how to tell if you have borderline personality disorder

If you have been reading this post and you really love it,
then you decide you hate it,
then you love it again,
then hate it....

you might have borderline personality disorder.

how to tell if you suffer from skitzophrenia

If the voices are telling you you do not suffer from this illness,

chances are that you do.

New age zombies

Zombies- the living dead.

In the world of all things cute, "Facebook" there is an option for members to play a game called "yoville". Yoville is a cartoon world where you creat a little avatar -you choose all the features, eyes, nose, ears, eyebrows, eye and hair color. You choose a little outfit for your avatar to wear. You are birthed into yoville owning your own cartoon apartment.

You animate your avatar, and are given points for dancing, fighting, kissing and interacting with other avatars. Interactions are rewarded. Options for more personal interactions are playing "tic tac toe" and "rock paper scissors". (genius)!

You can work in the little widget factory for cartoon money, you can gain "energy points" by spending cartoon money at the coffee shop or diner and eating cartoon pizza and/or drinking cappucinos. If you never got enough of playing with Barbies as a kid, this is the game for you.

Seems innocent and simple enough. I went to visit my husband's avatar in his cartoon apartment. There was another girl avatar in his bedroom. It startled me. Was my husband seeing other avatars behind my two dimensional back? Was he tic tac toeing around on me?

Caught up in my animated emotions, I quickly left and did what any disgruntled cartoon girl does. I changed my hair do in two right clicks of a mouse. Then I visited yoville's nightclub. I discovered you can type your chat in speech balloons. There was alot of graphic hanky panky going on in that nightclub. People asking for more than a game of tic tac toe. Avatars exchanging real life information, for offscreen rendezvous. I found you could click on an avatar and it would lead straight to the member's facebook profile. It was interesting to see whether the real person lived up to their cartoon represented self. In some cases the avatar was far more attractive than the real live person! (nice avatar shame about the face!)

I visited the yoville gym, bank, shopping mall and other fictional places that offered pretend goods for real money. (People spend REAL money on this!)

Then I got adventurous as I examined other options offered: the yoville "adult nightclub"!
That's where the real action is. There were avatars getting down! Speech balloons read like captions from a 1970's porn mag.

The comic side of me got the better of me. I typed in "Jesus loves you" and other such religious epitaphs, and got thrown out! Lol. I was bounced by cartoons for not being rude enough!

I went back to my husband's avatar's apartment. Ahh, good he was alone at last. I threw a snowball at him. He threw a snowball back. I danced with him, he danced too. The weird part is that my real life husband was not online. His avatar was interacting without his knowledge or control. Which begs the question, what do our avatars get up to when we are not online?

In the adult nightclub, there were many non online interactive avatars. If you sat and watched the screen for long enough you could see a "speech loop". Non peopled avatars advertising triple x sites. Cute invites to "cum see me play" were issued, followed by ritualised responses. The "real peopled" avatars continued chatting in amongst the avatar issued spambots. After about five minutes, back to the "cum see me play" routine.

This is our culture's new version of a zombie. We are the creators of our own living dead.

I am waiting for the day that someone brings the yoville chat transcripts to a courtroom to sue a partner for having inappropriate relations with a cartoon. Or for the day when someone sues yoville home depot for non refund for cartoon apartment furnishings.

The truth is, we think we are in control. But are we?

The zombies are taking over.
Be afraid, cute, but very afraid.

How to tell if you are narcisstically disordered

If you are reading this post and you are upset because you aren't mentioned by name, or a photo of you has not been placed here...chances are good you are suffering from narcissistic personality disorder.

How to tell if you are having a manic episode.

If everything feels like you just won the lotto and you can't make it to the end of this post..........

prolly a manic episode.

How to tell if you suffer from anxiety.

When you jump in frightened reaction to your own unanticipated small fart,
you are probably suffering from anxiety.

We'll never win the war on terror without a good tune!

War songs! Good tunes that unite people against a common foe. Even the overture of 1812 is stirring stuff!

World war Two?

"There'll be blue birds over, the white cliffs of Dover..."
"Long way to Tipperary"
etc. Whistling, marching feel good as you stand shoulder to shoulder to fight the Germans, the Japs, or whoever it is that's doin humanity wrong!

It's why the Germans never won. They had crappy songs. Can't exactly march along to beer barrel polka tunes.

And although the songs during the Vietnam era were good, you can't exactly feel united and honorably "fighty" while marchin' along to "heard it through the grapevine" or Jimmi Hendrix.

And that's prolly why we lost that one. Bad tunes.

Going to lose the Iraq war too.

Too much heavy metal. And country and western doesn't exactly cut it either. Not exactly feel good as you march along stuff....

What we need is good honest feel good fightin' music.

How to tell when you are depressed.

How do you know if you are depressed? There's alot of information out there. It can be depressing just trying to google your way through it.

Here's the general clue:
if you are too sad to whistle
and too sad to wank

chances are good you have depression.

Gallipolis

You're straight and rigid,
can't move your hips.
You're cold and frigid,
yet you've got loose lips-
the clicking tongues
that ruin lives;
the tut tut people with
busybody eyes,
cornbread brains,
and gravy souls,
thin layers of blame are
filled with holes
sliced open by knives
from floral scabbords.
Skeletons hide in ev'ry cupboard.
Revenge here's a virtue
Freedom's a sin.
All are judged by wealth
and color of skin.
Ev'ry meal is served with fries
ev'ry conversation full of lies,
and ev'ry wall has ears
ev'rything is smeared
with sugar-coated spit
and your honeyed-hate.
(You're deep fried shit
is hard to take!)
"Welcome" you smile
yet sneers aren't concealed.
Your down home approach
has not revealed
sincerity, love or true faith.
Go back to your trailer dreams.
Go wrestle snakes
during your hollow hymns.
Your Goddess was raped
by y'all long ago,
by coalmines, phosphates
and polluted snow.
I see your safe little paintings
in your safe little frames;
all still lives and blandscapes
and all the same.
No passion, no art,
no joyful expression,
all static and frightened
figures of repression.
Repressions you chose
Repression you've craved;
tell me why your souls'
not yet been saved?
For all your churches
for all your bells,
competitive clanging
Christian hard sell.
If you're saving "sinners"
sin's what you'll find,
those aryan demons
possessed your minds.
There's your cardboard Jesus
-by Bob Evans old farm,-
he's white, blue-eyed
but bearing arms?!!
White visions of Christ
white sugar, white bread
white only graves for the
white only dead.
White picket fences
round the white only homes
white sheets in white dryers,
burnt corners coated in foam.
Dangerfield rainbows
in black and white
prove no committee here
finds a color they like.
You've killed your children
by grounding their fire
you're frightened they
might act on your secret desires
to toast Dionysius
to run with Pan
to dance around cedars
to torch the klan...
to drink the nectar
of forbidden fruits
to mix flesh and skin
destroying the roots
of the "must be's, should be's"
from the tree of Dumbth...
that poisons the earth
and blots out sun.
Inside each heart
is a trapped scream.
No boxed up law
can contain it's stream
of echoes, echoes bounce off stars
visible echoes in children's art
crying "freedom, freedom
in ev'ry mark and line,
shaping "freedom, freedom-
don't police my mind
with your disapproving looks
and your patronising prayers
your quotes from good books
and judgemental stares.
Let me howl at the moon.
Let me express my bliss.
Don't imprison my soul
Oh Gallipolis."
The trickster here is alive and well
foundation of quicksand
sucking us into
bottled laugh hell.
For this french city
was built on a lie.
The nights here are loud
from long ago sighs
from ghostly first settlers
still stalking the skies.
Middle classed dreamers,
tricked by their own kind,
have left their imprint-
soul shadow behind.
Gallipolis is loud
with the Raven's laugh
they swoop on owls,
after dark.
The french city gossip
the french city hate,
the small town suspicions
seals it's fate.
Labels are stuck on
ev'ryone's head.
Like parasitic spirits,
like crowns of lead.
No alchemist's art
can shift this law,
the crow's fly backwards,
the virgins are whores.
It's maya, illusion,
it's the Judas kiss,
all betrayal, confusion
in Gallipolis.
It's wide open spaces and small narrow minds
stains on welcome mats,
hidden moonshine.
It's black-eyed wives
and teenaged moms;
it's disabled husbands-
misogynistic sons.
It's anti-abortion
it's anti-sex education
it's anti-precaution
and pro child medication.
It's anti-joy, anti-happy,
anti-art, anti-fun,
anti-rollerblading on sidewalks
but pro rights for guns.
It's lacey curtains
and hummingbird feeders,
cash under the table
and crack addict leaders.
It's Baptist hookers
and born-again drunks,
it's racists with halos,
and rose-perfumed skunks.
It's "they keep to their place,
and we keep to ours,"
It's straight little rows
of imported flowers.
It's social workers
with anti-social laws,
it's Ohio red-bird
with vulture's claws.
It's covered with chocolate
it's filled with cream,
it's a suicidal diabetic's
total wet dream.
It's shootin' rabbits,
it's huntin' deer.
It's aiming high
for that Walmart career.
It's drunken judges
it's corrupt police.
It's greeting card journalism.
It's a salad with grease.
It's "if you scratch my back"-
"I'll stab you in yours"
it's sinus infections
amd allergy sores.
Even the mothman left
cos he couldn't compete
with the e'er present evil
of french city's elite.
With dysfunctional families
who stick to their own-
it's small town arrogance
right to the bone.
The riverbank statues of
"the first view".
claim what? "Injuns were blind?"
You've forgotten them too?
Your history's selective,
your bigotry well,
nurtured by the collective
in this cheesecake hell.
You lead inauthentic lives
masked in medicated grins,
nothing penetrates
your city's thick skin.
All hail looney town
and the great GDC
run by the madmen
where the inmates are free.
Hyperactive cowboys
in homophobic best
hide their brown papered pornos
full of rump pumpin' butt sex.
Gallipolis, with it's small town pride,
it's small town thinking,
is the open mouthed bride
of Atlantis-sinking
Atlantis-gone.
A watery permanence
with unconcious song-
that burbles through oceans,
rises in mists,
drifts up the river
to Gallipolis.

Break invisible chains
of family guilt.
Shake away shame,
burn grandma's quilt.
Revive your heart;
adventure, explore.
Make your life your art,
reclaim spirit, restore
your broken hope,
swim up river
get wet and float....
away...away...from this bitches abyss
be free and leave.
Leave Gallipolis.

(written in 2001. I didn't like Gallipolis very much. )

Fox Drama-rama! Weather could kill you! EEeek!

Could be it's just me.....but the weather reports on the local news channels have me howling with gales of good deep gut laughter.

Right now winter is in full swing in the northern hemisphere, in Ohio and -gosh-who'd have ever thought it? It's snowing!! Just like it has done for the last century -every frikkin' winter.

Instead of an objective report on temperatures, snowfall and windchill factors, stories are peppered with personal commentary on -"bbbrrr" -how cold it is, and advice-"wrap up warm, there's a bit of frostbite about, your digit might drop off"! They speed up the pace, feign concern as they report the number of accidents there's been on the icy Columbus roads (very few really, much to the consternation of the news editors I'm sure). There are heartrending tales of unsalted avenues and hardluck stories showing us which poor yuppie had to resort to the common folk labor of shovelling snow off the cement driveway in front of their double garage. Just when they've convinced you that half the north pole has slipped and fell onto 170 they change tack, and tell you where you can go for the latest winter coat sale! ("Look good or drop dead" being the thinly veiled message here! It's never too cold to be a capitalist!)

Once winter is over, then Fox's fear mongers, botox heads and doppler dingbats get busy -panic reporting on scarey springtime- "eeek, watch out for the pollen! - Big yellow chunks of ' terrorist Al Qaeda fuzzballs; they're just lookin for a nose dive right up your sneeze hole!"

They'll tell you over and over, to: becareful of going outdoors because of dem sneaky allergy attacks, poisonous pollen levels (quick advert for the flu shot you can get at Walmart, -coming soon: appendectomies at Walgreens, and a summer special: gallbladder ops at Big Lots), and scary Easter Lillies that kill your cats.

Summer ofcourse brings death right to your doorstep because (who'd have thunk it)..it's hot! Gasp! Horror! Pant! (Quick cut to customers queuing up and wiping out store supplies of deodorant and bottled Californian tap water). All sorts of threats to your life can happen in summer. You could expire from dehydration, wilt and drop dead due to hot temperatures, (probably cos you are still wearing that coat you bought in the winter sales). An evil thunderstorm could purposely throw down a lightening bolt to hit some poor unsuspecting golfer in the middle of his game! (Might be wise to remember if you have facial piercings, to wear a ski mask during lightning storms.)

In the fall, there's that nasty chore yuppies hate to do: hiring local mexicans to rake up their leaves to pile in those little paper bags to leave on the curb for the garbage trucks to pick up. (Hasn't anyone here ever heard of "composting"?). And never forget, your house could get broken into by gangs of marauding squirrels who have parties in your attic.

The most hilarious part is the forced "concern" that the local well coiffed newsbots feign. "And make sure to take your umbrella"!

Oh f*ckem! These faked up little cardboard cut out people with their Victoria Beckham hairdo's, and neat little jackets. They look like Amway sales people...like a Christian version of the Stepford Wives, (some of the women too....!)

If I want to know what the weather is like today, I will look out the window. If I want to know whether it's sunny or rainy, I will open the door and check. Hmm..cold or hot? Well stuff yer doppler radar where the sun don't shine! My nipples are more reliable! -And if I want to know whether I need to: "wrap up warm, take an umbrella, wear a coat or hard hat" I will call me mum and ask!

"Weather crew". Lol. One of the local TV station slogans is "first warning weather"....but they are all about the "warning" and not much about the weather." Eek watch out, here comes a cloud..."

Geez....Fox has no embarrassment factor here... Let the meteorologists be metereologists, and stop making them read the weather like they are in the Young and the Restless. You've wussified the lot of them. Winter in Ohio? The bigger snowjob takes place INSIDE the studio, not outdoors. What a pack of silly twats.