Just Like Brett Favre


Brett Lorenzo Favre built a nineteen year career with the National Football League but I wonder if anyone knows the true number of times the man retired. From the Falcons to the Packers to the Jets and finally, with the Minnesota Vikings, the quarterback became synonymous with the game. Whether he was on your team or against them, anyone who knew shit about football knew the name Brett Favre because he just would not let go of the pigskin. He quit, then he came back, got hooked on vicodin, had his dick shown online after texting it to someone, more quitting-what a career. Just like Favre, I recently found myself unable to give up the game; the game known to me as the Church of the Ass Bleeding Morons.

My initial reason for starting the Ass Bleeding blog to create self therapy, to help me over a hard period in my life. The abrupt loss of a job came one day years ago when my boss pulled the staff together during the Christmas holiday to announce that he was closing shop. He said profits weren’t that good and mumbled something about ‘legal bullshit’ that he couldn’t deal with: The legal bullshit was that he skipped out on a building lease with no warning to the company that owned the strip of shops where we were set up. They threw a half million dollar lawsuit at him and he tapped out. No severance pay, no two week warning, the shop closed the next fucking day.What followed then was a roller coaster ride of job interviews for me that went nowhere. Unemployment gave me some financial crutches but they didn’t go far and what with every other person out there screaming about how the unemployed were taking advantage of the situation, it weighed pretty heavy on my psyche. I continued to try freelance work, which pitched a penny here and there, but there was no stable paycheck. This was the prelude to my second divorce and soon I found myself wondering how I was going to deal with all this pressure, the walls of doom were closing in on me.

My adventurous side took me down the gritty side of town and my creative half wrote about it. Soon I was involved with all number of events, drugs and music, politics and human drama. My blog posts began to recount the nastiness out there in the streets which I found to be more humane than imagined. People read my posts and raised my spirits with a word or two of encouragement. My writing carried a continuing journal of the Occupy Denver Movement (make sure to see my upcoming book on this saga, soon to be released) as well as my offbeat coverage of the Presidential campaigns of 2012. My self created therapy seemed to be working-for a while. Eventually I gave up on it when stress crept into the mix. Friends and acquaintances began bickering more and more as election day neared. If you weren’t for’em, you were against’em and I wasn’t standing on either side of the fence-I felt both parties were a sack of dung suckers who couldn’t care less about the general public. The strategy to combat what was happening to our country didn’t lie within the Republican or Democratic party. To fix the holes in the proverbial dike, we as a nation needed more than what the career politicians had to offer, but no one seemed eager to participate any further than pressing a button on their phone or computer screen. They would rather listen to talk radio shows for advice on how to create online banter, hate and hypocrisy. Anyone who doesn’t see the problem with engineering a twenty four hour news channel will never understand how it is we created this vortex of inadequacy, this slow growing weed of distrust and misinformation. So at that time I bid farewell to the Ass Bleeding Morons blog and went to find my own solace. I couldn’t shout loud enough-metaphorically- to deafen the echo of idiocy and bipartisanship. I left hoping to find my own happiness.

Despite my blog having sat for some time, I continue receiving encouraging words from those that enjoyed my recounts of jaunting downtown or me dancing naked in the park, hopped up on cocaine…yet I stayed away from the Ass blog. A lull began to bathe my senses. People continued to fall victim for pathetic forms of so-called ‘entertainment’; reality television keeps them happy like a shiny bauble in front of an infant and I watched them with disbelief. Facebook memes, of food someone just ate, vote for your favored singer on some hack television show-this is what became the daily dose of pablum we’re fed. I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. I had to stand up once again-like Brett Favre-and denounce my retirement. I don’t know what difference I can make by writing my observations on a crumbling society, but to remain silent means acceptance-or assimilation, and I can no longer hold my tongue to that. More monsters are being thrust at us each day and if only one voice stands up in defiance to our nation’s demise, let that one fucking voice be mine.


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