Godforsaken Bastards and Why They Suck Ass

The Opening: A Season in the Shade

We have entered the era of the Godforsaken Bastard. It is a time defined not by leadership, but by the violent curation of chaos. A period where the traditional guardrails of decency haven't just been ignored, they’ve been sold for scrap. This is the portrait of a collective that thrives on the friction of a world in collapse, a rogue’s gallery of the high-born and the low-lived who have mistaken their cruelty for courage and their greed for a mandate. They move through our culture like a virus in a designer suit, insulated by billions and emboldened by a mob that has been taught to love the sound of breaking glass. This zine is the shadow to the saints; it is a jagged, unwashed look at the architects of our current misery, the enforcers of our fear, and the loud-mouthed parasites who provide the soundtrack to the demolition of the common good. Welcome to the wreckage.

The Unwilling Statistic - OR - Fuck That!

I’ve got a list of diagnoses a mile long, including diabetes, afib, and sleep apnea; however, it’s the COPD (which is just a pretty way of saying emphysema) that’s trying to put a timestamp on my life. They say three to five years. That’s the math. The worst part of that math is knowing I wrote the equation myself. Forty-five years of heavy smoking has caught up to me, and now my lungs are paying the debt I racked up. I have nobody to blame but the person in the mirror.

But here’s the thing: I’m not willing to die this young. I’m not done yet. Fuck that!

No, Jesse Welles is NOT pro-Charlie fucking Kirk

Yes, Jesse Welles wrote a song about the killing of Charlie Kirk. NO, it was NOT a pro-gung ho-Charlie is a martyr song.

It was a song about gun violence and freedom of speech...

Tolkein's Vogon Poetry

I've been trying to read Fellowship of the Ring again.

I read the series 35 years ago, and it was like slogging through Boston after the great molasses flood. Just agonizing.

Tolkein couldn't write poetry if a gun was held to his head and he was under threat of death to write a decent poem. And every chapter has one, two, or more of his awful fucking Vogon poetry.

I'll be just getting into the rhythm of the story when fucking JRR decides it's time to pull out his Prostetinic Vogon Jeltz mask and begin:

The Myth of the Neutral Platform

In her own hateful words

There is a common misconception that providing a stage for extremist viewpoints is an act of "objective journalism" or "free speech advocacy." However, when you give a KKK leader, a Nazi, or a bigot a microphone, you aren't just observing them; you are participating in their expansion.

Marshmallow Peeps Are Proof That God Has Forsaken Us

I don't know about you, but when I look at a Marshmallow Peep I don’t see a treat; I see a chemical glow that has no business existing in nature. It’s a neon warning sign in the shape of a bird. Then comes that first bite - that weird, gritty mouthfeel where the sugar crystals scrape against your teeth like fine-grit sandpaper, followed immediately by the soul-crushing squish of a marshmallow that feels less like food and more like a damp, sugary tire.

Power Without Oversight Is Not Law Enforcement

In a constitutional system, enforcement authority is granted with an explicit condition: it must be constrained, reviewable, and accountable. When any agency operates beyond meaningful oversight, power ceases to be lawful in practice even if it remains lawful in name.

This concern is not theoretical. Repeated audits, inspections, and independent reviews have documented systemic failures in immigration enforcement agencies to meet basic standards of transparency, accountability, and humane treatment. These findings come not from advocacy alone, but from inspectors general, federal courts, and oversight bodies tasked with evaluating compliance with the law.

When Democracy Requires More Than Words

Democracy doesn't collapse in a single moment. It erodes gradually, through delay, complacency, and the comforting illusion that someone else will intervene before lasting damage is done. By the time the threat feels undeniable, the tools meant to stop it are often weakened or already gone.

This is the danger of treating civic engagement as symbolic rather than functional. Voting, representation, and institutional balance are not gestures of identity or expressions of mood. They are mechanisms. When those mechanisms fail to operate as designed, democratic systems lose their ability to correct abuse, enforce accountability, and restrain the concentration of power.

A Scorched Earth Wake Up Call - Impeach Trump Now

There comes a point where outrage stops being a reaction and becomes a survival instinct. We passed that point years ago. We're living under a man who treats war like a toy. Iran, Venezuela, anywhere he can point a finger and pretend he's a strongman. It's reckless. It's cruel. It's the behavior of someone who should never have been allowed near power.

And here's what breaks me. Here's what turns anger into something volcanic. The deaths of girls in US bombings. My claim is simple. One hundred seventy five girls. Gone. Wiped out by the kind of military action Trump treats like a flex. Children who never had a chance. Families who will never recover. Futures erased because someone in Washington wanted to look tough on television.

The Midterm Mirage: America’s First Tyrant and the End of the Experiment

 

I’ve been listening to the "cancellation" rumors swirling around the White House this week; let’s be real; when this man hints at something, he’s usually already got the matches lit. The talk of "suspending" the 2026 midterms for "national security" or "election integrity" is the final boss of his authoritarian fever dream. We are staring down the barrel of a permanent presidency; the big question isn't just if he’ll try it, but what the hell happens when he does.

The Havana Tripwire: Why Trump's "Friendly Takeover" is a Nuclear Death Wish

I’ve been watching the news this week with a mounting sense of dread; if you aren’t feeling it too, you aren’t paying attention. Trump is out there on the White House lawn casually tossing off comments about a "friendly takeover" of Cuba like he’s talking about buying a failing golf course. But let’s be clear; there is nothing friendly about a fuel blockade that has families in Havana cooking over wood fires because the grid is dead.

Let Them Eat Cake? Or Should They Eat The Rich?

A conversation snippet with my friend Gale inspired me to do some quick research and write up my thoughts about the super rich. Here we go:

Cap Is as Stupid as Pinocchio's Nose Is Long

I spent three hours last night chasing my own tail because "Cap", as I call the Microsoft Copilot AI pre-installed on my laptop, decided to run me around the fucking bushes. I asked for a simple fix to get my graphics filter librarian working; instead of the two-step solution I requested, I got a 2500-piece jigsaw puzzle (with one missing piece) of tech geekery that went nowhere.

The Stupidest Revenants in Modern Life: DST the Electoral College, and Inches

Daylight Saving Time made sense when the country was built on farming and manual labor. People woke up with the sun. Work depended on daylight. Shifting the clock actually changed how much usable light you had in a day. That world is gone. We are not an agrarian society anymore. We haven’t been for a long time. Yet twice a year we keep yanking the clock around like it still matters.

The whole thing is stupid now. Most people work indoors. Most people live by digital schedules. Our phones adjust automatically. Our jobs don’t depend on squeezing the last bit of sunlight out of the evening. But we still cling to this outdated ritual that does nothing except screw up sleep cycles, disrupt kids’ routines, and make everyone miserable for a week. It’s a tradition that survived only because no one bothered to kill it.

Why Celtics Fans Need to Stop Ignoring Kevin McHale

Kevin McHale wasn’t just part of the Big Three. He was the piece that made the whole thing work. Bird was the genius. Parish was the anchor. But McHale was the matchup nightmare that turned Boston’s front line into something the league had never seen before. Without him, the Big Three isn’t the Big Three. It’s just Bird and Parish with a missing limb.

What’s wild is how often he gets ignored now. Modern Celtics fans talk about Bird like he carried the entire decade on his back, and they treat McHale like he was some nice supporting character instead of the guy who put half the league in the torture chamber. He was the one opponents dreaded. He was the one Barkley and Olajuwon openly admitted they couldn’t guard. He was the one who could drop 30 on you without breaking a sweat or saying a word.

The Myth of the “Great Dad" and the Reality of Child Neglect

Trigger Warning: Child abuse both physical and sexual, serious neglect

I have come to realize that my father was not the great man everyone insists he was. People love to build legends out of the bare minimum, and he benefited from that more than most. They thought he was the world's greatest man and father, because he was raising two girls "all by himself".

My sister was raised by her best friend's family, in their home, where she essentially lived from age 7 to 15. I stayed home until I was ten and moved in with my mother for a year. Then St. Ann's and being trained like a wild dog. Ma and St. Ann's staff were the people who taught me how to fake it enough to survive in normal people situations. 

The truth about Dad is simpler and uglier. He did not protect me. He did not teach me. He did not discipline me. He neglected me so thoroughly that it shaped the entire trajectory of my childhood.

When Their Rights Are Sacred and Yours Are Optional

I am absolutely, unapologetically, and without exception pro transgender rights...

How the FUCK Are MAGA Followers Still Worshipping This Guy?

 

At this point, trying to understand MAGA loyalty feels like trying to explain why a goddam raccoon keeps coming back to the same dumpster fire. You’d think eventually the smell of burning garbage and shit would register. But no, they’re still there, still digging, still convinced they’ve found treasure while the rest of us are fucking gagging.

Because honestly, how in fuck do you keep supporting someone after everything that’s come out? We’re talking about a man with multiple criminal convictions, a man who’s been at the center of more lawsuits than a defective chainsaw company, a man who is all over the Epstein files (and probably guilty of pedophilia), a man whose public behavior would get any normal person fired, shunned, or at least politely escorted out of the building. But not him. No, he’s their golden calf with a spray tan and a microphone...

Time for a living wage, dammit!

On July 24, 2009 the federal minimum wage was elevated by congress, raising the rate to $7.25 per hour. This remains the current federal minimum as of early 2026. This is the longest period in U.S. history without a congressional update. This is egregious neglect and abuse of the workers and needs to be addressed.

Key details regarding the federal minimum wage:

* Duration: The $7.25 rate has been in place for over 16 years.

* Purchasing Power: The value of the minimum wage has declined significantly due to inflation, losing roughly 30% or more of its purchasing power since 2009.

* State vs. Federal: While the federal rate is stagnant, many states have implemented higher minimum wages. 

(The previous bullet list was pasted from Google.)

Texas, however does not give a hot fuck. Minimum wage here and in 19 other states is $7.25. And in Texas, if you're a tipped worker, such as a waitress or waiter, you get a whopping $2.13 an hour.

To put that into perspective, in 1982, FORTY-FOUR years ago, I was hired for my first job, waitressing in Massachusetts, where the tipped wage was $2.10 per hour. And it was not enough to live well or comfortably on. Things have NOT improved since then.

Three cents an hour. That's how much more per hour this fucked up state is paying its tipped workers in 2026 than I earned in 1982.

LIVING WAGE NOW, MOTHERFUCKERS!

FUCK Cancer! Fuck It In The EAR! I’m DONE Watching This Monster Hurt People I Love

Cancer is the one motherfucker that never clocks out. It doesn’t care how good you are, how careful you’ve been, how much you’ve already survived. It just shows up like a goddam wrecking ball and dares you to pretend this is normal. I’m fucking sick of it. I’m sick of watching people I love get blindsided by a piece of shit disease that feels like it’s everywhere, all the time, creeping into every family like some kind of outrageous cosmic joke.

We talk about cancer like it’s a statistic, like it’s a chart, like it’s a ribbon color. But when it hits your circle, it’s not a number, it’s a gut punch. It’s fear. It’s rage. It’s the helplessness of knowing that even with all our medical advances of the last motherfucking century, all our research, all our awareness campaigns, this thing still keeps taking swings at the people who deserve it the least.

And I’m tired. Tired of pretending to be calm. Tired of acting like this is just part of life. Tired of watching strong, brilliant, irreplaceable people get dragged into a fight they never fucking asked for...