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Monkeys and House Guests…

05 Dec

House guests are wonderful things … they tend to remind us all why we aren’t where we once were in our lives.  Why we’ve moved on – because a lot of the time – we don’t realise we’ve moved on … until we see someone from the past who hasn’t.  This can be a good thing or a bad thing…. not the house guest who still is living in the past and trying like hell to drag you back there — that’s bad – the retrospection, the looking back and seeing where you are – and where they aren’t – that’s good. If you have a good image of the world and yourself – it’s a great thing to look back and pat yourself on the back.  My arms aren’t that long – so I’m not as impressed with myself as I guess other people are with themselves or their vision of what things that once were.  Objects in the rear view mirror my friends, are often closer than they really are… a great philosopher at some auto manufacturer spoke those words and they should be engraved on peoples foreheads with a dull #2 pencil until you hit bone.

Case in point – "house guest" came by over the holidays and he’s  an old friend who I’ve always respected, known him for years.  This is practically family right?  And after 30 minutes alone with him –  he reinforced why I’m not where I once was in life.  We spent several days together where he told me alllllll about his current life and what is new in it – that can be summed up in a few sentences.  "I’m older.  My job sucks. My life is going nowhere.  I have no plans for the future.  I never grew up.  My mother still does my laundry. She’s fed up doing my laundry.  I thought I’d bring it and do it here."

People like this … need to be living in Oregon where they can be legally euthanized for the betterment of society.  I love him dearly – but let’s face it – he’s stuck in a CD Life Track that has a scratch so deep it’s causing it to jump back to where it started over and over.  He’s not just reliving his mistakes – he’s INTENTIONALLY repeating them – and wants to know why.  Why his life sucks … and everyone elses doesn’t.  And he will not LEAVE the life that sucks – or my house – until I’ve understood the depths of his despair and misery, which he will not forsake, even if his life depends on it.  In essence, he wants to know the answer to the eternal question of our lives, "Why Me?".

In the words of my brother the Mildthing… "I’m out here… and you’re … In There…".  Okay – so Mildthing was taunting an animal in a cage – but you get the point, which is they’re not "out here" in the real world.  They live in a fucking in a fantasy world were air is clean and sex is dirty and people are supposed to be able to get ahead without skull fucking each other and blah, blah, blah, I’m alone… blah, blah, blah, life sucks because it’s not my fantasy world that I want.  News for everyone out there – there is no fantasy world.  There is only the real world.

In the real world it’s a nasty dirty place where people get hurt and they die and they hurt each other and in general are about two spaces away on the genetic ladder from being considered the kind of monkey that tosses it’s feces indiscriminatly at people to mark their space.  (Not unlike most of the "reporters" at FoxNews.)

That’s the real world.  The real world sucks.  People hate you.  You screw things up.  You don’t get elected prom queen.  You don’t make Captain of the Football team.  The boss gives the choice assignments to the know-nothing ass-kisser who promptly drops the work on you – so they can get the credit.

This happens so much – we tend to forget that it’s even there.  We tend to forget because we too – are just like everyone else – every last one of the people out there are monkeys in the zoo of life.  And we – yes – we too – are just  monkeys that toss shit at each other in an effort to mark our little ittty bitty territory – which just like the monkeys that do that – is usually nothing more than the 2 ft by 2 ft square we’re standing on.  Bottom line people – we’re animals.  We do not deserve the moniker "human". 

So – here’s my take on the world from a monkey perspective… and from my 2×2 square feet of real estate.  First off – relationships – we’re all supposed to get along, and the truth is – we can’t get along even when we’re mating.  We don’t understand each other and we never will.

Ladies, I’m gonna tell you the truth – the real truth okay?  Most men out there … don’t give a rats fat ass if you have a mind or a personality.  In fact, your mind and your personality are the last thing we want to know about.  Because if you have a mind, and you have a personality that means you’re going to use them and once you do God freakin help us all because you won’t shut up long enough for men to sleep with you which is really all we care about.

We like you as friends, and as friends, we can get along.  But you’ll never be a "male friend" to a man k?  Don’t care how many "male friends" you have – you’re not one of us.  It’s a private club and you do not have the little card that says, "Official Member of the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club" even if you’re lesbian.  You know why?  Because no matter how well you talk to us – you cannot communicate with us.  You do not now, nor will you ever – speak our language, and I’ll tell you why.  Real male friends do not discuss the events of the day.  We bitch about them and we praise stupid things even we do not understand like big cars, big computers, big fish, big this and big that … but that’s the extent of things.  We are materialists in the purist form.  We like physical things.  You don’t – you think you do – but you don’t.  Not like we do.  We like the purist essence of physical things – not for ourselves – but for what we can do with them and more importantly for what they do for us.

Men do not buy big cars because we want big cars – we buy them because they represent power.  Same with power tools, same with beers – we buy those things which enhance our power or prestige, and those things which do not – we bitch about, treat like hell and in time dump off on someone else or just leave out for the elements to do their best.  We may – after a time – rediscover them – use them a few more times – but we’ll be on the look out for one better or newer. 

Which is why men and women do not become friends until one of us or the other decides to compromise and understand this and many other fundamental differences.  Men want power.  Physical power we can touch and hold and know it’s there.  We want power that is a conquering power.  Once we conquer it we could care less.   It’s dead.  It’s not coming back – and if it does – we’ll deal with it then.  No need to talk about it – it’s over.   It’s like doing the lawn – we did it once this year isn’t that fucking enough???  What the fuck do we need to make it look like Martha Stewarts house in upstate with all the frriggin topiary??  We could care less what the neighbors think – unless they have a bigger power mower, or power tools to do the yard – in which case – we’ll need to gear up and conquer that damn yard like we’re storming the fuckin-beaches-at-Normandy-all-or-nothing-death-to-those-that-oppose-us-Kirk-Douglas-John-Wayne-Were-Pussies-get-this-yard-done kinda thing.

Women on the other hand want material things only to support nonmaterial yearnings.  You want power – but it’s a different kind of power.  You want domination power – the kind of power that allows you to dominate.  You’re all about controll.  You’re about knowing that you’re the one running the show even if you don’t say it – and Dog forbid you think it because that’d be in bad taste and that’s not how you are – kind of controll.  That’s it.  You guys could care less about your cars, and all the crap men care about because to you – they’re a means to an end.  They get you from point A to point B – and who the fuck cares what’s between the two right?  If it’s not something you can mount and force it to your will – – it’s not  you, but it does have to be ABOUT you.  Because – you need to be in control.

Being in controll makes you feel safe.  Talking about things – allows you to review over and over how you could do this or that better and give you an edge, so that in that situation – when you get in it again – you can control it – and make yourself feel safe.  The safest people are those in control – those who dominate the situation.  So to you – it’s all about domination, whether you admit it – even to yourself – or not.  Now most women will not admit that they want to dominate and controll everything – even though they do.  You know why?  Because who ever is in control has power and those in power – tend to be attacked – and that’s not safe.  So you hide your agendas from even yourselves. 

From all of this you may think I dislike or have something against women – quite the contrary – I respect this trait in women – even am jealous of it to some extent, as I think all men are at the neanderthal level.  We know you have the power.  And so … we want you. 

Which is why men and women are made for each other – one has a need to conquer – the other has a need to take over after the conquering is done.

And herein is the root of all evil in relationships on this planet.  Men want to conquer, women want to dominate – and friends from the past that look you up to get "reaquainted"… have never left the past.   If they had – they wouldn’t be over at your place eating your food and in general treating you like you’re a friggin ComfortINN in Vegas with the free bar that starts at 6 for all guests.  They are past life leeches that need to have the salt of life sprinkled on’em to get them off you, and women will invite them in – because they know the more confusion there is the more control they can achieve.  The more you see just how bad it could be … the more you’ll want them.  It’s a tactical move on their part – first they give you power tools and toys for xmas – then they invite old friends to stay. 

Cruel but lethal in the combination of positive and negative reinforcement control.

Argue with me all you want you know I’m right.  It’s devious – it’s cunning – but there is one thing they’ve forgotten in bringing this pesitlence into your 2×2 square feet that is your sanity and domain… you need to remember one thing.

They are no longer your friends.  You know how you can tell?  Because they no longer bitch moan and whine about the same shit that you do.  They no longer tell you what the hell they think – and have you instantly agree.  Once you agreed because you had something in common – now you do it just to be nice.  And since when the hell did "being nice" equate to telling the truth right?

If I told people the truth I’d have to start out with – "Listen up because I’m only saying this once… You know nothing.  You’re a friggin moron with an attitude and no back bone.  You’re spineless and that’s why people walk all over you while you cop an attitude about how not spineless you are.  You are lazy.  If you were seriously committed to yourself, your future, your life, you wouldn’t be here whining to me about life – you’d be out living it.  You need to cut your hair conform to the world in your public life – dump the bitch (bitch meanin the world … or possibly that she-shrew you came with) and be yourself in your private life and just like anyone with a secret lover on the side … never ever let the two meet.  Which is by the way the only way to be happy and make both work… Then after you get your fucking monkey nuts sized brain wrapped around that concept, go out and get a real job you give a shit about enough to put in some real effort into making it into a career.  Because right now you’re just pissing all overyourself like some lame ass retard that runs around saying, "I don’t know what to do…", so until you do… Quit yappin your fuckin head off,  pass me the fuckin pretzles, drink you beer, sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up and let me watch the fuckin movie that is planet earth – without interuptions…"  — but instead I usually tone it down to "Hi, how’s it going?".

 

Somebody fucking shoot me… and clean this god damn monkey cage – it’s starting to stink here when I break down to lower myself into casual conversation.  I know it’s "polite" but frankly polite is highly overrated and doesn’t get the job done like being blunt does.  And just for the record – this does not just apply to house guests – we’re all fucking house guests on this planet.  We’re here to do something, get the fucking job done, and go somewhere else – even if somewhere else is just to go take a permanent dirt nap.

Ben Franklin said, "Fish and House Guests Stink after 3 days.", the man was friggin genius – but his timing was off.  They stink at day one – it’s just that after 3 days the stench becomes unbearable and it’s time to toss’em out.  And I’m not saying I don’t like having friends and family over – I’m saying … if you’re a house guest – then you aren’t a friend and you’re not family – you’re a "house guest".   I love having friends and family come by… see friends and family – we know we can talk no matter how long it’s been.  We can agree to disagree, we can fight, argue, drink beer, fart, whatever – it’s all good.  You know why?  Because family does not sit around whining about how the house needs to be cleaned up – they roll up their sleeves and clean it up, and by "house" I don’t mean the literal "house" – I mean this planet we all live in.  I mean our lives.  I mean ourselves.  All definitions apply. 

Anyone who walks into your space – your world – your house – and takes up your time and insults the condition of it – deserves to be tossed out on their butt.  Anyone who walks into your space – sees a mess and offers to clean it up or at least cleans up after themselves – that’s family.

 

So … if your world sucks – stop being a house guest in it – stop being a monkey throwing shit at everything and everyone – and roll up your sleeves and clean the mess you’ve made up on your life.  If you want to join the family of man, start acting like one.  Then when you’re done cleaning house… get a hair cut, grow a pair and get a job to help pay some of the friggin bills you’re piling up all over hell. 

Be responsible for yourself and you can join the men’s conversations about how powerful the new toys are you plan to use to conquer your world – or the womens conversations about how you plan to dominate the world – – with or without the assistance of a man to conquer it. Or… you can continue to be just another monkey in the zoo – tossin yer feces at everything and everyone – and being used as a pawn to controll and be controlled by women.

My two cents on the subject for this week. Sit down, you’re blocking the view of the monkeys, and pass me some more pretzels.

 

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Posted by on December 5, 2004 in Social Comment

 

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