I'm writing a book, a love story. I'm about 10k words in and I do hope I finish it. Sometimes life gets in the way of our dreams, but I want to leave something for the kids, and this may do it. Or not.

Recently I was a subject in my friend's autobiography (seriously). Well I was one of many subjects in it: Amazon.com: I Was A Teenage Know Nothing: Illustrated Version eBook : Ownbey, Ryon: Kindle Store

That's the short update on my creative life.

Wiwille loses weight, ends poorly

My wife has been on a diet, and I decided to join her, as it's important to support your spouse through their weight loss goals. I've never weighed myself, as I don't really care so much as I just want to eat better and exercise more. Today I had a moment that showed my waist line has shrunk.

Today I get a notification from Untapped, stating the elusive Corn Dog Ale from Revolver Brewing is available at a store near me. For those unfamiliar, this beer was previously only served at the Texas State Fair. One year I was there with the wife and friends, and skeptical, we ordered one, because why not? We all loved it, but groaned that we could only enjoy its tasty goodness at that venue for the price of a steak dinner.

As all things happening with the world being on fire, the Texas State Fair has decided not to open, and Revolver listened to their customers and made the beer available for retail. I, being ridiculously excited to taste the goodness that is Corn Dog Ale, dart to the store.

I enter the establishment, picking up two six packs of the beer in question, and a four pack of another. I was walking to the cashier with hands full, noticing my shorts felt looser fitting than usual. I never wore a belt with shorts, because necessity never demanded, until now. Before I got to place the beer on the counter, I feel my shorts drop to my ankles. Hands full and facing a wide eyed clerk, I put the beer down and pulled my garments up to a position that would no longer require an arrest. I then explained to him I am on a diet. He understood.

"I've had it in years past at the State Fair. They serve it in mustard rimmed glass. I did not think that would be a good pairing, but it was actually super tasty. Lots of cornmeal flavor in the beer which paired great with the mustard, but didn't notice any meat flavor." - Reddit

 

I don't miss 9/12

 

I don't miss 9/12.

There I said it.

I may be alone in my feelings about the aftermath of our country's most horrific terrorist attack, but I remember 9/12 rather differently than the many others who are posting on Facebook about how united the United States.

I remember Islamophobia, so much that anyone who was Asian and brown had to fear for their safety from being assaulted by simpletons. I recall people who were baffled in our intelligence system's massive failure, and others who quickly explained it away. I recollect some who were confident the then administration would lead the world in a united front to seek justice against those responsible, but not shockingly, there were others skeptical of their abilities. Many exploited the event, claiming it was a conspiracy by a cabal of the powerful while others wondered who could possibly be that competent.

The anxiety of another attack was permeating the national conscious, the immediate call for the removal our basic rights and privacy, and the debate of our call to war against a country who simply demanded evidence of extradition. The universal mourning of our fallen heroes and victims is nothing I will look back fondly on.

I guess I remember a different America on 9/12. 

Shopping with kids

Technology has given us a lot. It's strengthened our medical care, gave us conveniences that were once thought impossible, and has given access to information and resources that better our lives.

Shopping has largely been simplified thanks to our access to the internet. What once took you an entire day of commuting from mall to mall, store to store, now can take moments from the creature comforts of your home. This modern feature has my praise, as I can spend less time putting miles on my car and more time with my family and friends.

As with anything remotely tech related, there are a few cons.

I was at work when an email hit my personal inbox. I check it to see that my purchase via the Xbox Live account was successful. I, of course, didn't purchase anything through my Xbox, so I trembled with fear. Had someone hacked my account and is downloading content against my wishes? Was there an issue on Microsoft's end where they incorrectly attributed a purchase to my account? How long would this take to fix?

After giving it a little thought, I decided to call the wife.

Me: Is Kenadie on the Xbox?
Kelly: Yes, she's playing the Disneyland game.
Me: Are you sure? I just got an email telling me I purchased a digital copy of Trolls for $16?
Kelly: KENADIE FAE!
Kenadie: Trolls. Trolls. Trolls. Trolls. Trolls....
Kelly: I'm sorry Erik.
Me: It's cool. I just got radically confused for a moment. I'll password protect Xbox Live so she can't purchase anything anymore.

We later had to password protect Kelly's phone when Kenadie ordered chocolate milk from McDonald's on Uber Eats.

"I used to have an online-shopping problem." - Hannah Bronfman

Glamping

We packed up the car and went day glamping on Saturday. My brother in-law and his family were out at the lake in their large camper, enjoying the outdoors while enjoying the creature comforts of middle class camping. His outdoor television was playing college football, and his propane grill was ready to heat some carnivore goodness.

I was nervous about taking the children, as Keaton has a habit of darting off. Open spaces are an excuse to show off his jogging skills, and I end up hot on his heels as he bolts to wherever he pleases. My son reminds me a lot of my sister, as she was notorious for doing the same.

I have short legs, and when I run I end up looking like Fred Flintstone, much to the amusement of anyone seeing me chase after my sprinter. I figured if nothing else, the family would get a good laugh watching me keep my kid within arms before he decided to go all Forrest Gump and head up to Oklahoma.

We exited the car after arriving at the camp site. I stood next to him, and watched him soak up the scenery. I had no hold on him, as I just waited to see how he would react to being outside of our usual suburban environment. He looked around, smiled, and reached for my hand.

As he led the way, we tracked through the grass and walked to the lake. Keaton was grinning from ear to ear, looking at the water and enjoying the quiet of nature. He looked at peace, happy, and content with his surroundings. There was no meltdowns, no desire to escape my hand's grip and wander into god know where, just a little boy who was enjoying himself in the serenity of the habitat.

I walked him to a playground, where he enjoyed climbing the rock wall and giving Kelly an ulcer. Keaton made the most of his play time, sliding down the slide and climbing back up again.

We need to do more of this, I thought. See, having your kid walk calmly beside you seems like a normal activity for most, but for a parent raising a child with autism, it feels miraculous.

"Sometimes people say that kids with autism aren't capable of love. That's ridiculous. My son loves deeply. He just doesn't communicate well."

Meeting the sisters

So to any readers left on this sparsely updated blog, I have some news. As posted about earlier, I have reached out to my bio-parents and have maintained communication with them. I was informed I have two half sisters, from my bio-mother, but both her and her husband were reluctant to let them know I exist. While I was confused, I decided to be supportive in their decision as I didn't want to have any negative impact on their family dynamic.

Recently the youngest sister had an upcoming wedding, and the older one had a baby on the way. My bio-mom decided to spill the beans about the fact they have a middle aged brother. I can't imagine their shock to learn a decades long secret about a secret sibling, but as I understand it they took it well.

With my father's memorial service, which was highly delayed, my bio-mom set up a dinner meeting so I could meet her daughters for the first time. My mother and I were invited to have a home cooked meal, and enjoy some drinks and laughs. We were both nervous, and I was curious if they were going to even like the person I am, or if I would like them.

After dishing up a meal consisting of organic, gluten free, non-GMO (allegedly), and taste free food, we sat to eat. Conversation immediately sparked, and it was shocking to me that the three of us just met. We spoke as if we've known each other for years. No awkward pauses, no cringe worthy topics, and no need of putting on a happy front was apparent. While the three of us are in no way similar in personality or looks, it was congenial and I was very happy to finally call them family. While they'll never come close to having the relationship I have with Tonya, I find myself caring about their happiness and future as I do what I consider my own sister.

Given the happy moments shared with my bio-family, that week took a somber turn I had to swallow my emotions and give a eulogy for my father. It was rough, but I'm glad I did it, and was overwhelmed with the outpouring of love towards him. The memorial went well, and I made a slideshow with some of my favorite photos of Dad for all to see.

My father

As I flew into DFW from Seattle, holding back tears and watching some comic book movie on the tiny screen in front of me, I reflected on the week I just experienced, and the life I was given.

 My mother called me that Saturday morning, telling me she tried to wake up my dad, who was cold and not breathing. She stated paramedics were on their way. Ten seconds later, they arrived and started to do what they do. I stayed on the phone with mom trying in vain to calm her while knowing the worst had happened. My father would not be alive anymore. I would know a life without him.

Kelly texted me saying she was on her way home from Kenadie's dance practice and asked what I wanted for lunch. I could only respond with the horrific news. The paramedics confirmed what I had already knew, and a grief counselor started to talk to my mother. I hung up the phone to spread the word that my dad is no longer with us. Phone call after phone call, I talked with numerous people who were shocked and dismayed by what I had to tell them. My sister dropped everything to head up to be with my mother, and Kelly arrived home and booked a flight and car.

I arrived late that night, to my mom who was already asleep. She had a long, tough day, and I envied her ability to snooze. I stayed up for a bit with my sister and her boyfriend, who kept me updated on how mom was holding up, and I thanked them for taking the time to make the long drive north. I told Facebook what had happened, and immediately was taken aback by all the well wishes and offers of condolences. Stories were shared about him, and fond memories were had. I sat on the couch, looked around the room, and wondered how I'm going to take care of all of this. This is what I posted:

"My father dreamed a life of adventure. In his youth he buried his head in Kipling stories and the comic book tales of Uncle Scrooge, fantasizing about a life of voyages, treasure hunting, and engaging with cultures foreign to him. People of my generation may recall the Disney comics as being the basis for the 80s cartoon "Duck Tales." 

After college, he decided he wanted to live out the life he wanted, touring the world having quests in places far and exotic. He decided the honorable thing would be to stop dating my mother, and join up as a merchant marine. As he stood there about to board ship, something ate at him. He turned away from his passion, followed his heart, and never got on that boat. He came back to my mother, proposed, and made her and his family his first priority. 

Years later when my parents spent a decade trying to have a child, he told my mother he was taking a day trip, and found himself in Portland, to what is now Catholic Community Services, and requested to adopt a child. He surprised my mother with the news, and a year later they called my folks announcing that they need to come pick up their son. That’s how I became a Wilson. 

My dad wasn’t a saint nor a scholar, but he lived a good life, always putting his family’s needs and wants above his own. That was the father that raised and loved me. He used to tell me that he hoped heaven was something out of a Normal Rockwell painting, a world he always wanted to see. Today I say goodbye to the man I call Dad, who was the kind of father I’ll always aspire to be."

 The next day I called an old friend to tell him, who arrived at our front door two hours later and he jumped into work mode, packing up boxes and throwing out garbage. We ran errands everywhere, taking care to make sure mom was eating and getting enough rest, and I'd come back to the house to feel as if I hardly made a dent in all the nonsense my dad had collected over the years. It got so frustrating I wanted to light the place on fire and call it done, but rational thought got the better of me. It was hard work, loading box after box of nonsense into his truck, firing it up after not having been turned over in five years, and making runs to the dump, Goodwill, etc, but it was worth it as it helped put my mom's mind at ease. Every evening I would eat with my mom and would try to connect with her in a manner that seemed surreal. Dad was no longer there to join us, and we had to talk about her future, which would mostly end in sobs.

I don't know that I've ever been so exhausted, physically and emotionally. The outpouring of help I received from my sister, friends, and family was overwhelming and was instrumental in making the trip more bearable, but the pain of mourning my father while simultaneously taking care of my mother and his estate was almost too much. That being said, I am so grateful to all who assisted, and I don't know that I can ever repay them for the generosity they displayed.

I couldn't help but feel all kinds of guilt as I left my mother to her own devices while she was mourning her husband, but she's more capable than I give her credit for, and I have good people who are checking in on her daily. That helped make the flight back home so much easier.

I finally landed and got to see my beautiful wife and kids. Knowing they were well and love me is partially how I still manage to get through this.

Goodbye father.

A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people." - Thomas Jefferson

Learning about wiwille

After 41 years, I finally made contact with my birth parents. After I finally received my pre-adoption birth certificate, my wife did some internet legwork and found their contact information. She reached out to both, who confirmed they are my birth parents. I found them to both be alive and well living in Washington. I've spoken to them both at length and they've provided me with a lot of information. The things I've learned:

1. I'm mostly Irish, which would explain my fascination for stout beer.
2. I have two half sisters, both of whom are, as my friends have put it, hot. I really got screwed in the looks department.
3. My birth father's wife had no idea of my existence, until I reached out to him. He then told her about me, and she thankfully was excited.
4. On my birth father's side, only him and his wife know I exist.
5. On my birth mother's side, only her and her husband know I exist.

I've been keeping this from my family to not hurt anyone's feelings. They've been good parents and I don't want them to ever think I would refer to anyone else as mom or dad, but I feel a tremendous amount of guilt because of it for reasons to numerous to detail.

Descent into batshittery

I have a friend who is now on the conspiracy theory bandwagon. He is posting on FB more frequently with videos of the same old topics of some secret society controlling all world events. Sometimes he crafts his own words, such as the below:

Dont believe the polls... Hillary is part of the illuminati...! Pay attention to whats happening in our country. Oregon has uranium.... Who own all the mines? How bout the media? Who own that? There are 3 countries without rothschild banks. Wanna know who the next 3 wars are with. ? Make sure trump wins he finances himself the illuminti wont be able buy him out.
Those who oppose trump wanting to make america great again......... Enjoy the fema camps!!!!

I feel for my friend as he had it rough growing up, and it appears life hasn't been kind since we've virtually reconnected. Now from afar, I see his descent into madness. He needs help, and I have no confidence that there's anything I can do to help.

My mother recently told me her best friend believes the Earth is flat. Seriously.

Has the whole world gone nuts? Are people still denying mental health care is a real issue we need to address?

Why?

I find it surreal that Donald Trump may possibly be the GOP nominee for POTUS. I underestimated the appeal to the narcissistic asshole demographic.

What the hell has been up with Wiwille?

Well it's been a while since I posted any content that could be considered literate, and there are many reasons for that. A lot has changed in my life and taking the time to putt fingers to keyboard is more of a chore now than it ever was. So let me give a brief recap of the highlights of what's been going on in my life for the past six years:

• Met a girl
• Quit my job
• Moved halfway across the country from the liberal stronghold of Washington to the conservative Mecca that is Texas.
• Got a new job, married said girl, and built a house in the span of a year.
• Became a dad to a beautiful baby girl.
• Sold a house, bought a new one.
• Got a new job.
• Became a dad to a beautiful baby boy.
• Sold a house, bought a new one.

So looking back at all the posts previous to the above events where I ranted about politics, detailed my thoughts on movies, told my tales of alcohol filled events, and chronicled my roller coaster love life recent events, while gargantuan, hasn't accommodated blogging, sadly. I truly miss my creative outlet, but my as my work requires my constant attention, and my family would rather have me engage with them rather than type on a laptop, my narcissistic hobby has fallen to the wayside.

My weekends are mostly tied up with house projects, most of which I fail miserably at, and family time, with the occasional beer and cigar being consumed. Before marriage, I would start my evening at a bar, consuming many pints, and seeing where the night takes me. Now I change diapers and take out the trash and maybe spend an hour with the wife watching television before we go off to slumber.

So yeah, married life can seem dull, but it's ever rewarding, thanks to my excellent choice of a wonderful woman. A strong argument could be made that she made the poor judgement of promising a lifetime of partnership with me, but I choose not to haggle with such minor details.

There's a lot going on with raising kids, which I'll share in another post. Hopefully it'll take less than six years to compose it.

I'm 40

Seriously, I'm 40...

The life I have chosen

You've been told all your life that parenting is difficult. You were told you'd be up late night with an inconsolable infant who's screams can be heard from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. You've been told that diapers were smelly and plentiful. You were told you'd your relationship with your significant other would be, at times, strained due the constant stress, the sleep deprivation, and the lack of time couples devote to themselves. You were told that fatherhood will change you in every conceivable way.

You read the books, you poured over the multiple websites as asked by your wife, and you listened closely to those all to willing to share parental advice to a new father.

What they didn't tell you is that you'd be so tired you'd welcome the sweet embrace of death if it was the only way to experience rest. What they didn't tell you is that every article in your wardrobe would be soiled with vomit and/or feces. What they didn't tell you is that you'd have little time for spouse, much less yourself, and everything even remotely resembling your life pre-fatherhood would be eliminated from your conscious. What they didn't tell you is that you'd have to pencil in time just to watch a simple television show. What they didn't tell you is warm meals are a luxury. What they didn't tell you is the guilt you'll feel for even considering taking an hour to yourself.

What they did tell you is that holding your sweet baby for the first time is the most amazing experience you'll ever have, and they were right.

Time

God how sad it is that I have so much to say and so little time to say it. I need to drink more.

It's my birthday...

...and I'm not yet 40. So close though...

Wiwille can't see.

So for a couple of months now I've noticed I can't read fine print anymore. Seeing has never been a problem for me, well at least sober, but as old age creeps up and staring at a computer for more than half of my proletariat life my eyesight isn't functioning as well as it has. Reading labels, instructions (yes, sometimes I do indulge them) or anything that's written in a font that's smaller than your average reality show star's self esteem became a huge issue for the family. I was constantly calling upon my wife to assist with the simple task of literacy, and it grew tiresome right quick.

So I was in need of eye wear, but had no earthly idea where to begin. I've never shopped for eye wear before outside of sunglasses, and was in need of a good pair of glasses that will help me read, because without I might as well be trying to decipher brail. So I went to the only place I thought could service my eye needs, the dollar store.

Yes the dollar store, where you can get merchandise that will maybe last the trip home for low prices. The dollar store, because Wal-Mart is just to darn hard on the pocketbook. The dollar store, because nothing says savings like the self loathing you feel when you plop down a cheap card to get for dear old ma, because you forgot it was Mother's Day, and a bag of pretzels with a questionable expiration date and even more questionable quality control. The dollar store, where you can save money on soap and other hygienic goods that'll make you feel as clean as if you've dug your way out of a POW camp with your teeth.

So yeah, I do at times shop at the dollar store, because not all my friends and family deserve more than a 99 cent card, and they have good cheese puffs and other stuff that's not worth spending more than a dollar for. To my surprise they did have reading glasses, and not bad ones at that. So I got my eye wear, previously mentioned cheese puffs, and something else I can't recall and checked out.

I haven't even hit forty yet.

"My grandmother is over eighty and still doesn't need glasses. Drinks right out of the bottle." - Henny Youngman

Long time no post

So yeah, it's been an age since I've last posted. Given now I have a job that requires my full attention as well as a family that requires it as well it's tough to take some time out to actually put pen to parchment. My narcissistic journey in the blogsphere has taken a backseat to any and all activities in my seemingly busy world of fatherhood, being a husband, worker, and homeowner.

Speaking of home ownership the wife and I purchased a new home, cheaper and bigger than the last one, but it hasn't been without hiccups. The miserable, pig fucking sprinkler system decided to not work after the initial inspection, and given I know fuck all about them as I've never owned nor operated one in all my years in the northwest, I had to call a person out. The repairs weren't cheap, but they weren't expensive either, and it works thankfully. In Texas, foundation issues are a plenty and it's critical to water regularly as the climate won't do it for you, unlike Washington state.

After the inspection of the home we found a few little problems and we asked the previous owners to fix it, which they decided wasn't worth their time and just lowered the price, which we though was reasonable. It was upon me to replace the toilet innards for all three porcelain units. I purchased new hardware at The Home Depot, only to find the damn flush valve cracked at the base when I installed it. So I take all three back to replace, and find the new set of hardware didn't come with a flush valve, so I go back to The Home Depot to purchase new flush valves, which were the wrong size, so I went back, returned, came home, swore a lot, and finally after I don't know how many days of this nonsense the toilets are in working order. Oh one had a leaky seal under one of the toilets, so needed a plumber, which thankfully was covered by the warranty.

And there's more, so much more home improvement crap I've done and still need to do it makes my head swim just thinking about it. But still it's a good home and it affords us a good community so I'll take the pain of every now and then breaking out the tools to try and perform simple maintenance, only to have it turn into a week long project.

In really sad news, we had to put down our dog Toby, who the wife's had for over a decade, due to a kidney disease. I haven't had a pet in many years so I took this pretty hard, but nothing compared to the wife, and we'll miss him incredibly, as well as our other dog Emma, who's shown signs of being bummed her little buddy isn't around any more.

That's all for now...

Conspiracy theorist responds!

A while back I wrote about Mike Adams and his lunatic theory thatthe massacre at the Aurora theater was orchestrated by the US government. It was a simple, direct post and my point was clear, there was no evidence in Mike's hypothesis of any wrongdoing by the US, or any government. With the knowledge we have at this time, it appears to be the work of one lone shooter, a madman who destroyed many lives with his evil act.

Of course, this theory isn't just shared by Adams alone, but I used him as an example of how batshit and tasteless it is to drag public employees', or anyone's', names and reputation through the mud in order to try and feel smart, or "having your eyes open" as conspiracy theorists would call it. What is not shocking though about the post is someone decided to respond with an absolute nuttiness. So here's the comment left by reader realeyesre​alizerealli​es, with my comments to such stupidity in red:

"yeah hahaha like there's no such thing as "False Flag Events" nor "State Sponsored Terrorism" I never claimed there are no such things as false flags or state sponsored terrorism, so why you brought that up is a mystery indeed as well as your unnecessary use of quotes. And it’s pretty despicable to think of them as laughing matters. hahaha Why do you type “hahaha" when nothing even remotely funny has occurred? yeah what a dope anyone is for KNOWING THOSE FACTS OF AMERICAN (ROMAN EMPIRE) HISTORY.. I'm not sure exactly what facts you're referring to, or why American and Roman history apply to this post criticizing Mike Adams' lack of evidence, since you conveniently left any and all analogies out, but if your knowledge of history is on par with composing messages in the English language, I'm willing to bet a thousand dollars that your history education is akin to a third graders, and that's being generous. As for former Scientologist Mike Adams' knowledge on matters historical, it's right on par with his knowledge of basic science, which is pitiful at best.
As for Adams..too bad he sold us all out. How? And who’s this “us” you are referring to?

P.S. Get A Real Life, The End. Ow wow. You told me to get a real life. That really stings. What life do you think I should be leading oh sagely one? I find it sad that I can't live in the awesome world you inhabit on a daily basis, so please let us know your secret to having a successful existence."

Realeyesre​alizerealli​es then took a pause in his barely literate message to compose another, which is just as on topic as the previous one. I guess when he said “The End” it meant only the beginning:

"seriously though, check this out:
"...the world’s dominant geopolitical powers were on the brink of engaging the last and most dangerous stage of their geopolitical agenda. In the world of chess the Endgame refers to the moves that end the game. Still haven't a clue what this has to do with Mike Adams and his lack of evidence to support his inane, tasteless theory, and neither do you. It's interesting how conspiracy theorists never seem to be able to comprehend even the simplest things, nor can stay on topic for more than 30 seconds in any discussion. When they know they're argument is collapsing, they simply move on to baffle people even further.

And what is the game that the world’s dominant powers are playing? We live in a world where civilization as we’ve known it for the last 5000 years has been defined by the quest for empire. It’s a ruthless and savage quest played by the world’s most powerful economic and political entities to acquire ever greater levels of economic and political power. So you mean governments have largely created economic and political empires for most of human history? Wow, what a shocking revelation to anyone in fifth grade social studies! You're so smart to quote this site, as it saves you the trouble of having to think for yourself. Really you're quite efficient at spreading nonsense.

The imperial process can only work by conning the subject class, those outside the ruling class, into supporting its military adventures. The ruling class gains support for their military agendas by manufacturing adversaries who are accused of posing an existential threat. Adversaries that must be dealt with pre-emptively according to the doctrine of World’s dominant emperium also known as the European-American-Israeli alliance. I’ll refer to this alliance as the TRIAD. And this is supposed to roll into the Aurora tragedy how? Have you, or the writers of this ridiculous site, kept up with European - Israeli relations in the past, oh I don't know, 27+ years? Israel and Europe aren't exactly on good terms, so this Triad, as the ill person who coined it, is not going so swimmingly, probably because it doesn't exist. Hell why don't they throw in Australia in this made up alliance?

http://emergent-culture.com/state-of-the-world-report-2013-the-endgame-enters-a-critical-stage/
Readers, don't go to this link, it sucks.

while there is truth in many of mike adams articles, it is not. What is not? And by the way, there is little to no truth in Mike Adams articles. He's so incompetent and so dedicated to promoting misinformation that if he wrote a post about how he believed the world is round I'd immediately be skeptical."

Realeyesre​alizerealli​es, who I'm betting thinks they're very clever in coming up with that dumb username, goes on to say:

"oh..gotta finish my thought on Adams No you really don’t. I mean you did type "The End", which one would logically assume this tripe isn't necessary nor warranted...while there is some truth in his articles As stated before, there isn't, and any rational human being who reads his stuff will confirm, he's also imo a sensationalist We agree there, although that can be said for any and all conspiracy theorists; and i am not the only person who believes he is a part of the faction "poking the american people with a stick" hoping to get a violent reaction all the while "warning" everyone to protest in a non-violent way, that is obvious...especially after teaming up with the likes of Alex Jones who is a fear mongerer and sensationalist. If you're all down on Mike Adams, then what exactly is your point? Actually don't answer that, as you've spent too much time already trying to make a point that doesn't exist. Aren't all conspiracy theorists posing as smarter than thou preachers of what they nonsensically refer to as truth, fear mongers? They keep saying they’re in the business of waking people up, but really it’s to incite fear of something, real or imagined (government, vaccines, GMOs, lizard people, Illuminati, etc.) Thank you for entertaining us with your nonsense."

"How much you wanna bet this guy hates Kinder Eggs too?" - WIGSF

My own theme song

The wife and I are currently residing with my mother in-law while our new house is still being occupied by the former owners. I get to watch a lot of bad television, but I'm happy to do it to spend time with them. When I view horrible shows I try to make the experience fun, like laughing at the douchebags or creating my own theme songs. Since they're fans of the high brow show The Bachelorette, last night, while watching it, I created my own theme song (sung to the tune of the Muppet Show theme):

It's time to view the douchebags,
It's time to watch them fight.
It's time for attention whoring on The Bachlorette tonight.

It's time for eating disorders.
It's time for not being right.
It's time for attention whoring on The Bachlorette tonight.

Why do they always audition?
And sell the souls for scrap?
It's like some kind of torture.
To watch this kind of crap.

It's time to exploit emotions.
It's time to dumb down right.
It's time for attention whoring.
Why are you attention whoring?

It's time for attention whoring on the least sensational, inexcusable, inexplicable, whorentational.
This is what we call The Bachlorette!

"I'm probably the only member of the 'Bachelor' cast without an agent!" - Jake Pavelka