The Toilet Seat Revolution

 

 

 

THE TOILET SEAT REVOLUTION

by

Anthonystjoseph

 

     So I had to come out of my skin today and give another show.  And by show, I mean strap on my DMX and tell another mother screwer what his position on this planet was and how it related to mine.  You heard it here first!  So I am out collecting money from my clients in order to again, get to my two comma goal, 1,(comma)000,(comma)000.  I am waiting for one homeowner to call me to come by and pick up a four thousand dollar check and I realize that my voice mail keeps going off with messages.  The first time it happened I just figured it was a signal problem or maybe I was just starting a call or whatever but I didn’t think about it.  Then I realized that my phone, which rings as constantly as Anita rang her bell, was not ringing as often as usual.  So I called my drunk friend in Baltimore, who by the way, is always drunk, to have her call me back and see if my phone was ringing and it was not ringing.  She’s generally too drunk to read my blogs or to hung over to gather the strength to focus on them so I don’t have to worry about her seeing this.  We just got in touch with each other after years of losing track of each other and it’s a shame that she’s still caught up in that getting drunk at the club.  The problem is that the club has moved to her house and is open twenty four seven.  But if she does read this then it’s all good because we were so close in the Army and she was like my little sister and now she’s a hopeless drunk so anything I can do to help is my job.  Maybe she’ll get pissed and drink some coffee. 

     Back to me and me having to come out of my skin, so I call Verizon and have to tell four different computer animated voices my information and last four digits of my social security number while I listen to the computer voices repeat themselves over and over again for my benefit as they continue to explain themselves to me.  For the record, I hate and refuse to talk to any computer and just push zero’s until a voice comes on that can actually take in oxygen and have a true thought.  I WILL NEVER TALK TO A COMPUTER!  Voice activated my ass.  So of course this apprehension of mine to talk to myself over the phone sets the tone for the next ten minutes.  Finally a woman comes on the line and thanks me for calling Verizon…  Phuck you!  She then asks me for the last four digits of my social security number for ‘security reasons’.  SURE!  I’m standing in a line in a grocery store talking on a cell phone which can be scanned with any Radio Shack less-than-a-hundred-dollar scanner…  SURE!  For my security, let me tell YOU my LAST FOUR!  The female dog representing herself as a Verizon customer service representative then realized I had a problem with repeating my information since I told her, “WHY DO YOU ASK ME FOR MY LAST FOUR WHEN I JUST GAVE IT TO THE LAAAASSSST FOOOUUUUUUUURRRRR COMPUTERS!!!!”   I’m not well at this point and the people in line are luckily focused on the drooling senior citizen who is cutting in front of the line while pretending to have alzhiemers.  So the girl on the other end of the phone who works at some Verizon call center decides to get her swerve on.  By swerve I mean neck swerve.  Some of my sisters are so good at swiveling their neck that you can hear that thang swiveling over the phone.  So she decides to go the ‘plucking my nerves’ route and provoke me by asking me for my first and last name and then says, “Is that with an ‘son’ or an ‘sen’…  ‘Get my kids home, get my kids HOME…’  Then she asks me for my mailing address with the zip code ‘included’…  This wouldn’t be so bad if my phone number didn’t pull up all this information and I hadn’t verified it with the first four computers that I talked to in order to get to her neck swiveling *&^$%#**()(^%$*!  I finally cut her off when she said something about maiden name and just told her, “I NEED MY PHONE TO RING!”  She informed me that I would have to call her from another number and she could do some check on my phone then…  Whatever…  I hung up on her and went to my car and decided to call my client and ask him if he called and deal with Verizon and their raggedy phones later.  He hadn’t called. 

     Then the Lord said, “Let there be light.” A Verizon Wireless store was right in front of me on the other side of the parking lot.  In my haste to get my phone fixed and get back to my money I almost ran over the drooling senior citizen with the faux alzhiemers who was getting into his car to drive home (Jesus take the wheel).  I walk into the Verizon store and decide to have some ‘return-the-favor’ soup.  That’s where they gave me a bad day so I returned-the-favor.

     The first thing I do when I walk in the door is say to the greeter in a loud voice so all the ‘customers’ can hear me is, “CAN YOU GUYS MAKE A PHONE THAT WORKS!”  Clearly I need JESUS!  I went through four of Verizon’s ‘Chocolate’ phones that were reminiscent of the type of flawless technology that brought us the Ford Pinto, and now I have this LG which tends to act like a human female that cycles and gets PMS.  I guess it would be an alien female though because its cycle is more than once a month.  The clerk tries to cut me and my ‘Madea’ moment off and just ask my name and then when I go on he tries to cut me off again and asked my last name.  I pause and skull phuck him for a second letting him know this is no ordinary game and he best be cool and then give him my last name as he tells me to have a ‘look around’ while he gets someone to help me.  I tell him and the whole store that I don’t need to look around, I NEED MY PHONE TO RING!  Yeah I’m special…  You would think since they cut your hair off in jail here in Colorado that I would chill out and keep my DMX under wraps, but not me.  My special like DMX’s special is uncontrollable.   I blame it all on God because he made me.  It’s my story and I’m sticking to IT!  So this guy standing next to the snippy greeter takes me to the tech counter and starts fiddling with my phone.  I tell him to call it from the counter phone and so he does and it doesn’t ring.  He fiddles and fiddles and fusses and fusses and I squirm and squirm.  All I can think about is missing my money calls.  Here comes the climax. 

     The on hand technical support ‘piece of flesh’ standing in front of me for Verizon turns my phone off and then turns it back on and it works, it rings.  The same thing I told my friend in New York to do to on his phone the other day but forgot in my squirming over the potential loss of the money calls.  I retrieve my phone and turn to walk out the store and that’s when he did it.  You know that way somebody can tell you ‘thank you’ but it’s clearly a ‘phuck you’.  Yeah!  Um huh…  He said to the back of my head, “YOU’RE WELCOME!”  OMG!  WTF!  I guess he didn’t get the MEMO!  They got my poster up in some cities!  Ya’ll think I’m kidding on this whole DMX thang…  I turned as he said it and was basically standing in the center of the store at this point and said to him in my loud commanding voice that stopped everyone in the store in their tracks as everyone turned to look at me and said, “If you sold phones that worked I WOULD BE WELCOME!”  (My phone is three months old and the last four phones before that all malfunctioned and had to be replaced).  He wasn’t ready for the response, or the nature of my response; as in him and I occupying a stage with all these people watching mouth agape.  He let out another little squeaky, “you’re welcome”.  I repeated myself and the lack of any welcome feelings on my part and then told him across the room, “Do WE NEED TO DO MORE!  Because we CAN!”  He lost.  Why did he lose?  Because everybody’s playing a game.  I am not playing games…  Don’t have me talk to four different computers like I have time to waste and then have me repeat myself over your glorified walkie talkie in order to get your Made in China phone to work properly.  My phone cost three hundred dollars so it should provide more than three months service without malfunctioning. 

     Since I’m talking about malfunctioning systems I would like to bring up the toilet seat and the proper etiquette surrounding it!  The ‘all about you’ party is over females.  From this point on I am the chairman and founder of the Revolution de Toilet Seat.  I have personally trained the females in my family including my own mother that toilet seats shall remain up when not in use and now it’s time for you to train your females.  The men in my office are so whipped that they put the toilet seat down in the men’s restroom.  WTF!  I have to PEE!  I do not have time to bend down and touch some nasty toilet seat that has probably been pissed on because someone left it down, or should I say put it down because they were taught to do so by some selfish female.  Probably their MAMA!  Train yours ~ I trained MINE!

     All kidding aside, I would like to present my argument for the whole world to learn the proper and obviously correct way to leave a toilet seat when finished.  First off, it is obviously a lot more hygienic to leave the seat UP.  If the seat is up then the air in the toilet bowl will be fresh and not contribute to the growth of bacteria and germs.  Secondly, when the seat is down it allows for the possibility of flies to land on the seat and take a shit right where you’re going to lay your raw behind when eliminating your daily intake.  Did you know that every time a fly lands they take a dump.  Leave the seat up BABIES!  It’s just nasty to leave it down.  And women, we let you vote so now let us vote ~ the seat stays up.  You had your time!  Thank you!  You’re Welcome!  They said I would make a good leader.

By

Anthonystjoseph

All works copyrighted  and protected by law

Placid People

 

 

PLACID PEOPLE

by

Anthonystjoseph

 

     I cannot believe what I witnessed today.  I decided to stop into McDonald’s to get my daily supplemental dose of extra diabetic inducing sugar which they call ‘Sweet Tea’, and walked into a modern day version of the High School ‘Shawshank Redemption’…

     I get out of my car and realize that around twenty junior high school students are plowing out of the door towards my car, which I consider sacred, and are seriously threatening to put some scratches on my baby.  My sensors immediately perked up and all systems were go and operational in the ‘protecting my shit’ mode…  My ‘protecting my shit’ mode can cause problems for all parties involved, including myself, which is why I hate when I am forced to invoke that particular mode.  It’s my nature, as the Scorpion said. 

     I proceeded to part the crowd of teenagers as Moses parted the Red Sea and entered the McDonalds.  I turned to look back at my vehicle while sending a psychic force field to envelope it so the ‘protecting my shit’ mode didn’t get taken to level TWO which is so ugly it can sometimes lead to jail time…  At this point the manager of the McDonald’s walks past me yelling into a cell phone, “I need the police here right away, they are fighting here in the McDonald’s”…  At this point, I pull back on the energy draining force field that I am enveloping my car with, and take a good look at this unruly group of kids surrounding it. 

     In studying the group of kids, I realize that one of them is puffing up and putting out the message that he’s about to jump on someone who’s coming out the door.  I say to the manager, “Are the police coming?”  She says yes.  I go to the bathroom to get rid of the earlier dose of diabetic giving sweet tea and decide the police will handle it.

     I later come out of the bathroom and there are still kids everywhere but there is no fight that I can see.  I order my syrup, I mean sweet tea, and wait to receive it.  I glance around the McDonald’s enjoying my usual art of people watching and catch a glance of the ‘puffin-his-chest’ kid in the front door of the restaurant puffing his chest on some small boy.  The puffer is about thirteen and the puffee is about twelve.  I then witness as all these people eat, including many adults, this puffer just PUNCH this other kid in the face like it was John Cena defending his pregnant wife from gangsters in a bad action movie.  He then PUNCHES HIM AGAIN!  And AGAIN!  I say to the manager again, “DID YOU CALL THE POLICE!”

     The little kid is just taking it as the puffer talks trash to him in between giving him brain damaging blows.  At this point, I can’t take it anymore; so I walk to the front of the restaurant and open the door and part the seas again.  I tell the kid who’s getting pummeled, “YOU!  You COME IN HERE!”  He doesn’t want the crowd to think he’s a wimp so he’s hesitant.  The bully tells him, “YEAH, you go in there!”  The kid says, “No, I’m not going to go in there.”  I then yell at him, “YOU’RE JUST GOING TO LET HIM HIT YOU!”  He says, “No, I don’t want him to hit me.”  Then it got CRAZY!

     I have to tell you that I was visiting a client who lives in a largely Hispanic Neighborhood and all these kids were of a Hispanic origin.  So after the kid refuses the shelter of safety, the bully, who’s Hispanic also, tells the younger kid to ‘GO BACK TO MEXICO!’ ~ Lord help me…  We do it to our own people ALL THE TIME!  Consuming the idea and concept of this young Hispanic Male telling another Hispanic kid to ‘go back to Mexico’ is so sad and will probably haunt this bully for the rest of his life if he ever becomes a real man with any thought or feeling for his fellow man.  The crowd breaks up as the crazy black man from the moon, ME, walks away ~ mission accomplished.  I go to the counter to get my diabetic inducing ‘sweet tea’ which will hopefully give ME diabetes and encourage my departure from this third rock from the sun and its crazy mess.  I first got angry and then suddenly I got very sad to the point of ‘almost tears’.  I could not believe the stupidity that I was witnessing on all fronts… 

     Out of all the people in that restaurant, nobody but me was willing to protect this young man from life changing memories that were no part of good or GOD!  I got my tea and just could not get over the fact that the COPS never came…  This is a neighborhood where the cops are every three blocks harassing everyone and anyone because they can in that neighborhood…  But when this kid needed them, they were NO PLACE in SIGHT!

     I was so angry at all these ADULTS who just didn’t care that it was going on that right after I walked out with my TEA, I turned around and walked BACK in the RESTAURANT to COUNT the adults that were sitting and eating and just didn’t CARE about this kid being BEAT!  There were TWENTY ADULTS sitting down EATING and they could care less about prolonging a bite of their BIG MAC to protect and stop the brutality on this KID!  THESE are what I refer to as the ‘PLACID PEOPLE’, the PEOPLE I DETEST!  When are we going to stop being so politically correct and so SCARED to STAND OUT and START DOING WHAT’S RIGHT!  WHEN!  WHEN!  CAN YOU TELL ME WHEN!

     As I left the McDonald’s, after checking my car and my tires for slash marks from the angry bully, I got TWO BLOCKS away and saw the POLICE STATION!  I guess they were having a ‘PLACID PEOPLE’ convention as well…

by

Anthonystjoseph

All works copyrighted  and protected by law

A Ring From A Swan

 

 

A RING FROM A SWAN

by

Anthonystjoseph

 

     Aside from a swan being one of the most beautiful creatures on this earth, it is also one of the most moral as well.  The swan is one of the species from the animal kingdom that is monogamous.  Like the dolphin and the raven, the swan only mates once in life.  If something such as illness, capture, or death decides to take their mate away they go on to die alone and never pair up again in their lifetimes.  They say when humans do something that is barbaric that they are acting like an animal.  I think we have that backwards.  If you really dissect what’s going on around this planet you would have to say that we are the beast! 

     We lie for no reason.  We take for no reason. We even kill for no reason.  We will sleep with anything and anyone as long as it pleasures our intricate and barbaric needs.  I have seen some sexual deviants behave in such a manner, in photographs of course, that made me realize that I was looking at an ANIMAL; a simple human animal that puts ‘so called’ beastly behavior to shame.  You have to understand that if earth doesn’t live out its natural lifespan it will be due to its destruction by the human animal.  This is why one is attracted to the high moral ground of a swan, a dolphin, or even the hauntingly suspicious life of the dark raven. 

     I can’t imagine the wonderful and selfish life of knowing that your mate only lives for you.  The life of knowing that your mate has to listen to every ache and pain and moan and whistle and just TAKE IT!  They aren’t going anywhere…  They can’t…  Look at it this way:  Imagine someone who loves you so much for who you are to them that they will take you however you come and however you go.  Imagine the comfort of knowing that you will never be alone pinning over your mate on the other side of the pond rubbing up on some other bird.  Sounds like heaven.  Sounds like civilization. 

     Well this story is about a swan, a human swan.  I must remind you though.  All my stories are true.  This is a story about a boy.  About a boy who is a man who is a boy.  Why is he a boy?  He’s a boy because he has never been allowed to grow up to be a man.  The reason the man is still a boy who is a man is because if the boy were to grow up to be a man than he would be a gay man.  So the man remained a boy who was a man for a very long time.  The man remained a boy for over thirty years, almost forty.  The man living as a boy became very sad and couldn’t live the life of the boy any longer.  The boy becoming a man took to his shell in order to break free.

     The man as a boy refused to take a call.  The calls kept coming and the denials started falling.  Enter the swan.  The swan had given birth to the boy living as a man and wanted to know what was wrong.  The boy crumbled in front of the swan and started to convulse in tears.  The swan was loss for words and couldn’t bare the pain her boy was in.  She pleaded with the boy to tell her what was wrong.  The boy convulsed harder and more tears flowed.  The swan took a guess and let it be known that she knew her boy.  The swan asked her boy if he was gay.  He fell into a heap in torrential tears…  The swan cried as well explaining that it was all okay.  The boy becoming a man said, “Well if it’s okay then why are you crying?”  After a moment, the swan explained, “I’m crying because I can’t believe you’ve lived so long and haven’t been who you are.”  She was crying because her boy had lived as a boy too long and she knew it.  The boy who was a man who lived as a boy is now a man.

     The man who was a boy explained to his swan of a mother, “I just didn’t think you would love me if you knew who I was.  You’ve always expected so much from me since I was the oldest son.  I was scared you wouldn’t love me.”  The swan looked down at her wedding ring from the male human who had left her.  She was still wearing the ring because she knew that it was only ‘once’ for her when it came to love.  She looked at the ring that she had dreamed of getting every since she was a small girl.  She continued to look at the wedding ring on her finger that she knew she would die with.  She looked at the ring that she knew she would be buried with.  She looked at her son, the man.

     She took the ring off her finger and looked strongly at her son, the man.  She looked him in the eye and grabbed his hand and put her symbol of love, the ring, on his pinky finger and told him this.  She said, “As long as you live I want you to wear this ring, and whenever you feel like no one loves you, you LOOK AT THIS RING AND KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU!”  They cried some more.  He has never taken off the ring to this day.  The boy hidden in the man who lived as a boy who was a man was now a MAN!

By

Anthonystjoseph

All works copyrighted  and protected by law