be done. The government can’t do anything except suck up your money. Maybe throw you in jail, if you’re a citizen. Continue reading
He lived alone. Every morning the same spider had fallen in the bathtub. An elegant silvery-looking affair. He’d pick her up carefully by three legs (one leg would have just snapped off). Place her by her web in the corner behind the shampoo bottle. Every morning she’d be back twitching by the drain.
One day he fired up the hot water, slipped on the soap and fell with a crack. And there she was. She was a woman now. Tall and elegant in a silvery dress with the mist shrouding her in rainbows. She held him. Stroked his chest with her soft palm while the hot water hissed on the tiles. I’ve traveled a long time, she said. Looking for one small act of kindness. Finally I’ve found you. She bit into his head and began sucking out the juice.