TDC WEAW : Why Read These Awful Stories?

TDC WEAW : Why Read These Stories?

Well hey there ya TDC Enjoyer.

Some of you have asked me in private messaging at TheDailyColumn.com why I write stories for the Mighty Fucking TDC that describe the lowest, ugliest points of a young punk's experiences in the western world of Cali.

Indeed, that is an excellent consideration, and here is the answer.

The best stories are told with redemption at the end of an ugly path.

Hard times happen to everyone, and folks do some awful things along their path.

But we humans always hope for the best outcome. When you read a horrific story, you hope that things work out for the better for the protagonist, the one who is the focus of the story.

This is how we folks are made. We hope the best for each other, no matter what we each may have done.

When someone is just being an asshole all along, then they have broken the rules, and if they don't learn their lesson, then we hope that they get pounded by misfortune until they hopefully do Learn Their Lesson.

We hope the best for them. We engage in the story, and identify, even if we have never lived through the awful shit we engage in during such a tale, vicariously.

We read in order to experience true life through another's eyes.

Vicarious is voyeur.

Looking through the keyhole.

So, these stories are to engage you, TDC Reader, and reveal how low one can get, and then witness how the protagonist finally learns his lesson.

The best stories are the ones that reveal to you the worst conditions of a person, where you almost hate the hero because of their awful behavior, but you will still care for them, and hope that they persevere; that they will overcome their awful behavior, and win.

If they win, perhaps you will as well.

There is hope for us all, if one can construct the story correctly.

In Other Words,

No matter what happens to you, this guy has been through worse shit.

Caused by his own poor decisions.


Indeed, there is Hope for us all.


Press on the little box below, my Easter Egg for you, as always.



In these stories, there is redemption.


But you will simply have to follow me along these ruins of the boneyard of awful memories, and trust that your faithful guide will show you the way not only out of the dank caverns below, but back up into the top soil, upward into the sunshine.

Have you the guts to follow me?

I think that you do.



You Rocka.



Of course, no one will ever see the words above.


I will erase them and write another chapter for this weekend on the Mighty TDC.

It needed to be said, even if it will be lost in the ethernet.

Except, Google, which owns Blooger, will have saved it for their own, future use.

Go Google!


---Willies Out

Stories in temporal linear format?

Hi there.

Evidently, many of you who are newbies to this story are asking if there is a way to read these chapters that I write for the Mighty TDC from the start to the latest.

Yes, there is. It involves creating a new blog, and one could start from the beginning, and then read the latest chapters as they appear on TDC, when they occur.

They would be posted on such a new "chapter blog," and at the very bottom of it, so that one would be able to find the latest chapter quite easily.

You could start from the beginning of each tale, and then follow along at your leisure, ya noob.

I will do this for you, if you like.

Each chapter gets published on thedailycolumn.com and, Richie would benefit as well, if anything happens that involves profit.

Look at me, thinking I could generate interest and profit from writing mere words...

You simply have to let me know what you think. Got a Gmail account?

Then tell me.

TDC WEAW : About the "New Idea"

Hey.

A thought occurred to me, and it was this:

Sometimes, for whatever reason, our excellent TDC Enjoyers simply do not want to read the true story episodes that I have written solely for the Mighty Fucking TDC.

Our people just want some good discussions from time to time, in our forums.

Just like Richie provides for us, after he gets off of one of his many jobs, sometimes posting at fucking four AM for we hungey bastards to endure our daily work.

And that is fine with me. I harbor no ill will towards anyone who doesn't like a long-ass post about shit that happened 25 years ago. I simply intend to fully take advantage of and enjoy this fantastic opportunity that our Mastaw Richie has afforded me in contributing to this fine site, The Daily Column.

Nothing else like it in the whole inter-web-net-Series-Of-Tubes thing.

Perhaps my true story episodes are too gory for you, or too revealing, or else, too damn long to have to scroll down through in order to get to the links.

For whatever reason, here is where you will find the link to the series chapters from here on in.

Simply that.

Enjoy the TDC Front Page every day.

That is what we three men are here for: to make you Think about stuff, Discover new links, and, perhaps, Confront each other in the forums with your own thoughts, links, and personality.

TDC.

Think.
Discover.
COnfront.

We are Richie everyday, The Throbbing Hottie on Thursdays, and little ole freaky me on the weekends.


---willies out.

TDC WEAW : ZID continuation

Press play baby, and let's GO.





Sean could not start the fucking Jeep. The other two of we four brothers were laughing their asses off in this new "realty," and they were quite distracting.


Apu walked over to the front, and peered out of the double glass doors of the 7-11.

He had the wireless phone in his hand, about to do some dialing. He looked concerned.

Ya think?

Now, mind you, "wireless phone" means the old style, really a landline, not a cell phone. No one had those things back then, except rich guys.

Good thing. We might have buzz-called folks.

And we were off in another Land.

Another Realty.


Sean found the right key, jammed it in, and turned it.

The Jeep rumbled awake, which was quite comforting to hear and feel...


...Until the radio came on. It blasted the music we had been jamming to when we arrived at this portal, this 7-11, just before the ZID kicked in.


Sean looked up at Apu, then he looked at me with wide eyes, with wide pupils.

Apu pulled the phone up to his dark face, and he began to press buttons. Then his hand hovered over the phone for a moment. It appeared that he was waiting to press the "call" button.


I shut the radio off and looked back at the other two, in the rear seats of the open-air Jeep.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ASHOLES!"

They did. I reached over and grabbed Sean by the Fuckno, Californication Bullard High School Football Jersey with both hands and I looked him right in the eye.

This here moment would be replayed again, in other situations, and under the influence of other chemicals, but it would always connect us.

Every time. I became the "Navigator" of this new land, this new realty.

"Sean. You can do this. Look at me. LOOK at me."

His face stopped looking all panicky for a moment.

"It's me. No matter what you think is going on, I believe in you. This is all just bullshit. We can see though it, underneath it. Don't you agree?"


Sean straightened the hell up. He remembered who he was.

He was a huge young man who broke faces. He always crossed the line, and came back without serious injury, without penalty, but with victory, of a sort.

And, unintentionally, I was the cause of his further de-evolution.

You will witness this de-evloution of Sean in future chapters, do not doubt.

De-evolution has a shorter nickname.

It is DEVO. It was the 80's. Don't look at me that way.




SO,


Sean got his shit together, which was quite amazing to see.


He put that bitch in reverse, looked over his shoulder, and glared at those two assholes behind us.

"Keep Your Fucking Dick Sucking Holes Clamped Shut You Mother Fuckers."


Sean got us the hell out of there.


Yee fucking Haw.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Join me tomorrow for an explanation of how we crashed into a drainage ditch full of water. It will be quite elucidating, I promise you.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's always been this way.

About the Car Crash Stuff

Well hey there, you.

I am offorded the luxury of contributing to the Mighty TDC on the weekends. Thank you Richie, for your belief and trust.

Badass.


You may have noticed that the true stories series I have been writing for TDC always involve Cars, Car Crashes, and Punk Rock music.

It's simply this:

I have always been infatuated with the ideology of the Freedom of the U.S.A.

We have a love of the automobile. There is no where else in the whole world where you can take a spin, go where ever you like, for as long as you like, in any direction at all.

Also, I have been in many car crashes, but always somehow survive.

Car crashes: sometimes, cars were not actually involved.

But there always seemed to be a crash of some sort.

That is why these true tales seem to always involve cars, as well as crashes.

That is why the music I choose to illustrate my tales involve them.


Thank you, Richie. You've unleashed this beast. God Help You, Sir.

God Help Us All.





Hey there, you TDC enjoyer.

Press play, do what you have to do in order to get your head into the improper frame of mind, and follow me into the depths of insanity.

I'll lead you back up and out afterwards.

That's my job.

It seems to have always been...


SONG

This is for an 80's shit and giggles.

DO NOT USE. ALthough I like it. Benjamin Orr was a better singer than Ric Ocasek.




Here's another 80's song, one to use in later chapters, when I had to get the fuck out of Fuckno,CA, and my brothers, and one girl, wanted me to stay. I almost married that chick. She didn't want me to leave, but she told me to go ahead, do what I had to.

And, I had to.

I can never go back to Fuckno, ever again.

You will see why.

On another note,

Thank goodness that I married the one I have. Even if she hates this sort of 80's music, and calls it the "Gayties."

LOL!

God love her.




Here's the sort of song I will probably use. It's pretty cool. I quite like JET. Always have.





Sean could not start the fucking Jeep. The other two of we four brothers were laughing their asses off in this new "realty," and they were quite distracting.


Apu walked over to the front, and peered out of the double glass doors of the 7-11.

He had the wireless phone in his hand, about to do some dialing. He looked concerned.

Ya think?

Now, mind you, "wireless phone" means the old style, really a landline, not a cell phone. No one had those things back then, except rich guys.

Good thing. We might have buzz-called folks.

And we were off in another Land.

Another Realty.


Sean found the right key, jammed it in, and turned it.

The Jeep rumbled awake, which was quite comforting to hear and feel...


...Until the radio came on. It blasted the music we had been jamming to when we arrived at this portal, this 7-11, just before the ZID kicked in.


Sean looked up at Apu, then he looked at me with wide eyes, with wide pupils.

Apu pulled the phone up to his dark face, and he began to press buttons. Then his hand hovered over the phone for a moment. It appeared that he was waiting to press the "call" button.


I shut the radio off and looked back at the other two, in the rear seats of the open-air Jeep.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU ASHOLES!"

They did. I reached over and grabbed Sean by the Fuckno, Californication Bullard High School Football Jersey with both hands and I looked him right in the eye.

This here moment would be replayed again, in other situations, and under the influence of other chemicals, but it would always connect us.

Every time. I became the "Navigator" of this new land, this new realty.

"Sean. You can do this. Look at me. LOOK at me."

His face stopped looking all panicky for a moment.

"It's me. No matter what you think is going on, I believe in you. This is all just bullshit. We can see though it, underneath it. Don't you agree?"


Sean straightened the hell up. He remembered who he was.

He was a huge young man who broke faces. He always crossed the line, and came back without serious injury, without penalty, but with victory, of a sort.

And, unintentionally, I was the cause of his further de-evolution.

You will witness this de-evloution of Sean in future chapters, do not doubt.

De-evolution has a shorter nickname.

It is DEVO. It was the 80's. Don't look at me that way.




SO,


Sean got his shit together, which was quite amazing to see.


He put that bitch in reverse, looked over his shoulder, and glared at those two assholes behind us.

"Keep Your Fucking Dick Sucking Holes Clamped Shut You Mother Fuckers."


Sean got us the hell out of there.


Yee fucking Haw.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



Join me tomorrow for an explanation of how we crashed into a drainage ditch full of water. It will be quite elucidating, I promise you.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's always been this way.