Posted on by robinblipinski

Why?

Why is it that when washing socks in a washing machine there is always a missing one when finished. Seriously, after years of washing socks and being frugal with them I am missing hundreds. Where do they go? I’ve checked the filters. I’ve checked the sofa. Those fuckers disappear without any evidence as to why.

The Beverly Hillbillys are excellent to watch. Jed. Elle May. Jethro. Ha! What a fucking hoot! Raising cows in a tennis court. Those are my kind of folks.

Now why am I writing this shit? Is it because Old Crow is flying into my brain cells? Ha! Fuck yeah.

( Had to delete so you have to resort to looking at the keystrokes just erased. Sorry about that. ((not really)) not sorry for anything except wanting to know where those fucking lost socks went)

Sheriff Giddings once said “Where do you see yourself in five years?” Now the poor sod is sodden.

West Virginia! Whee! Gonna buy a shack and tell the world to get lost. Gonna stay away from the zombies. Gonna catch fish. Gonna watch fire flys. Gonna play with corgis.

Now, haven’t written a poem in awhile, a while, a spell, a bit. And, fuck the poetry crittics. Everyone is a poet whether they either know or don’t have a fucking clue.

(inspired by a humming bird. A real fucking piece of what for me is reality)

***

Concoction

There the hard reality of soul resides

sighing

Giving thanks unspoken while retaining the motions of life.

A small egg tendered with care to give flight to motion

A wing

A prayer

A flight where to meet with air tipped and enrich with flower.

Yes, and always so as to deny only brings the darkness of night

Swirling and twirling and hovering with trial

Always striving to cling to what is real

and Life.

***

(Whee!)

Now, where are those fucking missing socks!

Posted on by robinblipinski

105

Yesterday the temp was 105. Hot. Weird drivers. Crazy planet.

Today watching a hummingbird bury her little head completely inside a flower. Wonderful. 86 degrees. Work done and it’s Friday. Whee! Old crow and diet Dr. Pepper with ice cold ice. Wonderful indeed.

Currently getting a nice foot bath by Orff. Corgi’s are the best plus there is the added benefit of getting enough shed fur that spinning the hair into strands enables more research into knitting corgi hair sweaters. Probably sell them on Ebay for $100.00

“Write everyday,” someone somewhere always says. Write. Write. Write a book. Write a recipe.

Are you a writer? If so, why? Why feel the letters in your fingesr trying to attach themselves to your brain while at the same time pausing to take a drink?

Heard about a guy who wrote a book using only A.I. Why? That’s sorta like asking a toaster to make the bread first.

Rattlesnakes? Fuck, they are EVERYwhere. Mice population has plummeted though. Yellow jacket nests are cropping up everywhere. Everywhere. Everywhere. Where everything is is speeding up their advances towards immortality!

Financial advice: Spend your treasure on whatever you want. Loser it all in the stock market, buy drugs, donate to the lesbian dwarf foundation. And what’s with this GoFund shit? “My daddy lost his left testicle to a rampaging goldfish. Our goal is $500 to buy him an artificial nut made out of clay. Please donate today.”

(sip)

Yep. Just more fucking insanity. Time really does not exist. God really exists. Corgi’s are fucking awesome. Oh, and saw pigman today. Am I sure glad I don’t work for them anymore. (or is it, I sure am glad I don’t work for them anymore? I tend to get confused. Oh look,a pipe cleaner and a shackle in a furnace tempering to make the steel even stronger.)

Oh shit, I just lost my nut sack. Better go get another drink and start a GoFund

Squirrels rock!

Posted on by robinblipinski

no shit sherlock

(no filters, you get exactly what the raw sewage smells like spilling from the mind/fingers)

so proof?

Demons. Just had one double tap and whispered, “Porn. Fucking. Pussy. Go ahead.”

Laughed my fat ass off and ate some cheese.

Did you know that Idaho banned porn on the internet? Well, unless you use a credit card and wash your hands before you play with yourself. That means the kids have learned to use VPN back channels. Puberty is a bitch. Back in the day it was Playboy. Before that it was fairy tales. Before that, well, you don’t want to know what happened. Today though, ha! What a fucking fuck joke.

In case you did not know some facts about this video game you are participating in, your avatar, your identity (complete with clothes, hair cuts, hats, shoes, you)does indeed have free will to navigate the paths of cognitive choice.Amazing choices. Ever choose pain? Ever choose to turn the other cheek? Ever choose to be poor instead of richer than Midas?

When the whispers come and go I too can cum or go. Fight or flight. Ever wrassle a demon? Wild as they cheat and avoid the illusion with a very real form of reality. Example: Imagine kicking Spock in the balls while watching him on a Netflix movie. Not gonna work will it? Now imagine Spock looking all ‘actor’ like and suddenly reaching out of the screen and kicking YOU in the balls…Ouch.

Why write this? Because i am not supposed too yet choose to because it is all a part of wrassling with what is really real. Really? (bonk)

Watching a clip now of a guy laughing as he got caught driving around with his dead wife. If you listen close you can hear her scream. And she is dead. Dead as a 9mm he just laughed about.

No porn.

No accepting the reality of make believe humans just crave.

As for cheese? Much better than what is all around.

Oh shit, forgot to mention the earth cracked last night. A large crack and the hydrant is seeking gravity. Yikes! Rocks go boom boom.

And as Sheldon would say before kicking you in the nuts, “Bazinga!”

Posted on by robinblipinski

This is what happens when i am happy for a second or two.

First, none of anyone reading this know me nor should they. I’m nothing of import or importance. More like a firecracker, a huge firecracker with a dead fuse.

So, i am happy right now because it is sunny outside and my corgi’s, all five of them are inside and happy. Margareta just made some fucking fantastic cream cheese and pepper filling for tonight, and I’m drinking a vodka/huckleberry drink mixed with sarachi sauce, pickled garlics, ice, pepper…a drink I call bloody mess. Fucking awesome. And now the song, West Virginia is playing while waiting for Norway to play true football, not the pussy American football for weak minded beer drinkers.

There will always be moments in your life where you just try and deal with the accepted reality and then there will be those few precious moments where you get to experience happiness. Today. This moment. i am happy.

Yay!

And in this moment, i give thanks for those who allowed a formation of a country trying to cling to freedom. As such in the freeing moment, fuck people for abortion, fuck people who hate God, fuck people who think their shit does not stink, and fuck me for being so wound up in thinking i could make difference as really Life already knows what it wants.

It truly is the small things that matter. Those small tidbits of nothing adding up to one very important thing. Thing: A word to describe what a thousand other words describe more fluently.

I and i hope today somewhere in this somewhat world, others can find fleeting moments of happiness.

Also, (alcohol speaking) when this shell of biological mass is cremated, the smoke will smell sweet with the feeling of Life joining the Wind of Life and celebrating what truly matters.

(now lets see if Norway kicks Paraguays ass tomorrow and if France pretends it is civilized today)

Posted on by robinblipinski

Writers Parasite, aka, my friend.

Used to write under a thread called writers parasite. Wrote a lot of therapy for myself and it felt good as it keeps the shadows at bay.

The place I used to write is now defunct. The Editors there all dissolved into the mist and the owner gave up because of spam/bots and crazy creatures like myself.

However, I enjoy the parasite. It feeds me and helps me make sense of what no human can ever come close to understanding, at least that is what I understand about it.

The cool thing about writing is now for such as i the only way to put the weird wasting parasite in perspective is to communicate with it via the written word. Don’t really know why yet know it brings me some happiness to know I can.

I realize the parasite is not for everyone. Ha, definitely NOT for most and yet by writing here with it maybe some reader will get inspired to write about…

“Man you sure haven’t changed. A long winded bastard writing about absolutely nothing. Thankfully though you don’t write about how big a turd you created or blather about…”

Parasite! I knew you’d be back. Couldn’t stay away from me could ya?

“No. It is you that couldn’t stay away from me. Trust me in knowing that I tried to get as far away from you as possible.”

Well, good seeing you again. Have you been watching the World Cup?

“Nope. I hate Soccer. I played with dolphins off the coast of Curacao.”

You do know that Curacao just played Germany in the Cup and lost 7-1?

“Don’t care. I taught some dolphins how to play strip poker.”

Why?

“Cuz I like naked dolphins.”

Dolphins don’t wear clothes.

“Yes they do, you just can’t see them. All you see is what is at the tip of your nose.”

Did you win?

“No, those dolphins already knew how to play and I ended up the one being naked.”

Ha! I suspect you planned it that way. You just like showing your impressive purple blob of a body. Reminds me of jello.

“Jello? You got some? Heck it’s been so long since I’ve have jello I forget what it tastes like.”

Nope. No jello. Got some green peppers stuffed with cream cheese, Swedish molasses, mezzetta hot chili peppers, bacon, and baked to a creamy goodness.

(silence except for the parasites body emitting a growling sound)

“Damn. It’s good to be back. I’m starved. Lets go devour a tray of those peppers.”

Good to see you back also parasite. Together we can stir the pot, spill the beans, and torture each other. First though, time to munch.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Warm Goo

Detach.

Uncouple.

Separate.

Split.

Phase out.

Dim.

Words of action to describe the best course to pursue when inundated with the constant babble of “Breaking news!” and “Trump did this!” and “Global warming!” and, and, and, (thud)

We all make constant decisions, we have to or else the actions around us will decide and this would usually mean our destruction.

“Uh…Fred? That bear is charging us. Do you think we should move?” Fred had already decided and started running leaving the befuddled companion asking the question to ponder on whether to run, discuss poetry with the bear, or just do nothing and get eaten.

Fun thing about decisions. They can become good decisions or bad decisions. They can save lives or kill lives. They can create something new or destroy something old.

The topic of this babble today is that I’ve made the decision to retreat back into my cave. A most wonderful cave. Buried deep in a dimension where nothing can touch me. No decisions, no pain, no anger, no hate, nothing to harm, age, or inflict angst.

What is news? For that matter what is global warming? What is racism? What is the purpose of tearing apart others both physically/mentally/spiritually?

Why is there the constant force of “I’m right, you’re wrong!”

It was interesting to see decisions of so many questions end up where the one pondering such turn into a victim. Being a victim is a decision. Being a victim gives the power of assigning blame.

Being a victim must truly be boring, just as being ‘right’ must also border on the side of seeing paint dry.

I personally like being wrong as then it is impossible to be a victim and thus boring. It also beats being ‘right’ as for humans being ‘right’ is like being a mountain for others to decide to climb and once on top plant the flag of “I’m right now and you are wrong.’

Yep, being wrong is actually very pleasant.

Is it wrong of me to write such babble? Absolutely! No one gives a shit and nor should they. They should be right and thus boring.

Anyway, even if the news and Trump and global warming and discussing poetry with a bear is the ‘right’ thing to decide to be affected by, being wrong and detaching from the herd is for me, the fucking best decision I’ve made in a long time.

So until I’m fully nestled back inside my cave and getting ready to sleep for another couple of thousand years, when I hear, “Whites are racist killers,” or “We’re all gonna die because there is a shortage of honey bees…” I’m just going to say, “You’re right, I’m wrong, and have a nice day.”

Posted on by robinblipinski

Epitaphs and shit

Epitaphs or epifafs or… fuck it, it’s drinking day. One day a week I allow myself to drink and tonight it’s rum and coke.

Anyways self, it’s me. A fucking crazy ass dude who has absolutely no filters and no alligence or allegiences or…fuck it, it’s my drinking day!

So, Margareta was born and raised in Sweden so sososo, soooooo… after spicking speaking spoking (and putting up with my bullshit) she is often times asked by random strangers, “Your accent, where are you from?” Or, “Are you from Germany?” Or, “Do you work here?” Or, “I hope you drop dead.” Or, “Who am I?”

Anywayes… I told her today that the next time someone asks about her accent and where she is from she should say, “I’m an angel from heaven and now I’m on my way back.”

Genious or genious or genus or penis or… That would shut up the mouths of those asking and a double win for those asking who only believe in nothing.

So.

Ah so

Asshole

Epitaphs I just thought up (or remembered, or saw)

“You’re standing on my balls!”

“Hey skank, wear some clean underwear.

“This space is occupied.”

“Hey Dominoes, where’s my pizza I ordered?”

“Trust me, it was worth it.”

(Last words spoken engraved on the monument) “Here, hold my beer and watch this.”

“I don’t believe in God. I believe in reincarnation. Currently I’m one of those crabs crawling around your genitals.”

“Down with ICE, Down with ICE, ARghh!”

“Out of order”

“You’re next”

“Laugh all you want, I took it all with me”

“Here lays a buried casket inside a U-Haul)

“They were supposed to install a bell in case I was still alive”

“This is not a Kill Bill moment:

“Don’t fuck a sow grizz when alone in the wilderness:

“I had a second helping of fries at a Somali resturaunt in Minnesota”

and on

and on

and on

Whee!

(thuddd) or thud

and, fuck it.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Moist Juicy Sex…or, beat yourself with a tree branch

Humans are a randy and horny lot, they have to be otherwise no children would be born and the species would have disappeared a long time ago and probably replaced with some horny horny toads.

So, you like fucking? Do you think about it daily? Do you masturbate while thinking about anything from juicy fruit gum, other humans, or anything your imagination can conjure?

Whee!

Or, do you beat yourself with a tree branch while muttering, “I’m not worthy. I’m not worthy.”

Ha! It does not matter what you do or choose or practice because you will do what you do and no one is going to stop you. Sure, they may try. Some might even beat you with tree branches for playing with your dick or pussy (vagina/penis, who gives a fuck) “Me! Me! I like to fuck!”

From those who believe in God, god, gods, and juicy fruit gum… they are no different than those who believe in nothing or that tree’s have souls. When it comes to the physical body of humanity…it is all a giant game of fuckfest.

Now yesterday I wrote about A.I. becoming something very different. Some can imagine tactile sensory interface between physical/machine. Robot fucking machines fucking other robots and humans…

Human/machine. Machine/human. Bullshit/bullshit. (and Oh Shite!)

And now a question for you. is sex nothing more than the brain playing with chemicals attuned to the nervous system? Smells? Thoughts? Taste? Pleasure/pain? And why can’t A.I. ‘ever’ experience the Joy of Sex?

Love? Will A.I. ever love? Nope. Unless… No, that would mean a successful mating of human and machine… Huh? Imagine that.

Currently it has been proven that there can be a primitive interface between computers and the human brain.

An abomination of human and machine joined in mental physical AND procreation?

Oh yes, it is fun to see the future as if it was only yesterday. And so, since I like fun and sex, i am fully aroused to peak behind the curtain of past/present/and a fucking weird future…

Posted on by robinblipinski

What Would Jesus Say.

So, todays word prompt was, “What is your favorite word,” and while there are many the word pizza came to mind because, well, because of pizza.

I noticed a few people chose the word, fuck. And I agree. Fuck it is good to say fuck when the situation either good or bad warrants its use.

“Fuck, that guy who shot the guy yesterday is pretty fucked up.” A statement of truth regarding the assassination of the poor fellow sharing his view at a fucked up college yesterday.

“Fuck, this pizza is fucking awesome!” A statement of truth regarding the perfection obtained by some who delve in the magic of perfect pizza.

Now, what would Jesus say…

(disclaimer: Some of you fucks don’t believe Jesus existed or believe in God and that is your fucking right. I feel sorry for you and your fucked up ‘opinion’.)

As for those puritans out there that would screw a worker out of his pay or diddle little boys and girls and ‘say’ you believe in God and Jesus and are offended by this type of writing regarding God/Jesus, look into a mirror and tell yourself that you’re fucked up and need a fucking reality check.

“Feeling better dude?”

Never better. Ate the fucking biggest apple of my life today AND tried five new varieties of grapes that were fucking awesome! One was a plant from South Africa. Absolutely fucking awesome.

Did Jesus ever use a word on par with my usage of the word fuck? Or YOUR use of the word fuck?

I’d like to think so. I know he was pissed about those fucks who did money changing in the temple. So when I think about the part where Evil basically said to Jesus, “Bend your knee to me and I will give you this entire fucked up world.” (Shitty deal if you ask me.)

I bet Jesus today would have told that useless fuck going by many ‘names’ to go fuck itself. (evil is not male or female, it just is a fucking shit show designed be evil to try and destroy that little thing inside all of you not of this world, your soul.)

Yep. The word fuck is fantastic. I will keep using it as it is real, raw, true, and so perfect for this absolutely fucked up illusion of a world so many think is so fucking perfect.

And just to let you know, this world is just an illusion, a playground for good and evil to try and find some fucking meaning and direction for the other worlds. So many worlds…

And along with this theme/vibe, TIME. Time does not exist. Time is one of the best fucking illusions going for the primitive four dimensions.

Now, go be fucking nice to those you hate and despise. I’d be fucking surprised if you do, but maybe you are fucking different.

Oh, and in my not so fucking humble opinion, anchovies on pizza are like the word fuck. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad.

Posted on by robinblipinski · 1 Comment

Emergency? Plan?

Hahahahahaha!

Plan? Bullshit.

As for emergency, what kind of emergency? Broken manicured nail? Power outage? Left a chicken to burn in the oven?

Plans are as useful as a politicians promise to tell the truth. Plans don’t work.

Emergencies are handled by experience, knowledge, and a whole lot of luck.

In life or death situations the best is to plan on dying. If you live, than you are lucky. For example: If you’re being chased by a rabid raccoon or drug crazed zombie, all you have to do is to be able to run faster than them or have a friend running alongside you who is slower.

To show how mentally retarded plans are just look at the governments -of-the-world plan to deal with Covid. Six foot spacing, masks that do nothing other than allow you to smell your foul breath. Vaccines you would not even want to test on monkeys. End result? Lots of people died and lots of people got lucky.

Every plan a government has usually involves a lot of people dying and some lucky ones living until the next plan fucking kills them.

However, I will create an emergency preparedness plan for the coming asteroids that will kill a lot of people while a few lucky ones will live to plan to the next round of shit.

  1. Asteroid is to hit planet Earth.
  2. Stock up on twinkies, cockroach traps (protein) Diet soda. Toilet paper (covid taught us you can never have enough shit wipe)
  3. Worry and panic a lot. Wonder if maybe there is a god or God. And that maybe sacrificing another human could appease such an entity.
  4. Realize you are going to be obliterated.
  5. Suffer the seven stages of grief.
  6. Get drunk
  7. Get high
  8. On the day of impact look towards the sky.
  9. Scream
  10. (BANG!)

You’re all dead now but thankfully the cockroaches have twinkies, diet soda and a whole lot of toilet paper to continue making plans of world domination.

Daily writing prompt
Create an emergency preparedness plan.
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