You Should Never Argue With A Crazy Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Mind!

For those who haven’t read my Opening Rant post or sampled the posts from my In Her Own Words volume, here’s a quick reminder of who I am and what I believe…

Yeah, I know. You’re all probably shaking your heads and muttering “that guy’s crazy!” to yourselves. Don’t feel naked. That was the reaction of pretty much everyone I’ve ever known, including all of my family and all of those I had thought were my friends. And I’d be willing to bet that none of them was surprised when I eventually had to be hospitalized either!

But before you join them in their derision…


Please take a moment to look at the 3rd of those quote images again. Go ahead. I’ll wait…

You see, selling your soul is the easiest thing in the world to do – particularly for those who’ve set for themselves the highest standard (see the first quote) one could possibly choose to live by! And once that standard has been accepted, the question, “If I asked you to keep your soul–would you understand why that’s much harder?” simply stays with you forever. That’s what I want to address in this post. Don’t worry. I’ll try to be brief…

I’ve mentioned before how I’ve been allowing my youngest son living with me. You know, the one who’s approaching 30 years old, is unemployed (and not looking), and seems to think there’s nothing wrong with sitting in his room all day playing video games while I pay all the bills, and buy all the groceries, and cook all the meals, and do all the housework? The son who asked if he could move in with me because it was closer to the college that he now no longer attends? The one who promised that his presence here wouldn’t be a burden to me, and said that having someone to look out for me would, in fact, be a good thing? Yeah, that’s the one!

Maybe this will become, like, a cool thing

Now I’m gonna ask you to take another look at those quote images at the top, keeping in mind this time that I have been hospitalized repeatedly for my depression, and then try to imagine the effect this living arrangement has been having on me. Better yet, see if you can answer this question: Considering the thousands of times I’ve spoken of my beliefs, and the pains I’ve suffered as a consequence in front of every member of my family, how likely do you think it would be for my son to not know how this living arrangement would affect me?

Well, after walking into my room yesterday, and finding me damned near in tears and literally shaking with rage, he actually had the nerve to ask “what’s wrong with you?!?!” Now you must understand that there’s an image that always pops into my head when someone asks me that question, particularly when it’s asked under circumstances like these. It’s an image of myself, eyes wide with shock, while the speaker’s spit is dripping of my face!

Amazingly enough, I couldn’t find an image of that. So, hopefully, these will do…

Well, as I imagine you’ve guessed by now, I FUCKIN BLEW MY TOP!!!!


It’s funny, apparently venting angst really does relieve stress – because I feel a lot better today. My depression has lifted noticeably, and even my back pain has eased up a bit! My only “regret” is that my “stream of vehemence” wasn’t nearly as well articulated as I’d have liked. But hey, I’ve never really done the “live” thing very well.

But rest assured that I know nothing has actually changed yet. And I know full well the risks I face, like ending up in the hospital again for example, if I don’t make some changes soon. In fact, I’ve been talking to my other son (the “payee” for my disability checks) about the situation (including an upcoming rent increase I got notice of the other day), and we’ve already begun looking for another, smaller and less expensive, place for me to move to.

All of which reminds me of a song, by another of those artists I haven’t posted nearly enough of…

And some more of those amazing quotes…

I know there are those who will dismiss my beliefs as those of a man who’s fallen under an evil influence. But the fact is that I am who I am, and Ayn Rand’s words merely gave voice to what I’ve felt as far back as my memories go.

Now if I could just escape the “evil influence” that makes me want to believe in my fellow man…

I want ice water.

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21 thoughts on “You Should Never Argue With A Crazy Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Mind!

  1. I find it difficult to believe that this entire post isn’t just some kind of prodding of we out here to get a reaction, Izaak. For how would a grown man allow himself to be so USED ?


    • I assure you that, although I’ve left a LOT out of the story, what I’ve presented is the absolute truth. In the background that spawned me, the care and feeding of family leeches is a very common practice – we just pass them off to other relatives from time to time. And just think, those are the same people that have called me crazy my whole life. Well, I guess I am – just as crazy as they are, only with a slight twist…


        • Hell no I’m not enjoying this M-R! Did you miss the part where I freakin blew my top? Or would you rather that I have beaten him to a pulp? Yeah, that’s another of the “great traditions” from my background…


          • I didn’t miss it. Violence ? – the last refuge of the incompetent. You are far from incompetent. I don’t understand any of this.


            • I apologize for exploding M-R. I guess you really haven’t followed this blog long enough to understand. You see my mom was a terrible drunk, my dad was a pimp, and they were both very violent people when things didn’t go their way. But it was hard for me to hold their behavior against them since they were just like most of the other people I grew up around. As a result, I grew into being a severely depressed adult who self-medicated using lots and lots of drugs and eventually attempted to commit suicide.

              My kids grew up in what was, if anything, an even worse environment than I did. The son I mentioned here, along with my oldest son and several other members of our extended family, were at one time actual gun-toting and drug-dealing thugs. They’ve all done time in jail and the son I mentioned here has actually tried to hang himself. I am thankful every day that most of that is behind us now, but that doesn’t stop me from fearing what would become of my son if I just threw him out on the street. After all, he is my son.


              • I see ! Crikey !!! You’ve done pretty well for yourself, then, eh ? – in the long run …
                So you’re saying you gave your children a worse time than your parents gave you …? – or merely that they gravitated to those … areas ?
                I am not a parent, nor ever had the faintest wish to be one. Reading all this makes me glad I was never maternally-oriented. :-/


                • I actually tried to give my kids a better life than the one I’d had. I got an associates degree (and planned to extend it later) – a first for my family. I worked for years in a technical job, putting in all the hours I could get, both in the shop and on the road, to help pay for a home of our own – another first for my family. But you don’t spend that much time away from home without losing touch. In the end, my worsening depression, increasing self-medication, and all that damned pressure resulted in my having a massive breakdown. By the time I was clear enough to focus again, everything had gone all to hell.

                  I can’t say that I’d skip having kids if I had it to do over, despite the pain it would have saved all of us. I was just the crazy guy who went against “the grain of history” and my kids simply followed what looked to them like examples of success when I failed. Frankly, I’m amazed that they’ve come out as well as they have, considering how many of their friends are in jail or dead…


                • It occurs to me that I misspoke when I said I was the first in my family to own a home. My dad actually owned lots and lots of property, including the house / brothel I spent so much time in growing up. Unfortunately for him, like many criminals he had them all in other people’s names to avoid having them seized by the government. Unfortunately for me (depending on how you look at it), the people who held those properties no longer feared him when he got sick and died, so there was no “bloody inheritance” left to be had…


  2. Hi there,
    I clicked the like button and then when wtf! and clicked again. I mean how could I like what’s happening in your life, my friend. I can’t but I can like you Mak and I do. Hang in there knowing there’s a perfect place for one person to live in soon to be found and that will be that on that.


    • Thank you so much for that very sweet comment TT. And thanks as well for explaining why the “Likes” for this post don’t outnumber the comments as they usually do! 🙂


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