January 15th, 2017

It happened again yesterday. Thought about going out. Couldn’t bring myself to do it. I forgot how strong the depression and anxiety could be. It appears that I have underestimated my enemy.


I’m not the social person I used to be. What if I don’t know anybody? What if I only know one person and they’re working the room, too busy to sit with me? I can be alone at home, I don’t need to be alone out there surrounded by other people.


I don’t go out unless I have to and social events are not “have to”. I don’t put myself out there anymore. Please don’t look at me and judge me. You don’t know my life. All my friends went on with their lives and left me with mine.


My heart is a bottomless pit. It’s a tough environment. I put on the air of anger and defiance. Man cannot live on that alone. Sometimes I really am angry and defiant. Sometimes I am resigned to the dumbness of life. You lived your entire life like a unlit candle in a drawer. Never knowing what it felt like to know what your life was for.

An Open Letter To Our Future Pisslord

January 13th, 2017

Dear Pisslord ,


It’s Friday the 13th, January 2017. You have seven days to say “I changed my mind” and get the fuck out of Dodge. Maybe fly to one of those foreign countries you have deals in, like Argentina. . . or Turkey. You are about to become the most miserable person in the planet. I don’t envy you at all.


You wanted this, right? All this money, power, control? This was your great achievement, big man. And now you get to lie in it, like a Ritz-Carlton bed soaked in Russian hooker piss. You’re going to hate every second of it.


You will never be alone. Surrounded by yes-men and the Secret Service. You don’t want the Secret Service around you so much. You want your own personal security instead. Not going to happen, Charlie. You’re stuck with a bunch of new people so you better get adjusted.


If you’re not careful, there may very well be a Secret Service agent in Trump Tower giving Melania the first orgasm she’s had since 2004 but that’s none of my business.


You are a blithering idiot. You don’t have a billion dollars. There is no way you have that much money. You are running a carny scheme and eventually we are going to oust you. Even the people who voted for will see what a liar and conman you are. They will feel embarrassed much like the people who bought into Trump University.


You won’t even get to blow up a country yourself. You won’t even get to hit a big red button that makes countries go ka-boom. You’re gonna be so unhappy. Within a year, you will be the most unpopular man in America. Oh ho ho this is going to be rich. This week you have a 37-percent approval rating. That’s horrible for a newly-elected President. By January 2018, you will be lucky not to have foreigners throwing shoes at you when you travel abroad like they did at George W.


Say what you want about Obama, but a lot more people liked or respected him than hated him. There’s no accounting for racists who hated a powerful black man and sexists who made sure Hillary Clinton’s faults and flaws stuck to her like Velcro while nothing at all stuck to you. What a world we live in.


Seven days, butch. Maybe consider getting out. Apologize for causing so much havoc and ruining so many lives. Or, do what you always do and go all-in. Another bankruptcy, only this time it will be the entire country. And then here come the mob to ride you out of town on a rail. Oooh it’s going to be ugly, Dear Pisslord.


Don’t Say That You Love Me

January 12th, 2017

“Don’t say that you love me, just say that you want me” – Fleetwood Mac, “Tusk” (1979)


I’m using the music of Fleetwood Mac as a buffer in these traumatic times. Sometimes you do things while you’re in mourning that when you finish mourning you’ll never want to do again. So I’ve been forcefeeding myself a heaping spoonful of the Mac. I’ve played the “Tusk” album a lot for some reason. I couldn’t bear to go to “Rumours”, the one everybody seems to love. I had to go to the flawed fuckup album that came after that one. None of these songs are especially weird, not in 2017 post-Pitchfork music. It’s a helluva lot easier on the ears than goddamn “Dreams” which is the most overplayed song of all time.


“Don’t say that you love me” is a song lyric that any voter could say any time the candidates come around concern-trolling for votes. These motherfuckers in the Congress are trying to destroy ACA. I’m afraid for myself and a lot of people. They don’t have a plan to replace. Just want to get rid of it as much as possible.


I’ve seen two elections stolen in my lifetime. My spirit can’t be broken again. It was easy to break my spirit when I was twenty-two, more self-absorbed and less wise. So I fight back. Maybe it’s a Don Quixote thing where I don’t have much chance but who cares? I’m better prepared.


I do everything I can but I am just a guy in Whitesville, sitting his apartment working the phones. Advocacy is good but it’s hard to keep up the fight.

Kompromat, Or Pissgate

January 11th, 2017

Today’s youth has more potential than mine did. They have more access to news and information than we did.


Have you ever resented the previous generation for what it did the world it was about to hand to you? I have, and some ways I still do because they haven’t let go of control.


I needed the Trump news from last night. The kompromat. The Russian hookers pissing on a bed that the Obamas had once slept in. You can just feel the Jack Nicholson “Partyman” vibe of the whole thing once Trump is actually in office. I laughed all night about it. I wanted to tell my mom but I couldn’t. I’m her son. Golden showers are not the kind of things a son should talk about to his mama. Family values, folks.


The piss story is probably a red herring in a dossier of easier-to-verify intelligence reports meant to embarrass and anger Trump. Which is exactly what it did. Trump is the touchiest little baby boy President we ever had in our lives. Anything can send him into a tizzy. Meryl Streep. Alec Baldwin, anything. . . except Vlad Putin, apparently. That guy’s untouchable. Trump attacks, attacks, attacks and when anybody even broaches insulting and condemning his actions. . . well, then Katie bar the door, as one might say.


I watched the Trump press conference today. What a buildup. He hadn’t held one since July. He walked away from the podium like he’d been through a battle. His nerves looked shot. He looked tired and breathed heavily. He is not physically or emotionally up for the task of being President.


I seem to remember about eight years ago there was a rumor about Obama that he smoked crack and had oral sex with some guy in Gurney, Illinois before he was in the Senate. Did that ever rattle Obama? Not like this. The birth certificate thing, which Trump harped on for years, never rattled Obama like this. But the Republicans and the tea party and the racists and the crazies latched onto anything they could, not matter how tenuous it seemed.


I’m gonna miss Obama when he’s not in office. At least he wasn’t a golden shower loving freak-a-zoid with a bad heart with his balls in Russia’s purse. Chin music, kids.


I now feel like I’m writing these for the survivors who create the next civilization after Trump blows it up this year. I’m sorry, if you’re reading this years from now. I tried. 65 million people tried.



You Win Today

January 10th, 2017

RE: Meryl Streep. I went back and watched her comments at the Golden Globes. Then I read a transcript of what she said. To hear the backlash, one would think she advocated eating baby hearts. All she called for was for our next President to actually act like a decent, compassionate human being instead of the counter-punching animal he acts like almost all of the time in public.


And of course, MMA fans got all up in arms because she said it wasn’t art. It’s not, it’s a competitive sport. There’s nothing wrong with that. Do you see the football fans getting up in arms over what she said? And if your institution is so fragile you have to defend it lest Meryl Streep lay waste to it, maybe it deserves to die.


Glad I got all that out of the way. I had to give Meryl a few words of support, however little they help.


Depression is on my mind, in my mind. That’s the main gist of today’s writing. Because every depressed person own brain is their battlefield and their own brain is the enemy. Which all sounds strange to someone who hasn’t been in that situation. Like maybe it’s an imaginary friend that got out of control or something. Just think it over and it will go away, right?


Some days go by and a part of me gives in. “Ok, depression. You win today. Have at it. Let’s stay in bed too long. Let’s eat junk food all day. Let’s not clean the apartment. We’ll do exactly what you want to do, depression.” Some days just end up being for naught. You try to make the most of every day, but some days can’t be saved.


The silver lining is that I’ve got it under some semblance of control. What’s the worst it can do to me now? Ruin a few days at a time? I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. There were times I thought “stop the world and let me off” and I don’t think that anymore. Read between those lines, kids.


Depression is a beast I’ve got to let out sometimes to run wild. It’s like a feral dog that you have to let play in the yard. I didn’t ask for this feral dog in my life but it will claw its’ way back into my house if I don’t try to teach it to heel and mind.

Help For The Politically Insufferable

January 5th, 2017

Hi. I’m Mike. I, uh. . . I’m too political.


It all started over a year ago. I got more and more political and before long I got insufferable. I think I’m annoying my friends and family. I might be politically insufferable. Help me!


I knew people like this in the past. I’d see them all time on Facebook. Always banging the drum about some cause, some injustice. I didn’t even disagree with them. But it was like. . . ugh, already and I’d just unfollow them because I didn’t want my day ruined by something I saw on my Facebook feed.


But I’m that guy now. I’ve turned into that guy. That politically insufferable guy. And I want others to join me. Like I can’t be the only one I know who’s fed up with this bullshit, right?


Maybe I need something to distract me. What if I got into a relationship? It could be casual or serious, as long as it took my mind off the incoming klepto-fascist Trump administration and the state-level attempts to rip the tits straight off of democracy as we know it. Did you hear about what happened in Frankfo. . . you know what, here’s some tweets.




No, you know what? I’m good. I’m just fine. I’m sane in an insane world. And there’s a whole lot of dumb people making terrible laws. Those are the insufferable ones. So I’m going to stay like this as long as I have to, want to, need to. I don’t have a whole lot to lose anymore. I’m going to be the noisiest motherfucker I can be.


Join me if you haven’t already.


November 5, 2019

January 4th, 2017

Or an open letter to Governor Matt Bevin:


Hey Guv!


November 5, 2019. Remember that date. It’s just not Guy Fawkes’ Day. Remember, remember the 5th of November, as they say. It’s election day in 2019, when you come up for re-election. And you need to know something, Guv. . . you are totally going to get smashed.


Let’s look at today, January the 4th of 2017 for example. The new Republican House in Frankfort swore in and they tried to railroad a whole lotta stuff through the pisshole of Kentucky state law. House Bill 1, that’s the number one priority for you guys. House Bill 1 is a Right-To-Work bill. What’s that going to do? You say it’s gonna help big business come into the state and help our economy flourish. Everybody else thinks it’s going to hurt unions and reduce workers wages all over the state.


What else did you they do today? There was the 20-week abortion ban bill, just like Gov. Kasich signed in Ohio. Really have a problem with women’s reproductive rights, don’t we? And it seems like most of the people in our state government are men. . . who will never have to deal with the physical ramifications of a unwanted pregnancy. Men will never have to have an ultrasound to see the fetus from a rape. They’ll never have to carry a baby alone as a single parent. They’ll never. . . have as much compassion for the currently living as they do for the not-yet-born.


Oh, and charter schools! Private schools with public funding! Great idea, Guv! Especially in Kentucky, which is 47th in the country in public education. Why give Kentucky’s public schools more money anyway? We have so far to fall. Like 48th! or 49th! Maybe even 50th if we dare to dream!


So off three pieces of legislation, we can see that you, Governor Bevin, are anti-public education, anti-women’s rights, and anti-worker’s rights. So, that’s practically everybody. Do you realize that in order for your future opponent to win in 2019, all they will have to say is “Look at me. I’m not Matt Bevin.” Seriously, that’s a twelve-point cushion in the polls.


You’re one of the ten most unpopular governors in the country.  Sam Brownback from Kansas and Shitty McCorpserape out of New Hampshire are slightly more popular than you are.


Shitty McCorpserape -artist depiction


So enjoy these next few years, Guv. My advice to you is to take a lot of Propofol. That’s the stuff that killed Michael Jackson. But you can handle it. You’re Christian. It’s not an addiction if you need it. Right? Right.




Donald (Or The Decline Of Amerika’s Empire)

January 2nd, 2017


I think it’s probably time for somebody to do a companion album to The Kinks’ Arthur album from 1969.


A nostalgic tone for an America that once was. I guess that’s why the red caps said “Make America Great AGAIN”. Must have been a message for the pre-Gen X’ers. It certainly wasn’t a message for my generation or the one afterward. Divisiveness, resentment, it’s a tragedy because look where we are now.


Historians see patterns that other people miss. You break it, you bought it. Baby, I’m ready to go. I’m not here. This isn’t happening.


What is mainstream now? What is politically correct? Yes sir, no sir. I will not be moved. I’ve had my heart broken a million times, that’s not new. My brain is broken now. What do I do about this? Reality is too dark and twisted. I’ll never get over this. I feel like half the country would have me burned at the stake just for a cheap laugh.


Disharmony leads to anarchy. Do I have that right? The Purge. The civil war. Internment camps. The parts of the country we don’t like are suffixed -stan. Disconnected synapses.


Get in the head of a Trump voter and then beg like hell to be let out once you’ve been in there long enough. Could be just a few minutes, long enough to hear the wind echoing in the corridors.




The Bitch Is Back

December 30th, 2016

I attempted to write a short story for Christmas Day. Set exactly one year in the future, it had our new President sitting in the Oval Office considering firing some of those new nuclear weapons we’ve been stockpiling in the previous eleven months. Call it a piece of political thriller horror-comedy.


The conclusion to this story would have been Trump picking up the red phone to give the nuclear launch codes (aimed at what country, we don’t know), making the big call and starting to give the USSC in Nebraska the codes before abruptly choking to death. The twist is that a Secret Service agent in the Oval Office would actually smother the President to death while screaming where the phone could hear “OH MY GOD, MR. PRESIDENT! ARE YOU OKAY! THE PRESIDENT IS CHOKING! I THINK THE MR. PRESIDENT IS CHOKING! PLEASE LET ME HELP YOU! NO, SIR, NO! NO, SIR!. . .”


I don’t really have the heart to finish a lot of things right now, or start other things. My depression is picking up steam again. It would have no matter who won the election in November. Ebbs and flows. When I’m up enough I stand up for myself and I put in work. Right now, I’m sleeping a lot. I’m not writing as much over these last few days. The last two months were a torrent of emotion and I poured as much of it out as I could.


I have hope that on Inauguration Day, Trump tries to give the longest inauguration speech ever. The record is one hour forty-five minutes by William Henry Harrison, who died one month later because of hypothermia he suffered while giving that speech without a hat or coat on a very cold day. If history could repeat itself one more time, that would be hilarious and a relief.


We live in a crazy country, in a crazy world. Something ridiculous is on tap for 2017 and it won’t be good. I oughta be excited.d

Things You’ll Need For 2017

December 24th, 2016

  • Some Nazi paraphernalia. Since we’re officially Amerikkka now, you might as well have some racist bric-a-brac around the house in case the guards come to check on you (or if your landlord is a GOP fundamentalist snitch). You could get a rebel flag instead but I suggest you go all out. Maybe an old WWII war helmet from the losing side. Just pull an Anthony Cumia and tell people that you’re “a fan of the era”. Yes, a fan of the era where millions died in camps. Great era, that.
  • A passport. If you’re a Kentuckian like me, pretty soon your state-issued driver’s licenses will not be good enough to board domestic flights in the US. You’ll need a passport to get on planes starting in 2018. Also, there’s always a chance Texas and/or California could declare independence from the rest of the country. Who am I kidding? Most Kentuckians never get on a plane. Why would they need a passport?
  • A bartender’s license. The only people who will get any work going forward will be the lawyers and the bartenders. It takes too long to get a law degree and passing the bar is nigh impossible. Become a bartender. And never get high on your own supply (that means drunk).
  • Some weapons. If you’re not a gun person, don’t get a gun. You can’t handle the pressure. Get some mace. It’s not just for chicks anymore. Hell, get yourself a switchblade. You’ve already got Nazi paraphernalia. Don’t get throwing stars. You’ll lose them after one use. And if you really want to, get yourself a nice gun.
  • A lot of money. The best way to make change in the United States is to donate to political campaigns. When your candidate wins, they have to listen to you. Who else are they going to listen to? The public? Ha! We’re talking serious money here. George Soros money. Mike Bloomberg money. Koch Brothers cash. None of this reality TV/pop singer new money. Here today, gone tomorrow! The Trump Administration cabinet has so much money, it’s practically an Ocean’s Eleven reboot full of near-elderly jerkoffs. You need to be one of those jerkoffs with more money than you can count.