Stress Naps

Money is too abstract and I don’t understand how it works.

Here is my two-step retirement plan:

1.       Accrue debt. Buy two houses, a bunch of cars, a golden toilet. Commission portraits. Find a literal money pit and gleefully throw money into it (to be thorough, I will have to chase down the twenties that blow away in the wind and also feed these to the pit). I think this will be easy because my bank tells me I have good credit and also what do they know.

2.       As an old man who owes millions, I will go outside jingling keys when there is lightning. It is important to have an exit strategy.

Dumb outrage

Probably there are genocides happening right now, and I have no idea. I cannot even write a credible list of the injustices of the world experienced by people who do not have internet access. I do nothing about any of this. I am writing this in a temperature controlled office space and I am bored. I have a high-flow toilet. I don’t compost.

But the local fair trade coffee chain switching their buy-seven-get-one-free coffee deal to a buy-eleven-get-one-free deal? A moral fucking outrage.

I want to make posters and organize petitions and handcuff myself to their bike racks, but not right now because it is kind of cold outside.

Timely updates on nuclear war

I dropped my phone because I am a careless renegade and now it is providing me with helpful notifications on the escalating nuclear threats being made by North Korea.

It’s a poltergeist of news apps I downloaded only to disable because I like the idea of being able to get news, but I don’t want to actually read the news.

A version of Pinocchio where he is created as an effigy and spends the rest of the cartoon evading symbolic death.

vs the twitter archive

If I google my name – which I do, which is awful – my twitter account is the first thing that pops up. Then it’s other people with my name (a teenager – still dumb, casually racist, he rides motorbikes), and a facebook account that is not mine. It used to be a convicted child molester living in Florida, so I hope that guy stopped molesting people.

In related news, I have also, without shame, requested my twitter archive. I could say it is because I wanted to know why Floridians don’t have information about their local (seriously, I hope he is reformed) molesters, but it’s because I wanted to read them. And I wanted to know what Floridians and literally any other person would read when googling my name or the shady people who share my name.

If this is something you are considering, don’t do it. Being able to read every dumb thought that I forgot I even wanted to share with the world – mostly a bunch of shits and fucks associated with coffee and naps – is a terrible thing.

I tweeted the hashtag #ItsPayDay on April 14, 2010. What did I do that for? Was that me in 2010?

I wanted to delete everything, but who would have enough interest in the collected tweets of me to read every tweet I’ve written? I am the only person who would be that interested in me, as evidenced by the fact that I actually fucking requested my twitter archive. So if I was a shit in 2010, let it stand. When I read my 2013 tweets as a dying man, from smoke inhalation probably after saving so many orphans from an on-fire orphanage located on the “No, Really Anthony, You’re Not So Terrible” campus for human betterment, I can only hope that I won’t be too embarrassed.

Also I am sorry, Florida.

Dunks, dunkaroos

2013 NBA Dunk Contest, final dunk. Terrence Ross brings a child out from the crowd and positions him on the court. I am thinking, is this going to be a child sacrifice? Will Terrence Ross murder this child and start pacing around the court, covered in blood and screaming about the cost of entertainment? Is that how you gain the ability to slam dunk – via child sacrifice? How many children have been murdered so that we could watch dudes jump really high in the air? Is it worth it (slam dunks look awesome)? I’ve always wanted to dunk - I think it’s probably one of the cooler things that the human body can do - even though it’s so arbitrary, I mean, who says a net needs to be that high? Who says there even needs to be basketball? But there is, and so there are dunks – and I want to dunk; it would be pretty amazing – but could I do the human sacrifice thing?

Before I can discover anything horrifying about myself, Terrence Ross jumps over the kid (who survives) and probably Terrence can dunk because of genetics and hard work, not the ritual serial murder of children.

Solution for gun violence & the struggling t-shirt, t-shirt gun industries

Replace all guns with t-shirt guns. You’d still get that awesome feeling of shooting a gun, only instead of shooting deadly, terrifying bullets, you’d have the absurdity of shooting t-shirts. You’d be able to write messages on the shirts if you are worried about your intent lacking clarity (ex. “You’re a dick, John!”).