Big Dumb Guy

Sep 06

my son the bo-hemoth

i haven’t been up long.  hour and a half maybe.  it’s perfect outside.

one of the things i miss is my own space; can’t be helped.  some people, like junior, do not.  they need people around them or they get lonely or depressed or sad.  me, i feel like a party when alone.  i’m free then.  i can cry without witness, or whack it p.r.n.  or not wear clothes when it’s too damn hot or coming out of the shower.  you know, the little things that a flat mate ruins, especially when you never wanted a flat mate to begin with. 

but i’m his dad.  i love my son to the best of my ability.  it’s a challenge given his past offenses.  this whole post was inspired by his challenges to right himself upon waking up.  he huffed, puffed, struggled, reset, grabbed the couch and pulled himself up even as his fat belly conspired to keep him down, indeed nearly winning a second time.  he eats a lot.  nearly 2 to 1 of what i eat.  my food bill has gone waaay up.  plus he only likes junk foods and won’t eat anything healthy so our meals aren’t very healthy overall and get boring.  further, i have to cook or he goes hungry when broke or spends all his money on pizza when he has it.  i sometimes wonder how much of this is due to the aspergers and how much of it might be laziness.  and he is among the laziest people i know. 

that’s right mike, bash your kid live via the internet.

but it helps me out emotionally to write this down and share it.  to get it off my chest so i’m not verbally or psychologically abusing the kid.  am i allowing this to continue because of my guilt for being a bad father or because this is how i wrongly believe i deserve to be treated?

ah well.  he stirs, he paces (which he knows i dislike intensely), he opens the fridge then closes it, checks the couch.  he’s looking for something he isn’t sure he’s even lost.  i wish he would look elsewhere.

Aug 26

And if Michael Brown was not angelic, I was practically demonic. I had my first drink when I was 11. I once brawled in the cafeteria after getting hit in the head with a steel trash can. In my junior year I failed five out of seven classes. By the time I graduated from high school, I had been arrested for assaulting a teacher and been kicked out of school (twice.) And yet no one who knew me thought I had the least bit of thug in me. That is because I also read a lot of books, loved my Commodore 64, and ghostwrote love notes for my friends. In other words, I was a human being. A large number of American teenagers live exactly like Michael Brown. Very few of them are shot in the head and left to bake on the pavement.

The “angelic” standard was not one created by the reporter. It was created by a society that cannot face itself, and thus must employ a dubious “morality” to hide its sins. It is reinforced by people who have embraced the notion of “twice as good” while avoiding the circumstances which gave that notion birth. Consider how easily living in a community “with rough patches” becomes part of a list of ostensible sins. Consider how easily “black-on-black crime” becomes not a marker of a shameful legacy of segregation but a moral failing.

” — Ta-Nehisi Coates, being amazing. (via questionall)

(Source: politicalprof, via randomactsofchaos)

How big business buys the right to dodge US taxes -

Aug 23

another fine morning… ruined

i’ve only been up for 20 minutes and already the day sucks.

i awoke, as i usually do, to the snores of my son.  i’ve detailed many of the issues i have with him already.  last night, he again demonstrated he isn’t reliable or trustworthy.

when i crept quietly from bed so as not to arouse the slumbering neanderthal, i decided to keep my light off; he seems to wake up within minutes of the light coming on and i want privacy and alone time.

i decide this is a fine time to take a morning stroll because what else can i do?  i don’t get to unwind or relax in my own home thanks to that snoring behemoth.  as soon as i’m outside i find trash everywhere in the yard because one of my neighbors (who was supposed to have been evicted by now yet stays on somehow) decided they were having a midnight drunken cookout.  who get’s to clean up after another human being suddenly??  ME!!

alright, i reason, it’s still a beautiful morning.  the birds, the squirrels, the flowers blah blah blah.  so i begin my walk.  i make it half a block when i hear what turns out to be a van squealing it’s tires and racing towards wherever the fella driving it needed to be.  in seconds he’s at my location and for reasons i still don’t fathom, he screams at me.  now, i already have the panic anxiety disorder, my back was towards the guy when he shouted and the shout was amplified by the great acoustics on this particular area so it damn near gave me a heart attack.  i wanted to keep walking but now i’ve been deeply unsettled by some stupid jackass.  then i began to recall all the other times people have shouted at me from their cars.  then i just couldn’t go on.  i had to return to my only safe place, my home.  and now here i am listening to snores and smelling his stink.  later i’ll do the dishes, cook food for him and clean the goddamn toilet with no help whatever or even a ‘gee dad, thanks for everything’

already my head hurts.

Aug 21

the trouble with trifles

my son and i were watching ‘alphas’ and a scene made me want to cry but i couldn’t because my son was there.  he’s always here.  so, i don’t get to cry or release my emotions (which we apes seem to need to do) and it all bottles up and comes out in inappropriate ways.

i want to cry dammit! 

but instead i have to settle for headaches and increased stress.

i’m thinking if i cut, i’ll feel better.  i know that isn’t true and the arguments going on in my thoughts over it are only making my head hurt worse.  but i can’t do that either with him here.  of course if he wasn’t here, i wouldn’t need to because i could purge shit.

they don’t make enough aspirin.

Aug 20

a little something about me

frankly speaking, i sometimes feel that i am a menace to others because of the reckless rage that burns hot inside though blunted by age and taoism.  i say this because it seems during my latest black out, i apparently went to the store for beer, came back and, as my son tells me, i got somebody mad there.  haven’t a clue; don’t remember any of it.

my b.f.f. mike beat this rage into me good and sure as if this was his mission in life.  it wasn’t just me.  my mother took her beatings and so did my eldest sister.  it was so horrifying to live with a creature so violent.  we all literally spent our days on eggshells never knowing what might stir the beast.  ugh.  i don’t blame mike entirely; he also took his beatings from his dad just like the rest of his siblings.

i recently had a memory return of being four or five and him yelling in my face with his foul breath, veins popping on his neck, he’s so angry spittle is hitting me in the face and the open palmed slap across my face as i cried.  and you had to stop crying,  you had to bury that shit good and tight right then, right there or he would keep hitting you.  it made me think that i’ve never imagined how it was to be my mom or my sister.  what terrors did they feel?  it got pretty sick.  rather than leave the asshole, mom decided it was more reasonable to deflect dad’s wrath towards me.  anything that went wrong was all my fault and thus i absorbed her beatings or my sister’s.

so i grew up beating the hell out of my sisters.  it wasn’t either of my sister’s fault.  my parents decided i was old enough to watch them while they worked.  it was a stupid decision and i took more beatings when i got tattled on for hitting them in addition to the beating for not having the house clean, you know because we were kids.

then, as a young teen father, i beat my own kids so i split because i thought they would be safe.

now here i am.  my son who molested my daughter is snoring peacefully away on my couch; my daughter who i miss terribly and want to see desperately because of my grand babies (who i love, cherish, adore and whom i have never hurt because i don’t do that shit anymore) lives with her mom who willingly boned her brothers so doesn’t get why my daughter who wasn’t willing is having trouble forgiving the snorer to my left.  i was going out for visits but it’s just too much.  and they have roaches.  eww!!

still somehow, some reason, people really like me.  they dig the shit out of me and i just don’t understand it.  some would say i was lucky to have such friends in my life, to know that people smile when they think of you in a memory you helped create.  it is a paradox i just don’t comprehend.  these days, kids love me and i love them.  it’s truly one of the happiest moments in life to see a happy child and if i can make a child laugh, it literally takes the bad feelings out of me and replaces them with sunbeams and butterflies.  i’ve had the good fortune of grandchildren and nephews and nieces and that is what stirred my first genuine feelings of love within me.  love like that is pretty awesome and i’m fiercely protective of them. 

and yet, despite all the good in me, the progress to this good fellow, my issues with outbursts remain.  what might i have said to the clerk at the store?  how lucky am i that the cops weren’t involved?  or, when i went to kentucky a few months ago, why did i have to argue until someone punched me in the face?  what did i ever do to deserve getting punched in the face by anyone?  do you know how many times i’ve almost had a gun pulled on me because of my belligerence?  that’s the part that keeps getting me into trouble.  is it some inner subconscious need to take a beating or have another do for me what my happy pills no longer allow me to do for myself?  am i letting all this old shit, ripped open, stirred afresh overwhelm my own positive image as a good and ethical person worthy of having a good life with good friends and good sense and judgment?  probably.  but that’s the rub isn’t it?  the great galactic joke.  people like me lose sight of our good when the memories are as heavy as an anchor in the middle of an ocean. 

Aug 19

This says it all:


Tonight I watched freedom of the press and freedom to protest disappear under martial law in Ferguson, MO. On live TV. Incredible.

— Mike Stout (@mikestout_msu)
August 19, 2014

(via cognitivedissonance)


Aug 12

ferguson, mo and stokely carmichael

so as you may know from my last post, i’m already a bit frustrated today so i decided to have a look ‘round the web to see what might distract me from it all when i stumble across these horrifying photos of what is going on down there in ferguson, mo where cops killed a guy for being black and then harassed people at the vigil so hard a riot broke out.  now, i’m used to seeing these photos when they come from places we have invaded where —haha— insurgency breaks out, because who cares if our guys break a few eggs over there, right?  but not from a few states away and certainly not from america.

brief aside: this is all george bush’s fault; by allowing 9/11 to happen and the subsequent militarization of state and local police, these sorts of events were bound to happen.  and they do!  with stunning regularity.  why that man isn’t in jail somewhere for his crimes against this country and humanity is beyond fucking me.

anywho, so i decide i’m gonna share these photos on facefuck and discover i can’t and so my frustration ratchets up a notch and then i’m on twitter retweeting the pictures to all the strangers following me there (i keep my facefuck and my other social media separate.  ain’t nobdy there needs to know what i’m on about).  this led me to discovering there was a dude named stokely and stokely had some very interesting things to say about the state of black affairs in america.  like her’s a good one from a time when this happened in the 60’s:

"The time for running has come to an end. You tell them white folk in Mississippi that all the scared niggers are dead!"

see?  just switch in ferguson, right?  and he has a bunch more spot on observations from his time that are just as true as today.  take this gem:

"You see that honky McNamara on television? He ain’t nothing but a racist. He says, “Yes, we are going to draft thirty percent of the Negroes in the Army. This is where they can have equal opportunity. Yeah. Yes… yes it’s true that they are only ten percent of the population, but this is a better chance for them.” When that honky talk about drafting thirty percent black people, he’s talking about black urban removal—nothing else.”

just put in don rumsfeld right?  but i came across this quote to and found i both agreed with it and was disturbed by it, because it too speaks to today’s issues:

"Dr. King’s policy was that nonviolence would achieve the gains for black people in the United States. His major assumption was that if you are nonviolent, if you suffer, your opponent will see your suffering and will be moved to change his heart. That’s very good. He only made one fallacious assumption: In order for nonviolence to work, your opponent must have a conscience. The United States has none."

well what can you say to that?  clearly our nation lacks ethics or conscience.  we see proof of this everyday.  wealth is redistributed to the wealthy who don’t need it, our corporations are either going overseas to maximize profits or directly dealing with the chinese government that exchanges slave labor for billions, money china will use to defeat us when they get ready to take us down.  slave labor?  like we care!  i see your ipads and androids.  we bomb the shit out of whom we like, we’re the fattest fucks on the planet, there are 7 billion souls in the world, we have 300 million of it and produce the most waste and consume the most resources, so no, the united states has no conscience; it lost it’s moral compass a long time ago.  thank you mr. reagan.

but then i read that same quote and insert tea party guy.  open carry guy.  white guy who swears there is a war being waged on him already.  nut jobs spouting about second amendment remedies because they finally get that bush wiped out the bill of rights with his thrice damned patriot act but blame it on the black guy because the wrong party is in office.  in best radical right winger: “they’re spying on me?  well when did that start happenin’??  oh.  war on christmas bitches it’s obama’s fault!”

a right winger (the way they talk anyhow) could use this quote as a pretext to do all sorts of bad things to government officials.  some of them talk freely of doing so (which proves obama can’t be a tyrant but irony is wasted on the stupid) yet nothing happens to them.

nope, just to unarmed black folk.  where that quote actually holds weight.  how do i feel about that?  if america will not treat black people like people and gun them down in the streets like dogs, what choice do they have really?  but killing is wrong to me.  violence is wicked.  right wingers, especially the likes of cliven bundy don’t have this problem do they?  they can threaten the authorities with assault rifles and get a ‘by your leave guvner sorry for the bother, it will never ‘appen again or my name isn’t rule of law.’

so frustrated.

never alone anymore.  kid won’t fucking sleep like he used to but now wakes up every few hours to compensate for my attempts to change my sleep schedule so i can be fucking by myself for more than 5 minutes at a fucking time.  i just want to scream and yell and throw a tantrum and say, ‘goddamit, junior, you know you’re fucking with me you asshole so fucking stop it!!”  but i don’t because i know it’s my fault for opening my home to this farting, burping, smelly, unsympathetic (literally, he has no empathy because of his aspergers or so his shrink told me) mouth breather anyway because i was trying to be a good dad even though i know i suck at it because i’m an emotional idiot!  guilt is wonderful.

so i’m sitting here stressed, my headache is back already and i’ve only been up an hour.  oh yeah, my life is the tits.

Aug 11


it’s one of those times of day where you want to express something and go to write and and you find you’ve lost all the words that seemed so important to share just a few minutes ago.

i didn’t come on here just to air my personal shit for the consumption of others to judge or ridicule.  i needed a way to vent that is just being denied me now in my current situation. 

i’m not the most stable of people psychically.  2 1/2 decades later and i’m still dealing with what my parents put my sister shelly and i through.  my youngest sister was spared mostly, thank whichever god you like, and has been able to live a pretty decent life though she, like i, unwittingly married into a family of pederasts.  people.  is it any wonder i’m so leery of everyone?  the person next to you may seem trustworthy enough, but how do you know what horrors are playing out in their minds waiting to become a reality?

anyway, the venting.  i have to get this off my mind and my chest somehow, create a funnel to pour all these crappy thoughts and emotions swirling around my noggin into so i’m not melting down in front of others; it’s embarrassing enough that i do it, but to feel the shame in front of others is intolerable.

it’s an ugly shame, an evil shame, put there by a wicked man.  every shame i feel, there’s my old man hovering over me with his belt in hand tearing me down verbally , reminding me how worthless and stupid i was to begin with.

and see?  now i am ready to cry again so i must stop for now.  my kid, yeah that one, is still awake at this hour.  it seems no matter what i do to vary my sleep schedule, he’s always adapting to it so he stays on mine.  it’s bad enough to have to do everything for a grown man but can’t you just sleep 6 fucking hours and give me some alone time?  can’t you walk down to the library for an afternoon?  could you have not fucked my daughter or made out with my ex-girlfriend you animal?  ugh.  he’s my son with aspergers; what can i do but be a loving parent? 

guilt is awesome. 

Aug 10

accepting my faith

as a proper taoist, i know that if you want to get rid of something, you must 1st allow it to grow.  as a blakeite, i believe the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.  as a former christian, i believe eating, drinking and making merry is some god’s will for my life.

i say all this because yesterday i sat outside waiting for the bus.  it was hot (to me anyway).  wearing black is a poor choice for sunny afternoons.  i sat there beating myself down mentally and verbally (yes, i do have conversations with myself aloud; it is a recent activity, but one which has proven useful as a sort of pressure valve for my internal conversation which never.  shuts. the fuck. up!) because i know what a complicated situation i’m in trying to do the right thing all the time for everyone when i can barely keep myself intact and have a hard enough time taking proper care of myself.  i’ve radically accepted all this like my dbt classes taught me, but the resulting feeling of the weight of the world on my spirit has left me psychically drained all the time and so i’m drinking way more than i should and on some nights when i do this i enjoy the thought of drinking myself to death. 

maybe some of the problem is that i’m not accepting my faith.  it is my beliefs, my ideation, my indoctrination that led me here and if i believe there is a purpose to my life in this universe of perpetual creation, then this is exactly where i’m supposed to be and this is the lesson life is teaching me.  i know once shit gets settled, junior be on his way and i will again have my sanctum sanctorum back and be able to recharge once more, but the when part is up in the air.  i know things will work out eventually because i’ve been lucky that way my whole life. 

i love myself though my esteem is a bit haggard.  i know i matter though i feel i harm those around me by virtue of my defects.  i embrace that i must do what i have to do to ensure that i carry my fragile, new recovery continues to blossom and bloom even if that means walking down a few excessive roads in the meantime while i wait. 

Sibling Incest: Does US Society Understand the Associated Risks?

like i was saying in my last post…

Aug 08

the doctor… sorta

the doctor in star trek:voyager ‘latent image’.  how i feel.