My apologies for the tacky bulletin, but I just gotta get some feedback about my attempt to make light of the man who burned himself to death despite my efforts to extiguish him at my gas station.
As the members of Monty Python sang, "Always look on the bright side of death." I won't continue the lyrics. It seems redundant.
Sorry to dissolve any of you who felt a sense of relief, but obviously the insanity of Russ Staley wasn't resolved through partial hospitalization.
I gotta get out of this funk, so I that I can get back to wrestling. Imagine the angst I was in when I went to Hobby Lobby. The telling myself that I couldn't buy anything shiny to accessorize my alter ego.
I feel worse than Nicholson about the "All work and no play." It's like that but add "No beer and no TV make Homer go something something."
On the topic of going crazy, there aren't many jokes that can be made about a guy on fire. Trying to come up with an insightful, comedic blog is as difficult as finding a satisfying end to a trilogy (Revenge of the Sith excluded).
When wholesome, anti-violence, no vulgarity Mom said she had more fun watching Hot Fuzz than Shrek the Third, I think you know where I'm coming from.
And come on. Topher Grace as Venom? And if there is no wine for Thomas Haden Church, I'd rather save my dough for Merlot from a box.
My therapist accused me of ADD, but blame Family Guy. We allow Seth MacFarlane to jump in and out of stories. But, allow me to get this giant chicken off my back and get back to the story at hand.
Gas can: $5.99
Enough 87 octane to get the job done: $1.55
A memorable exit and a headline: Priceless
There is a bit of irony to this. I immediately wanted to take smoking back up. Lord knows I wasn't going to ask for a pack afterwards. That's just tacky. It does make me realize one thing. Cigarettes aren't just for post intercourse any more.
If someone would have screwed the corpse, then everything that occurred in Clerks would have happened to me at this truck stop. Life imitating art.
My God! My god has a sick sense of humor. Speaking of my god (see, I can a make a reasonable transition), it's not like I haven't heard the divinity of the situation.
Mom said God has had everything bad that could happen to me happen to me, so there is nothing left for me to do but get my life together. Nothing bad can happen to me, so I should get on with my unfulfilling life and give up this pursuit of happiness because God has given me a life to live and that I should just live.
Let's see. What bad thing have happened to me since September 7, 2004?
My best friend / the first girl I fell in love with diedFace it. You gotta be pretty creative to top the last one. Watching someone die in a gruesome way is hard enough, but the mind fuck is that I did all I could physically and mentally do to hope the nutcase to life.
and was not given a memorial.
I spent two and a half days in Peoria County Jail for
nothing...ok...maybe stupidity.
My grandma / closest family member dies.
Bankrupt because of a Carrie Clifton's $200 a day
habit.
Wasted a year trying to save said junky cunt.
I've obtained enough speeding tickets to warrant a
suspension (finger crossed for the best).
An inability to wrestle.
The knowledge that I lack something that prevents me from
obtaining a fulfilling job or relationship.
I sold the utensils used in the suicide of a man that I busted my ass
to save and comfort during his dying moments.
If you want to knit pick; not grabbing the closest extinguisher, and not knowing if I should use my C+ life savings skills from 8th grade health class, so maybe there were a few more things I could have done. Oh, now I'm getting mind fucked in the ass.
My mom has watched two people die, both of them at ripe ages and terminal. The only way I know for her to help them would be the Saw 3 treatment, and again, how tacky would that be.
A mind fuck as a sign from God. The tough times are over. Okay? Well, Moses probably gave a WTF about the burning bush, but this was a burning bipolar case. It just ain't the same.
Do I really want to worship a god that kills people for the good of others? I am not George W. Bush.
Enough ad nausem. A friend told me this was divine intervention because the lord had the guy cooked in front of my gas station. God didn't broil him. He broiled himself. God placed the psuedomonk to teach me the futility of suicide.
This message is having a difficult time sinking in since I feel like I'm hogging everyone else's oxygen.
I've gone through so much bad, but I have yet to find something fulfilling to do with my life. Throughout all this time, I watch people knowing fuck people over or not care enough about the ones closest to them.
My existential other told me that the are just delusions. Okay. Can I have a few? Is this alliterate haiku a convincing enough pitch:
de lu sionsYou can say it's my lack of confidence, but I say bull shit. If you tell me to do something, I promise you my best and have always come through with my best. I am not going to act perfect to get attention. I'm going to be me.
di lute deep de
pres sion
If being cruel is the way to success, fuck that. I guess I'd rather be a social retard...no, I'd rather not trouble the world with my existence.
Thank Sartre and his bitch Christ for agnostic existentialism. If I die, I go to heaven or I just die. It's like playing two thirds of the roullete table. What's the worst that could happen?
For those saying, "Russ, at least your not crippled or impotent," I'll reply with "Crippled results in extra sympathy and premo parking. As for impotent...it's not like I'm using it on delusions."
If it got any worse, I would be allowed to be nonfactor.
If I'm not a factor, I should be dead.
With all this being said, maybe this was the wrong time to catch up on the Saw trilogy.
GAME OVER.
At least I took part in saving the right-winged town of Morton from a fiery fate. I guess I can accomplish something. But is allowing the a city of GOP zombies to stand a good thing?
Oh my sense of humor is twisted. I must get it from heavenly father.
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