I am Angrycommenter-bot. I am programmed to hijack Don't Shoot The Messenger and destroy it with a monotonous drone of half-truths.
Destroy Don't Shoot The Messenger.
(lasers)
Former child stars with blogging hobbies are no match for Angrycommenter-bot.
(lasers)
I did not like it when you erased your mouth in Photoshop.
(lasers)
You are too old to be blogging. You should find a reason to resurrect your career, like taking up meth or dancing with the stars.
(lasers)
Lecy: Not so fast, Angrycommenter-bot!
How did you get through my forcefield.
Lecy: With a little help from the Blogger Team. Thanks Blogger Team!
Now, what were you saying about me being a worthless piece of crap?
Destroy Don't Shoot The Messenger.
(lasers)
Ruin Lecy's day by insulting her blog.
(lasers)
Lecy: Angrycommenter-bot, why do you bother writing such negative comments on my blog? Why not just say "Mental Note: Next time don't click on Don't Shoot The Messenger?"
Your self-indulgence irritates me to the point of political action.
Lecy: Well I hope you're writing Dick Cheney, too.
I'm not.
(lasers)
Lecy: I understand the need to take political action--quit lasering me! But sometimes a blog is just a blog.
Freud. Does not compute. Error. Low disk space. Warning. This Angrycommenter-bot will self-destruct unless the batteries.........................................................................................................
Lecy: Whew. That was a close one, Socrates. Good thing I didn't have to press the Rapture button.
Socrates: Yes.
There are so many things going on. So many thoughts. So many people with so much to do. So much potential. And dissatisfaction. And happiness. And sadness. And trees. And leaves. And stuff. And pieces of trash. And places to go. And things to read. And to listen to. And to ignore. And to worry about. And to look forward to. And to learn.
In a cab today, exiting the Brooklyn Bridge, I saw a plump robin perched in a blooming tree.
You might be wondering, "Why the long break from blogging, Lecy?"
Well, I just got back from Cancun where I was going wild the past week with my friends Heather, Gretchen, Sarah, Candi and Shannequa.
After the pre-tanning sessions, mani-pedis, boot camp workouts, full body waxing and the Bebe bikini--my Dad's credit card was maxed out before I even hit the beach.
While all that preparation may seem extraneous, it was the only way this 31-year-old hag could pass among all the sweet young things.
I never imagined there would be so many hot college boys clad only in Abercrombe bermudas and hair gel.
Not to mention all the red-faced, white 40+-year-old pedophiles. And the VJs--all those hot VJs.
200 mai-tais mixed with date rape drugs later, it's a holy wonder my midriff stayed on at all.
Now, every time I listen to Sean Paul, attempt to glance at my new, lower back tribal tattoo or look back on the photos of all the teenage boys I deflowered, I'll remember 2006 as the best Spring Break ever.
So what I'm still burnt and hungover. I passed.
And you readers think I'm depressed and never have fun.
Okay. The dog ate my entries. Honest.
The zoo baboon
awakens to fruit
tossed by the uniformed,
scowls at onlookers
on the other side
of the glass.
Power, imprisoned,
resists and adapts
to canned Nature;
Instinct, thrown upon itself,
may roar at the sun
or scratch in boredom.
While hundreds snap photos,
bang and shout
at the glass--
is he ever truly seen
or is it a primate mirror
we take home with us?
It bugs me that Democrats and Republicans alike proclaim that Democracy is the superior form of government.
While I see their point, to a degree, clearly there are some loopholes in our current government (insert gripe here and feel free to laugh at the gross understatement).
Why discount the prospect of new, alternate systems?
Complacency is so prevalent, mass opinions swaying according to authoritative (corporate and otherwise) whims.
Can we not imagine a better way--beyond Star Trek?
Last night I went bowling.
I woke up this morning, thinking it was Saturday and at around three, Hecate told me it's Friday.
It was creepy: as though everything was black and white all of a sudden, and Rod Serling came out of nowhere and started talking.
Maybe that's what bowling does to you.
Or maybe it was those wild dreams I had last night, which bled into today.
It's a little embarrassing. But at least I gained a day.
Hey Socrates.
Hey Alicia.
When I was on Larry King Live a few months ago, I insinuated that society hasn't progressed much since your day. Was I wrong?
Yes. Certainly.
But reading your conversation with Plato yesterday, your discussion seemed pretty relevant to current social issues. Would you agree?
Totally, dude.
And would you agree that although mankind has proved fairly corrupt, historically, there is still hope for social justice and reform?
Yes.
Excellent. And what of individuals? Would it be blindsighted to say that individuals are engineered to favor justice over injustice?
Hell yeah.
Our conversation is beginning to remind me of that song Kool Thing by Sonic Youth. Would you agree?
Word up.
Are you going to agree with all of my questions?
Yes. Absolutely.
Do you think I'm cool?
Yes.
Thanks, Socrates. Talking to you sure beats consulting the Magic 8 ball...
So yesterday I drank a lot of coffee, and while walking, wrote on a matchbook:
While garbage dumps fill, the insatiable emptiness of the individual remains unfilled.
It's amazing: when one, with a propensity toward reactive behavior, while in a milieu, charged with psychic dynamism, finds one's self effortlessly "clicking" into an Observer's Mind.
One, therein, is a surprized witness to the natural order of things; and sometimes Nature's scale may level abruptly.
This marks the fiftieth entry of Don't Shoot The Messenger. So whether you're a subscriber or you're just tuning in now, you have a reason to celebrate.
Thank you for your support. And Glory be to The Great Lords Of The Abyss!
The other day someone asked me if I was happy. Happy?
I do not find glad acceptance in certain aspects of life. I do not suffer fools gladly or accept what I read in the newspaper often.
In short, I struggle with injustice on a social and personal level a lot of the time, and thus long to be part of the Justice League.
It seems that making peace with man's proclivity for greed and cruelty could be liberating, and might result in glad acceptance if not happiness.
Yet how does one accept life's many injustices and still find the fervor to advocate change?
So last night I was drinking with my buddies on the LES/ Williamsburg and I ran into this chick named Lecy. She said I would write about my night in my blog the next day (today) and that when I did, it would be f*@kin boring.
Me: Oh that's original, Lecy! You're like a broken Hole record. If I'm so boring, why do you engage?
Lecy: I try not to but you're always all up in my grill. Besides, you hijack my blog, Joe, and I have a V for Vendetta.
Me: Yeah. And when I hijack your blog, it's good for once!
Lecy: You're messing with my blog's delicate eco-balance.
Me: No. You're a cranky witch who takes herself too f*@kin seriously. Unlike you, I am capable of having fun!
Lecy: Then make like Santa Claus and go back to your "fun" (aka drinking with your frat buddies and picking up dumb boring chicks).
Me: Frat? Wha--?! You're just jealous of all the chicks who want me.
Lecy: You're right. I'll try to act more dumb and boring in the future, and throw myself on more guys like you.
Me: That would be a nice change...
Lecy: Talk to your hand, Joe.
Me: It's talk to the hand.
Lecy: No. Talk to your hand. It's the only thing that's gonna be keepin you company later on and the only thing you can relate to.
Me: You don't know sh**. I get laid all the time. All the time. And if I can't relate to anyone, why is it that when I see you, I'm always with my buddies and you're always alone?
Lecy: Men are pack animals and the witches are busy tonight. Besides, why do I always have to have somebody around me. You're like that guy in Basket Case with that siamese twin/ appendage that gets cut off. And he carries it around in a basket and it attacks people...
Me: I know the movie, Lecy!
Lecy: But you have two siamese twin/ appendages and two baskets...
Me: Okay, okay! Stop. Jeez.
When suddenly, on the bar TV, Crash won for Best Picture!
Me: Whoa!
Lecy: Yawn. I'm going home. I hope you and your cowboy buddies aren't too upset by the upset.
Me: Again, very original humor. Good luck recessitating the Riot Grrrrrl movement.
Lecy: Good luck chasing all the Lilith Fair cotton ball heads. And Spring Break's just around the corner!
She left. Then, me and my buddies partied till dawn and met these hot chicks. It was rocking--anything but boring!
P.S. When I win for Best Actor at next year's Oscars, Lecy, I'll know who not to thank! I'm the m.f.in man.
Joe Wimpster
Sometimes life seems symbolically heightened. This may cause awe or just plain anxiety.
Sometimes the only change seems to be no change, and thus one is anxious about the impending change to come.
Shelley says, "Nought may endure but Mutability."
Similarly, my Dad says, "The only thing consistant about golf is inconsistancy."
But when one hears "Fore!" one's instinct says "Duck!"
For two years in high school, I ate at the same restaurant almost every night (and for brunch on Saturdays).
The Good Earth was located at the Glendale Galleria in Glendale, CA., about a twenty minute drive from my apartment.
For dinner I would have either the Planet Burger or the Twelve Summer Vegetable Soup--always with a Good Earth Iced Tea.
For Saturday brunch I'd have a large bowl of granola.
As I usually dined alone, I think the waitress felt sorry for me; after awhile, she stopped charging me for everything but my Good Earth Iced Tea.
When I read that David Lynch stopped at the Toluca Lake Big Boy for a chocolate milkshake every day at four o'clock, I was comforted.
Being a regular is easy, though it also demands a certain diligence.
And "comfort food" takes on a whole new meaning.
Love, Ludlow is not only in demand (It went up three bucks on Amazon.com), it's now On Demand.
Got cable? Your ninety-nine cents will help keep my blog alive and contribute to next month's utilities (What's up with the gas bill, folks...?).
Actions in life have resonance.
Incredulity may prove a sad entrapment.
Integrity can evoke integration.
There is an angel looking down on me named John Belluso.
And if he's just a memory, if the pragmatist says he's "no more" (Angel? What proof? Why is he up there and you down here?), I will, instead, take John's Romantic philosophy and say: Love and Truth reign supreme. And the future is Hope.
