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Thursday, February 26, 2015

Creative Personality Disorder

Before the days of blue tooth, seeing someone talking to themselves was a remarkable and even frightening thing.  As a child, my mother moved me out of the path of street people and other loonies who walked, ambled, or stomped the sidewalk, in deep conversation with… who knows?
I didn’t like being moved away.  I wanted to hear the conversation.
Blue tooth ruined all that.  Now when you see someone talking to themselves it’s usually just ordinary talk of groceries to be brought home, meetings to prepare for, and people to despise.
Sometimes technology just sucks the jelly out of the doughnut.
But thankfully, the insanity is still out there!
“My name is Headley, and I have CPD.” (Creative Personality Disorder)
“Hello, Headley.”
There will never be a 12-step program for CPD, because unlike those afflicted with smoking, drugs, or Rosie O’Donnell infatuation, people with CPD are not considered mentally ill.
I know that for a fact because my imaginary friend (who is very smart and dresses entirely in hula hoops,) told me, and he would never steer me wrong.  
Most of us with CPD are just as bat-sh_t crazy as your typical street person, but we are considered social acceptable in our delusional miasma.
That really pisses us off.
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with you – you’re just creative.  I think it’s wonderful how you come up with so many interesting things.”
Yeah, it’s wonderful how I’ve got thousands of voices in my head.  Some of those voices are harboring grudges that make Jennifer Anniston’s feelings about Brangalina look tame.
Many of the voices are not only murderers, but are constantly pleading with me to let them kill more.
Some of the voices are the ghosts of those murdered, screaming for revenge.
Yeah – it’s all one big happy place.  We with CPD vomit our illness out in books, paintings, sculpture, movies, Broadway shows, and creepy little blogs.  We smear the culture with zombies, demon possession and Kardashians.
We should be considered a public menace.  Instead society has decided to celebrate one tenth of one percent of us and make us far wealthier than our unbalanced personalities can process.
The rest of us, society starves to death.
Okay – maybe we’re not the only sick ones out there.  Maybe society has a compulsion to stir, facilitate, exacerbate (no – not a dirty word,) our dark and self-destructive obsessions for their own amusement.  Perhaps society enjoys the suffering of creative personalities even more than the crap we spew out.
So as you come across a writer wandering aimlessly muttering words like – a guillotine would be a good way to kill them all, you can pat us on the head and encourage our madness if you want.
But then again, can you be certain we’re just talking about fiction?

Oppressing certain segments of society almost always works out great!

Monday, February 23, 2015


It's time we address a growing problem in America: Misandry - the growing prejudice against men.  Much of it comes from the odd notion that men are stupid.
While it's true that men don't always look particularly thoughtful, we must learn to judge people - not for their appearance - but for their actions.
Remember, males are nearly half of the population of the world.  By birthrate, we'd be more than half, but we tend to die earlier.  Nobody knows why.
It would be wrong to ignore the many valuable contributions men make in all facets of society.
The Arts
Inter-species diplomacy
And whatever the heck this is.
The point is, that without men, a lot of things just wouldn't get done.
Puddle-grounded electrical repair
Foot-based chipper clearing
Creative contorsionism
Gas-efficient appliance moving
Aquatic nose scratching
Yes - these are specialized fields, but where would we be without the intrepid male?  Far from stupid, males are capable of surprising cognitive acts.
The appropriate response
Envisioning new realities
Finding new uses for products
Contemplating Womankind
And deep introspection
So (chromosomally speaking) why ask Y?  Appreciate the men around you. Don't punish us.
Don't ridicule us.
Don't judge us.
Break free of the bonds of misandry, and feel the freedom to appreciate the male of our species in all his glory!

Case in point

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Cat Pee Can Burn Your House Down

Those with scientific backgrounds probably looked at the title to this post and thought they were way ahead of me. Chemical reactions in enclosed spaces over time can cause an excess of heat which left unattended can burst into flame.
Yes – you’re very smart.
This has nothing to do with that.
You see it turns out that male cats – especially those that still have all their giblets, don’t just pee to relieve themselves. They pee to mark what they own – their cat bed, the carpeted climby thing they ignore because climbing the bookcase offers more stuff to knock down, their littler box pad which smells far too good after their person washes it, and, of course, everything their person wears. It’s all the same to the cat. If an item is part of their life, they own it, and if they own it (and they have their giblets,) they mark it.
It also turns out that people with cats – even those with male cats – even those whose male cats have all their giblets, get so used to the smell of cat urine that they can’t smell it anymore. Even when everything they wear has been thoroughly marked with giblet fortified male cat urine.
So then I enter the picture.
A long time ago, I had a job. It wasn’t like my job with Amalgamated Monster; it was a real job, with actually human co-workers and enough money at the end of each week to make me obese with Pop Tarts. (the glory years!)
This was before I learned that real jobs are traps, sort of like those egg crates are for pre-chickens. They look comfortable and Pop-Tart intensive, but it all ends up leaving you on the hot griddle of middle-class angst.
A real job is like a boat. It’s something you want your best friend to have, but it’s a real pain in the neck to have yourself.
Another thing is like that – a house. I thought I was being real smart. I got a two-family house. That way I could live in one part and let the tenant pay the mortgage.
Yes, I can hear all of you home-owners snickering at me.
So there I was in my egg-carton job with my money-trap two-family house, still blissfully unaware of the griddle that I was approaching with increasing velocity.
“Have Headley do it,” said a co-worker. “He’s outspoken.”
I felt the first waft of heat from the impending griddle.
“Yeah,” said another one not quite quietly enough because I heard her clearly, “nobody likes him anyway.
“Headley,” said Geraldine Bustenfuller, my manager, “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Are there Pop Tarts involved?” I asked – though I doubted I would be that fortunate.
“You probably noticed Carmena,” said Geraldine, ignoring my Pop Tart question.
“Sure.” I said. Carmena worked two cubicles down from me. Even I’m not quite that oblivious.
“We need you to tell her about her odor problem.”
“Why me?”
“You remember that job description you signed without looking at it?”
“It was in there?”
“Uh huh.”
“May I read it now?”
That day I told Carmena what I knew about male cats. She smelled better after that –got more popular around the office as everyone avoided me for being so cruel.
After three deadbeat tenants, Carmena rented my apartment. She hadn’t moved her stuff in when she had an accident with the stove – leaving a pile of cardboard on top and turning the burners to high.
Shortly after losing the house, I lost the job, and became pretty much the man I am today – an admitted loser, but at least off the griddle of middle-aged angst.

Cat pee, or at least the discussion of cat pee, can burn your house down.

Cats - evil beasts.  But don't blog without them.

Sunday, February 15, 2015


It may be true that I have nothing for you today.
But is that so bad?
I could have given you No Nothing
How's that to wrap your head around?
Sometimes you need nothing - at least I do.
Nothing is better than a lot of things.  After all, nothing is...
Special - you're not just anything when you're nothing.
Impossible - how's that for a challenge?
Eternal - wow!  This is getting deep!  We know this because...
But don't worry about it.

Actually - I have no idea what this means.
And I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not - because I have...
Mostly because I gave...
At least there's an ap for that.
Not sure why.
Some people avoid nothing
But once you're there, it can be hard to leave.
But at least there's a whole lot not to do.
So I'll shut up now.

Mel Brooks gets it.