Josh Hilden's Blog

June 26, 2016

Why, why can’t we disagree and still discuss issues?

We’re not allowed to have nuance and degrees of opinion anymore. Apparently, it’s all or nothing in America, and anyone who tacks to a different course is a freak or a pussy who can’t make a decision or take a stand. I’m not sure when we stopped talking to each other and started lecturing.

Before one of you starts telling me “But Josh, it’s always been this way” I’m gonna do a Kanye and interrupt you, but unlike Mr. West, I’m not gonna let you speak after I’m done.

I know it wasn’t always like this.

Yes, there have always been ignorant assholes who would never listen and were convinced until they were cold in the ground feeding the worms, that they were always right. But for every one of those people, there were five others who were willing to discuss things and consider other points of view. For the love of logic, people would actually change their minds and not be ostracized for it. It happened for fucks sake—I was there. If the rise of Senator Bernie Sanders has shown me anything, it’s that some people are still able to see through the talking points and obfuscating bullshit and get to the core issues.

Where do people like me fit in today?

I’m a feminist and believe in equal rights for all, but I’m a white male. I’m pro 2nd amendment, but I feel there need to be reasonable gun laws. I’m a member of the LGBTQ community, but I support bigoted assholes rights to be bigoted assholes. I’m an agnostic atheist, but I don’t think people with faith are morons. Although I lump hate filled religious people in the stupid asshole camp. I believe marijuana should be treated just like alcohol and that all drugs should be decriminalized. I believe in freedom of speech, but I believe money does NOT equal speech. I believe in freedom of religion, and I believe religion has NO PLACE in secular government. I believe we should grant amnesty to all undocumented immigrants in the United States after a background check, but I also believe border security, and enforcement is important. I believe in law and justice, but I believe the police must be reigned in. I believe the government of the United States is under the thumb of the rich and the special interests, and we need real change, but I don’t believe in violent change. I believe healthcare, education, and a basic level of living are HUMAN RIGHTS, and the responsibility of society to its members.

I’m sure many people disagree with these points of view and just as many agree. Damnit this is a GOOD THING. We need to talk. We need to kick the proverbial ball around. There needs to be chaos and disagreement, but in the end we need to listen.

That’s what we need more than anything else—we need to listen.





– Josh
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Published on June 26, 2016 08:13 • 2 views

June 23, 2016

Apparently, I have an enemy, an adversary, a nemesis, a foe, a Moriarty to my Holmes, a Lore to my Data, a Doctor Doom to my Reed Richards, a Lex Luthor to my Superman (Dean Cain preferably), a… well, I guess you get my point. I am at war and I couldn’t be having more fun if I pulled out my teeth with rusty pliers.

What am I babbling about this time?

Remember last week when I bemoaned my ability to keep my fat gob shut and spoke my mind at the day job as opposed to keeping my head down and lips zipped? If not here’s the short bus version. Following the massacre in Orlando a withered hag of a dietician named Jill (not her real name) and a fat gas bag of a male nurse named Eugene (also a fake name) decided loudly that LGBT men should never be allowed to donate blood because they are dirty. Breaking my normal rule of not engaging assholes, I decided to argue with them.

Mistake number one.

Mistake number two was ending the conversation by reminding them that the ban was put in place because of unreliable blood testing in the 1980s and because the LGBT community at the time was being scapegoated. When they started to argue my point, I asked them how old they thought I was because I was there at the time and remembered it clearly. The logical follow-through being that since they are both significantly older than I am, they should know better than to distort history.

I said at the time there would be consequences and boy I was right.

Jill is a gossipy old bitty, and she’s doing exactly what I suspected she would. She won’t speak to me and whenever I enter a room she stops talking. If she thinks, I’m not aware that I’m her current topic of work gossip when she’s not bitching about the “Colored Girls on Second Shift,” (seriously I’ve heard that phrase more in the last three months than the last ten years) she’s dumber than I thought. Her attentions are irritating at worst and amusing at best.

Eugene is whole other kettle of fish.

Eugene is about ten years older than me. He’s roughly my size. He’s a good old southern boy and self-proclaimed Trumpeter. And he is an Alpha Male from the old school constantly bitching about female coworkers (also hating on our female boss) and always looking to assert dominance despite his lack of real authority and expecting the other men to be submissive. There are only a handful of men here at the day job, not unusual in this industry, and he’s the only male nurse. He did not appreciate me verbally stepping to him and to be honest, it was stupid of me. I was so upset about what happened in Florida that I fucked up and now I have to deal with Eugene.

To be upfront, he’s done and said nothing to me since the confrontation. But there are a lot of crossed looks, and I think it’s fair to say most people can tell when they’re being watched. Eugene is waiting for me to screw up at my job. Eugene is scrutinizing me. I honestly, no bullshit, believe Eugene genuinely hates me.

Game on bitch.

There’s a reason I’ll never be promoted into any position of authority at a job. Once I was the guy who’d make sure things weren’t tense and would apologize for shit I wasn’t sorry about just to defuse situations. That guy died a long time ago. The jackass living in his meat suit has been making sure to stand close to Eugene, I’ve been walking close behind him, I’ve made sure to be working in the same areas he’s in, and I’ve been doing all of this without speaking to him.

In a phrase, I’ve been poking the bear.

Is it the right thing to do?

No, I’m well aware it’s not. But fuck him, fuck his sexist, homophobic ass. If he thinks, he’s some king shit of this turd mountain he has another thing coming.





– Josh
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Published on June 23, 2016 07:29 • 7 views
As of the moment I’m writing this forty-nine people are dead and more than fifty injured in the worst single shooter mass shooting in American history. Details are still fluid, but we know a man entered the gay nightclub PULSE in Orlando, Florida and opened fire. What followed was a hostage standoff with the police, which ended when the SWAT officers breached the building, and the man died in the resulting firefight. We know the man was a Muslim and according to the local Islamic leaders in the area, he appeared to have bent toward Islamic extremism. We also know his name, but I will NOT use it. I will not give him any recognition for this terrorist attack.

Most of you probably know I’m bisexual. I’ve talked about it enough in the past that I just assume everyone’s had their fill of my views on the matter, but in case you’re new here, I am. Not only is this an attack on our people as a nation, as Americans, but it’s also an attack on my people, the LGBTQ community.

I’ve been told more times than I can count that we live in a post gay America. I’ve been told some version of, all those uppity homosexuals need to stop whining now that they can get married. I’ve heard ad nausea that we should be quiet and grateful that we’ve been allowed to have a semblance of equal rights. Let’s not discuss the fact that in many states a person can be fired from their jobs just because their LGBTQ also state and local governments keep passing anti-LGBTQ legislation. We should ignore the preachers and politicians screaming the most horrendous rhetoric at us because damnit the Supreme Court did the right thing and gave us a bone.

All of that is why I will not shut up.

I could fill this short essay with thousands of links to news articles and videos showing supposed spiritual and political leaders extolling violence or at the least oppression against LGBTQ people. From FOX News to the Mega Churches, a significant fraction of Americans have spent decades whipping people into a frenzy over people who’re sexually different than the so-called norm. Most of these people in the public eye may not have desired violence and death, but some very much did. This is their fault as much as it is the fault of the shooter. They created the boiling cauldron of hate, suspicion, and fear that we currently live in.

When people are bombarded with things such as comparisons between child molesters and LGBT individuals do you honestly think someone wasn’t going to pop? We are accused of persecuting religious people, we are accused of hate, we are accused of being unreasonable and close-minded, we’re accused of having some insidious agenda, and we’re told how wrong our lifestyles are. All of this not just by the fringe media and religion, but by the supposed mainstream sources as well.

You don’t like my view on the culpability of media and religion? Think I’m jumping to conclusions, and I should keep my mouth shut because damnit “NOT ALL” or some such bullshit?

Feel free to see yourself away from my social media footprint and block me. I’ll get right on not giving a shit.





– Josh
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Published on June 23, 2016 07:18 • 16 views

June 9, 2016

When I watched the movie As Good As It Gets – I think this was in 1998 – I finally understood what had been plaguing me for my entire life. I was living with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and I never knew it. Oh, I’d heard of the condition in my then twenty-two years on the planet, but I’m a little embarrassed to admit I’d never made the connection between the medical condition and the series of strange ticks and behaviors that were such a large part of my world.

Before I delve into my tales of OCD, I need to say something. I don’t have it that bad. In fact, compared to some poor bastards I know, I barely have a kissing cousin level of intimacy with the disorder. Yes, my life has been made appreciably more difficult by living with OCD, but I’ve never approached the crippling level, so many others do. Also, I’ve been taking serious medication for both OCD and Bi-Polar disorder since 2012, and the results have been beyond dramatic. I still have my ticks, but they are much more manageable and no longer haunt me as they used to… Maybe that’s why I’m less embarrassed to speak of them now.

I know I’ve exhibited symptoms of OCD most of my life, but the first instance I can point to with 100% clarity occurred when I was in the third grade. We were living at my pseudo stepfather’s farm, we’d been there for just over two years, and it was the day after a major spring storm. We had an oversized tree in the front yard – seriously the thing was four or five stories high, and the canopy had a diameter larger than the house – and the storm left a minefield of fallen branches beneath it.

Mom decided I had to clean them up.

If I’m a lazy adult, I was a lazy preteen of Jabba-like proportions, so I was less than thrilled with her decision. After threats of grounding, I finally relented in my prepubescent whining and trudged out into the gorgeous spring day to begin my herculean labor. In reality, there was just a smidge more than a full wheelbarrow’s worth of branches on the ground and the job should have taken fifteen minutes at the most. Of course, I dawdled and drug my feet for an hour before I finished, but I did finish.

Then it happened.

I dumped the branches behind one of the farms old out buildings and went to put the wheelbarrow away. I think it was the one with all the dead cars in it, but it’s been thirty plus years so forgive me if my memory is less than perfect. As I walked there was an increasing tug at the back of my mind, at first, I ignored it, but with each step, it became clearer and louder. It wasn’t a voice, but if it had been it would’ve been repeating some version of the following litany.



“Did you get them all?”

“Are you sure you checked everywhere?”

“What if you missed one?”



The feeling built to a nearly crippling cacophony, the result of which was me spending another hour walking a grid pattern under the tree picking up every twig I could see. I didn’t stop because I’d finished my task. I stopped because my mom thought I was diligent and told me I could stop. I wanted to sob with relief when I heard those words. I didn’t believe I was done, but my mother had unknowingly given me an out. She’d given me the task and therefore was able to release me from the grip of my compulsion. That twist to my personality made it possible for me to go to school and hold a job as the years marched on because if SOMEONE ELSE gives me the task they can tell me it’s done. Of course, that only works on assigned tasks, when it’s something I start on my own… well, it can be bad. Following that first bout of severe OCD, things snowballed.

I count things. Numbers are a major element to my OCD, and this biggest example is subconscious and conscious counting. People, doors, lights, cars, miles, items on a shelf… I could name a thousand things and still not get them all, but the point is I’m always counting. This may explain my singular fixation on my word counts when I’m writing. Who am I kidding, it IS the reason my word counts drive me crazy. If all I did was count, I doubt after all these years it’d be a big deal, but my fixation on the number five throws a monkey wrench in that idea.

Five is the perfect number in my universe. I have struggled for literally decades at this point to determine why I hold the number up as the center of my mental universe, but I have come up with vapor. In my world, I’m only truly comfortable when things are organized in fives or factors/multiples of five. If I count, organize, arrange, or fuck even set the volume on the television it must be a divisible number of five.

It’s every bit as exhausting as it sounds.

That’s the big two. I’m sorry to say I’m not going to go over each incident or give specific details of the rest. Not because I don’t remember them, but because I’ve repeated ad nausea for a man who produces at the level I do, that I am still a surprisingly lazy… oh, so lazy man. That said let me give you a brief list of the most noticeable OCD manifestations I experience on a regular basis.

I always stay to the right. I know Americans are conditioned to stay the right in the halls at school and on the road, but for me, it goes deeper. There have been incidents where I’ve been left paralyzed when it was impossible for me to stay to the right, and don’t get me started on left side interstate exits. The person who thought that was a good idea needs to be boiled in oil.

The dreaded curve. I have to arrange things to right angles. From tables, papers on desks, tools in a box, to washcloths hanging across the middle of the sink items must be at right angles. This tick has relaxed more than any other since I started taking medication, but it still rears it’s ninety degree head from time to time.

In the rear and against the wall. No this isn’t my preferred way to have sex. Well… that’s an essay for another day. This one has barely been affected by medication, and I think it’ll be with me in full force until my curtain call. I have to be at the back of the line. If there are people behind me, I will ALWAYS become paranoid and fidgety. In theaters, restaurants, and even in my bed I have to have my back against the wall. On the rare occasion, I’ve been unable to sit in the back row of a theater; I’ve spent the entire movie fighting the urge to flee and suspecting the people behind me are talking about me.

There are so many other things I could and maybe should mention, but I’m tired. Writing this was more difficult than I thought it would be. There have been so many documentaries and television shows devoted to the subject of living with OCD I fear this entire thing is just pointless naval gazing. Despite that, thank you so much for humoring me.

Besides, I doubt you really want to hear about the way I wear my underwear.





– Josh
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Published on June 09, 2016 07:26 • 5 views

June 3, 2016

“Suicide is man’s way of telling God, ‘You can’t fire me – I quit.’”

– Bill Maher





I’ve seen too many dead people. I’m not saying that I’ve seen an unusual amount of death in my family, both biological and emotional. No, what I’m saying is that given the path my life has taken. I’ve worked for a long time in the healthcare industry. As a member of the support staff I’ve seen way too many corpses for my taste. That being said it has given me a unique, at least amongst my circle of friends, perspective on dying and death. So with that in mind, I make the following bald-faced statement.

I will most likely leave this world as a suicide.

Now before you start messaging, emailing, texting, and calling—let me explain. I am fine, well not fine, but I’m normal, well as normal as things can be for me. What I’m saying in my usual ham-fisted way is that I’m not suffering from a severe depressive trough or thoughts of suicide. This is not a cry for help or for an emergency intervention.

On the whole, things are pretty good. My youngest son graduates from high school next week. My oldest daughter is getting hitched next month, and if Alex graduating doesn’t make me feel old, the idea of Beth married makes me feel ancient. We’ll be moving by the end of the summer back into a house with a yard. And to cap it all, I have my dream job and a wife who supports me in my endeavors.

So, why will I end up killing myself in the end? Because when I leave this world and head to what comes next, whether it’s a new plane of consciousness or the long forever sleep, it’ll be on my fucking terms.

For the last, shit it’s been seven years, my day job has been the senior care industry. I work with people in the last arc of their lives. Not only do I work with them, but I work in their homes as they live their day to days lives. I see them when they wake up in the morning, and I see them when they end their days. I see them at their best, clear headed and able to enjoy life despite the disadvantages of advanced age. I see them at their worst, wracked with pain and fear yet too proud to ask for help because they were raised to grit their teeth, enamel or porcelain, and bare it. I see the humiliation in their eyes when incontinence and confusion consume them. I see them cry when their families forget them or have all died, and they still go on, alone.

I WON’T end up like that.

We’ve all heard the saying, “They shoot horses don’t they?”. Hell, I’m pretty sure there’s a movie titled that. Also, many of us have had to make the decision to have a pet put down to spare its suffering. Yet, I’ve watched people who’ve made those very choices decided to make an elderly family member continue well beyond the point where there is any real quality of life.

Not this guy, never in a million years.

When the time comes, and I’ll judge the time appropriate if the pain becomes too much or my memory has deteriorated too far, I’ll go peacefully. I’ll have my family at my side and make an event out of it. One last hurrah before I sleep for the last time.

Doesn’t that sound better than a bed full of shit, a body wracked with agony, and the mind of a five years old?





– Josh
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Published on June 03, 2016 07:12 • 4 views

May 14, 2016

It’s been a long time since I wrote one of these “Flaws & All” essays, unless you’re reading the future collected edition in which case I have a statement and a question. First, the statement, thank you for buying this short work of nonfiction and supporting me as a creator. My question is simple, are there flying cars yet? I was promised flying cars and damnit I am determined to live and see them as a reality. I’ll never ride in one of the probably Korean made (everything cool comes from Korea these days from phones to dictators), death traps but knowing they are real will make me happy.

So right about now there are two very different camps of readers staring at these words. The first group of you loveable maniacs has been keeping up with my insanity from the beginning, or at the very least since 2012, and you’re used to the schizophrenic nature of my nonfiction writing. The second groups of you are half a heartbeat from putting this down and never reading a thing I write again. I get the desire to walk away and if I may, allow me to give you permission to do just that. I write these essays more for myself. They started out as a type of self-therapy and at their core that’s what they’ll remain.

So now that we’ve cleared that up let’s get to the topic—I’m a lazy son of a bitch.

Let me stop you before you ask the obvious and painfully common question.



“If you already know you’re lazy, why don’t you just try not being lazy you fat piece of shit?”



Yes, I realize I’m lazy. I am also painfully aware of my rotund shell and frankly all of you bringing it up is starting to make me want a double Whopper with no cheese (Burger King has the worst cheese). But that does nothing to help me deal with the reality of my flaw in the day to day world. Yes, I will make grandiose plans to “Do something” about my laziness and then do absolutely nothing on what seems like an almost weekly basis.

Have you ever seen the old episode of The Simpsons where Homer decides he doesn’t need to go to church anymore? While a perfectly valid decision on the religion front in my mind, what he does next is too damn similar to how I live my life.

He eats everything he wants without cleaning up after himself.

He lounges in bed for an obscene amount of time.

He never gets dressed choosing instead to remain in his robe and bed clothes all day.

He ignores the pets and their needs.

He burns the house down.

Okay, to be fair I’ve never burned down a building of any kind… by accident. Also, I see nothing wrong with not participating in ANY organized religion. But the rest, I mean damn that’s how I live my life, and it goes FAR beyond that single episode even if was the first one that resonated with me. Over the years, Homer has shown himself to be the archetype of the lazy American and what started out as parody has become too close to the uncomfortable truth for me.

What have I done that has led me to believe I am a lazy joke of a man? I could talk about the subject for a fortnight and still not be finished. Of course, I wouldn’t because I’m lazy, so instead I’m going to give you what I consider the single most egregious example of my of laziness. Something so bad just the idea of admitting it in public regardless of its therapeutic value makes me want to puke the McMuffin I had for breakfast all over my keyboard.

Before I start on the list, I want to say there will be some mention of flaws I’ve yet to address in this series namely Depression and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) both of which I suffer from to one degree or another.



Lazy Writers Note: I am not saying there is anything wrong with people who suffer from Depression or OCD. What I am saying is I consider it a personal flaw, or obstacle if you prefer, that I’ve struggled to overcome or at least come to terms with in my nearly 40 years on this mudball. If you’re offended that I am planning on including them in this series of essays well then… I think you know what you can do.



Starting is hard—that’s been my mantra for more years than I can remember. When I say starting is hard I don’t mean a reluctance to take on a difficult or annoying task, that’s a common trait for most people, and I doubt many would consider it much of a flaw. What I mean is that on a regular basis the simplest of tasks feel like the modern equivalent of a herculean labor. Do you need examples, do you want me to share my shame? You sicken me with your perverse desire to see me uncomfortable. Also, your mamma dresses you funny. Okay, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Except for the dressed funny part because damn hire a stylist and stop letting the internet tell you how to dress.

I’m going to share this, but it’s one of my greatest shames, and I’ve kept it hidden for a long time.

Deep breath…



I stink


I stink because I neglect proper grooming. I neglect proper grooming because the idea of starting the simple rituals of cleanliness American’s take as a given leaves me in a panicky quagmire of fear and desperation. It’s the very thought of making the effort needed to walk up the stairs and spend literally fifteen minutes on me that reduce me to a smelly mass of shame and regret. Showering, shaving, brushing my teeth, and fuck me for admitting it but sometimes even the idea of changing my underwear, much less doing it, leaves me wanting to sleep for a week.

In the same smelly underwear of course.

Right now you’re probably rolling your eyes and thinking some very unkind thoughts directed at yours truly. All I can say is bring it—there’s nothing you can feel about what I just disclosed that can hold a match to the thermonuclear cloud of feelings I deal with on sometimes an hourly basis.

Now does this mean I am a cloud of flies and stench moving from my day to day activities? Am I a man whose wife forces him to sleep in another room because the odor gags her in her sleep? Do small children and animals run from me in fear that I’m some hybrid skunkman, the monster offspring of Pepe Lepew and a poor desperate woman in the 1970s?

Of course not, what the hell’s wrong with you?

I wash, I shower, I brush my teeth, I shave, and I change my gods-damned underwear. I’ll go one step further when I’m engaged in these activities I enjoy them, and afterward, I feel fantastic but starting, the very thought of lifting that first foot, hurts me at a deep primal level.

I can’t explain this. I’ve never been able to understand why I feel this way despite decades of analysis. Is it a mental illness? I have no idea. I would like to believe so because that would mean it’s not my fault. But if you pin me down and make me look at it and give my honest opinion I think I’m just lazy and because I’m lazy, I’m ashamed.



– Josh
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Published on May 14, 2016 10:29 • 10 views

April 21, 2016

Bernie Sanders lost the New York Democratic Primary on Tuesday.

Even as a diehard Bernie booster I admit it is highly unlikely he has any real chance of securing the nomination. I am NOT saying it’s impossible, but it is highly improbable. I'm not a defeatist just a realist until Bernie either wins or drops out I will not waver in my support, but I can see the ocean beyond the beach as well as most and better than some. If/When he concedes I WILL vote for HRC, but I will do it reluctantly.

Just in case I haven’t made it painfully clear since 2008 I DO NOT trust Secretary Clinton.

I’ve done my due diligence digging into real history and not the right wing propaganda or extreme left conspiracy theories. I don’t like her the same reason I can’t stand most politicians; she’s bought and paid for by the banks and big multinational corporations. There’s nothing unique about her in that regard, and that is the problem. So I will support her, but I will not boost her or in any way defend her.

Do I think she’ll be a wretched President? No, on the contrary, I think she’ll be a perfectly bland status quo, President, talking about helping Americans but in reality pushing for marginal change while making her donors richer. Just like every President we’ve had in my lifetime she’ll say anything she needs to in order to sit in the big chair and then everything will be business as usual. And the frustrating part is I will vote for that as opposed to the actual evil on the other side of the ticket.

That all brings me back to my Special Unicorn in the Great White North.
In my last essay, let’s call it what it was a perplexed rant on the stupidity of so called educated people, I posted the screen shots I had with an individual on Facebook I’ve “Known” for about nine years. This person proved to me that so called liberals can be just as insane as the worst Tea Party Patriot. If you need a rehash of that, please check out Essay 2 in this years cycle to brush up.

This human being and I are members of a message board run by my former employer, but we don't interact. Hell, he may have me blocked so he doesn’t see anything I post which would be ironic since he said he was blocking me on Facebook and then never did. Following Bernie’s loss to HRC on Tuesday, he posted this delightful little screed on one of the forums “Super Ultra Secret Message Boards” and I just had to address it or the laughter would have killed me.

NOTE: This “gentleman” has claimed, in the past, to be a journalist. Also, I have not edited the contents of this piece in any way.

Sanders really is starting to look like Trump these days...


Seriously, the hypocrisy is getting pretty hilarious.

Let's start with super delegates. He used to say, time and time again, in his speeches that the super delegates shouldn't change the results of an election. That they should go to whoever has the most votes/delegates going into the convention and anything else is corrupt. Now that it's pretty clear that he has no actual shot, he's starting to say that even if Hillary goes into the convention with the majority (even the win based on super delegates) and the popular vote, that they're going to try to sway the super delegates to their side...hmm, by his own words wouldn't that be corrupt?

His campaign started questioning Clinton's integrity since Bill (being a former President) has a life time membership as a super delegate, that it's a conflict of interest that he gets a vote at all. Kinda funny though, when you consider that Sander's is also a super delegate and voting for himself. Isn't that the same conflict of interest?

At the start of the campaign, when he was getting trounced, state after state after state, he would remind people in his concession speeches that democratic primaries aren't winner take all and they split based on the vote. Now that he realizes that Hillary only has to get 20% of the vote in all remaining primaries (less when you consider she's likely going to win the next three or so out right), he's saying that it's corrupt. The thing that was the only reason he had more than 5 delegates going into super Tuesday, and raised money on it, and he says it's corrupt.

Says Hillary is breaking finance law by raising money for the state elections. Not only is it not, but it's hilarious because he himself as taken money from these very same fundraisers from the DNC in the past. Yes folks, even while running as an 'independent' he relied on the DNC for funds to actually get elected. Really, it's a charge to play into trumps recent attacks and to hide the fact that Sanders has raised....next to nothing for the party he's running to be the representative for. Kinda gives you an idea on why he doesn't have much super delegate support.

Sanders knows this is over, New York was pretty much the last nail in the coffin. So here comes the scorched earth campaign. Because if he can't win then no one on the dem side should by his logic. So yeah, expect to see more baseless and inflammatory accusations from sanders to do anything to tear Hillary down. Not to try and win, thats pretty much impossible. But because he's a sore loser. Just like another candidate running for the other party..

[Note: These were just a FEW of the Sander's hypocrisy, there's plenty more, but these are the bigger/more recent ones]



Did you read it all?

Could you read it all without choking on laughter or developing a migraine?

I don’t give two fucks that he obviously hates Bernie and would say almost anything to make his look like the monster he imagines. I assume he imagines that monster while being safely supported in one of the most liberal and progressive nations in the history of the human race, but we’ll just ignore that. No, what has stuck in my craw is the Trump comparison.

Yeah, I know it shouldn’t, but it has.
So allow me to direct this directly to my special unicorn, you are full of shit. You may be one of the dumbest human beings I’ve ever encountered. Not because you’re some ignorant racist tea bagger but because you are an educated so called liberal who can’t stop vomiting this asinine bullshit. I have zero interest in debating you; I have even less interest in refuting your dumbass claims point by point because that’s what you want. You are nothing more than a petty left wing troll looking for a reaction, and while yes technically this is a reaction it’s on my terms, not yours.

You are a sad little man, and I pity you.


Final Note: I know there are a few of you from the old days who kept tabs on me for out former mutual associate and will know instantly who this is directed at. I don’t care, tell him don’t tell him it makes no difference to me.



- Josh
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Published on April 21, 2016 15:25 • 12 views

April 9, 2016

Last month I encountered my first Unicorn,
an asshole Canadian.

I've been sitting on this rant for a month and to be honest I was pretty sure I was going to let it go and move on. That is until a similar even with a diametrically different ending occurred yesterday.

Yesterday I had a political disagreement with a journalist friend of mine, a man I respect to a significant degree. We came to no accord and in the end agreed to disagree and move on.

What was the disagreement about?

Why the same thing the situation a month ago was about, the schism between Bernie Sanders supports and Hillary Clinton supporters. With my journalist friend yesterday it was my assertions that the New York Daily News was aligned solidly with Hillary and what they did to Bernie was wrong. Like I said he disagreed as vehemently as I agreed and in the end we let the matter go a stayed friends.

The individual a month ago, well that's a horse of a different color.

Some backstory and notes. I will not be naming the individual and instead will instead refer to him as Art (not a derivation of his real name in any way). I've known Art since roughly 2007 and have met him once in real life. Art is a Canadian (I have a soft spot for our cousins to the north) and at one point claimed to be a journalist. I make no judgment on whether he is or is not a journalist, but he has used that claim in the past too, umm, talk down to people at times. Art and I have a tangential connection through a former employer of mine; that doesn't factor into this, but I just like to have all the details out there.

Over the years, Art has seemed to develop a habit of dipping his toes into my Facebook posts and appearing to intentionally stir the pot. I don't usually mind that and let it go, only occasionally engaging him. That was the pattern until March 10th 2016. On that night, I wasn't in the mood to "Play" with him, and he lost his collective shit.

Instead of typing out what happened I have included a link to a screen shot of the entire exchange below. I have blurred his name out and the surnames of the other participants.

When you finish reading keep something in mind, he still hasn't blocked me.

http://alturl.com/6nwqc

:)
- Josh
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Published on April 09, 2016 16:00 • 13 views

March 13, 2016

Some of you may have noticed I’ve pretty much stopped going onto other people’s walls and commenting on their political and religious posts unless I know them well, or I see some jackhole abusing them. If you know me at all you know sometimes I have to make a herculean effort not to call out stupidity when I see it but in the end, I think it’s for the best.

How did this change happen?

A couple of months ago I finally lost my ability to roll with some of the asinine statements my so called friends were making. A friend of mine since Junior High School who I disagreed with on a lot of things and who I regularly debated with crossed the line. It wasn’t about the presidential election, it wasn’t about religion, and it wasn’t about any of the other issues I normally have strong feelings on. It was about the Flint Michigan water crisis. I posted an article and accompanying meme about how the Snyder administration ignored all warnings and appeared to have willfully dismissed the dangers.

My so-called friend lost his shit.

He went on a rant about how it was no one’s fault in particular or that it was equally everyone’s fault it happened. He used every headbutting right wing tactic he could and showed his ass to the entire world, or at least to my Facebook wall.

So what did I do? Did I go on the attack? Did I post one of the many articles savaging his position? Did I turn into a petulant child? Of course not, instead I quietly and without fanfare unfriended him.

Of course, he couldn’t let it go and sent me the most passive-aggressive, condescending, and a frankly sad private message I’ve ever received from anyone as an adult and then blocked me before I could respond.

Class fucking act.

Now we are nose deep in the 2016 Presidential campaign, and my social media feeds are clogged with political rhetoric. I’m fine with that; I post a lot of my political thoughts online, and I encourage others to do the same even if I do not agree with them, looking at you Dennis I love you, you polarizing old curmudgeon!

But here’s the difference between myself and a lot of assholes I know I post things they vehemently disagree with, but I don’t go onto their walls and feeds and treat them like shit. I may post a disagreement with them, but I am respectful of their views unless their views are nothing but hate then I just block them or unfollow them because I have little to no time or patience for morons.

That all said, sometimes I snap and call an idiot and idiot… I’m only human after all.





– Josh
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Published on March 13, 2016 08:29 • 27 views

December 21, 2015

I was working as a fulltime second shift maintenance man at the Dayton mall when the movie was announced. I watched the massive marketing push and the ubiquitous Godzilla advertising that plastered the regional cathedral to consumerism. There was a Taco Bell anchoring one corner of the food court, and I can’t even begin to tell how sick and tired I got of that fucking Chihuahua dog and his “Here lizard, lizard, lizard” bullshit.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning.

I love Kaiju movies a film genre that feature monsters, usually attacking a major Japanese city or engaging other monsters in battle. The classics of the genre, at least here in the United States are Godzilla, Gamera, and at least to my way of thinking King Kong. I remember being a kid back if Detroit Metro and watching the movies on the weekend mornings and late at night. There was something magical about it for seven-year-old Josh when he watched a giant Lizard or Ape destroy a model city of screaming people. My favorite of the best known is King Kong vs. Godzilla. I am torn every time I watch the movie, who do I want to win, the King of the Monsters or the biggest Ape in the jungle?

Good times.

So like I was saying the advertising and buildup for the first American version of Godzilla kind of overwhelmed me, and not in a good way. I attempted to maintain objectivity until the first glimpses of the monster were released, and we all realized old Godzilla had been raped by the success of Jurassic Park. And before JP defenders start in on me I LOVE Jurassic Park, and the T-Rex is one of favorite movie monsters, I mean for fucks sake have you experienced Jurassic World? But this was billed as Godzilla and he better gods damned resemble Godzilla!!!

Moving on, I never saw the movie in the theaters and after the first reviews on the nascent internet were released I patted myself on the back for dodging a bullet that would’ve, to use an overused and really dumb term, raped my childhood. I was rather proud of myself for not giving in to nostalgia and instead listening to my head.

Fast forward two years.

I was a stay at home dad, ups late with a sick kid, and there was nothing good on TV. This was before streaming you whipper snappers so don’t start telling me everything good on Netflix. Anyway, I was going through the pay channels just as they announced Godzilla was starting, I hesitated give me that much credit, and then I settled in to experience what I was sure would be one of the worst and most disappointing movies of my life, Ang Lee’s Hulk was still four years away.

Here’s the movie in a nutshell.

The French create Godzilla, I mean T-Rex Light, via nuclear testing in the Pacific. The US Military brings in Middle-Aged Ferris Beuller to track the unidentified monster by going from sighting to sighting and tracking the wreckage and chaos. Somehow the giant monster evades the resources of the most powerful nation in the history of the world making it from the South Pacific to New York City with nobody seeing him and living except one old Japanese fisherman. Meanwhile, the French government send Leon the Professional without Queen Amadalia but with a team of coffee snob French special forces troops to hunt and kill the beast. There’s a contrived love story for Ferris and a bunch of wacky characters I wish T-Rex Light had eaten. There’s a sustained battle between the US Military T-Rex Light, which is really fucking badass and I’m pretty sure the makers of Cloverfield watched a thousand times. Ferris and Leon fight Velociraptors I mean baby Godzilla’s in Madison Square Garden. And the Military kills Godzilla with missiles, something that would NEVER happen to the real Godzilla! Either he dies fighting another monster or he owns the field of combat. Also, there’s the obligatory setup for a sequel that never happened with the hatching of a loan surviving egg beneath Madison Square Garden.

That movie was amazeballs!

Don’t get me wrong, it sucked, it sucked hardcore, but it’s so much fun. And not regular fun either stupid bang bang fun. I honestly think if they’d called this movie Zilla and ditched a connection to Godzilla it would’ve been a massive hit. In fact in one of later Japanese Toho movies they call the monster Zilla and use it as one of the real Godzilla’s enemies, genius!

I recommend the hell out of Godzilla 1998, when it’s not trying to shove a contrived emotional human story down your throat, it’s rip-roaring fun.

Next time we tackle something timely, and you find out why Messa feels bad for Jake Lloyd.





– Josh
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Published on December 21, 2015 10:00 • 24 views