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Shittin’ in a bucket & posting warning signs amid the debris.

(4 pm. – promoted by ek hornbeck)

Now that The American Way of Life has dissipated into “shittin’ in a bucket” and “posting warning signs amid the debris,” (i.e., blogging), I hope y’all don’t get ALL up IN my shrimp shack for failing to deliver a righteous, “I told you so” now “kiss my rod,” rant, because my dominant mood of anger has been momentarily exhausted, and I am suffering greatly from the previously suppressed and incompatible, yet competing bout of laughter now enjoying a post-inhibitory rebound of god-defiant vengeance.  

It’s sort of like bursting out laughing at your father just as he doubles down on obedience training, insofar as you just can’t help your 10-year old self, even though such outrageous infidelity could well cause him to double down yet again.  I mean, laughing at authoritarianism rising when they are laying down the law; either they laugh with you, or they don’t.  Fortunately, my old man chose to laugh with me.  He was cross-eyed-spelunkered, but he laughed.

The analogy extends to the fact that you don’t even know why you’re laughing in such an ill-timed manner.  Maybe laughing in the face of death is a displacement behavior, a nervous tic, like ducks pulling grass before a big territorial brouhaha, or repeatedly tying one’s shoes after Bjarney of Hof’s sword really bites into your shield for the first time.  Sure, you’d heard rumors of how he went overboard and killed all his relatives that one time, but when he took a large chunk of your shield in the first bite, your shoes suddenly felt insufficiently gripped to your feet.  When Bjarney stops to tie his own shoes, as well, well, ya never know what goes on inside a man’s head.  There’s a certain adjunctive excitement to confusion, but it’s a real head-scratcher for ethologists.

Good on you, Dad.  

11 comments

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  1. Compound F

    And said there was no pain, even days later.  Except for the painkilling shots.  Those he felt.  

    I’m wondering why lyophilized pig bladder (stem cells) is not freely available over-the-counter. That pisses me off, and I’m really going to punch the fuck out of the fuckers who are fucking us for profit, even if they start laughing before the first shot to the nose.  

  2. banger

    We’re fine and on the road to greater things. And why not? Isn’t this what people want? A good spanking now and then? Maybe with a bit of bondage and Fifty Shades of Gray?

    I’m actually not worried. Those of us at the fringes need to understand that “the big picture” of governments, wars, economic/political arrangements are probably none of our business. Indeed you are right–laughing is the hidden in plain sight cure and solution to all our problems. I honestly think that a proper laugh at the situation most of us have been gnawing away at fruitlessly for some time will create certain energetic shifts in this highly complex system, much like the butterfly effect. It may be that a general state of mirth may be more revolutionary than attending 100 bootless demonstrations and writing thousands of emails to politicians. It also just might be that the whole situation rests on our unhappiness at the situation and we are propping up the regime rather than working to bring it down. If we delight in the absurdity of it all I sense the heavens will reward us as we initiate a phase change in a highly complex and chaotic system.

    So, let’s go with the flow.

  3. ek hornbeck

    My activist brother and I frequently chat about my blogging and he often tries to be supportive and says things like “You know, what’s really important is that you’re putting it out there on the record for people to see.”

    I must admit it gives me some satisfaction.

    Sure, it’s not the loftiest goal in the world, but I think there’s some value in entertaining people and letting them know they’re not alone.

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