Tag Archives: belief

licentious liberteens

When two people argue about beliefs it resembles two monkeys arguing over a banana. Who ever screeches loudest wins the banana. In better terms, fighting over whether a 24-pack of Bud Light can get you more trashed than a 24-pack of Coors Light. They are unaware their passion does not make them extraordinary. The reality is, no one in their circle is, let alone can they define what an extraordinary person is like. They’re probably convinced they are the extraordinary one.

Man was subject to becoming stereotypes in the past, but have now been faced with having to become something other than being a stereotype. Then there are those complacent with a life of low expectations; those being the survivors. Their children will survive. The determined and the wishful have no idea how bleak the future has become, a future propelled by contentment and simplicity. Hopes and dreams extinguished by hopes and dreams.

The youth of our Aquarian dance chooses where he or she can apply themselves and, at the very least, are sensible enough to know their place. We all employ our escapism tactics in order to help it go down smooth. Be it: booze, marijuana, aderal, cocaine, your garden-variety eviction notice stipulations. It matters little which medium is chosen, (promiscuity and elitism can be tossed in this muck salad) it’s their need for escapism that is the clue.

We’re born into a world where, even, the educated don’t have many options for survival. Who you know and how many friends you have in your social network, is seemingly more important that your qualifications or your major. (I’ve been hired for my friend count as it proposed more targets to promote towards on multiple occasions, and have been fired for publicly mocking them on that same network.) Romantic hopes and fluttery dreams just aren’t going to cut it. Every specialist would be out of a job if everyone was already a specialist.

You pair the grimness of our world to come with our inability to moderate our escapes and that gives you, the half divorced seniors, the freedom you fought for on our behalf, the Aquarians. And you bet your sweet ass when we say we won’t exactly fancy fighting for freedom for our kids like mama and papa did. We’ll just worry about it when it happens.

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Leaving your baby mama while she’s pregnant means you don’t get to name it when you go back to her in roughly sixteen months. You’re stuck with that. Sixteen months is the average time for fellow hipster dudes to accept fatherhood. Pro’s about that are, they’ve taken the time necessary to restructure the imperative circumstances surrounding their lives, and without feeling like they were pressured into doing so. The con’s are, and I apologize, you ladies’ have to go through the beginning stages alone. Unless you have good friends whom you know the last names of (not through Facebook.) Those are the ones that stick around, not, but don’t worry, if you made a good friend over Facebook, chances are, you don’t know their middlename yet. There’s still hope for you. For guys, if your bro’s haven’t complained to you about a certain girl, (not girls in general) you’re not in yet. Men seem to use women as classificational objects, in this is the easiest way to pinpoint where your head is on the bro’tem pole.

Anyway, I’ve seen plenty of guys shoved into fatherhood, and I’ve seen more battling with the concept. Some relieved to discover and cheer these words: it ain’t mine, muthaf*cka! That already says plenty about the male mentality behind it, especially between the ages of 22 to 32. And no ladies, your man can’t be mo’ mature like your friend, Kim’s man, he’s as mature as you found him. The more single he’s been in life, his chances of being mature are higher. Believe me on this wizardry, and if you don’t, it’s probably because you’re too pretty, or haven’t turned 28 yet. There are tons of great guys you complain about never meeting, while your friend Pete without the vagina is picking up white cheddar Cheezits and his director’s cut copy of In Her Shoes to show up at your cold K-town apartment loft because you were too sick to do anything today. (Yes that loft is pre-baby, have you breathed North Korean air? Korea Town air, I mean.)

For the guys shoved into the pit of fatherhood, you did this, you finish it. If ever there was a bigger wake-up call than this to take hold of your life, this is it. Your recklessness obviously didn’t do you any good, did it? The plus side, your baby momma is probably still a stone cold fox, would you feel good if your kid called another MILF hunter, Daddy? Nah, that would piss me the f*ck off too. Sh*t that don’t make sense piss me the f*ck off. F*ck! Sh*t! Motherf*cker! Wait, you could be that motherf*cker, you lucky son of a f*ck! So suck it up, you’re not the one guy in the world that’s ever gone through this.

(Just catch her cheating and your hands are clean! That’s a more level-headed approach, I think. Just looking out for my boys too. You girls are too smart, it ain’t fair.)

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National Geographic is Being Too Graphic

First came the uni-brow, then the club. Kings of bashers we were, then the weird cousin discovered flame, scared the shit out of us, then discovered the shit we bashed the shit out of was delicioso under weirdo cousin’s fire. Open Bashin’ Shit restaurant, and traded for goodies. Got babytooth necklace back once, my baby tooth from uncle Argh. Uncle Argh sad but glad with neanderthal chorizo. Things we live is easy. Take woman, Make tiny-me’s.

After millions of fun-filled years, the hunter-gatherer men spawned us men; brighter, well-dressed and killed with axes and swords, (I’d prefer an axe because that’s just awesome to slay anything with, even Tres Leche cake,) but we still kept our women to ourselves. Like our treasures we find in the sand at the beach only to keep it hidden and protected in a Reebok shoebox in the back of the closet at mom’s place, slowly being disregarded until forgotten and to your surprise, grows feet and disappears. *gasp*

Here’s the thing; women aren’t property or prizes, in fact, it was because of them that we’ve advanced this far. Neanderthals killed to feed their women in order to keep them, (I’m sure there was competition, not because neanderhipstergirl was hot, but when one man wants something, they all want it. The animals do it too, except they killed and killed damn good, gang fights and MMA and/or Mortal Kombat started here,) and if they didn’t, another would. That’s the way it’s always been. Now that the Civil Movement has happened, 19th amendment, and everyone can vote now, women have been on the brink of discovering their superiority. Female praying mantis’ already know it, (killin’ the dude after the best one-night-stand ever,) some spiders break off the male penis to plug up her own fun-holes, to reproduce only once. Human women can take half your shit now, your vintage record collection you just started, the books you didn’t write your name in when you moved in together… and even the dog, the one you brought with you because you needed a best friend to listen to your shit without judging you. Does that sound completely unfair? Or does it sound like karma? Are we as men so desensitized that we act surprised if a girl flexes? They can, you know. Equal rights means they can kick as much ass as us men do, except they’re much smarter than we are.

The next time you immerse yourself into an argument with your girlfriend or wife or top bed share-holder, it’s not because she doesn’t love you. I know this one to be a fact; to us guys, these random fights are random and you think she’s crazy, but these random fights actually happen because they’ve changed in some way, and grew. Men don’t change, we just get older. She probably thinks you’re a pussy. In this reasoning, women have at least million years of growing to catch up on. They’re just smarter and faster, and still us men will find a reason to call it an unfair match.

We, men, only have each other to cheer, but do you think we’ll get anything accomplished with all-male cheerleaders? The answer is a very obvious no, even I would be too distracted. (That’s why I only get my advice from women I believe are the equivalent of generals, maybe captains too, because I know that if I can’t beat them, I’m better off joining them. And also, I have nothing against male cheerleaders, you guys are great, better dancers sometimes too. It’s better just to say you’re on the other team, I think.)

Just find solace in knowing you will never understand a woman, even the one you’ve been with the last four years or two and a half weeks. No record in history was there ever a [straight] man who understood them… and lived. Maybe Chuck Norris or the Dos Equis guy, I think his name is Maxwell. Maxwell and Chuck Norris can do it, but can we ever be like them? Fuck no, so don’t try to understand women but have a flavor-infused Dos Equis beer, which is on sale at your local CVS for $5.49 a six-pack. What a deal!! Two exclamation points! Anyway, admire the gem of a woman you do have like a perfectly cooked steak. Rare, but seared just right on both sides and know that not everyone will see the steak like that, but they’ll eat it if they get a chance. Some want theirs medium, or well-done, but the whole dilio is not guaranteed to appease your taste buds, so don’t expect it to. Move with it or move it. After all, they keep us going, despite the preconceived transgression. Us men seem to grow only after our hearts have been hurt and are left a-bleedin’, but that also means that you were too late. Walk it off.

she loved him till death, because he never tried to understand her.

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