Inside Thoughts

December 7, 2010 (Tue)

KZ

23


Raise your hand high if you’re like me, and you suffer from an excess of irrepressible “inside thoughts”. I’m not talking about your usual stream of consciousness, the standard train of thought that never seems to disembark. Thinking is what the brain does, and it is either unable or unwilling to cease its idle thinking no matter how inane and insignificant the chatter inside the mind becomes. I’m not talking about your standard chatter — the functioning of the brain that differentiates us from cadavers.

“Inside thoughts” are the kind of ideas that are probably best kept to yourself. They are the mental processes that fuel those off-colored remarks which jeopardize careers, end friendships, get you punched, earn you sideways glances, and make you want to die the moment you vocalize them into words. I’m talking about the kind of thoughts that recklessly escape your mouth like a drenched and agitated cat bolting away from an involuntary bath. I’m talking about those moments in life when you silence a room because you’ve said too much, and much too loudly. “Of course there’s a way,” you proudly proclaim. “Haven’t you ever heard of glory holes?” Try that line out if you enjoy awkward moments marked by a horrified silence. I’ve been there.

A staggering variety of messed up shit pops into my head on a daily basis. On the whole, my inner sense of discretion filters out most of those inside thoughts from my blog entries, and when I engage in polite conversation. Sometimes though, on occasions like today, the best way to stay sane is to let loose, and to unleash a deluge of inside thoughts onto a hapless crowd of onlookers.

Assuming I still have your attention, let’s get started with the indiscretions.

  • My girlfriend, Diana, is an animal lover. She never fails to comment on the tragedy of roadkill when she spots a dead animal in the center of the road. “Poor possum!” she’ll cry. The sight of a dead animal is never a pleasant thing, but I never let things like that get me down. I always assume the possum had it coming. He was probably embezzling money from his employers down at the possum insurance agency. He must have also been a lousy drunk — the kind of douche who would come home sloshed every night after work wearing his brown fedora and his tiny maroon necktie without a collared shirt, and who would spit on the cold plate of dinner that had been lovingly set aside for him, all before beating his possum wife in a savage, drunken rage. Fuck that possum, man. He totally got what was coming to him.

    • Assuming there is such a thing as an afterlife, and assuming that Heaven and Hell actually exist, how can we be so sure that Hell is the ghoulishly terrible place that everybody makes it out to be? Heaven is where the virtuous people go, and Hell is the final destination for the dregs of humanity — the non-believers and the sinners. Most religious traditions would scare us into believing that Hell is a place of infinite agony designed to punish people for their unrepented sins. But what’s in it for the Devil? Why would he kick your ass in the afterlife for pissing off God? Doesn’t the Devil get his kicks from defying the will of God? I’m not saying that I have any desire to go to Hell, but who’s to say that, once you got there, you wouldn’t be greeted by a throng of high fives, defiant AC/DC music, kick-ass beach parties, and and an endless buffet line full of pizza, beer, and devil’s food cake?
      • Speaking of wicked people, is it wrong that I see Adolf Hitler’s mustache on the back of my cat’s leg? Her name is Madam Beasley Meowington, but I like to call her Hitler Foot.
        • This next inside thought isn’t a very private one since I’ve talked about it before among a number of my friends. I think it’s still worth mentioning here in this post since most people call for my immediate crucifixion once they hear me admit to it. Here goes.

          I’ve never understood the hype over Jerry Seinfeld. I don’t think he’s very funny. He’s a clever guy, and his observational humor can be pretty insightful at times, but neither his sitcom nor his stand-up routines have ever made me laugh. Yes, I’ve seen Curb Your Enthusiasm. Yes, I think that show is pretty damned funny. That’s probably because the show has very little to do with Jerry Seinfeld. Yes Joie, I know. You and I can no longer be friends now that I have declared these thoughts publicly in writing. I’m just not a stickler for a tickler.

          • During a recent conversation, a friend of mine remarked, “I could never work in an animal shelter because I couldn’t stand to see an animal put to sleep.” My mind immediately went to a dark place, and I started to giggle. I pictured my friend working as an animal shelter volunteer, happily playing with an exuberant little puppy inside one of the socializing rooms. The play session is interrupted when a solemn man with a stern face enters the room. He is brandishing a pistol in an unconcealed holster. “Ma’am,” he says, “could you please turn around for a moment?” My friend complies and turns around. There is a moment of silence, followed suddenly and abruptly by a loud pop. The next sound my friend hears is the door slamming shut.

            This might be a good time to remind you that inside thoughts reside in a place where good taste goes to die.

            • One of my favorite weekend activities is playing paintball. I make no claims to being a bad-ass, or to being any good at the sport. I just happen to find the game incredibly fun.

              In the dozen-or-so times that I’ve gone out to play, it’s always been on a recreational field full of novices and newbies, just like me. Often times, you encounter a good number of young preteen kids on those “rec ball” fields. I think it’s awesome to see young kids playing the sport. It wasn’t until I hit my late twenties when I finally mustered the courage to play paintball. Those little kids have a lot of heart, and a lot of guts. I really do admire them.

              Having said that, I have to admit that a very small part of me derives a perverse pleasure from lighting up those young kids with paint. I don’t enjoy it because I’m a bully. I enjoy it because little kids make for excellent target practice. They’re quick, and they’re small, and they’re usually more agile than the average opponent. Also, they usually have a lot more stamina than me because I’m a squishy, aging slob. There are few moments in life that are more satisfying than those times when you snap out from behind a bunker, shoot off a string of paint, and then you see your opponent’s hand rise in the air as he calls himself out. The victory is only made that much sweeter when you realize that the arm being raised belongs to a ten-year-old kid. Good game, junior.

            I’d better cool it right here with the inside thoughts before I alienate anybody with good taste who might still be reading this post. I’m starting to feel a little exposed right now, so this is probably the ideal time to stop. Thank you for your patience, gentle reader, and for playing your part in this dance of indiscreet madness.

            23 Comments

            1. cardiogirl          
              December 7, 2010 at 2:22 pm Reply

              Alright that possum was tempting fate the first time he raised a paw to Mrs. Possum. Is it her fault that she had a best friend like the one Demi Moore played in the movie "Mortal Thoughts?" No. It is not.

              From behind it looks like your cat is wearing a supah fluffy pair of snow pants that are too short. Do you hear a shush/shush sound when she walks?

              KZ. I am so completely disappointed to learn that you are not a fan of Seinfeld. I love the Sein. I know you know that and we are going to have to agree to disagree on that one.

              However, I am thrilled to learn that you do like Curb Your Enthusiasm. Have you seen the episode where Larry is making a movie in NYC and so his dad does not tell him that his mom died and that they had the funeral while Larry was out of town?

              Loved. That. Episode. That's my all -time favorite CYE episode. Hands down. The cemetery would not allow his mother to be buried there because she had a tattoo on her ass and it's against the Jewish religion to mar the body. That episode is classic!

              • KZ          
                December 8, 2010 at 1:13 am Reply

                I think I have my homework assignment for this weekend. I need to seek out Mortal Thoughts, and this episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm that you speak of.

                That picture of Maddie makes me laugh for all kinds of reasons. It's an extreme angle, and it's not a particularly flattering image. I totally see what you mean about the fluffy snow pants. Maddie hardly makes a sound when she walks, but you do hear a lot of loud thumps when she starts hopping up and down from elevated surfaces. She's not a very graceful cat.

                I do feel bad about the Seinfeld thing, because I know that you're such a fan. I felt like I was betraying you a bit as I was writing up that bullet point. I suppose the only way to settle this impasse is with an old-fashioned pistol duel. This isn't the way I would prefer to handle things, but I know in my heart that it's the right thing to do.

                Or, you know. We could just agree to disagree. I can handle that too. :)

                • cardiogirl          
                  December 8, 2010 at 1:22 am

                  Aww yeah! I am always up for a challenge. The duel shall take place tomorrow at 1 p.m. PCT/3 p.m. CST/4 p.m. EST.

                  Weapon of choice -- the Nerf Supersoaker Wars Rattler Water Blaster - Blue loaded with Red Bull. If you can't get it in blue the challenge is off.

                • KZ          
                  December 8, 2010 at 1:41 am

                  You fiend! Surely you must have heard that Red Bull gives me major stomach problems. What are you playing at? I thought this was an honorable challenge.

                • cardiogirl          
                  December 8, 2010 at 2:22 am

                  Dude, war necessitates a variety of strategies. Now if you're going to forfeit before we even start there's nothing I can do.

                  I am willing to substitute sparkling water for Red Bull. But it better not be tap water.

            2. MikeWJ          
              December 7, 2010 at 2:26 pm Reply

              I've got my hand up, KZ. Way up! I have a constant dialogue going on in my head. It's very distracting. Plus, I recently heard that when men get older, the part of the brain that keeps them from blurting out what they're thinking shrinks. And then they blurt. I don't need that pain.

              • cardiogirl          
                December 8, 2010 at 12:53 am Reply

                Don't they have a drug for that?

                • KZ          
                  December 8, 2010 at 12:59 am

                  MikeWJ, it's good to hear that I'm not alone. I'm honored to share this particular form of madness with you. And if there is a drug to remedy those pesky blurts as Cardiogirl suggests, I hope you'll never decide to censor your head with meds. That's the last thing this world needs.

            3. Craig          
              December 7, 2010 at 9:11 pm Reply

              .

              Your possum comment made me think of this comic about an alcoholic bird and his family: http://www.abominable.cc/2007/11/21/22/

              Also, I was not a Seinfeld fan either.

              .

              • KZ          
                December 8, 2010 at 1:15 am Reply

                Dang, talk about dark and bleak! Some of the sting is taken away once you realize that the characters involved are cute cartoon birds.

            4. Katie          
              December 7, 2010 at 11:41 pm Reply

              The "hitler foot" nickname is hilarious. I'm sorry, Diana! It just cracks me up.

              • KZ          
                December 8, 2010 at 1:17 am Reply

                Thank you! It's such a horrible nickname for a cat as cute and as loving as Maddie, but it's just so damned funny for some reason.

                • Conrado          
                  December 14, 2010 at 5:50 pm

                  What's up with the ass shot in the picture, KZ? What is the artistic purpose, you sick bastard?

                • KZ          
                  December 24, 2010 at 6:14 am

                  I've always said that if you're a cat owner, and if you're not producing at least one extreme ass shot of your cats per year, then you're doing something wrong.

            5. Nicky          
              December 8, 2010 at 3:07 am Reply

              For my 40th birthday, Jepeto borrowed a paint gun from a friend, complete with ammo, and presented it to me as a gift. I was given 15 minutes of free "firing" time, where he stood, motionless, in the backyard while I shot him repeatedly. It was the best gift anyone has ever given me.

              • cardiogirl          
                December 8, 2010 at 3:09 am Reply

                Now that is love; I don't know if I would do that for Mr. C.

                • KZ          
                  December 11, 2010 at 3:02 am

                  I totally agree. This is true love. I'm not afraid of being shot by a few rounds of paint, but I don't think I would have the stomach to just stand there in front of a Diana-shaped firing line.

                  That's a hell of a gift, Nicky. Jepeto is a better man than I am.

            6. Dawn          
              December 9, 2010 at 11:34 am Reply

              Yes, I too am plagued by the inner monologue, but I almost always hold back. I used to try to act on those thoughts or say them out loud, but it never ended well, so now, discretion is the name of the game. *see, even now I'm thinking about deleting this* Nah. Post!

              • KZ          
                December 11, 2010 at 3:08 am Reply

                Sometimes it's fun (and necessary) not to hold back. I hope you're finding your proper outlets for that. There are times in life when you just have to tell discretion to go F itself in the A.

            7. Conrado          
              December 14, 2010 at 5:53 pm Reply

              I'm there with you, KZ. The stuff that goes through my head is terrifying. I'm glad everything I think isn't broadcasted to everyone because I would have probably been killed a long time ago. I wouldn't even have had the chance to kill myself.

            8. cardiogirl          
              February 16, 2011 at 12:58 am Reply

              I looked at this photo again and I am shocked to say that I *finally* noticed the cat's face looking back at you. I was so enthralled with his snow pants for legs that I thought it was a shot from behind and nothing more.

              And, and! The angle of his head actually looks like a different cat is peeking around his body. This photo is like an Escher painting with tons of intricacies.

              • KZ          
                February 16, 2011 at 11:59 pm Reply

                It's kind of a messed up picture, isn't it? I have to laugh every time I look at it, and I agree 100% with every observation you've made. Maddie's face does kind of look like a disembodied head peeking around a furry cat bottom. Good times.

            9. Clif          
              September 23, 2013 at 1:26 pm Reply

              As the owner of said paintball field Mr. KZ and I will have a talk next time he comes out to the field.

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