2013 in Review


My stats (and just about everything about this blog) were unfortunately very lackluster in 2013, but with some very specific goals in mind (perhaps by not using “very” twice in the same sentence) 2014 will be bangin’ for “F*ck You.”  Expect some big things if I have anything to say about it.

Cheers to a great 2014!

~A.R. Schultz

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 7,200 times in 2013. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

 

Ten Things You Probably Don’t Know About Me


ImageThe other day I was finally catching up on my blog readings and I came across NDP’s post, “Ten things you may not know about me…”  It is a great piece.  Oftentimes, writers, bloggers, and artists create these blogs, but as they become more successful and larger than their original roots a new persona is created.  Readers begin to lose sight of the blogger and the blogger loses sight of his or her readers.

A simple post titled, “Ten Things You Probably Don’t Know About Me,” brings it back though.  It closes the gap between the writer and the reader.  I find this to be important.  I write for those to read, and I read to engage those that write.  I should never expect any less of myself.

Check NDP’s blog, “NDPworld.”  It’s a regularly updated and fantastic blog featuring the thoughts and poetics of NDP.  He is acutely aware of social and cultural beats and it is shown within his poetry.  I always gain a new perspective when reading his work.  I urge you to check it out.

Here is my blatant ripoff, “Ten Things You Probably Don’t Know About Me”:

  • I’ve worked as a grocer for the past six-years in various departments and positions.  A jack-of-all-trades if you will.  I enjoy it because it provides health insurance and stories.
  • My favorite band is the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and my favorite album of theirs is “By The Way”; however, my favorite track is “Under the Bridge” from their “Blood. Sugar. Sex. Magik” LP.  *As an aside: vinyl is the only way to go.
  • I enjoy longboarding a great deal.  One of my closest friends and I are building our own longboards, and are considering starting a ‘Spokane Longboarding Group’ for amateurs.  We’re working on several Spokane longboarding guides.
  • I am an atheist.  I appreciate theological and religious scripture from a historical and literary standpoint, but I have difficulties believing in a God.  However, that being said I rarely ever bring it up and it doesn’t bother me to hear of other people’s faith as long as they aren’t trying to indoctrinate me.
  • I have an obese ten-year-old Black and Tan Dachshund named Norman.  I’ve had him for over five-years now and he is the first dog I’ve ever really owned.  He is my best friend, and I don’t know what I would do without him.
  • I am a coffee addict.  It seems cliche, especially coming from a Washingtonian, but I enjoy coffee immensely.  My French Press is my friend.  Luckily for me I work right next to a Starbucks.
  • My best friend and I are currently writing a television screenplay called, “Baggage,” that is about the dark humor found when working in a retail industry, the macabre found in higher education without a job, and crazy girlfriends and boyfriends.
  • I grew up in and around Spokane, WA, USA.  I ended graduating from high school in Cheney Washington and tried to finish a bachelor’s degree at Eastern Washington University, but inevitably found writing to be my calling, rather than academia.
  • I have an immense love of comic books.  I find them to be an ‘American Mythology’ of sorts.  I started my writing career writing reviews about comics books and I still trek down to Merlyn’s Sci-fi and Fantasy Shop every week and pick up my haul.  Funnily enough, my fiancée also enjoys them a great deal and it is a hobby that we started together when we first started dating.
  • I’ve often been described as eccentric.  I try to be a student of all. I love all-types of philosophy, literature, film, and games.  I can be fairly moody, and I think that this plays into my interests.  It has to match my mood, but at the end of the day I will try anything once just to say I have.

 

Almond Sliver


The people nowadays are all just a herd.

I hate it; I can’t stand being a sheep.

I see my fellow man’s morals begin to blur.

Everyone’s shouting, but I can’t hear a peep.

 

I watch dumbfounded as everyone yells.

I want to yell back. I want to bellow and bark.

But, what’s the point in a land of living hells?

They stand occupied, loud and silent, in park.

 

I believe, but I know pessimism better than most.

I trust in a shambled system that just needs more.

I’m not alone. Everyone’s lost– from coast to coast.

When did the wealthy and the rich forget the poor?

 

When did the poor start asking for freebies?

When did the middle get lost and forgotten?

It was the day the rich gave ‘em Rabies.

It was the day the government began rottin’.

 

I maybe lost, but my pen will be found.

It may be tumultuous, but I’ll make a legacy.

When I’m dead and gone, and in the ground

My word will live on like holy regency.

Occupy Wal*Street


The most financially successful I have ever been is when I dropped out of college and started working full-time for near minimum wage at a grocery store. Most of my friends either live with their folks or are jobless with close to forty-grand in student loans. So, when the 1% ask me what this Occupy movement is all about I tell them to imagine this: imagine a world where your daddy doesn’t give you a trust fund, imagine a world where God can’t be used as an excuse not work, and imagine a world where hard work equals success instead of connections equaling success. I am the other 99%.

Remember, Remember, the 11th of September


 Remember, remember, the 11th of September
 The Trade Center ruination and plot;
 I know of no reason why the Trade Center
 Should ever be forgot.

 Al Qaeda, Al Qaeda,
 'Twas their intent.
 To annul morale and hope
 Three planes of bane overhead.
 Poor old America to overthrow.
 By our own providence we preserver'd
 With firemen's lanterns aglow and 
                          the will to rebuild

 Holloa boys, Holloa boys, let the bells ring!
 Holloa boys, Holloa boys, God bless America!

We can.


A one-eyed Jack playin’ his to hand to a King of the Commons isvmerely a meek pirate seeking a six-shooter to avenge his mundane life.  The man tips his yellow hat to the bellhop signaling for change.  The bellhop stands atop his soapbox, caged and afraid lookin’ for the wet monkey while the man in the yellow cap crosses the threshold to foreclose.  Who is that he shouts!?  Is it the sound of the collapsing government, the collapsing dream of America, the collapse of an empire?  Who’ll strike back if the bouncer’s been shot by a one-eyed pirate king?  We the rebels; that is who.  We don’t need a doctor we need healthcare.  Obama can’t burn Congress to the ground, but Congress can sure burn the white house to the ground.  Raze for it penny, sell the land for a grand.  As long as the American people get hurt those old white bastards will reap the benefits till they hang for their anarchy.  Watch their constituents burn them at the stake while deregulated business sponsors the event.  The people will pour and shout into the stadium with posters of a grinning Reagan hoping to hear the tortured screams of a corrupt Congressman.  They have no qualms warring with the world at their own behest, but do they have the balls to war with the people?  Who gave them the seat of power, who wiped their asses when their second term rolled around, who gave them the suit?  We did.  Who can take it away?  We can.

Back to the Past, Part II


Not quite as dirty as Pigpen, but damn would he give Charlie a run for his football.  I’d love to fuckin’ Spin this City half past two just to see two men run around lookin’ for the other half.  Speaking of a hard twist I just knocked the “A” outta that Honda bitch and now it’s hung up by a cord.  Still lookin’ better than my Protégé, but that sad bastard got cubed.  Couldn’t afford to raise it the forth, but boy did I try.  Like a bat outta hell I hit that brake like a pair of cubes hittin’ an avenged glass of Bacardi.  Once the sun fell behind those mountains that Friday the liquid courage was repurposed, rebuilt for a proverbial mind fuck.  To forget Sarah Marshall?  Nah, to forget the days’ events.  Who wants to remember, who wants to forget?

Here’s the quick:  those that know nothing…like a group of tea partyers?  To drunk, strung out, and hypocritical to realize that they’re a staggerin’ mob of stupidity all amassed to show the world that Americans are dumbasses.  They’re like a rave gone awry.  A 12-grain not worth the dollar bill used to harvest that crop.  New Zealand is looking more and more promising, but who the fuck wants to voyage to a land filled with Hobbits?  Pete better come out of that Warehouse soon because whose gonna save us now, Sully?  That blue monster sure looks like a certain cookie muncher to me, but who am I to judge?  Oh, wait like most other Americans I’ll take a moment to conserve intelligence and judge that muncher like they do.   Those that enjoy the drapes that match the carpet don’t clean just like a crazed Sheen because truthfully who wants to steam clean that bitch? Certainly not Bert, and certainly not Ernie, because when those two elope all New Yorkers will stand and shout.  That might get the stain out, but Johnson & Johnson might have a Danon Fit.

What’s that old saying?  When life hands you lemons, make lemonade?  Fuck that.  Hand ‘em back ask for limes…better yet squirt that shit in life’s eye, mug ‘em for oranges and make a screwdriver because if you don’t you’re going to get nailed.  Back to the gays…Michael J. Fox better chase that Delorean because once we hit the past we’re going to wish we went Back to the Future.

 

Life Hands You Limes...Wear 'Em

Panda’s Up Late


Suck that reality.  I just surreal lifed your ass, and you didn’t even bat an eye.  Stick that in it your eye like Wesley Snipes after eatin’ a rat burger.  Ever hear of Aldous?  Nah…only Hurley would ever stay fat when Lost.  Apparently he found plenty of burgers on the set till Weezer hit him up for a cover shoot.  Beverly Hills….please…isn’t that where the fuckin’ hillbillies come from, anyhow?  Why’d you want to hit that?  Fake hair, fake tits, fake smile…might as well be Sarah Palin’s hometown.  Fake all over, not worth a dime, and damn sure to either be eaten be a crazed badger contaminated by the oil soaked debt of an Alaskan publicity whore.

Speaking of which where’s that Lohan…trapped in the jaws of another outraged parent?  Cracked and strung out?  Teaching sisters how and what not to be?  What was it Uncle Ben said?  With great power, comes great responsibility.  I’m still confused whether he said that after or before he made his rice bowls, but either way Panda’s up late and he’s got Skinemax.  So sink your teeth into that blood sausage because those fangs ain’t going to retract them fuckin’ selves.  Again, back to tits, may not be fake but they’re still there to tantalize because who else would care besides a True Blood.  Sure beats a Crypt, because that Keeper is an old bastard…and trust me he was dirty.

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