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

By

Here, the reign.

You hear the train a comin’
Just round the bend,
You know you won’t be sleeping,
When the IRS steps in.
Stuck in Fulsom Fed,
Euros or fine Yen.
But these papers keeps a-rollin’,
Down to Variance.

When I was just a new curd,
My Momma told me, “Feta,
Abide as a good cheese,
Don’t ever play with olives,”
But I shot a man in Athens,
Just cause I heard ‘em lie.
Since I hear that thistle howlin’,
Gus’s alibi.

I get there’s rich folks cheatin’,
Prestige kontiki bars,
Probably dunkin’ choda,
Troughin’ meat cigars.
But I know they had it comin’,
I know they can’t be me.
Still those people keep a-cheatin’,
It’s what tortures thee.

Greed freed me from a prison,
Road tracks made of brine,
So I check bet just a Skittle,
Satan shoves all in. Blind.
Leavin’ Fulsom Fed,
Got my papers today.
Said abide’s not a lonesome whistle,
It blows their blues away.

*abide*

 

By

Buffett On Acid.

The wizard came up in the daily readings.

So I have decided to honour some of the requests and include some shorter pieces, that will have the readers of the site and the engaged Twitter heads et al, enjoying some of the observations. It has been a request, and I figure that since I am using the creative side of the miles walked to get to the end of the book that is being published, why not just hop over here and make sure to note some of the “logic” behind the tweets.

Brilliant, hard to understand all the time, but genius” is a great compliment to flatter any ego, and I have fought hard to not be such a blatant “self-promotion” machine, but fetaman.com is a site that has been created, and kept whole to illustrate the range of writing, and various styles along with media, so as to ensure that it has some co-operative and reactive elements to it.

Books can be so static and don’t allow for more of the interactions, as such, how about some “common thoughts” or pokes and prods at what the tweet was intended to mean, and where it may take another on the journey in their own minds according to what I may be able to see from this awesome Herman Miller. (*shameless plug on how great the product is, and more importantly the amazing team at Design Within Reach that not only helped provide it, but have made sure to keep it serviced and sorted. Yes, that is right. An ergonomic cloud, that actually has jet packs that hover over the atmosphere, much like the attitude of Andrew and Jen, two great team members that are rock solid. No there is not “compensation” received for this plug, it is just part of what happens to come out of the writing at the time, and maybe will help see the “social ethics” of passing on good information, and pro-active stuff, not only the negative stuff)

So here are some of my thoughts, on a respected mentor. Consider all of my good fortune in the roast, please or do not consider it all. For to do it an injustice, would be to do the same to the intent of the respectful prod and admiration that is bestowed in the musings of a man, made of feta cheese.

Quite the fuqtarded piece of cheese at that.

*sip

The illusion of eternity, or the concept of it becomes a bit of place from which to consider all things. Especially relevant during the “invisible brown acid” stages of the adventure, this concept of space and time melts into a need to find great joy in the simplicity of things. If an egg beater has value when beating eggs, then it must also have just as much value or more perhaps in other things, and as such, I am going to hold this until such time as I can find a way of proving that the return on my investment, is the memory. Never undervalue that.

The “hand tossed” of the bread business is just not generic enough. It is lovely to consider at home, but at the Buffett home price is always the object. Said price is always a “wonderful” (*man uses this word a lot, always in awe of life, well played – truly makes the magic carpet ride a better one.) gauge for the “value” derived from it, and that value is not only the digestion of the bread, but the items that are the byproducts of the sale of it.

Always aware of his time, and even more so, the limit of it regardless of who you are, allows this one to bring out a bit of a smirk. To have tripped balls so hard you can not only not see the watch, but you logically begin to discover some small feelings of paranoia related to not being aware of time, and that just takes you further into the rabbit hole? Pretty soon tea with the rabbit is a reality for all, whether he is a single pipe smoking rabbit or not, that remains to be seen. Is Warren the pipe smoking rabbit?

This has so many levels of delicious that it should have you Googling for the word “MLACH” – it is a 5 letter word for good tasting. It is dated, but it is delicious during times of festive diversion. Who bribes? Them, or him? Is the swimming with sharks, or in a pool? Is this a figurative swim, or a literal one? Wait a second, Michael Moore did that film on the corruption side of corporate America and he proved that today the banks are not giving out guns anymore, that is politically incorrect, so it is brides then right? *sip

If you are too young to need to get a reference about the Grateful Dead, that is all I can say to bring you up to speed. Futures and core longevity plays are his gig, he is not one to go fast on just about anything except paper. He loves to go fast and furious on paper. It is the modern chess masters pawn, and the simplicity of it does not diminish the compound rice applications across the board of a simple 64 square plate. Not a game of kings at all. Nope, not at all. Nor is math.

Sheeple, the concept of latin with business to create a new term that almost always work if you have the right situation, context and delivery. I am sure that Warren does not use talc like normal people. He has made allusions to unicorns to many times, and it is clear. He actually uses unicorn dust on his balls to keep them dry at all times. At the end of the day, he has 13 of his pupils arrive to map and scope the tea bag readings from the day. All of the results are gathered into empirical data pivot tables, and matrix macro gyrations facilitate the next days trading activities.

I know, it all sounds weird.

I can imagine, you think just because it is Friday, I am on this invisible brown acid again.

Well, not entirely.

I am never off of it.

It is what I signed up for when I got my life back.

Go on, shake it.

It’s just a fetaglobe.

*abide*

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The Muppets

Those funny, funny muppets. Just trying to tie their own rooms together, and share some appreciation for the gig and the league games. I mean these points do count right, towards some kind of marriage proposal of something?

A scene from the muppet movie, a walk into a strange theatre wondering, perhaps this is the wrong theatre? I wonder, if I say a few things to person beside me, are they of a sound mind? How exciting…how so very exciting. Hi Icarus, name is Fetaman, how you doing today?

Amazing, what the change of a little thing like syntax, or cowardly actions, strange behaviours from odd folks, that otherwise seem so kind and real, or perhaps such as others that care to put things out in the universe, as real, with no fear – to enjoy the show.

Cause after all, all the world is a stave.

That stave for me, right now, fully aware. is one giant bowling lane.
*context smirk*

It is yours, and you choose it.

Don’t blame me for the misery of the interpretations you make.

Some funny folks have been included below, as a way of sending a smile and wave. Not a fucking marriage proposal.

The secrets that you keep, may have something to do with your own trip, but hey, just worry about your own miles sunshine, no need to worry about mine.

I got those.

Enjoy the smiles, cause nothing says a man can laugh, like laughing at masturbating muppets.

*abide*

*per above link and YouTube reference, the original footage is from the Muppet Movie, and all rights and love go out to the creators and team that put it all together, making lessons and childhood a good experience. James Maury “Jim” Henson (September 24, 1936 – May 16, 1990) 

 

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Large bore

Large bore. from Fetaman Abides on Vimeo.

73 year old Greek mother, watching TLC with another friend, an 83 year old Greek grandma friend just like her -go ahead, imagine My Big Fat Greek Life. Priceless. Sunday afternoon. You must watch this, so I turn it on. All good Greek boys listen to momma, no matter the age. It is a gene Zeus put in our bloods because Hera made him do it, something about blow jobs.

There needs to be no explanation – it is a true story.

This “person” describes, in a wonderful media format I dub “large bore” fuqtarded.

His truly immaculate stupidity is worthy of papal blessings.

It was first alluded to here, check out the picture at the end of the post.

My editing, and sharing is a re-inforcement of “everything has a meaning” – and when you wonder where the madness is coming from, or why there appears to be so much “fuqtarded” in what I say.

Oh no, I promise.

Come join me, for a tea, for a conversation – for some live brine time.

I am sane.
Brinesanity is a blessing.

The world?

That is one incredible shade of grey.
Maybe D3CFCF?

*abide*

 

*all of the footage has remained “unedited” other than the transitions, and my copy. no soup for any of the fuckers commenting on sound quality, I don’t profess to the be Mussolini of Media. digging of the gig goes to the the Discovery Channel, and the show, Untold Stories of the ER.

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Misogynistic windows

fetaman, fetaChops, iFeta, brinesanity, brine diaries

Rage. The horror of what you are about to read is real. I am not making any of it up. If you are able to click on this picture, and see the link to the video, you will get a look at what is a symbol of me, the Fetaman. Please note, I take this all very seriously. Sorry for another “frant” (*Fetaman-rant), but I just can not take it anymore, no not going to take it anymore. I just want to be on my bicycle seat.

Fucking windows.

Pretty sick that they can be so outstanding, and so obvious. They are everywhere, and we look right through them, even staring at our reflections. There they sit, the very demise of our culture.

Women hating bullshit, windows.

Not right that they can’t be washed by women.
Women are very good at washing windows.
Like dishes.

Look, I know this may come off as sounding quite strange, after all, I am a man. One made of cheese, and the mind is at times questioning a number of things, but this has got to stop.

If we want equality, we want it now.

This is not some kind of bra burning adventure, or some kind of keep calm and chive on bullshit, glad to see that funny, made my day that much more glorious, and thanks for all of the inspiration and all, but there are serious matters to attend to.

These windows, all over the world, are being washed by men, and that is so fucking sexist, I can not stand to bear it anymore.

I do not know what the cause of this acceptance is – are we bound by some kind of oath we took to the windows, to make sure they were only touched by hands of men after construction people put them in? Breasts can near the making of the windows, can own the company in fact, they can transport and install the windows – but cleaning them, that was part of the “oath”?

Perhaps, it is the window’s that are demanding this, as we all know that all windows are male. They are cold, heartless, transparent shields for all of the glory that Mother (*note, female, duh -smacks head-) Nature has blessed us with, and they want to somehow flip her the bird by insisting only other males are allowed into the locker room in the skies. Is that there play, trying to keep women from the “locker room” – the last bastion of athletes fingertips and Gold Bond laced handled, instruments to wipe the glazed and wet surfaces clean, shiny clean, polishing and attending to that masculine glass?

I am not going to get into the debate of whether a man touching another mans glass is gay or not, some men do not judge their lives by sex alone, the touching of swords for example is not a gateway to anal adventure you know, nor is gun duelling or Sasquatch fisting. If you must know, Sasquatch was a secret nickname all Junior Hockey clubs were required to call at least one of their players, it is required by IIHF code. It was to be given to the hairiest assed male on the team, and it had nothing to do with fisting as most non-hockey-initiated folks would imagine, and everything to do with the anagram.

*Ok, the hint is “sifter“. The act of actually putting something through it is called sifting. What you put through can be something that is liquid or solid, and it might be different for an away game, or a home game. It will also have everything to do with before, or after the game. Nothing else can be revealed at this time, else it may jeopardize my source(s) personal and sensual safety.

I think this has nothing to do with either. I think this have everything to do with the conspiracy that Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is maintained, by society allowing men to get away with this blatant disregard for equality, and it is going to stop now. Security and safety will not play second fiddle to the physical metabolic needs, we will stop breathing until this happens.

No fear in standing up to the Rothschild family owned corporations that allow this to continue. All of you property managers that are being called, look no further for salvation than your fellow man, Fetaman, to bring you the comfort of a friend to fight the politically correct foes, as they claim it is too dangerous, or women are too weak, or even the infamous they are allowed to do anything they want coos.

No.

We will not tolerate this anymore, and this is the reason I took it beyond just writing my local political hack trying to nickel and dime donations for charity at the expense of his Moore’s suites and his high profile image.

I will not sit idly by, and allow the Rothschild families, and all of the rich that worked their way into fortunes using the magic wand of business, that witching stick of bastardly convention that has convinced man that the freedom to sow, care and reap what you will is only limited by the amount of wealth that must be transferred to all, including the crack ridden, the lazy, and the pharma-medicated downtrodden victims, all of them, victims of the torture life has brought to them, to be able to demand that only men are able to walk this line of danger and profit.

The travesty has been so great, and I seldom so ubiquitously announce my conviction for a cause so great and worthy as this one, usually I will just start a trough corporation, to milk all of the unsuspecting sheeple so that I can reproduce more baby Feta’s, fuck it is only right considering all of the mind wasting propaganda that Baby-bel/Baby-belle has inflicted on all of you, wake up people, Zeus, Greece, awesome cheese, makes great snowmen, way better than Sweddy balls etc, yeah…

Make it so clear to the world that we are well aware of this sexist shit, and it is going to stop right now. We are going to not only make it a world thing, and insist that only women get to wash these windows, just like men have and have flaunted in our faces with these signs, and the purported dangers. Get used to corporate cubicle dwellers.

Mother, Juggs and Greed Window Washing LLC, has been incorporated and is offering full, naked, female window washing services for the evolution of mankind effective April 1, 2013.

Our first engagements are booked for Toronto, Dubai, Hong Kong, Kiev, Paris, Phukit and 213 other major cities around the world.

Taking a stand against the norm, and bringing you the truth.

The only way we can right the past, is to make sure those that have been set free are not only free to do as they wish, they can dance and rejoice and sing the praise of true equality.

Ladies, if you are willing to set those puppies free, are fit and confident, and want to make sure that you prove to the world that you are here to abide. Please let me know.

Time to fight the power, and fuck misogynistic windows.

*abide*

By

Society needs YOU to fuck more

Are you getting fucked enough, to remain in the grouping of the expert class, and most satisfied of what the “elite” call the Fountain of Fuck?

Here, the eternal hope and springs are a cool water to the souls that are washed in the abs and the breasts of champion class sex goddesses and gods.

Here, they are gifted with the beauty and attraction, to be able to at least find a mate like that lost soul at the swingers weekend, sitting on the rattan chair ashamed to walk amongst the big dogs and large feline mountains – but there are many, that will always find a mate, a soul, another to just fuck like a champ with.

Just in the bones.

Sure macho man, go ahead make the obligatory there has to be a bone there somewhere, and we can all laugh and make sure we question why you have an affinity for certain events and what not, but let’s stay on track.

What the fuck is the ultimate? How does this compare?

Well, we can take one friend, a married lad who will speak of the married life, and the kids and the family, and the loved ones, and the magic that is all has, but Al Bundy arrives in full effect when we take about shoes and shoe styles.

You can be assured I am not alluding to actual shoes here, as I was not alluding to butter tarts a decade ago as just butter tarts. I am talking about sex, either before or after marriage, the shoe allegory. Sure thing, guess that is why in some of the other posts I may have even touched on it, seems to flow well.

We all need shoes, and some folks see them more as instruments to allow us to do the things we need them to do, similar to utilitarian shoes and sneakers or boots, to the other end of it, eccentric statements of our core beliefs and who we are, and how we are able to get so fucked with glorious fucks given, cause holy shit those boots are screaming for a comment.

There is no doubt when you look in their eye, similar to the naked truth of an exposed Twitter like truth that cuts to the bone of the truth of the moment, or the reason the humour existed and came to mind in such an odd and funny way, but it is true. They admit to it, with the eye’s that scan the horizon, over the brim of the large pint glass, now clutched upon like a flotilla of glass in an ocean of broken hope for continued fucking in the simple ways it was, and not the instrument of destruction, affecting female and males with sparing cruelty and fallen standards.

But fuck, that is what happens right, we are supposed to be beaten down – no?

So, the laughs begin, when the brine allows the passion of some fine fermented treats to allow the joy to begin. The fermentation was air, the treat was the fire, and the joy came when we got to sit back inside and discuss the math behind the failure of mankind to keep ourselves in the range our forefathers have, that we have failed as men to be able to chop the same amount of wood, and sow the same oats our forefather’s did to grow this nation.

People, we need to fuck more. That is the answer, not because of some kind of human hippie movement, or because I want more women to see the lovely girth souvlaki I am proud to rock (*in case you are wondering, Micky Avalon has asked for an autograph, and I assured him the flattery to my dick resembling Jesus, the inspiration for the lyrics in the song, and yes, they are all monks of Jesii as well, so we can nod and enjoy more of the dick humor…don’t worry ladies, i will be referencing the power of the magic mountains and that wonderful, natural man cave the universe gave you, and whether by God or Mother Nature, I personally remain a humbled man in front of those women that hold multiple PhD’s) – we need to fuck, because humanity needs to come back into balance.

Be more open about this, and see how easy it could be.

Become inspired to be a fuck tutor, and spread the wisdom of the math. It works.

Look, here is the gig. You get married, and to have caused that you want to (a) spend the rest of your life, feeling this great fuckability, this love and lust, and sex is a great big part of that, as a proportion of the “pie” (sic) that you attribute to your rational, to yourself, and your family, friends, associates and society as a whole; and (b) in order to reproduce, and create a family etc. All that other kind of jazz in the second part, and yes, it is important, and all of the importance to mankind.

I want to try to stay on point as it relates to the law of averages. How we can make some kind of sense of it, and try to do even the smallest things, to make the number creep upward in some regard.

You are in a hot as fuck relationship, before marriage that should be in the realm of 3-5 days/week, and this would include multiple occurrences on those occasions. Consider the well “sexed” individual, one who is engaging in 3 double dip days, and 2 standard days. That would be far from the daily multiple sex occurrences I know Ugh Caveman was into between making fire and fucking up t-rex and shit, but let’s just say that you are not the daily multi-beast, you are the person we all want to be right?

You got a 3×2 fuck, and then a 2 single shot, making it an 8 times a week fuck. Or at least, once a day. This is the norm. This is 365 days of the year. So you are gauging yourself against that.

Not going to get into the duration, or the waxing and waning phases of the fuck cycles and all of the coming of spring etc, I am talking about keeping it simple, pub math. There is more to it than that, but we continue the line of questioning with the confirmation that the annual birthday and the annual Christmas BJ, are blended with the 6 times in the last year. About 5 years, so it has come down to about that – yup, eight to twelve fucks, experiences of dick or vagina glory…wow.

The rounding difference is miniscule. You are getting about 2% of the allocated amount, and if that number continues on at that rate, and you even manage to get to the magical interjection from “we are older, so we don’t that much, but twice a month or so, weekly at least…” – well congrats, that 52/365 is a golden 14%.

Please note, as I sip the magical air around me, pupils bursting with the sights and nostrils flared with the delicious crafts of the local pub house chefs and their understanding of bliss, I do not even get them to the real number. We are using the “average” the normal, or some kind of reasonable assumption of it.

How about sex addicts? Or let’s not even delve into the realm of addiction, it has such a tepid reception in many circles, and always demands the most attention in conversations after its utterance, no let’s keep it simple, and say we have people that are hyper-sexual, like at times of their lives, and clearly more so than at other times, but that once they reach adult hood, and enter into a regular relationship – they are often engaging in sexual activity daily, and masturbation is a major part of that, and they are doing it with, or without permission(s) from their partner. Swinging has it’s rules, and some people think it is just some kind of strange place, and it is, but that does not mean the people that participate are not people.

You are having sex every day, and most of the days, twice. There will be at least a half dozen personal “shots”, and you can have one great night of the quasi-sutra, or the 4 legs of Shibumi. 4 days is 8, you have the 6, a nice 4 pounder and now talking about 18-24/weekly. This would be on par with Fred Flinstone and Wilma for sure.

This takes the level to 1,248 experiences a year, for the more “hyper” individual and when you compare to that.

Holy fucking shit – 12. That is less than 1%.

Fuck Wall Street.

Occupy some Cock Avenue, or some Vagina Court.

You are part of the movement that has to make this world a better place.

Do it, but know. You are still going to pay for your own kids.

That is another topic all together.

*abide*

 

By

Smelling salt

How you can feel so bad, and somehow you need the smell of a cologne, you have not worn it or looked “good” in months, years – how can you feel good?

Is it the media that says this, or just natural human desire?

What is going to make you beautiful, despite the life that is lead to the reflections and the journey that you take, each day to define the life and wonder that comes with the hope and desire to do?

What we do, often is seen as a need to satisfy the other’s in a society that demands reflection is only the purpose in paying attention to the detail that you must notice in the other’s attired. Never weary to continue to reflect the living of the person that sits in front of you this moment, on the screen.

Is it a shadow that you see, and one that includes yourself – travelling the roads, or having been along a journey the sheds a tear, and you reach for the tissue. Emotions.

Controlling your actions.

Watching it all, to experience it. To tell yourself a story, and remind yourself of why, today is a beautiful day.

In all of my poverty, and in all of my stupidity, I find my self worth and vast riches, a blessing no one can value but myself.

To have been blessed, in these recent days with the challenges, and to have been able to walk those miles with my mother, to have seen my niece and nephews smiling and growing…

Wealth.

In my gulch, there is no money. The fool considers me a peer and a sibling, who ponders the monetary note as anything more than a means to an end.

The intent, and the glory of it all.

The struggle to find the peace, only then becomes such a thing of beauty you abide by nothing else.

*abide*

A Reflection from Variable on Vimeo.

By

How deep is your love?

I know your eyes in the morning mall
I feel you touch me in the pouring sales
And the moment that you wander from the aisle
I wanna feel you at my register again

And you come to me with your summer tee’s
Keep you warm in the winter with Gortex sleeves
And it’s me you need to blow

How deep is your Fed
I really need to learn
Cause you’re living in a world of fools
Breaking you down
When they all should let us be
We long to shop, you and me

I believe in blue
You know the door to a season’s soul
You’re the light in the deepest, darkest tower
You’re my cash when credit falls
And you may not think
I care for you
When you know down inside
That I really don’t
And it’s me you need to grow

How deep is your cred
You really need to learn
The machine tolerates no fools
Breaking you down
When you all should let cogs be
We long to consume, you for me

*Lyrics adapted from: How Deep is Your Love, The Bee Gees

I am a reader, like you, of many different publications, and my taste could be called as eccentric as some of the writing I review and participate in, much like yourselves. Yes, you. The reader that has come here to find something that is going to be considered in a different perspective, and as such, is to be a reward for doing so. We all love being considered unique, and intelligent, and quite frankly would agree, that yes, humans love rewards. They are good things, and they often come with results that revolve around tangible things, and because we are intelligent species, we also know, that these rewards can be benefits that are softer, or can not be touched, except through a sensual realm we would all recognize upon discourse.

So we love the material world, we have heard and seen so much of this, that we could point to the animation series interpretations, or watch 30 Rock, hoping to see vanity affirm that after 6:00 p.m., only animals do not wear tuxedos. We relish in the stories of the Walter White hero, who has to not only fight his cancer, but his urge to have to do whatever he had to do, in order to survive and try to provide for his family. The change to his character is based on ensuring his family lives well, unlike his life until that point, struggling to provide a living, as opposed to super charged, spoiler, cocaine fueled, metallic stallions.

Kenny “fuckin’” Powers becomes a lore that pervades the musings and wanderings of a generation that no longer needs books or lockers, as much as they do the size of the hard drives, and the access to speed and cloud resources, that their elders possess and keep hallowed with the same gyrations of outcomes if they were so blessed as to have been Kenny. Shame, the supporting characters were not as prominent, or we never got a chance to talk to the faceless extra’s on the set – they are the one’s that make up the real story.

No? The characters are “you” right?

You can completely relate to Scarface, and Goodfellas, and of course, Bond? Ladies, amazed at the intelligence and insight from Oprah, or the CSI detective, strong and intelligent, but passionate, bold woman?

My river can run as deep as the pitcher’s of beer, or as long as the papers have glue to stick it all together, but let’s just say for brevity sake (*yeah, sarcasm and self indulgent smirk included at this point in my frant (c), a Feta-rant) at the very least, see “just” about every show, every media report, every thing we ever see, whatever that is – comes with a desire to be seen, for some kind of recognition, or gain. Some kind of material want, we “justly” get it.

The time has come to consider how amazing this new generation could be, and what the difference may be in their approach to life, that will surely be different than the one occupying Main St., USA, today.

There is never going to be another time in history, where we step back from the advancements of what we have now. At the very least, the most incredibly important things, like water, food, electricity, media now…all will be provided, and ensured, because we are not animals. We are not filthy, disgusting animals that lick their own assholes, we may lick another’s for fetish reasons, or in order to actually be able to progress in that job, that gives me another 15 minutes of spare time to stare at a cinderblock wall, floating away on a magical device that stimulates the mental holograms I need like crack to get through the day, but licking my own asshole is not only not possible, it is not even a desire.

I am an intellect. I am worthy of high praise, I am the human specimen – well, I am the Fetaman, really a man made of cheese, and has all of the properties of being human, and has lived as one his whole life not even being understood as such, but he is made of pure feta and brine, and sure as the words you are reading here, I too am not only capable of logic and reason, and laughter, and good masturbation jokes, but I am in your category perhaps, so let’s just say we are all worthy of this high praise.

We deserve all of these goods, and have earned them, and once we have gotten at least the basics undertaken, in this “re-matrix” animation, making sure we do not advance backwards from the first physical needs, we will stay alive, as a human race, prioritizing with the same urgency as a mongrel horde, or the living creation of a blanket of black lesions representing a historic map that nearly wiped out the greatest creation the universe has seen.

We fail to really focus on the importance of clothing, in the realm of survival, we take it for granted, we are entitled to have all of these items, it is what makes us better than the wolves or the lions, or the donkeys. Exposed privates, and that whole natural survival thing, no, we can save that for the National Geographic shows, or those of us that really like the outdoors, and they can do their Mountain Equipment Co-op thing, or use their down filled parka’s in the desert to catch a new sand tic that may reveal the location of the Ark, or some tablets – we have the technology to read this tic’s DNA, and it will be plugged into the same computer than can calculate an estimate of something not humanly possible, based on the roll of the random number generated outputs, and their collective intelligence, so we should use it.

But clothing – never.

It is a basic necessity, and as such, helps us define what the place of ourselves is, relative to our friends, peers, and the unionized collective. I know, you may be thinking I am being a little harsh here, with the whole “union” reference, but it kind of works right? We have a communist leader example we can use here, that is the solution according to so many of the anarchists, and the intelligent ones who have now figured out the importance of keeping pubis trimmed to close, and looking good. (*hint: the answer is webcams, and the spatial ratio of projection relative to light sources and intoxicant combinations during certain phases of media transfer as recognized by alpha bio nutrient fueled Intelligence Gel (c) as provided in standard new born birthing, post 1984.) so why not run with it. The lead communist leader has the best uniforms, and the top members also have nice badges, and medals and things that you sew on to the traditional garb, and voila, we now have a visual class system.

It allows us to not only be seen differently, it can also be a measure of how the economy is doing. This is the basic thought behind much of the media today, not necessarily specifically only about clothing, but hard goods, spending, the acquisition of the more important things in life, like a fine sound system, and killer useful Christmas presents. Badass speed, NASCAR speed spending – you got a sticker, we got a place to put it. So let’s measure some stickers, according to a piece I noticed on BusinessInsider.com titled “The 10 Cities Where Americans Spend The Most” that was written by Mike Dang, based on Bundle information, amongst other sources.

I had been fascinated by the original article I had seen (*this truly an intelligent piece, and is food for thought for those of you willing to reap what you sowThe State of the Internet.), and just closed it planning on commenting, or writing about some of the thoughts going through my head, maybe simplify it, break it down to a 140 character context. Look for 20 word outputs that may be “flashes of brilliance” that the masses to know, I mean, I like you need to be heard, and I am so damn important, I should not even have to work or pay taxes, that way I could contribute with my amazing and brilliant ideas, and make the world a better place…*headscratch*

The top 100 cities of America were randomly surveyed, according to a wandering dalliance, and yes, so unique, what do the 18 million American “shopaholics look like”? Fascinating stuff, yes, we will be able to tell so much about the world with this data, it has never been considered before. But we shall be tricky say the survey takers, we will outsmart them, with the simple questions, asking them about vague memories or very firm ones, that range will be great amongst the union classes from office to conveyor belt, that revolve around household expenditure on shoes, clothing and other wear. The authors gathered the findings, which include input from the wonderful machine known as Citi, and voila, I had some good chuckles at the manipulated and telling tale, of the truth that was chosen to be shared, but why it was shared, and why you react the way you do, hell, I am no fucking Kreskin (*remember, a man made of feta “headscratch*).

Simply, the article lists the 10 cities. Quick, easy to read format as you see, based on a quick set of virtual slides, on the proprietary software. All you have to do is click the arrow, and another surprise city announcement comes to you. If you are one of the people in the city that look at those numbers and smirk, is that a weekly average? Well, you are one special human, right? Maybe you can email me, and we can become friends, and share Instagram shots of the items we just had to have.

*mouthing the words “email me” as I type this, just not sure if the webcam caught it, or you were multitasking, so yeah, email me*

I summarized the general findings, in this first picture. Consider it a simplified info-graphic that uses that old-fashioned translator, math. I know, out there. Here we see a couple of interesting things, in one snapshot that takes the mental calculations out of it. Wanted to keep it easy, or perhaps guide you on the journey of the information, in a form that makes my message seem both relevant, and validated.

How Deep is Your Love - Part I

Go ahead, I am sure you are nodding at how simple this all appears right?

At the numbers that were used, the annual spends look to be a little on the high side, but this is acceptable, we are talking about the top 10 cities from the spending side, and 5 of those cities are in California, and Texas. Makes sense, with the large population centers, and the corporate developments. This is pretty good stuff. The other cities, seem to fit, sure, some retirement oriented, older, well established family stuff. Nothing to see here, or be surprised at, it is like the telephone number on the bathroom stall. Good for a quick dip into the imagination, or filed into the memory bank, and off you go to wash your hands at the sink. On to the next one…

Not so fast.

I did not pass over the information so fast. I have my own reservations, and thoughts on a number of things, and like many began this conscious stream of thought, that had me starting off with assuming the questioning and the professionalism of the survey, and the data was prepared properly. That is was handled by an intern, that was managed by a boss, that was managed by a Board, that reported to the shareholders, about the shit that they sold them on and off the books.

I am going to remain “real” on what my thoughts on this are, and I have stated it before, the numbers will tell you whatever you want them to, so asking them to tell you what you want, is an art. Let’s assume we can appreciate this form of “art”. Consider it like a logo, or a brand – that is art, and that is another topic.

I copied the cities into a workbook, and used the data to project, or assume a couple of straight line valuations, that were logical. If we took the monthly average, and simply multiplied by 12, we would have an annual spend. So taking the simple average of all the cities, voila, we have a magical average that can be multiplied to show us about $2,749 in actual spending, and about $3,573 of gross earnings, at a 30% tax rate assumption.

I know, nothing too surprising here, hopefully there are more of us that do that, then don’t, but I do not think that is the case based on the numbers of people that are capable, willing, and time enabled to consider more than the 30 seconds of city pictures, and a number that ranges from $200-260/month.

Who cares about the sixty dollars a month difference, that is not that much. But I disagree, that is $15/week, and for some, that is the difference between eating, or not, being able to get the medical attention or medication they need, or not. I am not going to get into my theory on what my role is in that, or yours. I am a proponent of the gulch, and I abide. I own my miles, and I expect anyone else that can, to do just that. Own them yourself. I am going to confirm however, that you will know the wealth, or the respect one has for it, when they are aware of these small things, for it will be them, that will amount to great returns.

This is something most barber’s know, but keep it a secret so you can keep paying them in cash, and in kind.

Now consider the “other side” of that, in the growing sense, that equals about $720/year difference. That is net spending, and gross income, or the spin off economic benefits not included or required here, to illustrate the difference that this amount of money could make in someone’s life, over a decade. Sure, you are not going to want to have another $28,000 plus compound returns over 4 decades. You would rather light your candles with a scented match at least you can eat the memories when the pension promised by the machine is no longer available, adequate or palatable.

Is the machine the state? A corporation?

People?

How Deep is Your Fed - Part II

With less than a couple of weeks to blow any holiday budget, and love to prove with the shopping still left, shoppers will be in a mad rush to snatch up last-minute gifts for friends and family, at debt levels never seen before. But, alas, tis the season to chant prosperity again, for all no doubt.

*this is that moment live, where I literally will either smirk/smile/laugh, or outright get up and walk away in order to not cause your ego to falter, or worse, be slaughtered in the name of the fodder needed for the Brine Diaries.*

I then included a couple of categories, and thought, yes, indeed this works.

This is the way that I think now that I am older, and past my desire to drop the $3,000 on the suits, and material goods. In fact, pretty glad I am one of these next door neighbor types that you have no clue about, just an eccentric in a robe, sipping milk all day, smoking bohemian tobacco, and they can still do what they want, but we have another subset of the population that needs to be considered, and that is going to hold a surprise revelation for some, and a chuckle for others.

These categories include the number of pairs of shoes one would typically buy in a year (*do I have to buy some, I have some I want to give away – but maybe will box, and store and use when these ones blow out, thankfully I do not have the nacho cheese feet my cousin Jesus Raul Tacropolis complains his wife has, and fellow country folk possess), the number of t-shirt/golf shirts (*I do not golf so much anymore, well never did, cause cheese is not permitted to actually play golf, only on the course for consumption or male entertainment when some of us are cut as a buddy is about to tee off, but I am a devout purchaser of 1970/80’s black and white concert t-shirts), the number of casual shirts (*most of these include the Olive on Horseback logo of Ralph Lathitovrathi, and come in all kinds of colors and shades, but I am a sucker for putting on a fine bunch of oil, at night, and hoping for a sweet salad tossing), the number of dress shirts (*as most of my time is consumed by trying to do anything that revolves around bowling, my shirts are dressy, when Fetaman is on the left chest, mine are all orange mostly, but I do have a few decades worth that are still in fine form, and circulations) and finally, various or other (*the feta-string thongs, boxer chongs, silk socks and comfortably hand pulled, organic cotton from the poppy fields of Afghanistan, etc.)

I assumed a certain cost to these items, based on the classical separation of low (*which is much different than poverty line), middle and high. I think they are not indicative of the “real” numbers when we look at the whole range, but remember, we are talking about the human calculator consideration here, and how quickly this occurs, would be scary to some of you still reading this. For others it is as simple to understand, as drinking water. It is the way you drink water.

Now, I think that 4 pairs of shoes a year is pretty “outlandish”. Not sure who you are, or what you do that you need this many, but it may be a fair number considering we are talking about households here, and this number is for the average alone. Do not try to compound this thinking, or this argument with how many people live in the house, and what they do, or what their upbringing was and how it relates – just keep this simple, be who you are – the selfish, self-absorbed, narcissistic, example of someone that must have all of these things, to define who you are. Like the playlist on your iPod defines exactly what you would express to the world, if you could – you so deserve to sing your song, sweet butterfly, so lovely and willing to mingle with the moths that come from the meadow, a gulch over there, so bland and dreary, and negative.

Yes, you are right. Bland, dreary, negative gulch.

I did keep the numbers simple, because that is how they come. The two I had a burp with, a little burp ok, not a belch, or some kind of rancid wrestling match, were the number of the various items that one would use (I mean this would include the socks and shit) and the cost of these items, as mentioned above, what makes them “real” or what could become a standard number according to news, and various other sources and reflections. So that is what you get.

What is interesting, is the second picture seen above. Here I have added a number of things that become glaringly incompetent to me, in the presentation of the information. In fact, I am so offended by how brash this is to attempt to pull off, that it is only upon reflection, that I am able to catch myself in the Maxwell Smart moment, where the shoe is held to my ear, and I am listening to the special instructions. Of course, the information is meant to be only indicative, just a news tidbit, or sound bite, that is all.

Sure, like the small pieces of stone that fell from the grate, when Frank Morris taught us how raincoats and dimes could translate into freedom, and he deserved it, he had a tough sentence, he deserves some pathos, we understand the story, and it is a good one.

He was a criminal that did bad things, that was locked away for life. He was bad, but we feel good, in knowing he was able to get away from the machine, from the system, from the man that would be so cruel as to take paint and crush flowers?

The picture I paint is one that asks, what the distribution of the population looks like? How this is impacted by the disparity in income, as well as along a geographic segmentation? What do the worst cities look like, is there any spending there? Are people killing each other every day to eat, and be able to survive – is there tension in Chicago, or in DC? How about Los Angeles, the city of angels?

I take the averages used for the year, break it down into a month, and then see that the lowest of earners, will be far less than the top cities spend, but that is to be expected. They still however need to eat, and that too, will have a different standard disparity. They will all pay for the water and the power, but the quality of the service, and the measurement of it, will be different for a small business and the larger corporation, just as it is for a low income family and the better off, for lack of needing to diminish any more worth’s. Media, that is absolute – entertainment is seen to be the luxury CUV.

The Cerebral Utility Vehicle *duh*

All of this, so you could frant about the material world, and what it means.

No, all of this so I could laugh at one thing, that I seem to think is so fucking obvious to me, and I am amazed at how ridiculous of a concept it is to have to point out. Bean by bean the sack gets full. Seconds flow into years, and then your life is filled with what you have made of it.

Right?

Well after 30 years, assuming you spend the first 15 learning the right things about what money means, and what it takes to earn it. You then are able to trade your earned money for the things you want, thanks to a common currency or exchange methodology, and live a happy life. The rich people, realize that to be rich, you need the first two as a solid foundation combined with the abilities and desires, the purpose, you have, which is to make more money, by having other people make it for you. Regardless of the later, which you may discover sooner or later in life, everyone in this scenario will then have had 15 years of living.

That is 60 pairs of shoes, and jeans, and even more if the illustrated numbers are not reflective of your consumption pattern, and I can assure you, those numbers are not really me. Fuck, I have jeans I have been wearing for a decade now, and they may not be the kind I want to attend a formal dinner in, but then again, I decide what I want to wear, and why, especially if the invite uses the term “formal.”

In my gulch, that has an entirely different meaning. Swingers of a different money sort, with claws and fangs, according to those who are entitled to more, and not less – nature is not fair, is it?

You have all of these things, that somehow matter, that somehow are more important than making sure the life you lead, utilizes the most important things to you…after the basics are covered. After the necessities have become no longer bare coverage, but reasonable and just coverage. No home is to be without water, power and cable TV. All internet is to be faster than the collective bounding of a steam fired locomotive, and clothing is just as important?

The state of the infrastructure market, has been something that I have been involved in for decades, it facilitated where I am today, and provides for what I want to do. I was blessed to be so fortunate to get into it, coming from the family of hardship, and wooden spoons. It was something that was a passion, and that I worked at.

Of course, as mentioned on the site, and in my writing, I have been along the way of the $300 ties, and $700 cufflinks. I no longer am there, by choice.

By the choices I made, when I considered the impact, on my life in the future, if I continued to not respect wealth for what it really is. If I continued to recklessly throw the money I had earned, and now was becoming desensitized to, around in the same way I had begun my post-graduate ways, I was going to have to spend the rest of my life, as a slave to the machine, and in order to merely ensure I could buy the things I want to impress other’s with, even if they did not really matter to the quality of my life so much, as long as they were important enough to have me recognized. Rewarded with the smile at the light, when my 500 AMG purred next to the Rabbit.

I eventually got to a point, where I had to remember from where I had come, and knowing from the experiences in my life, that the 48 jeans, or the 200 t-shirts, or the hundreds of socks, are not going to be there for me to eat, or live with, if, and when, a tragedy might come.

Bankruptcy – it was a bad decision, but if you learned from it, then you will recover, and until then, no problem, look at your pretty jeans. You realize you can’t eat them, and you know you will be lucky to get $5 at the second hand clothes store, I mean, you wore them only twice, and they cost you $300…good investment, in fact, fuck investment, great life planning. Guess no one ever told you about this, or you are the victim, because it was the machine, the evil wars, the corporations that did this to you – terrible, I know.

Cancer – well, this is something I can speak of, easily. Whether the doctor’s tell you the cancer is new, or back, or terminal, do not worry if you are one of these clothing, material spending types. Good food? Fuck it, have to look good. How? The solution is easy, and can be found in the third episode, of Season 1 of “Sex in the City”, and like the BusinessInsider.com article references, these shopaholics have it all figured out (*hint – the cure involves good shoes, casual sex as a result of good pharma coupons and fabulous, well priced fashion selections and accessories)

Criminal charges – no worry, if you fall into this category because you were framed, or you got caught having to do what you needed to do, to live? Not going to be an issue, you clothes will make you a hipster upon your release, and the gymnastics training undergone in the watering steam caves, or deep in the bowels of the lower bunk, will surely provide some lean, mean, tax free income upon your release, and the releases of your newest “friends”. Society has deemed you to be a criminal, forever.

I could likely move into the next phase of the math, do some more pictures, and fill in the cells on the workbook. But I don’t want to talk about how $500 a month, makes a huge difference in your life. Most people should be able to see that by now, you would think. The fiscal cliff talks should have more people aware of where they are, and the impacts they are going to see, and feel, when the trough begins to slam shut and the free meals are proven to not be free.

If you saved that $6,000 a year, flat line, for 40 years, and invested it, what amounted to literally less than $20/day, that figure is straight lined at $240,000. Compounded at whatever you want it to be. But if over that period of time, you spent $2,000,000, and have a negative net worth, on paper?

Maybe, not so much.

There is no fucking growth, in any capacity, if it has all been financed by debt. If you made $100, and owe $1,000 – you made nothing, other than a life of misery for yourself.

If you continue to do that, to owe the man, or the Shylock, or the pimp on the street, or the mobster the money you earn, to pay back more and more of the money you used, to get things that don’t matter, or maybe have not remained as important in life as you think they do?

You are one smart cookie. <looks around for stick to throw>

But, running faster towards death, with more debt, means when you die, you will at least have enjoyed some lovely clothes that you never even had to fully pay for.

You win. Your life has had great meaning, cool.

See you in hell.

I will be there on the tour bus passing through. What? No, it’s not really a bus, so much as a motor home, I saved for it in this life, knowing I would want to roll like that in the afterlife. It’s kind of like the same reason I remained frugal here in order to get my diamond bowling ball set, Saint Karabatsos has got a wicked team together, and there is no way I am letting him beat me, especially if it means not having to buy any more shoes. Fucking hate shoes, they just cramp my toes, and make my feet smell like nachos.

Oh sorry, did not notice.

Yes, of course, your shoes look so wonderful and pretty.

I wish I could afford the wealth you possess.

*abide*

By

Bear abide

Feta:
You know what you are? You’re like a big bear with claws and with fangs…

Chongmaster:
…big fucking teeth, man.

Feta:
Yeah… big fuckin’ teeth on ya’. And she’s just like this little bunny, who’s just kinda cowering in the corner.

Chongmaster:
Shivering.

Feta:
Yeah, man just kinda… you know, you got these claws and you’re staring at these claws and your thinking to yourself, and with these claws you’re thinking, “How am I supposed to kill this bunny, how am I supposed to kill this bunny?”

Chongmaster:
And you’re poking at it, you’re poking at it…

Feta:
Yeah, you’re not hurting it. You’re just kinda gently batting the bunny around, you know what I mean? And the bunny’s scared Mike, the bunny’s scared of you, shivering.

Chongmaster:
And you got these fucking claws and these fangs…

Feta:
And you got these fucking claws and these fangs, man! And you’re looking at your claws and you’re looking at your fangs. And you’re thinking to yourself, you don’t know what to do, man. “I don’t know how to kill the bunny.” With *this* you don’t know how to kill the bunny, do you know what I mean?

Chongmaster:
You’re like a big bear, man.

J. Larry Carrot:
So you’re not just like fucking with me?

Feta:
No. I’m not fucking with you.

Chongmaster:
Honestly, man.

 

*abide*

By

Wile E. Coyote – super genius

“Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men’s reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of ”the rat race” is not yet final.”

Hunter S. Thompson