Shit To Hell

I forget which movie it was, but in it, the actor, Jack Nicholson, screamed at some plebeian who’d obviously torqued his shit, “You want the truth?! You can’t handle the truth!!”
Not knowing exactly why, those phrases uttered by old Jackie boy stuck with me for some time afterward as one thing we have in incredibly short supply these days is truth, and his words, even though scripted, ring very true, particularly in this day and age where lies and skullduggery are commonplace, and the more you spout truth the more misguided miscreants will get in your face, openly deriding your agenda. All swole up with noxious fear and methane distrust they’ll howl and yammer and point their crooked, wicked fingers whereupon you’re summarily judged and labeled a swill sucking pariah. And for what? For telling the truth!!
Lies keep spreading like a nasty rash and the scurrilous, loutish, scandalous behavior exhibited by the esteemed humanus walkus erectus has stained the consciousness of our culture beyond any reasonable comprehension of life as it should be. Worldwide, lies are bought and sold; very acceptable currency these days, A veritable morass of deception has trucked us into this upside-down hell on earth from which I’m having trouble finding my way toward a new dawn. But far from flinching, I’m coming out swinging as the fight is definitely on.
Just yesterday, in fact, speaking the truth caused a truckload of yak dung to be dumped on my doorstep. And I don’t necessarily cotton to yak feces, but even more so, the type person who ordered the caca to be deposited in the first place! That’s the crux. People are the problem here. And there’s a whole bunch of these shits procreating like rabid weasels; more than I care to stomach. Yesterday, despite every possible way I could find in my quest of giving, sharing, exercising patience and understanding, I got crossways with a manipulative, controlling, deceptive, hardcore shit, a person who’d worn the facade of good and truth and righteousness like a badge of honor -I guess when it was convenient for him to say what he wanted me to hear, as it certainly wasn’t part of the real him I later found out- the diseased facade he’d paraded around eventually slinking onto the cold stone floor after a downright miserable fuckin’ day at the dog races; this shit coming unhinged after I’d bent over backwards to help him in every way possible. But in his sickness, his zero currency of trust, geezed to the tits on fear, rigidly and purposely self-destructive, he effectively tore down everything good he’d built up... just to show me he could and would, by God!
Even though we’d spent an entire day in the studio getting absolutely zero accomplished -and all because of choices he made, incredibly numnutted choices, might I add- I was made to be the bad guy because I’d scheduled a business dinner 8 hours after the supposed start of the session. I was on time, had a great kit tuned and ready for the music at hand. I’ve done this before. Let’s look at these facts, shall we? We had five three minute songs to record, and we’d rehearsed them for four weeks... and 7 and 1/2 hours later we hadn’t recorded one solitary fucking note... and he’d wasted hundreds of dollars... and I didn’t get paid a fucking cent for my time.... but I was the bad guy... I reasonably scheduled a business meeting to help my life, a life after this sham of a session which should have been finished by 5 at the least if anything resembling a competent professional would’ve been on the fucking gig!! And the crooked, wicked finger pointed at me and the beefed up shit went to yowling...
Did he look at the facts? No.
Did he look in the mirror? No.
Did he look at the incompetent engineer? No.
Was he ever true to himself? Hell no.
Do I ever get any eye to eye truth? Fucking hellfuckin’ no.
And after all that I’d tried to prepare for him, all I tried to do to make the situation as best it could be given many years of experience and acumen, he chose to toss it all in the trash, never once believing I was telling the truth, even though I’d proven myself throughout the entire process of pre-production and over long talks with him to explain, not only myself, but the process as well, wanting to help him, help his music in every way I could, hell! join up for the ride if all went well!!
He made a series of jaw dropping decisions cause he couldn’t handle the truth. Fear is a bitch. Ignorance and pride, another.
And Jackie boy was right. People just can’t handle the truth at all anymore. I mean, the minute we open our mouth it’s all a hornet’s nest of lies, right? So why believe anything? Why bother fucking with the truth in the first place?! Spend that currency!!
Me? I’m gonna continue to tell the truth. Stands tall. Gives me peace of mind. And one day, maybe it’ll make a difference, however negligible, however grand, matters not. I choose to die satisfied and content, like a conquering hero returning home.
Meanwhile, the fight is on.
Put up your dukes, swizzle stick.