Posts Tagged ‘money’

I’m So Broke

June 9th, 2017

I have a gig next month and I don’t want to play it. I shouldn’t play it. I’m prostituting myself for a quick buck.

 

Playing old songs that I don’t want to play. Songs I hate playing. Because I know I’ll get paid. I need the money. I hate it. I don’t want to do it.

 

I want everyone to feel what I feel. I want everyone to feel my pain just for a moment. Those old songs barely hint at how I feel anymore. I’m screaming on the inside.

 

I need the money. I’m such a mess this gig will help me take care of a few expenses. I need everyone to hear my pain. I want you to hear my pain. You should hear my pain. You deserve it. I want you to feel how I feel. Why should you get to have a good time? Why should I suffer alone?

Default Position

April 10th, 2017

I didn’t realize fascism was the default fallback position for so many. That was very naive on my part. Trump bombs a Syrian airstrip and the media which has been so quick to criticize him and investigate his potential ties to the Russian government practically lather themselves into a collective orgasm over it. He gained a few points in an approval poll, now sitting at 40% and all he had to do was drop $100 million worth of bombs.

 

Did you know it would cost a little over $50 million to fix the water situation in Flint, Michigan? Did you know that the Syrians used that airstrip the day after the bombing? Did you know that the Russians (who are Syrian allies) were warned in advance about the bombing? Would you believe that the Russians in turn tipped off the Syrians?

 

The mainstream media went out of its way to fellate Trump for his impulsive, ineffective and potentially illegal bombing. Trump finally became President (again), we were told.

 

The main takeaway of fascism is to pray that you won’t be singled out by authority. Pray you won’t be singled out by police looking to work out on someone. Pray you won’t be asked to de-board an oversold plane and forced off by armed security. It’s the armed security state, and the security is not for you. They do not serve and protect us. There is an establishment committed to maintaining its hold on everybody. Fear is a man’s best friend (c) J. Cale

 

Even if you #resist, fear can lurk inside you. We value our own safety and security over justice, which makes sense in a certain twisted way. There is no fun in being a martyr, especially when you’re still alive and wondering why if people knew what was happening to you. . . why didn’t they stop and help you?

 

You are now living in a world that is a paradise for the wealthy and incredibly difficult for everybody else. But now you are aware of it. The question is: when do you snap?

Just Relax And Enjoy It

March 19th, 2017

A long time ago, a politician in Texas once remarked that rape was like a hurricane and “if it’s inevitable, just relax and enjoy it”. His name was Clayton Williams, and he was running for Governor at the time. It was 1990, and he had a sizable lead over his opponent Ann Richards. The remarks led to backlash against Williams, as did allegations that he had visited a brothel while in college. On election day, Williams was toast, his lead in the polls evaporated and he crawled back into the world of oil, natural gas, philanthropy, and political fundraising.

 

Clayton Williams would have been perfect for 2017 politics. Went to a brothel, joked about victims enjoying rape? That would get him on the bill at CPAC. Maybe even as keynote speaker.

 

I’ve had a difficult time with all this. I need to be protected from rich people who think I’m a drain on society. Take a moment or two and read the New Yorker story about the connection between Trump, Steve Bannon and the Mercer family. The piece focuses mostly on the Mercer family, especially patriarch Robert. He is a billionaire kook. What do I mean by kook: he thinks that most Americans won’t be negatively affected by nuclear war. Oh, there might be a few deaths but mainly people will be just fine and it might even strengthen people. Like maybe even people might grow an immunity to nuclear exposure or something.

 

Jesus, lord. . .

 

Here we are, caught in a perfect storm. Living in a surreal nightmare that has been years in the making. While we go about our daily business, weirdos form think tanks and spend money to make things happen that will affect the quality of our lives. Then you find out about them and their worldview and you realize that they are fucking twisted and their thoughts are anti-social. Imagine the guy on the subway who touches himself while staring at women, shooting upskirt videos on his phone of unsuspecting women while walking up and down busy streets. Take that pervert, give him two billion dollars. What’s his worldview like? If he wanted to influence American policy, how would he try to do it?

 

The only way, the only fucking way, this Trump thing could ever have worked is if Trump had the very best and the very brightest people working in his administration and he listened to them. He doesn’t and he doesn’t. His chief strategist is a magazine editor/self-proclaimed Leninist who wants to dismantle the state and who’s favorite book is an incredibly racist French novel about Europe beating back a swarm of Muslim immigrants lead by a shit eater.

 

HOW MANY LENINISTS MAKE $750,000 A YEAR ANYWAY?

 

The sheer amount of lunatics, racists, kooks and incompetents in this cabinet are staggering. They got there by patronage, paying their way in. They bought a ticket and are taking a ride. You better believe the Mercer family have a seat at the table, even if they’re not in any official position. The weirdness is staggering. And it trickles down to the Congress, a Republican-led quagmire. More and more we’re seeing the veneer of normalcy flake away. Clayton Williams was a stone-cold prophet. Now we’re starting to see the freak flag fly, and not in a good way.

 

 

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.

It Takes So Little

January 14th, 2016

It takes so little to put me into a deep funk.

 

For Christmas I was gifted a Wal-Mart gift card for what I thought was $125. What I thought was $125. I thought it was $125.

 

I thought I had a gift card with $125 on it. From Wal-Mart. A gift card. With one-hundred and twenty five US dollars on it. That I could spend at Wal-Mart. Using the card. The gift card. The gift card I was given on Christmas. By my grandmother.

 

Now all of a sudden I can budget ahead for January. An extra $125 goes a long way in my world. I can get an oil change for my car. I’ve been needing one for a few weeks. I’m sure my oil is low. I’ll also be able to use the card for groceries. The gift card. The Wal-Mart gift card. It had $125 on it. An oil change is what, twenty dollars? I can go to the store and get groceries. I’ll have $105 or so left over. On the gift card. The Wal-Mart gift card. I got it for Christmas.

 

So I went and got the oil change. Which cost twenty bucks and change. That was last week. This week I went back to get some groceries. I got about $20 worth of stuff. Which would leave me with about $85 on the card. The Wal-Mart gift card that had $125 on it. You get the idea.

 

But nay! I swiped the gift card and the checkout counter man said “that will be $16 and. . .” blah blah. I owed him that. I owed him extra after I used the gift card. My $125 gift card that was going to get me through January.

 

He checked the balance on the card for me. Zero. Zero dollars. Zero sense. I owed him sixteen and change after the difference.

 

After I sorted all that out, I came home and tried to figure out where everything went wrong. I went online. I went to Wal-Mart’s website. I typed the card number in. It said zero dollars. I had spent the entirely of the card. All $25 on the card.

 

Why did I think it had $125 on it, then? I looked at the little envelope the card came in. The one my granny gave me and it said $125 on it. She wrote it down. My granny. My 77-year-old grandmother. My sweet, kind granny who gave me a $25 gift card. A $25 gift card.

 

A $25 gift card.

 

I have included an artist’s rendering of the envelope my granny wrote the amount down on. See if you can guess what happened.

giftcard

 

Granny tried to make a dollar sign with two strikes through the “S”. Two vertical lines through the “S”. You can draw a dollar sign with one vertical line or two. Either is common. But my granny. My nice, arthritic 77-year-old granny went wide right with the second strike and. . . I had a $25 gift card.

 

Now I know this sounds ungrateful on my part. But I’m not mad at Granny for messing that up. I’m mad at myself. I’m mad at my own dumb luck. You think you’ve got something figured out and you’ve planned it out accordingly. I’ve got this much to spend this month. Oh, I’ve got a little extra thanks to my $125 gift card. This will allow me to breathe easier in January before I finally move out. It’s supposed to be February. Maybe by Valentine’s Day. We were originally gonna get me moved out before Thanksgiving.

 

Nope. Just forget it. Forget everything you know. You didn’t have what you think you had, Mike. You got an oil change out of it. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine. Are you gonna let a misunderstanding and a difference of $100 get you in a funk today?

 

Yes.

 

It takes so little to put me in a funk. Every now and then I get a few feet away from a deep funk. Just when I get out, I get pulled back in. It doesn’t take a lot. It’s the big things. It’s the little things. It’s everything.

 

It’s everything.

The Next Class War

March 20th, 2015

I have seen it up close. I have seen it on social media. I have seen the birth pains of the next class war, and it dismayed me. It was inevitable. Us against them is inevitable even if we are all “us”. If this is too long, skip to the last two paragraphs.

 

There used to be three classes of society. The upper, middle and lower class. There weren’t so many of the upper class, neither were the lower class although there were more of them then the upper class. The middle class, being the middle, had the most people in it. They were functioning reasonably well, worked steadily and earned enough to save some money and have their own houses and cars.

 

As you get older, you learn about subdivisions in this basic structure. You learn about the differences between the upper-middle class and the lower-working class. You learn about the upper-lower class and lower-lower class. Some people think they’re lower-middle class when they are actually upper-lower class, and vice versa depending on how they perceived their situation. Some people could afford to take their families on a nice vacation every year while others had just enough to buy a boat (probably a lousy puttering pontoon) while a lot of folks had just enough for one of those inflatable above-ground pools you can buy from Wal-Mart that you have to clean yourself but nobody does and they get dirty within two weeks.

 

Pictured: the good life.

Pictured: the good life.

 

Who was who depended on which expert’s model you paid heed. Other factors are involved like level of education and type of employment but the big hinging factor was how much you have and is it enough. Each expert saw the percentages differently but the same basic idea: a minute number of wealthy elites, a larger percentage of rich people or “upper-middle class” and the vast majority falling into middle class or working class, even though they’re both essentially working. At the bottom, the lower-class or “poor” who account for 10 to 15 percent of the population.

 

I don’t know why the people who make these distinctions made them but I have the feeling that more class distinctions will be made in the future. We can’t help ourselves. Three or five or six sub-groups will never be enough for those who are trying to distinguish themselves from other people. There will be a larger focus on the bottom third of the chain. The working class and the poor. This will be the next class war. The people who live paycheck-to-paycheck against the ones who are on government assistance or borrow money from family. Resentment fosters. “My taxes pay for your welfare” vs. “At least you have a job/can work”. Familiarity breeds contempt, and these are the people who see each other. Like crabs in a barrel. If only all of them could get their own reality TV shows, they’d be millionaires.

 

Lest you think I’m looking down on anyone, I would have you know that no matter what class model you subscribe to, I rank at the bottom. I live below the poverty level. Perhaps there will even be a further struggle between those of us at poverty level and those at near-starvation level. Perhaps I’ll yell out “Hey, hungry! Think fast!” and then I whip a can of pork and beans at their heads as I drive by in my 1995 Taurus.

I’m A Bit Disappointed, Folks

June 11th, 2011

Here we are, kids. With less than three weeks remaining in our journey, Technology Vs. Horse has only raised 33% of the $500 necessary to make our 7″ vinyl dreams a reality. So far, we’re at about $168, as of the last time I checked.

 

What I find especially disappointing is that although sixty-nine (heh-heh) people have “liked” this Kickstarter thing we’re doing on Facebook, only eleven people have actually made a pledge/donation. This hurts, folks. I hate to have to sweat it out all the way until the end of June, but it looks like I’m going to have to. What a bunch of jerks, hurting me the way that you do. Why do you want to stress me out? Does it make you happy to see me stress? Why are you so masochistic? Is it because you hate me deep down? That’s the only explanation I see.

 

Obviously it’s not too late, but I would feel a lot better about it if more people donated. I’m too stupid to embed the widget so here’s the link below:

 

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/359630627/technology-vs-horse-7-single

 

I’ll go over some of the things you can get for your donation. A donation means a gift but ONLY if we cross that important $500 threshold. Important also to note: I cannot donate to myself. The account is in my name. If I do that, it’s tampering. Granted, the other four members of the band could donate if they so wished. Hint, hint. . .

 

For $10, you will get a copy of the single in question AND a digital download. For $25, I’ll send you a t-shirt and letter of thanks in addition to the vinyl and download.

For $30, I’ll write out the lyrics to your favorite TVH song and give you all the other stuff I just mentioned.
For $50, We’ll thank you on the vinyl sleeve.

For $75, we’ll have a conference call with you. For $100, we’ll take you to dinner! We’ll give you all the other stuff, too. We love you. Kiss us on the mouth! Pledge your money.

Now That I’ve Introduced Myself, What’s Next?

February 27th, 2011

It is time to set the agenda for KyProphet.com

 

What is this place going to be? A clearing house for me and my ideas, rants, raves, reviews.

 

Actually, that sounds exactly like what the agenda should be. I guess we’re done here for now.

 

What do I want to accomplish with KyProphet.com? Isn’t it enough to “just want to do better?” I would h0pe so, but WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? What does it mean to “do better”?

 

I want this to be the place that my people come for updates about me and my many ventures. Also, I’d like to make some money. More money than I make now, which is not very much at the momentthanksfornothingGod.

 

I’d like to meet hot chicks that want to kick it with an awesome, mildly-socially-anxious writer-blogger-singer-announcer. Throw yourselves at me, don’t be ashamed. I won’t judge you to be sluts. You’re not sluts; you’re the farthest thing from slutty. You’re delivering to me a care package of vagina, and I will never talk down to or about you.

 

So in summary, I want to get laid and get paid, and I’d like people to attend events I’m working en masse. This is the American Dream, no matter where you go.

 

A mild correction: I want to get laid and get paid more. These are my hopes and dreams. Forget about long-term security.