Day 2

1.

I’m tired right now and there is much to tell, but I fear that I may not have the energy to finish. I figure that I can at least start though. I don’t know if you really care what I have to say, or if you will stick around long enough to make that determination, but that is for you, and you alone, to decide.

Let’s start somewhere. I’m not sure where yet. I could talk about being a young kid. A dying man. An embryo. Regardless of where I start, I’m still basically nothing. Someone searching for love, life, a purpose. Maybe I found it eventually, but I really can’t be sure. Some days it is just too hard to tell.

There is nothing like a child to show you how worthless you really are. Working a nine to five that drains the life from you like a slut draining your cock. These are the normal people. These are the working class. The average Joe’s lacking just enough motivation to throw themselves off of a bridge. Not because they don’t want to, but because it takes too much energy. Too much planning. Too much time. Too much… Commitment.

This is me. This is how I have lived my entire adult life. Grinding through just to make my piece of bread. My livelihood relying on some asshat who thinks he is better than me just because he has the title “manager.” Doesn’t matter if he can’t count to ten and doesn’t know that 12 times 13 equals 156. It isn’t about accomplishments at all. It’s all about time in grade. These are the same people that you ride the bus with. That cut you off in traffic. That chase your kids around with candy bars from the blacked-out windows of a conversion van. Your teachers. Your neighbors. Your kids, in a few years.

We’ve covered the disdain. The loathing. The meaningless drive to succeed. What is success anyway? Is it making a lot of money? Having a lot of women? Feeding your family? Being happy? I guess I have failed in all regards. I never would have thought about it until those little hazel eyes were staring back at me. Judging me. Judging me from day one. Still judging me. “Mike’s dad is a fire fighter. John’s dad is a police man. I wish my dad was a police man.” I can only take so much before I’m ready to take a quick stroll to my collection of firearms and other miscellaneous implements of pain, misery, and torture. I would silence all of the pain in the world. All of the wanting. Needing. Crying. Everything and everyone. But wouldn’t I be doing society a favor? There would never be another war. No more famine. No more death. Over population would be a thing of the past, but so would people. I’m sure there is enough fertilizer or lead in this country alone to accomplish such a small feat.

I’m going a little overboard now. I’ll cool it for a while. Let’s get back to the subject at hand. Me. Just to sum up what has happened so far. I hate my life and would end it all if I had the resolution and commitment I would need. Needless to say I am a pussy. It isn’t cause I really have anything left to live for. It is more on the lines of the fact I have nothing left to live for. Just the race that everyone else does toward death. It would be nice though, wouldn’t it? Not having to worry about the bullshit that plagues all of us. Ok I’m done with this conversation. The musings on the benefits of death. My miserable excuse for a rant. On to something happier and hopefully more interesting.

If today was the day you died how would you feel about life? Would the god you love, love you back? I really don’t believe in god very much. Sure I have my reasons that seem concrete enough, but it all boils down to the lack of a warm fuzzy feeling when it comes to church and religion. It could be the fact that my priest liked to take me in the back room, and, you know. It’s not what you’re thinking, unless you’re thinking that he was teaching my to pray on my knees with a full mouth. If you were thinking that then you would be 100 percent correct. It is pretty hard, by the way, to say hail marry’s with a snake in your mouth. Even harder when it isn’t attached to the host anymore. Kind of brings a new meaning to the “Body of Christ,” well at least the body of someone who used to do “his” work. Obviously he wasn’t doing it very well. Hell, I think I probably did him a favor. I made sure that his vow of celibacy would be carried out from that day forward. You want to know the amazing thing? He is still at the same church. Sure he serves a role with less capacity, about 6 inches worth to be exact, but he is still there. Now that has been covered, let’s talk about Armageddon.

Do you honestly believe in that shit? I’m mean really… Let’s think about this for a second. Jesus, or is it supposed to be the antichrist? Either way, someone comes down, or up I suppose, to kill everyone and then the sinners get sent to hell and the holy people go to heaven. Where is the fun in that? I think if there is a god, and by default a devil, wouldn’t half of the fun be in playing up like little chess pieces? That’s what I’d be doing if I were one of them. It just seems to take the flavor out of being one of the 2 supreme beings. What are you supposed to do as an angel or a demon at that point? Talk about a boring, and dim, career prospect.

And what about this antichrist? Does he know what higher capacity he is supposed to fill when he arrives, or is born, or trans-mutates, or whatever he does? I’d like to think that he is born like a normal kid and then is selected, without his knowledge or consent, to be the destroyer of creation. Now if that isn’t a shaft in the ass, I don’t know what is. He has no chance to repent because he is programmed to destroy, not to be a person with the little free-will thing that we were all raised to believe in.

Ok, I’ll play devil’s advocate to my own questions. What if there is a god? How do we have freewill if there is a higher power who already knows what we are going to do. Doesn’t that imply that it is programmed in some way or another? This is the same concept as the “Moral Compass.” The fact that people believe that there is some inherent sense of right and wrong, of good and evil. I think it is some serious bullshit, but that is only my view of the facts according to me. People are evil and try to control their instincts which tell them to rape, pillage, and kill every living thing within a, um, 5000 mile radius. That radius would increase dramatically if we were capable of interstellar space travel. I guess at that point it would be infinite. But at that point, how could you really have an infinite radius? That is really big when you think about it. Like super big. Wow… I really took the philosophical talk to an interesting place. I think I’m done with that for the time being.

So here is what has been going on. I went to work today. I got fired, or as I’d like to say, I was forced to take a permanent leave of absence. Understandably this tweaked me the wrong way. I must admit that I was not too shocked really. I think I can understand their point of view. I never did anything at work. I browsed the web and maybe replied to an email or two, but I really didn’t do anything constructive, or at least nothing that merited the pay I would receive on two wonderful days a month. I’m honestly more agitated at the fact that they found out then the little detail about me being let go.

So I came home and decided to go retrieve a subcompact .45cal from my armory. I was really thinking about shoving it in my mouth and pulling the trigger, but then realized that I would have to load it first. That one task seemed like a huge hassle just to leave a huge mess for someone to clean up. So I put it back. Then I thought about it again and determined that if I was going to do it, I should have done it the first time. Why? Because now I would have wasted even more time by retrieving it and putting it back, just to retrieve it again. I’m not big on wasting my own time, but if it is on someone else’s clock I am all kosher. It almost give me the warm fuzzies. Yes I get off on the weirdest things. Don’t try to deny that you have some interesting fetishes as well. Some like toes, other like other things… I like jacking people around and getting paid for it without anyone being the wiser. Of course I would never do that to an elderly old lady or anything sick like that. Only decently funded corporations.

I know there are quite a few things about my life that I haven’t mentioned. That has been in the interest of time, or because some things are better left unsaid. Please don’t fret though. If it is important I will probably get to it. I guess if I don’t it isn’t that important after all.

2.

When I was growing up I never knew my dad. In fact I’ve never even seen a picture of him. My mom, if you could call her that, never uttered the smallest, quietest word about him. Well at least not within earshot of me. Every time I tried to bring it up she would start talking about knitting or pottery or the correct way to grow your weed. I guess she was less of a mom and more of a food donor. I guess she was a holding tank for my first 9 months, but after that she was around as little as possible. It wasn’t a money thing either. Somehow, and I’m not sure how, she never had to work. Money was never a problem.

Now that I think about it, I don’t even remember seeing any pictures of myself when I was growing up. In fact, I don’t think I have ever seen a picture of myself. I know what I look like, but if there was a camera involved it never cooperated when it came to shooting my amazing attractive mug. If I am so attractive why do I call it a mug? The term mug just doesn’t seem to do my picturesque mask justice. Then again, if I can’t even get a legible picture of myself how could I possibly be considered picturesque? These are things to ponder, but they are most definitely for another day.

To tell you the truth, I am half amazed that I am still talking. I’m tired. What amazes me further is the fact that you are still listening. I’m never been an oratory genius, as I’m sure you can tell, yet here we still are. Do you think you can make it too the end? I know I can, but I’ve got the vocal endurance of a chipmunk on coke. Now by coke I mean cocaine not that ever so tasty beverage which goes by the name of Coca-Cola Classic.

Why is it Coca-Cola Classic anyway? What makes it so classic? Diet Coke has absolutely nothing to do with the “Classic” so why even make the designation? This is also taking into account that Diet Coke is “Diet Coke,” not “Diet Coca-Cola.” Oh if something loved me as much as I love my Coke. Yes, I’m talking about the carbonated beverage with questionable roots. From here on in I’ll say it with a lowercase “c” if I’m talking about the narcotic party maker, otherwise you will hear a very big emphasis on the uppercase “C” if it is the tasty treat. How does one pronounce the difference? I have no fucking idea, but we’ll figure something out.

Sorry, let’s get back on track before I bore myself even further. We were talking about roots. I guess I could be considered Me Classic and my son would be Diet Me. My mom would be considered Cherry Me. My dad could probably fall under the Mr. Pibb monicker. There is a reason for this though, While I know he had to exist at some time it seems that he disappeared suddenly and never came back to light. I have now reduced my family, or at least the ones that matter, to cans of soda. Well I guess if you are from the north they are different forms of pop. Enough of this.

So you know I got fired. I need to figure out what to do now to pass the wee hours of the night, or day, whichever I decide really. I can deal with the day shift. I like the swing shift. I adore the night shift. So much less bullshit and bureaucracy. That is what life should be about. Make your life as easy as you can while making others harder. It seems like a worthwhile pursuit that I’ve become very accustomed to.

I’ve always thought about politics. I think it would be the perfect job for me. I could be a senator, but why stop there. I could be the president. I think the amount of work you really have to do is probably pretty minimal. Here is where my head is at. When you look at it, the president has a whole set of advisors, aides, and others who are willing to bend over and take it up the ass. All just because you said so. You stick out your thumb and they are all fighting over who can ride it better, longer, and harder. So all you really have to do is sign some forms, make a few speeches, and you get paid. And have you seen the retirement package? I mean talk about gravy. Even without any kickbacks from the lobbyists you can live very comfortably. I think I just found my new goal. There is a small hurdle that I have to cross though. I need money. I don’t think my 10k in savings is going to cover a whole campaign. This is the time to start, but I need backers. Campaign trail here we come.

Where can I find backers? What party am I going to run for? Since I’m not a god-fearing nut job, I can’t run for the republicans. I’m also not a brainwashed hippy that just wants to follow the other mass of lemmings due to fear of my civil liberties being destroyed, so I guess I’m not a democrat either. Green party… That would be a real hoot. Did I really just say that? A real hoot. Ok. I tried it, I didn’t like it. Hoot has been stricken from my vocabulary. Looks like I have to be an independent. There is a snag though. The party will not pay for my campaign because there really is no party to front the bill. I think the term “Uphill battle” is an understatement. We can do this though. All I need is your signature on my petition and it is a start. Well would you look at me. Just assuming that you will support my rise to fame and power. How pretentious am I? I guess I am a real dick, and that’s why I will win. Well, that and the fact that I’m easy on the eyes.