THIS is love; baby don't hurt me

                               www.minglecity.com

Let's get to it. Romantic love is the superficial comfort created by convincing yourself you have succeeded in eradicating the fear of rejection. Too many big words? Let's break it down.

What encourages us to get into relationships? Isn't it that moment when some cute thing stumbles in a presentation, pauses in embarrassment, and you see through to the weakness that you so easily relate to? Then it takes another two-and-a-half years to gain the courage to say "hello" and follow with some witty comment that shows your uniqueness.

I'm obviously not speaking of myself. I'm one of the few that realize sex is not connected to emotion and is simply a by-product of attraction. Yes, I'm one of the few who get laid regularly. But this bit is regarding the medicated masses. 

Relationships were never meant to last a lifetime. They were simply meant to last long enough to overcome the dependency issue that got you involved in the first place. The fact is, all of us, no matter where we come from or the road we've walked, have some kind of mommy issue to contend with. Some stayed on the tit too long. Others not long enough. Some were "Daddy's special girl," or boy; the degrees of fucked-upedness that come from childhood are astounding. For some reason we feel the need to shower some unsuspecting soul with all our dramatic vomit and expect them to care. We seal that mutual neediness and codependency with a diamond ring and an overpriced celebration of the death of our souls. And I find it ironic that this soul homicide is sanctified by an agent of god.

Really, our desire for long-term relationships is simply an acknowledgment of our fear of awkward situations. Why meet new people on a regular basis when you can just find someone you can tolerate for more than ten minutes and inundate them with your bullshit? Funny how you can have so many good times with an individual until you overcome your own shortcomings and discover you hated the asshole from the get.

By now you've probably come to the conclusion that I'm the long-time sufferer of a broken heart. I wish I could say that's true but the fact is my heart has been black and cold for far too long to be impacted by some woman's strike to my ego. It's simply that I'm tired of trying to enjoy the company of someone and that company coming in a bundled package of expectation, jealousy and guilt.

Romantic love is for the weak. It's for those who so dread independence and autonomy that they must latch onto whatever caring prospect errs by showing them attention. The problem is I have to weed through these black sheep of the human condition to find something worth my time. The short and the long is, it's easier to just pay for the goods.

THIS is the plague of man

                   Photo by: Hardcore Shutterbug


Did you know that velociraptors, one of the smallest of predatory dinosaurs, could coordinate to attack and kill beasts over 50 times their size? I say this to say children scare the shit out of me. And I am at a loss as to why so many people my age and younger seem to have kids.

Well, I understand why they have them; God says condoms are from the devil. My real confusion is why they are happy about it. I find it hard to believe I could be excited about a shitting, puking, screaming pint-sized mutant who will take up a good portion of my time, resources and money for at least 18 years. Yet, somehow, these people find a void outside of rationality to think this soul-sucker is the greatest thing to ever happen and they have plenty of pictures and stories to bore you with.

But since there is no reasoning with such people, I have come up with a couple rules to be implemented to deal with young parents who have not yet learned common decency. First, walking, speaking one syllable words, and waving "bye" are not talents, they are part of the evolutionary process. If your kid manages to do these things before turning two he has simply proven he's not retarded. If he's taking his first step at 27, then I'm willing to listen as I enjoy encouraging stories of hope.

Second, If you choose to get on a plane with a child under the age of 12, it is your responsibility to buy drinks for everyone on the plane. And don't be stingy. It is open bar for all passengers who have to deal with your "little angel" screaming incessantly as though his oxygen is provided from some unseen source.

Third, do not say "please" and "thank you" to your child when he is being a little shit. Respect is reserved for those who respect you and, unfortunately, you cannot kill him with kindness so it is a lose-lose.

Fourth, and probably most important, if you have not yet had a child but are giving it some consideration, take a look at your most recent paycheck. If your salary ends in the words "per hour," maybe put it off a while, Jack. And if you are unable to properly operate a condom, diaphragm, or daily pill, take a day's pay down to the free clinic and purchase a year's supply of morning-after pills. Grind them up and hide them in your cheese.

I know everyone has their own agenda and plans for life. I simply try to take a more pragmatic approach. As I see it, the world is over populated, humans are polluting at an unprecedented rate, and everyone is talking about going green. Well I'm doing my part; I'm not having any kids.

THIS is why I don't fly anymore

I arrived at the airport nearly two hours before my flight. My buddy was kind enough to share some fresh harvest on the ride over. Airports. These god damn places embody more stress than waiting on an AIDS test after an exciting trip to the Philippines. I gave a pound of flesh for a quart of water. I can get a gallon for 37 cents. A quart at the airport cost $3.97. I gave her a $5. She smiled. She gave me a dollar and 3 cents. I glared.

I got my bags checked by a lovely young computer named Terminal 2 and headed for my gate. Flight delayed. That's convenient. Especially when my arrival time and boarding time at my layover are less than 30 minutes apart. No cigarette for me today. Time to board the plane. We get three or four steps through the hatch when the fearless leader of our boarding group, henceforth to be referred to as Group 12^4, stopped at the first stewardess she saw and said in the most painfully cancer causing voice, "Is this flight going to land on time? Because I know it's running late and I've got a connection with a very short layover. I need to know that I'm going to make it on time." The stewardess reassures her that children's laughter and marshmallow sprinkles will overcome all evil of delayed flights and missed connections. The woman smiles and continues her journey to the back of the plane.

But a chord must have been struck deep inside because, though the answer satisfied for a moment, the young woman was overcome by fear once again. She stops in the middle of the aisle, turns to the stewardess behind her and says, "You're sure I'm going to make my connection? I just can't miss my ne--." I couldn't take it anymore. "Look lady, no one can guarantee you making your next flight. Hell, we might just crash on the way to Houston. And at this point I think it's the only thing that will get your voice out of our collective heads. Now, whether or not you make that connection is irrelevant as you are already on this plane. But if it so appeases you to manufacture the drama, how about you step into a row and let your fellow travelers standing here with heavy bags listening to your incessant bullshit pass by and get comfortable. I would assume the time we take off is directly related to the moment all the passengers have boarded." She glared. I glared. She asked what appeases means. I laughed.

THIS shouldn't be necessary

Let's make this simple. What you'll find on this site is a series of true stories. These are stories of stupidity. Stories that the above average American can relate to. Generally, stories that just piss you off. It becomes frustrating to know that we've had all this time to evolve yet we still have millions of chimps without the foresight to see beyond their next meal or nap. I wish I could say this site was for them, but there's no cure for stupid and I've lost the energy and will to try. Enjoy what's to come. You can enjoy the previous blog at www.jms220democrazy.wordpress.com