So 40 Happened...

Well here's one for the record books kiddies: last Sunday I turned a bright and sunshiny 40 years old!  Yeah I know, in the overall scope of the steaming sack of grandeur we all lovingly refer to as the universe my little wannabe-Bigfoot ass managing to survive for four decades isn't really that big of a whoop, but hey, it's my blog and I'll wax introspective if I want to.

But I don't want to, trust me.  Sorry if I scared anyone there.

They say that turning 40 is supposed to be some kind of milestone, as if you've officially reached the age where you're old enough to know better or some such shit.  Folks, I'm as sorry as I can be to have to tell you this but you're favorite emotional twelve-year old here didn't magically awake to some form of transcendental maturity.  Actually, if memory serves, all I did actually awake to that morning was a gentle reminder that it's not yet time for Viagra and a need to take the dogs outside so they'd let me get a few more minutes of sleep.  Yes I know, too much information by a long shot, but dammit I'm given to understand that at 40 these things are to be celebrated.  Kind of like buying the inevitable Ferrari or just barely of age girlfriend.  Classy I know, but hey, since when have we devolved into bullshitting each other here?

Okay, other than that time...

Fact is, I remember throwing my father an "Over the Hill" party when he turned 40.  I don't feel over the hill, and come to think about it I'm beginning to seriously doubt he did at the time either.  I'm still accomplishing things in my life: I made the commitment to and then competed in my first powerlifting meet this year, I managed to figure out where I apparently belong in this world, and as-God-as-my-witness my third book will be out one of these freakin' days!  

I will say this, however.  Turning 40 did give me a moment of pause to reflect.  Not over my life mind you; years one thru twenty-nine don't really hold much of merit at this point in the game.  Nope, I actually had to take a moment and take account of my thirties. I realized that I started my last decade at the end of a shit-ridden marriage and a job that was killing me probably faster than I want to even think about.  I'm still not sure exactly how I pulled it off but over the course of the last decade I managed to find the career I'm actually good at, the exact perfect woman to marry (Lord if I didn't hold some auditions though), and the place in this world that I not only call home but where I actually am home.  

I'm reminded a little bit of the Tim McGraw song "My Next Forty Years" while I sit here and type this.  The song is basically a list of the things he hopes to do better in the second half of his life. For those of you that know me well personally this will probably make more sense than it may to those who know me through the blog or through my books but for the "next forty" I'd like to steal a page out of the movie "Legends of the Fall" and finally come into the quiet part of my life. I've had the first 40 to make, try to fix, and hopefully learn from my many mistakes.  Now is the time I can hopefully move forward and finally build the life I've always wanted.

Although I have to admit that I am looking forward to pulling the mirror stunt from "This is 40" on my wife.  Just for g.p.  After all, sometimes it's still fun just to hear her yell "ewwwww!"

(And by the way, just so it's out there, NO THE BEARD IS NOT A MIDLIFE CRISIS.  I'm just furry by nature and finally gave up fighting it.  That and to be honest is was the cheapest way to offset the age related ugly!)

Have a great one folks and talk to you soon!

Children Are Not Currency

Pardon me for just a self-indulgent moment boys and girls.  I need to say something publicly to get it off my chest because I can't say it to the person or persons that need to hear it the most in person.  I just don't trust myself to not start throwing punches.  I also honestly have to say that if I started I really don't know if I could trust myself to stop so it's just best to say what I have to say here where hopefully that person or persons can read it, hang their head in shame, and hopefully find some way to creatively end their sorry ass excuse for a human self.

I'm going to say this very carefully and succinctly.  I'm even going to use small words.  It won't be hard to understand.

CHILDREN ARE NEITHER CURRENCY NOR A COMMODITY.

Period.

If you are a parent your job is to raise that child and give them the best life possible.  Being a parent does not mean that you now have a tool to use against others to get what you want / cause them emotional harm at your whim.  It also does not mean that your child is your guarantee of income from the federal government.  That meal ticket is the kid's, not yours.

If you use a child to inflict emotional harm on others...

If you use a child as a tool for financial gain...

If your child means little more to you than a monthly check...

If you think you can do as you will with a child, good or evil, and the world can just deal with it...

I urge you to remember one thing:

Not only is the rest of the world watching and remembering BUT SO IS THAT CHILD!

The worst sentence I've ever heard uttered from a child is "Mommy's mad at me because my Daddy's check isn't on time."  It ranks right up there with "Daddy won't let me see Grandmommy and Granddaddy because they won't pay our cable bill anymore."

There are some people in this world that I can't decide whether the best cure for them is an axe or a sledgehammer.

With that said I'm going to go throw something heavy across the room now.

Dear Lord Watch Over My Bank Account

First and foremost, I know deep in my heart that I am about to piss off a lot of devoutly religious people with this post.  I understand that up front.  

I’d apologize but, well, that’s just not how I do things. 

I have a simple and honest question that I wish someone could answer for me without 

simultaneously calling me an unbeliever, heathen, or suddenly feeling the need to baptize me or pray for my immortal soul.  Why is it that a segment of our population seems so hell bent on mixing God up with their money?

As many of you know, I work in the rent-to-own industry and have for a decade now.  It never ceases to amaze me how many of our customers seek to solve their financial problems through “the power of prayer” instead of actually doing something about their situation.  Not a week goes by that I don’t have at least five discussions with customers where the answer to their financial situation is that they will have to pray about it and see what God will provide.

Now, don’t misunderstand me.  If your faith is such that you take your problems to the Almighty in prayer than I admire your dedication.  What I have a problem with is that so many people seem to think that simply praying over the problem will solve it.  I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve had to repossess merchandise from a customer who couldn’t pay their bill because the “divine handout” didn’t get there in time. 

I’ve been in desperate financial straits many times in my life and yes, some have resulted in prayers for guidance but I can’t for the life of me understand why someone would pray for the holy money truck to dump on their front lawn!  My faith has always landed more to the “God helps those who help themselves” line of thinking I guess. 

Where I fail to reach any form of understanding is when an adult who lives in the real world (sorry to burst any Matrix bubbles that may be hanging around but Neo was actually fiction) feels that prayer will magically solve the problem.  Where I get frustrated is when the solution to the problem is in fact as simple as a phone call to explain a period of hardship and make some arrangements to handle the problem.  Where I get enraged is when someone tells me they’re going to sick God on me and pray for my ruination because their decisions led to a negative outcome for them.  I hate to tell some people but if I show up on your front door to repossess your television, it’s probably not because God didn’t send mana from heaven to cover your bills.  It’s most likely because you decided to spend your bill money on weed and beer last weekend and want to use your break-glass-in-case-of-uhoh faith as an excuse or worse a shield to gloss over your failings.  

Look I’ve made some seriously bad mistakes in my life when it comes to the almighty dollar but I can promise you right fucking now that God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Jevohah, Yaweh, Odin, Thor, Loki, The World Turtle, nor good ol’ L.Ron had a damn thing to do with them.  They were my mistakes and I had to solve them on my own. 

It seems that I have the same conversation year after year in my line of work.  I can never quite get over the lack of responsibility for personal actions that seems to permeate so much of our society now.  Granted I see a lot more of the 40 year old adolescent mentality given what I do for a living but still, at some point someone has to say there is a line here folks! 

Does God belong in a family’s finances? Hey that’s totally your call and up to your beliefs.  The only problem I have is when your beliefs, as with so many other things, get in the way of common sense and you stop acting in your own best interest and start relying on a religious crutch instead of just simply doing something to solve your own problems yourself.

See you next time kiddies!

And I'm Back...

Hey kids.  For those of you that have been keeping track or playing along with the home version of the game, you have no doubt noticed that it’s been over a month now since I posted anything to the blog.  To be quite honest, I didn’t intend for it to have been this long in between posts but to tell the honest truth, it’s probably been better that I’ve kept my mouth shut over the last six weeks anyway.

The simple fact of the matter is that on top of always trying to be honest and upfront with my opinions on this blog, I’ve always intended for this thing to be a fairly open space.  I’ve even patted myself on the back a few times (publically) for inviting other schools of thought to voice their opinions and op-eds to what I had to say.  Well, to be blunt, the political events of the past few months including the government shut down and the Obamacare debate and debacle have really weighed heavily upon my thoughts.

Okay, that’s putting it lightly.  I’ve been so wound up about it I’ve found myself ranting to the bathroom mirror while I had a mouth full of toothpaste.  Yeah, let’s just say the whole situation crawled up my ass a bit.

I was ready to set the keyboard phasers to kill and tear a whole lot of people and their ideologies a new asshole when a friend of mine made a comment to me during a Facebook conversation regarding the whole shutdown issue that really made me think.  He remarked that I’m so conservative that even when I’m trying to be open minded I’m being conservative.  In the space of twenty minutes red alert had been cancelled, the weapons systems had powered down, and if you’ll pardon the extended Trek metaphor Captain Kirk had wandered off in search of green tail to chase.

It occurred to me that while I have a really strong opinion on this subject, I was also possibly going off a bit half-cocked and partially misdirected on the whole issue.  So I did something that has been very uncharacteristic of me to say the very least.

I shut the fuck up for a bit.

(I know, right?)

Look, the Affordable Care Act is gonna be a mess in one form or another for quite a while, whether it’s in its implementation or execution or whatever.  I personally think a lot of people are going to be in for a surprise down the line but hey, I could be wrong.  What I am going to do is get my head right about the whole situation.  I have two choices, deal with it and move on or rant and rave until I have to deal with it and move on.  It seems to me that at this point my lazier nature needs to win out and we’ll just call it dealt with.

So am I back to ranting raving cussin and fussin?  Yep.  Am I suddenly embarking on a nice swing to be all up with people and shit?  Oh puhlease.  But, when it comes to the politics of the last few months that made me so upset that it ran me away from my keyboard I’m just going to somewhat gracefully let it pass me by. 

So let’s get back to the business at hand, shall we?

Welcome back to the Cynical Sarcastic boys and girls!

Let's Talk About Sex

Okay, that was a dirty trick.

Sue me.

Kids, today I'm going to dazzle you with a little mental gymnastics and give you my well thought out and actual rant-free opinion on our country's involvement /place in the whole Syria crisis. Your dirty little monkey ass now should feel obligated to read it word for word because you clicked on the blog title wondering what the hell kind of perverted, right of center, oh dear God can you actually do that with a hogfish kinda of deviant crap I was gonna talk about after reading the word sex in today's title.

Dirty, dirty little monkey.

My opinion is simple.  We should not in any way shape or form, as individuals or collectively as a nation, endorse military action that is simply a save-face maneuver for our clueless commander in chief.  Our military personnel should in no way have to risk their lives because our president waffled a threat over the front door of a despot and then didn't have the stones OR A LEGITIMATE REASON to back it up.  This is nothing more than yet another distraction to keep our attention away from Obamacare in all its illustrious glory and a dozen other instances of political malfeasance conducted by our leadership.  Yes what's happened in Syria is horrible but guess what folks, it didn't just start, now did it? Hopefully someone in Congress will actually listen to their constituency and this will all silently fall by the ditch somewhere before we end up facing more significant tragedies than the one whose anniversary rolls around this Wednesday.  

And that's my thoughts on Syria.

You know I'm starting to feel bad about the whole sex ruse.  I feel I owe something.

Boobies.  

There now I feel better.  

Rest In Peace Elmore Leonard

Elmore Leonard, one of my favorite authors, passed away Tuesday at the age of 87.  If you're not familiar with his work I would hazard the guess that you've either seen or read something of his and just not realized it was his to start with.  Instead of some long winded diatribe about how much his work meant to me as a writer in the decade since I was first exposed to it, I'd instead like to share his 10 Rules for Great Writing.  The following is copied from a Detroit Free Press article in which Mr. Leonard discusses his 10 Rules.  Even if you're not a writer, I think it's still worth a quick read.  RIP Sir.

1. Never open a book with weather.

If it's only to create atmosphere, and not a character's reaction to the weather, you don't want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.

2. Avoid prologues.

They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want. There is a prologue in John Steinbeck's "Sweet Thursday," but it's O.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: "I like a lot of talk in a book and I don't like to have nobody tell me what the guy that's talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . . figure out what the guy's thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. That's nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don't have to read it. I don't want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story."

3. Never use a verb other than "said" to carry dialogue.

The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned, lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with "she asseverated," and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.

4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb "said" . . .

. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances "full of rape and adverbs."

5. Keep your exclamation points under control.

You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.

6. Never use the words "suddenly" or "all hell broke loose."

This rule doesn't require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use "suddenly" tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.

7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.

Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you won't be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories "Close Range."

8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.

Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants" what do the "American and the girl with him" look like? "She had taken off her hat and put it on the table." That's the only reference to a physical description in the story, and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.

9. Don't go into great detail describing places and things.

Unless you're Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language or write landscapes in the style of Jim Harrison. But even if you're good at it, you don't want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

And finally:

10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

A rule that came to mind in 1983. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. What the writer is doing, he's writing, perpetrating hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character's head, and the reader either knows what the guy's thinking or doesn't care. I'll bet you don't skip dialogue.

My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can't allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative. It's my attempt to remain invisible, not distract the reader from the story with obvious writing. (Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say.)

If I write in scenes and always from the point of view of a particular character -- the one whose view best brings the scene to life -- I'm able to concentrate on the voices of the characters telling you who they are and how they feel about what they see and what's going on, and I'm nowhere in sight.

What Steinbeck did in "Sweet Thursday" was title his chapters as an indication, though obscure, of what they cover. "Whom the Gods Love They Drive Nuts" is one, "Lousy Wednesday" another. The third chapter is titled "Hooptedoodle 1" and the 38th chapter "Hooptedoodle 2" as warnings to the reader, as if Steinbeck is saying: "Here's where you'll see me taking flights of fancy with my writing, and it won't get in the way of the story. Skip them if you want."

To All The Skinnies Out There

I'd like to dedicate this little piece of rabid, vehement diatribe to all of you overly skinny people out there in the world who seem to feel a sense of entitlement regarding your body condition.

For the rest of you, let's put it this way.  Back a decade ago when I worked for T-Mobile a close friend and I used to make good use of the play dough they'd put out on the desks to keep our hands busy during meetings by creating a stupid button that we'd take turns slapping when the speaker was being a dipshit.  Immature and disruptive? Highly, but hey that's how we rolled. So in that vein I would encourage you all to steal some play dough from the kids, form a big ol' pseudo-Staples-easy-button, and gouge the letters NSFW in the top of it.

Now slap the shit outta that bastard cause this post is DEFINITIVELY not suitable for mature adult consumption, let alone work!

Go ahead, I'll wait...

Don't mind me.

Dammit isn't anyone gonna play along?

Fine, your funeral.

First of all I'd like to forward a great big shiny heaping helping of GO FUCK YOURSELF to all the entitled skinny people out there who feel you are better than someone else due to your body fat percentage.  Go anally dry fuck yourself with the stick of your choice, pull it out lovingly, and continue doing strip-aerobics on it until you no longer notice the smell you flaming douche nozzles.

Look, I get the idea of taking care of yourself and I'm all for it.  Hell, I'm in the gym three hours a day three days a week pursuing my goals as a powerlifter.  I'm stronger now than I've ever been in my life.  If you're doing what you do to take care of your body and reach your goals for personal well-being and what not, by all means go forward with my blessings boo-boo.

However, if you find some sense of "better-than-thou" over the fact you've only eating yogurt today to maintain your waistline, you're a shit head.  Unless you're Jeffrey Donovan (Michael Weston off of Burn Notice), in which case you're a badass and you're excused sir.  I am sick to ass raping hell of these obnoxious ass skinny shits who feel that they are somehow more worthy to suck down God's good oxygen because they fit into skinny jeans.  First of all cock nugget, I've got news for you: the only guys that can fit skinny jeans are anorexic little fucks with no substantial dick to speak of so please sit the fuck down and hire a wardrobe consultant. Bitch.

You may be wondering why I'm a little tender over this subject.  After all I could really give a pile of duck shit what others think of me in the real world.  I'm riled up over this because I've officially had my fill of looks and off hand comments.  To give you an example, I went into the convenient store near my job during lunch today to pick up some Monster Muscle....

STOP... QUICK FREE ADVERTISING PAUSE FOR THE LIQUID AWESOMENESS IN A CAN THAT IS MONSTER MUSCLE CHOCOLATE.  IF YOU CONSUME PROTEIN FOR ANYTHING OTHER THAN SEXUAL ACTIVITIES THAT USUALLY ONLY HAPPEN ON SOMEONE'S BIRTHDAY, YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO TRY THIS STUFF AS SOON AS YOU FINISH READING THIS COLUMN!

SORRY I DRINK SO MUCH OF THIS STUFF I FIGURED I MIGHT AS WELL PIMP FOR IT.

Moving on... so I went into the convenient store to purchase said heaven in a can and stood in line behind some mid-twenties little princess who mentioned to her boyfriend that if he didn't stop eating all the junk food he was going to get fat like the guy behind them.  Meaning me.  Little dude, all five-five buck thirty of him, turns to face me and I give him my best "I'm going to crush you, drag your girl out of here by her hair and flip your smug little Smart 4-2 over on her head" look.  He made her put her bottle of water on the floor and leave post haste.  I felt justice had been served.

Hey, people are shitheads.  I know this.  I'm just as much one on a random basis as everyone else is.  But what just kills me is that while I may still weigh three bills and have some tummy, the little twat monkey had no right to just out and out assume I'm some Twinkie chowing pig who walks around with my own personal gravy boat while she stands there conveniently and completely engulfed in my shadow.  It's been a long time since I've wished a really sloppy, gooey yeast infection on anyone but I swear I hope that little turd wakes up one fine morning soon with her panties full of biscuit dough! And people wonder why I hate smurfs...

The fact is that people who choose to carry some extra are not uncommon in the gym.  The majority are powerlifters.  Not of all us have come to embrace the fact that you can be strong as shit and lean at the same time (yes Ben, we know it can be done we just don't have your will power).  I really wonder sometimes if some of these starved cardio-wonders have ever taken the time to realize that all that running and calorie-control-taken-to-extremes is actually damaging their bodies far worse than anything I'm doing picking up twice my body weight and smiling at their silly asses?

So am I really just sad to be a little chubby and had my tenders hurt by some mean little thing only to run home and profanely spew all over my blog?  Well maybe but that's sort of my thing.  Actually I'm pretty comfortable with what I'm hauling around until it comes to those god forsaken pieces of diabolical machination called pullups, then I'm a fat shit who needs to put down the donuts! In all seriousness though, it's not the comments that piss me off, it's the sense that some of these ass-clowns run around with that they're skinny and are therefore automatically better than all others.

And here's an object lesson to all those pretty little bastards out there who are so proud of their abs.  Abs aren't sexy brother. They may help get you to the bedroom once, but having the strength to pick your woman up and carry in there yourself will get you invited back!

Now if you'll pardon me I need to go ingest a protein shake, some bacon, and a couple of Tastee Cakes with Hershey's syrup before bed.  Oh yeah and skinny bitch, while you're home trying to cure that baking bread smell coming from your fuck hole you're dealing with (if my wish came true), I'll be sleeping happily next to my wife who loves me just the oversized furry beastly sasquatch/grizzly bear/silverback gorrilla hybrid way I am. So tell your vibrator goodnight for me you deeply unhappy and clueless piece of fake blonde arm candy.  Hopefully you'll still feel pretty next week after he's used you for Spider Man target practice and is therefore now done with your simple ass and dumps you for your sister. Or your dad, take your pick.

Musings on Muses

Happy Sunday / Monday kids!  I hope everyone is having an outstanding weekend.

Before I get to the topic for today's post, I'd like to pose a quick question to the universe: I wonder if the mega-successful writers of the world, you know the Pattersons, Sparks, Kings, James' and the like, have issues with temperamental weed-eaters?  For some reason I think it would do my heart good to know that somewhere out there Stephen King is ready to go all Misery on an uncooperative string trimmer at some point.  You know, just go straight up sledge hammer and wood block on it. I know, I know.  Deep breaths and happy thoughts...

Moving on...

Last July I posted a somewhat limited discussion of the topic of muses.  While I don't necessarily care for retreading already stomped ground, I did receive an email this week that brought my mind back around to the topic.  The email posed a basic question: are muses worth it with all the drama they inevitably cause?

Well, let me adjust my chair, crack all my fingers obnoxiously, and wade right on in to this one.

The answer, in a word, is ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!

The lady who wrote this email is a friend who is just getting out of an overtly intense relationship with a man who, to hear her tell it, had the ability to ring brilliance from her with each orgasm. While she may have a flair for the overdramatic, her point was that since the end of that relationship she has a fair amount of difficulty putting words to paper. This has left her wondering if the whole mess was worthwhile.

For those of you that have followed the blog for a while, you know that I've complained a lot over the course of the last year or so about having difficulty with my third novel, Hurricane Carolina.  In a nutshell, I had a good story at the center of the novel but wasn't able to make it "work" as it were.  The book felt like a candy bar without the chocolate shell, essentially all fluffy nougat with nothing holding it together. I initially blamed it on the fact that nothing was really inspiring me at the time.  Over time, however, I had to go back to the well like any good hack and start drawing on personal experiences to try to find something to use as the "glue" for my story. What I found was not only a good idea but also a little bit of personal insight.

People come in and out of our lives all the time. Sometimes these relationships are merely trivial acquaintances but sometimes they have dramatic impacts on us.  Occasionally, at least in my humble opinion, a relationship between two people can become so impacting that it actually changes both of them to the core of their beings.  It's my opinion that these relationships are the ones that scribblers like myself draw upon for inspiration both during and after their time with that other person in their lives.  For my friend, her trouble is now found in the absence of that relationship that provided her such marvelous insight.  My advice to her would be to mourn the loss but not focus on its absence. Use the memory of that passion to continue your own inspiration.

My own issue with inspiration from the "lack" of a muse came about after realizing that the impact of the last person who really inspired me was fading.  That person's influence and impact wasn't really felt in my life anymore.  We'd moved on with life like everyone does.  It happens. The problem was that this rich and fertile ground that I'd been able to harvest ideas from was no longer being nourished, so to speak, and was starting to go fallow.  And that's when the idea hit me...

I was able to take that loss of inspiration and turn it into a frame for my story.  Instead of just a simple damaged boy meets damaged girl tale, I was able to turn it into a story of what happens when a person gains and then loses a relationship that affects them so deeply that it takes years after it ends for its impact to fade and what the repercussions are from that fading.  Hey, what can I say, sometimes when you live it you have to find a way to make it work for you.

Are muses worthwhile.  Definitely.  Do you need one as a writer... well hey, even fictional ones need a little help every now and again.  Need an example?  Paging Hank Moody...

Have a great Monday boys and girls.  Talk to you in a bit!

When Common Sense and Politics Collide: Film At 11

How y'all doin' tonight kids?

Contrary to popular (and probably deserved) opinion, no, I haven't abandoned all of you just quite yet and disappeared into the ether.  It's been a crazy month, what can I tell ya.

One of the reasons I've stayed quiet a little longer than usual as of late was that I had to make a decision on whether or not to comment on the whole Trayvon Martin court decision and the almost immediately blooming shit storm that took root thereafter.  I had a response prepared and was ready with my very strongly worded opinion when I had a short Facebook conversation with an old high school friend.  We were on very different sides of the fence on that issue but we both felt the same way:  at its core the entire event was a significant tragedy for all involved. Thank you for the course correction Mr. Watson, it didn't fall on deaf ears.  I then made the decision just to step away from the subject and allow the talking heads their time in the sun (or moon or rain or whatever as the case may have been).  One more overgrown white guy with an opinion on the topic of misapplied racism in this country ain't gonna do nothin' more than piss someone else off and during that time it just wasn't needed.

So what's got me back to the keyboard, ready to bitch, moan, whine, pout, and otherwise just make an ass of myself as usual?  Well first and foremost I missed getting the chance to rant and rave and pass ideas back and forth with you all.  And secondly, well...

Let's just say I turned on the car radio this morning on the way into the local talk station for my regular Tuesday morning segment, heard the news, and damn near lost my shit in the middle of Highway 24!

The sudden near-bowel-loosening came from a news segment that stated that the ACLU, the NAACP, the Justice Department, and I'm not sure but maybe even the Super Friends were going to take legal action against North Carolina to challenge our newly minted voting laws.

Kids, there are times where What The Fuck just doesn't cover it.

And this, if you'll pardon the vernacular, be one of those times.

I'm trying not to be narrow minded about this and I've attempted to see both sides of the issue.  I really have, but I am having one hell of a time.  I wish someone can reasonably explain to me how requiring pre-registration by 24 hours and having a state issued photo ID as proof of residency is discriminatory or anti-voting rights?  I mean come the hell on people.  There is an election coming up in 2016 to get Captain Socialism et. al. out of office.  Last I checked it's August of 2013.  You mean to tell me that even the straight party ticket voting political overachievers who actually vote in the mid-term elections can't get their shit together and get a current ID by then? I mean for chrissakes we're about to start drug testing for WELFARE and that requires a state issued ID.  We're not even handing out pee cups to vote.  You can (and apparently a lot of folks were) be just as high as you'd care to be and still cast your vote.  Just have picture ID.  See, it's not that bad.

Look, let's make this simple.  To purchase a handgun in our great state you need a state issued ID to get a permit and have to pass a background check to prove you're not a felon or insane.  

Take a good look at the wreck our country is in and tell me that a vote might not be just as dangerous...

But hey, that's just my opinion and I could be... 

No you know what?

Screw it! On this one I'm just right!

Pimping For Friends

Hey kids!  Everyone needs to take a second to welcome my buddy Tatum K. Radcliffe to the blog-o-sphere.  She has recently relaunched her blog Arsenic, Spite, and Old Scars over here and we all need to show her some support.

I mentioned Tatum's writing a while back on the blog but, for all you new folks, let's give you a quick refresher.  I've known Tatum for a few years now and I have to say I have not met anyone else with a talent as a writer like hers.  She has a gift for making the twisted and grotesque seem beautiful and intimate.  As disturbing and uncomfortable as it was, I once read a short story of hers once that included a scene of graphic necrophilia that could almost bring you to tears.  

Yes, tears from necrophilia.  

I'm not kidding. 

She's also prepping her first novel Momento Mori for release hopefully soon.  Make sure you stop by and show her some love.

Welcome back to the land of the living Tatum!

Thanks for the Patience

It APPEARS that the software issue with my autoposter is corrected.

New posts should be coming your way later today.

Thanks for your patience!

Faith or Fear

Kids, your ol' buddy the CS finds himself in a rather difficult situation.

As many of you know I've made a strong point in the past about being very open and supportive   of everyone's right to practice their faith of choice.  Even Scientologists.  L. Ron love you, I may not understand you goofy bastards but I still have to support your right to stay just as clear as your operating thetan asses want to be.  I've stuck by this belief for a very long time and even had to defend it rather vehemently on a few occasions.  Up until recently I don't believe you could have shaken me away from this idea.

The problem I'm dealing with today is in regards to the Islamic faith.  Now there are, as many of you were about to blurt out before I had a chance to complete my sentence, a large population of the folks that practice this religion that love this country, are peaceful people, and are the furthest thing from "terrorists," etc. etc. so on and so forth.  Unfortunately there is a shocking rise  in the number of radical mosques in the world over the last ten years.  The clerics in these mosques are actively teaching a more jihadist and anti-Western rhetoric.  Most recently of note would be the mosque where the two men worshiped that beat that British soldier to death in the middle of the street.  CNN released a report just last week stating that over the last five years or so that particular mosque had become reputed to have moved from more mainstream Islamic teachings to a much more violent bent.  Sadly, this is apparently becoming a world wide phenomenon.

So here's my quandry in as plain a language as I can muster: if the overall tenets of a faith are experiencing a shift worldwide to beliefs that are actively hostile to our American way of life, how long can we continue to provide the same level of protection for that faith on our soil?

Mind you, I'm not advocating revoking the Muslims right to practice their faith.  I find myself disturbed, however, when legislation comes to light that is attempting to prevent the investigation of these more radical mosques in our own country.  I find it to be greatly concerning that no matter what kind of threat they may pose.

Of course I'm also finding myself very highly concerned when our current administration tries to quell the first amendment rights of those who choose to take issue with the Islamic faith as well. Yeah, well, we'll just save that little bit for another post...

Again, I'm not advocating the restriction of anyone's rights to practice their faith.  I'm not being racist, evil, discriminatory, or ignorant in any way.  I am advocating the same transparency for their practices and teachings that all other faiths in this country are subject to, and I would actively encourage the investigation of any activity that poses a threat to our country.

Finally I'd like to make a request to anyone of the Islamic faith that is willing to respond.  Please explain to me why so many in your faith feel it necessary to protect those who truly wish to threaten our country and way of life by preventing legitimate investigation into the matter of terrorist activity.

Sense and Accountability

Hey kids.  As I write this post I'm sitting in a courtroom waiting to deal with a minor criminal matter my employer is pursing against a former customer that chose not to be a reasonable human being.

The parade of humanity rolling through the courtroom is nothing new.  I've had to do this as part of my job for years and unfortunately rent to own cases fall in general duty district court along with every-frickin-thing else the court needs to do that day.  What is still just shocking to me, however, is the staggering percentage of people who refuse to take any form of responsibility or accountability for their actions.

Look let me put this simply.  We all make mistakes, some larger and more complicated than others.  When you screw up, and we all do, do what you need to fix the issue.  Own up to your mistake.  Fix it. Make it right. If life's taught me anything it's that you can't fix something you've fucked up if all you want to do is to blame someone else constantly.  The only true way to fix your mistakes in this life is to claim responsibility, make it right, and move the hell on.

Case in point:  I've watched this judge toss people in jail with a rather stylish aplomb all morning long.  A kid just walked in front of him a few moments ago and said: "Your honor, I please guilty and would like to handle this today.  I made a stupid mistake that won't happen again.  I have money on me to pay all court costs and fines.  It's my fault and I'm sorry."

Wow!

Now you should also know that this was a fairly minor infraction.  I have to give it to the kid though for showing some serious balls and accountability for his actions.  Bravo in my opinion.

Apparently in the judges opinion as well as he dismissed the case without prejudice after thanking the kid for being straight up about his mistakes and taking responsibility.  He didn't even make him pay court costs.

Who knew, huh?

.....Oh yeah and just one more thing.  You should be aware that if you're a guy that picks a fight with your obviously Cross-Fit addicted girlfriend and she stomps a mud hole in your ass to the point that you end up in a neck brace and walking with a cane, appearing in court and whining to the judge may not be the smartest or most manly of moves.  In case you were wondering the very second the courtroom door closed behind you every single alpha male with a badge and gun (and those not armed at that particular moment) in that place was snickering and cracking jokes on your simple ass.  Yeah stud I might settle that one out of court if I were you there hoss.  Just sayin'...

Uh... Oops!

Sorry kids, I was attempting to use a new piece of software this week to broadcast the CS to multiple places and needless to say things didn't go as planned.

Instead of going everywhere it went nowhere.

Just, well, ... shit!

Well, just forgive me for flooding a bunch of posts over the next few hours.

Mail Call (Late of Course): A Quickie Note of Clarification

As I've just restarted the blog in full force I only had one email to respond to for the Friday Mail Call last week.  I gave it the weekend then decided to go ahead and answer the question today and keep any new emails for this week's MC.

The question I received was from a new acquaintance in the Morehead City area that wanted to know when my radio show was on and what I was going to be talking about each week, etc.  

Okay, now would probably be a great time for some clarification.

Yes I am on the local talk radio station once a week (Tuesday mornings at 6:30 a.m.) HOWEVER it is for my day job with Electronics Plus and not, I repeat, not affiliated with my work as an author or with this blog.  The weekly show is called Answers in High Definition and covers topics related to HDTV and the like.  There is, however, an opportunity as I approach the launch date for Hurricane Carolina to do some "local author" press through the station and I'm looking forward to working with them on that front.

As for an actual CS flavored radio show on a weekly basis... 

I honestly had never given that idea any thought or merit.  But hey, if Dennis Miller can pull away from mainstream and go podcast based, it might be worth looking into.  Who knows what the future holds as they say.

Remember you can post your questions and comments on the blog directly or via email at thecynicalsarcatic@gmail.com.

Oh XBox... Why?

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you've probably caught on to the fact that I'm a bit more than a casual gamer.  I've been pretty much locked in to the XBox360 for six years or so now, thanks in no small part to my wife and her family and our slightly unorthodox family outings into the world of Call of Duty.

Needless to say I was pretty excited about the announcement of the new XBox One to be released this fall... until I actually watched the press conference.

So let me make sure I understand this.  My console has to connect to the Internet once every 24 hours or my games lock out? The camera is ALWAYS on?  The console logs everything I watch to make suggestions? I can't trade in my games unless A PUBLISHER SAYS IT'S OKAY? I can't lend a buddy my copy of a game without losing my rights to it?  My beloved GameFly account will be useless unless they "decide" to activate rental licenses?

Kids, it's bad enough we've got a potus in office who wants us all to live in an Orwellian nightmare.  You know, this one:

Why in the fucking hell would I want to voluntarily give some company an always on camera in my living room and then give them permission to chart everything I watch in order to provide me better suggestions and marketing opportunities.  Not that I'm some 14 year old kid with a predilection for anime porn and Skimamax but still... really? We deal with enough of that crap already in our digital world.  But you expect me to pay $499 for the privilege? Is there a polite way to tell someone to take your written notice to go fuck yourself, roll it up neatly, and anally fist themselves with it?

Oh wait, actually there is...

Sony did it when it announced the PS4 would be $100 cheaper, remembered the actual hardcore gamers that got them there to start with instead of trying to monopolize the living room, and would be able to share games just as we do now.  I have never seen so many grown men (well gamers anyway) laugh quite as hard as I've seen people guffaw at this video.

And this ladies and gentlemen is how easily Sony pulled my future console purchase away from Microsoft and flipped the biggest bird I've seen in a very, very long time up toward ol' Redmond, Washington:

I believe the words you're looking for are 

GAME - SET - MATCH bitches!

Test Post for Automatic Facebook Delivery

Well let's see how this works out...

Fighting With Your Characters

Hey kids.   As a way to get this ol' ball rolling once again, I thought I'd share a little more about the process of being a writer and some of my recent experiences while working on my upcoming novel Hurricane Carolina.  You'll notice the title of this post is "Fighting With Your Characters."

The subtitle should be "Or How to Finally Realize You're Just Being a Dumbass."

One of the great parts of being a writer of any degree is that your imagination is the only true limit to the people and places you can create.  The flip side of that is also that if you, at least in my opinion, do your job right and create deep and complex characters you run the very high risk of having them become a little too real on you sometimes and suddenly this fictional person or that group of fictional people you've created have their own story to tell that may not exactly be what you had planned from the outset.

And no, before you call the guys in the padded van with the specially fit strappy-jackets, I've not gone around the bend and started talking to the voices in my head.

Yet.

I'm sure a little more exposition may be in order here before someone tries to up my dosage, possibly involuntarily.  As I've been working on HC for the past six months or so I've developed a very long and complicated narrative with some fairly deeply constructed characters.  I finished the first draft of the book in a barely readable form in December to the tune of around 800 pages.  Yeah, 800 pages.  It's okay, I said 'Holy Shit' too.  The problem I had is that for some reason I just didn't like the story in that form.  It didn't seem 'real' enough to me to be believable. I sort of pride myself on writing characters that get a reaction from my readers, even if it is vehement hate as in the case of Mack from Bounce.  I'll take what I can get.  The problem here though is that I just didn't buy the story, particularly the ending.  It felt forced and crappy and left me ready to throw the whole damn thing in a drawer and pull it out six years from now after another book does well. 

Wait, I did that with By Design.  Damn.

And then the crazy happened.  I was driving down the highway on my way back to my house last Sunday afternoon when an epiphany hit me hard enough to make me pull over to the side of the road.  It wasn't that the story sucked (well not totally anyway).  The problem was that I wasn't telling the story that THOSE PARTICULAR CHARACTERS had to tell.  I know it sounds a little clown shoes but what I've been fighting with so hard all this time is trying to create a relationship for two characters that moved toward a predestined ending when what I should have been doing is "listening" to them to start with and letting them tell me their story the whole time.

Robert E. Howard had it right after all I guess.  If he could let Conan tell him all his tales of high adventure who am I to deny a couple of knuckleheads out of my imagination their say so?

So there you have it aspiring fiction writers.  When you're characters speak, listen.

It might just save you 600 pages of really good trunk novel nonsense.

Welcome to the (Hopefully Improved) Cynical Sarcastic!

Welcome to the unofficial "relaunch" of the Cynical Sarcastic! 

I hope everyone enjoys the new design for the blog and some of the (hopefully) more user-friendly tools I've put in there for your use.

One of the reasons I've decided to do a bit of a relaunch is that there are a number of new visitors to blog since I've relocated to Morehead City and I thought that since there are going to be more newbies floating thru a coat of paint wouldn't be the worst idea I've ever had.  I've also decided to (finally) adopt a regular format of three or four posts during the week and Friday Mail Call on a much more regular basis.

So, whether you're a new visitor to the CS or you've been putting up with my ranting and raving for a few years now, welcome!  There are a couple of things I should cover for you all right out of the gate, particularly for you new people.  First and foremost you should understand that I use this blog to air my opinions of just about anything and everything and you can probably count on any given post having a fair-to-reasonable chance of fluctuating back and forth across that NSFW line.  I am not now nor have I ever been shy with my opinion and this blog is absolutely no exception.  Feel free to comment on anything I post either in the comments section or via email at thecynicalsarcastic@gmail.com.  Please be aware that I usually use Fridays as a day to respond to email, usually with no regard to quantity, quality, or need for discretion.  I also use this blog to talk about my experiences as an author, which has been an interesting journey to say the least.

Well, now that we're all set back up and ready to rock n' roll, let's end the post with a quick giveaway offer.  The first ten people to email me or comment on the website (that provide me with a return email address that is) will receive a free e-book copy of both of my novels, Bounce and By Design.  

Welcome again and I hope to hear from you soon!

I'm Baaaaack!

So, how to start back after taking an entire month off to write, reflect, live, and learn?

Should I break out the oh-dear-God-that's-so-tired "it's been awhile" joke?

Should I wax poetic about all the wonderful things that can happen in my little brain after taking a step back to let the world mull around in my little cranium?

How about some form of grandiose and verbose line of over-stylized bullshit to explain my absence?

Or how about I just get back to doing what I do best:  speaking my mind and saying FUCK a lot!

All kidding aside it really is good to be back at the keyboard.  I've spent the last month hammering away on the new book, spending a bunch of time in the gym, and really trying hard to kill myself.  And yes, I truly meant to call it hammering on the new book because just like trying to forge steel this thing has turned into a gigantic labor and humongous pain in the dick.  As much as I love this story and all of the characters, this thing is beginning to turn into the biggest labor pain riddled activity any creature with testicles has undertaken in quite a while.  Hell I think the guy who's trying to sanitize Obama's sins may have an easier job some days.

For those of you that were keeping score, yes that means that I am going to have to push back the publication date for Hurricane Carolina for a bit from May to probably August just to make sure this puppy sees the light of day in the form it was meant to and not as the hideous CHUD it is in its current state.  Also, right in the middle of scribbling away on that project I have been completely, utterly, and unexpectedly sidetracked by the appearance of a new idea which is starting to slowly but surely take root.  Sometimes you've just got to love being a writer.

Oh yeah, I mentioned trying really hard to kill myself early.  I should probably explain.  Here's the mental image for you: take one jacked up Toyota Titan pickup, add two ramps off the tailgate at an extremely steep angle, and my stupid and in a hurry ass trying to load/ride a riding mower up said ramps for a customer as quickly as possible.  Three feet off the ground and Murphy and the laws of physics strike and the mower with my large ass on board promptly rolls backward and it drops me on my back prior to landing on me.  Yep, 500 pounds of mower decided to whoop my ass.  Two weeks later I'm still a bit sore but on a happy note at least I know that all the damn time in the gym I've been spending at least gave me the power to shove the thing off me.  God did that suck.  I only wish there was a camera somewhere.  The ten minutes of YouTube fame would've been kinda cool, even if it would have been for abject stupidity.

Well, now that I've ripped of the band-aid off and gotten back on the blog, here's to talking to you all again in the next few!

Thanks for still paying attention!

Reloading on Gun Control

I need to concede a couple of points here before I begin this post.

1)  Yes I have touched on gun control previously.  If you're a long time reader of this blog you know how much I hate to recycle topics but if the truth is truly to be told I held back a good deal last time and, to be honest, so much more nonsense has occurred of late that it's just time we revisit it a bit, shall we?

2)  Some of my comments may echo the previous post from Mr. Craft.  It's okay, we happen to agree on the topic.  Granted it's one of maybe fifty times since we were in elementary school but hey, take it and run with it when you can, right?

Okay, on to this issue.

Let's cut right to it.  I CALL BULLSHIT AND EVERY SINGLE FUCKING POLITICIAN THAT PUTS THEIR NAME BESIDE THESE DUMBASS PROPOSALS OUR EXCUSE FOR A PRESIDENT IS TRYING TO RAM DOWN OUR CITIZENS' THROATS SHOULD NOT ONLY BE MORBIDLY ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES BUT DISMISSED FOR INCOMPETENCE!

Kids, there is absolutely nothing a new background check system is going to do for illegal handgun sales.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nada.  All it's going to do is allow our government to know exactly who owns weapons and who doesn't.  Period.  If you are personally naive enough to believe that it's not a goal of our current administration to completely remove or at least critically impinge your second amendment rights then I truly feel for you.

Next, in order for any member of congress to competently make a decision on what kind of guns are a danger to the public and which ones are not, I think it should be mandatory that not only have they actually fired a weapon in their life but that they have military service in their background.  Either that or I want someone to tell me where I can buy a .223 round that will penetrate a M-1 Abrams tank.  No that's okay I'll wait... And yes, in case you missed it, that was an actual illustration used in testimony in congress.  Fucking ignoranamouses (or however you actually spell that redneck madeup superlative for a whole flock of dumbass!)

Do I mind background checks for firearms purchases?  As they stand now no.  Felons have lost that right in this society and the mentally infirm THAT POSE A THREAT DO NOT NEED THEM.  However, and mark my words on this, we are heading down a slope now that eventually the fact that you needed a script for Xanex to make it through your mother's death a decade ago will eventually be used to deny you your Constitutionally protected rights to own a weapon.  

Folks we have a sitting president (I still refuse to capitalize the title while this clown is in office) that actually made the comments in two press conferences that he is unable to enact the legislation he believes is right because he is not "EMPORER" of the United States and that he is "hampered by restraints set on him by our founding fathers!"  Thank the damn Lord in heaven for that one (or Paradise, Valhalla, etc.  Sorry I'm ill and don't have time to cover all the usual religious bases).  

Yes, we do need background checks conducted within reason for firearms sales.  Felons shouldn't get them.  Violently mentally ill people (aka I've been thinking about stabbing 14 people since I was 8...hmm...) don't need them either.  I'm great with that.  You know, quite honestly I'm not the biggest fan of civilians owning fully automatic weapons either even though I've been close enough to a few bear to make me reconsider my stance.  But come on folks.  Are we really stupid enough (or did enough of the stupid among us vote) to allow our heavily armed government to tell us they need to know who is armed and who isn't?  

I've said it before and I mean it.  We live in a crazy world.  I should carry with what I do for a living, but I don't.  I try to talk to people like their adults and that usually stops the b.s. before it jumps off.  I wish I could convince my wife to carry.  She's small and the bad guys usually aren't.  And as far schools go... I WILL GLADLY UP MY NRA DUES TO HELP PAY FOR AN SRO OR TWO IN EVERY SCHOOL IN THIS STATE.  I'd join the PTA just to help donate ammo if necessary.  I still challenge anyone to tell me why it's so wrong to protect our children with guns, even from each other in sad occasional cases, when it's perfectly acceptable for the kids of the rich or politically important to be guarded by brick walls with Marine Corps pedigrees and MP-fucking-5's.  Again, I'm waiting...

And lastly, although mainly it's just so I can vent and don't inadvertently pimp slap the next imbecilic goat rapist that says it in my vicinity, A GUN HAS YET TO KILL ANYONE ON ITS OWN, EVER.  GUNS ARE TOOLS, JUST LIKE A HAMMER.  IF YOU BAN GUNS BECAUSE THEY CAN KILL THEN YOU NEED TO TAKE A HARD LOOK IN YOUR GARAGE BUDDY.  THAT BIG OL' TOOLBOX YOU'VE GOT IN THE CORNER IS JUST LOADED WITH LETHALITY SHOULD YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO IT.

I heard someone the other day, or quite possibly read it on Facebook, proffer the idea that we should all begin to openly carry, in a law abiding manner of course, just to piss off the anti-gun nuts.  The idea has some admitted merit.  If anything it'd be an interesting social experiment to say the least.  Personally, if this nonsense continues, I say we all dress up for Halloween as law abiding, legally and openly carrying handgun owners and parade right down Main Street USA.

(By the way, according to some of this potential legislation, just being willing to participate in an event like that could be used to call my mental faculties into question... see how this works yet kids?)