I Hate To Hate And Other Illnesses

 

So. As I have lived my life I have always attempted to take measures of myself and my maturities. I’ve attempted to measure my intellectual growth based upon my grades in school, my ability to converse with people I think might be smart, and my grasp of complex life situations.

Except for my eighth grade and first quarter of ninth grade, I was an excellent student with an overall A average through high school. I’m not all that smart, but I am a great figure-outer. For some reason I can reason shit through and figure it out. Once I got to college, my grades ranged from stellar to barely passing, said range directly correlated to my business enterprise activities with the mysterious redneck genius, Streaker Jones.

Streaker Jones is a certified genius of almost immeasurable IQ. When they attempted to place a number in the Intelligence Quotient blank on his “Special Testing” back in junior high, the behavioral scientists were stumped as to how to measure just how smart Streaker Jones is. After he redesigned their standard test for them and took it, the number they filled-in for Streaker Jones’ IQ was “200-plus”.

He and I started a processed food company we named Magical Mystery Foods using my and my Gram’s recipes and the quite astute business acumen of Streaker Jones. Anybody who doesn’t know that Streaker Jones is my business partner thinks I have the Midas touch and that every time I fall in shit I make a profit. Those who do know have a keen understanding that I might be the idea man, but my partner is the businessman.

Net results, from the intellectual perspectives, I think I have matured as well as can be expected for an ADHD-addled fuckbrain.

Physically, I’ve matured right smartly, thank-you very much. From the time I was two, Mother marked a growth card with my height, weight and all of my clothing sizes twice a year. I reached my full height of 6’4” over the summer after high school. I’ve carried between 220 and 245 pounds of weight ever since. A little of my former muscle has turned to Carta Blanca belly over the years, but I think I’m in decent shape for an old fart.

Starting after I experienced my first ever woodie, I have been measuring my pecker—both in its woodie and resting states, twice a year. Sometimes more than twice a year. I’m quite proud to say that since I was twenty, my woodie pecker has held its full length and girth and my relaxed pecker has actually grown by a full half-inch. I want to be proud of this extra half-inch gained over the past few years, but I just can’t. I have this nagging feeling in the deep recesses of my scattered brain that it might be sag rather than growth.

But I’m an optimistic kind of guy and I see my glass half-full. So. Basically, I feel that from the mental and physical perspectives I have managed to follow expected growth curves for a healthy male Homo Sapiens. It’s the emotional perspective where I seem to veer from the pathways of standard deviations.

Like yesterday, when I started to bitch about Rick Perry’s little prayer group and ended up telling you about the first time I almost committed murder, and the only time it would have been murder of the intentional variety. As the old hymn goes, my distaste for the Baptist church is “Deep, and wide… deep, and wide…” Our newspaper here was full of the stories of some of the silly shitballs who were so very-fucking excited to go down to Houston and get God all charged-up.

One asshole from a Baptist Church outside Austin was quoted to say, “America’s only hope is if we all convert to Christianity and follow in Christ’s footsteps.”

After thinking on that one a minute, if he’ll modify it just a touch, I think he might be on to something. I think that if all American Christians will go over to the middle east and follow Christs footsteps, then those of us remaining might be able to fix some of this mess.

All their prayers for America seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Should that be Deaf Ears, with caps? The markets are down another 500+ points in response to how the conservative right is holding our government hostage.

Speaking of Christ, holy shit am I digressing. What I want to say is that I’m starting to feel the word “hate” slip into my emotional states. I don’t like to hate, I think hate is a bigot’s emotion. But I’m starting to want to say that I hate some things. I’m feeling the polarity that Brandon mentioned today on his site My Own Private Idaho, a feeling that is enhanced when I read the Reckmonster’s latest impassioned plea for veterans over to her place. My friend Squatlo presents fair and balanced postings that present evidence that my feelings are accurate.

I just don’t want to hate people just because they are stupid. But I’m finding it hard to not hate them when they are pushing their dumb up my ass using politics. I’m starting to feel that I might be de-maturing emotionally.

Ugh.

I’m having a cold Carta Blanca beer and some homemade chips and salsa. Fuck Rick Perry today, and I’ll see y’all manana.

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6 Responses to “I Hate To Hate And Other Illnesses”

  1. Q says:

    Priceless! Now, all though I do believe in God, I don’t consider myself a hypoChristian. Aside from that, the fear of being a hater is what I think drove me to blogging. My absolutely dislike of Rush Limbaugh’s arrogance prompted me into my first blog post a little over a year ago. With the way the U.S. is now, if I didn’t blog, then I think my head would explode. Someone has contaminated the drinking water with dumb powder and it’s spreading like wildfire. Each time I turn on my television, I want to throw my shoe at it (and I’m sure my TV can’t dodge shoes like Bush, Jr. did). SN: Is that not the all-time funniest video ever?

    Anyway, I can understand where you’re coming from with this post. Well, except for measuring yourself. It is hard knowing that the media can spread their dumb powder amongst millions while we have to settle for a smaller venue. It can drive a person into a pimp-slapping spree for sure.

  2. admin says:

    Q. Sounds like you’re starting to feel the pain with me. You say that you don’t measure yourself and I find myself forced to ask if only white guys even give a shit.

    Sems to be an abundance of dumb powder flting around these days. FUCK RICK PERRY!

  3. Squatlo says:

    I’d pull out a tape measure more often myself if it weren’t so damned depressing… but like I keep telling you (and anyone who’ll listen) “If it’s long enough to reach all the way back to my balls, it’s long enough!”

    About two weeks ago I found myself so goddam pissed about the idiots gumming up the political system that I pretty much wrote off about half the fucking country. I divorced Facebook so I wouldn’t be reminded of just how shit-all stupid some of my “friends” over there could be, and started putting up half-assed, angry blog posts that only served to make my blood pressure even higher. Then it hit me… We Can’t Fix Stupid.
    I’m not giving up on saying my piece when I have something to say, but as far as converting the ignorant or showing an undecided person the light? It’s never happened, and never will. The only people who read my shit already agree with most of what I’m saying, and those who don’t avoid my blog like cooties. Fine by me. The fewer “Theo”s in my life, the better.
    But here’s what worries my ass… and I always feel like some kind of doomsayer for bringing it up: I fear for the life of our president.

    I think we’re one unspeakable moment away from absolute chaos in America, and your Governor and the assholes who believe he’d make a fine Commander in Chief are pushing some of their loony-toon wingnuts closer and closer to the edge.

    We both need to relax a lot more than we do, Mooner. Life’s good. Let’s grab a cold one and raise a toast to the fine folks we’ve met who know what fucking time it is!

  4. admin says:

    Squat. I can always count on you for a dose of reality.

    Fuck Rick Perry!

    I’m cracking a Carta Blanca.

  5. I’m not even going to try and hide it: I’m a hater. I hate ignorance. I hate intolerance. I hate stupidity. I hate complete and utter lack of common sense. I hate arrogant pride/hubris. Yeah, I hate all of those things. I try very hard NOT to hate people – but I do allow myself to hate traits that they possess that drive me mother fucking bat shit bonkers. I think that’s fair. =) Cheers…and if I had a Carta Blanca…I’d raise it to you, but this Corona will just have to do.

  6. Reck. You need to spit that Corona out of your sweet mouth and get yourself a real beer. Fuck Corona and FUCK RICK PERRY!

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