Don’t bury your feelings.
It will backfire. Process your feelings and let them go, release them, and in doing so, release yourself from their bindings; their prison.
Burying your feelings works about as well as building a housing development on top of a cemetery; eventually it is going to rain and the pool will fill up with corpses and your tv will steal your six year old.
Not a good way to spend a Saturday night and your limited housing dollars.
So try to process, not suppress. And get help if you are trapped, somewhere in your world there is your very own JoBeth Williams willing to tie a rope around her waist and go into the light after your ass to pull you out covered in goo.
This is true and well said.
Or, you could just not have feelings in the first place. If you get close to having feelings, you’d be all, “Aw Baby, this is beautiful! We got a chandelier hangin’ up here. Kids outside playin’. It’s a beautiful neighborhood. We ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. I really love this. This is really nice,” and the house is like, “GET OUT,” and you’re like “Too bad we can’t stay, Baby!”
I noticed a fucking pattern: At night I like to snack on fucking peanut butter stuff, except when I drink fucking margaritas. Then I like to eat fucking nachos.
And when I watch fucking Eddie Murphy videos, I fucking swear a lot.
I have stolen from my Brother Numpsay!
Fact: “The Golden Child” is one of the most quotable movies ever, and is a national treasure.
My brothers and I still say to each other, “You’re Sardo Numpsay!!!”
I, I, I, I want the kniiiiiife……
FUCK YEAH GOLDEN CHILD!
If only we had known that Eddie Murphy’s funny was in his real teeth all along.
Obama’s Second-Term Victory Is Ice Cream
Re-electing Barack Obama was a bigger victory than simply putting a check mark in the “W” column. (Shit. I just reminded myself of the last guy. [SHUDDER])
It’s a gigantic victory. It’s SWEET victory. Why is it sweeter than just a plain old victory? The stage is set by what Obama inherited:
- Economic Disaster - Speaking of the last guy, Dubya inherited the biggest surplus in history and converted it into the biggest deficit in history. He shoveled money from a full vault into the overstuffed pockets of fat cats and into two useless, immoral, unwinnable wars, and kept digging until the hole in the floor of the vault was as big as the pile of money that had been in it. Dubya left that giant economic hole to his successor.
- Ongoing Wars - The trickiest part of unwinnable wars is getting out of them. Dubya left that shitty task to his successor.
Due to the havoc Dubya wreaked on America, and the commensurate repercussions, the GOP didn’t want to win the 2008 election. That’s right. They didn’t want to win.
They planned to blame the Democratic winner for all of the country’s problems, block anything he or she wanted to do, and be sitting pretty four years later to easily win in 2012 and take credit for the inevitable upturn in the economy.
Crazy, you say? Check this out:
The candidate the GOP put forth was short, old, decrepit, facially asymmetrical, and blinky as hell. The stress of the presidency probably would have killed him. Which brings up his running mate: A corrupt, vindictive Barbie-doll hockey mom with a shocking lack of knowledge about the world (and proud of it) and an accent that turbocharged her very evident stupidity and shallowness.
Sure they wanted to win. But the GOP didn’t want them to win.
But now… NOW.
It’s 2012 and the GOP really wants to win. They are supposed to win. It’s self-evident that they will win. They could taste it. They were salivating.
It reminds me of Eddie Murphy’s bit about ice cream from Delirious. The Republicans are the kid who has the ice cream, taunting the kid who doesn’t have any ice cream “because you are on the welllffaarre!” They danced around ecstatically with the ice cream in their grasp until the ice cream fell on the ground and they stood there dejected.
And the welfare kid danced and sang.
That’s why this win is so sweet and delicious.
Here’s the aforementioned Eddie Murphy Delirious cookout bit. It’s all in the first minute, but the whole twelve minutes is brilliant.
Now THAT’S a Fire!
Some people here think they’re Eddie Murphy’s uncle. Now all we need is two gallons of gasoline.