11 Easy to Follow Steps for Living a Blissful Life
I apologize for Reposting, which is only slightly better than re-gifting, but, America, you’re just not that Creative. You continue to struggle with the same old Same Old, on the daily. And it makes it Difficult even for Cosmically Gifted people such as your Humble Author, to come up with New, Winning Shit.
Besides, I get tired of Repeating Myself (Unless it’s one of those Cool Self-Help Mantras such as- “It’s not me. It’s the Boils on Your Ass”).
Next time you’re in a bookstore and you really want to know about the “State of the Country,” check out the “Self-Help” section.
I love to wander over on occasion to gander at what ails my fellow citizens, and I’m never disappointed.
Christ, we are seriously Fucked Up!
Books on Relationships, Making Money without getting off the couch, How to Have Sex and Actually Enjoy It, How to Find Yourself, on and Fucking on.
We are a truly Sick People.
In the Bible, it says, “Love Thine Enemy,” but how can we when we don’t even Love Ourselves?
I think the answer is Obvious.
Americans can’t even get along with the people they Love much less dish out Affection to some Poor “Towel Head” in Iraq or Iran.
“My wife is leaving, my kids despise me, I make $10 an hour, I’m struggling with Erectile Dysfunction, I’m afraid of Intimacy, and I’m out of touch with my Inner Child, so Fuck You, Muhammad! Nuk’em All!”
The “Self-Help” section is a Monument to a Failed Empire. A Tribute to the Consequences of Excess, Apathy, Greed, Lust, and All Around FuckedUp-edNess.
“Woe Is Me!”
We collectively Cry.
America is a Twisted Self-Parody, and anyone with even a Remnant of Brain Matter must cower in Terror when they read our Tour Schedule, and see the Headlines,
“American Circus Coming to a Town Near You. Fall 2009. Don’t Miss It!”
The World’s collective spine Shudders in Anticipation.
Take our “War Against For Freedom” in Iraq. Who in their Right Fucking Mind thinks a man like George W. Bush had any Business doling out advice on What’s What?
The Mother Fucker is a Goddamned Drunk. Being a Drunk is an Admission that-
I Cannot Handle Life. It is Much Too Difficult.
And in Chimpy’s case, it’s Even Worse, as he Grew Up in a World of Luxury, Low Taxes, and ZERO CONSEQUENCES.
Chimpy is Exactly the type of Person for whom the “Self-Help” section was created.
Speaking of Charlatans handing out advice.
In our daily “Advice Column,” they recently dished out some Dietary Suggestions to one of their Lemming readers. Okay, that’s cool, Americans Eat Shit, and don’t take care of their bodies. But here’s my problem. One of the women Dishing is about 70 pounds overweight.
Shouldn’t the person telling you how to live your life know how to live their’s?
I’m no Saint, but even I have enough sense not to stand in front of one of the Drug Addiction classes I once taught, Chiefin’ on a Blunt. (I’m not passing my weed around a room filled with a bunch of Hepatitis Riddled Junkies. That’s Fucking Nasty).
Americans get it Coming and Going. We don’t have any Fucking Idea how to live our lives, and the People Dispensing Advice to Us like Cola Flavored Pez –
“Pre-Marital Sex is a Sin. Repent! Repent! Repent!”
“How old are you?”
“How old is your Son?”
“And how old were you when you got married?”
“Shouldn’t you be shutting the Fuck Up right about Now?”
I think one of my favorites is Ann Coulter, and the Gems she hands out about Relationships. That Bitch hasn’t a Fucking Clue about what Makes a Successful Relationship, yet she has the Balls (Literally?) to Chastise others?
Americans are Miserable, and the Book Sales are The Proof.
If you purchase one book this year make it “How to Love the People You Love” Number One on the New York Times’ Best Seller List for 30 weeks straight!
Shirley knows her shit when it Comes to Cumming!
A must read for anyone confounded by Zippers!
Until I read “It’s Not You; Your Girlfriend/Wife Just Has A Huge Pussy,” I was embarrassed by the size (Or lack thereof) of my Cock, but today I pull down my pants without a Modicum of Shame. If you, like me, suffer from Tiny PeePee Syndrome this book is the one. Five Stars, and 3 inches, Straight Up!
If you read this book, then you are more than likely capable of Reading!
Look Man/Woman, whatever, I worked as a Counselor, and I know the Shit works, but let’s Face Facts;
You can’t Crip Walk if you ain’t willing to put in the Work.
Donna Jo Hogsmasher may very well know how to make Tacky Knick-Knacks, but painting a Fake Porcelain Sweater Wearing Teddy Bear is not the path to Enlightenment. (Damn, I hate that “Country Art” Bullshit).
Standing in front of the Mirror for 20 minutes each morning repeating, “I am not a Douche Bag” is not the key to a Successful Career or Relationship.
If you’re 100 lbs. overweight, instead of waiting for a Miracle Pill or buying the book “More of Me to Love,” how about getting off your Ass and Exercising? How about By-Passing Mc Donald’s on your way home from Wendy’s?
You don’t “Need” a TripleFuckingCheeseburger to compliment your 64 ounce bucket of Chili.
You’re not “Big Boned,” Okay?
And it’s not a “Gland Problem.”
I’m sorry your Father is a Prick and your Mother is “Emotionally Disconnected.”
Welcome to the Human Race, Sweetheart.
Sure, sure, I’m being “Mean,” and it’s not Fair to Judge the Downtrodden.
Mother Fucker, we’re all Downtrodden. Take a Look around. This Ain’t No Fucking Shangri-La. Life is one Brutal Son of a Bitch, and that’s when things are Going Well.
I’m sorry this is the case, but it is what it is.
We’re Disintegrating, All of Us. As you read this Rant, your Heart is growing Weary, and the Neurons in your Brain are breaking Down. You, Me, Ann, and Ms. Hogsmasher are Rusting, but Unlike the Tin Man, an Oil Can ain’t going to Save Us.
That’s what these books are, Oil Cans. Yes, for a couple of days your joints don’t Squeak as much, as you Shuffle through Life, but it never Lasts, and before you know it you’re off to Borders to pick up the latest Insipid Dreck “Dr. Phil” is Pimping.
You know the answers, they just may not be what you wanted. But everything is going to be Alright, just repeat after me;
I am not a Douche Bag
I am not a Douche Bag
I am not a Douche Bag…
For the Love of Life