Police Officer Gets “Owned” by Jackass Law Student

15 Friday Mar 2013

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I recently saw someone post a video link on Facebook about a police officer being owned by a law student. I was a little intrigued, expecting to see some gross overstepping of boundaries by the officer or horrific violation of the student’s rights. Instead, I just got pissed.

Here is a link to the video:

Essentially, what I saw was a police officer, very politely, explaining to a citizen that there were reports from concerned individuals that there was someone walking around with a gun. From there, I heard nothing but the stuttering ramblings of prickish cock socket who thought that if he could rattle off a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo and stick a camera in the cop’s face, it would make him look like some kind of hero. Maybe it’s just me, but I thought he looked like a fucking moron.

Sadly, there was comment after comment about how it was so awesome that this jackass “put the cop in his place” and showed the world that cops can’t do whatever they want.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Now, I’m not a cop. I don’t know the ins and outs of every legal situation. I also understand that in Portland you can, apparently, own and carry a firearm. So the fact that he had a gun was not illegal in and of itself. What the law student and every fucking imbecile who touted how cool he was failed to pay attention to was the fact that the cop agreed that carrying a gun was not illegal. Carrying a gun was not the reason that the cop was talking to him in the first place. The cop had stopped him because there were reports about someone walking around with a gun.

Obviously, if you are allowed to carry a gun, people wouldn’t just be calling for the fucking hell of it. That would be like calling the police because someone was walking their dog. There was some sort of concern that caused people to call it in. Because of said concern, the police are obligated to check it out. And that was exactly what was going on.

There was a call about a guy walking around with a gun. The cop sees a guy with a gun. He checks it out to make sure everything is ok. So does someone want to explain to me exactly where the cop went wrong? Because I don’t see it. I don’t see how asking someone to show their ID when investigating a report of something suspicious involving a gun is a violation of anything. And why do you ask? Because, as the cop mentioned, while carrying a firearm is not illegal, carrying a firearm if you are a felon is quite illegal.

So let’s go back a bit. There is a report of a man carrying a gun that is causing citizens some concern. Cop sees a man with a gun. He stops the man and, very politely explains that there were reports made and he simply wants to make sure that he is allowed to carry the gun. Again, where is the violation of anyone’s rights? All I saw was a young arrogant jag being a dick for the sake of being a dick. If he didn’t do anything, he shouldn’t have had any issue with proving he had a right to carry the gun. There is nothing anywhere in the Constitution that I’m aware of that says a citizen has a right to refuse to prove to a police officer that he has a right.

As far as I’m concerned, the law student in the video and everyone who supports what he did are a culture of half-retarded tree pedophiles (thank you, Jenna Marbles) who need to be hit upside the head with something blunt and heavy … hard. You think he sounds like a hero for refusing to be cooperative? Let me give you a rather famous example of what happens when a cop fails to check into something … or as the guy in the video would lead you to believe, fails to violate a citizen’s rights.

A number of years ago, some police officers ran into a young boy who was walking around naked and under the influence. An older man approached and explained that he was the boy’s boyfriend. He went on to explain that the boy was 19, had too much to drink, and that they had been arguing. The cops did not ask for an ID and allowed the man to take his boyfriend home.

The boy in question was actually 14-year-old Konerak Sinthasomphone. The man who took the boy home was Jeffery Dahmer, who at the time was a registered sex offender on probation. Within an hour, Konerak was dead. If the police had merely inquired a little further by “trampling all over citizen rights” by asking Dahmer for an ID, Konerak would probably still be alive. Konerak and every victim that followed would have been saved.

That being said, I wonder if that ignorant cretin of a law student’s actions actually saved anyone, or if it merely fed his ego. As a matter of fact, I challenge any of those babbling fucks who thought that video was “da bomb” to find a single example of where a police officer asking someone for their ID caused an innocent person to be harmed in any way.

As I said in the beginning, I don’t know everything about the law, but I understand common sense. That law student can cite as many cases as he wants. Prison inmates oft-times memorize the Bible cover to cover and can recite it at will. That doesn’t make them good Christians any more than the ability to memorize facts from a law-book makes the student anything more than a stuttering prick. Heck, you can teach a dog to memorize a bunch of tricks … That doesn’t make the fucking dog a genius.

I’m a big supporter of the men and women in blue … or black … or whatever color their city dictates as their uniform. And yes, I know, black is not a color … Fuck off. I have a great respect for what they do and what they put up with … Case in point, the video linked to this post.

And I’m not just spouting from a pulpit either. I, myself, was actually involved in an incident where I was questioned and asked for my ID because I happened to be wearing a similar shirt to one that was worn by someone who had reportedly done something illegal in the area. I had no problem with it. The cop was doing his job and I didn’t have anything to hide. The law student in the video obviously did. If nothing else, he was attempting to hide his insecurities by creating a video and posting it online that essentially screamed “Look at me! See how cool I am?”

I hope this student finds himself in a situation where he is the victim of violence because someone who shouldn’t have had a weapon, did. And why? Because the cops weren’t allowed to ask if he was allowed to have a weapon. I wonder if he would be so cocky then. Go ahead and cite all the cases you want, you’re still nothing more than a fucking simpleton who mastered the rudimentary skills of memorizing a series of words.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

*Fuck this World! and other such thoughts by Mickey Brennan – Volume I available here

For the Love of (Insert Deity Here)

11 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by in Religion ...

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I was closing thing up at the Place this evening when I glanced at one of the televisions on the elliptical machines. There was a guy being interviewed about some sort of incident that occurred as a result of someone “blaspheming the prophet Mohammed.” All I could think as I shut down the television was “shut the fuck up.”

I am so sick of all of the bullshit surrounding violence and bloodshed over someone disrespecting someone else’s faith, God, holy book, and so on. It is so fucking stupid, so fucking pointless, so fucking old.

Here’s the deal. I’m going to drop some proverbial knowledge on all of you fanatically retarded zealots out there. You’re all a bunch of fucking morons.

Don’t get me wrong. Religion is a good thing. Faith is a good thing. Everything that is done in the name of religion and faith, however, is not. People lose their minds if someone says that they don’t believe the same thing that they do. They’re going to burn in hell or should be exterminated for their lack of faith in the one true religion, the one true God … whoever the fuck that is supposed to be.

You read stories in the news about how a Bible or a Koran or a Torah was desecrated and what a horrible travesty it was that this sacred book was treated in such a manner. Are you fucking kidding me?

Here’s a little more knowledge. It’s not the books that are sacred, it’s the words and ideas that are held within. The books are mass-produced and sold and Barnes & Noble. They’re books. Ink on paper. Nothing more. You may have a personal connection to the book, it may hold a place in your heart because it was handed down from generation to generation. But it’s still just a book. Just like your faith in whatever it is you believe in is YOUR faith. It doesn’t fucking matter what anyone else says or thinks. Your faith is yours. It’s personal.

Want some more painfully obvious knowledge that gets overlooked by these crazed radicalists? All of these “sacred books” that we talk about that claim to be “the Word of God” … They’re not. Every single one of them is the word of man. The word of many men, actually. Men who wrote down what they believed whomever their God of choice wanted to say. It’s not like any deity ever sat down with a reporter taking shorthand, dictating his thoughts and desires. No God ever wrote anything. Ever. Man did.

That’s not to say that I don’t believe in a Supreme Being. I do. I talk to him everyday in one way or another. But honestly, I don’t think there is a single religion that has it right. All these sects that claim they are the “chosen people” of God. Seriously? God chose you? Why? What the fuck is so great about you? What was wrong with every single man, woman, and child that came before God decided to reveal himself to your people? He didn’t give a fuck about them? Doesn’t sound like a very godly God to me.

The reality of it is that this whole “chosen people” thing is just another example of human arrogance. God chose my people because we’re better than you. Your God isn’t the real God because my God is. And why? Because my God says that I’m part of the “chosen people.”

Un-fucking-believable.

Another thing that should probably be noted about all of the “words of God” these books contain … Which words are actually the words of God? Because anyone who has studied anything about religion will tell you that the Bible wasn’t written by one person. Nor were any of the other sacred texts for the most part. They are a conglomeration of dozens of authors spanned over hundreds of years. The Hebrew Scriptures weren’t really universally agreed on until around 250 AD. The New Testament wasn’t really considered authoritative until almost 400 AD. That’s a pretty long time after the fact, isn’t it?

Anyone want to guess how this all came to be?

A group of religious leaders came together and decided which stories should go in the sacred texts and which ones shouldn’t. So man was deciding what was the “Word of God” and what wasn’t. Because I’m pretty sure God was sitting on the council for all of this.

Why were some books left out? Because they either contradicted books that the councils wanted to put in or they didn’t go with whatever belief system they wanted to portray. How is this possible if all of these sacred texts are the Word of God? How can they contradict each other or have bad information? Does anyone else see the problem here?

You want to know what I think? I think whomever it was that created everything that is, was, and ever will be would be ashamed of what is being done in His name. I believe that if anyone took a half second to think about it (assuming they have half a brain) they would realize that they all believe in some omnipotent Creator. If this creator were truly omnipotent, then surely He would realize that there is absolutely no way that an entire world inhabited by fucking morons with free will would ever come to agree on a single faith. Hell, a family can’t even sit down and agree on what television show to watch, but God would expect that an entire planet, an entire universe would agree on a single religion? That’s not very omnipotent.

My personal belief is that every religion is wrong, because every single religion is right. How is that fucking possible? Because the Creator of everything in existence is a hell of a lot fucking smarter than we are. He knew the lack of agreement that would exist amongst different civilizations. So He created religions, he created gods, he gave mankind what they needed to follow the right path.

The gods of Egypt, the gods of Rome, the Norse gods, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and so on … He created them all. As mankind evolved and began to understand more about the world we live in and life in general, he dismissed the older faiths and replaced them with new ones. Ones that would fit our ever evolving civilization. That, to me, is the definition of an omnipotent God.

Because in the end, it doesn’t matter what faith is it that causes you to choose right from wrong, good from evil … All that matters is that you do. The God that I know provides that guidance in any form that we need it.

Chosen people and sacred books … Unbelievably fucking stupid.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

*Fuck this World! and other such thoughts by Mickey Brennan – Volume I available here

At the Rope’s End

21 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by in The world we live in and life in general ...

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A little while ago I wrote about several residents at the Place who had recently passed away. Two, in particular, had committed suicide. Both were due to a life of physical pain and emotional torment, having been forced to endure said pain for so long. I also wrote about how I understood, how I could relate.

Alas, even a genius can make a stupid fucking mistake. I am no different.

A little over a week ago, I reached the end of my rope. I’ve been dealing with my own pain for several years due to an injury that was completely misdiagnosed by a slew of moronic fucking doctors whose egos refused to allow them to listen to their patient, instead believing they had all the answers. They, of course, were wrong. And by the time the source of the pain (a broken vertebra in my neck that literally crushed a nerve that ran from the injury point straight down my left arm) the damage was so bad that it required surgery. The neck recovered, more or less. The nerve, however, did not. And that constant, ripping, razor-like pain is my personal daily hell.

I’ve been managing, and I use that term very liberally, with a steady dose of pain medicine that does little more than put a fraction of a dent in the pain. Weather changes, particularly winters, wreak havoc on me. And Chicago winters … they fucking suck.

So I sat there at my dining room table, on a particularly bad night, and I had reached my limit. I didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I thought it through, I’d had enough, and I knew exactly what it would take to end it.

I had looked into the lethal dosage of Vicodin. 200 milligrams would do the trick. At least that’s what several sources indicated. I had 350 milligrams to spare. I poured them out on the table and popped them down one at a time until all 35 10 milligram tablets were gone. I went to the bedroom, turned on some Celtic relaxation music … Yes, I listen to Celtic relaxation music. Fuck off … laid down in bed, and stared at the ceiling as I felt my body literally fall through the mattress as the medication began its job. I closed my eyes and was ready.

Next thing I knew, I was in a hospital bed with some nurse taking blood from my arm. I was completely disorientated, and really fucking pissed off. All I could think of was “Where am I?” and “What the fuck happened? Why didn’t it work?”

I had taken almost twice what would have been necessary. No one knew what I was planning. No one had a key to my place. On top of that, it was like 11pm, so there would be no reason for anyone to stumble across me by accident. So what the fuck?

Well, apparently it was quite an interesting story. The nurse explained to me that I had wandered into a police station about a mile and a half from my home … sleepwalking. On top of it, I was barefoot, wearing nothing more than a pair of black running pants and an unzipped hoodie. Made sense, I guess. That’s what I was wearing in bed. But sleepwalking? Are you fucking kidding me? And, by the way, it was about 35 degrees outside that night.

So now I was in a hospital, half-naked, with a pair of cops standing at the nursing station and a handful of doctors asking me questions that I didn’t have answers to … And the pain didn’t even fucking go away. 350 milligrams of pain medicine and the fucking pain was still there.

I was in and out of it for several hours. They were taking my blood every 30 minutes to make sure whatever “antidote” they gave me to save my liver from the massive overdose of acetaminophen (an active ingredient in Vicodin that is apparently a worse overdose than the opiate itself) was working. Every once in a while, they would ask if there is anyone I wanted to call or talk to. The answer, of course, was no.

Here’s where it really gets fucking stupid. They send some sort of shrink in to talk to me. He asks me how I’m feeling, if I knew where I was, why I took so many pills, etc … I told him I felt like shit, I was in a hospital, and I took the pills because I couldn’t take the pain anymore. He goes on to ask me if I took the pills on purpose.

Seriously?

I just fucking told you that I took them because I couldn’t take the pain anymore. It was 35 fucking pills. Are you seriously asking me if I took 35 pills by accident?

He then tells me that if I say I did it on purpose, he would have to commit me because I would be considered a danger to myself. I suppose there are laws against that. Obviously, I wasn’t looking to be committed so I said, yeah, it was an accident. I fully expected him not to believe me and lock me up somewhere. Instead, he signed off on some sheet and I never saw him again.

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t about to argue. But how fucking stupid do you have to be to believe that someone accidentally took 35 pills at once when the prescription is for one at a time? Moron … Absolute fucking moron.

By about 4am, the doctors assured me that my levels were decreasing and that it looked like I had dodged the proverbial bullet. I was set to be discharged. And then it got just a bit more stupid.

Remember, I said I was half-naked, barefoot, and it was 35 degrees outside. They actually gave me a pair of socks, so the barefoot aspect was taken care of. However, they knew how I was dressed, how cold it was, that I didn’t have a phone, ID, money, etc … They also knew that I didn’t have a ride because I didn’t have anyone to call. I asked them which was west, they pointed, and I walked out the door … and all the way home … in socks, a pair of running pants, and a now zipped-up hoodie in the freezing winter air.

Now, again, I’m not complaining. I was fucking stupid. A wonderfully uncomfortable two mile walk in the cold was probably just what I deserved. However, as a doctor, why bother saving a person’s life only to let them go outside and freeze to death?

I fucking hate doctors.

The walk did me good though. It gave me time to think. A lot of time. At first I was pissed, then I was frustrated, then I was just embarrassed. I tried to take the easy way out. I tried and I fucking failed. Always use to joke that I was immortal because of the many reckless incidents I survived as a youth. Well, maybe there was something to that. Or maybe it really just wasn’t my time.

Either way, I’m still here. Better for it, I guess. In truth, there really is more that I need to do, need to accomplish. Even if it never amounts to anything, it still needs to be done. The pain may never go away. I may live the rest of my life coming up with a reason to greet each day, struggle through, and start again the following morning. But if that is the way it has to be, then that is the way it has to be. I see that now.

Sleepwalking? I never sleepwalk.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

Having Hope in all the Wrong Places

09 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by in Woe is man ...

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People are really fucking stupid.

Yes, I know we have been down this road many a time. Still, it never ceases to amaze me what great lengths people will go to fuck up their lives. I mean, I guess it makes sense. We live in a world filled with individuals who are ever vigilant in their attempts to destroy each other and themselves. We, as a civilization, are essentially on a self-paved path to our own eradication.

Fun times.

Personally, I just hope they wait until I’m gone. As much of a spectacular fucking light show it is bound to be, I’d rather not be there when the planet gets scorched and all life ceases to exist.

And there is that word … Hope. Fickle and fucking fleeting as it is, it’s also one of the biggest wastes of time in this world we live in. Everyday I hear “I hope this” and “I hope that.” What does that even mean? You hope? So you don’t plan on doing anything? You’re just going to sit back, cross your fingers, and wait for someone else to do something that needs to be done or become something that they are not?

While you’re at it, why don’t take a train spike and shove it right through your fucking eye. It’s about as effective and probably will be much less painful in the end.

Case in point, one of the many people who seem to think that I’m some kind of fucking sounding board who gives a shit about anything he has to say was dropping his sob story on me the other day. What was the focus? His wife, of course. Who else would it be? Although I should mention it was actually his soon to be ex-wife. So even better.

Now anyone who has read anything here already knows that I am not a very big fan of the “fairer” sex. They are nice to look at, fun to play with, and otherwise a complete fucking mess. They are a gender who thrives off attention, drama, and creating drama to gain attention. But hey, they’re pretty though … Some of them anyway.

It’s a simple story really. These two morons are getting a divorce because of several reasons. And trust me, no one is an angel in this story. No marriage is perfect. Every marriage has it’s problems. Anyone who says otherwise is either a liar or was never married.

Moving on …

In this case, however, I do have a little first hand experience regarding what was the actual cause of the breakup of their wonderful union. Two very important things … or at least they should be.

First and foremost, she had essentially checked out of the marriage. She has been, as far as I have ever known, the poster child for self-absorbed egocentricity. All that matters to her is getting what she wants, almost to a sociopathic level. She doesn’t care who she hurts or what she destroys in the process. The ends justify the means in her unbelievably fucking irrational opinion. And who has she hurt? Who has she left in her path of egomaniacal wanton destruction? Not only her husband (who honestly should have manned up years ago and done something about all of this) but her children as well.

Here is an example … Actually THE example that sparked his little session of self-pity and general venting. They no longer live together. It was his weekend to have the kids and his daughter was in a gymnastics class of some sort or another. She appeared upset and was crying up in the gym, but wouldn’t tell her father what the fucking issue was. So he texted her mother to let her know their daughter was upset and crying about something. The response he got? … “Oh…”

One word. Oh. One fucking word as a response to her daughter crying during her gymnastics class. So, playing devil’s advocate, I said maybe she called their daughter or sent her a text. I mean, she obviously doesn’t want to talk to him. They’re getting a divorce. He tells me that she didn’t, that he checked the phone records and there was nothing from his wife to his daughter after the heartfelt “Oh” that he received. Maybe that’s true, maybe not.

Gets better though. His wife was supposed to pick their daughter up and take her home. Knowing that their daughter was upset and having some sort of issue, being the wonderful loving mother that she is, she, of course, rushed over to pick up her daughter, comfort her, and make it all better. Or … She called her parents and had them pick up her daughter because she had made plans to go out with her friends.

Are you fucking serious? What kind of mother sends her parents to take care of something like that so she can go out with her fucking friends? Wouldn’t want to ruin your precious little plans with something so infinitely insignificant as your own daughter, right? I guess they don’t make mothers like they used to.

He went on and on about other stuff regarding similar instances, but I honestly stopped listening after a bit. I got his point, I didn’t need the fucking add-ons. Truthfully, I didn’t need to hear any of it. But like I said, everyone seems to think I give a fuck about their problems.

I digress …

Back to the point …

So there’s that. Completely detached emotionally from her husband and children. The other aspect of their marriage that pretty much tore it down to nothing was that she is literally the biggest fucking slob the world has ever seen outside of the ghettos on the west side of Chicago. Again, this isn’t him telling me this. I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of being in said rat hole on a few occasions. When I tell you that there is no flat space in that house that is not covered with stacks of papers, books, food, garbage, dirty clothes, etc … it is no exaggeration. I literally couldn’t even take my coat off because there would be no place to put it … And God only knows what the fuck might crawl into it.

They have a nice piano in the living room though. I mean, it would be a nice piano if it was accessible. The top is completely covered with junk, the keyboard cover is down and covered with junk, the bench is pushed underneath and covered with junk, and you couldn’t even pull the bench out if you wanted to because there are boxes and laundry baskets filled with paper and garbage blocking it in.

Yes, you read correctly … Laundry baskets filled with papers and garbage. One wonders where the fuck they put their laundry.

And believe me, I laid into him about the state of his living area. That’s when he told me that he hated it. It literally drove him crazy, but she would get furious whenever he tried to clean it up. Apparently, it was “her” stuff and she repeatedly claimed that she would “get to it.”

They’ve been married for like 17 years. Talk about taking your fucking time.

And the real irony of her creating such a slum around her own home is that she certainly dresses like a million bucks. To look at her, you would think her house would look like Martha Stewart magazine. Probably why she never brings anyone around the home. If any of her friends or coworkers ever saw how she actually lived, I think they would be floored. Although I wouldn’t stay on the floor for too long … It’s fucking filthy.

Anyway, so that’s the story. Now he’s talking about fighting for custody of the kids because since he left, the house has gotten even worse. How that is humanly fucking possible, I have no idea. But this is what he tells me.

Furthermore, now that he is gone, she has decided that it’s a pretty neat idea to not to come home after work. She goes out and has a few drinks with her friends and, in her infinite quest to indulge in her own pleasures, has decided she would like to go to night school to become an acupuncturist.

What?

You’re almost 37 years old, you have a stable and well paying career, you are going through a divorce, you have three kids at home who need you, and you think it’s an intelligent idea to go back to school for, at minimum, 3-5 years, in the process creating a ridiculous amount of debt on top of your own kids being in school so you can learn how to stick needles in people?

And why?

No logically relevant reason. She just thinks it would be fun to be an acupuncturist. I think it would be fun to smack idiots upside their head with something both heavy and blunt. See? Fun things and intelligent things don’t always go hand in hand. Although smacking idiots upside the head, I believe, is far more intelligent than her course of action.

I mean, I don’t know on what planet this appears to be a good decision. But I imagine if such a planet ever existed, said planet is long extinct due to it’s mass population of fucking morons who, no doubt, managed to dumb themselves to death. Survival of the fittest, baby. You don’t make the cut … At least on any sort of intellectual level.

So now she is essentially away from the home from the early morning until the late evening, leaving her 16-year-old daughter to do her homework, make dinner, and take care of her two younger brothers while her mother plays schoolgirl and hangs out with her friends.

Un. Fucking. Believable.

Here’s where it gets really stupid. I told him to do it. Fight for custody. Get himself and the kids away from this nut job who still thinks she’s in high school where all that matters is her friends, flirting with guys, and getting mom and dad to take care of everything for her. Rake the crazy bitch across the coals and leave her with nothing.

She’ll still have her friends, of course. And, in all honesty, maybe that’s what she really wants. Maybe she wants to be released of her responsibilities so she can party and do her fucking thing full-time with no one to answer to. Only she doesn’t have the proverbial balls to actually do it herself, so she’s forcing him to do it. After all, then she’ll get to play the victim. She’ll be the poor mother who had her children taken away by their terrible monster of a father. Imagine the attention she would get for that. Rather manipulative … But then again, that a pretty common trait for people like her.

No matter though. With everything that was mention above, with everything this freak on a leash has done to him and their kids, he’s now having a “crossroads of conscience.” He feels guilty. Even though he has to know this is the right thing to do, he feels like he’s doing something wrong.

How fucked up is that? You want to talk about a guy who has been completely mind-fucked by a woman … This is the guy. He tells me that he is still holding out hope that his wife will change. He’s given up on her changing for him. That ship has fucking sailed, been attacked by a wandering band of maritime marauders, blown to bits, and now rests quietly somewhere in the muck at the bottom of the North Sea. But he retains his hope that she will finally grow up and change for their kids.

Time to wake up, you fucking dolt. The dream is over. This was your reality check. She isn’t going to change for you or anyone else. She lives her life for herself. Everyone else is just a necessary causality along the road towards whatever agenda she is currently working towards. You were just a tool for her to use and dispose of. Your kids are no different. Just smaller tools, is all. Get over it.

Hope … Hope is for fucking morons. Take control of your life and stop hoping that anyone else is going to do anything for you.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

*Twitter @mickeybrennan7

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*Fuck this World! and other such thoughts by Mickey Brennan – Volume I available here

Cheaters Never Prosper … Or Always Propers … Or …

05 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by in Sports and Entertainment ...

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Ray. Fucking. Lewis.

Well, I’m back after about a month or so hiatus. And, by hiatus, what I actually mean is that I was working on the final touches and such for my book’s release. Alas, it is done and available online. Currently, it is exclusive to the Kindle and any device that has a Kindle app or the ability to read Kindle files. Look it up … Fuck this World! and other such thoughts by Mickey Brennan – Volume I, Kindle Edition.

But I digress …

Shameless plug is out of the way … Moving on.

So the Super Bowl is over. Not that there was anything super about it all this year. Two sub-caliber “champions” went at it, and looked like two sub-caliber “champions” going at it. Unless you were a Baltimore or San Francisco fan, it is unlikely that this game was anything more than painful to watch. I was actually planning on writing this yesterday, but needed another day just to get over the worst Super Bowl I had ever seen, albeit a fitting end to the worst NFL season I have ever seen.

I was literally so disinterested in the game this year that I wanted to see both teams lose. And in some form of cosmic way, it kind of happened.

Very first play of the game was a penalty on offense. Joe Flacco threw more ill-advised lazy duck passes that hung in the air like a balloon than Rex Grossman. Oddly, said passes were repeatedly caught against a defense that was supposed to be considered vaunted. Colin Kaepernick, for most of the game, played like a QB who was starting just the 10th game of his career. The officiating was abysmal. There was a 34 minute game delay due to the lights going out. The play calling by both teams, at times, was absolutely dumbfounding for anyone coaching in a Super Bowl. And the game was decided by one of the worst fucking no-calls in Super Bowl history.

But Ray Lewis got another ring. Aren’t we all happy for him? He gets to ride off into the sunset after winning the Super Bowl a second time. What a great story.

Oh wait … Ray Lewis. Isn’t that the guy who was involved in a double homicide a while back, lied to police, manipulated the system, and got off clean … at the same time assured that the other two involved in the incident also got off clean? Didn’t he father five kids by four different women? No matter though, he found Jesus after that, right? Hang on, hang on, hang on … He found Jesus and then was more recently found to be “allegedly” taking a banned substance so speed up his recovery from what should have been a season ending injury and is currently (again, allegedly) lying about it.

So a man who is a criminal, a womanizer, and a cheat gets to make millions of dollars and end his career on a high note with no real consequences for his actions. Love the world we live in.

We tell out children that cheaters never prosper, the good guys always win, and fooling around will never bring you happiness. Nice fucking fairytale, but not quite the reality of it, is it?

Ray Lewis is a perfect example. He was involved in the stabbing deaths of two men. Now, he didn’t wield the knife. No one is really saying he did. It was someone he was with. However, he was involved in the fight, knew his friend had stabbed two people, fled the scene, and hid the bloody clothes he was wearing, lied to the police, lied to the prosecution, and so on and forth.

And when he found out on the news later that night that the fight he was involved in resulted in the deaths of two men, did he grieve? Did he show remorse? Did he have a thought in the world about the men who lay dead in the streets of Buckhead because of the altercation that he took part in?

No.

He ordered everyone in his entourage to keep their mouths shut, sat down with his head in his hands, and said “I’m not trying to end my career like this” … allegedly.

Great fucking man there. People are dead and all he can think about is his fucking career. But then again, why not. Professional sports are filled with athletes like him, individuals who would be in jail if not for the fact that they can throw, hit, dribble a basketball, or demonstrate other such skills better than most normal law-abiding citizens. They’re entertainers. Give them a fucking pass.

On to the five children by four woman. That just makes him standard trash though. There are people like that in all levels of society.

Now for the cheating … Big fucking surprise there, right? A person who has done the things Ray Lewis has done and gotten away with has also cheated in the sport he calls his career. Is this really a shock? Did no one see this coming? A thirty-seven year old man has, what should be, a season-ending injury, he makes an announcement that he will be retiring after the season, and then makes a miraculous recover in half the time that a man fifteen years younger would have taken. You can’t write stories better than this.

Hold it … Yes you can. You can write the story of Ray Lewis: the man who took part in a fight that cost two people their lives, lied, cheated in his sport, fooled around, and since that fateful night of the double homicide, has made over $85 million dollars.

But he found Jesus. Or his PR person found Jesus for him because it would be good for his image. Either way … There’s that.

Cheaters never prosper … What a fucking joke.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

*Twitter @mickeybrennan7

*Facebook Mickey Brennan

*Fuck this World! and other such thoughts by Mickey Brennan – Volume I available here

‘Twas the Night before Christmas … At the Place

24 Monday Dec 2012

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‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the world

Fucking morons were lurking like a banner unfurled;

They sauntered about like a child without care,

Their mind-numbing madness almost too much to bear.

 

The Crazies at the Place were all out of their beds,

With various narcotics to fuzzy their heads;

While I did my rounds, the peace for to keep,

For drunken and high, no way they would sleep.

 

After all was clear, I put on my hoodie,

Ready to leave and enjoy some fine Christmas goodies;

When back near the gym, I heard such a clatter,

And I thought to myself, Now what’s the matter?

 

I’d dealt with hatchets and hookers in these halls as I’ve roamed,

I’ve handled druggies and drunkards, it was time to go home.

But I ran to the source, for that was my duty,

Even though I had a headache that had become quite a beauty.

 

So I carried on, my head rather sore,

Double checking the hallways, rooms, and locked doors;

When I saw such a sight most would think was insane,

A fat man in a suit and eight wild game.

 

“Ho, ho, ho!” said the man in the plumpy red clad.

I’m hallucinating, I thought. This headache is bad.

I stared at old Santa, cookies still in his jowls;

Spilling crumbs on the floor, as his reindeer chewed on our towels.

 

“Hey now Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen,

Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen;

I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re going to stay

Then stop eating our towels! They’re a dollar a day!”

 

Santa apologized for the mess, and said “Never fear!

I’m delivering presents to the residents, mostly liquors and beer.”

That makes sense, I thought, for I knew the residents well;

Gifts of alcoholic beverages would suit them quite well.

 

“But sadly,” he went on, “I’m a little bit stressed,

For a resident has moved, and left no forwarding address.

So now I am left with a six pack of beer,

With no one to share in its holiday cheer.”

 

That was certainly a problem, and although it wasn’t my taste,

It seemed almost a sin to let the drinks go to waste.

So I offered my services, as the reindeer hooves clicked;

And I tipped back a few with jolly old Saint Nick.

 

As I drank I thought back of the previous years,

Of the Crazies, the morons, the pain and the tears.

In the moment they seemed simpler, and far so less trite.

The world seemed more perfect, if only for the night.

 

Which was odd, for I’m a bitter and broken old soul,

Long before my encounter with the man from North Pole.

Was it Christmas, I thought, that had given me pause?

A simple visit from wildlife and ole Santa Claus?

 

When the last beer was gone, Santa said with a wink,

“It was a pleasure to share in this Christmas Eve drink.”

“The pleasure was mine,” I assured, most sincere,

As that damn Donner trotted over and nipped at my ear.

 

“Bad reindeer!” said Santa, pushing Donner away.

Then he walked out the door and climbed into his sleigh.

A moment later he was gone, through the air, out of sight;

His jolly voice fading, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

***

So there you have it. A bit of a new take on an old favorite. One of mine, at any rate.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off … And Merry Christmas, I guess

*Twitter @mickeybrennan7

*Facebook Mickey Brennan

There, but for the grace of God …

17 Monday Dec 2012

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The holidays are often referred to as a time of joy. It is a time for family, food, smiles, laughs, and the creation of fond memories. Lost in the merriment, however, is the fact that the holidays are also a time of stress. Sleep patterns change, there are mobs of traffic, people tend to eat and drink more than they would at other times, and more money is spent than people can afford.

To counter the stress, the holidays are normally filled with support from families via holiday parties, the exchange of gifts, cards, etc … But what about those who do not have this support? What happens to them?

We recently had two individuals pass away at the Place. Since the Place is nothing more than a fucking high school with a bunch of full-fledged adult residents gossiping like little school girls, rumors have spread throughout the building about how these two individuals met their proverbial maker.

Of course, the popular rumor is that they both committed suicide. In truth, I don’t know if that is true or not. While I did know both residents, I was not privy to their innermost thoughts.

One often came back to the gym area. Not so much to work out, just to talk. He noticed the scar I had on my neck and realized that we had both had the same neck surgery.

Now, I am not exactly one to “bond” with people. Honestly, I had no desire to talk to the man at all. Not because there was anything wrong with him. I just don’t like people. But he would find times when I was stuck in an area that I couldn’t leave and would talk me ear off about his surgery, the pain that he was going through, the meds he was on, and the horrible effects those meds had on him. Although the conversations were almost completely one-sided, I related to most everything he spoke of. The sickening side-effects of the meds, the catastrophic pain that rolls over the body when you wake up, and the notion of having to take it one day at a time in the hopes that someday the pain would stop.

After he was found in his room, the very first thing I heard was that he had taken rat poison a few days prior and was admitted to the hospital. So the rumor was that when he was released, he finished the job he had started. Again, whether this is true or not, I cannot say. The fucking jags who reside in the Place love a good story, fictional or otherwise.

The second individual to pass had a tragedy as well. Not a surgically repaired neck. No, his story was even worse. My understanding was that he worked for DCFS at one time. He was trying to break up a fight between a pair of youths when one of them stabbed him in the throat with a knife. Because of this, he had a permanent tracheostomy (breathing tube in the front of his neck.)

He could barely speak, and mostly kept to himself. On the rare occasions that I would see him, all I would really get is “one day at a time.” That was his response when anyone would ask him how he was doing. Only he didn’t say it. He would indicate this philosophy by holding up one finger and smiling. I wish I could say it was a happy smile, but it wasn’t. It was forced. One could tell if they look hard enough.

When he was found in his room, the rumor was that he had left a suicide note. Again, this was only a rumor. It is just as likely that he died or some natural cause. But it still grants a moment’s pause.

The holidays are coming. These two individuals were going through the same stresses that everyone else is going through. On top of that, they were dealing with daily trials and tribulations that the common person will never have to deal with. Further still, the residents at the Place, more often than not, do not have family. They are alone. So they have nothing to counter the increased stress, the increased loneliness that they feel as the Yuletide approaches. It’s times like these that people in such situations feel their weakest. It’s times like these when they give up.

I don’t know why it bothers me. I have seen death before. I will see it again. Maybe it is because I saw a little bit of myself in each of these two. I know what it is like to be in pain. I know the feeling of waking up every morning, wondering how I made it through the previous day, wonder how I’m going to make it through another. Those who have not experienced it, cannot understand. But I do. I do every single second of my life.

One day at a time … Perhaps it was their time to go. Or perhaps they simply ran out of reasons to stay. Either way, it’s a somber wake-up call. It’s not such a holly jolly season for everyone.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

*Twitter @mickeybrennan7

*Facebook Mickey Brennan

No Sense in Senslessness

15 Saturday Dec 2012

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Twenty-six dead, twenty of whom were children between the ages of Kindergarten and 4th grade. This is the tragedy that occurred in a Connecticut elementary school in the early hours of December 14, 2012.

Now, in the aftermath, the world sorts out the pieces. Blame is being placed. Pro-gun groups are already crossing swords with anti-gun groups. Politicians are jumping at he opportunity to use this tragedy as a launch pad for their soapbox preachings that will do nothing more that feed their own agendas. And lost in all of this is the simple reality that we live in a fucked up world. It doesn’t matter if you reside in the west side of Chicago, the slums or New York, or a decent and relatively crime free town in Connecticut … You never really know if you’re safe anymore, if your children are safe anymore. The only certainty is that nothing is certain.

It was senseless violence, but still the media will look to find sense in it. Already they have written about how the shooter, Adam Lanza’s, older brother Ryan believes his younger brother may have had some mental issues.

Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? A man walks into an elementary school and opens fire on children and it’s possible that he had a mental issue? What a genius observation. Every murderer has some sort of mental defect. But now that it has been said, there will be those who will try to deflect the blame away from the shooter, to turn the focus away from the victims while literally making a victim out of the killer.

Here’s the deal … It is extremely likely that Lanza had a mental issue. So do most of the people living in the world. However, there is no way in fucking hell that any issue he had can be used to excuse his actions. He didn’t flip out and murder people around him because of some uncontrolable impulse. He murdered his mother, then made his way to the school where his mother taught armed with semiautomatic weapons while wearing a bullet proof vest.

Why wear a vest? Was he worried that the children might fire back at him? Is anyone on the planet really fucking moronic enough to believe that? The one and only reason he wore a vest was because he knew the police would eventually show up. He knew the police would shoot at him. He wore it to protect himself from those who would fight to save the lives of the children he intended to slaughter. There is no hell deep enough to bury his worthless soul.

And what did this fucking piece of biological trash do when he was cornered, after having destroyed the lives of not only those he murdered, but the lives of every member of the victims’ families? He shot himself, big fucking man that he is.

And the stories keep rolling in. Every few minutes a new article is being posted online about the crime and the man behind the violence. He’s being described as a quiet, reserved, genius of a man who seemed detached from the other kids when growing up due to his rigid upbringing. Of course … Blame the parents, blame his upbringing.

As far as I’m concerned, he was nothing more than a coward. He may have had a rough upbringing. Poor baby. He must be the only one who ever had a tough time growing up with parents who were too firm. Even if they were abusive, it still gives him no excuse for what he did. He made a conscious decision. A conscious, violent, and deadly decision. And when it was time for him to face up to it, the fucking coward shot himself. And that is all that he was … A coward.

There are no more words …

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

*Twitter @mickeybrennan7

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The Trifecta …

13 Thursday Dec 2012

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Seriously? I mean, you have got to be fucking kidding me. For the third time since Labor Day, I have been hit by a car. First I was hit while on my motorcycle. Next incident, I was hit by a car pulling out of a parking space—without looking—as I walked through a parking lot. Now, I’ve been hit by a drunk driver while I was sitting at a stop in my car.

I quit. There apparently is no escaping it. I am destined to be hit by a car in every possible manner. I have already covered motorcycle, on foot, and in my car. All that’s left is on a boat or in a plane. Guess I won’t be taking any boat or plane rides in the near future.

What are the fucking odds? Literally, what are the odds? Of all of the people in the city, I get hit by a car on three separate occasions, all within about a three-month period. I wasn’t even moving this most recent time.

Here’s the best part. This drunk ass jag didn’t even stop. He kept right on going as if nothing happened. Being that I was pretty sick of being assaulted by automobiles, I gave chase. After several blocks, I finally got him to pull over.

There, I confronted him about the aforementioned collision. I was greeted with a glazed over stare accompanying a groggy “Really? Are you sure?”

Yeah, I’m fucking sure, jackass. You think my mirror hangs like this on purpose? What a fucking stupid thing to ask. Am I sure? How the fuck do you not know that you just hit a car … hard?

He tried to get out of his vehicle. This is the point when I realized the imbecile was drunk … really drunk … like I-need-to-grab-the-doorframe-to-help-me-out-of the-car drunk. While he crawled out his car, I noticed a significant amount of damage to the driver’s side of his car. My initial thought was that he really fucking hit me hard. A moment later, however, I realized that I had been hit on the driver’s side as he drover past me going in the same direction I was heading. Thus, the damage should be on the passenger side of his car. It became immediately clear that I was not the first car he had hit on his drunken bender.

So I called the police. Normally, I’m not one to bust people out over something like a car accident. Just exchange insurances, go in and fill out a police report, and have a nice night. But drunk driving? He could have fucking killed someone … Like me, for instance.

The police arrived and essentially told me that this guy was fucked. He was way beyond drunk. He could not even figure out how to get his ID out of his wallet. In his defense, it appeared to be a rather complicated wallet. Lots of slots and compartments. Way too many for a man’s wallet. He claimed, however, that he had had only one beer. Obviously he was quite the lightweight.

I must admit that as the police were telling me how screwed this guy was, I almost felt sorry for him. One officer told me that he was more likely to get leniency for a homicide than for drunk driving. He’s looking at about $20,000 in fines, possible jail time, and a suspension of his license … and he’s only 22 years old. Sucks to have your life fucked at such a young age. Then again, I had to remind myself that he hit me, as well as another car at some point, and was so drunk that he didn’t even know what he had done. He very likely could have t-boned a car going through an intersection and caused some real damage had I not chased him down and got him out of the car. He could have hit a car with kids in it. Anything could have happened. Alas, my pity for him was short-lived.

Of course, I didn’t exactly walk away unscathed. The adrenaline kicked in immediately, so I didn’t feel much at the time. However, when I got home, I discovered a swollen red lump on my forehead, my neck was sore and stiff, as was my lower back. No worries though. I’ll live. Just a few aches and pains. Still tired of being hit by cars though. Could you fucking morons please find a new target? My trifecta is complete.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

Why Blame a Cop?

08 Saturday Dec 2012

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They say ignorance is bliss. I disagree. I say ignorance is really fucking annoying. Take the following scenario for instance …

I was minding my own business and everything, but I couldn’t help overhearing a conversation where one individual at the Place was talking to another about how he was pulled over by a cop and given a ticket for speeding.

Now, he wasn’t denying he was speeding. Not in the least. In fact he was admitting that he was driving in excess of 20mph over the speed limit. But that wasn’t the point, was it? His point was that he wasn’t a criminal. With all the crime that is going on in the city, why was he getting pulled over? Didn’t the cop have something better to do? My favorite aspect was when he punctuated with “Fuck it … They’re all corrupt racists anyways.”

Seriously?

Okay, jackass, let’s back this up a little. First off, you fucking moron, you admitted to speeding. Does that make you a criminal? A criminal is someone who commits a crime. To drive beyond the speed limit is against the law. Breaking a law is committing a crime. Committing a crime makes you a criminal. Not exactly hardcore or anything, but by definition, yes you imbecile, you actually are a criminal. And unfortunately for you, the police are charged with going after all criminals, not just the hardcore ones.

Second … All cops are corrupt racists?

I will admit, it was at this point that I joined the conversation, querying the asinine statement the individual had made. He stood fast in his assertion and then questioned how I could disagree. I simply answered that I was not a brainless whiny little bitch who speaks in ludicrous absolutes like “all cops are corrupt racists.”

In truth, the conversation went nowhere. You cannot reason with the unreasonable, just as you cannot speak sense to the senseless. This man was less than either. However, I would like to point out a few things to those of you out there who either are or know someone who shares in this fucking moron’s point of view.

When I was young, literally like eight or nine years old, I remember reading a little blurb in the newspaper entitled “Why Blame a Cop?” I actually don’t really remember the article at all. I remember that it was short and to the point, but little else other than that. The title, however, stuck with me. Why do we, as the aforementioned mentioned imbecile does, blame a cop?

When we get pulled over for speeding or get a parking ticket, cops are fucking jags. When the news runs a report about police brutality (oft-times blown way out of proportion, however there are times when it is founded) the world gangs on up on the men and women behind the badge. The world talks shit about them behind their back, mocks them, disrespects them, and treats them like garbage. And why? Because cops have attitudes? Because they profile people? Because they don’t play nice with everyone?

Answer me this … When, do you think, was last time a call came over the radio asking for an officer to stop by a location because there was a party going on and the host would like to offer them some food and little relaxation? When was the last time a 911 call came through to report that everything was fine? When was the last time an officer arrived at a scene to see smiling happy people all getting along wonderfully?

I would say there is a realistic chance that none of the above has ever occurred. The reality is that the police deal with the bottom rung of society on a regular basis. They don’t get invited to parties to share in a drink, they get called to a party to break up a fight while getting spit on and shouted at by drunk belligerent jags. They get called to the scene where a child has been beaten and abused, where a woman has been raped and murdered, where some fucking jackass had a bad day and decided to take it out on the world with a shotgun.

And when they are put in these sometimes very threatening situations, what do they do? When they are getting ready to kick in that door to a crackhouse, knowing that there may be gunfire waiting for them on the other side, what are they thinking? When thoughts of their family, their wives, their husbands, their children flash through their minds when the inevitable fear that they may not make it home from work that day crosses their mind because some pimp is holding his hooker hostage at gunpoint while hopped up on meth and they’re now caught in the crossfire, what happens next?

I’ll tell you what happens. They put those fears aside and they do their job. A job that the whiny little bitch above wouldn’t have the balls to do himself. And they do it everyday. They serve and protect. Regardless of who you are or whether your life is worth it or not, they are risking their own to protect and serve it.

So yeah, I’ll cut a cop some slack if he or she isn’t smiling when I get pulled over for driving 20mph over the speed limit, realistically putting other drivers at risk, by the way. I’ll forgive them if they aren’t politically correct in their lingo. I understand that they are not speaking of a culture, but instead they are speaking about a class within a culture. After all, every culture has its trash. And they majority of the time, it’s that trash that police have to deal with.

In the end, I don’t care if a cop has the best attitude. I actually don’t expect them to. I like that they’re hardened up a bit. Because when it comes down to it, they are doing a job that most people could not. They are essentially being told that there is a good chance that at some point they are going to be shouted at, spit at, pushed, hit, wrestled with, cut, shot, etc … They are told this, yet they continue to do their job every single day.

So pay your fucking ticket, shut your fucking mouth, and show some fucking respect. Because when your life is in jeopardy, the police will be the first people you turn to. With any luck, it will be the same cop who pulled you over. Cosmic irony and all.

Whatever …

Until next time … Fuck off

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