regrets, i have a few

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readers of this blog (if there are any left at this point) may have noticed that over the last several months i've tried to move away from messy, train-wrecky posts into more--for lack of a better word--mainstream shit.

well, this week all that went out the window.

sunday night, i tore into a 74-year-old wheelchair-bound stroke victim--nice, huh?--and then tuesday night (or wednesday morning, to all you normal people), i offered myself up as red meat to a guy who chews up the lame and the drunk for idle sport. when i sobered up, i thought about taking those posts down, because i'm embarrassed by them. but fuck it--they're what happened, so i'm leaving 'em up.

i want to apologize to my readers. i understand that we have an implied contract: you guys come here and offer up your time with the expectation that you're gonna get something back that makes that investment of time worthwhile. that hasn't happened much this week, and i'll try to do better.

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between the hours of 11:30 p.m. tuesday night and about 8:30 the following morning, i consumed a little over half of a 1.75-liter jug of vodka; this, for the mathematically inclined, works out to about 32 ounces of alcohol (i.e., a quart), or about 21 standard cocktails.

while i have no doubt i'd be laughed off skid row as a rank amateur with a score like that, it concerns me for the following reasons:

1. i wasn't incapacitated by this quantity of liquor; on the contrary, i stayed up another half-hour or so after finishing my last drink because i wasn't finished drunk-commenting. i then went to bed and slept like a baby.

2. six hours later, i was up--no headache, no nausea, no light-sensitivity, no hangover symptoms whatever.

3. a few months ago, i expressed concern here at my ability to go through a third of one of those bottles in a sitting (and a year before that, a quarter)--now i'm past the halfway mark. anybody seeing a trend here?

my body's become a very efficient alcohol-processing machine. it doesn't crave the stuff (yet), but it sure likes it, and on certain nights of the week, it damn well expects it--and it always wants a little more.

there's no imminent crisis (unless you count the trashing of my online reputation, of course)--no unexplained blackouts, my job isn't threatened, i don't get behind the wheel anymore, my health's fine--at this point it's merely a big-ass problem. the irony is, it's a problem that, had you told me even three years ago i'd ever have, i'd have laughed in your face.

and i really don't have the slightest idea what to do about it.

and to his credit, scott responded

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problem is, he did it in such a way as to dismiss me entirely, without ever responding to the substance of my argument--and the real problem is, i handed him the tools to do so.

oh well, fuck it--guys like him will always skate by the truth. my challenge to you, my readers? read the entire exchange, plus my comment below, and then draw your own conclusions (and for the sake of accuracy, i've left in the typos--because, yeah, i was drunk).

holy shit--you featured me in my own goddam bill-in-exile post?! i don't know what to say, scott--not only can i now die and go straight to heaven, i might even pick up a couple fuckin readers in the process.

and you ever work up the cojones to actually address the points i brought up in the comment that inspired all this goodness, i can pass heaven, collect $200 and go straight to nirvana.

in the meantime, i'm gonna go pass out with a stiffie.

and thanks in advance for the wet dream i'm gonn have at about 11.

at some point you just get tired, say 'fuck it' and hit "publish"

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[the following is my comment to an asshole]

[and please understand: if you don't see this comment over at his site, it doesn't mean it didn't happen--it only means he's a dishonest fuckwad who didn't post it (and if you do see it over there, that only means he published it after i passed out, in which case i'll address his subsequent comment to same when i come to)]

You wanna go gloves-off, Scott? Fine; let's do it--hell, you can't hurt a drunk.

I have no doubt that, as you've taken such pains to emphasize in your most recent comment, your I.Q. has to be bigger than mine--or that you're bigger, stronger, better, more multi-lingual, handsomer and superior to me in every way imaginable--or, if it's that important to you, that your dick is bigger than mine (although i'd be willing to bet you're obsessed with the fact that it might not be, which i suspect is the real root of the problem we're running into not only with this particular post, but in your whole fucking goddam blog).

But I digress; let's get back to the instant comment. To quote from you:

"Late-breaking news [and please note that i've added the hyphen you omitted]?!"

My response: As if Sarah Palin's teenage daughter's pregnancy (or anything else they've so far come up with) is even halfway on a par with anything in Barack's past that i could come up with half-blind (but that, unfortunately, the New York Times has, as yet, deemed it unnecessary to cover in such depth as they have this fuckin' broad's background).

And further: I'd be more than willing to bet you were one of those idiots who mewled on and on way back in 1997 that Bill Clinton's personal life had nothing to do with his ability to govern; and yet--even though what we're looking at here with Palin can't even begin to touch Clinton's life in its overall level of sordidness--you're the first to jump on the bandwagon and declare her unworthy because of her continuing to work despite the fact that she's a new mother of a down-syndrome kid, her daughter's unwed pregnancy, and her husband's DUI.

And i could go on, but I'm tired, i'm drunk, and I'm ready to go to bed--so here's my point:

I've got all sorts of problems with Sarah Palin's position on this ticket, but i don't give a rat's ass about these trivialities that you and your fellow idiot liberal democrats are screaming about today--what I care about is the substance of why she's fundamentally unqualified for this office. Do me a favor and get back to that at some point, would you?

And as for your point about the fact that i comment drunk:

(1) Yeah, i was drunk back then and I'm drunk now--what's your goddam point? Because

(2) you and your pathetic arguments remind me of that old w.c. fields bit which goes as follows (and yes, i'm paraphrasing a little here, but you fuckin' asked for it):

"yeah, i may be drunk, but you're an asshole. i'll be sober tomorrow, but you'll be an asshole the rest of your goddam life."


(2) Even drunk and with one hand tied behind my back, i'm better than 99.9% of the lame-ass commenters to your fucking blog who (presumably) comment sober (and if the past is any indication of the future, I always will be);

(3)Yeah, I\ve apologized profusely for prevous comments. But here's what you've apparently never gotten, Scott: what i've always apologized for in the past has been my drunken effrontery and impulsive disrespect to a blogger i once (maybe just because i was a fuckin' naive idiot) highly respected.

But that's all; understand:

(4) I've never for one moment apologized for what i actually posted--are you fuckin kidding me? Because, here's the deal, Scott, my buddy, my pal: what i always apologized for, was--as i tend to do when i'm drunk--throwing out too much goddam truth.

(5) And, as I believe I also threw out to you once (and as, having been a blogger for lo these eight months, i'm totally in a position to attest), i'd give my left nut for a commenter on my own site who gave me even a tenth of what i once gave you.

(6) And the fact that to this day you shit on me and crush me under you heel? I'm philosophical; i look at it like that old Steely Dan song--"the things you think are useless I don't understand."

(7) And if you don't wanna paragraph this comment--or even publish it--don't worry--i'll make sure it's given proper justice (and punctuation) on my blog (like even a tenth of the readers on your site will ever see it there, but whatever)

(8) And, trust me, i will never, EVER comment on your goddam blog again

(9) unless, of course, i'm sufficiently shitfaced to do so; and

(10) you're sufficiently inclined to allow it.

(11) love ya, mean it.

GOD, I love blogging.

goddam cat

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after much experience in this regard, i've come to accept as axiomatic the fact that, at least once in the course of their lives, each and every one of my animals will try to kill me.

and i've always understood that they don't really mean it, because for the most part these attempts have been, at worst, benignly-neglectful acts--like lying sprawled in dark hallways waiting me to trip over 'em, or darting out in traffic, thus forcing me to risk life and limb in order to rescue 'em--there's nothing that could possibly be interpreted as intentional there, right?

and even when the assassination attempt took the form of a sneak attack, i didn't take it personally--hell, i tell myself, she didn't mean it; that coulda happened to anybody.

the common denominator in all these prior attempts? simple: they were all carried out by dogs (i.e., amateurs).

because lemme tell you something i learned just this past weekend: you want a real shot at getting the job done right, send in a cat.

picture it: saturday morning, late for work, cat's on the roof (as always). climb ladder next to roof (as always), grab cat, begin the descent (as always).

except this time, cat suddenly and inexplicably decides to throw in a new element: just as i'm bringing her offa the roof--both hands occupied with the task, and thus at maximum vulnerability--she suddenly decides (for no good goddam reason, because we've done this dance a thousand times) to attempt to lunge outta my hands back toward the roof.

newtonian physics being what it is, this unexpected maneuver impacts not only my equilibrium but also that of the ladder upon which uppermost rungs i find myself precariously balanced (with no hands free, i might redundantly add).

long story short: ladder goes left and i lunge right in an attempt to counterbalance, which might've actually worked if the cat hadn't taken the opportunity of my panic to wrench herself from my loosened grasp and claw her way back up to the safety of the roof--using, as leverage, the right side of my face, my right ear, the top and then a good part of the back of my head in the process.

next thing i know, WHAM! i find myself crumpled in a broken heap on the ground under the ladder, face and head shredded and bleeding, left arm numb (i wouldn't get full feeling back for several hours), looking vainly and plaintively up into the sky, asking "why?"

but i get no answer from the cat--safely back on the roof, licking herself, unconcerned and seemingly oblivious of the wreckage in her wake.

* * * * *

four days later, i'm still stiff and i still look like i've been in a knife fight. and every time that black-hearted little bitch looks at me, i can't help but interpret it as, "you might've foiled me once, but never fear--i'll get you next time."

and then she purrs, curls herself into my arms and i forget--almost.

happy second, baby

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over the course of labor-day weekend 2006, i met somebody very important. self-absorbed as always, i forgot about it; v didn't.

yet one more reason i don't deserve him.

i could write volumes about sarah palin

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or i could simply post my most recent comment from over at bill in exile and be done with it:

problem is, in terms of her walk-the-talk integrity, this hillbilly bitch kicks the shit outta barack obama in several ways that i have no doubt will prove significant to the elecorate. for instance, in explaining the entirety of her life, she doesn't have to dodge, disavow or disinherit any element of her past--there's an arrow-straight line between who she was when she was a babe sucklng at her mother's breast and who she is now--she hasn't had to vote "present," or kick her pastor, political mentors, numerous former associates, political benefactor(s) or grandma to the curb in order to carefully and calculatedly justify her palatability to her chosen electorate.

for better or worse, that pretty much says it all, doesn't it?

sorry, charley--i needed a post, and you were it

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for those of you who do not know this already, blogging (at least, the way i do it) is hard fucking work.

and this is especially true when, like me, you're not only (a) self-defeatingly perfectionistic, but (b) clinically-depressed to the point that the only time you care that you even have a blog (much less feel like contributing meaningful content to same) is when you're about half-drunk and thus in rare contact with all those endorphins that make such caring possible (in other words, i'm exactly like fitzgerald and hemingway, except for the talent part).

and since one can't get drunk every night (although god, one wishes sometimes), one tends to find oneself limited in terms of content-potential to certain nights of the week.

and tonight? tonight was gonna be one of those nights. and what can i say--i blew it.

see, i had my sarah palin follow-up post planned for tonight--it was all laid out in my head, i was all primed up with alcohol and it was gonna be good, goddammit.

then i got sidetracked--i hit my blogroll first and came across this joe.my.god post (yeah, him again), coincidentally about the redoubtable governor palin. except this time, it wasn't joe's post that captured my attention; it was the resultant comment thread--most particularly, this one about her decision to give birth to a down-syndrome child, by someone who calls himself charley:

Down syndrome babies will never learn how to use a computer, never know how to drive a car, never know how to look after another person, never get married or be a productive family member, ect ect.. Most will be a drain on the social welfare of the state. Their unfortunate condition and it destroys the best of couples. Their condition brings pain and hardship of looking after them. My choice if I was a woman, I would abort the defective baby as soon as I got word from the lab tests. I would not want to pass that gene along. It's not fair to the child. It's not fair to humanity.

well, needless to say, this immediately got my attention, because, based on my experience on this site, ol' charley was about to get himself hammered, and i sat back to watch the fun.

and hammered he got--but charley wasn't finished; when challenged on his position, he then had this to say:

Name one down syndrone person that has ever accomplished anything for the benefit of humanity. If you do, then I rest my case.

and as you can imagine, several folks came to the defense of not only kids with down syndrome, but even to the hated right-wing sarah palin's right to bring such a child into the world. to which charley, unswayed from the rightness of his cause, replied:

That's her choice, and she is rich and famous and can afford nannies. I wouldn't give up my freedom to wheel a defective kid in a wheelchair around the rest of my life. I feel sad for the circumstances, but abortions are a choice and many women have made that choice.

and then, in response to all the liberals telling him how horrible he was, charley--pumped up, no doubt, with the courage of his convictions--went on to say:

Just being practical and not emotional. I am also compassionate thinking about the hardship the child will have to endure. Natural selection to improve the breed.

this, as you might imagine, evoked further outrage and more back-and-forth between charley and his detractors (which i'm not bothering to include here, because up to this point it's repetetive).

but then all of a sudden, charley divulged the following little nugget in response to a detractor who had taken exception to his previous mention of wheelchair cases:

I'm in a wheelchair, idiot. I was not talking about disabled people. I was thinking about the child. You are thinking in sentimental terms that all life is sacred.

that's when i started to smell blood--and i'll bet you can only imagine my delight when, in response to doubts from commenters that he was really in a wheelchair, charlie gave up the following:

I had a stroke at 74. I am not sure I will be permanently in a wheelchair. Hope not.

that was all the raw meat i needed--i was in. and my comment back to the estimable charley (and, ultimately, the reason you're not getting the palin post tonight) is as follows:

so charley, lemme get this straight: you're 74 AND disabled?! my goodness, talk about a "drain on the social welfare of the state!" i mean, seriously, chances are you're consuming far more than you're contributing these days--and, given your obvious concern for social welfare and shit, shouldn't you feel bad about that? oh, and gay, i presume? well, let's check off the "defective" box too, while we're at it.

so maybe when they've improved society by eliminating all the down-syndrome kids, they'll swing back around and put you and people like you outta your misery in the second wave--hell, they'd be doing you (and god knows, your family) a favor; i mean, how good could the quality of your life be with all that against you anyway?

are you pissed at me, charley, or do you see where i'm going with this? i mean, who are you--who is anybody--to presume to tie a human being's right to live to their potential for productivity to the state, or to judge the quality of someone else's life from the standpoint of one's own limited perceptions?

see, i'm a great believer in the slippery-slope theory, charley--especially when it comes to even the idea of deciding in advance whose life is worthwhile and whose isn't. because the folks who end up drawing that line might not be you--and if you're not careful or lucky, you just might find yourself on the wrong side of it.

anyway, think about it.

[good god, it's finally happened--i've righteously come down on the bleeding-heart side of a jmg comment thread. i can die now, i think.]

apologies to all of you, but this pithy comment not only took all the creative juice i had to offer tonight (and how fucking sad is that?), it's the reason some poor jmg commenter named charley got hisself thrown to the wolves on a blog he's never even fucking heard of.

and i'll give you some sarah lovin' tomorrow. or not.