I’ll update you fucks on everything else, but last night:
Good news, everyone! We have a new campaign. So far we have one constituent, Avery Martin, and he votes yes!
Sign up on Facebook or something. Just leave me a message somehow and I’ll add you to this great campaign.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m here tackling the hot button issues. Today I ask:
Why the fuck do people like cats? They are dumb as shit and completely useless.
Rockin’ Robots make better pets anyway
First, some fuck proved dogs understand cause and effect better than cats (1). Dogs eat their own shit. How smart does that make cats?
Let’s just look at some cause and effect here (we’re not cats; we can do that). Why are cats popular? Because they are in all kinds of lulzy videos on the internet. Why are those videos so lulzy? Because they are contemplating world domination? Because of that meaningful gaze? No. Because they’re dumb as fuck and do really stupid shit.
It thinks it’s drinking
Now don’t get me wrong. There are some people with cats that are super cool. There is a family with 17 cats that is mega-cool. But cats are just not good pets.
What are pets for? 1) Comforting you during hard times, 2) making you happy, and 3) teaching you responsibility.
Cats against this criteria:
1) They are more likely to shit themselves than to understand human emotion
2) I like sleep. You like sleep. A cat jumping on your face when you’re asleep does not make you happy. Cats do that. Cats dont make you happy. Simple as that.
3) Hahahaha. Just make a place for it to shit so it wont roll in its own feces and you are a proud cat owner. They’ll eat the lint out of your carpet for all they care.
What’s that Lassie? You want more science to back up this very mean, uncalledfor claims? Well here you go!
Cats are dumb as fuck. Dogs, not so much (2).
Cats.. are dumb as fuck (3) and cant see shit.
In other news, cats may be super smart! How else do they magically always end up rubbing on people who are allergic to cats? How do they know to hang around people who hate them? What sixth sense allows them to seek out expensive shit in order to destroy it?
I understand this came out of no where. I havent even seen a cat in days. I just really, really need to stress the fact that cats ought never be praised for any degree of intelligence. They are dumber than dogs. Dogs eat poop. C’mon, people.
Shit, man. Blogging gets hard when youre never home. I’m at work right now, but since work has no work for me I’ll work on this (as a side note, I finished all my work on Monday and it was a glorious moment; I had a cookie).
Anyway. I woke up with the sun after poker because I slept outside. Honestly, if I could guarantee that no raccoon would come up and snack on my flesh, I’d sleep outside every night. It feel great; I dont wake up coughing; I never sleep in too late. Also I’m sure Thoreau would have something to say about it.
But then, how appetizing does his flesh look?
I spent the morning cleaning up Wade’s new place. I got to work, blazed through correspondence logs, went home, and got to see Sr. Martin and M. Pearson. Eventually we were all in front of a big-ass TV playing Portal 2. The start of the game is just like the original, but it was super lulzy watching Sloan and Joel stumble around and fall into the same lava pit over and over. I really want to play the whole thing through.
Once home, Avery and Joel helped me continue my summer tradition and it was a rousing success.
Also, Avery ended up on TV. AMC was showing The Matrix.
Shame they never made any sequels..
This morning I returned all my text books. I ruined one by leaving it in my dad’s car which leaks everywhere. Fortunately, the fee for changing from a rental to a purchase decreased since I last checked and I saved a couple bucks. Also, making the investment to buy the TxGovt book worked out in my favor. Apparently they didnt realize there are a lot of high school kids taking ACC courses (who’d a thought?). Either way, I absorbed all the useful knowledge and have probably grown as a person or some such shit.
Super vital shit
That’s all I got. Especially considering people keep walking by, wondering what the hell I’m doing while everyone else answers calls and drafts memos.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: BOAT CAPTAINS!!
On an almost unrelated note: my English Composition II teacher is the spitting image of Mister Gibbs from the first PotC.
This is the basic layout of poker hands. Pretty simple. Not too hard to remember if you play a couple hands.
On Saturday night, I played poker with Wade, Margo, and Jackson and on a 250 (plus blinds) chip bet, I folded a straight against Jackson’s two pair instead of meeting his bet (an addition of 100).
Now, one of the most exciting moments in poker is when you have a punch of money riding in the middle without even looking at your hand. It takes out sneaky maneuvers, bluffs, and any certainty. It leaves the entire pot up to pure chance.
I have a theory about poker, which makes me feel good regardless of my bone head move. If playing blind is great, playing without knowing the rules is even better.
And that’s exactly what I did.
And I came in last.
Not much to post here for Saturday, except an infogram later.
I spent three hours creating my new FaceBook profile picture.
They were inspired by a hilarious sticker I saw of a posturized (think of that three color Obama poster) picture of Randi Shade. The mouth was drawn up and eyes squinted and under it, the caption read: “Don’t Trust Shady”
I used GIMP to make an evil version of me and boy did it look mean. That’s why I’m not posting it here. It’s a legitimately scary shot; pretty good legal cannon fodder for some of my blog-constituents (The State of Texas, I’m looking at you).
The nice one is right here. This is what I’d use if I had to run for an elected position any time in the near future. It’s way less edited than the evil one. The hardest part was getting the background. I knew there was a function to do it easily, but I could not find it D:
Honestly, I did not expect the Summer of Dillon to start off like this.
Now, I’ve never been too religious, but I’ve always believed my life is just one big, clear-cut compilation of events. The path is always obvious, the words come easy, the choices are quite simple. Obviously I’ve made some shitty choices in the past and I’ve definitely sworn off ever doing good again because of some evil that befell me after some gallant, difficult deed (ex. a dog almost bit out my eye when I painted a woman’s house for Neighbor2Neighbor). Today, however, almost became a movie.. or a mediocre show on NBC.
I worked up the nerve to go jogging, which I’ll be doing everyday I can now that the Summer of Dillon has officially begun. I got through Speaky’s greatest spits and a lot of Some Things Don’t Wash Out before I stumbled across a dumpster.
I know right!
Next to this ultimate treasure trove of wonders and lost glory, I spotted a great looking table. Okay, it was a shit table and there was a lot of crap around it, but resting on top of it all were two torso-sized canvasses.
Now, those of you that are weak of heart, be warned that this is the most poetically, depressingly beautiful thing you will ever hear.
A masterpiece, oil swirled into a melancholy charm draped in nothing but a blanket, surrounded by high-energy hurricanes of red-orange-yellows. Completely covered, even the sides burst with life. I hope I never meet the woman that inspired this work because my heart couldn’t handle her. And there is was, next to some tossed out Protein Squares, a cruddy pair of boxers, empty cans, and a cheesy checker-pattern table. What muse guided the artists hand? What mad rage sent him to dispose of the visual genius?
What I can not handle most: under this painting, a blank canvass. This protege, what did he think? The world is not ready for more of this? Poetically depressing, he birthed perfection out of a brush and gave up, never to paint again. The hopelessness of that white fabric, waiting for him to fill it with beauty, never to be used, never to be treasured: it digs into the very soul.
I was very touched by what I found so I took them both and ran to Romeria where I stashed them so I could pick them up without ruining them.
Now, what does this have to do with karma, you might ask. Well, I could have stayed at home and watched TV, but something decided to incentivize me to continue on the path of right. I’ll be honest. I need to lose weight. Jogging makes you lose weight. I need to jog. As a reward, I got this gorgeous painting.
Additionally, anyone that’s worked a hard day will understand that getting paid in Gatorade is sometimes the best thing you can hope for.
The Poor Man’s Gold
On my way back home I saw a group of people just cracking open a UHaul truck and I thought ‘What the hell am I gonna do with the next three hours? Help these people move, thats what!’ So I sauntered over..
“You folks need some help”
“Ha, yeah we do, but we’re broke so unless it’s free..”
“100% free! I dont have anything else to do and I’d love to help.”
“Well, awesome. This is..”
And the introductions. There was Cody, a presumably college bound 19 year old kid who had more junk than an entire battalion of homeless people.
Morale gets low on Tuesdays
There was a washer and dryer, love seat, couch, big-ass TV, boxes and boxes of god-knows-what, and tables. So many tables. We moved it all really quickly and everyone was super cheerful, glad that I was helping (except their very, very loud dogs). I’ve only ever moved stuff to a first story abode once in my life so this was like recreation compared to the labor of stairs.
When it was over I accepted the payment of one bottle of Gatorade, five high-fives (a high 25 for those of you keeping score), and exhausted grins.
You know me. I need haters. Enemies and adventure and adversity define me. It’s all life juice, but making random neighborhood allies is one of the most gratifying things you can do. This is why the 50’s were so cool.
Not that Mod Fashion was uncool or creepy or anything.
So yup. Mega adventure today. All of it was really great and no one has even come over yet. This was a great way to kick of the Summer of Dillon and now I plan to eat some red peppers with garlic and start the partay!
Here is the painting.
Lemme tell you what’s wrong with our society.
You can get pills to instantly relieve pain, give you a raging boner, and/or turn your bowels into a water slide, but..
You can not take a pill to alieviate poison ivy.
We’ve had it for years, everyone gets it, it’s gross and annoying and debilitating. WHY ISNT THERE AN INSTANT CURE??
As a side note, bleach works really well.