#WINNING--Because Money Talks

Dear Mr. Sheen,

There is a point in every person's life when they look back and mentally grimace over their past transgressions, be it a girl riddled with low self-esteem seeking affirmation by flashing her girly parts for the camera, a flamboyant fashion designer spouting anti-Semitic views, or Bill Clinton trying to convince us that 'he did not have sexual relations with that woman.'  I hope you can get to that point before your family has to put you six feet under.

Do us all a huge favor and give Robert Downey Jr. a call.  There's a person who did a fair amount of stupid-ass shit, but he seems to have pulled himself together quite well these past few years.  I bet the man has a lot of good advice, like "you need to cut back on the piles of blow if you don't want to lose your nose" and "Hookers, hot they may be, are not totally trustworthy people.  You are paying them to have sex with you, so the moment the money is gone they're not gonna hang around for your rapidly diminishing good looks."

I'd like to apologize on behalf of all the jackasses (me included) that are laughing AT you.  (But seriously, you are saying some damn funny stuff).  It is a shame to see a talented person spiral out of control and the fact that we are enjoyed your demise is a testament to the fact that you must not have anyone that really cares about you. 

If we were to take money out of the option, say put me in place or the local homeless man on the street corner, this situation would be neutralized by day 2.  Why does money give you a carte blanche on reckless, borish, whorish behavior?  If I were to spout things like "I'm sorry my life is so much more bitchin than yours.  I planned it that way," I'd get bitch slapped by my mother and promptly deleted from the telephone directory of several dozen people. 

Where will you be when the money is gone and your world collapses in like a black star?

What will your children have to deal with as they get older?  A psychotically deranged father cared for by round-the-clock nurses?  What sort of personal demons are you setting them up for?

Take my advice and get your head out of the blow, step away from "smooooking hotties," and get yourself to a doctor.  FAST. 

Sincerely,
The Diatribest

The Itsy Bitsy Spider

I hate spiders.  A lot.  Allie over at Hyperbole and a Half has it right:

That's the same dance I do when I encounter frogs and lizards.

But since I have a 5 year old who is frightened of butterflies, I can't bitch out and expect him to stomp on all the creepy crawlies that make it past the window screens and hover around the porch light.

(Side note: what kind of kid screams when he sees a butterfly?  He was totally cool with dragging me into a tent at the fair to peer at all the venomous snakes of FL while I almost passed out/peed my pants from fright.)

So in an effort to put on a brave front for the Kiddo (who today confused mosquitoes with wasps) when one of the hated creatures makes its way into our house, I arm myself with a nearby shoe and yell "FEAR ME!" while I attempt to smash my prey.  The yelling serves a two-fold purpose: I can mask my shrieks of terror/disgust and the Kiddo laughs, not aware of his mother's fear that for every one roach/spider/walking stick you see, there are three you don't see.

And NO, before you ask, I do not live in a filthy, vermin-infested house.  Florida is renown for it's massive 'palmetto bugs.'

As a child I discovered I had spiderman-like skills of climbing walls when one of these creatures FLEW. AT. MY. FACE.

So this morning as I was perusing the daily headlines, I almost choked on my coffee when I came across "Mazda Recalls 50K Cars Due to Spider Infestation".  How the hell do you have spiders INFESTING your cars?

I can understand finding spiders in some of the cars that were parked under the rotting oak on the assembly line lot, but 50K!  Where were they manufacturing these cars, Count Dracula's dungeon?  Did some pissed-off ex-employee sneak in one night and plant mail order spider egg sacs on the underside of all of these cars?

I can't imagine what I would have to say to my insurance agent when I crashed my car through a nursing home because spiders were flying at me from the air vents. 

Good luck Mazda!  Hope you don't have any flying spider lawsuits coming your way!

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I'm usually stuck on cracked.com.  Don't go there if you want to sleep.

So I have a big announcement to make.  I am going to write.  I mean more.  And for money.  I want to write for real.

Okay, it's almost midnight and I want to finish this damn post and get to bed, but I know I have to put this out in the open so I can be held accountable.  (And I need a bit of your input too.)*

My bro-in-law sent me a link about a teen who sells her stories over Kindle and has made a bundle of money.  My mentor told me tonight that for a homework assignment he wants me to look into what it takes to get it done, pull together a combo of 25 different stories/posts, tweak them a bit and post it on Kindle to sell.

On Monday, barring that I'm not called up to the Kumquat plant, I'll be working writing from 9-11 and 1-4 everyday for the next two months.  I'm really going to make a go of my writing and make it work for me. 

I know that if I can create a niche on Associated Content and develop a following as long as I actively work on it I can get a solid income base.  If I place ads on my blog (which is still up for debate in my head) I could generate revenue too.  If I can pick up so free-lance pieces like copy writing, that would be a bonus.  I have to do this now, more than ever.

I have to challenge myself some more.  It wasn't until my mentor challenged me to write for 21 days straight that I realized what I have needed to do for so long is now laid out in front of me. 

I have to finally accept the fact that I have something special, a gift that can make some laugh or mull over issues from a different, slightly tilted angle.  I have to share this talent.  When I was a child every summer I would attend vacation Bible school, singing "This little light of mine," on a daily basis.  Well, for me I can't hide my light under a bushel basket anymore. 

I'm gonna let it shine.

*Drop me a line, post a response if you have a specific post that sticks out, made you laugh or think.  I want to take into consideration your ideas on how I should approach Kindle.  Thanks!

"Whoever Battles Monsters. . .

should take care not to become a monster too, for if you stare long enough into the Abyss, the Abyss stares also into you." ~Nietzsche

That quote hung above the desk of Robert K. Ressler for many years as he pioneered the art of criminal profiling.  I have been reading his book the past several days with a mixture of awe (that Ressler was on target in every situation), disgust (of the depths of man's depravity), horror (that someone I know could statistically become a victim of a violent crime), and gratitude (that Ressler worked for over 20 years help put men away like Dahmner, Gacy, and Bundy).

Reading on dark subject matters is nothing new to me.  In fact I was into forensics, autopsies, and criminal minds long before they were in vogue.  I don't remember the particular point in my childhood when I read my first Patrica Cornwell novel but I do remember being made aware that life was not all daisies and roses.  One could argue that my early exposure to the dark underbelly of the criminal mind made me prone to the cynicism and sarcasm that I utilize to make light of dark matters or how I tend to see only the worst qualities of my life magnified.  But that's not the point of this post, debating if my books should have been better censured; rather I'm trying to un-darken my mind.


I've been trying to write about this subject matter for two days now, but I can tell that my creativity has been stifled.  Mostly it's due to the knowledge that life, which is already fleeting, can be cut short in such vicious, cruel manners.  Ruminating on those matters and (successfully!) changing my food habits for the past four days has been a bit of a drag. 

I really want a bowl of coco puffs that are calling to me from the pantry, so I'll be heading to bed soon to avoid further temptation.

I think I need a little break from the dark and depressing.  I need something funny to read or watch.  Maybe I should return The Girl Who Played With Fire (child abuse and sex trafficking in Sweden) back to Netflix and request Season 2 of Arrested Development (hilariously dysfunctional family).

The Finer Art of Sales

To the young women who barged into my house today,

In the future, should you continue to solicit door to door in hopes of winning a college scholarship (which I highly question its authenticity even though you mentioned Oprah's name) allow me to give you a few pointers that might boost your sales or at least prevent you from losing your foot in a slamming door.

First, dress up for grits and gravy sake!  I understand going door-to-door means that you might want to be a bit more casual.  I'm fine with the jeans.  What I find appalling is that I know you store your Marlboro Reds in your ample bosom because your shirt was low cut and stretched out of shape.  I remember trying to pimp my Cutco knives (oh, the horror!)  to pay for another semester of college and I never went on a call with out looking like I was going on a job interview because you know what?  No one wants to buy goods from a salesperson that looks like a Jerry Springer cast member. 

Secondly, slow down when you speak.  You claimed to be from Kentucky, but the only time I've heard someone speak that fast was watching Gilmore Girls.  Personally, I can't stand the dialogue on speed approach when it comes to conversations (unless it's along the lines of "Run!TheKillerIsHeadingThisWay!HolyShit!Run!).  Southerners tend to be a bit more laid back and our drawl occasionally causes one syllable words to elongate to three syllables.  (Ask a Southern boy to say shit and you'll hear "Sheeyet," no fooling.)

Third, don't ask demand, "Do you have something to drink other than water, 'cuz I don't drink that stuff."  And if I offer you OJ just to get you to shut up because I am trying to be polite, don't ask "Is it disgusting?"

Fourth, DO NOT continually high-five the person you are attempting to sell you products to.  I don't care if I went to college (High 5!), read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (High 5!), studied history (Fist Bump!), do yoga (High 5!), my kid is watching a science movie you watched in high school (High 5!) or am raising my son alone (High 5!).  I can guarantee you the next High 5! you attempt will probably aimed at your face.  I was only too kind because my child was watching me and the train wreck you were driving. 

Fifth, don't curse like a sailor straight from the docks.  Yes, I have can have a foul vocabulary, but I have the common sense to speak like that in front of my friends who know me well enough and NOT in front of my child.   One possible reason my neighbors are "jackasses" is because every time you opened your sewer mouth, they decided not to give you the time of day.  Plus trying to convince someone to purchase a magazine because they'll get one thousand dollars (!!!!!) of coupons, because "who fucking doesn't like coupons?" is not a high selling point. 

Good luck in the future!  I can only imagine what the halls of higher learning has in store for you.

Sincerely and High 5!
The Diatribest

It's Springtime for the Diatribest, and Florida Too*

The radiant beauty of the Camilla and it's waxy leaves

Inpatients, which will later be smashed flat by a falling sign

Probably a flowering weed, but it looked pretty to me

A Yellow Trumpet

 Just had to share the beauty of nature that coming into bloom.  I'm truly sorry for my friends and readers who are still in the throes of winter.  You can come a visit any time. 


*Just a bit of tongue in cheek reference to Mel Brook's 1968 hit The Producers.