Fuck Santa Claus! Fuck him up his stupid ass!!

Wake up goddamn it!

Is it any surprise that my resentment of Jolly Old Saint Nick was awakened while watching Badder Santa on DVD? Not because of any of Billy Bob's actions as the title character. Though I am quite envious of the fact that he spent half the movie groping Lauren Graham's sweet ass. (Lucky bastard.) No. Not that. I was startled by the realization that all of the bullshit that we deal with in the adult world, all of the games in romantic relationships, all of the passive-aggressive manipulation we deal with at work, all of these behaviors stem from Santa Claus. Well, the lie that is Santa Claus anyway. Think about it, my minions. What is Santa Claus? It's a lie that the world tells to children to make them feel good, and give their parents a vicarious joy. Oh, I understand it. Look at their little, smiling faces. It's adorable, no arguments here. But what are we teaching our kids with this fantasy? What lesson do they take from it when it gives way to the reality that there is no Santa Claus? We all tell kids that it's not okay to lie, but we show them that it is okay to lie if you're doing it to make somebody feel good. I realize that's not the intention, but look at the results. How many people do you know who lie to manipulate people's emotions to some self-serving end? How many people do you know grew up believing in Santa Claus? I've done the math. The application of Advanced Boxx-imetrics to this scenario has confirmed my theories.

What's easier to tell somebody? That you're fucking somebody else because you can't control your base urges, or that you're going out with the girls? You love your boyfriend. You don't want to hurt him, but you want to have your cock and eat it too. You get something out of both relationships. Just as your parents got joy out of watching you beam with happiness when you opened the presents that Santa brought you. Now put down the self righteous indignation, and get over the initial shock of what a huge leap it is from the Santa conspiracy to getting some strange poon when you're supposed to be helping your buddy move, and look at it. I'm not saying it's an immediate, over-night jump from Santa to fucking your wife's best friend on her couch, obviously. But slowly, over the years from childhood to adult-life. Year after year, and lie after "harmless, little white-lie" you inch your way there. All the while using "protecting their feelings" as the justification for whatever self-serving manipulation is on the menu. When was the last time you were honest with the people you love? When was the last time you were honest with yourself? How did it get this far? Can you even see where you started? I can. It was in some fat-guy's sleigh. That's why I say, "Fuck Santa!"

Give someone you love some honesty this Christmas. Let DeBeers fend for themselves.

Theater of the Random

Why is it okay for a woman I am meeting for the first time to lead off the conversation with, "What do you do?" whilst it is totally verboten for me to ask, "Do you swallow?" after answering her query?

They're both questions that get right to the heart of that which our respective genders are hardwired to be primarily concerned. For the ladies, security. For the blokes, sexual pleasure. Is that so wrong?

I don't think so either, but polite society dictates that we should make the effort to control our base urges. That's fine. But if I'm not allowed to ask about your dick-taking abilities, could you at least attempt to concern yourself with something other than my money-making abilities?
I'm not sayin. I'm just sayin.

The Power of Genius

Wake up goddamn it!!

Watching the History Channel today I heard physicist Michio Kaku describe Eintstein in this way, "...that is the power of genius. The force of will to make the necessary mistakes to find the right answer."

Stop to think about that, my minions. Not with regard to physics, but with regard to life. Not with regard to geniuses, but with regard to all of us. "The force of will to make the necessary mistakes to find the right answer." That is a major source of youthful rebellion. "Don't tell me what to do. Let me figure it out for myself." Many children and teens feel this way, probably without knowing why. They are instinctively beginning their journey along the path to self discovery. Talk a the wisest elder you know. If you ask, they will probably tell you they were spectacularly foolish in their youth. They made lots of mistakes. Probably painful mistakes. As a diabetic I know something about this. People don't change until they feel the pain.
Looking back, I was an idiot and an asshole. I've made bad decisions. I've treated people poorly. I've made mistakes that still cause pain and embarrassment upon reflection. And I am much better for it. I learned from those mistakes, and that knowledge has allowed me to grow and move forward along the path the self discovery. Keep in mind that some of those mistakes can never be undone, and some of the wounds never healed, but I will never again inflict them upon myself or others. I haven't found THE right answer, but that is a journey with an infinite path. Pi is also infinite, but its application is infinitely useful. That is the principle we are talking about. With each new "digit", or piece of information, or wisdom gained your "answer" becomes more accurate. Put simply, with each mistake from which wisdom is gained you become a better and stronger person.

It is important to infer what is not stated in Kaku's observation. What becomes of those who lack the will to find the right answer? You already know. You see it everyday. They become the ubiquitous douche-bags that you encounter with disheartening frequency.

At this point I must digress to define a term you will definitely see me address at great length in the future, Generation Douche. We've had: The Greatest Generation,
The Baby Boomers, Generation X, Generation Y, and now Generation Douche. Not the most poetic monicre, but I'm not a poet. The importance of the definition far exceeds that of the name. These people are usually under 25 years of age. They are self involved. They do not think ahead. They are incapable of even perceiving their own mistakes, let alone learning from them. At 30 they will be the exact same person they were at 20. If you're having a hard time putting a face to the name, turn on the T.V. You can see Nth stage cases of this syndrome on almost every reality show. Especially those on MTV, VH1, and Bravo.

Now that you understand what I mean, you can observe that these people are the flipside to the Kaku's assertion. They are eternally 6 years old. They are raging ego. They are driven by desire. The desire to appear and feel cool. This disables the mechanism for growth by eliminating their ability to feel bad. If you are always cool and always right, you don't feel bad about anything you do because you can always justify it to yourself. Even if you can't justify your actions to anyone else. If people only change when they feel the pain, and Generation Douche-bags can't feel the pain, how will they change? How will they grow? How will they make progress along the path toward self discovery? How will they become a member of society useful to anyone but themselves?

If you are a parent, these questions are extremely important. Your child could be at risk to become a Generation Douche-bag. It is a natural instinct for parents to want their children's lives to be better than theirs. Easier. However, I must caution you against making their lives too easy. If they grow up knowing no possibilities other than getting their way, they will not possess the tools necessary to grow and self discover. They will always be needy. They will always be whiny. They may end up on a VH1 reality show. Is that a child you want to raise? Is that a result that is more desirable than feeling guilty about your child's disappointment at hearing you say "no" from time to time? As you answer these questions to yourself, realize that I am fostering self discovery in you, my minions. The knowledge is far more impactful when you come to it on your on than it would be if I spoon fed it to you.

If you answered "yes" to the last two questions, you might be a Generation Douche-bag.

Everything but the Pussy.

Wake up goddamn it!!

And no, I am not talking about cats. You saw the content warning before you entered. Fuck you.

I just saw a commercial for a spanish-language phone sex line. As much as I love how egalitarian that is, I still hate how puritanical this country's value structure is. It's 2008 in America. Any ad that isn't selling pussy, is using pussy to sell whatever the fuck they're pushing.

Girls Gone Wild, The Girls Next Door, Budweiser, eHarmony, The Spirit, Wanted, any of the "...of Love" or "...Charm School" reality shows, The Pick Up Artist, Beauty and the Geek, the list is endless.

In the most capitalistic country on earth, a country that is all about sex, drugs, and rock and roll... the only one you can legally sell is rock and roll (unless your at Wal-Mart).

I know some of you are gonna tell me there's a couple of counties in Nevada where prostitution is legal. Listen, if I'm not willing to put forth the effort to tell some broad what she wants to hear, and pretend to be the man of her dreams in order to get laid for the cost of a steak dinner and a couple of martinis, do you honestly think I'm willing to make the 500 mile trek to ButtFuck, NV (pardon the pun) to get some $1,000 ass? Of course I'm not. (And I'm not advocating deceptive behavior. I'm just saying that's what it takes to get laid these days. If you don't believe me, go to a bar, or a club, or an online dating service. "I was given this world, I didn't make it." Besides, I just said I won't do that shit. So don't try to make me the bad guy on this one. Kiss my ass.)

Seriously, let's get over it already folks. We're not fooling anybody but ourselves. Sex is tatooed on our DNA. If you're not doing it, you're thinking about doing it. Again, if you don't believe me take a look at the world around you. So how, in this day and age, can we possibly justify this contradicktion? It's legal to carry it, it's legal to use it, it's legal to sell its image (to anyone over 18), it's just not legal to sell IT itself. What else is there in this country that falls into this category? Pussy is one of the few commodities on Earth for which there is a universal demand, along with water, oxygen, and a few others. It is the only one which is illegal to sell. Why?

I'm not even a whore-monger. Nor am I advocating whore-mongering. My issue is with the ackwards-bass logic in this country. Is there any justification for this inconsistent "classification", for lack of a better word, of the poonani? Anything besides the fact that this land was colonized by a bunch of reiligious crusted nut-bars who view sex as a taboo? I don't think so.

For those who want to bring God into it. Are you telling me that the same God who made the human body, and created sex as the mechanism for perpetuating the species while simultaneously expressing romantic love (greatest of all gifts), and embedded the desire for sex deep within our nature as humans to the point that it is a central preoccupation from puberty on; that God doesn't want us to have and enjoy sex as often as possible? If Judeo-Christian values is where you're coming from, what's wrong with tons of sex within the parameters of a monogomous relationship? If you can reconcile these issues, then you must work in the Legislative Branch and be contributing to the legal framework that creates these very same contradictions.

*Ladies, (or gays) feel free to substitute dick for pussy. Lesbians, feel free to re-subtitute pussy for dick. That's not the heart of the issue. The point I'm making is about the contradictory ways this country deals with sex.

Thought for the Day.

Wake up goddamn it!

Everybody deserves at least one person in their life who makes their soul make a sound like Margie Hendricks singing on "(Night Time is) The Right Time" by Ray Charles.

That is passion. That passion is a force of nature. That is what life is all about. Seriously. That is not an opinion. THAT unbridled passion is the highest level of human existence. It is the high that we are all chasing. It's the reason people drink, and do drugs, and chase money. They are all trying to synthesize that feeling. But there is no faking it, and that is why so many fall into the abyss.

Now it may not come from romantic love (although that's the most probable source.) It may come from any true passion. Anytime who see someone who is a genius at something, they may be deriving that same feeling from their area of excellence. Then again, they may not. We've seen those born with the gift, but without the passion. That can also end tragically. Failed athletes come to mind. Ryan Leaf, Steve Howe, Laurence Phillips had the genius ability, but did not derive that ultimate joy from it's expression. Maybe they did for a time, but had it stripped away by those constantly trying to exploit it for financial gain.

It does go the other way too. We've seen artists and athletes that are only happy when they are doing what they love.

Regardless of the passion, everyone should be able to feel that unbridled, ultimate exhilaration at least once. The lucky ones will enjoy it for a lifetime. The unfortunate are unable to cope with the loss of it. But a lifetime spent chasing this "ultimate high" is far more rewarding than one spent chasing the superficial bullshit most people yearn for most of the time.

See You Next Tuesday

I am just as freaked out about The Big C being named Secretary of State as you. Fear not, my minions. Boxxy's got your back on this one.

When she started to be mentioned seriously as a presidential candidate, I was terrified. Then I took comfort in the fact that there was no way. Just as it was true that The USA and all of our red states would never elect a black President, it was also true that we would never elect a woman President. So much for that theory.

When she started to be mentioned seriously as a potential nominee for Secretary of State, I was terrified. I have seen the light. We have nothing to fear. We can count on Hillary. I am certain that we can count on her to take at least one foreign affairs situation and fuck it inextricably into a cocked-hat. Once that has been accomplished, she will have disqualified herself as a viable presidential candidate. I understand that we're going to need a woman to break the gender barrier, just as President-Elect Obama has broken the color barrier, but not this broad. I'm telling you. Boxxy's here for you, baby.

Of course, we have to hope that her failure isn't so abysmal that it casts us into the throes of The Apocolypse. That would be bad... but probably not as bad as President Clinton II. (and you thought Bush II was a nightmare.)

That's just a theory I could be wrong. Just in case, I'm learning the words to "O, Canada."
(I said I am here, I didn't say I'd stay here if everything goes to shit! "I may be crazy, baby, but I ain't no fool")

I never thought I'd live to see the day...

Good Morning.

Most people thought I was being humorously hyperbolic when I said it, but I was very serious. I grew up in the 80's, son! Such a thing never seemed possible. Not in America. Not within my lifetime. That is why I reflected upon it in this way:

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when The United States of America elected a black President. "

Granted, my life expectancy is shorter than most, but still. I'm very proud of America right now. The world seems much different now. A new world of possibilities exists. For the first time ever Americans of color are not lying to their children when they tell them they can be whatever they want. I don't expect everybody to understand this, but it is true.

Finally, we have someone to aspire to be besides Shaq, Lebron, or fucking Lil Wayne. Nothing against those guys, but as role models go, there's a vast difference between a man with a mouth full of gold teeth who raps in a vernacular barely discernable as english and The President of the United States. Who also happens to be one of the most articulate men I have ever seen. It's possible that the election of a black man to the Presidency will resonate most with black children, but the meaning is the same for all of us. You can be whatever you dare to dream.

Wasn't that The Dream in the first place? Now a man is judged by the content of his character, not the color of his skin. Don't get me wrong. It ain't over yet. The cheer that sprang from our hearts was not the death-toll of racism in America... but here's hoping it was the starter pistol in the marathon that gets us to The Promised Land.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..."
Amen, brother.

Life in Reverse

Wake up goddamn it!!!

I think I've realized the disconnect. I seem to be living life in reverse. It seems to me that everyone goes about their life looking for love and another person to spend their life with. Wife, kids, a big house, financial security, and so forth. Once they get settled, and get all of those distractions dealt with, they begin the road to self discovery. I would say the most important road. It's an endeavor they undertake with varying degrees of dedication and effort. Many times it is a completely unconscious process. Different people meet with different levels of success, but that seems to be the most common arc.
I've been going about my life the other way around, and that seems to have landed me in opposition with the rest of my species. It is not a malicious opposition, but it seems to keep me from finding an equal footing or common ground with my people. I am years behind my compatriots in the realm of the physical. Wife? No. Kids? No? Financial security, big house, white picket fence, "The American Dream"? Take a wild guess. You may sense a big hairy but lurking around the corner...
BUT!
That does not mean I am unhappy. Quite the contrary.
Contentment? Confidence? Knowledge and love of self? Knowledge of who and what is important to me? Yes on all counts. Which is not to say that the world is my oyster. Far from it. I'm not even close to achieving all of the physical comforts, achievements, and successes that my peers have. It makes life difficult at times, but life can be difficult. It's a journey. That's one of the things I've realized that many of my peers won't until they are older and wiser, and have been through all of the psychological and philosophical hazards that I have traversed in through the past years.
I've felt the rift between me and the rest of the world most of my life, but it was always vague. It frequently made me feel freakish, and always made me feel different. Within recent years I realized the source of the rift. The differences in approach, philosophy, and priorities. Within the past few hours I came to the realization that I have been very judgmental about the entire situation, while being very resentful of everyone else's judgments. Just today I realized the foolishness of this. My judging engendered bitterness, which served only to widen the rift between me and the rest of the world, especially women. I've been very bitchy about the fact that everyone else's priorities and philosophies flow in a direction opposite my own. I guess because it made me feel so freakish, because I felt I had NOTHING common with my fellow man. Now I know we're all travelling the same road, I (and the few whose follow a similar approach) are just in traffic in the opposite direction.

This bares great significance on another impactful, recent realization. This rift has been the main impetus behind my monumental quest to find female companionship. A few days ago it occurred to me that I had given up on women. Not consciously at first. Initially I started keeping women at arms-length as a self-defense mechanism. There are so many women who have been damaged by shitty boyfriends, judgmental parents, and phony friends, that the only possible outcome was that they would eventually damage me, possibly beyond repair. Similar points can be made about most men. Which is why most people in general hide behind a veneer of bullshit. The thickness may vary, but almost everyone has a protective shell. However the vast rift between the world's pursuit of the physical and my pursuit of the spiritual (for the complete absence of a better word), made the situation appear so dismal that I just gave up without even realizing it. This does say a lot about the bleakness of the situation, because I am not a quitter. I have endured through some tough situations. I live with disease everyday, yet I tackle each day head-on with a smile and a fire for living.
The situation is bleak, but not entirely hopeless. Most men and women have their heads firmly ensconced in their asses. I don't want what they want, and they don't want what I want, at least that's what I thought. As it turns out we all want the same things. We just go about it different ways. I am not currently pursuing what women are currently pursuing, and vice versa. But ultimately we all have the same needs as humans. We all want love and happiness, and the companionship of someone who totally understands. It sounds cheesy and lame, but kiss my ass. You're fooling yourself if you've got blood running through your veins and you claim you don't want this. You're not fooling me, but you're definitely fooling yourself. That is the common ground we all share. The key is I need to stop judging women for their approach. They in turn need to stop judging me for mine. Basically each of us needs to get the fuck out of our own way and put down the bullshit, not to put too fine a point on it. Get over yourself, at least make the effort. I'll do the same. Make the journey full speed ahead, otherwise your just spinning your wheels.
There is hope. That is why I have to give you an alternate version of my standard salutation as we head toward a new day.
Good Morning.

Reality Bites

I wanna live in the world Bob Marley sings about. Unfortunately there are no exhorbitant profits to be made in that world, so we'll probably never get there. Anyone who works in the corporate world knows what I'm talking about. When two paths diverge in a jungle, the one paved with gold will always have more traffic than the one lined with flowers.

That started as a message of hope as I was listening to Legend on the way to work, but reality jumped up and kicked it in the ass.

Sorry.

Internal Combustion

Somehow I've gotten better a gaining minor social acceptance while nearly losing the ability to genuinely connect with people altogether. Both started as deliberate choices, but snowballed way out of hand.

Theater of the Random

If we're dating and you couldn't care more about what your parents think, and I couldn't care less about what your parents think. (Or mine for that matter.) Who's the asshole?
(Since your parents raised and adult-child who is totally preoccupied with their parents' opinions, they are also viable candidates to be the correct answer.)

I hate anyone who refers to their home as their "showplace".

Normal people scare the shit out of me. God knows how they act when they're not busy looking normal. I like idiosincracies and foibles like I like tits: right out where I can see 'em.

Since we're not supposed to refer to lame and unmanly behavior as "gay", because it's desparaging to homosexuals, or call men who behave in such a fashion as "bitches", because it's degrading to women; could someone do me a solid and come up with alternate terms we can use? Thank you.

...oh! And "retarded"! Apparently we need a substitute for retarded. Thank you.

Just a thought...

I like having nice things too. But the only possessions they can't take from your are your mind, heart, and soul. If you choose to sell them, how will you get them back?

In the beginning...

"Choices always were a problem for you
what you need is someone strong to guide you."-Maynard James Keenan





Wake up goddamn it!!!





It's me, Ralph Waldo Boxxy Brown here to tell it like it is. (Get used to Boxxy M.F. Brown's multiple aliases. They are endless.) I will be reporting on state of the world. There's a lot of craziness out there, and this is the place to talk about it. However, the "Who? What? When? Where? How? and Why?" of world events are of little concern to me. Well... the "why" tends to interest me, but I'm not here to report all the news that's fit to print. I'm here for the news that's unfit to print. All of the things they don't talk about. All of the things they won't talk about. All of the things YOU won't talk about... but wish you could. I wish you would. These things need to be said. If they go on unspoken, we will go on unchecked in our downward, ego-driven spiral.


I just now decided that this will be my first topic, my minions. The unspoken. That which polite society, and the rest of us won't say. From the polite to wantonly passive-aggressive (who's numbers are shamefully vast.) We won't talk to each other. We won't say,"I love you" or "I hate you" only "I like you... I think." Where did the passion go? The inidividuality? The honesty, for fuck's sake?!?! If you want an eye-opening experience, start listening to what isn't being said. You will learn much more about people this way. Starting with how much their self-image is dependent on what other people think. This will quickly allow you to guage how much they don't love themselves. I don't say this in judgemental way. I say this with great empathy. I tried that approach too. It is a path to the abyss. There is nothing for you there. The staggeringly wise Maya Angelou told Dave Chappelle, "Don't pick it up and don't lay it down." Like you, I wasn't sure what she meant by that until she amplified the statement. Quite simply, if you grab onto the opinions of others at the times when they tell you "you're great..." or "you're the best..." you must also hang yourself on the times when they say, "your past it. You're nothing." You might protest, but give it some thought. Allowing the praise to swell your ego means that the criticism will inevitably diminish your conceptualized self. I implore you to "know thyself". You determine your own worth. At least you can. The choice is yours. It's a great thing choice, but you must choose wisely. Please don't choose based on what makes you look cool. What the hell does that mean anyway? To be "cool". I know this much: They harder you try to be cool, the less cool you actually are.


Have you ever told somebody, "Don't make me feel bad about that!" They're not. Your actions are making you feel bad. You knew it was wrong when you did it. It felt good at the time, so you did it anyway. Now you feel bad. Think about why that mechanism exists. Why would the knowledge that you did something wrong manifest itself pysically? Why does burning yourself hurt? So your stupid-ass doesn't leave your hand over the flame until you damage yourself beyond repair. If it makes you feel bad, stop doing it before your stupid-ass damages yourself (or someone who love's you) beyond repair!!!! It's your rampaging ego that allow you to justify your selfish nonsense. Don't let it.


I tangented a little at the end there, but my blood sugar is low and I must go eat. It's a blog, what'd you expect?


I love you, my minions. (Don't let it go to your head.)

-Boxxy M.F. Brown



"If you want to get your soul to heaven
trust in me now don't you judge or question."-Keenan