Sink, Swim, or Float — Your call, Fuckface!

I remember sitting on my girlfriend’s couch 8 years ago, having a discussion with her about what options were left to live as freely as possible in this insane asylum we lovingly refer to as Planet Earth. As prisoners in an open-air pen that we call our “country,” how could we skirt the system — to slip under the radar, and fully explore our god-given autonomy?

It wasn’t long before a realization occurred…

The fucking sea! The last true Wild West humans can still exploit if they have the balls to push a frontier of exploration.

We ended up bookmarking a bunch of sailboats for sale (sail, haha) that day, fully aware we neither had the resources nor skills to bring the idea to fruition.

But the idea stuck.

So without rehashing the journey I’ve blogged about in this ridiculous site I call BonerFruit, let’s just get to the nitty-gritty of why I’m writing this…

The S.S. BonerFruit is on the water! And I fucking love it!

You want some insight into how to live free and happy?

Simple, bitches… follow your fucking heart, and enjoy each trial and tribulation that unfolds. Immediate gratification is a lie sold to you by the fucking puppet-masters. If you want to make any headway in your grand scheme of happiness, you need to go all-in, and dedicate your time to the shit that rocks your world, no matter how long it takes.

Sure, it’s true I still have no clue what I’m doing, but I giveth not a fuck.

You wanna know what I’ve learned? Every day you practice your craft leads you one day closer to mastering your passion. You can sit on your shitty couch and watch Netflix all night cuz you “had a bad day,” or “felt stressed,” only to wake up to whine to your idiot co-workers in the morning about how life is unfair, burdensome, and stacked against you, or you can just get over your bullshit fears and live each moment to the fullest, hellbent on climbing whatever mountain screams to you the loudest.

Am I gonna die crossing an ocean? Probably. But there’s no way to know till I try.

Perhaps that’s a fitting sentiment to end this post…

How do you want to spend the rest of your time on this planet?

In fear of death?

Or in fear of life?

Suck on that one for a bit, I’m going to bed.

Get Yer Shit Together Already…

Well, it took 8 months longer than I anticipated, but the new book has officially been submitted for publishing! Now comes the ever-dicey “review” by the overlords at Amazon. With the insane censorship in place these days, I can’t possibly predict what’ll happen. But I got away with dozens of politically incorrect sentiments in my last tome without issue, and I even removed the “Suck My Balls, Amazon!” subliminal message I buried on the front cover of the new book just to hedge my bets. I guess my only concerns are the chapters where I mentioned fake viruses, phony holocausts, and being a fan of Hitler. Oh well, what’s done it done. Actually, I’m pretty sure the fascist social media algorithms currently in place only target “offenders” who get too many views posting ideas that go against the mainstream narrative. It’s extremely unlikely I’ll ever have a “popularity” problem, haha. Always best to stay under the radar.

I’ve been derelict in writing new blog posts, and for that I apologize, but my attention has solely been focused upon the new book (yeah, right, if you believe that, you’re a stupid motherfucker).

Okay, truthfully, though I have been writing steadily, I’ve also been obsessed with getting my boat on the water. Renovations take time, and you can only do so much work in a week when you still remain guiltily obliged to work 30 hours or more in the slave-job you thought you quit…

Let’s review how that transpired…

Mike (drunk on the patio on his day off): Dude, I’m quitting next year on April 10th to work on my boat full-time next summer. That gives you nine month’s notice to find a new kitchen manager. Losers who unexpectedly impregnate their girlfriends don’t get that much warning.

Boss: That’s fair.

9 months later…

Boss: You were serious?

Fuck. I guess I shoulda seen that coming…

Boss: Can you at least help out on Friday and Saturday till we find some staff? We need you, Mike!

Mike: Fine, for 2 months, then I’m done.

2 months later…

Boss: Mike, I really need you Sundays. We are fucked! Just for a bit…

Mike (heavy sigh): Okay, just until you hire people.

Well, it’s fucking September and the only people we’ve hired rightfully belong in mental institutions. Not because they’re depraved in thought and mind like I am, but because they’re TOO FUCKING STUPID TO LIVE!

Sorry. I find venting helpful. And if I sound wrong for wanting to kill those idiot motherfuckers, or at least jam a paring knife into my temple to end the pain of my interaction with humans who should have been aborted as fetuses, just fucking deal with it without judging me too much. I’ll take some deep breaths in the next few moments, and my grief and stress will quickly become forgotten.

As I was about to get into some philosophical rant about how much I actually love my bosses, and would probably bend over backwards for them till the end of time to help their business, my computer just pinged me…

A message from Amazon… the new book is live!

Fuck yeah!

But don’t buy anything yet. Gimme a couple weeks to sort out typos and compile the E-book. I’ll send out an official “New Book Party” memo in the near future, although the new book party will likely be me drinking alone on my sailboat.

I’ll finish my train of thought about guilt, responsibility, and choice another time, but, for now, I’m gonna go seek out a heroin dealer to celebrate.

Haha, just kidding.

I’m looking for crack.