General_Shenanigans

I also think this is it. Sex scenes in movies used to have an effect on people. Now they just tune out and go get a snack and a drink or something until it’s over. Boooriiing. I will say, though, some filmmakers have been forced to get creative. That scene in Bladerunner 2049 was pretty hot. It didn’t even need to include anything gratuitous.

There’s been this idea circulating among Christians that Trump is actually chosen by God to help protect his people. This is because there are instances in the Bible of “outsiders” being chosen by God to protect the Jews in the Old Testament. They just see it as another one of those instances. Now, we’re dealing with faith. They can overlook his gaffes, his very un-Christian behaviors, bad perspective on reality, all of the issues. Because they know he’s not one of them. They don’t care. They have faith that he will protect them and deliver the United States to Christian rule despite his seemingly sinful ways.

It was quite a bit more complicated than that, of course. That was just the first catalyst that sent me down a new road.

In this recent case, yes. I never made a statement one way or the other on that in my comment, though. Being the type of person he is, he has the choice of being either serious or unserious with his endorsements. Putin does the same thing when he makes some sort of open statement regarding who he would prefer to win the election.

David Duke is responsible for my phase where I grew out of a simplistic view of politics and economics and started looking into things a little deeper. Hear me out: Back in the day, I went through a Libertarian phase. I supported Ron Paul. I was young and stupid, what can I say? Anyway, I read some news article that claimed that David Duke donated to his campaign. I was like, “Hmmm, what’s this all about?” And so began my realization that things are never as simple as we want them to be. So, thanks for being a racist dick, David Duke. Without your donation to Ron Paul raising my suspicions, it may have been at least a few more months before I picked up on the rotten smell. I might have actually put that stupid bumper sticker on and everything (shudder).

Oh, yes. We both go to regular therapy specializing in trauma. We highly recommend it, as well. We’ve worked through a lot of stuff. I just didn’t think bringing up the ducklings in the future would be a worthwhile subject to work through, at least for now while we work on other stuff. She can keep that and whatever the hell she saw in that accident locked safely away.

My girlfriend was driving and accidentally ran over a mother duck and its little ducklings trailing behind, much like this illustration. I was in the passenger seat and told her to pull over. I knew this wouldn’t affect her well, and she wouldn’t be able to drive after that. It was heavy traffic and she kept driving for a bit before we could get to the side of the road. She was losing her shit and crying. We swapped seats and kept driving. It was silent for a while, and she eventually stopped crying. I’ve vowed since then to never bring it up again, as I basically witnessed what was her brain entirely blocking it out. By the time we got home, it was like it never happened and we never talked about it again. She’s had a lot of past trauma, at least one incident involving a horrible car accident that she witnessed. She loves all the cute little animals, I don’t think there’s any reason to revisit it. It would break her heart all over again. It was just an accident, after all. They came from between some planted flowers on the median, and she simply didn’t have any time or room on the road to do anything about it.

The reason I know she’s able to block things out like that is because of how she tells her story of that car accident. She stopped after witnessing a terrible crash to see if the occupants were ok. She tells me she found a man on the ground and approached to see if he was ok, but, the man didn’t have a face. I asked in morbid fascination, “OMG, like, his face got ripped off or something?” “No,” she replied, “he just didn’t have a face. There wasn’t anything there at all. Like it was just blank.”

I used to live in a peaceful, quiet suburb. Eventually, a Panera appeared, as one does. At the end of each day, the Panera had a load of bread that was uneaten and un-purchased. The employees decided that the right thing to do was to give away the uneaten and un-purchased bread at the end of each day. I got some of it. Others did as well. It would be a waste otherwise! It would go into the dumpster, if nobody were to eat this delicious bread!

Those who were the most needy eventually got word of this free delicious bread. It began attracting ruffians. Travelers. Hobos, you know—homeless people. They traveled from the deeper parts of the city to seek this golden mana.

The locals didn’t approve of these dirty people migrating to our alcove and congregating about the back of the Panera every day. For some mere loaves of bread! It was depressing, and more importantly, it could affect our property values! What if they linger about and people think our city was one that not only catered to the lower people, but harbored them? And so, it was dealt with. The police helped to put a stop to it, bless their souls. We thank them for their service.

Now, the citizens of this peaceful city no longer have to view the sad visages of those who never learned how to play the game of our society. The excess bread may rot locked away in that dumpster, but it is the price we must pay for the cleanliness and uninterrupted peace we enjoy.

BIG /s. I typed this out so somebody may see how fucked-up this line of thinking is.

I was a teenager in high school. Late 90’s. I had never really been on a date of any sort before, so this is a first first date story.

I met this girl online on AOL instant messenger. We chatted very frequently for a couple of weeks, then started talking over the phone almost every day. We were really hitting it off, so we started trying to figure out how to hangout together in person. Eventually, she invited me to come over to her house. I was stoked. She said she lived in a nearby suburb, and relayed some directions to me, which I wrote down on a piece of paper. It didn’t seem too far. She said her parents would be home, so my parents said it was ok for me to go over there. I mean, they were probably stoked I wanted to go see a girl too, as I’m pretty sure they were starting to think I was gay by then. I wasn’t, but that’s a separate messed-up story.

An issue came up, though. Her parents said she couldn’t hang out unless she cleaned her room, as it was really messy. I said “No problem! I’ll help you clean it and we can hang out after!” Genius, right?

Anyway, hormones firing on all 8 cylinders, I hop in the car and begin my journey. Turns out she didn’t really live in the city she said she did. That was just the nearest city to where she lived. I’m driving, driving, driving, further away from town thinking I’m lost, but I’m not. I remember turning around and doubling back a few times assuming I MUST have missed a turn. I did not yet own a cell phone to call and verify with her. Folks, the struggle was real back then, LOL. I just eventually followed the instructions as best I could, and eventually found my way. They were not good instructions. It was a miracle, really.

I go up, knock on the door. She and her parents answer the door and let me in. These parents were weird. They were basically gushing to meet me and let me in, but were strangely stoic at the same time, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Whatever. But then, all of a sudden , these parents that were going to be there while we hung out suddenly grabbed all of their things and bounced. Drove off. Huh, weird. They just left this strange boy they’ve never met and their daughter alone in their house. Good thing I’m not a creep, I guess?

This girl is grinning happy, but then gives a warning. She says her room is really messy. I say “It’s ok! My room gets messy sometimes, too! Let’s just attack it real quick and then we can hang out.”

Narrator: No, the boy did not actually know what a real messy room was.

We go in her room and I am shocked. I try not to show it, but it’s bad. Really bad. Every surface in the room is covered with stuff. No part of her floor is visible. Just clothes, toys, books, all sorts of stuff covering the floor, the bed, the shelves, the dressers. I take a moment to look around and take it all in. I’m already here. I’ve already agreed to help her with this, and I really want to get to the hanging out part. I clap my hands and say “Welp! Let’s grab some trash bags!”

So I spend the next couple of hours at least helping straighten out this disaster zone. Now, you really get to know a person when you dig through all of their stuff. There were a couple of things of note. First, it became apparent that this had never been done. Ever. As we pulled up the strata of clothing and toys on the floor, it was like an archaeological dig. The further we got down, the smaller the clothing became. The toys looked like those of a child younger and younger. By the time we got to the bottom, there was toddler clothing. Once able to get under the bed, there were baby toys under there.

At one point, I found a bible, and asked where she wanted to put it. Her eyes widened and she got very serious and placed it up on one of her shelves with the cover facing outward, on display. The manner in which she did this was a little creepy. Now, I was religious and had recently finished up Catechism at that point, so being happy to find your bible didn’t seem weird to me, but I found her a bit dramatic. Whatever. I keep going, and then I find a witchcraft book. SAME reaction. Eyes wide, she places it up next to the Bible. She then turns to me and says, “You know, sometimes, I feel like I’m a bit closer to the devil.”

Like an oblivious character in a horror movie, I don’t get too freaked out. I’m like, dang, this girl is weird and has some issues or something. She starts talking about sex. Saying something along the lines of how she’s had it before, and wondering if I have or not. A lot of things were said by her that, out of context, may have been just a bit quirky. All together like that in that setting, though, I really wondered what was going on with this girl.

Eventually, we finished the cleaning. Many bags of trash and old clothes and toys all bagged up. Vacuumed, dusted, bed made. It felt so good and clean and open. A sense of self satisfaction. She sits down on the bed with a weird look on her face. Looking down at the floor. I say, “Alright! Now we get to actually hang out! What would you like to do?”

Her parents walk in the front door. She slaps her knees and says “Welp! It was nice hanging out! My parents said I could hang out until [this time], so you’ll have to go home now. Maybe we can hang out again soon!”

Narrator: They would not.

On my way out, I look around at the house once more. It seems normal. Clean. Very clean, even.

We didn’t really chat anymore after that. I actually tried to, mainly out of curiosity and concern. I had questions at this point, as you would imagine. She no longer had interest in responding. I just hope she appreciated having her room be comfortable.

After you reminded me of that as well, I had to look it up, because, what kind of cousin have we been talking about this whole time? Second, third cousin hopefully? Nope. She was his first cousin. I’m not so impressed with his sex life anymore. Gross.

I knew he wasn’t monogamous, but I didn’t know he tried to start a polycule until I read that. Interesting!

They’re 1000 officers short of what a city that size should need, and anybody who you would probably actually want to be a cop doesn’t really want to be a cop. Especially in L.A. So, yes. They literally take anybody.