2011年6月30日 Good news

"Wait what? That's not really repugnant." You say? Well why don't you go play hide and go f...... Yes, so the good news. 

The good news is that I finally have my knee surgery scheduled. I did not, or have yet, to hear about any serious issues with my insurance company. Hopefully I don't end up like Jude Law in Repo Men. Alice Braga was also in the movie, and actually I did not recognize her from another movie I enjoyed for its lack of storyline in lieu of violence. Anyhow, Alice Braga is pretty good looking, outside of the fact she looks a little older than her age. At some point while writing this I realized my train of thought not only derailed, but there are no-survivors. How the hell did that happen?

Gotta' survive the day somehow!

Outside of only sleeping for a single hour today, I really have nothing else to report. And yes, coffee today is now in popular demand. That in itself is good news, if not better than surgery. Next time I see someone who has recently lost a loved one, I'll remind them that at least they still have coffee. That is until they finish it.

2011年6月28日 Mornings

I woke up before the alarm went off, which is set to go off at 5:35am. I usually keep the alarm just out of arms length away, otherwise I will end up disabling the alarm and going back to sleep without major problems (outside of missing work). I know I wasn't chewing on sand prior to bed, and yet the sensation of cotton mouth dominated me. Maybe it's my sinuses acting up? This is my first conscious thought of the day. Moreover I am confused as to why my mind also suffers from such.

Taking a shower I thought about the day ahead and things I needed to look over. It took only 10 seconds before I couldn't be bothered with any of it anymore. Priorities shifted and I kept thinking about what I was told the other day.

"I'm trying to debate whether or not you're evil. You have a tendency to find people's buttons, and not only push them, but push them in the correct sequence."
"I don't do it on purpose. And if I am doing it, it's probably an unconscious thing."
"If you're unconsciously doing it, then it wouldn't really make you evil."
"I don't think so. I think it would make me naturally evil, because I have yet to master it."

The conversation did not last much longer, but it did follow me to work.

If I am evil how am I supposed to know if I am or not? How can one truly know?

If I am evil it is a product of intellectual boredom.

I cannot wonder how questions or a series of questions can rattle someone's emotional or intellectual foundation. I do not believe my imagination or its creativity is lacking, but rather, the absence of imagination is something I cannot understand. Then maybe it is true, that when I sense, hear or see a disturbance, I go looking for the perpetrator. A perpetrator that is almost immediately subject my my discriminating eye and inquiry, which is probably worse than whatever problem or challenge that person is facing.

In many cases, I have found most people to be more irritated with having their buttons pushed than having buttons available for pushing. And I have no idea why this is the case. 

2011年6月27日 Is-it-fiction? #3

I am a reasonable detective. Whatever I cannot prove, I find a way in which it cannot be unproven, until I alone allow such to happen through my own workings and investigations. And while there have been a few exceptions, it never wasn't anything that I did not already factor in, or rather foresee. Someone could say I am just manipulating the truth, but really my job consists of investigating the structural foundation of lies, with its deception and absence of truth.

Is it really my fault? No, I'm just here to see the big picture. Many of these pictures I see regularly, some of them go up into my mental-museum of deception, the really good ones, if you could even say that, go further back into my mind, maybe even a vault if you can imagine. Amazing really. The time it took, the skill involved, all of these pictures, or lies, took so much time. I often wonder if the painter ever really actually knows who their piece is for, as they spend so much time working on it. I often find out too late, and like most things in life, I find it loathsome that I am correct in my assessments after careful scrutiny.

An unused printer sits on the desk behind me against the window. I don't even want to bother it with. If figure if I can't remember a location after reviewing a map of it, what's the point? I should throw that away. A few numbers on a pad next to it. I'll call them tomorrow if I can remember. None of it is really business related anyhow, or whatever business it is, it doesn't pertain to my business.

Some guy a while back approached me with some commentary about an old-flame he was involved with recently. Apparently he was concerned about what she might to do him. I didn't bother charging him since I didn't even want to look at his case. I had to tell the guy what I tell a lot of people, and yet I forget to tell myself at times.

"You know the score, if you're gonna talk with her, these things can happen. I don't care about your history with her. You couldn't trust her then, you can't trust her now, and yet you still talk. Whatever power she has over you, it's whatever you gave to her."

He drooped his head down nodding as if he's been privately lecturing himself on the same thing over a number of years. I did care, but I wasn't sure what else to say, outside of asking him to jump out the window to end it all. Bad idea. I just remembered I parked my car just outside my office window. 3 stories might not kill him, but it sure would kill whatever I had left of car. That piece of shit... My thoughts trailed on about how beat down, beat up, beat everything that car represented. But it has wheels, and being discreet helped.

Looking outside all I can wonder about is when it will rain next. Summer is nice, but boring for someone like me. It's the sudden cold that brings out the evil. Sometimes that cold isn't just a feeling you get with a winter breeze.

I watched it happen with a return client once, I'll call her White Snake. White Snake lived in kind of a bubble world where everything was built on sand. Whenever something went wrong: I was the cleaner. Eventually I learned my cleaning would become an extra-legal activity, and in retrospect I suppose "cleaning" is an appropriate term. Although I was acquitted for two legal encounters because of White Snake, and one of my cases was thrown out, I have never really learned why I was chosen. Maybe I'm cheap and reliable. Though I am slow at times, but isn't that the rule? An ad agency on the same floor as my own got permission to put up a framed poster in the elevator. Written on it:

QUALITY

SPEED

PRICE

You only get two!

Finishing my coffee, I could see myself in the reflection of picture on desk near the window. I didn't even replace the stock photo that it came with when I bought. Nor will I. I thought. I starred briefly at myself while I pursed my lips and wondered if any more coffee existed.

2011年6月26日 Go Ahead & Stare

That constant thumping noise, isn't in your head. 

I kept telling myself, but it didn't really make much of a difference. The thumping continued, but we just ignored it. The Fozzjnen  in the passenger seat just smiled and I grinned back. While I didn't invent the shit-eating-grin, I sure as hell did perfect its usage.

More thumping. At some point I was curious to know if anyone actually was paying any attention to this loud thumping from the trunk. Parking the car I noticed a cop parked a slight distance away, not that it would matter any. Rule 36 applies.., I said jokingly to myself, if zombies attack, which is the reason Rule 36 exists.

BOOM, BOOM-BOOM.

This is totally sweet.

I changed the song to suit the thumping and turned up the stereo after we got back in the car. Was this worth a wait? Was Fozzjnen some kind of sick-mother who like to terrorize people indirectly? How could it make sense to allow this to happen? I didn't even want to bother answering these questions. I knew the trunk was compromised though. Personally I didn't believe the trunk was compromised, but ev...

HHHHHHRRRRRRRNNNNNNNN!

The Fozzjnen after
installing speaker.

I laid the horn down hard-core (think ball-gags), breaking just as hard at the intersection down a side-road. The kid on the bicycle looked dumbfounded and wasn't sure what to do at all. So I continued to leave the horn blasting, until I knew he wasn't going to move at all. I almost turned him into ten points. I was happy at least one of us were paying attention. He wasn't, otherwise he would have seen the creeping-death-looking car approaching him. And more important, he wouldn't have mouthed "My bad." 

The last thing I needed was another thumping thing from the trunk.

Dropping off the Fozzjnen was nice, and although our time was brief today and our success with installing the sub-woofer Friday was delayed due to a messed up amp, we're certainly in business now.

Maybe you'll hear us down the road. 

Approaching.

2011年6月25日 Drummers

Rock Band II?

At some point he was just randomly hitting the pads, and eventually he started using his head. I knew there was no turning back from this. Somehow his 76 percent score was all he could do, other than dropping the drum sticks while laughing at sustaining partial failure. I couldn't help but laugh, him as well. We laughed, because frankly it just didn't matter. The game became a cool joke, so we kept playing. Somehow Fight Club came into my mind, or rather, this song.

When I got home I realized it wasn't the booze or negligence; although booze is cool, it was actually the sleep deprivation that was getting to him and probably myself. Right now I can barely retain major coherency. Finger tips feeling lighter than air. I almost hammer them into the keys just to make sure. I want to hammer my face just to make sure.

I think he got hammered just to make sure, of something. I don't know?
We had fun, but you wouldn't be able to tell.

No, you're drunk.
I hear the lyrics again, "You have to give up."
"Deliver me from clever art."

2011年6月23日 Communication Break down

"I thought you weren't going to take us. You said you weren't going to"

"No, I said I wasn't sure if I could or not." 

I countered truthfully from what I could remember of the previous night.

Blah blah blah. The waste of words continued and as all magical results: nothing got done. I watched them complain at me from the top of the stairs. I didn't even want to bother and I hated waiting for any progress to happen, so I took the steam-cleaner from them and returned it to the store.

On the way back home, passing their condo, I kept wondering about how annoying it is to be asked to help someone at irregular hours. I don't mean hours like midnight or what not. Basically I don't like it when someone asks me to help them with something at 3pm, and I end up wasting, literally doing nothing, for 2 hours, and then finally at 5pm they have something they could use me for specifically. Yet I can't just leave during the 2 hour wait, because then they're not sure if they'll finish on time or what not. Worse I don't have anything to do during the time I wait for them to get their shit together. 

"Why is everyone so mean to me!"

Actually that isn't the worst part. The worst part is when I have to deal with the retarded manatee, who is more or less so fucking lazy that It doesn't even bother to do anything except follow people who are actually working. If no one told It to actually do something, it would just sit, eat, and look at Facebook.  

I have made it a serious habit over the past several months that when someone asks me a favor, and they are not my friend, that they specifically tell me what they want. Giving me a heads-up on how long whatever is going to take is even better, and in most cases I require this knowledge regardless.

I guess the point that I'm trying to imply, vaguely, is that communication breaks down immediate when people stop talking, stop asking questions, and stop trying to confirm or verify information. When we start assuming about other people, or acquire the information through other means, it usually becomes tainted by our own views or another's. Moral of the story? There are no morals: just don't stop talking.

I could go for a beer.

2011年6月22日 Driving

There were pink lines on the horizon, so I drove towards them.

They ended up escaping behind the trees and buildings.

I didn't see them again, and it didn't matter. The darkness crept in and it was over.

The navy blue to black, then to total darkness.
It wasn't like going back, I didn't have to replicate monsters.
It was like going forward, affirming the past and future monsters.

Feeling the unevenness of the road, I just kept driving.

Pushing and pulling.

Pushing and pulling.
Smiling all the way.

2011年6月21日 Inside a monster

People I encounter on my way to work
and school

I've been so (physically) sick lately I haven't been able to update anything. By sick, I also mean that I've been busy as well. I wish I could say my mind has returned to me, but over the past few days I have lost more coherency than the crazy fuckers that I walk by en route to work.

I'm hoping for the return of health, at least of the mind, but I know it'll be a few more days. The the upside, I am already moved and all of that is complete. No problems there. I did however help Krimull's blood kin move outside of my own issues, which was a task that I had no idea was even possible due to the amount of stuff his people decide to keep. You would think they're Egyptian pharaohs or something.

2011年6月17日 Greener Grass

Entitlement is a hell of a thing. One day I woke up and I did not give a shit if had anything. I didn't feel like I deserved anything, water, t.v., internet, life, you name it. Least of all, I didn't even feel like I deserved to die so that I could escape this feeling. I didn't feel like escape was something I was entitled to have, nor did I give a fuck. In actuality this feeling has still remained with me, I still don't give a fuck, and frankly I don't see why I should. Am I entitled give a damn? If I have the strength mentally to deal with it am I then? When am I not? Does it really matter? Are you entitled to anything? Who are these guys to say they need anything?

I watched the grass on the other side grow greener and greener. I could see my own situation sucked, and that's a conservative approach. If my grass isn't green, does it make the other side's grass greener? So in a sense I'm doing extra work for the other side? Does there need to be such a fence? Who gives a shit? It's not like clouds discriminate.

More and more questions, and little answers come to mind. Heated language sounds fueled with anger, but if anything it is a triality of frustration/disappointment, support/comfort, and understanding/confusion. Mainly because all I can wonder about is whether or not someone is entitled to be angry or happy with how I express X or Y idea.

If I'm not entitled to ask the question than should the answer come freely? Or does it not come at all? If we're not entitled to truth, then we're entitled to lies? Does this mean we're entitled to deception in lieu of truth being available?

Should we get the answers to our questions if they change nothing else outside of revealing the truth? 

Personally, I think everyone ought to know truth instead of a half truth or a lie. If deception is tolerable, then the consequences of such are also acceptable, regardless of how vulgar, violent, or vicious the consequences.

Does not the absence of life
remind one of life's own importance?

The grass is greener on the other side, but who says my mound of dirt is of no value? My rotting land, and the soul that lives on it, is testament that a better life and the work towards sustaining such can allow greener grass or the absence of such. Yet who says hard work has to yield anything? Is being human enough?

How disappointed God ought to be when He looks at His creations and wonders what He feels He's entitled to have. I know what I'm going to do right now, I'm going to have a coke.

2011年6月16日 Is it fiction yet?

The pre-pounding sensation in my head was probably due to the street lights and oncoming traffic, though it didn't matter since I couldn't help but wonder about other things.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

I heard as we waited to cross the street. Looking up I could tell it really was, even more so since someone else felt the same way about it. A full moon to me generally was beautiful, and tonight also was such a night. Unfortunately I was alone in the car when I thought about those words from some time back. I wanted to forget them and forget about the moon, but I couldn't. I knew that my attempts at escape and evasion from moon's line of sight would be next to impossible. It did not stop me from trying nonetheless.

The roads were as quiet as they could be during such a late hour. I had just dropped off Krimull, or "K", before the devil's hour commenced. I drove to contemplate about things, but it didn't matter since the general complexity escaped me as I desperately tried to hide the moon from my view, mirrors or otherwise. And for a brief moment I got my wish.

While I didn't think the west hills would provide adequate refuge, I did notice something that neither caused fear or discomfort. It was the horizon, a deep blue contrasted by the dark silhouettes of spires and monolithic looking objects. I slowed down the car and turned off the headlights, which may have been a bad idea since there were no street-lights whatsoever on road. On the other side of the car I was surrounded by tall trees, homes, and hills.  On the side of the horizon several crosses, a few statues, and many familiar looking tombstones littered the hill next to my car. 

There was nothing else I could do except gawk in amazement and casual surprise at the beautiful circumstances of my situation. It depressed me that while I hid myself from the moon and the memories it constantly gave me, that my only alternative was to relish in the disturbing allure of silhouetted markers of death over an approaching sunrise.

I left without incident, and yet I returned myself to the moon as it continued to lord over me. Parking I realized I had solved nothing, and there was nothing else to do except to retire with the monsters I had picked up on the way home. Entering the first door I did feel a slight degree of success. Although I changed nothing I was still able to avoid the approaching sunrise.

2011年6月14日 Dreams again

The glass did not break. I must have smashed the pommel several times on the glass before I gave up. I can't remember exactly why I was trying to enter his car, but by the time I gave up I was less concerned about my immediate situation than I was with the usefulness of the knife I had been carrying the whole time.

Sure these dreams are beautiful,
but like life, I know that the
empty places give the best view.

The groggy mornings seem to be getting to me these days. Waking up only enough to sustain the most basic levels of consciousness, I some how manage to turn on the early morning news I loathe so much. Nothing news worthy ever happens, everything is about scandal this or scandal that. No real reporting of any value, outside of the coverage of the on-going wars.

Auto-pilot engaged after I put my belt on and secured my wallet. My robotic movements and delayed physical expressions did not bother me, as I could not even be bothered enough to care about such. I was able to use a car, a keyboard, and myself, yet I had no care for any of them in this state. I felt the dreams calling me back. Sometimes it's the only thing I feel, besides the constant desire for sleep. The emptiness only reflected that the void needs to be filled one way or another, ideally with some coherency.

A warm smile, soft eyes, I see them sometimes in my dreams and on the outside. 

Sure these dreams are beautiful, but like life, I know that the empty places give the best view.

I don't see much else, but some of what I do see I would rather not talk about.

2011年6月13日 But I went back

At some point in my life, I was unable to continue the monotonous routine of simulated killing. I could not do it for more than 20 minutes at a time, and in "simulated combat time" it more or less represents 5 minutes.

Assisted "turn off brain"
surgery

I know why I went back. I do. I went back because I wanted to stop everything. I wanted to turn off my brain, as I knew at some point there might be something good enough to distract me from the nights. The nights ended up bleeding into my daily-life to the point where living during the day felt alien to me. The office, the lab, the work. Everything in closed rooms, closed doors, closed hearts and minds. Even my own. I closed those doors, but when the day begins I realize I neglected to lock those same doors I tried to close in vain.

Everything else was secure, everything else was supposed to be. Then I went back further. I had to go back to the time before anything was with us. The further I went back, the further I isolated the mind, the old stress, which seemed more pointless than the trek going back, also returned.

So, with the new I applied it on the old. I went back in, and instead of escaping from myself, I escaped from you, and everything associated with it. I turned on the music. While I waited in this place I listened to the quite rhythm and melodies, some were faster than others.

2011年6月12日 Driving at night

After I dropped "K" off I took a drive. Of course K asked about you, actually it was more of me explaining about you to him, since I had not seen him in such a long time. For K it was probably difficult at times for him to hear about you. Compounded by his long flight up and down to reach my location. We sat and caught up as much as we could for 2 hours, which isn't enough by any means since you were brought up.

When K stepped out of the car, I couldn't stop but reminisce about you further, and although some of those feelings were painful in terms of looking back, I kept driving. It almost seemed appropriate for me to drive at night, if I were to be driving at all. Since I doubt children are wandering around industrial areas at 3:30am in the morning, it makes sense to drive at odd hours. The radio, or CD player rather, played a song that made things not only worse, but almost took my mind and spirit out of the car. If I didn't have shoulders to weigh them down, maybe they would have left my body and I would have crashed. Then would I have woken up?

From an Ebony magazine
 I had, 1960s if I recall correctly.

Driving my regular night-therapy route, I could not help but continue thinking about you regardless of what I did. Nothing whatsoever helped, outside of blowing my brains out at the few intersections I had to stop at, although I usually get green lights almost immediately.

I pulled in around 4am, or so to get away from the day-dreams. In the hills I could see the glowing red pillars. If anything it just reminded me of the ethereal nature of your behaviorisms, which only confused me further. I sat back in the seat and took in the music as I drove me, spacing out most of the way as the music blanketed my mind.

Parking I couldn't help but wonder if coffee was a good idea this late at night or if I deserved the pig-vomit'ish taste it created in my mouth. Remaining well after I finished more than half. Maybe when I think of you, it's as if I'm "reaching for a taste that's not really there." 

Even if I walked a mile - not for a camel - I'd find something, but it probably wouldn't be you.

2011年6月10日 Man The Fuck Up

I was going to write an article about how much I dislike my mother's tendencies and/or a great portion of her strategic characteristics. Then I read this [link]. I wish I could say it solved my problems but it didn't completely.

There is a reason it's called,
"Man The Fuck Up" and not
"Woman The Fuck Up".

My living situation at present sucks, ever since my roommate moved to Japan, I have been left with cleaning, and taking care of pretty much everything else he more or less left-behind. That's quite stressful, but really the stressful part is dealing with my mom who wants to help me with this.

Since I am going to stay with her during my "transitional period" over the summer, I am moving some things into her apartment. The frustration is compounded by the fact that I need surgery on my knee and this will immobilize me, almost leaving me no choice but to stay with her since it is the most convenient physically.

Intellectually living here is total hell. She has no reasoning that makes any sense whatsoever, and in most cases she has no reasoning whatsoever. I have made it a policy that when I drive her to pick up groceries or shopping that she is not allowed to do "browsing" for things, because I hate shopping for more than 30 minutes and since it's my car, gas, and time she'll ideally respect that. 

Unfortunately, the same policies for shopping do no work with moving.

"We're only going to take those bags over there, by the door, and that. I don't want to take anything else."

Ignoring what I said she walks into the other room to look at a shelf I said earlier I would move with a friend this up-coming Sunday.

"Let's put this shelf in the car."

I'm at the point of yelling at her.

"I just said I would deal with that later"

Ideal woman for most men,
attractive, stupid, and devoted to
their husband.

This shit goes on and on. First it's my art collection that she wants to take to her place, albeit large in size, it consists of only 3 pieces so far. Then it's a piece of furniture. I have to explain to her that the art needs to be carefully taken to her apartment, and I cannot put anything near it that would damage the canvas or break the glass. Some of these things have custom framing and glass, which is not cheap.

In the end I understand why men later on in life, at least those who are married, rarely smile when they are around their wife. Unless their wife is stupid enough to listen to their husband, kind of like the woman pictured here. Somehow I believe this is why men as bald at an early age, either because of a lot of stress or not enough booze. I suppose in the long run I'm safe from stupid women, because I love conversation more than them.

And I'll probably end up having them read my blog by the second date.

It's not that women are stupid, because they're not (sorta).
It's just that my mother, just like Amy Chua, is probably not the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to ethical behavior. In fact there is no box, only a plastic bag because the box is broken or lost. One of these days I'm going to take that plastic bag and put it on and around my head. But not today, I have beer to finish.

2011年6月9日 Time management

It is better for me to totally ignore something and start from the beginning again when distracted, rather than push through with something that is a shitty product.

2011年6月7日 See-ya later

Wainwright and I left for the airport this morning around 5 am. The drive was pretty smooth, as was the way back towards work. It was strange to see him leave the USA, as neither of us know when he'll be back, if at all.

The surreal nature of travel these days is compounded by the fact that one could get on a plane and in less than 24 hours they could be in another part of the world. In said world there is a new or different culture and language, which may be significantly different than the traveler's own place of origin.

I couldn't help feeling a sense of fleeting loss. Even though he left, I did nothing but wonder about my own experiences with travel and the absence of celebration. I've always felt a journey and the method in which one conducts such journey is extremely important. These ideas came to me while I attempted for the 6th time this morning to get my Soul music CD to work in the car. The silk voice of Teddy Pendergrass and the open reflection on one's own pain made me realize that even the absence of celebration, or loss of such, if reflected upon it will accommodate an affirmation of the importance of such. In basic terms, if one things about loss and is moved, there is some sort of value, either good or bad. The ability to recognize loss in itself is a good thing. The contents of the loss on its own are open to debate.

A man, estranged from his wife and slowly distancing himself from his friends, wonders about what went wrong. With the exception of work, everything falls apart. He does not care, since he invests no time in anything that does not compliment or affirm his own work. To him, the work affirms his success. When he was finished and retired, he had great pride from his work experiences. Yet although he felt as if the work itself embodied himself: he never realized that the process only allowed for him to lose his identity. There was nothing spiritual or uplifting in this man, only the negation of himself and his own vanity. He never needed a name, and due to his pride in his work, his eyes told him that no one else needed one either.

2011年6月5日 Feeding the homeless will get you arrested

You know the world is going to genuine shit 

when you can be detained for feeding the homeless and/or needy.

Here's a video outlining what the fuck happened.

Members of Orlando Food Not Bombs [a dick sucking hippy-organization] were arrested Wednesday when police said they violated a city ordinance by feeding the homeless in Lake Eola Park [Florida]. 

[The hippy-fuckers] were arrested at 6:10 p.m. on a charge of violating the ordinance restricting group feedings in public parks. [...]

The group lost a court battle in April, clearing the way for the city to enforce the ordinance. It requires groups to obtain a permit and limits each group to two permits per year for each park within a 2-mile [3.2 km] radius of City Hall.

How fucking disgusting.
And some people genuinely believe we live in a better world than 1500 years ago.
More information here.


Don't the police have better things to do? Like shooting people?

2011年6月4日 "Fuck" #002

Uh, thanks?

A 30 degree drop or change in temperature, plus stress equates to continued pain in the knee. It's just a brutal pain. Waking up to this shit is annoying. As the time says, it's roughly around 2:30 in the morning, and for the past hour outside of reading the news - and porn, albeit not read - I have been having a hard time focusing on anything that requires me to learn something new by average exertion of thought and skill. Basically, I can only fucking zone out or complain, which is what I'm doing now amazingly.

The worst part about this joy-killing pain, is that the enjoyability of intercourse is not possible at times. For all you dudes out there, better fucking hope you don't get arthritis in the knee, or in the hip for that matter. 

Not being able to fuck in itself is a repugnant thought.
Not being able examine things which are repugnant is a repugnant thought.

2011年6月3日 Radiation Sickness

As most of us already know Japan is fucked up in general, but at present they are suffering from their 3rd major and known exposure to radiation. One would think they'd be used to this shit by now, just like how France is used to losing against the Germans. Anyway, I came across the following article today, and that's how we get a rabbit born with no ears "just outside the perimeter" of the radiated area.

From Russian Times:

The birth of a white rabbit with no ears not far from the damaged Fukushima power plant in Japan has sparked fear in locals.
The animal is a living reminder of the danger that radiation leakages may pose, reports Italian Corriere TV, branch of the newspaper Corriere della Sera.
The Fukushima nuclear power plant was damaged by the powerful earthquake and the subsequent tsunami on March 11. Authorities evacuated all residents within 20 km as the reactors went into meltdown. The exclusion zone was later extended to 30 km.

The mutant rabbit was born in a village just outside the perimeter.

2011年6月2日 "Let's rape women, or men"

Rape is a serious issue, and just as one t-shirt once said,

Rape is no laughing matter, unless you're raping a clown.

There are some things in the world are hard to understand, like the metric system or evolution, however most people would agree that rape is never okay. And in fact they might even consider rape to be an act of violence and exertion of control, rather than an action of sex itself. Let's examine some news articles, my own repugnant opinions, and a brief story I was told.

Keep in mind that when people look at rape, they may imagine that it is exclusive to men alone, since most men are the ones with dicks for fucking. Although, there are exceptions, like fisting! Let's look at them.

2011年6月1日 Repugnant Thoughts Everyday (or when I feel like it)

Wainwright is moving out of the apartment shortly this week and most likely will be in Japan by next Wednesday. Things are stressful between both of us, as we both have our own shit to deal with, and due to such I have once again within the past few days neglected taking care of this blog, hence the title.

Ain't it fuckin' true?

On top of that there is a lingering craving for tacos, which is today's segue for repugnant commentary. Tacos, either hard-shell, or something like Taco Bell's double-decker (soft wrapped around a hard-shell) would be fucking great about now. And more importantly pink-tacos (defined). Pink-tacos are usually great in the morning, after work, or when people are generally stressed out and want to reduce general (or sexual) frustration from life. 

Respect the almighty pink-taco. 

Although, some of those kinds of tacos are purple or brown, the latter of which I have no idea why. Personally, I do not see a problem with the purple tacos, as my only concern is whether or not the meat will spoil in a dirty taco. For more information on pink-tacos in detail, and in terms of whether or not pink-taco's exist, just check out this white dude (NSFW).

This dude loves tacos.

The pink-taco, just like Repugnant Thoughts Everyday, tends to be one of those things that people might lean towards once in a while. It is entirely possible one could go their whole life without having a pink-taco, but surely someone at some point would at least like to try one, especially with some meat inside, like my own or the guy from the picture.