Damage Control

 It's been 4 years since my last post.

4 years of... running. From myself, ultimately.

I thought I was controlling the damage.

Turns out, I just lied to myself. For far more than 4 measly years.

I have lied to myself since Carla. Since Joanne. Since Jennifer. Since Damara.

I told myself I was in damage control.

No. The damage was in control.

Damage control is a funny fucker; you control the damage... until the damage controls you. Except you never really control that beast, it just tells you that you're in control, all the while twisting its rotting talons deeper into your very soul... until you no longer know where you start and the beast stops.

Until all you can do is exist in state where you hate what you were, what you are, and what you are yet to be.

Hi. I'm "Cowboy." I hate myself. Because of the beast. And it's not just one beast here; it's a whole fucking horde. Picture a murder of crows... if they were all armored attack velociraptors. It's like Jurassic Park... if Jurassic Park was an insane asylum where the only job was to put a hug-me vest on a fucking megalodon.

The first beast? That fucker started 51 years ago. I was 9 goddamn months old; too young to even know it was there. But It was there. The bitch was probably trying to steal my Oreos to sell them for crack and a dick, but that's a story in a different post.

The next beast? That asshole showed up when my first girlfriend dumped me... to marry my fucking cousin. "Hey! Hi! See that guy over there? He's better than you."

Then there was the one when the girl I gave my virginity to lied to me about... well, everything. And then when the girl I was crushing on, hard, chose a guy who looked a thumb and a 40-year-old Richie Cunningham had an illegitimate not-love child with a fucking Klingon. "Hey! Hi! See that guy over there? He's better than you."

Then... there was the BIG beast; the one that made all the other beasts their bitches. 15 years that fucker twirled my brain like overcooked spaghetti:

- "I only married you because no one else would."
- "I only married you to have another child."
- "I hate you."

That beast liked to throw things; big things, small things, anything it got it's fucking talons wrapped around:

- cut lead crystal ashtray
- kitchen knives
- medicine bottles
- hot food
- cold food

That beast? That beast *STILL* twirls it's talons to this day, and I thought I kicked that fucker to the curb 14 years ago. I lied to myself,

Then, the next beast... and the next... and the next... so on and so forth, ad nauseum.

They all share common ground:
- That guy looks better
- That guy fucks better
- That guy is better
- You will never be good enough
- You will never be worth anything more than what you can provide
- You will never deserve anything except misery and desolation, to die alone and forgotten.

You never control the damage; it always controls you. You just don't know it until it's too late.

All you can do is hope that somewhere along the way, as you stumble through a pitch black forest of silent agonies, you find that one little deer; the one that somehow, just walks through everything you thought you put up to protect you from yourself, and touches that scar that hurts the most with the gentlest of kiss.

Find your little deer; she is a gift from the gods.

~ Cowboy

We have nothing to fear but fear itself

 "So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself--nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."

Franklin Delano Roosevelt; largely considered by many to be one of the greatest Presidents of modern American history. So great, in fact, that he served as POTUS for 4 terms; 1933 until his death in 1945. So great, in fact, the Constitution had to be amended to adjust Presidential term limits.

The above quote was taken from his inaugural address from March of 1933; he was speaking about the state of the nation at that time, as we were in the midst of the Great Depression. Little did he know that those words would go on to define, and catalyze, a myriad of demons untold.

Fear comes in many forms; our responses are even more varied as no two people react to the same way to the same set of stimuli. For some, fear can be crippling; for others, such as myself, fear is weapon we turn against others.

Phobias come in many forms; just like fear, our responses are even more varied as no two people react to the same set of stimuli nin the same way. However, that is where fear and phobia stop in their similarities. Fear can cripple; phobias will cripple.

The list of phobias that exist is...long; ludicrously long. Some seem just plain silly, like anatidaephobia and althaiophobia; others seem more terrifying, like trypanophobia and all-too-well-known arachnophobia.

I've had my phobias growing up; entomophobia (the fear of insects), arachnophobia (the fear of arachnids), aquaphobia (the fear of water), scopophobia (the fear of cameras); as a child, I pretty much suffered from pantophobia (the fear of everything). Most of my childhood phobias I have outgrown; some present as just a general "dislike", such as arachnophobia (in fact, while typing this, I had to kill a spider in my home; the idea of getting close enough to kill it set my teeth on edge) and scopophobia.

As adults, we can develop new phobias; it is neither uncommon nor unheard of. In fact, I just came to a realization that I suffer from a new phobia; medomalacuphobia. I tried last night to have intimacy with my partners; everything was going great...until the phobia struck. In the middle of intercourse, I lost my erection; needless to say, this had me quite...distraught.

Overcoming phobias and fears are the same; you must face them. Psychological science may have you believe otherwise, but I disagree most vociferously; humans are nothing more than highly-evolved beasts, and te common beasts of the land must face their own fears to overcome them.

Why should we be any different?

We evolve. We grow. We change. As the great FDR said, "...the only thing we have to fear is fear itself..."

Tine to face some fears; time to grow. Until the next time; be well, and may the moon light your travels.

How I Became a Time Lord

I speak a few languages; some are real, some are not. For example, I am legitimately bilingual; I speak English and Spanish. I also speak Gorean, Kassar (though not often), smartass, dumbass, and sarcasm.  However, I did not know that I spoke Gallifreyan...

Well, not really.

According to the Dr. Who canon, there are only a few ways to become a Time Lord; be conceived (and born) on a T.A.R.D.I.S., absorb regeneration energy given to you directly from The Doctor, or be "produced" from a Loom. With that being said, you may ask yourself why the title of this states I became a Time Lord when none of that applies to me; chances are you did not ask yourself that, but it sounded good in my head. Don't judge me.

Moving on.

Again, according to the canon Whoniverse, Time Lords are the upper crust of Gallifreyans; they can, and do, travel the universe in a T.A.R.D.I.S. (Time And Relative Dimension In Space. So, for the non-Whovians, Time Lords are exactly as the first word of their name implies; time travelers. They can travel to the past, the future, or anywhere in time they choose; be it the moment time started, or the moment time itself ceases to be. Now, back to the question you did not actually ask yourself; how did I become a Time Lord?

Yes, there are going to be a lot of Dr. Who references; get over it.

On with the show.

How am I a Time Lord?  Quite simple, actually; everyday, or so it seems, I travel from the past to the present to the future. And just when I think my journey is done? Wash, rinse, repeat. I never leave the lack of comfort of not being on my own couch; it all happens in my head.

I hear a bang, or someone shouting angrily, or something gets thrown in my general vicinity and suddenly I'm in the past; I could be there for moments, minutes, hours, even months. When my adventure finally ends, I am transported (rapidly) to the present again; which is unfortunately short-lived. Upon reminiscing my adventure into the past, I am rapidly transported to the future; and that adventure could last as short or as long as the adventure into the past.

And, much like the above gif, it seems to be a never ending loop.

So how did I become a Time Lord? I was abused and now suffer from PTSD; it just sounds way cooler to call myself a fuckin' Time Lord...

Now if only I could figure out regeneration; maybe being a woman would be fun. I mean, I'd play with my own boobs all day...

Dumb and Dumber...and Dumberer...and Dumberest, Part Deux; The Dumbererestest of All.

Well, apparently some people didn't read part one; if that's you then give it an optical listen, you'll need it for this to make any sense.

Okay. Now that we have gotten the "formalities" out of the way, let's check out the latest installment of my rantings about levels of stupid so...stupid...it requires two o's, a silent Q AND a silent Z.

There are two types of intelligence; smarts, if you will.  Street smart and book smart.

Book smart is the type of intelligence you get from...well, books; things like knowing that it actually was NOT John Smith that Pocahontas fell in love with, it was the first mate of the ship. Or knowing that Android is a better OS than iPhone. Oh, wait...that's just personal opinion (...though it is still 184% accurate).

Street smart is the type of intelligence you get from...well, the streets. Things like knowing that going after the biggest guy in a bar fight will get you one of 3 results; everybody else to back off, your ass beat into a coma by the rest of his boys, or arrested. Things like how to hide in plain sight when you are wanted by the police; by sitting in front of the 911 call center as they drive right by you.

There actually is a 3rd type of intelligence; pseudo-intelligence. That type of intelligence where you, and others, have convinced you that you are right no matter what anyone says; even Google and the law.

Oh, wait...that's not intelligence...that is conceited, vapid, self-righteous, arrogant STOOQPIZDITY (two O's, a silent Q, a silent Z).

Just because you say that your money gives the right to act however you want does NOT make it true.

Just because you say that something steeped in facts with empirical evidence is false does NOT make it false.

Just because you say that you are an Alpha does NOT make it true; in fact, if you have to announce that you are an "Alpha" then you are actually an omega...maybe even the mutt of the pack. That, however, is another post for another time.

Eventually, members of the human race will clean the fat from between their ears and actually LISTEN to people OTHER than Mommy Dearest for a change.

Oh, news flash, MOMMY DEAREST LIED TO YOU AND SHE STILL FUCKING DOES!

Every fucking time you are told that you are always right, THAT IS A FUCKING LIE.

Every fucking time someone validates that someone else is at fault for your IMMATURE behavior, THAT IS A FUCKING LIE.

Every fucking time someone tells you that the recipient(s) of your NARCISSISTIC, SOCIOPATHIC, ABUSIVE, DOMINEERING BULLSHIT ARE TO BLAME FOR YOU BEING A PIECE OF SHIT AND A WASTE OF SPERM AND EGG, THAT IS A FUCKING LIE!

Moving on.

As Joni Mitchell once said, "...you don't know what you've got til it's gone..."; and 9.5 times out of 10, by the time you do, it's too fucking late. The reason I say 9.5/10 and 10/10; I'm allowing .5 for those people who are still trapped in the fire-free hell of Sweden. If, after reading that link, you realize you are there, know that you are not alone; I, and others I know, have survived it...you can, and will, too.

Now, it is possible that one day little Chucky will grow up and be a real boy and act his fucking age; mind you, I said possible...not probable

That, however, would require that little Chucky understands that if you OFFER to purchase something for someone that does NOT mean you get to tell them they owe you the money back...THREE FUCKING DAYS LATER...

That would also require that little Chucky understands that it is NOT his place to give even ONE flying flaming rat's ass about what OTHER PEOPLE spend THEIR money on...

However, a leopard never changes it's stripes; and if you don't get that movie reference, you're a Communist.

Moving on, one last time.

I simply cannot fathom how some people manage to survive as long as they do; especially if they are too stupid to know how to breathe properly...

Sweden is Nothing Like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory...

    Everybody thinks that Sweden is the land of chocolate; Swiss Miss Chocolate, Toblerone, etc.  Well, you're wrong. Their main exports are actually machinery, motor vehicles, paper products, pulp and wood, iron and steel products, chemicals, and military armaments; oh, and psychological phenomenon.

Yes, I said psychological phenomenon.

Stockholm, Sweden; it's a beautiful place.

How could such a beautiful place produce psychological phenomenon?  Well, they actually don't. They just have one named after them.

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

If you've never experienced it, thank the gods; if you have...well...saying "I'm sorry" just doesn't seem adequate enough. It, as the above picture so perfectly explains, is hell without any fire; it is a nightmare unlike anything you've ever had, even in your worst wet nightmares...

Imagine this (no, we are not going to talk about Sicily...): An existence where you always find a way to take the blame for everything AND everyone; an existence where you fear, more than death itself, angering a person; an existence where you walk on eggshells...around yourself; an existence where the first, and last, thought of the day is "What will I do to make *said person* angry today?"; an existence where through all of that, you feel sorry for (and sometimes even love) your "captor"; an existence where you...well, where you do not actually exist...

Can't imagine that?  Be grateful; be very, VERY, grateful.  Living your life, and sacrificing your happiness, to make someone (or others) happy no matter the cost is...well...to put it bluntly, a pile of hot steaming emu shit. It is hell.

People talk about "hell" and it conjures up images like the one above; fire, lakes of sulfur, and a man in a red suit with a pointy tail/horns/pitchfork.

THAT. AIN'T. HELL.

Personally, I believe hell is here, on Earth; we live it, walk it, breathe it every single day. However, this is not about that. Hell is, for a fact, within; being trapped inside yourself, knowing that what you show on the outside is not what...or who...you are. And you cannot do a goddamn thing to stop it. Nothing. You're just...trapped.

That is Stockholm Syndrome. It is hell. And the worst part is that even after you've come through that fire, you still find yourself sometimes doing things that you did then; coping mechanisms you did not even realize you taught yourself to survive. And it could be the most obvious, or the most obscure, things; it could be a 5 pack a day smoking habit, it could be stress eating, it could be hiding in a tiny room, like a bathroom...

And these coping mechanisms? Well, they can persist for the rest of your life; and as a result, they can drag unwilling parties through your remnants of hell that may well always exist; and 90% of the time, you won't even be fully cognizant that you're doing it...until something hits you, like a freight train, in the back of the brain pan.

You may ask yourself how I know all of this (actually, you probably aren't, but just humor an old man).  Well, truth be told, I am a survivor of Stockholm Syndrome; medically diagnosed. And the coping mechanisms? Well, I have mine; and I drag two beautiful women through them, not even fully aware that a coping mechanism has been "activated".

To those two beautiful women, "I apologize" is not adequate enough; wind-blown promises of change are just that...wind-blown. I do not make promises I do not believe 110% that I have every intention of keeping, but I know I have no control over this; I would be a fool, and a liar, to say otherwise. Just know that I love you both, and I am forever "indebted" by the fact that you have put up with my "shit" (quite literally at times) for lo these many moons.

The long, and short, of it; I hope you never have to endure this. It is terrifying; worse than anything you can imagine.

Be well, all; may the moon light your travels.

~Cowboy

Dumb and Dumber...and Dumberer...and Dumberest...

Picture it...Sicily, 1942...

Oh, wait.  Wrong story.

People say money is king; I say bullshit.  People say knowledge is king; I half agree.  The truest statement would be that WISDOM is king.  Wisdom and intelligence are NOT the same, people!  And neither precludes common sense!

Intelligence:
Knowing that the Jewish Holocaust DID happen
Knowing that the dinosaurs were NOT mythological
Knowing what the Pythagorean Theorem  is

Common sense:
Knowing that just because you pay something does NOT mean you have the right to treat people like shit
Knowing that your child is more important that a fucking video game
Knowing that propositioning a MINOR for sex is ILLEGAL

Wisdom:
What you do with your common sense and intelligence


Yes, those examples seem oddly specific for a reason; the reason, however, is irrelevant.  What is relevant is if you are an "adult", then you need to ACT it.  Not just say it.  Wisdom, motherfucker!  Wisdom is knowing that words without action makes you a fool.  Without actions to back up your words, you are NOTHING.  You are just a pedantic, petulant piss ant.

So you didn't beat level 4,277,112,387 of Bimbo Beach Babes and the Battle of Bora Bora; GROW UP.
So you didn't get to take your little nappy at 1432 exactly; GROW UP.

Wisdom is knowing that you are a GROWN ASS ADULT AND CANNOT HAVE YOUR FUCKING OREO COOKIE BEFORE DINNER, YOU OVERSTUFFED MANBABY..  Wisdom is knowing that just because you have a dick does NOT mean you GET TO BE ONE, YOU INFESTED BLACK HOLE OF CUNT.  Wisdom is knowing that just because you have the ability to fuck someone DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO FUCK EVERY WOMAN YOU SEE, YOU IDIOTIC FUCKING BABY HUEY WANNABE BITCHTARD.

Step one to gaining wisdom; IF YOU ARE A GROWN ASS ADULT, FUCKING ACT IT.  Just because your mommy, grandmommy, or your granddaddy have wiped your ass and sucked your dick for you your entire life DOES NOT MEAN I WILL.  If you want to have your life catered to you, then go to the people that cater you; go live with mommy, grandmommy, or granddaddy.  Otherwise, STAND UP FOR YOURSELF TO THEM; YOU CAN DO IT TO EVERYONE ELSE, WHY NOT THEM?  AFRAID YOU WON'T GET YOUR LITTLE BENT DICK SUCKED ANYMORE?  Fucking idiots.

Step 2 to gaining wisdom: ACCEPT THE FACT THAT THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU.  Yes, you may be big enough have your own gravitational field, but you are NOT A GOD.

The long and the short of it all...want to be wise?  GROW THE FUCK UP FIRST, YOU BEHEMOTH BOX OF BUTT PLUGS.

*drops microphone, lights a cigarette*

50 Shades Of Grey

If you ask Sean Combs/Christopher Wallace/Kimberley Jones, it's all about the Benjamins; if you ask Alfred Yankovic, it's all about the Pentiums.  If you ask Dru Hill and Mya, it's all about me; if you ask Josh Turner, it's all about you.  If you ask Meghan Trainor, it's all about that bass; if you ask Blake Shelton, it's all about tonight.  If you ask Clifford Harris and Jeffery Williams, it's all about the money; if you ask Lesane Crooks, it's all about "U".

If you ask Me, they're all wrong.

However, that's just My opinion; that and 50 cents (the currency, not Curtis Jackson) will get you a senior coffee at McDonald's...assuming you're at least 55 years old.

I know, I know.  What a weird-ass opening, considering the title.  Expecting some E L James/Christian Grey bullshit?  Look elsewhere for that; the only thing grey about Me is My hair.  This has nothing to do with a wanna-be soccer mom and her midlife crisis fantasies, or a spoiled rich brat with a helicopter abusing women.  This has to do with life.

Anyway, on with the show...

Over the course of 43, soon to be 44 years of life, I have come to a realization; nothing is black and white.  Rather, little is black and white; most everything lies in the shades of grey in the middle, and there truly are 50 shades of grey.  From birth to death, and everything in between, nothing is simple; even the act of breathing is a complex one when you look at the science of how Our bodies convert oxygen and nitrogen into a life-sustaining substance.

I have met so many people that think in black and white just over the last almost 2 years in Tennessee; it astounds Me.  Perhaps that can be attributed to the fact that We live in the buckle of the Bible belt; *insert Gomer Pyle yelling at you about how being a closet butt-sex freak is going to send you to Hell*.  Not even the Bible is black-and-white; Gomer may be yelling at you about your "closet butt-sex" ways, but the Bible says nothing about anal sex.

Nothing is black and white.

As My About Me says, I am a polyamorous Gorean Master; if you are a part of the BDSM lifestyle, then you know that even that is not black-and-white.  I give Orders, yes; I make Rules, yes.  They are to be followed, yes; if they are not, there are repercussions.  Sounds cut and dried, right?  WRONG.  I have 3 girls now; 2 that live with Me, one on the other side of the pond.  My Rules and Orders have a basic undertone to them, but that is never quite enough; I have to adjust them, sometimes daily and on the fly, to meet varying situations and needs.

Nothing is black and white.


The long and the short of it; life, generally speaking, is complicated.  There are no users manuals, no EULAs, no Cliff's Notes.  When you think that something can only be one way or the other, step back out of your box and think again; there is ALWAYS another perspective.  Nothing is black and white; everything lies in the 50 shades of grey in the middle.