I Think I Might Have Spoken Too Soon

What up, compadres!  I was chomping (champing?) at the bit, ready to write my little heart out.  I  realized something: I can't write just yet.  I'm too angry.  I'm mad at everything and everybody.  At the heart of it all is being fully, completely surrounded by ignorance. I know that statement makes me look a) pompous;  b) unaware of my own scholastic limitations or; c) FUCKING INSANE.

What type of fully grown, adult man, out of his twenties wears a baseball cap with stickers on the bill like a fucking 12 year old imbecile? What type of grown man has a baseball cap for every outfit that they wear, and every outfit they wear has a gotdamn sports logo on it? Who the fuck are these men?  How do I know them?  Why do I still know them?  I don't have to.  We have nothing in common, and yet I allow myself to engage them on a daily basis because that's what passes for men these days.  I don't have an adult friend that isn't still in some sort of arrested development.

I'm sick of credential-ism and the fake assed sense of accomplishment that follows a large contingent of my "friends".  They love to ride their own dicks or the dicks of those who move in similar circles.  I don't brag about shit.  Ever.  I spent a lot of times planting false flags online, bragging about shit, ready to be called on it.  I never was, not one time.  That's when I realized nobody knew me well enough to get that I was faking it or they didn't care.  I couldn't figure out which was worse. 

I'm sick of the trappings.  Symbolism and the constant presenting of symbols as actual achievement rather than actual achievement.  Because one possesses something doesn't mean that thing is worth possessing. Wearing of that symbol or presenting that avatar is meant to convey value.  Because you possess or display that symbol, I'm supposed to have some feeling about you.  When I fail to do so, it means something is wrong with me.  There are a great many things wrong with me.  My failure to give you credit for your possession or association with something that is meant to symbolize quality is purposeful, not a deficiency.  You fucking suck.  You don't symbolically suck. You actually are subpar and I refuse to recognize you as otherwise because of your associations.

These are the reasons it's too early for me to blog.  I'm too fucking angry.

KZ

Reassessment Day

I'm writing today in defense of uppity n*ggers. I'm retracting my blog dissing Skip Gates. I'm toasting him, along with Kanye, Serena, and B.O. I don't even want to conflate these people, but apparently that shit is happening anyway. As they stand under attack, two of them exhibiting extremely boorish behavior, I've decided to stand with them. Fuck it. I was born here, raised here, given your name, given your code of conduct, followed it, took you values, aspired to your dreams, and every time I deviate from that path, even a little, you're there to tell me what a fuck up I am. Man, fuck you! If I stand on my own two, have an opinion that is contrary to what you call "conventional" wisdom, I'm out of line. Honestly, I no longer give a fuck. If your feelings get hurt or if your status is dinged, so be it. I don't condone physical harm coming to you, but really, I wouldn't be surprised if it came to that.

I also have a problem with asking the fucking President about Kanye. What the fuck do those two people have in common? Tell me, what? Chicagoans? Yeah, that must be it. I wish the President wouldn't weigh in on that shit, but like I said, fuck it. He's a man and he's earned the right to say what the fuck he wants to say. Honestly, today, I'm holding America accountable. America, and the spoils that come with being American, belong to all of us, each and every citizen. Unconditionally.

I've said what the fuck I have to say.

KZ

Until Somebody Stops Me (The Donut Day edition)

Derision
Look at you. Yeah, eat it up. You fuckin' Wal-Mart shopping loser. I'll stand by and make small talk with you, all the while trying to hide my scorn behind this venti cup of latte. That's right. Enjoy those fucking donuts while I fuck you out of your labor rights.

Pandering
"Why, you're welcome! It's the least I can do for such a hard working staff." False fucking flattery to you dime a dozen muthafuckas. You're cheaper than those donuts!!!! Is this the shit that makes you happy? Me deigning to talk to you mouth breathing bastards? Hunh?

Bold Face Lies
"Of course I'm working to get you more money. You deserve it. Irreplaceable you. Here, have another donut."

False Camaraderie
Yeah, sure. I know exactly what you're going through. I know what it's like to be a sad, sad motherfucker with no marketable skills whatsoever. I also know what it's like to overvalue my importance to a bureaucratic machine, set up for "replacing missing cogs". Yeah. I'm right with you. Look, we're bonding!

Underlying Impatience
"Um, are we finished with the donuts yet? I gotta get back to work. Yeah, I know. I enjoyed this chance to chat too. But duty calls. Ha, ha. Get it? Duty? Doody? This work is like shit! Ha, ha!"

I might have a future as a politician yet.

Be Cool,
KZ

The People

Working for the people is overrated. Being down with the people is overrated. Calling oneself "a man of the people" is declaring oneself a misinformed idiot.

The people treat shit they see on TV as a fact and won't read for shit. These muthafuckas won't even watch a subtitled movie.

The people are delusional. They are largely unwashed except for their brains which are conveniently washed and fried for them by Viacom.

Giving power to the people means that you will have a superstitious undereducated buffoon, backboneless corporate lackey, or a vacillating dick-kisser for your leader.

The people demand answers, even though the people don't understand the questions being asked.

Most people talk a good game, but can't back that shit up. Scratch that. Most people don't talk a good game.

The most pressing question on most people's minds is "Who is [insert celebutard] fucking now?"

The people fucking make me sick. Fuck the people.


KZ

Grounded For Life

This shit will sound highly elitist to anyone reading this, but fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Everyday I'm reminded that I'm not like everyone else. When I read box office reports or the top ten records, I have a sense of not belonging. People enjoy...thoroughly enjoy...the worst shit imaginable. That's entertainment. The shit they put on TV is astounding. It's ridiculous how much utter bullshit is worked on lovingly by a cast and crew of talented people who never thought that their life's work would come down to this.

I'm convinced that the police procedurals currently being aired on the "Big Four" networks are amongst the worst, most fascist propaganda ever condensed into a one hour teleplay. And we eat this shit up.

"Two and a Half Men" is a hit show. Think about that shit. "According to Jim" has been on for seven seasons. The DaVinci Code was a major bestselling book. So was Tuesdays With Morrie.

I know a bunch of people who literally choose a book by it's cover.

I feel like I'm being prodded with a gotdamn stick all the time. I'm isolated. In general, people like shitty things. I don't comment on anyone's taste unless I'm explicitly asked. Trust me, I've learned my lesson the hard way. I even go out of my way to be diplomatic. "I've heard good things about that movie." That's usually the truth. I have heard good things about it. I've also learned my lesson about taking people's advice about shit. People have genuinely bad taste and they don't know it.

I can't talk to anybody about anything in an intelligent way. "Fuck you, African! I liked it!" I really give up. I maintain that I can't be a part of the "pop culture experience" anymore. This shit has really gotten to the tipping point of complete awfulness.

Be Safe,
KZ