Mad Marvin, Episode 3

After his last essay, Mad Marvin fell silent for quite awhile, and I had hope that he'd perhaps gone back to his deep woods cabin to work on his manifesto once again. But late last week this piece arrived, which we now present to you in edited form—the editor


I'm Mad Marvin, dammit.

After two previous articles, each time you guys who read this site have implied, sort of, that I'm an out-of-control (rectum). And I have to tell you I've been hurt by that. Throwing hot coffee on a right-wing, Christian fundamentalist, gay-hating, stinky douche-bag? What's the big deal?  One or two occasional outbursts—which were really goddamn warranted, if you ask me—and you get labeled as some kind of psychotic anarchist. (Excrement).

It hurts for you guys think of me like that. Am I not human?  Do I not bleed? (Actually, because of the blood-thinners my dork-of-a-doctor makes me take, I bleed MORE than the rest of you). Yeah, I'm a little impulsive at times. And I bet you're jealous.

But I'm not the  out-of-control fellow, full of Tourettes-barking episodes, that you all think I am. (I now have a drug that helps that.)  To prove to you that I have much more self-control than you give me credit for, I'm going to tell you a bunch of things that I DID NOT say and do over the last few weeks.

• When some jerk waiting at the stop light threw his cigarette butt out of the window of his car, rather than into his car's ashtray, I DID NOT:   get out of my car, pick up the smoldering cigarette butt, and toss through his open car window, into his lap, with the words "Cigarette butts are not biodegradable, you stupid (euphemism for penis). What gives you the (fornicating) right to litter our streets with the trash from your filthy (fornicating) habit?"

• When a big blubbery man walking ahead of me out at Tractor Supply hit the automatic door-opener at the exit door—the one REAL disabled people are supposed to use— I DID NOT SAY "Hey lard-ass. Too hard to open the door yourself? If you did things for yourself rather than taking the easy way out, you maybe wouldn't be so (fornicating) fat.

• When a  woman passed by me on the street wearing skin-tight black spandex pants and apparently no underwear, I DID NOT SAY: "Christ lady, do you want me to take up a collection to buy you a mirror so you can see what you look like before you leave the house? Nobody in the this world wants to see your goodies."

• When my 75-year old neighbor mows the lawn in his bright red Speedo and wearing nothing else but a gold chain around his sweaty, wrinkled neck, I DO NOT SAY: "It's time to die, Fred."

• When trying to eat my Magnificent Seven breakfast at the Perkins restaurant off of highway 36 last month,  and the couple next to me began to change the shitty diaper on their slack-jawed two year old—on the table. I DID NOT: get up, open my fly and begin urinating in their orange juice. And I DID NOT SAY to the father:  "Christ almighty, you in-bred barbarians. Why the (fornication) don't you and your sister/wife pack up your 1993 mini-van and go the (fornication) back that Podunk in Arkansas where baby shit on the dining room table is normal?

See, I am perfectly capable of restraint.

Mad Marvin, Episode 2

It's with some trepidation that I allow another short piece by Mad Marvin to see the light of day. He was mightily impressed by the fact that his earlier piece got a fair number of responses, and I fear his submissions to will become increasingly insistent and vile and threatening unless every so often we vent the steam cooker that is his brain. This piece is one of the less inflammatory among the two dozen or so he's submitted to date.  And we now feel obliged to begin running the following disclaimer:  "the views expressed here are those of the contributor, and do not reflect the beliefs, policies or recommendations of the management."   —the editor


I'm Mad Marvin, dammit.

The problem with this country is that we're too (censored) nice.

No, that's not it.  The problem is that we're phonies about being nice. As a society, we really ought to say what we think more often, and stand up and say so when the people around us full of horse (manure). As it is, too many people are living a lie, trying to act like saints when they secretly are entirely mean SOB's. This isn't fair to the genuine nice people (there are some, and I ain't one of 'em). How can we know who's really nice if everybody is pretending to be that way?

But my thoughts wander.

Last month I was down in Denver visiting my brother, and one day after the ballgame it was still really nice out so we planned to walk all the way down to the park by the capital. My brother has an old friend who hangs there.  On the way we stopped at the Yard House for a beer, and when we came out, across the street on the corner in front of the Barnes and Noble store, a nutcase was standing on a little suitcase yelling out a bunch of stuff about how God hated us all. God especially hates gay people and he also hates everybody who allows gay people to live.

Now, Denver is not Boulder, but it's still a decent enough place, and I was pretty sure that 9 out of ten people who passed by this creep must have felt a little sick about him. Yet (censored) nobody told him he was a (censored) (rectum). They all pretty much ignored him. (Feces). Since when is it a good thing to tolerate evil? Anyway, we went into Barnes & Noble to use the bathroom and buy coffee at the Starbucks inside, and when we came out, the old (rectum) was still standing on his stupid suitcase, still ranting.

We watch him for 20 minutes or so, and in all that time, the only person to throw a cup of hot coffee at him was me. Don't you think that if this dumb bastard was dowsed in scalding coffee by 30 or 40 people an hour, he'd get the message that his dumb (feces) wasn't acceptable? I really don't think tolerance is the great thing everybody thinks it is.

Like I said. We're too (censored) nice when it comes to ignoring and tolerating dumb-ass stupid (feces). If somebody is full of bull (feces) we should tell them so. And if they're truly evil, then we should scald them with hot coffee.

Introducing a New Geezer

Editor's note:  This essay represents the first offering from a persistent wannabe Geezer who calls himself Mad Marvin. Marvin is the oldest Geezer to ever write here, and is not a member or even acquaintance of the original Geezers Emeritus. We don't even really like him. Well into his 60's, now,  Mad Marvin was once an original, tie-dyed-in-the wool hippie liberal pinko of profound peace-loving sappiness. But later in life a profound cynicism overcame him, manifesting in rabidly extremist views. These days, his rants retain their liberal flavor on some occasions, though escalating to nearly anarchist levels. At other times he is unabashedly right-wing in his views. He is, in other words, quite literally schizophrenic. And off his meds. 

It is likely we will print only a small fraction of the wacky diatribes he submits to us; we just don't have the energy to edit each piece in a way that makes him remotely presentable. 

The last 50 years of stupid-assed US foreign policy can be symbolized by a single goddamn event that's just unfolded in Iraq.

After 20 years of US combat, supposedly aimed at freeing Iraq from tyranny and giving them the gift of democracy,  the evil ISIS faction (which makes Saddam Hussein's Republican Guard look like (censored) Little Sisters of the Poor) takes a key Iraqi city. The nationalist defense force, four times larger than invaders, offers virtually no resistance, instead fleeing and abandoning a couple billion dollars worth of high-tech American guns, missiles and tanks to the invading ISIS forces.

The ISIS forces, despite their startling victory, are far from being beacons of bravery; they've  now essentially hidden behind women and children, setting up headquarters in dense residential areas so that the US is hesitant to help the cowardly nationalist forces by striking back, out of fear of harming civilians. (The nationalist forces, it seems, aren't even willing to offer on-the-ground reconnaissance to help direct missile and air attacks against the evil bastards.) The homeland Iraqis, in other words, as a culture are just about as (censored) and spineless as the (censored) French people were when Hitler frowned at them in WWII.

(Censored). Will we ever, as a nation, grow tired of this pattern? Over and over and over again, from Korea to the middle east, same (censored) story. With professed noble intent, we decide to take on the evil fascist dictators and terrorists of the world, only to end up handing over incredibly dangerous tools to people who would love to shove those weapons up our United Ass. Or leave behind a landscape filled with landmines to blow little kids to bloody bits. As a nation, we're like a kindergarten teacher who, instead of cookies,  hands out out sticks of dynamite and matches to a classroom of (censored) autistic 5 year olds.

Don't get me (censored) wrong, by the way. I admire the Iraqi and other Islamic immigrants to this country. They are the cream of the crop, the ones with spine and spirit. They should be given awards for escaping the in-bred (censored) hillbillies of their homeland. We should actually be embracing them and celebrating their triumph rather than mistreating them like they are extensions of their evil and cowardly (censored) acquaintances back home. If we were a little more admiring and welcoming of these folks, maybe they would be less disillusioned and less likely to learn hatred for us (and from us).

But if history shows anything, it's that we'll never learn. We (censored) get what we (censored) deserve.