John Dodsworth's Blog

Well, I’ve got a glass of wine poured, candles lit… I think the mood is just right from some Gay Force 10: Pimped Behind Bars!

Alrighty, got the first 20% of this eloquently titled short story downloaded, and let’s crack into er…

First paragraph we have this beautifully written line “He plopped down on the bunk by Timmy’s feet.”

So, he’s a turd? Just plopping on down there, eh. And I’m sorry, but did you have to name your protagonist (who is the subject of multiple rapes), Timmy? That just seems cruel.

Onward and up!

Oh no, Timmy’s the only white prisoner on the
whole block. That’s not racist.

The writing is actually not as terrible as I would have thought. His grammer be good.

Oh good, his roommate is named is Jameel. That’s standard. I see he’s utilized a very crude form of Ebonics for Jameel dialogue, including ‘mang-a’ ‘he into that shit, robots, and, y’know’.

And here we go. Page 3.

“Timmy was in pain because he had been raped last night.”

Well that’s understandable. And oh my fucking god, “a man named Gray did it”, that’s gotta be Fifty-Shades inspired. Spot on bud, spot on.

In a flash of insight…

That’s just poor writing right there.

Yada-yada-yada, Timmy describes being raped in a weakly written paragraph, and now he’s talking to
Jameel again.

Alright I’m done.

I made it to page five.

This was my final straw:

“I ain’t like a rapist or nothin’,” Jameel said. “I wouldn’t never make no man a bitch.”

Dear god.

First off, that’s a double negative… but maybe the writer knows that. Maybe he knows that Jameel wouldn’t know the meaning of a double negative… maybe this guy is actually some sort of literary genius…

Oh wait, no. It’s fucking terrible.

Is this supposed to be sexy? I’m not even sure anymore.

Some people might be offended by this weighty little tome, but I discourage such notions. This dude has a right to write about weird jail racist rape scenes, and that’s cool. But I have just as much a right to tear it apart for the vile garbage that it is!

Okay I couldn’t help it, I kept reading.

Jameel proceeds to not so subtly hit on little Timmy, but he aint no rapist y’know.

Here’s a good piece of dialogue:

“I won’t make you licky doodyhole neither.”

“Oh.”

Now Jameel is defending Timmy while he cries and the other in mates call him Donkey Balls?

Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?

Ohhhh now I get it. Jameel is Donkey Balls!

“Jameel smiled sheepishly and took his cock and balls out. He had a massive dick and low-ganging balls.”

Wow. That is some fucking poetic shit right there, man.

Okay now I’m actually done. Jameel is cock slapping poor Timmy with his ‘limp and rubbery dick’. Come on bro! I thought you ain't no rapist, yo?

I need more fucking wine.

My rating overall:

One of Christian Grey’s butt-plugs.

Out of five.

Well, I hope that was as uncomfortable and weird for you as it was for me! Join me next week for another installment of John’s Dirty Book Reviews, where we will be showcasing Riding Daddy’s Dick.

Well, I’ve got a glass of wine poured, candles lit… I think the mood is just right from some Gay Force 10: Pimped Behind Bars!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...

Alrighty, got the first 20% of this eloquently titled short story downloaded, and let’s crack into er…

First paragraph we have this beautifully written line “He plopped down on the bunk by Timmy’s feet.”

So, he’s a turd? Just plopping on down there, eh. And I’m sorry, but did you have to name your protagonist (who is the subject of multiple rapes), Timmy? That just seems cruel.

Onward and up!

Oh no, Timmy’s the only white prisoner on the whole block. That’s not racist.

The writing is actually not as terrible as I would have thought. His grammer be good.

Oh good, his roommate is named is Jameel. That’s standard. I see he’s utilized a very crude form of Ebonics for Jameel dialogue, including ‘mang-a’ ‘he into that shit, robots, and, y’know’.

And here we go. Page 3.

“Timmy was in pain because he had been raped last night.”

Well, that’s understandable. And oh my fucking god, “a man named Gray did it”, that’s gotta be Fifty-Shades inspired. Spot on bud, spot on.

In a flash of insight…

That’s just poor writing right there.

Yada-yada-yada, Timmy describes being raped in a weakly written paragraph, and now he’s talking to
Jameel again.

Alright I’m done.

I made it to page five.

This was my final straw:

“I ain’t like a rapist or nothin’,” Jameel said. “I wouldn’t never make no man a bitch.”

Dear god.

First off, that’s a double negative… but maybe the writer knows that. Maybe he knows that Jameel wouldn’t know the meaning of a double negative… maybe this guy is actually some sort of literary genius…

Oh wait, no. It’s fucking terrible.

Is this supposed to be sexy? I’m not even sure anymore.

Some people might be offended by this weighty little tome, but I discourage such notions. This dude has a right to write about weird jail racist rape scenes, and that’s cool. But I have just as much a right to tear it apart for the vile garbage that it is!

Okay I couldn’t help it, I kept reading.

Jameel proceeds to not so subtly hit on little Timmy, but he aint no rapist y’know.

Here’s a good piece of dialogue:

“I won’t make you lick my doodyhole neither.”

“Oh.”

Now Jameel is defending Timmy while he cries and the other in mates call him Donkey Balls?

Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?

Ohhhh now I get it. Jameel is Donkey Balls!

“Jameel smiled sheepishly and took his cock and balls out. He had a massive dick and low-hanging balls.”

Wow. That is some fucking poetic shit right there, man.

Okay now I’m actually done. Jameel is cock slapping poor Timmy with his ‘limp and rubbery dick’. Come on bro! I thought you ain't no rapist, yo?

I need more fucking wine.

My rating overall:

One of Christian Grey’s butt-plugs.

Out of five.

Well, I hope that was as uncomfortable and weird for you as it was for me! Join me next week for another installment of John’s Dirty Book Reviews, where we will be showcasing Riding Daddy’s Dick.

Okay folks, let’s get weird.

Everyday, there are hundreds, if not thousands of self-published ebooks of the naughty variety. The titles are crude, the writing lousy, and yet still, we can’t disregard the hundred million copies of Fifty Shades which were sold, thanks to the general, oh, I don’t know how to say this… idiocy? of the general public…

(Fifty Shades started off as a Twilight fanfic story written on the blackberry of a middle-aged British woman… for those of you who didn’t know)

Anyways, let’s get started – here is my choice for this week’s naughty book review:

Down & Dirty With Rapunzel: Erotic Lesbian Fairy Tales

DOWN AND DITY WITH RAPUNZEL! FUCK YEA!

Let’s put the desecration of a wholesome fairy tale character aside here for a moment (think about Rapunzel’s hair, and then think about her bush), and talk about just how brutal the tags are. I mean who doesn’t want to see a little ‘girl on girl’ in their short story? Sex in public? Sounds about right… if I was cruising a porn site for chrissakes.

If there’s one thing I’m looking for when it comes to girl on girl, its regality! You gotta eat that pussy with your pinky finger raised, or something?

Let’s leave it there for now, because if I keep going I might say something offensive. Oh, and there wasn’t a free sample for this book, and I certainly wasn’t about to pay $2.99 for it so… yeah, something tells me I don’t need to read a single page to know that this little publication is about as stimulating as watching Queen Elizabeth flick her bean.

Coming up next week: GAY FORCE 10: PIMPED BEHIND BARS (and no, I’m not making this shit up!)

Occasionally, I have been known to go on slightly biased rants regarding the general modis-operandi of the modern day money-driven superficial narcissistic society which we are oh-so-lucky to inhabit (I may sound facetious there, but I do understand we are lucky to be born here, I do)…

But, here’s another little example of how you can pretty much guarantee that every day you wake up, you should expect that someone will attempt to screw you over, in one way or another.

Take this tasty factoid I picked up from a CBC article, which you can verify here:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/business/bank-...

Do you have a financial advisor, or a financial adviser? What’s the difference, right?

Wrong.

Legally, you can call pretty much anyone an ‘advisor’ and that person has no legal obligations to you as a customer, because that ‘advisor’ is simply a salesperson in camouflage. They are there to make money, regardless of your best interests.

And I suppose this is symptomatic of the world we find ourselves encompassed by.

But seriously, only financial advisers spelled with an ‘e’ have any obligation to your best interests. All the rest of these jackals are car-salesmen in disguise…

How is that allowed? Why aren’t people pissed off about this?

I guess it comes down to the ol’ adage, ‘well, if it’s not affecting me, then why should I be bothered about it?’

(Also symptomatic of our beautifully self-obsessed society – which is ironic and hypocritical of me as I write this self-indulgent blog to post on my personal Facebook page in order to generate likes, but hey, I’m a fucking product of my surroundings).

But it does affect you (just like the fact that the government is systematically collecting all of your meta-data and storing it for further use… but I’ll save that for a separate post 😊)

Inflation, debt ratios, interest rates, the fucking stock market, they all hinge on those who we take advice from. And if those giving advice have as much honour and dependability as a goddamn vacuum salesmen (why the fuck does vacuum have two u’s in it, by the way?) then I mean, what the fuck can we expect when our entire economy collapses?

Anyways, I’m gonna pour another glass of wine and see if reading a couple more news articles can really get me fired up, but yeah, just wanted to let you know, if you have a financial advisor, fire that glorified infomercial and hire yourself a goddamn adviser.

Okay bye!

Since when did it become the left’s mission to stifle freedom of speech? I mean, let’s be honest here, the right has it’s moments of shameful censorship, but I mean, isn’t that kind of expected?

Take the latest example of Stephen Colbert, who is under fire for a crude joke he made about Trump performing fellatio upon the President of Russia. Pretty funny, right? Apparently not. It’s not like this guy is a fucking comedian or anything, right? How dare he make a joke on his live syndicated nightly talk show (which is classified as a comedy show, if I’m remembering correctly?)?

What are we doing here people? Do you even realize how backwards this is? Now we have the day-time talk show hosts cringing and decrying Colbert as a homophobe. Give me a fucking break. The guy made a joke. Get over it. When did we all become so goddamn sensitive? If you haven’t noticed, gay rights in the Western world are at their peak, arguably, and so I’m not sure where all this pent-up anger and urge to cause controversy is coming from.
But then again, I think I do know where it comes from…

We are the lost generation. We have no great war to define ourselves by. No great cause. In fact, we’ve all been on cruise control over here in North America for about the past six decades or so. So, it is my humble opinion that we search for issues to get upset over. To give ourselves some sort of semblance of meaning.

Anyways, I haven’t written a blog in a while, so I’ll keep this short and sweet.

LIBERAL MEDIA, PLEASE TAKE NOTE!

Freedom of speech is easy to defend until someone says something you don’t agree with.

If you want to be upset about something, how about
the fact that today Colbert is being investigated by the FCC. I mean, is this not eerily similar of some sort of Russian type censorship. We are literally scaring our media figures to the point where they will stop saying certain things. This is usually how dictatorships start, but hey, who cares about that, he might have offended the gays!

Why do you think Trump won? It’s because the left has become too comfortable simply disregarding any counter opinion to theirs as racist, or homophobic, or misogynist. Stop being lazy and formulate an actual argument. And if you truly are a liberal, then please, stop trying to censor our artists, comedians, and politicians. Let people say what they want, and maybe we can actually engage in a sensible debate which, god forbid, might actually see some forward progress on these issues!

Wouldn’t that be swell?

Alright, there’s my rant, have a good one, and here’s a hot track which sums up pretty much everything I’ve just said:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=od6Ml...

It's not a selfless act, I can tell you that. There is always something to get out of it. But it's nothing poetic, it's not something elegant. It's raw. That's why I write. To express my emotions with no filter. I don't believe in filters, it's what leads to evictions. Honestly, I had an encounter with a man in my apartment building the other nig. It was nothing major, just a few words that hung up in the air full of tension for a brief moment, and then it was gone. But I get a call from my landlord this week, and she says 'he didn't feel comfortable, you know, addressing you directly...' and I said, 'that's bullshit,' and you wanna the saddest part? The landlord agreed with the other guy, said she was always too scared because people are confrontational. What a goddamn joke. Sorry for the rant there, but it's all connected. It's all a part of our superficial little customized worlds that we contain ourselves within these days.

Let me get back to the point though,

I write to share. I write because I think there are other people out there in this big ol' cold world who feel the same way I do, at least to one degree or another. I write to think. To help others think, to look at a situation differently. They say a man who doesn't read lives only one life, and a man who reads lives thousands. It's a great saying, and true as people are fickle.

I write because it helps me cope. There's a sort of therapy to it, coming home from a shitty day, cracking a beer, lighting up a smoke (which I'm going to do right now), ahhh, let that nicotine fill up my lungs, self-poisen tastes best, and I'm a goddamn chemical warfare general when it comes to tossign toxins into my body. Writing can be the best toxin, a release, an escape. I don't do it for grammer, and I certainly don't do it for fucking structure (oh and political corectness, I can care less), because it's like the late George Carlin said, it's the context behind the words that make them good or bad. If you're looking for proper syntax and nice, neat little paragraphs, well take a fucking hike. In this generation of lols and brbs, I don't think people give two shits about form anyways. It's about getting your message across.

So, for all you poor bastards who haven't been enlightened, that is, shown the real literature of pain, of suffering, of raw emotion, I have a list of books for you to check out;

1. The Ginger Man - J.P. Donleavy
2. Less Than Zero - Bret Easton Ellis
3. Portnoy's Complaint - Philip Roth
4. Bright Lights, Big City - Jay McInerney
5. The Stand - Stephen King
6. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
7. American Pyscho - Bret Easton Ellis
8. Something Happened - Joseph Heller
9. Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
10. Run Charlie Run - John Dodsworth (Okay, yea, that's me).

Hope you enjoy, and don't be afraid to write outside the lines.

I was watching the move ‘Blow’ on a Sunday afternoon (perhaps a tad hungover), and one of Ray Liota’s lines really caught my attention:

“Sometimes you’re flush and sometimes you’re bust, and when you’re up, it’s never as good as it seems, and when you’re down, you never think you’ll be up again, but life goes on…”

Being an occasional gambler, I can attest to this line being absolutely true. You never remember the hands you win on, but you always remember those hands that you lost everything on. But, this quote brings to light an aspect of our mentality which I think is the root of a lot of our modern day psychological problems.

Being a writer, it probably isn’t much of a stretch to imagine that I find myself in the occasional bought of depression, usually self-inflicted, and yet somehow I always manage to lay the blame on others, on the past, friends, family, ex-girlfriends. The list is endless. And this spiral can last days, weeks, or even months, but so far (knock on wood), I have managed to climb out of the pit time and time again. So, sitting here feeling better than I did yesterday, I figured it would be a good time to address the usual triggers which send me down into the pit.

Stress

Probably the number one catalyst for most depressional cycles is stress. Whether this be from work, school, family, relationships, health, self-image, or lack of confidence (and sometimes, it can be all of these things combined), the more you procrastinate, the more it all builds up – until you feel so over whelmed you don’t accomplish any of your immediate goals, stewing in a broth of booze and whatever else you find to help you momentarily forget all of the shit you need to be doing (food, cigarettes, drugs, it’s all the same). The number one factor is self-fulfillment – if you are not satisfied with yourself, it becomes more difficult to motivate yourself on a day to day basis.

Alcohol

Booze is brutal. Don’t get me wrong, I drink (being from Bruce County and all) – but I am finally beginning to realize all of the problems that stem from alcohol, specifically constant nights of inebriation. First off, smoking and other vices come out in full force when I am drunk. If I didn’t drink, quitting smoking would be infinitely easier – and I would safe a shitload of money. I would be in better shape (even if you workout during the day, the minute you put one drop of alcohol in your body, your metabolism refocuses all of your body’s energy on digesting the alcohol, so you are effectively wasting any gains you made that day at the gym), my sleeping pattern would improve, and my appetite. All of this would also be conducive to cooking healthier meals for myself (rather than eating out all the time), doing household chores more regularly and having an overall improved sense of accomplishment with my life.

Romance

Another prevalent reason for my occasional battles with depression stem from loneliness and rejection. It’s amazing, how one can completely disregard all of the friends and family surrounding them in these moments, but it happens. Infatuation can be a beautiful, life-changing thing, but it can also lead to complete mental paralysis. ‘Why can’t I get over her?’ ‘Why is she with him?’ ‘What’s wrong with me?’ ‘Why doesn’t any body get me?’ are just a few of the mundane and cliché questions I start asking myself. The important thing here is to focus on you – don’t try changing yourself or pretending just for the sake of pleasing a person you are interested in. Find something you’re passionate about, and focus on that. The rest will follow. Attraction is mostly dictated by self-confidence, so if you are confident in yourself, things become infinitely easier in your romantic life.

Finances

We can never have enough money. The more we make, the more we spend. Careful budgeting aside, I think another one of Ray’s quotes from ‘Blow’ can really apply here as well; ‘Money isn’t real George, it doesn’t matter. It only seems like it does.’ Now, you can’t deny that money is important, and to live in this modern age of gadgets and mortgages and goddamn stock markets, well, simple truth is that you need money. So don’t spend it constantly on stupid shit! There’s nothing more depressing than looking at an empty bank account, two weeks away from your next pay-cheque. The better you can manage your money, the easier your life is – it’s as simple as that. This won’t necessarily make you happy, but it’s a start.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The underlying theme here is that feeling of static, the idea that this feeling of depression (or confidence) will go on forever, this is an illusional construct of our minds. We live our lives in cycles; our identities are changing all the time, and with them our emotions. Something that has helped me greatly in the past year is understanding the fact that our lives move in constant waves – and just like life would be worthless without death – we need these moments of depression to appreciate our moments of pride and accomplishment.

Depression is natural, and no one should even feel ashamed because they are down on themselves. The important thing to remember is that depression is a tool; utilize the strong emotions boiling up inside you, and let them drive you. You will come out stronger and with more focus. The key is not to let your depression lead you down a suspended path. Take a weekend for yourself, have some drinks, do whatever it is you feel you need to do to release some tension, but that next Monday – get your ass in gear and get back to the shit that makes you happy. Carpe that fucking Diem.

Hey, Taylor Swift – no one is buying your pretty, innocent girl bullshit anymore. With all the goddamn ex-boyfriends (you seem to be singing about a different one every week), I find it hard to believe that you could have possibly kept those panties securely where your daddy told you to keep them (okay, well maybe that would explain why you have so many ex’s…), except for maybe Timmy Tebow (that God-fearing American boy wouldn’t even dare of pre-martial’s, poor bastard). And I love how you essentially behave just like Eminem (putting all of your ex's in songs and ripping them apart), but for some reason, because you're a blond haired country girl with a fucking chasity belt, you don't get demonized for the same shit! Typical.

Point is, I’m getting ready for Taylor Swift: Smut Edition – when will you pull that Christina Aguilera switch-a-roo, where all of a sudden you come out with a video like ‘Dirty,’ I mean, it’s only a matter of time before the good-girl thing stops selling (we get bored very easily – and besides, as your fans grow, they will naturally expect you to start slutting it up a bit more).

Oh, and just to add insult to injury – this version of Trouble (done by a random group of Canadian artists who beat-box the entire song, no instruments), is better than your version, and they don’t have millions of dollars of production and sound manipulation (let alone instruments) backing them up.

Enjoy!

Walk Off the Earth - Trouble

The Toronto Maple Leafs are the most cursed and hopeless team in the league. They are 6-5-0 right now, with only one win in their own barn. Yes, it is impressive that they have been able to win 5 out of 6 road games (not an easy task), but it’s pretty pathetic that they can’t win in their own arena, with their own fans (who put so much pressure on the poor bastards). It really is a vicious cycle, playing for the Leafs – because as much as you are built up and canonized, it doesn’t take much for a sudden crucifixion (Brian Burke, Ron Wilson, etc).

It doesn't help matters much the fact that the powers that be (Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment), don't seem to be too concerned with adding any real talent to a team that has been saturated over the years with washed-up has-beens. Why do they insist on bringing guys who are past their prime - I will tell you why, because their goddamn arena is still sold out every fucking game, regardless of whether they put a goddamn peewee minor league team out there on the ice, you better believe that arena would still be soldout. It's mind boggling to me, why the fans continue to support a team that has consistenly shown no desire or effort to actually win.

The Leafs need to take a page out of the Blue Jays book - because they are actually trying, making the necessary trades and spending the necessary money (which the Leafs have in fucking bundles - why is Phil Kessel the best player on the richest team in the league?) - I am excited for the Jays to begin their season this spring, and I pity the Leafs for having to spend winter lolling around in mediocrity.

Our realities are dictated by addiction; food, booze, drugs – those tangible and potentially destructive forces in our lives – but what about love? Or that feeling you get after working out when you realize your waist has shrunk an inch or two (I can’t even deny that ever since I lost weight, that goddamn mirror is ever so tempting).

I know it’s kind of a depressing thought, the idea that love – something generally associated with fate, with strong emotion, unexplainable circumstances and triumph – well, it might just come down to familiarities in our brains. We get addicted to one another. Just as a Meth-Head will snort and smoke until his face is rotting off, we will spoon and fuck until we are either utterly dependent upon one another, or grow to resent and regret one another (much like an alcoholic or drug addict will feel ashamed and resentful towards himself and the drugs he is taking). Then the inevitable happens, the big break-up – I’m not sure what happens in every scenario, but I went into a goddamn tail-spin. It was like going through withdrawal (and to be honest, I still can’t stand to sleep alone at night, not after all the nights we spent together lying in one another’s arms), waking up with that whiskey bottle beside my bed because I couldn’t stand that we were apart.

Now, this doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing – yes, some of the romance may be drained from our lives if we think in terms of addiction, but the simplification it provides is refreshing. All you need to do is get addicted to the right things: love (with the right person), physical activity (without becoming narcissistic), good food, saving money, and your work (while resisting the temptation to become pretentious). What’s important in every circumstance is moderation (much like alcohol, drugs, or even sex). As human beings (and as addictive creatures) we have a tendency to over-do things (drink too much, become too obsessed with someone, using steroids because of body obsession – it’s everywhere). Take any situation – reading a book, flying a kite, smoking a cigarette – and you can apply this theory of addiction. Like I said before, it’s all about getting addicted to the right things, the right people, and having the strength to avoid corrupting yourself through excess.