Me Today

After 2 weeks of gaining weight and not loosing anything i finally I did it!!!!  I lost 2 kilos :D well heehe 1.8 I am the biggest loser for this week Check out the stats

 3 Weeks to go!!!    Im in 3rd place overall in the running…. I hope that i keep loosing from now till I see my boys   (My Finace Dec 23  and Backstreet Boys Dec 17)

sometimes i have stuff to do

sometimes i feel like dyin

i wish i wanted to go home

wait i have no home

the future looks bleak

sometimes i feel like i will live a great life

sometimes i feel like i should  die pretty soon

last night i had a dream about jenny lewis and ernest hemingway

jenny lewis and i were  waiting at a bus stop near the sunland park mall on the westside of el paso texas

we smoked cigarettes together and i held her hand

it was august , it was hot, the sun was setting

jenny lewis looked at a palm tree

i looked at some cars

she said ‘ were not taking the bus’

i said ‘ how will we get back to our houses than’

she said her friend ernest hemingway is picking us up

i looked at a palm tree and put my head down and said ‘ okay’

she said ‘ we can’t hold hands in front of ernest hemingway’

i said ‘ why’

she said because ernest hemingway likes me and i don’t want anybody’s feelings hurt

i said well it should not matter because your my ” girlfriend” and that is what people do when they are going out

she said yeah  but i like him too and i don’t want to ruin my chances with him

i said ‘ how is that supposed to make me feel

she said your acting like an asshole

i said  i am not acting like an asshole

she let go of my hand

ernest hemingway’s car pulled up to the bus stop

i said i am not getting in

she smiled and said ‘ okay’

i got close to her face and tried to kiss her

she pushed me away

and ernest hemingway beeped

and yelled ‘ stay the fuck off my girlfriend’

she got in the car and kissed ernest hemingway

ernest hemingway sped off in his shitty car and it made ‘ loud noises’

i texted her ‘ i’m going to kill myself’

i woke up and remembered that  it was not a dream

the whole thing happenned and but there never was jenny lewis or ernest hemingway

just some stupid girl and some loser who worked at subway or taco bell or some other shitty job like that

and it never took place in el paso texas

for  thnxfgvngs day i will say thank god :

that we broke up

that i never really even liked her  so  it’s easy to forget what she looked like

that  she ended up more unhappy than i was

for the other girls that i meet who are 1,000 times better

azns

my new found abilty to spot out sociopaths/bitches/losers/sadists/hippies

i don’t give a shit

i am sometimes hopeful for ‘ good things’ to happen to me

i feel overwhelmed in general

i want to lock myself in a room with a lap top and a fast internet connection and maybe a supply of vegan treats and rockstar energy drinks and bottles of adderall

i will be alone for two months

i did that

i felt simple

i felt alone

i did not feel happy but i never felt intense feelings of sadness

i went two months with out going outside or talking to a person

i went to buy some vegan treats  twice but that was it

and  i kept my head down and said nothing

it was easy

Por um bom tempo, procurei por uma TV de LCD. Horas e horas gastas nas lojas virtuais (e não-virtuais) da vida, pesquisando preços, condições de pagamento, especificações. Como se já não vivesse isso quase o dia todo, fiquei especialista em descritivos de TV. Mais precisamente nas taxas de contraste e quantidade de entradas HDMI.

Meses depois do início da garimpagem, enfim, adquiri uma razoável. Pra quem é, tá bom demais. Instalei e logo ela cumpriu seu propósito de alienação: pendurar o DVD Player e o bom e velho Playstation 2.

TV de enfeite

Faz tempo. Desmotivei com a televisão e sua programação. Acho tudo realmente muito chato. Não curto nenhum programa de auditório, reality show sem graça, novela das 8, das 9, das 10, das 11, telejornal tendencioso e muito raramente me interesso em acompanhar séries — sequer tive TV a cabo até hoje. Quando alguma me atrai, procuro em DVD.

Nem a MTV dá mais pra assistir. Seus programas pseudohypes apresentados por leitores de teleprompter qualificados (a.k.a. dublês de VJ) são desinteressantes e o VMB é sempre a mesma bosta.

Então, no máximo da normalidade, perdi o peitinho da modelo-mulher-do-cantor-semifamosa que tá confinada na pilha de esterco de artistas no ostracismo e a trilhonésima reportagem superlegal quase-crítica, com o jornaleiro careca quase-cult-engraçadão da PQP. Motivos pela qual não me arrependo de não ter comprado uma antena junto com a TV.

Sinceramente, nem preciso perder meu tempo assistindo à telinha luminosa. Pra ficar sabendo o que rolou, basta dar um rolê por aí. As pessoas falam mais alto que os fones de ouvido. E tem a Internet.

Quanto aos que “xingam”, o discurso é o de sempre: a programação da TV aberta é um lixo, o Faustão é insuportável e a Luciana Gimenez não sabe nem ler. Disso você já sabe. Qualquer um que fale qualquer coisa, não transcende o mais-do-mesmo.

Liberdade de expressão. Assim como eles falam merda em rede nacional, escrevo aqui minha opinião irrelevante. O lixo tá aí, em todo lugar. Assiste quem quer. Lê quem quer.

E enquanto lê essas palavras dispensáveis, os incríveis programas patéticos disputam ponto-a-ponto seu ibope.

who’s gonna be the new mayor of Alpine Shire? well not Ray Dixon for sure! came in last at the 2008 Council election even behind the guy with the goat and the big beard. Ray Dixon loser ha ha ha ha ha!!!!

smile for the camera Ray

JW, IS, SHOUTING, AT, ME.

He is blaming me for the divorce papers taking so long to get served. As usual, he has made up his own time-frames and tells me that “HE, HAS, BEEN, WAI,TING, FORRRR, NINE, MONTHS, FORRRR, THOSE, PAPERS, MY ,IN,COM,PE,TENT, LAW,YER, IS, SUP,POSED, TO, GET, TO, HIM!” He puts commas between every syllable, roles his r’s and takes on a very strong Afrikaans accent when he gets abusive.

Of course the fact that I instituted the divorce four months ago, and that every time the sheriff has been around to serve the papers he has been holidaying in Kenya, or Mocambique, Hoedspruit or on a fishing trip, has absolutely nothing to do with it.

I think that it must be part of his warped psyche that he thinks that even though I left him seven months ago, that he can still bully me. Although to stay married to JW, you need the strength to cope with the neglect, (apparently a quality I have in buckets) you mustn’t be stronger than he is, because how can he dominate and argument and put you down if you can outwit him? Then he has to resort to his own biased version of the truth.

I am just making sure that I don’t rise to the bate and I am keeping it cordial and friendly. When he shouts I sweetly say “good bye” and put the phone down.

My mother always taught me to use coals of fire. (When you react in a friendly, polite way to someone who is shouting at you; it’s supposed to be very disarming, and you come out of the situation the better person.) Unfortunately alcohol has desensitised JW’s brain so much that this subtlety escapes him. His natural reaction to conflict with people he has decided are weaker than him, is to bully and shout.

The only people he bullies are his staff, the domestic worker and ex wives (to be). He is afraid of unpleasant clients, lawyers and almost obsequious to people who owe him money.

He is most afraid of what people will think of him, to the extent that the bigger the loser the more out of his way he will go to help them financially or with counselling (over brandies and coke at three in the morning.) I believe that this makes him feel powerful. He will buy decrepit cars off them, or stay over at their house validating them. He always boasts that people confide in him, of course they do, after enough drinks, they would confide in the dog if it was buying a round.

What is going to happen when he has no one left to bully? He used to be such a kind man, and still is in public, but at some time there won’t be anyone who has been manipulated into giving him the power to bully them.

Actually there will always be someone with a low enough self esteem to be taken in by his now fleeting charm and fading good looks. His ideal partner must just stay good looking, so that his friends admire her, thin and earning enough money to support him. She mustn’t have his kids, that is where the neglect starts. This would be recipe for a marriage made in purgatory.

em um dia temos tanta cumplicidade,
parece que fazemos parte um da vida do outro.
você divide comigo informações que não costuma dizer a ninguém.
continuamos assuntos pessoais, dividimos preocupações e também as coisas que nos deixam felizes,
como nossos pequenos afilhados.

no dia seguinte,
é como se nada tivesse acontecido.
você não aparece, não manda um e-mail ou sms.
faz parecer que o que temos é casual, aleatório, passageiro e oportunista.
nenhuma novidade. é sempre assim, não é?
só que isso se repete. já foi a quinta ou sexta vez.
um simples beijo no portão, e me sinto a mais tola das criaturas.
suspirando pelo que não devia, mesmo um ano depois.

o meu dia seguinte inclui você e as lembranças do dia anterior.
inclui também a vontade de te ver outra vez, e outra vez, e outra vez.
de te ver durante o dia, de você sentado no sofá da minha casa, do café da manhã na padaria,
de um e-mail bonito, de um telefonema sem motivo.

me sinto mal por você não me julgar merecedora.
por cultivar o que não devia nunca ter sido alimentado.
por aceitar de novo a mesma situação.
por esquecer que o outro dia é sempre frustrante.

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Last Friday night I didn’t feel well so this is what I did all night– I tweeted trivia from my favorite movie of all time, You’ve Got Mail.

At least I didn’t make any bad decisions.

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Me gustaría que leyeras esta mierda que hoy escribo, porque aquí te diré a vos, sin decir tu nombre, lo que debí decirte hace semanas atrás pero por ser yo un loser, un paria, un licenciado en las artes de perder, no pude decirte.

Todo lo que te dije, te lo dije! Es cierto, lo sentí y aun lo siento, pero no se si lo seguiré  sintiendo. Tampoco fue que te dije algo grave o “intenso”  no…  solo te dije la verdad de ese momento, el problema es que a veces las palabras tienden a deformarse con el tiempo y estas van cogiendo significados extremos, puede que no sea tu culpa,  de seguro no existe culpable alguno pero igual esto debe parar.

Prometo que en adelante seré mucho más cuidadoso con las palabras, palabras escritas o habladas siguen siendo palabras y su metamorfosis sigue siendo la misma.

No estoy seguro que leas esto, mucho menos estaré seguro de que cuando lo hagas comprendas que este mensaje va para vos, pero en este caso, por primera vez seré optimista y haré de cuentas que así será.

No tienes porque sentirte mal, no has hecho nada malo ni cometido falta alguna, al contrario!  no imaginas las dosis de felicidad que sustituí de mi jeringa por las veces que hablaba de esa manera tan impersonal con vos. Y aunque en repetidas ocaciones no estábamos presente, creo que nos servimos de apoyo el uno al otro y eso cuenta, eso vale, no quisiera perderlo pero la vida es como las palabras, mientras mas continua se hace, mas  amorfa se torna y sus significados, momentos, sensaciones y recuerdos se hacen mas y mas intensos, todas las cosas tienden a irse a los extremos y yo no quiero perderte en un extremo, no…  estoy cansado de perder personas por culpa de los extremos,  es por eso que hoy decido perderte así, aquí, tal como estamos! en silencio…  Es difícil para mi porque te he cogido cariño pero se que no lo será para ti porque apenas me conoces.

No creerás lo que te digo, pero esto me ha dejado varias noches sin dormir, pensando como manejar la situación que ya empieza a presentarse. Por fortuna hoy tuve un destello de lucidez y pude inventarme esto que ahora escribo como la solución.

Es como morir en el vientre, morir a escasa edad, un aborto, llámalo como te de la gana, créeme que es un mal menor que evitara un mal mayor!  Con el aborto, se evita aplicar mas adelante la dosis del eutanal.

A veces pienso que si hubiese actuado de otra forma, las cosas hubiesen sido diferentes, pero a estas alturas de la historia creo que ya he perdido mi momento. Así que seguir el rumbo hacia vos, seria como hacer un ataque suicida en una guerra que ya he perdido.

Por ultimo te diré que no estoy totalmente seguro de que sea esto lo correcto, pero si confío en que será el método menos traumático para ambos!

Adios!

Loserr.

So this last week we played Settlers (card/board game similar to but better than Risk for the uninitiated) 3 times and i didn’t win any of the games… two of them were extremely frustrating cos of the nature of the games where i was totally taken down by the dice throws or lack thereof and in fact during the one i went thru a run of 13 dice throws and only picked up once (which is just crazy)

But actually the main point is i lost… three times… unheard of for last year’s Settlers National Championships silver medal position placed person (ha, seriously though) and for someone as competitive as me (a lot!) it should have been tough and sucky and painful – and to some competitive extents it was – but actually it has been a great week… in hindsight and life lessons and character growing and so on… because i really have been trying to work on my losing, and do much better at it.

Some people are just natural…um not natural losers, that sounds bad, but natural good losers i guess – one of the guys we played with is a dude called James who stays pretty much the same whether he wins or loses, whereas we have pretty much a whole whine society who will tell you it was the dice throws and the board setup and the trading and blah blah blah (and i’ve previously been chairman of the society so the fingers are point right back at me no worries) and James just enjoys the game i think…

And that’s cool, and it’s what i’ve been wanting for a long long time. But i am very competitive. And i think there is a way to stay competitive but have the same level of enjoyment whether you win or lose. Especially if it’s my wife beating me (as she did at Scrabble and Thurn and Taxes – new game we played – today) because i seriously love her a lot and it brings me great joy when she wins. Now i just have to increase the joy when she wins against me.

So ja, working at becoming a bigger loser. And we got a game on tomorrow lunch so the opportunity is very definitely there.

[oh wow, just read previous blog and didn’t even remember that i’d written it – obviously a topical topic, Al.]

THE WINNER OF MISS BRAZIL HAD HER WIG SNATCHED OFF BY ONE OF THE RUNNER UP CONTESTANTS … VIDEO BELOW

Extrañar a las personas es un sentimiento o una sensación tan común como cualquier otra, como querer, amar, odiar, envidiar, etc… el problema resulta cuando pasamos la vida extrañando personas, familiares o viejos amores que nunca volverán.

La solución a todo es la NO vinculación con el todo.

Fácil, yo soy un ejemplo de ello, nací y por suerte no tuve mayor vinculación con personas mas que mis familiares nucleares (ósea padre y madre)

Abuelos? Nunca tuve…  todos murieron muchos años antes de nacer.

Abuelas? Si,  2,  una abuela que en tooda mi vida he visto 3 veces y ya ni me acuerdo de su rostro.   Y la otra abuela que siempre veo, pero que me da ladilla estarle viendo asi que ni ella puede esperar mucho de mi ni yo puedo esperar mucho de ella porque para ella somos mas de 30 nietos.

Tios?  Sí..  Muchos, a todos los veo frecuentemente, mas con ninguno he logrado establecer una relación directa de apego emocional.

Gente? Si…  relativamente pocos, o relativamente muchos..  da igual cuantos he conocido…  y con algunos surge un apego emotivo pero que al transcurso de las 2 semana muere, así como muere una cucaracha sin cabeza,  ósea muere por inanición.

Llevo varias semanas escuchando de distintas personas decirme que extrañan a su abuelito, abuelita, a su hermano abortado, a su madre que se suicido, al abuelo que murió de cáncer en la próstata porque era un viejo que le gustaba del sexo y weas..

Y yo mientras me masturbaba en una de mis 4 sesiones masturbatorias del día es mentira yo no me masturbo me pregunté, “¿a quien chucha extraño yo?”

Y una voz ronca, así como la de un alcohólico drogadicto con tuberculosis (mi yo del futuro?) respondió; “a nadie, tu nunca te has vinculado con nadie, así que no tienes porque extrañar alguien.”

Bien, entonces pude respirar profundo y seguir masturbándome.

PD1: no creo en dios.

PD2: yo nunca me he masturbado.

PD3: los avisos identificativos que prohíben fumar me causan terribles ansias de fumar!  Creo que deberían eliminar esos avisos.

PD4: tengo un gato negro que se llama “perro”

PD5: mi gato aun no come cucarachas, así que me toca seguir matándolas con mi rifle de perdigones.

PD6: podría continuar con un PD7, pero debo continuar con mis sesiones masturbatorias.

Adiós.

Loserr.

Abril de 2009.

Mês do outono. Mês do aniversário. Mês do dito inferno astral.

Um mês depois do episódio de dois posts atrás, lá estava eu caçando estúdios de tattoo, pensando em fazer coisas novas e com uma vontade absturda de arrancar a pele do meu braço esquerdo, na esperança de que ficasse branca novamente. Deixa pra lá.

Minha menina

Depois de uma garimpagem, achei um estúdio decente, no Tatuapé, pra variar. Conversei com o tatuador e rolou a primeira ideia. Uma pinup. Uma sessão depois, ela tava lá. Realmente, um trampo decente. O primeiro em milênios. De dar orgulho.

Ok, mas e os dados? E a andorinha-pardal-pomba? Ficaram lá, pra um retorno futuro e com uma ideia fixa. Retorno esse que só aconteceria meses depois. Nesse meio tempo, a grana ficou curta e surgiram outras prioridades.

Uma rosa nasceu em cima do Nouass

Quando me dei conta, já era junho. E ouvir: “… essa sua tattoo é antiga? Nunca vi ela no seu braço…” ou “…o que é isso no seu ombro? Uma pomba?” tava se tornando ainda mais incômodo do que a experiência anterior. Aquela do terceiro post.

Era preciso agir com urgência.

Como o tatuador tava com excesso de preciosismo, fui procurar outro estúdio. Dessa vez, na Galeria do Rock. Cheguei até a conversar com um cara de estilo parecido, mas não rolou. Devo ter sido amaldiçoado pelo Criador no quesito tatuagem.

Não dá pra entender muita coisa, mas tá melhor que antes

Voltei lá com outra ideia. Dessa vez rolou.

Nessa brincadeira, as semanas se sucediam. Sessões depois, o desenho tava semipronto. Ou os traços, pelo menos.

Naquela altura, o significado da parada já era outro. De jogos (sorte ou azar — mais pro segundo), tinha se tornado o tempo e o que se aprende com ele. Então, sobre os dados, uma ampulheta. Sobre a andorinha-arara-cuco, uma rosa. Mantiveram-se os elementos old school, atemporais. E o resultado ficou satisfatório.

No fundo, é o preço que se paga por ser impulsivo e por fazer as coisas sem planejamento. Aprenda essa!

Agosto/ Setembro de 2009.

Procurei novamente o tatuador pra colorir o trampo, mas ele tava pra sair do estúdio. Semanas vem e vão e nada. Quando liguei novamente, ele já não estava mais lá. Tava migrando pra outro estúdio, mas iria manter um espaço na casa dele pra terminar trampos e tatuar chegados. Como eu tava na primeira categoria, esperei ele montar a parada. Marquei um dia. Ele desmarcou depois

Quando parece que rolaria, chegou outubro e dessa vez eu me comprometi com o kung fu. Mais um mês se vai e nada. Depois foi o Planeta Terra e outra desmarcada.

E agora? Vez ou outra, nego pergunta: “… e essa tattoo aí, não vai terminar não?”. Não é da sua conta. Não quero falar pra ninguém que tá agendado pra um dia aí, só pra não rolar um agouro. Ao que parece, essa saga ainda tá longe do final.

I was just sitting here watching a very popular t.v. show, First 48 on A&E. Two detectives were informing a “next of kin” that her children’s father had been found deceased. I watched the woman’s face as the information went from the detectives mouth to her ears. She was visibly upset and said that they were not on speaking terms.

I thought of people in my own life, including myself, and what troubles us all the most, the one thing. We’re all are suffering from a (mostly) unexpected loss of someone . It troubles us all the point of debilitation. It’s paralyzing, crippling. It separates us from other people, we lose that common ground. I no longer care about where someone bought their sheets on sale or that they can’t leave the house because their jeans are too tight (both of which are real situations I’ve found myself in with others who can’t identify with the severity of such loss in their own lives and required ALL of my capacity to tolerate them). Another common theme I observe is that within that loss is regret. We regret that we didn’t say what we needed to say when we had the chance, or wish we would’ve done things differently and now it’s too late.

What doesn’t make sense to me about this sense of regret is how the “loser” (for lack of a better term but, sort of ironic) goes on to treat the people who are still in their lives that they care about. One would think that after going through the process of grief first then remorse, the “loser” would go on to make every effort possible to prevent that from happening in the future. BUT NO! The walls go up and we turn inward and away from others. The things I have seen humans do to other humans and the things we think are important are absurd.

We obsess over time. We spend each and every moment either fixated over the past or the future, and I can’t figure out what is so wrong with this moment that everyone one is trying to escape it. The past nor the future exist, we only have this moment. When the past was happening, it was this moment and when the future happens, again, it will be this moment. What are we so afraid of? I’d like to know. I’m not at all above but, however, included in these patterns of strange behavior. In fact, I am the cliche, “tortured artist”.

I found a pretty rad article, Emotional Turmoil May Be a Great Plot Device – But It’s a Terrible Writing Environment! about the “tortured artist” and whether or not emotional turmoil is beneficial to producing the best art. I feel so lucky to have art as a place to direct all of the negative shit that goes on in my head. I like the fact that the writer of this article offers real solutions to people who have this inner conflict. It reminds me not to wallow in my self-pity, well actually she says that’s o.k. for a minute. That’s my favorite part of the article, allowing ourselves and others the right to have emotions. Perhaps that’s also a solution to becoming closer to the people around us after a significant loss, compassion.

donald trump sat in the passenger seat of his mother’s  parked car

donald trump’s mother was inside k mart shopping

donald trump felt alone and wanted to wait inside his mother’s car

donald trump is severely depressed

donald trump asked a girl out on a date but she said no because donald trump is too poor

donald trump had $7.50 in his bank account

donald trump used his credit card to buy clothes because he has low self esteem

donald trump sold weed to people around his university

donald trump made $60 selling weed but he got ‘ scared ‘ and stopped selling it

donald trump looked in the mirror and felt ‘ fat and ugly ‘

donald trump does not have a girlfriend because he feels ‘ fat and ugly ‘

donald trump listened to animal collective on his i pod

donald trump felt like crying

donald trump was afraid of crying because people might see him

donald trump just made a noise and put his hands on his face

donald trump’s mother came out of k mart holding a shopping bag

donald trump’s mother called him a ‘ loser’ and got inside the car

donald trump’s mother started yelling because the car would not start

donald trump left the car on because he wanted to listen to the radio

donald trump hated the radio and forgot to turn the key back to off

the car battery died

donald trump’s mother called him a ‘ loser’ and made him flag somebody down for help

donald trump got a guy with a bmw to jump start his mother’s 1990 honda accord

donald trump felt like crawling under a bed and crying

donald trump felt even worse because some girls started to laugh at him

donald trump’s mother dropped him off to class

donald trump had no friends

donald trump would follow people until they talked to them

people would walk faster to avoid talking to donald trump

donald trump started smoking weed to make friends

donald trump started failing classes

donald trump sometimes sneaks into girls room and touches them

donald trump never had a girlfriend

donald trump feel alone and lives in agony

donald trump hates it when people call him a ‘ creeper’

donald trump acknowledges his ‘ creepiness’

donald trump thinks about raping girls

donald trump does not have the heart  to rape somebody and he just starts crying

donald trump is creepy

donald trump is poor

donald trump is a loser

donald trump was born a loser

donald trump tried to become more than a loser

donald trump failed and still is a loser

donald trump is 19 years old

donald trump thinks about suicide

people laugh at donald trump and say what a loser

donald trump goes into his room and cries because nobody likes him

donald trump gets angry and decides to shoot up the school

donald trump can’t find a gun

donald trump goes to his university with a hammer

he stands up in the middle of class and screams  I AM REALLY ANGRY

all the people laughed at him

and he leaves  the class crying

he hits a wall with the hammer but the hammer did not do any damage to the wall

he drops the hammer and runs away

he takes the bus to his grandma’s house

his grandma called him a ‘ loser’ but she invited him in and gave him pie and ice cream

donald trump never leaves his grandma’s house

This blog is about things.. that won’t work. You will come in this situation, where you have to break the barriers and restore the good old world order. Your first instinct call will be that it is highly as unlikely as pigs flying. If you are a loser and worse still, ignorant as you haven’t gauged yourself, you would not accept that calling and try working out things. After some time you will realize why you are such a loser. But in this life there is nothing as loser or winner. Is there? Soon I had a revelation. We are on a sea shore and we build sand castles. Just when we conclude that it is the best thing to happen in our life and should stay till the end, a wave comes and washes away everything. We do it again. We make different castles. In the end, all we are left with is the sand beneath our feet, thats what it is best for. The final solution to the problem is to drown in the sea. Jal mein kahin..

TASERING  is ridiculous. especially tasing citizens = cops should be tased between their legs first to know how painful it is and then they won’t be so caviliar about hurting others.

A little Arkansas kid who has emotional problems was recently tased because her dope of a mother gave permission. Read the story here.

Meanwhile in another part of our great county – the new AMERIKA – an old woman was tased a while ago and had to apologise to the officer.

Our country is beginning to smell like a Hasidic jew’s summer wear felt jacket.

–Bonju Patten

We really like this song.

What you think he’s talking about? or who?

I just don’t get it. I really don’t. How can you do such a thing? To such an innocent creature? Due to overwhelming response I am editing this so people don’t persecute the wrong guy.

Check out this video on a Lithuanian ASSHOLE who chose to shame his country, community, family and friends associated with him by throwing an innocent, happy looking pet dog over a bridge. Onto ground. Not even in water. On solid ground. If you’re weak, you should not watch this. The dog can still be seen, moving and hurt. Obviously the dog could not move his legs, internal organs obviously damaged…including broken rib bones.

Hackers and animal lovers alike dug up information on this bastard. Look at who associates themselves with this cruel psychopath. His real name is Svajūną Beniuk/Svajunas Beniuk. And he’s 29 years old. Latvian authorities have been alerted of this fool and they released his real name on this article. Unfortunately, it is in Latvian/Lithuanian. I wish someone would translate this article for me but this is the best translation I can get.

The dog is found alive with multiple fractions to its bones! I don’t know if its good news or suffering news.

Apparently I was reading that they the guy in the Facebook was NOT the original culprit. And the authorities have him for sure. Svajunas Beniuk and his pictures all over the internet. Police authorities have NOT released a formal picture of the culprit yet and that is why the public is not convinced and believed 4Chan’s picture. So hint, hint dear policemen, release his picture so we can have our “mob justice”.

In any case, the police have the criminal in custody and are reprimanding and convicting him of his criminal and inhumane behaviour. Most serial killers start out hurting small animals too. Then move on to bigger things. I don’t know if anyone saw the video on the rich kids killing man with screwdriver one. They started off pinning cats to the walls and filling their little mouths with glue so they don’t have to hear the cat wail.

Even then on a forum post on the screwdriver killing, one man said, “God do not make a mistake. It is in his will that this happens. All we can do is pray.” You got to be fucking kidding me right?!

And even for this Latvian dog case, this one man Toe_Joe said in a forum that “C’mon, it’s just a dog.” Really???!!!! Just a dog?! Fucking assholes deserve to die now. Really, like, go jump off a bridge so you do not procreate.

There was a case, some time back in Texas, where a similar thing happened. And well, the man got his house burnt to crisp, been beaten up wherever he goes and got tied to the back of a pick up truck and been dragged around. All in all, the guy deserved it. He deserved the barbaric treatments.

I would personally love to see Svajunas Beniuk and his 2 friends thrown off a bridge as well and left to die. What would you like to do to him? If there were no bloody rules and laws?

]]> http://loserr.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/leccion-de-vida/ Wed, 18 Nov 2009 04:56:11 +0000 loserr http://loserr.wordpress.com/2009/11/18/leccion-de-vida/

La noche anterior había generado en mi, tal frustración que luego en la mañana, cuando toca salir a laburar en mi pueblo podrido, lo hice sin pensar mucho, iba inerte, iba como un zombi, actuaba gracias a las fuerzas inerciales de la física de newton,  a pesar de que curiosamente tuve una mala noche,  no tuve mayor problema al despertarme cuando el timbre sonó.

Así cogi mis herramientas de trabajo, comí el desayuno(pan de molde con queso amarillo y jamón de cerdo) para luego manejar 15 minutos a través de una de las calles mas caóticas y asquerosas de mi ciudad (la AV principal del casco central)  justo allí donde esta la vida comercial, justo donde va la gente a gastar su dinero en baratijas, donde gastan y gastan sin parar, el paraíso de los inversionista y comerciantes, un asco para mi que apenas comienzo a laburar allí.

Luego de pelearme con otros conductores por un espacio en el estacionamiento para aparcar mi camioneta en una zona “segura”, luego de lanzarle de manera amenazante la camioneta a algunos peatones y carros para que me permitan pasar de primero,  así sin mas nada en la mente llego.  Y como de costumbre…  bajo no sin antes colocarle los seguros para evitar que algún hijodeputa ladrón pueda robármelo (algo muy común en mi ciudad).  Encojo los espejos retrovisores laterales para evitar que los conductores idiotas inexpertos de los lados me golpeen… todo un ritual  para dejar el carro a la buena de dios (nótese que “dios” es un gendarme con cara de delincuente)

Entonces voy.. camino con paso apresurado por si alguien me sigue para robarme, siempre pendiente de no tener sujeto detrás por mucho tiempo, pendiente de los peatones que como yo nos golpeamos para poder caminar sobre los brocales(orillas, aceras de carretera) en donde apenas cabe una persona y por la cual transitan muchísimas…  parecemos hormigas,  5 minutos de infierno hasta llegar a la oficina.

Una vez allí, generalmente subo por las escaleras hasta el 3 piso, y por el balcón, suelo mirar a aquellos asquerosos ciudadanos que como yo, les toca caminar una y otra vez por allí,  siempre lo mismo, el niño uniformado de la mano de su madre obesa, el árabe comerciante fumando un cigarrillo, el italiano leyendo el periódico, los feos y mal vestido con paso errático, jovenes de mal aspecto con cara de delincuentes, policías motorizados que mas que dar confianza, parecen sicarios colombianos y asi..  yo desde arriba mirandolés, detallandolès, desde un cutre balcón donde bate una brisa fresca en medio de aquel vertedero humano…  me siento superior a ellos desde allí, debo admitirlo!

Pero hoy sucedió algo confuso, algo que me dejo dudoso, algo que no esperaba. Mientras daba los primeros pasos para entrar al edificio, observo a un joven hablandomè, no entendí lo que decía y le hice un gesto de confusión, pero resulta que este weon no hablaba conmigo, hablaba por su celular a través de un aparatito de estos llamado “manos libre” aja y que wea?  Me sentí ridiculizado al percatarme que no era a mí a quien hablaba…

Y sobre que hablaba este weon?

Sobre un gato…  si un animalito, un felino…  mientras oigo el monologo, miro al estacionamiento subterráneo y veo un débil gatito de pocos meses de edad, blanco con pintas negras, manchado por la grasa mecánica que dejan los carros allí, algo golpeado, de muy mal aspecto el gatito, subiendo por la rampa.  Toda una tragedia!

El weon que hablaba por teléfono, lo hacia con la señora del servicio de limpieza que labura en los alrededores(al parecer era la propietaria del gato) a los 20 segundos el weon se desaparece y el gato sale de la rampa de vehículos hacia la calle (con mucho trafico vehicular)

Yo, con alrededor de 5 minutos allí parado, estático, sin moverme, sin pensar, solo mirando… mirando los carros, mirando el subterraneo, mirando el gato maltratado, mirando al weon que hablaba por “manos libres”  me sentía como un weon mas, allí, inútil, sin saber que hacer, sin saber en que pensar, sin saber incluso porque mierda estaba allí parado!!   Y peor aun, estaba apunto de ser atropellado un gato inocente e indefenso y yo que me declaro defensor de los animales (y de los gatos por sobre todas las cosas) no hice ni una wea, no moví ni medio dedo…

Por suerte!! Al otro extremo de la calle, una hermosa persona de nobles sentimientos hizo lo que Yo debí hacer.

Unos gritos de voz aguda me hicieron salir del trance en el que andaba, cuando identifico de donde viene la voz, veo a un transexual, un homosexual, una burda marica de esas que abundan por estos lados, una marica pobre, mal arreglada, mas parecida a un payaso que a otra cosa, pero de cuya nobleza y honestidad me hace verle como la persona mas hermosa de la ciudad!

Este personaje elocuente, dando gritos atravesó la calle, detuvo el trafico de carros y cogio el gatito sin asco en sus manos para luego traerlo de vuelta al edificio, en donde yo me encontraba petrificado y por donde apenas venia apareciendo la dueña del gato, la señora del servicio.

(la dueña) al ver al homosexual con el gato le grita; “hey! Devuélvame mi gato! Ese gato es de aquí!!” y el homosexual en aras de reafirmar su buena voluntad le dice; “no pretendía robarme el gatito, en mi casa tengo 2,  simplemente buscaba salvarlo! Estaba en medio de la avenida y de milagro no lo mataron al pobre! A ver si le presta mas cuidado!!”

-Fin-

Aja… y cual es mi mariconeria con el titulo “dizque” lección de vida?

No se ustedes, pero después de haber vivido el episodio narrado pensé, si tuviera que confiarle mi vida a alguien, se la confiaría al transexual protagonista de la historia que para mi se ha convertido en un héroe/heroína.

Generalmente al ver estos tipos de aspecto tan amorfo en la calle, solemos asociarles con lo peor de lo peor, las peores escorias… pero si vamos al fondo de todo, veremos cuan equivocados estamos.

Puede haber persona mas honesta y sincera aquel que por voluntad propia decide con toda franqueza mostrarse al mundo tal como se siente, como una mujer!  Puede existir persona mas franca y leal que esta?  Esa misma que tuvo que asumir lo que sentía, a sabiendas de que vivimos en una de las sociedades mas enfermas del machismo latinoamericano…

Ese transexual es VALIENTE!   Tiene lo que mucho de nosotros no tenemos, COJONES!!

Tiene mas cojones que yo! Que me cuesta tomar decisiones,  que dejo pasar sobre mi las oportunidades, que siempre dudo en hacer lo correcto (aun sabiendo qué es lo correcto)

Le voy a admirar por siempre!!

“dedicado con todo respeto, a los homosexuales/transexuales que deben sobrevivir día a día en este sociedad que los margina!”

Loserr

SHAY was my all odds favorite to win this show this season but she got thrown under the bus by Rudy who I believe to be the MALE EQUILVALENT TO CRAZY TRACEY who got eliminated last time.

Shay is my girl and I wish the best for her but I am gunning for Rudy and while I know he’s fat and is in need of losing weight and I do hope he has a better and healthier life for himself and his folks down the line, I think he’s a creep. A man who does not keep his word is a scumbag and Shay played that game and lost weight, held her head up high and is a woman of her word.

I hope she gets her goal of 213 pounds weight loss – Personally I don’t give a fig about Rudy and hope he breaks a leg.

–Bonju Patten

First there was Tracey Yucky and now there is Rudy Buttkick. What is up with this show? I know 1/4 million bucks is a lot of money even in today’s standards but c’mon people – Rudy is a two-faced creep.

I don’t understand how a person like that exists in this world without getting HIS ASS KICKED. In the next week’s episode he unleashes news like MY SISTER DIED FROM CANCER WHEN I WAS 12 YEARS YOUNG and not think it’s affected his life? It’s understandable that Jillian Michaels goes bonkers over news like this. I get it. Rudy holds in things until he needs them and then BANG – he lets you  have it.

His sister probably died to get out of her family – I think all of Rudy’s people are two-faced creeps.

—-Bonju Patten