Why vacation sucks

At least for those who lack the privileges of the golden class for which vacation is an alleged birthright:

1. You don't work, you don't get paid, per the Rule of Corporatist Society #1. (Technically this doesn't apply to me, but I like to live and act as if it does. No point attempting to live any better than your loser brethern, or the Tree of Dishonesty will start sprouting from my ears.)
2. Nothing more pleasant than staring at the blank wall of your apartment all week, since spending $$$$ money on some insipid excursion to "paradise" is out of the question in my semi-impoverished situation.
3. My car is not too old, but it is gradually aging and I have a morbid terror of being stranded somewhere with an inoperable vehicle. This does much to keep me homebound.
   
4. How then would I be able to get to work if this happened?
5. The costs of alternatively renting a car approaches extortion. More profits for less effort in any other industry, I cannot contemplate.
6. The thrills of virtual travel via online means, with its vastly reduced cost, is greatly underrated.
7. While you're out vacating, the work doesn't stop; it continues to accumulate and there is just twice as much to do upon return. 
8. Absence at work merely exposes the shit shod quality of my "training" of subordinates who could not even begin to approach the usual quality of work.
9. Work = social life, at least for losers like myself. No work = total isolation from other people.
10. Work = interests; vacation = boredom. Or watching a week's worth of All My Children. Not a whole lot of difference there.
11. Daytime television sucks, what between Dapper Drew, ABC Daytime, and P&G's open disinvestment from daytime (the effects of which are visible daily). I used to enjoy it but no longer.
12. I dislike disruption of routine, even if that routine is boring and uninspired.
13. Additionally, if I'm not at work when I know everyone else is, I become extremely nervous, because shit always happens when I'm away which ends up making me look bad without me there to hide or spin it to reduce my complete humiliation.
14. If my family knew I had a week free to myself, they would immediately put me to work painting their house. Not my idea on how to spend a week of rest.
15. I'm still going to be tired when I return to work. It's not the need for a few days' rest; it's the job itself. I need a job which fits my feeble skill sets better.
16. We already get regular vacations. They're called "weekends."
17. Though anticipating time off can be fun (at times), when vacation ends I feel tremendously depressed. Better to avoid the whole thing in the first place.
18. My boss, who must approve the leave requests, would probably not permit me to take vacation in the first place, since I am such an "essential" employee.
19. As a public servant, I have the ability to accumulate leave and sick time over the course of my employment. (Gotta love the unearned privileges they give us bureaucRATS.) Given the high probability that I will be fired in the next few years and the low probability of finding another job that isn't janitorial or food service work, this leave time is insurance against being faced with debts I can no longer pay upon cessation of regular income. That accumulated leave is like deferred income; I could pay down all my outstanding debts with it were I to come into it to-day. So it behooves me to use as little of the time as possible.
20. I might enjoy vacation so much, I might decide to never return to work again or make other disruptive and ultimately stupid and futile life changes. Better to eliminate the temptation while it stands.

The L word

There are precious few triumphs or accomplishments in my life of which I can state that I am unequivocally proud. In fact, I can really name only two such events.

The first was placing first overall in World Geography at the State Literary Rally as a high school freshman. (Sad that I must go all the way back to my childhood to find something of merit.)

The second was obtaining my master's degree. (I refuse to include graduation with an undergraduate degree here because that has become an all-too-common accomplishment to-day.)

Otherwise, my life has been a long string of defeats, failures, and losses, all due to my incalculable laziness, sloth, moral squalor, intentional mental disorder, and carelessness. Jobs lost, friendships terminated (or simply not initiated), exclusion from organizations, income and asset evaporation, alienation and estrangement from family and relatives - these I have all seen in my life.

Unemployment and jobless indolence has been my default state for much of my existence. The only human interaction I receive is that of the filthy homeless bums I frequently encounter who apparently view me as an ATM to finance their drug/tobacco/alcohol habits.

Even to write these words conveys the level of human squalor to which I have descended. I expend countless hours lamenting my problems while doing nothing to solve them.

So if you would like to be a dickhead and ask, "Well, whose fault is all that?" I will not play into your hands and say "Don't blame me, blame society." I have not taken leave of all my moral senses. My response will be "I screwed up, and continue to do so each day."

Perhaps it would be better if my conscience were to evaporate. Then I could exist as the feral pigs of the trailer court do - absent of responsibility for a miserable existence and the reprehensible actions therein. I could too live as an animal, a comatose non-thinking being corn-fed on a diet of Cheetos and dollar store cola, shaped more like a pig than a human being, reduced to constant mental chaos with my fellow animal beings in the mud and moral muck of the trailer court. A life lived for the moment, dictated by the mysterious physical whims of the body and its glands.

There is a marked reticence amongst the "better" classes to call it for what it is. The twin dictates of 'tolerance' and 'diversity' have conspired to keep silent the voices of judgment upon others, lest the dogs of political correctness be unleashed. We sit silent as incompentence and immorality goes down at the highest levels (and at many lower levels below the top brass).  We permit moral monstrosities to occur before our very eyes due to the need to be "inclusive" of all persons regardless of their "skill sets" or "life competencies."

Fifty years ago, the moral leech would have been thrown out on his ear. Now he is tolerated, merely tolerated, and hated all the more for it.

The word, the concept is "LOSER."

The pain they inflict upon themselves, they deserve. The life and opportunities they lose, they are not worthy of.

Involved with what's happening around here

Of late very familiar things have been greeting me over the airwaves upon my arising in the morning with the radio alarm clock.

Each morning at precisely a certain time, my clock radio activates alerting me to the fact that I must arise from bed, in order to prepare myself for work and leave home in time to reach work by the start of the business day. (It's called discipline, for those of you on the welfare dole who haven't mastered this.) I have left the dial permanently (more or less) at the news radio channel. At the time which I rise, the announcer is giving short summaries of the top local news stories for the day. Many of these stories, as can be expected in this State-dominated age, have to do with the workings of local government.

In a position of public trust such as where I work, you are exposed to much of the 'background' and goings-on of public decision-making in this community. So you become intimately familiar over time with the mechanics of what goes on behind often-closed bureaucratic doors, which only now and then makes its way forth in the guise of public pronouncements and some such (which in their own right have been reviewed a dozen times so as to be precisely and carefully worded in true propaganda fashion).

Just the other morning a challenge to the most recent Federally-estimated population numbers for a local parish was issued by that parish's governing officials. This was inevitably one of the day's top stories, and was being relayed as I arose from slumber. I will not be too specific, but suffice it to say that certain things mentioned in the executive office's official statement were items in which I had a direct hand.

I mention this not to brag, but to simply shake my head in wonder: How did a nobody like myself get caught up in all this?

I am actually far removed from the real decision halls of power. My position in the bureaucracy is analogous to the hands of the operation, as opposed to the heads at the top (or "the third floor" which is a euphemism for the offices of the local Executive) who make the major decisions that trickle on down to us grunts in the form
of policies, requests, and procedures.

But it is close enough to occasionally be included in the major moves on high if events so require. Such is the relatively close knit operation of a local bureaucracy, even for a major urban area.

So count me as somewhat involved with what's happening around here. The power, however slight, is admittedly addictive. I thus witness and experience firsthand how monsters such as BO are made.

Straight talk

You might be reading this now because of a post of mine that I foolishly posted on a certain autism-related message board. Please accept my profound apologies for this offense. To be honest, it was a confrontational stunt performed deliberately while in a delusional and agitated state of mind, intended to produce a reaction and a backlash. I will say, if it makes you feel any better, that I am not generally prone to doing such things. I try to be kind and considerate to others, except maybe here on these pages where there is no one else to answer to save conscience and Mother Truth. But we all have our off days, I suppose.

I am not naive, nor was I born yesterday; I knew precisely how that article would be perceived in that forum. You see, I was talking mainly about myself there. It was a pithy, childlike cry for attention, the action of a narcissist crybaby. I am the "loser narcissist" which was the subject of that rant. From what I have read, most people diagnosed with AS are productive individuals who readily give their talents and intellect to the world. Please accept my deepest apologies for my implication that those of you who are 'autism spectrum' and make meaningful contributions to the world are anything besides good, worthy citizens. There is no crime, mind you, in lacking social skills. Like smoking a doobie, it harms no one, save maybe the self.

I do not claim to have all the answers in the world. Far from it. The opinions presented on these pages are merely feeble, barely coherent rantings of a semi-intelligent, poorly formed, infantilized mind. I may be hard on the world, but if anything else I can be hardest and most demanding on myself.

I will be frank with you now regarding my opinions on autism and Asperger's syndrome, and by extension life in general. As Juan McCain likes to say, here is some straight talk. This blog is all about exposing the truth about life matters in any case, even if I haven't been so forthright in this regard in the past.

If you wish to take this justification as a pithy, pathetic excuse for why a loser like me does what he does, so be it. You would probably be right, too.

As I have previously noted, I was diagnosed with Asperger's as an adolescent, by several different psychologists referred to my family by my high school, who observed my behavior at the time and drew conclusions therein. Since then I have attempted as much as possible to deny this. I have struggled with much self-doubt since that time.

It goes back to parental respect, and what I was taught as a child.

My father is a rather conservative person. I respect him greatly, though I can't say that I truly love him. (Being a narcissist, I can only really ever be in love with myself.)

When I was initially diagnosed (around age 16 or so), I was willing to accept this, as it seemed as good an explanation as any for my social impairments and occasional bizarre, self-destructive behavior. But my father did not agree. Like most of my elders, he is big on taking responsibility for one's actions. His opinion was (and presumably remains) that AS as a disorder is a fiction, that it is an excuse for not trying; that my behavior was driven by moral and personal failings that could be eliminated by changing my personality and having the willpower to carry through with such a change.

Needless to say, as I aged I adopted this philosophy gradually, at first only outwardly to make peace with him (I still lived at home at the time) but later internally.

Why? Because I thought it was the mature thing to do. My father is at a mature age. He has three decades more life experience than I do, as he likes to make clear to me at every opportunity. Who am I to question his wisdom and conclusions on life, especially when you're an impressionable, ignorant person such as myself who has failed at practically everything tried in life?

And it was convenient. I am inclined to blame myself when something goes wrong; that has been an enduring trait of mine throughout life. (My counselor tells me this is an Asperger's trait, so what do I know.) The primary thing about Asperger's syndrome is that it causes severe social impairment. To me, "severe social impairment" always brings to mind the perpetual adolescent loafer that lived next door to my parents' house, who lived with his parents until he was thirty, quit college before graduating, never held a job for more than six months at a time, and spent practically all his free time in his room playing video games.

Later libertarian philosophy influenced me, as practiced by the good folks over at LewRockwell.com. They are big on taking responsibility for one's actions and eschewing lame excuses for behavior.

So Asperger's became to me a label, a crutch, an excuse for behavior which was only mine to change.

And over time, I became independent and self supporting. I graduated from college, then graduate school, then I found a job and have been working here for a number of years. This despite my social anxieties. I found that over time, I was able to better control my outbursts, more obvious social abnormalities, and emotional comportment. In short, I matured. I attributed it to better self discipline and the greater maturity that comes with age.

I figured, if I can do that, am I really "impaired"? If I can barely function throughout high school and college, and then "man up" once I enter the working world where the consequences for risky behavior become dire, is Asperger's then real?

Of course, this may be typical of folks with Asperger's who transition into adulthood. But I have no outside perspective on this. Perhaps some of you could enlighten me.

It is true that I still lack a great deal of social contact, much less any romantic prospects. I can say with almost certainty that I have no friends in the fullest, most meaningful sense of the word. I will openly admit, right here, that I remain a virgin to this day.

This is only fair, really. I would attribute this to:

1) little contact with other people outside work;
2) deliberate maintenance of a regimen of minimal social interaction (I like my solitude also);
3) needy, clinging, negative personality, which contributes directly to 1) and 2).

Such is the outcome of the lifetime pursuit of failure. In the end it is only myself who has ended up in a dark, lonely, cold place by not practicing what I preach. Such are the wages of a nihilistic philosophy of Me.

I guess it would be wrong to simply state that Asperger's is a fraud based on my experience. I am the true fraud. It is true that I probably don't have Asperger's, notwithstanding any diagnoses in my past. Instead, I am a narcissistic attention seeker who has desired ego stroking throughout life to feed a self destructive binge. No matter how much praise I receive, I only want to loathe myself all the more in spite of all that.

When I am calm and coherent, I am not usually inclined to spout obscenties about myself. But that is rare. Most of the time (or at least when I am emotionally agitated, which is not obvious from mere observation) I experience a major degree of self loathing. When this happens, I need to speak to someone and hear them say good things about me. Narcissistic supply, I dare say. But then I proceed to deny the veracity of everything they say, all probably true, in the name of the "truth." Because I need to feel bad about myself, almost like a drug. I don't understand why, other than that I despise my personality, I feel like I can't perform my job properly, and that I feel that other people dislike me. Of course, the reality likely is (see, I can't even simply admit that I'm deluded) is that my personality is pleasant enough, I perform my job well, and other people have no problem with me (though I provide them little opportunity to forge close and lasting social relationships with me). This has been told to me many, many times, while no one has ever agreed with my own line of thinking. Yet I simply can't accept this as truth. This pathological self-loathing is the root cause of all my problems - social, professional, domestic. I presume this is not due to Asperger's syndrome, but is behavior of a more pathological sort.

Really it is fascinating. Praise usually has a positive effect on people; but for me, the opposite is true. The depths of my narcissistic self hatred is so intense, it can only be explained as the warped demonstration of a deep pathological narcissism and sense of grandiose superiority that in the end can only serve to destroy me utterly. If I cannot be unconditionally worshipped as the flawless god which I am, then it would appear that I am not worthy of praise or acceptance otherwise.

It is how I have acted throughout my life. It is morally repulsive and reprehensible, and should rightfully be condemned.

As one of the respondents to my odious post noted, I gamed the system. That's right, that's exactly what I did. I am a spoiled, disgusting crybaby, plain and simple, probably not very deserving of the life that nature gave me.

This is why I have always stated that Asperger's is a fraud in the past: because I played it for a fraud. This is not truth seeking, but more trolling for narcissistic supply. To conflate it with truth is, too, fraud.

As to whether Asperger's is a fiction or not in reality, I'll leave that up to those who have the credentials and credibility to vouch (or not vouch) for its existence. Certainly I have no experience there.

To that respondent who stated that this was a horrible blog: Well, besides the poorly written, pompous, self-righteous deprecation of outside interests as my childish means of psychological projection, I think this is a very good blog. You and I may not see eye to eye politically, but libertarianism is not all that bad a philosophy. Try it sometime. And tell me what's wrong with viatology (i.e. highway studies), daytime television, or urban studies? Other people have these diverse interests, too, as my links attest.

From this point onward, I will refrain from posting critical observations about life phenomena outside of my areas of research interest: politics, economics, urban affairs, popular entertainment, and viatology.

Because as Jesus said, he who casts the first stone should be without sin - and believe it, that ain't me.

Failure, failure, failure

Utter incompetence. That is what I stand for nowadays. And everyone around me knows it, but dare not utter the truth.

It seems impossible. An incompetent such as myself makes a secure sum and continues on in a responsible position, though he is an utter failure and completely and totally unsuited for the position and the work therein.

What makes it possible? Civil service protection, that's what!

Evil indeed. In the free market, my value would have been rapidly assessed long ago. In bureaucrat-land, the ability to take orders trumps all else, even criminal incompetence such as I display daily. So those who are best able to parrot their superiors (that's me!) remain in their cushy digs despite the evident and clearly obvious moral outrage it represents to professional peers and to society.

In the private sector, the rationale for keeping a person employed is whether he adds value to that organization for which he works. Like I said, if this were a non-governmental position, my walking papers would have been submitted to me long ago.

The last thing that I add to any organization is "value." Surely you jest if you believe otherwise.

You wonder why I have so much time to bang out copy in these spaces. Well, guess what? The incompetent have few if any friends.

That should explain it.

A world apart

There is something to be said for self-enforced separation from other people.

The chaos, mindlessness, moral shirking, narcissistic social nuances, and perfidy of other people is not seen or dealt with.

You lose experiencing the good in people, but you also avoid experiencing the bad. And to-day it is evident that "the bad" is greatly in ascendancy amongst the common citizenry.

You see illegitimacy, substance abuse, separation and divorce, destitution, welfare parasitism, indulgence in "alternative lifestyles", "living for oneself", and other such absurdities in increasing amounts everywhere to-day.

A warped mindlessness seems to have taken hold amongst large sections of the population, especially the bedraggled youth of modern times.

Why are we sitting up here at one a.m. at this bar, drinking ourselves to stupidity? Don't know, we're just chillin', eh brother, hanging out, got nothing better or more productive to do. We just feel like it.

Uh huh. Signs of a life not well guided or structured by any semblance of moral principles.

So I remain apart from the madding crowd. It is a regrettable but unfortunately logical decision.

Life alone has its advantages, despite the emptiness.

You are not subject to the whims and ways of capricious others. You are not corraled into immoral and decadent behavior as such has become the purview of the youthful, "hip" crowd to-day.

You have ample time to indulge in hobbies, to contemplate a gentler past when people were more friendly and not wont to snivel and gnash their teeth in a wailing cry to demand their "rights" - that is, the "rights" to freeload, to couple and uncouple at will, to shirk their familial obligations, to abandon their responsibilities and live only for pleasure.

Not for me, sirrah. I have a job that I must perform Monday through Friday, rent and bills to pay each month, errands to do. I cannot afford to indulge in an existence of perpetual adolescence.

So remain away, nihilistic world. I overwhelmingly prefer the existing separation between us to continue.

Until you can provide a person with dignity and character who is worth getting to know, I remain committed to this course.

Deal with it.

Off to see the lizard

Currently I am in the Crescent City attending to some work related activities, and that means spending the time wisely as visits to the land of old haunts are rare. So poasts are going to be in short supply until the weekend.

But fear not! This blog will play host to a retrospective urbanism comparison between New Orleans and Baton Rouge in the near future!

Movin' on up

Well we're movin on up (Movin' on up),
To the east side.
To a deluxe apartment in the sky.
Movin on up (Movin' on up,
To the east side.
We finally got a piece of the pie.


Fish don't fry in the kitchen;
Beans don't burn on the grill.
Took a whole lotta tryin',
Just to get up that hill.
Now we're up in the big leagues,
Gettin' our turn at bat.
As long as we live, it's you and me baby,
There ain't nothin wrong with that.


Well we're movin on up (movin' on up),
To the east side.
To a deluxe apartment in the sky.
Movin on up (movin' on up),
To the east side.
We finally got a piece of the pie.

Back to normal (for now)

(This would be my 200th poast. Hooray!)

To-nite constitutes the first evening since the Saturday before Labor Day that even comes close to my normal routine (television, computer, me at my dinner table negotiating both). Thankfully my apartment is minimally habitable, despite mold and nonfunctional electrical sockets, and I am able to finally return to my solitary existence which was so rudely disrupted due to twin doomsdays.

Good to finally watch the Channel 9 evening news like a normal person again.

I will not be here for long, though. A change of address is coming soon - I mean real soon, as in less than two weeks.

I will no longer be a resident of the ghetto. Boo hoo!

But fear not! I have not compromised my principles. The sounds of smooth vintage soul will continue to emanate from my abode, wherever that may be. I have not sold out to the suburban interests and sought greenfield pastures off some anonymous exurban arterial strip. Au contraire! My new residence will be situated in a most aggreable and still urban location (perhaps the most urban location this region has to offer, in fact) and this blog will still be coming to you from the heart of Louisiana's Capital City!!

No better time than now to rearrange things and living arrangements. With everything in blade runner like limbo for nearly half a month, it makes sense to mix things up now while the disarray remains fresh.

All is lost

So Gustav has passed. And south Louisiana lies in ruins.

The physical damage was not severe - downed trees and awnings, broken signs, etc. As a hurricane Gustav was not truly severe.

Yet due to the criminal incompetence (AGAIN) of the powers that be, especially the STATE MONOPOLY ENERGY COMPANY, this storm looks to be the worst in Baton Rouge's history. The city is facing weeks, perhaps months, without power, services, or basic supplies. 

Livelihoods and plans for a secure future, including my own, hang tenously in the balance as the lack of electricity stymies all attempts at normal economic activity, only working to the benefit of the power-mad politicians and the FEMAcrats who come out like roaches in the woodwork in these situations. (Disasters bring out the not so hidden fascist in every tinpot local elected official, all reveling in their ability to control people's movements and access to their property at will.)

The desperation of the people is increasingly palpable, with the few stores and filling stations open seeing long and grim lines of bedraggled rabble only one meal away from starvation.

Civilization is breaking down as people flee the city like rats from a sinking ship, to places outside where there is food, power, and water available, to stave off inevitable starvation. Even yours truly, hemmed in by the twin reapers of starvation and lack of electric power, had to flee to safer quarters outside the city to save his life.

Such are the wages of chaos when civilization disappears.

The only reason I am able to attend to this blog this evening is due to my bolting for better pastures; for the past three days a fatal lack of electricity has rendered normal updates futile. As it is my presumably inpregnable apartment is now uninhabitable thanx to humidity, a leaking ceiling, and a thousand other storm related issues. So homelessness, along with joblessness, looks to be my future.

There is nothing left for me in BR. My life is in ruins, and I have entered the blade runner situation of idle incomeless productivelessness. My worst case scenarios have been exceeded by a thousand percent.

For god's sakes Entergy, GET THE POWER BACK ON!!!  PEOPLE ARE DYING OUT HERE!!! GOD HELP US ALL!!!!

Darkness falls

A sense of foreboding befalls me as time progresses and the period between my personal crises grows longer. It feels as if I am overdue to face another total collapse.

The late natural disaster events precipitated the most recent of my crises - house washed away, job evaporated, dead and missing acquaintances, relatives (unharmed by the storm) who were too busy looking out for themselves to help a blood relation in temporary need. But that's my family - you can't expect them to disrupt their trailer park routine of soap opera watching and Cheetos munching for anything else in the world.

I figure if my job ever disappeared tomorrow, or if I was separated from it suddenly - not particularly likely, but something which I never exclude from the realm of possibility - the only work out there would be frying chicken fingers at Raising Cane's or something similar. As far as I know, they are still hiring, but nobody else is, particularly for jobs which pay at least a living wage. After all, businesses are closing and filing for bankruptcy left and right, and millions of unemployed service sector hordes are pounding the pavement right now, most of them far more qualified and skilled than myself to perform any sort of work.

The bad feeling I have about the future in my bones is not entirely related to the continuous stream of negative economic news which flows from the media on a daily basis now - the bad tidings certainly influence things, but they are not the primary reason for my lack of confidence in a better tomorrow.

Rather, it is a lack of confidence in myself, to deliver the goods and output the ability which would allow me to feed and shelter myself, and otherwise permit a modicum of comfort and security (tenuous as that may be) in my life. This has been a constant regardless of the state of the economy, though the current depression certainly gives me more than the usual pause. If everything collapsed for me tomorrow, where would I go? What scant opportunities would dare to present themselves? 

I have been broke and starving at various past points in my life. I would not like to relive those experiences. When I was younger it was enough to say to myself, "Well, this is what young folks have to struggle through sometimes to gain a foothold in the society, especially if they come from the margins." But now that I am older and less appealing to employers, what will that kind of ordeal gain me? A State-sponsored trip to the bus station and a sheriff's deputy ordering me to leave town within 24 hours, lest I face arrest and imprisonment for whatever charges they decide to trump up.

Do not believe for a second that it could never happen to you. When there has been work before, I have never failed to ante up the effort to make a living for myself, even if the only work was that which you could only find at the day labor agency. I have paid taxes all my life, and have never once received a handout or subsidy from any welfare agency, public or private. I am certain that this is probably the case for you (I hope). Yet when the time comes, the idle rabble will be the first to eat from the tray, and the productive will be left to fight over the garbage scraps.

An open letter to losers everywhere

You, sir, are a failure.

From day one you have been coddled. You have been coddled by family, friends, colleagues, and everyone around you. They did not want to make trouble and provoke your infantile ire. And for that, they now despise you and want nothing to do with you. You have never been presented a real challenge, because there was no way you would ever rise to the task at hand and attack it, and people around you know it. You have never demostrated an ounce of original thought in your life. You have always lived inside your comfort zone - safe, easy, and half-assed.

You have never even attempted to do anything that would better yourself, outside of what your parents and elders pushed and prodded you to do. You have never attempted to right your wrongs, to change your behavior, to alter your personality to be more pleasant and agreeable, and maybe gain a few real friends instead of trying to win people by raising their sympathy and pity (which is the only way you know how to get people to "like" you).

You are highly self indulgent and self serving. You love yourself more than anything else on earth. You have never given another person any consideration or any other part of yourself. You are absolutely terrified that anyone could have a negative thought about you. You refrain from association with others because you are afraid they might bruise your sensitive, precious ego, which above all else in life must be protected from reality. Everything in life must revolve around you.

On the other hand, you are convinced that other people hate and despise you. Why is this? Is it because you are terrified that, being rational adults, they might have figured out your game, that they know how you operate and detest you for it? If this is the case, which it is, you richly deserve every ounce of their spite.

People do not hate you, so much. When they actually think of you, which is rare and far less than you would indulge yourself to believe, they dislike you because you are self indulgent, and ignorant, and willfully negligent of yourself and others. No one likes to associate with a loser.

You dread that word, "loser." Why? Because deep down, you know that is what you are. You are an obese loner, a parasite who works an easy GOVERNMENT JOB at taxpayer expense, a emotional and physical moocher and a looter. You gain what little self confidence you have by saying to yourself that at least you are not on welfare. Get with the program, buddy. Welfare should never have been an option.

Your mindset is that of a young child. You wish that every bad thing in your life - your ugliness, your sloth, your gluttony, your cavalier treatment of others, your incompetence toward your affairs - should be miraculously removed by some third party. In your mind, you are never fundamentally responsible for your problems, no matter how much you insist this is the case - that is just a play for attention. In reality you feel that everything is someone else's problem, and you are one big misunderstood victim. You truly are like a child, scumbag.

You refuse to use your mind, coasting on your meager successes and your unobtrusive manner. You have never been able to follow conversations and trains of thought that import no interest to you, and it all becomes mush in your mind. Perhaps this is ignorance, but more likely it is you not doing your part to become a better informed person. The parallel to your lack of initiative to take care of your body is startling. In situations which call for creative thought to benefit the greater good, your mind lies dormant. Yet you are capable of incredible mental intricacies and intellectual feats, if the benefactor is you, to satisfy your self indulgence. Usually this involves trivial information of little importance.

You have not one ounce of desire or volition toward self improvement. If you did, your problems would be greatly reduced. If you just changed your attitude and personality, to exude positivity and success, people would probably accept you. But you are a snivelling loser and that is what you are, and you will continue on that route until something big, terrible, and tragic happens to you - and by that time, it will be too late, and everything will be lost for you.

The few skills you have perfected in life are: incredible feats of memory for those stupid trivial things which interest you; ability to parrot other, wiser thinkers if the ideology "feels right"; and of course the ability to bitch, whine, and otherwise pass the buck left and right to those who are willing to take on the responsibility of being a productive adult. You cannot cook, clean your apartment, service your automobile, eat a proper diet, dress neatly, clean and maintain yourself, or supervise other people without someone holding your hand. In fact, there are very few things you know how to do, or can perform competently, that every other responsible adult in the world can accomplish easily. All you know how to accomplish with ease is eating, sleeping, and defecating. Hell, you can't even hold a job for more than a handful of years, before your incompetence and lack of class and character catch up to you.

And to top it all off, you are a pathological liar. You have to be, to cover your ass and to hide your numerous shortfalls. You lie to your father, your mother, your brothers, the rest of your family, your co-workers and supervisors, your few acquaintances, and especially to yourself. Your entire life is defined by lying, and is underpinned by the biggest lie of them all, a dark secret which you dare never tell lest it ruin you. I hope very much to see you ruined by it. Maybe then will you understand that lying is criminal, and a sin. You are fundamentally dishonest, lack basic integrity and character, and for this reason alone no one should be allowed to associate with you.

You live in a fantasy world where you are successful and powerful, and you have powerful friends, and the world is a utopia. But this is a delusion, and every day I notice that you seem more and more to live in this fantasy world and less and less in the real world where life is lived. Perhaps that explains why the real world poses such a challenge to you. For half the time, you aren't even in it.

The best you can do for yourself is a crummy ghetto apartment and a publicly funded job which you can't even perform competently. You would not last a single minute in the private sector, outside of mindless minimum wage work.

You are a blot on humanity and a disgrace. You are nothing but a tiny futile speck to successful, confident people who gain the jobs, income, respect, and riches in this world. Ever stop to think that attitude counts way more than raw intelligence (of which you have sorely overestimated your own amount)? They laugh at you, and leave you in the dust as they easily capture society's good things - money, respect, contentment, the love of a good woman, etc. Because they know that a loser like you could never compete with them, not in a million years. If you think you have something to offer to others that they don't already have in spades, you're dreaming.

The sad thing is, you could be one of them. You could have friends, and be a respected professional, and find a woman who loves you and who you could love in return. But you can offer nothing to another person, since you are constantly sucking in and have nothing to offer anyone else, save your insipid conversation about (for example) the proper properties of road fonts. What a complete dolt you are.

You will never be loved, never fall in love, and most certainly no one will ever fall in love with you. You are a sexless, sickening automaton, a empty mind and an empty soul bereft of character or unique personality, which will never be permitted the chance to reproduce itself. (It is only fair.) To other people you are nothing but a tremendous blot of organic matter and body cells, something that merely exists and takes up physical space, but hardly anything to care about, or even think about for more than two seconds, or which offers anything to humanity. There is simply nothing there which to value. Your only human worth is the organic material which you will return to the earth when you die.

If you would just change - resolve to become like those successful, confident people, use your mind and stop thinking about yourself and your stupid, self inflicted problems ALL THE FUCKING TIME, life might just change for you. But you don't, predictably. That would involve too much effort and investment of time that would have to be made on your part. Instead, you react with envy, call your successful betters "dickheads," hate them for their success and lifestyle, and think that you are somehow superior to them.

What a fucking deluded sick demented nut you are.

Because you know, deep down, that they have you beat by the ass, and of course you don't like that. Life is a competition, and in your world you must always be the winner. (If anything else, you are always a sore pathetic loser.) So like a five year old you have a big temper tantrum, and cuss and stamp your little foot. You are such a sad, pathetic little man.

And you know all these things about yourself, which is the worst thing of all. And you do nothing about it, which makes you not only a hypocrite and a loser, but morally evil. The world would be better off without your kind. You contemplate suicide and realize that no one on earth would miss your sorry little ass. And then you realize how completely pointless and pathetic your life is, because you mean nothing to no one, and have spread nothing but crap, and have been nothing but a net negative drain to society.

YOU ARE A LOSER!!!!!!! GROW UP, ASSHOLE, AND GET WITH THE PROGRAM!!!!

On marriage

Some who know me may wonder why, at my relatively advanced age, I am not married or have anything near a glimmer of prospects for marriage. Well, if you ever encounter me in person, you might begin to understand why - besides my endearing character (sarcasm), officially I am "obese" as measured by the scientific yardstick (which in my opinion is as flawed as the health Nazis who came up with it). But I digress.

Of course I have mentioned the social struggles of my past and their significance toward my wholesale marginalization. But that is not the true cause, either. I could probably make myself "marketable", in a manner of speaking, if I so decided and put forth the effort. But I feel no great need to do so.

The truth is that those who are significantly different in a manner of thinking and acting are not going to gel well with the rest of society. In my case, my unorthodoxies and offenses against dickhead sensibilities (the only ones that matter in today's world, unfortunately) are numerous: I live in the Black ghetto as a White man; I refuse to buy into the false materialist suburban dream to which everyone else aspires; I intentionally enclose myself in a sort of social Batcave; I prefer classic soul/blues/R&B to the latest "indie" rock band that sounds just like every other one; I eschew flash and image for cold realities, in thought and in speech. (If you read this blog regularly you likely understand what I mean by "cold realities.")

I prefer this lifestyle, at least for the time being. Sure, it would be nice to share it with someone, but I don't think any respectable White woman would care to date someone who lives in the NoFlo. (For those who don't understand jive, that means north of Florida Boulevard.) Especially an obese loner with a checkered past.

I understand these obstacles and simply live with them. Does it get lonely at times? Of course. But I find ways to amuse myself, though likely you wouldn't find what I do for fun to be anything near amusing. 

So marriage is not in the cards for me, at least not for the forseeable future, and perhaps ever. And in any case, maybe this is a good thing.

Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. I seem to encounter broken families everywhere - single parent homes, children who spend one week with the father and the next with the mother, odd permutations of "step" families, etc. I guess I just have that kind of luck.

I don't want to wind up divorced. Rejection is my worst fear; not to mention the legal expenses up the wazoo that follow the end of a marriage. And in my opinion divorce is a sin. (That's my Catholic upbringing for you again.) It is not good for families (particularly children) or for society.

Yet divorce would probably be the outcome of any marriage that I enter into. I am not a particularly empathetic or "warm" person, so I doubt a woman could tolerate me for very long anyway. My cynicism is grating enough as it is (read this blog for proof), so I can't imagine how a woman could tolerate that for the long term. And I enjoy my private time to myself, so any marriage of mine would be in name only. In all, there is very little in me to love - little of value that another human being would find endearing or pleasant.

So taking myself "off the market" is in my opinion the best course of action, as it spreads the least hurt all around.

In any case, I fear that I truly do not have the capacity to love another person. I have lived by myself for so long and focused so much on my own life that I likely do not have enough left to give to another person.

Let me rephrase that to be more precise: I believe that fundamentally, per my character, I am unable to truly care about another person in the manner that a lifelong married partnership demands.

That is what it boils down to. But let it not be said that I am a malignant narcissist who goes out of his way to hurt people. A true narcissist could never see any wrong in his character, and would unquestioningly go about drawing people in, and then leaving them bruised and hurt, to only crumple them up like so much rubbish and move on to the next unsuspecting victim. On the other hand, I understand my flaws, and because I'd rather not spread around any unpleasantness (heaven knows my enemies would use that as a ready excuse to jettison me into permanent poverty), I choose not to inflict myself on others.

It is a simple but elegant solution, and one much in keeping with the philosophy of a free society: Leave me the hell alone.

Passover

So the potentially lethal incident passed today without issue, and the angels of destruction have for now avoided making my acquaintance. But this doesn't mean I am out of the woods - far from it. The dark realities of my past remain to be discovered by some enterprising dickhead with a grudge, and that will be the end of me.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda

(Jim Mora fans go away.  This is about a different topic.)

I see that there are many jobs in respectable blue collar fields that pay handsomely, far more than I make to be sure.  Obviously these are only average wages/salaries.  But what high averages they are.

See, this is why I should have listened to my parents.  They didn't want me to attend university; they insisted that I learn a trade. But poor stupid me said that they didn't know what they were talking about, that a university education would pay off far better than a vocational school training regimen. How ignorant I was. Now I have nothing to fall back on when my past lack of integrity and moral judgment decides to assert itself, as it always will.

And here I stand today, the Damocles' sword of economic marginalization and potential unemployment hanging over my head, waiting to sever it when the chance is right - without salable or economically viable skills to fall back on. Pushing paper? Why, here's a budding paper pusher with a freshly minted university degree, we'll hire him for less - and without the baggage of a "anti-social" personality or questionable socioeconomic background to boot.

Not enough years to have gained "real" experience (that would be around 10 years' tenure in the field) and thus more-or-less permanent economic security; too much experience to be "just starting out" and thus suitable for entry level employment at dirt cheap starter wages. Overqualified for the beginner jobs, and vastly underqualified for the middle to upper level jobs - that fallow crack in the labor market that leads (again, for me) right back to the fry cooker in the kitchen of an anonymous fast-food establishment located somewhere out in the bleak suburban asphalt tarmac moonscape, far from convenient transit service, and a world removed from hope and the promise of a better future.

Well, I could go back to counting cars, something I did for peanuts as a "independent contractor" (aka casual laborer) not so long ago, when I inhabited that vapid limbo between skill-less automaton and educated professional called university. And you always wondered how those rubber hoses you occasionally see stretched across roadways, attached to small metal machines which are traffic counters, find their way out there. To do this takes no great intellectual skill. (Which means at least I am good at it.) The main qualifications are a strong set of muscles (for nailing road spikes into concrete, no easy task in 100 degree weather; also for carrying the mechanical counters which are heavier than they look), a high tolerance for working outdoors in broiling summer heat (this is the South, you know), a streak of nerve (gotta watch those cars, they come at you fast), and a willingness to accept the part-time, seasonal nature of the work and the fact that you can never make a living off it.

When I was looking for work after college graduation, nearly every company to which I applied for employment would offer me this very type of work, in place of the professional position I had actually applied for. Whenever I heard from these employers' mouths - and it was inevitable - the phrase "I know it's not quite what you're looking for" - typical dickheadese - I knew that I was being two-timed and shortchanged yet again, and that they found it perfectly acceptable to employ a master's degree holder with a 4.0 graduate school GPA in what amounted to a blue collar job. It was a good gig while in school, but as a professional career makes for a fine dead end.

Fascism works in such fine, subtle ways in the new Amerika. Keep 'em low and dumb, that's the spirit!

I admit, I took these dickheads up on their offers sometimes, sucker and dolt that I am. But hunger is real, and lack of food makes the need for any sort of work much more compelling. These folks had under their employ the most overqualified field worker they ever managed to find - dirt cheep, too!

Somebody told me that I should go back to school. With two degrees already to my credit? I spent six years in higher education, allegedly acquiring skills that were supposed to insulate me from the harsh vagarities of economic booms and busts. Then many, many more years spent below the poverty line, working at minimum wage, part-time, and temp jobs (thanks to the benevolence of my Type A personality colleages who found me "socially unacceptable" for professional work) until I was, by some miracle, somehow able to secure my present position which at least makes some use of my hard earned skills. So I am not going back through that gauntlet again. No sir.

This same someone suggested going back to graduate school to obtain a doctoral degree (what's left, anyway?). Are you kidding? I am not going to enter academia and submit myself to that quagmire. You think the real world is astoundingly fascist and closed minded? Well brother, you ain't seen nothing yet, when it comes to academe. I would be professionally cast off faster than a spent bait on a fishing hook.

Not to mention that perhaps some of my views are quite anathema to the State worshiping guild of higher education. (If you are a regular reader you know what I mean.)

If vocational school is what is meant - yeah, why not? I have nothing to lose. I have never been particularly skilled or interested in tools, but I hear the work pays well.  

So lies the ruins of my doomed attempt to claw my way out of the trailer park. But in modern Amerika, we (aka the affluent dickheadery) can't be having poor white trash improving their lot - we need them to staff the discount stores, fast food joints, pizza parlors, and T-shirt shops in a million barren and ramshackle suburban strip malls across the land - a world where people sell crap to each other for a living, an endless circle of hamburgers and colas and worthless imported junk (which gives the Asiatics, at least, something to sing about).

I will have to refamiliarize myself with this world. It will take time and effort. I have seen and tasted a better life, and like the complete moron which I am, allowed it to slip through my fingers.

And for the most part, the game works. Most of us trailer park refugees are too dumb to know how to really improve our lot in life, anyway. It's called heredity for a reason. Poor people stay poor cuz we're stupid, and we just keep on inheriting that same stupidity from our parents and passing it on to the next generation, which always seems to degenerate into a worse heap of trash than the one before it.

In a few generations hence, at this rate, the chimpanzees will be able to best us in a game of checkers.

Coulda, woulda, shoulda, I suppose.

The end is near

For me on an economic level, that is. I can feel it in my bones; I can picture it in my head. Terminated, unemployed, broke, even further despised than before.

And wouldn't that just please the dickheads, the naysayers, and all my other enemies throughout the years who were, and continue to be, convinced that I can't succeed at any level, that I am incapable of supporting myself and living an independent life without screwing up spectacularly.

Well, events may prove them right yet.

My parents will be sorry to see this. With tail between my legs I will have to return to their abode, to hear their cries of yammering and hollering that are sure to ensue in this event.

And I don't even want to think about how I will find another job that pays anywhere near as well, or is as satisfying from a work standpoint, as my current position. Not that I am making mucho dinero, of course, but it sure beats being terminally unemployed and earning absolutely nothing. As I will be for a long time if I lose my job.

As you may be aware, the economy is not in the healthiest of conditions right now. (Though even in a growing economy, for me it seems to require a near-miracle to be hired anywhere.)

Well, maybe change needs to happen. I have been stuck in a rut as of late. Perhaps I need to go home and face the harsh unresolved realities of my life - no friends, family that despises me, few salable skills, etc. Perhaps I have been sheltered by my environment for too long.

What's funny is that these past few years have been unusually quiet and serene for me. Generally in my life it has been one crisis after another. I much prefer not having to deal with a personal crisis every week. I don't want to return to the bad old days, when just having to wake up every day was enough to depress me.

And the most ironic part is, I have been told that I am doing an excellent job and that I am an asset to the office. I would like to think that this is true. But you watch just how empty and hollow those words are as they drop me like a hotcake. In today's world, objective value is dead. It is the 'vibe' you give off which commends you or condemns you now.

But I am cursed in many ways, and fate cannot ignore me forever. I suppose these things are inevitable for me.

Let's hope that this crisis passes over and leaves me unscathed, and that I am able to keep my job and my life intact.

Bloviation about nothing

Is it normal to feel a good deal that you are loathed by many and cared for by none (save perhaps immediate family)? I doubt it is healthy to feel this way. Yet I cannot escape the notion that if I died tomorrow or somehow or other disappeared, people who know me - co-workers, acquaintances, etc. - would be happy to hear that I am gone. In fact they would go to a bar or restaurant after work and celebrate, figuratively dancing on my grave. I would bet a large sum of money that they would do this.

Oftentimes at work I feel like I am inconveniently "in the way" and lack the intelligence and skill to contribute something worthwhile or meaningful besides performing routine work which I already am long practiced at doing (which means I know how to do it by heart - and even there I screw up sometimes, go figure). I feel like the only reason I hold my current position is because I have stayed with my employer for a reasonable length of time (you wouldn't believe the turnover we have over there, esp. in one particular division) and because I have mostly stayed out of the big boss' way, thus giving him little reason to dislike me. (He may be the only person over there, believe it or not, who genuinely likes me and thinks I am doing a good job.) I feel like I am holding things back over there given that I am in a managerial job, and that there should be someone more skilled, talented, hardworking, dynamic, and people-friendly in my position. Because let's face it, I am none of those things and never have been. That's how one generally defines a loser - by lack of those exact traits.

I cannot seem to interest anyone, male or female, in having any sort of relationship with me beyond the professional, temporary, or fleeting - anything from friendship up through courtship and beyond. It is terribly disappointing to have that sort of negative impact on people, time after time. It says a lot about a person's character, or lack thereof, I believe. And believe me, I am not deliberately sabotaging things - I realized long ago the complete and utter stupidity of that social tactic. Do I repel people that much? If so, why? Are they afraid of somebody just a little bit different from them? Am I truly that different? Is it again, fear of the "jungle bunny" other that keeps people away? I grant that I am not the most warm and socially open person, but for god's sake I'm not a total reject, am I?

I fear that if this course of events does not alter significantly in the near future, it will lock into a pattern that will haunt me until the end of my days. Once I pass a certain point in my life, it will definitely be locked in place due to various circumstances (people get settled in their ways as they get older, aren't very willing to admit new people into their lives, etc.; this is on other people's part which I am referring to here). It will likely shorten my lifespan, and will certainly significantly reduce my quality of life and exclude me from ever experiencing love or physical intimacy with a woman. Time is ticking away - this is the 1970s of my life. Will the future be an urban ghetto or a nice clean neighborhood?

After a certain age (I'd say about 30-35, closer to the younger end for me of course), I transfer from being "single bachelor" to "dirty old man." You know the type I am talking about. I knew a person like that once. His name will not be mentioned here, but he was the most repulsive human being I have ever encountered. He appeared unwashed and dirty, dressed slovenly, was obese, and he leered at women. I believe he lived with his mother. Nobody liked him. The only reason he worked where he did was that he was civil service (he too held a GOVERNMENT JOB). I am not too much different from him by now, I fear. His physical traits are surprisingly similar to mine (or at least what I feel others perceive in me). And by the way, I have a GOVERNMENT JOB, also.

I am the portrait of a loser bureaucrat dumbass who can't find a better job, or any job in the private sector from dishwasher on up, because I lack the skill, dynamism, and social skills to do so.

I do take the time to go out and be social when I feel the opportunity is right. Unfortunately, that's not often enough and most nights I sit at home alone. Of course I can't be going out every night, but still....how often do normal people go out socially during the week? I haven't met anyone through the YMCA and I don't think I ever will, so that's a waste of money.

You know what scares me? I am becoming - no, I am - Travis Bickle. I am sure at some point in your life, you have seen the film Taxi Driver. As regular readers (that's all six of you) of this blog know, that is my favorite film - you figure out why, I'm sure the answer is obvious. I'll give you some hints: Alienated loner/loser + lives in big city away from family + low prestige job + not very intelligent + frequent fantasies involving females....well I don't watch porn films and I don't own any weapons so I haven't sunk that low yet.

But I feel like Travis Bickle. I also feel old, mainly because I know so much obscure historical junk, like why Nixon actually said "well I'm not a crook" (hint: it wasn't because of Watergate). That is my specialty of knowledge - pure crap. An obsolete and perfectly useless tripe for a world which requires actual salable skills in order to avoid starvation. It's like having a master's degree in philosophy; it certifies that you are quite intelligent, but only qualifies you to wash dishes.

I really could compete on a game show like Jeopardy! and win a large sum of money, if I were truly desperate and didn't mind making a complete ass of myself on national television. I wish I knew something valuable or useful, like how to fix a car or how to create software. My brother knows these things. He is far, far, far more successful and makes a hell of a lot more money than I ever will, even though he isn't as intelligent from an academic perspective (he didn't make straight A's in school, is what I mean). But you know what they say - you can be terrible at formal learning but quite intuitive at hands on stuff. That's how my brother is. Those folks often become the most successful people in this world.

That is my fundamental problem - I have so much promise, but fail to deliver time and time again. And that is why people detest me. Because that is the textbook definition of LOSER. With someone who isn't as skilled, they get more leeway and a lot of them are perfectly happy working at some shit job where they can be themselves and make friends at their low level. But if you have skills, and it's obvious (can you say Master's degree?) but are a complete dumbfuck in real life, isn't that somewhat of a clue that you are a worthless, lazy piece of shit?

I would hope that there isn't any truth to my grim self-assessment, and if there really, truly are some redeeming qualities to my personality. I would like to think that all of the above is completely untrue, that people really do care about me, that I am likable and that I haven't caused pain for my family and acquaintances, that I am a good worker who contributes things of importance to my organization, that I am intelligent and don't come off as a complete inarticulate dumbass to people, and that one day some nice young lady will accept me and fall in love with me. I suspect I am too much of a naive loser for the last part to happen, but the remainder is, I feel, somehow obtainable to some degree.

Sorry I must whine like this, but that is my loser lot.

I hate being right all the time

Well, my social event of Thursday has passed and the jury has reached a verdict.

I am a complete failure at socializing, and I will likely never see this young lady again.

She didn't say this in so many words, but of course she came to realize over the course of an hour what a sick and mentally deformed freak she was dealing with here.

She was a nice person, and I enjoyed conversing with her. I can't say that I would have gone head over heels for her, but she would have been a good friend to have - and I can assure you that every friend to me is precious, since I have so few (actually, none).

But dat's life at the bottom of the totem pole of human quality, eh? When you're a loser, and you remain one for so long, it becomes too ingrained in your habits and character. No amount of farce and fancy can ever hope to overcome that fact. The only real cure is lobotomization, and that's one of those things where the remedy is worse than the disease.

So again I live up to my renowned reputation as depraved and disgusting white trash. That is how I came into this world, and barring some miracle I suppose that is how I shall leave it.

A thug's face

Historically I have been told by more people than I can count that I scare people, that I am an offensive presence and that I should find a dark corner where I can curl up and die.

And just so you don't think this is hyperbole, yes, these exact words and expressions have been used.

Logically this verbal commentary is bound to have a psychological effect on the person being spoken to in this manner. When I was young, I reacted in a counterproductive way - assuming that I was already a monster, I acted out in a manner which would push people away from the get-go, so that I would not have to experience authentic rejection due to my faults. I was in control of the process. The upshot, however, is that due to this history of behavior I have never really tested my enemies' theories. I have not been able to prove them right nor wrong.

I have set up a social function with a young lady that will take place tomorrow afternoon. This time I will not deliberately act like a moron such as I did in my adolescence (can't say that I won't act like a moron, just that I won't actively try to). I will simply be myself. I will finally see whether my detractors were correct all along.

I predict that they will ultimately be proven right. I will likely louse this one up 'on the merits'. I hate to say this, but I have money riding on this outcome.

You may think 'why would a person bet against himself?' Because odds are what they are. I have no friends, my family detests my presence, my co-workers wish me to resign my position and find a lower paying line of work.

I cannot believe that simple social isolation can be the complete cause of all this. There must be some basic validity to why people, relatives and strangers alike, have wholeheartedly rejected me throughout my life. After all, I spent every day with my family members for many years...

It is not like I am gravely immoral in my lifestyle. I work a steady job, pay my taxes (grudgingly, but don't we all?), don't commit crimes, pay my rent on time, treat other people with respect, don't start fights or spread gossip, help out when asked and even when not asked, bathe every night, don't listen to music with obscene lyrics....so what's the problem? I'm shy??? Is that a legitimate reason to marginalize me??

In today's Amerika, where the violent and arrogant Class A personality rules supreme, regrettably it is.

And perhaps the culture is right. This is a self-directed society, and shy folks are the last vestiges of humanity's twisted and overwhelming collectivized past, where men didn't have to take risks and were told what to do by their political leaders. Shy people don't take risks or contribute as much as the next man. They (rather we) fear risk and challenge, preferring not only just to play it safe but to ensconce themselves in an impermeable bubble where real life can't intrude, so they won't get hurt - a monumentally stupid way to live, of course. We prefer the slothful security and lack of challenge provided by GOVERNMENT JOBS and taxpayer subsidy. We live out spiritually empty and emotionally barren lives dedicated to obscure interests (for the simple reason that they have no other choice, due to their closed social lives); rejected, feared, and loathed by the outgoing rational majority. So the men of the mind have sorted society the way it is, for good reason.

My ideal woman

I know this is not supposed to be a personals site, or a shameless method of attempting to collect a date. And this isn't - but I have thought about this and have come to a conclusion.

I don't give a flivvering fudge.

Actually this is less a personal ad and more of a random outlet for private musings of mine. So here is what I would seek (and not seek) in a woman, given a lady gracious and patient enough to provide me the time of day...

I would not want her to smoke at all, or drink to excess. Social drinking is fine if done in moderation. (If you want to know, I neither smoke nor drink, and never have.) I would hope she abstains from hard liquor such as whiskey, etc.

I would prefer her to possess some form of religious faith, but also be neither a religious nut nor a born again Christian. I hate evangelicals with a passion.

Of course I would like her to be polite, even tempered, and ladylike, with a witty and devastating sense of humor.

I would like her to possess some education, preferably at the college level, and be reasonably intelligent. I would not like to spend time conversing with a clueless moron who gets her mental cues from television and Cosmopolitan magazine.

I would hope she holds some of the same interests as I do, but if not, that's okay. As long as she accepts the person I am and permits me to indulge in my fancies for reasonable periods of time without complaining that "your interests are stupid and boring", there should be no problem.

I would not want her to come from too affluent a background, but neither would I desire a woman originating from the ghetto underclass. Believe me, if some woman ever intends to marry me, she ain't going to be doing it for the money.

She must be White. I am not physically attracted to Black, brown, or Asiatic girls, no matter how nice they may be as people. Sorry. That's just how I am - it's not racism, just my personal preferences at work.

If she is a blonde that is fine, but I have always hankered for a curvy brunette.

She must be a classy but demure dresser. What that means is she must not be someone given to wearing clothes that is too 'in style', or which makes her look pregnant when she isn't, or which exposes too much of her body, or wearing flip flops and tank tops in public. Her tastes in clothing should be simple, yet attractive. It should bring out her figure but not call attention to it. A nice white blouse and a simple skirt is all that it takes.

Preferably she should be a virgin. Of course that may be too much to ask for today in this hedonistic age, so I may waive this requirement given the situation. Widows are of course exempt from this stipulation.

I would prefer that she be either never married or widowed, but given that a good number of 'single' women today in my age group seem to be divorcees, this may also have to be waived.

I would prefer that she not have children (unless they are from a previous marriage). Above all else, she must not have produced children out of wedlock. That just speaks volumes about a person's character, and frankly I don't want to touch that with a twenty foot pole.

She shouldn't be too young (no college aged girls, please - y'all are too immature for the most part). I have no problem with older women up to a point. Women past their childbearing years, however, present a problem. I would like to have children at some point.

I would prefer her to be a professional, independent, intelligent woman with a career. If we ever decide on marriage, it is your choice as to whether you want to continue working. Women have minds too and they should not be put to waste. I do insist, however, that you don't latch onto any silliness such as not taking your married name. I am a traditionalist in some matters, after all.

I would like to find a woman who has tact and dignity, who acts like a lady and isn't prone to outlandish behavior or exhibitionism, who is partial to quiet evenings, to romantic interludes, to summer sunsets, who likes to travel and appreciates the finer aspects of life, and most of all, who accepts me the way I am, different from the mainstream and all.

Above all else, I would desire her to be a warm and caring individual, who can be wife, mother, and friend, and a devoted and loving companion.

And in return I promise these things:

I promise that I will always love and cherish you all the days of our married life.

I promise that I will support the family and not indulge in irresponsible thug behavior.

I promise that I will be a loyal and caring husband and companion, and serve as your rock and support in your time of need. I have been known to present exceptional loyalty to those who I care about.

I promise that you will forever be happy, and that I will not do stupid things like get into petty arguments or beat the kids because of work frustrations.

This is what I seek in a lady, and what I have to offer in return. I don't expect much in the way of responses, but if you are interested feel free to leave a comment below and I will respond.