this is the perfect place to get jumped

Month: September, 2015

that’s my dad!

as a stunt for a video i drank a half pint of georgi vodka before my first gasp of air. it caught up to me later in the night and i became sick. my dad raped me as i slept. he spooned me from behind then fucked me with his big fat dick. i was too drunk to notice his big fat dick going in and out of me and my butt hole. my dad sat naked in a rocking chair next to my bed. his legs were crossed. he rocked back and forth until i awoke. i was still sick with drunk and couldn’t move because he raped me. i didn’t believe him, but there was no way to prove that he didn’t rape me because i was too drunk. i had learned my lesson.

i’m a monster

that fleeting nugget of “accomplishment” that comes with achieving your goals can never be enjoyed with encroaching stress-creep. for me, bliss is an apparition that i hallucinate when i drink my morning can of monster energy. this can is my temple, and i am elated by the physical euphoria that is achievable by drinking from the spray paint styled mega can, a symbol of heinous vigor.

because monster energy knows that i believe in the individual, it has crafted over forty unique flavors to accommodate humans as individuals before their souls are sent back to hell where they are absorbed into the Impenetrable Mass in a stoic ritual by the ageless sentinels.

dear monster energy,

consider me your brand whore. i am a willing sacrifice. i joyfully offer you my agency.

i want to drink you from an acetone can. i want to drink you from a transparent bleach bottle where fledgling disciples can see the shards of condensed taurine float in your liquid fiberglass. i want to pump myself with monster energy from a gas nozzle as i fuel my camo h3. i want to chew monster energy gum, and wear monster energy patches, and smoke monster energy cigarettes, and shoot monster energy heroin.

for now i am disguised as a normal human person wearing human clothes with a human purpose….but my purpose goes beyond the flesh. i am marked with the infernal ‘m’ so death’s militia can identify my corpse for proper public desecration. i am in the shadows behind the dumpster and i spit and i whisper ‘i really like satan’

the planet’s surface is sutured skin, and breathes through the towering steel beams that pierce it. from afar the towers resemble hair follicles wafting in a cosmic breeze as they emit frequencies to guide the lingering souls of deceased fourteen year olds. embedded in the skin of the planet are millions of blinking eyes. my father lives in a house molded from flesh, sitting on stilts above a lake of living mucus in an underground cavern. what laughter? he is also your father. the fathers are legion. a muscled red buttocks wags a serpentine tail. there are drums from a starless night. the beat of my gulps matches the heartbeat of the ancients….the individual is divine….monster energy….

a monster is not part of any human group. we are individuals. i cannot speak for these anonymous monsters. they have their flavors and i have mine. i do not associate with humans. i have lost my appetite for food. i do not thirst for water. i eat sand and drink monster energy. pissing is a waste of time. i could be drinking more monster energy.

i am not writing this from a desk in the marketing department at monster. i work for them but they do not know it. everyone is going to hell…hell is the only “group” that i lobby for.20150924_152539

my family, my savior, my muse, my life, my everything

my human skin is prickling and i am responsible for my own death. shinedown please record an album for my funeral. i am an addict of individuality. this is not a passing phase asshole. this is my politics and will be crammed down your throat in blatantly covert dogma. i turn conversations in the direction of the monster energy (2002): the drink to kick off the post 9/11’s NWO. RIP nu metal. fuck earthly achievement. a peaceful damnation is a sudden death that leaves sodden red lumps of permanent stain.

my 600-lb life life

those that were formerly referred to as “really, really, really fat people” are now medically labelled “super morbidly obese” and represented by their own tv series called My 600-lb Life on TLC.

as america was founded by pioneers, it is not surprising that even the laziest and most indulgent citizens are capable of invention.

with links to purchase the full episodes, youtube stirred my interest by recommending TLC’s official promotional clips of My 600-lb Life. i was initially interested in the show because of the different ways each individual’s genetics distributed the weight. some lost their facial features, while others had severe lymphedemic swelling that bulged in alien sacks from the bottoms of their pants. it was always a treat to see them naked.

then youtube recommended a mysterious and illicit channel called my600lblifefullepisodes, which contained full episodes of every season for free. (youtube’s only goal is to keep me watching, and demonstrates willingness to forgo its relationship with TLC so long as i continue to do so. i blush when i think about various cabals competing against each other to keep me entertained…it makes me feel like this show was created especially for me.)

like pokemon, every episode follows the same format: one year in the life of a super morbidly obese person as they attempt to lose weight. the producer provides the main character with an inspirational quote, which they read over footage of their hometown as intro music plays. then, in an interview setting, the main character talks about how much they hate themselves and their life, giving detail of the unnecessary pain that accompanies everyday living. the camera then cuts to the main character shitting in a bedpan if they are bedridden, and bathing themselves using the rag-on-a-stick method if they can stand. usually the family lifts the folds of fat that the main character cannot reach, and shakes talcum powder across this vast stretch of hidden skin, the rubbing of which causes calluses. (at that point its like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound.) when the main character is nice and clean they are then fed by their families. this mealtime coincides with the main character crying over their weight and their food addiction as the show cuts back to the interview.

all of a sudden the main character decides to lose weight, and suddenly has an appointment in houston with gastric bypass surgeon dr. now. because the only cure for super morbid obesity is diet and exercise, the initial doctor’s meeting is always the same: dr. now needs his patient to prove they are committed to losing weight before he can perform his famous gastric bypass surgery on them. the surgery shrinks their stomach, making them fuller faster. it is not foolproof however, as they must still portion their strict diet or risk reversing the surgery.

they lose the weight. dr. now schedules the surgery. he is successful. the characters struggle with their weight in different ways and dr. now gauges their progress, remaining stoic in his straightforward counsel. the show ends and the viewer wonders, “where are they now?”

ranging from horrific sob stories of child molestation to harmless, ‘i’ve always been big’ statements, each character gives their excuse for their size and eating habits. but these super morbidly obese characters are finally taking responsibility for their actions. by making the assertions of “getting their lives back” they are fighting to prove that they are no longer in denial about the harm these excuses have done to their mental and physical health. they are eschewing the imagery of an obese united states for the trope of determination often associated with the american dream.

my 600-lb life never shames any individual’s past or present, and remains completely objective regardless of an individual’s success. it is meant to be a heartwarming show that vouchsafes compassion to its viewers via formerly demonized and secluded shut-ins, (and it can get quite tearful when these characters lose a hefty sum of weight and beam to their formerly enabling family as the reserved dr. now schedules them for a skin removal procedure) but it also promotes mental health and a positive attitude for a fulfilling life. i actually think it is more inspirational when an individual does not lose weight.


i have a color image of pauline pinned to my motivation board as a reminder of what not to do: complain and make excuses. pauline was the largest woman on the show, and effectively held her 21-year-old son hostage as a caretaker. although she claimed that she wanted to lose the weight, she constantly made excuses not to exercise, saying that she pulled a muscle in her stomach and that it hurt her to walk five days after the surgery. (patients typically leave the hospital on day 2.) “the doctor doesn’t know my body the way i do,” pauline said as an excuse not to stand up to prevent a fatal blood clot from forming immediately after surgery. pauline lost no weight after the surgery, and decided to take her weight loss at her own pace, continuing the lifestyle she lived before the surgery.

my 600-lb life has motivated me for the moment. if i keep a photo of pauline in my wallet maybe i can stretch this feeling out a little longer. this show comes highly recommended as an example of finding inspiration where you least expect it, and for watching fat and naked people on cable.