I am not immune to a woman’s charms and on occasion I fall prey to their wiles. I consider myself savvy to woman’s duplicitous nature, but if that special lady comes by I’ll happily put the blinkers on myself and spend the next few months oblivious and blind to reality.

I know I generalize. I don’t care. I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t a bitch. The most you might manage is to be less of a bitch than your sister.

You’re still a selfish, self-absorbed, whimsical, whiney and complaining bitch.

At best you realize this. It doesn’t of course mitigate your faults; it does, however, make them more tolerable.

I know, it’s my fault you are like this. Man seems to accrue the blame for all of the wrong in your life.

Talking to a woman, especially one who is interested in you, or who you have a relationship with, is akin to skipping through a minefield. Subtext underlies every innocent remark. Failure to pick up on the hidden meanings will bring a swift and damning reprisal.... usually something to the effect of "You don’t love me!"

What the fuck is with that? Are you taking secret classes in Emotional Blackmail 101 or is it an innate skill at making others feel bad about things they have no responsibility for or control over?

Instead of music class do you learn how to play our emotions?

Do you live your life in your own little delusional reality where you are the center of the universe? Do you resent the fact that your best feature is a hot, wet pussy?

I think you do.

PMS? Well I’ll forgive you that one. Sloughing uterine chunks monthly is punishment enough for that sin.

My opinion on that particular abomination is mirrored in Leviticus 15:19.

Should women be allowed to fly planes while suffering PMS?

Not unless we’re at war.

I could go on…

I will.

I know we all suffer from vanity but I must say women turn it into a way of life. Vanity is an obnoxious trait at the best of times; with women it is ingrained so deep into their psyche it is hard to tell where it begins and the anal-retentive behavior starts. Get over it. Get over yourselves.

Enough I think. I have to emulate work now for my boss' piece of mind.

Yes, this diatribe was powered by abstinence.

I won’t hazard the reasons for you taking them; for myself it was because I wanted my own opinion on them, not my parents', not my teachers', not the governments'.

But I digress, as I am wont to do when slightly sober. I was talking about drugs. Drugs and alcohol.

We all laugh when some self-righteous ass spouts the same old tripe about alcohol being as bad as any other drug. Sometimes we say it ourselves. I don’t think many of us truly believe it.

Charlie, lsd, MDMA. Great trips all of them. Fun times. But here I sit, clean, and I know they all pale against the beautiful, sublime versatility of alcohol.

How we take for granted this potent, seductive elixir. We go out of a night, down a few pints and go home high on bon homie and laughter. Do you think it is being around our friends that makes us so at ease?

Fools.

Alcohol: 1
You: nil

Alcohol. How little credit you get.

You take the edge off reality for me. Let me take that step back and give myself the perspective I need.

There is an art to drinking, to finding that sweet plateau of clarity where your reality lies bare before you, yet where you retain a detachment from it. Perspective and detachment: alcohol, I thank you for these gifts.

I write this wee credit to liquor because today I got a wake up call from its siren’s cry.

The comfort I can take from one little bottle of beer after a long day of sobriety, worry, stress and sadness is staggering. And scary. And worth every dead and damaged cell in my liver.

Perhaps I’m preaching to the choir?

Cheers.

Am I supposed to read your articles and be what? Interested?

Maybe it’s the tumor in my head slowly pushing against the unyielding bone of my skull, maybe it’s just sobriety. But I don’t get it.

If I want to read such a prosaic morass of banality I’d read Velikovsky.

Truly, does nothing more exciting happen to us? Are these ramblings all you can write about?

Don’t you people know how to live?

Surely a few of you have some venereal diseases you can talk about? I’d rather hear what your thrush smells like than listen to any more meandering drivel (mine own excepted).

I hope I’m not coming off as harsh here. I just don’t want you thinking your posts are any good. It strikes me that posting on the main page for many is nothing more than ego masturbation. You have no point to your piece. It is a vanity.

I like that we have a forum to criticize or praise these posts. But in the main we are too polite to tell the truth. Consider this the truth.

Am I wrong to pine for the times we had on SPF? Sad as it sounds, SPF was my life back then, and I loved it. It just shows that it isn’t just the people that made those times as fun as they were, but the place too. Now you’ve all moved away and SPF is unmitigatedly shit. And while most of you are here, the feel is different. Not bad. I still have fun here. Just not as much.

Such nostalgia! Being able to post pictures to the main forum without being moaned at to remove them. Being able to crush some poor fool beneath the heel of my boot, knowing they will never have the courage to return. Spending my time thinking of retorts for those that maligned me.

God I miss that.

The Asylum is great. I spend a lot of my time here. In fact being 3500 miles away from my friends and family it has bridged in me something that has been missing.

Thank God for Gary Coleman. His contempt is fun. He reminds me of what it used to be like. He doesn’t give a fuck what you think. ToadyRage said once it’s all just shits and giggles. That summed it up pretty well.

Post me something here that will make me laugh. Something that will make me think. Don’t post poetry.