Early Onset of Night - The Book

Embarrassed Santorum admits to paying twice the tax rate of rival Romney

Michael Kindt — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 05:14:49 +0000

Presidential hopeful Rick Santorum attempted to draw a contrast between himself and Republican rival Mitt Romney when his campaign released four years of tax returns Wednesday night. The move appears to have backfired, however.

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“Dr. Doom” Predicts The Obvious

Michael Kindt — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 22:26:16 +0000

Or does he? Economist Nouriel Roubini, nicknamed “Dr. Doom” for his gloomy predictions in the run-up to the financial meltdown four years ago, has predicted that going to war with Iran would be very bad financially, not only for the U.S., who will cause the war, but for everyone else, too.

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I just made the best fucking salad in the Cosmos. It was so good I had to race over here and tell you, the internet, that I just made the best fucking salad in the Cosmos.

Michael Kindt — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 22:11:52 +0000

First of all, kalamata olives. I don’t piss around when I make a salad. I make it like a man, like fucking Clint Eastwood, all squint-eyed and kalamata-olive-using. There are people walking around on this planet right this very minute who don’t like kalamata olives, but that’s ok because I am very accepting of pathetic loseriness.

Next, the base: iceberg lettuce, which featured prominently in the salads served aboard the Titanic, ironically enough. The amount I used is called in technical culinary parlance “a baseball-sized hunk”. I chopped it up on my bamboo cutting board with the awesome red knife I got for Christmas.

Then you need a little feta cheese, chopped portabella, grape tomatoes (six or eight), and a stout clump of alfalfa spouts.

Now toss that salad, baby. Oh, yeah, you know how daddy likes it.

The dressing I make myself and it is comprised of extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar and white wine tarragon vinegar. Predominantly it is vinegar, though, mostly balsamic. Seasoned with salt, pepper, thyme, oregano, garlic powder, and onion powder, then shaken like a Polaroid picture. Hey ya!

Jesus christ it was good. I ate the living shit out of that salad. Rabbits all over the globe hung their furry little heads in shame. It was the perfect punctuation point for the sentence of 8 beers I had just drunk.

Now if you will excuse me, I am off to continue my never-ending awesomeness.

Tagged: Writing

Government So Small It Can Fit In Your Uterus

Michael Kindt — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 00:40:48 +0000

You wouldn’t know it from looking at me, but prayer is a big part of my life. Whenever the cameras are on me BANG! I immediately start praying, just like Tim Tebow. Instead of touchdowns, however, I ask for answers. For example, why are so many young white men crushing hardcore on Ron Paul? Surely, oh lord, there’s more to it than the whole “Dude, he’s totally gonna legalize pot” thing?

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Open Up and Say “Ahh”

Michael Kindt — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 17:45:02 +0000

A recent Freedom of Information Act request has revealed that the FBI wants what it calls “food activists” prosecuted as terrorists, perhaps because nothing could be more terrifying than exposing where our so-called food comes from and how it is manufactured.

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The Rick Santorum Diet for Poor People

Michael Kindt — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 22:43:05 +0000

Of the two ridiculous Ricks running for the presidency, I can’t decide which is ridiculous-er, Rick Perry, with his odd Marlboro Man looks and faux Christianity, or Rick Santorum, who thinks abortion is wrong in every case except for his wife’s. After a great deal of Herman Cain-like prayer and soul-searching, I have opted for Rick Santorum because the coin I flipped was tails.

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299

Michael Kindt — Mon, 30 May 2011 14:01:41 +0000

At the mess-tables the boys in training were brought to war:
the sound of crimson, hair long in the old way.
On their lips, the State.

Soldiers:
beget, loaned, assumed.

In their absence:
admirers claim brutality
better than deathless heroism.

Battle immortality:
die oneself,
continuing the life of Sparta.

Subordinates:
memories,
cowering in brave.

Michael Kindt

If you like my writing, please consider sharing it with others. Thank you.

Tagged: Books, Fiction, Literature, poetry, Writing

The Causes of Behavior

Michael Kindt — Mon, 16 May 2011 03:58:10 +0000

Later it would become practical if we are asked why
But where are these feelings and states of mind?
We simply make sure that no other food is available
As one neurologist recently put it

The study of literature, art, and music
From infancy to maturity
Changes occurring in time
The systematic neglect of useful information
Is, of course, nothing new

It is so easy to observe feelings and states of mind
If such a robot could be built
To work on its own projects without philosophical digressions
Indistinguishable from a real person

But problems remained
Feelings or states of mind seemed unnecessary
What about other evidence?
What about psychophysics?
What about stream of consciousness?

Ignored because it cannot be studied objectively
The possibility of self-observation or self-knowledge
Introspection but not what philosophers
Consider events taking place

An organism behaves as it does
But it exerts a different kind of effect
Human

In this way we repair the major damage
When what a person does
Is going on inside him

Michael Kindt

If you like my writing, please consider sharing it with others. Thank you.

Tagged: Books, Fiction, Literature, poetry, Writing

I Got a Boner For Pineapples

Michael Kindt — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 13:57:47 +0000

…………I love them. Big, beautiful, brutal fruit. If you throw one hard enough at someone, you’re liable to kill them. Try that with one of your pussy bananas, you damn dirty apes. Pineapples got fucking spikes on them and a tough, woody exterior. They’re the Chuck Norris of fruit.
…………A good way to eat them is like this: First, slice off the spikes, then slice off the ass. It should be able to sit upright perfectly now and not be all wobbly and unstable like a little baby. Now, being careful not to cut in too deep, take your knife and slice off the skin in slabs, rotating as you go.
…………At this point, you’ll have a completely naked pineapple sitting on your cutting board in all its glory. There will be delectable pineapple blood (juice to the faint-at-heart) all over the place – on your hands, on your knife, all over the counter, everywhere. Your kitchen will smell like a mixture of Hawaii and Heaven, which is very likely a redundant analogy.
…………Tip your naked pineapple over so it is laying supine in its own blood. Depending on its size, you’ll cut it in half or in thirds. What you want after you dice it up is about two cups, so estimate. When you have the approximate chunk sliced off, wrap the remaining pineapple in plastic and stick it in the fridge. Uneaten pineapples will turn a ghastly brown-gray and get all mushy in retaliation for being ignored, so eat the rest tomorrow or at the very least, the day after that.
…………Now, dice up your chunk of pineapple except for the tough core. Cut around that and throw it in the trash or the compost heap. You’ll want your diced pineapple to be about the size of, well, dice. Little cubes.
…………You’re ready to get down to business. Take out a sauce pan or medium-size frying pan and throw in your pineapple dice. Next, pour white wine over them until they are just submerged. Put the heat on high and let them boil in the wine for, say, 5 minutes, stirring more or less constantly. Then pour in half a cup, maybe a little more, of heavy organic cream – enough so that the pineapple is submerged again, plus maybe a quarter of an inch more. Throw in a teaspoon of salt, a teaspoon of pepper, and a tablespoon of dried parsley. Allow to boil for another 5 minutes, stirring more or less constantly. What you want is for it to reduce and thicken. It may take a little longer than 5 minutes.
…………Now you’re ready for the finishing touch. Throw in about 3 or 4 tablespoons of blue cheese. Stir until it is melted and fully incorporated into the sauce. The sauce should be nice and thick and totally clinging to the pineapple.
…………Dump it on a plate and eat it with a spoon, collecting some of the sauce with each chunk of pineapple.
…………You can thank me later.
…………By the way, I call this Creamed Pineapple of Blue Cheese, and if you have the means, I recommend Maytag Blue Cheese from Iowa. It’s the best stuff in the Cosmos and makes Europe’s best offerings seem amateurish. Any blue cheese will do fine though.
…………And, yes, once upon a time, Maytag Farms used to make washing machines.

Links of note: One of the many pineapples that have died at my hands, Maytag Dairy Farms, Chuck Norris, the pineapple of action heroes, Charlton Heston, of the above subtle Planet of the Apes reference, another one of the many pineapples that have died at my hands.

Michael Kindt

If you like my writing, please consider sharing it with others. Thank you.

Tagged: Books, Fiction, Literature, Writing

Broken Eyes

Michael Kindt — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 00:58:14 +0000

incidental paraclete
fascination hand & feet

sleep:
the broken eyes go blue
turn gray
& fade,
fade away

nothing, maybe night or death
green teeth, dank breath

hidden:
the broken eyes fall flat
turn dark, go black
& fade,
fade away

metaphors within similes
under parasols in mud & sleaze

fire:
the broken eyes burn bright
roll back, lose sight

Michael Kindt

If you like my writing, please consider sharing it with others. Thank you.