It'll Get Finished When It's Finished!

(I promised myself this blog wouldn't turn into a personal gripe page, but I personally don't give a shit what gets posted on it now.)

I think we all get a little bent out of shape on our purpose in life. Some of us may achieve great things, while others become the "anti-example" by which to live. No doubt, the times we live in are dicked up like a gangbang. But do we every truly admit to ourselves what we want out of life?

Sometimes, some important times, we have to give ourselves a gut check and take a little inventory on what we want. Lets use myself as an example: I enjoy video games, eating, sleeping, working out and getting drunk. I'd add "getting laid" in that equation but that would require me to "give a fuck" (nyuk-nyuk). In that little list, you'll note that I didn't include my occupation, and there's a reason for that. The truth of the matter is that none of us actually want to work for a living. Some of us aren't even fucking passionate about what we do, we'd like to think we are; we're not. But for those of us that really don't care about the end-state of our environment, our neighborhood or our fellow man, there's hope. Hope in the fact that there are others who do give a damn, and we should be gracious enough to stay out of their way.

But how? How do we help those people without stepping away from our double xp weekends on Call of Duty you ask? By simply being honest with them. I can assure you, many people would be beyond thrilled if you just admitted to them that you really don't care about their neighborhood watch, their food drive or their petition (unless there's something in it for you.) I should know, I drop the "no, I don't think that's really worth getting worked up over" spiel on a regular basis.  Be wary, however, of those who are so civic-minded that they want to drag you into their pile of horse-hockey.  These motherfuckers will do nothing good for your peace of mind and totally destroy your chances of getting to that next prestige level on whatever game you're playing online. 

The civic-minded volunteer is the worst type of individual. They give a hoot for the sake of giving said hoot, which is no reason to ever give a hoot unless someone is hooting up in your business. So be the smart field mouse and hide from these bird-brains whenever it can be managed. Couldn't their time be better spent masturbating or otherwise finding a way to go fuck themselves, I ask you? 

So, if you're lazy, are only motivated by that which will pay or entertain you, and only work because it keeps you in the life you're most comfortable living then take heart. You are closer to happiness than Mr. Save-the-Whales will ever be, and far closer to getting what you want out of life.

Question everything, or not; not my problem.

An Open Letter To Theists

Dear Believers,

Ah, and so I come to you again. I wanted to see how things were going. I'm pretty sure you're cross with me, and while not necessarily a good reason, it is a reason that I don't agree with you. How are you? How's the family? I'm sure they're doing quite well, whatever the standard opinion of "well" may be. In any case I'd like to say the following:

There's a limit to your faith.

Yes, call it a wager, an impolite remark reserved for someone trying to get in your head (as if your ilk didn't try to get into mine in my formative years.) But there is some observable truth to my claim, a truth that you yourself confirm quite easily. Were I forced to, there would be untold scores of books I could write on the subject. But since you seldom bother to read the one book you swear by in its entirety, it would be a waste of energy to write more than one on the subject. As I've written this so far, I cannot help but find myself contemplating the events in Genesis 22:5-8. The "Binding of Isaac" was one of many Bible-approved examples of displaying one's faith in God, but then I find myself muttering the old adage "Talk to God; call it prayer. Talked to by God; call a psychiatrist." But it goes much deeper than that, oh yes. It goes right down to you, Theist. It goes right down to your humanity and what you'd do to prove your faith.

Remember that lovely family of yours? The one I asked about? Yes, that one. Would you be willing to tie any one of them to patio furniture, any one at all? Would you, could you, be willing to carve them to bits in His mercy? Let us dispense with paltry excuses highlighting how merciful God is when the Bible is a litany of how unmerciful one with great power can be. Let us instead stay focused on you. Because I'm not writing to you about any one god, I'm writing about you, to you.

Not one to bandy about metaphysical concepts, but I can almost sense your hesitance. If you were to answer "no" you'd find yourself locked in a paradoxical crisis of faith. Trapped in a room where the purrs and gentle reassurances of your oh-so-laughable cognitive dissonance cannot save you. But, were you to say "yes" then not only would you be looked upon as insane, but your family would start looking at you funny, and I'm pretty sure the spouse would be filing for divorce.

But as I mentioned before, there are several examples that would push your faith to its breaking point; the aforementioned is merely the one that sticks out the most in my mind. But now, it sticks out in your mind as well. So look on the bright side, for the first time in a long time, we are like-minded individuals. In any case, send the family my love, and don't go stabbing anyone.

Sincerely,
Rey Ignatius Fawkes