Thursday, July 16, 2015

Van Wanted: Part I

About three months ago, my Ford Taurus gave up the ghost, and decided enough was enough.  Despite only having about 165,000 miles on it, the frame was rusted badly, which I knew already but I didn't realize just how badly until two the motor mounts snapped off the frame.

The only thing keeping the motor from hitting the pavement was was the steering knuckle going through the firewall.  This meant simply turning the wheel was a colossal act of strength.  It was dead and I needed to call in a priest to give it Final Rites and hear its last confession.

Finding a replacement vehicle has been tougher than getting laid.  Seriously.  And if you've ever actually seen me, you'd realize just how dark a hole that can be, or how depressing.  Sisyphus ain't got shit on me.

It's not just the fact that I'm broke.  Or that my credit is so bad my credit report catches fire when it leaves the printer and I need a co-signer when I pay cash.

No, money is only half the problem.

The other part of the problem is the same reason I'm in this mess--the Midwestern roads will eat a car up in a fraction of its lifetime.  We don't just use salt here.  Often times you'll see trucks spraying hydrochloric acid directly on the roads because the ice is so thick.  It's why there is so much roadkill on our local roads.  Poor, unsuspecting furry animals try to cross and get dissolved into puddles of goo before they reach the other side.

It has bred a special kind of White Tail Deer that acts as a kamikazee to cars that drive up and down those roads.  They will dart out and deliberately give their lives to total your car.  Sure, you get to eat them later on because roadkill deer are yummy, but your poor car ends up in the crusher.

I tried to part my car out because every time I need to scrap a car the price of scrap metal takes a shit.  When whatever I'm driving runs right, prices are through the roof.  But when I need to scrap something?  The price I get barely pays the cost of having a guy haul it to the scrapyard.

So what's a creepy van guy without a van supposed to do?  Walk around and offer free hugs to people?  Once again, if you've seen me, that's not going to work.  I couldn't outrun a Walmart scooter.

My plan is to do some kind of crowd-funding campaign, like Kickstarter or something similar, and try to raise some money to get a van.  But it can't just be any van.  If I'm lucky (which I'm not) I'll get maybe $1500 and around here that'll be a very rusty van with a decent motor and questionable transmission.  Vehicles just don't last long around these parts.

Ideally, I would need one from someplace else, like California, Arizona, New Mexico, Florida or the likes.  That means traveling, researching, and hoping somebody can help me out.

I already have a dozen people who want to help me paint the thing.  I know some incredibly talented artists who have said they would donate their time to make sure it has the proper artwork.

FREE HUGS on one side and FREE CANDY on the other.

Plus, my blog's URL in a few places so it's clear to law enforcement that I'm not really a pedo creeper looking for my next victim.  Once again, if you've met me, this is important because my good looks ain't getting me out of anything.  I get followed when I go grocery shopping because people just assume I'm going to do something evil.

I've got a Youtube channel now.  No videos to post, but I've got a channel to put them, which is sort of why I have a checking account.  No money for that, either.

My gameplan is to have a video to post along with my crowd-funding campaign.  I have the script worked out, some pretty funny gags, and I've got just about everybody I need to be in the video.  I'm working out the camera stuff and I know how to edit the thing (I think).  Plus, I have the script for the voice-over person to read.

My goal is to have this done in a couple of weeks.  Maybe.  Like most things in my life, it's a trainwreck just waiting to happen.  I'm sure there are more than a few cliffs I'll fall down in the process.  But I've been binge-watching a show on Youtube called Roadkill, which is done by Motor Trend Magazine.

Pretty much every show is a mess but somehow they make it work.  It's my life on film.  I get it--they're working with junk and somehow they get it to run and they have fun doing it.  And this is pretty much what this project is going to be like for me.

It'll be covered in duct tape, I can promise you that.  

Sunday, July 5, 2015

It's Okay, Let It Go

Every day in the U.S. about 6,700 people die.  Most of them die alone.

I used to think that was a horrible thing but I realize now it is perfectly fine to die alone.  It's not like I'm going to be having a conversation with somebody as I give up the ghost anyways.  And what in the fuck are we going to be talking about?  Regrets?  All the shit I wished I'd done but instead tried to be the person I thought I was supposed to be instead of the person I was?  Fuck that!

It's best to die alone.  Really.

I always figured I would be the guy that died in an apartment full of books.  Nobody would know I was in there unless the landlord wanted his money or the smell got funky--whichever came first.

Death doesn't bother me.  It's how I get to that point that does.  It would totally suck being fed feet-first into a woodchipper.  Or to have pieces ripped off by a pack of drunken chihuahuas half-starved and out of their minds on rot-gut booze.  In recent days, I've also learned that dying from an intestinal blockage is not only painful, but slow as hell.

I'll say this here for all to read--I don't own any scarfs, okay?  Not one!  Seriously, I mean it.  If you hear some weird story about me being found with a scarf around my neck and my pants down that's total bullshit.  I don't own a scarf.

Sometimes you have to let things like life go.  Burn out, fade away--doesn't matter.  Dead is dead and gone is gone.

It's like turning your back on unrequited love.  You care about them.  You want them to be happy and you want to be the one who makes them smile.  Just a smile.  Maybe laugh, too.  You think about them all the time and know they don't give two shits about you and probably never will.  Not like how you care about them.  And it's not even like you want them to reciprocate.

Just accepting what you feel about them is enough sometimes.  You don't want them to scream, "Oh my God!  I feel the same way!  Let's get fucking married and live forever and never, ever be apart even for a second!  I gotta poop, come with me!"

No.  Then it just gets weird.

But we all know how this ends, don't we?  You let your feelings be known, they inform you how they might be a bit flattered, that it's awkward, and they don't feel the same about you.

It's a little death.  A piece of you feels like it got infected with Ebola and died in a shitty hospital in Africa covered in feces and surrounded by flies.  You might drag that rotting piece of you around for a bit, not wanting to give it up, but flies will lay their eggs.

It's okay, let it go.

Death is awesome!  Death is just the end of a level.  It's just crossing the state lines into a state with all new drinking laws and cheaper taxes.  It's a state where the cops don't know about your past history with explosives and illegal uses for peanut butter.

Death is when you don't have to pay the tab on all the shit you ordered at a restaurant.  Forget the bills, you're dead!

The little deaths in our lives are for the best.  It's when we walk away from things that no longer work for us like a puddle of vomit on the sidewalk on a hot, August day.  We don't need it, so don't carry it.
It's okay if they don't love you.  Really.  You don't need their love to exist.  If you needed love to exist, then there would be more chemical and genetic imperatives to make it happen.  Sure, we can pro-create.  Ask any teenager about that.

But there is a huge difference between a chemical reaction on a body part and the emotional connection between humans.  We are so much more than a bag of disgusting chemicals.

So cleave off the emotional dead parts you're carrying around with you.  The unrequited loves, the jobs that no longer suit your needs or reward your efforts, the belongings you have sitting around collecting dust but for the life of you can't remember where they came from or why you even have them.

Let it go, it's okay.

I'm cleaving.  I'm getting rid of shit.  I'm turning my back and walking away.  I'm taking the dead pieces, burying them in the sand like fish heads in a garden, and planting seeds the aliens gave to me. Whatever grows there isn't my problem.

Let it go, the stump will only hurt for a short while.  Don't pick the scab.  Let is heal over and be done with it all.

It's going to be okay.  

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Demon Wanted: Inquire Within

Why is everybody so fucking squeamish about demonic activity?

Today I was at the local bar getting my hot wings when somebody mentioned something about their house being haunted.  I normally don't talk to anybody in bars because usually they're drunk and saying stupid shit.  Most bar conversations are really just advertisements for low IQs.

But no, this one got my attention, so I asked her about it.

"So this started about three months ago.  Now in the middle of the night I get knocking on my walls."

"How many knocks?"

"Three at a time.  Always in threes."

"Any foul smells?"

"Yes!  We get this horrible smell all the time!"

I guess I was smiling.  I hadn't realized it.

"Why are you smiling?  Do you think I'm joking?"

"No.  I'm smiling because I think you have a demon."

The lady had a stupid look on her face anyways but she really seemed confused now.

"So why are you smiling?"

"Because demons are cool and I've been looking for one.  When can I come over?"

After that, the lady started quoting the Bible and saying she was going to call her priest to come over or whatever.  I was too pissed off to pay attention after that.

I've been looking for a demon for years.  Do you realize how hard they are to find?  I once got really excited because I'd heard about some kid that possessed but then the family got an exorcism and that was the end of that.  Really pissed me off, too.

So if anybody has a demon in their house, or the know of one, please let me know.