Author Archives: andymac012@gmail.com

I Met A Girl

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It’s too rare

that someone walks into your life

and immediately takes hold.

So, I’ll pursue

In the hope that maybe

Just maybe

She can make the sadness go away.

 

I know better, though.

The sadness never leaves for good.

He just goes away for awhile,

granting me a small reprieve

to see her face

and be happy.

 

He knows

that down the road

she can be used against me,

like the first.

He knows

that the deeper I allow her roots to stretch,

the more of my soul she’ll tear out when she goes.

 

Then the sadness will return,

with the girl on his arm

and a shit grin on his face,

eager to make up for lost time,

like an old friend that likes to watch me suffer.

 

On that day,

I won’t resist,

or hold a grudge.

I won’t curse my god or myself.

I’ll just break out the bottle,

grab two glasses and smile

 

because fuck him.

The Necessity of Arrogance

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Every now and then, I look up at the sky and try to open my mind to the scale of it all. I attempt to fathom how big the universe is, how long it has existed, and just how crushingly irrelevant I am within it. I never succeed. But, I don’t think I fail because it’s an impossible task, in and of itself. I think that I fail because our species is ingrained with a certain degree of narcissism that makes the task impossible. As each of us exists solely within the confines of our own mind, we are born convinced of our own self worth: we exist, therefore it must be for a reason.

Of course, some are more narcissistic than others, a tendency which too often culminates in blind selfishness. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that there is no shortage of people eager to take advantage of as many of their fellow man as will benefit their social advancement. The self-centered individual seems to always be greedily striving toward a single goal, yet never any closer to grasping it. He works shamelessly for nothing but personal gain, convinced that the means are justified by his end, and finding no fault in his lack of compassion; or at the very least, finding the absence of compassion to be a necessary evil of the world.

I used to think that the immense scope of the universe and the arrogance of people within it were conflicting ideas, i.e., that people should not be arrogant because of how large the universe is and how little we know about it; but the more I think, the more I begin to believe that the sheer size of space makes human arrogance necessary for our survival. Think of it like an evolutionary defense mechanism. If the human psyche was ever able to grasp how truly small a person is, it would be instantly crushed by the weight of its own insignificance. There would be no point in doing anything. We would lie in bed all day, slowly deteriorating, crippled by the meaninglessness of our daily lives.

People need to believe that they have purpose in this world, because it’s the only thing that motivates them to keep going, and striving to be better. Only an arrogant man could look up at the immensity of the night sky and believe we are alone in this universe; that the ocean of stars (each representing an object larger and more complex than our imagination will allow us to perceive) serves only to please our sense of sight. Our pretension blinds us, but our lack of vision keeps us focused. I think that’s why philosophers are hardly ever productive members of society:  they don’t see the point.

 

 

Let’s Talk About Cuddling

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In my professional opinion, I am an excellent cuddler. I’m gentle, yet strong, and I apply the perfect amount of pressure: not so light that it tickles, but not so firm that it causes friction. It’s an art, really, and for the romantically inclined among us, an essential part of the love-making process. Without it, we’re just animals, procreating for the sake of our species. The issue I have with cuddling is that I never get to be the little spoon, which is bullshit, because the little spoon is clearly the better option. Just because I’m a little bit bigger, I have to fall asleep with a tangle of hair in my face, and a left arm that is rapidly losing circulation. I may seem strong on the outside, but it’s just a facade. On the inside I’m a frail young boy! I’m a frail young boy with whimsical hopes and dreams, who draws pictures of mythical beasts taking delight in an assortment of ice cream and buttermilk pancakes! I never color outside the lines, and I yearn to be held!

As a dude, there’s really only one advantage to being the big spoon:  boner pokes. That’s right. Boner pokes. When you wake up feeling the fury, as we so often do, all it takes is a light brush of the tip across the little spoon’s lower back, and all of the important points of your argument are wordlessly communicated. Granted, you may have to give her a few prods so she knows you mean business, but that message is loud and clear. In fact, if your intentions are not comfort but seduction, the big spoon is where it’s at. It offers all of the necessary tools,allowing ideal head positioning for ear nibbles and neck kisses. It grants you a free hand to roam the prairie, exploring all the hills and valleys that the female topography provides, maybe giving the twin peaks a tweak. Then there’s the all too important arm underneath the body, which normally lies there without purpose. Now, it can be used for security, to hold her tight, and make her feel safe; or discourage resistance, depending on your goals.

Although the little spoon is exponentially more awesome (as previously noted), it does make initiating intimacy a much trickier endeavor. Either you have to reach back and feel around blindly, hoping to hit the right button, or you have to turn your body completely around, which, everyone knows, will completely disrupt the flow of the cuddle and force you to start back from square one. Not only will this rudely disrupt your partner’s slumber, but it’s just poor etiquette, and rarely encouraged in practical circumstances.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the gender divide, girl’s are killing it in the snuggle sphere, enjoying advantages from both sides of the mattress, especially for the purposes of seduction. If they’re operating from the little spoon position, and start feeling a little frisky, all it takes is a few subtle tush rubs. It doesn’t have to be aggressive…just enough to wake the dragon. And if they’re working from the big spoon it’s even easier. They just have to come over the top and grab it. Wrangle that one eyed snake. Put it in a choke hold.  You’ll get our attention real quick.

 

* Obviously, this only applies to straight couples. I cannot speak for the gay community, but considering they have identical parts, I just assume they implement some sort of rotation. If only we were all so selfless…I’m looking at you E.E.

The Problem With Karma

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Karma is supposed to be an overarching force of justice in the universe, which basically says that any act of dickishness shall be paid back with interest. It’s a concept that those of us with a conscience choose to believe in because it affirms our worldview, providing balance to an intensely unbalanced world. However, there is a rather large flaw in the concept, in that it is just that: a concept. Karma is  no more than an idea; albeit, a charming and optimistic one, but an idea nonetheless. It resides solely in the mind, and is subject to individual perception, meaning that it can very easily be discounted or ignored when it doesn’t serve our purposes.

Therefore, karma only holds influence over people who believe in it; people who already understand that they are flawed; people that can recognize when they’ve done something vindictive, hateful, or just plain inconsiderate. The problem with this is that the individuals who are unable to accept that they’re flawed, i.e. people deserving of a good beating, are too deluded to understand that the bad things that happen to them are what they’re due. Take assholes, for example. Assholes come standard with a complete lack of self-awareness. According to Harvard Psychology Professor, Aaron James, assholes allow themselves to enjoy special advantages, they do so out of an entrenched sense of entitlement, and that sense of entitlement makes them immune to the complaints of others.* Or in layman’s terms: they do what they want, because they don’t give a fuck about you or what you have to say.  Now, whether this defect in their thought process is something they’re born with, or a product of asshole parents, is still up for debate; however, the asshole’s ignorance to the plight of every other human being on the planet makes them immune to the concept of karma.

Instead of seeing the bad things that happen in their life as cosmic payback for their misdeeds, they see these events as undeserved, believing the universe is screwing them over.  Now, due to an inflated sense of entitlement, assholes think they’re owed one, which only causes them to be bigger assholes. That, in turn, attracts more bad karma, and so on, and so forth, thus creating a self-sustaining cycle of misery from which death is the only escape. And that would be all well and good if the asshole was the only one suffering; but as I noted before, assholes are incapable of self-awareness, so instead of coming to terms with their own douchery, they opt to distribute their exponential levels of gloom evenly amongst anyone and everyone with whom they come into contact.

This is where karma fails. While it might have positive influences on most of humanity, it will inevitably create these sporadic pockets of despair around these assholes, acting like black holes feeding off the fabric of rational society. Especially considering that rational society typically tries to avoid confrontation with assholes in the vain hope that the universe will reach out and backhand them like the moral arm of Newton’s Third Law. It’s a vicious, self-sustaining cycle, and while I don’t have a solution, I do have a suggestion. We, as a society, need to collectively agree that when assholes arise, regardless of the circumstance, we must viciously beat them into submission. Be the change you want to see in the world. Gandhi would want it that way.

 

 

* James, Aaron. Assholes:  A Theory. New York:  Doubleday, 2012. Print.

It’s Just A Game

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One of the best days of my life, was the day that I stopped pretending to care about sports. I never truly cared, but when you grow up in a large athletically oriented family, you kind of feel like you have to. Imagine yourself as an impressionable child, desperate to fit in and be accepted, and your whole family is gathered around a T.V., shouting encouragement at the men on screen. What are you going to do? Go in the other room and read a book, thus marking yourself as the black sheep for all to see?  No.  You’re going to yell at that fucking T.V. — “Woo hoo! Go Brown Team! Throw that ball fellas.” — At that age, you’re a follower. It doesn’t matter what you’re heart tells you, you are caving to peer pressure, almost instantly.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy sports. I just don’t understand how people become so emotionally invested in the outcome  that it actually effects their mood. It confuses me to see angry Facebook or Twitter posts when the Indians lose a game. A bunch of millionaires, who don’t give a shit about you, lose a game that is virtually meaningless, and this upsets you?  And upsets you so much that you feel the need to whine on a public forum? Beyond being a vague cry for attention, I don’t get it. And believe me, I totally understand vague cries for attention. What do you think this blog is?

Honestly, why should I care about sports? Pride for my birthplace? Like a territorial dispute? I’m pretty sure that sort of logic has been the basis for every war and/or genocide ever started. Think I’m exaggerating? Then you’ve obviously never been to a Browns tailgate when two guys in Steelers jerseys come walking through. They may as well have swastikas tattooed to their faces. They would receive no worse a welcome if they did, I assure you that.

If I’m truly going to care about sports, they’re going to have to up the stakes a little bit.  Have our athletes play like the Ancient Mayans used to: losing team gets executed? There’s an intense Super Bowl. I can promise you that game isn’t ending 43-8. Peyton’s gonna be legging a few more out.

You wouldn’t hear any complaints about concussions either. The quarterback’s in the huddle, like “I don’t care if there’s a ringing in your ears, Brian. I don’t care if there’s a whole god damn marching band in your head. If you don’t start picking up your blocks, we’re all going to get shot in the face. Now, put your back in to it.”

Athletes are basically modern day gladiators anyway, right? They just happen to be born in a century that doesn’t glorify murder…well…not openly, at least. Guns have made it unnecessary for people to be big and fast in order to excel in combat. Two thousand years ago, guys like LeBron or Dwight Howard weren’t meeting at center court. They were meeting in the middle of a battlefield, and one of them was leaving with an ax buried in his skull.

I’ll allow your imagination to decide which one…but I bet I can guess.