Posts Tagged ‘self-help’

A Dark Night That Lasts Years

February 16th, 2017

A dark night of the soul. Nights of spiritual despair. Moments where you cry for relief only to find none coming. Prayers that can’t be answered immediately, if at all.


I have been extremely depressed lately, and not just for political reasons. Just so happens that the political stuff is the easiest to talk about since it affects us all. But we all get depressed from time to time, right? Even if you’re not given to chronic depression and anxiety like I am.


Tuesday was Valentine’s Day, a day for lovers and the love-struck. Not for me, it’s not. It’s just a day between February 13th and 15th. I wish it weren’t so. I wish I had a love to call my own.


Who will comfort me in these uncertain times? Who will tell me I’ve been spending too much time on Twitter, please come and spend time with me instead. . .?


I don’t talk about my personal life on this space for a very good reason: I don’t have much of a personal life. Not that I would go around blabbing like an informant every time I went on a date. . . it’s just that there aren’t very many dates.


I’m relatively new to Whitesville. But I’m not a social person. I’m sensitive and self-conscious. Making a connection seems nearly impossible.


Maybe I can’t handle it. Maybe it’s just too much pressure. I’m like one of those Japanese men who have stopped trying to find a mate. Maybe I should get a pillow with a manga babe on it to be my girlfriend.


Maybe this is my life. Maybe I’m alone because I’m with the only person who can stand to be with me.

“Could you be loved?” – Bob Marley. Evidently not, Bob.


By the way, I finally got a hair cut last week. I figured it would be good to look less like Hagrid from Harry Potter. I’ve halfway shaved this fluff on my face into a somewhat organized look as well. I’m almost presentable.

Game Of Pricks: 2016 Edition

September 27th, 2016

It’s time to create a shit list, folks. I watched the first debate, like about 80 million other people. You do realize that when this is all over in November, the media will still be around to poke and prod us into hysterics. And that’s the bigger tragedy in all of this. There will never be another Reagan-Mondale election day blowout because there’s no money in it. The media has to game the system as much as possible to make both major candidates seem as equal as possible. False equivalency. Lower the bar for one candidate, raise the bar for another. Move the goalposts. Whatever it takes.


The mainstream media deserves a lot of blame for the current state of affairs in the Year of Our Lord 2016. This stoking of collective national anxiety has put a lot of stress on the public. It’s the instant headache everyone gets. Whether you think Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All Lives Matter or No Lives Matter, you can’t disagree that this election cycle has been a disgrace.


I don’t know about you but I feel like I’m on shaky ground. Some people think they’ll be fine with President Trump for four years. Yeah? Try eight years then. See how hard it is to oust a incumbent president? We haven’t done it since 1992, when Bill Clinton defeated the incumbent George H. W. Bush. Since then, it’s been Clinton eight years, GWB eight years, and Obama eight years. It’s not easy. Basically, the incumbent party needs to dump a sitting President. I’m not ready for eight years of Trump. I already have to deal with three more years of Matt Bevin as governor here in Kentucky.


Rand Paul is one of our US Senators and since he dropped out of the GOP race, he’s basically went into a sour funk. He owes money and doesn’t actually go to Senate committee meetings. Yet, he’s polling ahead of his challenger Jim Gray. Is it that Gray, Mayor of Lexington, is a Democrat? An out and proud gay man? Is it that Obama is still President? Somehow, yes to all of this.


Mitch McConnell is our other US Senator and Senate Majority Leader and basically rat fucked the state and goddamn it I have a headache

It’s like Kentucky is in an elevator that’s about to plummet to the bottom and someone is standing on solid ground trying to save us holding his hand out. “Take my hand, I can help you out.” “NO! LEAVE ME!” Kentuckians are stubborn to the point of oblivion. It’s like we’re willing to self-destruct to prove a point.


I don’t know about you folks, but like the good brother Marilyn Manson sang “I wanna live, I wanna love but it’s a long hard road out of hell.” Let’s not cut off the helping hands when they are held out in front of us. Trust me, when someone offers you help it’s probably because they see that you need it.

Stop Being Nice

April 6th, 2013

Oh, you men.



Will you never learn? Will you never understand that you CANNOT “nice” a girl into liking you?


Oh no. Oh no no no no. I’m right. I’ve done a series of tests.


Furthermore, will you never understand that if you are being nice with the expectation of something in return, then you are NOT really being nice? Will it ever occur to you that true kindness and goodness is given because it is simply the good-feeling thing to do, personally?


Reapply this any way you like. Maybe you’re not a guy who wants a chick to like you and give you a kissy-kiss with some tongue. Maybe you’re a chick who wants a guy to put his big manly arms around you and pretend to be Ryan Gosling for a few minutes. Maybe you want your boss to consider you for a raise or a promotion. These are three of up to six situations in which a person would be nice to another.


Some of the feminist bloggers have taken on this notion as part of their ongoing correctional series on how to talk to and treat women. Sure, it may be tempting for me some of us to rubbish this notion, but it is strong medicine that can be extrapolated beyond gender relations.


Do you believe that life is a game, and that all that comes with it are little sub-games within the game? Then why are you “playing” nice? That’s your strategy? “Nice” should not be a strategy for relating to people. Just be comfortable in yourself, and let the people who will accept you give the acceptance you think you need.


“Nice” is what you call a set of curtains at Home Depot. It’s not a way of influencing people. At least with prayer, you speak your wishes aloud. With being nice, you just sort of keep it to yourself like an idiot.


Give and be kind without expectation of anything in return. It is difficult to let go of the wish to be adored, favored, rewarded. It is even more difficult to influence people to what you want them to think. Being nice isn’t an angle you play like some carny in a hotel bar.

You Can’t Be Helped: Hiding Condoms

May 31st, 2011

April Miller decided to post this on Yahoo Answers:


i had the genius idea to use an x-acto knife and cut a small hole in the wall behind a shelf and put a box around a foot to one side… but would i ever get a chance to do that? probably not. so any ideas where to hide them? my mother is very suspicious and such so she will search every where given. im going to do this no matter what people say so please no crap about being too young and stuff. thx if u can help! difficult to find a good category for this so i went with the same one as a similar question.


You must be crazy, April Miller, if you think you can just hide condoms in the walls and not have them snacked on by ants, mice and termites. I salute you on your preference for using condoms. I would also say that you should try to have a dialogue with your mother, no matter how awkward and volatile, about your needs in terms of protection.


I’m not going to tell you where to hide your condoms because that’s just stupid. If you hide them in the lamp, they’ll melt from the hot bulb. I would tell you that you and your mom are just going to have to deal with this and talk about it so you don’t make the same mistake she clearly made.  Because you are not a smart person, April Miller.


I forgot about roaches. Oh, that sounds great. I’m a dude who’s so horny he’ll strap on a jimmy-hat that’s been stepped on by a thousand roaches. No I’m not and no man or boy is. I’d rather go raw and risk getting a girl pregnant than put on a condom that has roach eggs in it. Right.

You Can’t Be Helped: Loving A Mariner

April 16th, 2011

Michelle asks this question on Yahoo Answers about the end of her relationship:


Why mariners can’t have a normal relationship?
I’ve been with this guy for almost one year. He said , before he will go on ship, he will set me free.Now, he will go on ship and he told me to forget him.Why did he continue this relationship ,even if he knew we will break up?Do they have net or phone service on ship?He promised me an amazing future with him and now he tells me to forget him (because he doesn’t want me to spend my life waiting for him).How’s that?I sent to him 3 mails but he didn’t answer. He wants me to hate him.He’s acting like a child,like he’s afraid talking to me on messenger.What should I do?Please help ! 🙁


Dear sweet Michelle,


Here’s some very sad news. Please sit down for what I am about to tell you. The life of a mariner (or sailor) is very different from the life of a civilian. Oh, boy, the nautical lifers have a code and subculture that people who sleep on solid ground can’t or don’t want to understand.


Today’s merchant ships are equipped with many of the technological upgrades that we have come to depend on in normal life. E-mail, cellphones, Skype, etc. There is no reason why you would not be able to communicate with your loved one from that standpoint. Shoot, you might even be able to get a telegraph to him if you really had to.


Have you ever heard of the term “in the barrel,” Michelle? I’ll be glad to post this note on “in the barrel” from the good people at Urban Dictionary. This particular definition has 469 likes and 27 dislikes, so it’s safe to assume this is an accepted colloquialism.


A phrase taken from a popular joke. To say someone is “in the barrel” or “taking a turn in the barrel” means it’s their turn to do an unpleasant task or to suffer an unpleasant experience. The joke is as follows:
A sailor on a Navy ship had been out to sea for weeks, and was beginning to go through sex withdrawals. Fed up with the lack of sex, he asked one of his shipmates what he did when the pressure was too much to take. “Well, there’s a barrel with a hole in it near the mop storage. When it gets to be too much for us, we use that.”

So the sailor went over to the barrel and decided to give it a go. Finding it was better than he’d expected, he began using it regularly, and his problems seemed to vanish.

After a couple of weeks, his commanding officer began to take notice, and said, “You seem to be a lot more relaxed. What’s your secret?”

The sailor, embarrassed to give a straight answer, simply said he’d been getting better rest.

“Well good, sailor. You’re going to need it,” replied the officer. “Today’s your turn in the barrel.”


Now, sweet naive Michelle, picture your boyfriend alone at sea. Alone with his pent-up sexual needs. Picture him getting his rocks off in front of a barrel with a hole in it. Then imagine him inside the barrel. Then perhaps you can understand why he can never come back to you. Because of all the ritual sodomy that occurs between men at sea.


How can this man expect you to jump into his loving arms upon docking in the harbor when the memory of widespread shipmate fraternization is on his conscience? How can he embrace you in earnest when he has made love to all those sailors with his mouth? This is why he broke up with you.


But why, Michelle? Why would he even date you in the first place if he knew it would end this way? Why go through the trouble of creating love only to end it so abruptly? Well, dear sweet Michelle, it is because he craves companionship much like any other person, whether on land or on the high seas. The mariner’s life is his, probably for a very long time, and there’s no reason to subject such a beautiful spirit such as yourself to the dark, seedy underbelly of sea life.  Especially not for the rest of your life.


You should be dating Tiger Woods. At least he’ll cheat on you with women.

You Can’t Be Helped: Teenage Lust

April 12th, 2011

Here’s another thing from Yahoo Answers. A fourteen-year-old girl writes with a sincere query:


Kay, my male guy friend is 16, and I’m 14.

So I was describing a hectic day at school, where some kid was gawking at my chest. So then afterwards he said : ( online)
He says: LLOLOL i wanna look at your chest now <3

I say: GAH T___T

He says: can i touch them too

And the conversation mainly goes on like that.
I called him a pedo many times.
I’m sure he was just joking around but gah. >_<
What should I say next time? ( just in case)



Okay, let’s be honest. He definitely wants to touch your teenage boobies. He is not kidding, even if you think he is. He’s too horny to think straight and he straight up asks because that’s not smooth. Teenage boys are not smooth. Not in the slightest.


A sixteen-year-old boy who wants to look at fourteen-year-old boobs is also NOT a pedo. You must be British to call him that. He is sixteen, you are fourteen. I think two years is an acceptable buffer.  If this guy were, say, eighteen or older, the “pedo” tag might be in order.


He is a sixteen-year-old and this is how his mind probably works.  He thinks if he asks to touch your boobs, you’ll let him on the condition that he lets you touch his cock. He thinks you’ll want to barter sexual favors with him. He is stupid and filled with cum.
As to what you say to him when he asks to touch your boobs, how about “No!” That’s a good answer if you don’t like this guy asking over and over again about touching you. I can’t tell if you showed him your chest or not. Either way, he can go to hell. If you don’t want to show him your tits or let him feel you up, tell the motherfucker. Say “no”.


It may not be enough to call him “pedo”. Just start yelling “RAPE” over and over again if he can’t get it through his head. Stupid bastard.


Don’t show your tits to anyone until you’re fifteen. I’m kidding. Wait until you’re fifteen-and-a-half, at the least.

You Can’t Be Helped: Second Date

April 6th, 2011

Here’s a dating question from Yahoo Answers:


I’m 18, he’s 20… we’ve known each other for a couple of months now and we’ve been out on one date to a cafe, now he’s invited me to his place to “watch a movie something”… i honestly don’t know what to expect? should he make a move? or is that too much for now? guys, what would you do? im confused haha thanks in advance! 🙂 


Okay, I got this. If he’s anything like most guys, he’s gonna want you to show up on time. Punctuality is key when it comes to romance. That’s the first rule of dating, I don’t know if you knew that. Be on time. If you need to pack your suitcase, take the time in advance to do that. Don’t waste valuable time doing something you could have done already. That’s why I never make my bed or clean the house.


The most important thing about packing your suitcase is that it has all the tools necessary to make the evening go by smoothly. Rubber suit (goes without saying), ball-gags (goes without being able to say), and strap-on attachment are the bare minimum on most second dates. The suitcase should go into the bathroom shortly after you enter his place, for convenience.


At some point, he will put the movie in and you will pretend to watch it together. Needless to say, you are too preoccupied with your thoughts to watch it. Same goes for him. You do not touch each other. You sit a comfortable distance from each other. You don’t even talk to each other. You stare at the screen in silence and contemplate your life, your bank account, your growing, untamed horniness. This is what scientists call “foreplay”.


At some point, you ask him to pause the movie so you can go to the restroom. “I’ll just be a minute, I really have to pee”. Those are the ten words that make a man’s phallus swell up like it got caught in a garage door. You will excuse yourself, walk to the restroom and open the suitcase with the rubber suit, the ball-gags, the strap-on attachment and whatever other goodies you could fit in there. Here’s a tip from the pros: bring a carrot and some ear candles.


When you return from the bathroom, the last traces of your humanity should be gone. You are no longer just a nice 18-year-old girl on her second date, you are Lady Iodine Capybara or whatever your mistress name is, clad in a tight rubber suit from head to toe with a strap-on attachment dangling around your waist. You should not be surprised to find that not only is your date completely naked, he has his own ball-gag firmly inserted into his mouth making your own ball-gag obsolete on this occasion (Pro tip: Always think to bring a ball-gag in any event. Be Prepared, wise men say).


If he’s any kind of good lover, he has already put on some mood music while you were in the bathroom. Something to really put this date over the top, something that captures the moment.


What happens there is really up to you. You’re the boss, lady. More specifically, you’re his boss.


One last thing. If by some fluke he freaks out and says he’s not into that sort of thing when you walk out of the bathroom in your rubber suit, he may just want to be your platonic friend.

You Can’t Be Helped: Pet Edition

April 5th, 2011

Another question from Yahoo Answers. I forgot to post the link; I lost it.


There are two cats who live in my house. One’s partially an outdoor cat (my roommate’s), and my cat is strictly indoors. I give her Revolution drops every month to protect her from fleas and ticks, but she STILL caught some fleas from the other cat (who is ALSO on Revolution). The Revolution doesn’t seem to be working, even though I give it to her every month, without fail. I also gave her a flea bath. They just aren’t going away! What should I do?

Also, can fleas be transmitted to humans? Now I’m paranoid. EW!!!


Get rid of the outdoor cat. You have one too many cats. The outdoor cat is your roommate’s? Shoot your roommate point blank, then frame the cat so it gets in trouble and not you. Cats are notorious bad defendants and this cat will probably get the chair. Cats are profiled even worse by the courts than minorities.


I don’t know what the Revolution is, but I don’t understand why violent government overthrow is necessary for something as small as a singular domestic infestation. In this case, you only need to commit one murder and frame one housecat. You’re gonna be fine, though.



You Can’t Be Helped

March 18th, 2011

“You Can’t Be Helped” is the name of the advice column I will do as soon as somebody decides to ask me some advice-seeking questions. Once upon a time known as the 500-Lb. Life Coach, the title has changed to acknowledge my weight loss over the last year. Besides, “You Can’t Be Helped” is the truth.


By the time you start thinking about self-help, you are already doomed to whatever behavior has gotten you where you are now. You’re already mapped out psychologically long before self-help is an option in your life. And yet people keep buying these books. Just the other day, I bought second-hand a book called “How To Make Anyone Fall In Love With You”. I bought it for $3 for a laugh, but I have actually read a few pages in earnest.


By now I should know I will never make anyone fall in love with me. No one will fall in love with me, and if they do I won’t find them attractive at all or it will be some dude and I can’t hack it like that. Love is blind, but genitals got 20/20 vision.


I’m mapping out some chapter titles for “You Can’t Be Helped” in case I want to put together a book proposal. Like that will happen. Print is dying. I can’t be helped. You can’t be helped. That’s the point.

“Of Course I’m Bitter! My Life Is Shitty!”

“Guess What? You’re A Fat Crying Loser!”

“You’re Lucky To Have That Shitty Job, You Know That?”

“You’ll Never Get Laid Except For Those Few Times You Regret It.”

“Self-Esteem? Fuck You! We’re At War!”

“Good Luck Investing With The Money You Make!”

“If You Buy This Book, I Will Be Happy But You May Not!”