No Prevailing Required

No Prevailing Required, 7/19/2016, Deon Mumple

We live our unassuming lives,
The maelstrom looming just outside,
Oblivious in our dark, simple ways,
Most of us expect to survive,
What I know makes me want to hide,
From where we’re all going today.

We won’t change our directions at all
Blinded from past, and future fall
We’re proud of ourselves; Look at us! All is well!
While prying open the very gates of hell:
Let us in!
Let us in!
Let us sin!!

The storm already lurks in certain hearts
While fires burn, we send more flaming darts
Letting ourselves be used in evil ways
Pretending we don’t know what we have done
Oh, come on, it’s only a little bit of fun!
The spectrum holds all varieties of strays.

From selfishness to self idolatry
With humble looking pride, Hey, look at me!
Blind ambition, vector, hell, dying to get inside,
Fighting as if the gates weren’t already open wide:
Let us in!
Let us in!
Let us sin!

We see what we want, blind to our blindness
Selfish hearts hide, only ourselves to bless
With hopeless hopes, we take all we can take
Too many say they care for others, well pretended fakes

We fight for all we can until we die,
Blind eyes, ears deaf to our own battle cry:
Let us in!
Let us in!
Let us sin!!

Mathematics Language Dissection- MLD II

Hi Gang,

Deon’s busy, this is his Pretending-To-Be-Manic-Because-The-Alternative-Sucks-Dirt alter ego, Deon.  Today I was wondering if anyone remembered

Mathematics Language Dissection- MLD-I?

Anyone?  I didn’t think so.  Which is why, for your masochistic pleasure, or my sadistic pleasure, I bring you More Mould, that’s right, a second math language article.  This is REALLY going to suck.

I promised I would do this to you, about a month ago, so if you didn’t quit following me by now, this is your fault.

Today’s word:  Tangent.

You know what a tangent is, right?  It’s a random going off-topic odd thought that inserts itself into a normal conversation or train of thought, causing the whole thing to derail.  If you suffer from, or enjoy, being somewhat Attention Deficit you know what I’m talking about.  Click the link, because not being able to finish one task before getting distracted by the next one, and ending up not finishing anything by the end of the time you’ve allotted, oh that’s just so funny.

We’ve taken to laughing at ourselves, because laughing
WITH the bully is so much more tolerant than telling them, firmly, to fucking stop it.  On the positive side of the graph, at least a tangent is an uphill battle, without ever quite reaching the goal.  (In math, it’s called a “limit.”  Oh fuck, that’s not positive at all.  Nevermind.

The picture has it right, you struggle to reach that goal, the uphill climb, and then at some point you realize it’s hopeless, you’ve gone off track and not finished so you start the fuck over again from negative infinity.  Other people think it’s frustrating, or they think it’s funny as a coping mechanism to not fire us, divorce us, or murder us, depending on just how close they are to us.

Or we’ve taken to laughing at ourselves because laughing is better than crying.  I’ve taken to coffee.  Back in my day, says the really old man, they didn’t have all these fancified “disorder” labels to claim.  And they didn’t have all these zombi-fying medications to take to help people cope.  If you were disorderly, you were either undisciplined, or you were drunk, or both, and no one respected you or your messy desk no matter how badass of a genius you were.  They still don’t respect you.  But there’s medication for that, you’re cured.  Horse shit.  You’re addicted and it works for a while and then quits being effective.  My kids have gone through cycles (yup) of various meds, from the one that causes hallucinations to the one that’s addictive to the ones that work for a while and then have “diminished efficacy over time.”  I’ll stick to coffee.  And no, I’m not an addict but I drink it and I don’t have a criminal record as a serial murderer.  You’re welcome, everyone who pisses me off or acts just a little too cheery in the morning.

That’s right, both Joey and that “Morning’s Here” bastard are DEAD to me.  NO, I didn’t listen to it beyond confirming it actually was the right clip.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love music.  Which is why The Pretenders just ran through my head a second ago.

This is the picture of a tangent line.  A circle is “the set of points equidistant from a center point”  As you can see, it demonstrates the unfairness of life, because from any of the infinite points on the circle, there are tangents to go off on.  You can truck along on your circle, about to complete a fucking revolution, and at any given point on your revolution you can get thrown off on a random tangent.  That’s right, I said revolution.  I’d like to finish one revolution but there are an infinite number of things that need to be done first, which is why I can’t ever finish just ONE.

Thank God for coffee, or ritalin, or amphetamines, or whatever drug you take to help with your ADD or AD/HD, if you have it.

If you started reading too fast you missed me adding

  THIS to the writing for today, because that’s what went through my head.  And then I accidentally clicked to publish before I was ready to do that.  Ugh.

AND, the last gem of a meaning for tangent is the following bit of silliness:

This is a tangent too:
George Hamilton - I'm always a gentleman. That means I'm mathematical:  I'm a tangent.

Hiding in the Library

In the solitude of the library, I’ve found a corner to hide in.  No one is asking me to do anything.  I have a window view and the sky reminds me of the last month of my days.  Grey, not white, and now raining.  I brought my headphones and if anyone knew how loud I’m blaring Metallica’s S & M they would look at me funny.

But I look just fine I guess.  Middle aged professorial looking guy slouched in a quiet corner probably writing the next best-selling novel.  Except I’m not fine.  I don’t feel safe anywhere.  At home Mrs M wants me to “just” stop being fucking depressed again, and wants me to work at getting the house clean, while the dear daughter and son loaf and bitch about their homework or how tired they are of always having their friends bug them on the phone or in person.

At church I don’t feel safe.  I wore the mask today but I couldn’t sing and I barely paid attention.  No one saw me.  I wanted to say something in Bible Study and kept quiet mostly.  But I’m tired of feeling Psalm 119:99a.  I’m not being arrogant although it may sound that way.  I’m older, I have insight, the Bible study leader can’t prounounce the words, misses huge things I know about and they never even say anything about it.  I’m marginalized as a worship leader and then as a musician, with a microphone there for show but turned off, so why bother.  I quit doing that because I didn’t feel safe because I wasn’t appreciated at all, maybe God is trying to tell me something and I should listen.

Then the pastor makes some idiotic jokes and we’re all squirming awkwardly because it’s not funny but he thought it would be.  Or maybe that’s just me.   And when he finally gets to the point it just annoys me because I’m supposed to figure out that God loves me somehow.  He said the same thing that life has been telling me, that I’m not in control of anything.  If I trust Him it needs to turn out a whole lot better than it is.  If I were in a shred more control, I’d have a greater measure of peace, but that’s not meant to be.  In the music I felt safest, but I’m not safe at all.

The people at church we talked to asked about life because they wanted to pray for us and I really didn’t have any way of expressing this in a minute or two.  I just said it’s a lot of the same things it’s been for a long time and I said they could pray God actually helps us without further hurting us because I’m already broken.  And that was more honesty and self-disclosure than I wanted to offer anyone.  Mrs M said to pray I could find a better job.  So that was OK I guess.

I don’t feel safe praying because I asked God to show me He loves me and my teeth are still broken and my car is slowly breaking, already needs new tires and repairs and I dread the next repair bill, the furnace is still not repaired and it’ll be September soon.  And every time I pray that God will help me without hurting me, something else breaks, and again He has allowed something to hurt me some more and help is not on the way.

I don’t feel safely married because I want more than Mrs. M will give me, and I notice other women a little too much and sometimes wonder if they would.  I’m trying to ignore that.  I’m a little safer if I can pretend to not notice.  When I feel unsafe and I don’t have anything to give, that’s when my wife wants to take more than she gives. It would be easier if she knew how much I really need her to help me, but when I approach the topic of the best way for her to tell me she loves me, she’s mostly dismissive.

I’m not safe at work, because it’s politics and who you know (or who you blow) and I don’t, so I can’t advance like some others have.  I keep my mouth shut (there, that’s the whole problem, isn’t it) and do my work.  And I don’t like that when I ask other people to do their work, they either don’t do it, they drag their heels, or they push it off on someone else (me).  Every time I say anything they introduce me to a new system and tell me to do my job and theirs too, if I want it done.  Friday I carried two other people but I make less than either one of them, and I need three times the money if I’m going to do three jobs.

I’m rambling, maybe I’m not even safe in here blogging.

 

I hope you all are in a safe happy place, maybe you can tell me how to find one.

I’d settle for feeling more loved, by God and Mrs. M., more appreciated at work, but I need to hear more than words.

Country Song Library, +1

Today I thought I might start the day with country music.  Not the stuff that makes me cry.  The stuff that makes me laugh.  Especially after yesterday’s poem.  I need something to lighten up.  So I did an internet search for “Humorous Country Songs.”  And I found Billy Currington’s “Like My Dog.” Toby Keith’s “Red Solo Cup,” “Freddy Mac can kiss my ass” never fails to make me chuckle.  I don’t drink THAT much and I really don’t like to party, but they look like they’re having fun so that’s all right.  And Brad Paisley “I’m Gonna Miss Her,” because I like to fish.

Yesterday a friend of mine sent me his funny country song he wrote, but it’s not published yet so I can’t link to it and share with you, but it was about a certain brand of bourbon whiskey, in a good way.

So I figured since I’m just fucked this week, with my depression, maybe I could write a country song too.  Something with a little twist that makes it funny.

So here it is:

Apoca-lips,  Deon Mumple, 07/15/2016

For the zombie apocalypse, my girl’s got the perfect hips, I love her .44s,
Strapped around 38, man, I can hardly wait to watch her blow away a walking corpse.
And I’ve got a thing for how she can swing that baseball bat equipped with spikes,
Red hair in the breeze, swaying with ease, all those curves that her man likes,
We’ll padlock the gates, check the sensors, in place, and go to our bunker, below,
And I will not share what we’ll do in there, but I think you probably know.

All I can say is, I’ll love her all day, those eyes dance to the whiskey we sip,
And we’ll never fight, ’cause she’ll hold me tight and say “Kiss my apoca-lips.”

Some people fear that the end is near, ask the preacher.  Have you seen the signs?
Fear can’t touch us, if the zombie virus comes we’re ready to face the end times
A shot to the head, and those living dead will forget they were after our brains
We’re all right so far, I’ve got my guitar, we can sing some old songs about trains
She’s so beautiful, her voice, musical to me, then after all their attacks
I’ll say “I love you,” she’ll say “I love you too, here’s a drink babe, to help you relax.”

All I can say is, I’ll love her all day, those eyes dance to the whiskey we sip,
And we’ll never fight, ’cause all through the night, she’ll say “Kiss my apoca-lips.”

We’ll have some fun, I’ve got my loaded gun; We’ll survive through the Revelation,
It may be doomsday, let’s go out and play anyway.  How many of ’em can we outrun?
Us, hand in hand, making our last stand, ’til the ammo runs out or they’re all dead,
All I can see is her, smiling at me, while she fills a zombie’s head with lead.
Then when we’re tired, and the last shots are fired we can go to our bunker below,
And I will not share what we’ll do in there, but I think you probably know.

All I can say is, I’ll love her all day, those eyes dance to the whiskey we sip,
And we’ll never fight, ’cause she’ll hold me tight and say “Kiss my apoca-lips.”

Aokigahara (TW)

Aokigahara (TW), 07/14/2016, Deon Mumple

(Springtime)

Flying to Aokigahara, I could be free
Walking the forest floor, no one would find me,
I could taste the raindrops from the tree canopy
And somewhere find hope, glimmering.

(Summer)

Winged in Aokigahara, I want to be a bird,
Singing my freedom song, sweetly, and unheard,
Acting as my own audience, deliberate, undeterred,
Through trees, the sun is shimmering.

(Fall)

Lovely Aokigahara, spirits escape there,
Where I dream, alone, flying without care,
Choose my own pathway, through the forest bare,
Cutting the chill, tea simmering, peace.

(Winter)

Snow in Aokigahara, blanketed in white,
Lying very still, I’m silent, out of sight,
Chaos, despair parting, why do others fight?
Celebrating quiet, warm, finally, release.

(Time)

I can’t go to Aokigahara, and I won’t burden you,
You have no room for my paintings, my truth isn’t true,
My dreams are too unimportant, foolish, blue,
My heart doesn’t want to break yours, though broken,

(Love)

All the wall space and windows are yours,
And the bed I wanted to share, of course,
I walk alone through the Aokigahara forest,
I know you’ll forget me fondly, now and then.

(Truth)

Once I truly believed You loved me,
But I’ve quit begging You, tears blinding
Leave me alone, found beneath Aokigahara’s trees,
Where Your indifference doesn’t matter, and no one sees.

(Light)

I was to brightly reflect Your light in darkness,
Enduring with renewed strength, through the stress
I rest, alone, feeling Aokigahara’s soft caress
Fading. Forgotten as night.  Unworthy.

Note to the readers:  Don’t worry, I’m still here and have no plan to go anytime soon.  This poem only expresses how I feel about my present circumstances. Love, Deon.

Reflection

Reflection, 7/13/2016, Deon Mumple

I looked in the mirror and thought I saw me,
Believing I perceived reality,

Then I went to the world to raise my voice,
Make a difference, a positive, helpful choice,
To advocate for those whom I saw were in need,
I worked, asked for help, “Come on, do a good deed.”
Instead the world threw rocks to stone me dead:
Status Quo, nepotism, power, and dread,
Until I was quiet, and they went away.
I got up to try again the next day,

I looked in the mirror to clean off my heart,
Bruised and bitter, I tried to wash the dirty parts

This time even harder, the stones flew at me:
Hatred, mockery, hypocrisy.
Not content just to hurt those I hoped could be free,
They even attacked me personally:
“How dare you, we’re just fine, fix your own life first,
The way we see it, we’re the best, you’re the worst.”
The rocks broke my hope, and even shattered
The dream for my quiet voice to be heard.

I looked in the mirror, nothing looked back at me,
Invisible silence, trapped in captivity.

Deon Mumple, Bull Shit, Much Deeper, In View

Some days I don’t even know why I bother to fucking try.

I want to care about other people but the people who can actually make a difference for me in a way that helps couldn’t give a shit about me because they’re too busy doing themselves.  I wish I could understand their motives with thoughts that didn’t scream “you’re all selfish shitheads!!!” but that’s how I feel.

I want to work hard at my job and advance in my career but there’s a glass ceiling over my head and i only get to watch the ass holes in the suits and nice shoes stomping all over above me to get to their steak and wine lives.  I had rice for lunch today and it’s not improving.  Another year of experience under my belt and I just found out there is no advancement, no cost of living increase, no merit increase although my attendance is exemplary and my performance is adequately contributing to the company’s success.  There’s no reward for being steady and loyal.  There’s a bigger reward for jumping ship and going to the next ship and aiming for a higher deck than where you were, stay there a few months and jump to the next ship.  I’m too old and I hate change and I don’t like jumping.

I want to get out of bed and help other people make things better in their lives but right now I feel needy and I want to scramble uphill for myself and leave all the sorry suckers behind.  Except the hill is either covered with, or made of, shit, and there’s no way to climb up because it’s step, step, fall, slide farther back than you were before.

FML.  The crash hits very hard and very fast.  “You sound depressed, Deon.”  No shit, Sherlock.  Life just hit me again and reality sinks in and it’s a very shitty reality for me, stuck at the bottom of the hole at the bottom of the hill, while I watch other people advance their careers, their lives, their economic bottom lines while standing on my head and telling me life is sunshine and roses.  Fuck your sunshine and roses, Yertle the Turtle, you fat fucking bitch, if I could muster a sneeze to take you down I would do it.  If I were the stab-you-in-the-back kind of person I would fucking do it with a twist.  But instead, you are and you did.  Those people who could be helping me without hurting themselves at all, can’t see me.  I’m fucking invisible.

When I rattle, if I bother, all I hear is, “Oh, Johnny, I apologize.  I forgot you were there.  You may go now.”  And I’m supposed leave my shotgun behind and say “thank you” to the fucking bullies.  The rest of Johnny Ringo’s character is just lame, it’s just that I feel left out of the circle of successes and snakish smiles and plastic friendships right now.  You know how some people write a Christmas letter bragging about their lives?  Yeah, right.  Nothing to write about here and fuck you all for bragging about yours.

I want to fix certain things for other people but I can’t.  I need to fix certain things for myself, and I can’t.  I don’t have the means.  So it’s a slow decay, slow decline, until I give up, and I’m almost there.  Except the people who can make a difference forgot I was there.

If you’re the praying sort, please pray.

I’m sorry, but I’m out of give-a-damn about you, about me, about work, about family, about church, and everything else.  I’m really sorry but I’m running dry and life keeps hitting me and cutting at me.  I’m tired of the bruises and cuts and I can’t heal because I keep getting hit every time I try to stand up.  I’m just supposed to quietly lie down and take it.  Not like I’ve been presented with a lot of other options at this point.

Note to everyone who should be helping me and won’t because you’re selfish:  FUCK YOU TWICE WITH BARBED WIRE AND BOTULISM ON A SPLINTERY BASEBALL BAT.

Posers

Disclaimer, Do NOT read this unless you’re prepared to hear my opinion, which is MY opinion, about current events in the news.  If you don’t want just another guy’s opinion, fuck off and read someone elses blog. End Disclaimer.

Everyone is a poser. And if you’re not a poser, people will point at you and call you a poser.

I just read that Snoop Dog, legendary for his marijuana use and advocacy, “failed” on a Family Feud question that was directly connected to marijuana.  It begs the question, is he a poser?

But it turns out Yahoo is the poser here, giving the headline as clickbait just to get the reader to read their shit, since the answer given by him was provided by his family.  And also Yahoo is the poser because Snoop won the $25,000 even with one kind of ridiculous answer, so who’s laughing all the way to his charity bank?

Yahoo.com is a big fat poser for putting up a teaser like that.

Other posers include your junk email that is just clickbait to receive additional information about 1) boner pills 2) easy single women of all ages who want you to check into #1 and then check in with them 3) online dating hookup websites to register on to meet people and 4) porn sites if you lack the courage to go with option 2 or go out and meet actual people.  Another either clickbait that gives you the phone number to call the person who put a virus on your computer so you can get the ransom instructions to pay off to get that damned virus taken off.  They pose as a reputable company offering to intervene but it’s their virus.  Fortunately there is virus software that can get most of them off without paying the fucking ransom.  And the other is clickbait websites that offer you what you’re searching for but then try to load viruses, cookies, spyware and other bullshit onto your computer.

Trump is a huge poser, and so is Hillary.

Trump wants everyone to vote for him even though everyone suspects he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about and is worried he changes his mind faster than a “Brexit” enthusiast changes their mind about their vote.  He’s unstable because he wants to appeal to the greatest number of people, rather than being guided by a set of principles, whether right or wrong.

Hillary wants everyone to vote for her even though everyone knows her political career has more scandal than a tabloid magazine.  She’s unstable because she wants to appeal to everyone to trust her in spite of the scandals, and she’s guided by a set of principles but they’re the wrong ones.

We’ve got two groups of people diametrically opposed to two other groups of people:

Here are the first two:  I submit The Gun Control Lobby vs. The 2nd Amendment Advocates.  Although I fall to the right side of this argument, extremes on both sides are both posers.

Second Amendment rights posers say let ’em all have guns, not just your random handgun, shotgun, rifle, but on up to fucking automatics.  I seriously believe that some crazy gun-toting idiots think automatics should be legal.  But that’s just my opinion (that they’re crazy).  They’re posers, because they routinely hold up the threat of the other side of the argument by making gun owners fear that guns will be legislated and the law will come and confiscate their guns.  Which could happen, but I seriously doubt the repeal of the second amendment will happen.  And I hope it never does happen.  I’d just be happy if they limited the destructive ability of legal guns, registered them all, made fingerprint locks for all guns for safety, kept digital records of markings put on casings including these high-tech ones, and imposed the death penalty for any adult who murders someone else.  I watched a video this weekend showing cops murdering unarmed people, and then I saw another thing that showed “things you can be killed for while being black,”  and I’ll get to that.  There’s another set of posers coming, no one will like that either, shortly.  But let me say, that if anyone, even if a COP, kills someone in cold blood without a fucking good reason, that person should get the death penalty.

Gun control lobbyists are huge in the news, swearing up and down and sideways that making guns illegal will reduce gun-related crimes. How’s that working for you, Chicago, Illinois?  It was rhetorical.  It’s not working.  It only makes the law-abiding citizen, who is denied their right to bear arms provided under the second amendment, a sitting duck unable to defend themselves, their families, and their communities, from a gun-toting criminal.  These people are posers because they think that by crying and saying “won’t somebody think of the children,” that their emotional appeal will suddenly make logical sense to another person who is only trying to defend himself and his family and his community, and that person will go “Oh.  Ok, here are my guns, turn them into harmless sculptures for me, will you?” And the criminal will just up and surrender all their guns too.  It’s not going to happen.

Both groups are deluded posers.

I’ve got a huge group of posers that will follow my discussion of 2 other equal and opposite posers and no one is going to like any of them.

These are extreme, on “opposing” sides of a “conflict,” which I put in quotes because they’re both posers.

Back to the video clips I saw where the cops were shooting unarmed people.  I’ll readily state that I watched in horror when the cops didn’t seem justified in shooting.  A person walking away or running away, go get the guy, because shooting him in the back is murder.  But in several, the “innocent victim” and the “guilty cop” are both out of camera view and we don’t know what’s happening that precipitated the shots being fired.  In some of these, the idiot perpetrator fails to follow repeated instructions.  In one, he gets out of the car and casually walks back toward the police car completely ignoring the cop who is asking him, nicely but with authority at first, to stay in the car with his hands out the window.  He appeared to keep his hands up, but after walking out of camera range continued to not listen and was shot after doing who knows what.  People need to quietly comply with cops because they carry guns and tasers and can kill people.  I have to go back to “A gentle answer turns away wrath.” Proverbs 15:1.  If you listen and obey a policeman and inform when you’re about to make any sudden movements, the chances of you getting shot are sure to be minimized.

I am upset about this, so for all the Blue Lives Matter movement people, it’s time to clean house.  And it’s time to come clean.  Instead of washing the blood off of each others’ hands “in an internal investigation and review,” where “the officer was found to have followed correct procedure,” the truth needs to come out.  And the obvious truth needs to be confessed.

Back to the thing I saw that showed names and faces and said the people in the presentation were doing ordinary things while being black and they got killed for it.  That, too was misguided.  The obvious thought that would spring to mind of the viewer was that it was to support the viewer thinking of it as a cop vs innocent concept piece.  It’s clickbait.  You’ve got enough fuel to pour on the fire without the need for exaggeration. In the presentation, there was flagrant exaggeration.  They included the people who were killed at their church by a gun-toting ass hole, not a cop vs. innocent issue.  They included that vigilante “community watch” ass hole and we weren’t there to see what the fuck he did or what his victim did to him.  No proof.  And again, not a cop vs. innocent issue.  So for all the Black Lives Matter movement people, it’s time to own up that there is a problem with crime in the United States of America, the statistics may show that more black people are arrested, but is there proof somewhere that there’s less black people committing crimes or more people of other races getting off on some kind of “privilege?”  I’ve gotten traffic tickets before and had to pay those fines. Once was for driving-while-in-a-crappy-car, and I say that because I witness the same “offense” being ignored by cops all the time.  Once was for speeding-while-white, because the officer issuing the ticket was non-white and the fancy car that passed me on the left was driven by a non-white.

I have to go back to “But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also as a matter of conscience.” Romans 13, if you do something bad and the cops find out, they are potentially the aforementioned “agents of wrath.”  I did something wrong, the cop stopped me and gave me a ticket.  And the “let me see your hands” is an instruction, authoritatively delivered, whether you’re white or black, at least if my experience is representative of their training.  So, you think you’re being harassed for being black, I call bullshit.  You did something to attract the authority’s attention.

The Blue Lives Matter movement is posing when they cover up when they did something wrong, and the Black Lives Matter is posing when they minimize their guilt or exaggerate their case with unrelated incidents.

And the other posers came by my door the other day.  Some religious cult.  I wasn’t home or I could have asked them what they do with false prophets and how many times their leaders have predicted the “rapture of the saints,” which as far as I’m aware, hasn’t happened yet.  The predictions I’m aware of. They were lying and the people are still following them.  Sheep.  Ignorant.  Posers.  And not just that religious cult.  Others who claim to be on the fast track to heaven, call out others for their sins, but conveniently ignore their own sins.  That, to me, is the WORST kind of poser there is.

I’m afraid it won’t be unraveled until the end, when we all have to give an account to God.  When that happens, we’ll know that a lot of this shit was just trumped up, or Trumped up, or Hillaried up, or fucking made up, to play on people’s fears and hates and suspicions.  It does NOT say there will be no tears in heaven, at least not until “the former things” are passed away.  Until then, it actually says, (I can hear Cliff Claven from Cheers informing Norm because I’m that old) that “God will wipe away every tear.” (Revelation 21:4)

We have to be thinkers because there are liars out there.  We have to be “wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.” (Matthew 10:16)  We have to figure out what truth is, and we have to be wary of the agenda of the liars.  Is it actually truth, or is it playing on your fears and suspicions and hatreds?  If it’s truth, act on that.  If it’s not, don’t.  Fear is a strong motivator and it’s intended to control the way we think and act and vote.  It’s too late for me to tell anyone, don’t vote on fear.  We all have to vote based on whichever candidate inspires the least fear in our hearts, but they both scare me.  I think that may be why Paul wrote we have to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling.” (Philippians 2:12)  I’d say, we have to work out our lives with caution and discernment.  Because maybe we’re wrong.  Or what’s worse, maybe we’re being played.

I hope you’re not being played.  Fuck, I hope I’m not being played.

Good luck out there.

 

Image Obsession

Good heavens, Deon, there’s an AVATAR where that weird design thingy used to be!  You’re welcome, internet!

There, now you have a baseline, understanding of course, that I look better in real life than as a cartoon avatar.  Or worse.  Whatever.  If I were image-obsessed, would I hide all this beauty in a bunker as much as possible?  For a while there I was kind of nervous about displaying anything close to the real me, probably put off a few friends who asked when I sent the pictures of Mr Rogers flipping the bird right at the camera.  Sorry, Blah-grrl, I guess I’m coming out of my shell a little, maybe.  I reserve the right to go back to the geometric design and go back to hiding.  I’m a shy guy who likes his normal hiding-in-his-bunker existence.  Go on, follow Blahpolar, she rocks.  Plus, she has a dragon named Toaster (my dragon is named Buttercup – FIRST mention on this blog!  Another out-of bunker disclosure.  My bravery knows no limits (That’s a total LIE!).)

Gotta love that.  His image so squeaky clean and yet there are these images to haunt him for all eternity, but the song is still squeaky clean and without any connotation.  I LIKED Mr. Rogers, for the simplicity and love and innocence of his message, which is why in my blog, unless you’re a complete ass, I’m simple and loving and try to be encouraging.

So there you have it, I’ve courageously created an avatar image I suppose not far from what I would look like if I were cartoon-ed.  It’s squeaky clean and without any connotation and yet there are people (thanks, Mrs. M. You and your damned honesty.)  who will tell me my hair has more brown in it, my beard is longer, scruffier, and more white than that, my hair needs cutting, I should shave, I look older in real life, blah, blah, blah.  And I’m too fat.  They can tell just from the cartoon.  Not really.  They can tell because I said I was.  If I were image obsessed I might try harder to look more like, or better than, the un-cartooned likeness.  Cleaner.  But no.  And honestly, I’m not all THAT fat, I’ve got the standard-issue happily married extra 20…or 30 lbs I’d need to to lose to be completely ripped.

I liked the colors.  Purples are my favorite.  And black.  And my eyes are smoldering blue, I did the best I could to capture it but in real life they’re much more penetrating.  Staring. Straight. Into.  Your. Very. Soul…  I know you better than I know me, because I’m a sympathetic empath and, unless you’re a complete ass, I care about you.  Don’t tell anyone, I’ll probably deny it.

If I were image obsessed I’d have been more honest about it and just gone with this, it’s not far off:


There you have it.

I was discussing doppelgangers on another blogger’s comments and confessed that I’ve never met my doppelganger, but I’m certain he looks just as hot as I do.  You’re welcome, internet.  Go on, follow Jill.  You know you want to.  You won’t regret it.  She’s awesome.

My image is squeaky clean, because I’m always running it through the washing machine.  But in real life, I’ve got all the connotations of a dirty-minded man except I only want Mrs. M.  I wish my brain was squeaky clean but no one has invented real-life mental floss.  But I noticed you, you sexy thing, which is probably a bad thing for me to have done.  Plus, it’s hard to get the filth out from between the little cracks in the cranium.  I’d need a mental technician to irrigate all the shit out of there.  And then there are the cavities.  What the hell do you use to fill the cavities and depravities?

I await the judgemental commentary of the trolls and the dubious admiration of any mistaken people who think if I look like the avatar it’s not that bad.  If I were image obsessed I might care about the constructive criticisms enough to do something about it.  But no.  I DO need a haircut.  I DO need to trim up the scruff.  I DO need to lose 30 lbs for a better wardrobe to actually fit my fat ass.  It IS probably more gray in real life(, but it used to be more brown).  I DO look older in real life.  Yes. It’s all true Mrs. M, and I get the last laugh because YOU MARRIED ME, you hot, amazing, adorable, hottie.  (GOD! I love that woman.  In spite of that truth I have to look at in the mirror so she won’t give me the up-and-down and eye roll look so I’ll clean up and dress better before she will go out with me.  That’s right, and that hasn’t changed since college so she knew what she was getting into when she married me.)

I think my image needs a hot shower.  Pass the mental floss?  Wait, what are you doing in the shower?  Get out!  You’re NOT helping me.  Noooooooo!!!!

Feeling “Off”

Yesterday I felt “off” all day.  I wasn’t able to get to my blog.  As much as I hate being dependent on anything, I rely on my blog as a means to vent various rages, offend, or express, and I’m afraid I’ve become dependent on it.  When I couldn’t get here, my whole day was just a little “off.”  I don’t want to say I’m addicted.

I woke up this morning and still feel “off.”  It’s the “off” of having missed something, having forgotten something, it’s lurking in the back of my mind and I can’t quite shake it even though I don’t really think I’ve forgotten something at all.  It’s not the desperate “off” of losing something you need, it’s the “off” of having not done something you needed to do.

Deon Mumple, Obsessive Compulsive?  Not sure if… I need the routine to help my soul feel at peace, or if I need my soul to feel at peace so I settle into comfortable routines.  Whatever. I LIKE my routines, people, don’t fuck with it.  See also, this.  It’s only symptom #2.  Or, maybe it’sPicture just that I missed all of you.  Perish the thought.  Insert meme style pic of Karen Olivio as Vanessa in Lin Manuel-Miranda’s In the Heights, captioned “Y’all are freaks!”  Isn’t she beautiful?  And hilarious.  The simplest explanation is that I missed writing, and felt a little put off because I didn’t do it.  Could it be that simple?  Maybe.  I’m not good with having feelings, much less understanding my feelings, which is one of the reasons I write.


I can’t go back to yesterday and write, all I can do is start today and hope my soul feels more at peace after I publish whatever crap I’ve typed.  (Please accept my humble apologies?)  Insert meme style pic of Deon laughing his ass off, because, as if he gave a rat’s ass, much less his own…and… it just fell off.  Please, no pics of Deon.  The internet would break.  I prefer Olivio’s face anyway, she’s MUCH cuter than me.  (Broken mirror image stolen from Pinterest)  I looked for a picture of a rat’s ass to offer you delightful readers, all six of you, and I couldn’t find anything satisfactory.  Wait.  Are there only five of you today?!   The mirror either broke as a result of my looking at it, or as a mercy preserving the integrity of the internet.  Integrity on the internet, now there’s a funny meme waiting for an image to convey its’ trustworthiness, isn’t there?

It’s also possible I’m having the “off” feeling because of having had Monday off from work, and having a short week this week, and having the persistent feeling that it should be Friday already.  I won’t get over it until tomorrow evening.

OK, I can’t admit anything mushy, but it’s possible I missed all of you all day yesterday and it threw off my groove.  And I’m not even an emperor.  It’s also possible the whole thing is something I made up.  Because maybe I am an emperor.  If I am, I’m an evil one that everyone thinks is good.  Insert evil emperor meme captioned Mwaahahahahahaaaa!!  Internet fact checkers, start your browsers!!

Even Meg here  is cuter than me.  But I’m the hottest guy within 3 feet of myself.  “And that’s the ‘gospel’ truth.”