Rain King

Warning, this is a rant today. Every once and a while it happens. I am pissed. Leave now, it may be best.

Tell me that is not a great song. I only half get what the hell he is talking about, but boy can those guys rock.. and they are Oakland boys, so it is also a hometown thing.

Well, someone is bound to comment on my lack of musical taste...nothing is ever as hard fought as the debates between the musicatari on the merits or demerits of popular bands. For those that find my appreciation of "Counting Crows" a window into my unworthiness as a human..

Fuck off.

Today is rant day. I have been radio silent since Valentine's Day mainly because I have been just too damn busy. Good stuff mind you, work is going well, Monday was heaven, tuesday was Dancing Lessons, always a fun time for Fiancee and Me. Last night was fencing, parry and thrust and good scotch afterwords. No time to blog in the midst of that.

But of course I have had time to read. Read my favorite blogs, then followed there links to other blogs and so on. In parallel, just finished the "Alexiad" by Anna Commneni, the chronicle of the Autocrator Alexus, Byzantine Emperor during the time of the First Crusade. Now I am reading a book called "The Gandhi Reader" about, well, Gandhi.

Somewhere in the middle of all that reading, listening to the Rain King on the morning commute I overloaded, the bullshit meter pegged, the gag-o-rama went to max.

Man, we humans are full of shit sometimes. Selfish, self absorbed pricks.

First, who really gives a shit about what happened between my ex and me. Boo hoo, big deal. At least I am still alive, hell I can foxtrot! I know two people in there 30's who had cancer, one died two nights ago, the other survived, but cannot raise his arm above his head with out crippling arthritic pain. Get it, I am mulling a sail board purchase, this guy ten years younger that me would give his right arm to be able to get back up on one. Tough life, huh Maurice?

For the rest of you divorced male whiners, get over it, ok? Move on. If it was your fault, shape up. If it was her fault, choose better. For God's sake get a life and a personality and stop defining yourself around some other person. Pull your fucking head out of your ass.

Then to all the selfish bastards whining about their husbands/wives/significant others, all the "I'm not gettting the loving I deserve", or "I am not getting the _______I deserve", And using that to justify any and all kinds of actions. Provide me a break, puleese. All of us writing here are writing from the first person, my feelings, my libido, my thoughts, my needs. What the hell about the other person? Are we the special ones, the only ones in the right? The only ones who matter? And if the other person really has all those issues, have we had the courage to face it squarely like adults, or are we too chickshit, simply content to bitch and screw around and become the weasels we abhor?

(The only honest guy on this one is AJ. He admits he is a piece of work and knows that his life with CW is part his making.)

Take a trip over to michaelwolbergupdate.blogspot.com. Read the archives. There is the story of a woman who was the pregnant working mother with a stay at home dad, when he was diagnosed with stage four lymphoma, pratically a death sentance. Their story is nothing short of heroic, of love and faith and impossible odds, and a happy ending, of sorts.

Do you hear her bitching about "He doesn't horse fuck me anymore"? Holy Christ she saved his life and supported them and bore a child. You think she is getting monkey sex every night as her just reward?

Anybody remember what it means to love someone?

If I have to read one more post from a self absorbed boy-man talking shit about how much a player he is, or how much money he has, or "fat chicks need not apply" ( realizing that his definition of fat is anything north of Laura Flynn what ever the fuck her hyphenated name is) I will puke. And all of you assholes who think that at 40 you can start cheating on your wife with the bimbet of the week club then go into childish tempertantrums or sobbing fits when said wife gets sick of you, well, can you do all of us a favor and just jump off a fucking cliff. If you miss her so much, why did you fuck around on her/shit on her in the first place, dickhead?

As for the women, don't get me started. The archtype is a chick called Avatar. Plays up the I'm too cool for you-too-hot-for-you-too-bitchen-for-anyone-don't write me if your email has one typo-queen of cyberspace let me tell you why you are soo below me throw rocks at boys.

Then bitches about a bald 40 year old guy dumping her?

Am I the only one who sees the logical inconsistancy here?

The truth is, the guys won't call her on her shit because they are too busy kissing her ass, and the girls are just the same.

Ok, I will. Avatar, I don't know you, but I would'nt fuck you with my dog's dick. As to grammer rules, stick them up your ass, precocious mouthy chicks stop being cute after the age of 14.

For the record I never wrote the gal. She is actually quite typical, just gets to be the example. There are a ton of them.

Men, quit being chickenshit assholes. Figure yourselves out. If you want a relationship, then work at it and be in it and if it has problems then face them and take the consequences. Stop using women, either as your surrogate mommy or your surrogate whore. Grow up.

Women, quit being selfish, self-centered children. You have grown up, act like it. Ask for what you want, work with your partner, or part ways. Sorry to break it to you, the world does not orbit you, and anyone who tells you that it does is probably just trying to sell you something or get laid.

For both of you, knock off the lists, the trysts, the pisseds. The world does not need one more smart ass calling foul or "gotch ya", or one more idiot with a long list of needs. Next time try tolerance, try telling the truth, try to understand the people around you.

We all want, want, want. The sheer volume of our wants must cause the gods to vomit from the stench. When will we ever learn that we get what we give, and we start by giving. Addicts all of us, how do we find time in all the selfish craving to ever live.

Thank God I met Fiancee.

p.s. I did not spell check today. Fuck it.