End Of Book Reflections: Your Life Rights Post 1

    Hello, all. I realize it's been awhile since I made a post. I apologize for that. I've been busy, as I work on multiple manuscripts at a time. And, I also have a lot of school work to do at this time of the year, as it is winter where I live, & I haven't had much time to type. I am actually typing this from a school computer, as I have only started typing my manuscripts again recently, & am trying to close out an old system & start a new one.

    But, as this post may suggest, I have finished another book. This manuscript happens to be one of my particular favorites. The name of the manuscript is Tears In The Rain. I should get it done by Valentine's Day, as it is a love story. But, the main theme of this book is a bittersweet topic because some of you will have more words on it than I can say her (and, believe me, I try to make these posts be long, & this being one of my particular favorite manuscripts, there are so many themes in that book I could talk about that I could write a manuscript about that.). The reason for that is because you quite possibly live in a non-democratic, non-capitalist society, which don't get me wrong America is not always a walk on the beach to live in either, where you have less of a choice of this thing I am about to talk about this. For the Americans that are reading this post, you probably know a little bit about this theme, but, not to the degree I am about to discuss this about.

  Either way, the major theme of Tears In The Rain that I am going to discuss today is your life rights.

  In Tears In The Rain, the main male character is a "starving artist" who was born in China (no, literately, the man is a poverty-stricken artist). He has no way of using his life rights of right to a healthy living residence & a fair income. In that same retrospect, the main female character is a wealthy woman who is being forced to marry a rich man by her stepfather. She has no way of using her life rights of right to fall in love & right to be married to a man who loves her despite her beauty & wealth, & sees her as human and not a toy.

   So, yeah, you probably get the gist of where I am going. I am talking for the first time about the inalienable rights every human has. There will be several posts about this since I am American & have a sense this post will earn me my first comment.
    Anyway, there are several human rights everyone is born with. But, the main reason I am talking about this is that there are so many places & times & dates at which we can't choose. Now, I'm all que ser ra, ser ra as much as the next guy you'll meet. But, there's a difference between my que ser ra, que ser ra & que ser ra in a country like, oh I don't know, Pakistan.
   In many countries in the Middle East & Africa & parts of Asia, & I don't really know why this is, you have no way of accessing your life rights. Everything, from the car you drive to the man/woman you spend your life with, is decided by someone, mostly the government. In those countries, I bet my left arm that if you even begin to read half of the posts on this blog, you'll be in jail before you can even say   "AspieGoth". I don't have to use an example for this, as if you live in this type of country, probably know it already.
   In so many other countries, you have some control of your life rights, but, not much. Again, as a US citizen, I'm not sure why. But, just like I said before, you'd probably get arrested for reading this blog. One example of this (and, I'm not sure about if they changed this or not) is that in Russia, Goths, Emos, & people of the Heavy Metal subculture/religion (half of England follows Heavy Metal as an official religion apparently) cannot sell their music online or go into a government building dressed as the people of their subculture (Which is why I must send a shout out to Russia, as the second biggest demographic of blog readers come from Russia. I'm sorry your government only elects idiots for leaders! :-I)

On that note, I leave this post up for discussion.

 
 

Happy Belated 237th Birthday America!!!!: A Monologue

       Hello. Today is Thursday, July 5th, 2012. Yesterday was July 4th, or as it is called here "Independence Day". For those of you in other countries, Independence Day is another way of saying the 237th anniversary of this nation's founding. Most countries in the world don't have an Independence Day because they aren't democracies or they have been nations for over 1,000 years, and the exact date of the countries founding is unknown, & guessing would be inaccurate. Before I go on, would like to warn you not to take what I am about to say seriously, as this is like one of those Hallmark funny cards that's sold for birthdays.
  

   Ahh... America, what can I possibly say? 237 years ago yesterday, a pack of about 17 or so white guys decided to write a paper that in a nutshell said "Fuck you England" & send it to the king of England at the time, King George III. Thus began a war that led to the forming of a (in my opinion being an American) great nation. A nation that decides to make everyone spend money they don't have on a daily basis. A nation that tells its people what foods can kill them, yet sells this killer food at the cheapest prices. A nation that can decide in a national survey that a shock rocker is far more frightning than a woman that possibly murdered her own two-year-old daughter.
    But, who am I to say the problems with this nation? Other than those minor flaws, you are still beautiful. So, I would like to propose a toast. Here's to the 237 years America has been a nation! And, here's to another 237 years! HAPPY BELATED 237th BIRTHDAY TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!!!!!!!!! HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Letting The Demon Baby Out: Why Marilyn Manson Should Get More Fanfare Than He Has Received

    Okay before I go on to today's post, I have a few disclaimers:

• I am not now nor have I ever been a Marilyn Manson fan. And, Marilyn Manson is not Goth, he is Heavy Metal. But, I am defending him for purposes I'd rather not get into right now.
• Expect to hear more about Marilyn Manson in blogs to come. I perseverate on him a lot.
• I don't want for this post to turn into Sex-And-The-City tangent #3. So, I decided to include a grievance I have about my last blog post.
• I just finished typing a couple of pages in both Borders & Envelopes and The Devil Horn's Toss, and typing took up most of my weekend and morning. And, I have some chores to do. So, needless to say, I don't want to type anymore today other than Facebook statuses & text messages, and this is going to feel tedious to me. So, just bare with me here.

     Okay. That's it for immediate disclaimers. Now, here's how I came up with the title to kill a little bit of this rectangle I'm typing in: I'll start this week's post explaining the title:
    On the show in my mind, A Gothic Tomboy From Pittsburgh, there is an episode in which Julie (*I changed her name because I wanted to. In the show, she is really Raven from the original Teen Titans, and another bombshell that is just me rambling on to make this longer that is slightly related to this, in this show, she ends up getting pregnant by Marilyn Manson. That's related in what I will reveal in a minute.) begins to have nightmares. When I hear about them, I take out my iPad & go on one of my dream interpretation apps. She tells me that at the end of the dream, she was attacked by a demon baby. (A side note: I looked this up in real life, so, I know it's true.) What I determined was there was a new, forbidding part of her life beginning that scared her. I told her this was her mind telling her to let the "demon baby" out.
     After that, I told her that's what her baby daddy did.
    And, in a way, Marilyn Manson did "let the demon baby out". He does it so often that we miss it. That is Reason Du Jour of why Marilyn Manson should receive a whole lot more fanfare than he has been given so far.
    Another reason that Marilyn Manson deserves more than what he has received so far is that every celebrity should get at least fifteen minutes of fame. I know Madonna has had at least a whole half-an-hour of fame. Rihanna, Justin Beiber, Miley Cyrus, etc., it feels like they have received twenty years of fame. While, Marilyn Manson, rather unfairly I gotta say, only received two-fourths of a millisecond of fame.
   Which brings me to my next/final reason/point: Marilyn Manson faded out of the public's line of giving a damn about in a very unfair way due to unfair circumstances. I know there are those of you out there in countries like Russia & Germany probably wondering "What the *$#% is this American bitch talking about? Marilyn Manson is still relevant where I live, & no circumstances or ways that are unfair are making him less relevant here. What makes him not on the public's line of giving a *$#%?" Well, it's very off-topic & kind of a long, painful story that I will only tell you is the third-to-last label of this particular post.

   Which, speaking of unrelated & off-topic subjects. Does anyone remember my post Madonna Read My Blog? Well, that post is related because it is clearly irrelevant to everything the public holds dear. It it the post before this one. It didn't give me any views whatsoever. It might've gotten me some views, but, I highly doubt it. I didn't even get a comment on it. I doubt I'll get a comment on this one. But, it's because Marilyn Manson has been deemed a "has-been" by American Hollywood. Madonna never was and I hate to admit it but probably never will be deemed a "has-been" by American Hollywood. In addition to using a celebrity's name, I tried my best to use my social filter a little more than Madonna uses her social filter & a whole lot more than Marilyn Manson uses his social filter. And, still, I get nothing. I didn't get more views. I didn't get any people sharing any of my posts on Twitter, Facebook, or Google. I didn't get a like or a comment from Facebook or Google. I didn't get any attention on Blogger. I didn't get anyone offering to follow my blog. I didn't even get a comment on my blog! Now, you understand my frustration with Pop culture.
   Hey,....I just found a way to make Marilyn Manson less irrelevant to Madonna: Both Madonna & Marilyn Manson have "let the demon baby out". I mean, Madonna just showed some random french politician with a swastika drawn on his forehead in Israel. To add more irony to the controversy before I list what Marilyn did, Madonna's religion is Kabbalah or for people in other countries, Jewish Scientology, aka Madonna herself is Jewish. Marilyn Manson tore pages from the holy scriptures in various towns*, with the exception of in Salt Lake City, it was the Book of Mormon*. In both cases, not only did they "let the demon baby out", Madonna breastfed the demon baby, Marilyn Manson (and forgive me for not saying "he"  or "it" once) grabbed the demon baby, Marilyn Manson put a collar around the demon baby's neck, Marilyn Manson put a leash on the collar on the demon baby's neck, and then, Marilyn Manson proceeded to walk the demon baby like the demon baby was a dog or an African child walking his pet tarantula.

   You too can "let the demon baby out". Now, granted, the examples given above are EXTREME. But, still these are examples. There are other ways to "let the demon baby out" too. You could wear a beach dress to a formal, black tie wedding. You could wear only pink to a funeral. You could buy a pet tarantula. I once "let the demon baby out" not intending to "let the demon baby out". I wore a tshirt and a pair of sweat pants to a baby's baptism once years ago. Granted, if my dad told me it was a baby's baptism, I would've got more dressed up.
   But, there's my inspiration to you. Let the demon baby out. Don't be afraid to. And, letting the demon baby out includes sharing this blog or commenting on it. Bye for now.

*Or, so I'm told.

Madonna Read My Blog?!

    Okay. Before anyone tries to disagree, I would like to say the following story is hypothetical, realistic fiction. But, either way, I prepared some illustrations to help move this story along.

   So, Madonna* was working on her new album and tour. She got tired and bored. So, she decided to find a blog to read. And, she just happened to come across my blog.

        Unfortunately, she happened to come across The Aspiegoth blog when I had just finished my first Sex-And-The-City Tangent. That was what she ended up reading. And, much to everyone's surprise, she got to thinking.

     Now, Madonna being Madonna, Madonna felt she had to do something. So, she thought about her tour and things she could do to help.

    The decision of where the first concert of her MDNA tour complete & over with, Madonna started to decide on how to help Lady Gaga look innocent in the eyes of  Indonesia's religious right and make her look like an even worse influence on Indonesian youths.

               And, that is why I think Madonna made some of the decisions she's made recently.

    *I mean Madonna the singer.
    **Although, in hindsight, Madonna seems to be the type of gal that uses the term "pussies". I just used the least offensive term I could think of to use as I am not Madonna and I have to use the social filter or else I'll get banned from the internet or something.

                                            The End
 

In A Suburban Home: A Story I Read That Inspired Me

   Okay. I was wanting to receive the more views on this blog. And, the last post was sort of  depressing. So, I wanted to enlighten all of you with a story I read many years ago. It was turned into a book, but, I decided to retell it & I forget the title & author's name. So, here's In A Suburban Home:

   Once there was a Middle American town known as Ho-humville. Ho-humville was a quiet town filled with only the most corperate jobs & the most corperate businesses run by the most mundane people. And, these mundane people lived in all the same house painted & built  the same size, shape, & color.
    One day, a seagull was flying in the neighboring town of Cape Our Lady Of Guadalupe. The seagull flew over a fish market next to the town's dock to the ocean. It hovered down, & picked up a bucket of salmon-pink paint. The store owner & the painter were in a heated argument over whether to paint the store ambrosia or cerulean, so, they didn't notice the bird fly off with the paint. Well, the seagull didn't get very far, I tell you what. Eventually, it got to Ho-humville.  And, when it did, its feet were too weak to carry such a big bucket. So, it dropped the bucket of paint. However, it happened to drop the bucket on the roof of fellow pencil pusher Mr. Johnson's roof.
   Mr. Johnson was horrified when he first noticed the pink paint on his black shingles & white walls. But, then, he got an idea. He went to the hardware store, found the exact same shade of salmon pink, & headed home. The next day, there was a fuss all around the neighborhood and the whole town. Mr. Johnson was painting his whole house salmon pink!
    A lot of people showed up to see what Mr Johnson was doing. The Home Owners Association threatened to evict him unless he changed his house back to the way it was before. The police threatened to arrest him. The local pastor even shook the holy scriptures & threatened that Mr Johnson was condemned to go to hell unless he kept his house the way it was before.
    But, Mr Johnson said to all of them "My house is me, & I am it, & my house is all my dreams. Nothing you can do or say can keep me from following my heart in a suburban home."
    When Mr. Johnson said this, the whole town thought he went crazy. There was one person who wasn't appalled by Mr. Johnson's actions was his next door neighbor on the left, Mr. Smith. He was also a pencil pusher who was fighting boredom. And, he always wanted to see the ocean.  So, he went to the hardware store and purchased some blue paint.
    The next day, Mr Smith began to paint blue waves onto his house. Mr Johnson had finished painting his house salmon & was painting his shingles orange. The whole town had decided to leave Mr. Johnson alone.But, they didn't leave Mr Smith alone. This time, local children at school were receiving extra credit for writing letters to Mr. Smith to try to convince him to change his house back.
   But, Mr. Smith said to all of them "My house is me, & I am it, & my house is all my dreams. Nothing you can do or say can keep me from following my heart in a suburban home."
   The town thought Mr. Smith had lost his mind. There was one person besides Mr Johnson that understood. And, that was Ms. Jones. She was Mr. Johnson's neighbor on the right.  She was also a secretary that always loved spring. So, she went to the hardware store & bought spring green paint.
   Mr. Johnson was now re shingling & painting the roof. Mr. Smith was now painting a sea green on his house where there was once white. The town was leaving them alone. But, when they caught wind of what Ms. Jones was doing, they protested. The PTO even formed an angry mob around the door, threatening to press federal charges unless she changed her house back.
   Ever persistent, Ms. Jones said to all of them "My house is me, & I am it, & my house is all my dreams. Nothing you can say or do can keep me from following my dream in a suburban home."
   The town assumed she had also lost her mind. So, they left her alone. Mrs. Miller, a retired schoolteacher who lived across the street from Mr. Johnson, was watching closely. She had always loved sunsets, & had always wanted to paint her house like one. She bought the yellow-orange paint. But, due to her advanced age, she hired three high school boys to do it.
   Again, the town protested. This time, the local nursing home threatened to admit her unless she changed her house back.
   Mrs. Miller was older & much wiser than most of the mere mortal town folks. "My house is me, & I am it, & my house is all my dreams. Nothing you do or say can keep me from following my heart in a suburban home."
   And so, the pattern continued until each & every house was a unique work of art. And, in the process, more jobs were created that weren't as mundane & corporate.  Eventually, they changed the name of the town from Ho-humville to Wonderland.
THE END

Hopefully, this inspired you as much as it did me.