The Second Gunman

Most of the major mistakes I’ve made since starting this blog can be tied to the exact same error in judgment on my part. It isn’t so much what I say that gets me in trouble. Although what I say starts plenty of shit storms too. It’s how I fucking say it. When I’m genuinely upset or angry about something there is a lot more venom in my words than when I’m play fighting about something that is just mildly annoying and amusing to me. Even if it’s only annoying or amusing to me, and not the masses. That’s kind of been the point to the vast majority of my pointless rantings and ravings. I was supposed to be back a few weeks ago, but I had to pull the plug on myself.

You’ve been told since you were born about the power of love. It moves mountains. It’s blind. It cures cancer. It shits ice cream. It’s a lie. Not even a very good one. Love is the weakest link when it comes to emotional motivation. Love is an opportunist. Love is fickle. Love is a horny teenager with a fresh box of tissues and the house to itself for a half hour on it’s best fucking day. Love does not always find a way. You know what does always find a way? Violence.

If you look at human history and get past all of the obvious lies scrolled on paper in the history books you will see one shred of truth. We’re a violent lot. I don’t understand the complexities of this love you all keep going on and on about. I have a history of violence myself. It’s the thing that I hate the most about my checkered past. That and I never beat the original super mario brothers on NES. Recently violence found it’s way to my happy place, the wonderful adult playland in the middle of nowhere, Las Vegas. I watched the coverage for about half a day, and I had to stop. It’s also the reason that I haven’t been writing.

When something like that happens you can always count on a few things. They are going to get the amount of active shooters wrong by a pretty wide margin at first. They are going to overstate the obvious with a man on the street near the scene of the actual shooting as if the no shit sherlock nonsense that is coming out of his/her mouth has more impact as long they are standing close to where it actually happened. They are going to paint heros out of every day citizens that acted even remotely interested in helping other people during the tragedy. They are going to cherry pick the most heartbreaking stories from the victims, making only a handful of them seem significant without realizing they are trivializing the other victims. The media literally strip mines these events to appeal to any kind of tragedy boner you might have when something like this happens. Then there is the one that alienates me every single time. The mental illness witch hunt.

His dad was psychotic. That was the thing that made me stop watching. I was waiting for it, and I knew they wouldn’t let me down. There are only two groups who pick up the tab when the violence is over and the dust settles after a violent outburst in America. Allah and his personal hygiene hating followers, and the mentally ill. Let’s face it, there is no way that our society is ever going to try to do anything about preventing this violence from happening. Humans are violent. In order to give the illusion of restored order someone has to be the scapegoat. If it’s a lone whackjob, or just a Muslim paying their high price in to heaven nobody fucking panics.


If this happened today we’d just be told that somebody forgot to take their medicine.


I don’t think it was a lone gunman in Vegas. Seems unlikely. I don’t listen to the information given. That’s the exact reason I’m a nihilist. Have you ever stopped to think about how many people are lied to from the moment they are born until the day that they die? If you live your entire life based only upon the information you’ve been given how could you possibly be confident in any step you take in life? I don’t buy in to it. I don’t believe it. Any of it. Humans didn’t learn to speak so they could tell the truth. They did it to justify their behavior and manipulate those who weren’t actually there with their version of events. The media will have a talking head hand out the facts and they will say it using the exact words “what we know”. You got a mouse in your pocket, motherfucker? We the people doesn’t include me. It doesn’t include you either. If it helps you sleep at night to pretend to be on the team then I support your decision. There is no nobility in being right anyway.

Ultimately something like this reminds me why I’m actually still here. Why the government is content to give me a label and keep me around. If there is a situation around here that needs to be covered up what is to stop them from sending a couple of guys over to my place, picking me up, taking me to the scene, putting a gun in my hand and a bullet in my skull? Nothing. You have your dead psycho to point your cameras at while we escort the real problem out the back door and the sheep are none the wiser so long as there is a dead wolf with a bloody maul as evidence that the threat has passed, and your protectors have once again proven themselves invaluable. If you know that somebody can. How long before they will?

Had I written sooner it would haven’t been articulated the same. There would be many more fucks written, some extremely insensitive political commentary, a few country music jokes, and a possible dick pic. I enjoy writing when it’s making fun of a white rapper talking politics in a Detroit parking garage on a segregating television station that is against racism, or say a Hollywood type getting in trouble for sexually harassing a bunch of people who make their living being sex symbols without a hint of irony. I’ll be back when I can get back to doing that sort of thing and not a day sooner. I never know how long it’s going to take for my gun to cool off.

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    Some people don't know what high means. The birthday boy attacking the brownie. Sometimes it's fun to get complete strangers to break their controllers. #destiny2 #ironbanner #superfail I was blessed with one talent in this world. Nobody can touch me at the crane game. I just suck at life. The Buck Stetson crowd by Modest Mouse.