We need assholes like you in the service

I watched The Patriots, 1994, directed by Eric Rochant, starring Yvan Attal, and I thought – where has this movie been all my life? With exception to Three days of the Condor, it is the best spy movie ever made. It is about the Mossad. There is this great line in the movie where the protagonist was asked why he was chosen for an assignment. The protagonist did not know. The protagonist was told that it was because “we need assholes like you in the service.” The protagonist, you would think, would say something or at least have some affect – but, like a true asshole, I guess, he did not seem to mind being called an asshole – or he might have just been playing it cool. It was a tremendous acting performance. The characters in this movie will make your skin crawl.

At first I thought it was an Israeli movie, but it is a French director; it figures – only the French could make a movie this devoid of sentimentality.

Life in slow motion

I was supposed to go to sleep at a reasonable hour, but ended up playing online poker until well after the bastard birds started tweeting. Shouldn’t I be trying to get my ass into gear? Shouldn’t I be prepping for the fascist EFL fucks in Belarus who will be interviewing me and busting my balls for no good reason other than the thrill of displaying dominance? I just don’t seem to care. I don’t care about my graying and depleting hair, nor my limp dick. What is the point? If by miracle I land some shit gig in Southeast Asia, what fertile woman is realistically going to want to fuck me? And, say they do want to fuck me, how am I supposed to get this limp cock inside of them so that I may seed them with my brood? I don’t even seem to care about my existential dilemma. I just want to play poker – poker is way better escape than drinking – I haven’t drunk all month and have lost 12 pounds because there is never time to eat when you’re playing poker. I’m not winning, but for the first time, I’m breaking even. I can play poker for real money until the end of time now for free. I play poker because I don’t care. I used to drink because I didn’t care. I don’t even feel suicidal anymore because I simply don’t fucking care. In the past I would say, look at the horror of my life being flushed down the fucking toilet; but, really, what life was there ever to get flushed? What future where I am not neck deep in shit do I have?

Donald Trump, you are a moron and asshole

Donald Trump, who wants to run on the Republican ticket for president, is a fucking moron. Below are grammatical errors he made in about two minutes of conversation on CNN on March 29, 2011.

TRUMP: If it wasn’t for us, OPEC wouldn’t exist.
WHAT'S WRONG: Improper use of the Second Conditional.
SHOULD BE: If it weren't for us, OPEC wouldn’t exist.

TRUMP: I also say that NATO is us.
WHAT'S WRONG: Linking verb complement needs subjective case.
SHOULD BE: I also say that we are NATO.

TRUMP: When NATO goes in, this is us going in.
WHAT'S WRONG: Linking verb complement needs subjective case.
SHOULD BE: When NATO goes in, we are the ones going in.

TRUMP: I just looked at polls today that showed me doing very well.
WHAT'S WRONG: Case of pronoun “me” is wrong. Needs to be subjective case.
SHOULD BE: I just looked at polls today that showed that I’m doing very well.

This asshole, who averages about one grammatical error every thirty seconds, wants to be president. I saw Trump in another interview today bitching and moaning about Obama not providing proper evidence of citizenship. It was the purist shit I have ever heard. He impressed upon the interviewer how he had gone to the best schools. How good can these schools have been when a 95 IQ asshole like me who graduated from Northeastern University, which is a school for mental retards, can speak better English than the mighty Trump? It’s a myth that one has to be smart to make money or be successful. All one needs is a rich daddy. If we did not all have our heads up our collective assholes, we’d take back from these motherfuckers all their undeserved shit. I say we take Trump’s private housing and turn it into public housing for the poor. We deserve it. We speak better English. We’re not on national news blabbing away like banal fucking idiots.

I couldn’t believe how gay that dog was

I had a date today at Jam’n N Java in Arlington, MA. Yes, I know that I said I was going to quit dating. I don’t really want to discuss the date beyond saying that I was grateful she extended her hand to me after the date so that I could avoid the awful awkward hug that I didn’t want to give her.

Jam’n N Java had incredibly shitty service and shitty coffee. They overfilled my cup so I couldn’t get any cream in it. There’s a pretty good chance they charged me for the ceramic coffee mug that I requested. Since the girl ran off after she gave me the coffee, I couldn’t request a receipt. She gave me a Canadian penny in my change. I put the Canadian penny in her tip jar. That was her tip. A Canadian penny was way more tip than she deserved. She wasn’t worth a rusty washer that you find on the sidewalk. The coffee made me nauseas, but then again all dark roasts makes me nauseas. This is New England, home of Donkun’ Donuts. Natives (I’m not a native, but have been living here forever) don’t like their coffee bitter, but the yuppie coffee shops are fascist and only serve dark roasts, and if you are not yuppie enough to enjoy it, you can fuck yourself. It’s funny that one of the people who worked there knew my date by name – my date was obviously a regular.

There was a bike path that actually cut right through Jam’n N Java. Unlike the Google snapshot of this bike path below, there were a million bike riders swarming in and out of this bike path. It was like a yuppie hornets nest. They and all their bicycles made me really nervous.

What is also not present in the snapshot is the big blue sign that said “America’s Revolutionary Bike Path.” Now, I could be wrong, but I thought that the big decisive battles of the revolution were fought in Lexington and Concord, not Arlington, but who knows, maybe this path went through these towns, or maybe it was just a stupid sign. I am way too lazy to find out.

As I waited for my date, there was this guy walking around with this really tiny and really furry dog. It was the gayest dog I’ve ever seen. It must have taken countless generations of gay dog breeders to create an animal that looked this gay. While the guy with the dog was well-dressed, he didn’t look gay – he just seemed to be a heterosexual with a curiously gay dog – maybe he didn’t realize how gay his dog was – but then he gave me “the look.” I have gotten this look before, but never from a man, if you exclude the time ten years ago when I ventured into a Castro bar to take a crap.

Harassment and intimidation of Romani citizens by anti-Roma vigilante groups present in Roma neighborhoods

I was horrified to learn about what these fucking neo-Nazis are doing to these poor gypsies in Hungary.

http://www.errc.org/cms/upload/file/hungary-gy%C3%B6ngy%C3%B6spata-letter-march-2011.pdf

I would gladly suck your penis or vulva for money

A few months ago, I came upon some article online that said that a Las Vegas brothel was looking for male prostitutes, and that this was the first time that a Las Vegas brothel had ever sought male prostitutes.

I went to the brothel’s website. If my memory is serving me correctly, they said that they were looking for men 30 – 40. They wanted head-shots and full body shots. They warned that if you sent nude shots that this would disqualify you. They did not specify whether you would be prostituting yourself for men or women – nor did I care.

At first I was like, “Woo-hoo!” maybe I can become a whore and finally make a decent wage. All I would have to do is suck some cock. I have never sucked a cock, but I’m sure that the worst, most gnarliest cock can’t be nearly as bad as the worst minimum wage day labor job I’ve ever had. Sucking cock for good money cannot be remotely as humiliating as working a minimum wage job for cocksuckers.

Then reality set in. I was no longer 40. I was 45. I was fucking old. But then I though, I still look good, I’ll send them the photos anyway. But then I thought, no, I don’t look handsome anymore. I’ve lost too much hair, gained too much weight. I’m not going to bother.

I read an essay in an Ethical Humanist newsletter, written by a man, asserting that prostitution was really rape. This is the most absurd argument I’ve ever heard. If the prostitute is forced, against her or his will to have sex, than that is rape. But if a person consents to sell her or his body for sex, to say that is rape is to completely ignore the violence of rape. If you’re going to call the man who buys a prostitute a rapist, then by that inane logic, you should call McDonald’s and Walmart and day labor outfits rapist institutions, for they exploit people’s bodies just as Johns do. Whether the exploiter wants you to grasp his penis or his mop is really irrelevant. Exploitation is exploitation. The feminists get so ideological and crazy that it really starts to turn me off. In fact, it becomes downright revolting. I believe in an egalitarian society. I don’t however like to define myself as a feminist because the label makes me very uncomfortable -- because I know that there are extremist wackos in this camp. And no, I have never paid for a prostitute. The reason why is because I have always looked at it as humiliating and demeaning. Being a prostitute I’m sure is demeaning too, but I doubt if it is nearly demeaning as working for assholes for wages that could barely get you by, living in your car.

The read-between-the-lines rejections are so demeaning

I wrote this nurse on OkayCupid – she was curvy, had some serious breasts, dreamy wide hips, nice legs, and a really tight belly in the one photo where she was not a little plump. (I like ‘em plump – no big deal … breasts and booty are a good thing, not a bad thing – unless of course you’re not into women.)

As you can see below, I didn’t have much to say when I wrote her. She was an incredible longshot as she was gainfully employed, good-looking, relatively young at 37, and seemed to give the impression that she was awfully cool.

My friend is a Nurse Practitioner. When I recently got my CPR and AED certifications I left a message on her voice mail proclaiming that she was not the only one around here who can save lives -- that I too was a medical professional! I was of course exaggerating.

-Dickie

Usually when a woman writes you back, she’s interested. Once in a blue moon she politely tells you she is not interested, and I always hate when she does that. It’s better not to respond. This woman gave me the worst rejection imaginable – the read-between-the-lines rejection.

Thanks for the message! It's good to have skills. Especially ones that save lives.
-A

These types of rejections make my skin crawl. And let me add that with exception to my friend, LA woman, whom I am referring to in my e-mail to this nurse on OkayCupid, I hate nurses. My feeling about them is that, for the most part, they’re a bunch of fascists and control freaks. I mean, what the fuck? – look at that duplicitous, fuck-you rejection – look at the controlling way they treat you in hospitals. They complain about doctors, but a doctor you can at least deal with – when a nurse, for example, doesn’t want you to get out of your bed after surgery to take a piss and, after you have asked her when you will be able to piss and she just ignores you, and you decide to ignore her authority and attempt to get out of bed anyway to take your piss, what she will do is pump you full of drugs and render you unconscious. I can give more anecdotal examples of what type of fit-for-the-Third-Reich behaviors these people engage in. I’m sure you could too. Nurses are no Florence Nightingales. Florence Nightingale herself was probably a fascist and just in it for the power.

Fuck I hate nurses and okaycupid and these bullshit subtle-ass, insulting rejections. I am disabling my okaycupid profile. All I’m doing is embarrassing myself on that site. The unemployed have absolutely no business being on a dating site for any reason, whether that be for dating, sex, friends, activity partners or whatever. The unemployed should accept their bottom-feeder status, buy a suitcase (thirty pack) of Budweiser (preferably from tax free New Hampshire where they don’t even need to redeem the empties) and bitch and moan on blogspot. (I’m not prepared to accept this status, at least not permanently, but I do need to stop embarrassing myself on OkayCupid.

Letter written by a depressed alcohol abuser, with a big fucking existential crisis.

Dickie! Actually, the reason why I'm leaving OKC behind me is... I've met someone great and we're bf-gf. He's the sweetest guy on earth, too. [UNDISCLOSED BF NAME.] He's tall, adorable, works in nonprofit and is a film critic for fun. I can scarcely believe my good luck, after 2.5 years of being unattached. It's still pretty new, but it's going pretty well. Would I sound like a jerk if I say hang in there, Dickie, and it will happen for you, too? Because it will, just gather up your faith and keep hoping and wishing and acting like the lucky soul you are. Enjoy your corn chips, but don't you give up!
What are you doing for fun lately?
-L


Hi L,

I'm afraid that I have become so cynical that it never occurred to me that someone might want to leave OKC because she or he has found someone.

But, good for you. I hope you get some good love.

I am not seriously looking on OKC, and will probably disable my profile again. My priority is to get out of this asshole country so that I can put a roof over my head. It is quite beyond belief the obstacles I have faced and continue to face to make this nightmarish dream of teaching English in some other God-awful country come true. Patriotic assholes love to say "love it or leave it!" Well, I fucking would if I could! Their simplistic view of the world and problem-solving belies their position and diminishes my view of them as intelligent beings.

Christ, L, the most fun I have these days is drinking copious amounts of Budweiser, and this, as you may or may not know, is not that fun. I should stop being so blatantly honest with people, but I'm just like, ahhh, fuck it, who cares?

-Dickie