An Unsent Letter To Michigan DOT date 9/6/2006

I lived in an awful place, and an awful state of mind. The only good thing about the mindset that produced this was moment of clarity that stopped me sending it.

To: Michigan Department of Transportation, Head of Road Planning, Metro Region

From: Everyone who has driven on civilized, well planned roads outside of your jurisdiction. (Civilized, well planned roads includes Boston.)

Dear Asstard,

What in the name of the Almighty Murphy’s Hairy Balls possesses you? You and anyone working for you obviously do not drive on the roads you so ineptly plan. How the Holy Fuck can you sign off on this shit and be pleased with yourselves? Is this one of those mafia “no-show” jobs gone white-collar?

Why, in order to get onto an interstate in this state, does someone usually have to turn across traffic, that having driven on your substandard artillery-paved surfaces for their whole lives, is too fucking angry to slow down for someone else?

Why is it that 90% of speed limit signs are obstructed, causing most overly cautious drivers to drive at 30 MPH everywhere? Was this done on purpose to artificially inflate the safe driving statistics?

Why do you not allow left turns onto most major surface streets? Why do you necessitate the “Michigan Left” which in every other state, county, and parish of this country is called a U-Turn? Why do you allow well meaning fucktards to plant view-obstructing shrubbery anywhere one of these turns is made?

Are you all drunk? I mean like Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas stupid-ass-hammered. It would be understandable living in the Metro Region. However, there are very successful programs for that. Please enter one.

If substance abuse is not the problem then can I assume that budget cuts have forced the hiring of angry lower primates, such as baboons? If that is the case please teach the creatures to drive, so they have a more accurate idea of how to do their jobs.

If not drunk, and not plagued with carnivorous monkeys, then really guys, what the fuck? These roads suck. They are dangerous, poorly planned, and falling apart.

There is one final possibility; perhaps you have given up, realizing that nothing you will ever do will make a difference, and that if shit keeps decaying the Feds will eventually step in and fix it. I hear the Feds can afford to hire chimpanzees that have completed courses in basic logic. This would definitely be a step up.

In closing I humbly extend this invitation to Blow Me.

Fuck You Very Much,

CSW

Walters’ Rules Of Wrist 6-03-2014

If someone requires you to accept being treated as an inferior, they are not your friend.

If the price for your friendship is to accept being treated as inferior, the price is too high.

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Liars think everyone lies about everything.

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If you tell someone it isn’t okay to be upset about something, especially when they’re already upset, you’re a cunt. You are not enlightened and sharing your wisdom, you are not helping, you are just a goddamned twatheaded fuck.

If you are the reason someone is upset, and you tell them it isn’t okay to be upset, you are nothing but a twunt. But you should be a twunt with a fat lip.

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Unwanted advice is unwanted. Unwanted advice that disregards part of the problem so the advisor can maintain feelings of superiority is twuntish. This may upset someone. See previous.

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Compensating for fear, depression, or feelings of inadequacy by talking down to people is twuntish, and may upset someone. See previously previous.

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If you act superior to everyone else, yet you live a life no one would choose, you are being laughed at.

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If you think life is a competition wherein you have to be the superlative (Best _____, Worst _____, Most _____, _____-est) in every conversation in order to win, you have already lost.

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Trying to live up to your own reputation ceases to be living when it keeps you from growing, or worse, causes regression. It eventually turns you into a cartoon version of yourself. And you will be laughed at.

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If they think you might be spouting bullshit, and, instead of offering proof you just yell and act intimidating, they do become certain. That you're spouting bullshit.

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If you think, by your romantic experience, that women are crazy, then I’ve got news for you: it’s not them; it’s you.

"Women Are Crazy"

This is a thing that enrages me to hear. However, I hear it regularly from men who should know better, or be made to turn in their testicles.

My mother claimed to be a feminist. She was not one. She hated men, because she blamed them for her own bad decisions. Calling herself a feminist put a positive spin on irrationally writing off half the human species, shielding her from her own failings.

I don’t accept it when I hear a woman say “Men are evil”, or anything like it. Nor do I accept the flipside:

“Women are crazy.”

I hear this, or a variation of it, from a number of otherwise intelligent testiculated humans. It has always rankled when I hear it, because it has always sounded like bullshit, even when I had little knowledge (or self-confidence) with which to refute it. It’s a sweeping generalization, with no allowance for deviation. I hate those.

The first reason I hate this statement is the plain arrogance of it, as though the speaker has knowledge of an entire gender. It is self-congratulatory, or self-pitying foolishness. It doesn’t allow for the possibility that the speaker is missing something, that their method of observation is flawed. It also disregards the very idea of mathematical odds, which would tend to say that 3+ billion human beings could not all be crazy.

The second reason for my ire is that this thought disregards the possibility that speaker has some part in creating what they observe. Let me be plain in this: If you believe All Women Are Crazy then

A)    you attract only crazy women,

or

B)    you do something to make them crazy. Either way it’s more to do with you than them.

The third and most important of my reasons is this: those who make such statements never describe insanity when they describe female behavior. What they describe are the behaviors of people who’ve been manipulated and fucked with for too long and now doubt their own value, instincts and reasoning; they describe the desperation of people who have such little self-worth they will offer to do things that they really don’t want to, but feel they must in order to keep a someone near them.

Once in a while the male who makes such utterances is under the delusion that failure to give him all that he wants is insanity. This attitude is the one that makes me most nauseous. It’s the childish bullshit of a clinical narcissist, the belief that only he is important and women are tools for his use. In this context, when these males say “insane” they mean “malfunctioning”,  which is their synonym for “disobedient”.

Why does this make me so angry? Quite simply, because I have seen real female insanity. My mother, for as long as I can remember, was prone to periods of utter madness, of becoming someone radically different, of believing things not just untrue, but impossible. More than once I experienced absolute terror at the possibility of what she might do in any given situation, whether it be publicly embarrassing, violent or otherwise dangerous. As a child, many times, I experienced the fear that she had been possessed by a demon, or replaced by an alien, that the life-force motivating her body was no longer the woman who had birthed me.

I know from insane. If you say that “Women Are Crazy” but don’t have any stories like mine, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You attract women who you (wrongly) think are crazy, cause them to act so, or have standards based on a personality disorder. And you sound like an idiot to me. The more vehemently you make this statement to me the less pleasant I will be. Or, the less present; I have no patience for people who believe destructive things that are not true, ignore the evidence against, yet aggressively evangelize said beliefs.

Such males are not men, but boys. They will not grow up until they can see their own part in the dysfunction they complain about. Since they will probably never be man enough to admit their own part in things, they should just turn in their testicles.

I have spoken.

Piece Written and Read at Beat Night 4-17-14 (So You)

So You

It started with a text message from my father,

February 10:

I was just notified that your mother died on Feb 6. She is being cremated today. Do not know further details yet.

I was reeling. It was inevitable; she’s been months from death

For years…

But I had always expected to be called, as in the past,

By a doctor

Or the police

Not with the previous “Your mother has been brought in for…”
fill in breathing trouble

Or coworkers’ concern over her erratic behavior,

But instead with
“We regret to inform you…”

I couldn’t anticipate a text from a man who had not seen her in 25 years.

Ages of keeping from myself a secret hope for a call from her saying “I’m seeing a psychiatrist,” 

evaporated 

like rubbing alcohol.

A carefully constructed defensive belief that this news, 

when it finally came,

Would bring nothing but relief, possibly celebration,

Toppled.

Years of anger

Cultivated as hedgerows

Against the Blitz

Of her moodswings, paranoia, and misandry

Suddenly useless,

But no less entrenched.

And I was left confused by my lack of surprise

Thinking at her

‘This is so you.
Thanks mom.”

Chris Walters

April 17, 2014