The Final Countdown

I don’t want to put too much emphasis on it (in case I [or circumstances] end up disappointing me again), but my novel… my magnum opus, if you will… is on a do-or-die schedule to be completed and available for purchase by the end of this month.  I can’t go into the specifics of why it’s “do-or-die” without burning some personal bridges, but let’s just say that hopefully my autobiographical timeline later reads: “March, 2014 – The Emperor was never indigent (or anything less than self-sufficient) again.”  Also, I apologize to any “Europe” fans who came here thinking this post had anything to do with them.

The reason I’ve been rather quiet on the blog front this year is that I’ve been doggedly focused on completing this work, which will not only beat the first Harry Potter for word-count (at least 80,000 words), but will be ridiculously better written.  Also, while J.R.R. Tolkien was a renowned polyglot (and also a bit better writer than myself), I have not allowed my personal aperture to ever close to laser-like focus.  So while he was a polymath (for languages – as I said previously, polyglot), I am more of a dilettante.  My foci have never been satisfied with just one area of stimulation and corresponding discourse.  It is in that regard (and only in that regard) that I have excelled the honorable Mr. Tolkien.

My book (thus far – as it’s not done yet, there will most likely be more) addresses: the lottery, the IRS, castle construction, Minecraft, all different kinds of magic, spirit keeping, racism, misandry, prostitution, Wu Xing, the gods of America, Egypt, and China, reincarnation, the God of the Universe, Shakespeare, medieval independence, PUAs, bitches, MGTOWs, cattle ranching, mountain aesthetics, English grammar, strip clubs, city bar chains, poverty, wealth, the overarching grip of depression in America, Zhuge Liang, super powers, and (let’s not forget)… Nathan fucking Fillion.

(Also, Mr. Fillion, having not heard from you in quite a few months now and having contacted your personal Twitter account twice, I’ll go ahead and assume that you have no problem with your character’s lines as-is.  As always, you’re more than welcome to contact me via email or Twitter.)

So anyway, this was just a short update to let you know what (Universe willing) will be coming out later on this month.  And if any of you have self-published in the past and have had good experiences with an online printer (or have any other advice for a first-time author [after years of writing – crazy, right?!?]), feel free to leave a comment below.

Also, my blog’s website name is getting ready to run out of its paid time, and I’d hate to lose the name, so if any of you guys would like a free, signed copy of my new book later this month, please donate $30 (the only way I can be sure to get the $26 I need, after PayPal fees) with my button to the side.  You’ll be helping the site stay up another year, and be one of the first people to get a copy of my book.  ^_^

And now, for your Monday listening/viewing pleasure, the two songs/videos that I can’t get out of my head…

“God Wants You to Wear a Hat” – WKUK

“Pearl Harbor Sucked” – Team America: World Police

You’re welcome.

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Respect goes up; Love comes down

I remember talking with my mom about this the other night, and thought it was a worthy enough topic to expound upon a bit.  Before I get into it too much, I have to reintroduce a concept that has been lost to the Western family unit: the Chain of Command.  Now, I take a much more benevolent stance on the chain of command than some people, but I still agree that it is a very important facet of family life.  As with the military, things go a helluva lot more smoothly once the whole unit knows what one person is in charge.  There aren’t two COs on a ship… there’s a CO and an XO.  There aren’t two Presidents of the US… there’s a President and a VP.  And in the family as well, there is one person in absolute charge, and that is the husband.  The wife is the VP, so to speak – she has much more “authority” than the kids, but no chance in hell of “vetoing” the husband’s directives.  That is how a proper family is run.

Once you understand the CoC (Chain of Command), it’s easier to also understand the literal roles of father, mother, and children within it.  Here is the lesson: “Respect goes up the CoC; Love comes down the CoC.”  The husband loves the wife and kids; the wife loves the kids.  The kids respect the mom and dad; the wife respects her husband.  It’s the natural order.  That’s why a man feels slighted in terms of affection when children enter the picture: it’s not that his wife loves him less, it’s that she’s discovered what actual love is.

Think about it… you love those for whom you do; you respect those who do for you.  It is appreciation and respect that raises the vagrants’ arms toward the free, hot bowls of soup – it is love and concern that causes the soup kitchen volunteer to ladle it out to them.  Think about a child who finds a bird with a broken wing… the bird cannot fend for itself, and has no choice but to respect the fact that the child could crush it with one strong grasp, or merely move it to a place the bird has no control over going.  The child is the one that decides to show compassion and tend to the bird, giving of his excess in order to help mend the bird’s wing and fill its poor, empty belly.  This was touched on a bit by the “No Ma’am” MGTOW blog here (which is also a decent read).

Now, before any ladies reading this take offense to this Truth, you have to understand that even the Bible (way back then!) understood this basic concept.  Men are instructed to love their wives (Colossians 3:19, Ephesians 5:25,28) and women are instructed to respect and submit to their husbands (Colossians 3:18, Ephesians 5:22, Titus 2:5, I Peter 3:1, 5-6).  Funny, right?  Every so often, such random nuggets of Truth found buried in the dark recesses of that Bronze Age tome really do surprise me.

Nevertheless, it is offensive to rebellious bitches whenever they find that they are (by nature) incapable of love for their men in relationships and are responsible for respecting/obeying/submitting to their partners.  The Western bitch is taught by Western society that she is capable of the opposite, and strives to topple the man from his rightful place in the home and relationship in order to prove it.  The Lady, on the other hand, humbly accepts her role in the relationship and home, accepting her Lord’s protection, provision, and – let’s face it – love for her, and repays him with the respect that he is rightly due.  The Lady knows that her place is not by his side, but under his caring gaze – that she is not meant to seek more work than to make the home a warm, inviting haven for the Lord and his children.  And honestly, what woman in her right mind would want to give that up merely so she can say that she too “wears the pants” in the family?  It’s lunacy – and it’s what Western society teaches our children from the very beginning.

Once you understand that “Respect goes up the CoC; Loves comes down the CoC,” you really begin to understand the proper dynamic between men and women – the one that doesn’t bother fighting against our Truest natures, but the one that generates peace and love in the home.  Everything else is just war and tense standoffs… and who wants that?!?

Posted in Agnostically Biblical, Instructional, Pensive | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Why do people still use the word “homophobe”?

Just a quick thought I had (again) today that I’ve hit on in everyday conversation before – why is it that people in Western society still use the word “homophobe”?  And lest you mistake my meaning, I’m not saying that the term (or the type of people that inspire it) is outdated, but just etymologically incorrect.

I’m skipping over the fact that the “homo” part of the word means “the same” (and the obvious joke about the fear of twins – which is [oddly enough] tediously named “duomaieusiophobia”) and instead focusing on the “phobe” part.  That part is the root of “phobia”, which as we all (should) know has to do with fear.

Now, I want to hasten to point out that fear is abso-fucking-lutely nothing like hate.  They are two very different, unique emotions.  Yet, when someone uses the word “homophobe”, they most certainly mean someone who hates gay people.  Not only is that confusing, but it’s a dreadful misappropriation of the root words, which would be better voiced with other ones (if society weren’t so stupid – but more on that later).

Fear causes you to avoid the object thereof – avoidance to the point of actively fleeing from the cause if need be.  Hate, on the other hand, most often incites active engagement of the object – as can be seen in the many examples of violent “hate crimes”, many of which have been directed against gay people.

An example for the visually inclined:

Hate:

Bitches are the reasons that some Ladies aren't given the benefit of the doubt.

Bitches are the reasons that some Ladies aren’t given the benefit of the doubt.

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Fear:

Spiders are the reasons that men buy heavy boots - and often hurl them at the ceiling.

Spiders are the reasons that men buy heavy boots – and often hurl them at the ceiling.

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Do you understand now?  Good – glad we’re on the same page.

Now, I’d never offer a critique like this without a ready solution, and I came up with it quite some time ago.  The proper word would be “homomisanthrope” – one who hates all people that pair with the same sex, essentially.  Only hate gay men?  “Homomisandrist.”  Only hate gay women?  “Homomisogynist.”  Simple, simple stuff.

The only reason it’ll never catch on is that people… are… stupid (and lazy).  Hardly anyone makes the active effort to live Truthfully these days, so the people who speak incorrectly will just have to line up behind the Christians, the evolutionists, the atheists, the feminists, and the people who somehow think blogging from home will solve the world’s problems.

>_<

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I’m DONE with secondary education.

This will be short, but this needed to be said…

I’m DONE with secondary education.  DONE.  And I don’t mean in the sense where people say, “I’ve finally graduated college/university and have gotten that shitty, useless piece of paper that everyone says you need to get in order to get one of the higher-level drone jobs!”

No… I mean I’m done with pretending that there’s a light at the end of that particular tunnel.  I know what’s at the end of that tunnel: massive student loan debts, a stalled job market, and a sinking economy.

I’m done taking my genius intellect into a classroom lorded over by some moron with a doctorate from Dumbfuck U. and pretending that that idiot is somehow my superior – like the jackass is qualified to “teach” me.  Oh, and I’m also done acting like I’m not bored to fucking tears by material which is common fucking sense!

My 2-year in Fine Arts will have to be my last expensive piece of paper, because I am DONE.  From here on out, I will work whatever job I can find in order to secure housing and basic needs… that’s it!

But more importantly… I will now rise or fall on MY WRITING (Which, by all accounts, is exemplary.) and will either make my fortune therewith or die trying.  So, readers, you may look for me in the news or in the obituaries, but from here on out, it will be one or the other.

Wish me luck.
I believe the Universe is with me on this one.

Posted in Rant, Update | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

You know what? FUCK Family Guy!

I’ve been there while Seth MacFarlane just outright shit all over men’s rights and the perception of strong, decent men (American Dad), and then shit all over our common sense and apparent tolerance for outright crap (The Cleveland Show), but Family Guy has finally pissed me off enough to stop watching it forever.

Seth has finally given his audience a “FUCK YOU!” that is unbearable.  And yes, the whole bullshit 2-episode run of Stewie “killing” Lois and then getting killed in a simulation was a pretty big fuck-you to the audience before this.  And don’t even get me started about that whole banal episode of Brian and Stewie locked in that music-less, cut-scene-bereft bank vault!

Seth, here’s a tip: stick to singing, you beef-witted Sinatra wannabe!  Your storehouse of jokes is clearly empty, and everything you do is more and more gimmicky.  You’re not just pandering to the lowest common denominator anymore… you’ve become it.

But let me tell you, my readers, just which was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back… the death of Brian.

Aside:  Yes, I know I’m an episode late in writing about this, but I’m behind in my Comcast On-Demand watching (Basically, because they put in fucking commercials with the programming, unlike the way better Netflix option… but that’s a rant for another time.), and only generally watch shows there that don’t show up on Netflix or YouTube (I’ve soured on commercials in general, so I tend to stay away from Hulu as well now.) – and FOX is really slow about releasing new (or good) stuff to Netflix.  (Note to FOX: Get on the ball!  I want more Bob’s Burgers and Brooklyn Nine-Nine on Netflix!  GET IT DONE!)

Anyway… back to Brian.  He was the one grounded character on the show.  Yes, he was kind of like an alcoholic Beta version of a PUA, but it was his intellectual side that I enjoyed… his writer side.

He was the smartest character in any given room (except when FG blatantly pandered to the female audience in that asinine Lauren Conrad episode), and yet still managed to be the underdog.  He was often the voice of reason, yet was flawed enough to be incapable of actually lording it over anyone.  Brian was self-aware, but largely ignored.  And last but not least, he was always talking about the book that he never really got around to writing.  I guess in a lot of ways, Brian reminded me of… me.

And Seth MacFarlane killed him.

But it’s far more than just the removal of a character with which I identified from his narrative with which I find fault.  It’s the removal of reason – of instruction – of knowledge… all to be replaced by some shoddy (obviously) last-minute Jersey Shore caricature.  Brian represents the voice of reason in our comedy that in-duh-viduals just don’t want to hear anymore.

America doesn’t want to think… they want to be shocked, entertained with stupidity, or just flat-out lied to.  The Old Guard of Comedy is dying out… Jon Stewart and The Daily Show, Bill Maher and Real Time (Sorry, Bill… True Dat.), and even Bill Burr sounds like he’s getting a little more whipped in every successive comedy special.  Is nothing sacred?!?

Now America is left with the incessant buzz of drivel and pablum like Jeff Dunham, Dane Cook, and more than one (Consider: it’s moronic that there’s even ONE.) singing/dancing/talent show!  The barrage of inanity is so deafening that no one’s listening anymore!  TV used to be special – a treat that had to be “brought to you by” some old-timey product.  Now it’s just that thing that bored, overworked cogs turn on at the end of a day of mind-numbing cubicle work in order to have some “white noise” to fall asleep to.  It’s the cheap babysitter for a nation of soccer moms that have neglected outdoor activities for their kids and substituted junk food, Ritalin, and Nickelodeon.  It is now the vortex that sucks every possible creative impulse from a nation that used to be GREAT, all so that we may anesthetize ourselves to the grim facts of how rotten our leadership has become, and how truly directionless we are.

The death of Brian means (to me) that now our creativity and intellect will never be truly prized again in the mainstream.  We will be a nation of clods, plodding along toward lonely graves by the thousands and stupid millions.

I can never watch Family Guy ever again.  Merry fucking Christmas, America.

UPDATE:  Before you jump to comment, yes – I’ve been told that Seth brought back Brian with the next episode (three weeks later – incidentally, plenty of time to get some last-minute script out to your Korean animators due to Twitter backlash).  You know what?  I still think he’s a pathetic sell-out.  You know why?  Because there are only TWO options here…

Option A: Seth genuinely meant to get rid of Brian, but caved to social pressure to bring him back.  This is actually possible, although not likely.  It would make him less of a manipulative, machinating asshole, but he’d still be a disingenuous asshole… and you all know how I feel about that.  The very fact that it was possible that Seth tired of the one intelligent character on the show is altogether disgusting to me.

Option B: Seth planned from the start to bring Brian back, and it was a stunt.  This is worse… and by all public accounts, is supposed to have been the case.  You all know that this option makes Seth both an avaricious opportunist and a liar, right?  Check with the nerds for the first part of that – every time the owner of a character in a franchise decides to kill a character, it is good for sales (or in this case publicity and ad revenue, which is basically the same thing for TV people).  Seth, business-savvy creator that he is, knew this.  And knowing that, (and receiving all the requisite free publicity from public outrage) then turns around and smugly declares that it was all some sort of bullshit Christmas message about loved ones.

FUCKYOU, Seth MacFarlane, you lying sack of shit!

I stand by my previous assertion – I will never watch Family Guy again, and I’d advise any loyal MGTOW or Red Pill Ladies to do the same and refrain from indulging in this asshole’s future endeavors… any of them!

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Provenience – Year One

Day One

You awake to a cool breeze running through your hair and the sounds of rushing waters coming from a small river not a stone’s throw away from you.  As you groggily lift your head from the earth that had been your pillow, you find that the sounds of nature have replaced the sterile silence of the apartment in which you’d fallen asleep.

It begins to dawn on you that this is not a dream… and you are no longer in the underwear you wore to bed the night before.  You are dressed in a deerskin tunic and drawstring pants, both of which seem to be fastened with sinews made into strings.

You try everything from pinching yourself, to running quickly in a circle, to dunking your head in the nearby river, to shouting “HELP!” at the top of your lungs – before finally convincing yourself that this is real.  All that you manage to accomplish is giving yourself a small bruise, tiring yourself out, getting your head (and torso) wet, and scaring off a nest of nearby pheasants.

After settling down for a moment and listening to see if anyone would respond to your cry, you begin to suspect that you may be quite alone in this part of the world.  You suppose it could be worse – it’s a nice, warm climate (at least for now), whoever (obviously) drugged and kidnapped you at least had the common courtesy of getting you dressed before dumping you in the middle of nowhere, and it seems to be the morning of a fairly decent-looking day (crystal-blue skies with a few scattered puffy white clouds) in a relatively paradise-like environment.

You quickly decide to not let your imagination run away with you, as the fact of the matter is that you are stranded in an unfamiliar area.  Your first things to acquire are food, water, and shelter.  The water seems well-supplied by the river, but it would be prudent to find the source of the water to get it in its purest state (you know, before bears have peed in it upstream or something).  Food would normally be difficult to come by, but you notice a small grove of red apple trees near the river upstream a bit on the opposite shore.  The river itself is only about ten feet wide at this point, and the current is slow enough that swimming across shouldn’t be a problem.

Shelter would likely be the biggest concern right now, as you’ve not been given an ax (or anything whatsoever save the clothes on your back), and you have only a cursory knowledge of lean-to construction.  You figure that maybe your surroundings might provide a shelter that need not be built, but there’s a pretty slim chance of that.  You do a quick 360 to see what lands surround you.

Assuming that the sun has risen a couple of hours ago (and not that it is beginning to set), you quickly establish compass directions.  To the east is all downhill with the river – the forest ends and rolling hills and grassy plains extend to the horizon.  It’s pretty open country, and considering that man isn’t the only predatory animal in existence, you wager that that direction would be a bad idea at this stage of your survival plan.  The height of the forest in your immediate area obscures the view of every other cardinal direction except for the rocky mountain peak that rises above the forest to the southwest.  The peak itself is pretty bare (with no caves in sight, unfortunately for your sheltering needs), but is wooded about halfway up… meaning that it would be a helpful promontory from which to scout the surrounding countryside without revealing your location to any hostile animals (or humans) that may be doing scouting of their own.

You decide that the hike up the mountain would be a good idea – tomorrow.  For now, your stomach’s rumbling drives you to swim across the river, which lands you only a few feet further from the apple trees than before, and you easily walk back to them.  You feast on a couple of delicious red apples and then gather about half a peck of them for later.

A few hours later, you’ve not only found a couple of thick trees growing closely together, but have gathered enough long branches, sticks, leaves, and debris to make a decent lean-to.  The only wildlife you encountered along the way were a couple of timid deer (which explains your deerskin outfit) and the random twitters and songs of birds that always seem to be just beyond your line of sight.

After constructing your shelter and a rudimentary “bed” for the night, you use your remaining daylight scouting your general area to make sure there are no nests of snakes or dens of bears, as well as collecting stones from the river and wood from the forest for fire pits.  You remember that a triangle of three fires is recognized as a sign of distress (even though you have yet to hear any unnatural noises like airplane engines or helicopter blades nearby), so you first set about making three such fire pits around your lean-to (that you also figure will keep out predatory – yet primitively fearful – wildlife), and then begin the arduous task of making your first bit of fire.

It seems like forever before the stick you vigorously twist into your small log begins to make the surrounding dry grasses smoke with heat, but you know the fire isn’t far off at that point, so you surround them further with tiny dry sticks and redouble your efforts.  Within an hour, you’ve got three nice fires surrounding you, safely nestled inside their rings of dampened river stones.  The sun begins to set to the right of the mountain peak, and it drops below the treeline long before the sky grows truly dark.

You lean back against one of the trees, gazing up at the clearest, most star-filled night sky that you’ve ever seen in your life… and realize that any light-polluting cities must be miles and miles away.  Somehow, you don’t care.  You find yourself content to take lazy bites of one of your last apples and tend to your warm fires that dance for you in the gentle breeze.  When you finally decide to bed down for the night, you throw a final, large log on each fire, and crawl into your lean-to.  The bed of twigs and leaves and moss – though mildly uncomfortable – is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever experienced.

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YOUR CHANCE to be in one of the Emperor’s stories!

The post following this one will be a “new world”/Minecraft-type game I used to play on forums back in the day.

It’s an add-on story, that can be updated by me OR YOU (and as such, taken in any direction you choose that does not violate the tone of the story) at any given time.  The best part about this is that the story will never die as long as someone is reading and has an idea for it.

If you’re not a writer, don’t worry!  I can (and will) fix your grammar, spelling, and voice.  Just have an idea but don’t want to share it without the accompanying narrative?  Don’t worry!  I’ll build the narrative around your idea!

Once you read the first entry, you’ll have an idea of where it’s going.  It will be a singular survival story with a “Garden of Eden”-type (starting from nothing) beginning.  If you think that you might like to add to it, give it a shot!

———

These are the few main Rules of the World:

1 – There will never be anything (in the story world) more advanced than what existed in the “West” in the pre-gunpowder era of Medieval history.  Don’t try to write anything like that into the story; it will not be allowed.

2 – Magic exists here, but it adheres to a preconceived construct I’ve already set up in other stories of mine.  If you write something that would be outside those constructs, I’ll merely fix it before I add it to the story.

3 – What happens must make sense based on what the reader already knows.  (For example: if the Hero has already scanned the countryside from a tall mountain and has seen no fires/signs of life within two days’ journey from that vantage point, he can’t descend the mountain and immediately run into a large caravan of gypsies.  It just wouldn’t make sense.)

4 – The values espoused by the main characters must align with Absolute Truth, unless they are quite clearly villains.

5 – Any and all villains must be karmically punished/receive proper comeuppances more often than they get away with evil.

———

Other than that, have at it!

If you’d like to be recognized by your WP name, do nothing and I shall name you as a contributor.  If you’d like to be credited by your real name (or some other alias), just let me know which you’d like to be seen with, and I’ll make it happen.

GOOD LUCK!
I look forward to writing with you all.  ^_^

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Genius Needs an Audience

I pinpointed a major weakness to my propensity for writing a while back: I am far less likely to engage in it if there is no one to see it (and preferably, see it right away – with comments).

This feeling was very succinctly summed up when I saw the BBC’s Sherlock for the first time (on Netflix) the other day.  Sherlock Holmes was chasing the first “villain” of the series, and was commenting to Dr. Watson how the truly brilliant ones always secretly wanted to be caught.  He remarked:

“That’s the frailty of genius, John.  It needs an audience.”

I’d never thought that anyone had ever had a similar rumination to my often lamentation until that very moment.  So, at least the screenwriter for Sherlock knows with what I’m dealing.  I think I’ll go watch another episode or two, in fact.

But first, here are a couple of things I’ve done lately…

The first is a Banana Bread (Yes, I can cook… well.) with a Streusel Nut topping.  Enjoy the pictures – my mom and I are enjoying the real thing.  😉

IMG_20131115_173130_588

IMG_20131115_173156_975

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

———

The second is a poem I wrote for myself (half to inspire me to write, half to rebuke me when I neglect to do so)…

Write

Before your soul be ever dark,
Before the magic’s lost its spark,
Write.
Before your time on Earth is done,
Before your enemies have won,
Write.
Before your voice cannot be heard,
Before you breathe your final word,
Write.
Before this life you have passed through,
Before forever judges you,
Write!
So then make a fool of Death,
And let the pages be your breath…
Write.

———

Anyway, that’s all for now.  I’m behind in some college work and seriously need to catch up.

OH!  And I wanted to (once again) thank you all for being my audience.
My genius needs you.  ^_^

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For all the Enlisted Veterans that never made it to E-6 or above…

Happy Veterans Day, fellow under-appreciated warriors!

As a veteran of the titular group myself, I feel your pain.  You’re never saluted, hardly ever recognized or respected, get sent first into battle, and get the crappiest jobs around the base (or ship) once you get back.  You probably come from middle class (or lower) roots, and saw the armed forces as a reasonably “easy” way to get money for college.  (Either that, or you’re a redneck type that joined your particular branch of service after a post-9/11 night of heavy drinking and Toby Keith.)

But however you chose to enter the service, odds are you haven’t the slightest clue why you do the things you do (or did) from day-to-day.  Those decisions are made over your head by people who are judged as “smarter” than you because they devoted 4 or more years of their lives to getting a (probably unrelated) degree before signing up.  (Piece of paper printed sideways with a fancy font and a shiny gold seal?  Right this way, officer!)  Yep – you take orders on what to do from some yuppie spawn with an MBA that he/she wouldn’t have had a prayer of using in this economy anyway.  (Either that, or you’re listening to some spineless boot-licker that made his/her way up to E-6 or above by being sure to “golf with the Chief”.)

On that note, I think it’s ridiculous that evaluations are weighted more heavily these days on the recommendations of your upper chain of command than they are on performance and core competency test scores.  Leaders should be judged on intellect, not on how well they remember what their chain of command likes to drink on the weekends.

Anyway, just know that I’m with you, lower enlisted guys.  And the 4-6 years you’re signed up for now may seem interminable (or else it did, discharged vets), but just look forward to what you’ve bought with your blood, sweat, and tears… a decent amount of money to pursue your own worthless degree (with the GI Bill), and a lifetime of decently-priced drugs and medical care with the VA Hospitals around this fine country.

Look, I know we don’t always agree with our superiors, but it’s no different in the civilian world, either.  The point is, start thinking of what your “side hustle” is going to be now, while you’re still getting free room and board in the service.  Maybe then you’ll be prepared to work for yourself once you get out, instead of the same idiots that are pushing you around now.

Oh, and as one lower veteran to another, THANK YOU for your service!  Your job is thankless and glamourless, but I (for one) know what you put up with every day.  Keep it up, boys – your drugs and college days await!

Happy Veterans Day!

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It’s Time (Again) to Address the Peanut Gallery

As readers of mine who have read me for long enough can tell you, I have addressed the reason my comments are moderated before.  But considering this new jackass obviously hasn’t read me for that long, allow me to say it one more time…

I don’t HAVE TO post your stupid-ass comments!

I post comments when I feel like it, when I feel they add to the conversation (good or bad), and when they’re coming from someone else that is a writer here on WordPress.

Yeah – I don’t know where you know me from, fuckstick, and I don’t care.  But you’ll find that unlike the forums, Facebook, or YouTube accounts that I frequent, I don’t have to put up with your lies or personal attacks here.  You don’t get to have your mindless drivel published for free on a blog whose name I pay for.  So SUCK IT!

Also, I’d like to point out how incredibly cowardly you are, that you not only seem to know who I am, but have yet to introduce yourself to me in your comments.  You consistently comment from a single anonymous letter (Not even a whole word – how brave!) that doesn’t even link to a WordPress account of your own.

You’re less than a writer – less than even a peanut gallery commenter – you’re just a scared little bitch, thinking you can hide behind the anonymity of the internet and hurl stones from your glass house.  Well, no you fucking can’t.  Not here anyway, fucker!

What’s that?  You have more lies to tell?  More insults to throw at me?

Not only will my awesome readers never hear them, but now I’M not even reading them.  If I see your letter in my comments again, the comment goes straight to the trash – unread!

Have fun barking at the moon, asshole.  >:)

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