God, thank you for my life. It’s a good one.
Now let’s complain. Nothing matters. Spiritually castrated. 46 years old childless, nightmare scenario, gray collar office job. Writing shit few people read that makes no money. Tons of work and all your talent into it for no tangible reward. Look at word processors nine hours a day for work and then as your hobby on weekends. Going to bed at 9 pm. Not that good looking and now withered wrinkly and white haired on top of it. It’s good. It fucking feels good. I’d go so far as to say it’s fantastic. I have a Down Syndrome mentality. A squirrel makes me laugh. So stupid I’m free from giving a shit. Poor ugly old loser– imagine being a winner. Cunt frozen eggs design wife chiding you. The money’s not enough. There are two amounts of money. 10 million or 0. When you hit “enough” people sue you and your life becomes paperwork. I get better pussy than Jeff Bezos.
I had chicken and cupcakes at my mom’s house. She told the story of my birth. Freak winter heat wave made all the women drop early. No rooms at the hospital. They put her in a hallway. She was half the age I am now. As old as my big titty Lithuanian sugar baby. I came out way too soon. Tiny and fucked up like a possum. In the hospital weeks without my mother. I stopped breathing. The total coin toss of my being here. The chicken was so good, she made it with lemons from their tree. Three headed cows, a blood color comet. I became an office worker. Maybe the kid in the next room did something.
This post sucks. Don’t lock yourself into a “franchise bit.”
I’m just a creature putting its song in the world.
The best gift I got was the Lithuanian girl sending her diary. Yes I wrote about you but this post was too long so I cut it. She looks like my first fiancee. The one who destroyed any chance I had, permanently. Women repeat like the background in Flintstones cartoons.
Sometimes I wake up crazy. Looking at texts they seem to be from someone else with some other meaning. When I make my coffee sometimes I fuck up. Forget to put the water in and think why is the machine quiet. I think: I’m miserable. I should kill myself , etc. It got to just what I didn’t want. 46 alone working in a shitty shack with freeway noise like eating broken glass–I should hang myself immediately. And it just passes. The cat comes in. I give him Friskies Turkey and Giblets Dinner. The birds are out and I pray to remember that I’m just one of God’s organisms. Just a creature putting its song in the world.
46 years old. An inconsequential age, who gives a shit. It’s the middle. I have a six inch penis. Average amount of money. 6 in the face. I’m an average person. I’m a moron compared to Vitalik Buterin but I have a stronger neck.
Angela sent me a guided meditation video. A calm Australian man talks over the image of a bird. It’s a lilac breasted roller. A bird I saw at Disney World when I was ten. I stopped the whole family to look. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She didn’t know this bird was significant to me. At Disney world, at their aviary, they also had the world’s last dusky seaside sparrow. One of these male birds where there are no females left. He was singing to no one. We all know the story. But I heard you.
Now Kevin’s playing his atmospheric meth music at insane volumes. Does it matter. The world doesn’t need another birthday post. I hate special occasions. And it’s not about me. I’ll go visit my mom. She’s making chicken and cupcakes. Let the people texting know I’m not dead. In the guided meditation the lilac breasted roller took me above the clouds into my future. An old man in the jungle helping a village. Getting the girls pregnant too.
delicioustacos 
Happy Birthday! I care you are alive man!
Hapy Birvday,man!
You’re one of the people I look up to, DT. A happy birthday to you. I am glad you exist.
Man its great that you dont drink but do some shrooms or something. I wouldnt mind a psychonaut phase on the blog. Go to latin america, do jungle drugs, bang jungle hoes. And happy birthday!
Happy birthday. I wish you bluebirds, in the spring.
Appreciate your committment to your writing and blog, DTacos!
Hey, at least you are now too old to get drafted in case dubdubtree breaks out.
The rest of us anti-zogwar youngins will need to do the Pee-Pee-Poo-Poo shuffle.
from a smart-anon:
“In case of a draft, there is a method of dodging that doesn’t fuck you over.
A lot of retards think they can get out of military service by claiming they hate [REDACTED], or are disloyal to the US government. All this is going to do is get you sent to prison and to lose all of your gun rights. Or you’ll just be used as cannon fodder.
However, there’s a very high IQ way to get out of service. Ted Nugent did it, and it worked:
>A week before, I stopped going to the bathroom. I did it in my pants. poop, piss the whole shot. My pants got crusted up.
Yes, it’s that simple.
You just have to PISS AND SHIT YOUR PANTS!
>Poop + pee = no draft for me!
You won’t be imprisoned for treason, nor will you lose your gun rights!
They’ll just give you a medical exemption:
>Medical Conditions That Can Keep You from Joining the Military
military dot com/join-armed-forces/disqualifiers-medical-conditions dot html
>f. Anorectal
>(2) Anal or rectal polyp, prolapse, stricture or INCONTINENCE…
>Urinary System
>c. Enuresis or INCONTINENCE OF URINE beyond age 12
That’s all you need to do to avoid the draft, Champ. Just poop and pee your pants! Nobody likes a poopy-pants
Just remember this aphorism:
>Poop + pee = no draft for me!
It’s so easy, you can begin practicing now
Don’t be a ZOGbot pussy loser incel
>Poop + pee = no draft for me!”
Or in your case, just trust they’ll figure out that you’re mentally handicapped.
If it helps any, 46 was the age my dad knocked up my 23 year old mom. She was a local bartender a year earlier, he put a ring on it and got her baking me… or maybe it was the other way around.
About 6 years later she was a nurse and he was retired. Dreams can come true.
8 years after that they were seperated because he was a narcissistic control freak. If you can skip that part you’ll be golden.
your writing makes me feel less alone, and I am grateful
I might be less than half your age and with close to no life experience compared to you, but hang in there mate. If you od’ed tomorrow the world would lose a legit guy. Ppl of your kind don’t roam this earth anymore.
At least you made me laugh with some posts and inspired me to maybe someday make a blog myself.
In contrast to the normies conformies-even of your numerous assets and you much more numerous flaws- you are your own person. And that’s something by itself.
Now go impregnate a 25 year old because it’s literally now or never.