He gives hope to a lot of folks at home, waiting.

Let's face it, with these fake drugs running through my system, I'll never be able to get-snarky-wit'-it again. But I'll always have my blind humour. That's what counts, I guess.

Apparently, bitter banter doesn't sit well with the rest of the world. Mothers in my life are concerned (I love you.). Some friends think I'm off my rocker (I'm still rockin'.). And complete strangers? They're just as mad as me (Yes, me.).

Let's get one thing straight: I blog here to empty my mind of all negativity. That includes you, retard.

Sound gay to you? Well, it is. BUTT BUT it's working. The more I complain about the stupidity in my life, the more I make room for an ounce of hope. Then I smoke it, and all is well with the world once again. What? Hey, I don't inhale.

So, I'm back on this blog, refreshed-n-renewed. And ready to interject, "World, fuck you. . . . "

"I can't wait to finally get out of jail and into a prison. It should be this week."

. . . Think I'm too crass? Fuck you. No? Then enjoy one mirthy moment [for him].

"Racism is wrong," read my African American teacher from her prefab lesson plan in a fifth grade rendition of all-are-equal, just as a Native American spitball splashed onto my left-wing cheekbone, illuminated by thick tinted glasses and the buzzing, color-sucking fluorescent bulbs above.

Here in the American South, full of ethnic spittle and passive-aggressive equal rights, we sport rose-colored specs to curb our tendency to judge. We're patriotically egocentric and culturally lost, and coke-bottle shades conceal cockeyed glances to a classmate, hippie or person of color.

What gives us the inalienable right to invade another nation's cultural scuffle? We're so willing to help the world make a 1980s Coke commercial, but we're downright opposed to eradicating serious problems here at home. Racism. Poverty. Violence. Crime. Punishment. Humanity. Peace.

They mean nothing here, but abroad? That becomes the nosy business of homeland insecurity.

Now, missiles of scrutiny fly to China's crackdown occupation of Tibet. A local native drowning in his vommit is ignored. Mrs. Glover's words? Lost. But China is bad, invading a peaceful nation and making lead paint toys. And MSG, too. Those tasteless bastards! Forget Beijing boycotts, this is war.

Let's train armies with bullets, tanks and loud peace chants to rid the world of aggression. We'll partner with Great Britain. Hell, it looks as if France will be all-in , too. Afterwards, we'll come back home, put on our WE SAVED TIBET tees and find something else to distract us. Oui? Non.

Just before takeoff, there's a tired old phrase that goes, "Secure your own mask before helping the person seated next to you." There's a lot to learn from that flight safety spiel. Solve some of our own issues and then reach out and save someone else. Only then will we be able to breathe normally.

. . . But we'll never find healing if we continue to ignore the truth that lies within our sick borders.

Today, I walked out on an overstated real estate agent spiel, just when he began talking about the sealed bid process: "The owners will accept bids at 7:00 p.m. on Wednesday."

It's empowering, at the moment, turning down a tight, greedy real estate market. But it's also very frustrating. Principles aside, I'm still homeless, mortgagely speaking.

Time is ticking, and the ___ is almost here. I'm about to throw in the towel on this town and its real estate boom. What will I do, instead? Rent. Renting is easy.

Maybe later -- when the dust settles in this dry, wide-eyed hole -- this frugal, cockeyed pessimist will buy a home for $100,000 less than what I'd pay for it now . . . or not.

$$$ dumps aren't worth it.

Another blundering idiot just spilled his wine with the kind of slosh you'd expect from a North Carolina hick. No, I'm not from North Carolina. Where did you hear that? But this guy:

Introduce your self in the community forums. Tell us about your blog, your interest or maybe something you know that’s going on online!

. . . Because we certainly don't know what's happening . . . or how to write. That's why we're starting a blog, a forum, an e-mail invite, a BlogCatalog group and a Facebook page. Join us, hye-hyuck.

Here's to edumacation -- for all North Carolinians -- one hick-up at a time.