Mental Prowess

So, I'm extremely bored and decided I'd post something on here. But what to post? I don't really do anything interesting, and I'm not particularly clever. So I basically put my mind on random and let whatever came out flow forth. And that was a bad idea. Because I have a horrible mind. And after common sense made me delete several ideas, I decided to write this post. A chronicle of how my mind works...or doesn't work...whatever. At first I was going to explain my plan for putting Christopher Walken in every movie ever made. Just because. It's a grand plan, but this is more important.

Tee hee

Over the years, I've perfected the model for how my mind works. A very common way to describe people's mind is the idea of a train of thought. I like this. Except most people probably picture one train running. That's not my style. I have thousands of trains shooting around as dangerous speeds, ramping over each other and causing massive crashes. And there's tanks. Why tanks? Fuck you, that's why.

Like this, but with...trains...and tanks...and more purple

But back to the random thoughts. MARMALADE. See that? That was a random thought. I get those. A lot. Random little thought bubbles come up, and launch out of me...without much control by me. Going along with the train metaphor, my random thoughts are hobos. Gentle souls riding the rails, and bailing out between stops so the Pinkerton's don't catch them. Except my hobo's are often filth encrusted, angry people who have Tourettes.

An incredibly accurate portrayal of my thoughts... and me in ten years

So as a result, I'll be in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly my mind will yell something at me. Something horrible. And most likely, the little guy in my head that runs my Inner Scrutiny, Frank, allows them to get through, and out into the world. Great job Frank. So one minute you'll be talking to me (not really because...people don't talk to me) and out of nowhere I'll yell something like "DAVID BOWIE WITH FORCE LIGHTING SHOOTING OUT OF HIS CROTCH." Then you run. And I chase. And then cops come after me. And I go to jail. And get raped. And cry and cry and cry.... but I digress.

David Bowie seen here making love with his Ego

And my mind does this ALL. THE. TIME. It's like my mind has the ability to google search, and all I do is hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button. And instead of making me lucky, it spreads filth. And sadly, sometimes my mind just gives me random pieces of a puzzle, like I'm hitting the "random page" button on Wikipedia, then have to sculpt an idea out of the remnants. And I get thoughts like "Belgian Lapdance-Mobile" and then I have to come up with what the hell that would look like.

Classy and discreet

And that's the lesson for today. Since no one actually reads this, I figured I would vent some crazy. So there you are. Good luck getting David Bowie out of your head. And remember, write to your Congressman to get my Christopher Walken idea off the ground. We can do it people. But it will take work...so I can't do it. I'm terminally lazy. And antisocial. And not real.





SHAZAM!

Hell yes.

You can't write this stuff... well originally at least, you can write it afterwards...

As all fourteen of our Ohao readers know, I hate old people beyond human comprehension, which means the only people who can register the amount of hate I have for geriatrics are Super Sayins.

I'll give you a hint, it's OVER NINE THOUSAAAAAND!!!

So believe me when I say that even this event threw me for a loop.


As per my usual Tuesday routine, I woke up at noon, fell back asleep, woke up, masturbated to soft core cable porn, fell back a sleep, woke up, played Rock Band 2, masturbated to hardcore goblin porn and then finally put clothes on and headed out to go catch the bus to film school at around 2:00.

I get on the first bus and ride it till it's end (Much like Patrick and Woody's mothers, depending on which one of them is reading this.) and transferred to another bus which is the norm. I'm going to reiterate this point of fact in case we have any new readers from this swarthy bastard's link to me (Which I thank him and his swarthiness for), I enjoy my own personal space. I like a bubble around me, that all people should respect. Unless I give you some sort of sign, or we've known each other for a while, or you're slipping a single into my waistband, stay a good two feet away at all times.

Now, the bus comes to a stop (I myself staring out a window with no particular connection to the real world wondering if it's possible to "Force Molest" people) and old man clambers his way up the steps and sits in my seat. This guy is so close he's almost sitting in my damned lap. So I look around and notice an empty seat right next to us and call to mind the "Seat Rule" in theaters. If you walk into a theater and there is ONE other guy sitting in a seat, you do not pick a seat with in a three seat radius of him in all directions! Unless you are looking to rape him, then generally a movie theater would be a good place to do it, it's dark and you have him for a whole two hours.

The bus continues on it's route and in my head I'm just REAMING this old guy, blasting out insult after insult, threat after threat. Watching as more and more seats open up and this guy doesn't move and aging muscle. So after a good many stops the bus pulls to another halt and the old man rises from his seat, now I'm quick to claim back my space by way of a backpack but as I watch the old man leave the bus, I notice that he's tapping a cane out in front of him.

That's when I realized... I had just spent the last fifteen minutes yelling at a blind old man for not realizing that I was sitting in a seat he has probably sat in several times before, I didn't feel bad or remorseful or anything about it, I was just amazed at how witty reality is sometimes.

The universe loves to fuck with me man.