None. Nothing. Nothingness.

Blank as fuck…

Fuck.

So it wasn’t until just recently (this year in fact) that I finally jumped on the cellular telephone bandwagon. I had been reticent for a long time to join the cellular fold for a multitude of reasons. I have always felt that if I need to make or receive a phone call I will make sure I am by a phone. I value my time alone highly and I don’t need any of my douche bag friends interrupting a nice relaxing drive on the freeway. No offense to my douche bag friends of course. Above all I absolutely hate being “that guy”. You know the one I’m talking about. The guy in the gas station, super market, dildo supply warehouse, liquor store, et all who is SO damn important, whose time is SO valuable that he cant hang up the phone for two minutes so he can pay for his fourteen inch black rubber phallus. However the one piece of cell phone related culture that drives me up a wall faster than any other is the dreaded fucking headset. It makes me want to knock out every one of your blue teeth with a fucking hammer. It takes a very special kind of self absorbed vapid asshole to walk around with one of those things strapped to your head. If you hold your finger up to me one more time with the intent to inform me that I must wait a moment so that I may blessed with your attention I will break the fucker off and choke you with it. As truly horrifying and nauseating as it can be I choose to walk the earth fully immersed in the world around me. I suggest you try doing the same.

I have come to realize that a precious few things actually inspire and spur me to write. Rain, rage and women. I had two out of three today so I sat down at the ole typin’ machine to do some damage. You see the problem is I can’t just sit down and think, “What really pisses me off?” and let it flow. The blind and burning rage needs to be fresh and organic. It just so happens I was served some free range, cage free, farm fresh rage today while I was at work.

            She came in first. One of the few things that actually makes me like my job… No not a woman. I work at a comic book store. women don’t go to comic book stores, unless they are there because of a guy. Kids are one of the few things that actually make this job enjoyable and I’m not talking about teenagers. Teenagers are horrible loud and mindless automatons who bug the shit out of me. And I’m not talking about babies either. Babies are disgusting, parasitic, eating, shitting, screaming machines. However when it comes down to it I don’t like all kids either. I like the shy ones, the quiet ones who are glad to be there and want to see something different, something that might change their lives, even if they don’t know it. Kids that remind me of a young Jaz Brown make me want to stop and share everything cool that I know and tell them it’s not going to suck forever… Just most of the time. This girl fit the bill. Her father however was blind heartless cock who had know idea that he was raising a little girl who would do anything to get the attention of the opposite sex just because he couldn’t be bothered to get off the fucking phone and act like she was worth it. He was a loud talking dick with a headset jammed in his ear.

            “Yeah well if they don’t get it together down there in administration some heads are going to roll… yeah well, that’s what I told her… Well I cant wait to lay off that little Russian fuck in the mail room.”

            They were in the store for about a half and hour and he was on the phone the whole time. Something would strike the young girl, excite her, light the flame under her heart and he just couldn’t be bothered. It made me want to tell her that it was going to be ok, that she could come live at the store. I did not do that however. What I did do was walk over and talk to her because her father was obviously talking to someone FAR more important about things that just absolutely COULD NOT WAIT. It took her a few moments but soon enough we were talking about what kind of art she liked, what sort of covers looked interesting and what a horrible douche her father was… Well maybe not that last part.

            I suppose the moral here is: HANG UP THE FUCKING PHONE and show some interest in your daughters life otherwise Ill be seeing her in “Tight Young Virgins 12” in ten years.

From the lofty position atop my soapbox I stand before you today to declare a new mandate. If you don’t know how to use an ATM card you are not allowed to have one. ATM cards piss me off all on their own. If you have plans to make a purchase you should consider this; get some fucking money. However, the only thing that makes ATM cards worse is when they are wielded by the elderly. If  grandma needs to have the cashier enter her PIN number for her then give her a hearty bitch slap and send her home to watch her stories or tend to the kitties.

Which brings me to the greater issue… Old people. We should kill them. If you don’t have any means to contribute to the community then you are a drain. More pressing than that is the fact that I have shit to do so you and your ridiculous little cart need to get the fuck out of my way. Plenty of other cultures who are allegedly less advanced than we have the common sense to load the old and useless onto a fucking ice flow and send them off to sea. So why is it that we insist on keeping ours around to get in the way? We certainly don’t have one of those societies where the elderly are given an opportunity to contribute by keeping oral history alive or to impart wisdom. At this point the bulk of our elderly are around simply to burn up my social security and generally slow things down. Whether they are standing at the check stand staring glassy eyed at the ATM machine or cruising at 45 miles an hour in a 70 the solution is always the same… Gas em.

I know what you’re thinking…

“But Jaz, what if it was your own father who had nothing to offer society?”

Great question.

I would sit down with him and we would decide upon his preferred method. Then we would go out in the back yard and handle it… And I don’t doubt that he would thank me for it.

The heart and spirit of America has been co-opted re-packaged and re-wired. Some would have you believe that the spirit of America lives within the military industrial complex. Some insist that it is fostered amidst the political system. Some truly misguided folk maintain the marrow of America is alive and well in the form of organized sport. All these people are fools. They have bought the vicious horrible lie that propagates itself and nothing more. The truth of matter is that what little spirit is left in this malign country of ours has been pushed to the margins of society and in some cases killed, stamped out or pushed to suicide. However, the margins are precisely where America’s heart has always been and always should be. Down to its very quintessence America is a land of tragic rejects. We should take pride in our inability to fit in any where. Unfortunately, the bulk of American society has joined in the race to homogenous safety. Where are our true American heroes? Where are our horrible forsaken gods? Men and woman who understand and embody the inherent truth of what it means to be an American. To kick the king in the nuts, declaring whatever arborous behavior we should desire to take part in is our inalienable right.  To be American is not defined by what you buy, rather what you refuse to buy… The bullshit.

Paris Hilton is not an American.

 Paris Hilton is a vapid whore with a bottomless bank account.

George Bush is not an American.

George Bush is a mindless frat house narcissist with death wish and a god complex.

Barry Bonds is not an American.

Barry Bonds is an overpaid under worked science experiment.

This is not my America. It never has been. That America is sick and not in the magical glorious way that it ought to be.  

From an early age I was able to see America for what it was and what it should and could be. Brian Wilson is a true American. Paranoid and prophetic. As was Phillip K Dick and Hunter Thompson. That’s the kind of sick I can get behind. These men were mad and self destructive. It’s the “self” part that makes them true Americans. As an American it is you’re right to destroy yourself in any way you see fit.

Destroy for yourself and create for your community. Not the other way around.

This is not good time viewing.

Zeitgeist Movie

America: Freedom to Fascism

Le’ sigh