Is "Bittersweet Symphony" the anthem for 2016 or was I just lucky?

Are Nazis a generational thing? Baby boomers feel they need to turn to nationalism because the country was gradually getting closer to equality. White privilege should guarantee them treatment as the nation's priority. They never needed to work hard, so why do they have to now? Foreigners working harder is not enough reason. Why burden themselves by acknowledging they really need to stop putting the soles of their boots to the necks of African-American dreams.

I need to address my fellow Chicago Cubs fans. With how 2016 ended, never mind the bullshit that took place in the world prior to November 8, would you have traded a World Series championship for a Trump-free white house? They have the best line up of position players and a deep pitching staff. Regardless of a world title, Aroldis Chapman would be somewhere else along with Dexter Fowler, but if Jason Heyward's bat would come back around, another trip to October baseball is damn near guaranteed. It took a lifetime for my dad to have seen a Northside National League pennant, but he is a Detroit Tigers fan, so I thought it was worth half my life to see the curse broken. Dare I say (dare, dare), I would have been happy seeing the Cubs with a world title provided that it occurred before age 72.

Anyhow, when it was primarily old assholes who decided to rob the youth of a future for the sake of their own security (not just Trump, but Italy and Brexit), do these sphincters even deserve the joy of a chorus of "Go Cubs Go" that can be heard by Martians?

It was a bittersweet year for me. The Cubs win the World Series, but I did not get up to Chicago to catch a game (Danny Daniels, please talk to the management at 115 Bourbon Street to only schedule AAW events from April to September during Cubs' home stands). That suggests I may be the jinx (I should have never viewed "Celtic Pride (not just for the concept of a Daniel Stern led film) for the lack of world championships near Lincoln Park from 1980 forward. I moved to a city that was better for me, but the financial resource to do so is owned by a tax-dodging, wannabe Biker for Trump. A beautiful girl has decided to put up with me and my DVD/VHS/Blu-ray/Cartridge consumed apartment, but Newcastle United was relegated to the English Football Championship.

We received another brilliant "Star Wars" movie, but I had the responsibility of telling my four year-old nephew (I would have seen the films of the original trilogy a combined 13 [at the very least] times in the theaters by that age) that "Rogue One" was too intense for him. With "The Wolverine" trilogy ending in an R-Rated conclusion, droid-blocking a preschooler leaves me with a sense of guilt for hoping there will one day be a hard R story from "A galaxy far, far away."

Now I am hoping that the "Han Solo" film will be that story. Emilia Clarke's best projects are the ones where she is showing off the mammaries to dragons. "Terminator Genisys" was good (why does everyone deny the talent of the "Wes Craven presents Dracula" director Patrick Lussier), but every episode of "Game of Thrones" rings the bell of shame at it.

How do I transition from talking about Daenerys Targaryen nudity to what has been driving me nuts and determined that I need to come up with an exit strategy to escape the I Hotel? It is definitely tough to be considered sincere when I am suggesting objectification as a joke. Can I even be satirical about the topic beyond the my intended blog's title?

In an ultra-sensitive world where suggesting a male-outsider perspective could be equated to "mansplaining," am I even allowed to address this? Let's hope the worst thing that occurs to me is Stefanie Smith commenting on my Facebook feed with "I TOLD YOU SO!" I think that would be better than this blog being considered too long by web designer standards, the web design standards that SHOULD STILL BE FOLLOWED.

With "Main Event of the Dead," my pro-wrestling zom-com screenplay, being dead (maybe 2016 was beyond bittersweet), perhaps looking to sell my service to re-frame the bastardized world wide web should by my new priority. If the wrestling/film business caught up with my script, the Internet needs to catch up with the ideal look my 2002 certification taught me.

Is being righteous better than enjoying oneself? Perhaps writing the rest of the blog will allow me to find out.

I guest that'll will have to wait till next time if I want to include an image of one of my flag(s) for the Wise States of America.

Adulthood: The End of Creativity

It's been three months since moving to Champaign from the Peoria suburbs.

Mentally, I am doing a lot better. Aside from coworkers who do not put in 40-hour weeks despite their out-of-state private school bachelor's degree preaching about how socialism decreases the urge to work, I have not ran into anybody that I am trying to figure out how to instigate a fight with. And that is really more hyperbole on my behalf. If you are not partaking an adult beverage, you are willing to concede other societal issues, and not being a jerk about it, I do not feel inclined to post your address online when the revolution begins.

There were a few comedians (just one, but I gotta assume he can't be the only one) who performed at The Accord that brought their Trump-like rants to The Blind Pig, but people who noticed me visibly trying to restrain a left-wing outburst (coincidentally, my left is my best striking hand) were quick to speak of their discontent with these assholes to me. Hence, I know I am not alone in a crowd in this college town.

It is probably a good thing that I did not move to this environment out of high school. Coming from Morton and focusing on drinking and coasting to a BA, I would probably leave the university as an entitled twat. Being an introvert with that attitude seems to be a lonelier existence than the one I had as a bleeding heart in Peoria. With the latter, I at least knew why I was on my own for the past two years.

There always seems to be a scene down here for me. I am with a great girl right now. The only thing I do not have going in my direction is that my employer sells themselves as the type who would sack me for using the Internet for expression and the hours I work do not allow me the chance to try netwoking/shopping my pro-wrestling themed zom-com B-movie script "Main Event of the Dead" (If you would like a treatment of the screenplay, just send a request to russthebus07@gmail.com. I also encourage the donation of ideas to promote the project to a crowd-funding stage). Also, I did not have the cash/credit to go to Barnes and Noble to buy a new journal to start working on (and if I'm not going to be in Morton for a while, I can't have Amazon packages piling up on my parents door. Don't want the "if you can afford this lecture"). If only dedicating eight hours to my employer in a night actually paid eight hours.

This blog is actually being written as I am at my parents, killing time before a doctor's appointment and avoiding their hatred for the most qualified person to ever run for president. My place is not really suited for me to use a computer in (too small and it seems my battery isn't worth a damn on my snail-paced laptop). The "Fucking Brilliant" journal I ordered from Amazon has finally arrived, so I will have no reason not to get back to practicing on how to write good (Anyone know where I can find Blag Dahlia's essays online? Why does my big sis have Yahoo as the default search engine in Chrome is a more perplexing question). What my dilemma is currently is how do I to get my works to the next level and whether or not I can afford to do so.

My current residence in Champaign is where you have to wonder whether you heard gun shots or fireworks outside your window. I have stories, but I am not even going to risk anything that may seem to be snitching. Some neighbor might be able to hack my WiFi or even afford it on their own (the rent is $483 in the CU, if you can only afford that, you can make poor jokes) and read this blog. It was more of a last minute move, so I was willing to spend more. After settling in, I am wondering if I can do that now.

I like my current job, but I also like the freedom to look around for better ones, so working up the management hierarchy may not be my thing. So to advance in my field, I'd probably have to go back to junior college again to even get a footing on transferring to a university. That was kind of the reason that I just up and moved to the university town that had forsaken me in 1998 and that I swore never to attend. The suggested course of action was go back to ICC and then go to Bradley. It might just be me, I cannot take the path of least resistance. Where is the adventure?

The point is, will I have time to work on my passions with school and a full-time job? Accounting does not seem to be a subject I will be enthused about dedicating my free time to, so will I want to stick to it? And then there is the entire concept of feeling too old to get my Bachelor's at 40.

The other option is get another job. I can stand working 15 hours a week at a job I like, but my current job's hours make that tough.

So, I'm back to needing a break. How many times do I have to put in the extraordinary effort to endure the monotony of adulthood to get to focus on a passion? It took a lot of mental effort to get to where I am now, but surviving still feels like it is the most I can do.

At least, I do not feel mad at the world right now. Enjoy the time on certainty I suppose. Come the first Tuesday in November, who knows?