Monday, February 21, 2005

Dark, Venal, and Incurably Violent

Wow, am I in a bad mood. Shit. I just want to smash things and pick fights. Good thing I'm not able to drive (due to intoxication) otherwise I would go downtown and fuck shit up. Hell, it's too late to anyway. My system is still so fucked up from working third shaft last week. I hate my fucking job. I hate my fucking life. Maybe I should off myself like Hunter S. Thompson just did. Unlike his life, though, hardly anyone would notice let alone give a shit if I violently disconnected my brain. Of course I would never do that. Too messy and guns have a bad enough rep around these here parts as it is (damnedable liberals).

I have yet to read any of Hunter S. Thompson's books. And I don't think I ever will. I would, on occasion, read his ESPN Page 2 column. He went on about football and gambling too much for my tastes. But he did have two movies made about his life. I saw them both. Very forgettable. The only thing about Thompson that I admired was the fact that he made president Nixon nervous. This from one of the online obits: "Thompson was a counterculture icon at the height of the Watergate era, and Richard Nixon once said he represented 'that dark, venal, and incurably violent side of the American character.'" I like that. I'm probably more like Thompson than I thought. Yes, think about it. Minus the drugs and writing talent, we are pretty much two peas in a rotting pod.

My brother committed suicide. Still not sure why. It's kind of hard to image it. I just had a friend die after a valiant fight with cancer. Her husband and kids put on a celebration of her life at the local UU church and hundreds of people attended. I couldn't make it because I was busy taking care of my immature roommate Buzz. The point is, wouldn't it be nice to be able to transfer some of that hanging-on-by-the-fingernails-love-of-life to the pathetic shit heads who throw it away so casually?

Man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so serious on you all of a sudden. It's just that I'm really in a foul mood. And there isn't anyone near by to lash out at. Maybe I will just smash one of my guitars. I Don't use them much anymore anyway.

I was actually going to bid farewell to my blog tonight since it is so fucking pointless and no one reads it. But I will give it one more week. Who knows, maybe I will come up with something witty or profound and be hailed as the next Hunter S. Thompson. I'm as well armed. And almost as bald. Too bad I suck. Man, I hate this fucking world.


At 1:20 PM, Blogger The Cod God said...

Go shoot or blow up something and you'll feel much better.

It works for me.

At 5:51 PM, Anonymous MBF said...

Just for the record, I check your blog every day and read all your posts. And I love you.

Hunter S. Thompson was a drug addled idiot whose writing talent has been overrated for too may years. In my opinion.

At 8:25 PM, Blogger B-Face said...

I never read this blog.

I don't check it daily either.

At 8:27 PM, Blogger B-Face said...

Regarding Hunter S., he himself said that his tales of drugs and guns were far, far exaggerated, mostly by himself. I've read a few of his books, I loved "Hell's Angels". I'm a fan for sure. Good stuff, usually.


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