Sometimes I love a Hack's Work

Aaron Sorkin is a hack. He's the worst kind: he's supposititious. He puts forward what seems true in order to eliminate the needful feeling to explore the truth, which costs time and effort and thus appeals to instant gratification. I assume I'm not the only one into that.

And worse!, he makes characters to fit his engineered story, as opposed to making characters who generate a story. A very, very sad human. My narcissism pities those that don't know they are narcissistic. I'd hate him but I'm confidant that he hates himself more than I ever could because ever moment of self reflect requires that elitist to find a equivocation or conjure a lie. And thus the petty are punished. Also, it's wrong to hate, but whatever. The important thing is that I don't feel bad owning and loving each season of The West Wing.

So, that perfect logical proof stated and accepted by every living human(and most of the dead), I feel no harm in LOVING this scene in one of his movies, each of which make shit house rats appreciate the luxury of shit houses.

PB

P.S. Do I know the endings of all my my neglected stories? Yes. Do I have more stories to start so I can neglect? Yes. Am I going to do any work? Come on, you know.

Take that, Venezuela!

Now the world shall live a year of prosperity and peace, as the new Miss World is American!!!! And Southern, which is power icing on the awesome cake.

Not only does free market capitalism and the rule of law produce wealth, justice, and scientific super-doperness for all, it also produces hotness. Wow, the spell checker recognizes "hotness".

Some might call me petty for using the Miss World competition to support my economic theory of freedom and degrade fascism in South America. I have an answer to these calls: so what?

I confess that Miss Egypt is freaking beautiful. How didn't she win? Did she drop a baton in the talent section? Whatever. All that matters is the world is yet again ruled by an 18 year old southern American girl. Just as Thomas Jefferson dreamed...

My favorite pitty is self-pitty

It's been a long time. I've been busy. I've done more physical labor this summer than in my previous, entire life. Still, I have these ideas for stories, and I think about them all the time.

And speaking of discipline, I've been dealing with self-discipline, with what some may call "chemical dependence". Sometimes I get rude and mean, and I don't want to be that way, but I also don't want to be bored. Some people don't want a drunk asshole around. Some people may even object to putting the " before the period, but screw them. I have more important things to worry about.

Point is, I'm not making any promises, but I felt a great pleasure writing my stories, and I think two or three people took some pleasure in reading them. And each story I started is a planned story. I know how it ends, I just haven't written it down because I'm lazy and because writing, for me, hurts at first. Hurts in a place I can't rub. But I'd like to finish them.

So, overly mawkish as I am, I'm none-the-less still here.

Niki Flynn grew up and is out?

What the Hell?

Never say never

That said, time, for humans, only exists in finite stretches. Never and always have a different meaning for the living than it does for the grammarian. I don't want to say I will never finish these stories I started. The pain, for me, is that they are finished in my head. I know the plots, the arcs, the words, but I'm just not going to write them. At least for now. That's the pain. The pathetic thing is, and is, is that I don't just let the blog go. And, in addition, I don't know what my problem is.

I've written this next paragraph many times. I deleted them all. Everything I write sounds fake even if it the truth as I see it. Still seems fake. This seems somehow worse, but it is as honest as I can make it.

Meanwhile, I have put myself to work in a more direct fashion in my biological life. There is a lot to learn in the world. There is always something else to learn. So I guess I'll do that for now. For you few, you precious few, that liked my work, my advice is to spend all your waking time re-reading it and sending me money.

PB

The Good Stuff

I've enjoyed Restrained Elegance for some time. Top notch producers and lovers of the art of the perverted. Well, moments of genius must be appreciated if the human race is to mean a damn.

I recently watched their film "Chef Mistress" starring Ariel Anderson and Amy Allen. Bondage/spanking/smoking-hot-chicks/and cooking. People, treat yourself, buy a membership for a month and download years of pictures then cancel before they rebill, but make sure you download and watch Chef Mistress. Sexy, sure. But sexy is all over place. This film is better than mere sexy-- it's funny.

And no, I'm not going to write anything soon. I'm busy and I think I have biochemically induced depression.

PB

Jesus Christ on a Pogo Stick

This is the most pathetic thing ever. So sad. It appears that Eliot was right. This is so depressing I don't even feel bad for being a bad person anymore. Wait... crap, this might be the prologue for The Road Warrior!

Tits in a gay bar, I LOVE The Road Warrior!

The annoying thing is that the new dark age of Western Civilization is the center of the Coventry Mysteries story line. I can't possibly be expected to write these stories as fast as the West collapses. And if I could, why bother? Put in all that work so that China could own it? I think not. I don't work to build Education Camps.

However, I do have an impressive cache of guns. So much fun. Of course, I've also read The road, which read like less fun. But I don't have a kid. I just have a bunch of guns.

PB