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Just nauseated

I've been increasingly tense, stressed out, upset, dreading today more and more over the last week.

For a long time I've dropped out of the political process because it makes me into someone I don't like. It makes my day to day life worse. I would get so angry and disheartened. Just reading things that are going on, what people have to say, how absolutely fucking *vile* most of humanity in general is. It made it hard to get through a day because I had no faith in people at all. Any people. Because I'm an emotional person like that.

So for me to be involved and voting is a big deal for me. And I'm doing it because I feel like I have to. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.

But the more I see from people in this country the more I feel like we deserve whatever we get. Because we are 99% pieces of utter garbage.

"Even she couldn’t stomach the thought of her ungrateful, SOB grandson as the President."

I know people+anonymity+audience = performing assholes. But how do you feel that and think that and type that and post that and then keep coming back to add to it and not once stop and think about how you'd feel if that were said about you, your family, your grandmother?

I'm well and truly scared of how this election is going to turn out. Getting involved in the political process again has made me so disgusted with this country that I don't have words to explain it. But I'm still going out to vote in a little while.

Sep. 14th, 2008

http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-me-wallace14-2008sep14,0,246155.story





"David Foster Wallace, the novelist, essayist and humorist best known for his 1996 novel "Infinite Jest," was found dead Friday night at his home in Claremont, according to the Claremont Police Department. He was 46.

Jackie Morales, a records clerk at the department, said Wallace's wife called police at 9:30 p.m. Friday saying she had returned home to find that her husband had hanged himself."


Cue rabid book buying.
Cue waves of "it's all footnotes" shit talkers.

You love the tortured artists because they're just so tortured but can't stand it when they stop being tortured. However they stop.

The state of American Political Discourse

"I am not a Mccain supporter but if Obama wins we have babies being murdered and be over run with gay marriage, then maybe you cab marry your dog and who knows what else,and the rich will have to give their earned money to the poor. It will be communist Russia before too long so as you put it, consider that! I can't vote for either in good conscience."



This guy obviously knows his stuff.

I look things up

and sometimes it takes me in circles. And sometimes it just depresses me. Something spurred me to do another search real quick to see if I could find any pertinent information on my very very uniquely named grandfather.

Looking it up, I found his death record. I knew it was Louisiana, but for some reason I thought it was Shreveport, not Stonewall. The site I was at helpfully displays a little map of the area with a pin for where they died and the nearest cemeteries. He died in '89 and I didn't exactly know him (and by exactly I mean at all). So it's not like I went to the funeral and it's not like my father ever talked about it, suggested we visit... any of that. For as high as the pedestal my father had his father on - he never actually liked him or felt liked by him. He went because he had do. His legacy was a tie clip rolled up in a cigarette wrapper that he shoved into a drawer and left there.

So my grandfather died (killed himself - I guess that makes it different) in the middle of nowhere, not even a major road anywhere near wherever it was he was living. I think it was a motel of some kind. Not the kind you generally live in for more than a day or two - and he'd been there for awhile. No record of his next of kin in the report. No record of his location of birth. His social security number is from California. And he was 71 years old when he died. The index site helpfully offers "historical event" links beside the date of birth and date of death. So that you can swell with pride knowing your second cousin was born on the same day as Rupert Murdoch or that there was some minor war in a minor country on the other side of the world that ceased fire that day. They don't list anything important on either of the dates in my grandfather's death information. The days are just skipped over. Which feels more correct to me than if they'd been strikingly significant.

I have seen photos of this guy from when he was young and handsome and scrappy. I have no image of him (mental or otherwise) from his later years. So it's strange thinking of the cocky ass who beat his wife and lied to his kid about his war exploits and sold him off to the military as a way of washing his hands of any filial responsibility ever being old and sick and slowly dying. I think of him with his little mustache and his army uniform from the days when the pants still billowed out to the sides like riding pants. Pint sized Erol Flynn with his shiny hair and his smirk. Why I think of this stranger ghost at all is the part I don't understand. My family is dominated by resilient women whose husbands were poorly chosen or just ineffectual. My family history is a history of women subjugating themselves needlessly to domineering men who made up for being useless by also being mean. There are a few exceptions. But most of them are dead too.

And that's my morbid and morose line of thought for the day out of the way, then.
If you regularly find yourself using words like "Winblows" or putting the dollar sign in "M$" you are an enormous dipshit.

"Wintendo" refers to a Windows box that is used SOLELY for the purpose of gaming and implies that everything else you use is *nix or its relatives. "Wintendo" is not a clever way of saying "Windows" in general. It is very specific. If you are using "Wintendo" incorrectly you are exactly the person who shouldn't be trying to use the word "Wintendo". And you're a tool.
I just had to look up which of the axes on a graph is the X and which is the Y. Chart making is 80% of the my livelihood (or so it seems sometimes). This would be like a butcher having to look up where the "loin" was or instructions on how to butterfly a chicken breast.

Ah.. mi gente

man, that's deep...

"My love for you won't last for one day.
My love for you will last for two."
Him: remind me - not that you'll need me to - but remind me how much I love you.
Me: Heh, I think you left out a word.
Him: *got = wish
Him: Several
Me: Alright well now I'm just confused
Him: Ok- several
Me: I'll just ask tomorrow I guess
Him: Npoooooooooo
Me: uh oookay
Him: Hooooooooolly
Me: Yes?

Him: :) la la la la la

way way way later (4:30 am my time, about 2 hours after I gave up and tried to go to sleep):

Him: Fife. Hahahaha. I said "dude" and it came out fide.
Him: Fife
Him: hahaha
Him: Fruiuiuiuiuiiuiunk
Him: hahah
Him: Damn I wish you were here. I swear sometime I will take you to LA and make you like it.
Him: I want you to repeat this to yourself: "I am this the shit and fuck you if you don't know. Because as I have mentioned previously, I am the shit"

7 words

"Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, tits."


r.i.p. Carlin.
How else would I have learned the word "Scumpulescent"?