SamuraiBlog.com

Doesn't get much clearer than that, does it?

I was sitting in front of my computer this 4'th of July, kind of bored, not wanting to do anything due to the heat and pretty bitter about, well I don't know. As I began to go back through episodes of Bullshit! that I've easily watched 2-3 times each, already, something really started to click in my head. That "something" really pisses me off.

Over the years, until recently, I have been inundated with conservative talk radio. My dad listens to it all the time (though more recently out of humor more-so than actual political preference). I personally prefer punk rock, it just has a better beat. Anyway, on the subject of conservative talk radio there is a second-tier personality/host by the name of Neil Boortz. (boortz.com). Now, I really hate listening to conservative talk radio or any kind of mindless overweight flap-jaw with an agenda, and this doesn't exclude Boortz. One thing about Boortz, though, a part of his argument against public schools.

Boortz: Public Schools are BAD–
Me: Public Schools are BAD

See? We agree. But notice the two hyphens at the end of Boortz's sentence, he wasn't done talking yet.

Boortz (continued): Take your kids out of school right now (probably against their will) and put them in a private school (most of which are Christian, and cost as much, if not more than a school of higher teaching) where they will not be inundated with liberal propaganda–

Fuck it, I'm stopping him here. This dumb-fuck excuse for an intellectual truly believes that government controlled, public schools are a breeding ground for liberals. Now, I'm no progressive liberal by any means. Hold up just a second, though, who's our government run by?

Oh yeah.

So clearly, this guy is like all the other conservative talk radio hosts. I simply took two, maybe three paragraphs to point this out so you wouldn't think I was on his side, (and to point some other things out along the way, keep reading).

If I know one thing from my youth, (which I'm still experiencing, by the way), is that every time someone, namely adults talk to me in a condescending manor about a subject that I MIGHT care about, I am going to try to disprove them, in one way or another, even if I don't believe it. Now, why, why would I do that? Youth, for one, and God damnit, I'm going to keep riding that bitch as long as possible; until I finally have to fall back on "it's my personality"-which-no-one-likes-argument argument. So, for example, as a student in ANY school be it public or especially private schools, will want to rebel against their teachers. It's natural, I don't know why. But it seems to be invariably true to anyone with a pulse on our world today. To continue this example, "second-step" anti-violence or ridiculous abstinence campaigns, what will most kids reactions be?

To go get fucking laid and throw diplomacy out the window when it comes to menial disputes.

And this is exactly what's happening. This conservative, Christian bullshit is slapped in students faces and they want nothing to do with it. You, the simple-minded fucks are doing to your children, exactly what you think you need to pull them out for (at least in Neil Boortz-followers case). Ah, and don't *I* wish it were always the case; students suddenly come to and realize that everything they've been taught for twelve fucking years is bullshit? That wasn't the case, even for me. And just now, (see beginning) I have come into full realization of how fucking stupid it was. I feel both ashamed that I didn't know /then/ and both pissed off that I just figured out /now/.

If I regret one thing about dropping out, it's that now I can't stand up against letting them (as in these counselors, or otherwise unofficial "educators") tell me how to live my life. I was played. You may be too. I know most readers of this blog are still in school, and I'm not saying I'm the only one who realizes this, there are many, many people who do, even if just subconsciously. The problem isn't that you don't stand up and tell the so-called "educators" how wrong they are, it's that if you look around, what percentage of your class do you make up? One, at maximum five percent?

What if some of the things these people are "teaching" us are true? We can never know if we don't fuck up or learn from someone elses fuck ups. A preacher won't help you. Yourself and people around you are the only ones who can. If you're reading this, keep in mind the next time you attend your institution of choice(church, school, college, et cetera) what you may be missing out on by either ignoring (in many youth's case, as explained above), or following the advice of said preachers. I personally hate the feeling of being played like a marionette, but then again, that's just me.

-Sam

I figure I should compile a list of cunts that should just fucking die. As if the name and aperture to this post were not enough explanation, this will be the list of cunts off the top of my head that should just fucking die. Die cunts, die…

Cunt 1 Condoleezza Rice
From now on I will try to include a photographic representation of the cunts, despite the obvious aesthetic disadvantages to doing so. I am a realist though, and (as a realist) realize that some of you are more photographically inclined than textually, therefore, here you go:

Cunt.

Condoleezza Rice is currently a cunt. She is also Secretary of State of the United States of America as well as an wholesome Republican, God Fearing, cunt hailing from Birmingham, Alabama. Her father was a Minister of a Presbyterian Church and her mother was a music teacher. She is widely renown as being Black, but she is so thin I think we all know a little better. Condoleezza's security-oriented career has propelled her into the world of celibacy, gun-rights activism and our government. And despite it failing miserably to protecting our country, it has defended her female organs to the point of securing her very special top spot on my list of cunts that should die.

Cunt 2 Ann Coulter
Ann Coulter is probably the most disgusting cunt on this list, unless I get really lucky, I doubt I'll find any worse. Here is an actual photograph of this poor excuse for a woman:

I told you it was bad.

If you could not tell already, Ann Coulter is a stand up American. She believes in free rights for all Americans that can afford it, and thinks you are an fucking idiot if you do not agree with her. Ann Coulter, first and foremost, is a cunt. Regardless of the poignancy of this list, I think it should really sink in for Ann Coulter, her cuntness, that is. Everywhere she appears she is braced with stacks of her right-wing books including such magical titles as Godless: The Church of Liberalism, Treason: Liberal Treachery from the Cold War to the War on Terrorism, and Slander: Liberal Treachery. She is also apparently not aware of how obscenely disturbing her figure is and includes a massive picture upon every hard cover. Ann Coulter is not satirical, witty or even aware of the quick sand pit that has become her lower hemisphere. Ann Coulter is a cunt, and Ann Coulter should die.

Cunt 3 Ingrid Newkirk
You should note that this list is in no specific order of hatred or deservence of death. They are numerically indexed for quick lookup on the web page, and reference, should you forget the names of these cunts in any discussions you may have. I digress, lets have a look at this next bottom feeder:

Ingrid loves cocks.

Don't believe a thing you see. Despite holding a decent-sized cock in her arms, she is in all reality, a lesbian herbivore. Ingrid Newkirk is the current president of PETA, and, as such, a politician. Her cuntocity allows her to be a competitive lobbiest, propagandist and leader of nearly a million vegans. Need I say more? Yes. As I quickly perused her website, the egotistically named, "ingridnewkirk.com," I found she is in loving obsession with her organization, PETA (the, uhh, vegan fucks). She is so obsessed in fact biographical information talks about nothing but PETA, so I will assume they are the same thing, here. Therefore, Ingrid Newkirk has perhaps the largest sum of cunt at approximately a saturation of 850,000:1. My hatred for this power hungry cunt is so deep, I can literally not write words that can encompass such feelings. Ergo, my emotions are to you but the fact stands, Ingrid Newkirck is a cunt and should fucking die.

Cunt 4 Hillary Clinton
Politicunt, n, vb. politicunts - Hillary Rodham Clinton (see FUCKA)

Seamen disposal unit.

Via suggest-a-cunt, Hillary Clinton, like every other cunt on this list is a power manifesting shit stain on our society. She enjoys long walks on the beach to collect sand in her vagina, speaks in public about her desired educational policies and cunt bagging with other rich fucks like her about the demonic affects of video games on our youth. Hillary Clinton is possibly the largest politicunt on this list, as she was rumored to be a past "first lady," and has even reached the prestigious title of a senator of the United States of America. With her extensive experience in politics, Hillary is a self-appointed official government FUCKA (Fellatio in Unbelievably Corpus Kismet Amounts) and genitalia inspector (specifically the length, or lack thereof). She supports gay marriage and hopes some day to wed a man herself. Hillary, like so many other openly idealistic socialist, world-government supporting cunts, not surprisingly (due to cunt status) is a rich mother fucker. Hillary Clinton, a lawyer, a politician, a deservedly dead cunt.

In many jurisdictions in the United States of America, this post is considered assault. Come get me, because you know I'm an easy target. The UCLA wouldn't even touch the sick fuck who wrote this post, so have at me, CUNTS.

Suggest-a-cunt? Leave a comment and I'll give them the proper attention they deserve.

-Sam

I really, really am.

Maybe when I'm more collected and not pissed off at everyone and everything I'll write more about it, but I think I've captured the point pretty accurately.

Brokeback Mountain Review

Part 1 (safely skipped if you've already watched this movie):
Brokeback Mountain starts the story somewhere in the west in 1963 with a cowboy, Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) arriving at a sheep ranch after hitch hiking his way there. Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) is introduced as the rodeo. They are hired to herd sheep on Brokeback Mountain. The two, through their time in the mountain expose their homosexuality and fall in love. The viewer will no doubt be uncomfortable as two men go at it in the woods at night in a scene which I felt was too long. I skipped past the 3 minute scene as it might have ruined the movie for me otherwise. Poor choice made by the director here. Luckily for me, they chose to conceal it visually, though not all theater viewers will have the same luxury as I did in skipping forward.

The part and leave the ranch because of an early winter and don't see each other for four years. In that time span they both get married and have kids. Ennis, married with two kids to Alma (Michelle Williams) has a seemingly normal relationship with the woman until Jack sends him a post card. They go on a 'fishing trip' and one can imagine what happened from there. It's all left to the viewer though to assume which I thought was a good choice. It allows the more shallow audience to think obviously hot gay sex but in reality it's just the execution of an average prohibitive relationship one finds in movies all the time.

They have rendezvous on Brokeback Mountain for about 10 years at about 2-3 per year. Through the events I won't outline here, Ennis divorces his wife. He has been poor through the whole movie and now has to work more so he can continue to pay child support. This puts a strain on Ennis and Jack's relationship which is still sparsely carried. With this added stress the two eventually split up. (hurrying now…) Jack dies and the movie ends with a sad Ennis. ;-) Just watch the movie.

Part 2 (the good stuff):
Now that I've got all that shit out of the way, let's debunk some of the bullshit surrounding this movie.

To start off, one should notice the time period this movie takes place in. 1963 was a whole different animal than it is today for gays in this country. So why the controversy? It doesn't take place in 2003 where this type of activity is acceptable and there is no hint of the modern homosexual male stereotype. Back then, gays were probably considered communists or something…

To continue, the homosexual tones in this movie are no more than that of (for example) American Beauty. If one were to take an average sappy love story about a prohibitive relationship and replace the woman with Jack, you have Brokeback Mountain. It's that simple. In this day and age there should be nothing special about this movie. Movie critics and awards establishments around the world though seem to be in one big collaborative orgasm over this film—for what? A sappy love film, honestly…

I do know why and half the heterosexual people who've watched this film know why it's so ridiculously popular though. We all share alike opinions. What did you expect? How could movie critics not eat this movie up? By giving this movie good reviews they tell every publication out there “I am not homophobic and if that guy gives this movie a bad review then he obviously isn't with the times and is and therefore his column in your publication is worth nothing, here take mine, it's better because I'm not a homophobe. Did I mention I'm not a homophobe?” It's marketable! Movie award establishments around the world follow this same frame of thought. Good Christians all over America are up in arms about this–except one thing, they think it's about accepting homosexuality. It's consumerism, folks.

Now for an actual score. I don't give movie's scores, scores are for pussies who can't read. Here are some merits and demerits for this movie:

Merits:

• Beautiful scenery
• Supporting actors (with the exception of Ennis' older daughter) preformed well
• Did not shy away from cursing
• Quality cinematography
• Well produced for an independent film
• Homosexuality was not over toned
• Time is presented well throughout

Demerits:

• Two main actors made poor cowboys and were poor actors generally
• Cinematography is boring in some parts
• Some fights looked like they were staged on a middle school playground
• Could have been shorter
• The one gay sex scene (though covered up) was still overdone
• Average storyline
• Dialog could use some major work, inconsistent

The bottom line: an average movie that the movie industry found a marketable reason to exploit.

-Sam

I hate soccer moms. I'll get it out right here that I can't stand these vaginally defunct human beings.

Here is some general misconceptions about soccer moms:

• They care about their kids.
• They care about the soccer team
• They give a shit about how their overcooked beansprout salad tastes

Soccer moms are not just that. Soccer moms come in many shapes and sizes, from the eco-friendly-sandy-vagina variety to the whore looking for poon on the soccer field.They are a world-wide race who's only purpose in life is to piss me off. Soccer moms eventually evolve into tupperware-party-loving, shit-quilt-making dried up old cunts who live off their husband or the government. Listening to these twats for more than 5 minutes will result in immediate loss of substances from your body, most importantly testosterone.

In a soccer mom's mid life she will produce one child. This child will eventually grow up to be a prat that I will find no difficulty in hating. He will likely marry a cunt like his mom to replace her after the tragic death in her Subaru Outback which was a result of a small bump that I hardly noticed in my truck. They, too, will bear only one child but this time he won't make the mistake of buying her a new Subaru Outback, it'll be a Hummer H2.

I fucking hate soccer moms. I hate their husbands, I hate their kids. Most of all, I hate their god damn sandy vaginas. I don't need them and therefore the world doesn't need them. The world would be a better place to shit in people's mouths without these cunts running all over the place making a stink about the stink. They have no capacity to comprehend real hatred, especially the hatred I have toward them. If these twats would stop opening their legs for that one time in their life, I would not have to put up with their silicon-enriched offspring.

Fuck soccer mom skin. I hate their god damn skin. Why the fuck is it always eternally both freckled and god damn tan. I hate tans because of these soccer moms. If soccer moms didn't have eternal tans I wouldn't have to paint myself white in the summer so I didn't look so dried up. Essentially, I am too ashamed to have a tan for fear of being remotely associated with these people.

I wouldn't fuck a soccer mom to save my life. The only sex position they know is doggie-style, that is, you, bending over a chair with their big dick in your ass because upon marrying one you agree to be in this position for the rest of your life. If the next time you think you're having sex you accidentally end up in the doggie-style position, with your wife's hard cock riding your ass PLEASE do the rest of your life a favor and kill her tomorrow.

Do yourself a favor and kill a soccer mom today.

I didn't expect it to, if anything I expected it to piss me off and my instincts provided to be reliable yet again.

Bleeh, fuck.

-Sam

As much as I love winter, the baggage that it comes with is hardly bearable.

Thanksgiving, football, Christmas, family, quality time–where do people get this shit? Not only do you have the expectations to do something exceptional for people you can hardly stand, but you have to do it in a certain fake happy context. I can tell where this essay is going.

Part One

I swear, I don't understand. We're told all of our lives, this is what you do. You give gifts this time of the year. You, for example, go to school until you're 18 and then if you wish to be successful, you continue onto college. I don't understand? No. No one understands. How could they understand? They haven't looked outside and seen what's out there. There's something much different, nothing grand, but entirely different. A life with a purpose, not some lethargic journey toward death. We work all year, put a little aside for that special someone when we're EXPECTED to give.

How special is that? Certainly, one feels special when they receive a gift when they're supposed to. Certainly, one feels special giving a gift when they're expected to. Surely, everyone can enjoy family when we're supposed to. Are you even running your own life?

Oh, but Sam, what about convenience? We don't get time off from work throughout the year, so when else can we do it? How are we supposed know when is the right time to let others know they're appreciated? Please tell me! I don't know how to run my life without some sort of guidance. –That's honestly how ignorant it sounds to me. In my opinion, if you really cared about any of it, it'd get done, don't lie to yourself and pull everyone down with you.

I'm starting to loose hope. A few weeks ago I thought everyone had the same ability to understand what I do. I no longer am so sure. I'll ask, "You know you understand, I know you understand, don't you?" No reply, blank expression or anger.

You're treating your life like a 7th grade creative writing assignment. Taking a shotgun full of meaningless adjectives and peppering your paper with it. I don't doubt your teacher gave you anything less than an "A" for your efforts, and it made you feel good.

And good you still feel in your middle-aged, middle-incomed, middle-America life, accomplishing something because you brought a life into the world? So amazing isn't it? How we can emerge from another human because of a chemical reaction that took place 8 months ago during conception. So… significant, isn't it? Then we go through the rest of our life, expecting shit from our kids we wish we would have done as a kid. We expect them do do it.. because you gave them life? Because you fucked, you expect another being to repay you? Not only from your kid to you expect a return, you expect it for everyone you do a favor for. If you don't get your return, what's going to happen to you? You did something selfless? (gasp)

Part Two

I don't care. Millions of people start and finish this cycle every day–there's nothing that I can or want to do to stop it. It's third party to me, it hardly matters. What does throw me off, though, is that everyone is so evangelistic about what they believe. Our media happens to be run by these types of people. Our entire world is run by these type of people; our entire world is trying to evangelise–can you see where the anger stems from now? Every day, someone tells me to be happier, "Look at me! I overcame cancer, isn't life great!?" Or, "Look at me, Jesus gives me a reason to live!" If I was a fire, this shit would be kerosene.

I don't live for bullshit. I don't live to send a message, I don't live to let you know what I think. Why are you even reading this in the first place? Not because I want you to know, not because I drew you in. This is a intentionally poorly written piece, you should have stopped at the second paragraph. It's long enough to potentially discourage the reader from seeing the hypocrisy that is inherent in this kind of piece. Shame on me, the hypocrite. You're reading it because you don't get to hear from me much any more. You're reading it because you don't know me very well. You're reading it because you want to know what the fuck that punk is up to. You're not reading it because I told you to. Now roll your eyes, I know you want to.

To be creative–that is why I live. When I'm being creative, like right now, I'm not doing it for anyone. I'm not doing it to make money, I'm not doing it to make friends, I'm not doing it to fall in love, I'm not doing it so you'll understand. I'm doing it because I want to. I'm doing it because I'm angry.

Hopefully everyone that knows me well enough realizes this this essay and the previous and following statements aren't necessarily directed at them. If it happens to be, oh well. Fuck it. I'm going to continue to be creative throughout my life. I'll die before I sink back into normality. I may make money at it–people like to pay to see something different and I guarantee to myself that I'll create something different.

In absolutely no connection to how I began this piece, I conclude.

-Sam

So, here we are again, and welcome.

I write this blog entry mostly to welcome myself back to this world. For the past few years, I have been distant, detached, alone and afraid of what might happen. I no longer am afraid, I know what I have to do.

I've told my friends who are in need of advice forever, "You know what you have to do." And that's it. I've never told them to do it, I've never told them what it is they had to do. It's time I took some of my own advice.

I have let the internet get to me. The ease in which I can connect to friends, foes and worldly advice has become so easy in this age that it means I hardly had to leave my room to acquire anything I wanted. I've never really had a desire to acquire material items. I used my computer parts to connect my computers together and connect to the internet. As in the Matrix, I no longer lived in the real word. My real personality is only apparent on the internet and I started to become it in real life. While I may not have enjoyed it, never-the-less, it's what I did. Every night, all night, every weekend, all weekend. I used the internet as a social cortex upon which I applied who I wanted to be–and no doubt, I could be it. SamuraiBlog.com, the website I created I abused. I became more myself on the internet than I ever had been in real life.

I have sinned myself. I have mistrusted myself with real people in real life. I have hidden emotionally as an individual behind text in a chat room or posts on a forum. While I have enjoyed this, I have grown into it as a way of life. It's literaly all I do. While I may have excuses like living away from town or just plain being shy, I'm tired of it, and I'm going to fix it.

I have learned an inexplicable amount of knowledge about myself in the past few moments. It was always there, but finally I can express it in words; a quintessential step in understanding for me.

I no longer want to view the internet as a way to be individual. The internet is a tool, not a way to acquire worldly advice because those providing the advice suffer from the same affliction as I am identifying as I type. Just because I was being more who I wanted to be, doesn't mean I was being who I was. There is no repercussion for that on the internet; create yourself another identity. I've done it. There are several different versions of samuraisam's scattered throughout the internet, all fairly unique in the information they share and even their personality, tailored carefully to each specific community he's a member of.

As I type, I'm still trying to figure out what this means for me. I no longer want to live on the internet. It's not real.

I am nearing the completion of my decision. It's very real now; I can feel it. On the other side of my decision I feel like a little kid who has just been given a milion dollars and let loose in a toy store. There's so much to do! I thought, just hours ago that I didn't care about anything. It's changed a bit.

I still haven't lost my apprehensive feeling about this decision. I'm so comfortable living where I am right now its sickening. No matter how depressed or pissed off I've been, I've still been comfortable doing it (and then talking about it as if openly on the internet). I realize now where my mistake is. I can't enjoy life being comfortable (and I haven't been, I've been miserable). In order to be literally alive, individual, emotional, HUMAN, I have to no longer be comfortable. In my non-conformity I've lost sight of what I am and became comfortable. I've believed myself to be a punk while still being a tool to the online society; I was a fake in real life and even more-so in the online community.

But no matter how fake I was, I still hated other fakes and now I hate who I was just mere hours ago. I have no self pity. I'm not a fan of pity, especially for tools.

I have some major lifestyle changes ahead. There are some major, lifestyle altering, habits that I have to break. One of these is what I so adoringly created (with masses of help of course), nurtured and put great effort and time into. SamuraiBlog.com will go no where, but I'm hardly thinking of that right now. I'll be downgrading my army of computers and cutting my alternate personalities off completely. The small details matter in a small world, but it's just about to get a whole_lot_bigger.

-Sam

I don't want do something that I'm going to regret.

But I'm regretting what I'm doing already.

So here it goes…

-Sam

If we ignore the cathedral¹ layer of society and pay attention to the bazaar² layer, we will find that the bazaar layer is thinning drastically. Society tends to focus more on the cathedral layer because we see it as the thing that gets us somewhere in life. We see people on television, nearly any sitcom, the characters are rich and happy. Things always work out. Who is to tell their viewers this is not reality, it’s merely entertainment? Common sense certainly doesn’t tell them. One of the most fundamental goals to these people is to ‘get somewhere.’ They must be at the top of something, by some age, or they feel like they have failed. I will discuss why we don’t necessarily need to get to a place of power in life to be happy and explore alternative ways to be happy.

The social cathedral is devouring the bazaar. It seems that ‘with anyone that wishes to be anyone’ they must advance in their career to a place of power. Even with those who still exist in the bazaar, slowly, they are devoured too. Chance, in the movie Being There exists in the bazaar (if not voluntarily or consciously) but is still being drawn in. His fresh atmosphere is slowly being polluted. Truman, in the movie The Truman Show is also being devoured in the same way. His world was perfect. The only flaws were those of his God, the creator of the show. These two characters were perfectly happy in their worlds. They, eventually, were corrupted. After all, Truman’s God, the creator of the show, made a good deal of money (ignoring his emotional attachment to Truman).

The problem with the bazaar is this: We are afraid of it. We are afraid of it like the thought that there is no God. I mean, if there is no God, what is there? Likewise with the bazaar. If there is no top-of-the-food-chain, what is there? Before our time of television and radio, we ‘knew’ less people. More or less, now, we know these people in television because they are more accessible than books. They take less time to absorb, they are easier to get to know. One will take less time getting to know quality characters existing in books and stories and more time getting to know the two main characters of Mortal Combat because it has big shiny things (explosions, muscles, soft-pornography). We even go as far as to buy their products to be them (as in The Truman Show).

In order to be a part of the bazaar, one must commit ’social suicide.’ Chance from Being There didn’t have to do this, he already existed in his atmosphere fresher than most. Social suicide is creating that atmosphere. You have to begin to ignore all of the little, mundane, details of life. You have to be the character rather than dress like him or listen to his music. In the bazaar there exists pure freedom. The only problem is, you have to not be afraid. You have to let go of your emotional attachments to everything that is trivial and fake! Like all the people of Pleasantville in the movie, Pleasantville. Their life was filled with mundane things. Even things that we consider wholesome and good, to them was just another emotionless part of life. It took David and Jenifer to really show them what life should be about, to introduce them to the bazaar. To show them what romanticism really is. In Pleasantville, George, the Father of Bud and Mary Sue and husband to Betty, doesn’t seem to appreciate the dinner when he gets home. An amusing, illustrative and exclamatory statement made by George is, “Where’s my dinner?