The only things holding us back are fear and good judgement!

LJ Idol Week 20- Boondoggle

2020-04-28T22:56:22Z

This season of LJ Idol has been therapeutic for me. But I think it's time to concentrate on other stuff.

Good luck to all, I will be reading

Week 19- I can't get calm

2020-04-19T18:07:44Z

I haven't mourned my mother the way I thought I would. I've been drinking every day, sometimes as much as a liter of 80 proof Kentucky Gentleman whiskey. On the days I haven't been able to afford liquorI've just slept,sometimes up to 13 hours a ay.

I would never commit suicide, someone would find me like I found my brother and I can't allow that.... But sometimes I think maybe if I just went to sleep one night and didn't wake up the world would be better for it.

There's an insane man running my country who spends almost all this time prosecuting petty personal grudges, while the world burns. Talking politics on Idol is always risky, but this is about the time the competition when I usually go out anyway so I might as well say what I want to say.

Even when this is over how can I teach, how can I find a romantic relationship, how can I do anything when even "I" don't want me.

I hate growing a beard, I find the damn things itchy. But it's tricky to figure out when I'm drunk enough my hands don't shake but sober enough to do a good job so I've been putting up with the itch.

Even in normal times there are people like me everywhere, how many are days away from breaking....some are hours away, sometimes if I close my eyes I think I can feel them, their sanity unraveling like a thread pulled from an old sweater.

Mother and Brother, here is my confession, I did not fight, I did not love, I just let insanity wash over me like the tide.

LJ Idol- Week 18 Glass Cliff

2020-04-02T23:19:21Z

"Kill it, abort it...whatever words you want to use. Do it, and I will give you 60 grand, it is all I can get without my wife knowing."

I wanted to go after his eyes with fingernails, but something in his face said he might solve this problem by beating me and the baby to death bare handed, certainly his family was capable of covering it up.

"You and I are the same kind of monster, I have seen a fetal alcohol syndrome child, wore a football helmet, cause banging her head against the wall was the only kind of stimulation that really registered....well that and when she filled her diaper."

She is mine and she will be born I screamed into his evil-ass, implacable face.

"I am not sure if even millionaire philanthropists have any business bringing kids into this world,.but I wasn't kidding when I said we are monsters.....my wife is barren.... I can give you money maybe eventually a lot of money... But you know if you birth a live child my father-in-law will probably kill you to make his baby girl happy.... Nothing I could do about that even if I wanted to"

I could go to the police, I knew things, but his family had people on the force it was dangerous and deadly....."150,000 and I will never give anyone an inkling that it's yours.'

"You drive a hard bargain Kellybelle, I can move some money around, embezzling isn't the worst thing I have ever done, not by a long shot.....If you are gonna really have a kid, you need to stay of the junk and the sauce. Stay here.

He went upstairs...I paced around nervously but only had one glass of wine and a single cigarette.

A car parked outside and he went down to meet them. He came in with a suitcase and gave it to me. It was heavy, heavy as hell.

"By the way, I had a vasectomy, 5 years ago, good luck Kellybelle."

LJ Idol Week 17- Negative Reverse

2020-03-24T04:34:25Z

Mom died....this is my entry...take it or leave it

When she is gone

The tastiest dish is warm cardboard dissolved to soup

Nothing matters the way it did before

The morning sun makes me roll away
The set of same is a debt to pay

Her last 15 minutes she stared at me
You asshole, do something, I can't breathe

At least, for once, I failed her only briefly
One last time

If you have something like her in your life
Mother, grandmother, husband, wife

Better cherish it while it lasts
Cause naught so perfect ever lasts

LJ Idol Week 16- The Streisand Effect

2020-03-14T20:26:19Z

THANOS- You have tried your best Avengers, but now your time is up. I have the Infinity Gauntlet and I am about to snap half of the universe into Oblivion. Bringing all things into balance.

SCARLET WITCH- Perhaps or perhaps not Thanos, there is one hero you have yet to account for.....Superman!

THANOS- Hah! The anal retentive Comic Book Nerds will never allow you to import a hero from DC Comics into a Marvel Movie.

SCARLET WITCH- Not DC's Superman....but I have altered the time stream....to bring in Barbara Streisand from her Superman album cover shoot.

THOR- Verily, she is one hot mama.

THANOS- Have a care Thunder God, you speak of my stepmother.

HULK- Hulk would SMASH!

THANOS- I will smash you, out of existence.

STREISAND SUPERMAN- Joshua!!! Why don't you introduce me to your friends.

THANOS- I am working to eliminate half of the Universe.

S.S- Oi, and you haven't even given a thought to what it will do to your poor shrit muter's album sales.

IRON MAN- Wow, I mean I love Pepper, but oh you kid.

VISION- I am starting to lose control of my density, if you know what I mean.

PRINCE T'CHALLA- All of Wakanda knows once you go Black Panther, you never go back.

THANOS- GUYS, THAT'S MY STEPMOM!!!!!!

BLACK WIDOW- In that case, maybe Thanos should have two mommies!

THANOS- Curse you all....I am getting out of here.

(THANOS disappears and the world is saved)

SCARLET WITCH- Great job guys, pretending to be super attracted to his step mother when she was younger.

(Vision quietly turns
Invisible)

LJ Idol Week 15- Busman's Holiday

2020-02-28T01:16:45Z

300 from the left wing
300 from the right wing
300 top of the key
300 right corner 3's
300 left corner 3's

First day his new stepdaddy moved in. He beat the living shit out Rodderrick, make sure the young baller didn't get any wrong ideas about who the man of the house was. Mom was too high to care.

Free school breakfast
Free school lunch
Coaches gave snacks
Trainer pretended to believe the stories of how he had picked up the bruises in pick up games.

They laughed at him when it was his turn to read out loud. But he never had to cheat or depend on coaches to keep him eligible.

Running up and down the hill, suicides, burpees, work in the weight room
400 from the left wing
400 from the right wing
400 top of the key
800 corner 3's

His stepdad beat him bloody the day before the bi-district championship game. Kid went 18 for 24...with one eye, on one leg.

His girlfriend, Kelly, didn't care that he was a star, she cared that he was kind. (But the athletic body was a plus)

Rodderrick, didn't care that Kelly was a cheerleader, he loved that she was smart (but the full fridge and place to go when mom and stepdad were crazy was a plus)

One and done at Michigan State, not always looking over his shoulder for a beating...learning sets that weren't all about getting him the ball.

His practice habits still legendary.
Miss even a couple open J's and give scouts a chance to remember 6'4 is small for The Association

Drafted 11th overall by the Orlando Magic, Kelly told him Orlando was beautiful, nice and warm.

LJ Idol Week 14- Barn Razing.

2020-02-20T00:50:19Z

We know precious little of the Eaters of Mayonnaise (Also known to some Anthropologists as The Unseasoned Ones). Their Tribal Chiefs mostly lost to history, We know at one point under Chee-Toe there was a rivalry with another tribal leader named Bar-ack, But the reasons are lost to time.

We know they had almost exclusively female shamans, known as the Ka-Ren (who's status was marked by a particular styling of their hair) and while their Gods were harsh Capitalist ones that did not normally deign to intervene on their behalf, The EOM fervently believed that with a special offering called greenbacks... Their prayers would be answered. The Ka-Ren worked symbiotically with a special priest class open to both sexes called Mungers or Mangera
to lobby their Gods for favor.

The warrior caste was fierce including legendary warriors such as the Ooh-Rahs. The most effective fighters of their time, most of their time was spent protecting and aquiring a substance now lost to time. We believe it to have been called oil but what the EOM used it for, we cannot say.

Other sacred rituals.involved moving machines festooned with the symbology of some of their Gods quickly and in circles,and something to do with the skin of a pig and a grid made of iron.
Led by Bobi-Ray's and Quata-Bacs.

At one point the EOM were probably the most powerful of tribes, but their descendents were absorbed into more forward thinking peoples.

The records we have from
scholars from around that time seem to indicate individual EOM showed great things, but the tribe is not missed.

LJ Idol Week 12- Fan Death

2020-02-07T04:06:26Z

I had gambled away the money I promised her and the rent money too just for shits and giggles.

She came to the door and hit me hard... My jaw rattled and I spat blood. She drank Taaka vodka and ended up on the edge of my bed...her panties in her mouth, while I tried to screw her doggie with a half hard cock. We eventually ended up on the bed laying side by side..... Watching girls finger themselves which happened to be both our favorite porn.

I lived in a post orgasm stupor until I heard her vomiting, and vomiting..... And drinking more vodka to compensate for what she had just thrown up. I got up and turned on the fan...... Tried to hide the rest of the handle but she must of opened her eyes a little bit to see me. .....Of course I should have poured it out...but drunks like me don't think like that. Fan clicks off,.more puking and drinking, puking and drinking

I call 911....nobody sober in my apartment to take her to the hospital....she hears the phone and panics....I hear her battered old white F-150 start. Sat in my bed screaming into my hands hoping the boys in blue would get her alive.

For 6 hours I sat rocking, her mother, all of 12 years my senior, called me. You don't deserve to know this, but she is alive, the cops caught up to her on 288. She hates you, you know.

LJ Idol Week 12 Failure

2020-02-01T06:37:19Z

(In the interest of a writing experiment I am going to see what ANGRY DRUNK FULLY wants to say....I have only had one drink out of a possible whole liter of Kentucky Gentleman. Obviously all the trigger warnings because I have no idea what will come out. See you in about 4 hours.)

__________________________________

Letting all the people know... that I'm back to run the show. Mark Morrison- Return of the Mack

It's the ice blue eye of insanity, it's a place most never see.- Michael Fucking Sembello

________________________________

Holy shit he really is going to let me come out to play. Ya'll know there is a reason he almost never goes to bars any more. Anyway he pussed on the 4 hour thing because he had a mandi-sleep.....but I assure you I am in charge....I can tell because of ClearSpit (TM). Define ClearSpit? O.k lots of guys feel the need to spit in public...Chewing tobacco...poor breeding whatever. Fat boy spits pure saliva when I am in charge. It is meant to protect his mouth from vomiting.....it fills his mouth after every strong drink. O haven't let him lose mother alcohol in that fashion in 6 years....but I guess the mouth fill thing is a reflex.

O.k,, seriously, you should vote him out this week. If you knew how many of you mommy bloggers, diarists and people on here he wants to screw, it would appall you. I mean I keep you safe by insuring most times he can't get it up without the help of a crane.

There are actually several of you of both sexes he admires. Weirdly, he thinks you know who you are.....me I don't care as long as you don't interfere with my pogrom...er.... program.

Fully hasn't thrown a punch in anger in more than a decade....I swear if he let me take charge more often I would smash heads against rocks...on the monthly.

The deal with homeboy is he feels, oh so wronged, oh so often. He is fat,old and ugly and he wants women to like him, so he buys shit for them....and then when the gift-money dries up so does the feigned affection-. Shocked, I tell you shocked...bring Bogie his winnings.

Some of you are going to call bullshit....he isn't THAT drunk spelling and grammar are decent. Do you know who that fucking worm is? I share a body with him, but I am not impressed by his parlor magic, you shouldn't be either.

O.k. I am Drunk Fully and this is my TED talk....now vote him out so I can get down to business.

The creek don't rise

2020-01-21T20:14:35Z

Here we are at Mueller's Creek. Are you sure boy? You want to shoot it out with a known killer like me because of words?

Honestly, son the booze and age have shot my reflexes. I got a lot more experience than you..... Paul Nadalin, Tom Thompson, Ray Hill, Johnny Zigler....

Some of those names mean something to you.....well they all should just not yet......

We go on three...you sure you want to have one of us die? Over words?

If you don't kill me someone else will. I am resigned to it....are you ready to die... boy.

O.k. I will count it off....1....2

Then I shot him.....my laser pistol dissolving him to nothing. I saw the look of disgust on his face before it melted.

Yes, I cheated....because I was facing the one man I couldn't best. My younger self. I turned the simulator off.

LJ Idol- Week 11- Wild Goose Chase

2020-01-13T21:31:54Z

My name is Grahame "Goose" Goslin, and I am the founder of Golden Goose Airlines. People are always whining to me, "Grahame, you are a multi billionaire, why don't you use your wealth to help with clean carbon, polar bear, rain forest" or whatever else you impoverished millenial scum care about, I wouldn't know. To this I say, "Because fuck you, thats why. Now here is five dollars, park my Monster Truck."

I made my money the old fashioned way, compound fucking interest, like my father before me. Then I found that some of you wanted to travel but were too poor to afford conventional airlines, Golden Goose is proud to fill that vaccum. We eliminate all the frills like seating...you poors don't mind standing in subways and busses if it is full...you can stand for our flights.

If you weigh over 140lbs you are going to pay extra, I didn't get where I am by subsidizing your gluttony. New this year for long international flights we are introducing snacks, one snack for every 3 passengers. If you want to eat, our flight crew has been trained to throw it up high and let you fight for it...though knowing you millenial pansies, you will probably share. We have one bathroom...it has a 3 minute timer...so get your business done and get out."

Some "people", and I use that term loosely, say, "But, Mr. Goslin, you have more money than your family can spend in a dozen lifetimes". That's bullshit, it's more than 20 even if all my kids have 5 kids and a crippling coke and gambling addiction, but what's your point, peon. I want you to wipe my ass again, and this time use the baby wipes, here's 5 dollars to help support that premature baby you had Tuesday. Oh he died, ok have Malcolm send a card.

Anyway, it has been nice talking to you peasants, but I am overdue for a function tonight
.

A Childrens Cancer Charity....See....and you thought I had no heart. I bet you feel ashamed now.

It's at Mar-a-Lago...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

P.S Fuck you, peasant

Lj Idol Week 9- Blood Harmony

2019-12-14T06:01:54Z

The methodology was a mix of the traditional and the new. The blood, pain and symbology as old as time itself. But the simultaniously working tattoo artists and the hallucinogen spiked plum wine was different, but how am even I gonna find peyote in the city. Anyway, if the ritual didn't work, my sister would know...and somebody wouldn't get paid. Sure enough, we could sense when we "needed" each other, even-cross continent if need be, of course our definition of "need" didn't always link up.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Motherfucker, Rape Bois and Murder Bois, more machine than man, a six pack with bikes and cyberdogs. I can spellbind with the best of them. But who knows how much humanity these bozos even have to touch. They are coming after me for that job on Key Biscayne, or the other in Coral Gables. No, the only way to be sure to make it home to my family, is massive, remorseless violence and unfortunately that means big brother. But it is Saturday Night, God only knows what condition he is in.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was doing bourbon and bumps with the Bonomi Bro's and their assorted roadies, groupies and hangers on at the Astrolane, part homestyle Texas Barbecue place, part leather-bar, all gaudy as fuck. I was chopping a line with a nice solid gold razor blade, because I am special like that, when I felt the warmth on our shared sigil.

Ever hear of a night off, sister dear. I put the blade down and sat in my chair and grimaced. I made a silent signal and good, faithful Jean-Pierre watched my flesh while I sent the important part a-travel.

When I joined dear sister she immediately purified, because she doesn't take chances and she is a colossal bitch. The sudden snap to sobriety caused my meat body to break the arm off a chair, wonder how Jean-Pierre is going to...doesn't matter I am here now. E, is stepping from shadow to shadow, throwing dog and Rape Boi senses alike into a frenzy. The real danger is that the Murder Bois combat drugs kick in and they just start spraying.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I am singing and moving to beat hell, a man with more than a modicum of blood in his veins would be helpless to do anything but watch, but it only slows these things down a beat, which is of course, why they sent them. I feel my hands lunge out and fire consumes gas tanks, flesh and steel. It is all I can do to shadow step out of the way. I know a half a hundred cleaner ways to use his gift to take care of this, but F is a butcher, not a surgeon. A dog gets into my leg and I scream with pain, snapping the Rape Bois out of semi-reverie, and I hope to hell, big brother doesn't decide to burn the dog with me so close.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Needn't worry sister dear, I can just telek through the eyeball and touch the ol brain stem, like so. We both like real dogs, but these things are just a blight. By now guns are jamming and Murder Bois getting out their close combat gear, it's a mistake, because the full body of my power is just now finding it's way here (it probably stopped for a Pina Colada). Their chances of making solid contact with E are slim and none, now that she can use her little bit of precog to deal with the next in line, because I am there to fry anything that gets too close, while her attention is divided.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Half dozen second tier Cyberscum and their dogs in half a minute, probably not a record, but well above average. F and I aren't in a class by ourselves, but it doesn't take long to call the roll. "Are you coming out for the Fourth, Ham, baked beans....mom's potato salad?" "Yeah, maybe"..... "You could stay for church, Jean-Pierre has probably already taken you upstairs, whoever you were partying with just thinks you can't hang"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Go fuck yourself", I said cheerily" on the way back to the club....some kind of groupie in my bed, making an effort to recusitate me....I should make E probe out her real age while there is still some connection. Nah, I push the girl away and grab a handful of downers....My leg is killing me from where that mutt bit E, and I should try to sleep.

Week 8- My True North (Relationships- 3 Different Ones)

2019-12-06T15:55:37Z

If I get too old
To be a little silly over a pretty face
If I get too tired and jaded to tell you that you are beautiful

If I get too lost in the day to day misery
To enjoy the reprieve of your smile
And the music in your laughter

Half drowned is half saved
And you are both oasis and needed firm, dry land

The world is colder, the light dimmer, the joy more mute
Without you, like salt, to bring all the flavor out

To feel for an hour a man of 30
With strong knees and a back that cheerily does it's duties
Even if part of me realizes, these things are no longer mine

Time is short and love infuriatingly fickle
But if this is the season at least the years have made me realize
How precious this gift is.

If I get too old, I will cross that bridge
For today I will be grateful
It hasn't happened yet

___________________________________________________________________________

In the end there were wedding bells
Peeling loud enough for the God's themselves
More beauty than I ever dreamed
Comin down the aisle at me

So much love in the room
I can ignore the impending doom
Taste the 1100 dollar cake
Spit the ashes descretely for goodness sake

Wedding is the focus and marriage not
How could we predict the thing we got
I do the things I always had
Days turn to months and it drives you mad

At work, in public you are a dynamo
When you get home things are kinda slow
6pm it's straight to bed
Televised boredom playing in my head

_______________________________________________________________________________

This is for the one that got away
but never really gets away
That texts me, when she is high and it is late

Has a boyfriend half my age
He supports her and I can't
In time she will run him off
But time is something I do not have

Because the grief will pull me down
Not like my brother but more awful still
What happens when the heart still beats
But the hope is gone

LJ Idol- Week 7- Feckless

2019-11-23T01:24:31Z

I could have saved my marriage. Objectively I had a better life then. I lived with a very nice woman, who had a very nice family. I had money for restaurant meals and movies and sometimes even splurges like a ball game. I was active in theater and had transportation to wherever I needed to go.

The compromises weren’t that oppressive, I couldn’t drink unless I was at her sister’s house or otherwise hanging with her sister, brother in law or nephews. Light (by my standards) drinking there didn’t count. Under the Confederate flag, with mandatory hand holding and prayers before a meal. Sounds like an acceptable compromise. We weren’t “in love” if love is measured by tingly feelings at the thought of your spouse, but we made each other laugh loudly and often.
Those who presume to judge my vices will tell you that alcohol is always what is behind door number two and that I will always choose it. If someone was extra sympathetic to my plight (mostly me, Dixie Donuts, dog of leisure, and Oscar the sweater wearing stuffed animal) would tell you “I” am what is behind door number two, warts and all. And the longer I force myself to not choose it, the worse the explosion when I revert back to “myself”.

This year I am in a particularly harsh circle of hell…I live at home with mom in an active Senior Facility, and mom’s cognition has faded fast. From being very active and logging several thousand miles behind the wheel last year to not being able to drive, or prepare her own food, or change the television channel.
My local male friends are mostly out of town, and the ones that aren’t by nature are Family Men of the sort whose spouses see my lack of a current Significant Other as further proof that I am a “bad influence”. (Honestly, if I really am as bad an influence as my mates-mates seem to think why is it that my friends are all Fred Rogers only less wild….I must really suck as a bad influence, perhaps they should want to keep me around as a cautionary tale).

As far as significant others go, I have no real options. I was “talking” (to use the vernacular of my teenage students) to a nice woman who lives quite distant from me, but I managed to screw it up. The only woman I spend any time with at all (perhaps monthly) is a woman almost 20 years my junior with significant health problems….and while she doesn’t appear to be a gold-digger (and I can only afford to be, at best, an artificial sweetener daddy), I still hemhorrage money every time I see her.

So here I am, feckless, reckless and effectively sexless. But if I want to have a brew or 22, what’s it to you. Mom will scowl, howl and probably growl, but assuming I get her TV tuned to CNN, crisis averted.

Should the worst happen and I shuffle off this mortal coil, be assured I didn’t die of boredom.

LJ Idol- Week 6 Solvitur ambulando

2019-11-14T11:43:52Z

It has been slowly over the last couple years that I have started to "come out" to friends. No, put the black armbands away ladies, I am not gay. And I am a little squick about referring to this as a coming out, because I don't want to belittle how traumatic a real coming out can be in a Homophobic world. But I live in Texas, where the proper greeting to the new guy in town is "have you found a "church family" yet?"

"I was raised Baptist, Baptized Episcopalian, married into the Methodist Church and now I am First Church of Football", I say....then I see the terror in their eyes and say "I'm a believer", and it's true in it's fashion. The tension is broken and they quickly invite me to "come visitin'" to their church. It wasn't "really" a lie I do believe it is at least possible if not exactly likely that there is some kind of force for good in the Universe, but I don't think the name matters. I mean consider the consequences if the name matters, it means God likes people in the American South better than pretty much anybody, the great Colonel in the Sky anyone?

Got a Facebook IM the other day after I had hinted at this, "Just because of what happened to your brother, don't give up on Jesus!" This was a man who until he married I used to hang out with in Red's Sports Bar and the dog track and sometimes rolled craps with on a makeshift craps table in his backyard. (I know, I know, Christians sin, just like everyone else) it just makes me uncomfortable to tell people who love me, yeah, I know you think my choices are gonna damn me, but they are MY choices. This was a much nicer message than a couple I recieved right after his death (to be fair it was a couple out of dozens or maybe a hundred) saying Lane was in hell and I needed to get right with the Lord. (Recruitment pitch 0 out of 10....would not eat again).

Don't get me wrong one of my first thoughts when the odd something good happens is "thank you, Jesus" and even as I type this there is a part of me that thinks some bad thing is going to happen to me as a result of such a public heresy. It just doesn't resonate like it used to....o.k, the good stuff is Jesus and the bad stuff is the red guy. God knows what you are going to do and why you are going to do it but he gets mad at you if you don't believe because he is jealous.

I don't generally talk about this with my Christian friends the same way I don't generally talk about my masturbation habits, it just makes everyone uncomfortable. But on the rare occasions I have (the faith conversation not the wanking one, that's next weeks entry) there is always some epiphinal moment for them. "I know God exists because"....And I just can't talk myself into it anymore.

Honestly, I don't know what I believe, for a while I was sold on a "clockmaker God" who just set everything in motion and lets it run. Maybe, but if that is the case how is it relevant for me, except as a point of trivia. I like the idea of reincarnation, striving toward enlightenment through multiple lives, I even, sometimes, think I have seen a sketchy sort of "evidence" of it, but certainly not enough to stand up to the scientific method.

I have no idea guys, all above my paygrade (another "joke" I make that makes people round these parts uncomfortable until I let them off the hook with a chuckle that implys I frequently send "knee-mail" even if I don't). Maybe I have another 20 years to think about it, and who knows maybe as I sicken and weaken I will "rediscover" my Christian faith....and maybe it will even be what I really think instead of raw fear.

Quis hoc potest praedicere!

LJ Idol Week 5- Unca Fully's Review of Impossible Places: Dual Diagnosis Unit

2019-10-24T23:18:54Z

They took my shoelaces and my belt if I had really wanted to die I would be dead, my family has a knack for such things.

When I first got there I just wanted to sleep, a fellow patient roused
me and insisted I play ping-pong with him he said they were always watching, and as an involuntary commitment I should show enthusiasm and socialize, lest my stay be extended. I liked ping pong in college... And had a weird serve with backspin. Whack whack whack whack... When all you want to do is sleep once out I have never played again.

They fed me diet to everything egg white, dry toast,fat-free dressing on that sad sort of salad made with iceberg lettuce and a bit of shredded carrot and red radish. For an entree I had to that kind of grilled chicken I used to pull out of some sort of liquid and place on the grill when I worked at the Stop and Rob. That happened the only other time I was hospitalized as well for a rhinoplasty after I shattered my nose playing baseball as a child (in those days a 3 day stay for surgery like that wasn't uncommon.). Plastic surgery or mental health it doesn't matter if you're fat you're going to be put on a diet, doctors hate fatties.

There was at least one fight everyday on the unit. None of us disliked each other, but some wanted the thorazine or whatever was in the needle they used to subdue us. This was true even though it tended to make us shit our pants. I am a big fan of clean drawers even though I was curious and enduring a bad detox. It wouldn't have hurt anything if I had, though, there is no judgment in the dual diagnosis unit.

My roommate kept telling me the difference between Oklahoma heroin and the stronger Houston variety. I kept thinking of the scene in pulp fiction where Eric stoltz was upselling higher quality heroin to John Travolta. My roommate was just a kid rocking his first shaved to the skin haircut probably still had some of his baby teeth. He vomited all night which,in turn, made me vomit sometimes we were the fucking Chunder Tabernacle choir.

There was like one jaded old full shrink and like ten overeager, eversmiling interns. Some conversation overheard from the interns the Harris county dual diagnosis unit was a much-loved job because it was interesting. I am so glad that I was able to entertain those white-coated devils.

They tried to get us to take up to five alcoholics anonymous meetings a day....which I recommend for anyone if you're trying to make someone hate the idea of sobriety or sober people. The stick on the carrot-and-stick methodology they used to get us to attend was that if we didn't attend at least three it would count toward perhaps extending our stay. Many attended all five because the carrot was that it was the only time we were permitted coffee. I was thankful I didn't like coffee and didn't like the sort of medicine everyone else lined up for as if they were going to see The Beatles in the early 70s. It gave me a mostly illusory feeling of control.

There was one crack addict who would eat anything anyone didn't want.. my egg whites and bad chicken sausage and crap salad included. He said he only ate when he was in some sort of institution be at the prison or a nut hut like ours. On the street he would never waste good money on something as frivolous as food.

There was a girl who lived close to where I lived. Very pretty, wanted my number so that I could be a sober buddy to her. She was quite desperate to have one even flirted with me a little. I guess I pretended to be quite the prude and not interested in having a female sober buddy.but I didn't feel like I could tell her the truth because she was a hand raiser who had bought in and would likely say something that would extend my stay. The truth is I had no intention of being anybody's sober anything.

I got my belt and shoes back and ate about $20 worth of lunch from Taqueria del Sol. I didn't drink again for another oh I don't know week and a half.

LJ Idol Week 3- Everything looks like a nail

2019-10-15T16:46:24Z

______________________#1_________________________________

It was the last home game of the old Houston Oilers (now the Tennessee Traitors, or Toejam or whatever) season and it was the first game they lost in the already somewhat dilapidated Astrodome that season. Their road record that year was nearly the opposite with only a couple wins in the whole campaign. And at the time, we thought the loss to the Cleveland Browns was going to cost us a playoff berth. (I believe the next week we got help from our arch nemesis, Gary's beloved Pittsburgh Steelers) and snuck in. (Probably so they could beat us like a red headed stepchild as was their custom).

There was a team poster being given away at the end. And my usual date for sporting events (my even more sports rabid mother was lining up for the freebee, I was seething that we had loss and was storming to the car with as much indignation as my 19?-early 20's? self could muster.

I had made the unfortunate fashion choice of wearing my Earl Campbell jersey with white Oilers boxer shorts over my blue jeans. No jacket...this on that rarest of days a cold day in Houston (like a cold day in hell, but rarer, in fact middle income Houstonians sometimes have summer houses in hell) today there was ice on the endless concrete of the Astrodome parking lot.

Next thing I know I hear the shouting of a Browns fan clad in their lovely Orange and Brown (in those days there were a lot of northern transplants who came to work in the energy sector...still are). "Heyyyyyyyy...Faggot". I didn't take the bait, he had likely had 8 or 9 Big Beers (foam in the dome), plus what self respecting actual gay person would have made the shameful fashion choice. I just waved him off, "Congrats on the win, now you should go back to Cleveland and enjoy the pulse of that happenin' town". But for some reason the call of his friend Bud Weiser was too strong on this day and he suckered me. I guess it was a sucker punch, though that might be giving it too much credit. It had no snap and less behind it than a sub-prime mortgage or the tech bubble. I don't remember..whatever fits the decade I am talking about.

So, I threw a quick left jab to set up what I hoped would be a more powerful right...but this fake Yankee...bundled up like a South Park Character (wait that wasn't a thing yet...Peanuts Gang) slipped. As soon as my jab hit him he fell forward, slipping on the ice. Hitting the concrete HARD and spitting a couple teeth. My new Bud, Weiser had two companions in Browns regalia a male and a female and I immediately geared to have to fight the male one. This seemed a more formidable challenge as this guy didn't look to be on the verge of passing out on his own.

It was then that I heard a clarion call, A sound that cannot be mistaken and carries to Mars on a clear cold night like that. It was the call of my sainted mother, "FULLY, YOU GOT MAD THAT WE LOST....AND NOW YOU HAVE KILLED SOMEONE." I started to laugh but I was afraid that would provoke Mr. Brown (wait..Reservoir Dogs wasn't a thing yet.....Mr. Dawg) into an attack. Instead Bud Weiser's comrades were mistaken on the amount of damage done by my weak jab vs that done by the hard ass Astrodome concrete. So they thought I was the Albino Mike Tyson and muttered "Please...it's his fault...let us take him home".

It was a two punch fight and neither of them would have been out of place on an Elementary School Playground...but that doesn't matter because mom thought I was a bad ass throughout most of my early 20's because of this scrap.

I was working for my then girlfriends douche of a step-father running an antiques mall in small town southeast Texas. How small, I couldn't mention I was a Kerry supporter or people wouldn't have done business with me. At the time I was desperate for a job...a somewhat recurring theme in my life. Anyway, I would spend the weekends at an apartment I maintained in Houston (I knew this job was likely to be short lived) and worked during the week with my girlfriend, her sweet natured mother and this jackass. He was the kind of person who would literally drop things in the floor just to make his wife pick them up. And he cussed her a blue streak, constantly, for no reason at all, I think perhaps he thought fucking bitch was her actual name. He was nicer to the stepdaughter who was my paramour...but I think it was because he had the hots for her, he was just that kind of guy.

Anyway, there was a plumbing leak upstairs which he tried to fix himself, because he is one of those low-skill-room-temperature-iq-dunning-kruegar-masters-of-the-universe...Let's call him Ronald Rump. Anyway Ronald's botching of the plumbing causes a drip to go down on one of the antiques.

So he screams at me to help him move it. And as we do, it gets scratched, maybe it was my fault, but I am telling the story so lets give me the benefit of the doubt, shall we. He starts calling me every name on the planet excepting "Murgatroyd" or a Child of God. And I say "You don't get to talk to me like that, I am not your wife".

He turns red, flusters, steam audibly escapes his ears and then...Sucker punched again. This time from a 60 something man who has logged even less good quality exercise time than I have, and that is saying something. The punch is flaccid and doesn't move my rather large and now unsmiling face an inch (to be fair he did manage to cut the inside of my cheek with one of my own teeth but I blame my ambivalence to dentistry more than his power.)

At this point if a yellow streak could have appeared on Ronald's back it would have....don't hit me in the eyes, I have contacts.....I have gastric issues....etc...etc.

I let him off the hook, I figured my girlfriend wouldn't take kindly to me giving her step dad a public beating, plus my ID said Houston and he was a "local" and that is a good way to get thrown under the jail.

I insisted on being paid immediately and in cash for my next weeks work. After the relief that he wasn't going to be hit wore off he started saying "He was sorry but he was not a man to be messed with.....I better be careful" Seeing the look on my face, my then girlfriend took me by the hand and drove me back to Houston.

We had a lot of fun, on his dime, wine and condoms were involved...so while maybe not as cool as having my mom think I was George Foreman with a mean streak, I am going to count that as a second win, gentle reader.

LJ Idol Week 2- Living rent free in your head

2019-10-04T02:04:28Z

I have seen through your eyes things no man should see

Been held in the loving arms of sedation in your dual diagnosis unit

Held your fat swollen hands, trembling as if by palsy, inches away from slender throats

I have rejected half the population of your life
And their steady,smiling, joyful God

I have shown you,you don't need sex for solace
That you need little of anything unfound in bottles brown

They tell you you need to let go for your own sake
I taunt them as only I know what you need

I have convinced you, that you sail your ship alone
A leaky vessel,but your own
Our cannons fixed and resolute

You have a dog, a drink, and this sharp sabre
So, go bleed upon this page and glorify my name

LJ Idol Week 1- Resolution

2019-09-25T00:59:19Z

Always 'oped we'd get to tell our side of the story.

So ye hated us, don't bother lying.... One thing that sick bastards good at it's PR.

All beautiful with that perfect hair and that struggle so romantic.

That blond waitress, a cutie she was, they both look so pretty and he sang so pretty.

So in case you haven't guessed it yet, we're the guys with wrenches from the A-HA video Take On Me.

What you didn't know is, we're an elite Police Task Force, trying to keep the comic strip world's most charismatic and evil serial killer from crossing over into your world. Ee' did briefly at the end of the video and it took everything we had to bring 'im back.

In our world guns are outlawed so we have to use wrenches.... Don't laugh look how the guns are working out for you.

Anyway I'm going to cut this short cuz there's real danger afoot. You see, you poor 3-D slobs. People age differently in the comic strip world. And that serial killer I told you about, ees still young n virile.

We'll do our best to stop 'im, me and the lads, but we could use a little support this time.

We'll be hunting high and low.... Don't worry about that. it would just be nice if you'd comment here....say'in...."We believe in you Wrench Unit 14.

Please don't let that mad bastard come into our world n' start carvin up waitresses. We got troubles uv our own, we do."

Thank you.....and if you see something weird going on in a panel of a newspaper or a comic book....just close it up. You might think the sun always shines on TV.... But that's because you've never seen this sick bastard at work.

Thank you for your time all right boys, let's 'ave at him.

LJ Idol Week 0- Introduction

2019-09-12T13:52:31Z

Hey guys, it's me m_malcontent, you may remember me as Steven Feelburg in the Gay Porn Classic "E.T. The Extra Testicle"

You may also remember me from other L.J Idol seasons. For some of you that provokes a smile. For others....well I know I made some mistakes.

The Basics: I anpushing 50 (next July my 40's are going of the cliff in a wheelbarrow). English teacher, drunk (not to be confused with alcoholic...I don't do meetings), depressive, PTSD diagnosis...so typical writer without all that pesky talent. About 300lbs but I don't diet because I am just contrary like that.

I write in most genres for this contest. I don't do content warnings but I sometimes write about my drinking and my brothers suicide...so if reading about that will do you harm. You can skip my entries...no.hard feelings.)

This all sounds kind of morose but usually my entries aren't. Let's have fun...shall we.

LJ Idol Season 11

2019-09-05T15:51:41Z

IS THIS THING ON????....turns down mike....oh o.k sorry. I am just a simple.unfrozen caveman writer and your contests.....they frighten me.

I guess I am playing again, but be nice to me ya'll know how sensitive I am.

LJ Idol Week 16- Patchwork Heart

2017-04-18T21:19:30Z

A heart is the size of a big meaty fist. I picture mine as larger still, and no less a warrior.

My heart is large and often welcoming and there is space for you. I know you notice it straining at the seams,but fear not....they have withstood worse and are stronger at the breaking parts.

The living and the dead live here both speak to me daily, even when I am alone.

At 330lbs I am one nice sized thunderboomer of the chest from joining my brother and grandmother in what lies beyond. My heart has room for that possibility but I don't dwell on it.

My heart has room for all the women I have bedded and those I might (my wife would be upset to hear that)....all the booze I have consumed and all that I might (she would hate that worse).

Like its owner my heart is braver than it is strong and full of confusing contradiction. It is soft and hard, lost and freeroaming but singular of purpose.

It is nobodies hero, but it is too stubborn to quit just yet. It has loved and pumped and pleaded, pleaded for me to stop....pleaded for me to do something.

When it gives up, in a fortnight or four decades my little engine that could, won't have changed the world. But if it can pump enough power to let me share with the world how scary, awful yet ultimately worthwhile it has been. If it but can brighten a few rooms I happen to be in. Godspeed thou good and obediant servant. You may be remembered longer than you know.

LJ Idol Week 15- Campfire Stories

2017-04-06T13:32:55Z

Summer is in the air. The signs are everywhere. Baseball in Wrigley and Fenway. Watermelon for lunch with strawberry shortcake for dessert. Shoe choice, flip flops or sandals. And for the 47th year, The Mutilator returns to Camp Whispering Pines.

After the 11 dead last year (down from an average of 16 and his 1998 record 28) the nearby town's mayor Big Fred Ashworth made the usual noises about shutting down the Camp, but his heart wasn't in it.

The town's income was almost entirely dependent on the sale of camping gear, tiny ass bikinis and "I Survived The Mutilator" T- Shirts.

Besides as Fred often mused privately, The Mutilator was a good arbiter of wholesome family values, his stance against pre-marital sex, underage drinking, public nudity were well established by his choice of victims.
__________________________________________________

Marvin "The Mutilator" Carson was starting to feel the effects of his arthritis. His partial immunity to gunfire, explosion, sharp and blunt trauma doesn't extend to the ravages of time.

Also his chainsaw and speargun had fallen into ill repair. It is hard for one to get good service when your vocabulary is limited to "I'm the Mutilator, bitch"

Marvin was lonely, his internet ad was rejected. Apparently an interest in ritual dismemberment was against the terms of service. Perhaps this is the year he forgives the campers for that wedgie so many years ago.

__________________________________________________

Sunbathing Angela removed her bikini top. It was hard to be an actress past 30 who specialized in soft core and horror. Continually she was asked to pass for 17 and it got harder each year.

The chainsaw sputtered...but it finally caught. She saw the toothless man in the leather football helmet and the screams began.

LJ Idol Week 14- Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here

2017-03-27T12:33:00Z

Good morning, maggots, I trust you rested well. I am Seargeant Aemon Hamner. Did any of you pretty, pretty puffcakes see the sign above the door. Do any of you maggots recognize the inscription.

That's right Dante's Inferno, a literate maggot. You'll be on a transport home in a week. Oh not just literate maggots, illiterate maggots, multi lingual maggots, cunnilingual maggots almost all of you maggots aren't gonna make it.

Let's get back to the sign maggots, since some of you got the reference you might wonder...does this mean we are going to endure some kind of multi stage hell ?

Let me assure you maggots that will not be the case. There is no way in Dante's Eye-tallion, pizza scarfing hello kitty hell that I am going that easy on you.

I don't know why I am wasting my precious breath telling you this when good military statistics show 94 percent of you maggots are going to wash out, flunk out, flame out, burn out, pansy out or otherwise get out of here, while crying for your mothers, girlfriends, boyfriends, girlfriend's boyfriends, Budda and Sweet, Sweet Baby Jesus.

Room of 400 maggots....Hey Alligheri can you do math too.....that means I am wasting my valuable time on about 24 of you maggots who will fester gloriously and get a chance to become full grown fighting, flying and fucking Greenbottle Flies.

That is by design maggots, the Greenbottle armor costs millions and millions, I am not a fucking accountant but it is more money than both of us will ever see in our miserable lives.....and the U.S. Army does not want you maggots defiling their gorgeous one man, self- contained death machine with your miserable guts.

So maggots, do you still want to be Greenbottles. Even when there are perfectly acceptable professions available like toilet scrubber, cum sock disposal person class 2, and butt bitch available?

O.k Maggots, before I let you go I must tell you that I am a D.C......no it doesn't mean that, you perverted maggots. It means I am a downloaded conciousness.

You see maggots, the real Aemon "The Hammer" Hamner got himself killed in Tunisia, like 80 percent of our pilots do.

Enjoy your breakfast, maggots.

LJ Idol Week 35 Or Whatever- Salty As Fuck

2017-03-16T14:13:27Z

Fun Fact: My real last name is Fry, if you think there are a lot of things out there saltier than a Fry, you are mistaken.
I have been competing in this contest since Kim Kardashian was an untouched virgin and it still hasn't got me published. I mean I guess I could self publish like so many of you scrubs- er fine, fine authors. But it humiliating enough that I have to act for free after 20 years, am I supposed to shell out big bucks so mom can have a terrible collection of my scribblings to torment guests with. I think not.

I mean don't get me wrong I have turned in some good work, by this popularity....er...writing contests abysmal standards. But that is like being the best straight male figure skater, it doesn't feed the monkey. No, my real problem with The Real Non Fake LJ Idol This Time We Really Really Mean It For Sure is that it hasn't gotten me laid.

I mean there is approximately a 800-3 females vs males ratio. Not one of you can take the time to fly to Houston for a little bow-chica-bow-bow? I mean I know you are not getting laid on the regular. C'mon girls no one who is seeing action has time to come up with an entire ecosystem for a planet of space aliens based on sentient marshmallow fluff. I think that was an actual entry, though I can't be sure cause I can only read about 5 entries a week before I get the dry-heaves. I mean really, what is the good of all this in print attention whoring if I can't get you to come sit on my face until the all-star break.

I mean at least a little phone sex, or snapvine, or omlettle or Skype-net or whatever the fuck people do to get their rocks off these days, I wouldn't know.

O.k. just this once I will open it up to male Idolers.....but when we play Butt Pirates and Cabin Boys....I have the parrot on my shoulder o.k....and no eye contact, that's just gay.

O.k. I will be waiting for your names, home addresses and hours likely to be home alone and naked. Let's do this thing.