Birthday Boy

It's my birthday, so I'm just going to give you some random thoughts, before I continue with the pressing demands of My Existence 101. And (in order to understand what I'm talking about) you're just going to have to search the blog, to find the relevant posts, because I ain't linking this shit until Monday:

I'm glad I have a blog, so when I remind you I called the Obama cult (and this presidential election) long before everyone else - finally - no one can doubt my words: They're dated, you slippery bastards.

My next band, Little White Radio (2.0) is going to eat your sorry asses alive.

From the day of my conception, strong willed women (with extremely weak minds) have been the negative force of my existence. And, yea, that means exactly what you think it means.

I wish my sister, Younine Mingus, was still alive. (Figure it out.)

Now that I've been betrayed by the wife that I loved, discovered her overwhelming love of bullshit cultism and, finally, understand it's dynamics (and parameters) in society, expreienced the sheer screaming agony of divorcing her, and have been further taught the limits of love and friendship in everyday life, I sincerely hope I can be allowed to simply die in my sleep, quietly, and a hell of a lot sooner than later.