I’m getting a little tired these days of stopping by Blockbuster and looking up and down and left to right for movies they never have, not to mention having to put up with adorable looking couples sassing each other and being so happy together that I just want to start lobbing DVD boxes at them for daring to pollute my air with their irritating public displays of affection.  Just die, please.

Truth be told though, I rarely go to Blockbuster nowadays, opting instead to grab up DVDs at my supermarket, which has a Redbox Machine.  But even that’s become an aggravating chore lately.  Nothing quite puts me in the mood to wreak death and destruction upon mankind then having to wait behind somebody who takes their sweeeeeeeeeeeeet ass time checking the Redbox listings while I loudly tap my foot and check my watch, knowing I’ll have to pay a dollar more if I can’t jam my DVD back in there within the next three minutes.

“BITCH GET THE F*&^ OUT OF THE WAY I GOT TO RETURN THIS THING BEFORE 9PM CAN”T YOU SEE THAT DAMMIT TO HELL!?!?!”

So yeah, I think RedBox has pretty much lost its appeal as well.  Solution?  Netflix!!

But as I surfed the site and prepared to sign up, a thought occurred to me:  am I being too antisocial here?

It seems the more I go out there and run into the scum sucking, methane ripping porkbags otherwise known as the human race, the more I want to stay home and have everything including my groceries mail-ordered to me instead.  Then I can just hide under the bed with my laptop and my Tostitos and play Nancy Drew games until the end of the world comes, which should be oh, shortly after people realize the bailout didn’t do zippy dinks to save the economy and The Great Depression Part 2:  Obama Takes Us To Hell officially gets under way.

But then I think, perhaps I’m being too harsh here?  That maybe, just maybe, with a sincere effort to go out there and connect with other human beings I’d end up finding some who are not so rudely vile and disgusting after all, and maybe even attract a nice girl for once in my life?

Nah.  Indiana Jones first ever DVD in my Netflix queue baby!!  BOOYAH!    Now where are my Tostitos…

Remember that scene from Ghostbusters?

Dr. Peter Venkman: This city is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.
Mayor: What do you mean, “biblical”?
Dr Ray Stantz: What he means is Old Testament, Mr. Mayor, real wrath of God type stuff.
Dr. Peter Venkman: Exactly.
Dr Ray Stantz: Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling!
Dr. Egon Spengler: Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes…
Winston Zeddemore: The dead rising from the grave!
Dr. Peter Venkman: Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together… mass hysteria!

Maybe it’s bravado, but strangely enough just like Venkman, I seem to be relatively ok with the fact that we’re all going to die.  No, really.  Because if this crisis is truly meant to be the beginning of we’re-all-royally-screwed-end-times judgment on America for its many sins, then I can’t think of a better way to ensure our complete and total destruction than to elect a Christ denying (yet Christ imitating) dillweed who thinks he can neutralize the threat of a nuke building Iran and a nuke ready Russia with his charm.  Really, what better way to tell God just how ridiculously irredeemable we’ve become than to elect a guy who claims to be a Christian and yet thinks a good Muslim could still make it to the pearly gates as long as he keeps the bombing of civilians to a minimum?  Hey, we’re all good people here, really(!), even if we do think having a baby is tantamount to a punishment, and if we don’t seem to be too bothered at the thought of leaving those that survived failed abortions out to die.  Not that Big-O would ever intentionally do such a thing, he just doesn’t think they merit protection of course, at least not until the kind of offensive language that dares to remotely suggest a fetus is a living thing is completely stripped from such a bill of protection.  Because you know, God forbid we should toss those whacky pro-life freaks a bone that even NARAL wouldn’t have had a problem with.  We do need to be principled here, after all.

No, I just don’t see why God would want to rain fire and brimstone on us darling cherubs of light… except for possibly giving our rich folks far too many tax breaks.

When I think about it, it’s not even Obama that I can’t stand so much.  I don’t even hate on the heathens for supporting him either, since such a godless sort devoid of any sense of morality will obviously go for the Barry-O show.  I can respect that.

No, it’s the self professing Christians who hang on every word he speaks, and who teach their children to sing musical praises of Hopey-O-Change that make me want to stomp their faces in with something rusty and spiky.

It’s no secret that I intensely dislike what passes for American Christianity today, whether we’re dealing with dimwits sipping Starbucks while they fawn over girlie boy Rick Warren’s latest perfume scented books, or Calvinist snotheads who think knowing two words in Greek makes them the most brilliant scholars in recorded history, or charismatics who scream and flail their arms in revival meetings because they think they’re “on fire” and they’re about ready to projectile vomit out a stomach’s worth of 24 karat gold.

Yet nothing makes me want to go out and start bouncing people’s heads off the cement more than those ever devout Christians drooling puppy love over that Obamanation of nature otherwise known as Barack Hussein Obama.  I am absolutely convinced that this very same flock of fluffy sheep will also someday jump at the chance to stand in line for an opportunity to lick the hairy hindquarters of the Antichrist, thinking it will taste just like rainbows.

These to me represent the most darkened, clueless minds in all of creation, and because of their depraved stupidity I may end up witnessing the one thing I never wanted to see in my lifetime: the death of my country.  Thank you so, SO much for that, my brothers and sisters in the Lord.

I don’t get it.  I really don’t.  You hate Bush?  Fine.  You think he’s a war mongering, oil happy, half brained cowboy who caters to the rich?  Fine.  I can understand that.  I even dig the pacifism thing.

Explain the abortion thing to me then.  Explain to me how the violence involved in ripping fetuses to shreds doesn’t somehow repulse your pacifist side the way “Bush’s war” does.  Because when I see people looking to extend human rights to red assed baboons or wail whenever a dolphin is caught in a net, but scream at the top of their lungs for the right to twirl up a fetus into itty bitty bits that would have otherwise become a full fledged human being, then I see only the kind of deranged, twisted up minds that no medicine on earth could ever possibly cure.

And yet somehow, you’re all ok with it.  You can relate to a guy who can’t even get the basic tenets of Christianity right, (though I admit, it would have been more palatable to me if you merely agreed with him on some points and decided only to vote for him while holding your nose at the polls.)  But no, your attitude is one of complete adoration for a morally compromised Chicago politician as if he had come from the very throne of heaven itself.  It exhibits the same kind of mentality that the Antichrist will no doubt someday feed on: unabashed adoration and unquestionable loyalty, despite the transparent seedy and evil character of your so called hero.

It almost makes me want to see the Obamanation become President, if for no other reason than to see the collective look of your ashen faces when you realize with horror that “the one” turned out to be the second coming of JC after all: JC as in Jimmy Carter that is.  Mr. Malaise has finally come back to finish the job.

You know what really frosts my Chips Ahoy cookies about all this though?  It’s the fact that I’ll have to endure the travesty that will soon come upon us, alone.  There will be no honey bunny snuggles to share my misery with while we watch our beloved country commit suicide.  No cuddly bunchikins to hold and share a sweet, tender moment with while our cities riot and burn.  Every dark day that lies ahead of me I will have to face completely and utterly alone, all because not a single one of you hateful, despicable, vile women could manage to find it in your hearts to wubs me.

Fine then.  Don’t come crying to me when the world ends and you desperately need a manly shoulder to cry on.   I won’t be there.

Well maybe I will.  I am desperate and all so who knows, perhaps I can learn to forgive and forget. 

It looks like Wall Street is having a little bit of trouble.

For about 8 years I’ve been warning people here and there that the real estate market was overvalued and would someday result in a massive crash.  Oddly enough my main source of info was a preacher in Times Square, who had been warning of a financial crash for years.  I’ve also read books on the subject as well by experts who were unbiased enough to tell the truth about the real estate bubble, and that the housing market was headed for a severe correction.

Anyone I told though pretty much blew me off, including a coworker of mine who purchased a $300,000 shack with a 40 year variable mortgage.  I told him it was unwise to buy then and that his house was going to lose value over the long run.

Does he listen?  Of course not.  Evidently I’m not somebody worth listening to to since A) I don’t have a girlfriend, B)  I don’t own any property, and C) I don’t have any postgraduate degrees that my opinion should matter to anyone.

How about (D) then:  I was right all along and now you money sluts are finally gonna get what’s coming to you?

Not that I’m gloating or anything. 

On a more sobering note though, I cannot understand why so many Christians particularly were so blind to this (well actually I do understand, since we’re talking about the same people who thought Todd Bentley could shoot lightning bolts of fire out of his cooties.)  The point is, we were not to follow the world’s philosophies about money because we live under different rules.  Paul once said that having food and raiment we should therefore be content.  (1 Timothy 6:8)  I have these things and more, so I never felt the need to invest or save up money to purchase property, or learning about retirement savings or whatever.  These things were all beyond my understanding anyway, so I simply left all those things for God to deal with and take care of.  Even the viability of my blog is something I’m leaving in His hands.  If I prosper, it will be because He blessed the work of my hands, and nothing else.

I’ve also susbcribed to a minimalist philosophy too.  I don’t worry about losing things then because, well, I really have nothing to lose.  After all, if you don’t have it, you can’t lose it.    If you store up your treasures in heaven, then you won’t grieve too much for the treasures you lose here.

Although, I’m pretty sure I’d get really torn up if I ever lost my iPhone.  (If I had one that is.  Hee.)

But all things considered, I’m not going to worry.  Because of God’s guidance and care, I will be debt free and in a position to handle whatever hard times lie ahead.  And not only that, but also be in a position to help others in time of need as well, just like my great uncle did.  He lived during the Great Depression, but he managed to do well for himself and prosper during those hard times, and as a result he was able to help a LOT of people.  If God blesses me likewise, I only hope that I can measure of and be the good steward that my great uncle once was.

Just so long as I’m able to keep a motorbike in the meantime. 

Ugh, I can’t sleep.

See, it used to be whenever I had trouble falling asleep I would think about how I’d meet my dream girl, exploring all the possibilities on how we’d end up together and fall in love.  Just holding on to those dreams would put my mind at enough ease that I could finally conk out and get a good night’s rest.  It was my own personal way of counting sheep, and I’d been doing it for years and years.  No matter what shape or form she took, I could always imagine her easily, beautiful and loving and caring.  My hope kept her real, helped me to believe that she was out there, and that it was only time that kept us apart, until such time finally came to an end.

But now I can’t see her anymore.

As hard as I try to imagine, my mind can’t focus enough for her to appear again, and I’m tossing and turning trying to fall asleep, wondering why it’s so hard now to even put a few thoughts together so I can dream about her for just a little while.

If there was ever a solid indication that my dream has finally died though, this would be it.  Maybe my mind is finally coming to terms with the reality that I will never, ever meet someone.  This world has become too evil, too foregone a conclusion, and I myself am just too different, too detached from humanity for it to even be possible anymore.  Maybe if I had been born 50 years ago I might have had a chance.  But not today.

My dream really is over.  I will never sleep again.

One billion people on the Internet, 250 million from North America alone, and I yet I keep running into the same people over and over again. Which is bad enough unto itself, but on top of that they had to be ugly too. Really ugly. Bat droppings ugly.

Nowhere is this more evident than when I sign up for oh, about 30 different dating sites or so, and yet somehow, it’s always the same crowd of girls. Literally. (Hey didn’t I see your profile on Match.com? Good grief, get away from me you skanky ho!)

I’m sure they’re thinking the same thing when they see my profile for the umpteenth time, so I guess it all evens out there.

But man, come on. 250 million Internet surfers, and I can’t simply disappear into the crowd here? Nope, I get the same bloody lot of dweebs burrowing up my righteous coochies every which way I surf, stinking up all my favorite online watering holes, and there’s simply no way I can avoid them, a conundrum that leaves some of them absolutely convinced that I’m stalking them.

“Oh no, it’s that Lincoln again, he’s always following me around! What a freak!!”

Bite me. I was here first you sniveling, whiny–

Ah well. My only solace is that I am just as much a boil on their cooties as they are on mine.

Tonight’s chat with a dear friend of mine reminded me of a lesson I learned a few years ago, when I went ape nuts clicking every blue link I could find at iWon.com in a bid to become independently wealthy and attract me some hot gold digging babes. I was on a mission to win something, ANYTHING from iWon’s site, so I could pay my bills, quit my job, and at long last tell my boss to go blow it out his own arse.

I also signed up for these gaming sites too in the hopes that I would become some kind of gaming master and win hundreds of dollars in cash prizes. Instead, I would win $1.50… then lose $2.00, win $4.00, then lose $5.00, and on and on.

For three weeks I was at it, playing games, click click clicking, playing some more games, then click click clicking, then play iWon’s slot machine, then click click clickity click click clicking, until my fingers started to sprain. By the end of the third week I was a few dollars in the hole and my fingers looked liked they belonged to the Elephant Man. I wasn’t getting anywhere. As usual, luck was never a lady with me, and in the end I finally gave up.

The next day I went to work, and as I was signing in, somebody handed me an envelope.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“That’s your raffle prize.”

“My…. what??”

“Every year we raffle off the profits from the soda machines, and everyone is automatically entered. You were one of the winners, so that’s your share. 25 bucks.”

I just stood there, blown away by having finally won something, and especially at the timing of it all. I had spent the last three weeks trying to win every prize imaginable at iWon, and failing miserably at that, and now came this, a $25 prize for a raffle I never even knew existed. I still have that envelope by the way, with the money still inside.

There’s an old joke where a man prays to God to win the lottery and the Lord tells him to go buy a lottery ticket first. In my case even that part had already been taken care of. It was a sobering lesson straight from heaven, and one I had sadly forgotten over the years. As much as I’d like to believe God to rain His blessings on my life without requiring any effort on my part except to receive it, I still strive in my own strength to create my own success, and no matter how many times I fail, that lesson never seems to fully sink in for me. It’s been especially true these past few weeks, as I try to cram as much knowledge as I can find into my poor little brain so I can utilize it all to make money off the Internet, whether through my blog or elsewhere. There’s so much information to sift through, so little time to digest it all, and not enough brainpower on my part to take what I know and transform myself into the self sufficient man that I’ve always longed to be.

And yet I seem to leave no room for God in any of this. I’m trying to do it all on my own strength, relying on the world’s wisdom and philosophies, when instead I should be casting these burdens on Him, and trusting Him to once again provide that envelope of blessings when I truly need it. That’s something no professional blogger or Internet mogul will ever tell you either. But it’s the secret to real success, real peace and freedom from worry, learning that it really is all under His control. If I succeed in this new mission I’ve made for myself, it will not be because of my talents or skills or luck, but only, and ONLY, because God is gracious in His blessings towards me.

By the way, I do intend to use the prize money I won someday… specifically for when I finally meet the girl of my dreams.