Getting The Poison Out

Last week was slow, sorry about that. Just one of those weeks where there aren't any fucks to spare. We'll see if this week manages to surpass the legacy of the last one.


I'm bad at finishing things. Pretty much always have been. I think its a weird side effect of a deep and formative abandonment complex. I can hardly bare to read a book all the way through for feeling like I'm losing something. It's probably got something to do with a more than healthy sense of sloth too, but it's not just that. I feel like finishing something is putting it behind you in a way I'm uncomfortable with. Like you're putting aside something that you've given a bit of yourself to. I don't know, it's strange to write about.

When I take on a project; a story, designing a game, running a campaign, I feel fantastic. I love the idea of creating something, leaving even a small good thing in the world. But then there comes a point where I can see the end of the thing and I shut down. I don't know how to just let a thing be done and move on with my life, so I get all fuckheaded and lose the vision. Even if I do manage to finish a project of any consequence it falls apart at the end because I'm too messed up by then to wrap it up elegantly. I'm working on it but the more I explore the anxiety, the more things it seems to tie to. It's disheartening to see how much of my life, how many people I care about, have been affected by my panicked death grip on the objects of my affection. The terrible fear that the things I love will leave me.

I hate that last sentence. It's been slowly ruining my life since I was a child. Writing it makes my heart drop. Because its a self-fulfilling prophesy. I can't stand to finish a project and be done with something I've invested myself in, so I poison my own projects. I'm so terrified of losing the people I care about I freak out and risk driving them away. I feel like its getting better but the more I work on it the bigger it seems, hopefully attention bias. I know this is kind of a masturbatory post, but this is where I write things I'm thinking about. I don't know, fuck it.

Decency Isn't Genetic

Brian and I don't really talk much about family on here. Sure there's the occasional dig at the filthy, manipulative cunt-basket that my wife clawed herself out of in infancy. And every once in a while I'll write an unintelligible screed about the poor fucks who don't understand about genitals. But actual discussion of family is pretty limited. Now, this is partially because, with the noted exception of my father, we've all pretty much cut ties with our families. I'm not going to talk about the reasons for that, less because it isn't any of your fucking business what kind of shitty people spawned us and more because it would be an almost tragically short post. Instead, I going to talk about the other reason we don't talk about it much. Those people aren't really family.

I'm not talking about some kind of cultish, "We're your family now; here's your 'punch'", kinda thing. I do legitimately value the concept of family, a group of people upon whom you are supposed to be able to intrinsically rely, I just feel like that structure is entirely too important to be left to the capriciousness of fate. In my experience the people who share your blood are more likely to be the people to fuck you over hardest, both because they have the access and because you're less likely to be truly prepared for it. The worst bit is that most of the time the "family" that ruins you doesn't even understand the damage they've done. Because being betrayed or used by blood isn't just your casual exploitation, its your framework for society. If you can't trust your relatives then what chance does some fucking stranger have? No, fuck that. We all need a support network and sharing a sexually viable ancestor at whatever point in history is presently convenient is an insufficient metric by which to organize.

Beyond that is the question of affection. If I'm going to trust someone enough to turn to them in my time of strife I'd really rather actually like that person. I make it a policy not to go out of my way to deal with people I don't enjoy in general, and that goes double for people I'm related to. Life is too short and too unpredictable to devote time and effort to maintaining relationships with people you don't like.

I recently had a transaction with a man I've met fewer times than I have fingers who was my mother's brother. I'm ambivalent about him, but I dislike his SO in a fashion so natural and effortless that it would literally take me more effort to not give a fuck. He was gobstruck that not only is this an acceptable standpoint to me (me! this man he'd met a few times years ago, the scandal of it), but that I didn't feel as though it should have a meaningful effect on either of our lives. We hadn't spoken to each other in years and had never shared an experience more significant than eating in the same building, if it wasn't for the fact that the alcoholic racist that raised him also raised one of the people who raised me I wouldn't even be expected to remember his name. Much less give a fuck about his wife.

We've chosen, instead of all that bullshit, to be adults and make the hard choices. To decide who to care about and to make the effort to nourish those relationships to the point where those people aren't just worthy of the trust we're putting in them, they extend the same trust in return. There might not be as many of us, but we love each other. Not because of what some relative strangers did to each other before we existed, but because we found people who we wanted to share that with.

Mounting Mythical Monsters vol. 1: Manticores

Hokay. So I survived getting my face cored and now I'm a functional invalid for the better part of a month. That's fine and dandy but today I'd like to talk about why you should fuck a Manticore. Now, obviously there's the bragging rights that come along with sexually satisfying a murderous beast out of legend, but you've gotta look past that. Manticores aren't like the drunk chimera who volunteered for the frat party, they aren't going to get on board with your frivolous pride. You've gotta be respectful. Classy. Woo your quarry. You don't want to just sidle up and get to work, you'll get a barbed tail right to the grundle. Nobody wants that. So take your time and do it right.

As for why, lets start with the big ones. Three words: Magic. Fucking. Powers. That's right, its a little known fact that the orgasmic excretions of the adult Manticore contain several strains of STPs, or sexually transmitted powers. They change from beast to beast so you might get flight and the ability to control marsupials with your mind, or you might end up with the ability to summon tiny demons to rend the flesh from your foes. Kind of a mixed bag but magic powers are magic powers, take what you can get.

Secondly, their genitals are amazing. Soft in all the right places, firm yet supple. Interestingly laid out. You're never gonna get bored of Manticore bits. Not to mention they taste like fresh apples. Fuji on the females, macintosh on the males. Its great.

The third reason is a bit more nuanced. See, Manticores mate for life, but they have a genetic appreciation for polyamory. This means that while your new monstrous Persian fuck buddy will never leave you, should you decide you want to throw down with that hot Sphinx up the street, your Manticore is probably gonna be down. I mean they'll want to watch but trust me that just makes it better.

Finally, if you fuck a Manticore you naturally obtain a Manticore mount. Lets face it, if you're trying to ride a Manticore you want to ride a Manticore, which is good 'cause they're into it. The practicality of having an intimate relationship with your mode of transportation, especially when that transportation consists of a mythical winged lion with a big ass scorpion tail, can't be overstated. Traffic stops being a problem immediately, road rage has a way of taking care of itself suddenly, and seriously no one is going to get away with stealing your new ride.

So find yourself a Manticore and put in the work, its a tricky business but its well worth the effort. Just remember, they aren't great at oral sex. Three rows of razor sharp teeth does not make for a very friendly nibble.

Fuck That Guy

So, its been pointed out to me that since two of my Rules are dedicated to the idea of That Guy (and the rest can at least also apply to That Guy situations) I should probably make an attempt to clarify the term. In the original post I linked to Shane from the Walking Dead, I did this because Shane exhibits every single That Guy behavior right up until he gets his proper That Guy comeuppance. Not every TG is going to be as bad as Shane and hell, a good many of them will be significantly less fictional, so its important to note the signs. Unfortunately, the nastiest indicator of this tragic condition isn't apparent until its too late, That Guy is prone to casual betrayal.

The betrayal will always be something more major than you would have thought them capable of, it will always be a surprise (at least to you) and it will always be something you could have seen coming if you were paying attention. Meaningful looks when they think you aren't looking, occasional spikes in passive aggressive behavior in regard to a specific thing, that sort of thing. When the hurt does finally come it will be accompanied by either an attempt to shift blame or play the "you would have done the same" card. Eddie Norton in The Italian Job is a great example of the latter. I know I use a lot of cinematic references, but the real people send me into a rage spiral so fiction it is. After whatever bullshit justification That Guy attempts there will usually be some conciliatory effort or apology as That Guy seeks to avoid the alienation that would deprive them of their resources, i.e. you. This is usually the point at which to abscond with whatever you have left or kill the fucker (in an appropriately dire apocalyptic scenario).

If you'd like to spot TG before they fuck up your shit, there is an earlier indicator; negotiation. Specifically, TG doesn't. Everything is either a straight up acquiescence or petulant insistence on their own way. I'm not talking about your friend who doesn't care where you go out to dinner, just as long as it isn't any one of a dozen places they don't like. I'm talking about your "friend" who decides you are all going out to that Ethiopian place and then gets pissy when someone asks about going somewhere else.

There's more to it than this, because of course there is; people are complex, but these are the big ones. Now, I don't want it to seem like I'm speaking from atop an ivory tower or anything here. I don't come by my loathing of this sort of person artificially, I am one. I know how fucking terrible That Guy is because I spent most of my life fucking over the people around me for fun and profit, until I started getting fucked over by the people around me. It took a while, but eventually I worked out what the shape of the problem was and took my own advice. I cut ties with that part of myself. As much as possible anyway. I'm proof that That Guy can change his ways, I hope, but don't ever doubt for a moment that the first step to changing is admitting to yourself how wrong you are, and That Guy is allergic to change and terrified of being wrong.