Digital Cowboy

I threw my wife out of this house for the second time yesterday. I’ve wrestled with it ever since.

I’m writing a blog post at 4 in the morning because I can’t sleep. Not because I’m angry. Because I’m too damn stubborn to let go and look out for myself.

That woman sat in my living room and started into her litany of accusations about what an asshole I am… again. I’ve had enough that. Or so I thought. At that moment I had. So I gave her the truth with both barrels.

It was a short conversation and a long story. But it ended with her standing up and heading for the door as I said, “See? We can agree on something! It’s time for you to get the hell out of my house! And don’t come back until you’re ready to apologize to me and the girls for what you’ve done to this family!”

She picked a bad time, too. Yesterday, I had a couple very big talks with my girls.

I didn’t wanna do it by myself, but their mother has chosen to have an 8 year old boy in the body of a 38 year old resident alien instead of being a mother to her children. And because he’s an impetuous little coward, he’s jealous of her children.

So she wakes up every day to a choice between doing the only thing in life that ever mattered to her, or catering to the asshole. For a while now, she’s been making the wrong choice every day. The debilitating migraines she’s battled since she was a teenager have gone from a two or three a year to two or three days a week. But I’m the only one that sees any pattern there.

Yesterday I had the privilege of explaining sex to my daughters. Then – because their mother is a liar – I had the unexpected privilege of explaining to them what a “period” is, about vaginal bleeding and the difference between tampons and maxi pads. (Their mommy told my mother that she had already had that talk with them. She lied. And also never talked to me about it.)

Consequently, I was already a little on edge yesterday when she decided to come into my house for the first time in nearly a year and have a real conversation with me for the first time in nearly 2 years.

She only speaks to me when she wants something, you see. And yesterday, she wasn’t even on a mission for herself, directly. She sat in my living room and looked me in the eye for the first time in a year and a half… because I sent her houseboy an email last night and scared him so bad he had to dispatch his mommy to ask me to back off.

And I looked her in the eye and said, “This is the only way I can get your attention. I thought you should know that I had two big talks with our daughters yesterday. I explained sex to them and once they had that under their belts, I told them that Katie is not my biological daughter and they’re only half sisters. You should have been involved in both of those conversations, but apparently I can’t get your attention unless I scare your houseboy.”

Any questions about why I have custody of my children, even though one of them is not technically mine?

The houseboy donated sperm for a daughter too but never even bothered to fight for her. He abandoned her and fled to another country to try and steal my life and family as soon as her mother got tired of him. People in America seem to have caught on fast because he can’t seem to hold a job.

Then he offered me $10,000 to BUY my children after he lost the legal battle to steal my family.

No. Seriously. He offered me $10,000 cash to terminate my parental rights. He’s still breathing because he made that offer from another room through a court-ordered mediator. I think the mediator was even a little nervous at my reaction to that offer.

That mutt only lives because I allow him to and he’s pushing his luck.

I’ve always been torn about the term limits argument. I’ve heard very good arguments made on both sides of it. Those in favor of term limits argue – rightly – that it would prevent travesties such as Barney Frank, Nancy Pelosi and Charlie Rangel, to name a few off the top of my head. We should probably throw that bastard Murtha in there too.

That makes sense. We shouldn’t have to rely on the VA to kill off someone like Murtha that everyone hates but who has grown too powerful through corruption to defeat at the polls. Even in San Francisco, Nancy Pelosi never could have been elected once – much less reelected for decades – if the system wasn’t corrupt. (As I’ve said before, if you’ve ever seen that woman speak for 60 seconds you know she’s too stupid to find her way home at night without a staff.)

The opposing argument that I’ve always heard is that term limits, especially for the House, would prevent anyone from being there long enough to be effective. That seems a bit specious to me, but I see the point.

However, I’m now seeing this a bit differently in light of the socialist overthrow of the government going on right now with this “health care” charade. (It’s not about “health” or “care.” It’s about the final overthrow of what’s left of the united States Constitution.)

After all their unConstitutional machinations, scheming, backroom deals, threats and bribery… STILL the only reason this nightmare has a chance of getting rammed through is because of retiring democrat Congressmen that have nothing to lose – and everything to gain – by voting for it as they “retire.” To hell with public opinion! They’re buying either an appointment to easier government jobs or laying the groundwork for their lobbying careers.

With term limits this could be far worse. Imagine the current scenario with this horrific mess if a third of the House was not eligible for reelection because of term limits.

That would be far worse than even this hell we’re facing now.

I have to say that this may have convinced me that term limits for Congress may do more harm than good. Especially with a Marxist usurper in the White House.

I miss America and lament that my children will never know her except from history books. May she rest in peace.

When you get done whining about being oppressed, could one of you lazy victims fetch me a sammich and a beer?

Running the whole world and keeping everyone else down is hard work. I’m exhausted.

John Murtha is dead and I could not be happier.

Those that mourn him should take a long look at his horrible life and then a lesson.

He was a horrible, vile, disgusting, filthy person. Everyone who ever came in contact with him was tainted by his filth.

Enjoy Hell, John. We hated you when you were alive because you were everything wrong with this country. We don’t hate you any less now that you’re dead. We’re relieved that you’re no longer around to take advantage of us.

Next up: Nancy Pelosi.

I find it fascinating and inspiring that the people who will often say that I’ve accomplished things they never could and continue to do things they still can’t imagine doing are the very same people that never stop trying to get me to do things their way. They’re so programmed that they cannot see — even while being jealous of me — that I’m not capable of living by The Formula.

I never set out to be different. I’m just doing life the best way I know how — for myself and for my daughters. That usually means that I don’t see things the way the average government-schooled, college educated person sees it. I could have chosen that path. I was in National Honor Society and even “Who’s Who Among American High School Students.” I could have done law school at Harvard or Yale and then Congress and the Senate and… Dear, God. Just the thought of it makes me wanna vomit. (I could still choose it now. But I would fail on that path because I have the one thing that will prevent the success of a whore — self-respect.)

It would have been a whole lot easier and a lot less fun to follow that path. It also has no promise of great reward. I don’t have much yet but I’m not done. On that path nothing would have ever been mine. On this path, everything I ever achieve is entirely mine to be shared only with those I can persuade to take the ride with me. I owe no one anything that I haven’t negotiated in a voluntary, value-for-value relationship.

I understand this isn’t for everyone. I don’t judge others who choose the easy and boring path. But that doesn’t stop them from judging me! I don’t sleep when they think I should. I don’t sleep as much as they think I should… except for the times when I sleep far more than they think I should. I eat too much, drink too much and smoke too much. Except for those times when I don’t eat enough. I spend way too much money except for the times when I’m being way too tight with my money. I also seem to always spend it on the wrong things. Just like I eat either too much or too little of all the wrong and right things.

I’m not changing — either what I do or how I do it — based just on your opinion. If you have useful advice, I’m all ears, always. I’m determined to remain teachable for all of my life. That’s Wisdom. But please stop offering advice for which I haven’t asked in venues where it’s completely inappropriate and don’t ever offer it unless you have actually accomplished something that inspires me. If you’ve never done anything I would like to do, I don’t care how you did it and you probably have no insight that applies to me. (Those offering parenting advice, please take special note of that part.)

With very few exceptions, I’m probably not asking you to go with me on this ride. If you can’t handle big peaks and wild falls, you’re not tall enough to ride this ride anyway. Most of the people that offer me unsolicited advice are the same ones that would’ve puked at least three or four times a year and begged to get off the ride while sitting in the back seat of my life for the last seven years.

That doesn’t stop them from slapping me on the back and telling me how amazed they are at how well I’ve handled it all and how much I’ve accomplished in spite of it all, then – in the same breath – telling me that I need to go to bed earlier, stop staying up for days at a time, get up earlier, work harder or not work so much… ad infinitum.

I can’t live by your rules, Man! What’s more — brace yourself — I’m raising my daughters the same way I live and it’s none of your business.

I’ll close this with the immortal words of the great philosopher, Pee Wee Herman:

You don’t wanna get mixed up with a guy like me. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel.

I’m not a rebel by choice. But I’m fine with it. Maybe you should be too if it has absolutely nothing to do with you.

Just sayin’.