Tag Archives: death

Monsters Everywhere


People think I’m negative. People think I focus too much on the negative aspects of things. Honestly, I don’t see how anyone can not feel negative when faced with the reality of our world.

Yesterday I was faced with this story of the murder of 3 year old Scott McMillan. To say “the murder of” is horrific and sad enough in its own right, but it doesn’t even begin to describe the unthinkable, disgusting truth about what happened to this poor little boy. I avoided the story when I first saw it mentioned. In fact, I probably avoided it 5 times before I eventually looked at it. I wish I never had. I wish I stopped reading at the end of the first or second paragraph when I first felt sick about it. But like an idiot, I kept reading. It hasn’t left my mind since, and the mental pictures it conjured up have literally brought me to tears.

Relative to many people, I think I might be slightly… dark. I’m probably capable of a few things that most are not. But for the life of me, I can’t understand how any bit of this behavior is possible. Maybe if these monsters were out of their minds on some powerful drugs… but no. They say drugs or alcohol weren’t a factor. It just makes me so fucking sad and angry. I just sit here and think WHY?! HOW!? There really isn’t even any point to this post of mine, but this horrific real life nightmare won’t leave my mind. There really isn’t any punishment that I can think of that would be suitable for these crimes. If I ever thought that someone did 1/100 of that stuff to my son I would lash out with the most unrelenting, passionate violence I could possible muster to defend him. And this boys own Mother was right there, not only watching, but actively taking part. It’s just so sickening.

They should not give these people the death penalty, and they should certainly not be allowed to live in a general population of a prison. They should suffer in the most intense ways, for as long as possible. Spare no expense in torturing these monsters. The world is such a fucked up place.

Death Obsessed

I have to wonder, just how often do most people think about dying? I guess it varies depending on a person’s age and infinite combinations of life situations. An 85 year old woman with cancer probably thinks about it more often than your average 31 year old man with no obvious health issues. But IContinue Reading

My Mother is dead.

That’s a photo of my Mother holding me up by my crotch in 1978, the year I was born. She died early Sunday morning (September 6), sometime shortly after midnight or so. She was 51 years old. How did she die? Well, I’m sure official medical records will show something involving complications from cirrhosis, orContinue Reading

St. Anger

Sometimes I say things to my “grandmother” (no bloodline), that people would find surprising, shocking, and probably pretty mean. I tell her that I hope she dies. I tell her that I hate her fucking guts. Sometimes it’s more standard stuff like “Drop dead”, “fuck you”, “fuck off”, stuff like that. I say it asContinue Reading

faster we run…

I have so much to say, so often. Yet these days it seems impossible to get it onto this page. I’m afraid that this thing has become a semi-regular telling of me doing nothing. When I look back on this in months and years from now, I want it to accurately portray the place thatContinue Reading