No Thyself
- Aug 12
- 7 min read
August 12th, 2026
This week I'm interviewing a maybe Robber, cracking up behind-the-site-scenester Ms. A suffering through the last big one (RIP and rot you piece'a trash I says to "Throbbin'") eating her inbox into a noisy text-breakup. Regarding his replacement part, "somebody's gotta fetch the ice and cut them onions". Similar, he's young as Monday, and myself Methuselah (thanks to Prison® preservative, in-person I look a healthy 45 according to some without skin in the game). Like the predecessors, he came in dissing past performers as gold-digging love bandits.
He's different, natch. Then he ratted out schemes silly ol' me couldn't know the other tattooed love boys played. Thank my Generous Lord for sending this angel with only my needs and wants to gimme that love missing since childhood. One Black Muslim around my age finally figured out yesterday whilst lecturing me I actually DO know the average Sex-Pope looking youth doesn't lie in his rack daydreaming about old cats who look like Bruce Willis and rap like educated truck-stop waitresses.
On the regular I wonder why I'm praised in prison over being brainy but handled like the densest drooler to slobber his way to lockdown and concluded it ain't me. Inmates by-and-large miss a self-awareness gene so I land between projection and assumption now. Take my buddy "Boomhauer", named like Hank "King of the" Hill's stud-buddy who talks to the dime like Miss Othmar from "Peanuts".
Due to him being the only person seeing the affliction a setback, he's one major motormouth missing brakes. Seeing him coming as I toss my CL-5s on to kick out the jams to drown his gibberish I feel foul. He's a nice fella who didn't wear cuffs til after 40 like me. Living in Holland I picked Nederland sprakken pretty moy, but damned if I'm rocking Boom. Reasonably sure Berlitz hasn't added it yet.
Mind you, mirror-blindness haunts our masses everywhere. Behind Ultimate Firewall® those stellar social media spectacles from the fishbowl I miss more than Kamel Red Lights with sky-blue Baby Bics (tangent alert from ADD King: that reminds me, like I told my newbie about the BOSS AS BALLS AMAZING cereal treats we cranked out yesterday while we scattered animal crackers and fine crushed strawberry wafers over fake Fruity Pebbles and ground chocolate flake wonder-bars you can make with these ingredients replacing those in Recipes as the "Ignunt Dyno-Puff Bars", "presentation matters" - kid learnt something and you did too at a website that gives til it hurts). Madness peepshows better left private repackaged and marketed to the mobs by deluded souls as brag-worthy daily for free. Freak factories that pert-near murdered TV.
One fave was a know-it-all from Lex with the physique you'd see bobbing Thanksgiving morning over Broadway in NYC. Before scolding me for being a bastard, let me hip you to this chick. There was a private group I started with friends INCLUDING her on Facebook while care-giving for my hip-injured 90-year-old Pop ("Pa-Pa" when I was a tot got re-branded by the second wave - I'm always with the times, even with old farts having asses I wipe). Keeping a metric mess of groups had me occupied all shut-in. Comic Nerds, Peanuts, John Waters, Killing Lucy Van Pelt with different artists figuring out how to creatively smoke Schulz's little football-swiping sociopath: I did "Bird Flu" where Dr. Snoopy had a syringe shoved into Woodstock to inject and infect Lucy strapped helplessly to a table. Apropos of nothing: ain't it nutty I wound up in PRISON? Anyhow, big girl was in a club with me devoted to offensive jokes. No sacred cows with a warning to bail before you bitch. Performing its job, this bunch was a blast. Cartoons, gags, raunchy pics, it was all hilarity minus butt-hurt (I hope that terms not dead). Til one 350-if-a-pound married lesbian decided to pipe up and rain on our parade. Thing is, only esoterically does this problem got squat to do with anything mentioned chapping her wide Nerf-square derriere.
Messenger had a DM from a guy whose sense of humor was so lame I 100% believe English his second language. Behind an artist pseudonym and colorful digital paint profile pics, my hunch seemed legit. Offering profuse apologies he decided to split our group. Seemed he'd made a joke about trans folks and a ruckus erupted. Heading to the page I found something pitiful. His joke was cornball and flat like always. And a softball. Not an attack, indictment, nor commentary but a gag punch-lining trans ladies resenting their junk in a nutshell. Whoopdie-friggin'-doo. Under the post, a thread rivaling a Taylor Swift (one more WHY????) gig berating then defending the commenter. Bouncing back to my discussion with the Artiste, I urged him stay despite the fact he brought nothing of use to our group and was the soc-med equal to a gnat, truthfully.
Real-time had another DM off another admin, a friendly fellow from Lexington too proclaiming proudly he'd removed the offending jab. Off a group insulting handicapped folks, mentally more, gays, Blacks, Hispanics, Whites (it made ME feel better), and sex with kids. Yet this was the hill we croaked on? Poor Thomas got deluged by inbox browbeating and succumbed he fessed. Reminding him our history and purpose, he agreed re: premature response and he released the block. My friend Marie recently remarked she's a quick thinker but a slow processor. Ditto. Over the week following it sank in he knew Princess Poundcake in 3D, hanging out (eating out specifically and unsurprisingly, he was a hoss too) in RL with her. My awakening occurred after he'd quit the group despite being excitedly at its core, posting with abandon. One big bully stomped his pleasure with her pissy paw.
Busy butt-wiping, enduring child-rearing horrors without that pesky "hope" I hadn't energy to intervene fully and involve myself much. This gal was tricky because she was chummy with lotsa mutual friends for years in my actual orbit. This was Lexington before my shameful exit, a topic I honestly tried to avoid then. From Paducah I'd safely grown a community with those Lex-ed behind kindly not talking trash about my moment of bad celebrity. Exploring her world was a Sociological dream.
Seems this delicate fleur who was royally miffed, equating his bland joke as support for murderers of the genders-switch community. This proud lesbian was married to a TRANS womyn (she put that last touch on for butt-holes like me to giggle at). Much explained after I was baffled over her outrage at heap-big TG supporter Dan Savage using "tranny" from his pulpit anecdotally. Big'n begun telling me my casual defense of a word not two years earlier that exact community used was calling somebody nigger*. Checking out her loudly broadcasted existence, torturous truth prevailed. There she was sitting beside a dude with a five o'clock shadow for all the world looking like she was about to take him trick-or-treating as Edith Bunker (IMDb, kiddos!).
That slow processor buzzed along before ding! ding! ding! That pic was a modern American Gothic. Two seriously unspectacular folks trying for dear life to show exceptionalism. She's no lonely, lost lady eating her and every other sad sack on her block's feels. He's not a nervous jerk incapable of heading a household. They're lesbian-trans Satanist (yup, that too) freedom fighters. Their pitiful brokenness spoke louder than her mouth in all the attacks she launched, lost, then went ad hominem on.
Bullies graduate, I've seen it 10,000,000 times. This yard in fact. A-side is softest with a huge sex criminal concentration. B is a bit harder but the whole shebang's built for comfort not speed. Dudes with arched brows who do the girliest of deeds for dope move here from other yards reintroduced as Big Daddy or Little Gotti. Punks to Kingpins with a bus-trip. Fake gangstas run amok here. Ghetto is their destination, not trap. Hardest men in State boots, chest puffed, and my favorite line "be glad you didn't know me before". What? Your eyebrow pencil smeared off? Some days this entire dump is Florida without water. Where I'd sit and watch guys introduce themselves to multiple tourists as equal amounts of persons and job holders. Quoth the Joker: "If I'm going to have a past, it might as well be multiple choice".
When talking Porky's playmate why am I being a dick and not backing their belief, their wife, etc? Maddie, Maisie, Gina, and Riley, are why. Trans women of Northpoint, all. Sufferers for decades losing hormones, especially outside media-case Maddie. Third puberty's a bitch that drives folks to suicide. Many inmates blame the administration in charge now. "Not I" said the Little Brown Cow. These two are more examples I'm laying blame on. Shoving a movement on a country that made a condition a fashion statement, and bullying especially from folks who'd lived on life's receiving end contributed to the current backlash. Regular folks without dogs in the race got shock-collared.
Indulging such bad behavior castrates the genuine. That cute actress with a schnozz from one sitcom I liked "Life In Pieces" got civilian attention when it came out Chris Noth might be a dyed-in-the-wool sexual monster. What did alleged masher Mr. Big do to this girl who solicited press with the AP handing her a headline? Complimented her perfume with boozy breath. This had nothing to do with sexual violence except distracting from serious claims, tainting opinions before verdicts, and maybe advancing her career unfairly. Rape isn't a movement. Anybody seeing her a victim using their crayon to draw a line showing how she IS, tell that to the family of a lady named Charlene in Lexington days back. Dragged into bushes, mauled by more than one man, humiliated in court, then she hung herself before 25. Imitations don't deserve flattery with serious issues involving others' welfare. Preserving authenticity, even for humans changing up to show it, is vital.
Back to my Robber-recruit, I'm calling him a strong maybe as a domestic partnership of convenience. This ruffian's beginning college and the Medicine Assistance Program (MAT) both like me. Life-changers I owe a lot to. His homeboy, a slick, sexy offender of that type who's pansexual threw his hat in the ring jealous I reckon. His selling point was the other's lacking sexual preference. Like the same Marie said on this topic: "I front-loaded on that sh%t". Not a priority. Those onions AIN'T gonna cut themselves and I have a background in tutoring. He'll be fine long as he remembers what many seem to forget and keeps it real. Batmama out!
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