Feeling Crappy? Pass It Along!

This is a shit post drenched in self pity and simmering rage. Please ignore.

• Parent in hospital, going on week 5. Serious mental and physical issues. Getting better but situation seems to require constant supervision. Still can't get all doctors, etc, coordinated. Usual fuckery of healthcare compounded by being in Backwater Shitsville, FL.
• Fuck all insurance companies. To death. With a baseball bat embedded with glass and nails. The state of health "care" in this country is disgusting. 
• I hate Florida. Especially when it rains.
• It's raining.
• Apartment I'm staying at has ongoing issues, including a/c and plumbing. Had to shut off our own water main yesterday, after a spring bubbled to life behind the tub wall. Standing water throughout kitchen, bathroom, and under the carpet. 
• Landlord is scumbag, so we'll see if this gets fixed. Incredibly problematic, bc the leak has been going on for a while and we are talking about ripping up carpets and tearing up walls. None of which this car salesman motherfucker will be willing to do.
• I can't really do anything about any of it, bc it's not my place anyway.
• Parent's home troubles continue, with leaky roof, major plumbing issues, and the standard electrical outages because omg!rain. Who would have expected rain? In Florida, of all all places?
• Relative with terminal diagnosis is foundering around out there. Can't be reached, doesn't want to be reached, and no one has the money to help him out.
• Am broke. Have no job.No prospects. Tons of debt. Medical bills that have got me  on some collection lists now. And they keep coming. Got a bill for $25K the other week. Guess they waited to bill me until after my insurance had ended.
• Several sibs/relatives work for company that has always been shady. Now they are withholding pay and cancelling insurance and shit. Money is tight from loaning out to deadbeats like me. Everyone's job in peril.
• So many problems seem to relate to money. How did we all fuck it up so badly?
• Feel that I don't have any friends to turn to, even for a night out of distraction. Everybody is busy with their own shit and nobody has the time or the energy to take on something as hopeless as this. Those close by are absent--I don't even have any backup places to stay, really. Where have all these friendships gone? I felt that i put a lot of time and energy into their upkeep, but maybe i fucked that up too. Or maybe it's just like it always is: when your usefulness and relevance has expired, you become disposable. 
• I was denied bowling yesterday. I was late to the lanes bc i had to stop and counsel someone and then had to help clean up water disaster in apt. No bueno.
• menstrual cycle--despite medical debt, still not close to be solved, much less treated. b/c it's totally okay to have chronic pain if it's because of girl stuff
• Going to go wash face in hospital bathroom. At least here there is running water.
• Everyone is sad and tired. Apparently, no one has anything left to give. I think I'm about tapped out, myself. And if i wasn't already worthless enough, I lose all value when I lose the ability to deal with other people's shit.
• I'm fucking exhausted. We are all exhausted. There's gotta be a break in this action.
• i missed this season of walking dead. and because the ppl i do know don't have normal cable setups, i can't catch up via normal methods. the networks are such greedy little bitches.
• blah blah wah wah poorlittlemecakes

It's The Apocalypse, Y'all

The History Channel is showing an Ancient Aliens program. The theme is aliens, Hitler, and the Third Reich.

It's finally happened. The History Channel has come full circle and gone full retard.

Look, Netflix, Seriously?

I can withstand one cheesey Thomas Jane movie available on streaming.

I can walk away from that.

But two? Two?

TWO!

So it looks like I'm watching at least part of The Punisher. Until I remember how much it sucks and fills me with a strange loathing for John Travolta that's best left unexplored.

Then I'll probably give in and watch at least part of The Deep Blue Sea because: Shark Wrangler Wut? Sheeyit--that's all you had to say. Also, this was my intro to Thomas Jane, whose real name I did not learn for years and called "Chirstopher Lambert's bastard child."

Oh, look: Twilight is available, too.

And then I should probably just start banging my head into concrete.

 p.s.

but really tho

I mean, you see this, right?

It gets even stupider.

Now wait just a minute here. . .

I think the may start to become embarrasingly revealing. So let's distract with the number one "those two guys they are so the same."

Totes twinsies! Oh my lord, what the crapshait????

Okay, I've gone too deep in the interwebz again. By gods, though, his hair is magnificent there. Truly.

Goodnight everybody!

p.p.s.

Thank you, Thomas Jane, for your incredible body of work.

Seriously. Thanks.

And god bless Roy Scheider.

Lord Jebus Give Me Strength

My new boss just shot me with an air bazooka for asking a stupid question about some abbreviations he made up.

Seriously.

This is why I don't own firearms. I would have taken out my pistol and shot his dumb ass.

Repeatedly.

Now I have to Not Think About This because I have more work to do for this asshat.

Maybe Jebus shouldn't give me strength. Maybe he should just give me the upcoming lottery numbers. Or a tank.

Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

Guess who got four notices in the mail today?

Guess what those notices said about Medi-Cal approval?

Guess how many different $ amounts they cited as my income?

1. Me!

2. I am totally approved for Medi-Cal! Four separate times!

3. Three different income amounts! There were two in each envelope, and they all contradicted each other!

That's right, after a cold hearted refusal of services post approval of services, we have a late game reversal of the reversal!

Not only do I qualify for coverage again, I qualify under three different income amounts. I QUALIFY FOR MEDI-CAL THREE SEPARATE WAYS (SO HARD, SO BAD, AND WICKED HARD).

How did they get these amounts? Who fucking knows? I'm pretty confident that no matter what, this still isn't going to work out for me.

Hilarious. Tragic and ultimately foreboding about humanity's chances for long term survival, but hilarious.

Schrödinger's Health Coverage.

The Hits Just Keep On Coming

I received a letter today that informed me I have been denied coverage under Medi-Cal.

Which is interesting, since they already issued me a card, signed me up for services, and even re-registered me in an hour long phone conference.

It's funny because the whole reason I applied for Medi-Cal is because I am not allowed to apply for any of other programs.

I am termed a "medically indigent adult" and I my application has been denied.

The claim that I submitted in January and which has languished in some sort of bureaucratic purgatory for the last 9 months. Many pointless phone calls. Many dead ends.

It's almost not surprising. It certainly is inconvenient. Well, harmful, really, I suppose.

But then again, the healthcare industry has never really done me any favors. It's like my longest term relationship and it is wholly abusive. 

I suspect that somewhere deep, deep down inside I am furious. But I don't feel it. I just feel tired and depressingly unsurprised. Just another day.

same sad story that's a fact
one step up and two steps back

Keeping It Real In The LBC

Prepare for randomness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

House/cat sitting for some friends in a ridiculous house in a ridiculous location. I am one house back from what is technically a public, but essentially a private, beach. I am unsure about my commas in that preceding sentence.

This place is stupid. Will update with pix later. My guest bedroom has an ocean view. So does the side porch. Unreal.

~~~

It's not always about money. Only mostly. Individual taste rules all. This is an awesome  house, but I wouldn't have purchased it. For the $$$, I would have liked something altogether different. But then again, I've owned approx 0 homes to date. Maybe a house like this is something you grow into?

~~~

As I have a place to myself, I am naturally not taking care of any business and am instead marathoning stuff on Netflix. Oh, Netflix, the destroyer of all good intentions.

Watching some episodic television and I come across That Actor With The Glasgow Smile. He's playing a Scot in this one. Scottish mobster. Surprise. You know the guy? I'm gonna bet his name is Tommy something. And I'm going to bet he's Irish. Let's find out together, shall we?

Survey says: Tommy Flanagan!

This guy has done a shit ton of work. You may remember him best from Sin City, Gladiator, or a little movie called Braveheart.

Everybody remembers this scene. Primae Noctis--worst wedding gift ever.

Now brace yourselves, because I know everybody relies on Braveheart for its stunning historical accuracy, but jus primae noctis might not ever have been an actual practice.

This just in: if a white guy is telling the story, remember there's a reason it's called history.

And apparently I don't know shit (today is just full of bombshells). Msr. Flanagan was born in Glasgow, it seems. See, I thought he was Irish because his Scottish accent was so good.

Too good. I could understand him. This led me to believe it was put on, rather than natural. Perhaps it is just his Scottish-American accent. Did you know he's on Sons of Anarchy? I didn't till just now.

~~~~

Long Hair Tip #17:

If you are housesitting and wearing something just horrible because it's laundry day and ALL your necessary garments are in the wash because Hey-Noone-Will-Knock and then somebody DOES KNOCK. . .

. . . you can drape your hair over your shoulders to hide your sketchy wardrobe as well as camoflauging the fact that you have no support garments on. Which is good, because it turns out there is a construction worker convention in the courtyard.

Just saying.

~~~~

I had lots more stuff to say, but I have fallen down a hole. It started with finding that Craig Ferguson reaction gif up there.

So this is Craig's last season on The Late, Late Show. Boo. Hiss. We are losing a national treasure. (No really, he's ours. He got his citizenship and everything).

How can anyone not love Craig Ferguson? He's gorgeous and silly and All That Is Light And Good In This World. He's just a few rungs below babby kittehs. He's that amazing.

Classy.

After you've watched craigyferg for a while, you can kinda tell what voice he's using just by his facial expressions.

And the dancing. My god, the dancing.

Who's at the door? Secretariat!?!?!

I could write a whole sonnet about these damn puppets.

What's not to love.

No, seriously, what? He is adorable. I'm totally getting lost in this image search.

Then it happened.

OKAY THAT IS FRIGGING IT I HAVE HAD IT WITH THE INTERNETS WHAT THE SAM HILL IS HAPPENING HERE HOLY CRAP CRAIGYFERG IS QUOTING..

..ACK...

HE'S QUOTING...

..KAFF...WHEEZE....

HE'S PULLING A MR. PILKINGTON!!!

I CANNOT EVEN WITH THIS HOW THE EFF DID THIS HAPPEN HOLY CRAP WE ARE AT DEFCON 1 STALKER ALERT I DONT UNDERSTAND ITS LIKE HE'S INSIDE MY BRAAAAAAAAAIN

yeah, okay.

that's pretty much it.

i quit, internet. 

you win.

Why Am I Even Surprised?

Filed back in Feb or Jan for my "Obamacare" status. Just now received a packet.

Looky here--this is a rather info-poor packet, but it seems like this "Managed Care" option (which is the only option) is built like an HMO. Okay.

Oh ho ho---what's this? None of my doctors seem to be listed as providers. And there are options that only pop up in certain places. Let me call the helpline.

Helpline is woefully mis-titled. They tell me I can't be on Medi-Cal anymore. Which is okay, because I was never on Medi-Cal. Final advice is "Call your doctors and see what they say."

The doctors say "No." Turns out most private practice doctors in LA county do not accept anything other than PPO or straight payment.

That's a little vexing in general, and perhaps very vexing when it comes to my endo, who is basically my oncologist as well and has to run regular tests from pre-surgical samples that exist in some lab, some where. I'm sure there's a way around it. And I'm sure it's horrifically complex and gadawful.

Most private practice docs don't accept Medi-Cal (which I think is what used to be Medicaid) because they lose money on the payments. Medi-Cal's reimbursement is too low, so the docs won't contract with them.

There may be some errors in my apprehension--this is what I've managed to cobble together from the packet, helpline, pointless web search, and conversations with a few doctors' offices.

But, hey--I think this might work out as disaster-type insurance. That's good.

Summary: Your state is probably running their "Obamacare/Medicaid" through HMO's, so be prepared for limited availability on practitioners. Also, get ready to hang out at some county clinics. America, where your ability to be healthy is decided by your pocketbook and credit score. Poor people don't deserve any better.

Wow. Just . . . Wow.

Somebody just said something so hypocritical, accusatory, and inaccurate to me at the wrong place, the wrong time and in company that I'm having an adrenalin rush trying to calm down.

Because it was the wrong place, wrong time, with company, I just got up and left the room. I haven't slammed any doors, given any dirty looks, no real reaction. I think being stunned by the Wrongness and totally offended helped me make it out of the room with no fanfare.

I've got to get out of this place. I can't let people who don't or won't bother to understand me continue to have an effect on me. I can't keep taking shit from people that I'm not allowed to confront. It's just no good. It's not healthy for me.

I may be a piece of shit, worthless, unbearable human being, but that doesn't mean you get to shit all over me. You don't get to blindside me with your constant projection and transference of your neuroses.

I have the right not to be attacked. I have the right not to have to deal with all your fucked up shit. I have the right to defend myself. And apparently I have the duty, as well, since nobody else is going to do it.

This is an inherently unfair dynamic, but I suppose I ultimately have no one to blame but myself, as I perpetuate these roles. And it is within my power, theoretically, to stop this whole cycle. I could, hypothetically, choose not to be furious and offended right now.

So I sit here, taking slow breaths, trying to let go of all the yucky stuff, plotting my escape, plotting my freedom, hoping for a break, and wishing I could just be left alone. You just have to convince yourself that It Doesn't Matter. A simple concept, but often a difficult execution.

One day I will be Someplace that isn't Angry or Hurt or Boxed In. I know that. I just have to get there. I hate these feelings. So very much.

"Never ascribe to malice that which can be explained by incompetence." 145, 131

O Yaweh, give me the strength of this conviction. Because earlier today I had some communication and experienced the following reaction.

Oh, I shouldn't take things personally because I have nothing to do with this.

Oh, fokken L, I do have something to do with this shite. Fook.

At first I'm like:

Then I think:

 

Then I'm all:

And I get really:

But finally, I'm like:

Scores in the title.

And Eff You Very Much

Well, I just got off the phone with the clinic that Rx'ed me some meds for chronic pain. You know, the ones that worked, but 3 out of 5 patches were so defective I couldn't use them.

Fun!

I've been calling (and visiting) this clinic for four weeks. Four weeks of phone calls, messages, answering questions, answering the same questions, and repeating personal details of my life story to whoever I happened to get on the phone.

I know it's been four weeks because last time I called it was because I was in intense pain because of my period. That's right, I originally called to get refills when my stuff malfunctioned for the severe pain I was in A Month Ago.

And now that feeling is coming back, as it always does and probably always will.

And today--this phone call--somebody FINALLY told me, "Oh, we can't refill those prescriptions."

Dude. Seriously? And this was info that couldn't be mentioned BEFORE I SPENT AN ENTIRE MONTH PLAYING PHONE AND OFFICE TAG WITH YOU MOTHERFUCKERS????????

It's really easy. A patient asks a yes/no question, you provide one of the two answers. No. That's all you had to say. No.

I just....what the...I can't even deal with this shit. What?

Well, at least I have one patch left, so I have 3 days of mitigated pain. This month.

Goddamn I'm tired.

Shepherd of Judeah, Give Me Strength

So, lost my phone. Had a line on a free one, but it is not supported by my current carrier, EvilAssholeShitLords-Verizon, or the new service I want to pick up.

*sigh*

So I just bought a used phone, but it will take over a week to get here. Then I have some kind of nonsense to go through in order to switch my number over. Which shouldn't be a problem. But given my track record. . . .

Anyhoo, in case you didn't hear it somewhere else, I am incommunicado de telefono for a while now. Whoops.

This is inconvenient. So very inconvenient.

Well, at least it wasn't my wallet.

Now Continued

I would really like to stay at a hotel tonight, but its Season here and the rates end up around $100/night.

There was a brief period in my life where I wouldn't have blinked at that expense, especially if it meant relief and/or homicide prevention.

But these days....these days.

******************************

So, apparently there's a Male Rights Movement. I've only read some comments in this direction, so I can't be sure, but I think I can say with great prejudice that these all sound like whiny white dudes.

Here are some of the pressing issues making headlines:

Library Receives Request To Exclude Suess' "Hop On Pop"

Why? Well, let's allow the petitioner's to speak for themselves.

A patron requested that the children's classic be banned, saying it "encourages children to use violence against their fathers."

The complainant asked that the library remove the book and issue an apology to fathers in the greater Toronto area. . .

Well, this calls for a complete reevaluation.

-Green Eggs and Ham. Obviously pro-rapist and male privilege enforcing. Because "No" doesn't really mean "No." It means "Just badger me a thousand times and I'll finally give in."

-The Cat In The Hat. Stranger Danger! Also the fish obviously represents Jesus and stands in for our absent moral compasses. It's both Christian propaganda (fish is right, after all) and anti-Christian belittlement. In this case, Cat could be Satan, Women, Womyn, Muslims, and anybody who thinks differently than you, i.e. the wrong way.

-One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Racist. Encourages capitalistic reward myths and materialism.

-Horton Hears A Who. Obvious political pandering to liberal bleeding hearts. Horton, the majestic and self sufficient elephant, has his whole life derailed by the needs of a (literally) microscopic minority group. Just like all the Republicans have been supporting the deadbeat poor and disadvantaged groups who get welfare and live like kings. That's not opinion, that's science.

-The Lorax. Self evident tree hugging hippie crap. Stilfes industry. Prevents job growth. Greenpeace eco-terrorism.

-The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Perverse celebration of the toppling of Nietzschean ideals. A stoic and self sufficient realist has his hard won property and rights impinged upon by his careless neighbors. With no legal recourse, he takes matters into his own hands. Instead of being successful, we see our hero metaphorically emasculated and brainwashed into the hive mind. Instead of the affronted party, he ends up working for and with his inconsiderate neighbors. Thus, bleeding heart fairy tale entitlement wins another battle and a productive member of society is subverted.

Pirate Fairy? What? Oh, I See. . .

. . . because Tom Hiddleston, that's why.

My friend sent me this link today and I just watched it. I am somewhere between laughing my ass off and hiding behind the couch.

My emotions. They are confused. I think I'm snickering. WHO THE FUCK MAKES A MOVIE ABOUT PIRATE FAIRIES??????? DID SOMEBODY LOSE A BET?????

Okay, wait, cursory investigation reveals a bit more. It just took me a minute. Because the pirate fairy-ing. Thing.

A-HA! I should have known Disney was behind this. Actually, it does make more sense. Captain Hook. Tinkerbell. Okay. But I still think Pirate Fairy sounds like a bad porn or someone's prison nickname.

Or better yet, Pirate Fairy is the mythical bogeyman that lifers warn all the greens about. Better be in your cell at lights out, or the Pirate Fairy will get you!

Hiddles--you kill me with this shit. Seriously.

Wait, what? . . . . I got nothing.

For The Love of God, Somebody Roofie Me

Okay, Douchebag Body. Getting real tired of your shit.

After two nights of <4 hours sleep, you decide to pull an all nighter?

I am no longer young. I can't just be up all night for no reason and then go get anything done with the rest of the day.

Insomnia is insidiously isolating.

Well, I Finally Did It

For the purposes of this story, please keep in mind I kept a pleasant tone of voice and facial expression the whole time.

Ordering drinks at a mostly empty bar. Large older gentleman slides his pretzel mix bowl in front of me. I say "Thank you sir." He tells me not to call him sir, he had enough of that in the military. Mild chit chat as I wait FOREVER to get my drinks.

Then he let's loose with "I hate to use the n-word, but. . . "

I chime in with a bright "Then please don't."

He proceeds to use the word. Of course.

I ask politely for him to desist. He begans enumerating the problems associated with living in close quarters with *thatword*. I politely ask him not to use that word.

The bartender chimes in with "Well, we're all human." A mild mitigating statement.

He continues to use that word, after I have asked him to stop, after I've said I don't like that word, after the bartender tried to change the subject. I think we've all been in this situation.

With a blank look on my face I turned to him and said, "My father is black."

The immediate response from both bartender and barfly was "What? You don't look it."

He then said he didn't mean to offend me. The bartender asked me "Are you sure? You don't look like it at all."

No shit. She actually said that. That's fucking gold, man.

He continued to mutter half hearted apologies. I assured him that I wouldn't be offended if he would just let it drop.

Then I sent DJCP to the jukebox with the instructions to "Play something with some soul."

We got excellent service from the bartender the rest of the night.

But don't take my word for it. Try this handy method out for yourself.

And play a lot of Marvin Gaye and Sam Cooke on the jukebox afterwards.

Nothing Pleasant Here

ETA: And then he got me egg drop soup and we watch a Duck Dynasty marathon and everything was fine. 

I fling things into the ether of the internet in the hopes that it will help mitigate circumstances which would lead to real life screaming throw downs.

I've always thought my parents did a good job with raising all of the kids with good manners. Even if we are being vulgar or crude, we are still extremely polite. Lots of "please, thank you, excuse me"--a real sense of propriety among other people.

What I can't figure out is how I ended up the chivalrous one, while two of brothers are real jackasses.

I just lugged two huge loads of stuff from my car into the apartment. Two long boxes of soft drinks (so heavy on one shoulder), huge bags of books---just a shit load of stuff. Took me two trips.

My bro is sitting outside on the front porch when I pull up. He doesn't make a move to help me. Well, he does push the front door open for me, so there's that.

On trip two I have to open the door myself. He's just sitting there.

Okay.

Then I'm unloading stuff inside and his first words to me, as if we were already in mid conversation, are "Man, I really wish I could quit my job." He briefly details that other ppl want to quit too. Because it's Just. So. Damn. Horrible. This from the guy who goes in when he wants, leaves when he wants, and just recently negotiated being able to work from home. Yeah.

I feel my internal alarms go off, as the thermometer on my rage starts going up. I put some things away and wander back to the living room. Guess who wants to comment some more on how angry and peeved they are? Clue: it's not me.

At this point I have said absolutely nothing to him except my initial "Hi" when I got out of the car. It took an amazing amount of willpower for me to not blurt out "Oh, hey, my day went just great, thanks for asking? No, it's a breeze working again with all my defective organ issues. Yeah, I'm totally still struggling with the med induced rage, but my docs have told me to fuck right off about it. Thanks for asking!"

No. Instead I grabbed my backpack and retreated to the bedroom. Shutting the door. I've been in here typing for 5 minutes and Sherlock just asked "Hey, are you alright?"

Jesus Fucking Christ. How the hell did I end up the only chivalrous one in my family? My dad and brothers SUUUUUUUCK on that level. So self involved, so dismissive.

And it's not a sexist/gender thing for me. I open doors for men and women. I have helped out elderly couples in airports, wheeling them to their proper gate (that was opposite of mine). I'll stop and help someone pick up something they've dropped. When visiting my parents, I always go out and help her bring in the groceries.

Chivalry. Graciousness. Awareness. Whatever you want to call it, the quality is sorely lacking in some of my closest associates. Is it any wonder the world is fucked up?

And thus endeth my rant. Thank you, dear interwebz, for allowing me to say this here rather than beating my brother upside the head with a box of soda cans. It's probably a better choice. Maybe.

Black Rage! Black Rage!

--As always, tamping down on my emotions so other people can have theirs, H.

Same Shit, Different Day, Huh Rabbit?

Creeping into bed at 3:3X a.m. on New Year's Day? Free
Being awoken by an unprovoked, 5 minute canine cacophony 4.5 hours later? Priceless

Hey 2014, more of the same, eh? Good to know. Going to commit seppuku now. With a spork.

Medicine Isn't Science

I thought that for a long time. But medicine is, at best, an art and at worst, blowhard negligence.

If anything untoward should happen to me, or if I should untowardly happen to anything else, I have a request:

Please sue the fucking shit out of every doctor who has "treated" me in the past 8 years. Find the most vicious lawyer you can and sue, sue, sue until they are run out of business. Some of them are nice people, but they are all a part of the machine erroneously labeled "healthcare." As cogs in that machine, most only serve to perpetuate the nasty cycle: under/overprescribed, assuming most women with any complaint are "just depressed," encouraging a culture of scalpel jockeys instead of preventative care, and most unforgivable of all, not listening to their patients.

I'm not stupid, not about this anyway. I'm not lying. I have been trying for so long, so hard, to follow all the rules to be "healthy." And you know what following the doctor's suggestions has gotten me? One organ down, persistent pain, internal scarring, and in the worst shape, physically and mentally, that I've ever been in my life.

First, do no harm: yeah, right. Harm seems to be all those fucks are capable of dishing out. Harm, indifference, deluded conviction, and gross negligence.

Sue them. Smear them on the web. Go on cheap trashy talk shows. Render them finally responsible for their actions.

I'm not kidding.

"Your Scar Looks Good"

I hear that a bit. It's funny.

"Your scar looks good."

I never cared about the scar, but it's quite a discussion point among the surgeons, nurses, etc. I got more unsolicited consolation and reassurance about my scar than I did for the cancer. Nothing about what would happen later.

It's funny because the only people who spot the scar are fellow thyroidectomy patients. Even though my scar looks "great" any thyroidectomy patients zone in on it like a laser. From People who know me to virtual office strangers have engaged me on the subject with no preamble.

I am leaving I am leaving but the fighter still remains


my teeth have turned the wrong shape for my mouth

I'll take your part when darkness comes

Man, Art Garfunkel's voice is almost angelic at times.

Why do we so easily lose sight of goals that would provide relief and comfort? How can we know so much about what goes on inside of each other, yet still fail to create a system of mutual benefit?

Holy Moly Frijoles. I'm on a YouTube autoplay, and somehow I'm watching Phantom of the Opera with Sara Brightman and Antonio. Fucking. Banderas?

I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!