Monday, July 31, 2017

Natural Selection's Little Helper

More people need to die in this world.

The planet Earth, our home, isn't overpopulated with humans as much as it's overpopulated with idiots.  It used to be, natural selection helped keep those numbers down, because the dumber they are, the more easily they died and hopefully before reproducing.

We're all familiar with The Darwin Awards.   You receive the award only if you die after doing something stupid.  The point of it is to make people think but in reality we all read their website because it's funny to know how stupid people can be.

I'm in a bad mood right now.

My allergies are manifesting and my sinuses are swelling totally shut.  I mean, so tight, it hurts.  The swelling is so great, it is having an effect on my vision.  I need to be able to breathe for a variety of reasons.  Drinking water, talking, sleeping, eating.  All the big things we humans do.

I need a drug called pseudoephedrine.  Often, this is known as Sudafed.

Before you send me an e-mail asking me "Well, did you try _______?" please don't.  Please?

I've tried all the tricks.  Hot compress, cold compress (frozen beef liver), steam, peppermint oil on various places of my hands and fingers, Vicks vapor rub, eating spicy foods.  I hate a whole tablespoon of a sauce called Holy Jolokia.  It's over a million Scoville units and it barely burned me because of my nose is too plugged.


Mind you, a tablespoon of that stuff would normally put me in the bathroom freaking out about how badly my mouth burns but because I can't use my nose, I can't taste.

I tried some generic allergy meds to no avail.  They simply don't work for this.  I need something to reduce the swelling and the only thing that will work, or so I've been told by a number of people in the medical field, is pseudoephedrine.

Here's the problem: because so many meth cooks and users need that drug to make meth, it's now only available behind the counter.  You have to go see a pharmacist and they have to scan your ID before they'll let you have it.

I'm fine with that.

But the pharmacies around here all close at 6pm on Saturday nights.  I didn't know what I needed until 8pm when it was clear the other stuff I tried wasn't working.  So, I'm fucked until 8:30am tomorrow.

Normally, I accept shitty corporate policies like this because I get it--the legal teams need to protect their client from lawsuits.  We're a nation that's circling the bowl and all the greedheads are scrambling to keep what they have.  Fine.

But why couldn't the minimum-wage zombie working the register scan my ID herself?  What's the difference between a college-educated person with a state license scanning my ID and an under-paid, over-worked zombie doing it?  It's not like I'm filling a prescription from a doctor here.

I used to buy this shit off the rack for years.  The state changed the laws because of meth cooks.  So why not treat it like booze and just let the clerk scan the fucking thing so I can get some sleep tonight?

Because of the harsh laws and regulations, I won't be able to sleep at all tonight and I have to work tomorrow.  This really sucks.

But I'm also pissed off.  Why do we continue to try to protect people from themselves?  Has the stricter laws done anything to keep meth from being manufactured and sold?  Are there fewer meth heads in the world because of those laws?

Perhaps it's time we allowed people to endure the consequences of their actions.  I'm fat.  If I die of a heart attack or a stroke, nobody will be shocked, because it will be a consequence.  I knew of those consequences when I sat down and ate some ice cream a few weeks back.  I knew of those consequences when I sat down to watch a movie and ended up binge-watching about 5 episodes at once.

Nobody is trying to stop me from having those consequences.  They tell me about them all the time, but nobody is stopping me.  Maybe it's time to let everybody deal with their own shit.  Granted, once somebody asks for help, then the game changes, but up until that point everybody should have potential consequences to deal with.

We've all heard the stand-up comedians talk about removing warning labels and letting everybody sort things out for themselves.  And we agree with it, too.  Nobody's fighting this.  It's time to bring this belief out of the comedic quips and into the legal arena.  It's time to make it into a law, or at least give it a legal backbone.

I say we change our legal system so that idiots who die are laughed at and their families denied any right to claim injury.  It's bad enough we keep idiots alive so they can reproduce, but we have a system in place that tells them it's not their fault if they do something dumb and it gets them killed.

We need to protect our species by ending our protection of the stupid.  A jury can easily determine is somebody was being an idiot or if they had a reason to believe they would survive their choices.

Using a plug-in electric razor in the shower?  You're going to die.  That's called suicide.  Your family doesn't get to sue.

Get served coffee so hot it's nearly boiling?  That's dangerous.  I mean, c'mon--if it's that hot, nobody can drink it anyways, so it's no surprise that if somebody spills it, they'll get 3rd degree burns.  You deserve to be sued if you're serving anything that hot to people.

It's much simpler than it sounds.  If your family member dies, and you think someone was negligent, and you want to sue them, a jury would determine if they had it coming or not.  It would be a Death Jury.  In many ways, we already have that.

But I say we take it much further.

I say, if you're doing something dumb and you get hurt, but you don't die, the Death Jury could vote to finish the job and kill you.  It was be a mercy killing, really.  Somebody should show society and this planet mercy and get rid of the idiots.

Failed suicide attempts, for instance.  We've all heard stories of people who tried to kill themselves but some over-reaching doctor and a medical team keep some brain-dead lump of meat's heart beating and call that "life."  That's not life, it's a fucking horror show.  A Death Jury could vote to finish the job for that person.  Why waste resources on a lump of meat that will never walk and talk again?  They're gone--pull the plug and move on with life.

The other part of having a jury would be to take into account all the various factors that go into measuring a human being, such as age and experience.  I remember what I was like in my 20's and frankly, when I think of the shit that flew out of my mouth, I cringe in embarrassment.  I'm thankful we didn't have cellphone cameras and videos all over the place like we do now.

These juries would help deepen the gene pool by eliminating those we don't want to breed.  They would provide a service that was once a much-valued natural mechanism.  It's not about weak or strong, it's about those we don't want more of and those we don't need to keep around.

As many of you know, if you'd read a previous post, I'm currently reading the novel Dune by Frank Herbert.  In this novel, humanity became helpless and pathetic.  It was only after a revolt did they began to think for themselves.  Herbert's view of humanity's future depicts a species so dedicated to improving itself that it stops at nothing to become smarter.  The brain is a muscle to be exercised and pushed.

But we don't live in that society yet.  Instead, we are becoming lazier and weaker.  Only by eliminating the stupid can we hope to move forward as a species.  And then, we can sell allergy medication on the shelves once again and not have to worry about shitheads using it to get high.  I might, they still might do it, but when they die we simply won't care.  It'll just be part of thinning out the herd and improving our entire species.


Addendum:  The Day After


At some point early this morning, I tried steam for my sinuses for what I would guess to be the fifth or sixth time.  It worked.

So I turned my apartment into a sauna.  I shut the windows, turned off the fans, and steamed this place up so I could work my ten-hour shift.  Sweat rolled off my fat, pale body while I dealt with body blows mentally and emotionally.

And then I started working.  And idiots started calling me.  And I started having a personal conversation with somebody while emotionally remaining detached because I'm a nutcase with severe emotional issues.

But I was able to breathe.  Thank Satan, I could breathe.  My apartment was like a massive armpit and smelled worse, but I could breathe, so I was able to work my maddening job on the longest shift of the week.  Oh happy day.

What bothered me was what if the Death Jury gave me a psychological test?  I'm the first person to admit I'm bat-shit crazy.  And then I realized--my own rules would kill me.  The Death Jury is just another form of suicide.  Instead of pulling the trigger myself, I'm advocating the social equivalent of a Rube Goldberg device to do the job for me, because I'm not ready to do it myself.

It's been a rough week for me.  It really has been.  I've got three blog posts I've started writing but stopped because they were just too crazy and you guys wouldn't understand.  Or personal and you guys didn't need to know this yet.  Or true and I didn't want my family know this stuff.  Or final and there might be a tomorrow, so it's too early to say Goodbye.

But just in case, they've all been written.

So would a Death Jury eliminate me?  Does the insanity between my ears disqualify me from the deep end of the gene pool and leave me in the shallows with the floaties, water wings, and those ugly goggles with the nose pinchers?

Maybe by advocating the Death Jury I'm somehow cheering for Lenin as he triumphantly enters the Gates of Kiev, jumping up and down, screaming at the top of my lungs, in hopes that sees me and remembers that I was on his side early on and he didn't need to send a goon squad to my hovel in the middle of the night to kick me out of bed and throw a black hood on me.

You don't need to put me in front of a jury, I'm with you.  I wanted you from the beginning.  I'm on your side.  So you don't need to judge me because I've already been judged by the Death Jury.  See?  I'm blogging about it.  I'm blogging and talking about it and advocating it early on, so you don't need to judge me.  My genes are great, my mind isn't too far gone, and I am the way I am out of comedic process, not by default.  Let me help you!


Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Dune Club--Thoughts about The First Session

For the first time since college, I am participating in a group discussion of a book, and today was our first session.

The club is hosted on Twitch by ComicBookGirl19 and the book we're discussing is Dune by Frank Herbert.    

I'm loving it so far.  

I'm thrilled I finally get a chance to read this book.  I've wanted to read Dune for a long time but I'm easily side-tracked and my list of books to read is long and growing.  

And I dearly love ComicBookGirl19 (CBG19).  She's incredibly intelligent, well-read, and sure she's stunningly beautiful but honestly, I don't care about that.  You guys know me and you know all I care about is what's between the ears.  And a woman smarter than myself will always have my attention.  

Plus, she's soulful and she brings that to the table when discussing Dune, which is far more soulful and spiritual than I expected.  

Sadly, I have to work when the discussion is live, but once work was done I began following it.  I'm listening to it right now.  

She broke the book into five sessions and tonight we discussed pages 1-59.  

What stood out to me instantly was how over-developed the people of that world are and inferior I felt while reading about them.  

In the Dune world, machines (computers, AI) took over the world and subjugated humanity.  Humanity was left stupid without their machines to think for them and were enslaved until they revolted and re-established their dominance.  As a result, humans forbade machines be made that can think like a human.  Humans instead developed themselves mentally beyond anything we can comprehend today.  I felt stupid reading about these people.  

The MC of the book Paul Atraides, is hyper-aware of not only himself but of everybody around him to a point that is exhausting.  His mother, a witch, taught him to pay attention to minutiae that makes a human.  I find similarities in what his mother taught him and all kinds of various beliefs and religions.  Even Satanism teaches hyper-awareness of your demeanor and in observing another's.

There were a few obvious moments thus far.  Back in the 20th century, if you wanted your bad guy to be instantly hated, you gave him a Russian name.  So, the Barron's first name is Vladimir.   Obvious.

Something else I found interesting while reading the book was how bare the descriptions were.  After having seen the movie from the 80's several times, I was really looking forward to detailed descriptions of the planet Caladan.  Plus, I had hoped to learn more about the day to day lives of those in that hyper-advanced world.  But no, Herbert keeps the story moving forward, and doesn't give us much to work with.

There is some serious wisdom in this book.  The lines about "Fear being the mind-killer" is famous but also true.  How many times have we, as humans, be ruined by fear?  Or made bad choices because of fear?

I'm really excited about this book and I'm really happy about the book club.  I can't wait for next week and tonight I'll read pretty much all of the part for Session II.  And I'm so happy my friend Brittany gave me this book to read.  I would have never been able to afford to get it for my Kindle this week but she totally hooked me up.

This is exciting for me in a lot of ways and I have to wonder just how many of these books I'll end up reading.  But I'll worry about that later.  For now, I'm just happy to have another book to dive into and just enjoy.  It's been a while since I've found a book I can dive into like this.  Dune has really absorbed me unlike any book has for some time.     


Friday, July 7, 2017

The G-Forces of a Downward Spiral

It's 6:11am.

Our Hero can't sleep.  His sinuses keep swelling shut due to the allergies he has every summer.

An evil Mind Gremlin sneaks out the window, unseen by him, but the spell put upon him certainly worked.

Our Hero has been re-living the past.  Certain, select days from the past, in a three-day block from 27 years ago.  The way events unfolded in that memory, deep scars were dug, making them not easily forgotten.

The original events were difficult.  Families, abuse, alcoholism, and anger.  Lots of anger.

What the evil Mind Gremlin did was shine a bright light on that distant memory, highlighting it, calling it forth from the shadows, and forcing Our Hero to relive it over and over again.  But this time, he began to fantasize about what he could have done differently.  What he should have done differently.

It was the emotional equivalent to dumping a ton of gasoline-soaked straw on a dying fire.

Suddenly, Our Hero found himself in a battle inside his mind.  Rage.  He was consumed by rage as he thought about how he should have handled the situation.  He should have thrown the man down on the ground and kicked the shit out of him.  He should have beat him within an inch of his life.  He should have beat down upon him the sum of all his resentments while accusing the man's mother of being responsible for all that was wrong at that moment.

Our Hero found himself in a battle with a ghost.

But this battle is pointless and stupid.  He knows this.  Or rather, he's supposed to know this.  The spell put a fog on that knowledge.  So after a few minutes of rage flowing around in his brainpan, he came up for air.  He looked around his apartment and took a deep breath.

Then he focused on the moment in front of him.  The present.  The small actions of his fingers on the keyboard, the distant thunder of a storm that went around his village, the feel of the fan blowing in his hair.

So often, the solution to a problem is right in front of us.  The present.  What we're doing at that exact moment is far more powerful than any memory or dream or hope.

Our Hero doesn't own a time machine.  He can't fix the past, re-do certain events, or fix the many mistakes he made.  He can't foresee the future and he doesn't know the winning lottery numbers.  But he can focus on the moment he is in, at that exact time, and he can do something about it.

It's 6:30am.  Our Hero is still wide the fuck awake.  His sinuses are still clogged and he can't breathe through his nose in order to sleep.  But his head is quiet.  The ghost is gone and he's left with the empty moments of his life, alone in his apartment, his fingers on the keyboard.  It's the best he's got to work with right now and the best he can do.

He wonders, when his story gets re-told around the campfires, if this lesson will be included.  Small victories in isolation in the middle of the night rarely are and it's a shame.  They're usually the biggest victories of all.