Earlier this month a Facebook friend asked for $18 for her old dog's prednisone; of course I came through for that. How could I not? This one Facebook friend once spent $500 fixing a feral cat's fucked up foot, getting his shots, etc. etc., because I asked her too. That's hard to beat. Then because I knew she's broke and Thanksgiving means turkey I put in a pickup order for one at her local Walmart, $14.37 well-spent. (I've got my own turkey, and a ham, and a pork roast, so I'm set to feast all I'd really want to.)
The Bedlamist
Friday, November 15, 2024
Caring Costs
Wednesday, November 6, 2024
A P.S.
So I still need laxatives to poop, with that it's easy enough.
Which reminds me of something. Quality of life is very important to me and after watching all the degrading debilities my crippled parents went through, especially towards the end, I've got pretty high standards for myself. By my standards I see people everyday in this building who by my standards are better off; of course that's none of my business, and I doubt anybody will last my opinion, but just for me that's how it is. For example I think I might be able to put up with not going walkies very often, but I insist on being able to get to the toilet by myself.
Sometime between now and then I'll get my new glasses, and I'll find out if Medicaid will pay for my hearing aids, and this Friday I'm going to see what the dental school can do about my dentition; and ordered a pair of glasses with fancy progressive lenses, which ought to be here in the next week or so, and tomorrow I'll call the audiologists' to see if thy have any news yet. For now my day to day functioning isn't very impaired. I'm even resisting going out to buy myself an allowed pint of beer, which ain't that hard because it seems fried ripe plantain has a laxative effect, something I'll have to keep in mind.
"I Think It's Pretty"
Monday, October 28, 2024
From The Archives: Nov 1, 2010, 5:23:49 PM
Why I Support The Death Penalty
Davy
The following quotes are from Wil Wheaton's "The real war on Christmas"
essay on Salon.com on Dec 22, 2005, quoting respectively Wil's father
and Wil:
"They get satellite television, and weights, and free meals, and
jobs, and a library ..."
"And raped, and beaten by guards, and sold as slaves by prison
gangs," I said."
Think about that: any self-respecting person would think that's worse
than death.
This, besides that they're stupid enough to commit what are usually
stupid crimes and stupid enough to get caught, is why I have no respect
for the average convict: because they don't have whatever it takes to
put themselves out of their misery (and ours). No, they'd rather suffer
behind bars, with the only recompense being making other people behind
bars suffer too. So why is Society spending so much money, time and
effort on these people? Put them down, I say.
Note that I'm aware that innocent people get convicted, that the
penalties are exaggerated (prison over a couple of joints is unjust),
and that a lot of them have their charges "upgraded" by political DAs
aiming for higher office (having two joints in a baggie does not mean
you plan on selling either of them); the point is that even somebody
who's been framed should know better than to put up with prison time. I
don't have much respect for non-criminals who choose to suffer like
that either. If they're guilty it's punishment, if not it's euthanasia,
and in either case it's better for all concerned.
Wise up: in the present-day U.S.A., as everywhere else on the planet,
life is cheap. There would be much less war if it wasn't, much less
cancer and much less stupidity; nobody's life is worth a plug nickel,
not even mine. Anybody who thinks otherwise is an idiot duped by
bullshit propaganda.
So why do we have prisons? So that people "on the outside" can enjoy
sadistic fantasies about the horrors that its outcasts undergo and so
that really marginal types can get jobs inside them -- especially as
guards who can give free reign to their own criminal sadism. Most
people don't think cons can really be rehabilitated, that prisons are
for punishment, but they don't think further to learn why they're so
willing to pay so much for these fine penal establishments. Think about
this too: you pay for food because it tastes good, you pay for booze
because it makes you feel good, you pay for gas to run your cars... So
why do you let so much of your tax money go to the penal system? Why
else but to make these stupid cons suffer. (You sadistic bastards.)
Death, whether as penalty or reward, is preferable to prison. So I
suggest that the death penalty should not only be kept, it should be
expanded to cover a whole host of non-fatal felonies as well: any crime
that merits more than say 2 years in the slammer should result in a
sure, quick and painless death.
Okay, perhaps there should be an alternative to prison or death: I
propose penal battalions in our United States Armed Forces. Instead of
taking our their violent stupidity on normal citizens or fellow cons,
if insist on being too soft-headed and/or too sadistic to go for simple
execution, let the criminal types have their jollies at the expense of
non-Americans our Government has designated The Enemy. The government
can always find some foreigners to "liberate."
In any case, face it: it's so easy to get wise to you that even I can
do it. You might give facing up to yourselves a try too.
Ya got all that?
***HUGS***
Davy
From The Archives: Sep 5, 2011, 12:13:54 PM
David O'Lantern
single close friend, that it may well be that nobody has ever felt any
deep and abiding affection for me. And that this might well be my fault.
Or perhaps "fault" is not quite the word for it; perhaps I should say
that this fact of friendlessness is due to some fact or facts about me,
that perhaps I'm simply not the kind of person who has friends. That if
it's a skill I'm unable to learn it, if it's a talent I don't possess
it.
It could even be that it's the rest of the people I've been surrounded
by for 40-odd years who are responsible, that I'm alone on a planet of
people who are unable or unwilling to appreciate my "special" qualities.
(This won't be a very popular idea.)
Regardless of responsibility, the facts are that I am alone now and that
I have always been alone. The available evidence indicates also that
this condition is now permanent. If there ever was a time when having at
least one close friend was possible that opportunity will not recur;
however interested I might become in a person it will again come to
nothing. No one is likely to want to be my friend, or at least likely
enough to tolerate or disregard whatever deficiency or disability causes
this condition. The distance is unbridgeable: I am cut off.
This idea is not new, merely the acceptance of it. Years ago and for
many years I railed against this fact, refusing to recognize it as
irrefutable and seeking to escape it. As one might expect if we are
truly a social species naturally inclined to be sociable together.
Assuming of course that I truly am the same species as those who are not
my friends: subjectively it has always seemed that that is not the case,
that I am a species sui generis. Perhaps I'm a mutant, a "sport," a "bad
seed." Or perhaps my space ship crashed and left me stranded here, or
maybe I've blundered over from an alternate universe that I'm unable to
get home to.
Certainly it's always felt that way, ever since I can remember: any hope
I've ever had of not being all alone here had more to do with finding
another such mutant or mutants with whom I might bond reciprocally and
mutually, not that I would ever prove to be a "regular, normal" person.
It did not take me long to learn that one should not strive to surmount
the realm of natural fact, that it's simply not possible for a pig to
fly. (However worthy of flight the pig might be.)
What's changed lately, besides that this knowledge has finally sunk in,
is the realization that however this isolation has felt at times it has
always been possible: however hard to bear it was I have borne it
nevertheless. Regardless of how others might perceive me I have my
persistence to be proud of. I gather that this quality or achievement is
not at all common, that most of those who might read this cannot or will
not say that: you would have been unable or unwilling to endure such a
condition for over 40 years, you would have crumpled and crumbled long
before. You would be reduced to self-abnegation or self-destruction, or
worse, gibbering idiocy.
But I remain. I, I, I am a rara avis. Hear me type: I think it's pretty.
Friday, June 30, 2023
[The bastards want to poweder me. What I'm thinking of sending them goes like this.]
First of all, SSI pays me $914 a month because I'm disabled; that's my only source of income. The utilities here run me about $150-200, and of course I need basic incidentals like cleaning supplies, laundry, hearing aid batteries, bus fare to medical appointments, etc. I simply can't afford a rent increase of $175 a month. The most I could squeeze out is $600, and that would hurt.
Sunday, January 24, 2021
How To Get Rid Of Me, Et Cetera
Do
y'all know that all you'd have to do to make like likes of me well-nigh
impossible is totally destroy American society? Anarchy, or at least
the chaos that's the contemporary substitute, would put paid to most
anarchists, especially anarcho-communists like me. It's fundamentally
unjust, but then so many people are misinformed about what the terms
anarchism, communism, and anarcho-communist mean. You can't even be
trusted to know what the psychiatric diagnosis 'pedophile' means.
All
things being equal, your life always will: I don't hate humanity enough to
go by 'better dead than undavided'. Which is pretty much how most of
y'all seem to act anyway, as if you have a much more stringent and
unfair idea of what 'human being' means. Some of you talk a liberal game
but then your tactics include forcing the government (or the
corporation) to shut somebody up. Sometimes even when you agree with the
dissident you're angry at him for spilling the beans. You are 'a
citizen with equal rights'; I am 'working for the enemy, who is out to
destroy even decency itself'. You get free speech, while I ought to be
deplatformed and nazi-punched. Because free speech is the prerogative of
the master class alone.
And it's becoming as easy to be declassed as it is to become unemployed, the Owners can purge themselves on an ad hoc but ongoing basis. So it's possible for one born of privilege to come to appreciate or even share my opinions or positions (even sometimes physical or social ones). It's just not frequent, or even predictable or decipherable, enough to really figure in. Those who seem like delinquents, accomplices, colleagues, or co-conspirators, usually turn out to be agents provocateurs. Or worse, totally insane.
And just as there are practically no 14 year old girls on the Internet who simply must have some geriatric dick, my chances of meeting anyone who might regard themselves as leftist revolutionaries are so slim that whether they also might accord the same label to me would matter no more than half the time. Again, by a coin flip. 50% of the time. Sometimes more, when I'm not exemplifying Major Depression. And again, by default I've come to decide that you're worth more than a coin flip, at least in theory, so you could say I'm overpaying for what I'm trying to buy from you.
n order to break that habit we'll have to train people to not feel TV is necessary for life. Unlike today, where 's/he don't even have a TV!' is all you'd ever need to know about that person. As if you'll die without a screen. That shows you what other people want you to look at. How cool is that? You don't even have to think about thinking for yourself. There's always some public, corporate, or media figure to tell you what you think.
While for me this Alex Jones guy is too mundane, and too obviously in league with The System. If there really are lizard people he might be one. It's worth flipping a coin over anyway. That if you think he's way Out There and you're not, that shows how narrow is your perspective and how weak is your brain.
By the way, your games make you weak in body and brain. You'd do better to smoke opium, hoping that the Brit While this Alex Jones guy is too mundane for me, and too obviously in league with The System. If there really are lizard people he might be one. It's worth flipping a coin over anyway. That if you think he's way Out There and you're not, that shows how narrow is your perspective and how weak is your brain.s soon force our country to legalize it. If you're not humongous with a bad skin condition and type 2 diabetes you must not be very good gamer. Yet look how even impure heroin helps keep your weight down and forces you to engage with the outside world. If that's what it takes for you to fellate me, whether or not you'd want to see me lynched, of course you should try it. At least junkies look human. And they're more likely to tell you who's got what, who's doing what to who, and how things really are out here than your average gamer is. Because they're more likely to know, or even know how to know.
Then again, they tell me gamer chicks are hot. Because of their impaired grasp of reality and their obligatory obligingness it's easier for them to put out. Which might be what people thought of me back in the '70s, by the way: hippie boys are easy. Well, I was, anyway. And I had no trouble moving among 'hippie types' in those days. Or 'nonconformists' any way. One of the last boys I had a crush on was another 19 year old who'd worked his way up to Assistant Manager at his McDonald's and believed every word any 'Objectivist' said.
But this boy said he wasn't really gay, he just knew how to get along with gay people and had nothing against us, and that the guy who was letting him crash behind the shelves in his little personal library wasn't really his uncle. But that he did pay rent, but not so much that he couldn't save up to move out. But yeah he said he had sex with the guy in the past, and of course things just didn't work between them, but the guy figured he wasn't hurting himself by letting the kid stay there.
But this boy said he wasn't really gay, he just knew how to get along with gay people and had nothing against us, and that the guy who was letting him crash behind the shelves in his little personal library wasn't really his uncle. But that he did pay rent, but not so much that he couldn't save up to move out. But yeah he said he had sex with the guy in the past, and of course things just didn't work between them, but the guy figured he wasn't hurting himself by letting the kid stay there.
Which
put paid to my hopes of reciprocal fellatio, at least with him, but it
made it easier to appreciate his position. That's what sharing someone's
condition is supposed to do, isn't it? 'Mostly it's just that he
doesn't object to me'. Isn't that what America is all about? Objectively
speaking, I mean.