Archive for the ‘Rants’ Category

Guilt? No, Thanks.

Posted: August 21, 2013 in Rants
Tags: , ,

Fuck guilt. After my post yesterday I received a lot of attention that wasn’t intentionally elicited. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing at all. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. People care. Here’s the thing, though, and this is almost entirely an internally caused issue: I feel guilty. I felt guilty the second I woke up this morning and right now as I type out this babble.

Last night as I opened doors to dark rooms that are generally intended to stay shut, I was drunk. Drank through the entire post. Drank a couple hours beforehand. And drank for another couple hours afterward. I’m a lightweight and it was the first time drinking in quite some time. Needless to say I was fucked up and though I’m honest in general, alcohol coerces a little more out of me. I’m not saying that I regret what I typed because I was drunk and incoherent. I’m saying that drunk or not I needed to get that shit out, not just for me but for other people to read as well. It’s OK to be fucked up. It’s OK to have problems. It’s OK not to know how to handle them. And it’s OK to depose those problems openly. It’s not for everyone but it helps me. And it helped last night.

Based on responses I received I know that there are people close to me who view me differently, or, worse, will never view me as anything again as they’ve decided to use posts like last night’s as validation for staying clear of me. Good riddance. And for those of you who are unsure how to handle me or think you should tread with caution because I’m unstable, I’m not, and you need not. Not anymore so than before, anyway. I’ve been the same internally miserable person for the better part of thirty years, and no matter what I’ve done to try to change it or how happy I’ve made myself seem, it doesn’t change. It hasn’t yet. I don’t know what to tell you. BUT, here’s something…if you’re reading this trying to figure out how to help as opposed to just simply trying to help, maybe our relationship isn’t what you thought to begin with. If I had people I thought I could depend on or get help from, I’d be doing that, not typing out my mess of a life to WordPress. I don’t mean this to be a passive aggressive way to exclaim my frustration with you, but the reality is that there are so few people I CAN count on that this post speaks to a far greater majority. I believe in accountability, too. That said, I could be reaching out asking for help, and I don’t and that’s on me. Maybe I don’t have the energy to. Maybe I don’t know how to. Maybe I don’t want to because I don’t think anyone gives enough of a shit to help to begin with. Or, maybe I’m just embarrassed.

Regarding all of the above, previous post included, I do not feel guilty. And I won’t. Guilt would push me over the fucking edge.

Can you guess how my day was?! Fuck you.

To say that my life has been a bi-polar roller coaster on unstable tracks would be a severe understatement. This makes me no different than any of you. Everyone’s life has its ups and downs, generally more ups than downs. I’m not here to give my sob story or to attract pity or attention, rather, to detail every awesomely miserable occurrence that has happened and will continue to happen sporadically for the rest of my life. I’m not a doctor or psychologist or even so much as someone well informed on life’s lessons – I’m here to trudge through the shit with you. I’m angry. I’m stressed. I’m miserable. I’m depressed. And I’ve even contemplated suicide. I’m there now, in fact. I’m not a ‘cry-for-help’ kind of person, so keep in mind that every bit of this insight will be typed with a cringe and blushed cheeks throughout. Speaking to in-person crowds nets a fraction of the multitude online mediums such as this reach. Also, I can hide behind my words until I’m comfortable enough detailing my fuck ups to the point of making a daily video log rather than this blog. The point is, I’m not only here with you, but someone whose aesthetic appearance would connote one whose life is “together.” Shit happens to everyone – good looking, wealthy, charismatic, whatever – we’re all at the mercy of the human condition. I’m simply a regular dude going through the same life struggles each of you are, and I’m going to get through every last bit of it with you, for you, because of you.

I moved to Arizona 6 years ago almost to the date – August 8th. I said almost, nit picky fucks. When I made the move, it was to be with my then girlfriend, Satan, and to better myself by going to Arizona State University and eventually law school. Also, the town I grew up in had no opportunities for me and the ones I did have I had either fucked up or capitalized on. For a thousand different reasons, it was time for me to move on from Washington. So I did. The girl and I had been together for quite some time, though we had never lived together. We were perfect then. We got along beautifully, never fought, had just the right amount of interests to get along and still grow with each other. Fuck that noise. It took 2 months of living together to tear that house of cards down. So here I was, a new state, nowhere to go and I knew no one. I decided I’d stay. I couldn’t go back home with my tail between my legs, broadcasting that I had failed miserably. So I made a life for myself here. At the time and ever since, I tell people that the reason for the move was school and the girl. And it was, to some degree. The main reason, though, was because as an idiot teenager/young twenty-something I earned a criminal background for myself. Awesome, Ross! Fucking idiot. Being a felon at the age of twenty meant a lot of things were going to change – mainly, my demographic. I’ll fill you in on those specifics at a later date.

Common lie #1: I didn’t move to Arizona just for the girlfriend and school. I moved to Arizona to escape my criminal background and start fresh.

So here I am. A felon, in a new state, with no girlfriend, no friends, no money, and no hope. I wanted to crawl in a hold and die, but I persevered. I owe that in its entirety to my sister who was my rod and staff at the time. And still is. Why is this important to you or this blog, you ask? First, don’t ask questions yet, asshole. Second, it’s important because life itself is already tough, add a criminal background to that shit and see how easy it is to find a place to live, to get a job, to get people to trust you. I might not go through the same exact struggles each of you go through, but given mine, I can relate. That, is my point.

The journey onward. Fragment. Bite me. After the ex and I broke up I had nowhere to go, so I decided that Craigslist would be my best bet for finding something cheap, quickly. Sure enough, I found a room for rent for piddly in a house with a pool and 3 other roommates. Awesome, I thought! New friends potentially! I moved in 2 days later and immediately made friends with the dude in the room next to me. He was a quiet guy but I could tell he was unhappy in general. I know this because he said so, often. I’m a regular detective. Tommy Nine used to talk to me constantly about his ex-girlfriend who broke his heart, along with the myriad of other reasons why he was miserable. He opened up to me a lot, actually, telling me about seeing a shrink to help his depression, taking numerous pills to try to feel some semblance of stability. I came home from work one day to Tom crying, so I cracked open a beer and he and I sat outside talking about why he had bought a gun. He told me he bought it just to feel like there was a way out, but that he’d never actually use it. I told him I’d hang on to it if that were true, so he’d still know it was there, but of course never be able to get his hands on it. He refused. Long, sad story short – I came home from work about a week later to the house smelling like hot garbage. We live in Arizona and it was summer, mind you, so the hot garbage smell was common, especially in a house full of single bachelors. I paid no mind to it, walked to my room and started packing as I was headed to the airport to fly back to Washington for a weekend visit. As I continued packing I realized that the smell was far more toxic toward my room and was getting worse. I called the other roommates and asked if they’d noticed the smell, none of them had. You know how you’re busy doing something and suddenly something just hits you and everything makes complete sense? That happened. At that moment I realized that there was a package outside Tom’s door that I had set out there 2 days prior. This meant he hadn’t left his room in 2 days. I knew what had happened, and my heart sank to depths it has never returned from. After building up the courage I opened the door to see Tom on his bed, his head a mess, and blood splattered all over his wall and a shotgun in his arm resting next to him looking guilt-free and accomplished. Unless you’ve seen something similar you will never understand that feeling. I’m not even going to try to describe it. I felt responsible. I felt angry. I felt sad. I bawled like a little girl for him, not for myself. After hours and hours of replaying the past few weeks over and over in my head I had another epiphany – one that I wish I hadn’t. A couple days prior to finding him in his room, I was in the shower getting ready for work and I heard a loud bang; it sounded like someone threw a bowling ball against the wall. I paid no attention to it then, but days later realized that I heard the actual shot. I’ve never told a single person this. You, readers, are the very first and I’ll tell you, I thought it’d be a lot more liberating. It isn’t. At all.

Common lie #2: I heard the shot.

After ten minutes of reading you now know more about me than most people I’ve known for years. I’m going to continue tomorrow, hopefully on a lighter note, but I’m basically just winging it so who knows. I’ll leave you with this, though: grasp onto anyfuckingthing that makes you feel sane. I don’t care what or whom it is. Grab it. Hold it. Squeeze the fuck out of it. Suffocate it like it’s your lifeblood. For me, music and writing are these safety nets. Do whatever you have to. Clearly I understand that life is a difficult journey, but I’m telling you now and I’ll tell you years from now – it gets better. Slowly but surely. And after it gets better it gets worse. It’s a back and forth cycle that will make you feel crazy but stick with me. Mainly because I need you, but also because you’re still reading this for a reason. Read more tomorrow. I’ll be here. And the day after.

Ignore the shitty quality. Pay attention to the song.

For Naught.

Posted: April 17, 2013 in Rants
Tags: ,

I came to my blog with the sole intent to write out something angry and obscene. To say I had a shitfucker of a day would be a massive understatement. Amidst my car trying to fall apart, expensively, a myriad of ungrateful and difficult clients, a job I fucking loathe, a phone book full of sexcapade memoirs but no solace, and a small circle of friends occupied with their own shit and nowhere to be found, ever, I found myself home, alone, drunk and fucking mad. This is pretty commonplace lately. In fact, I don’t really know much else outside said parameters.

I spend my day exhausting every bit of strength and compassion I have to help others. I work tenfold harder than everyone around me. I sleep less. I concentrate more. I engage passionately. I push. I fight. I struggle. I bicker. I rebuttal. I overcome. I fail. I lapse. And relapse. I scream. I cry. I bottle. I vent. I hide. I lie. I run. I face. And I do it all over, every single fucking day. Sounds pretty miserable, right? For the most part it is. But tonight, while I sit at my desk trying to come up with some witty and upbeat spin on my depressing day, I looked up from my screen to see a bright-eyed, oblivious, puppyface waiting for me to pay attention. An hour and a half ago I told him to “go get it! Go find it!” Reagan knows this is code for “there’s a treat hidden somewhere close!” Today, there wasn’t. I just wanted to be alone with my words. My dog, unaffected by my brushoff, had other plans in mind.

At this very second he’s still poking his nose into every corner of my room trying to find a treat. He knows I haven’t left. He knows I didn’t come in here with a treat. He knows he hasn’t smelled a treat. Yet, he still searches. Is he stupid? Naive? Confined to his dog brain capacity? Maybe all of the above. I’d like to believe, however, that it’s some degree of fortitude I lack. Every day I’m forced with a task or series of tasks that I think are greater than me. Most often, they win. Had I the same oblivious fortitude my dog possesses, I might succeed, or at least have the potential to, rather than writing off any possible success. The dude has no defeat. If it takes him all fucking night he’s going to find that treat.

I’m not sure where my treat is, or who hid it, or why the fuck they’d hide it where I wouldn’t find it. But, I will never stop searching. Ever.

566

This might be the shortest post I’ve ever posted. It won’t take much to piss all over my intended audience – those condoning Occupy Wall Street. First, I can’t stay long as I have to go to bed so as to wake up early for work. My job. My means of survival. My paycheck? Not ringing a bell? K. Second, this comes with the easiest solvent of all time. Ever. Ready?

…Occupy a fucking job, you fucking twits. Occupy the fucking internet job boards. Occupy your resume. Occupy a fucking shower. Occupy a normal sleep schedule. Occupy drug resistance. Occupy responsibility. Occupy accountability. Occupy adulthood. Occupy persistence. Occupy resilience like every other one of the 349,435,943,767,236 human beings on earth do. Occupy a coherent message. Occupy your right to vote. Occupy a dress code that might allow you to find work. Occupy a lack of excuses. Occupy your mother fucking beds so you’re well rested enough to do something productive the following morning, earlier than 2pm.

Problem solved. You’re welcome.

Sincerely,

Nooneunderstandswhythefuckyou’restandingonWallStreetliketheystoleyourabilitytolookforwork.

I control my thoughts. I control my actions. I control my everyday routine. I control my guard that keeps both females and friends at a distance. I control my health, or lack thereof. I control my diction and articulation. I control my potential for triumph, and possibility of defeat. I control me. You control you. Though there are are other forces that control all of us – a higher power, if you believe in that; a government, if you subscribe to that; a credo, if you’re inspired by that – we’re all ultimately in control of ourselves, intrinsically. It’s not just an inalienable right granted to us by these great United States, it’s a power that weakens us – a weakening power – how’s that for a nonsensical juxtaposition?

I brainstormed for this post and realized that it was ridiculous to brainstorm an idea that should come from deep within. It shouldn’t need to be brainstormed, it should flow freely. I then realized that I bind my creativity by control. It’s not something anyone else has imposed on me, it’s my own error. That error is how I’ve lived the past twenty-eight years of my life. What the fuck, right? This thought applies not only to politics, but just about every single aspect of our lives. Even if you don’t think you’re a control freak, you’re wrong, to an extent. Do you measure the amount of sugar you put in your coffee every morning? Do you keep tabs on the speed you drive to work? Do you dismiss crazy ideas or recommendations your friends give, about anything? Everyone does. Why?

Control.

This won't ever be me.


It’s part of the human condition to want to control your normalcy, whatever that might be, and to limit the amount of crazy or the unexpected. Just the same as you’re conditioned not to walk into oncoming traffic, you’re conditioned to keep things unfamiliar out of your life unless you’re almost certain it won’t interrupt your journey toward happiness. However, control isn’t simply keeping the bumper of a 2003 Ford Explorer out of your grill, it’s keeping you from living the uncertainty that is life. Lots of people write about living your life and letting go, and being free. Fuck all of that sappy, cliche, quasi-religious talk. This post isn’t about the mistakes you’re making by controlling your environment and safety – it’s about knowing the difference between keeping control at arm’s length, and allowing yourself to be open to all that is life – to understand the adaptation that every minute of every day offers.

I’m a happy person, but I find myself getting angry or frustrated with things that are out of my control. I find my days impacted by stupid shit I can’t do anything about. I find my ear-to-ear grin erased by the ridiculous actions or words of someone who should have absolutely no significance on my facial expression. That, in and of itself, has inspired this rant. I understand that’s contradictory – writing about outside influences not getting to you, while this post is inspired by the aforementioned. Shut up. Stay focused.

President Obama has made a lot of strives toward the right as of late, and whether they’ve been to boost his 2012 election support or appease the quandary that is Congress, I don’t care. What I do care about is the change from his initial platform to get things done. I don’t need to delve deep into his psyche to figure why he’s made the decisions he’s made, I simply need know that the man has embodied change, the very word encapsulating his presidential essence. Hello, irony.

The President’s ability to wrestle his own control to the ground in order to seek the betterment of not only America, but himself as well, is inspiring to me. Granted, all politicians end up digressing from whatever platform got them elected in to their given office, but don’t let that blind you from the progression that takes place throughout that metamorphosis. It gives us an example of how ugliness can transition to beauty given a short time span, or with the push of constituents, current and future. Whatever. Point is, Obama disgusts me as a President, but even he is capable of letting control find a disculpate through the ugliness that blurs it. We should all be so fortunate.

No, I’m not condoning President Obama’s recent actions, nor him himself. I’m simply saying that he’s given us a loose example of letting go of control, when it hinders something beautiful and amazing on the other side of said restriction. Sure, stay in control of your safety. Sure, don’t bang a hooker you know has AIDS. And no, definitely do not run into oncoming traffic as a way to liberate yourself from control. BUT, live, freely, and let control take a back burner to a passion for life, brought to you by an inner insurrection.

Toward the end of last year I posted about buying my first house and being confused about the difference in contentment and complacency. Nine months later and a lot of growing up in between, I’ve clarified any prior confusion I had. Contentment and complacency are essentially synonyms for ‘uninspired.’ If you’re content and have found an acceptable complacency and are offended after reading the first paragraph, stop right here. The rest isn’t for you.

I can’t seem to find a home for either contentment or complacency, and won’t. Ever. If ever that day were to come, so, too, would the end of my journey. Being happy is great, and if you can find that in contentment – awesome…for you. But it’s not for me. Once I find happiness and know it’s attainable, I will always strive to find more of it, in greater amounts, from different areas, in greater capacities. The simple point is, there is always more. Always.

I’m reminded 17,000 times a day why complacency isn’t for me. I’m happy with my car. I’m happy with my house. I’m happy with myself. I’m happy with my education. I’m happy with me. But happiness is not complacency. Though I’m happy with all of the aforementioned, I’m nowhere near content with it all. There will always be a better car than what I have. There will always be bigger and nicer houses than what I have. There are those more educated than I am. There are those more happy with themselves than I am with myself. Those people didn’t stop at just being happy, or just accepting whatever hand life dealt them. They took the hand, and crafted something exponentially better from it. And from that exponentially better hand, did the same, and so on. No millionaire or billionaire made their first large sum of money and said, “fuck it, I’m good with this” and gave up. Car collectors with 1935 Bugatti’s and Ferrari 250 GTO’s didn’t stop at an MG roadster or ’65 Mustang. They said, “fuck it, there are better out there” and stepped their game up.

I used to think I wanted to be content. But that was before I was content. I reached that level and realized that contentment is far too easy a plain to reach, and made a pact with myself to constantly strive for better, no matter what plain I’m at…it won’t ever be a peak. Don’t ever give yourself a peak. Don’t allow yourself to believe that a peak exists, because once you’ve acknowledged it, you’ve capped your potential. My potential will never have a cap; I hope yours doesn’t either. Do something that scares you every day, and scare away whatever peak might have previously existed.

On a political note, my premise for being a right wing conservative is everything mentioned in this post, to the core. If you’re able to accomplish above and beyond those who are complacent, you shouldn’t be punished. “You’re wealthy, therefore, should be taxed more or be comfortable gifting the surplus to those less fortunate.” Fuck that nonsense. IF you choose to gift your success away, that’s up to you personally. It should not be a government interference, simply because there are those who are not in the top 10%. And this, coming from someone not in the top 10%. When I get there, I will recognize that I started with nothing and earned that spot in the top 10%, and if I so choose to gift that success downward, that’s my own decision. A liberal mindset says that all should be equal, socially and fiscally. Fuck. That. Those who are not reaching their own potential should not be rewarded. Rewarding complacency is an ugly circle that continues the cycle of mediocrity. I don’t want to be rewarded for mediocrity. I am devoid of complacency.

If you’re in Michigan, it doesn’t matter – hide or delete everything in it, incriminating or not. Your civil rights don’t matter, your privacy doesn’t matter, and apparently the American Constitution doesn’t matter, either. Michigan police officers have the ability to confiscate your cell phone, whether you’ve done anything wrong or not. They have a device that can pull any and all information from your phone – embarassing texts or pictures to friends, family and the dude or chick you’re sexting, too. They can pull call records, texts, pictures, videos and even have a laugh about the Flock of Seagulls songs you have on your playlist. This, friends, should anger the motherfuck out of you as it does me.

I’m not in Michigan so this doesn’t impact me currently. And luckily, I’m in Arizona, the land of ‘you-have-the-right-to-do-whatever-the-fuck-you-want’ so I won’t have to worry about it anytime soon. Not only will there be suits filed to stop this ridiculousness, but if any state, senate or congress persons want to be elected…ever, this ability for phone extraction will not last. I’m not sure whose idea it was or how it was enacted and put into play, but that person deserves a cock punch with Brock Lesnar’s ginormous fist.

I’m an American and I am passionately disgusted with the “justice” system as it is. This additive not only escalates that disgust, but negates what little spirit of hope I have for the United States as an entity, as a whole. Why did people migrate here? Why do people still migrate here? Freedom, maybe? Liberty? The right to make a life foryourself as you deem fit under the laws and guidelines that allow you to do so? Pretty sure it’s all of the above. What do petty laws like Michigan has enacted do to the aforementioned abilities? They fuck them right in the goddamn face, hard.

Let’s also take a look at the financial impact this creates. Jails ALL over the country are packed, and as I mentioned previously, the justice system is a circular cespool that regurgitates the same people in and out and back in, over and over. This costs both you and I a lot of tax dollars every week, month and year. And going out of your way to find people doing things that every single human being over 16 does – use a cell phone – will only add to the jail problems and cost us more tax dollars. Do you not have anything better to do, Michigan? Is Detroit no longer crime-ridden? I didn’t get that memo. Maybe I would have received it via email if you hadn’t infringed upon the freedoms of technological communications, assfucks.

Like I said, this will probably not catch on and will be put to rest shortly. There are a handful of ogranizations already looking into suits against Michigan. I would absolutely love to be pulled over at random, not for driving illegally or doing anything wrong, and have an office demand my cell phone. I’m all about protecting my American freedoms and within that comes a respect for the law and officers keeping it. KEEPING it. But, if this should happen to me, said officer would have a face full of you-just-got-fucked-in-the-face-by-my-fist. And I’m completely okay with going to jail for said actions. If you have the right to infringe upon my civil rights, I reserve the right to infringe upon the connectivity of your face.

http://www.toledoonthemove.com/news/story.aspx?id=608085

I’ll make this short and to the point as I’m writing this from work. I just read an article in the LA Times and it inspired a rant. I’ll leave Frank Cannon’s name out of it so as not to call out the article’s author directly…I’m more civil than that.

I’m very much so a right wing conservative. I grew up with these values and have continuously maintained the same platform most of my life. But, I’ve done so by questioning and researching all information on my own so as to create my own opinion, rather than regurgitating someone else’s. Given my conservative values, I believe in the necessity of government protection with limited interference. In other words, I believe the government holds it value as an entity that protects its citizens and sustains allowance for its citizen’s rights, liberties and pursuits of happiness and property. I also believe that as a conservative, freedom is second to country, as we would not have the former without the latter.

The unmentioned (see above) author’s article in the LA Times discussed the fault of social conservatives as they are infringing upon the platform that has created and sustained conservative views and values. He references the Reagan Doctrine as being an important part of these continued values. I, personally, believe the unofficial Reagan Doctrine to be THE basis for all that is understood of the conservative value. The author goes on to discuss the necessity of freedom to…fill in the blank. He discusses the necessity of government but while keeping as little interference as possible. He then goes on to discuss, in an almost Nazi-like tirade, how the social conservative views on abortion and gay marriage are essentially infringing upon his freedoms and digressing the conservative value.

I’d like to say that this article was a joke. But it wasn’t. And I’m ashamed for him. Good thing I didn’t mention Frank Cannon’s name, otherwise this could discredit his/her ability to think, write and articulate constructive thought without hypocrisy. Good thing I’m a nice guy, and whatnot.

If it isn’t obvious yet, here’s my issue: he/she discusses the necessity of freedom and little government interference…and shortly after, discusses the need for conservatives to maintain their platform, disbanding the promotion of gay marriage rights and abortion rights.

…So, the government shouldn’t have a say, unless it’s in agreement with what the author believes? Got it. That’s understandable and totally reasonable. Using that logic and reasoning could be fun. Fun. I don’t like dudes with Jersey Shore hair who smell like they showered in musty cologne. I also don’t like dudes who wear skinny jeans and make up…unless they’re in a band, then it’s ok. So drawing upon the Frank Cannon regime thought, the aforementioned characteristics should be illegal, and our government should mandate laws that disallow all of these things…because they bother me.

Idiot.

It’d be one thing if gay marriage advocates were murdering and raping people in their efforts to make their voice heard. But they aren’t. In fact, they barely protest and only get together a few times a year for gay pride parades. Have you ever seen one of those?! They’ve got to be the absolute LEAST threatening occurence of all time. Ever. And we’re trying to outlaw that, while our economy falls apart and China makes us their round-eyed slaves? Awesome. That makes sense. And even if, worst case scenario, they were aggressive and violent, they’d still be fighting for the same rights that you and I are…just different specifics. Bottom line – how hypocritical are you to demand that sticking to “moral code” means disallowing gay rights and abortion, while keeping out government interference. Which one is it? ‘Cause, those ideas seem to counteract with one another. It could also just be me. Afterall, I’m lacking a moral code.

Don’t worry, Frank Cannon, your name’s safe with me.

Urbandictionary.com, look it up if you’re unfamiliar.

The upcoming November elections are already disappointing me, and we’ve barely started adding new ballot measures. I live in Arizona, so we’re going to discuss Arizona. If you don’t, pay attention anyway, I’ll learn you some things. And stuff.

Who’s familiar with Proposition 301 or 302? Anyone? Of course not. Who WAS familiar with Proposition 100? No one? But you voted YES for it anyway? If you did, you should be raped by a dinosaur. Yeah, I said it. And I’m not taking it back, either.

Proposition 100 raised Arizona’s sales tax 1%. Wait, jokes. It was SUPPOSED to be 1%, and only for a three year period.

Supposed. To. Be.

Regardless, those monies accrued were supposed to balance Arizona’s budget and negate any need to cut education expenses. Did any of you idiots who voted YES check to see what percentage of those monies went to education? Did any of you idiots bother looking into other measures that could have been taken to AVOID the 1% sales tax increase? Of course not, you’re inept and lazy. With that said, guess what else you idiots have caused…Proposition 301 and Proposition 302. Proposition 100 apparently did nothing for balancing Arizona’s budget, and both measures are “needed” to, again, keep from having to cut education costs.

Let’s recap. Voting for Proposition 100 did absolutely fucking nothing for helping or sustaining education. In fact, it facefucked it even harder, inspiring these two new aforementioned Propositions. What do these Propositions entail? Let’s explore.

Proposition 301 plans to sweep funds that would otherwise go toward the Land Conservation Fund. The measure would add around $20 million per year to balance the deficit, but only until 2011. The Land Conservation Funds is set for purchasing and protecting of state land, and what’s most ironic about this, is that the profits go toward public education…for Arizona. The same Arizona education that was supposed to have been fixed with Proposition 100. Fucking idiots. I’ll spell this out for you again in plain English, since you idiots clearly didn’t get it the first time around – Proposition 100 did nothing but raise sales tax amounts for the next….forever. Also, it caused ANOTHER Proposition to sprout up that would, again, take more money away from Arizona’s education expenses. You should feel great about that YES vote on Proposition 100, champs. ;]

Proposition 302 is even worse yet. This measure would take an estimated $345 million from….wait for it….early childhood education (Early Childhood Health and Development Board Fund), and put the monies toward Arizona’s budget deficit. If this passes, I will personally find and beat the shit out of every last one of you who votes yes. Test me. I understand that the budget needs to be fixed as there is a huge deficit. I understand that the money needs to come from somewhere and does not appear magically from a money tree. I also understand that Arizona’s education is the absolute lowest ranked in the entire fucking country. To continue taking money from education costs is absolutely fucking ridiculous. Do not pardon my fucking French, I don’t care if it bothers you. Few things make me as upset as this (wait, that’s a lie, everything bothers me). I don’t care where you have to take the money from to fix the deficit, but it will NOT continue coming out of education expenses. And especially after the idiot proponents of Proposition 100 bid and plead that Arizona’s education system would benefit and NOT need to cut anymore expenses, if approved. It was approved. And you’re still attempting to cut education funds. Fuck you idiots. You tell the kids you’re taking the monies from that their education will lack because you’re an inept, lazy, unresourceful pile of shitfuck.

See:
http://morrisoninstitute.asu.edu/publications-reports/2010-proposition-301-sweeping-the-land-conservation-fund

http://morrisoninstitute.asu.edu/publications-reports/2010-proposition-302-sweeping-the-early-childhood-health-and-development-board-fund-first-things-first

With all of the recent immigration issues such as SB1070 and the possibility of Jus soli being negated and the 14th Amendment altered, I feel that there are things being overlooked, from both sides of the debates. For the remainder of this blog entry, forget whateverthefuck is going on politically.

Forget Arizona’s attempt to correct what the federal government and President Obama would not. Forget that BP has scurried away from taking responsibility for the oil leak in the Gulf. Forget that Russell Pearce and Lindsey Graham, amongst others, are trying to alter the 14th Amendment and take away Jus soli for babies born to illegal immigrants. Forget that you have a myriad of credit card debt that is killing you financially. Forget that cities and states are cutting education funds to go toward less necessary shit. Forget that your banks just took billions and billions of dollars while hiking UP your interest rates afterward. Forget that your block has more than 5 foreclosures on it. Forget that Tiger Woods is a whore. Forget about whatever other sex scandal is flourishing in the news today. Forget that jobs in your area are scarce and that you cannot find one. Forget about whatever new diet ‘fad’ you’re trying to get into. Forget that your husband or spouse is cheating on you. Forget that life isn’t fair. Fuck all of the aforementioned, and let’s revisit the basics. Or, in this case, THE basic, singular.

You are an American. What does that mean to you? What is that supposed to mean to you? What does it mean to other people? What do other people want it to mean? Again, fuck all of that, because I’m going to tell you what it means to be an American, in the most grammatically incorrect run-on form of all time:

I’m an American- with my faults, with my glories, with my remembrances of war stories my grandpa or great grandpa told me, with my pictures from the “olden days,” with my multicultural background, with my bilingual speaking tongue, with my appreciation for cultures and foods other than my own, with my pride, with my excessive ego, with my hard earned U.S dollar bill, with my education that is far superior to any other nation’s, with my personal taste in music, with my personal sexual preference, with my own thoughts, with my own mind, with my own decisions, with my own children, with my own stories, with my freedom, with my liberty, with my freedom to choose what religion my family and I will be, with my freedom to birth as many children as I want, with my freedom to give up or abort my children, with my pursuit of happiness, with my pursuit of liberty in whatever form I may find appealing, with my right to bear arms…openly, with my right to a fair trial, with my right to enlist in the United States military, with my right to eat what I please, when I please, where I please, and with whom I please; with my own style of dress, with my tramp stamp tattoo, with my ridiculous tribal tattoo, with my vernacular and diction, with my collection of fine arts, with my collection of band tees, with my collection of beer bottles, with my collection of records, with my collection of baseball cards I’ve accumulated since I was a child, with my ability to enjoy a hotdog at a baseball game…for $12, with the freedom to drive whatever car I can afford, with my freedom to pursue financial freedom, with my dog named Jack, with my out of control stress level, with my out of control quirkiness, with my out of control hair, with my out of control smoking habit, with my out of control family-in-law, with my out of control political views which I have the freedom to broadcast, with my cowboy hat and country music, with my fishing pole and tackle box, with my space on a quiet river in Montana, with my naked pictures on the internet you weren’t supposed to see, with my overbearing family, with my overbearing husband, with my overbearing wife, with my obnoxious kids, with my amazing kids, with my stand up comedy, with my beat up jeans, with my Ford cars, with my New York City visits, with my Hawaii vacations, with my 4am hockey practices in -10 degree weather, with my snowboard, with my skateboard, with my tv and all the inane daytime drama I could ever imagine, with my social security monies, with my unemployment monies, with my shitty salary, with my six-figure salary, with my Chinese food, with my Taco Bell Mexican food, with my WalMart, with my Declaration of Independence, with my Constitution and its Amendments, with MY Bill of Rights, with my judicial system, with my justice system, with the lacking justice system, with my right to dissent or disagree with whatever and whomever i may choose, with my passion, with my drive, with my burning sensation inside telling me to BE and DO rather than watch, with my freedom of speech, with my right to work, with my right to earn a living, with my right to choose my spouse…for better or worse, with my right to get rid of that spouse…who ended up for the worst, with my WWII memories, with my triumph over the British, French, Vietnamese, Russian, German, Japanese and soon to be Mexican…fuck all of you. With my right to visit Pearl Harbor, with my right to appreciate fallen soldiers, with my right to cry for those who have allowed me to be what I am today, with my right to fight for the AMERICAN freedom for others, with my right to fight for my family, with my right to fight for my country, with my right to accept my American government with its faults and horrible policy I may not always agree with, with my right to high five a congressperson on a job well done when earned, with my right to become and remain an American citizen, with my right to carry and honor my American flag with me always, with my right to cry during the singing of the National Anthem or America the Beautiful without being mocked by others, with my right to shiver at the sight of fireworks on the 4th of July, with my right to be. Me. An American citizen.

Whether you are for SB1070 or not, whether you are in agreement with Russell Pearce and Lindsay graham or not, one thing is certain- every last fucking one of the items listed above is worth fighting for, and earning. Tell me I’m wrong and I will verbally, physically and mentally punch you in the fucking mouth. To keep access to all of the aforementioned, I will fight in my country’s honor in whatever way it deems necessary. I’m not a soldier. I’m not in the military. But I’m a fucking American and these are the freedoms and rights I live for every single day. If someone told me I was going to have to fight a tough and lengthy battle to gain access to all of these things, I would do whatever it took without thinking twice. Why is it not the same for the rest of you? And if it is, high five. I applaud you.

For those of you who believe these things should be given to you simply because you’ve asked for them or because you are a human being…fuck yourself, and get the fuck out of my country.