May 29, 2008

Trust your instincts motherfucker


What is financial independence?

It’s making more money than you can spend.

I’m working on it.

Questions occurring late at night drinking…

GREG: Why are YOU so emotionally detached? Hell, I know why I am- why the hell are you? Life;s been good. No women have systematically destroyed you, like they have me.

Bubba: Why in the hell do I NOT want revenge this time? I used to be such a vengeful bastard. I ALWAYS had to win in the end. Why don’t I care this time? Cuz I know he’s already lost in the long run? Because – in this instance, pretending to lose AND still care makes me the psychological winner? My mind has such subtle turns any more, I do things before I know I am doing them. The only time I fuck things up IS WHEN MY Conscious actions get in the way of my subconscious ones.

Scary,. Eh?

Trust your instincts, motherfucker. Your level of experience in life far surpasses your ability to react. Quit kneejerking and let your inner self take over. Its far less conflicted than your outerself, that’s for fucking sure.

Wow. I have reached a new plateau of existence. Relegating my conscious thought to a subordinate role. Hmmm: Outer self says to “Inner” Self, reaching for another beer- Hope that works out for you. I’ll be here. Getting fucked up as usual.

Damn. I feel like a red-stater, just dedicating my life to God and Dubya Dubya 3. It’s a helluva release, letting someone else do the thinking. Ah, sweet Dependence, enfold me in your parental embrace. Let me latch on to that nipple and suck myself into oblivion.

It occurs to me that I am unable to get … that… drunk.
Although I can try.
What kind of complete fucking loser even WANTS to relinquish control? Well, apparently to my control freak ass, its incomprehensible, even deep into a whiskey drunk, softened by a Budweiser chaser. I must not have broken through to the “other side” yet. I am not misspelling words, yet.

Come sweet Jesus of Oblivion, Saint of Serenity, O peaceful bliss through alcohol saturated brain cells. Numb and Number. Numb and Number
Numbest.

“The distinctive flavor of this rare sippin’ whiskey results from a special “charcoal mellowing process” perfected by Jack Daniel and still in use today.”

Two thoughts come to mind… “Rare” what’s rare about mass produced whiskey? There’s a hundred bottles of this shit in every fucking city in America right NOW.
The other contemplation is “Charcoal mellowing”. Fuck. Not only Am I drinking shit that’s been filtered through … CHARCOAL… the Tennesee jackass whose poisoning me is not ONLY bragging about doing it, he’s using it as a fucking selling point!

Woooeee. And Copenhagen uses the choicest fiberglass particles with which to shred your lip lining in order to speed the flavor into your bloodstream.

BRAVO. Balls. Gotta respect the sheer Audacity, if nothing else. And here at Bushco, we only use the finest cancer causing agents to limit your suffering. Tips are Accepted.

Good god,. We ARE as completely fucking ignorant as I always expected. Even the slavers, because in the end, their fate is the same as the slaves.


Hmm. Hope that works out for you.

8 comments:

Hill said...

As usual, balls to the walls Fade.

:)

Randal Graves said...

I'll drink to that.

Wait.

99 said...

You faked me out!

Elmo said...

Can I be confused and not be retarded? Never mind, scratch that...

ThePoliticalCat said...

Good, you're back, in inimitable form.

One Fly said...

Nice surprise-welcome back!!

Swinebread said...

"Even the slavers, because in the end, their fate is the same as the slaves."

Why do they not get this?

cheyanne said...

I really must start readng more of the people I list on my top blogs and vice versa to remind myself why I started reading rhm in the first place. This post is one of 'em.

'Nough said!