A bizarre predicament of being logical and open minded.

I forgot how bizarre new hire training is.

Today I had to do a training module on Diversity and being Inclusive. I don't blame the company that fired me for what I am about to write because I've seen this in every corporate job that I've ever had.

First off I find the words that the people who created this training module decided to use were fascinating. Throughout the entire course, they never used the word prejudice and seemed to avoid the word judge in any form (i.e. judgmental, judging, judged...)

It's as if they didn't want to offend the sexist bigots who actually need this course. "Oh I have to accept every coworker and customer that I come across for who they are? But what about... Oh, that's bad too. Hmm, thanks computer instructor!"

Then the training takes an odd turn by going into customer statistics for the diverse people who use the companies training you to understand and accept.  These stats felt more like a reminder that you never know who has money to spend. Females do X% of retail shopping? African Americas, Hispanics, and Asians collectively spend X trillion dollars, and so on. Humanity seems to have nothing to do with diversity. It's as if it has nothing to do with being genuine.

This is followed by bizarre sample to prove a point that even if you claim to be open minded there's a subtle bigot in there somewhere. They have you match up statements with the person you think these statements belong to. They thenprovide several stereotypically leading photos of people to point out that you might have preconceived assumptions (again avoiding prejudice.)

This sends you down an internal case of Catch 22. You know that they do this to try to get you to use a prejudice thought process to figure it out. You try to think how they are trying to trap you into realizing you're not as open-minded as you may think. It would be bat-shit insane for them to actually match the stereotypical statement to the stereotypical image.

Statements like, "I am unemployed." You think "Okay, it has to be the middle aged white guy because any other choice would lead to a "see I'm right" moment in anyone going into this with a bigoted mind.

"I'm a single parent of four kids," which makes you think, "Well that can't be any of the females, and it can't be an African American because that would be too obvious."  The fact that you're thinking along these lines makes you feel worse than the bigot who's missing the point and gets all of these examples wrong and then feel their universe has been shattered by the big reveal that anyone can have any story to tell, but you want to get this right because you are open minded but observant.

"I own my own business," has to be someone young, so it's either the young white girl or the young black guy. "Hm, that's a tough one," you start to realize, "Fuck, I'm reverse engineeringthe point that they are trying to make by using nothing but preconceived notions to make your predictions."

"I survived cancer." Okay, that's another young person thing, because they're trying to say close minded people think that only old people get fatal diseases. Of the two young people you're guessing, "More people would assume that this cancer has to be breast cancer, so the answer has to be the black guy." This leads to even more thoughts like, "Ah, I'm turning this example into some kind of twisted game of logic."

There were a few more, but I think you get the point. When I submitted the test I got a 100% and felt worse for doing so.

Am I wrong for thinking this way?

Midget Wrangler.

I wake early in the morning.

Time to go out and see what the midgets are up to.

Normally they’re still asleep in their little beds, and then Eddie, the littlest midget crows, “It’s time to get up!”

They put on their cowboy hats and little pants and head out to the field.

You ain’t seen nothing till you’ve seen a posse of little people mount up and begin to blaze the trail.


Weird Found Shit!!!

5                  18

Lung           Toy

I didn’t start smoking until late in life. People always told me how bad it is.

Well, I started.

No one told me what I would be missing out on. No one told me about the lung toy.


I hear smokers complain about having a hard time breathing, and coughing up something god awful. Well that god awful thing is not so god awful, it’s a lung toy.

How else would you know that you were cleaning out your system? Also, how else would you know that you are getting what you paid for?

I like to spit my lung toy on the ceiling, that way everyone else gets to play along.

Seven stages of coping with being a writer.

Shit, I’ve become one of those assholes.

I’ve never sold a script and I’m going to tell others what it takes to be a success.


Well here it is.

I’ve been writing screenplays for about 15 years now. You see that, I’m not a writer. I write, and would say I spend most of my time writing, but I’m not a writer.

I think I’m close though.

I’m in one of these phases.

  1. SHOCK & DENIAL- When you start out and surprise yourself that you actually wrote something good.
  2. PAIN & GUILT- You stop writing cosmetically and reach down and really put yourself into it, sharing every scar.
  3. ANGER & BARGAINING- Though you’re not quite there you’re angry that you know you have it in you, but are just not there yet.
  4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS- After completing each script there’s a sadness that it is over. These people you have created are done playing together for a while if they ever get to play together ever again.
  5. THE UPWARD TURN- Not only do you think you’ve written something good others are starting to see this as well.
  6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH- With this new confidence a support system recalculate the value of all your past work and start to tell your friends you’re a writer and not just writing things here and there.
  7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE- You’re a writer.

An article turned down by a stoner magazine.

I was 21 the first time I smoked weed. I was hanging out with a friend who used to pester me to try. Neither my manhood nor sexuality was challenged; this pestering was out of a sincere belief that I would enjoy it.

One night after months of doing this, a group of us sat down to watch a movie and out came the pipe. It started to get passed around. My friend reached across me to hand the pipe to the next person without even attempting to offer it to me.

I don’t know what happened I’d never been torn as to whether or not I wanted to try this and was perfectly content with being a rowdy drunk. I don’t remember anything magical happening from this event other than getting a laugh when it was pointed out that I finally accepted the first time I wasn’t offered.

I kept at it for a few months and enjoyed it from time to time, but I don’t think I had the right relationship with my brain for this partnering to work out. I wanted to drink, tell jokes and perform Jackass style stunts, and this drug was making me more introverted. The whole reason I drank was to escape the introverted feelings I had. So I stopped.


Thirteen years later, other than a hand full of why not moments, I had given up the drug all together. This is when I started to get back pain that got worse and worse by the day. Physical therapy didn’t seem to work. Chiropractors seemed to help but only for a couple days and then the pain would return. Massages seem to do the best but even at the time I felt it was due to the overall relaxing affects, it is a massage after all. It started to seem hopeless and I was starting to fear that I would struggle with this pain for the rest of my life.

One night, while at after party for a friend’s wedding I was offered a joint along with the question, “Have you tried medical?” I laughed having not thought of weed for over a decade. “Why not,” I said as I took a hit, desperate to ease the pain.

My relationship with my brain must have grown because I had a blast. We joked around, had fun, and I sat back to watch as a dance party broke out where everyone was clapping to the beat of the music. It was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen in my life. I couldn’t even tell you whether or not I was in pain.

I woke up on the couch and walked to my car. For weeks I’d been walking hunched over to ease some of the pain. Even after sleeping on a couch I found myself walking with straight posture and just a hint of a limp from the now hint of pain.

Though my first experience was unimpressive, this experience was fucking magical.


I think I figured something out!!!

Do you want to know why I hate action movies?

I used to think that it was when all the CG was added to heighten the action. Then after thinking hard about my writing process, and finally admitting just how much of myself I put into each of the characters, I realized I just can't relate.

First off I would never get into a situation where action would be involved.

  • I do not fight, to the point where my friends know that even though I am a big guy I do not have anyone’s back if anything goes down. There is no winning a fight for me, the outcome is either that giant just took out that little guy, or then that damn near midget beat up that big fat guy. It’s hard to consider that a trophy.
  • I never have once done anything to go and investigate. I could pretend that I don’t hear nothing until the cow come home, and then I would pretend that they didn’t come home so that I could keep on pretending. When I hear something strange I figure if it’s friendly, it’ll come to me, if it is there to kill me then it’s going to kill me where ever they are, why not stay comfy in my chair.
  • I would never join the Army, not that I’m unpatriotic as this puzzle is piecing together, I’m a coward.
  • I don’t have or want kids, I’ve been single most of my life, and my friends and family all of a relationship where they know I would do anything in the world for them, unless it is too actiony.
  • And I’m just lazy.

I also get frustrated because they never go into story of what happens in the aftermath of all this action.

For instance in a movie where a Transformer casually destroys an entire city just to get from point A to point B. I want to see one of the car owner’s reactions, and not just the look of shock and running off.

I want to see the car owner watch this destruction thinking, “Holy shit, a fucking robot destroyed my car.” The rest of the movie would be about this guy telling every person he ever met about the time, “a fucking robot” destroyed my car, until he dies, happy having lived a fulfilled life thanks to this tale about the “fucking robot,” destroying his car.

Finally, I want to see the reality of an action event. Beating ten people in one room never leads to someone just dashing off into the next room to fight more. There would have to be cursing, sweating while trying to catch my breath, contemplating backing out, serious contemplating backing out. All this while smoking, I’d definitely be smoking.

That’s what I figured out today!!!

My storner interpretation of my last Facebook post...

... and how I found at in this condition that this may be the perfect writing sample in understanding my style.


"As far as I know I have nothing planned or lined up for the rest of my life right now. FU sleep, I'm going to be productive!!! Well, until the pills kick in!!!!"

Let's break this down.

"As far as I know I have nothing planned or lined up for the rest of my life right now."

This is a neutral statement. I can either be excited about this because there is no limit to the possibilities, or it can be very frightening being that I have no clue if I will be able to pay my rent next month?

Then "FU sleep," may lead you to think I'm on stimulants, or something crazy is kicking in.

"I'm going to be productive!!!" then eases some of the questions about the "FU sleep," statement equaling drugs. This type of crazy energy is okay if you're being productive.

Then, "Well, until the pills kick in!!!!" ends kind of sad, but with a sense of hope.

Or maybe I'm just over thinking it.

The Croquet Peace Theory


All you need is a globe, a drill and the world's greatest flash mob coordinator.

You take the globe and locate the enemy territory.

Take the drill and drill through the globe to locate the exact opposite side of the planet. 

Contact your flash mob coordinator.

Get a giant crowd to meet at the location.


Have everyone jump so that each and every person lands at the exact same time.

Timing is going to be very important, so this is where the flash mob coordinator is needed.

Just like launching your opponents croquet ball off into the bushes, your enemies will fly off into space.



When I originally came up with this theory I was young and naive and tagged entire sections of the planet to be the enemy because I got a little too caught up in rooting for the home team just because that's where I was born.


I now realize that a majority of the world probably just want to just live their lives but have to navigate around these overzealous fans.

Additional items include, but are not limited to, a second flash mob coordinator, a drone, two more people (not part of the jumping crowd), two sets of binoculars and four smart phones with FourSquare.

In order to keep the drone balanced you'll want to strap one person to each of the drone's wings. There may be some room for error, but try your damnedest to keep them equidistant.

You will fly the plane over the enemy territory.

Using the binoculars, the two people on strapped to the wings will search for specific evil doers.

Upon finding said specific evil doer the finder will check in via FourSquare.

Once either of the flash mob coordinator receives the check in location, they will coordinate the group needed to launch the targeted evil doer out into space.


Repeat this process until all the evil doers are gone no matter what team they root for.

(note: If there is anyone out there who would like to put together a power point presentation or animate to help me pitch this to the world, I would love to see it!)

... but don't count on it.

As many of you know marijuana is now legal in Washington State.

What started out as a legitimate treatment for a pretty bad back problem has turned into my favorite leisure time activity, that recently out ranked boozing as my favorite things.


My favorite, favorite things is taking just enough medicine and hunkering down to write.

Sometimes I do manage to partake in a tad too much medicine. This inevitably leads to me writing something that even as I type away I begin to realize that it's some stoner nonsense, then I delete it.

Well not anymore.

This is where you will be able to read my musings that should remain on the napkins that they were written on.

Maybe as a group, we can figure these post out to find up to 12% of a solution.

(All joking aside, my back has stopped giving me problems ever since I started this regiment. Guess where the money that I save from chiropractic's goes to?)