I was thinking...

Now, I have plenty of avid follower to attest to my impeccable use of modern technology. If I need information, for fun or research, my use of modern technology is the pool from which I draw to fulfill every needful thing for this blog, as well as my other blog, as well as conversations where I need to prove someone wrong. I definitely never squander this access to information, never before seen by humankind--namely, I certainly haven't spent well over an hour or five playing a video game or multiple video games; I completely stay away from articles that have no useful information; and, I have never spent an entire morning, afternoon, evening, and part of the night (let's say up till 3 a.m.) watching various TV shows, movies, and internet videos. However, our young companions in this world aren't as responsible with technology as I am, and some are even worse liars. They (we) have so much at their (our) actual fingertips, resources we had to really look for in the p

Samhain. No, it's not pronounced 'Sam hayn.' It's pronounced closer to 'sa-oo-hwen'. That is the major pagan celebration, from what I understand, that gave birth to the eventual holiday of Halloween. What, then, was it a celebration of? First, disregard that I ended that last sentence with a preposition. It's time to let go of that rule (at). Secondly, it was a feast to celebrate the end of the harvest and the survival of those who made it through the year, up to that point. Pagans would gather all of their family and friends, light a huge bonfire, and bring a bunch of food they'd harvested, and eat, drink, and be merry.  This was an especially important time for them to do this, because what was coming was the 'dark half' of the year, when nothing grows and it's deadly cold. The dark half is where women would lose their babies, when children and the elderly would get sick, and when there was no guarantee all would have foo

There's too much fear, now, to avoid Like bullets raining from the sun But, with so much shady cover Put on your dancing shoes and run. Under the canopies there's singing Their faces are pale, but still have fun All hum and laugh at hazards coming So, put on your dancing shoes and run. Your partner might fall as a heap in rhythm Like a jolly tree hacked from stump to none Screaming pain can sound like songbirds So, put on your dancing shoes and run. I promise seeing is not required The light will dim when the wick is done There's hair and oil from the piles to burn, though So, put on your dancing shoes and run. And, when the hailstorm breaks your shelter The dripping fire has finally come Smile! Your scalp will start to tickle So, put on your dancing shoes and run. Have you not yet kicked down your door? A curious storm has now begun! The brass band for the end is tuned So, put on your dancing shoes and run.

Ghast by Jessica Muni The house was dark except for the tiny stage-light colors shining from the family's internet of things, situated all over from the television room to the bathroom. This made it a trick to walk, since each little light didn't offer much revelation in the dark of a minefield of clothes, toys, and papers the two parents were too tired to care about by bedtime. The man of the house, Roger, was the one gently toeing through the shady minefield to the bathroom, with careful steps and careful thoughts in his periphery. As Roger was walking to the bathroom, he glanced through a window, absent of any reason to do so. Between yawning and turning his head to the bathroom door, he paused and reversed his last step. He double-checked what he thought he saw through the window in the backyard, and his uncertainty became certain. Out on the lawn, lit by muted floodlights from the garage, was the figure of a girl in a long white dress. She had long black hair

Gun violence, especially a mass shooting, is quickly attributed to violence in media, particularly video games, by politicians. Since the logic of those political figures seems to be if something violent happens then it must be the result of something the perpetrator witnessed in a form of media, then why is that same logic not applied to sexual misconduct and sexual exploitation in media? Why does pornography get a free pass after every new report of influential people committing sexual atrocities? From teachers and parents to celebrities of every sort, I’ve never seen an angry Republican or Democrat stand over a pulpit and vehemently point the finger at the pornographic material being to blame for a person’s sexual assault, no matter their age.  The analogy seems to be clear: if violence in media leads to violent behavior, then sexual misconduct in media leads to sexual misconduct. No, I don’t have any figures to back that up, statistically, however, as a layperson who

There's a myriad (or There's myriad, if you're a cave-dweller) of evidence that dwellers of every kind are capable of creating issues far beyond what they were given at birth. I mean, I've got a subscription, I keep getting so many issues. What I want to convey is not that people imagine their issues. I know I don't. What I'm saying is people can make decisions, outside of illicit drugs and what not of course, to incubate greater symptoms than need be. It's often told to me that I tend to think deeply. I wonder how much more normal a life I would live if I didn't, though. It's my experience that you can stay deep for too long, and what drowns is a simple understanding of life. But, I've been on the surface, long since, and I think I'll take the deep.

I love thee No, How I love thee No, no, How do I love thee? There. Now... How do I love thee? Hm... How do I love thee? Because. ...maybe not. Um... How do I love thee? With all my heart. Blech. How do I love thee? 'How' doesn't sound right. Maybe Why do I love thee? Well, that's not very encouraging. When do I love thee? *snicker* When do I love thee? On nights, weekends, our anniversary, birthdays No, but seriously. When do I love thee? When thou art in the mood and don't have a headache. *sigh* I give up. How about Do I love thee? ... Do I love thee? Yep. No. No, no, no. Fine How do I love thee? Okay. Um... How do I love thee? Let me see Nope. How do I love thee? More like how don't I love thee. Nah. How do I love thee? Super much. That doesn't make any sense. *sigh* How do I love thee? I can't count on one hand

It's a challenge to know exactly how you're affecting the people around you, especially with a diagnosable mental condition. As someone who has been thrice diagnosed with Bipolar disorder (II to be exact, since I didn't get there until the sequel came out), I have first-hand experience with this conundrum. What happens, for me, is I think I exist just swell of my own accord. It's only after I see the reaction on people's faces, or what is being said to me in response of something I've said or done, that I see there's some discrepency between my behavior and the comfort of the people around me. Consider the storm cloud. The weather is just being weather, at all times. When a storm cloud forms, the weather is unaware that that is a problem for anyone, and doesn't think to consider it'll affect anything. It's just being weather. However, when the storm cloud starts to rain, when the wind starts to blow, when trees lose branches, when stree

We should be far more outraged about certain things than we are. I'm not saying we should blow things out of proportion, like politics or movies based on comic books, but we need to say something about companies who make junk food and drink getting away with giving the consumer less, but making us pay more. Thin sandwich cookies? What, did they run out of frosting? Is there a shortage of fake dairy and powdered preservatives, or is no one willing to churn that soft poison anymore? Tiny soda cans? Not only tiny cans, but fewer cans per case?! Are you kidding me? Is the unit price for these things up because the inedible material is doubled? Have the plants all shut down, so they have to supplement a lack of non-food with metal and plastic? We're paying more for hamburgers than ever before, but the patties have slinked inside the standard bun like they're ashamed at how much they cost, now. What's more, or less, is if you want something with actual value

Do bones have thoughts? If they do, this is what I imagine the final thoughts of human bones, scattered by nuclear explosions, might be at the end of the world, whose bones have enough lingual memory to observe their situation with what little vocabulary they may have. Read it slowly. Imagine scattered bones. Enjoy. Happy Halloween! (You might think this is boring if you're not a fan of minimalism. So, you might want to skip this one, if that's the case.) Bones     have thought.     I am bones.     I think.  Scattered pieces.              Under in dark, gravel, stains.      This is thought.  This is life.   Nothing then. Nothing now.    Yet, I exist.    I think.   Thoughts exist.   I am bones.    Bones have thought.   I am bones.  I think.     Scattered pieces.     Under in dark, gravel, stains.       Stuck in air and shadow.   This is thought.   This is life.   Nothing then.  Nothing now.   Yet, I exist.    I think.  Thoughts exists.  Bones have thought.   I am

It's pretty clear, to anyone who reads this word vomit that is my blog, that I'm not a huge fan of food. As a concept, I mean. However, it's surprising to me that there's any whiff of juicing, anymore. By 'juicing' I mean 'drinking juice,' and by 'drinking' I mean 'swallowing liquid', and my 'liquid' I mean 'not alcohol, not everything about drinking is alcohol, stop being so obsessed about alcohol'. I mean, juicing does nothing, because it is nothing. Juice is just a glorified version of fruit drinks that children have all the time. It's nothing but colored sugar-water, or worse, gross colored sugar water. If you don't believe me, consider the following: when you put fruit or vegetables into a juicer, what comes out and what is left over? Fluid comes out, and solids are left over, right? Now, pinch your arm. Feel that? Hopefully you pinched yourself hard enough to wake up to the fact that YOUR ARM ISN

Because of the rousing success of  Broke Dick's Thoughts Bucket , I've been pressured to supply more golden nuggets from Broke Dick's substantial bucket of thoughts. 21 more, to be exact. So, here you are. _____________________________________________ I hear tell that you folks need more tasty nuggets from ol' Broke Dick's bucket. I can assure the reader that I've dug a mountain of 'em, so I'd be much obliged if you pick yourself a few thoughts I've polished up from out of this here selection. Bureaucracy dissolves expectations into requirements. If you go to sleep early, you get to sleep late. There's no point leading the blind if you don't look where you're goin'. Broke ain't broken. Governement is from the school, politics is from the playground. Anything's offensive if someone's always playin' defense. Don't look to your mouth to know what you're talkin' about. A child who ain&#

I see many students struggle with new concepts, and they need the help of everyone around them, including other students. This can work, because with as many students need help, there are those who catch on so quickly they could teach entire classrooms by themselves. In every case, students exist to learn those new concepts, and it is the responsibility of those who have the information and have learned these concepts to conceptualize it in the minds of the ignorant. Yes it is. Don't argue with me on this. What, you want humanity to crumble around you so you can rise above and subjugate the common man? Down with you! But, for real. I hear you saying, "Why do we have teachers, then, if we have students who can teach other students?" To which I say, "Why do we have your face?" To which you say nothing, because I won the argument again with that point. It might come to reason that a student who struggles is obviously incapable of learning. That, at the fa

There is a sign on a street I frequent that says, I'm not making this up, "Drive like your kids live here." This sign is great. It's just the right amount of passive aggression that I can relate to, since I write blog posts criticizing things like this. What is the ultimate goal of these signs? Yes, there is more than one. I am aware of parents and/or grandparents who would have little to no regard for their own children, so is the request to drive like their progeny lives there an invitation to go full maniac and swerve side to side at 60 miles an hour, knocking down any and everything or any and everyone in their path? "Here's the money you keep asking for, ya' traitor!" "Tell me to stop giving my own grandchildren candy..." "Oh, that looked like my kid, but now I'm not so sure with their face stuck to the pavement." Just kidding about that last one. But, you get my point. There must be some people's kids out t

I'll tell you what I'm sick of seeing. I'm sick of seeing news items designed to divide entire populations on behalf of special interest groups. I'm sick of seeing spoiled celebrities being heralded and looked up to by children and teenagers. Mostly, I'm sick seeing people pick their noses, and worse, actually eating the what they harvest. I witnessed a grown man, just this morning, pick his nose while he was turning left at the intersection. Who knows what happened after that. Probably he made it to work and shook the hands of his co-workers who also picked their noses on their way to work, like touching crusty spoons together at a buffet. That phrase, 'pick(ing) (your/her/his/their/my/our) nose(s)' is hilarious, though. I understand that it's like using your finger as a pickaxe to release mucus cakes trapped by your nose hairs, supposedly giving us the verb 'pick'. But, why isn't it called digging your nose, or shoveling your mucus, or t

If you're doing keto, stop. There's a better option. I don't know what that option is, but I'm sure it's not the BRAT diet. Speaking of the BRAT diet... Before you get excited, the BRAT diet is not what it sounds like, namely an abbreviation of the 'bratwurst' diet. It's an acryonym--you can tell by how loud it is. The letters in the acronymn 'BRAT' stand for: beans, raisins, avocado...no, that's not it. Um...: butter, rubharb...tripe? Hold on. The BRAT diet consists of: boiled-eggs, rooibos, artichoke, and parsnips. (I know I have the link right there, but I forgot what I read and I'm not going back.) The only thing I remember, for sure, is that yogurt is a viable option to add to the list. This metamorphs the BRAT diet into the superior BRATY diet. The 'keto diet' is based around changing your metabolism from burning energy using carbohydrates (food) to, instead, using only fat and fat-stores (fat) for energy.

Many people who write articles are absolutely desperate for attention. Hence, I've written this and have posted it. Some gentleman wrote an article about a short--and I mean barely-enough-words-to-warrant-a-comma short--conversation Paul McCartney had with John Lennon about one of their songs. The article was baited with the prospect of unsavory lyrics written by Paul McCartney for one of their songs regarding a 17 year-old girl. The article was titled with the buzzword 'Pedophile' for this very reason, and I'm ashamed to say that it obviously worked for me, because it would be very alarming to learn that the primary songwriters of a band who has had such an impact on the music industry in the US were actually singing about a 17 year-old girl when they say the words, "She was just 17." Scandalous. (ATTENTION: The rest of this post has nothing to do with pedophilia, so drop it.) This got me to thinking about how strange it is that the legal syste