I wrote the short essay below in January of 2017. When finished, I saved the file and kept it to myself. Posting these types of writings to sites like Facebook has always been a tenuous decision for me, and I've discovered I typically regret airing my views after the fact, if for no other reason than you get a handful of people who already agree with you cheering for you, which isn't really the point. Of course, there's often the very common, one person disagrees with you in the comments section and instead of being able to then have a progressive, healthy back and forth with them, those who agree with you go on the attack and any possible healthy conversation falls apart. I've unfortunately been one of the attackers before, and I find the impulse maddening, though very difficult to ignore at times.
     Anyway, the reason I'm placing this now and not back dating this post to when the article was actually written, is to highlight the difference in my tone a little less than two years ago, as opposed to today. Frankly, like most of those who have stayed engaged in this madness, I'm currently exhausted. My patience is thin. I'm losing the will to try and reason with people, though it is just as/if not more important today than yesterday. I'm self-policing a bit, trying to remember that at the end of the day, I do believe most of these people that continue to support this absurd cabal of a White House administration have been duped, as opposed to being purely evil. The evil is there, yes, but most of the minions are just knuckleheads that need reprogramming.

So...along those lines...

The Trump Constituent Consistency Calamity

Recently read a book for work titled Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion. One of the chapters dealt with the consistency principle. The general idea of the consistency principle is, for whatever reason human beings naturally crave consistency. Therefore, it is often human nature to stand by a belief despite all signs pointing to that belief being incorrect, out of date, completely insane, or even detrimental to one’s own health.
     This is what we are witnessing in regards to Donald Trump’s supporters. However, we also witnessed this in the primaries. Despite all the warning signs the HRC was a tenuous candidate, and that people who didn’t like her were large in number and had some legitimate complaints, her supporters simply doubled-down. - I’m not here to argue the popular vote win or the electoral college…the end result is the reality we are dealing with, and proves thru the science of “this is actually happening” that HRC’s candidacy was indeed tenuous - We saw the same thing with the conservative Christian community making every excuse possible for supporting a man who has cheerfully, gleefully, lived outside the generally excepted rules and regulations of Christian Dogma.
     I don’t bring this up to throw stones at Hillary supporters, or Trump supporters but to denote commonality.
     There is going to be a large portion of people who voted for Trump that are going to continue their support despite all signs pointing to the fact that he is screwing them. That is obvious. Understanding why they are doing so is important in combating this issue. It’s not because everyone who supports Trump is inherently evil or stupid. For many, it’s because they felt disenfranchised (whether incorrect or not…it’s how they felt), and chose to hear what they wanted to hear, to believe what they wanted to believe, and now in the aftermath it is human nature to resist admitting being incorrect.
     I have noticed Trump supporters continuing to attack HRC. Why waste the time? The election is over and she lost. Why waste the time? Because for many, at the end of the day, dislike for her was the only reason they voted for Trump. In light of everything he is doing/trying to do that sucks, they have to double down on why they voted for him, clinging to their disdain for HRC.
     The divisiveness within the general population only appears to be increasing post-election, which was likely expected by many. The problem with this is it only leads to the continual screwing over of the general population. The most recent statistical information I could find showed that 84% of this country’s populace is financially ranked “Lower-Middle Class or below”. 84%! FYI - It has been this way for a long time, whether government was dominated by Republicans or Democrats.
     Donald Trump has no interest in changing this. Please note, I’m not arguing that HRC did. I do think there are still politicians that want to do right by the American people. It’s just hard for us to figure out who they are. However, what is easy to figure out is Donald Trump does not have the little guy at heart. There are absolutely zero examples that he does.
     What else is easy to figure out, is that just blowing up the system is not the answer. The answer is the American people not taking for granted their right to be engaged in their own well being. We have the right to vote. We have the right to protest. History shows that when the American people get off their ass and insist on change from its government, it has been successful. We got lazy. Not everyone, but enough of us got so lazy we allowed our politicians to run amuck and the system to become dangerously polluted. It’s our job to police them, but instead we fight with each other, succumbing to the propaganda that allows those who would do us harm to continue their actions unnoticed.
     Thus, I would beg of my fellow man, my fellow 84 percenter, just stop. Stop screaming at one another long enough to realize we are all getting screwed. The levels of which some in the 84% have it better or worse than others in the 84% are minuscule in comparison to how badly we are all getting screwed over as a whole. Yes, I said minuscule, and not without an acute awareness to racial and gender inequality in this country. I don’t deny those issues or the desperate need to combat them, but that’s how much larger I think the grand screwing of us all is compared to the very distinct levels of privilege some members of the 84% have over others. It’s that bad. I know it’s easy for me to say…but it’s not without considerate thought or empathy for those whom I know I have privilege over. For example - the estimated 20 million who will lose health care if/when the ACA is repealed - that 20 million is of all creeds and colors. The refusal to raise minimum wage? That screws all creeds and colors. Refusing to deal with the science of the declining health of our planet? Hahaha says the money hoarding corporate sociopath, that screws everyone!
     If we change things at the top, it will filter down. AKA if we policed and selected our leadership better, which requires personal accountability of each citizen, I believe extremely frightening realities like the relationship between cops and the African American community would naturally improve. I may be wrong. This may be Pollyannish of me, but I believe it to be true. Better leadership would do everything they could to mend these wounds, not hijack the issue for political benefit. They would reason with those who don’t understand these issues are real, not call them deplorable.
     To those Donald Trump supporters that are not the least common racist bigoted wildly misinformed denominator, I would specifically beg of you: Don’t double-down. If your heart or mind calls into question the choice you made, change your position. You can do it quietly, without having to throw yourself at the feet of anyone. Just please don’t continue the fight for the sake of fighting. To those on the other side, fighting the oppressive nature of Trump and his ilk, I would ask that you remember it’s easier to get people up onto your wagon by extending them a hand. Telling them their stupid for not getting on will just make them hate your wagon.
     We are all the 84%, the poor fighting in the arena, bloodying ourselves for the amusement and benefit of the elite.

I suppose, first and foremost, we must affirm here from the beginning, racism is stupid. You would think this should go without saying, but apparently...

And it's not just an issue on numerous versions of Earth, folks. Flips and Flops, Van-Dammians and Staloners (...realities beget alternate realities, where dreams beget weird ass planets and peoples), countless other species throughout the cosmos have been scapegoating and fighting one another for generations.

It's super easy to focus on the obvious reasons racism is stupid. For example, billions of people across the Earth realize that quite a few wealthy jerks use race as a method to gin up commoners anger towards one another, so they don't notice the wealthy penis being inserted in them from behind. There are other examples, but I'm not here to focus on the obvious. I'm here to understand why racism is stupid from a more practical place of contempt, not peace and love.

The reason racism is dumb as fuck is because there are so many better reasons to hate someone. Hate them for killing, hate them for hoarding wealth and not helping the poor, hate them for condemning other folks who ascribe to a different religion, hate them for cognitive dissonance, hate them for not using their Bobdamned turn signals when changing fucking lanes (Seriously, fuck you people...).

So, to review, racism is stupid because there are so many better reasons to hate. Now, why is it lazy? Because with the plethora of better reasons to hate somebody, a short sampling of solid excuses listed above, choosing racism as your platform of assholery is just flat out lazy. All you have to do is keep your eyes open for 5 seconds in this world to have a better qualified object for your contempt than the color of skin. It's insane. Honestly, if you're too lazy to find a better target for your contempt, then I have no respect for your negativity. In other words, if you resort to racism as the grand outlet for your evil, well then, when it comes to being an angry, evil asshole, your pretty much a basic bitch.

So, put a little effort into being an asshole, a little elbow grease into your career as a hateful jerk, a little gettyup in your douchebag saddle. I'll show you how it's done: I don't care what race you are, but I hate racists. So, find a worthy source for your anger you ignorant, lazy pricks, and if you can't, then I suggest you just go fuck yourselves.

See how easy that is?

I don't have commitment issues. I commit to things all the time. Work, writing projects, art projects, financial commitments.

What I suffer from is a condition I like to call not-wanting-another-person-to-fuck-up-my-life-itis.

I have a post coming soon about how stupid Racism is. Apparently, things being stupid is developing as a theme here in the Filling Station. While that post will take some intense, super-intellectualism to complete (AKA, I've got to think of some jokes to make it worth reading), this pre-post sequel doesn't require much thought.

I've seen a ton of planets. Mingled among numerous cultures throughout the universe. One thing I can tell you, the happiest planets are filled with empathy, even in the face of anger, hatred, and contempt. (You know...evil.)

I spoke to Jesus about this recently. I asked what the deal was, and he said he would answer my question the way Bob answered his when he asked Bob the same thing, then Jesus poked me in my left eye. Really hard. Both my eyes watered and he laughed his ass off. Then I understood.

When this racist uprising that humanity is currently facing comes to an end, I can tell you most of these racist people won't suddenly disappear. Once 45 has been crapped out and flushed down the toilet of history, these ignorant masses will still exist. Ostracization will not fix them. Despite how hard it will be, they must be repaired, rebuilt with love and kindness, if the powers of human "light and right" want to truly win the war.

In the midst of all the hatred being spewed forth, I understand this is a tough conversation. People don't want to hear this shit right now, but it's true. These ignorant practitioners of illogical contempt will not suddenly disappear. When the current battle is over, when the powers of good have won the day, the last step in recovery will be saving the lives of those who were led astray, those we care the least to save, the enemy's woeful foot soldiers. As many as possible must be rehabilitated, or humanity will be damned to repeat this episode time and again.

PS - Thank you Mr. Daryl Davis, and others like you, who walk while I talk.

Humanity has an illness called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, a well known fact throughout the Multiverse. What I want to know is if there's a trauma center in the afterlife for all the souls that survive humanity.


Pssssst, the answer is yes. There's an entire wing in the Soul Closet where former humans are rehabilitated.

In the age of the dreaded Deep State, it feels important to reiterate the fallacies of man. To name a few: Stupid. Petty. Greedy. Jealous.

That's a good start. Those four qualities alone would most likely be paramount in the ego of any individuals striving for global sociological manipulation and dominance, and therefor the downfall of any ridiculous grand scheme to control the world. If there is an Illuminati, I doubt the organization could survive its own humanity.

So let's take this one step further. It's not that I don't think there are powers constantly trying to affect the world, one way or another. It's simply the idea that any particular force is capable of sustaining a dedicated path for humanity. There are too many variables, billions of people to throw monkeys into wrenches (or something like that...). We literally witness the ineffectiveness of global leadership on a daily basis. Thus, even if there is some Illuminatic council, or reasonable facsimile thereof, even if it's a team of brilliant alien scientists, or reasonable facsimile thereof (I don't know...brilliant alien philosophers, maybe?), I simply have a hard time believing that at best, most of their work would be reactionary, basically continuously putting out fires mankind's insanity ignites.

This isn't to say I don't think there are successful, isolated attempts at global level, organized chicanery. There clearly are. For instance, only Bob or The Council knows how the fuck Elvis Presley wound up getting picked to fake his own death and become an international assassin, but I promise you, Elvis' bad-assery does not support the idea that this world is somehow being controlled, by anyone. Even Bob checked out a while ago.

There is no one pulling one giant string on this Earth. Our collective reality is right in front of us to be dealt with. I understand this world can be daunting, and the concept of helplessness in the face of unforeseen, unspeakably powerful forces can actually be easier to accept than reality. Easier to accept than the accountability we all have as a species. But the truth is, no matter what we think we don't know, humanity is unfolding right in front of our eyes.

Believe it or not, there is a version of Earth even dumber than ours. On Earth 23, just today, or, more precisely, now, poor humans agreed to be subjugated by extremely wealthy humans of similar skin tone, in an effort to feel like they are on the winning team.

Oh, wait...

Day after day I grow more despondent observing the atrocities of humanity. I should preface this by stating I'm dissatisfied with my own actions. They're not enough. It's difficult to see a clear path forward. Part of evil's repertoire is to assault you from so many sides you're too disoriented to fight back. This disorientation can simply lead to checking out. Unfortunately, I see that in myself as much as my fellow humans.

Yet, on Father's Day 2018, I see post after post on social media of people celebrating with their families interspersed with post after post of immigrant children being ripped away from their families. All I can think is, we are all complicit.

How the fuck can anyone, in good conscious,  keep posting trivial bullshit while our country is being torn apart from within? Yet, I want to do more and don't know where to begin, so I don't.

We are all complicit.

I've been wondering what the sweet life of a Russian internet troll is like. What's the atmosphere and feng shui at Trollsky and Putinoff? What's a typical day at the office? Do they have quotas? Bonuses? "Like", "Share" and "Retweet" goals. Is there a troll of the month award? Since they appear to argue both sides of any subject, is there a team liberal trolls and a team conservative trolls? Team Bernie Bros? Team just say any absurdly stupid thing you can?

Are the most successful trolls treated like Kingskys in Russia? Do they wear fur jogging suits and drink fine vodkas from platinum bear skulls? Do they have groupies? Do they make the rubles rain? Do they simply take their pick of  fuckables and drugs like a Bobdamned rock star?

Basically, what I'm getting at is, in a world full of dirtbags living opulent lives well beyond the means of a normal, decent hearted person, do I now have to add fucking internet trolls to the list of folks who I envy, while I continue hedging my bets on the existence of my soul, attempting to live morally in the off chance there is an eternal life?

So let me get this straight. Evangelicals support propping up Israel in Jerusalem. They are propping up Jews, who they believe won’t get into heaven, while alienating their fellow Christians in the region, because Evangelicals believe returning Jerusalem to Jews, again, a religion with which they do not agree, will help usher in the second coming of Jesus, a savior the Jews don’t believe in. And now Donald Trump is the hero of all this?

Lest this be taken the wrong way, I've nothing against Jewish folk or the average Christian. Or members of other religions. However, I do wholeheartedly have something against the zealot population within any of humanity's religions. Especially those intent on ushering in an apocalypse.

Every year I buy People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive issue and blow a load all over the cover. I’m not homosexual, I just find the exercise extremely empowering.

I like to get super high, then get in the shower and completely forget what I'm doing in there.

#justkiddingwaterconvservationisgenuinelyimportant

The plight of my mission: I am often away from my family and friends. It hurts.

The mixed blessing: Escaping the mental trappings of life on Earth. In this specific instance, my thoughts are inspired by corporate greed and consumer  support. Many corporations are being called to task for the way they treat employees, yet American consumers refuse to stop patronizing these pieces of shit. I find it absolutely baffling.

If you want these motherfuckers to change their practices, offering living wages and appropriate healthcare packages to their employees, stop fucking shopping there! The only way they will change is when they see their practices are affecting their bottom lines.

Is this obvious? I assumed it was obvious. Yet...

For the past six months I've been cycling on and off steroids, but it's strictly for masturbatory purposes.

If the course of human existence has all been unfolding to a creator's plan, the creator's plan must have been to sit back in a recliner with a cold beverage and a bag of popcorn to enjoy some chaos.

There are numerous, generally meaningless catch phrases for how to live a happy life, or a meaningful life, or a life worth living one way or another. I have an instinctual disdain for oversimplification, ergo, catch phrases tend to make me want to blow my own pseudo-intellectual snark factory out the side of my head with a pressure washer crammed in my ear hole. That said, I will credit all of these silly platitudes for one meaningful shared concept. They almost always, in one form or another, call for action. If you want a happy life, do something about it.

As for me, I wouldn't necessarily say I've grabbed life by the balls, but I've definitely stuck my finger in its butthole.

I am I am I am you are; we are just the same.
I am tired and weary, and not so long in the tooth to be deservedly so. I am a eunuch, yet manage to rape myself daily, a very inconsiderate lover.
I am resentment sent home to take a nap; bitter, childish, likely to wet the bed.
I am scared stiff.
Fear rains icy with no umbrella to protect,
How will my socks stay dry?
I am a smile locked in a box and told he is inappropriate, even if it is his birthday.
I am my family, each and every one fighting it out in my head, my home, never enough money.
I am I am I am, you are.
He is, she is, we are all the same; I hope,
Otherwise we are all alone (or maybe it is just...).
I am alone.

I don’t ever want to die, at least not in this lifetime. Life plays little tricks on us called dreams and sometimes, aspirations. Someone fooled me into desires I could never see fulfilled. Not within the age any man could achieve, that is. From what I can see it would take an eternity to fix this place. I have more time than I know what to do with now and it is not enough. Maybe someday I’ll get moving. Maybe someday, the baby steps I take every once in a while will become leaps and bounds from moment to moment. Maybe someday I’ll be happy. Maybe someday, all this nonsense in my head, and heart (I think), will turn into something I can sell? Maybe someday I’ll feel loved. Maybe someday enough of this shit will change, that I will spend more time thinking of others and less of me. Maybe someday I’ll fit in.
      - Or at least feel like I do. No matter what they say I don’t trust them, not one bit. The smiles are lies and their eyes hide wickedness. Not a one of them latches on and screams “Don’t ever let go or I’ll die!” No! -
Maybe someday could be tomorrow, it certainly isn’t today. The world will probably make its way without my influence. It is a shame though, that it has learned to play such tricks on us as it has. Showing us all we could want, all we could have, all we could be, if we would just get off our ass and go get it. Or, if we were somebody else. God, give me an eternity and I’m pretty sure I could not stop being me, but give me some time lord and maybe, just maybe….
 
And the Lord said, “I don’t deal in maybes.”

Killing a cupid is a hard thing to do.
He struck me first and it was my right to fight,
To fight back in defense of his soft, warm blanket of oppression.
Who is he, it (she?), to make these choices for me?
An attack is an attack, good intentions (road to hell) or no.
His arrow was uninvited, yet
Loftiness became a mental state for old boy as much as a physical disposition,
And when you elevate yourself it is opportunity to fall is it not?
And so he found me holding his toe,
Like a fly on a string,
A new chosen destiny for he who has so callously fucked with me.
His valor will no doubt be chirped about,
Championing his mission to the bitter end.
But he wasn’t much of a fighter,
Poisoned arrows and all.
A simple branch changed the direction of his wind and,
He spiraled to the ground like a lover lost in excess.
Now to brood over those smashed feet,
Blue black and red, the color of this murderous heart.
His arms and hands have lost distinction,
Now puddles of flesh slowly trickling away from his body.
His face holds discontent like it is candy,
A smile on that sweet cherub head.
Forever was this his expression in life, and forever in death,
Pinned to him, tail on a donkey, by the arrow through his cheeks.
Remorse creeps through the back door as I survey this selfish act.
Who have I denied his gifts with my outburst of fear and failure?
Yet who have I saved?
Has he been a punisher rather than a savior for others as he has me?
As filthy as the sight at my feet is,
It pales in comparison to the damage in my breast.
It is a hard thing to kill a cupid,
A hard thing.
Kill the cupid!
I’m sorry.
He might have been good to you.
Kill the cupid.
Killing a cupid is a hard thing to do.

"It's not like I wanted to have a nervous breakdown," he said. "It just happens."

I didn't bother telling him that's not always the case. Sometimes, it's a slow burn to bottom, rather than a sudden drop. Sometimes you can see it coming. Off in the distance, it's a megalithic monster, casting a massive shadow of oppression as it slowly approaches. By the time it reaches you, it's the ice cream truck and you're the first one in line  for a double-scoop of soft-serve insanity. At least, that's how it happened for me.

It started as a Thursday thing. That's where I first noticed the cycle. Thursdays were always tired days. The grind of the week, the fatigue, by Thursday they were catching up to me. By Friday, I could have thrown myself off a bridge, but the week was over. You get a good night's sleep and wake up refreshed on Saturday morning, ready to enjoy forty-eight hours of a life all your own.

Then one day, you wake up on Monday and it feels like Thursday and you know you're fucked. That's when I knew my goose was basted and cooked. I was watching it happen. I wanted it to happen. I realized I had been skirting the edge of the cliff for so long I had forgotten what it was like to walk freely. Indeed, by the time I fell off I might as well have jumped because I was ready. I was tired, and for me the endless fall, the descent into empty, it felt like freedom.

I want you to know that I am not crazy. I'm broken, I admit. I am confused, that is true, but I am not crazy. This world has presented me with enough tangible realities to cling to that I know I am functional. I can intermingle. I can play the game. I'm just not sure how much talent I have for it, and I don't understand how one maintains focus with so many things to think about. So many variables to consider. How will I get the money?

I was raised soft, often lonely for no reason, and kind. My temper was a birthright, but my compassion came from lesson. I wanted everyone to get along and love one another. I wanted to play all day, but how would I get the money?

I loved Jesus and God. I'm sure I still do, though my vision isn't what it used to be. My childish clarity was concise, and beautiful, and I wanted to teach it to others. But I wondered too much, then wandered too much, then found myself lost. Then one morning I woke up and all I could wonder was how I would get all the money.

I don't want to feel so desperate, so angry, so confused, so slighted by life or God or my own lack of whatever it takes to have a happier, more successful life. But you can't control the way you feel. All you can control is the way you respond, the way you react to all the bullshit emotions you've been blessed with. And still, how will I get the money?

So here I sit, sane as the button on your shirt. Only not as thoughtless, no sir. So much to think about. So much to feel. So much mud to swim through for all these things I want: Peace, love, happiness. But the thing I just can't figure is, how I will get all the money.

I don’t want to swim through life with my heart locked in a shark’s cage, but here it is.
I don’t want to be filled with contempt, but there is nothing else filling the cup, so there it is.
No one wants to be exactly what they are, at least according to them, but there they are.
No one, maybe some, but not me, wants to be in love and all alone so ha ha ha here we are.
Somedays, most days, every day, I’ve some place to go, some thing to do, and a little piece of nothing to say.
Some weeks, most weeks, every week, I’ve something to hide, no thing worth speaking, and another on the way.
Some month, one month, this month, I’m gonna do something, find someone, say something you’ll hear.
Some year, one year, this year, we’ll meet and laugh, you’ll lie and leave, and I’ll hold dear.

The last thing the world needs is another me. Another voice of reason. Another boy. Another white person. Another weak link in the chain of Christianity. Another unfocused artist. Heaven forbid another moderately talented wanna-be artist. The last thing this world needs is another me. Another person futilely resisting their place within mediocrity. Another me is already out there, expressing himself more eloquently than I possibly could. Turning my base emotions that burn inside, making me want to create, into something tangible and beautiful and expressive on multiple levels I could never achieve or understand. Another me is saying what I want to say, loving how I want to love, living his life with a fearlessness I could only dream of. He is taking the things I’ve been given and applying them towards greatness. Another me is the athlete I never trained to be, and the leader I’m afraid to be. Another me is the person I’m destined to be, but without the patience to wait on destiny. There are millions of mes out there before me, doing a better job at being who I want me to be then I ever could. The last thing this world needs is another me. But, here I am anyways.

The eras of our lives often come to an end without our permission. I find myself filled with both joy and profound sadness when I recognize that an era of my life has come and gone. It typically moves me to tears.