Somebody Loves You, but It’s Not Me, and Your Friends Are Probably Too Hungover to Give a Fuck.


2012 is in the shitter!

I know it’s not nice to tell people to kill themselves. Nice isn’t the driving force behind this blog. There are no church bells, no choir or fluttering angel wings pushing me in the right direction. I am; however, not writing out of hate, either, but a compassion for words, an unhealthy reassurance with dick and poop humor, a need for sardonic implication, and hope that some of us will survive the dipshit-douchebaggery of our current American culture. Also, I make strong efforts to piss off religious people. I’m hoping that one day, when I die, they’ll come protest my funeral.

I’ve made resolutions in the past, yet I can only remember the years I wanted to stop masturbating so frequently for health reasons. I eventually discovered vegetable oil, which made the resolution seem a bit silly. The only success I’ve really had with resolutions was not getting herpes. Thank you, Lysol, Clorox, and Trojan.

So, before I go further into my best efforts to be nice, I’d like to list off my resolutions for 2013:

Steal as much as possible from Walmart, stop spitting on babies and crop dusting strollers as they pass, eliminate my need to narrate porn in a sports announcer voice, follow Kardashit’s pregnancy, buy an assault rifle, listen to more Creed, write less death threats to the Pope, stop masturbating in the back seat of my car, stop parking my car next to playgrounds in the middle of the day, read the Twilight Saga, memorize the dialogue to any Jersey Shore episode, frame my favorite back issues of People magazine, wear a cheer-leading outfit to an abortion clinic, punch a lesbian negro civil rights activist in the face using dialogue that makes it a hate crime on three levels, literally spank a monkey, flog a bishop and punch a clown; and break my 5 ½ year streak of not getting tasered and arrested by the Oxford Police Department.

More often, I see resolutions as a catalogue of failures—the things that were not accomplished or simply ignored, more reasons for someone to feel sorry for themselves. Then come the excuses, followed by blame, delusion and a disgusting amount of self pity.


1. Take a college class at your local community college.
2. Read a book that is not about vampires or housewives.
3. Volunteer at a shelter/food pantry for at least one hour a week.
4. Do something nice for someone without being asked.
5. Steal from Walmart.
6. Think of something validating to do on your own and do it.

I listened to several self-help audio-books last year (I wasn’t prepared to invest my time in reading them). I wanted to change the direction I was taking for The Opiate, and give it a more Oprah-like makeover. My discovery was that these works offer little to nothing other than fortune-cookie psychology. The ambiguity in them is framed so that people categorize themselves with the people who need the most help, and it’s no wonder that people who subscribe to this type of motivation are more fucked up than when they started. There’s also the definition of self-help. Sound it out…Say it in reverse order…Winner!

If you really want to read something that will help or change the way you think, read anything by Robert Fulghum or Scott Peck. Laugh at a dick joke. This year I’m pursuing Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyers, but I’m getting their audio-books from the library. No fucking way in hell I’m giving my money to those philandering heretics. Ah, religion. Ask your clergy member or priest if Jesus was really born on December 25th or if the church used that date to make it easier to convert pagans who already celebrated an important holiday on the 25th. See if he or she lies to you. While you do that, I pray that one day Jesus will come on my chest.

Many of us (humans collectively) spend our lives thinking about the things we wish we could take back-time, words. We make our lives tragic, when we have never seen tragedy. The tragedy of our lives is the belief that our lives are tragic because our car was broken into, we can’t pay a bill, our friends don’t show up when we want them to, we get cheated on. We mire ourselves in arbitrary validation, instant gratification and accomplishments we don’t own. We make excuses for our actions and our lies so we can justify the selfishness in ourselves. We ask for Jesus to enter our hearts to turn around and pass judgment on others. We complain to our friends about our problems without being thankful to have friends who will listen. We thrive on meaningless salacious gossip and turn our heads from dirty hands, ignoring the broken voices of hunger behind them begging for change. We pay taxes to rehabilitate child molesters and use words like whore and slut to later define their victims. We bridle ourselves to the misery we create to attain pity without being grateful for the ability to see colors, to taste a meal someone else has cooked for us, to smell the remnants of dryer sheets on clean clothes, to feel a breeze cool the sweat on our skin, to hear someone say, I love you.

None of us deserve to breathe, sweet darlings. We’re just fortunate enough to have the ability.

Finally, I offer a list of questions for those who need more clarification on validation, and a more specific outline for the hopeless fuckers out there who should pile self-help books around them and light them on fire.

1. Are you a raging alcoholic or substance abuse addict who consistently destroys the emotional well being of others? Yes, you have a disease. SARS and Ebola are also diseases that people die from. You should do it faster.
2. If you are abusive, hurtful or mean to children or find the irresistible urge to fuck them; DIE.
3. How much do you know about reality television?
4. Do you make fun of people who are less attractive or weaker in any way because you’re so insecure and disgusted with yourself that you use that type of humor to help you forget what a useless, thoughtless piece of shit you are?
5. Do you lie to people about having an incurable sexually transmitted disease before engaging in unprotected sex?
6. Have you ever claimed to be pregnant to gain sympathy or manipulate someone?
7. Do you consistently steal from your friends or people who have helped you?
8. Do you possess a disturbing amount of entitlement for absolutely no reason? (Are you one of those people who collect welfare, but you have an iPhone?)


2 thoughts on “Somebody Loves You, but It’s Not Me, and Your Friends Are Probably Too Hungover to Give a Fuck.

  1. Food for thought for sure, Mr. Ricker. Love. Me. (just kidding, you don’t have to.) I really like the part about validation — it’s deep and I am thinking a lot about it. Thanks for turning your brain and heart inside out and putting it out there for us to read. Happy new year, Joe!

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