Going out of business.

Nothing Like It

Nothing like waking up just in time for a Hershey squirt slam dunk, & hoping the cheeks meet the seat before the shit hits the feet. Hot damn!!

-Mr. Bloggerific Himself, 07222009

my packaging sucks.

It's been a long time coming and up to now, I guess I've tried to avoid objectively looking at the stone cold reality of my own existence. Apparently, all it took for it to happen was believing in a myth that has since proven to be nothing more than a series of ongoing half-truths and lies. In the aftermath, the soul searching began.

I am old. I am fat. I am diabetic. My hair is tattered and falling out. My skin remains a sickly shade of pale. I am melancholy by nature and prone to depression. I am emotionally fragile. I am broken. Needless to say, self-esteem has been completely destroyed.

In recent times, there has been little in life that brings me any significant contentment. When something or someone comes along to break the cycle, it will only dissolve into confusion and frustration before slowly fading to black. My daily cynicism, sarcasm, and vain attempts at humor cloak a damaged soul like throwing a sheet over a piece of aged furniture.

Rather than point an accusing finger at external sources of my pain, I am now pointing the finger of guilt at myself. I have cared for people that do not care about me and I have put my hope in things that are hopeless. I accept the blame for my own suffering. Now that I understand and accept these facts, I hope to one day accept life for what it is and not attempt to enhance my world with things that are perpetually just outside of my grasp.

So yes, my packaging sucks.

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Free Shit.

These are confusing times, YPS!! enthusiasts (including those who fake it). Truth be known, they've probably always been confusing times and I've never taken the time to notice due to my overwhelming personal confusion.

For the sake of brevity and to avoid pissing readers off to the point where they are throwing staplers at my knee caps, I won't provide an itemized list of things that confuse me. Instead, I will just cuss and discuss an individual concept that bamboozles me.

What is it about the concept of free shit that warms the cockles of people's hearts? You could be giving away a Q-Tip caked with ear wax from Y2K or a used bandage with Fred Flintstone on it and people would throw hockey elbows and trample their sainted grandparents in order to get it simply because it's free.

Several weeks ago, I was forced to don gay apparel (khaki pants) and represent the workplace at a Chamber of Commerce hootenanny. Normally, I keep a list of excuses to spare me the indignity of attending such an event but on this day, I was caught like something other than the proverbial deer in the headlights because that metaphor desperately needs to be retired. (Ditto for "Thinking outside the box" as using that phrase is anything but thinking outside the box) So I was trapped like a fly on the wall.

The point of the event was for businesses to slap together a booth to promote their wares and everyone waltz around pretending that they were interested in the company so that they could scope out and hopefully score, you guessed it, free shit. They couldn't care less what kind of message was on the free shit as long as the shit was free. It could be a promotional set of JC Penney sheets with a KKK logo on there or sun-dried something-something that dropped out of the south end of a north-bound dog packaged (because it's all about the packaging) with a decorative doily and people would line up for days to get, well, you know.

Well-to-do adults acting like children going crazy ape bonkers at a Christmas Parade just to get a free piece of peppermint candy. I've witnessed this phenomenon as well, so I am fully qualified to compare. No outside the box thinking required here. My thinking is boxed in packaging that really sucks(!!), but it means well...for the most part.

What kind of prize would reduce a local dignitary to the state of standing in line doing the pee-pee dance with excitement? Well, it could be something as highly-prized as a free, canvas recycle bag (well, they are red, after all) or an entry level ink pen (black and white, rather Shamu-esque in nature) or perhaps even a foam stress ball lovingly hand-crafted in China. Yes. All of which no doubt fetch big coin on eBay if you were to buy on the collector's market.

Let there be no confusion. I use a fair amount of the very same ink pens in my day-to-day life and I am so stressed that I could probably defy some kind of scientific law and reduce a stress ball to a state of nothingness. Maybe I'm just jaded and yes, this is an incredibly safe bet.

I just can't say that I get all that excited over something like an ink pen. It is what it is and it is just an ink pen. Yes, it is better to have one than to not have one, but it's just a writing utensil after all. No sooner than the ink is gone, all of that initial enthusiasm will be a thing of the past. The upside is that it would fit nicely in a recycle bag with room to spare rather than relocating to a landfill.

The most recent event where free shit was distributed occurred on Friday. Our group convened on the riverfront to promote our cause and whip some swag into the throng of drunk Kentuckians. The most appealing part of the process was the promise of throwing things at (uh, make that "to") the natives. This shindig promised to be even more interesting since the excited pee-pee dance of the recipients would be enhanced by the consumption of alcohol.

I guess I should point out that the vast majority of the alcohol consumption was done by those in the crowd. Although I didn't turn down the free cup of beer that was given for the purpose of the sunset toast, I would like to point out that I didn't trample anyone to get it and the only enthusiasm exhibited was slinging it back after the brutality of the week. Said enthusiasm was very fleeting and there could very well have been a pee-pee dance later on, but that falls into the too much information category.

It was rather entertaining to see a group of drunk and/or drinking Kentuckians going berserk to try to catch the flying free shit and some looking quite sad when the supply ran out. The consolation prize was the distribution of coupons for $1 off drinks and to the folks gathered, this was probably more precious than the possibility of snagging a free t-shirt, frisbee or stress ball (thank you, China) from the air. If you didn't get any of the above, well, I guess you're just SOL, pal.

By this point you are probably starting to get testy trying to glean some kind of point in all of this crapola. I guess the point is that people will do damn near anything for free shit. In fact, you just weeded through many paragraphs of shit (coincidently, free) and I don't have slightest clue why.

(As horrendously bad as my life seems right now, I guess I can find solace in the fact that I am not forced to suit up like a low-rent superhero to peddle my shit to the masses)

Fool's Gold.

The quiet moments are the worst.

That's when the voices in the head reverberate like firing warning shots in a concrete room. Nothing will stifle the white noise of the mind. Sorrow of the past, heartache of today, and fear of the future overwhelm the senses in the darkness and sleep is no longer an option.

Walking into the light of day simply exposes the ugliness of the world. Darkness' despair is amplified in the light and can easily render you blind. Pain and suffering circle the wagons like predators following a trail of blood. Whether or not it is your blood makes no difference, because your time will come. Hopefully the moment will pass quickly and not involve a lingering period of suffering. There's more than enough suffering in the world.

So much worthless banter constantly pollutes the air to the point where silence is apparently no longer golden. Then again, gold doesn't hold the precious value that it once had. Even shallow greed must have a shelf life these days as society implodes. I never thought that it could possibly go out of style, so it must simply be a moving target or seeking out bigger and better things to sink its fangs.

All of these things make the surroundings practically unbearable. I don't want to be here, I don't want to be there, and it's not like my opinion amounts to a hill of shit anyway. My thoughts and feelings are just as worthless as the banter outside my door about the chill in the office air. Flashback to weeks ago and the same people were complaining about the heat. The concept of sensible clothing is thoroughly lost when fashion rules the world. It's much more productive to gripe about the climate day in and day out rather than wear socks. Besides, where is the fun in settling into the semi-comfortable chair and just being quiet?

If the quiet moments are the worst, then things must really be looking up. I'm not sure why it still feels like the world is crumbling around me.

Don't Forget to Dust Beneath the Finger Puppets. kthxbai

Bloggy gives an official SAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-lute! to the cleaning staff. They dust beneath the finger puppets, but leave the webcam alone. Awesome!