Crazy Joe's Internet Advice, Corny Jokes and More

Crazy Joe came up to me the other day, while I was throwing bricks against a brick wall in an alley. He nearly made me shit a brick when he tapped me on the shoulder, suddenly, from behind.  More importantly, though... Why do I throw bricks against bricks walls?  Well, because, you know, that's one of my favorite hobbies and it's really just as fulfilling as engaging in silly behavior on the InterNutz.  That latter of which seems to be the latest fad or sign of mental deficiency the days.  Confused?  So am I.

Speaking of which...

After pecking me on the shoulder, Crazy Joe said, "Man, some people are getting super loopy on the InterNutz these days?"

I said, after turning around and about to cave his forehead inward with a brick, "You scared me! I damn near smashed your fugly face in with this large brick in my hand."

I paused for a moment, realizing what he had just said before I was going to smash a brick into his skull.

Then I quickly asked, "What the hell are you talking about, Crazy Joe?"

Well, first he handed me a joke card and waited for a second while I read it.  It looked like this:

I laughed.  Crazy Joe laughed.  Then he said, "Shit like this freaks people out on the InterNutz.  Some people either do or don't get the humor of it, or they're extremely sensitive about certain language, get shitty about it or they're irate about the unimportant subject matter.  Doesn't make sense regarding the priorities in a normal person's life, really"

I stood back and replied, "Yeah, it's a loopy InterNutz world out there.  Some of them could use a brick to the head.  But you see all kinds.  Some are open minded, though.  I usually hang out with folks like that.  Kindred spirits, so to speak."

Then Crazy Joe gave me a typed document and said, "For kicks, I thought these up last night, after observing bad behavior on the InterNutz for a few hours."

At the top of the form was the title, CRAZY JOE'S INTERNET ADVICE

This is what it said:

* It's fucking impolite to verbally attack or call a specific person a negative name when you don't agree with him or her. If you don't agree with what they saying, just give your opinion on the subject or not- or ignore it, altogether and move on.  And life is too fucking short to act like children playing an " I Win/You lose" fucking type of game.  For fuck's sake! Fuckity fuck fuck!

* Do the world a favor. If you're on a social network site, stop telling your friends and family every petty detail of your life.  Throw in a funny image every fucking once in awhile, fuckers!  Break up the monotony of detailing your everyday routines to one and all.  Talk about anything you might find humorous!  Share the gift of laughter, fuckers! Or talk about something interesting, for a change!  You find that people just as open-minded as you are, are worth getting to know and enjoy interacting with, no matter what type of website you're spending time.   

* If you're too fucking overly sensitive to look at what you believe to be an offensive image, get thine ass off of whatever website or social networking page you're on and move thee fuck onward with your sensitive self.  Remember: It's A-Fucking-Okay if you don't care for the humor you happen to see but if you don't like what you see, your eyes can always look elsewhere.  

* Hey, don't start fights between friends or family while you're on one of those social networking sites, either!  If you've been given a couple dozen clues that you are prone to do that shit, then I highly advise you to take your nasty ass, trouble-making self to this one alley I know of, to get a free complimentary brick thrown at your fucking loopy head.  

* And please stop with the positive images with the light weight words that are supposedly uplifting and are supposedly "magical" in their ability that when you first lay your eyes on them and read them, you are, all of a sudden, a completely changed fucker for life.  Reality doesn't work that way.

I read the rest of what he had typed and while nodding my head, in agreement, I handed the advice list back to him and I said, "I agree with a lot of what you have to say here, Joe, but, as I've experienced in the past before, you can't change people, no matter how badly they need to change for the sake of harmony and tolerating others ."

Joe looked up at me and calmly replied, "But you can, sometimes, provoke them to open their minds and think.  And that's a start."

I said, "You may have a point there."

Crazy Joe said, "I believe I fucking do."

Then he smiled, noticing the grin on my face when he knew I got the joke of him repeatedly saying the word, "fuck" or "fucking" in every other sentence in his document or the present conversation to make a point that only the sharp minded would get.

I handed Crazy Joe a piece of paper that I had printed off my computer from a friend's email he sent me the other day.  I explained to Crazy Joe that my friend is really into corny jokes.  I said my friend knew there would be some on there that he knew would make me groan because they were moronic or silly.  But, I added, he was also nice enough to add a few jokes that he knew would give me a decent laugh, depending on how they were worded.

I asked Crazy Joe, "Do you think these corny jokes would freak certain people out?"

Crazy Joe looked at my piece of paper I had handed him and saw these jokes, along with an image down at the bottom.  Here they are:

What did the lamp say to the man?

Nothing.  A lamp is an inanimate object.

Two men walked into a bar.  The third one ducked.

What kind of shoes are made from banana skins?  

Slippers.

What kind of rooms have no walls?  

Mushrooms.

What happened to the boy who drank 8 cokes?

He burped 7-up.

Dave drowned.  So at the funeral, we got him a wreath in the shape of a life jacket.  Well, it's what he would have wanted.

A priest, a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar.  The bartender looks up and asks, "What is this?"  Some kind of joke?"

What does it smell like to go down on an eighty year old woman?

Depends.    

A daughter asked her mother how to spell "penis."

The mother said, "You should have asked me last night.  It was at the tip of my tongue"

Q: How do you make a baby float on water?

A: Try taking your foot off his head.

I saw a woman wearing a sweat shirt with the word, "Guess," on it.  So I looked at her and asked, "Implants?"

Crazy Joe laughed and laughed, even after he finished reading the jokes.  I thought he was going to just die from sheer laughter.  To save him from the possibility of laughing himself, literally, to death, I suddenly threw a brick at his head.  I think I saved the man's life.  :)     

An Interview With Myself (Part Two)

Yes, this is the long awaited, highly anticipated sequel masterpiece widely known as PART TWO of INTERVIEW WITH MYSELF.  Note, I did not just say I was playing with myself.  I know how you could be confused by that.  Especially if you were retarded. Besides, if I were doing that, I would not be able to type because it takes a big man like yours truly in order to fully pleasure himself with TWO BIG HANDS.  My own, of course.  Not the three hundred pound guy in the apartment below me.  His forearms looks like he has muscled up by doing a lot of "wanking the weenie" all day and all night.  No wonder I hear so much grunting and coughing below me.  I think the guy smokes a couple cigs after he's done sapping his milk duds, and plays Lynryd Skynrd's "Freebird" when he finishes.

After one particular session, I thought I heard him say "Ta-Da!"

Personally, I've never been able to tolerate Lynryd Slynrd that much, no matter how much I stroke the skin flute.

Ah, well.

Here's the second part of the interview with myself.  Enjoy!

Inquisitor Kelly: Why did you pick the name "Psycho Carnival" for the name of your blog?

Honest Kelly: It seemed like the most appropriate name.  Really, Psycho Carnival started out as an underground newspaper.  Underground newspapers were little newspapers or pamphlets that were regarded as subversive, anti-establishment type reading, in some circles.  Some of these were artsy fartsy and/or loaded with hand drawn cartoons. Some had radical views to a majority of people.  Some just wanted to voice an honest opinion on today's society.  That's were I come in.

Here are some copies of the old Psycho Carnival.  Sold 'em for 2 bucks a pop at a few bookstores. I didn't create them from scratch for profit- but to get my own ideas out there- across the country.  Which I did.  It was fun and I felt fulfilled.

Enlarge the image to see all the nooks, crannies and various goodness.  Appreciate the awesome handmade artwork-  completely computer-free design, as your own personal deity intended it to be.. or something.

Btw, I started my paper, Psycho Carnival, long before there was a band by the same name.  But I didn't have the zine, as they were often called, copyrighted and frankly, I didn't care that they came up with the same name- whether it came from me or their own minds.  Whatever. 

Underground newspapers got their start in the 60's and 70's but were still semi-popular in the 80's and 90's. 

I started writing, drawing and creating (stapling and pasting) my own underground newspaper (Psycho Carnival) in May 1996, using paper, pen, pencil and a word processor, several years before personal computers became widely popular.  Computers were just starting to become a household item when I started my paper- but since I wasn't trendy, rich and didn't want my underground newspaper all fancy shmancy like those other candy-ass papers were, like some were in the 90's, I did my own thing, like I always have done.

This blog is an extension of that underground newspaper.  I started the blog, late in the year of 2007. 

On the back of each issue of old Psycho Carnival newspaper or zines, as they were called, which I continued to author for three years, would be a poem I wrote.  It was one of many I have written in my lifetime.  Check it out below my joyful artwork!

I drew this and included it in a special edition of my underground newspaper.  It is a scene of my often appearing character, Jeepo the Clown, entertaining a guest.  Please enlarge to completely enjoy the gentle nuances of my delicate, merry artwork.  

Enlarge, in case your peepers have trouble reading the delightful poem.  The smoking monkey, by the way, is symbolic of humankind's follies and bad habits.

Inquisitor Kelly: Do you write other stories, besides what some would call "naughty" tales?

Honest Kelly: Yeah, I do write in other genres but for some odd reason, people get hung up on or notice the stories of sexual situations more.  I have written mega-loads (don't get too excited when I say that) of stories that are science fiction, drama, humor and so much more.  I guess it's more of that sexual repression type stuff that only goes on in the minds, for the most part, of the American public.  In Europe,  they don't have much of a problem with this.

I gotta add that I think we're a country full of hypocrites that have their concerns and priorities misplaced.  Violence is considered okay and often celebrated by our culture.  Going to war on a country whose people we don't know or care enough to understand is as accepted as easily as Mom's apple pie and baseball here.  But sex elicits raised eyebrows, angry rants, silence and shame, instead.  How backwards is that?  Violence is a flag we proudly fly.  I consider the act of violence a hell of a lot more disgusting than the act of making love to someone.  Blowing someone you don't know or understand to bits, either up close and personal or by a military drone- now that is SICK. 

To me and quite a few people, the sex act is an act that is funny, itself, really... so I often add humor along with it.  The thought of two or three or a mob of people grunting and groaning and putting themselves in all sorts of positions to get their rocks off paints a silly scenario in my mind.  Don't get me wrong!  Sex can be romantic- but often times, it includes these animal type scenarios that emulate monkey hi-jinx, at times.

For the record, the "Toadie" series of stories, I've written for this blog in the past, aren't something I came up with because I enjoy making fun of mentally challenged people.  If people were to actually closely read those stories, they would note that the character, Toadie, who seems mentally challenged, isn't really that way and that he may be putting on an act, considering what he will say later on in an episode that reveals his true self.  Meanwhile, the people around him are easily duped.  That can come in quite handy for him.

Inquisitor Kelly: What would it take to get people in this world on the right track and not continuing it's seemingly downward spiral?

Honest Kelly: Understanding between people who might seem different than us until we get to know them.  Putting back bank regulations.  Stop communicating so much with electronic hand held devices (cell phones, IPads, IFux or whatever throwaway gadget they're called).  It's so sad that we are a "throwaway" society on pretty much anything that's bought.  Whenever a new "upgraded device" comes out, people will cheerfully buy it instead of, oh, I don't know, wasting it on someone who is hungry or homeless or some other positive purpose.

 Forget about distractions like reality shows and silly tabloids.  Cease being a conformist.  Stand up and take responsibility for your actions and for cryin' out loud, stop denying what's happening in the world.  Fairy tales are for children.  In fact, I think we should start preparing kids, when they are young with how things are so they don't get blasted in the face with reality when they get older.  Speak out against what is obviously wrong instead of waiting for someone else to do it.  Stop polluting this world as if we have some other planet to land on, inhabit and slowly or quickly destroy.  Opening one's mind.  Those are just a few things off the top of my head.  Thanks for asking.  That was, like, totally unexpected of you. 

    

Inquisitor Kelly: Describe yourself!

Honest Kelly: I think I'm a man that has many contradictory traits to his personality.  I don't think I'm bi-polar, by any means.  But I have strong opinions and strong passions for certain things that seem to contradict myself.  I'm not boasting when I say I'm complex, but it's the truth.  I'm still surprised by people who have known me since childhood.  One of the worst things you can do to me, personally, is make assumptions.  People have done that to me all of my life for idiotic reasons and, unfortunately, I do have to address some assumptions (lies)  and set the truth straight out there.  If I don't, it has led to more trouble than I care to talk about. 

Personally, I don't give a rat's ass, though. 

In all honesty, I think I lost a part of myself when my mother passed away.  I was a shadow of my former self for a very long time.  Still am, but not as much.  I attended therapy and was prescribed anti-anxiety and anti-depression pills that work for me now.  It took awhile to find the right ones that were a "good fit" for me.  It takes awhile for some people to find the suitable pills because they'll sometime have drastic side effects with these pills.  Anyway, I could confide in Mom with everything.  She would listen, non judgmentally and answer a question- only if I asked.  She loved me, unconditionally.  She passed away 7 years ago.  I miss her love, twisted humor and our talks about ANYTHING under the moon and the stars.  My Aunt Kay, sister and wife can sometimes fill in the deep void in my life but they, honestly, can't come as close as that.

With this comes the responsibility I share with my sister of taking care of Dad, who has vascular dementia and other maladies too long to list.  Even though he's in an assisted living place, he still has to be taken to doctor appointments and he still wants to be taken out to eat.  And he's still angry, verbally abusive, threatening and you can never just visit him without him wanting you to take him somewhere.  I recently put 200 miles on my odometer as we got lost three different times during the day.  He refused to be taken anywhere else but this one particular Cracker Barrel restaurant.  This is just a small sampling of what we have to go through. He also constantly loses his extra body parts, including, but not all mentioned: hearing aids, dentures, glasses, canes and so on.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to take care of my wife who has severe high blood pressure, arthritis and much much more.   My own malady list goes on forever and ever so I won't bother to start.  Besides, I've written all about it before.  Excuse me for a moment.  I have to shoot insulin into my belly.  Be right back.  :)

Though I still suffer from depression and disease time to time, I'm still able to find the humor and positive aspects of life, despite what I'll sometimes put on this blog or my Facebook wall.  I think people don't look closely enough at a person, in order to try to get to know them, at least, to some degree.  What a shame!  For me.  For others.  Everyone.   

Inquisitor Kelly: What's the weirdest thing that's happened to you, lately?

Honest Kelly: Well, for this scorchingly hot summer, there was a woman in her early forties, in a tank top and pair of shorts, sitting on her ten speed bicycle.  She would be sitting on her bicycle for hours and hours at the end of our road.  I would go to the store, for awhile or go to the park or wherever.  When I'd come back.  Sure enough, she would still be there.  I wanted to roll down my window and ask her if she was okay because she looked like she was going to cross out onto the side of road to ride her bike, even though when there wasn't any traffic, but she would just sit there, instead and quietly wait.  Every so often, she did a little circle ride at the end of our road but she wouldn't travel further.

I thought something was wrong with her, maybe mentally, but wasn't sure.  Maybe, I thought, she was just afraid to take her bike out and ride it along the side of the road.  I never asked. 

I come to find out from my wife, from the neighbors and what my wife witnessed herself, that this woman was a prostitute.  My wife caught her bobbing her head up a down on some guy in a car at what used to be a dentist's office nearby.  The dude had his head leaned back, in apparent ecstasy.  I guess he was giving the ol' girl some free toothpaste.  :)  I bet she could have used some real toothpaste, a pint of mouthwash and medical attention for any diseases she might carry.

The neighbors told us that guys would pull up along the side of her bike, talk to her a bit and then get out to put her bike in their trunk.  And then, away they went off to somewhere, for awhile, before returning her to the end of the road.  Then she did the "wait on a bike" routine again.

On several occasions, she was found to be wearing a sign around her neck during those skin blistering days.  The sign read, in big bold lettering: Pick me up!  I'll make you happy!

There was a smiley face next to the word "happy."  A couple neighbors in our apartment complex said she was mentally challenged.  No kidding, I thought.  The sitting out in nearly 100 degree weather with an obvious sign around her neck didn't give that detail away at all.

These days, I don't see her... anywhere.  Maybe the police finally picked her up.  Maybe she's in a mental institution.  Who knows?  In any case, she's off the end of our road and we still have a bunch of neighborhood kids who still, gleefully, carelessly, play out in the middle of the entire length of our road with their balls and bikes and toys, not giving a shit if they get ran over or not.  Btw, all of these kids have medium sized front and back lawns and big driveways.  The parents, of course, still put signs out near the road, declaring that we should all slow down for the sake of their children.

Yeah, and people still like to tell me that people are okay.  lol.  Take care, everyone!  I'll be taking a blog break for awhile.  Hopefully, I will blog yet again next month, sometime.  Btw, would you care to try my free toothpaste?  Just thought I'd ask because... as I've often said... I CARE A LOT.

An Interview With Myself (Part One)

During the last post, regarding newly given awards and "amazing predictions", I said was going to skip over the rule about naming the seven most important events in my life or some shit like that.  Since I, ahead of time, knew I would be doing this bit, I figured why bother.  It would be repetitious and with this present post, possibly a two parter, if I get too chatty or start rambling on about this or that, then posting up those seven amazing moments would make it seem I've got the ego the size of Donald Trump's or Mitt Romney's own ego.  And who wants to see that?  Gosh, certainly not magnificent lil' ol' me.

As the title suggests, I will be interviewing myself, revealing things I may have mentioned before here, some things I've never revealed, but also adding some clarification to misconceptions.  I'll also be adding some traces of sardonic or dry humor that some individuals may or may not perceive, successfully, depending on how sharp of mind that being is.  Not that I'm putting anyone down for having the intelligence quotient well below a snail's turd- but there have been times when I've read the comments on my blog or ones I've read on other's blogs and I've found it somewhat disconcerting to realize there's more than a few, uh, how should I put this in polite terms... mmm... dumbasses out there?

But, being the helluva guy I am, I'm throwing caution to the wind and going on with the show.  I want to inform you, my friends, entertain you and gently coddle you like tiny baby birds in a wasp's nest, keeping you feeling all warm and secure, inside and out.  No shocking diatribes, sarcasm and crude humor found in this humble abode of mine, I can assure you.  I certainly wouldn't do that to get an individual's attention to make one simple, friggin' point.

Ahh... there I go again with the friendly, idle chit chat.  On with the interview:

Inquisitor Kelly:  What's with the clowns?  Everyone believes you have this vested interest with clowns because of the heading on your page.  It's loaded with repeated images of clowns.  Are you afraid of clowns?  Do they arouse you, in some undetermined way?  A lot of folks, on and off this blog, have brought this "highly interesting' subject up time and time again and have this deep desire to know what's up with that.

Honest Kelly: I really don't care one way or another about clowns, actually.  When I conferred with the co-designer of the web page's layout, a couple years ago, she suggested that I keep the image of the clown from my old layout to use with this layout.    Her daughter even drew me up a jazzy, nifty looking clown and I have kept it on the blog ever since.  Why clowns?  I agreed for the sake of keeping with the theme of the blog.  Not because I like clowns or want to, hopefully, fuck one so hard in the ass one day that it's bright red colon explodes- but because of practical reasons. And to be truthful, I think every human being is a clown, just at different levels.  Some are more obvious than others.   Because of the clown question, it was, at one point, tiresome to read the same question over and over about it.  I didn't give a shit enough to give a reason for it.  Even now, I just don't care.  In fact, knowing that this insignificant image on my page supposedly frightens people, as I've heard it does with some freaks.. I mean... people... amuses me a tiny bit.

That goes for the black background on my site.  Some people say it's too hard to read my words on a post I'll put up.  To them I say, I like the black background.  Black matches the sometimes dark themes I bring up during my rants and stories on my charming blog.  I won't change it for anyone or for any reason.  Not for more followers.  Not for more hits on my pages.  In truth, the opinions of most people mean less than nothing to me.  This is because I'm too old, too wise and have had enough experience to imbue myself with the knowledge that people basically want things their way because they are selfish and narrow-minded.  Not to mention uptight and stupid.  Thanks for asking. 

Inquisitor Kelly: What was your childhood like?  Were you a normal kid?  Or were you a rowdy, screaming monkey child or what?

Honest Kelly: I grew up poor.  I lived in an old, four room, white-paneled house on farm land.  The cistern we drank out of, we found out later on, had quite a few dead and half-dead albino frogs in the water.  We didn't have a shower.  We poured buckets of water over our heads and washed with that water (which I think was from a creek up the hill) in a hand made metal stall my dad had built.

I had a swing and a tire on an apple tree I played on.  I also had a black and white cat named Pepsi, a German Shepherd named Happy and I often talked to an old large apple tree, out of loneliness, boredom and because I had a fertile imagination.  Finally, 6 years later, my sister was born.  I played with her toys, rode bikes with her and played with my own collection of Hot Wheels cars.  Each one of my Hot Wheels cars had his or her own personal name and military rank.  The President was in love with the Secretary.  Sometimes, I made them kiss.  The apple tree, outside, often told me to kill the useless weeds in the yard (they were the enemy).  So that I did, with pure, delightful abandon and with a large stick I'd whip around, cutting them down like a warrior.

Down the road, we had neighbor kids that enjoyed peeing into each other's mouths, for sport and dry humping the wiener dog.  They locked me in their spider-filled, completely dark old basement once, for hours.  They would make Kool-Aid, on hot summer days and their mom would serve it to us kids in unwashed, food-encrusted glasses.  I'm surprised, to this day, I'm still alive.  I'm not kidding about any of those details and I've talked about them a couple times on this blog.  When I was six, I had no idea what they were doing to their dog.  Later, I put it together and figured it out.  All I knew was that it's little doggy eyes rolled to the back of it's head while it lay on the slab of concrete while one of the brothers cheered on the human kid fucking it.

I found out later that Happy, my dog, was a bad doggy to a vet.  Dad said he had ran off one day.  No explanation was given.  I was shocked and saddened when I was told that as a kid.  When I was 16, Dad told me that he had to "put Happy down" because Happy suddenly bit a big meaty chunk out of a vet's arm during one of Happy's regular vet appointments.  The vet told Dad Happy had to be put down or he would make sure Happy was euthanized.  The way Dad described it, it took several shots to his big furry canine head before Happy finally died.  Hearing this story did not make me happy.  But I understood the reasoning a little later.  Happy could have killed me, at some point and that's what they were afraid of.  During our play time together, though, he was a really friendly and honestly happy dog. 

On a happier note: I really enjoyed the walks mom and I would take down the old gravel road that was named after us because Dad had done so much work on it, himself.

Every week, it seemed, we would pay a visit or visits to my grandma and grandpa's farm down the old country lane.  I was mostly a very shy, quiet kid.  I played with my Aunt Kay.  I remember one particular time when we set white milk stools together, down on their sides on the floor, in a line and sat in the open spaces.  We pretended that we were riding in a train and made "choo- choo' noises.  Those were fun times.  My Aunt Kay, who was more of a sister to me, now and then, says that she used to bully me.  I don't know about that.  Maybe it's repressed memories.

She would play tricks on me, of course.  She was a little jealous of sweet lil ol' me because I was the "new baby",so to speak, of the family.  It had been her for awhile.  One time, she blindfolded me and told me to take a big bite out of this juicy apple she had in her hand.  So I did as she directed, as trusting and innocent as a kid I was.  But no, it was a tomato, not an apple.  I shouted, "Yuck!"  I quickly took off the blindfold.  When I saw the mushy pulp and seeds of the tomato I wanted to puke, preparing my taste buds, beforehand, for a sweet, juicy apple.  To this day, I won't eat a tomato.  They repulse me.  I'd rather lick a cow's taint than eat a fucking tomato.

Pretty visual, eh? 

Because I was shy, I often got bullied on the buses, as I grew up.  I didn't know you could be thought of as being "stuck up", too, for being quiet but I heard it whispered that, that was another reason I was bullied so horribly.  Four to five bigger kids would gang up on me and smash their hard back school books on the back of my head on the school buses.  A few would punch my face.  The school bus driver would watch the action, in his rear view mirror and do nothing.  He was famous for this.  Anytime there was a fight or bullying, he did nothing and reported nothing.  I was too ashamed to tell my parents about it so they more or less didn't know about it.

I made a few friends in grades 1-8 in parochial school.  They were a couple of "misfits", as well, because they would not be picked out for team sports and were quiet and whatever else kids (and for that matter, adults) would use- as an excuse to pick on them and I.

Speaking of bullies, that's a subject that really pisses me off on many levels.  With all this texting and facebooking gossip shit going on between kids, telling lies and being cruel, kids these days are really having a hellish time with bullying these days.  They sometimes end up killing themselves, in fact, from what you read in the paper and on the Internet.  It makes me sick.  I hear and see crap about gangs of girls kicking the shit out of other girls and I wonder what the hell kind of values are their parents teaching them. Even my niece is getting bullied by school girls, calling her names and filling up her locker full of tampons, of all things.  My sister didn't put up with it, of course.  She went to the principal and told him to get something done about it or else.  Because of her being pro-active, it has stopped.

These days, there are more and more school departments or people you can go to if you're on the receiving end of bullying, but more, clearly needs to be done about it.  Kids shouldn't be killing themselves and feeling like they're not worthy of the respect they should be given during the time they're in school or out of it.   

I read a lot of books when I was young.  I also wrote a lot of stories, mostly about my parakeets, cats and my dog.  A lot of vivid imagination and descriptive wording (not so much that it was shocking and it was never vulgar) went into them and I was told I was a very creative writer by my English teacher.  I liked the compliment as they were few and far between.  Unfortunately, I had a teacher who thought I had too vivid an imagination.  I never wrote anything perverted, if that's what you're wondering.  I was just a kid.  The teacher's name was Mrs. Patterson.  She was one of two or three teachers who wasn't a nun at the school by the old church- but she did fancy herself as an amateur psychologist.  She really thought she knew a lot about psychology.  The bitch even tried to suggest to my parents that there was something wrong with me.  My parents were young and didn't know any better (I was their first kid) so they tried to convince me there was something wrong with me, too and that I should seek counseling.  I think I was like ten years old at the time.  It was around this time, I found out I was half-deaf, due to all the ear infections I had as a kid.

I had a fit, cried quite a bit and it really caused me to question adults and their fucked up motives.  Before that, I was questioning the motives of adults because of all the violent news of the Vietnam war that would be shown on TV.  Even at the ripe old age of ten, I knew it was wrong and I thought, quite often, what kind of mess of beings have I been thrown into, without permission.  These fuckers are nuts.  Well, I didn't think in exactly those words I just used, but it close enough.  I did think adults and kids were really messed up- not just because they bullied me but because they seemed to be preoccupied by violence- on TV and everywhere else.

This is me, when I was a kid ( had blonde hair until I was six), plus another pic of mom and I, when I was older and we were fishing at the time: 

Later, I went to high school, joined Drama Class, wrote articles for the school newspaper, continued to write serious and humorous stories, acted in plays, had a poem published, went to a lot of parties, got drunk and fried and really started opening up to people and getting pretty wild, in general.  My personality changed quite a bit in high school.  I was the one who started trends without even meaning to do that.  In reality, just as I do today, I just do whatever I feel like doing- within reason.  I'm not a serial killer.  And I don't sodomize animals on Tuesdays.

I've never tried to be rebellious or a non-conformist type of person.  One friend suggested that I was trying to be that way on purpose once.  That made me laugh and I replied, "If you know anything about me, you know I'm honest about what I say and about my own actions- to a fault."  And he said, "Yeah... you're right," after thinking it over for a little while and recalling the years of our twenty year friendship.  I just feel like doing whatever fits for me.  The need, as it did when I was kid, to fit in, doesn't work for me.  I'm my own person.  To each person, I believe, they should go his or her own way.  To the rest of those who blindly follow without questioning, fuck 'em. 

Inquisitor Kelly:  Would you say adults who were bullies or even adults who weren't bullies when they were children, but are now, don't understand what effect they have on people?  And perhaps, in fact, don't give a shit about what effect they have on people? 


      

Honest Kelly:  I think there are many people or groups of people who fall under the category of "Bullydom."  It's funny you should ask me this, Kelly.  But maybe it isn't so odd, since you are, in fact, me.  I wanted to do a blog post on bullies for a long time now.  And now... look!  I finally made it here.  Looks like the subject is being intertwined within this interview, after all.  Ha ha ha.  I'm laughing to myself, literally, I suppose.

There are, indeed, adults who are bullies.  Sometimes they are parents who really shouldn't be breeding, having children and shouldn't be brainwashing them with their own distorted viewpoints, neither should there be bosses who abuse their hiring/firing, pay raising/lowering power, police officers that abuse their authority and corporate entities that squeeze money out of the middle class and the poor for their own profits and gains.

Corporations can be the worst of all evils and of all bullies because they try to control and bully us in our short, precious lives here on Earth by pushing us into corners we have no escape from.  Sometime, you might feel a temporary escape by taking an anti-depressant (which makes your misery profitable for big pharmaceutical companies) or by doing cocaine, drinking booze or worse (which makes it profitable for drug cartels and, in turn, for the DEA and law officers- if you do your research).

Let's face it!  If we didn't outlaw drugs, there would be a lot of space in those jails and prisons and then where would the states and the government make their money?  Hell, we might have to actually put it into schools to educate kids, pay teachers what they deserve, hire and keep firefighters, fix roads or some other practical purpose.  God forbid!

I see, in the future, tobacco products becoming completely illegal within the next twenty years.  This will be great news for organized crime and others.  Just like it was when they made weed illegal.  Read that entire story here.  It will either disgust you or shock you or both.  Or maybe you just don't care.  A lot of people don't care about their privacy and personal freedom, either.  Look around!  There are sheeple, everywhere!  People have always had the (un)natural "talent" of being able to ignore being shit on or becoming obedient slaves to a centuries old man made system. 

Btw, marijuana, being made illegal, was great news and carefully planned by folks like our government and rich, white assholes such as Harry J. Aslinger and William Randolph Hearst.  Both had vested interests, for their careers, to make weed out to be an addictive drug, capable of killing and driving one insane.  Nonsense!!!  

The silly 1930's flick, Reefer Madness, was nothing more than a propaganda film, intended to scare the public.  Instead, it's watched today as if it is an absurd comedy movie. Good ol' propaganda!  Kind of like drawing people into a war with a country, in the name of patriotism, that we have no business in being in- except to drum up business for rich white people in corporate hierarchies.  They have what we want!  Let's wage war on them!  We'll set up our democracy there, afterwards, to keep the profits rolling in.

Well gang, I'm getting pretty tired.  I have just enough energy to do a quick re-read of what I've written, take a quick piss and hit the bed sheets with my exquisite self.  I think I will continue the second part of this interview another time.  Hope you enjoyed it.  I have more to say, since I'm a rambler, but it will have to wait.

The Spy Who Watched Me (again)

This is an oldie but goody kind of post. One I did a few years back when I was a complete nobody on the blogging scene. Hell, who am I foolin'? It's still that way, isn't it? Anyway, I thought I'd give ya a post that might have not gotten the attention that some of my most recent posts have gotten. Plus, I'm going to be too busy over the weekend to write up anything new. Aren't I the lazy fuck who doesn't give a proper shit? Speaking of crap, I hope you like this tasty offering.

Years ago, I worked at a hair care product distribution center. I'll refrain from giving up the name of this hell hole, not to protect the innocent, but because I don't want to encourage any shampoo/conditioner freaks, reading this, to buy this company's goddamn products.

While there, my co workers and I would pack product in kit boxes for salons, while the conveyor belt ran between the 40mph mark to a thousand (perhaps an exaggeration). If you didn't get your particular thing (shampoo, brush or whatever) in your box in time before it passed your sorry ass you would receive a hostile, verbal thrashing from the line leader, or worse yet, from the one above that position. The head honcho, herself. Nola. She had the pleasant face of a six hundred year old Shar Pei Dog. Wrinkles Ahoy, Matey!

If you happened to be daydreaming on the line about some hot babe and you also happened to be "sporting wood" or "raising the phallic flag" and Nola, happened to come out of the office and you caught sight of her, your wood would melt like butter or fall like a Oak Tree or just disappear, entirely. Poof!

I know from experience.

In one episode, during my time working there, some freak was wiping shit (his shit?) all over the men's restroom walls, stalls, floors and sinks. Most everyone agreed that it was someone that had an unhappy confrontation with Nola- which could have been anyone, actually. This Spreader of Poo made Nola very angry. It didn't really sit well with the rest of us, either. Our bathroom break times were shortened, for one thing. Plus, we were lectured by Nola every day for the next 2 weeks about the juvenile antics that we, supposed grown-ups, were not to engage in. Whoever the Crap Culprit was, he wasn't creative, in the least. He didn't spell his name or draw puppies on the walls with his poop, like some masterpieces I've seen in some gas station restrooms. But, I digress.

Nola's plan was simple and moronic. She instructed her all-too-loyal and obedient assistant, Chris, to remain stationed in the men's restroom to watch, almost 8 of the nine hours of the day, the male employees pee and poo. Of course, we were given a tiny crumb of dignity. When our backs were turned, while pissing in the urinal, Chris the Brown Noser, refrained, thankfully, from peeking over our shoulders. Good thing, too, because it was rumoured Chris might be bi-sexual. He could have been in trouble for sexual harassment if he had done any peeky boo-ing. So Chris did, as he was told, without question. For him, Nola's word was his command. Nola's reasoning behind her plan? She believed Chris would somehow get real lucky and catch some disgruntled, but apparently, non constipated imbecile, painting walls with own excrement.

Maybe the nasty bastard would be caught.... brown-handed.

Moving on in this tale....

Diligently, Chris would watch our backs while we peed and checked inside the toilet stalls, after one of us exited, for fresh shit decor on the walls and so forth.

Being the considerate guy I am, I poked fun at the somber, serious Chris whenever I entered and left the restroom. This seemed to bring about a certain amount of good cheer to everyone who heard my words of wit, during that time. For instance, I would say to Nola's assistant, "Ah, the Poo Peeper, how nice of you to watch me squirt." Chris' face remained the same, showing consternation at my jovial remark.

After all, it was the kind of job one took seriously.

Characters We Encounter On The Internet and Beyond

When I say the word "characters" in the post title here, I'm thinking of it in two different perspectives. The first being that the character is a living, breathing person you will meet on the internet or in real life. The second perspective is much deeper in that the character is something, a persona, if you will, someone portrays and maybe even pretends to be on the internet and in real life.

Of course, there are those whose character, or mask that the character wears that comes pretty close to who they really are inside. I personally don't believe everyone is able to mirror exactly who they are inside with what they show on the outside. No one can be completely transparent and, in truth, I believe each person will act at least a tiny bit differently from who they are or how they feel according to where or who they are with at the time- whether it's on the internet or in real life. Even sweet and adorable me is like this. It's just human nature. No harsh judgments are to be presumed or assumed here, necessarily.

Still with me so far? Hahaha. Yes, this will be one of my more serious posts- sort of. Don't run away! Be brave, soldier! You've got the guts and the stamina... or something. :)

I'm going to describe some of the following characters that we encounter, time to time, on the internet and in real life. Some rub us the wrong way. Some inspire us and make us happy. And then others, well, you get the picture... perhaps. :) While describing these characters, you could also interpret these "characters" as not really characters, really, but qualities that people have or don't have. It's all in how you interpret it... all a matter of perception.

Ready for the ride? Buckle up. In no particular order, I present to you...

Grammar and Punctuation Nazi

This irritating piece of shit will delight in showing you the errors of your grammatical ways to instill in themselves a sense of self-importance. You normally encounter these assholes on the internet in the forums, social networking sites, blogs and more. As long as everyone can understand each other, I encourage the Grammar and Punctuation Nazis to go fuck themselves with their over-inflated, dildo-shaped egos so far up their colons, that they cause ruptures, internal bleeding and painfully hemorrhage to death while gloating about where the semi-colon should be placed.

Supporters

These characters of which I'm talking about are the type of folks that will encourage you to do something positive in your life, whether it's in your attitude toward a problem or a course in life you may wish to give some thought toward. They're also beneficial in consoling you with words and/or actions in order to make you feel better during difficult times. These kind folks are truly the precious gems and great finds amongst the piles of living, breathing shits that surround us in real life and on the internet. Kudos to the Supporters!

Missing The Point Prick

This person or character will purposefully or not purposefully miss the point you are trying to make in a blog post or in a real life discussion. He or she will usually pick one teeny bit or particle of something you've said that really didn't have that much to do with the point you were trying to make, overall, and then proceed to create an entire debate, diatribe or whatever over that one insignificant word or phrase. The "Missing The Point Prick" is closely related, in many aspects, to Devil's Advocate, who I will get to in a few seconds.

Passionate, Direct and Honest People

As I grow older in life, I've noticed there are less and less of these types existing these days. Passion has been replaced by true or false statistics or what is fed to us by corporations, governments, some college courses, books or people we sometimes blindly follow without question. Being direct and honest is covered with outright lies, heavy blankets of sometimes deceptive subtlety and the continuous fear that we shouldn't make waves because it will make certain supervisors, family members, friends, characters you interact with on the internet and more either uncomfortable or angry. I applaud those who are brave enough and passionate enough to be direct and say the truth about things how they really are. Life is too short for bullshit and we already have a surplus in that. Kudos to the PD and H people out there!

Trolls, Spammers and Link Droppers

Kill them all.

Positive Informers

These good folks will actually supply people with information and/or points of view that either benefits others or entertains them in some way. Humor bloggers, history bloggers and a whole variety of bloggers fit into this category- not that I'm trying to fit anyone into a particular category. There are some folks, like me, who are able to write about anything. Blessed are the versatile writers- for they know no limits to their capabilities and will not be pushed around by those who say you must, for the sake of gaining followers or hits, stick with one genre or another! Hip Fucking Hip Hip Hooray! Excuse me while I shrug off my over-inflated ego and high-in-the-sky soapbox. Heh heh. God, I'm such a delightful sarcastic bastard! Or so I believe.

Perceptions... perceptions.

Of course, you can find Positive Informers in real life, too. Moving onward...

Devil's Advocate

One who continuously argues against a cause, position or point of view of another human being on every subject, not as a committed opponent but simply for the sake of argument and/or to feed their own ego. In other words, that's how they get their twisted jollies. Even if they believe they may be wrong, deep down inside, they will try to make you feel that you are wrong or worse yet, somehow inferior. Sick.

Studying this person for a time, you will eventually come to the conclusion that this motherfucker has some form of unchecked mental illness churning about in their diseased minds. Insecurity, depression and other factors within these people may instigate or spur on this type of behavior that causes most normal, rational people to want to stay the hell away from them. Often, the Devil's Advocate will be unable to keep friends, spouses and others they interact with around for very long until the asshole (the Devil's Advocate) is bludgeoned to the point of making them a disgusting paste on the wall or ground. Do I advocate the use of violence against these annoying cretins of society? You betcha! No therapy for you, fuckwad!

Which brings us to...

Truly Open Minded People

Good golly, but I love truly open minded people. They're able to see many different points of views and angles on as many controversial subjects. They normally don't take themselves so seriously to the point where they believe themselves to be 100 percent correct all the time. All hail the open minded- for they are the truth seekers of this world! They don't give a shit about being contrary or right but, instead, search for meaning and knowledge from other individuals and in all things.

Uptights

Uptights display tense, repressed nervousness, pettiness, anal retentative behavior, irritability, anger and/or the inability to withstand even the slightest of what they consider to be foul language or naughty words or the images of sex organs of the natural human anatomy. For example: They may announce, while visiting an art museum, " Oh my! I do declare! I believe I'm going to faint at the sight of this statue's stone penis or this painting's suggestive phallic symbol." Or some such nonsense.

I consider them weak and attempt to avoid them whenever possible. If you barricade me in a locked windowless room with an Uptight for any longer than a day, I will go crazy and twist their head right off their freakin' neck even as they complain that I said the word, damn, only an hour ago.

Often, Uptights are unable to give expression to one's feelings or personality. This is most noticeable in their unwillingness or incapability to laugh at a crude joke. Or what they think is a crude joke. They also tend to stubbornly adhere to rules that have been laid down to them or rules that they, themselves, have given themselves to instill an odd sense of complete control. Many times, they will inflict these rules of behavior upon those around them- Coworkers, friends, family, individuals on the internet and so on. Uptights may see themselves as the Masters of Organized Living while others may see them as Ultimate Pains in The Asses.

So there you have it. These are just a handful of the characters that we meet on the internet and in our real daily lives. Who knows? You may act like any one or a combination of these characters in a given situation or you may live like this all the time. Personally, I believe a little introspection is good for the spirit and the mind for continuous growth and discovery. It is something of value and worth considering.