My copy of this book had an introduction that was like 20 pages long, so that's a huge minus in points. After that there was Thomas Paine's introduction. So this book is basically unreadable.
First paragraph is about abuses of power and the evils of tyranny. Paine seems worried that his words won't be "fashionable". Well what was in fashion for the day was slavery. American independence didn't do away with that so, this is already kind of reading like a propaganda pamphlet.
He mentions that as a colony grows it has to have a more limited parliament because the concerns of the public will be many and mostly trifling. I only know trifling as a way of describing hoes that apparently cheat on their boyfriends and then talk on the phone with them afterwards. They also appear to allow the man they cheated with to record the experience and post it online. The source that I'm citing there is porn.
There is some pointless rambling about how people are greeted in the book. I thought this book was supposed to be about guns, burgers and bald eagles. Isn't that what they mean by "American Classic"?
When I think American classic, I should be hearing the national anthem and be on the verge of dropping a little red white and blue tear. Not wading through page after page of complaints. Thomas Paine seems like the kind of guy that would call customer service and bitch them out over nothing and then demand a refund. Then he'd start his own company in the same niche.
Paine felt the need to include his accounting homework for the British navy. Americans do not count other country's battleships unless we are keeping a running tally of how many we've blown up. Read this book if you want to learn more about the forming of our country, but definitely not for entertainment.
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Video Game Review: Resident Evil: Umbrella Chronicles and Darkside Chronicles Wii (2007 & 2009)
Both games are light gun games that you can play with a friend. They are supposed to flesh out the story from Resident Evil games that came before resident evil 4 I believe. If I wanted a history lesson I would consult my former uninterested high school history teacher about the historical context of Marcus Aurelius's Meditations. But I don't want a history lesson and these games are ass.
The thing I love about a light gun game is being able to shoot a lot of targets in a short amount of time with a good degree of intensity. The zombies do not die quick enough. Sure you can kill them in one shot with a head shot sometimes, but not all of the time. I want it to work every time so I can go racing through your levels. I think the action in these games would excite only my aforementioned history teacher who probably works as a security guard on the weekend. I'm saying that because he was fat and boring. That's pretty much it. That also summarizes what I think of security guards.
You can enjoy anything that you do with a friend. That's about it for these games. You could probably have a good time trying to build your own coffee machine with a friend. You might even enjoy building your own meth lab with a friend, but that doesn't mean that you should do either or play these games.
Jack Krauser is in Darkside Chronicles, so that's a big plus. Krauser in these games is like going to a friend's house where all they have is cabbage soup and a spectacular dessert. The desert was great, but it wasn't really worth dealing with the smell and flavor of the cabbage soup. Krauser is that desert.
These games could give you a good degree of nostalgia if you love Resident Evil, or if you loved these games when they came out. But they just move too slowly for me. They might convey the frantic action tone they were going for if I had french fries seasoned with Carolina Reaper dust right before playing them.
I've always pretty much hated these games, because back in the day Capcom, the folks who made these games hinted that they might make a Wii exclusive game that would play like Resident Evil 4. Re4 is my favorite game of all time and was back then too. So I had my hopes way up high for that game and then they gave us two average light gun games instead. I'm still salty about it and that will probably never change.
The thing I love about a light gun game is being able to shoot a lot of targets in a short amount of time with a good degree of intensity. The zombies do not die quick enough. Sure you can kill them in one shot with a head shot sometimes, but not all of the time. I want it to work every time so I can go racing through your levels. I think the action in these games would excite only my aforementioned history teacher who probably works as a security guard on the weekend. I'm saying that because he was fat and boring. That's pretty much it. That also summarizes what I think of security guards.
You can enjoy anything that you do with a friend. That's about it for these games. You could probably have a good time trying to build your own coffee machine with a friend. You might even enjoy building your own meth lab with a friend, but that doesn't mean that you should do either or play these games.
Jack Krauser is in Darkside Chronicles, so that's a big plus. Krauser in these games is like going to a friend's house where all they have is cabbage soup and a spectacular dessert. The desert was great, but it wasn't really worth dealing with the smell and flavor of the cabbage soup. Krauser is that desert.
These games could give you a good degree of nostalgia if you love Resident Evil, or if you loved these games when they came out. But they just move too slowly for me. They might convey the frantic action tone they were going for if I had french fries seasoned with Carolina Reaper dust right before playing them.
I've always pretty much hated these games, because back in the day Capcom, the folks who made these games hinted that they might make a Wii exclusive game that would play like Resident Evil 4. Re4 is my favorite game of all time and was back then too. So I had my hopes way up high for that game and then they gave us two average light gun games instead. I'm still salty about it and that will probably never change.
Shot Glass Thought: My Cooked and Flipped Mushrooms
Flipping mushrooms in a hot pan over the stove is one of my favorite things to do. I can't actually cook much of anything, but I can add olive oil, salt and pepper and a bunch of mushrooms together. A chef that I worked with in the past taught me how to flip the contents of the pan without spilling them everywhere. So yeah, sometimes my lunch is just cooked mushrooms with salt, pepper and olive oil. I guess where I am in culinary skills is the same place that all great cooks start at. They surpassed my level in a couple hours of work, and I've been at this level for about 3 years. They cook thousands of meals without ever making anyone sick, I make myself sick once per month. But I don't make myself sick all that often anymore, because I have limited myself to making salads and cooked/flipped mushrooms. Those two can't cross contaminate no matter what. Unless you have introduced raw meat to the equation at some point, but I won't be doing that. I once made myself sick by eating mushrooms that had gone bad. I threw out the icky ones and kept the "good ones". Well the good ones were bad too and I was super sick because of it. So now I cook/flip all the mushrooms in three days. That way there is no chance that they go bad on me. I have a hard time rationing them out in even amounts. So usually there is one day that is the great mushroom feast and two other days that are the mushroom side dish. I totally recommend cooked and flipped mushrooms, they are the ones that you get at the green section of the grocery store. I don't know what that looks like where you live, but it's green where I live.
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Shot Glass Thought: Hug Your Pets For Dear Life
I have a 100% click through rate on videos where kittens are introduced to golden retrievers. I don't upload any of that content anywhere, I just always click it when I see it. Golden retrievers are the best and I will befriend another one one day. But isn't introducing fragile kittens to any dog kind of a risk? I have a pretty high click through rate on videos where kittens are introduced to any kind of dog. Probably a 97% click through rate. It's a sub genre of cuteness that I'm really into. You could say that I'm an expert on it at this point. Obviously the videos I like wouldn't be on Youtube if the dog flew into a rage and rended the kitties limb from limb. That would be something on the Dark Web I imagine. I've never been on there so I don't know what the articles and videos are titled like. Would you call that "Man's Best Friend Solves Kitten Infestation"? Some sick fuck out there knows the answer. But that's the world we live in, we just gotta hug our dogs and kitties even harder than before and pretty much hang on for dear life. Hopefully the monster that is out there feeding kittens to fight dogs isn't your neighbor or your most recent Tinder match.
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Shot Glass Thought: Stretching My Hands
I've really taken to stretching my hands. I enjoy doing it because it helps me to comfortably produce lot's of content and it feels good. You would think at first glance that bending your fingers backwards towards your chest would not feel good, but it's the kind of thing that you warm up to. It's just one of those simple human experiences that kind of complement your existence. It will be like in the future when my hands get melted off in a space ship incident, I'll be able to have robotic hands put on. I'll be able to say "well at least I don't have to stretch them anymore." The robotically enhanced hands will help me but they won't make what it is to be human any different. I'll probably be able to enjoy Niagara Falls the same amount, robotic hands or nah. But yeah, stretching them and having them sore from time to time doesn't make me want to melt them off my any means. At some point I'll be doing stand up and I don't want to be the guy with a headset and two nubs. Always making awkward sex jokes. Although I'll definitely be making awkward sex jokes, just not the kind where I'm putting one of my nubs up some broad's cunt.
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Comedy Story: You Can Leave My Life
I am not ever going to change who I am at my core. The restaurant menu at the core of my soul has no room for modifications, alterations or the mixing of unrelated menu items into one chef's nightmare. My menu cannot be changed for women, friends or loud mouthed Baptist preachers. They can all believe that I'm going to Hell, what they believe doesn't matter. How you are perceived doesn't matter when it comes right down to brass tax. I know what I've done and who I really am, that's all that matters. When I tell you that I want to marry the real life equivalent of the character Ada Wong from the Resident Evil series, you know that I'm a crazy person. But I am a crazy person that I can live with.
I am a repellent for liars and fakes that can't tolerate knowing what they are. If you want someone who will cater to you and your fragile ego then I'm just not the guy. I tell the truth about myself, I'm not going to then turn right around and buy the bullshit that you spout about yourself. Being friends with me when you are like that is like having an insatiable appetite for McDonald's breakfast while also having positively no tolerance for stomach pain. It's just not going to work.
I am really very much alone in my walk through life. Alone when being with someone means being able to tolerate bullshit. I've already had experiences with the best people out there. I remember what it was like when I didn't have to listen to drunken blabbering at 2am from some alcoholic broad that thinks she takes care of an old woman that doesn't need her. How do I know that one doesn't need the other? Well the old lady kicked the young lady out for six months. If you take care of someone, but they don't need you for six months, then you don't take care of them. I took care of my grandmother for 3 years and if I would have left her for 6 months, at any time, she would have been dead when I got back. That's just how dementia works. You can't lie to me and if you do, and then I find out about it, then you won't lie to me again. I've already known the best people, and they don't do that shit.
I do have an understanding of what makes people tick and I know what makes me tick. If you can't tolerate someone who operates with that information and is willing to say it all out loud, then I am not for you. Being with me is like adding a full bottle of angostura bitters to a caramel macchiato. If you don't know what angostura bitters taste like, well they are bitters. So they taste a bit bitter and that is what I am. If you're a caramel macchiato then you don't want bitter in you, period.
Yes I hurt feelings all the time, I have been called evil, I've been slapped, punched, knocked out, spit on, attacked with knives and shot at. I am hated by some people. But I don't care. I can live with myself and that's all that matters. I am a guy who can start out on a mission to make myself a delicious Belgian waffle and end up googling how to treat 3rd degree burns from mishandling my coffee machine. My clumsiness has nothing to do with what I've been talking about here, but my hand still really fucking hurts.
I will never change, when I'm shot or stabbed to death or whatever it is, I won't go into that last good night ashamed or embarrassed by the way that I've lived, because I was honest. It would be far more likely that I would drink myself to death on accident. That last line makes me hope that my mother doesn't read this material. All that I have done, I have done it my way. If tomorrow I was convinced that apple butter makes the best hair gel, I'd probably not live and die by that one small aspect of life. But I would need some serious proof to refute my belief about apple butter as hair gel. I would also need someone to test the new theory for me as I am bald. The point of all this rambling was to make someone out there laugh. But also to remind any of those that thought that a few mean texts or a slap or punch or whatever you thought would end me, will not end me. You can leave, I don't care. People want to be around me, there will never not be more of those people.
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I am a repellent for liars and fakes that can't tolerate knowing what they are. If you want someone who will cater to you and your fragile ego then I'm just not the guy. I tell the truth about myself, I'm not going to then turn right around and buy the bullshit that you spout about yourself. Being friends with me when you are like that is like having an insatiable appetite for McDonald's breakfast while also having positively no tolerance for stomach pain. It's just not going to work.
I am really very much alone in my walk through life. Alone when being with someone means being able to tolerate bullshit. I've already had experiences with the best people out there. I remember what it was like when I didn't have to listen to drunken blabbering at 2am from some alcoholic broad that thinks she takes care of an old woman that doesn't need her. How do I know that one doesn't need the other? Well the old lady kicked the young lady out for six months. If you take care of someone, but they don't need you for six months, then you don't take care of them. I took care of my grandmother for 3 years and if I would have left her for 6 months, at any time, she would have been dead when I got back. That's just how dementia works. You can't lie to me and if you do, and then I find out about it, then you won't lie to me again. I've already known the best people, and they don't do that shit.
I do have an understanding of what makes people tick and I know what makes me tick. If you can't tolerate someone who operates with that information and is willing to say it all out loud, then I am not for you. Being with me is like adding a full bottle of angostura bitters to a caramel macchiato. If you don't know what angostura bitters taste like, well they are bitters. So they taste a bit bitter and that is what I am. If you're a caramel macchiato then you don't want bitter in you, period.
Yes I hurt feelings all the time, I have been called evil, I've been slapped, punched, knocked out, spit on, attacked with knives and shot at. I am hated by some people. But I don't care. I can live with myself and that's all that matters. I am a guy who can start out on a mission to make myself a delicious Belgian waffle and end up googling how to treat 3rd degree burns from mishandling my coffee machine. My clumsiness has nothing to do with what I've been talking about here, but my hand still really fucking hurts.
I will never change, when I'm shot or stabbed to death or whatever it is, I won't go into that last good night ashamed or embarrassed by the way that I've lived, because I was honest. It would be far more likely that I would drink myself to death on accident. That last line makes me hope that my mother doesn't read this material. All that I have done, I have done it my way. If tomorrow I was convinced that apple butter makes the best hair gel, I'd probably not live and die by that one small aspect of life. But I would need some serious proof to refute my belief about apple butter as hair gel. I would also need someone to test the new theory for me as I am bald. The point of all this rambling was to make someone out there laugh. But also to remind any of those that thought that a few mean texts or a slap or punch or whatever you thought would end me, will not end me. You can leave, I don't care. People want to be around me, there will never not be more of those people.
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Shot Glass thought: Making Time for Sublime
The way world is, we never have enough time for much of anything. When you have to constantly bang your head against the never yielding brick wall of disappointment which is life, you learn to manage your spare time accordingly. Life can't be changed, time cannot be infinite, we just have to live as we do and find a way to tolerate it. But he most beautiful thing that I need to make time for is heroin. Just kidding, I need to spend more time lying on my bed with my headphones on, just listening to Nessum Dorma radio on Pandora. That music is so beautiful and transcendent of what I usually take music to be, that it sometimes makes me cry. Imagine telling yourself that you need to take a break for a few minutes. You put the headphones on and start the music and in a few minutes you're nearly weeping from the beauty of the sounds. It's an odd experience. It reminds of once when I saw a girl speak at some kind of high school function. I wasn't in high school, I was there supporting someone else. The girl got up and it became apparent right away that her being allowed to speak was done for the irony of it. A lot of people were chuckling and murmuring to themselves about how bad she was. I had to get up and leave because it was destroying me on the inside. The opposite experience of that is lying on my bed listening to Andrea Bocelli. It is so right, so perfect and beautiful that it is overwhelming. I hope that bitch eventually got the help she needed in a speech therapy class or she made one friend that would tell her the truth. Either way, I should take more breaks to make time for the sublime.
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