I’m Easy!

It’s true.

Thanks to the SEO work I do when publishing each blog, I will be forever searchable using tags like: easy author, easy writer, and a few others I haven’t thought of yet. When a female reader comes along, I cannot help but crush on them a little. If they are reading my book, I can feel my heart beating in my chest as they give me their impression of my work. Often, they update me as they read—a blow by blow if you will—every encouraging word softly stoking my psyche.

It’s not that I’m an egotist.

Praising a writer is like showing love to an abused animal; they quickly return that love any way they can, and it’s an honest loyal kind of love . . . until the leg humping begins.

As for the extra special ones who took the time to write a favourable review. . . well . . . they could have me with a snap of their fingers.

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Why be a starving writer when you could be a starving naked artist.

I am so sick of computers and everywhere they take us.

Being a writer means being married to your computer. Things are made worse if you are a published author because you also have long term commitments to social media and publishing sites. My almost one-year-old Dell is an evil wife. She has melted down twice in the short time we have been together; a RED FLAG if ever there was one. So why continue to put up with the daily torment of weak WiFi, boggy performance due to updates and background processes, and the general stupidity of the online world when there is little or no money in it?

I can do other things.

The real question is: What other things can I do which don’t involve computers? I could reinvent myself once again as a post modernist painter. I might use my initials to create a new artist identity: Ethan Alfonso? It has an artsy ring to it. I could add a hook as well: All Alfonso’s are painted in the nude. Post modernist erotic portraits of lonely housewives and  divorcées, painted by a still pretty hot naked guy, should get me laid more than writers do. The fee for such commissioned portraits would certainly exceed what I make as a writer; perhaps several times over. For a tiny initial investment—far less than book publishing—I could whip off a bunch of samples to lean against the walls of my apartment for prospective clients to peruse; perhaps over wine, if they are hot. I could sell some works beach-side while working on my tan. Once summer ends here, I can move into a spacious van and travel to various beach communities down South, chasing the warmth of the sun, and making Canadian winters something I don’t do anymore.

What’s the worst that could happen?

It’s possible I might be killed by a jealous husband, but this has always been my preferred check-out plan anyway.

Sounds like a worthwhile endeavour to me.

Where is that art supply store?

I’d Google it, but this hunk of junk Dell—soon to be ex wife—sucks harder than the vacuum of space during a hull breach on the Enterprise.

Now twitter is doing it.

As if the mother Zucker wasn’t bad enough with obvious societal conditioning techniques built into his flakebook algorithm, now twitter is showing its hand. They too have had their user privacy issues, but twitter was always a place where you didn’t feel as controlled and manipulated. You could reach out to people the world over, and if you added them to a list, you could see everything they posted. If they were not English speaking, you could click the translate button to see what was on the minds of people in Europe, Asia, the Middle East. . . to gain a more honest global perspective than what we are offered in American media.

That ended today!

Twitter has been ramming the “New Twitter” down our throats for a while, but we had the option to revert to “Legacy Twitter” which many users did. It wasn’t an option today, and the Translate Tweet function was gone in addition to some other user niceties.

‘We can’t have American minds being contaminated by other countries.’

They are closing up the box with us in it.

This final straw will hasten my departure from anti-social media. They just keep taking away all that was good about these platforms and replacing them with more ads and user data collection. I don’t need to stick around to watch the death of social media, I’m just glad to see it go.

Rated R: Sex, Academic Lies, and Video Tape

What is manly?

Is wrestling manly? I probably couldn’t wrestle my way out of a drunken all female Mazola party these days, but that may be more due to a lack of desire than capability. To avoid any more middle-aged sex related injuries, which are embarrassing to explain to your doctor, I now spend much more time wrestling with ideas and questions. They are much safer, even though Doc thoroughly enjoys hearing of my exploits . . . perhaps a little too much, now that I think about it.

Some of what goes on in my cerebrum is farcical while other thoughts are incredibly deep for a male—or so I’ve been told. To better illustrate how man-brains work, for our female readers, I will let you peer in to see what is rolling around in here in these next sentences. Could a female friend pin me in a bare knuckle match without the benefit of any lube to help me escape? Would I want to escape? Would I throw the match and submit? Does this make me submissive? Can a submissive man still be manly? If she won fair and square, without resorting to tickling, would she be considered manly? Would her conquest relegate all six-foot-three two hundred pounds of me to the effeminate loser list? Why are there winners and losers? Who thought that up? Who are the beneficiaries, and who or what suffers in a social construct such as this?

I tend to look at most things as systems.

Ecosystems show us how all things are connected and how there is intelligent design behind them which endlessly strive to maintain a healthy balance.

Each life form follows a program. We call this nature and natural.

I look at humans in much the same way, but we are different. We have the power of choice and yet we seem to endlessly choose poorly. Why is this? What if our program has been, and continues to be, tampered with? In my book I put forth the idea The Princess Program has been responsible for holding women back from reaching their full potential for generations.

I now see the Princess Program as more of a subroutine to a larger Patriarchy Program where, at some point in history, men discovered TAKING WAS EASIER THAN MAKING.

Thus began our long string of bloody conquests which continue to this day. Has patriarchy always been with us? If you were to rely purely on the mainstream Western history we are taught in school you might think so. “They” tell us about “recorded history” which currently sits at about 5500 years with a focus on empires rather than civilizations which shift from Egypt, to Greece, to Rome. “Coincidentally”, the first written records of religious practice date to almost the same time: circa 3500 BCE in Sumer, but no historian can say how long Mesopotamia had religion before that. Regardless, all significant religions would be male dominated from 3150 BCE forward. I call all of this “patriarchy approved history” because academia discredits, downplays, ignores, suppresses, and will not fund research into early civilizations which may have done things differently.

Publishing anything in academic circles about a more balanced, harmonious, democratic, and sustainable way of living is not encouraged.

You and your children probably never heard anything in history class about African matriarchies dating back to 8000 BCE, nor are future generations likely to. The countries that could have shown us a better way have been completely conquered or destabilized by Western “interests” . . . destroying their cultures and much of their histories in the process. Prior to my rewrite of this section, I had compiled a list of what could be construed as signs of matriarchy throughout history, but it occurred to me that:

FEMALE RULE DOES NOT A MATRIARCHY MAKE.

So I scrapped it. There was hierarchy, militarism, and taxation systems evident in each, and these are the signs of patriarchy. The patriarchy loves pharaonic Egypt where one man was worshipped as a god. This became the touchstone.

It is a construct.

Patriarchy gave us aggressive autocracy, a class system, and the near total subjugation of women. What happens when a patriarchal society can no longer expand its borders and wealth through conquest? It turns inward on itself to exploit its own citizens and lands.

The patriarchy can never have enough.

It over-taxes, it makes cuts to education, it cuts social programs, it gouges for medicines, it suppresses reliable news sources and replaces them with propagandists, and it buys politicians and lawmakers as tools of the trade.

I now see racism, patriotism, sexism, political divide, corruption, inequality, a military industrial complex, the entertainment industry, higher education, the Internet, security agencies, and the porn industry as being functionaries of an unnatural and long-standing Patriarchy Program.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Question: When is a blow job no longer just a blowie?

Answer: When it is degrading the blower.

I have been studying human relationships for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Lately this, ahem, purely intellectual pursuit has led me to study the world of porn. My indoctrination into the objectifying sexist world of the patriarchy began at age twelve when a friend across the street discovered a stash of his father’s old Playboy magazines hidden deep in a crawlspace.

Each of us who were invited to take a look, stuffed a few magazines down our pants which helped a short time later to cover our erections as we walked hurriedly passed our moms to our rooms for about one minute of auto-erotic fun before finding a safe hiding spot for our new loves. Yes, we developed and talked about our attachments to our paper fantasy women. I would talk about how my girl Brandi loved to swim naked, and my friend would say how his Cindy-Jo likes to roll around in the barn wearing only cut-off shorts and suspenders.

A couple of years later, our supplier’s dad upgraded to Penthouse which was showing vagina so most of the neighbourhood boys switched as well. By the time Larry Flint hit the scene with Hustler, I had a regular supply of real vagina life support systems, a.k.a girlfriends, so I left porn mostly behind. The previous sentence shows how my objectification indoctrination into the patriarchy had taken hold at an early age. My view at the time was girls were in possession of boobs and vaginae and I really liked and wanted these things. A pretty face ranked third on my list of wants, and there was no thought whatsoever given to their minds. On the odd occasion when I had an opportunity to peek into Hustler, I remember not fully comprehending why any guy would want to look at these “hard core” women who weren’t nearly as pretty as the girls in Playboy or Penthouse.

Who wants a skanky slut who’s seen more dick ends than weekends?

Things have changed, and not for the better, but fortunately so have I. Did you know 90% of boys and 60% of girls are exposed to Internet porn by age 18? Do you also realize the extent to which the hard core porn industry dominates Internet browsers? I am a fan of Fine Art Nude Photography, but it is next to impossible to find photographers like Radoslaw Pujan through Bing or Google image searches because of the SEO strategies employed by the porn industry.

It’s as though they want to put the ugliest most degrading imagery of women in front of every casual passerby, and tragically, this includes our youth.

This does however explain all the submissive cum-dumpsters worshipping at the alter of cock we see everywhere these days.

This is not sex forward feminism. This is an abomination of that idea.

Trend following behaviours are indicators of a pliable psyche which is susceptible to mental conditioning.

I believe this to be the ultimate goal of today’s patriarchs which is best illustrated by young people who claim their sexual explorations, tattoos, piercings, and silver coloured hair are signs of their individuality. If you didn’t do it first, you are just proudly telling the world how easily you are led, how desperate you are to fit in, and how oblivious you are to being manipulated. These are badges of conformity-not independence -an acknowledgement of your submission to The Patriarchy Program.

The patriarchy really knows what it’s doing.

Can you say the same?

We are all indoctrinated into this system before we are wise enough to question it. If you want to break your chains or ensure your children do not succumb to these many forms of psychological programming, just teach them to never stop asking the question three-year-olds love to ask:

Why?

A questioning mind is a gift which will lead them to awareness and conscience. People so equipped can navigate life making fewer poor decisions which ultimately frees them from the unhappiness plaguing most of humanity. These true individuals can beat back the patriarchs merely by not playing along, and they will be needed in greater numbers than ever before in the next two generations. We have reached the tipping point.

Any “us and them” divide which blinds people with hate and rage is another victory for the patriarchs in their covert war on humanity.

Don’t be a joiner.

Saying no is the true mark of individuality and freedom of thought.

The first signs of spring: an intoxicated tirade?

Drinks on the deck!

I just had a large two-fingered scotch on the deck today. The temperature was fifteen degrees Celsius or almost sixty degrees Fahrenheit at lake level with a bit of wind.

Thirty-eight words in and I have used spell-check twice and a dictionary once. This does not bode well for the rest. Undoubtedly, my first attempt at impaired blogging will be a challenge so we will see how it goes from here.

I remember many years ago making recordings in my recording studio when the band was impaired. We thought we had “rocked out”, but the taped evidence reviewed the following day proved otherwise.

I can hear kids in a playground not far away. I just saw my first chipmunk. There are song birds again. I just came back from a long walk, and am rewarding myself for some achievement not yet apparent or accomplished.

My day was mixed with both failure and success; having lost an important paying gig, but also having very few issues with my ever expanding network of social media addicts.

It was a null day.

My twelve year old liquid friend and I sat out there for some time… mostly listening. Kids and birds aside, I noticed an ever-present high pitched whine or ringing in my head. I have not been near anything loud for some time, so I am not sure of its source or cause. It could be the universe down-loading these ideas into my head.

There is a damnable kid on a dirt bike interfering with the sanctity of my happy hour.

I think I will pour another.

The air is heavy with ozone. It is a Thursday afternoon. I do not typically touch “the stuff” until Friday evenings, so what is the deal?

I have had two verifiable concussions in my life to date; perhaps that explains the ringing. Perhaps it is a brain tumor, or perhaps it is just the result of an elevated heart rate from the exercise mixed with alcohol. I really do not care.

My back pain which has been nagging at me all week has magically disappeared, temporarily at least.

A friend just dropped by on his ATV to swap a few stories about vehicles, their manufacturers, emissions, the government, and run-ins with the law. It was a nice diversion.

I just processed a thought: just 200 more words and I’ll have a blog post.

Do I really have some unspoken warped sense of responsibility to put out a minimum of 500 words each week to a group of people who do not really know me, in order to garner some form of favor with some publisher that has yet to make their presence known?

I am having trouble spelling words, or at the very least, typing them.

If TV and movie stars can get into hot water by tweeting when they are impaired, then why can we not allow a relatively unknown author to write a blog in the same condition?

Who is he hurting?

An appropriate answer would be: himself, his reputation, his professional credibility, and the impeccable reputations of all “Indie Authors” around the world.

I don’t think so.

We writers, as a very large group, do not get noticed because WE ARE ALL TRYING SO DESPERATELY TO CONFORM to some theoretical ideal of what a writer should be, in order to gain the interest and APPROVAL of an agent or a major publishing house that in all likelihood will never read this crap anyway.

At 575 words, I have done my duty. Now 577- now 579. FYI, it is impossible to publish an accurate word count while continuing to write.

We authors should be celebrating and promoting our individuality.

I assure you that you will get the attention of publishers as a non-conformist. Have a sharp edge. Have a style. Be bad. Be special. Be different. Be unique. Be noticed. Be a ROCK STAR! I have known several throughout my life and I assure you there was not a single ORDINARY thing about them.

I am sure this blog will get me on a list of sites which are NOT KID FRIENDLY, and some code writing dork will be more than happy to keep this away from the impressionable minds of our youth. So be it.

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS BAD PUBLICITY otherwise there would not be thousands of pictures of nude actresses on the internet that, “coincidentally”, are “leaked” just prior to their film release.

Hemingway, Joyce, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Poe, Williams, Chandler wrote under the influence fulltime and they still sold books, so I should be forgiven for my minor lapse. Besides, it could be worse, I could have followed in the footsteps of writers like: Cocteau who did Opium, King who did Cocaine, Dick who did Speed, Burroughs who did Heroine, Kerouac who did Benzedrine, Stevenson who did Cocaine, and Thompson who did Acid.

I would like to thank the unofficial sponsor of this blog: George & J. G. Smith Ltd. makers of The Glenlivet and other fine products.

I see an endorsement deal in my future.