The Return of "What the Fuck have you been doing anyway, Scumfuck?"

I've been modifying myself to a more low profile presence online.  Not for any strategic reasons or anything; I've just been a slag heap of ennui and nihilism lately and I didn't want to fill this blog with emo poetry.  I'm living a single life now, switching jobs, and my goalposts have been moved from "homeownership with an eye for future compound building" to "Pay ALL the utilities on time."  No sympathy required; I'm a fuckup, a scumfuck even, and nine tenths of what I am suffering is 100% deserved.

In the process, I've been amassing a steady collection of rejection letters and working on the next book, training, parenting up a storm and trying to figure out how to actually run my life by myself.  Like most lunatics, I have fucked up a lot on my own and, God willing, learned something from it.  I also gave myself a year off of following politics, which helped remarkably with my blood pressure.  And I've been running a DCU superheroes game that is, quite frankly, one of my best campaigns-at least that's something.

In the future you can look forward to more ravings and such; I know you love that shit.  For now, let me just say it's nice to be back in Arkham with you freaks.

Shhh....

I am not, in fact, dead (or even undead) at this time.  Some of you have used various means to contact me and check on my welfare; that is seriously awesome of you but I am OK.

My world stagnates when it's not burning, but I am almost ready to join civilization again.  

I have wandered deep in the wild and wooly beyond of Xanax and Sodomy, and returned intact-I hope.  Soon you will all be subject to the merciless scalpel of my bent logic once again, and somehow be better for it.  But I have to get my shit together just a little more before I can accept regular visitors to my funhouse.

Thank you for your concern and patience, you fucking degenerates. 

Nothing like 0945 on a Thursday morning...

...to take up the family business, which is hardcore alcoholism.

Sorry blogosphere.  I know you aren't interested in my problems, but I'm in the process of getting kicked to the curb, going from nearly a homeowner to effectively homeless over the course of the past 72 hours.

Life moves on in Babylon, as it surely must.  But it has to move on without me today-I'm fucking drunk.

FALIMT - Good Golly Miss Mollie

Now I'm not trying to brag like I'm some kind of max level Cultist of Ectasy slash Hunter S. Thompson hardcase, but this ol' scumfuck has been around the block a time or two.  Let me tell you, if they tell you Mollie is something new and different, they are wrong.  It's some kind of concentrated X/MDMA type of deal.  There's an upper in there, but I couldn't quite identify it, and of course the ultra squishy feel good happy buzz of the X itself.  I would regard it firmly in the hallucinogenic category but it doesn't get you contemplative really, just gives you a righteous body buzz and a burst of energy.  The only real head change is the grinding down of social inhibitions.

Why is this relevant?  Well, when I first decided I was going to Bonnaroo, I had decided I was going to try some Mollie.  It seems to be the festival drug du jour, we never get it in Bloomington, and it was something I hadn't tried before.  Had I known it was more or less analagous to E, I probably wouldn't have-but maybe I would have, don't know, I'd already taken my first dip when I found out.  The principal difference between it and the E I was getting in 2007 or so is that it hits you fast-if you lick the powder ("taking a dip") you start feeling something within five or six minutes instead of fifteen to sixty.  But I wouldn't regard the sensation as radically different and I've never found MDMA based drugs to be terribly pleasant, although it does grind out my awkwardness enough that I can try to dance.

Can't exactly say why I just had to try it, really-perhaps just as a reaction against my 30's, some desperate need to prove to myself that I am still hardcore despite my mortage, my kid, the whole white picket fence lifestyle I've built for myself-or had built for me-despite all of the nihilistic predictions of my teenage years.  About the furthest out in space I got on the stuff was a long imaginary conversation with my Nephandi, who berated me about that very subject-and I can do that stone cold sober, god help me.

Really, the best time I had out there was on shrooms, and that's mostly because a) I'm comfortable with the trip and know myself well enough to dose effectively and b) because all my friends were tripping at the time and a collective trip is always better than a solo one.  Miss Mollie is a hell of a drug-a HELL of a drug-just like MDMA is.  But I don't see why people consider it so fucking revolutionary or so amazing, nor why it is the big festival drug, with every third motherfucker walking up and down the lines going MOLLIE? MOLLIE? MOLLIE? like he's looking for his lost sister.

I wonder how much of myself I would destroy, just to deny the fact that I'm getting old and boring?  I think that's the only question I can really take away from this.  I thought on it long and hard on my last night at 'Roo, which was Father's Day anyway and always a depressing one for me.  Its easy to see how Mollie, or any drug that is all happy with no crash, can be insidious-alcohol at least has the advantage of being a toxin, telling you when you've gone too far, but all Mollie does is make you kind of thirsty and you can go up-up-up and on-on-on as long as you like. Fortunately I have no real urge to do Miss Mollie again-the only tangible benefit of it on my end was a temporary reprieve on my awkwardness, and I can get that from Jack Daniels.

Good night, scumfucketeers.  I'll discuss some of the other 'Roo drugs, and the cultures surroudning them, in tomorrow's entry.

FALIMT - Shouldn't We Talk About The Music?

So I figure I'll get my discussion about the music out of the way so I can talk about the culture and the drugs.  (Not that I'm not a music whore, but the sociological and chemical implications are more interesting to discuss.)

Oddly, the band we were all talking about after 'roo was Weird Al.  I've always casually liked Weird Al, both as a kid and as an adult.  But I might actually be a Weird Al fan after his show.  Unlike most shows at the 'roo, his started on time to the minute-at midnight the lights went out and the video intro started, the mark of a true professional.  All of it was tightly choreagraphed and hilarious.  The videos he played during the costume changes were all funny and well chosen, usually leading right into the song he was about to play.  And his skills are actually pretty impressive, particularly his rapping-when he came out with White and Nerdy, he actually rapped on a motherfucking segway while zooming around the stage.  I guess when you've been in the business for 40 years as the very metric of fame (according to no less than Kurt Cobain) you truly gain a feel for showmanship.  Surely part of my good experience with Weird Al's show was because it was the nerdiest tent at the 'Roo-all the cool kids were off at R. Kelly or Wu Tang or whatever the fuck it is cool kids like and that meant the preshow conversation was better than most.  But really, all I can say is hats off to that guy-he is a hell of a performer.  I would have liked him to do "Dare to be Stupid" which is my favorite Weird Al Song, but I just watched my DVD of the Transformers animated movie when I got home and was content.

The first show I caught was Walk the Moon, and honestly I only tagged along because all my friends were going and I didn't want to be by myself, but I was completely surprised by how much I liked them.  They are a bit pop-rocky, in the vein of Eve 6 with a heavy techno influence, but they put on a hell of a show.  I will definitely be checking out more of their stuff.

Boys Noize was a band I had gone to see.  I first heard about them several years ago; they do a remix of Space Lord that I always really dug.  My molly was kicking in really hard by the time they went hot and I was sizzling by the end of the first song.  The lightshow was sublime, they had a real feel for the crowd, and I danced myself retarded until five in the fucking morning.

I also caught the Revivalists on the Sonic Stage.  Honestly I was just there to camp the front row for Delta Rae, but they had me on my feet within about 3 songs.  They played a long set-the lady that runs the sonic stage really likes them I think-but I didn't mind a bit.  Their sound is folksy but extremely aggressive, and their energy level is just insane-it was like being lifted up on a tornado and dropped into an acoustic munchkinland.  I will definitely be checking out more of their stuff instead.

Delta Rae, who you may only recognize from the most recent Trueblood trailer like a fucking posuer, is just a quivering ball of sexy talent.  Seriously.  All four members of the band are supremely talented vocalists-they are notable as the only band that can cover a Fleetwood Mac song and not make it suck.  They all also play insturments, and there is something impossibly sexy about a girl pounding away on the bass drum while hitting a pitch perfect vibrato.  It's the only show I caught twice and would have watched again if they played again.  I was surprised by how high energy they were-because of their talent level I expected something fairly sedate about their show, like watching a piano virtuoso in action.  But they were moving all over the place without missing a note.  If there is any justice in the universe, in a few years they will be headlining Bonnaroo.

ZZ Top was another band I caught and was honestly disappointed.  They played all their songs just like the studio album, did very little moving around onstage, came on almost forty minutes late, and showed almost no reaction to the crowd.  It wasn't bad, although I'm not the biggest ZZ Top fan in general and I love awesome beards...it was just sterile and charitably meh.

I also caught the Sheepdogs on the last day.  They are a groovy folkadelic combo, normally more jam band than I really like but I was digging their shit by the end of the show.  Their lyrics are pretty interesting and they are a high energy combo as well, always moving around-and their guitarist just burns the house down when they cut him loose.

Dwight Yokum was a good experience overall, even if I'm not normally the biggest fan.  I was surprised by how big his crowd was considering that the average 'Roo goer is kind of a hippie, but he got a pretty goddamn good rebel yell out of them ol' boys in his tent.  He was pitch perfect as well, and a little static-all of his stuff sounded straight off the album, he didn't go off on tangents too much and that made it a little dull for me, but I could listen to Guitars & Cadillacs all day so in the end things were OK.

I caught the Nationals while I was camping out for Tom Petty.  Perfectly palatable band, sophisticated musically and with a great feel for the crowd, but they will always be cursed in my mind as the only thing between me and Tom Petty.  They don't deserve it, but there it is.

Of the headliners, I only caught Tom Petty.  Everyone acted like I was a blasphemer because I didn't go listen to "Sir" Paul Mccartney, but honestly I'm not that big of a Beatles fan and he is by far not my favorite Beatle.  Tom Petty on the other hand...well, you don't grow up in Indiana and not love Tom Petty.  In fact, I have a strong instinctive dislike of people who don't like Tom Petty.  Tom was amazing, as was to be expected-it rained for part of the show, my acid wasn't kicking in because it was fucking strips of paper some dirty cheating cocksucker sold me, I was dead exhausted because it was the last show, and I didn't give a shit.  I fought for a good spot early on, long enough to catch a few of my favorites, and then I went to the back and just laid down and listened to him.  It was nice and low pressure that way-and periodically between songs I got to hear him tell me how awesome I was.  Overall a phenomenal experience.  I would have liked to hear something from the Last DJ, something higher energy and angrier so I would have had more oomph for the walk home, but on the whole, I can't complain a lick about that show.

Anyway, that is about all I have to say about the music.  Tomorrow's lecture will be about Miss Molly.  You don't want to miss it, I assure you.

Fear and Loathing in Middle Tennessee

So I took the usual route for a writer suffering from literary constipation and took myself down to Bonnaroo this weekend and listened to some music while engaging in pointless drug consumption.  It was my first 'roo I thought I'd scrawl out a few of my impressions on the music, the drugs, the culture and the experience so I'd have something to write about.

The experience was a fascinating one.  My overall impression was of a purpose built playground for adults who really should damn well know better.  It was the right thing for me, though the timing was terrible-we just bought a house and I'm in the middle of moving and my lovely wife is in the process of 9000 unrelated projects including putting on a gaming convention.  I left straight from work at 0700 on thursday morning.  We ended up in camp Peter Griffin on the very far end of Pod 11, giving us about a 45 minute walk to Centeroo.

On the surface, everyone was friendly-your neighbors in camp say hello, share their weed and beer and food freely.  But there are some worms in that big mushy apple too-we got burned on acid not once but twice.  Buying drugs at 'roo is absurdly open-air and easy, but obviously synthetic drugs can't be verified outside of a lab and it is clearly caveat emptor.  Basically, anyone who has anything to sell walks up and down the lines of people calling it out, so if you are wondering why everyone is looking for someone named Molly, that's why.  (Miss Molly will have her own entry later on in this series-she is a fascinating lady.)  I feel bad for anyone actually looking for a girl named Molly, as they will never find her.

We took a good group-3 cars worth of degenerates from Bloomington and elsewhere.  Some of us were experienced Bonnaroovians but most of us were virgins.  Basically there are two types of 'roo-goers-those who are there for the music and those who are there for the crowd.  I was more in the latter type although obviously I am a colossal music whore as well; I loved immersing myself in the great screaming mass of humanity and getting fucked up and wondering what it all means.  Essentially the whole damn thing was a noisy backdrop to me figuring out a bunch of things that needed to be figured out.  I wasn't the only one either; I met people there that only went to one or two shows.

The next entry should go live tomorrow where I'll discuss my impressions of the music.  Stay tuned, Scumfucketeers.

A Crisis of Faith

Life moves on in Babylon, with or without me.

I've found myself experiencing a crisis of either confidence or faith as the days move on.  Personal dramas are high and I often mope to no good purpose.  It attacks my resolve on every front.  And the blog languishes in idleness because I don't want to spread my disease among the community, as it is the only community up to this point that has welcomed me.

But I'm here, alive and un-incarcerated, for the moment.  I am still working hard to improve myself-to get my own life together so I can possibly think about helping others.  My goals are not impossible, merely insane.

You will see more of me in the future.  But if you've been wondering where I was, that's it.

And I ain't licked yet.

The Perils of Pathfinder: World Creation Process

So I'm finally getting things going on my Pathfinder game.  Basically I'm set up with 2 different player groups on different days, once per month on each.  Player level 4, mostly human party, a lot of first timers, nothing groundbreaking.

Most of my previous campaigns have not strictly even had a setting; it was just my bastard psychopath PC's wandering from one burning town to the next.  So this was really my first time creating my own setting that would have a persistent state beyond the current adventure.  So I was basically starting from zero, but there is a surprising amount of good information in the DMG on the mechanics involved and I haven't had any major problems so far.

The first image that came to mind for me was the skyline.  I could see a big lighthouse on the southern end of some little island on a wide river, with a big arched bridge connecting it to a little rural hamlet and palisade fort.  It developed a little further when I realized that the palisades were made of petrified trees, far stronger than they should be, and thus the region was named the "Stonetree River Delta."  It is a vast swampy area based off of turn of the century New Orleans, dotted with rivers and lakes and mysterious islands and some buried sins.

Anyway, I more or less built it from there, adding bits of libertarian propaganda (Oh yeah, the PC's are going to have to pay taxes and HOW THEY WILL HATE IT BWAHAHA) and background story until I had it ready for what amounts to my final test.  I looked over the info I had at the time and wrote down 99 adventure hooks as fast as I could.  It must be a pretty good setting because I had all 99 in less than 45 minutes.

Anyway, that's the muthafuckin' happenings on my Pathfinder game.  We go live with the tutorial dungeon in about a week.  I'll let you know how it goes as time progresses.

Lessons Learned: Vacation

#1: Melon balls are delicious, even with tangerine pulp.
#2: Melon balls are dangerous.  You can't even taste the alcohol.
#3: There is some debate over using Red Dragon Inn as a drinking game.  Apparently demanding that players chug Salt Water when they draw the Troll Swill drink card is "an excessive vomit risk."
#4: Talking down the guy who is tweaking in the hot tub and thrashing about like a harpooned whale is a communal effort-no one can stand to do it for more than a few hours.
#5: Damage to the orifices is cumulative.
#6: Depending on your rum and coke level, a guacamole and steak sandwich on potato bread is quite delicious.
#8: Stoned Hippie vs. Tweaking Marine in an impromptu wrestling match ends exactly how you expect it to. Even if the hippie gets surprise.  But the hippie is the only one that gets any sleep that day.
#9: Being snowed in is a blessing and a curse, but the curse part mostly manifests to the single guys (and my lovely wife) mildly put out by a general lack of pussy. Still, if we'd have been inviting people. the famously picturesque hills of Brown county would be littered with frozen sexy corpses.
#10: If you think you are going to get any blogging, roleplaying, book editing or work on your Pathfinder game done, you are out of your fucking mind.

Don't Mind the Dust

Just doing a little housecleaning in Scumfucktopia.  Added Linoge to the blogroll with the basic reasoning of "What was this guy doing not on my blogroll?!?!?"  Removed a couple of dead blog links. *Moment of silence*  Added a link to my tag guide on the sidebar in case you missed the post, and made it so you can access each tag from that particular part of the page.  Added the litany against fear, just because.

I'm going on my well deserved vacation and may be sporadic or prolific depending on my drug and vagina intake.

WE RIDE.

Hey, I haven't blogged about cartoons lately...

You know why the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie was panned so bad by fans of the show?  It isn't necessarily because Aqua Teen Hunger Force fans are a bunch of douchebag hipsters.  Mostly, it was because Mastodon appeared at the beginning, blew everyone's face away, and then did not appear in the rest of the film.  They set the bar too high in the first minutes and then gave you what was basically a long episode of the show.  

That whole movie should have been about Snack Food Mastodon showing up in places from the show and ruining everyone's shit.  The main cast shouldn't even have been in it until the very end, whereupon Snack Food Mastodon ruins their shit and closes out the movie with another song.  THAT would have been a movie to remember.  Instead we all sat in the theatre with our buzz slowly wearing off going "Man...should have gotten the DVD so we could get high again."  

It isn't too late, Adult Swim.  Snack Food Mastodon: The Series would do pretty well.  Why?  Because there is nothing more awesome than Mastodon.

A Curious Question

Has anyone else noticed a number of preppers coming out of the woodwork lately?  I've been asked for prep advice by people who less than a year ago would have scoffed at the very idea.  What's more-because anyone can BS around the water cooler-I've gotten wind of some pretty serious purchases and training lately from folks that I always thought were on the poseur list.

What has people scared?  It isn't me; I've been preaching the same Doom and Hellfire on the streets of Btown the whole damn time.  My message hasn't changed but somehow the response to that message has changed.  Is it the news?  Maybe, but all of these have been fairly sensible people and sensible people should damn well know the news thrives on a state of perpetual panic that doesn't necessarily translate to blood in the streets.

I've gotten not one but two independent cases of my liberal friends freaking out about a possible civil war, one of which actually mentioned the Threepers by name.

I've gotten enrolees in my karate class who have an eye for prepping rather than hobbyism.  Not strictly bitching about this because it has really made class a lot better, but it is unusual to see multiple cases crop up at once, and openly.

Every gun show, every online vendor, every brick and mortar and army surplus store is paying hard cash for magazines and still struggling to keep stock on the shelves.  Every.  Fucking.  One.  This one I am complaining about, make no mistake.

What everybody asks me, as if a scumfuck who has been preaching the exact same message for ten years with no apocalypse has any answers, is "When is it going to go off the tracks?"  And I always have to say "I have no fucking idea.  Not now, and not then."  The writing on the walls-the signs of a society that is not sustainable-has been freely available to anyone who can do basic math for a long time now.  But a timetable was not included with my apocalypse manual.  Still, it has been interesting steering people onto what I hope is the right path.

Besides, I can always use more zombie bait.

Ground Report: Bloomington Day of Resistance

So I took a couple of the tribe and my daughter to the Bloomington Indiana Day of Resistance pro gun rally today down at the courthouse.  It was surprisingly large-about 50 people overall.  It got cut short early, before I had a chance to give the speech I had prepared and, of course, plug my book.  Other than that, it turned out pretty well.  We showed up with some donuts for the war effort which I think everyone appreciated.  None of us were open carrying but there were a few people that were, mostly pistols although one guy had a bitchin' tac'ed out shotgun.

The speakers were OK; it was hard to hear some of it because the mic went dead early on and it was mostly just talking loud over the ambient noise.  I got to meet the libertarian candidate Andrew Horning, who is a pretty decent guy.  I think everybody speaking was passionate and most of them had some good messages, but nobody really wowed the crowd with their oration the way I would have...but that's to be expected.

The police did not show up until almost forty five minutes after the rally itself started and they remained discretely positioned about twenty yards away.  To me, this signifies that they didn't know about the event in advance or I feel there would have been both more police presence and they would have been there the whole time.  Still, they were polite and non confrontational, and the crowd was the same.  In general I have no complaints about the local police; if this had been the Indianapolis rally, God knows they would have been drinking, but Monroe County Sheriff's Dept and BPD both are pretty competent.

Gracie had a good time regardless; she kept wanting them to start up the chant and sing the national anthem again, she had a lot of fun with that.  She ate donuts and played in the mud and charmed everyone there to the point where they will probably remember "The Creepy Longhair with the Cute Kid" rather than "Chris By-The-Throat, author of the upcoming novel Codex Kalachnikova."  C'est la vie.

Anyway, I just wanted to drop some ground truths from my AO.  Did anyone else attend one of these events?

Take a Walk on the Practical Side

So I've been hounding my lovely wife about doing some guest columns on this blog.  I'm pestering her to do a full review of the Excalibur dehydrator we purchased for some time.  She keeps waffling because she thinks she isn't creative, but you don't have to be that effin' creative to do a product review and I'm pretty sure she'll cave eventually.  I think her reasonable, practical perspective will create a valuable counterpunch to my adderall-and-mushroom fueled rabies rants.

I'm also going to harass her to do a weekly feature where she finds and posts links to bug out gear deals.  She is, of course, a Master-class bargain hunter, with an ear to the ground for the sweet bulk deal.  That would be a valuable feature in and of itself, but it also means she doesn't have to try to be creative, just post links to sweet deals that she may find while rummaging around the interweb.

Finally, I think a female perspective would be valuable on this blog because it would make me seem less like a violent misogynist nutjob.  The whole blog is (and will continue to be) written in locker room language, so I think she would provide a good contrast.  Hopefully I won't embarrass her too much talking blatantly about our sex life, but then again, she has better blackmail material on me than I have on her, so I don't anticipate it being a problem.

What do you all think?

School Spirit

I was never much for school spirit in high school.  Being firmly on the "geek" side of the social spectrum, back when that wasn't cool, meant that sports and sporting events and pep rallies and GO REBELS FIGHT WIN HURR DURR was more or less an archaic religious ritual wherein we glorified the stupid cocksuckers that made my life difficult every day.  I'm not here to whine, but my high school experiences left me with a sort of low grade PTSD according to my string of court ordered therapists...and I couldn't (and still can't) fathom the brazen idols we made out of these mouth breathing reprobates.  When our high school basketball team went to state, I bet against them in every game despite my lack of interest in gambling, just because fuck those fucking fucks.

The effect stuck around with me through my abortive attempt at college.  My family were all big cradle-to-the-grave IU fans, and me going to IU was a crowning achievement for most of them.  But I wasted it; I was too turned off of school spirit as a concept and I spent the entire time in college avoiding the collective insanity this town suffers during basketball season by cowering in my dorm room.  Oddly enough, this was regarded as kind of cool by the shady characters I was running with at the time, a collection of pseudo intellectuals and limosine liberals who thought I was just the tits. They had pretty well soured me on academia and liberalism by the time I dropped out and I left college without ever having gone to one sporting event.  Oddly, I regret that now-but probably only because I was never smooshed together in a class project with a sports hero.

As an adult, over 30 and disillusioned, I've come to appreciate sports in the tribal sense.  I root for the Colts and for the Hoosiers, for Notre Dame in football even though that has been massively disappointing lately, and I sort of understand what I didn't understand then-that athletics has a sort of primal appeal.  After all, the home team is "Us" and the away team is "Them" and all else being equal, I am much happier if 'We" are beating "Their" asses into a bloody pulp.  I enjoy the collective madness even if my participation is limited, I enjoy the easy pussy flowing like a river across the whole town, and I enjoy especially the fall from grace that comes from sports scandals busting open wide on the internet.

It has taken me a long time to overcome my instinctive loathing towards those who have done nothing to me, who merely share some vague characteristics with the retard monkeys that my high school class was begging to perform abasements for.  I enjoy sports spectatorship and I even enjoy playing sports.  But my favorite position in modern sports is still "Grand Federal Prosector" so maybe my cynicism hasn't retreated too far.

Go Hoosiers.

Wherein Our Hero Acts the Pompous Jackass

So in the absence of Codex to work on (although the work of revision is apparently endless) I have been dabbling in other realms of fiction, just to keep my brain lubricated for when I start the second book.  I've been tooling around with creepypasta just because I want to work on my overwriting and the bare bones medium forces me to make every word count.  It sucks on the one hand, when all I want to do is gamble about tossing flowery phrases over my shoulder like some sort of syphillis addled satyr, but on the other hand it is a medium that is literally designed for nothing more than a flesh crawl, the horror equivalent of a cheap nut.

I've also been reading but not writing fan fiction for a project I am contemplating where I write the most atrocious troll fiction ever written for all the various fandoms I have a Hate-On for.  Fan fiction is a medium I've dabbled in before, God Forgive Me, but I really think it is the best method to skewer certain types of fiction and I think I am going to savagely enjoy it if I decide to develop it.

All of this has had my Lovecraft story suffering badly.  The problem with TCM is that I don't really have a central plot and so the whole thing suffers from lack of focus.  (Well, that and I have no idea how real detective work goes, which is why it resembles a sexy summer blockbuster more than anything by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.)  Of course, all I want to do with it is establish the Chris By-The-Throat Lovecraftverse in my head; the actual story I am writing for that universe is another project involving coyotes but some of the settings and tropes are being tested out with Everyone's Favorite Unicorn Hunters.  I'll finish the story-I just can't promise the ending will make sense or even resolve any issues; it's just psycho fluff.

Anyway, that is the story of the Dread Scumfuck's Quill and what he has been doing with it.  I'll have a section of Codex up on this blog again as a preview in honor of submitting it to the fourth publisher so far.  I'm not quite on the verge of swallowing my pride and self publishing, but I can see it without a telescope.

Goodnight, heathens.

Haters Gonna Hate...

I see a lot of good folks in the various III \ Prepper \ Gunblog community engaged in some rather grisly sniping at one another.  The worst thing about that sentence is that I could easily add "As Usual."

I personally avoid blog drama; my instinct is generally to walk the other way when it becomes a knock-down drag out Flame War.  But I feel like I have to stick my dick in the toaster this time, for no other reason than because of my own conscience.

It seems the focus is on Kerodin & Co's III Citadel project.  I'm not involved in the project, or the related III arms product, except perhaps for the 18 simultaneous boners I pop when I look at their custom 1911.  I personally don't know if a Patriot Fortress is a wise idea, but I'm not some strategic genius, just a perverted stoner with an unsold manuscript and a cheap AK.  But I don't get the butthurt from the larger community, and what I really don't get is the people that parrot the butthurt without thinking.  (I really expected better of Rawles; being a former spook, you'd think he'd know to check his sources.)  It seems like, as the project moves forward, everybody and his brother has an opinion on it even if they have no skin in the game.

Anyway, if anyone wants my opinion, here it is: stow your fucking butthurt, haters.  It isn't doing anyone any good.  If you think the idea is a strategic and public relations failure, don't send your money.  But going out on a mission to tear down something people are trying to build-something that has the potential to be a pretty sweet setup-just because the guy who came up with it is someone you have a personal distaste for...you are hurting your own cause.

There aren't a lot of folks who believe in genuine liberty right now.  And part of the reason we are so easy to dismiss as a group is because we can't stop sniping at one another from the sidelines.  I understand that all of you are men of principle (This is not a charge you can lay at the feet of Chris By-The-Throat) and that you have all said words you cannot take back with honor.  I would not ask you to do so as this would imply that you were not men of principle and it is one of the things I like about this community.

But you can be an asshole with honor, and that is what all of the haters are accomplishing.  Honor does not provide immunity from the charge of Being A Dick, and right now, some of you are doing nothing more for our community than that.

Yeah, yeah, the stoner forgot his google password for awhile...

Sue me; sometimes I typify the worst aspects of my demographic.

Training hard, trying to pimp my book to people who obviously fail at recognizing awesome, and still 100% disgusted with politics.  No news on the unicorn front but God provides when He is ready, not me.

In the meantime, there are always Disney Hookers.

Stay with me Scumfucketeers.

I'll have more for you soon.

Promise.

How To Make A Monster (Excuse)

I promise I haven't fallen off the earth again.  I'm still in publish mode, with my very first submission having been sent and reviews starting to come in from my close friends circle on Codex.  Between that and trying to get my preps squared away further, I'm never able to update this blog.

Both Amanda and I have been working a grisly amount of overtime this season so money is good but time is short.

I did finally buy the glock but I haven't had time to shoot it yet.  I'll let you know a little more about how that kool aid tastes once I have a chance to get it out to the range.  On the whole, from dryfire and general fucking around, I can tell you two things so far: I'm spoiled by that nice short crisp single action 1911 trigger, and holding a glock feels exactly like the lego brick guns I built as a kid.  I think I'll come around simply for capacity's sake, but my anachronistic brain refuses to cooperate for now.

Tomorrow's post will be about Thanksgiving, Parenting, and Contact Drills for 4 Year Olds.  Stay tuned.

Take music, you fucking scum.  I really want to convert this angry atheist bitch to Scumfucktarianism  backstage at a concert, and somehow I think my cock and about ten grams of snow is involved.

"God made me a cannibal to fix problems like you."  Hard vore, anyone?

A Field Guide to Scumfuck Tags

So I finally decided to party like it's Livejournal 2003 and add blogtags to my various entries over time.  Of course, I can't do something simple and practical; it is practically a gunblogger standard to have some snarky epithet for each category.  To have "Guns" as your tag for gun related posts is apparently quite gauche.

Anyway, the reason this has been so long in coming, besides the obvious (my crippling apathy) is because I haven't come up with a good set of witty tags for my various categories yet.  But as soon as I do, this post will go live and you will all be awed by my technicolor wit.  So here goes, motherfucker.

SCUMFUCK EGO - These posts are all about me.  Me, my personal life, my trials and tribulations, my widdle biddy feewings and all the things that make me the awesome post apocalyptic god emperor that I am in my own mind

STRAPPED - Gun and weapon related posts, for my love of all things shooty, stabby and bashy, along with the accessories to each.

MASHED POTATO JOHNSON'S STINKY NUGGET EXPRESS - Posts about weed and probably a catch all for any other drug related post.  Drugs, drug policy, stoner rants and raves, and somehow against my will, a little bit of cannabis culture.

SWIMMING UPSTREAM TO SPAWN - Posts about parenting, being a parent, surviving parenthood, and funny Gracie stories.  This category was almost named FUCK CPS THEY CAN SUCK MY BALLS.

SAID THE HANDMAIDEN TO THE BISHOP - These posts are about sex, sexology, sexism, sexytime, etc.  This is a good category to avoid if you are a social conservative

THE MAGIC KINGDOM - Anything Disney related.  I haven't done any calculations, but this might be the largest category.  Also, there is more crossover with the sex category than you think or are comfortable with.

SCUMFUCK PRAXIS - Any practical, survival related article that I think has actual value to the greater survivalist \ gun owning \ patriot community.  I'm gonna admit, this is gonna be a depressingly small category, but really there are better men than me doing this.

THE MAW OF THE LEVIATHAN - Anything relating to politics, for obvious reasons.

CONAN WITH AN AK - Anything related to Codex Kalachnikova-mostly previews and rants about how hard writing is.

PILL PUSHER CUM HERO - Anything related to Last Call, Last Stand.

FLOTSAM AND JETSAM - Anything related to my other writing projects.

FEMSLASH FRIDAY - Femslash friday entries, conveniently arranged for your fap \ schlick time.

MEDIA WHORE: Books, music, movies, video games.  Reviews, rants, discussions catchall category.

CHRIS BY-THE-THROAT IS FUCKING INSANE - My catchall for the weirdness I love just for being weird.  Thinking on it, this might be the largest category instead-perhaps it could apply to every post.  Concept shamelessly cribbed from Holly Pervocracy.