Big Motherville of Thee I Sing
January 26, 2012
Okay well here we go, it’s been awhile, but that’s not ’cause I’ve been too busy…no really I’ve got some other projects going and they might be posted already but fer two things. One they are not compatible with the rest of my
Dysu crap really so they should go on a new page or even blog, however because of…Two, my new attempts are more…complicated to lay out on the page so I am looking for some co-authors, co-artists, co-posters if any one is interested…but I am off track because though I have been semi and occasionally busy with these projects, I also get discouraged and struggle to keep on task, struggle to believe that we are smart enough as a people to overcome and remain free…
Just let me give ya two recent examples. Here in my home town the city and county have received federal dollars to further attack smoking and smokers rights and they are, without mercy or mirth, doing just that. Now I realize that much of the rest of the country has already succumbed to this madness…but that’s why I moved here, to the frozen north, where people are tough independent and no nonsense, but here we are on the verge of making the smoking of legal nicotine products in all public spaces illegal.
And I know, I’m not stupid, many of you (who may possibly someday read this blog) are nodding yer wittle heads in agreement, “After all” you say “We must protect the chilren from the killers who chose to smoke near them because everyone knows it is a proven indisputable fact that 2nd hand smoke causes cancer.” EXCEPT…except…News Flash 2nd hand smoke has not been proven to cause cancer. It is very clear if you just stop and do a little research, but I know you won’t…you who want to believe the lie. And nothing the lil ol Dysu can say will change yer mind will it, but how about Penn & Teller the famous comedian magicians check this out if you still believe 2nd hand smoke has been proven to cause cancer..
Okay so you didn’t bother watching did you? See because it fits in with the rest of your schema (a psychology term, Greek in origin, go look it up) to continue to believe a lie, to believe the bs, as does the next crazy thing I am forced to listen to this morning…Mrs Obama’s call for tougher nutrition regulations for schools and the CBS news heads reactions to it. I haven’t heard it yet, just the promo, but I already know whuich way the wind will blow. They will see the wisdom, have experts that back the statistically moot pseudo science and all nod there heads in agreement. Of course they are balanced so they will give the opposite view a minute or so for rebuttal, then gently chide and mock him as they roll into the next segment.
But the critics are right we live in a nanny state indeed Big Motherville of Thee I Sing…it is far too late to put that genie back in the bottle.
But that’s only if you believe like I do, parnioidly dysfunctional
Queen Dean Comes Clean
January 19, 2012
Okay well amazingly enough everyone, breaking news, fatty foods are bad fer ya!! I’ve been watching CBS news the last couple days and they are hot on this story.
Well okay 
it’s really that they’re hot on devastating another “off the ranch” media mogul. What?…”off the ranch”? Well yea I mean they have been after Mrs. Dean for years because she cooks…(cue the evil music duh duh duhhhn!) fatty foods. When every one else was toeing the party line of less is more, Mrs. Dean called it as she saw it which might have been something like “Well that’s just horse pa-tooty sugar, of course only more is more“
Let me first say that I am not a fan of hers, I have seen the show here or there surfing (back in the flush ol’ days when the Dysu had cable), and mainly I guess ’cause among my many dysfunctions I just happen to be lactose intolerant…kind’a makes her cooking show moot as far as I’m concerned.
I of course like that nerdy caveman cooking guy, even bought his book, but that’s fer another post.
So see this isn’t about my defense of Mrs. Dean.
Nor is it an attack on the news heads who, like piranhas are swarming now that blood is in the water.
This rant is toward the “backlash”.
Who are these people who are mad at her for “fooling” them into eating pecan pie?
Hey ya retard bastards news flash, fatty foods are unhealthy. If you have been eating Mrs. Dean’s recipes and are suddenly stunned with this news I indeed hope you have not managed to procreate yet.
So Mrs. Dean, I don’t know ya, don’t watch your show but still I (of course) have some advice. Stop being so contrite, stand up tall and cook up a butter filled pie of F-U for all the back stabbin whiners and then bar the door ’cause the health police are comin!!
At least that’s what the ol’ Dysu would do.
Declaration of Dysfunction: Addendum 1
January 12, 2012
All right so hey, it’s me and ain’t it appropriate that it has taken me three posts to finish up what I promised to do in one but, I mean, I guess that’s what being dysfunctional is all about.
Of course I’d thought I kind’a had wrapped it up but Lil’ Mouse pointed out that I had never actually said anything regarding any specific dysfunction(s) per se. I had discussed much of what I believed started the original clinkety clank and how I attempted to rectify and self repair but…
Okay well here I go again ramblin’ on..so instead lets just get right to it.
In Articles 1 & 2 I attempted to describe how I came to suffer from what I call “Running From The Demons Disorder” or RFTDD.
I had lots of other professional diagnoses of course…over the years, ADHD, ADD, bi-polar, antisocial, BPD. But none came close I believed to describing my particular dysfunction. Nor did the medication I was often prescribed seem to curb many of my more unusual or self destructive behaviors; in fact often the medication made things worse. I also believe that I am not the only person who suffers from RFTDD.
This disorder (I made up) is typified by increasingly risky behaviors, inappropriate sex, massive drug and alcohol use, risky social behaviors such as shoplifting, thuggery etc. and many other self and socially destructive behaviors. 
It was my hope in articles 1& 2 to describe the process that led to this RFTDD, the bullying in my pre-teen years and buried trauma of my home life during this same time period, and suggest that I believe it was the root cause of this RFTDD. (It is important to note here that the beginning of my new becoming described in the final part of article 3 was directly related to the recovery of these buried traumas from home and some of the more severe bullying at Westmont elementary. Once uncovered though many behaviors associated with RFTDD began to fade [which of course left me with only one other major dysfunction to tackle])
My secondary major dysfunction of Lefturnism is the dysfunction I tried (and probably failed) to discuss in Article 3. I strongly believe of course that I would not have been affected by (or as affected by) Lefturnism had not it been for my RFTDD. However, at least in my case, the combination of both dysfunctions proved devastating to my future. Wait…what?
Lefturnism? Okay well everyday we are faced with a hundred choices. Should I get up or should I stay in bed? Should I eat cornflakes or pancakes? Should I drink these four shooters with this nice Lemon Kush fer a chaser th
en drop some x and go to work rollin or…? See what it really boils down to is should I turn left or right, it’s as simple as that? Right turn towards responsibility, good decision making and it’s accompanying consequences, or left turn to Fuckaroundville and all it’s rewards.
See the counter culture told me to do my own thing and I listened, only my thing was at best, doing nothing, certainly doing nothing that I didn’t want to do. And I wanted above all to have fun(RFTDD)…so that is Lefturnism
You want more? Mmmm? Okay let me provide a hypothetical case study.
Guy A suffers from Lefturnism. He has held a series of low paying jobs, but can’t seem to hold employment for more than a few months at a time. In every case Guy A. reports that the boss was a “dick”, or that the boss or some other employee “had it out for him” etc.
Guy A, does hold a job at this point. He also has a small apartment which he shares with his girlfriend and their two children. Girlfriend also struggles maintaining employment and is often on assistance. Both Guy A and girlfriend struggle with drug and alcohol addictions which they have both participated in and graduated from numerous state assisted treatment programs with no visible results.
Recently Guy A came into office and complained that they would not have enough money for there electric bill which was $300 and their electricity was going to be shut off unless they came up with the money. When asked how the electricity bill got so high Guy A. first response was the “electric company rips us off man” upon further review and questioning however another story appears which is as follows.
On receiving the first bill, which was $80 dollars, Guy A. and girlfriend realized they only had, after rent and food, $45 dollars which of course wasn’t enough. They used the $45 to party instead. When the next bill came it of course was $160, Guy A. explained, but they only, again had forty five, which was really depressing because how were they ever going to get ahead at this rate. So they used the $45 to party…
Okay so you get the picture. The behaviors I gained during the first becoming were a bitch to try and change, hell I still struggle with Lefturnism (and in my weaker moments RFTDD ashamedly enough). And what it took to change the vast majority of these behaviors was learning to be unrelentingly hard on my self, not accept my own whiny bull shit and as such, as this second becoming transpired, I grew intolerant of all bullshit.
Well okay that’s not true, entirely, I still smoke cigarettes and as a final example of what I am talking about I will give you this attack on bullshit…
All we hear is how tough it is to quit smoking, how nicotine is so powerful that we can’t quit smoking alone (ie: can’t quit at all), the addiction (disease) is so strong that it is nearly impossible to quit. That is bull shit. I have to face it every time I look in the mirror– I smoke because I’m a big baby. Every time I want smokes I have to drive to the store, get out of my car, walk into the store take out my wallet, ask for the smo… okay you get the picture the point is that during any one of those moments I could stop myself; I am not a robot controlled by the nicotine. No I don’t stop myself because of this “It’s okay Dysu, you’ve had a hard day, you’ll quit smoking tomorrow“…ha ha…the little lies we tell ourselves.
Anyway, I still smoke but at least I can face myself in the mirror honestly.
Okay f-ass long post but I didn’t wanna split er’ up. Hope it made all things clear Cat’s & Kittens, or at least clearer. Lil Mouse is saying I should talk more about how I changed, God Bless er’ (hell for awhile I had a job with my own office) but I think I’ll let this topic rest awhile…and I need a smoke.
Declaration of Dysfunction Article 3 Section II
January 8, 2012
And actually I don’t know why the hell I was asking…like I care what you think.
But anyway so ever since I was a kid I have been pretty happy, happy with who I am, it was only other people who for some reason weren’t quite happy with me…I don’t know why. There didn’t seem to be anything really wrong with me. Other than being overly nice and polite and a little chubby (fat) or as they called it in my day, husky. But from my peers to my family there was nowhere that I felt safe and accepted for being me, the young unit that I was.
Okay so I’d learned the advantage of violence and cruelty from my peers, I had learned the lesson of abandonment and frailty of human connections from my family, and as I cast myself adrift into the big world I found there were a lot of other units wandering around looking for purpose in this brave new world of self centered over indulgent exploration and drug fueled over extended childhood.
Tune in, turn on, drop out.
And do you know what I discovered, dropping out screws you by the time you’re thirty, all your friends will have moved on gotten real jobs, got wives and kids and mortgages, and yea you tell yourself your a real rebel not tied down by all that bullshit, as you search the next row of bushes to bed down for the night…
Looking back maybe there is some one I can sue over this issue. I mean I know Dr. Leary is dead now but doesn’t he have some sort of trust situation. Or how ’bout …no…no that’s not gonna work. Besides I’m gettin ahead of myself.
So you see my problem, I believed that b.s., since I had nothing else, these cast off units were my family, and I did very well, even among my new family, at turning on and dropping out.
And you have to remember that by the time we get to this point it’s now the late seventies. The generation of peace and love was making way for the kids of hate and anarchy…that was me, I was one of them.
Tune in, turn on and drop out, disrupt the rest, that could have been the new motto.
F-em all was easier to say.
Okay so this is what I had become, by eighteen a completely dysfunctional unit. As much able to support myself as a thread bare bra supports a 60 year old stripper.
I like to think that this was not my original destiny, what God had in store when he formed me in the womb, or for you humanists, what genetics had in store for me. But that of course brings nature vs nurture into question now doesn’t it and I don’t know if i wanna go down that long road. Because in the long run it doesn’t matter what made me dysfunctional, just that I became that way.
Its only that the process of this becoming seemed a lot like life. I, for all I knew, was simply tryin to survive, but in that I became this…this…well again, dysfunctional unit.
Okay, there I was fully fledged and malfunctioning on all cylinders. I will skip the ten years or so of drug crazed, gun totin, mountain ramblin, bush sleepin, drunk a-hole, crime doin trouble causin hilarity. maybe I will post some of the high and low lights some day. But this is my declaration and there is one more becoming to discuss.
Once I realized that I had, through an unconscious procedure become one thing…perhaps through a conscience process I could become something different. Of course, I never do anything half way. So crazed ultra revolutionary drug addled socialist became crazed ultra independent drug addled separatist.
Becoming the unit I am today, and my own new particular brand of Dysfunction. And I swear I’m gonna do it in hundred words or less.
This second becoming wasn’t an easy process. It took about ten years of trial and error and in the long run the only real world applicable difference is that I can hold a job (pretty much) now.
Most of the other differences are merely theoretical. My blog itself is a description of these theoretical differences between what I first believed entering the big world (all the liberal peace corps new age anarchistic monkey wrenchin beyond war crystal hoo-doo socialistic bull crap) and what real life has forced me to believe and accept as truth, dysfunctional or not, you are only as good as your components, only as good as your soft and hard 
ware, so figure out what kind of unit you are, make the best of it, and stop cryin…
Some of us are designed to be Oprahs or Shaqs, some of us are designed to flip burgers or sweep floors, some of us are designed simply to be dysfunctional in all sorts of random and unexpected ways
.
And that’s me chasin’ my tail sayin God Bless America Cats & Kittens until next time on the ol’ Dysu ranch
Declaration of Dysfunction: Article 3 Section I
January 8, 2012
Sso hey Cats & Kittens it’s me the dysu and I’m hoping to wrap up this whole theme in this one post so God bless America and yee-haw lets get started shall we.
I think the best place to start however is with a quick look back, a review as it were of where we are…D.1 was the difficulty of transitioning to my new envo in the land of ‘Oz, the social pressure of my new peer group and my (through the fault mainly of genetics) inability to blend in enough to maintain programing and become the unit I was originally intended to be. Hopefully that sentence makes sense to ya’ll.
Okay well maybe some b.s explanation crap to help further understand all the other convoluted confounding things I’m gonna say.
I am born, a interesting blob of matter, a structure of chemicals and tissues, designed to grow to replicate, to program itself through a quirk of chemical influencing along varied paths of interest. This blob, this baby, this new unit, (me in this specific instance) is actually born with a genetic implanted fate (here’s where i believe the line between science and God starts blurring[but that'
s just me and that's fer a different post]) of what i am meant to become.
Okay so did that make sense? I am genetically designed (destined) to be something, and I know most of us in today’s society wanna think we’re artists or deep thinkers etc, but…okay whatever I don’t want to spend too
much time on this. The point is that as babies we are meant to become something. Then life starts happening and things get interesting. Often times what a person was originally meant to become is somehow distorted, re-directed, perverted. Sometimes this redirection is beneficial. Sometimes it is not.
Anyway if we all can agree on that simple concept? Everybody on board? Because this becoming is important.
See while D 1. discusses the part of me that was wrestling with peer acceptance, everything may have been alright if there was support and some sort of grounding at home. In Article 2 of my Declaration it is clear of course that home had become, for a wide variety of reasons, simply another hostile landscape for me to navigate through.
But remember that much of this was my own fault, well the fault of genetic designing or fate or God’s plan or whatever the f you wanna call it, I was not the type of unit that could hold up under such conditions; or so 20/20 hind sight and 30 some odd years of personal reflection have shown me.
Some units thrive under adverse conditions. Oprah survived years of sexual abuse and look what kind of unit she turned out to be. Oh I mean yes of course, dysfunctional in some ways to be sure, but somehow the adverse events helped her hone her unit (self perfecting) into a fuller more productive version.
The only conclusion of course is that I, and other units like me must be flawed then in some serious way…but, and I repeat but, much of that still would have been okay I still may have very well survived school and family and somehow managed to find a productive place in society if not for the subject of this post…
Article 3 of my Declaration of Dysfunction; the Counter Culture revolution, the hippie movement, tune in, turn on, drop out, do your own thing if it feels good do it do it do It!!! And man did I ever. I mean I was late comin to this who
le party (I was born in the very tail end of the baby boom generation and was as far removed from Woodstock geographically as I was temporally)but I did my best too catch up .
My big brother five years older than me started trying to mimic the hippie look sometime in 69 or 70…by the time I got old enough being a hippie was…
Okay Cats & Kittens here I am once again well past my 500 word count. I knew this one was gonna run long but I’ve barely touched the theme of the post so before we get too far how bout we split it?
