The Ranting Monkey: The LastStand Story

I am the Monkey

2012-01-31T08:50:00.003-05:00

There is yet another new "Ranting Monkey" out there. Unlike the guy on youtube, this one is kind of like my blog here.

While I do have a domain of my own, it is currently out of my control for the moment. I'm working on getting control back and hope to have it by this time next week. Very boring story behind how I lost control, while still maintaining ownership, that I'm not going to share. Until I do have it back, the one and only Real Ranting Monkey can only be found on blogger, the url will have blogspot in it. If it doesn't, that's not me.

Don't accept cheap unimaginative imitations.

And to you assholes that keep trying to take my name, fuck off. It's mine.

Pointless

2012-01-31T07:48:00.004-05:00

"What's the point?" I'm not sure what circumstances led to the question. It could have been a private joke between friends for all I know. But, I did respond. I chose to view the question on the grand scale. On the "what is the point of life" scale.

It's an easy enough question to answer. The point of life is to live as long as you can. To survive.

Answering that question is the easy part.

The hard part is deciding what to do with these lives as we struggle to hold on to them knowing the inevitable is, well, inevitable.

Clay Walker once sang, "I wanna live, laugh, love just for today." Sums up my view entirely.

Planning ahead and reminiscing have their place. For me, the bigger point of it all is just to enjoy it all while we can.

We all know life can suck. No one is happy all the time. Even your favorite Ranting Monkey gets down sometimes. And not just "someone pissed me off and I need to write a profanity filled rant about it" down either. But serious, "why is this happening to me" down.

When I get there, when I realize I am asking, "why me," I stop and change the question.

Why not see where this goes?

I get lost quite easily when I'm driving. If I haven't made the trip a hundred times, there's a good chance I'll end up fifty miles from where I'm supposed to be because I missed a turn. It happens so often that I've long since given up any worry over it happening. It is an inevitable part of being me.

Instead of panic, I enjoy the unknown as I make my way to some gas station, or call my wife, to ask for directions. I take in the sights and sounds of the unfamiliar as I head back to my world. I've found some neat things, including alternate routes to my destination, during those times.

I don't worry about how I got lost or why I got lost. I simply accept that I am lost. Why not be lost for a while? Getting lost, figuratively or literally, can be fun. It can be a great adventure and leads to some fun stories. Lots of living, laughing, and loving along the way.

By now you're probably asking what the point of all this is. Calm down, I'm getting there.

The point is simply this, if you spend too much time searching for the point, you're going to miss the point entirely. Once you accept that life is about living, you can decide how you want to live and start heading in that direction. And if you get lost on your way, look around, you might find a path you never knew existed.

Do You Want to Meet Your God This Way?

2012-01-29T19:14:00.010-05:00

I'm leaving work and I make a right hand turn out of the parking lot. Some ass in a little red car pulls right out in front of me from another parking lot. Then the prick has the nerve to start yelling at me as though I was at fault. I gave him a one fingered monkey salute and told him to get fucked.

If time would have permitted, I would have beat his ass.

My wife says I have rage issues, especially in the car. But they aren't rage issues, they're "what the fuck is wrong with you, ya fuckin moron" issues. I wouldn't rage if people were paying attention and not pissing me off.

Take the asshole above, he never even looked to his left as he pulled out to make his left hand turn. Ignorant dick was too busy talking to his passenger. That's right, I was paying so much attention I could see why he was too distracted to see several tons of metal headed right for his driver's side door but he couldn't be bothered with it.

The other wonderful breed of asshole out on the road currently occupying a space on my "I hope you die" list are the ones that pull out in front of me, into my lane, to go half the speed limit. And as I start swearing under my breath while stomping on the brake, a quick glance in the rear view mirror shows the closest car behind me can't even be seen with the naked eye. Yet these asses just have to almost cause an accident so they can get ahead of me to go slow.

I hate these people and I want to watch horrific things happen to them.

Don't feel sorry for them, they are asking to die. If my reaction time wasn't as good as it is, some of them would have already.

Folks, a car is a giant deadly piece of machinery and it's way past time to start treating it as such. It's not a social gathering site, it's not a phone booth, it's not a computer cafe, and it is not your bathroom. If you keep treating it like it is, there are good odds it will be your vehicle to the gods.

Six Word Saturday

2012-01-29T02:28:00.003-05:00

Tears won't stop a real clown.

Been a while since I've done one of these. And technically it's Sunday now, but I'm still submitting it.

Written for Six Word Saturday. You can visit the other entries by clicking the button below.

The Ranting Monkey User's Guide

2012-01-29T01:10:00.007-05:00

What is that place you keep linking?

I get asked that a lot. To answer that question, and probably many more, I proudly present The Ranting Monkey User's Guide.

-------------------

How to use this blog

1. First, forget anything you know about me before you start reading. Very few people will read here and not be surprised by something. And you will learn more than you ever wanted to know about me.

2. With that out of the way, visit the Standard Warning (revisited). That may be humorous but it is not a joke. You will read what polite society would consider very offensive material here.

3. If you've read the warning and are still interested, read the interview I did with Josie. The link is to the first question and there are links to all the questions at the bottom of each post. Reading the entire thing will give you a pretty good idea of the kind of things you will find here.

4. From there, the other links on the right side of this page contain the most read posts of the last 2 years. While this blog is almost 5 years old, the feature is only 2 years old, so it is what it is.

5. If you like a particular post and want to read more like them, there are tags at the bottom of most posts that will take you to other posts I've tagged the same way. For the record, the "just me" tag is on most posts I write. Also, the "humor" tag is linked to things I find funny. Your mileage will vary.

6. If you get really ambitious, you can go all the way back to the beginning and read the whole blog. There is a little box over there on the right that says "older posts" that breaks down all the posts by month to make it easier.

7. If you like what you read, let me know. And please, share the link with friends.

Finally, this blog is for entertainment. If you take any advice I give or repeat any jokes or stories I tell, that is your own fault.

Enjoy your stay.

Apparently I'm Only Almost Always Right

2012-01-29T00:52:00.002-05:00

I am going to edit the last post because I forgot when exactly Father's day was and, in typical fashion, I didn't confirm first even knowing I didn't know.

Enjoy it folks, doesn't happen often.

And thank you, Amanda.

Untimely

2012-01-29T00:33:00.004-05:00

Holidays are beginning to get on my nerves. Not because of consumerism or any hippie crap like that. I quite enjoy consumerism. I like having things. Things make me happy.

What the hell was I talking about...

Oh, right. Holidays.

I've often said I don't like Valentine's Day because I don't like someone telling me when to be loving to my wife. I love her every day. Why would I save showing her how much she means to me for one cold ass day in the middle of fuckin February?

But lately, that same sentiment has spread to other holidays. I was channel surfing the other day and came across a Halloween movie of some sort. I'll be honest, I got so lost in this thought that I forgot the TV was even on.

In January, we are to party and get drunk to celebrate the new year. February, we love. March/April we get drunk to celebrate one religious figure and color eggs to honor another. May we remember how much our moms mean to us. June we give dad a call.

July comes along and tells us to be patriotic. August and September give us our longest breaks from commercial holidays, which we need as we come to the end of the year. October, it's time to be scared. November, give thanks and eat until you pass out. And finally, Christmas, where we honor one of the religious figures from back in March/April by buying more shit that we have all year.

Seven days later, we start all over.

I'm not against these holidays. I enjoy most of them. But I'm starting to resent being told that fear is for October and cheer is for December and that love is for really fuckin cold days in February.

Would it really be so bad if we decided to all get dressed up and scare the bejebus out of each other on some random day in the middle of June? Or if we bought our significant other a nice present to show our love on March 19th?

It's not even that we are told when to feel these things. It's that we only do them at the scheduled time. Perhaps it's just my natural rejection of time frames talking here but I'm thinking of dressing up as a monster and jumping out at kids as they search for Easter eggs this year.

The Best is Yet to Come

2012-01-27T01:20:00.005-05:00

I'm being kept awake by one of those thoughts again.

What would you do if you knew you had experienced the best of something?

Everything we do in life has a best. The best food, the best sex, the best movie. What if you knew you'd already experienced the best? Would you avoid those things knowing nothing would ever compare?

Would life be as exciting if we were only ever guaranteed the second best, or third, or hundredth?

Of course, it's not like we'd know until the end. Until you've had all your experiences it would be impossible to say you'd already had the best of anything.

But what about more important things than food, sex, or movies? What if you've already loved as deeply as you can or laughed as hard as you ever will? The idea is a bit depressing.

It's also possible that you've been as mad as you will ever get and experienced the worst moment of your life already. That's a bit more comforting.

What if the best happens and we don't appreciate it as we should because we are too busy looking for something better? And is it possible to miss the best because you're already too satisfied with what you've already got? But then that would mean the best you have is still the best, you just don't know better exists.

Sometimes, my mind is a giant pain in my ass.

For the Record

2012-01-25T00:28:00.001-05:00

Fucktarded absolutely is a word. I use it all the time and in many different forms.

Just sayin....

Painful Memories

2012-01-25T00:08:00.004-05:00

When I was little, I used to bang my head against things. What kinds of things? I don't remember much. Odd, right? I do vividly remember repeatedly hitting my head on the sidewalk. Quite on purpose.

I was taking a bath in my parent's bathroom for some reason. I was about 6 or so. As I came out of the bathroom, I saw a plastic light up Santa Claus sitting next to my parent's dresser. I grabbed the plug, slid it into the outlet, and immediately learned the power of water and electricity. I got zapped, Santa got fried, and the outlet never worked again.

I was carrying wood around from the garage to the backyard when I was 5. Enthusiastic as I was back then, I was running as fast as my little feet would carry me. I tripped on something. When I hit the ground, my pinkie on my right hand bent and touched the back of my hand. Still being enthusiastic, I went in the house and put a band-aid on my sore, yet not bleeding, knuckle and went right back to playing. Mom took me to the doctor the next day when she saw it. Spent the next 6 weeks of school learning to write with my left hand.

When I was 11 or so, I peeled all the skin off the back of my left thigh when I was skateboarding down the side of Mount Trashmore. Yes, that is a real place. Seems when you've built up some speed and fall off the board while wearing shorts, skin peels rather easily. It's ok though, the gravel that replaced the skin was thicker anyway.

As I sit here remembering all these, and many many more, I am surprised I made it out of childhood alive. I had a lot of safe fun too but a lot of the things we did as kids would be absolutely shocking to today's parents and their overly protective ways.

It's not that mom always knew what we were doing. Oh, she thought she did. She'd tell us, "you'll never do anything I don't know about." Mom was a bit naive. She didn't realize the sheer stupidity 3 boys can come up with when left unsupervised. So, no, she didn't always know. But she did give us the freedom.

With my own children, I never expect that I know everything. I remember being a kid. The good and the bad. I've always just expected that my children would make some mistakes and I've tried to balance protecting them with giving them the freedom to make mistakes.

Thing is, for all the stupid things I have done, I have some great memories. When my children look back on their childhood, I want them to have those kinds of memories. Plus, no child should ever be deprived of telling their parents about all the shit they got away with when the parent's thought they were paying attention.

I'm Not Fearless, I'm Just Not Afraid of Fear

2012-01-23T00:53:00.005-05:00

A friend commented to me on this post. Among other things, the post tells about how I once convinced myself Satan was in my house. I quite literally believed him to be sitting inside waiting for me to come in.

My friend thinks it's funny. And it is. I mean, it is now as I look back at it. But at the time, I was really afraid.

My friend asked me how I convinced myself Satan was in my house.

Several years earlier, when I was about 8, I had a nightmare. It was an odd nightmare in that there was no actual threat involved. In my dream, I was in my living room sitting on the couch. For reasons unknown to me even in the dream, I reached over to the table beside the couch and tipped the lamp sitting there on its side.

As I did, a spiral staircase leading down opened up. I went down the stairs and found myself in a near all white room with no furniture. There were flowing very deep purple silk drapes hanging in various places but the room was otherwise empty except for the black metal staircase I had come down.

Although I couldn't see any doors or even any doorways, I knew there was another room. And I knew in that room, Satan sat and waited for me.

That dream entered my mind as I was sitting in the yard that day and the rest is Frank history.

Back to tonight, that same friend asked me "how do you cope with your fears?"

A blog post was born.

Most fears are unreasonable. It doesn't seem like it when we are facing those fears but most of them really are ridiculous.

The greatest common fear, at least according to most studies on the subject, is public speaking. People are generally more afraid of speaking in front of other people than they are of death, heights, criminals, Lady Gaga, and rectal exams.

It's not logical. We all speak. Some folks won't shut up. But those same people would rather die than give a report to a gathering of coworkers or read a paper in front of their class.

So how do I cope? I reason with myself. I have long, sometimes very long, conversations with myself. I examine the possible negative outcomes involved with facing my fear. Ninety percent of the time, that's enough. The fear goes away.

The other ten percent? Well, I have those same conversations. But when it becomes obvious my logical brain is losing the argument, I stop. I do all I can to put it out of my mind. And when it's just about gone, I face the fear head on. Like ripping a band-aid off in one quick motion, I just do it without any thought.

I watched Jaws for the first time the night before my first trip to the Atlantic Ocean. I spent the first hour we were at the beach sitting there staring at the ocean trying to convince myself there was not a giant man eating shark waiting to kill me.

Was not working.

So I built a sand castle.

When I was done, I stood up, turned to the ocean, and dove in.

And ya wanna know the really cool part? As your mind becomes used to bad things not happening from facing your unreasonable fears, you start to expect bad things not to happen. Like anything else, the more you do it, the easier it becomes.

One for the Road

2012-01-22T01:22:00.003-05:00

In one of those coincidence things I'm not quite sure I believe in, several people have asked me about my blog in the last 24 hours. What is it? What do I write here?

The simple answer? Read it!

Until next time, may the deity you favor bless you with lego-free walkways.

Wonder If They Read Much

2012-01-22T00:38:00.005-05:00

Checking the stats here reveals such fun things like how people got to your blog. Someone found my blog after searching Yahoo for "unprotected sex at the gloryhole stories."

He got a link to my rant about the woman that took Plan B enough to rename it Plan A.

How disappointed do you think they were?

For the record, I'm number 9 on yahoo for that particular search. I rule!

I Hope He Becomes A Womanizer

2012-01-21T21:29:00.003-05:00

Some of you may not like me after this one. This is not the upbeat positive thinking monkey. I read something today that brought on full blown "are ya fucking kiddin me" Ranting Monkey. It irritated me so much I was ranting to myself, out loud, the whole way to work.

What could bother the kinder gentler Monkey so?

This utterly stupid shit.

If ya don't want to read it, and I do recommend against the assault on your I.Q., here's the gist.

A couple of lesbians spent the first 5 years of their youngest child's life not telling anyone what sex the child was. Wanted to avoid all the stereotyping that comes with telling people whether or not the child sits to pee. Alas, all good things come to an end and this experiment in absolute fucktardedness came to a close as the child entered school.

It's a boy! Mazel tov!

Sweet tap dancin Christ, I hate people. If you want to go through life oblivious to the world around you, fine. Be as fuckin stupid as you like. But when you have kids, you have a responsibility to them above yourself. This stupid bitch is using her child to make herself feel better about being gay.

"Frank, you can't know that!!!!"

The fuck I can't. It's all in the article, starting with this...

Sasha dresses in clothes he likes -- be it a hand-me-downs from his sister or his brother. The big no-no's are hyper-masculine outfits like skull-print shirts and cargo pants. In one photo, sent to friends and family, Sasha's dressed in a shiny pink girl's swimsuit. "Children like sparkly things," says Beck. "And if someone thought Sasha was a girl because he was wearing a pink swimming costume, then what effect would that have? "

So let's get this straight, the kid can wear any clothes he likes as long as they aren't too masculine. It can literally be a pink girl's bathing suit, but no skull prints. Might stereotype the boy. And she justifies it by saying kids like sparkly things? She can't bedazzle a fuckin skull print shirt?

It has nothing to do with letting him wear what he wants, it's about forcing him to be feminine and claiming he picked it. If he picks feminine things, despite being a boy, then it's ok for mom to pick masculine things, like eating pussy.

It goes on to say the child has plenty of dolls, but not Barbie because Barbie is bad. No mention of any masculine toys, though I'm guessing the only masculine toy mom is familiar with is unsuitable for children.

Now, before ya get too upset that I suggested she chose to be gay, she basically tells us she did.

As for Laxton, she says she's open to her son pursing any career or sexual preference he chooses as he matures. "As long as he has good relationships and good friends," she says, "then nothing else matters, does it?"

Any sexual preference he chooses. Quite the Freudian slip, eh? Not really. Not if you read between the lines.

This is her way to justify her own behavior. She chose to be gay. We know this because she is gay, or at least eating pussy on a regular enough basis to have a partner, and that she thinks sexual preference is a choice. So, she chose to be gay.

Only someone really fucked up would come up with stupidity like this. And given her method, we can safely guess that she has issues with her own sexual choice. Why else experiment with the child's sex?

This is the kind of mind fuck that should get children removed from homes.

Still, this is just the catalyst for what I really want to say. Some of you need to hear this and this story just served to light the spark.

Boys and girls are different. Yes, there is some overlap but generally speaking boys are more aggressive, we're loud, we smell, we like to get dirty, we like to fight. We enjoy things that will never make sense to women. Just as you like things that we will never understand, like shoes.

There is nothing wrong with differences. Denying human nature will not make it go away. It will just make you do really stupid shit that will piss me off.

And for fuck's sake, stop using your god damn kids as social experiments.

Honestly

2012-01-16T23:39:00.005-05:00

"You have an answer for everything!"

The statement was as much a resignation as it was an observation. It had become clear that arguing was pointless. I did have an answer for everything.

I often do.

When I was younger I'd joke that I had a lot of experience packed into my young life. That line doesn't work as well now that some people actually view me as some kind of authority figure. There's a scary fucking thought.

It's rare for me to encounter a situation I don't have advice for. It's not because I'm smart, which I am, or because I am wise, which I also am.

No, I am good with giving advice for two simple reason, I pay attention and I don't have time for bullshit.

Most of the things people seek advice on don't require an opinion. The person already knows what needs done. They are either looking for an excuse not to do the right thing or looking for someone to affirm what they already know. But a funny thing happens when you ask friends for advice. In an effort to spare your feelings, your friends will lie to you.

Oh, your friends mean well. They don't want to upset you. They join in your irrational hatreds and petty bitching about people you feel have wronged you. They will insist things that quite obviously are your fault, aren't or that you had no other options. They will tel you that you are wonderful and kind and sweet and as perfect as anyone can possibly be.

They mean well but they aren't helping you.

Now, if you come to me for advice, I'm going to tell you what I honestly think. I'm going to tell you that you need to lighten up or make an effort or stop your damn bitching and realize your problems are mere inconveniences and perhaps you should thank the gods above rather than tempting fate into showing you just how bad life can be.

It's been said that the truth shall set you free. I think that should be amended. Because even that isn't honest. It's too vague and leaves out the hard stuff.

The truth can be hard to hear, it may make you cry, it can cause you to hate someone you love, but in the end, it shall set you free if you embrace it.

Not as catchy or as easy to say. But it is honest.

You Know You Like Me

2012-01-16T00:37:00.005-05:00

"I don't care what people think of me."

We all know people who say that. I've said it myself. After careful consideration, I'd like to clarify.

My self esteem is not tied to what anyone thinks of me. There is one exception to that rule. My wife can crush me in an instant. That woman has some power I can't quite figure out but her opinion is really important to me.

Everyone else, it's not that I don't care what you think, it's that I've spent so much time considering myself that nothing you can say will change the way I look at me.

That goes for praise as well as criticism. I'm just as likely to be unmoved that someone found me funny or thoughtful as I am to be unmoved that someone found me annoying or heartless. There are occasions where I will give praise or criticism some thought but the simple truth is I've never found any that has altered my already over thought opinions.

That's not to say your opinion doesn't matter at all to me. I enjoy hearing what other people think of me. I get a kick out of knowing what people like and dislike about me.

The point?

No one is going to be universally loved or hated. You are the only person that has to live with you. Never let what someone else thinks about you dictate who you are or how you feel. If someone doesn't like you, why would you give them a second thought. There are 6 billion other people on this planet and I'm pretty sure you can find some that like you just the way you are.

Short True Story

2012-01-09T23:41:00.003-05:00

I'm exhausted but still want to write something tonight....

How about a short memory.

When I was in second grade we had spelling tests every Friday. Oh, how I loathed Fridays. I suck at spelling. Always have. It's the one subject in school that never came naturally to me.

The kid that sat next to me had the same spelling issues I did. But he had his own solution. On a piece of paper, no bigger than 1 inch long and 1 inch wide, he would write all 20 words.

I was always impressed by that.

He'd often still fail the test.

That impressed me more.

One in a Million

2012-01-09T00:06:00.001-05:00

I am not a fan of statistics. And not for the usual reason, them being largely made up. Rather, it's because of something that was said much better in a line from the sit-com Scrubs than I could ever put it.

Statistics mean nothing to the individual.

Fitting considering my distaste for statistics started with doctors. It was a long time ago and the details are a bit sketchy but a friend was diagnosed with some disease. A bad disease. Life threatening.

As I discussed it with my friend, they told me the doctors said only about 25% of people with the disease live more than 5 years. They would try, but the odds were against them because of the statistics. In fact, the doctor really had nothing positive to say. It was all doom and gloom.

Now this struck me as an odd response from a doctor. A healer. A man charged with fighting death for a living. I understand trying to prepare people for the worst, but why concentrate on the negative unless you have literally no other choice?

I have a theory that half of the people that die from diseases with low survivability rates die because they give up all hope after talking to pessimistic doctors like the shithead above.

Not trying to make this all about doctors. They just illustrate the point very well. So do some other things. A college degree is likely to help you earn more money over your lifetime according to statistics. More than half of all marriages end in divorce. Children brought up in homes with both parents are more likely to do well in school and beyond. 4 out of 5 dentists recommend trident.

I'm not saying statistics don't have their place. They can identify trends and help you with your gum buying decisions. But far too often they are used to discourage people. To show them the odds are stacked against them and that perhaps they shouldn't try.

Statistics mean nothing to the individual.

What would happen if we focused on the exceptions rather than the trends? What would happen if high school graduates were told it is possible to live well without a college degree? Or if cancer patients were told they could survive like so many others have? What would happen if, just for once, we celebrated the triumphs of life rather than it's tragedies?

The last thing someone facing long odds needs is a reminder that most people in their situation fail. Statistics are often used to do exactly that. For that reason, I have very little use for them.

Plus, most statistics are made up anyway.

Don't Know, Don't Want to Know

2012-01-07T22:14:00.007-05:00

Is there a difference between innocence and ignorance?

My dear friend Josie asked me that. As I read it, I immediately formed an opinion and then spent the rest of the day honing my thoughts. Here's the short version.

Yes, there is a difference.

Innocence is having no reason to question. Ignorance is having every reason to question but still not doing so.

Innocence is literally having no point of reference to make decisions or take actions. It's going with what feels right because you don't have the life experience to know that it may be harmful.

Innocence is circumstance.

Ignorance is choice.

In a recent post, that led to the discussion that led to this post, Joise said, "ignorance does not guarantee protection from evil." I'd go further and say that ignorance invites evil. It opens the door, pulls out a chair at the kitchen table, and offers coffee or tea to evil.

I judge the ignorant harshly. Not because I think myself better. But because life isn't going to be any nicer to you than I am if you refuse to take the lessons it teaches.

I am far more sympathetic to the innocent. It's not their fault they aren't armed against the hell life can throw at them. I blame the people that should have been teaching them.

The conditions are similar. The differences are minor yet important. Unfortunately, the results are usually tragically the same.

One for the Road

2012-01-07T00:49:00.003-05:00

Josie is blogging again and in the few posts she has up I found myself inspired to write at least a dozen posts. The post before this was actually rewritten 6 times because I have so many things I want to say. I have missed her.

Until next time, may the god of your choosing crotch shot someone that annoys you.

Just Me

2012-01-06T23:44:00.006-05:00

What do you see when you see me?

Do you see the clown? The fighter? The intellectual? The shy kid? The life of the party? The comforter? The spoiled brat? The protector?

As often happens, I was having a discussion with my good friend, and the only hippie I like, Josie, when inspiration struck.

What will my children think if they knew all there was to their dad? From that question came the even bigger question, does any one really know me?

My far too pretty to be married to me wife does. The poor woman has lived with me for half my life. She's seen the very rare.

My best friends do. Both of them. I doubt I could do or say anything to actually shock them.

As we move into other relatives and friends, I find I have compartmentalized my entire life. That's not a bad thing. Not everyone needs to know everything.

Part of why this blog was so private for so long is that I do have trouble sharing myself with others. I give them what I think they need in the moment. Some people need to laugh, some need comforted as they cry. Some need advice, some need distracted from their lives.

Writing here, I don't have an audience in mind. I'm not playing to what I think people want or need. I'm just being me. Whatever me I am at the moment.

And that's the real point of all of this. I'm not looking for actual answers here but I am wondering what people think as they read. I'm wondering how many have read something here and thought, "well that doesn't sound like Frank."

The idea amuses me.

Yes, This is Still The Ranting Monkey

2011-12-29T18:24:00.007-05:00

Things currently pissing me off....

1. Gloves with no fingertips. In case you forgot what you learned in school, the body shuts off heat to the farthest reaches first. You're basically negating the whole point of the glove. Plus, it looks really fuckin stupid.

2. People that don't take advice they ask for. I'm always happy to help a friend but if we're just going to waste each others time lets talk about boobs, vagina, cookies, football, video games or any other of a 100 topics I actually give more of a shit about than you ignoring the very advice you seek.

3. Mini-skirts on little girls. It was bad enough during the summer but its 20 degrees out for fuck's sake. Be a parent and say no.

4. Assholes that tell me they will never shop at my store again because I refused to help them in what amounts to robbing me. It's not that I mind the threat, it's that none of them follow through.

5. Those idiots in the fast food drive thru that can't order in under 15 minutes. The menus don't change that often. Pick something and get the fuck out of my way.

6. Teenagers that think I'm far less observant than I am.

7. Periods. Not the punctuation, the kind that ruin a perfectly good weekend. Can't science find someway to get around this rather than finding new and unexciting ways to fling birds across touch screens?

8. Lady Gaga. She's way past the point she should have been an O.D. headline. Get on with it already you tacky no talent "maybe if I dress funny people will forget I can't sing worth a shit" nasty skank.

9. Hearing how easy other people in my position have it at other stores. Grrrr....

10. Last and certainly not least, you mother fuckers that won't get off your god damn cell phones when people are waiting on you. You aren't that important. And yes, I am being purposefully loud because you're being purposefully fucktarded. I hope you fall asleep naked and that damn phone accidentally slips up your self important ass you classless shit stain of a human.

The Pursuit of Happiness

2011-12-29T02:09:00.005-05:00

Are you happy? It's a simple enough question. Still, most people I know can't quite answer it or they answer it with a shrug and dismissive affirmation. "I guess so." How do you guess you're happy?

As with so many things, this is a subject I've given a lot of thought to. And I've decided people are ignorant. That's not an insult. I'm using the literal definition of the word. I just don't think people understand what happiness is.

Happiness is not being carefree and getting everything you want in life. Oh, sure, that would certainly make it a lot easier. But have ya ever known someone that really really wants something, and then they get it, and they are still miserable shits? If not, I can introduce you to some people.

Since the night I was born, 37 minutes after midnight, I've always been a night person. Growing up this often caused friction between my mother and me. She wanted me to go to bed and I didn't want to. Two very stubborn people locked in a battle of wills. Frankly, I'm surprised she never tried drugging me. Actually, she kinda did. Another Frank fact, chocolate mellows me. Mom never made a secret of sometimes slipping me chocolate to get me to go to sleep.

One school night, I am perched at my usual spot on the top of the stairs where I can just see the TV. By this point in my young life I'd already learned how to move very quietly to avoid my mother hearing and subsequent yelling at me to get my "little butt back to bed." But I moved and she heard me. Expecting to be told to go back to bed, I was instead surprised when she invited me to come sit with her.

The Everly Brothers were having a reunion concert on TV and if I promised to go right to bed after, I could stay up and watch it with her. I'd never heard of them but if it got me on the couch and not in bed, I was willing to listen.

I still think of that night every time I hear Wake Up Little Susie. Of all the songs they sang, that one stuck with me the most. And it makes me happy.

I lost my mother far too early in life. And I could dwell on that. I could start drinking heavily or pissing away my life in some other destructive manner and blame it all on my shitty childhood and all the heartbreak that came with it. And people would say, "it's not his fault." They'd make excuses for me when I was too self absorbed to realize anyone cared enough to make excuses for me.

But that wouldn't be me.

Read this next part until it sinks in.

The secret to happiness is enjoying what you have rather than focusing on what you don't.

It's ok to want more in life. It's ok to have dreams and goals and ambitions. I'm not saying to only ever live in the moment. Rather, hold on to those dreams, chase those goals, be as ambitious as you can be. But don't mistake those desires for happiness.

Happiness is all around you if you take the time to notice. And if you don't take the time, any dream, goal, or ambition you do realize will leave you just as empty as you are now.

That Time Of Year

2011-12-24T03:25:00.002-05:00

Something funny always happens this time of year. For a few short weeks the best in people is on display. Oh sure, the stress of the holidays can turn some people into unbearable shitheads but that's not really important to the moral here so we're going to ignore those folks for now. Actually, it's best just to ignore those folks all the time.

At this time of year, friend and family stop their busy lives, if even for a moment, giving time, presents, and company to those they care most about. Yes, we have to visit miserable family members we secretly hope will forget to send invitations but we aren't going to worry about those folks in this post either.

Feasts are shared, alcohol and other beverages flow, and merriment is had by all. Yeah, we all have relatives that think they can cook better than they actually can and we are forced to choke down dry meat or some casserole that would probably work better as a water-proof putty than as food but that's another of those negative thoughts we aren't engaging in during this post.

Are ya getting the message?

Life is full of unpleasantness. But it isn't just unpleasantness.

That there is a life lesson. And that is the real point of this post.

Whether or not you agree with this particular example, life lessons present themselves every day. Movies, books, songs, conversations with friends, empirical experiences, all of these things give us clues on how to live our lives. Not by telling us a sad story but by our reaction to the sad story. How the lesson presents itself isn't important, the lesson itself is.

A few weeks ago, I watched as a wife desperately tried to save her husband from the heart attack that was trying to take him. At that moment in her life, nothing was more important to her. I thought about my own wife and the stupid things I do to myself that could potentially leave her in that exact same position.

It was a life lesson.

It was the gods telling me not to be such a selfish prick.

And I've tried. Can't change a lot in a couple of weeks but I have cut back on harmful behavior. I only ate one cookie at work instead of three or five or even more. Might not seem like much but I love cookies and everyone at work seems to be baking.

Our initial reaction to life lessons isn't what's important. When a lesson is fresh it's very easy to change whatever behavior lead to the lesson. The important part is a week, a month, even a year later. It's only really a life lesson if you take it to heart and live the rest of your life with it in mind.

So as you go about your holiday festivities, take time to reflect on how you feel as you visit that annoying pain in the ass family of yours. And take the lesson life is trying to teach you. It can't be Christmas every day. Doesn't mean you can't treat each day as though it is.

Merry Christmas.

What I Should Have Said

2011-12-18T01:32:00.005-05:00

Writer's block sucks. I sat here for an hour and a half last night trying to think of something interesting to write. I wrote a paragraph on at least 6 different subjects before finally giving up and heading to bed. As I laid there, frustrated with myself, I got to thinking.

For me, the actual writing part is very easy. Once I have a subject, it takes very little time to put the words on the page. The hard part is, and always has been, finding a subject.

I remember an assignment in 11th grade composition. We had to write a narrative. No dialog was allowed and no subject was given. I remember thinking, "well, I'm going to fail this one." And I almost did. For the entire week we were given to complete the assignment, every time I'd try to write something, my mind would shut off.

The day came when we were to turn in the assignment and our teacher announced that we could have the first half of the class to do final revisions on our work. I went to the computer lab across the hall, found an empty computer, and started typing. I still don't know how the subject came to me. I wrote a story about a firefighter desperately trying to reach a crying child in a house fire. Just before the firefighter dies, he hears the crying stop.

I got a B- on the piece, not because it was bad but because, waiting so late to write it, I had no time to edit it. As good as the story was, the teacher would not let me get away with "their" when I meant "there."

As I laid there last night, I thought about that story. And I thought about this blog. I'm a very reactive writer. Almost every single thing written on here is in response to something else. Even this is a response to my inability to find a suitable subject last night. The irony of finding a subject in having no subject was not lost on me.

Some of my favorite things I've written here took less than 15 minutes to write and edit. Granted, my definition of editing is simply rearranging certain wording and not necessarily making sure I used proper English. And the more serious the subject, the easier it is to write.

Why am I writing all of this? Mostly just to write something, anything, after the utter failure to do so last night. But it's also another little glimpse of what makes me, me. And sharing me with the world is kinda what this whole thing is about.

Thoughts About Last Night

2011-12-11T23:44:00.007-05:00

I've seen many dead people. I've never seen anyone die.

Last night, as I was retrieving a parking pass from our van, I passed a man lying on the ground in the parking garage, his wife frantically doing chest compressions. He had a heart attack. A small group of people was assembled around them. A young white woman was hugging a young black woman behind me, both were crying. A very serious looking 30 something man was pulling his wife to his chest to keep her from the tragedy unfolding before us. A man with curly hair and a long thin nose was on the phone with what I assume was the 911 operator, he was relaying instructions which included making sure to give mouth to mouth and to keep the airway clear.

I was entirely unimportant to the event. By the time I arrived, all the important things were being done.

So I watched, fascinated by what I was witnessing. It was very surreal. There was no panic. The wife, while obviously driven to save her husband, was focused and calm. The man on the phone wasn't shouting or hurrying his instruction, he was relaying them as passionately as he might have given someone driving directions. Even the two young girls crying were more somber than hysterical.

When the first responders arrived, the wife was moved aside. The man's coat and shirt were opened and his under shirt was cut away. He was attached to some machine that told the first responders to continue CPR. And they did. And that's the part that has stuck with me the most. Chest compressions on his now naked torso is the most vivid memory I have. I can still see them doing it. I don't even have to close my eyes. I can just see it.

I returned to the party I had been at and told my wife what I had just watched. She asked me if I was ok and I answered with an honest yes. I gave her the parking pass and she walked me to the elevator to go up to our room. As the elevator doors closed, I cried.

Five minutes later we were back at her company Christmas party and enjoying the evening. Life went on.

I was discussing this event with a friend and she posed the question, "why does death have to be such an ugly thing?" My immediate response was that it's ugly because we fight it. We do anything do keep it at bay, up to and including violently shocking hearts to get them beating.

But as I've had time to think about it, while there was a lot of ugly, there was a lot of beauty in what I saw. The 2 girls that comforted one another went their separate ways once the ambulance arrived. They had never met before, they just needed one another at that moment. The wife's barely audible pleas for her husband to come back to her. Even in the very face of death there was love and hope mingling with the desperation and heartache.

No final thoughts. No wordy conclusions. Just a moment in time I happened to witness.

Life Lesson: Don't Listen to "They"

2011-12-10T02:12:00.005-05:00

They say good things come to those who wait. You'll notice "they" say a lot of really stupid shit and this is a prime example. The idea is to be patient. To accept what life gives you. To never question why you can't do this or have that. It's another one of those things that sounds philosophical and deep until you examine it and realize it's really fucking stupid.

Fortune favors the brave. A lesser known and far more profound motivational statement. And it's entirely true. It's not because some omnipotent being is watching and impressed with our bravery and rewards us for it. Rather, it's because most of the things we fear aren't as scary as they seem. Our fear keeps us from trying and bullshit like "good things come to those who wait" comforts us as we bask in our own cowardice and stupidity.

Don't wait for life to happen because "they" said it would be rewarding. Go after what you want and you'll be surprised by how often you get it.

A Bad Day

2011-11-18T23:18:00.008-05:00

My day started with my wife waking me up by saying, "Frank, the heater isn't working."

So, I got up, got dressed, tried to relight the pilot, and confirmed that I needed to replace the thermocouple. Not a big deal at all. Once the hardware store opened, I spent less than seven dollars for the part and 15 minutes to switch it and the heater was back on.

Eight hours later my wife calls me at work to tell me she got called home early because my sons had put out a fire caused by that same heater.

Coming home early to check the heater and try to calm my wife gives my boss an excuse to fire me if he decides to take it.

Then, right before he headed into his room to play video games, my youngest comes out and says, "Umm, the toilet is overflowing."

Yeah, it's been that kind of day.

Still, I can't help but be happy. I'll do my best to explain.

First is the obvious. The fire happened at as perfect a time as a house fire can start. Had it been any sooner, no one would have been in the house to catch it leaving us with no worldly possessions. Had it happened much later, we would have been asleep and we could have lost things far more important than worldly possessions.

Then there is the slightly less obvious. As a parent I can't help but worry that I am not raising my children right, that they won't be able to handle what the world throws at them. Tonight, my boys were tossed into an incredibly dangerous situation and they performed heroically. Don't get me wrong, there is a small part of me that is mad they faced that danger rather than running to safety. But that part is dwarfed by the part of me that is proud of how they handled themselves, literally saving our home. I don't know what we've done right or that my far too pretty to be married to me wife and I even have anything to do with it but I am far more at ease sending them out into the world now.

As for the job, well, I've known for some time that my options there are limited. And it is my own fault. I am just not a yes man and can't bring myself to play the part. Twenty years ago, someone like me had a place in that company. Now, that company is all about hearing "yes" no matter how much it needs to hear no. I'm not wanting to get fired, but if it happens, it happens.

I've been in a bad mood all week. I couldn't begin to tell you why. I've tried figuring it out and nothing makes sense. Every time I'd start to break out of it, something would happen and my mood would get even worse than it had been.

It's been said that things happen for a reason. While I've said it myself, I've never really believed it. I don't believe in karma and while I believe there is some higher power, I don't believe man knows what it is. Until today, I've been content to believe things happen by coincidence, not for any real reason. But as I look at my week, I'm having trouble being logical about it.

Something, fate, the Gods, karma, something decided to remind me of what is really important. As I ponder all I could have lost and the week I've spent being in a foul mood for no reason, I am feeling very grateful that fate, the Gods, and karma were kind enough to remind me of how good life really is and what really matters.

After all that happened today, I'm headed to bed emotionally spent but feeling better than I have in a long long time. Good night everyone. Happy tomorrow to you and yours.

I Don't Forgive

2011-11-02T01:26:00.003-04:00

Forgiveness is given way too easily in our society. From little white lies to infidelity, we are just way too willing to say, "I forgive you."

Well, not we. Some of you. Me? I hold a grudge like a mother fucker. Not about everything. But big stuff. Just because you owe me an apology doesn't mean I owe you an "it's ok" or an "I forgive you."

Religion and bad psychologists will tell you forgiveness is necessary. Letting go of the anger and pain helps you to heal and leads to happiness. Bullshit.

Actual forgiveness is rather uncommon. It's easy to say, hard to do. It takes time, a lot of time, to forgive someone for really hurtful acts.

But why would you bother? If someone is that hurtful to you, why would you forgive them? Maybe it comes from being a Navy brat and being forced to lose all my friends whenever dad got a new assignment but I have no trouble at all cutting people loose. And if it's someone that has wronged me in some way, it's not even a tough decision.

I give you one chance to fuck me over. First time it happens, we aren't friends anymore. We aren't family anymore. You get transferred immediately to the "some person I used to know" wing. I don't wish bad things upon you, well not usually, I just don't give a shit that you exist.

I save forgiveness for people that are worth it and, frankly, very few are.

I realize I take a rather hard lined approach to this but my life means too much to me to be bothered with people that would require forgiveness.

You're not me, obviously, but for your own well being, consider these words. Forgiveness is a gift. It is yours to give and yours to keep should you so choose. You aren't required to forgive every jackass that says, "I'm sorry." Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Enough With the Bully Crap

2011-10-31T09:19:00.004-04:00

Some of you aren't going to like this. Some of you are going to tell me that I just don't understand how hard life can be. Some of you are going to assume I've never known the pain you feel. And some of you are going to need to shut the fuck up and read these words again.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.

I heard that phrase a lot growing up. I usually heard it when someone had insulted me and I responded by punching them in the head. Mom found my reaction to be an overreaction and used the phrasing to explain to me that physical violence was not an acceptable response to name calling.

Something happened on the way to adulthood. Somewhere between my childhood and today, "sticks and stones" changed to "nothing hurts worse than words." Everywhere I turn these days someone is whining about verbal bullying.

Stop that stupid shit. It's not the words that are hurting people. It's the bullshit, psychobabble, "feelings are everything" complete fucking nonsense that is hurting people.

I understand the desire to protect our children from hurt feelings. Honestly, I do. But the way to protect them is not to shelter them, its to teach them that words only have the power we give them.

Which child is going to be better off? The child that thinks nothing could possibly hurt worse than being called fat or the kid that replies to being called fat with, "you momma likes my fat dick"?

The only way words can hurt you is if you let them. The power lies entirely with you. It's not them hurting you, it's you hurting you. You're bullying yourself and you're a fucking idiot for doing it.

Sticks and stones really can break your bones. You can't will a broken leg away. You can't decide, "I'm not going to let that 500 pound rock that just fell on my femur to break my leg."

Words really can't hurt you unless you let them. Being called fat or ugly or stupid only matters if you yourself allow it to bother you. You can ignore it. You can give it no weight in your world at all. You can choose to tell the person that insulted you, either out loud or just in your mind, to fuck off because you don't care what they think.

You may be a lost cause. The pussification may be too deeply rooted in you. But for the love of all that is holy, stop teaching kids to be as fucking thin skinned as you are. Stop teaching them to fear words. Stop teaching them to define themselves by the idiocy spewed by others.

If you really want to protect your children, teach them to deal with life's unpleasantness, not to hide from it.

Never Been This Pressured For a Blog

2011-10-30T01:02:00.005-04:00

I read something that really irritated me tonight. A single woman was giving relationship advice. And as bad as that is, I mean would you take dieting tips from a fat guy or bathing tips from a hippie, the article's general theme isn't what bothered me.

While discussing why online dating profiles are unreliable the author wrote "The truth is no one's good at writing about themselves." I'll forgive the arrogance of her speaking for the entire human race and simply take exception with the thought itself.

I write quite well about myself. Hell, I'm one of my favorite subjects. I've spent a great many hours considering all that I am and I believe anyone that actually knows me will be happy to tell you that I'm pretty honest about myself.

I think the real problem with online dating profiles is that people want to be seen as something they know deep down that they are not. And that's really no different than any other human interaction. I used to know a guy that swore he wore size 32 pants. And he did, but he couldn't pull them up past his knees. Rather than upgrade to the 40 or higher he should have been wearing, he just belted them around his knees. One of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen but it does illustrate the point.

We all want to be seen as something. Some want to be seen as sexy, some as mysterious. Some want to be the funny one, others want to be the smart one. And some of us really do want to be seen as exactly what we are.

Knowing what you are doesn't mean there aren't things you'd change. Accepting who you are doesn't mean you're arrogant. But doing both will lead you to being happier and presenting the real you will more likely lead you to someone that actually likes you and that's better for everyone.

Oh, to whoever keeps these stupid fuckers employed, stop taking dating advice from people no one wants to date.

Being a Dumbass Is Never Cool

2011-10-14T08:11:00.008-04:00

I just read an article that sent my blood pressure sky rocketing. The contents of the piece were so fucking stupid I won't actually link so as not to damage your IQ with the same beating mine took from having read it.

A lady working for some feminist web site wrote a blog about how she has taken Plan B up to 3 times in one month. The story was picked up by others and the lady was judged harshly, not for being a slut but for being a nasty slut that doesn't much mind pools of sperm puddled inside her. So I followed the link looking for the original article. Oddly it no longer seems to exist. However, on the host site there is a link to what passes as humor directly related to the original article.

It's that "humor" part that irritated me.

The woman in the original piece has unprotected sex often enough to require a massive dose of hormones up to 3 times a month to keep from becoming pregnant. At the very least, that's 12 times a year she could be catching or spreading scabs, drips, and even death! But apparently pointing out that she's a walking STD farm is wrong.

It's not surprising really. Somewhere along the path to equality, some women got it in their heads that being equal means having a equal chance to cringe when you pee. It doesn't matter the behavior, all that matters is that women can be as slutty as they wish without being judged.

And truthfully, I defend a woman's right to be a gigantic whore if she wants. Sincerely. I don't care if you fashion a glory hole in a horse trailer and pull into your local Wally World. More power to ya. But for fucks sake, use condoms. Keep something between you and the bodily fluids of any guy that would be dumb enough to stick his dick anywhere near you.

Contrary to popular misconception, conception isn't the only possible side effect of unprotected sex. And unlike pregnancy, the other side effects are never met with showers and congratulations. There is no Plan B for herpes or aids. Birth control is called birth control because it helps reduce the risk of pregnancy. That's it. The pill, sponges, IUDs, etc. only keep the sperm from meeting up with the egg for a zygote party. They don't do anything to keep you from needing the best minds at the CDC.

Seriously, unless you are at your sexual partner's side 24 hours a day you have no idea who else they are leaving DNA samples in, or, more importantly, who they are taking DNA samples from. Be as sexual a creature as you like but for fucks sake, be smart about it. And never, ever, take advice, or make skin contact, with anyone that thinks unprotected sex is no big deal.

18 Years Ago

2011-08-24T23:06:00.006-04:00

18 years ago, on this very night, I was having trouble sleeping. Yeah, I know, I always have trouble sleeping. But this was different. In a few hours, I would be married to a woman so far out of my league someone should have stopped her and arrested me for the arrogance of marrying such a beautiful, smart, sweet woman.

Let's back up a bit. Back to 10th grade. School had ended for the day and after talking to friends and goofing off a bit, my girlfriend was ready to leave. As we were headed toward the exit a young lady I'd never seen before emerged from the band room.

My girlfriend stopped, "Frank, this is Michelle."

I'd like to tell you I was instantly smitten. That I heard angels sing and knew that this was the woman I would want to spend the rest of my life with. I'd like to tell you that but the truth is that I was an arrogant self absorbed prick and I said hi to her and then went on my merry way.

For the record, she wasn't at all interested in me at that point either. But, she and her friend Angie started eating lunch with my girlfriend and I. The first day she sat with us I was instantly drawn to her eyes. Dear god, she has beautiful eyes. And that smile. Did she just flirt with me? No, couldn't be. Wait, she just did it again.

A few weeks later I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. Turned out to be my girlfriend's sister. She was staying the night with Chele and they were bored so they called me. Chele and I sat up talking until 4 in the morning. That was the first of many 4 am calls.

Then came the party. I've written about it before but I didn't tell you about the shirt. As Chele and I were goofing off, she grabbed the pocket of my shirt as I moved to get away from her. She ripped the pocket damn near off. The next day she called to offer to fix it for me.

I'm no dummy. And by this point I was smitten and while I didn't hear angels sing, I'm pretty sure I heard them humming. My dad answered the door when she arrived. I was waiting at the top of the stairs for her. As soon as she hit the top step we shared the first of many long kisses. It lasted from the top of the stairs, down the hall, and into my bedroom doorway. It stopped there because as I tried to guide her away from the door, being the stubborn woman that she is, she pulled against me and smacked her head.

That pretty much sums up our entire relationship. Passion tempered with humor, struggle tempered with caring.

I don't know what my life would be like without her but I know I don't want to know. As the midnight hour approaches kicking off our 18th wedding anniversary, I just wanted to say, Babydoll, I love you and I thank the gods every day for your horrible taste in men and ridiculously low standards.

Michelle, I love you.

Random Thoughts From the Last Week

2011-08-03T20:39:00.003-04:00

I'm pretty sure those shorts qualify as denim underwear.

Why, in a language that can differentiate between "I read that book" and "I like to read" do we have so many useless rules on words. Why isn't everything spelled like it sounds?

Seriously?

I just can't imagine anyone hearing this song on the radio 20 years from now and turning it up to relive the magic.

Sweet tap dancin christ, old people stink!

I bet I could jump up and hang from that. (Author's note: I could not.)

I should get a speedo, just for the laugh.

She is far too pretty to be married to me.

I fuckin hate that guy!

What did people with Tourett's scream before swear words came to be. Was there a caveman with Tourette's that just grunted oddly? Why don't any Tourette's sufferers scream affirmations?

Someone needs to take one for the team and fuck the mean right out of her.

I wish I had a cool nickname.

My forehead hurts.

I am 4 different colors!

Eyebrow stubble makes me laugh more than it should.

Facebook and a tired me is probably a bad combo.

This Is What Insomnia Looks Like

2011-07-18T03:15:00.002-04:00

My mind won't shut the hell up. I'm not worried or excited or, well, anything really. My mind is just a jumbled mess of random bullshit right now. Now, that's how I spend most days but when it happens when I should be sleeping it sucks.

Trying to cure it with Journey at the moment. Singing helps focus my mind. "Born and raised in south Detroit..."

Man I love this song.

I have to be to work in less than 5 hours.

I should probably go lay down....

Dear Gods above, below, or wherever, please let me get some sleep tonight. Amen.

Could I Be Wrong....

2011-07-15T23:28:00.002-04:00

"You never think you're wrong."

That was actually said to me today.

Well no shit. Do you actually think I would argue a point I thought I was wrong on? Who does that?

The same person told me I need to question the direction I am given by supervisors. If you're laughing, don't worry. That is the natural reaction to someone saying that to me.

Yes, once again I found myself arguing with my supervisors today and once again rather than just admit they don't have answers, they tried to bullshit their way out of it. It's hard to respect people like that.

Telling me I should consider that I may be wrong is not an argument, it's admitting that you have no answer for my question that makes any logical sense. You know it. I know it. And all the people I tell know it.

Do us both a favor and just say, "Frank, I don't know," or even "Frank, go the fuck away." In either case, I'll respect you much more than if you try to bullshit me. When it comes to bullshit, I am simply way out of your league.

End rant.

Jumbled

2011-07-09T23:55:00.003-04:00

I'm too tired to focus on what I actually want to write. So instead, I'm just gonna ramble for a few.

Went to a music festival a few towns over and heard some really good blues and motown. I also saw a midget, watched a white girl dance without ever moving her hips, and fell in love with the voice of Lady Sunshine.

Couldn't hang to see the final act but I had a great time while we were there.

In other news no one gives a shit about but that I'm going to post anyway, I have found I am entirely out of shape. Well, not entirely. But out of shape for me. I'm working to correct it and man is it kicking my ass.

I seriously have nothing interesting (to me) to say so I'm going to just leave you with a parting thought.

Have you ever noticed how we rarely enjoy the moment we are in? We're always getting ready for something. We're told to look to the future. To plan. To make goals. And that is good advice. But don't forget to take time to enjoy the fruits of your labor, to live in the moments you've built up to.

Words

2011-07-08T22:45:00.005-04:00

As I was reading this post from my favorite hippie, I was reminded of something I have often thought about.

We do have it pretty good in this country. Relatively speaking we are more free than most. We can say more than most people around the globe without fear of punishment. But we don't really have free speech or free expression.

A few years ago my youngest son got in trouble in school. He was in the bathroom washing his hands when another child finished urinating and went to leave without washing his. My son, being too much like his father for his own good, called the child a "dirty fag." With the reaction from the school, you'd have thought he threatened the child with violence. I received a nasty note from the teacher telling me that my son had detention and that if he ever did it again he'd be expelled.

Yes, expelled, not suspended.

This is the same school that has a no tolerance policy toward violence which includes a ban on fake weapons at Halloween but never seemed to cover any child hitting my children. After the second time my child came home and told me that a child had hit them and the teacher did nothing, I gave them my full permission to beat the living fuck out of anyone that touched them. But that's beside the point.

In the school's eyes, calling someone a dirty fag is a worse crime than actual physical violence.

And it's not just my children's school. All across the country there are pushes to get this word or that word declared unusable within polite society because it might fucking offend someone or hurt their feelings. Since when did you have a right not to have your fucking feelings hurt? I've read the constitution. Studied it really. I haven't seen one god damn word about a right to not be offended.

What ever happened to sticks and stones?

I actually talked to the teacher and asked her about the differences between the implementation of the "no tolerance" violence policy and the overreaction to a bad word. She gave me the standard bullshit about how it's hateful. Isn't hitting someone hateful? Apparently not as hateful as harming them with the almighty word.

Words only hurt you if you let them, getting kicked in the face hurts every time.

We should be free to use any words we want but, because the pussy assed society we live in has taught people that their feelings are more important than anything else, really we aren't.

And that's a damn shame because the freedoms we have came at a pretty hefty fuckin price. Those freedoms came from war and death and sacrifice. We didn't just call the Brits a bunch of dirty fags and they were so heart broken over it that they left our shores. And it's fucking pathetic that we forget that as we try to censor people so feelings don't get hurt.

The Truth About The Golden Rule

2011-07-08T22:11:00.005-04:00

Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you.

Have ya ever really thought about what that means exactly? Like most hippie feel good psychological bullshit, it sounds good if you don't put too much thought into it. Be nice to people because you want them to be nice to you. But that's not what it really says.

By default, if you follow the golden rule, you must want others to follow it as well. Meaning, you want people to treat you as they would like to be treated. You'd have to, you're doing unto them as you'd want them to do to you.

Still with me? Good because here's where it gets a little tricky.

If you're following the golden rule, and expecting that others are doing the same, if someone is an asshole to you, you'd have to break the golden rule if you aren't an asshole back. Otherwise, you aren't respecting their side of the golden rule and in not respecting it, you're breaking the rule.

There are only two ways around it. Either, give up the golden rule and just be nice to be nice or if someone is a complete dick, be a complete dick back.

I know, I over think these things but words should have meaning. There is nothing wrong with saying, 'be nice to people" without having to add in the psychobabble nonsense.

Then again, without the nonsense, I'd be bored a lot more than I already am.

Your Vag and You

2011-07-07T22:04:00.005-04:00

I love vagina. It's my single favorite thing in the world. If there was a vagina ice cream, I'd have it for a late night snack. I love looking at it, playing with it, thinking about it.

With that in mind, I need to speak to you ladies for a moment.

There are times when your vag should not be showing. For instance, when I am minding my own business shopping for fruit, your peach shouldn't be on display. Believe me, I love the new shorter tighter shorts you all are wearing but too much of a good thing applies here. I shouldn't be able to see your landing strip through your shorts.

I'm not being a prude here. I'm worried about safety. If I'm pushing a shopping cart and I happen to see vag out of the corner of my eye, I'm going to turn to look and I'm going to be too distracted to remember to stop walking. Someone is likely to get run over.

Keep the vag covered in public. If ya wanna show it off, be responsible and upload pictures to the internet like everyone else.

More of Me

2011-06-20T23:54:00.003-04:00

As I often do, I turned to my far too pretty to be married to me wife and repeated a cheesy line off of TV. In this case, the character made some remark about having children or wanting children or whatever. Basically I asked my wife if she would have my children.

"The world doesn't need more of you."

Of course she was joking. At least, I think she was. But this isn't about her motives. It was about my reply and the subsequent facebook status that reads, "Contrary to my wife's belief, the world desperately needs more of me."

As conceited as this sounds, I'm not kidding. The world is a very ugly place. And I'm not even talking about the really bad stuff like murder, rape, or genocide. No, I'm talking about every day things like people bitching about waiting 10 minutes in line to buy all kinds of shit they don't need while there are quite literally people living on the streets eating out of trash cans to survive.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking anyone to end homelessness nor do I think there actually is a way to end homelessness. What really bothers me is that people can get that upset over waiting a few minutes for such trivialities.

Let's be honest, if the biggest inconvenience in your day is waiting half an hour to buy things you don't actually need, you really shouldn't be bitching. In fact, you should be thanking whichever god you believe in that life is so good.

That's where I come in. Or more appropriately, where the world really needs me.

Someone needs to tell these kinds of people to shut the fuck up and enjoy their miserable lives because things could be a lot worse. Someone needs to tell them that they need to pull the sticks out of their asses and learn to laugh at life's little inconveniences. Someone needs to tell these people that they aren't as important as they think they are.

So many people take themselves so seriously and expect everyone else should take them seriously as well. And why? Not because they contributed anything to society but because society has told them they have worth beyond what they actually deserve.

Thinking the world needs more of me is indeed conceited. But it doesn't make it wrong. The world needs a verbal bitch slap and, frankly, that's my specialty.

Elderly

2011-05-22T20:48:00.002-04:00

Generally speaking, customers seem incredibly bitchy lately. For the past week or so, they have just been grumpier than usual and I gotta be honest, it's beginning to wear thin.

Took me a while to figure out what was going on but I finally nailed it down. It's been warm lately. Normally, warm weather puts people in a better mood than 8 inches of snow does. But up here, warm means the old folks can get around easier and damned if they aren't some bitchy mother fuckers.

Truth be told, some of my favorite customers are elderly. In my world they rate right behind female customers wearing shorts so short I know their grooming habits even though I don't know their names.

But like all customers, the bad ones seem to outnumber the good ones by quite a large margin. I get that getting older sucks and that knockin on heavens door leads some folks to lash out at others. I do. But for fuck's sake, don't take it out on me. I'm not your daddy, I had nothing to do with how old you are.

One of these days I'm going to write a story about my retail experience and it will be entirely true and I guarantee people will think most of it is made up.

Mom

2011-05-09T02:18:00.002-04:00

On a warm August morning in the summer of 1989, my mother lost her short yet bitter battle with leukemia. I will never forget the moment we were told she had passed. We knew it would be that day, we just didn't know when. So dad took us to the hospital at a most ungodly hour to go say goodbye to our mother. After the goodbyes were said and hugs were given to what was left of mom, my younger bother and I went home to await the inevitable. With a gentle shake from our kindly elderly neighbor, my entire world turned upside down.

More than two decades later, I can finally speak about it without forcing myself not to tear up. The pain is still there. But so is time and distance. And more importantly, understanding.

My mother made me the man I am today. For much of my childhood, she was a single mom. Being a Navy wife kinda forces that on ya. When dad was home, he was great. He just wasn't there much and the duties of raising three boys and running a household all fell to her. Mom wasn't perfect but she loved her boys unconditionally and did whatever she could to give us a happy healthy childhood.

Some of my earliest memories involve my mother laughing at what a purposeful idiot I can be. She was always the biggest fan of my morbid and inappropriate humor. Just before she died, she wrote me a letter telling me how much my humor helped her get through her fight with cancer. Those words have helped shape who I am more than anything else. It was her love of my twisted sense of humor that made me not only embrace it but to be unashamed to see humor where no one else seems to.

My mother also taught me to expect the best from myself. Not to be the best, but to be the best I can be. I remember many lectures over average grades on a report card. The teachers thought mom was being too hard on me. Mom knew I could do better and wouldn't let me skate by.

Mom taught me that I couldn't just impose my will because I was the biggest and strongest. But she also taught me that sometimes you have to use the gifts god gave you to protect those you love. More than once my mom turned her middleman loose on children that had harmed her other boys. I was proudly mom's little enforcer.

My mother also taught me that sometimes people make horrible mistakes but that doesn't mean they are horrible people. Sometimes, even heroes have flaws.

As I look at my own children, I often consider what mom would think of them. She'd spoil my daughter rotten. She's say my middleman is just like her middleman. She would notice the uncanny similarity between my youngest and her oldest. And she'd laugh. And she'd love them. And she'd annoy us with proud grandma stuff.

I miss my mother very much. On this mother's day I'd just like to say thank you to her for all she did for me. And to tell her how very much I still love her. And I'd like to thank the gods above for allowing me to know her during her too short stay in this life.

Revision

2011-04-09T00:50:00.004-04:00

I wrote and rewrote this post many times only to have this be the final entry. I'm simply too tired to make sense of all that has happened.

Another day.

Grown Man Crying

2011-03-08T22:36:00.002-05:00

I read this story while I was on lunch today.

These soldiers went above and beyond for a kid that's got limited time left. May whatever god you believe in bless everyone involved in this story.

Saying Hi

2011-03-07T22:23:00.003-05:00

I haven't given up writing again, I've just been pleasantly distracted spending what free time I do have with my far too pretty to be married to me wife. She's in bed waiting for me now. No, not for sex. If sex was involved I sure as hell wouldn't be taking the time to write this.

Still, many of you check here daily and I felt I should at least give you something to think about. With that in mind, as we come to the end of yet another winter, I am still perplexed by something.

Snow is frozen water. Frozen water is ice. Why isn't snow called ice?

I find the break in logic to be very troubling.

I Don't Like Spam

2011-03-03T08:42:00.003-05:00

Somehow my email address was picked up by spammers, I now get more spam by 9 am than most people get all day.

I wonder, do people actually read that shit? They must or it wouldn't be profitable to send it, even through an automated system. So I'm not blaming the spammers. I'm blaming the idiots that open email from people they don't know.

Stop it, you're annoying me.

Lesson Two - Confidence

2011-03-03T07:19:00.002-05:00

The catalyst for these posts came from a simply moment with my middle child. He often speaks very softly. Since I have excellent hearing, it's usually not a problem. When we are driving somewhere, it makes it impossible for even me to hear. I know he has a louder voice so I asked him why he speaks so quietly all the time.

"I don't want people to hear me if I say something stupid."

I felt bad for him because I share that fear though I've worked hard to repress it.

The secret to gaining confidence is a lie. It's a lie you tell to those around you. It's a lie you tell to yourself.

Hang on, I'll explain.

The only thing you have to do to gain confidence is to act confidently. Sound simple? It is. And it works. The more you act confident, the more confident you actually become.

I've always been funny and I have always known I was funny. But as a child I had trouble sharing my humor with others because I worried they'd laugh at me instead of with me. With the events of my fourteenth year, I told myself I didn't care what people thought. But it was a lie. What I actually didn't care about was whether they laughed with me or at me, as long as they laughed.

The more I spoke up, the more I could speak up. I used to dread having to speak in front of the class, hoping time would run out and I'd be spared. By the end of high school, I was always the first person to volunteer to go up there. The more I did it, the easier it became.

Today's lesson is simply this, confidence builds confidence, even when it starts as a lie. We spend more time worrying about what others will think than others spend thinking about us at all. So raise your hand to go first, speak when not spoken to, and put yourself out there. The only way to be confident is to be confident and it actually is just as easy as it sounds.

Lesson One - Grow Up

2011-02-28T22:04:00.008-05:00

I've been repeatedly described as a giant child. I've even described myself that way. In grown up terms, I'm often silly. For example, today, for about half an hour, I communicated entirely through song.

I find no shame in it. It makes me laugh. It makes other people laugh. And yes, it makes the "grown ups" look down their noses at me and say, "you need to grow up." Luckily, those folks tend to avoid me. Its better for all involved. We cause each other stress.

I never quite took to society telling be what is appropriate behavior for a man my age. Perhaps its part of my natural rejection of authority and rules in general. I believe we need rules but I think there are way too many, written or otherwise, that just aren't necessary. In this case, the rules are all unwritten. Grown ups do this or don't do that. Its nonsense and it leads to our life lesson.

Growing up means taking responsibility for yourself. That's it. Any other society accepted definition is utter bullshit made up by humorless unimaginative douche bags that forgot life is not serious business, it's a one time ride that you better enjoy while you can because there aren't second chances.

Be Confident, Wrap Your Jimmy

2011-02-28T21:57:00.002-05:00

A rather long drive with my sons tonight gave us that title. I was sharing "life lessons from dad" with them and though much more was said, the lesson really did boil down to those 5 words.

I got a lot of eye rolls and my youngest, all of thirteen years old, insists his father is a giant five year old but I think its important for them to hear these things from me even if they don't want to or if they won't make sense to them for many more years.

As my children get older I think a lot about what I can teach them. I want them to experience life without too many adult induced hang ups but I also want them armed with as much information as possible to deal with the shit storm that is life. Its a tough balancing act and one I'm not quite sure I've managed to accomplish but I do try.

Also, I like the idea of sharing my life lessons so that will be more of a theme at least for the short term.

And with that, we're gonna move on to lesson one.

One For The Road

2011-02-19T23:16:00.002-05:00

Thankfully have a day off tomorrow. I plan to do nerd stuff as well as catch up on my blog reading. Might even write something too.

Until then, may the god you most admire grant you a restful night filled with peaceful dreams interrupted occasionally by fast and furious copulation.

6WS

2011-02-19T18:08:00.002-05:00

Only work could ruin a Saturday!

This week's entry for Six Word Saturday.

I Have a Good Day

2011-02-18T22:17:00.006-05:00

I became a fan of Paul Thorn after hearing "Its a good day to whoop somebody's ass" on the Bob and Tom show. Many of his songs are funny but he also does more traditional normal songs as well, including one that shares the title of this post.

Its a song about how shitty life can be. But, I have a good day every now and then.

I'm really relating to that song today. Work was just as big a pain in the ass as usual but for reasons known only to the gods above, I was in a great mood. Several people even commented on how much fun I seemed to be having.

Best I can figure, the wife and I were being playful on Facebook last night and I went to bed in a really good mood.

Regardless, I had a good day. I hope whichever god you believe in grants you one soon.

Unloading

2011-02-17T22:37:00.005-05:00

Due to a vacation (not mine, grrr) and random work schedules I have been unable vent to the 2 people I usually unload to at work. And of all weeks, I needed someone to just listen to me.

So, yesterday, my far too pretty to be married to me wife had to hear it all. Thirty nonstop minutes of live Monkey Rant!

Even I felt bad for her.

Being a supervisor (don't let the title fool ya, I have all the authority of a preschooler) I am required to keep certain conversations between people in my position or higher. I understand why. Honestly. But sometimes ya just need to get shit off your chest before ya grab the closest mother fucker and beat the bejesus out of them.

Normally, I have this blog to vent on. But work has started to intrude on my facebook which has links to this so I have to be careful with what exactly I say. That's not a bad thing. I've always been pretty careful with work stories because my employer is exactly the kind of company that would use online writing as a good reason to fire someone.

Still, it sucks to not have an outlet. I honestly do feel bad unleashing it all on my wife. She has her own work issues to deal with and, being the worrier that she is, my stories usually lead her to worry that I'm gonna be fired.

Why am I typing all of this? Because I need to fucking vent. All that pent up thought from the last week is fighting to get out all at once.

Sometimes my venting isn't angry. Or even very ranty. Sometimes I just need to speak/type to get all the shit in my head out into the world where there is more space for it.

In addition to all that, I'm feeling very needy lately. I need attention. I spend all day listening to the problems of everyone around me. From the serious to the "are you seriously bothering me with this" my day is hour after hour of people talking at me.

Every once in a while I need to be the center of someone's universe. Since no one else is willing to give me that spot, I'm doing it here. I'm giving me much needed time dedicated to just me!

Ok, I think I'm done now.

Nope. I have more. But I'm exhausted. It will have to wait.

Goodnight world. See ya tomorrow!

Stop Changing Things!

2011-02-16T22:31:00.004-05:00

Sometimes change isn't good. Sometimes it's downright wrong. They are changing Monopoly!

Two things you should know about me. Well, you shouldn't really know them but to understand where I am coming from, and because this is my blog dammit, there are two things you're going to know about me.

One, I take my Monopoly a little too seriously. I'm fuckin ruthless. Seriously, friends refuse to play with me because I play to win and I gloat as I do it.

Two, I never cheat at Monopoly. Ever.

That said, this new computer run Monopoly game makes cheating impossible. Go too many spaces and it tells on you. It keeps track of the money so no dishonest banker can line his pockets.

While I don't cheat, the very concept of the game lends itself to cheating. It's a game about business for fuck sake, of course cheating should be an option. That's how real businesses gain a Monopoly, they cheat like hell.

My friends already won't play with me, what do you think is gonna happen if they can't cheat me when I'm not looking.

Change is great when its necessary. Change for the sake of change is just fucking stupid. Especially if it fucks with a game I have loved since my very early youth.

Rambling On

2011-02-14T19:35:00.007-05:00

I can't remember ever having this little to say. Even when I'm sitting quietly and someone says, "jeez Frank, you're really quiet," I'm usually only quiet because I know opening my mouth will only lead to bad things. Most people aren't as accepting of my opinions as you might think.

My mind is constantly on. Even now, my mind is filled with all kinds of stuff. But even I'm bored with what's in there. I'm certainly not going to make others suffer through it with me.

I'll be honest with ya, its kinda pissing me off.

So I'm going to babble here until I feel better.

I was amused today to hear a radio ad for medicinal marijuana. I do have thoughts on this.

First, pot should be legal. Spare me the "gateway drug" and other paranoia that drug legalization discussions bring. If you don't agree, I don't give a flying fuck. Why should pot be illegal but not alcohol? I'd rather hang out with someone that's baked than someone that's drunk every day of the week. I've never seen anyone get violent after a joint. I've seen people so violent after a drink that the cops had to be called.

Still, the whole medical marijuana thing is hard to take seriously. The ad, for a local provider, said that the store would have a doc on hand to give marijuana cards to those who qualify.

What other medical drug offers that kind of service? Hell, what kind of other medication has entire stores devoted just to it? Do they really think they are kidding anyone?

Even if I had any doubt left that this was actually a store run by people looking to ease the pain and suffering of terminal cancer patients with the wonder drug that is MJ, that doubt evaporated when they gave the name of the store and it actually has 420 as a part of the name.

Its kind of hard to have intelligent discussions about the merits of legalization when shit like this happens. While I admire the flagrant one finger salute to authority, there are far better ways to go about it.

Oh, I feel a rant.

The people like those store owners piss me off to no end. Yes, standing up to "the man" is great but not when it is counterproductive, ya silly simple mother fucker. Its called picking your battles. Though I don't partake, I am a very outspoken proponent of legalization and this kind of stupid shit is making even me want to see your dumbass get arrested.

You've been given a way around the system. What possible good can come from publicly encouraging people to break the rules?

People have often said to me, "Frank, I can't believe you got away with that" when I break a rule, unwritten or otherwise. The really simple answer is that I know where the lines are. In this case, selling pot to people that got a medicinal use card from a "doctor" at your store is the line. Running an ad about it is leaping right the fuck past the line with reckless abandon.

God damn I hate people.

Hmm, I do feel better.

6WS

2011-02-12T05:28:00.001-05:00

Need Brakes, Life Moves Too Fast!

For Six Word Saturday. Be sure to check out everyone else.

FFS

2011-02-10T19:23:00.004-05:00

I can't think of a single thing to say. Wait, that's not entirely true. There's a lot I want to say but its getting jumbled between my brain and fingers. Maybe later. Or tomorrow.

Good Night

2011-02-09T23:15:00.001-05:00

After a long but good day, its simply time for a good night. See you nice folks tomorrow. Sleep well.

In Honor Of My Favorite Hippie!

2011-02-08T15:47:00.002-05:00

In honor of Josie's birthday yesterday, The Ranting Monkey proudly presents The Hippie Monkey!

Glad You Were Born

2011-02-07T21:58:00.004-05:00

I don't remember the exact post she first responded on. And I couldn't begin to tell you how a hippie and the monkey became friends. All I know is that for a few years now my friend has been offering inspiration, praise, and love for all the nonsense I post here.

So here's to you Mrs. Two Shoes! May this be your happiest birthday yet, but not the happiest ever.

One For The Road

2011-02-07T01:22:00.004-05:00

Seems our only choices for halftime entertainment are rock stars old enough to have legally dated my great grandmother in junior high or overly produced pseudo-R&B acts. Never thought I'd miss marching bands but god damn that was just awful enough to make it happen. And while I'm at it, why does Fergie, an actually pretty good looking woman, go out of her way to look like a well used hooker?

Until next time, may whichever god you believe in be the right one!

Standard Warning (revisited)

2011-02-07T01:00:00.005-05:00

As I rebuild this blog and more and more new people stop by, I think it may be a good time for an update to the standard warning.

This blog is not for everybody. Its for me.

Everyone is welcome to read here but please do not mistake some of my kinder posts for the total package. This is not only where I share my memories and life lessons, its where I vent about all the bullshit that pisses me off. I swear. A lot. I talk about sex. Graphically. I occasionally even wish death on complete strangers. And mean it.

If you find me offensive at times, good. Sometimes I mean to offend.

What I'm getting at is that I love new readers but folks, this isn't The Happy Monkey or The Pleasant Monkey.

This is The Ranting Monkey.

That is all.

I Finally Did It All By Myself

2011-02-07T00:20:00.006-05:00

I'm horrible when it comes to buying gifts for my wife. She's very practical. The only time I've ever managed to get it right, not counting flowers, was Christmas a few years ago when I finally convinced her to just tell me what to get. Pans. She wanted fucking pans. And she really seemed to like them. I will never understand that woman.

I'm far less practical than she is. I think gifts should be fun. Honestly, you could buy me play dough and I'd think it a great gift. Pans? Really?

This year, right before Christmas, I missed a lot of work with an illness that's yet to be diagnosed. For 3 months I was in a perpetual state of dizziness. 3 weeks before Christmas I finally made it back to work on a regular basis. With our pay schedule that meant I got 1 half and 1 full paycheck. Since I'd used all my vacation and sick pay and my dumbass doctor kept me from my short term disability pay, bills had backed up.

"Do NOT get me anything for Christmas! We can't afford it."

Can't afford it my ass.

While it should be noted that I can be irresponsible, she always says this for every gift giving occasion regardless of our financial situation. So I didn't exactly take her any more seriously this time than I ever had in the past.

There was a gift I'd been wanting to get her for a long time. Not too expensive but something I thought she'd really love. And it wasn't a fuckin pan.

Many years ago, when the children were still quite young, we took a trip to the zoo. My daughter and oldest son, 5 and 3 at the time, were feeding the geese at the pond outside the zoo entrance. For whatever reason, they stopped to just watch them and either my wife or I snapped a photo. This has always been one of our favorites because it really looks like we posed them for the shot.

I took that photo and had it blown up and then framed.

The look on her face when she opened it let me immediately know I'd finally got it right. It is the only time I've ever been proud of making my wife cry.

Submitted for Memories On Mondays! Clicky the link, join the fun.

The House (revisited)

2011-02-06T08:13:00.002-05:00

The house was nothing to look at. An old wood frame on a stone foundation. Parts of the outer wall had been eaten away by time exposing the moldy interior to the harsh summer sun and harsher winter snows. Remarkable only for how unremarkable it was and the stories the children told.

-------

"God, I hate this place. I shouldn't need a coat in September!" Susan Martin slumped into the window seat in the very back row on the left side of the school bus. She was the oldest and always got first seat choice.

"And it’s boring as hell!" Billy, a year younger than Susan, slumped down next to her. "Its so boring Alex can't even wake up!" He pointed to Alex, the youngest of the Martin children, who was propped up against the window one row up on the right side.

Mark Thompson looked up from his homework, "how can you always be bored?"

"Because there is nothing to do," said Billy dismissively, "God, I hate this bus ride. It would be quicker to walk the four miles to school. Why did we have to move to the frickin boonies?"

"I don't mind the ride, it’s the cold I hate."

"Would ya quit with the cold already? Christ, I'm trying to sleep."

"Then shut up and sleep, no one was bothering you." Susan's tone let Alex know it was best not to argue. "Hey Mark, do you know who owns that house that's falling down across the street from us? They need to tear that place down."

"No one owns it."

"How can no one own a house?"

"You guys don't know about that house?"

"Would she ask if we knew?" Alex was still not sleeping and still not happy.

"Shut up Alex," Susan had been intrigued by Mark's tone, "what about that house?"

"It’s haunted."

"Bullshit," said Billy.

"No, really, its haunted," Mark closed his school books and put them away.

"Its not haunted, don't be stupid,” Susan turned away and stared out the window at the passing nothingness.

"I can't believe you guys didn't know. That's why no one has ever bought that house."

"It’s haunted," Billy asked more mockingly than sincere.

"Tim Sanders killed his whole family in there."

"Wait, Tim Sanders? As in Sander's Park," asked Billy.

"Same one. He was the mayor at the time. He had that house built for his wife and kids. All the land around there was his back then. He owned like 200 acres."

"They named a park after a murderer?" Alex had given up trying to sleep and had decided to join the conversation.

"No, they named the park after him before that. He got some federal grant to get the park built. The city council voted to name it in his honor."

"So why didn't they change it after he killed his family?"

"Shut up Alex. Who cares about the park? Why did he kill his family?"

"Stop telling me to shut up, Susan. Man, I can't wait until you graduate and I don't have to hear you telling me to shut up 100 times every morning."

"Both of you shut up. Every damn morning its the same thing," said Billy as the bus stopped and more children got on. "They better not sit back here."

"They never do,“ said Susan. "Why'd he kill his family?"

"He came home early from work one day and saw his wife having sex with another guy. She didn't see him so he slipped out and went out drinking until it was the same time he would normally come home. He didn't say a word about what he had seen."

"He should have shot her and her boyfriend."

"Shut up Alex, let him tell the story!"

Mark continued, "that night, after she had gone to sleep, he took a knife out of the kitchen and killed their two children. He took the bodies and put them in bed with his wife. He went and got his gun before waking her up. She wakes up long enough to see the kids and then he shot her."

"I was half right."

"Shut up Alex," this time it was Billy, "what happened to him?"

"Well, he left them in the bed for a week. Went to work everyday like nothing was wrong. Then a week later, he hung himself in the basement. I can't believe you guys have lived across from that house for 6 months and hadn't heard about that yet."

"So he killed them all, doesn't mean the house is haunted," said Billy who was eyeing even more new passengers.

"You guys wanna go in there and see? There is a hole in the basement that you can get in through. Linda and Jim went in last year and both of them saw a ghost."

"Bullshit."

"You wanna go?"

"No, its falling down. The place is a death trap."

"Chicken."

"I'll go in." Alex looked awake for the first time all morning.

"Me too," added Susan.

"You guys are idiots. Its not haunted."

"Let's do it Friday after school."

"You wanna come Mark?"

"Sure."

"You're all idiots."

Part 2

Reposted for Sunday Scribblings.

Back in the Rant

2011-02-05T21:55:00.004-05:00

I went to great lengths to find a name for myself when I came here to blogger. While I am still known around parts of the internet as Laststand, The Ranting Monkey was more than just a name. Like Frank, its a pretty good description of me. I have short legs, a long torso, feet that are a misplaced big toe away from allowing me to peel bananas, and I hate a great many things that I have no problem expressing with profane emphasis.

For the first year or so, I was the only Ranting Monkey to be found on Google or any other search engine. Since I've been back, I've checked and damned if some unoriginal cocksucker on youtube of all places hasn't usurped my fucking identity and the top search spot.

Let there be no mistake, I am not that idiot. I don't sound like I just sucked a dick and my artwork, while cartoonish, is in no way that fucking lame.

I get that there are only so many names in cyberspace but this one is mine. Leave it the fuck alone.

Other things pissing me off?

Why the fuck can't the news ever multitask? Each new story is treated as the only story until the next big story comes along at which point the ever-so-urgent bullshit they've been beating us to death with for the last week disappears as though it never happened.

I don't care if blue headlights help you see better. They blind me, asshole.

Flip flops in winter? I hope you fall and split your head open so we can all see that yes, it is indeed empty.

I don't care what anyone says, wearing a shirt 2 sizes too small isn't slimming. Fat rolls should be covered in public.

And for the love of all that is good and holy will someone either teach old people how to use debit cards or make a geezer lane at the store so I can easily identify and avoid the 95 year old with cataracts trying to remember his own birthday to complete his purchase?

God damn I hate people.

There's a New Monkey in Town!

2011-02-05T10:21:00.005-05:00

My newest monkey design is now available on the usual products. Designing these things is more fun for me than the thought of people buying them.

Anyway, meet The Drunken Monkey!

SWS

2011-02-05T09:16:00.002-05:00

Only failed when I didn't try.

My entry for Six Word Saturday. Check the others, they are undoubtedly better.

The Monkey Explains Himself Again

2011-02-04T18:33:00.003-05:00

In this post, I wrote about how people around me are offended that I am not more upset with myself for living an unhealthy life. Josie commented, "And as for those other folks who are monitoring you, don't they realize that we are all ultimately responsible for ourselves and our own decisions. No one can effectively police another, it's a matter of choice."

There, now you have the background.

These people aren't bad people. One of them, the most vocal of all, is my far too pretty to be married to me wife. And in a way, I see her point. Its very selfish of me to live as I please without considering how my choices impact others. Should I die first, she's the one left to deal with the loss of a spouse. So in that respect, I understand why she gives me shit for how I live.

My wife's concern is selfish. And there is nothing wrong with that. I certainly don't want her taking unnecessary risks with her life, I'd like her around as long as possible.

I blame society for my wife's reaction to my willingness to do it all again even knowing the outcome. From health fanatics to religion, humanity is obsessed with living forever one way or another. The idea that someone would knowingly cause harm to themselves for the immediate enjoyment is so foreign it might as well be said in a completely new language.

I was spanked a lot as a child. Shocking, right? I'm not talking a gentle reminder swat. I'm talking about spankings that made me wish horrific deaths on my parents. (note to self: be careful what ya wish for)

Still, I don't hold a grudge. My own parenting style is a bit less harsh but I learned an extremely valuable lesson from those spankings. I learned that you have to consider the consequences of your actions. I won't lie, there are times I got spanked that the fun I had was worth the whoopin.

I apply that lesson to my entire life. I weigh the consequences against the fun to be had and go from there. Eating too much sometimes? Worth it. Meth? Not worth it.

Diabetes is no fun but getting here was worth it.

All About Me

2011-02-03T08:56:00.004-05:00

For someone as egotistical as me, blogging is a godsend. Whether or not anyone reads this shit, I can not only talk about myself as often as I like, I can go back and read myself talking about me as often as I like. Yes folks, I really am that in love with myself.

But that's not the point of this. As I was redesigning this blog I came across the new feature allowing users to highlight their most read works. There is now a list of my 10 most read works on the right.

As I read through the list I was surprised by which posts showed up. The number one spot goes to the first part of the interview I did with Josie a few years ago. While its an ok post, parts two, three, and four were far more interesting if ya ask me, even if my penis isn't brought up in them.

With all the new folks coming in, yes I can see you even if you don't comment, I'm curious what they consider to be their best work. If you had to point to one post that you think best highlights your blog, that represents your best work, which would it be?

Leave your answer in the comments.

Feel The Love

2011-02-03T08:29:00.004-05:00

The internet is full of nastiness. The anonymous nature of saying what you want without repercussion leads to people saying things they would never have the balls to say in person. Some argue that this anonymity changes people. I say it just allows them to be the asshole they are.

Still, when reading around the web today I came across hundreds of well wishes to people suffering from the weather extremes around the globe, especially the snow storm that just hit the US. From wishes for safe driving to wishes of warmth, the web is filled with love.

I didn't come across a single "hope ya die in a snowbank" or even a "glad ya threw out your back shoveling, dickhead" anywhere.

I find it fascinating that those two worlds can coexist in the exact same setting.

Snow, Snow, and More Damn Snow

2011-02-01T23:16:00.002-05:00

Michigan usually doesn't make the news for big snow storms because we can and have had snow from September through June. Now the rest of the country gets to see how we live and its a big deal!

If you live anywhere this shit is hitting, stay inside where it is warm. Enjoy a relaxing day at home.

Letting Go

2011-01-31T17:08:00.004-05:00

When I was twelve, I found myself dangling from a tree branch terrified of giving in to gravity.

Fifteen minutes earlier, I was sitting in the yard staring at the pecan tree. As I often do, I was considering myself. That day I was thinking about my fear of heights and all the things I had read telling me that confronting your fear will help you get over it. So I climbed.

The branch didn't seem that high from the safety of Mother Earth. It didn't seem that high when I reached the spot allowing me to let myself out onto it. It didn't seem that high as I left the safety of the tree. It didn't even seem that high when I realized there was no way back into the tree, leaving unobstructed gravity as my only method of escape.

But when I first looked down, seeing the ground some four feet or so below my shoes, it suddenly seemed quite high.

For almost twenty minutes I hung there, trapped between crippling fear and the inevitable.

And for twenty minutes I talked myself into letting go. For twenty minutes I reasoned with myself that it wasn't that far of a fall. Certainly the single story roof my brother and I used to jump off to sneak out at night was higher. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

I started a mental countdown.

Three. Might as well do it, its the only way down.

Two. I really don't want to let go.

One. Oh shit, here goes.

I've spent a lot of my life in this situation, though only once literally. What have I learned from it? I've learned that letting go physically is always a lot easier than thinking about letting go. I've learned that facing your fear won't make it go away, even if you're forced to face it for 20 minutes while hanging from a tree. Mostly I've learned that sometimes I do really stupid shit for really stupid reasons but often those are times when I learn more than any instructor could ever teach.

I survived the fall entirely unhurt. I climbed the tree again, grabbed the branch, and immediately let go, again landing safely. I'm still afraid of heights but I had to be sure that I had dropped of my own free will and not simply because my arms were too tired to hang on any longer.

Reposted from this blog for Memories on Mondays. Check out the other entries and play along.

I'm Cheating

2011-01-31T16:56:00.002-05:00

The next post I will be putting up for my Memories on Mondays entry is actually an old post from this very site that I'm going to clean up a little. Ya see, I got all of two and a half hours of sleep last night and I have to be back to work at 4 am tomorrow.

I don't feel too bad about cheating since somebody, and I'm not mentioning names, hasn't posted the grouping yet.

Anyway, it fits the theme, is a pretty good post if I do say so myself, and its a shitload easier than trying to write something new.

Sleepless Nights

2011-01-31T00:51:00.004-05:00

In the 3 and a half years I've been posting here I've only posted after a One for the Road entry once that same night. I really do mean those to be a closing thought for the evening.

But life has a funny way of altering our intentions. While it might seem like a minor thing, The New Monkey really was a big moment for me. In his finished form he is actually really easy to make. Getting to that form took hours. I'm not exaggerating. I knew how I wanted him to look but the pixels just weren't cooperating with me.

Since I finished, I've been high on life. Unfortunately, being high on life doesn't lend itself well to getting to sleep.

With the random blog button being taken over by religious folks, and not wanting to be preached at, I found another way to read the random thoughts of strangers. Some good, some very very bad. But one in particular jumped out at me. Regular readers will immediately see why I found it so appealing.

Dirtycowgirl at Downandurty is blunt, funny, and very entertaining. Stop reading this nonsense and check her out.

One for the Road

2011-01-30T21:28:00.008-05:00

With the New Monkey came new inspiration and some shameless self promotion. The Monkey Store has all new designs on many new products, from Monkey t-shirts to Monkey mouse pads to Monkey thongs! Check em out and buy lots.

Until next we meet, may the deity you most believe in grant you an unexpected and entirely excused day off.

American Idol - Grrrrrr

2011-01-30T19:01:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting here listening to the American Idol auditions playing on my wife's computer. Instantly I was reminded of why I hate this fuckin show.

I really don't mind that the music is almost entirely bad pop. Its not the horrific performances. Its not even the cheesy dialog between the hosts. No, what bothers me is that all the people picked to move on sound almost identical.

A friend and I were discussing Bob Dylan one day. I mentioned that I couldn't stand him and his mumble mouthed shit singing. My friend didn't disagree with my criticism. Instead he said, "if it weren't for Dlyan, a lot of singers would never have been heard." He went on to explain that Dylan's shitty voice opened the door to a lot of singers that didn't have a traditional voice.

He and I can disagree on the specifics of who opened which doors but the conversation is front and center in my mind as I listen to these Idol clones with their deep soulful sultry near identical voices.

As I listen, I wonder what would have become of Axl Rose, Steve Perry, or even Idol host Steven Tyler if they had been judged by the Idol judges as a stepping stone to success.

The New Monkey

2011-01-30T16:15:00.004-05:00

For years I've wanted a new monkey. Its not that I don't like the old guy. He's just a bit static. His one emotion, amused indifference, does fit many of my thoughts. Still, there are times that it just isn't appropriate.

So, I finally sat down and designed a new monkey that I have far more control over. Making his world debut, I proudly present, The New Ranting Monkey.

The Dark Side of the Monkey

2011-01-30T13:58:00.003-05:00

Reading through Sunday Scribblings led me to Carp Dime and that led me to this post and the question within.

"Someone you love deeply is brutally murdered and you know the identity of the murderer, who unfortunately is acquitted of the crime. Would you seek revenge?"

Our society teaches that two wrongs don't make a right. Sometimes the second wrong is the only way to make it right. Should I ever be in the situation described above, I'm not sure I'd consider the murderer being locked up for 25 to life to be justice. Someone is forever taken from me and this guy gets a roof, meals, and medical treatment on my dime?

Where is the justice in that?

Not only would I seek vengeance regardless of the criminal proceedings, I'd make it as personal as the murderer did when he killed my loved one. I'd want the last thing he ever saw to be my smiling face as his last breath escaped him. I'd want to be holding his throat as he passed into whatever hell awaits him on the other side.

I realize that's not civilized but then vengeance isn't about civility. I'd be as civil to the criminal as he was to my loved one. My wrong would make things as right as they could be for me.

Feeling Safe

2011-01-30T09:32:00.010-05:00

I rarely feel threatened in any meaningful way. Even when someone is directly threatening me, it's more of a joke to me than a threat. I'm incredibly arrogant, rather large, and I love to fight. So some jackass warning that they are going to "kick my ass" provokes a laugh rather than the speaker's intended intimidation.

I've directly challenged authority since I can remember. When my brothers would do something wrong and mom would be going on and on and on and on about it, I couldn't help myself, I'd have to speak up. "Mom, he gets it. Let it go" Mom would tell me to mind my own business but I just couldn't stop myself. Got spanked more than once for being disrespectful under those circumstances. Never stopped me from doing it again.

When I was 16 and sitting in the vice principals office facing suspension for the fight I'd just been involved in, the vice principal walks to the window and stares out with a look of deep thought on his face, "you guys picked a bad time to do this with what's going on in Iraq." He was referring to the first gulf war which had just started. The kid I had been fighting with dropped his head in shame. I remarked, "yeah, that sure shows us fighting isn't the answer."

Every boss I've ever worked for has at some point rolled their eyes at my approach, knowing I am about to launch into some logical debate that they don't have the time or answers for. I've started a riot, I used to walk alone through the "bad" parts of town at night, and I have eaten a piece of gum that was found in a suitcase that hadn't been used in half a decade. Even with my writing, as hard as it is to share, deep down I like most of what I write and part of me knows other people will too.

Insecurity is an emotion I'm just not too familiar with. I always feel safe. Let me tell you, feeling secure is overrated. Safety is so boring. And its why I love storms so much.

Throughout my life, the only time I've felt "safe" is when I close the door with the world raging around me. Its not until the Gods decide to challenge me that I feel personal fear. Perhaps it's because its so unusual to me, the feeling I get when I hear the wind ripping at the walls, the rain pounding at the windows, and the thunder shattering the sky from the safety of my home is addictive. Its a rush I wish could be duplicated.

My entry for Sunday Scribblings. Check the link for far better writing.

One For The Road

2011-01-29T22:53:00.006-05:00

There is a new cereal out called Crunchy Nuts. Sounds kinda like the final fatal stage of jock itch.

Until next time, may the God you most admire return the favor.

Playing Along

2011-01-29T21:18:00.002-05:00

The best journeys are always uncharted.

My entry for Six Word Saturday. Check the others, they are undoubtedly better.

Changes Coming

2011-01-29T21:10:00.002-05:00

I may not be very active the next few days. I'm changing a whole bunch of things that require me to use this lump on top of my shoulders.

You Don't Have To Understand

2011-01-26T21:12:00.006-05:00

With the new diagnosis of diabetes many people have pointed out my tendency toward overindulgence. "Bet ya wish you ate better now, eh?"

My answer pisses them off.

If I had it all to do over again, I do it all over again.

That's right, even knowing the outcome would be a disease that could take my sight, my feet, and even my life, I'd still live exactly as I have. Sound crazy? I'll try to explain.

I do my very best to live life without regrets. Contrary to popular misconception, there really aren't second chances in life. The exact same situation never comes again. Its impossible since each moment in time is unique.

So, when choices present themselves, I pick a path and run full speed ahead without looking back and without second guessing myself.

Would I like to not be diabetic? Sure. But not if it means I have to miss any part of the rather wonderful life I've had so far. We are all going to die and frankly, I can't think of a single way I'd like to go. Even dying peacefully in my sleep sounds like a bad end to the day.

I don't look forward to dying from anything. But since I have to die eventually, I'm gonna enjoy my time while I can. While I am making an effort to live healthier, I wouldn't change how I got here, it was a hell of a ride.

Back Later

2011-01-26T19:11:00.001-05:00

As I stare at the screen I find my mind to be as blank as the page. Instead of forcing things, I'll be back when a mood strikes.

That's Not Meat

2011-01-25T16:47:00.005-05:00

Someone is suing Taco Bell over the beef, or lack thereof, used in their products.

I don't care if it's ground beef. I like the taste. If they came out tomorrow and told me it was ground cat testicles with sprinklings of panda bear ass, I'd still choose Taco Bell for my quick fix pseudo-Mexican food option.

Rather than suing Taco Bell, someone should study how they made non-beef beef palatable and apply it to "health food" to make that shit edible.

Dear God

2011-01-25T01:44:00.002-05:00

I'm bored and can't sleep. Usually this leads to fun times with the "next blog" button here. I love going out and seeing what strangers are doing. Apparently they are loving them some Jesus. Sweet tap dancin Christ there are a lot of religious blogs now.

After seeing the photos on the various blogs all I can say is damn, mormons really like to fuck.

Yet Another Life Lesson

2011-01-25T00:24:00.011-05:00

After mom's memorial service everyone came back to my house to eat and comfort one another. I've always found the concept of these post funeral gatherings to be rather strange. Dinner and a movie I get. Dinner and a funeral just doesn't quite seem to go together. But that's what people do so there we were.

I don't remember how it started. I ended up doing "magic tricks" for my 25 year old foster sister and her 23 year old sister in law. Now, I wasn't really doing magic tricks. What I was actually doing was pretending to do magic in an obviously phony and exaggerated way. I was the clown at the party.

I would take a napkin, rip it in half, fold it, say some magic words, unfold it, and pretend the mess I made was intentional, all while talking near nonstop about whatever utter bullshit I could come up with to make them laugh. They sat there watching this side show for at least half an hour.

This was my first glimpse of the power of laughter. It blew my mind that people could be moved to genuine laughter at such a somber time. Who would have thought that you could actually have fun at a funeral?

The greater lesson in laughter came a few days later. My foster sister and I were talking and she told me that her sister in law (wish I could remember her name) had told her a secret that involved me. After much prodding, she finally told me. Seems I made a real impression and that the pretty young married lady 9 year my senior wanted to have sex with me simply because I'd made a complete ass of my self for her amusement.

Nothing ever came of it, I was still very shy. But it did make an impression. It was in that moment that I first realized that women like men that can make them laugh. I'd never considered humor as a form of flirtation before that. In many ways, it was this lesson that helped me through the rough spots in my childhood.

I learned a lot that day. I learned that making people laugh made me feel better. I learned that making women laugh made them want to get nekkid. I learned that the attention of a woman makes everything more tolerable. I learned that silver linings do exist. And I learned that personal demons are allergic to laughter.

My entry for Memories on Mondays.

Change is Good

2011-01-24T23:28:00.005-05:00

Finally done with how I want this to look for now. It could change in the very near future but I think I finally have something I can at least live with for a while.

Something Else I've Never Done

2011-01-23T23:26:00.009-05:00

Looking through my old photoshop work trying to find inspiration for my new store, I came across a picture I once made that I am really proud of. It happened quite by accident. I was bored and started goofing off to see what I could come up with.

The result.

The angel and demon were a very happy mistake.

I don't generally share my art any more freely than my writing but there it is. Enjoy.

Grand Opening

2011-01-23T23:18:00.003-05:00

Bored and looking for some outlet for my time, I stumbled across an article on how to make some extra money. Long story short, there is now a Ranting Monkey Store at cafepress.

There are only 2 offerings at the moment but you should buy lots of them. They make excellent stocking stuffers, they are the perfect Valentines gift, and who wouldn't want a monkey logo coffee mug for their birthday?

Seriously its just something I decided to try. I'll keep ya updated on how it goes.

Keep this in mind, the more people you tell about it, the more interesting the stories about it will be.

Eternity Cereal

2011-01-23T22:37:00.006-05:00

I'll let you in on a little secret. When I say, "I'm eternally grateful," I rarely mean it. Oh sure, there are times when its not an exaggeration. For instance, I am eternally grateful for my wife's low standards in men.

Honestly, the idea of eternity is one I have trouble grasping. I understand it, I just can't quite wrap my mind around the enormity of it. There are lots of things that leave me in that same state of knowing yet not. Just tonight, as I watched TV a commercial came on for some cereal. For reasons known only to the gods, I wondered who the first person to ever drink their cereal milk was.

Someone had to be the first person to drink the milk from their cereal. I wonder if they realized the historic nature of that first sip.

I don't know if even the religious among us truly know the meaning of eternity. No alpha. No omega. No beginning. No end.

Even if my brain can't quite accept the concept, it is fun to sit and ponder. I imagine a guy driving home, not realizing he's died, eternally traveling an endless road. I imagine the horror of him realizing his fate. I imagine him fighting against it. I imagine him giving in.

While the idea of eternity is at times frustrating to my logical mind, my imagination loves it.

The point of all of this? None really. Just letting my mind and fingers wander. Oh, and Josie told me to.

This was inspired by Sunday Scribblings. Check out the other writers that undoubtedly had more interesting things to say.

Deeper Into The Mind Of The Monkey

2011-01-23T15:40:00.006-05:00

I was recently told I'm diabetic. I'm still in denial and swear that if I am, the doctors infected me with it. Still, I'm trying to live healthier, eat better, exercise more, that kind of thing. Eating better isn't a big deal, my problem has always been eating too much, not eating excessively bad things. The exercise is a bit more of a challenge.

Its winter time, which in Michigan means there is a shitload of snow on the ground and its colder than a well digger's ass outside. My options are very limited since I hate snow and cold. But I am trying. I just got back in from shoveling the driveway just for the exercise. It had been usable but now its pretty clear.

I'm getting to the meaning of the title, don't be so impatient.

If you could shovel snow in June, I'd do it. Much like vacuuming I enjoy the activity. Not for the cleaning or clearing aspects but because both leave me alone with my thoughts. As I was shoveling, a question entered my mind.

Do you think people would consider it an honor to be best man or maid of honor if it had the same rules as being godparent? At the very least, I think it could lead to some interesting family arrangements.

It Writes Itself

2011-01-23T15:39:00.002-05:00

My Six Word Saturday Is Late!

For Six Word Saturday.

Not Gone

2011-01-22T01:43:00.001-05:00

As is my tendency, I have been distracted. I have many things I want to say but I need some sleep after a far too stressful day.

Hope all is well with everyone.

Where My Mind Goes

2011-01-17T22:02:00.003-05:00

So Joise has this post up. A ghost story of sorts. As I read her thoughts on the departed being around us I couldn't help but wonder how many ghosts have watched me touching myself.

What a Difference an H Makes

2011-01-16T22:24:00.005-05:00

After we got home tonight, we were upstairs talking to the youngest Monkey about the new sock collecting bag my far to pretty to be married to me wife bought in an effort to keep from losing all the children's socks. He seemed to understand both the point and the concept.

Chele went to the stairs and, meaning to tell us she planned to go sit down, announced, "Ok, I'm going down stairs to shit."

Me and the boy had a good laugh.

Little Less Serious

2011-01-14T22:42:00.003-05:00

Man, I've been kind of a downer since I've come back. Let's toss in some anger with my own 13 list!

13 things pissing me off!

1. People that still use cell phones when they are being waited on in restaurants, in line at the store, or anywhere else where they are obviously too fucking good to be bothered by the lowly people that are servicing them.

2. My employer.

3. The asshat superintendent of our local schools. (On a side note, I did irritate him so much that I thought he was going to have a stroke.)

4. People so afraid to drive in snow that they go 15 miles an hour on the highway.

5. All the horrifically gay sounding songs on the radio play list. If I hear one more feminine male voice on my radio I may rip it out and throw it at the people from #4 as I pass them.

6. Parents that want to be their child's friend, up to an including dressing like their kids, that are surprised when their offspring turn to drugs, sex, or criminal behavior. They need guidance, ya douche.

7. Tragedy being used to limit language.

8. Little dogs. If my cat can kick your dog's ass, its not a dog.

9. The absence of naked breasts in movies. When did this become a bad thing?

10. Those cocksuckers at DirecTV.

11. People that are in such a hurry to get into the drive-thru line ahead of me that they almost kill pedestrians then sitting at the fuckin speaker for 10 minutes deciding what they want.

12. My employer. Yes, they deserve to be here twice.

13. The vast majority of the human race.

Til Death Do Us Part

2011-01-14T19:15:00.003-05:00

Let's start at the beginning. 2 days ago I posted the following on Facebook.

I hold a grudge. He hurt the people in my life that meant the most to me. If he weren't dead, I'd beat the living shit out of him. Don't get me wrong, I loved him. Still do. But as I read the pain his actions still cause to those I care so much about it brings anger and rage. Its been nearly 21 years and it still affects us all so much. Rest in peace, ya prick.

Now I wasn't sure which one would do it but I did know one of my relatives would read that and try to comfort me. They are nice people that just don't know me well enough to know that this particular post had nothing to do with needing comfort. It was written to comfort others, specifically my little brother and Lisa.

Ya see, I think its important that they understand its ok to still be mad at him for what he did. It doesn't mean we love him any less. We just remember all that happened and refuse to give him a pass for his actions that fateful night.

My Aunt told me that my brother was in pain. I replied that no one knew why he did it and that while I loved him, I will forever hate him for what he did and that I'm not ashamed of it. She thought that was sad and I ended the conversation there.

This may get a little rambly so hang in there with me.

Suicide is the most selfish act you can ever commit. The people that do it are so wrapped up in themselves that all the talking in the world will not help. Spare me the "they are in pain" bullshit. We all have pain. I'll give a shit about any pain my brother was in when he comes back and cares about the pain he put me and everyone else through. I know pain like he never could, he never lost his best friend, his brother, or his hero, much less all three in one act of utter stupidity.

So no, I don't feel he is deserving of any slack for what he did regardless of what he might have been going through. Nor do I think you can reason with people that are capable of becoming so self involved that they believe their immediate situation trumps everything else in life.

If anyone finds that offensive, sincerely, go fuck yourself.

Now, Josie wanted to know my thoughts on this post. I think all that anyone needs to know about suicide is the first item on the list. In the mind of the truly suicidal, only they matter. Pointing out all the pain and suffering they will cause won't matter. There is no reaching people that self involved. I wish there was but this isn't a movie. These things don't have a happy ending.

So instead of 13 things for the suicidal to consider, I offer a shorter list for the survivors.

1. Its ok to hate them for it.
2. Hating them for their final act of stupidity doesn't mean you can't love the good parts of them.
3. There is nothing you could have done. Looking for what you missed is an exercise in frustration and pain.
4. Their life ended, not yours. Grieve but don't forget to get back to your life.

For No Other Reason

2011-01-13T23:09:00.001-05:00

I'm writing this just because. No deeper meaning. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm trying to get back into the habit and I've found that even when its garbage I'll eventually erase, at least putting some text on the screen helps.

So, there is it. An entirely useless post!