ASK BULB!

I really need a shave!

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 6:52 PM 8 comments

Lori asked me to write something about "The sociological mind set of society concerning those who are considered to be crazy". Sounds a lot more complicated than it is. For the last decade or so I have been scratching my head wondering what the hell "crazy" is. So I guess Lori wants me to write about what I think is "crazy". Foucault wrote a book about it: "Madness and Civilization (a history of insanity in the age of reason)". Even though I love Foucault, I can't make heads or tails about it. The book is just too damn difficult. I read it twice but considering that Foucault was ánd bald ánd gay, it's no wonder I can't comprehend it.
Look at the Bell-curve. (Picture above.) Suppose at the X-axis we put the number of people and at the Y-axis we put behavior. Smack-down in the middle you'll find the "norm". The kind of behavior most people exhibit. And so we get normal. Norm becomes normal. Fuck normal! You don't want to behave just like everybody else. At the fringes of the bell-curve you'll find that kind of behavior which is either exhibited more than normal or less than normal.
Since behavior is a rather broad concept let's narrow it down to just one kind of behavior: Masturbation (This happens to me Bulbs blog after all.) Now let's say the mean is 5 times a week. Now if you are either doing it once every two weeks or 4857 times a week (like me) you can bet your ass you'll be at the fringe. And that means: YOU'RE NOT NORMAL!! YOU ARE CRAZY. YOU SHOULD BE COMMITED!
We can substitute "behavior" with any kind of behavior like: Eating, sleeping, sticking a thumb up yar ass, showering, hearing voices, dancing, cleaning, killing or automutilation. If you are at the fringes, you are deviating from the norm, you are not normal, you should be commited.

This is all dry statistical bull, but it gets interesting once you consider that the whole bell-cuve is fluid! It changes according to time and culture. (For those more imaginativeve than me: consider a four dimensional bell-curve with behavior, culture, time and number of people. If you can, call me for a free fuck.)
It changes according to time: Suppose you like to rip your enemies hearts out and drink their blood. You'd be an idiot in 2006. You'd be a great warrior in 906. Suppose you like to spend time alone, and you live alone in your apartment. You'd be single in 2006, you'd be a hermit in 1800.
It changes according to culture. Suppose you believe Jews orchestrated the whole 9/11 thing and all Jews who worked in the buildings got a phonecall telling them to stay home. You'd be an idiot if you were a Jew, Atheist, Christian or Hindu. You'd be normal if you were a muslim. Suppose you believe there is some diety that created everything and he now demands human and animal sacrifice. You'd be an idiot if you were a democrat or a republican. You'd be normal if you were a muslim.

It gets even more interesting when you have to turn towards yourself, turn towards your own time and culture and force yourself to look at what is normal and crazy. Our scientists who specialize in this subject, "psychiatrists", have been scratching their asses and thinking like mad for decades to define what is crazy and what is not. They came up with a book: The DSM IVr. In it they classify everything crazy according to traits of behavior. (Remember? Bell-curve? behavior?)
To their credit they did not (like Freud "peace be upon him") make it a dogmatic end-all work of science. They kept the option open that "crazy" changes according to time and culture. (That's why it's version IV or even V as we speak.) Often the behavioral traits are described as "... a lot more or a lot less than is normal in the patients culture."
So some geniuses figured out that "Crazy" is a function of behavior and "society". You can be perfectly normal in Indiana, US, present day, believe you me you'd have been locked up in 1800, or put to death had you been born in Mekka.

Let's stick to our present time and culture and make it even more interesting. The word is "subculture". There is a particularly nasty personality disorder called: "anti-social personality disorder". These guys don't have a cricket telling them what's good or what's bad. Furthermore, they are prone to cheating, lying, disregarding the safety of themselves and others, aggressive and "lightly touched", impulsive, unable to carry responsibility etc.
In short: these guys are crazy! Famous examples are Ted Bundy, Bulb and Sassy's ex husband. Now what the DSM IV describes are people who exhibit these behavioral traits in our time and culture.
Suppose we dress these guys in uniforms, give them a gun, a dril sergeant who can direct their impulses and point them at the enemy? What do you get??? War vets!!! That's what! We honor them.
There's another lovely personality disorder in the DSM-IV, Theatrical personality disorder. These people feel uncomfortable if they are not the center of attention. They have fluid and superficial emotions, not only are they suggestible, but they will go out of their way to make themselves and their lives a mid-point of drama and importance. They firmly belief their relations to others are more intimate than they really are.
Suppose you forced these people to live in Hollywood and make movies what do you get? That's right! Stars! And yes! In line with popular belief, they are different from us. And yes, we do honor them. (In bulbs land we have a constitutional monarchy so .... fuck you Americans.)

I could go on forever. I won't though. Critics (wish I had some), will say I'm oversimplifying, and only adressing those issues that are clearly nurture, not nature. So let's live on the edge and have a look at the one diagnosis that is the epitome and final proof of "crazy": schizophrenia.
The term "schizophrenia"was coined by one of the geniuses that inspired both Freud (Peace Be Upon Him) and Jung (PBUH): Bleuler (PBUH). "Schizein" is to split, and "Phreinn" is heart, feeling and sensibility. In other words: Schizophrenia is a split personality. Well, it isn't! A split personality is called "dissociation" or better even MPS, multiple personality disorder. Only the idiots in the scientific subculture give any credence to MPS. It's shelved next to the "recovered memories" drama.
Schizophrenia simply means: You hear voices, you see things, you think things nobody else thinks, socially you're screwed, and when you're not acting like an idiot, you're acting as if there is nothing but a empty desert in your soul.
These guys are NUTS! These guys are not only to committed to an institution, they are to be exterminated and infertilliateted (if that is even a word.)
In no culture or time were these guys ever normal! These guys are the epitome and definition of crazy. Since the white-coated doctors have taken the place of our white-coated priests, these guys are plainly Evil!
And yes, that includes the schizophreniformic personality disorder, the Manic Depressive and depressive disorder with vital signs..... any of you who hear voices and feel like shit or like a desert and see things that are not there and act like idiot!

Problem is: we all do. Everybody hears voices. Everybody sees things that are not there and we all act like idiots. We just don't do it all the time. It's not the behavior, it's the frequency that is counted on the bell-curve. We exhibit it once, we get scared shitless and run to a shrink. A couple of centuries ago, or even in our time a couple of hundred miles away, we'd run to the local shaman. He'd observe us. And if, joy-to-the-Gods, we exhibited this behavior more often, our tribe would be one shaman, one priestess, one hermit-who-could-speak-with-gods richer.

Hell I haven't even started on our high-priest doctor using his "diagnosis" as a moral judgmenent. I haven't even begun to talk about our communistic brethern locking up those who desire liberty. Did I mention Islam condemning to death, Christians, Jew,Hindu's or women who got raped? When you're not in line with the norm, you're fucked!

Next time you meet him, be nice to your local looney. He might just be talking to the Gods.

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 5:31 AM 16 comments

The one reason why the the terrorists will never win.

We're not angry.

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 11:40 PM 3 comments

RSS Feed

It has come to my attention that many a blogger still doesn't know what an RSS reader is. So you got a blog. Since you like the attention, you buy comments by commenting on other blogs. You've got some bloggers that are on par with your inabillity to write quality articles, and there's some kind of unwritten agreement between you. They will read and comment on your dribble as long as you do the same to theirs.
So you got a nice linklist and maybe you even have a blogroll. Everyday you dilligently click every blog on your blogroll to see wether there is a new post. It takes about an hour but it is worth it.

WRONG!! YOU ARE SO WRONG!!! PEOPLE LIKE YOU MAKE ME SICK!!!

Wouldn't it be nice if there was some kind of program that would alert you whenever one of your favourite pages has a new post? You'd think they'd invent something like that now wouldn't you? I mean seeing as how computers are supposed to make our lives easier. (They don't.)
Guess what? There is! Some 14 year old kid with an addiction to porn came up with the idea of "RSS FEED". No I don't know what RSS stands for and I have no idea how it works, but then again, if that 14 year old kid ever gets a girlfriend, it would take me all of 3 minutes to seduce her. (Provided of course that she isn't underage.)

So here's what you do: You go to this page RSSREADER, press the download button and install the program. The instalation is quite straightforward and from now on every time you start up your computer, the RSSreader will start itself up.
Now open the RSSreader window and press "ADD". A little window appears with a lot of buttons that you don't want to press. Fill in the adress of one of the sites on your link list where it says: "Please enter URL or Feed", followed by: "/atom.xml". It would read something like: http://violenceandsex.blogspot.com/atom.xml (don't press that link).
Press "Next". Press "Next" again. Press "OK". And repeat the whole thing for every link on your list.

Enjoy.

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 5:59 PM 6 comments

When a man loves a woman

He loved her.
He might have been fifteen, maybe sixteen and she was one class above him. It wasn't because she was beautiful, or sexy or older. She was wild and he wasn't. But even that wasn't the reason why he loved her. He just did.
My dad loved her. He didn't sleep with her. Or maybe he did. Somehow to him it didn't matter. I don't even know whether he kissed her but I suspect he did. He wrote poems in French at that age and it netted him a French fiancée, not his beloved. She, his beloved,was wild and it netted her every guy she wanted.
He was drafted into the army, became an officer and continued to send his fiancée love letters. He fell sick. The sickness that to him defined his manhood, or took away from it. He was ashamed. He was my father and to me he was and still is, the epitome of manhood. If only he had known that it in no way lessened him as a man, he might not have cried.
The beloved, she still has all the letters, but she wont give them to me. They are the treasures I covet. The relics of the God of manhood.
He got sick and she married someone else. Someone not him. Father was a nice guy, a friendly guy. And so he married my mother. God knows why. It serves his greatness that I never quite figured out if he hated her. She hated him. She hated all men, and to this day shes till does. He was faithful, like a Man. She made his life hell,but he waited patiently.
My sister was sent off to Chicago and I was sent off to India.When I got back my mother complained about him shouting at her once. I gritted my teeth and grinned. She backed off. He should have smashed her teeth in, for all the hell she put him through. It was as if she read my mind, because she never breached the subject again. I didn't respect him for not doing what I had wanted him to do for 18 years. but I loved him for restraining himself. He was a father and he acted like one.
And so they got a divorce. A week later the beloved called my mother. She had had a divorce and had been thinking about Father for years. She knew he was married so she had waited until she couldn't take it anymore. My father later told me: "The doorbell rang, and I opened. She was there and I took her hand, and I never let go of it.
I met the guy who fathered her children once. I neversaw that gleam in dad's eyes, until I was there when he met him. They had been divorced for years by then, but I recognized the look in my fathers eyes. My father looked at him and shook his hands. The message was implicit but understood. I am taking your woman, I can take any woman I desire, because I am a man, and you are not.
A couple of days later father and I were sitting next to each other on the couch, sipping our coffee. My father turned to me and laughed and said: "He had a beard." I felt like crying and hugged him like a son would hug his father. I loved you daddy.
He had a heartattack and went to hospital. It took me all of 9 hours to get there. I was allowed to see him for half an hour. "Take care of Arna. And take care of your sister when I'm not here anymore. Will you?" I just looked at him and cried.
She was there when he died.He was lying on the bathroom floor. The paramedics couldn't get the lines in because his muscles had all tensed up. She was screaming at them to get him to a hospital. He had gone and they knew it, but she wouldn't accept it.
They say that when you die someone close to you will be guiding you at the end of a tunnel of light. It's the one reason I aint afraid to die.


posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @10:23 edited by the fineartist,
(comment by Lori: hehehehe.Okay, use it or don't your choice....and don't go being pissed at me for horning in and changing things...I am a pushy chick sometimes, can be, sorry.Lori)

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 10:23 AM 8 comments

My confession

I got a confession to make. I'm a Christian. I'm sorry. I know I should have told you before. I know I'm letting all of my friends down. I don't know what to say? Except.... I am sorry.
Christianity has got a bad rep. Most people associate it with bible-touting, gun-touting right wing activists. (People like me actually. It sucks that we have such restrictive gun-control laws over here.) People associate it with G.W. Bush. (Someone I'd vote for.)
Let's face it. Christianity sucks. Manic screaming television preachers who demand your money suck. The people with the painted smiles suck. The chick that enters the office and wildly screams: "Living with Jesus is cool!", sucks. (Get fucked already.) The guy who puts his foot in your door handing you a watchtower pamphlet sucks. Priests abusing little kids suck! (More than they get sucked actually.) The chick (it's always a chick) that tells you masturbation is a sin sucks. (Ask her husband.)

So here's the thing. You have to believe a certain set of dogma's. You have to believe that Jesus was the son of God. You have to go around telling everybody they are great sinners and should convert. You have to believe in stuff you know can't be right. You have to submerge your ego into the ocean of collective church-unconsciousness. You have to sing stupid little songs and you have to stop drinking, cursing and screwing around.

I don't believe all that shit. I drink. I curse. I masturbated so much the last 37 years that my penis is slanting heavily to the left. I lie, I fornicate and I kill. (My apologies to daddies chickens.) I screw every available pussy that gets thrown my way. (Which is not much. And not even half of the pussy Fallwell gets.) I don't think living with Jesus is cool. I think it makes you a fucking nerd. I think the whole bloody bible is a big fucking joke. And it certainly is NOT the word of God.

And I am a Christian.

I think Jesus is the son of God. Hell I think Jesus is God. And if he isn't, well.. he should be. I think any man who gets nailed and hung to a cross, and still has the balls to forgive the motherfuckers who did that, should be made God. If there is a God and he's not Jesus, fuck him! I think Jesus wouldn't give a flying fuck wether you masturbated or not. I think Jesus couldn't care less wether you screw your neighbours wife. wether you kill, wether you lie, wether you dishonor your parents. Because I think Jesus is more concerned with WHY you do it. Sometimes screwing your neighbours wife is the most Christian thing to do and sometimes killing is necessary.

I think every goddamn crusader that left hearth and home, spending his savings, and leaving for the orient is sitting at his right hand. I think every Goddamn soldier, wether American, Dutch, British or whatever that left his family to fight against the cult of death in the orient is either sitting next to him or going to be sitting next to him, whatever they do after they get back home. I think every Goddamn buddhist or Hindu or Shinto that rejected christianity but was willing to fight the good fight, was willing to look inside his heart is going to be right there.

I think all those frigid turts who tell you not to masturbate are not going where they think they are going. I think the people with the painted smiles are in for a big surprise. I think the 9/11 bombers are not going to hell. They will just meet a loving father that will try to talk them out of the hell of their own conscience when confronted with what they did.

I once told a woman after a 48 hour sexual marathon that I felt she was bringing me closer to God. She didn't understand. God bless her soul because I would have made life a living heaven for her, but she chose allah.

I'm a Christian.

I curse, drink and disrespect. I'll screw your wife if necessary and I'll certainly kill you if that's what it takes.

I'm a Christian.

My sincere aplogies to those who didn't know. I'm a Christian and I'm proud of it.

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 6:05 AM 12 comments

When did we stop playing?

Ever seen kids at play? It's the most wonderful thing to behold. They immerse themselves completely into their make-belief world. A kid puts on a mask and instantly acquires superpowers. Give a kid a box of matches and you've got 50 redheaded sailors in a spaceship destined for Mars. (Or one fucked-up insurance hazard if you're bringing up my illegitimate offspring.)
Why did we stop playing? When did life become boring? At what point did we stop imagining galaxies far beyond the boundaries of our narrow shitty little lives? Why did we become afraid and ashamed of the one thing that carries our salvation?

To do my reputation right I'm probably supposed to say something about titties. But I'm not. the problem we face today is not that we don't follow Allah's rules. (And no... killing people will not make God happy, unless you're worshipping a demon.) It's not that we don''t have morals... we've got more than enough morals. It's not pollution... it's not dolphins.. it's not armaments.. it's not Tony Blair, George Bush, Balkenende or Maggy Thatchers ghost....

The problem is that we forgot how to play.

Now get nekkid and watch me act like a human towel-rack.

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 11:45 PM 5 comments

Coyote - A life in pictures

It's a strange thing but my memories of highschool are a little cloudy.

My first girlfriend.

My first car.

The college years.

I fondly remember my friend the Bulbster! We had so much in common.

I don't look a day over 40! I'm still the chickmagnet I never was.

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 3:04 AM 9 comments

Coyotes First Beer

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 11:00 AM 3 comments

Some of my favorite things

I admit it! I can't stop blogging. It's a goddamn addiction. A fetish if you will. I foolishly made the mistake of giving out my blog adress to my coworkers. Since I don't have a private life, (I'm really ugly.), all things worth blogging about seem to happen at work. That sort of limited my range of subjects to my narcissism, my love for women in general and wanking. When you work as an addiction councellor, it's not a good idea to call your blog "utterly drunk", and write about your alcoholism. And for some reason it seems that my boss gets really upset when I write about my erotic encounters with sexually depraved patients. Well fuck her! (Which I won't do! And which seems to upset her even more.) So my spring of creativity (come to think of it, I might call my penis just that, in future), dried up.
Reconsidering the title of this article, I belief I have to say something about boobies.

So for all you ladies out there....

Boobies!!
More Boobies!!
And.... Even more Boobies!!

posted by The artist formerly known as the Bulb. @ 12:39 AM 3 comments