Category Archives: Freedom

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Obama adds third unplanned stop to African itinerary

The Washington press pool struggled to rearrange schedules as the Obama administration announced without notice that the President will now also visit Libya’s famed Kaf Ajnoun or Mountain of Ghosts. White House Press Secretary Josh Earnest explained the move as, “An appropriate means to wrap up our trip in keeping with the President’s theme of meeting with horrible human beings.”

The concluding visit to one of Satan’s known earthly dwellings will follow Obama’s forthcoming sit downs with famed war criminal Uhuru Kenyatta in Kenya and Hailemariam “The Street Sweeper” Desalegn in Ethiopia. In Addis Ababa, Obama is also scheduled to address the African Union.

Although the AU is said to be interested in rescheduling the speech’s start time due to an imminent AU vote to unanimously ratify the title of “Imperial Majesty for Life” to Burundi’s Pierre Nkurunziza, a move supported by America’s State Department. The AU is also set to reconfirm its annual stipend to Omar al-Bashir’s private aircraft corporation Speedy provided its “no notice use for all” clause remains intact.

While at Kaf Ajnoun, Obama will spend time at such key sites as The Road to Hell and The Devil’s Hill. Said Earnest, “Since he came to Washington, the President has learned the diplomatic dark arts like the best of them. He figures it’s time he paid his due respect to those who have enabled the ghoulish powers he now possesses. In fact, I’m told the State Department Bureau of African Affairs insisted on this stopover.”

Earnest also mentioned several other critical American goals during the trip including talks to get more of Angola’s oil than China, additional tank, tear gas, & piano wire sales to Egypt, and the forthcoming pool renovation contract by Halliburton of a mysteriously unknown but supposedly important villa in South Africa.

When asked by reporters if Obama worried about potential human rights protestors during his speech in Addis Ababa, Earnest wryly chuckled, “You ah, you don’t really understand how things work here, do you?”

kaf-ajnoun-ghost-mountain

Arcturus News Muster – 23 July 2015

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outrage is now apparently the taste of victory

Great news! Your team just won. It’s a moment to celebrate glorious victory on the soccer / football field / pitch. You have many choices available on how you’ll enjoy this wonderful moment:

 

 a) Drink lots of beer with family and friends in an unbridled moment of enjoyable life

 b) Calmly read a book with your mate, pausing repeatedly to contemplate how lucky you were to get to see your team win

 c) Viciously parse random social media comments and shout loudly about how outraged you are that somebody wrote something that bothers you

 

Yeah, I know! I’d choose (a) or (b) too, and, oh, what, [unintelligible muttering] I’ve chosen (c)? When? [unintelligible muttering] But I did (a) and (b) last night. Doesn’t that count? [shakes head] [unintelligible muttering] Oh.

Once upon a time social justice warriors and the news media had pretty awesome causes to get behind. You could go to Alabama and do battle against goons who’d turn fire hoses onto people based upon the color of their skin. Or you could go to Nazi Germany and work against those guys who were too focused on mathematics and spreadsheets to realize what horrible fucking people they were.

You can do these things today too. For instance, you could go to Lebanon and deliberately cover the mass human misery and help millions in desperate need of support. Or you could go to Baltimore and cover the grinding day-to-day (not a single brief week) of how hard it is to live in America’s urban wastelands.

But why do any of this hard stuff when you can spend your time parsing somebody’s tweet and get mad at its content. After all, solving ISIS or urban America is awfully hard. Eh, whatever, let’s do nothing of actual value. Let’s sit behind a desk and trash free speech. It’s much easier that way.

I, of course, do this too. But the difference between me and somebody who works for the BBC or Washington Post is I don’t get paid for this. Plus, they’re on the nagging side. And I’m on the anti-nagging side. I want people to be free to say whatever they want, whenever they want, however they want. Their ilk literally wants to control human thought.

Two lunatic events to this end:

The Washington Post thinks this tweet is the most offensive thing England has done since the vicious firebombing of Dresden #BomberHarris #toosoon:

 

“Our #Lionesses go back to being mothers, partners and daughters today, but they have taken on another title – heroes: …”

 

Activist, journalist, and stormy-cloud-frowny-face-man Ishaan Tharoor, who used to be a senior editor at Time and a Yale man (must be a coincidence) called this a “sexist tweet”.

But what if I alter this tweet a little and make it say this:

 

“Our #Lions go back to being fathers, partners and sons today, but they have taken on another title – heroes: …”

 

To which my point is: What’s the fucking problem?

Is it illegal for us to refer to these female humans for what they are? I’m pretty sure every female player on the England team is somebody’s daughter. Quite a few of them are mothers too. Maybe we need to sanitize this speech to the point it sounds like a faceless machine wrote it.

After all, isn’t the term “lionesses” sexist too? Doesn’t that imply that female athletes can’t be male lions? Isn’t the fact that we say a female human can’t be a male lion the most offensive English anti-feminist thing since King Arthur beat (alleged) his wife over an (alleged) adulterous act? The BBC doesn’t seem to think so (surprisingly). The term’s plastered all over their website.

Whatever, I got my Guests to write this very, very professional tweet:

 

“Our #humans go back to being humans, workers and oxygen consumers today, but they have taken on another title – winners of the game: …”

 

See how much safer and kinder this tweet is. If only all our speech sounded this way. Then nobody would ever say anything valuable or fun ever again. Think of how awesome that world would be.

Next up is the BBC who (not surprisingly) raises the issue of how many low-class-haters took to the airwaves to use the term Pearl Harbor in conjunction with the Japanese loss.

Apparently, poking fun at history is horribly offensive and juvenile. What kind of insensitive pig would do something like that? Well, me. This is what I posted prior to the game’s start on an unrelated social media platform:

 

“On July 5th, 1942 USS Growler torpedoed IJNS Arare and two other destroyers off Kiska or 2,527 miles from today’s stadium. Here’s hoping for an anniversary repeat. ‪#‎theystartedit ‪#‎toosoon”

 

But what if I alter this tweet a little and make it say this:

 

“On August 8th, 1942 Admiral Mikawa’s forces torpedoed and sank four Allied crusiers off Guadalcanal or 6,140 miles from today’s stadium. Here’s hoping for an anniversary repeat. #longlance #youstarteditoilembargo #toosoon”

 

To which my point is: What’s the fucking problem?

If we as a human race cannot laugh and tell jokes (even offensive jokes) about the most horrible war in human history, we’ll rapidly discover that humor no longer exists and we’re just a bunch of boring losers.

Somebody needs to get Tharoor and the BBC a bunch of beers and watch them drink until they calm down. Then they can just simply celebrate victory with the rest of us. They should try it now and again. They’d sleep better at night.

Normally I wouldn’t care, except that Tharoor and the BBC are powerful enough that people who actually matter are going to listen to them and further do what they can to control our speech.

It’s going to get to the point that anybody, anywhere is going to be afraid to tweet or say like, things, or anything at all, because they’ll be too afraid that what they say is offensive to somebody, somewhere, over something.

And what we can / cannot say will be dictated to us by an elite BBC woman and super-elite Yale man; upon pain of outrage and social ostracism. I fear this world. For when it arrives, it’s going to be a freaking miserable nightmare.

As an example, I almost, almost didn’t post my Kiska thing because I thought it’d offend people or folks would think it too juvenile. But I did it anyway. I’m glad I did.

stormy

The Arcturus Project’s Weekly (Not Weekly) Stormy Cloud Award goes to His Ivy League Eminence Ishaan Tharoor. Smart Yale man you might be, but wise you are not. Do you get it? I did a thing there.

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“He made the rafters shake with the loudness of his approval.”

239 years ago 56 guys signed a document that made them traitors.  This incredibly brave and reckless act changed humanity.  We take their ultimate success as a fact of history.  For them it was far less certain.  Not all of them lived.  All of them suffered.  All of them fought.  And victory was ultimately theirs.

If I can manage to remember, every year we’ll take a look at one of these men and reflect upon their lives.

Josiah Bartlett – New Hampshire

Born 1729 in Massachusetts, we find our young 21 year old Bartlett bound for Kingston, New Hampshire in 1750 to practice medicine, without a license, or having been to medical school, or even taken a single college course.  I guess back then you could get away with this.  He seems to have had some great doctors to teach him and a fierce propensity to read and then read some more.

In 1752 he fell ill with a fever normally inclined to end human life.  He’s credited with treating his own illness with cider (hydration) against the advice of other doctors and managed to pull through.  In this we see the emerging nature of a young man not inclined to do what other people say.

In 1754 he marries Mary Bartlett, who also happened to be his first cousin.  I guess back then you could get away with this.  It would prove a highly loving but also very practical marriage, mutually supporting through all the tough days that lay ahead.

He needed his prior personal brush with death when in 1754 an outbreak of diphtheria in Kingston killed scores.  He treated the sick using quinine, then a relatively new procedure in America, and undoubtedly saved hundreds including his own children.  As you can imagine, this made his name.

He transitioned into politics in 1757 as a town elector and by 1765 is in the Provincial Assembly.  He never looked back to his days as a small town doctor.  Within two years we find him serving as a key player in relations with the Royal Governor and commander of a Militia Regiment.  Over time he found himself more and more at odds with the Royal administration.

By 1774 he’s clearly in the colonial camp.  He gets it in his head (at grave risk to himself and his family) to join illegal underground committees and corresponds with average calm men like Samuel Adams.  He’s warned by Royalists to end this “pernicious activity”.

But again, here is a man not inclined to do what other people say.  The Royalists respond by burning down his home.  This mild hint kept him from representing New Hampshire at the First Continental Congress.  But he rebuilt.  And he didn’t take the hint.  And so in 1775 the Royal Governor kicks him out of office.

After the gunfire started, Bartlett is again elected to the Continental Congress and is in Philadelphia for all the key moments.  Towards July 1776, he writes to Mary:

“May God grant us wisdom to form a happy Constitution, as the happiness of America to all future Generations Depend on it.”

When the delegates voted for independence it’s said of his legendary vote:

“He made the rafters shake with the loudness of his approval.” 

Josiah_Bartlett_signature

He signed the document right after John Hancock.  And then he went to war.  He raised New Hampshire militia units and fought at Bennington as a battlefield physician.  He was back in Philly for a while with the Congress but ultimately returned home to New Hampshire for good.

Just as he was an uncertified doctor, he now managed to make himself an uncertified lawyer and judge.  For you see, all the signers of the Declaration were freaking supermen.  If Bartlett had wanted to be a cage fighter or a quantum physicist, I’m sure he could have gotten away with it.

He serves as a normal judge, then joins the Supreme Court, then becomes Chief Justice.  Because why not?  Later on he helps ensure New Hampshire’s ratification of the Constitution in a very close vote of 47 to 37 at the State Convention.  We tend to brush over what a near run thing the Constitution really was.

Bartlett serves as New Hampshire’s Governor for four years.  In 1790, he’s finally made legal when Dartmouth gives him a doctorate in medicine.  Ten of his immediate descendants become doctors as well.

In 1794 he retires from public service due to his age and what one would guess as the fatigue of decades in the fray.  But like a lot of brawlers, once he takes off the spurs there’s not much left in the tank.  He dies only a year later at the age of 66 and is buried alongside Mary in Kingston.

His farewell message to New Hampshire:

“I now find myself so far advanced in life that it will be expedient for me, at the close of the session, to retire from the cares and fatigues of public business to the repose of a private life, with the grateful sense of the repeated marks of trust and confidence that my fellow-citizens have reposed in me, and with my best wishes for the future peace and prosperity of the State.”

josiah bartlett

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on symbols, hate, and freedom

I general, I think as a society we tend to get wrapped too far around symbols, or speech.  Just because somebody gets offended can’t mean we have to rearrange society.  On the other hand, the Confederate battle flag wasn’t flying on Charleston government property until 1962.  In other words, a bunch of then not dead Confederate generals in 1878 didn’t think the flag should be there.  But a bunch of idiots decided to put it there in 1962 just to make themselves very, very clear about what they stood for.

Whatever your understanding of the Civil War, it’s pretty apparent that in the end one side was dedicated to the principle of living as an apartheid slave state.  And seeing as how we’re not likely to approve of flying the Nazi flag from government property, we probably should take the Confederate one down.

But at the same time I get somewhat iffy when Walmart and Amazon (Money!) decide to stop selling Confederate items.  What business is it of anybody if Steve from Minnesota wants to buy one to help reenact the Civil War with his buddies.  On the other hand, I’m the idiot who wants to burn Hitler’s art.

Just for the hell of it, I searched on Amazon to see if I could buy Nazi items.  When you search for “Nazi flag”, you realize Amazon doesn’t sell Nazi themed items.  But the first item that comes up in the search is a Soviet flag.  The Soviet Union killed more of its own people than Hitler did.  Yet you can still buy their stuff.  So one of history’s monstrosities is okay but another isn’t?

Maybe instead we should just let it go.  Forget the symbols, let people be free to make whatever purchases or decisions they want.  Then we’d get the chance to yell at the goon dressed like an SS officer at Halloween.  And we can throw rocks at him until the point of unconsciousness.

Fixing hate is about more than just symbols.  Remove the Confederate flag from human existence, and black men are still nine times as likely to end up behind bars as their white counterparts.  Fixing this shit is hard.  If only society could muster 1/7 the outrage at symbols and instead get into cold, hard, facts, we’d all be a lot better off.  I wonder how many of those who are shouting about flags today, have the stamina (or desire) to talk comprehensive law and justice reform tomorrow?  Or get out there and volunteer?  Or give cash to a charity not run by a celebrity?

One last thought, part of learning from history is being able to remember it, study it, even breathe it.  You can’t erase evil, you have to bathe in it, learn from it, and then banish the hate that created it.  When Egyptian Pharaohs took control they would occasionally sweep the entire kingdom and literally chisel out the names of their enemies in order to remove their lives from history.  This is not a behavior to emulate.

We cannot chisel away hate by battling symbols.  We fight hate and gain freedom by chiseling away hate’s roots.  So okay, take the damn flag down, but then be ready to come back tomorrow to fight that much harder, on far more important battles.

The Civil War’s outcome in many ways is still not finished.  We have a legacy we’ve inherited that requires us to keep going.  We still have work to do.  Freedom is our responsibility.  To hold it and grow it.  We must keep fighting.

dayattheoffice

ordinary, average men inviting us to pick up where they left off; and ensure their sacrifice was worth every bit of it

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I want to self-identify as a ham sandwich

The topic of identity seems rather uncontroversial lately. This shouldn’t be a crazy issue to wade into. Nobody has strong feelings at all. But I guess to be clear, I truly desire to self-identify as a ham sandwich.

Think of the benefits! Well, no, I guess I can’t really think of any benefits, but at least I’d be cool. And free to choose to live my life as a ham sandwich because it’s my desire. I’m not actually a sandwich, but who cares. Seriously, who cares? It’s my call. My life.

Well, I guess a lot of people care. Caitlyn/Bruce/Human Jenner is apparently more popular than the Pope because he has enough money to dramatically alter his life in a way that doesn’t destroy it. If he was poor with traumatic gender confusion, he’d just be screwed. But he has money and so he’s good to go. Money!

So despite what his chromosomes say, he’s self-identified as a female. And despite what her genetic code says, Rachel Dolezal says she’s black. In other words, both of them have self-identified as something that they are clearly not.

And yet, seriously I’m so very confused here, one of them is a hero but the other is evil? I honestly don’t get it. Logically it doesn’t make one bit of sense to worship one and hate the other. But in our super-modern culture nothing makes sense. So why should this?

But generally speaking, I don’t actually have a problem with this. If Jenner wants to be Caitlyn, okay. If NAACP lady wants to be black, okay. If I want to be a ham sandwich, okay. It’s our lives. Get off our backs.

Where I guess I get concerned is where people get shovey about it. They get the idea that their freedom of choice is more important than the freedom of choice of others. And so Jenner will likely sue so she can use whatever bathroom or cake shop she wants. And NAACP lady will, or has already sued a whole bunch of people for things I haven’t bothered to read about. Lawyers!

You know, I’m awfully sick of all of this. Generally speaking, on really, really controversial issues I think I’m beginning to learn my preference is that as a society we should either be all in or all out. So let’s go all in.

What do I mean? Well, if you remember, the media Titan race and gender baiter in Oprah interviewed Raven-Symone who expressed her desire to be:

“…a human who loves humans.”

At which point she was demolished by Oprah and by idiots for not self-identifying as black, or gay, or female, or a ham sandwich, or whatever. In other words, people wanted to tell her who she was. Uh, so, like, I’m pretty sure nobody but Raven-Symone has the power to tell Raven-Symone who she is.

And so that should be our baseline.

Nobody but Caitlyn Jenner has the right to tell Caitlyn Jenner who she is. And if Rachel Dolezal says she’s black, so be it. And if I’m a self-professed freaking ham sandwich, then I’m a freaking ham sandwich.

You know, speaking of that Pope guy, I think he gets it too, when he said, “…who am I to judge?”

We need to tattoo that phrase on everybody’s eyelids before our judgment / criticism culture destroys us all. And we also need to take a step back and realize that some things just aren’t that big a deal, or go against our ideals and values.

Who uses what bathroom or what cake shop or leads what race based organization are all concepts that are infinitesimal compared to ignoring the most important lesson we have as a human race in, quite simply, “…love one another…”

So let’s just make every bathroom a human bathroom and get it over with. And yeah, sorry, this means the 43 year old soccer mom has to let Jenner into the girl’s bathroom with her 11 year old daughter. Otherwise mom needs to get off social media about what a hero she thinks Jenner is. We have to be all in, or all out.

And I’m pretty sure that if Jesus owned a bake shop, and a gay / trans / multiracial / whatever couple wanted a cake, I think he’d be like, “Of course my children. What flavor would you like? Peace be with you.” I think similar things happened in this book I read that he was in.

And this after all, is the highest expression of our humanity. That you can disagree with somebody, hate who they say they are, or despise what they do, and yet still love them as a fellow human being. So I guess, forget ham sandwich, I want to self-identify as a human.

ham sandwich

Mmm, tasty, tasty love.

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requiring the permission of strangers to turn on a ceiling fan; and other ways our homes are no longer ours

For the uninitiated, in America a Homeowner’s Association (HOA) or similar construct is an evil organization bent upon world domination through regulation of the style and manner in which your bushes are trimmed. In that sense, they have similar priorities to the always delightful, Sturmabteilung or Nazi Brownshirts.

For the uninitiated, who haven’t learned history because it’s not taught anymore, the Brownshirts were another evil organization bent upon world domination through regulation of the style and manner of clown nose coloring, tap water purity, the rules of chess, mass genocide, and the process by which one acquired permission to don footwear.

brownshirts

Bringing peace and enlightenment to the people; one broken window at a time.

Anyways, way back when after a HOA embarked upon a six month ordeal to force my parents to change the color of their shed, I’ve been of the strong opinion that HOAs are nothing more than an excuse for parasites to add luster to their otherwise pathetic lives by holding power over their fellow human beings, aka their own neighbors.

The guy in my next door cubicle at day job is a HOA president. So I get the joy of hearing his frequent used car salesmen back door scheming on daily HOA management. I wouldn’t trust this dude to hold my coffee for six seconds. And yet, please pardon the vulgarity, I think his voice sounds so weird after one of his HOA phone calls that he likely has an erection inside the cubicle.

So when I bought my current shoebox home, I tried my best to stay away from HOAs. But bizarrely, in modern America if you want a neighborhood without an active HOA you need to be willing to pay more. I couldn’t afford it. And so, $50 of my money each month goes to fund an organization whose sole purpose is to destroy me.

Ostensibly, the HOA’s purpose is grounds management, keeping the neighborhood looking nice, and otherwise maintaining order. This way that one annoying neighbor can’t leave an RV camper on their lawn for months at a time. However, in practice HOAs fuel a racket of lawyers, corporations, and white collared goons who are in it to make money.

The corporate behemoth running the day-to-day actions of my HOA does business in two dozens states as a full blown LLC. Because nothing says local democratic government and quaint neighborhoods like paying the Giant Octopus to cut the twelve square yards of public grass that border you property.

The former overlord running our HOA used to lead, to put it mildly, with a rather disengaged hand. Folks would literally leave garbage on their lawns. Eh, I kind of live in a rough neighborhood.

Just last night somebody emptied all six rounds from a likely large frame revolver into the woods out back. I hear gunfire all the time and so I don’t call the cops anymore. Why go to the gun range when the woods at 11pm work just fine? Sure enough, this morning there wasn’t a body out there. I think.

And so, if I have to dodge garbage while walking my dog(s)? Oh well. I bitch about it, but it’s not a big deal. Particularly given that I know what an active / engaged HOA is capable of.

And sure enough, we got a new HOA president. And she was active / engaged. I caught her roaming the neighborhood in her clown car with a note pad. She’d drive a few feet, stop, open her car door, stare at her neighbors’ homes, and take notes. While I walked by her with my dog(s) she wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. She knew what she was doing.

And sure enough, then the entire neighborhood got flooded with “violation” notices. The garbage still litters the lawns. But apparently my bushes needed trimming (true). And, my entire freaking driveway needed replacement. Yeah, the entire driveway.

Why? Because she said so. The violation notice simply instructed me to replace my driveway within 60 days or face fines. No explanation as to why. Good luck with that, lady. I’ll sue first.

And when I replied in formal letter requesting clarification? Eh, no reply. So we’ll see if I hear from them after the 60 day clock runs out. Maybe she’s just overwhelmed with responses to all the paperwork she generated.

And then I’m walking my dog(s) yesterday and I see her latest idea. Behold the power of waste and general sadness! See if you can figure out what’s wrong here:

insanity

1) Now our cool little tree and flower circle has been surrounded by a trio of no parking signs

2) For a garden circle that is geometrically impossible to park around

3) On a dead end street that houses no consistent traffic

4) For a circle that I’ve never seen anybody park around for two years

5) When our neat flowers and cute little tree are now surrounded by steel, signs, order, and sadness

 

They say absolute power corrupts absolutely. But it’s rather hard to execute absolute power when you’re a darn moron who has as much common sense as a Brownshirt goon on meth.

I fear this is the future of the American home. The needless signs surrounding the tree. Home isn’t your home. The HOA owns you. The bank owns your mortgage. Via property taxes, you effectively only rent your home from the government. Even your local utility wants to hook up smart meters which empower them to turn off certain appliances at their decision, not yours.

dog

Happy non-contrarian canine wonders why beloved Daddy bothers to think and write about stuff that might not matter.

And so the future of the free American’s home will require the permission of strangers to turn on a ceiling fan.

Maybe it’s just a continuation of history’s reality. Through most of the human race’s great adventure, folks have never really been free or owned their homes, their land, their lives. So who are we to think differently?

We live in a modern society so controlling that entire arms of our culture are committed to telling you what you can / cannot say, think, eat, drink, smoke, vote, believe, and so on. So why not all of these things, and then some, even when you’re inside your own home?

It’s very troubling to me. It makes me fear what kind of home my kids, God willing, will live. Will they look back on my tale of their grandparents shed color debacle and be like, “Oh, that’s so minor compared to what it’s like today.”

Will freedom, the home, the joy of choosing your own path just slowly erode away? And those who come after us won’t even know what it was like. What it was like to live free before the age when a total stranger could order you around in your home? Just because they felt like it?

Or maybe my dog(s) is right. And I’m off my senses. And one day I’ll be wearing a tin foil hat mumbling to strangers about the Brownshirts. Eh, we’ll see.

stormy

The Arcturus Project’s Weekly (Not Weekly) Stormy Cloud Award goes to Her Eminence HOA President #457.2b. I won’t give in lady; there’s nothing wrong with my driveway; I’ll see you in court if necessary.

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I’m thinking of becoming a professional troll; just to amuse myself

The possibilities are endless.  Folks get offended online over anything.  I could waste more hours of humanity’s time in one post than all the department of motor vehicles combined.  All these people would take it so seriously, whereas I’d care about nothing.  Just think of the joy of so much outrage, generated by falsity.  It’d be just like the real media, but unlike them, I wouldn’t make any money.  But the daily humor would be unspeakable.

 

– I take one of my dog(s) stuffed toys and dress it up like a dodo bird.  Then I pose in front of it smiling with a rifle like it’s a hunting kill in the bush.  Only I’m just in my own backyard with the grass grown long because I’m too lazy to cut it.  And my caption is, “Just havin’ fun cleanin’ out nature’s mess.  CITES says this bird is endangered, but I found one real quick and shot it.  So I don’t think it’s endangered.  #naturegenocide”

 

– I buy an American flag and an Iranian flag.  I drape myself in both flags while wearing a Jason mask and holding a half empty wine bottle to accentuate the randomness.  And then I e-mail the picture to various Iranian Council of Guardians support groups alongside various Liberty University support groups.  Then I crack a beer(s) and await the death threats.

 

– I make a social media post with a painting of Queen Victoria accusing it of vicious sexism because it depicts a strong female ruler wearing a dress instead of a pants-suit.  In fact, I accuse Victoria’s ghost of being entirely at fault for actively participating in such horrid stereotypes.  I make sure to point out how cool it is to dive back into history and impose my own social, political, and cultural viewpoints upon those who’ve been dead for centuries.

 

– I shoot video of me wearing a faded Yugoslavian track suit as I run from business to business where I open the door and shout inside at the top of my lungs:  “I hate you pigs!  I’ll never buy anything from you!  Burn ya bastards!”  My track suit adventure entails stops at the following locations:

1) A gun shop

2) An LBGT%#? bar

3) A Christian book shop

4) A mosque gift shop

5) Hobby Lobby

6) Hilary Clinton campaign depot

Then I post the video.  Then I crack a beer(s) and await the death threats.

 

– I buy a bloody Halloween head and pose in front of it with my biggest kitchen knife covered in tomato sauce.  My caption is, “I just saw Taken 3 and I couldn’t help myself.”  I’m pretty sure this is illegal because the cops would show up.  But the purpose would be to see how many folks I could hook and get them to post anti-Hollywood violence messages just off my one photograph alone.

 

– I go on a dating site and find a lunatic female willing to assist.  She dons a Dallas Cowboys jersey; I don a Philadelphia Eagles jersey.  (PS both these teams suck)  Then I dot our eyes to imply physical injury.  Then I post the picture with the caption, “Domestic violence is okay in sports.  We both participated during the last game; just to release our internal anger.  We think it’s fun.  We think this behavior is an integral part of the NFL.  You should too.  #sportsmorals”  And then we sit back, crack a beer(s), and count the hours until Roger Goodell resigns.  It’d be a match made in heaven.

 

– I post textual evidence of my writing an offensive, deranged blog that serves no purpose and generally contributes nothing to the course of human events while hiding behind the narcissistic tag line of Exercise in Freedom of Speech.  Upon realization of actual events; I meekly contemplate my future as a bleached skeleton and wonder when I’m going to get a life.  #life