mad drunk genius

I used to have all sorts of problems. Now there's just the one.

Tag: racism

Scattered storms, like ideas, are heavier in some places than others

  1. A bigot / misogynist who mistreats robot / AI. He renames his Siri-equivalent a slur, pretends at living in the antebellum South. The voice isnt recorded by anyone but automatically generated. The fellow is a miserable person, the sort who’d kick a dog if he had a bad day & people still owned dogs. But he doesnt. He doesnt own anything, even the AI. He pays a subscription for it. How you feel about the story depends on what sort of jobs he has. Maybe that’s the end of it: he leaves for work, and it isnt specified what the occupation is.
  2. An alien species without malice. Hermit crabs who find a species capable of sentience in order to grow them, make them capable of progressing technologically enough to get off the planet & onto others. No, that sounds too much like Prometheus. But I cant imagine why space-farers would choose to inhabit the ruins of other civilizations, as was the original idea.
  3. Humanity starts using viruses to re-write DNA and fix problems, like eyesight, congenital defects, etc. But it mutates & changes scent. People start to identify others by smell, physical reaction to those who don’t smell ‘right’. Society re-structured around pheromones, exile akin to death. But people can still communicate as long as it’s not in person, or they’re wearing containment suits. Protagonist has to be someone who lacks an identity.
  4. It’s the future, and there’s little meat left except what’s in carapace. There is beef & chicken, but allocations of only 1kg of beef per year & 1kg of chicken per month, per adult person. Tastes terrible, only comes from animals that have died of age or disease. The poor can auction off meat ration to wealthier people, but also have first rights to their own family’s flesh.
    1. Corpse meat can also be sold to Eaters of the Dead cults, or sold or rented to ravishers, who generally pay the most & buy bodies whole.
    2. Church of Eternal & Righteous Love targets drug rehab centers to convert young to religion in hopes they’ll sign over their bodies before a fatal relapse.
    3. Church of the Final Revelation started the trend off.
    4. Story is of a family eating last meal with terminally ill mother, her tasting meat for the last time, and discussing what to do with her body. Treatment exists but too expensive; discussion of cost includes possibility that illness runs in family & money from selling body could provide for testing/treatment of children.
    5. ‘They were right about everything. It just had nothing to do with their daughter.’
    6. Title is In Remembrance Of
  5. The easiest way to add to life is stop sleeping
    1. Pill lets you sleep for 2 hours, give or take, while remaining fully conscious and hallucinating.
    2. Need prescription based on argument of utility. Need to have a useful job, be a ‘producer’ rather than a consumer, so only the wealthy can qualify.
    3. ‘There was a girl missing. Like all missing girls anyone cares to find out what happened to, this one was pretty. She also played saxophone more than decently and wore a short skirt and tall heels[?]. Her family thought that she’d been kidnapped or murdered. They wanted me to find out how and why. They could pay a month’s worth of No Doze, a quarter now to make sure I could stay hot on the trail, but three quarters when I’d done my job. But I’m an android. I have no lust for sleep or dreams. ~This has to be two ideas, not one.

Nothing drives me wild like redheads

Except blondes. And brunettes. And girls with hair jet black or gray or white or any unnatural dye. And I love clear, pale skin. And freckles and tattoos. And dark, perfect tans. And tan lines. Oh, if I had a choice, I’d want a girl with eyes green like emeralds, but I like girls with eyes blue like the sky best, and all I really want is my brown-eyed girl.

I like girls white and Asian, Mexican, Injun, Arabic, Persian, Slavic, Mediterranean. I want a pure Nubian princess, but I really want a girl of mixed blood.

I like my girls skinny, almost anorexic. I like to see the skin go over the ribs, but I like a girl with curves better, the hourglass figure, almost as much as a girl with a bit of a pooch, or more. And there’s nothing like an athletic girl with muscles sculpted perfect like marble to drive me mad.

I like them best 17 or 27, 7 or 48. I like them young and naive or cunning and sure. I like having to take it slow and teach them everything, I like it when they teach me something new. I like it when they first turn wild for it, I like it when they know exactly what they want and don’t bother pretending anything else. I like being the first to have a girl and being the latest. I like it when she gets hers first and then is tired of it and knows just what to do to make me finish and how to do it so there ain’t no use at all in fighting it. I like my mouth on a nipple like a baby trying for milk and I like the the coos that escape her mouth near like a baby, too.

I like them shaved and trimmed and bald and hairy, cleaned and washed or after a full day’s sweat, and I like them bleeding (with a towel down if it’s my place; anywhere if it’s hers). And I like every shape and fold because it’s as individual as each of them.

I like the satisfaction of desire, and I like the thwarting of desire, and I love the desire itself for what it is.

Give them all to me! I’m famished. I just want to look, to taste, to nibble, just to gorge.

It’s official: I’m addicted to fight videos on youtube

I don’t know what it is, but I can’t get enough of watching teenagers get into clumsy, awkward altercations outside of schools, in cafeterias, and on random streets. There’s just something magical about seeing the spontaneous spark of emotion and resulting manic action that makes me feel all tingly inside. I watch the UFC and Pride Fighting when it comes on basic cable, and yeah, that’s interesting but it’s just not the same. Those people know what they’re doing and they’re getting paid to do it. It’s professional, and that diminishes the magic. There’s a reason about two trillion sites on the web advertise “amateur porn” (even though nine times out of ten, you know it’s really not). Everyone likes to see people who don’t know what they’re doing because there’s some relatable kinship there. In the case of porn, okay, guys are just horny and want to believe in that unsullied “she’s not really slutty this is her first time to ever do anything like this” image. In fighting, it’s that you’ve seen a million fights like these before and they are nostalgic and infinitely more entertaining than seeing two guys who have no real antipathy for one another go at it in a ring with a ref and time limit.

And for whatever reason, I’m always convinced that I could beat up whoever is fighting. Well, not always, but usually. I’m usually sure I could take either one of the two guys going at it. Why? I’m not sure exactly. I mean, I never really got into that many fights myself when I was in school, but I won all of them. I wrestled a hell of a lot and nearly always won those, too. See, as a kid I always boxed and wrestled my father so I had no grasp of the concept “restraint” and when it was time to throw down in any fashion, I went all out. Typically, I went for a choke of some kind, too. I don’t know why, but given the opportunity, I always seemed to latch onto the other person and jam my forearm up into their windpipe. Usually worked, too, thanks to my nigh-skeletal arms on that side. This isn’t bragging, this isn’t made up. I was pretty damn good. But realistically, I know I’m not good enough to physically beat up most people in a fistfight. Doesn’t mean the perception isn’t there subconsciously, though.

On a somewhat related note, I always find myself rooting for the person with the lightest skin, regardless of the situation. I never knew I was racist until now, but apparently I am. In my defense, most of the videos I’ve seen have been of stereotypical thug black dudes and bitchy black chicks yelling ebonical curses, and on several occasions, jumping into fights to help beat up the other person. And of course white people never know how to fight, so it feels like I’m rooting for the underdog. Or something. The point is, subconscious racism is still racism and that’s wrong. Or something.

A shallow, complicated character study

I know a woman who, in order to get a job, told her future employers she had children, and coming up on three years later she is still working there and her employers still believe she has children. She uses these imaginary kids as an excuse to get off days of work, but all she does on those days is sit at home and watch television. Besides this, she is lazy, spiteful, and selfish. But she isn’t evil.

I know another woman who has half a dozen children from three different fathers and is dating another man. By her actions I know she favors the children from some fathers over others. By her actions, I know she is irresponsible and also selfish. I know that she used to sell drugs and may still, smokes weed regularly and has stayed out late at night getting drunk with boyfriend, all with six children in the home and often as a single mother. Her perception of herself and reality is biased to the point it is almost unrecognizable from the actual events taking place, a necessary device in order for her to gain people’s sympathy (and her own). But she isn’t evil.

Those two descriptions are not fair in the slightest, and I make no claims that they are. They are the worst aspects of two people who can be quite pleasant at times, the latter even more so than the former. They are not good people, either one, but they have good aspects, very good aspects, and I could spend pages listing them. They often seem to be quite good. And yet knowing the worst, I could never in my life call them good. I am tempted to call them sympathetic, but knowing the worst (some of which I don’t wish to mention here), even that is impossible.

I know a man who says racist things without remorse, who holds very strong racist opinions and holds them close to his heart. But this man is not just any man, he is in a position of strong political leadership and is friends with many political people in my city and across my state. From his statements it would be easy to gather that he thinks that Mexicans are all stupid, thieving, dishonest, and lazy, and you could probably get a similar or identical reading from his opinions on blacks.

And yet, from his actions I would never be able to tell. He gives money out of his own pocket to help Mexican children who don’t have enough for candy. He actually physically helps older kids whose tires have gone flat on their bikes. Any time anyone of any age, race, or creed comes to him for help, he does literally everything in his power to help them. And then when they turn their backs or get out of earshot, he’ll make disparaging remarks about how they’ll spend the money or why they were in that situation in the first place.

I don’t mean to be trite because surely you’ve all heard this before or reached the same conclusion, but there are very few people who fit the simple definitions we like to arrange others into. Unlike movies or comic books or most fiction in general, evil is rare and God knows true good is like a grain of sand in a haystack. Life is complicated, people are complex, but it’s easier and more attractive to write people off according to one word labels.

I’m no better on either account, of course. I still label people simply and act in ways that would quickly get me labeled if people actually knew about it.

I’ve pretended to be romantically interested in a woman just to get her friend (my co-worker) to like me better and therefore be easier to work with. I revel in the attention, get off on the idea of being desired and the source matter little at all to my ego. I am as selfish, loathsome, and wretched as any human being you will ever find, and if you knew some of the things I have done and if you knew the things I have the desire to do, you would agree and rightfully shun me like a leper.

But I’m not special in that way, either. For a while I used to think I was, but now of course I realize that all of those things are present in everyone to some degree. Those that know me may think I am nice, funny, pleasant, etc. I am. I can be a very considerate and thoughtful person. I can be intelligent and endearing. I am all of those things.

But I’m also an asshole, a pervert. A jackass, a selfish, unabashed cocksucker of the highest order. The “Illusory existence of an internet person” covers that concept fairly well, so I won’t delve into it any deeper, but what’s true in cyberspace is true in real space (and myspace). So what am I? A wonderful, dreadful schizophrenic?”

And you?

Is there something deep and significant in any of that? No, probably not. Does acknowledging that people, like each one of us, have many aspects to them, most of which we never truly see, mean that anyone will stop using simple definitions? Of course not. But it’s something to aspire to.