D.B.Tarpley's Amazing Ass Blog-5-23-18

Greetings and salutations people and peoplettes,

Byzantium Skynklebork here giving you nothing but good news with nary a bruise.

I can’t remember the last time we talked. How the Hell are ya? Oh me? I’m fine. I just got over a nasty bout of pneumonia, had an infection in my soul…

Piss poor puss-philled pustules populating per propagation pa-pa-pathetic protagonist’s puff pillows.

When you can’t breathe you can’t float, and floating is the best way to get through life; don’t you agree? Spending half your day in the ER when you are 45 makes you realize that you are more than likely over the halfway point of your life. And this, to a man who does not believe in the happy hereafter, is a depressing revelation.

I want to do so much more with my life than that which I have already done. Sure I burned down a psych ward, tore down a prison door, and murdered an unsuspecting eye sore.

But… more.

I want to tickle a baby’s tender little bare baby foot with the feather of a fallen Phoenix. I want to make special eye contact in a quaint little shop packed with musky used books, as if some great secret we both know is dying to be told… on the verge of suicide. I want to walk the cobbled streets of some forgotten European villa alone on a rain filled midnight as the light of a blood moon bathes each sloppy slick stone an awe-inspiring crimson.

I want one more McRib.

All this and more… Always more.

The human condition is one of persistent need. We never really move past the fetus stage. The umbilical cord may change from a warm carbon conduit to one born of ice cold mechanics but we never stop being fed our way of life… we never grow out of the need to be told how to be, where to go, and when to arrive.

What is now?

Oh I have to start school/

some sort of Pre-K thing/

on to actual Elementary charm/

dog/

middle/

plain girlfriend/

high/

prom/

job/

college/

hot girlfriend/

career/

wife/

kids/

affair/

empty nest/

retirement/

Trout sodomy/

nursing home/

death

But… more.

There are one million and one ways to be. I know because I was bored one Sunday afternoon and I listed them on a 3x5 index card. I keep it in my pocket as a reminder that there is something else - that there is another way. If you choose to live the life of the truly unrepentant man then so very many other possibilities exist. Maybe even a reality where you can be happy… truly happy without the artifice of social compliance. The only one you should be complicit with is yourself.

Me – Damn straight.

Myself – That’s what I just said.

Me – And I told you.

Myself – You told me what?

Me - That you were damn straight.

Myself – It comes off as aggressive when you say it like that.

Me – It was meant as such.

Myself – But we are saying the same thi...

Me – You shut your filthy fucking cum-hole.

Myself – That was mildly offensive.

Me – I am going to punch you in your nipple.

Myself – You will not.

Me – Oh yeah?

Myself – I definitely believe that no, no you will not.

Me – You asked for this.

(PUNCH!!!)

Me – Ow!

I – Hey guys, what’s up?

Me – (rubbing nipple) Get out of here ‘I’, nobody likes you.

Myself – Finally something we both agree on.

I – Fiddlesticks.

I know this is completely off subject but has anyone seen a movie called ‘La Grande Bouffe’? It is a French film, duh, with an extremely interesting concept relative to this discussion. In it, four middle aged men make a pact to hole up together in a villa and hedonistically end it all with visceral acts of gargantuan gluttony and debaucherous sex. They are each an outstanding professional in their chosen field, one a doctor, one a pilot, etc… etc. who have traveled the world, seen the sights, and feel the oppressive mundanity of life closing in on them like some magnificent magnanimously mangled magnesium bear trap. The film ends with them actually eating themselves to death, by which I do not mean they eat so much they rupture the lining of their collective stomachs but rather that they actually consume parts of one another until they are all extremely not alive.

Incidentally ‘La Grande Bouffe’ makes an excellent double feature with Disney’s ‘The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes’. Then again, what film doesn’t go with that cinematic masterpiece?

I have yet to reach the level of boredom exhibited by the French and I sincerely hope I never will. That’s one of the perks of being a big ol ignorant American I guess – there are so many things out there left to fill you with wonder.

Ooooooooh... armadillo.

So in summation:

Bumblebees and sparrows do not good bedfellows make.

Peanut butter and mayonnaise go together like a catheter in an anus.

And Lithuanian people have yet to discover the joy of a well-oiled fist.

Until next time, leave the pages bloody, and have an amazing ass day.