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Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

By

Winner Take Nothing, he said.

After the storm, a clean, well-lighted place.

The light of the world.
God, rest you merry.
Gentlemen, the sea change – a way you’ll never be.
The Mother of a Queen.
One reader writes, homage to Switzerland.
A day’s wait.
A natural history of the dead wine.
Of Wyoming – the Gambler, the Nun, and the radio…fathers and sons.

Alone in my thoughts.
Wishing for nothing but a year in the presence of greatness.
Perhaps in the place they call blessed.
A silent bow, an honored smirk to Ernest tales.

Violent cuts of the mind,
spliced images in a kaleidoscope coffin,
edges holding the fine scotch for you,
a raft to the next dimension.
14:12 25813

*abide*

By

1-800-SNAP-PEA

Pus Removal Associates, Discrete Attendance.

The name was kind of hard to come up with.

After all, the acronym could be seen to conflict with a certain brand and all of it’s puffery and festooned pageantry, and it was very much concerned about image – yeah, guess it too even had swollen sacks of pus in some capacity that had to agree with comfort as well as class.

Had to be classy.

Introducing, SNAP-PEA Inc.

Not many men or women are going to want to be telling their secretaries that they were in no position to have someone pop that monster zit on their back, or on their genitals. Well, everyone in a first world problem way has that kind of access, or we would instantly snap to it and demand that not all have that privilege that you would demand. There are a fuck load of folks in the system that don’t have access to a regular GP, or a dermatologist. Hell, some of the folks that even hear the world dermatologist will instantly either think Ghostbusters or get an image of an gynecologist smiling over the stirrups at them.

The name stuck as soon as it was heard. Not only because it was playful, but also because it was “scientific” without any of the snake oil.

Society needed this service, and in fact the demographic demanded it. With all of the pube shaving bullshit going on, and the need to be able to point to the bean tower at the end of that landing strip – *delicious scream the trendsetters* well who am I to fight the force of the aging population that is staying single longer, if and when choosing to marry doing so after being properly satisfied their social network diversions have not only been cultivated properly, but are accepted as such and blessed with the foresight to recognize she better still love you when you have 3,783,452 followers that hang on your every word.

Don’t worry, she claims she will.
So did he.

It will all change in time, and you will look back at those days with the same want and reflection of the start of the love. When she was willing to snap that pea sized zit on your back and still smile at you, knowing it was just natural. Today, you look at the task as a gross responsibility that has nothing to do with making the world a better place.

Like porn, it has nothing to do with no significant “world” war has ever been started since porn became the diversion that helped angry people around the world find peace and serenity in sexual candy bars in the form of 4 minute clips meant to entice the healthier lifestyle you seek in the bedrooms and dens of pleasure everywhere. But I digress, we are here to talk about Snap-Pea.

When you get that nasty zit, and you can’t ask your spouse – what are going to do?

Go waste time in traffic, the waiting and the sitting in the doctor’s office so they can use a small paste, numb it, pop it with some sterile tool, then wipe/ointment/cover and smile as you depart? Not only is your insurance company going to bill the fuck out of that visit, it is going to cost the company a couple hundred bucks in cash, and another few hundred in lost productivity.

Right?

Exactly – so imagine, a discrete associate of the firm, arriving at your office, home, place of worship, park – wherever you find it convenient, and condusive to the affair, we will be there. A small black briefcase carrying the sterile tools and the needed ointments, arrive and for the small fee of $39.99 we will pop the biggest, nastiest and grossest zit you have.

Anywhere on your body, we are there to help.

It don’t matter how gross it is, or where it is.

We can help take care of that nuisance, and each and every other one is classified into Standard ($4.99) or Boil Class ($9.99) and we will gladly provide them in memorial tube’s that can be Vanilla ($1.99) or Truffle *hand decorated ($4.99). We will happily snap photo’s ($0.99/HD image), hell – we can even take a small video of the event using the micro tri-pod and arrangement stored in the briefcase. Each minute of 720p YouTube ready video is recorded at a mere $2.99 – incredible?

We know, that is why we are here.

Look, the loss of mobility, the inability to focus, that burning tingle on the Dockers slacks just around Snickers time is enough to drive us all mad. Whether you are in a cubicle, or have your own office, we are comfortable performing our friendly service anywhere you are.

If you are not concerned, neither are we. We will send over one of our professionally trained, enthusiastic Snap-Pea associate for your appointment. Special requests start at same/opposing sex associates, and range all the way up to the Pelosi Concrete Ponderosa Cinderella Fantasy Package at $199.99. Custom arrangements can be accommodated but we respectfully request a $500 deposit in order to consult with any relevant legal, financial or farming associates.

Security? No need, all of our associates are fully micro-chipped, and enabled with recording device’s to ensure nothing inappropriate goes on. Really, it is just as much for your good, as ours. As a side note, that law suite, the one room bachelor, regarding the ability for us to use, sell, or present your video to appropriate Stress Transitioning Directors, it was settled. All of our adult entertainment affiliations remain in tact and we promise to use your video in an unedited and fully public manner.

This concept does not have to be “sold” – it is a gem, and although we were offered a chance to appear on the Dragoons Pen, we humbly declined and have begun preparations for our Kickstarter page. All submissions have been made, and we hope that Kickstarter will welcome us with the same desperate look of “help me” we see each and every day from our fellow men and women.

  • Pop that zit, make your day happier
  • Hold open that door, and nail that PPT presentation
  • Cheer in the hockey stands, and jump up and down without fear of stains
  • Shop at Costco in comfort

We are there for you, and we love what we do.
Not only because we do, but because we know how it makes you feel.

1-800-SNAP-PEA

The IPO/President List will be announced shortly, and any and all persons that tweet or forward this article will be eligible to receive a Class Certification Application for that list, we would love to have you aboard.

As an extra benefit, you will be considered Best of Fester class, and will be offered a chance to view our online webinar that provides crisp, clear, refreshing answers as to why this is not only profitable, pleasurable and professional – but it will make the world a place, that is a better place to be in.

Make the world a better place.

Make it a zit free place.

Call 1-800-SNAP-PEA today, and let us show you the way.

*abide*

By

Mean Culpa

In modern times, Mea Culpa has become a noble declaration of admitting, accepting the making of a mistake by one’s own actions, and decisive “fault”, which is formed when diligence is disregarded, and harms way is considered a proper risk for the reward of the actions. Interestingly enough, the word culpa in latin is “fault”, and mea is “my/mine”.

We live in a world of syntax, so let’s shorten it all. Keep it real, eh?

Word wise.

And, is simply n.

You n me, them n us, m n m’s.

Mea, or my and n. Mean.

Culpa, fault.

Mean fault?

Me an Fault?

Could Fate be Fault under duress?

So the choices we make, or as Gus claims, mean culpa – creates a poetic tragedy of sorts.

“Observation fully confirms what reflection teaches us on this subject: Savage man and civilized man differ so much in their inmost heart and inclinations that what constitutes the supreme happiness of the one would reduce the other to despair. The first breathes nothing but repose and freedom, he wants only to live and remain idle, and even the Stoic’s ataraxia does not approximate his profound indifference to everything else. By contrast, the Citizen, forever active, sweats and scurries, constantly in search of ever more strenuous occupations: he works to the death, even rushes toward it in order to be in a position to live, or renounces life in order to acquire immortality. He courts the great whom he hates, and the rich whom he despises; he spares nothing to attain the honor of serving them; he vaingloriously boasts of his baseness and of their protection and, proud of his slavery, he speaks contemptuously of those who have not the honor of sharing it.” Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on Inequality

*abide*

By

One small step…?

It is a small step?

It was a small undertaking, unimportant.

iGus peers from the shadows of “fiction”.

I abide.

Oh, how the truth does set one free.

Cowards need not apply, liars lay in thine grass.

No issue, I own my miles, in my gulch.

The grass is orange.

Fuck you cancer, we win…again.

μάνα, για πάντα στην καρδιά μου.

*abide*

02-16-2013 

By

It is bred into them.

No one is really going to appreciate the connections. They are very funny though.

Kojak. Stavros. Greek. Laughs. Old ways, that corrupted a nation, that hopes to be laughed at in the private settings, but stares down bulls and drinks real whiskey, like Crown Royal. Not that horse urine, fuqtarded excuse for one CC – urine.

Real men, drink tsiporo.

Stadium construction? Yes, stadium construction.

Wake me when the vote is done, I will be sleeping under the desk. In the studio, it could be referred to as the C section I guess, just no ladies.

@JournalismJunk lays down a great one liner, and of course, Fetaman has to turn it into a 10 minute acid trip, without the acid, just some brinesanity.

Check out a Theo of mine, Uncle Costas. He love’s the cool, slender menthol smokes.

Financed by the Fed and the EU, surety they care.

*abide*

By

Brine Tsunami

Started the day off with some heavy writing, for myself.

Why not share. It reflects me, I do not have to be a programmed hologram.

I am getting a little “frustrated” by the Twitter game, and there will likely be a distinct brine tsunami that is seen in the coming days for sure.

The concept has been explained before in my posts, and I am going to elaborate on it a little more, as what tends to happen, it appears in life as in bytes, we see the right in the eyes only at the last moment, and of it. That is to say, we go from the most recent of things, they tend to be the most present and most important, and we track back from there. Like our lives, and that is the point we start from.

Living.

Being able to say, that we survived the challenge of a death, and living in the life that is defined by that moment. It is that moment that is the most, if not all, that you are living for right?

I am very much aware of the world that I live in, and quite frankly, not sure of what the world is that you choose to live in. The words that I write, the tales that I tell, are real and my own, and are shared as only snippets that somehow have fallen on a floor that you are looking at. But the floor is a giant cloud of light, like a wave of sorts, something that seems like it has no purpose, and only rage and fury, and seeks to wrestle from you the very thing you want to hold, and profess to want to hold, but do not live.

Your life, in your world, now.

In the world of this raging, and just wild brine tsunami, this ignorant and stupid wave of rants, and random links, there is some logic you just may not be able to see it. It is impossible to see it. A dandy, true man? Perhaps, if the eyes are open.

The empirical miracles prevent it. That is the simple truth. You can not hold the numbers in any universe, unless it is contained by the parameters of what you will.

In the case of others, what is willed upon them, and they willingly still, accept the hope.

The brine tsunami is not even aware of whether you can see it or not, it is not even aware of the purpose that it brings to the death of all that fall under it, or the waste that follows its trail.

It simply is, and does not apologize for it.

That is why you stare at them, wondering, why it came here, and how you could not have avoided the

Fuck, I am a “retired” young professional, and trying to get some of my shit shifted from on paper, combined with the massive data side, and share a truly fucking wild story, and write, but not to be read so much as to be taught – but feeling like more and more of the Twitter shit I am dealing with, appears to be…what?

Another great pun, or line?

Comedic genius?

What the fuck – is this high school?

I am aware, unlike the aforementioned brine tsunami, that given the content and demographics of the site, there are a huge variety of “species” that populate that beach, and most of them have a corporate interest, or are of a younger generation, that may find my longer pieces, or my style an annoyance, or rambling, dis-jointed.

Does not matter, this is part of what makes the whole of the tsunami, what is. In this case, you have not paid, or been “charged” anything to be here, and most certainly you have your own free will and volition, of course, unless you are too fucking daft to consider that you do and have to follow the “leader” of a different idiom.

Leave, and I don’t mean this just in the 140-character context; I mean it in the self-aware presence of being. Leave that shit behind, and trust me, I have no high school issues, and those and more, are credentials I am not called to provide right now to anyone, let alone some anonymous seaweed, it not even having any other purpose than that of to clean or to feed.

Service of some sort, the same thing all living things have.

What is alive?

The great public broadcasting station question all mankind seeks to answer with their generous donations.

These will, sooner rather than later, intersect with the other parts of the world, and there will be a tsunami, at least from my position, I can appreciate it may be considered something else, or the composition of the water may be something else, but the J-team and the gulch exist, as does the high ground.

Donations that one can align to the likes of those folks in the masses of the stands, at the sporting events, that somehow you can spot wearing the “I am with stupid” tee-shirts, and yet they are quite content in the dark humor of the child beside them, by most people’s accounts considered disabled, or challenged, dare I use the obvious word “retarded”.

Easier to say this joke with a fetaChop, but it is not a joke.

The arrow is not pointing at the child or the person that is blessed with an entirely different set of gifts from God, or the Universe if you choose to accept a different point of view, in fact I certainly do, I believe the “retard” is “this-abled“. It is us, that are stupid, and misinformed about what the “this” represents in the able. Life is just as beautiful, in another mind, and another time, because beauty exists, and it is everywhere, even in that mind we so easily toss around like a definition.

Dare I even say, it is a beautiful thing also to see the arrow pointing to the greasy fat pig, of a degenerate beside them, who chooses his ignorance, and for a lack of interest in wanting to digress into that foray, let’s just say he is a gross specimen of humanity. It is a beautiful thing to see this.

Like a double rainbow moment, when you realize the heavens and the skies and all of the universe has conspired to provide you with this glorious moment, amongst all of the madness, and you get to see the arrow pointed left, the child on the right, and the prism in the middle casting the Pink Floyd album cover most people would relate to, and few will recognize as a clever pun of having to re-fraction, because the right fractions were not accomplished in the first fractions, and it is only this action, that allows it all to be.

This moment.

So, my point…life is grand, if we just look at it differently.

Even in that moment, when the asshole swine sees the wave in front of him, I wonder if he thinks he is alive, or is busy considering the last moments before he tastes the brine.

The taste will be different for one that needs the brine, to cool them, to allow them to live and breath, or they are another, that despises it, and sees it as a bitter taste, a masking of a wave they care to avoid.

Or can’t.

What is seen, and said, can not be unseen, and I do not suggest that it is required to be. It should be embraced for it is, because that is, and resides in what the moment of now was. You can not change it, you can change your reaction to it today, and change the reactions of others and yourself at the time that was then, as you recognize them now, but you can not alter the physical wave. It is, and will be, whatever it is.

Much like your choice to run to, or away from it.

You can’t run from your past. It is what makes you, and there is no shame in you. A former serving USMC veteran did what had to be done to make the world, his world and the freedom he fought for, right and of a higher fidelity, a hi fidelus, if you will.

He respects the freedom one has to challenge the reason the war pigs culled machinations, but he stands just as tall today and forever, never leaving semper fi, like you never leave your skin until you die.

He stands, in front of any tsunami, known or presumed, and humbly smiles.

Committed to his life, to his purpose, to his stand seeking nothing more than the blessings of health, happiness and prosperity.

In that order, you are the richest man in the world today, as you stand there, in a customary humble bow, a dried, and haggard piece of cheese. presenting a guitar pick made of prehistoric, fossilized bacon.

Smile.

Do not look away.

*spark*

It is a beautiful sight, life is beautiful.

Semper feta fuckin’ fi.
I.

*abide*

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Modern ISP Hallucinogens

“We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled that 60’s. That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary’s trip. He crashed around America selling “consciousness expansion” without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously… All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped create… a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody… or at least some force – is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.”

Hunter S. Thompson

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Orwell – emotional sincerity

“For a creative writer possession of the ‘truth’ is less important than emotional sincerity.”

George Orwell

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Appreciate

“If you don’t know about pain and trouble, you’re in sad shape. They make you appreciate life.”

Evel Knievel