Mel's Mind: Chaos and Ignorance Over Democracy: The Facebook E...

Mel's Mind: Chaos and Ignorance Over Democracy: The Facebook E...: I'll start off by saying that I truly feel a part of my brain melted last night whilst reading certain people's facebook updates during the ...

Chaos and Ignorance Over Democracy: The Facebook Edition

I'll start off by saying that I truly feel a part of my brain melted last night whilst reading certain people's facebook updates during the election.

I started to just write all of this in my journal that only my eyes can read... then I thought a bit more about it and decided that maybe I have something of value to say to everyone out there in cyber world.

I love that we have forums like Facebook, Twitter, this blog site, and others, but they aren't to be used without repercussion. If you post something, and I consider you my "friend," and the thing you say is so damning that it sparks a mental road map in my brain that leads to, "Why am I friends with this person again," don't think that I'm not going to scratch my head in wonder. I'm scratching a hole in my head right now from all of the things I read last night during the election.

Here's a little something about American history...
We are a democracy. We've fought wars that resulted in thousands of casualties over our freedom to be a democracy. The reason the "American dream" is sought after by millions of people is because we have bled and died for our right to dream big. To have a choice to dream big is something that some people in lesser countries around the world ever get to even conceptualize in their minds. America was founded on differences. Differences in religious views, political opinions and race/creed.  Little by little we plug away at trying to perfect a system of government that is "for the people, by the people." We've made mistakes along the way but we are still Americans and we should always keep in mind that we are a nation full of differences and that is why this country is the best country in the world. I'm not saying that we haven't behaved poorly at times, or that we have the best programs, but we have democracy and that is something that a lot of countries do not have and probably never will have. What I'm about to talk about isn't people having "differences" in the sense of being a Republican or Democrat. I'm talking about being so extreme with one side or the other that you hate that people have the right to vote for who they want IF who they want is different from who you want, i.e. spitting on what America is all about. These people are pro-active about their hatred of anything that doesn't confirm who they are inside. They hate people for having different opinions and seek out ways to crush the opposing team by undermining their very rights. I believe that is called terrorism.

I read some posts last night from a few people, one of which is a very close friend of mine that I grew up with, that quite literally blew my mind. The sort of things that were said in these person's posts on Facebook were insulting to everyone who loves democracy and believes in it.  Anger fueled a great deal of the posts that these people had written, but some of these things were shared by a great deal of people who echoed such sentiments.  Things like: "We need a good old fashioned Civil War," "If you call yourself Pro-Life or a Christian and voted for Obama, you are neither," "Well, at least half of this country are still Americans," "Romney's wife should be raped by a black man," "Romney's family should burn in hell," "Obama should be slain by the KKK and strung up in a tree in Texas." These types of things came out of the mouth of people I "accepted as friends." I couldn't believe what I was reading. The thing is... these people who posted this stuff weren't joking around AT ALL.

I had trouble sleeping last night because of the hatred I read over Facebook. It bothered me on a molecular level. It also made me re-evaluate my flippancy in choosing friends because of shared "mutual friends," on Facebook. Again, this isn't about anyone having a varying opinion politically than me, or being of a different religious affiliation, this is about pure Grade A hatred and stupidity. Hatred and stupidity have been the only reasons why we've had war amongst ourselves. It is the thing that prevents growth. It's the two causes of all homicides in this country. It's the partnership of stupidity and hatred that shoot up a movie theatre, bomb a school, mug an old lady, abuse a child, abuse animals, burn down temples, rape a young girl, kidnap and torture a kid on his way home from school... it all stems from hatred and stupidity and it doesn't bode well if you operate on that lethal combo.

Do you want to know how to change the world? Love your neighbor.

It's really that simple. No, really, it really is that simple. If you spew hate, you will get hate back. If you think of only how badly everything sucks, you will get to be right in your own world and you'll have proof of that every day because you are the creator of your own grand design. If all you focus on is what you don't want to happen, you will only see what isn't happening.

I'm not trying to be airy fairy about this stuff. I like to simplify things and folks, it's pretty simple.

What I've found is a common denominator with the people who posted such disgustingly rigid and hateful things, and I know them all personally...

All of these people have NO idea who they are and they are the loudest people in the room about "what they stand for." All 7 of the people that wrote these types of posts have never travelled out of the country, they have been in about 6 different social clicks over the past 10 years, and they all suffer from a debilitating case of "I could've been somebody if... this or that..." All of them are suffering from a lack of identity, a lack of self worth, and a shocking amount of "life hasn't been fair to me" syndrome.

I sat down and wrote all the names of the people who posted the bigotry statements, the political blaspheme, the rigid unstructured hate-filled thoughts and I realized they all had this stuff in common. They surround themselves with people who accommodate their beliefs because if they were surrounded by people who oppose them on a fundamental level, they'd crumble from lack of self worth.  They acquire new friends each time the wind changes, new friends who only know the "new them." Yet there are skeletons of the past rattling away in their closet and the noise sometimes is too much to bear so they explode with statements they can't retract to stop the ruckus in their mind.

This blog is really written for these people that I'm talking about. If you can relate and have friends in your own life that are behaving like monkeys on fire, then by all means feel free to voice your stories in a public forum because it's a guarantee that "they" will be.

I've stayed silent about my concerns for a long time regarding some of these people I'm speaking of, but it's time to speak lest victory defeat us from the inside out.

On a lighter, more funny closing note:

No matter who you voted for, you are part of this wonderful democracy that is America. If you hate people because they voted differently than you, you don't deserve to live in a country where democracy is the staple ideal.  You should join the Borg or the Darkside or something if you love assimilation as much as you claim. I hear it's extra hatey this time of year on the Death Star.

Rancid Ramblings of Austin...I hate hipsters.

It's been a while since I posted anything. I've had quite a busy summer full of adventure not unlike most of the time, but particularly adventurous this summer.

I have decided to post this because there are some hilarious things I need to get off my chest.

Recently I went to Austin (by way of Salado) to work and visit some friends who were in town from Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey Circus. I've decided that Austin people should be rounded up and beaten with hockey sticks. I'm so sick of hipsters that I can't really write what I'd like to about them or I'd be arrested for making legitimate threats to society.  One night in particular in Austin, a friend of mine (who was driving) decided to make a pit stop to visit his friends at a bar on the East side of Austin. The once ghetto neighborhood full of church going minorities has become the douche capital of Austin. The hipsters have run out all of the elderly, poor, and single parent families from the neighborhood in order to create really "super awesome venues for their really ironic indie bands." UGH.

I was dragged into this one bar that night but before I stepped out of the car, the entire sole of my combat boot literally melted off. (F*** Texas heat) So, in my hand was my threadbare wallet and the bottom of my shoe. We walked down Hipster Lane and I felt, naturally, like the most uncool person there. That is how the hipsters want you to feel by the way. They love it when you second guess your Target tank top and cargo pants. It makes them feel a whole lot better about wearing their tattered western snap shirts, 1920's loafers, and a faux derby hats.

We get into this douche bar and I immediately started asking around for duct tape. (**see shoe issue above for reasons) There were about 45 "Rockabilly" chicks with sleeve tats trying to order manly beverages at the bar, 10 bearded early 20's guys who were ringers for the homeless in South Dallas, and around 37 of the worst offenders.... INDIE BAND GROUPIES. There was a band playing outside, next door to another band playing outside, that was next door to the other band playing outside who were all playing THE SAME SHIT.  You could've blindfolded the groupies and transported them to the next yard bar and they wouldn't have known  the difference even after taking the blindfold off.

Everyone was drinking ironic beer and wearing ironic glasses and being ironically gregarious... which means they weren't fully gregarious, just enough to be ironic.
I sat down at a table outside to calmly and very whitely listen to this band. (White people are so boring) There's a reason why black people think white people are lame... they are. A bunch of white people at an Indie band concert will all be sitting around sipping on Lonestar Beer or Pabst (because it's ironic) and they will be talking about how green they have gone, or how they know someone who is a "film maker" and is really "ahead of the curve." It sucks. I was sitting at this table and this guy in front of me turns around in an ironic way and says "Hey, Paul... (as he sticks out his hand to shake mine)..." I say, "Hi. My name is Melodee." He says, "great, great really great. It's a pretty great night tonight, agree?"  That's when I notice that he's wearing a f*cking eye patch with ironic thick rimmed glasses, a derby, a pencil mustache, and the best part... HE HAS A WALKING CANE THAT HE DOESN'T NEED.

The first thing that went through my mind was I needed to beat him with that cane. A bit of violence to all the hipsters would really wake 'em up. They need a solid ass beating because they are all pussies. All of them. They all had their ironic girlfriends with them... Ironic because they are plain. They have plain "natural" hair, no makeup, and wear clothes that look like pregnancy dresses. It's ugly. It's really damned ugly.
I thought I wouldn't curse in this blog but I can't help myself. I can't. Blame the hipsters because it's their fault, everything is.

After about 45 minutes of sitting there listening to this indie band musically masturbate on the stage... they decided to make a joke about how they were musically masturbating on the stage because it's querky to "call it out like that." It's the same type of humor that the news segment of SNL is doing now. When the actors on SNL look into the camera as if to say "hey guys, this is like, um, funny right? Or not, but it's whatev'..." It's like there is a movement of understated schmut that has infiltrated real life and is wearing the banner of "progressive." It's not progressive. We've progressed past the music of these indie bands, indie films, and indie clothes. We have. People use to wear three piece suits and ball gowns to see concerts back in the 1920's and the concerts involved a 30 piece big bands playing complicated arrangements...OH and they were INVENTING A NEW GENRE OF MUSIC CALLED JAZZ!  This indie shit is nothing more than slobbered up Dylan rip offs with a dash of Mac Garageband loops. It's such horseshit. If you throw in a banjo, ukelele and a tuba then you have a really "progressive sound." Ugh.

Anyhow... So Austin... The last time I went to Austin and actually partied there was when I was on the Ringling show and we went to some kick ass blues bars down there. In the last 2 years, the hipsters have taken over all the bars and have made the gritty reality of struggling blues musicians into middle class hipsters who formed indie bands from their Capitol One cards and shopped at Buffalo Exchange to find their costumes for daily life... They dress like the thing they like- and what they like is rehashed overpriced shit.
I tried to talk to the people at my table but realized that this certain block was coming over me when I was trying to be social. It was like an arch angel put his hands over my mouth and whispered into my ear, "don't, just don't." So I'd find myself saying things in response to being asked something really invasive about who I am like this: "Yeah, I just...(trailing off) live, well, in Dallas I guess.... anyway... it's hot out here."

That, THAT was the best I could come up with? Me? I'm full of exciting shit to say and THAT was the best I had? THAT? Yes, because the synapses in my brain stopped firing the second I walked into that place. I have to say that the entire time all this was going on, I was holding the bottom of my shoe in my hand. The screwed up thing is... nobody noticed. They probably thought it was some sort of recycled handbag from a local artist who died of a heroine overdose back in the 90's or some shit. I don't know what they thought or didn't think but it was very disconcerting to hold the entire bottom of a swat team boot in my left hand while I was being asked if I liked various unknown indie films or "docs"... (that's short for the ever so tiring word to say: documentary.) That's another thing they do better than anyone- they shorten words to words that stand for other things...  ex. doctor/docs... documentary/docs? F**K YOU.

If I had one dollar for every time I heard "I'm a filmmaker" at that bar, I'd be the richest asshole in Garland, Texas. Guess what? YOU AREN'T FILM MAKERS.
They don't have an original thought in their bodies. Not one. Everything about these people is unoriginal. You know how I know that? They all look exactly the same, talk the same, listen to the same, do the same, marry the same, and react the same. Same.
They all go "back to school" at the age of 30 to study liberal arts and everyone says "good for you..." as they have their self satisfied smiles as they are patted on the back by the douchebaggery surrounding them. NO, not "good for you." SHAME on you. You are floundering around trying to be artists when you are really just rehashed hacks of a greater generation that is long since past. Find something interesting to do, say or think that doesn't involve a "cause."

The other extreme of Austin is the shit kickin' "get 'er done" closed minded truck drivin' blowholes who cut you off on I-35 in a half ton pickup truck with a lift kit. These people hate everyone that isn't white and proud. They suck just as hard but they don't go out in droves like the hipsters. The Hipsters are like termite infestation... they are attracted to old wooden places and dingy clothes.

Anyhow... that's my story. Did I get my shoe fixed? Yes. However, I didn't get it fixed until I returned to the trailer at Ringling to see my friend Laura who works in wardrobe. I had a dejected look on my face and showed up at her trailer holding my shoe. This is something she has seen me do before when I was on the show with Ringling... Being who she is, she had Barge glue and I sat outside and glued it back on..... backwards. F**k me. I figured it was like a metaphor for how I was to emotionally deal with the whole night.... a part of my spirit fell off, but I fixed it by accepting that I might be a little bit backwards.

Hulk, Freddy Kruger, & Me

Hi World. 


Many of you have seen my latest glamour shot- the Freddy Kruger neck? Which by the way one can't get unless one "builds to that."  God graced me with having perfect skin in my teenage years and most of my 20's... when I hit 32 years old, I no longer had good skin and instead I looked like a bad after-school movie on teenage angst. 
I decided about a week ago that I'd try ProActive AGAIN and this time I wouldn't puss out and not do it "by the book." (unlike previous attempts when I decided that I was too awesome for steps 2 & 4) Don't worry, this blog isn't about acne. 


So...For the last week I've been "by the book" on the ProActive treatment as well as being "by the book" with every aspect of my life currently. I've been running myself ragged with multiple gigs on the same day, plus running my own booth at various trade shows across the BIG FAT state of Texas. I sold my prized drum kit in order to start this business and made a lot of sacrifices to ensure that I would be able to not only help myself but help out my family too. THAT is/was a mistake...the helping of my ungrateful ass family.  


These bucktoothed slobbering "simple country folk" of rural Texas have lost their charm to me.(this isn't about my family) Once upon a time when I lived in Los Angeles, I would've given my entire torso area, plus tax, as a gift to the gods in order be in the presence of "simple folk from Ruraltown USA." 


Now, I understand why all "virus outbreak" movies happen in rural towns in Texas because they are all one dog bite away from being post-apocalyptic mouth-breathing groaners. All of them. You want a stereotype, there, I just gave you one and I f*cking mean every word of it. 


I saw a lady that looked EXACTLY, NO LISTEN TO ME, EXACTLY LIKE A BULLFROG WALKING UPRIGHT. WHAT DNA STRAND SLOUGHED OFF OF INTO THE OUTHOUSE TO CREATE THAT?! anyway... back to my story... 


*By the way, when I say RURAL, I'm not talking about suburbs here people... I'm talking about places where the sign says, "Quinlan 6 miles, Fate 7 miles(that shit is real) and You are currently in UNKNOWN FM DISTRICT 775." I was in the last one on that list. *


Why was I there? There are these things here in Texas called "Trade Days," and you pay a price to rent an area of sacred ass Indian burial ground land (complete with Skinwalkers) to sell your goods to the surrounding villages of mouth-breathing groaners. Well, I can't be sure about the sacred Indian burial ground part but I think I'm onto something with that. Anyhow...


 Some days you make good money and other days you make rashes on your neck. A quote was said by L.Kimes recently on one of these journeys, "If I hear one more southern accent I'm going to pop someone in the testicles." I should mention that I thought I was doing everyone a favor by saying "Why don't you guys run the booth this weekend, I've got other gigs and can't be there until later in the evening..." This was no favor on my part. 


I might have lost Kime's friendship and respect over this "favor." My brother, Chancho, who tries his best to irritate everyone around him as much as possible (because it's how he has survived for 30 years...deep psychology there, folks) is along for one of these journeys into the abyss of DUMBF*CK County Fair Trade Days. I dropped off my brother and L. Kimes off at this rented space which faced the sun and had a backdrop of galvanized steel... perfect for cooking a rotisserie pork loin or your head. 


 Here's where it gets real f*cking funny... 


I had another gig going on simultaneously and you know what it was? Give up? 


I had to be(brace yourself)... A Mime...at a grocery store. A MIME. AT. A. GROCERY. STORE.  And you know what else? The pay was greater for 2 hours than if I worked half a week doing 10 shows @ 3hrs each show on THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH. How in the hell does that happen? Well... it did. I paid for my good fortune with a 3rd degree chemical burn on my neck thus giving me that Freddy Kruger look that is so sought after in Cosplay circles...which I am not into by the way for the record. Apparently you can't wear ProActive in the sun with grease paint a'top of it or you create a melty molotov cocktail. 


Moving along...After mimin' it up at the Central Market for overly entitled rich assholes who buy 12 dollar blueberry fucking muffins, I checked my phone and there waiting on the lock screen was 7 texts from my peeps manning the booth.  


Text: 
"We sold a puppet to the corn guy next to us. That is it." 


"Do you think there is any way we can get our rental money back on this?" 


"I think we need to leave." 


"I just found out the other trade day is 1 mile from here and is packed with people." 


"No more vendors are here. It's just us in an abandoned parking lot." 


"Let us know when you are close by." 


"We hurt real bad." 


I get into my car, drive 50 plus miles to retrieve my product and my people when I get to the frontage road I can clearly see their sunburn faces from 200ft away. What happened the rest of that day can only be explained as... well... they were angry, burnt, and probably severely dehydrated... I however, had plucked chicken neck and when I turned my head to specifically the right, my neck would bleed. I found this out the hard way, in public, at the QuikTrip down the street from my house. The guy who works there that I named DeadBabyJoe asked me if I was okay? I call him DeadBabyJoe because he was going to have a baby and I went to Ringling, etc.. when I came back from tour I said, "How is that baby of yours!" He replied, "it died a year ago today." I said, "Oh my God! I'm so so so so sorry!!! How is your wife doing?" He said, "She divorced me after the baby died." Well, fuck. 


The next day I try to make metaphorical lemonade out of the rotten lemons of the previous day's woe. I schedule another booth at a trade expo way out in Hunt County. In order to get a good space you have to be there by 7:00am. It's about 60 miles away so that means I have to get as soon as I lay down- the night before. (don't worry this gets better) 


My brother is one of those people that you've never met before because he's fucking insane. He gives no information when you need information, he will stare at you when you ask something in an emergency setting and when you want him to shut his face he will give you a fucking play-by-play of his stupid buttfucking Star Trek online game. He's fucking nuts...here's how I know he is... because if he read this rant he would feign laughter and stomp his feet in toddler amusement over how he was talked about negatively... it's fun for him to be hated.


 Riding in a car with my brother is the worst, it's probably worse than camping out in the Vietkhang without a rape whistle, knife, or a mosquito net... but you know what sucks even more? Working alongside my brother while he's trying to "shoot the shit" with the buttfucking FROG PEOPLE! 
It's like they all have a secret handshake, a codebook for retards. They change their voice when they get around their "own kind" and go from being semi-coherant to grunting squawks. I had to listen to this kind of thing for 9 hours out in the hot hot hot sun...Here's a real sample..(I'll write this phonetically, sound-it-out people.)


"heyl mane dere I cun see yoo gut yer sum lil'ol'puhhpets. how much'n yood say dey g'fer." 


Give up?
Translation: "hell, man, there I can see you got your some little old puppets. how much 'n' you would say they go for." 


Guess what... any way you fucking hear that shit it's fucking wrong!


The guy who said this shit "had indian in him" because he had to tell us that... AS ALL THE WHITE TRASH PEOPLE HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT FUCKING HAVE INDIAN BLOOD IN THEM... they fucking don't.


 They are from the stock of humans that scooped up filth and put it in baskets to dam up the moats so the Crocs didn't feast upon the noble's horses. They are the people in scene from Monty Python's "Holy Grail" that say, "there's some lovely filth ov'here." Every time one of these white trash filth hoarders says they "got Indian in they blood," the baby Jesus cries.  I should mention that this asshole had a mullet with a long long long thin n' mealy french braid down his back. He told us he would sell us some more stock of puppets because...something something... couldn't understand... and then he said,


 "Cuz I cuhd run y'all out'tere wit wut I got but I 'n't gon' do dat y'know, but heyl I sail 'em ta yoo fer heyl bout two fitty tree fitty peece." 


Translation: "Because I could run you all out of here with what I got but I ain't going to to that you know, but hell, I sell them to you for hell, about two fifty three fifty piece." 


My fat ass brother understood this asshole and said, "Heyl, that is a pretty guhd priiiiiice." 


I know what my face was doing as if I was looking in a mirror. I could feel the muscles in my face dying. I had to watch this guy pitch me something and then mildly threaten me in order to get me to buy his stock at a wholesale price. I guess I was supposed to feel as though this was a favor? 


Aye, there's the rub. This Cigarbox White Trash Indian was doing me a "favor" in the same way I did a "favor" for L.Kimes and my brother the day before as they sizzled on Planet X selling puppets to NOBODY for 8 hours. 
Instant karma I suppose. They got sunburned, I got a chemical burn that transformed me into Freddy Kruger from the chin down.


The moral of this story is that I now understand why rent is higher in urban cities and it's not because it's supply/demand. You have to make it higher because GOD FORBID any of the FROGS and Cigar Store White Trash Indians came into the city to breed. Holy shit we can't let that happen. If you don't have a gun, go and get one because if these people in the surrounding "UNKNOWN FM 755 TERRITORIES" get wind of you "havin' things," they will slowly schlep their way to your house and talk their way into your front door and sell you broken shit at premium prices while threatening to "run you out of your own house." 


If you wanted to prank call the people who run this hell hole flea market I've decided to list their number at the bottom of this blog. Feel free to ask them philosophical questions, life advice, or any sort of deep inquiry you may have... I can promise you any response you get will be comedic gold. Mark my words, they will not hang up on you right away. They don't mentally process things that fast... you will get a solid 2 questions in before they start to "figurin' yoo is full uh shit." 
The guy that answers the phone has a 4.2 second delay when you ask him questions he DOES know the answer to... "How much is the rent for the space this weekend?" (count to 4) 
"Thirty Fi' buhhhks." 
So I can only imagine if you asked him something like, "What do you think the future of Nasa's involvement concerning finding life on other planets will include?"  


(Spontaneous Combustion Sounds...BOOM, Sizzle, Drip, Drip...Dial Tone) 


BucktoothedRetard Flea Market Guy THAT RIPPED ME OFF: 
469-569-0448

That Ain't Gonna Hurt Ya None

I remember hearing the phrase, "that ain't gonna hurt ya none, " more than I heard my own name as a child growing up in rural Texas.

I was talking to someone recently about this and it dawned on me- the truth of that phrase, and how it previewed terrible accidents, food poisoning, and various vermin bites/stings, etc...

I woke up this morning with a request from my Dad to help him steady a ladder. Simple enough. Not simple. I had no idea that my father was going to be climbing to the top of the ladder with a chainsaw rigged up to a pole to cut down a LARGE tree branch that was nestled in between 2 power lines. I kept asking him, "Dad, it's too high for you to reach it." He agreed. So instead of aborting mission, he gets a rope and ties a large hammer to the end of it to "lasso" the tree branch thus pulling it down and tying it off to a post in the ground. The hammer was barely hooked on the branch and all I kept thinking about was how this could easily become a Three Stooges Fail resulting in death by: hammer to the face at full force, tree branch falling on me, tree branch falling on my dad who was on a ladder holding a pole with a chainsaw attached to it which then would all....fall on me.

I said, "Dad if that hammer comes unhooked from that branch....." He interrupted me with, "Melodee, this ain't gonna hurt you none." Fine. You win.... until you don't win. Until you lose...hard.

When I was around 8 years old and out in the middle of the woods with my Dad I saw a beautiful snake. I knew it was venomous and he told me to "move the snake out' tha way" so he wouldn't roll over it with his giant wheelbarrow. I said, "Um... I think that snake is one of the bad snakes." His reply... "that ain't gonna hurt you none." I moved the snake. I was bitten by that very snake. It was venomous.

My uncle, Dad, and brother told me to eat a fist full of these wild berries that grew on out in the fields of South Texas... He called them "Dewberries." I was a fat kid with a pension for sweets so I ate the hell out of those berries. Within seconds my mouth was numb, I couldn't feel my tongue, and my eyes started to water. I ran back to the farm house and couldn't explain myself properly and I was met with laughter and pointing. I cried and they said, "Don't worry, that ain't gonna hurt you none."

My family has a problem with understanding expiration dates on food items. I have been a fridge nazi since I was a little kid because I throw things away with expired dates clearly printed on the side of the package. My family flippantly ignore expiration dates and I think I've even heard a few family members say "they don't believe in them." Well... they exist? Right? Yeah, they exist. I realized later in life when my family says, "I don't believe in..." what that really means is, "I am choosing to ignore that detail."

Very recently I was plagued with wicked food poisoning/stomach virus pot luck surprise. I realized that the culprit was my Mom's own version of consolidation. She consolidates expired things with non-expired things as a sort of trash alchemy. I busted her doing this a few days ago with some really really really old cheese. She was trying to mix a bag of new fresh shredded cheese with old rotten putrid cheese. I confronted her about this and she said, "Well, Meluh'dee that ain't gonna hurt you none, you just bein' silly." No. No. No I'm not. I'm not being silly when I make a full sprint at 3:30am into the bathroom and have my head stuck in a toilet for 30 minutes while I moan and audibly cry, "Why?! Oh God.... (puking noises) Oh why...Oh God..."

While I do believe that people now are contributing to "global laming," by not disciplining their kids, forcing their dogs to be vegans and feeding their newborn babies pre-chewed food (*Alicia Silverstone).... There has to be a middle ground between everyone being afraid of everything to everyone saying there is nothing to be afraid of. I don't think one kid in the USA under 10 years of age would've made it a week growing up in the 1970's and 80's. Example: The slide at my elementary school was at least 25 feet high, made of solid stainless steel and if you fell off of it you would hit hard ass gravel. If you used the slide in the summer months wearing shorts (we did) you would get 2nd degree burns on the back of your thighs and sometimes on your arms if you tried to "slow yourself down." Nothing about this was okay. We played with cinderblocks, threw rocks at hornets nests, pushed each other off the tree house, dared each other to belly crawl through barbed wire fence. For most of my childhood I was covered in scabs from turfing it off my BMX bike because I decided it was a good idea to launch off of something really sketchy. If we had any fear as young Texans about doing any of the dangerous activity surrounding daily life, we were told, "that ain't gonna hurt you none." I can very clearly remember being covered in rocks and blood with a nail sticking out of my foot and hearing that phrase with the tag line, "you is alright Booger, put some Camphophenique on it." Most of the times I was told to rub some type of over the counter shit on my wounds is when I most certainly needed medical attention.

All the years of therapy in my 20's and hearing shrinks say, "Your biggest issue you need to deal with is your inability to ask for help when you really need it." I get why that was hard for me to wrap my brain around after realizing that most of the time I was told "that ain't gonna hurt you none... You is alright."

You know what though? I was alright. And though I don't agree with consolidation of rotten food-trash alchemy, playing with venomous snakes, or running barefoot through a field with rusty nails.... I do agree with not living in fear of germs, playground equipment, or occasionally reaping the reward of living dangerously.

It's April Fools day and I'm patiently awaiting a nice slice of "dewberry pie."

Afterall... it ain't gonna hurt me none.

Commercials That Turn Me Hulk

I think everyone will agree that the following blog will be full of comedy and rage. If you don't agree by the time you finish this blog, you should watch TV for one hour and commit to understanding why I was prompted to write this....

Below is a list of the commercials and a description of why I hate them.

1. Dove Soap Queefy Scat Song: There is a commercial with 3 dentally challenged females of mediocre appearance in granny panties who are giggling, frolicking, and rejoicing in their moisturizing body wash from Dove. If that wasn't annoying enough, the song that accompanies the frolic is some high pitched singer who is doing a "jazzy scat" to the children's song... "The tail bone connected to the hip bone... the hip bone connected to the leg bone... etc.." The worst part- there are 3 key changes in that queefy version of the song and with each key change the "frolicking" increases as does the gigglin'. This song will get perpetually stuck in your head for a minimum of 3.5 hours. I woke up to this song this morning and my day has sucked ever since I heard it. It makes me want to set myself on fire.

2. Fuck "Flo"- I hate Flo. I hate her. Progressive Insurance "Flo" can suck it. There isn't anything cute, adorable, funny, attractive, querky or anything about her that is redeeming. I don't understand why she has a regular gig or why the makeup department doesn't put some fucking bronzer on that bitch. Toss some honey colored highlights in her hair or dye it fire engine red or slap a B-52's Love Shack wig on her... somethin! If they are going for a "rockabilly" look or a "vintage housewife post WWII" thing... it isn't fucking working. Tease that bump on her fucking head a bit more and curl the ratty ass ends of her hair. Do it. Do it now so that somehow I can "get it"... Did you know they sell Flo Bobbleheads?! They fucking have merchandising for her plain ass! I'm sure someone in the marketing department took an improv workshop with her and thought she was "fun" and brought her into the audition and somehow drugged the casting directors enough to where they were impressed with her vapid expressionless face. The newest ads are trying to show "Flo" in her "environment" which looks like a 12 year old boy's bedroom and she's fucking "dreaming about insurance," 'cause you know, it's "cute n' all".... it's fucking not. Who dyed her hair with chestnut dk brown from Clairol? Who? Nobody can have that hair color unless you are the coloring of Salma Hayek. Nobody. To top the chestnut brown flat hair, you put the lightest makeup on her with a solid black line of liquid liner... no shading... and then and then and then you slap the worst shade of red lipstick on her real thick... She is a chinless wonder. I've written letters to Progressive Insurance asking why she is the spokesperson and to investigate the "good feedback" that came in because I'll bet money those letters came from a retard day camp.

3. General Insurance- The shitty animated "General" who has a fucking Penguin sidekick? The fuck is that about? It's like the animator had a fully "done" Penguin in the stock footage file and through it into the production contract for "good measure." This animated General hangs out with a Penguin and goes to clubs n' shit with him... it makes no sense at all. It's terrible and every time it comes on I want to.... set myself on fire. The latest version of this ad is in a comedy club setting with a "cute" hispanic guy trying to fake doing stand-up... it pans to the audience and the fucking shit ass General animated guy is slapping his fucking knee and throwing back booze. Guess who picks him up in a red corvette from the comedy club? DING DING.. You guessed it... the fucking Penguin is driving that Corvette and they are headed to their urban loft or some shit I guess... I don't know I hate it. I hate hate hate hate it. It's the most half ass bullshit I've ever seen. I think they used Microsoft Paint to color in the animation... It's like the quality of someone who is going to Dallas Art Institute and working on government funded Dells with Windows 98. Want proof... just watch...

This is the short version...

4. The winner of the worst commercial in the fucking world is SUBWAY.

The song... Five Dollar Foooootlooong.... is the worst shit I've ever heard in my life. Period.

I did the music theory on it and there is no music theory. It's the same note for 2 bars and down a half step/rinse & repeat. It is from the devil. I'm sure if you played it backwards it would have embedded lyrics like, "Dark Lord of the Syth eats babies in hell."

5. Kit Kat- Don't make mouth noises an intrinsic part of the marketing of your candy bar... just don't. (SNAP, POP, SMACK, CRACK, GULP, SMACK, SIGH, SNAP, SMACK, CRACK).... STOP.

6. YOU CAN'T MAKE IT- Mariah Carey's Jenny Craig Commercial... This shit will wake you up and find you in a cold sweat of fury. I won't even talk about it. If you have 30 seconds to spare just watch the link below... This commercial came on back to back (same one) the other day when I was struggling with a load of laundry and it actually made me throw the 17 pound bag on the ground and scream...

That's enough for now.... These commercials are the reason intergalactic communication isn't happening. Aliens are wondering why "the monkeys" are buying Flo bobbleheads, why Penguins hang out with military officials, and why 40 year old women find it absurdly fun to bathe while listening to a toddler's learnin' song.... It's why we can't have nice things... from space.

Mel's 2012 Predictions

*The content you are about to read will provide insight on hilarious opinions and poor utilization of ancient prophecies relating to 2012 as I see it. If you read this and decide to become a dick and focus all your energy on telling me what is what, you will, without a doubt, get on the next list I write entitled, "People I'll Beat with a Bat in 2012." *

1. Newt Gingrich- Sometime in the next 45 days, a leading biologist from the University of Florida's genetic research department will release stunning information about the possibility that Mr. Gingrich is distantly related to the Red River Hog of North America.

2. Mitt Romney will not be elected President of the United States- because his name is Mitt.

3. NASA's chief spokesperson will finally come clean with factual information about Roswell, New Mexico stating, "The large concrete underground bunker located in Area 51 is nothing more than a skating rink for retired USAF pilots... built by extraterrestrials in 1948."

4. The SyFy channel's show, "Face Off," will have a controversial season finale in which the make-up artists remaining will be asked to actually take someone's face off.

5. In the spring of 2012, Snooki from "Jersey Shore" fame will be thrashed by the once thought to be extinct Megalodon shark off the coast of Tampa Bay. The world will be more focused on her death than the miraculous resurfacing of a pre-historic shark which in turn will be the catalyst for every crypto zoologist in the world to commit suicide.

6. In March of 2012, Lady GaGA and Madonna will produce a Hybrid in the top secret Montauk Research Facility named, "Gadonna." A series of poorly produced Japanese sci-fi films will be the only result stemming from the creation of 'said' hybrid.

7. The famous news anchor Wolf Blitzer will at some point transform into a pants shredding werewolf on live television during the Presidential debates. He will continue to moderate in a reasonable fashion.

8. Censorship will reach an all time high by November of 2012. Most media will contain mostly beeps and black digital boxes that will hide 76% audio/visual of any program on network television thus making future generations of children speak in a language of tonal patterns while covering their faces with large black cardboard boxes. Experts will support this by stating, "Statistically speaking, the generations born from the years 2008-2012 are less likely to do anything at all, so it is our scientific opinion- they are safer than previous generations."

9. In October of 2012, aliens will land in various locations around the world and subsequently make the executive decision to leave again for another 3000 years because humans were too busy typing their 'status updates' on Facebook to notice.

10. HLN's Nancy Grace will eat both of her toddlers in a ritualistic ceremony to honor fallen soldiers in Afghanistan.

11. Stephen Hawking will be the first person to break warp speed in his brilliantly designed wheelchair only to discover that Planet X isn't handicapped equipped. He will return to earth but due to a miscalculation of .0000001 millimeters, he lands on the top of a stairwell in Toledo, Ohio and suffers acute brain damage upon impact.

12. The term "cabin fever" which was a term to describe feelings of restlessness during times of inactivity indoors, is now being studied at UCLA's Medical Department as a possible explanation of obesity in the United States. Dr. Monty Pietzo states, "It's come to our attention that inactivity, lack of sunlight, and exposure to comfortable settings with adequate food supplies is the link to obesity & cabin fever." By default, in 2012, brain damaged housecats will be allowed to make public statements on behalf of the UCLA Medical School Program. (the study was real, and it made the front page of Yahoo News a month ago.... no shit)

13. "Flo" from the "adorable" Progressive Insurance commercials will be shanked in an alley in Ft. Smith Arkansas by the Geico Caveman... and nobody will care.

14. In 2012, any adult involved in "Cosplay" will be arrested & flogged by ancient Centurion weaponry specialists. The government will go on record making a public statement about why the arrest and subsequent flogging techniques were performed, "they are defective units and we hope by beating the dumb shit out of them they will become effective units."

15. Christina Aguilera will suffocate herself when she is performing the popular nursery rhyme song, "Song that Never Ends," to a 3rd grade class in Santa Rosa, California. A gripping 911 call will describes how Ms. Aguilera kept doing unnecessary "runs" within the song- the song that never ends. By the third time through the song, the 30 year old singer began turning blue and appeared to "be in a great deal of physical discomfort," said Ms. Rosella, the 2nd grade math teacher who will be helping out during the assembly. Lastly, the police will issue a statement saying, "Christina died doing what she loved doing -which was unfortunately extending notes frivolously without taking the proper precautions regarding a never ending song..."

16. Reality television will run out of ideas until someone suggests something groundbreaking that will involve actors, a fake environment and something called, "a script."

17. Animal Planet's show "Puppy Bowl," will combine with the NFL's "Super Bowl," as a co-species event. This will not happen again. Many hearts will be broken, many emotional scars will never heal.

18. Hipsters everywhere will become disheartened when a new sociological study reveals that they aren't progressive, cultured, creatively understated, or cool in an uncool way.

19. Sasquatch will be honored in the Presidential Fitness Award Ceremony with, "The National Hide & Seek Champion Lifetime Achievement Award." Other notable nominees will include, Amelia Earhart, Jimmy Hoffa, D.B. Cooper and the money he took.

20. The Galactic Federation of Planets will issue a international statement of apology for the host of "Ancient Aliens," hair.

Mental Rambling 2012 Edition

This is an attempt on mental house cleaning. Nothing more, nothing less.

So far 2012 has been an eye opening adventure of house cleaning on a cerebral tip.

I've seen all these fear driven History Channel, Science Channel, Discovery Channel, Younameit Channel about all the "holy shit watch your ass it's 2012," shows and I am pretty sure with the collective consciousness of everyone being completely scared shitless about prophecies, solar storms, global crisis'... we are going to manifest the chaos ourselves.

I realized last night on a long road trip at night in my 1998 Saturn SL complete with headliner flaking off in my face, engine rattling, and faulty brake lines that if a UFO landed 25 feet from me on the side of the I-44, I'd be inclined to stop and ask permission to board the craft. It can't be THAT bad people... it really can't. Experimentation and all, I'm kinda okay with that. I'd experiment on humanity too if I were me, which I am, so I say "go for it." For anyone out there who thinks I have an obsession with aliens... you are correct. It is far better and more entertaining of a thought than being obsessed with handbags, the Kardasians (or however the fuck you spell their name), Jersey Shore, or the political debates. I'm done with worrying about my credit score, I'm finished with being helpful to people who want a chunk of my soul's light for their own human experiments... like the experiment of "Let's see how much Melodee can handle... it'll be real fun to watch her get rocked by our malevolent intentions."

I'm not a pessimist though. I just like to laugh at the way it actually is sometimes.

Here's an example of that.

For Christmas I received the most worthless gift you can give someone... a JC Penny's gift card.

I don't need that. I need the money that is loaded on that card. I can't buy gas, but I can buy cheap cargo pants and ill fitting bras because I can go buy FIFTY dollars worth of that.. but I cannot, CANNOT, afford to drive to the JC Penny's. That brings me to my point... I had a bright idea. Have you ever have one of those, I did, and next time I'll just let it go. I have a friend who owns one of those "CASH FOR FUCKING GOLD," stores and they buy sterling silver, gold, and other nice shit. They always give me a fair price and I've made rent buy selling jewels that I no longer want. So my bright idea? I decided to go to Penny's and get 50 dollars worth of the clearance Sterling Silver jewelry to sell to my buddy at the Cash for Fucking Gold store. I failed. NO, JC Penny failed me. I took 50 dollars worth of the clearance "sterling silver" jewelry to my friend's store and he said, "It is worth $4." NONE of it was sterling silver. It was in boxes that said "sterling silver" but it was NOT sterling silver and it was worth $4.

I got into the car and wept. I wept. Did you guys hear that? I wept. I've heard the that the shortest line in the bible is, "Jesus wept." Now I understand why. He went to JC Penny's and got rolled. He had a bright idea to make some cash with his Jewish jewelry friend and they told him he was going to get $4. FOUR fucking dollars.

Well... I thought I could catch a break that day but NOPE. I kept the shit ass jewelry and I'm going to take it back to get $50 bucks back on my JC Penny's card so I can buy cheap cargo pants and ill fitting bras.

On my long road trip... the one I mentioned where I began pondering on how fast I'd run toward the alien spacecraft... I had a bug bite that itched like a son of a bitch on my back, and I got a simultaneous leg cramp in the leg that counts when you are driving.... I swerved and I accelerated... the swerve was because of the back itch, the cramp caused the SPEEDING TICKET that I received within minutes of this whole chaotic nervous system failure. I tried to tell the officer that I had a bug bite and a leg cramp but I realized that if I continued to give him a LEGIT excuse for my speeding, he'd probably give me a sobriety test for "talkin' too much in Oklahoma." I'm sorry for anyone who truly loves Oklahoma because I'm here to say, it blows. I'm sure that the natural beauty makes up for the people but if you are contemplating running toward an alien spacecraft to be experimented on, you probably shouldn't live in Oklahoma.

My other favorite thing is when people (in Oklahoma) break the boundary with you immediately when you stop to get food or gas. Every time I've ever stopped in Oklahoma to get gas, the attendant will immediately launch into a monologue about how something fucking awful happened to them recently. You begin wondering if God himself is giving you a "warning of similar ill fate" when this happens. Especially if you've been rolled at JC Penny, received a speeding ticket, and realized you'd run to a alien spacecraft instead of living another day with life's curve balls- that is when shit gets real and you think "Pam" at the "Kum n' Go" must be a messenger of God telling you to buy Fix a' Flat through her perilous story of being stranded for 13 hours with a convicted rapist in a semi but "if she only had that can of Fix a' Flat sooner she would've seen her daughter that one last time before they all got shot in the backseat of that cab in Michigan." Anyhow... I started thinking, "maybe I need to buy Fix a' Flat?" I didn't buy Fix a' Flat.... because they don't fucking sell that at JC Penny's.

That is all.

In space love,

Melodee Lenz