Here Comes the Deliveries

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Okay, I confess. I am not family friendly.

I was told that, well, since I had this disclaimer for young eyes on my blog that I can never gain the numbers of so many professional bloggers because most people are attracted to family oriented blogs and not adult blogs such as mine. There are too many good and wholesome people out there that just don't see the point in reading my swill.



I don't blame them. Sometimes I wonder about writing my swill. Sometimes I think: should I put the word 'fuck' in here or not? Yeah, I'll put in 'fuck'. I wrestle with editorial objects such as these, as well as adult photographs of people engaged in sex, as if sex is a bad thing. I don't get it. If I take a gun and kill someone and show it on television, it can play in fucking prime time. But I'd go to jail in real life. If I take a bat and assault someone, it can play on prime time, but I would also go to jail. I can say piss, damn, Hell, and the whatnot on prime-time television but I can't say fuck.



And I can't have sex on prime-time television, but I can have it in movies. What are we afraid of here, adults? I mean, I understand people with children. I can dig it. That's why I put up the disclaimer in front of my blog. I don't want impressionable minds in here reading me because I know that I am off the chain. But I also know that adults can tell when I am talking out of the side of my ass and when I am serious on this blog, which is almost never.



I'm wondering why just because I talk about mature subjects that people talk about all the time in certain circles that I would then become anathema to the clear thinking people of this world who look upon my blog as not family friendly. I think I am very family friendly. I'm as family friendly as that innocent looking television in the living room, or the benign Playstation or X-box game that has your youth hypnotized in front of day in and out.



I'm just as family friendly as that radio playing Howard Stern that is in your car or home, or that magazine with the bra and panties ads in them and the risque subjects on how to 'make your man applaud in bed'. I'm as apple pie and base ball as the World Series or a small town in Iowa. I am as down to earth as a preacher in a church, with a cross in one hand and a bible in the other. I'm as spiritual as a fucking stone Buddha rubbing his fat belly, I am as wholesome as a grade school in the Midwest standing and saying their Pledge of Allegiance in the morning.



I'm a good man, way down deep inside. I deserve to be respected for that, for being candid and honest with my blog, with my feelings, with my world. I don't sugar coat anything but tell it like it is; but then I'm accused of hating women, and people, and the homeless and social programs, and shitty clothing, and cold seasons, and fried foods, and being fat, and fist fulls of pills, and so on and so on. What am I to say to that other than, well maybe everyone is right about me. Maybe my blog is too hot to handle, too cold to hold. Too high to climb over and too low to crawl under. Maybe I'm indigestible.



If that's the case, I'm sorry then. I apologize. Not for what I write, mind you. It comes right out of this cracked skull of mine, what can I say about that? It's like my books, uncensored and unexpurgated. No redacting done whatsoever. What you read is what you got. End of story. No, I only apologize if I hurt anyone's sensibilities. It is not my aim to do so. I'm just venting my spleen and doing my thing. I'm saying what I feel, this is my outlet. I'm not concerned with how and what I say because this is my confessional. This is where I come to 'get it off my chest' so to speak.



Like I said, sometimes I'm in the mood to make people laugh... well, almost all the time. But my humor can be black as pitch sometimes. I laugh at the darkest of subjects just by mentioning them. When I say that I shat a volcano, I'm laughing inside, chuckling as I write it, saying, 'this can only happen to me'. Don't get it twisted. I'm not whining or miserable as you might think. I'm doing pretty good dealing with it all. Just think of being me for a week, a month, a year and you'd agree.



OKAY, maybe I'm not family friendly as I suppose I am. Fuck it then. Okay, maybe my hit counter will never reach a million hits a month. Okay. I can deal with that. I'm not greedy. I remember when I got only two hits a day, 60 hits a month. And they were from my two closest friends who I was writing to just to let them know that I was still alive on the streets.  Now, my blog is being broadcasted on sites that aren't putting up the disclaimer, so I know that possibly kids are tuning in unbeknownst of my content. That's why I backed off of the adult pictures some, but not the adult language. Kids under ten curse more than we over 50 do.



Okay, I go where no cars go. I know that. I just want to remain true to the game, true to me, true to my feelings, and in this way, I can continue to enjoy what I really love doing.

Writing this fucking blog.

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