More Broken Record Shit

“All that hype for an MP3 player? Break-thru digital device? The Reality Distortion Field is starting to warp Steve’s mind if he thinks for one second that this thing is gonna take off.” 2001 forum entry

As I say often, ‘myopia is a helluva drug,’ but I’m gonna refrain from taking the opportunity to snark-down-my-nose-at-people-who-like-to-shit-on-vision (they’re actually necessary, they test the visionary’s resolve) that 15 years of hindsight affords; instead I wanna rap about another topic I incessantly blather on about and that is the idea that all this back-and-forth rantin’ an’ ravin’ we’re doing on here is being stored and categorized and will likely be ‘excavated’ by our future descendants. And this wealth of information will not only include what we publicly share, but our email messages, social media messages, the shit-talking we do in ‘private’ groups (as well as our ‘private’ or ‘incognito’ internet browsing histories), videos, pics, and perhaps even CCTV recordings (now THAT would be crazy).

Imagine what ‘picture’ will be gleaned from the digital mark you leave behind. I’m actually not (too) afraid of this (even though I’ll probably come off like some perverted, needy, narcissistic sociopath). I put myself in the shoes of my descendants and think how cool it would be to have access to the messy and contradictory thought processes of my ancient ancestors (their version of “I can’t believe it! In two days I’m marrying the love of my life!” on the main feed / “I can’t stand my fiance. I’m actually in love with her sister.” in the private group), instead of the gods-among-men-thing-that-says-more-about-our-need-to-associate-ourselves-with-ancient-greatness-as-a-cover-for-our-low-self-esteems-than-anything-else hagiographies we celebrate today; all that everybody’s-distant-matriarchs-and-patriarchs-were-royalty stuff. Screw that. I wanna know about my ancient African/Asian/European/etc. slacker, fuck-up, queer, outcast, artistic brethren. I wanna be emboldened by THEIR stories.

With all that said, this brave new world of unfettered access to ancestral mores is not one-hundred percent guaranteed, a strong coronal mass ejection (shotgun blast of electromagnetically charged particles from the sun) could wipe all this shit out. It would be like a ‘flood’ of sorts; ‘cleansing’ the world of our ethereal ‘sins’.

Speaking of digital stuff and ancient stuff…

True Confidence

For years I felt I couldn’t ‘compete’ with other men for the affections of women. I didn’t feel I had ‘enough’ of what it took to ‘win’ them; I wasn’t that dominant alpha muthafucka that I thought they desired. What I’m starting to realize NOW (work-in-progress) is that being an ‘alpha’ male has nothing to do with beating someone at THEIR game, but being at the top of YOUR game. In the past I thought I had to find some ‘edge’ that I had over other dudes. I was constantly sizing them up; trying to see where we lined up and where I was ‘better’/’worse.’ This is that…

“He may be attractive an’ fit an’ have a job an’ alla that, but I bet he hasn’t read any Kafka.”

…shit. And at the time I was doing this shit I was also claiming to be so confidently ‘above it all,’ but how could I have been above anything if I was I so focused on what other dudes were doing? Why was I always firing ‘Sorry I’m not like the dumb thugs you’re used to’ bullshit at the women I was with when I felt they were moving away from me to guys that—to keep it real—I felt ‘threatened’ by? I was seeking VALIDATION from women for traits I felt I lacked (but desperately wanted). If they could boost my ego then maybe I wasn’t as ‘inferior’ as I thought. When they denied me this ‘boost’ I would overcompensate (in cringe-inducingly cumbersome ways) when I should’ve just put in the self-work to self-validate like an ACTUAL confident muthafucka would. That’s the kinda cat who is drawn to so-called ‘threats’ because seeing other people doing dope shit inspires him to step his game up; he competes with HIMSELF, not other dudes. This is that…

“Damn, Steph’s jumper is nice. I wonder how I can change my shot to hit threes like him. I’m not gonna copy his stroke, I’m not the same kinda player as him, but I’m gonna find my ‘own’ way to get better.”

…shit. And thing is: Dude may never develop a perimeter stroke, but the work he puts in will NO FUCKING DOUBT make him a better him.

Murdering the Messenger


The other day I came across a dude who was passionately and confidently challenging the veracity of various Bible stories in an effort to disprove the existence of God, however he was merely ‘responding’ to how the ‘concept of god’ was most commonly ‘presented’ to him, which was more than likely by people he may have once been DEEPLY mystified by; people he once TRULY BELIEVED had ALL the answers. This is an angst I know all too well. You end up mad as hell at the ‘lack’ of God which ironically exposes a latent ‘belief’ in God. In my case, this anger led to proudly proclaiming myself an atheist, but if I were a ‘true’ non-believer I would have been completely divorced from the ‘concept of god’ altogether; not incessantly attacking the most prominent vessel in which it was presented to me. I was like a guy with zero inclination to be a woman raging about his lack of tits.

The Anti Thesis

If it seems that it is YOUR LIFE’S WORK to deconstruct the teachings that corroborate a person’s faith OF COURSE they are going to perceive you as an enemy. Maintaining faith is hard-as-hell…so why would anyone WANT to make it harder? And what does the serial deconstructionist even get out of it? Don’t they see that the person-of-faith WANTS to (by any means necessary) maintain their faith? Don’t they realize that it is the only thing keeping them sane?! What KIND of person would want to take that away from them? And it doesn’t matter if what they believe sounds like the most hogwashiest of hogwash ever; the question remains: ‘Why?’—Why would someone work so damn hard to destroy SOMEONE ELSE’S ‘only thing that works?’ Perhaps deconstruction is the ‘only thing that works’ for the naysayer; which is sublimely ironic: Although the naysayer may claim to want to do away with religion, a huge part of who they are is reliant on the existence of it. Maybe they feel their ‘thing’ is threatened by the person-of-faith’s ‘thing’ (just like the person-of-faith may feel their ‘thing’ is threatened by the deconstructionist’s) and they gotta go all Highlander there-can-be-only-one on that ass.

Post Sexual


I was watching this movie and this girl had her tits out and they were BEAUTIFUL and while gawking at them I was trying my DAMNDEST not to sexualize them, but I couldn’t. I wanted to see them as ‘just breasts,’ but they kept presenting themselves as ‘tits.’ As I stared I began to meditate on a time when her and I both looked like the ‘couple’ in the picture above; when ‘tits’ were merely provisions…
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Enhanced Performance

In my late-20s for a little less than a year I flirted with performance enhancing drugs; not HGH, steroids or anything like that, but the stuff you could get from those shops that are always right outside of chain gyms, the ones with ‘muscle’ and/or ‘nutrition’ in their titles. Even though what I was taking were like Skittles compared to what the big boys were droppin’ an’ shootin’ I did notice an ‘enhancement’ to my workout routines and subsequent play on the court. In the gym I could heavy-rep heavy weight and on the basketball court I was able to just ‘do shit,’ like go from thinking ‘I’m gonna tomahawk dunk over that guy’ to tomahawk dunking over that guy. This was stuff I could do before, but not this ‘professionally.’ Everything felt ‘relatively easier’ than it did before which was sexy as hell. Felt beyond-good to be warming up before a game knowing I was about to do some ridiculous shit once the ball was tipped, and that the people in the stands were gonna freak the fuck out when I did it. And this was just RECREATIONAL ball (highly competitive, but still just weekend warrior shit). I could ONLY IMAGINE how dick-hardening pulling this shit off would be on the professional stage. Speaking of which…
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Faux Shame


If I post a pic of my not-in-the-greatest-shape self talking about how I am ‘just’ as sexy as The Rock, knowing damn well that I WISH I had the determination and drive to put the work into my body that he does, and then cry that I am being ‘body shamed’ the second someone calls attention to my love handles I am full of fucking shit!1 And ironically, my NEED to ‘flaunt’ would expose just how much I LACKED confidence. If I ACTUALLY felt like I was The Shit™ I wouldn’t need to seek corroboration or shout down critics with platitudinous bullshit.
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