Stucky – The Burning Platform

Let Our Vision Overcome The Narratives

By Doug “Uncola” Lynn via TheBurningPlatform.com

When “taking the vax” became a means to signal ones virtue as part of the moral high ground, the right side of history, etc. many people were indulging themselves by taking the vaxx. It became not just an act of personal health or even collective health but a signal, a ritual of their faith in something much bigger and much more sinister.

The origin of that faith and purpose of that ritual should not be ignored. Especially given how by nature of the vaxx being a moral position many of those people entered into that contract full knowing that those of us who refused would be indicted by that same moral position.

– Comment by Dangerous Variant, Dec 13, 2021

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Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.

― Voltaire

Where there is no vision, the people perish…

– Proverbs 29:18

I read an opinion column early in the new year written by a local woman scolding The Unvaccinated in my area. Ironically, she addressed her article to the “my body, my choice” crowd and argued those who don’t get vaccinated should have their health insurance capped. She claimed taxpayers should not be burdened by those too selfish to care about overwhelmed health care systems or for those who are oppressing future generations.

Where does one even start?

Continue reading “Let Our Vision Overcome The Narratives”

Stucky Question Of The Day #8 — M.E.

Why is the USA!USA!USA! at war in the Middle East?

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In the “greatest achievement of organized science” thread Billy said “I don’t think that we went to war in the ME because of oil… “oil” is way, way down on the list of shit to fight over“.

Llpoh said that I was a warmonger for even suggesting countries go to war over oil.

I asked if we’re in the Middle East because of chick peas … and promptly got three thumbs down.

Apparently, everything I believed is wrong. Do tell, WTF are we fighting there … and I’m talking about the root cause.

Stucky Question Of Day #3

What is the ONE THING or Issue that is sure to PISS YOU OFF as soon as you see it? Something you are willing to go DefCon 5 over … and even make enemies with former friends, if necessary.

For me, it is Lumpers.

Flash is a Mega Lumper. Here, listen to flash lump ALL women as evil; — “Women and their flighty impulses, obsessive emotion and hypergamy are responsible for of the destruction of Western civilization.”

If I were to bitch-slap flash it would look like this;

Stucky Meets a Mexican Woman, a Black Woman, And Six Cops

This crap never stops. There’s hardly ever a dull day in the Stucky household.

My mom called yesterday at 9AM … not a good sign since I was just there the day before, and she never calls in the morning. All I got from her hysterics was that dad had a car accident and is in some hospital. I hang up the phone, and thirty seconds later we’re out the door and on our way to the house. There are six cops there. Here’s what we were able to guess happened;

My dad went out to get the morning paper, go home, and pulled backwards into the driveway, when suddenly both his legs went COMPLETELY numb. He doesn’t realize his foot is on the accelerator. We believe, based on past incidences that his blood pressure dropped precipitously. The garage door was open. He smashed into the near-mint condition 1973 Mercedes 280 I bought him about 15 years ago, causing significant damage to the entire rear end.

Continue reading “Stucky Meets a Mexican Woman, a Black Woman, And Six Cops”

A Wendy’s Hamburger Tries To Kill Stucky, But Fails

Last Tuesday I finished cleaning the deck, and then re-stained it. It was around 2PM and Ms Freud just finished with a client. I didn’t feel like making lunch, and neither did she.

I have mentioned previously that my two favorite fast food joints were Taco Bell and Wendy’s. I haven’t been to a Taco Bell since several people nationwide became ill … and one of the stores they closed was in the very town I grew up in, and where my parents still live. Fuck Taco Bell. Ms. Freud has never been inside a Wendy’s, and it’s been a few years since I’ve been. We both had the same exact small breakfast … something called “ho cake”, really, it’s a corn-meal pancake concoction along with a grapefruit, and I was hungry as hell. So, I said, “What the fuck, let’s be decadent and get a Triple Baconator”, which I did … she wimped out and only got the single.

The store is on the corner of South Avenue and Terril Road in Plainfield, NJ. Avoid it as if your life depended on it. The highly skilled tradesmen working there are all Darkies. The cashier is a young man, early 20’s, and very heavily tattooed like those NBA basketball players …. he even has “NIGGAZ” in large blue block font tatted on his neck …. I guess to inform us all of something he thinks we might not already know. I don’t know why …. maybe to “be nice” or make small talk … I blurted out “Nice tats there, man.” He just stared at me. It must have ruined his day that some old white fucker said that. I could just see the wheels turning in his head repeating Wendy’s Rulebook Rule #1; “Do no beat the shit out of White People even if they deserve it.” Anyway, I smiled and ordered. Ms Freud’s order appeared in about 1 minute, while mine took a full five minutes. That little fact may, or may not be, important to the story.

I noticed trouble around 4PM, two hours after eating this gourmet meal. My stomach started to ache. By 9PM, I was doubled over in pain. I’ve had plenty of food poisoning episodes in my life – we all have – as it’s pretty hard to avoid forever, but this one was turning into the Grand Doozy of them all. By midnight I was almost crying it hurt so bad.

Ms Freud was freaking out and demanding that I go to the Emergency Room. No can do! I’ve been blessed with great health for 61 years now. My White Celled Warriors have performed admirably up until now and there’s no reason to give up on them in my hour of greatest need. I don’t need no Foreign Army (anti-biotics) injected into me and fucking up a well oiled machine … or some doctor probing my asshole (another well oiled machine), or trying to get me to vomit, or whatever the fuck else they can guess at to make me feel better … and then charging me a thousand bucks or more for their service. Fuckit, what’s a little pain?!

Besides, I wasn’t even sure I had food poisoning. Ms. Freud was googling like crazy and informed me that food poisoning is almost always accompanied by either vomiting and/or diarrhea. I had neither symptom throughout. In fact, I couldn’t shit at all. So, around midnight she drove to a 24-hour pharmacy, and the pharmacist prescribed this 12 oz. blue bottle of power, Milk of Magnesia. A couple of capfuls and “he’ll be good to go”, he said. He lied. Ten hours later and pretty much draining the entire bottle is what it took. The out-come was horrific. My poo was almost black as coal, hard as a rock …. sorry about that info …. really, it looked like I was shitting coal. Not to mention that my pee was the color of dark rust. Well ….. this just FREAKED ME THE FUCK OUT!! I mean, what the hell is going on inside of me to produce this, well, shit?? Not to mention the other freaking-me-the-fuck -out symptoms over the next couple days; some difficulty swallowing, a fever that alternately left me either sweating or shivering all in the same hour, headaches. And the pain. Oh, Lord, the agony! I couldn’t even lightly touch my now bloated stomach without it hurting a lot. I do know people actually die from food poisoning, and I laid there thinking, “How fucking weird if it ended this way!!”. But, fuckmedead, I ain’t goin’ without a fight.

Time to call in reinforcements for the White Celled Warriors.

Playing “doctor” I decided that there’s some nasty new shit organism living inside my body that needs to be killed. Brilliant, no? So, I decided to mega-load up on foods that I know kill pathogens, bacteria, etc.

Whole Lemons including the peel incite the liver to produce more enzymes than any other food … I ate so many my wee-wee stared to burn when I peed. Crushed fresh garlic …. I ate so many my underarms smelled like garlic pasta. Vinegar and raw honey drink …. I drank so much I smelled like a tossed salad. Magnesium oil draws out toxins …. I put so much on my stomach that when Ms Freud leaned over to kiss me good-night she slid right off and fell to the floor. Raw yogurt by the gallons to get good PRO-biotic organisms back in my gut. Bananas. For the first 4-5 months of my life I was in a constant state of diarrhea so much so that the fake-doctors in the refugee camp thought I would die … but, somehow my mom discovered that bananas and dried bread were the ONLY food that I could keep down. So, whenever I get sick, I load the fuck up on bananas like crazy just out of respect (and , superstition) for their once Great And Honorable Service. Lastly, Jooish penicillin, aka, chicken broth … home made from organic whole chickens, not that store bought salty shit …. boiled chicken; the fat, skin, bones, cartilage, meat … I’m telling you, there’s some magical awesomely good ju-ju going on with that.

Lemons, garlic, vinegar, honey, yoghurt, bananas, and chicken broth. That’s been pretty much my diet for the past week. And, I’m back, baby!! Not 100% yet, but close. I have no friggen idea if that “diet” helped, or not, although I believe it did. Then again, my illness may have run its course by simply doing nothing … not an option for me … but, one never knows. I do know this; something very bad was causing havoc in my body, and now it’s not. My White Celled Warriors are now forever equipped with Anti-Wendy’s Slime Meat Fighting Skillz. They say, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. I am almost tempted to get “CRACKA” tattooed on my neck, go back to that same Wendy’s, and say; “OK Niggaz, gimme a triple-baconator and your best shot wif whatever-the-fuck-else you got!”.

Ms Freud said to me, “You certainly have an interesting life.” Fuckmedead … isn’t that some ancient Chinese curse? Just what I need, another interesting story. I already have plenty. I could write a book, and offer a Stucky Reality Tour. I don’t want an interesting life. I WANT A BORING FUCKING LIFE!! Got that, God?? Boring!!!! Just leave me the fuck alone with these trials and tribulations.

On the other hand, it did give me something new to write about. I feel like I’ve just about shot my wad here. Is there any opinion that I could give that would surprise anyone? Hardly. You all know me about as well as I know myself. You guys know minutia such as my favorite basketball team (IU !!), and now you even know that I occasionally shit coal. What’s left? I have precious little new info. I re-read my posts before hitting ‘enter’, and they bore me. I’m just a clown, and not even my jokes are funny anymore. Not to me. Anyways.

I did miss posting here though.

TBP TRICKLES OVER INTO REAL LIFE (just a little)

This is just a little a little thing that happened in real life that made me think of my “virtual” friend Stucky. It’s probably not of much interest to most of you but I thought it was cool.

Yesterday was my best friends birthday. I call him by many names but I most often call him Spanky. He is a genuine salt of the Earth, friendly guy and one of the only men I know with real integrity. He is the perfect counterbalance to my asshole-aholic personality. Almost ten years ago he legally adopted what would be his step-grandson who was three years old at the time. None of the blood relatives wanted to step up and save this little guy from an endless cycle of foster homes so Spanky did and asked my help in bringing the little guy up. The kids real parents were a couple of useless meth-heads.

Despite the fact that I don’t care that much for kids I agreed to help out as much as I can because this kid really deserves a better life than what he was born into. So last night was just a fun night out to see a local WHL hockey game. Spanky and I both believe that 80% of raising a kid to be a decent human being simply involves spending time with them and sharing common interests while helping them to productively interpret their experiences. He really is growing into great kid. Prior to the game he asked me to help him get “Papa’s” name and a birthday wish for him onto the scrolling reader board during the game. So I helped him find the right people to make his request a reality. A great kid indeed.

I’m not a huge hockey fan but I enjoy spending time with Spanky and his grandson. I learn a little more about hockey each time I attend a game and last night was no exception. It turns out that WHL players are aged 15-20 and many of them depend on local families to act as sponsors to feed and house these young guys as they develop their skills to become professional players. At last nights game they introduced and thanked all of these families and the young players they sponsor. I thought that all the players were from the US and Canada but it turns out they come from all over the northern hemisphere.

Last night they honored the overseas players by introducing them and playing their respective national anthems. Most of the time I simply stand with respect when I hear a foreign national anthem not thinking much about the people it represents. First up was Finland then Slovakia and finally the Austrian national anthem. And so last night I stood there listening and thinking about Stucky and his family and the stories he has shared with us here on TBP. So thank you Stuck! And I hope Momma Stucky is still doing well.

HUMAN THUMBS ARE WAY OVER-RATED

A couple months ago I bought an Excelsior Food Dehydrator. I’m drying fruits, veggies, and even meats. Homemade beef-jerky … nothing quite like it.

So, I bought a new mandarin slicer because it’s important to get ALL the pieces the same thickness … otherwise they dry unevenly.

So, I tried it out. It came with a protective sliding guard. The instructions said, in huge 800-point bold print — DO NOT USE SLICER WITHOUT THE GUARD — BLADES ARE EXTREMELY SHARP!! So, I tried it with a potato. However, I found it to be too cumbersome to hold the potato in place. So I didn’t use it. Next thing you know, in the blink of an eye ..BAM!!! … there’s blood gushing out all over my new slicer. This pissed me off.

I sliced about an 1/8 of an inch of flesh right off – about the same thickness as a thick slice of bologna — from my thumb joint to almost the tip. Did it hurt? Ummmm, YES!! Did I mention there was a lot of blood, everywhere? Oh, yeah, I did.

Well, I very quickly grabbed the first thing I could find to stem the blood flow. It was a dish cloth. It was not a clean dish cloth as I had been using it to wipe down the countertops. (The doctor said this was not a very good idea on my part.) Then I ran to the bathroom, poured iodine over the wound (holy fuckme in the ass … do I have to tell you that hurt?), wrapped it in 5 layers of gauze, and wrapped that with 6 feet of white tape. My thumb then looked like it belongs on The Hulk. Ms Freud and I take off to the RediMed Emergency Clinic.

So, we arrive. Not even one person in the waiting room! Great. This should go fast. I go to the front desk and the conversation goes something like this;

CLERK: How can I help you?

ME: I sliced off part of my thumb from the joint to the tip. (I show her my Hulk Thumb.)

CLERK: Have you been here before?

ME: No.

CLERK: You need to fill out this paperwork. (She hands me 5 sheets of paper … some need to be filled out on both sides.)

ME: I can’t. I’m right-handed. (I show her my right thumb again).

CLERK: Then your wife will have to fill it out. You can’t see a doctor until the paperwork is done.

ME: Look, I’m in a fair amount of pain. And, my blood is oozing from this retarded bandage job. (Despite all the bandaging, I didn’t cover the very tip of my thumb, and droplets of blood are making their escape.) It’s not like we’re gonna run away or anything. How about Ms. Freud fills this out while I see the doctor?

CLERK: Do you believe your injury is life-threatening?

ME: Of course not. But if I don’t see a doctor right away, yours might me. (I said this in a light hearted manner, but Nurse Ratchet had no sense of humor, and didn’t even crack a smile.)

CLERK. Then I’m sorry, you must fill out the form first.

So we take the 10-15 minutes to fill out all the bullshit … I’m still not sure why it was important to ask if either of my parents have hypertension. We go back to the front desk.

CLERK: That will be $200 for the doctor visit. You have to pay NOW. (Yes, she emphasized “now” … she’s only “known” me 15 minutes, and she’s already tired of my bullshit.)

ME: Here ya go.

CLERK: We need collateral.

ME: What the hell are you talking about!!??

CLERK: The $200 is for the consultation with the doctor. If other supplies or services are provided there will be a charge for those. We need collateral to insure payment.

ME: How about my damn pants, I wouldn’t dream of leaving without them. (Yes, I said that. But, once again, Nurse Ratchet finds me very unfunny. I think she’s related to Calamity.)

CLERK: No. We need car keys.

Well, I toss the keys to her while mumbling to Ms Freud loud enough for Nurse Ratchet to hear ‘well, at least she didn’t ask for the deed to the fuckin house’. We’re told to take a seat. It takes another 5 minutes to actually receive Top Secret Clearance to see the doctor. I’m thinking I would have gotten faster service if I kept the house-deed comment to myself.

Finally, I am escorted to the Secret Back Room. I am attended to by two young people who are not doctors. The girl is entering stuff in the computer … she’s asking me the same shit that was in the forms I just filled out! No, I don’t have AIDS. No, I don’t have diabetes. No, I’m not allergic to drugs. But, I’m nice to her because she has a nice ass, of which I have a birds-eye view, as long as she’s typing on the computer. Also, the guy is doing something productive. He’s taking off the bandage. It takes him several minutes. “Wow, this is some kind of wrapping you did!”. I suddenly feel so proud of myself. That is, until he gets to the gauze that actually against my raw flesh which is stuck to my flesh even though I am bleeding … ‘a most amazing fucking phenomena’ I think to myself. The guy cleans it out, holding my hand over a little pan, but at one point he pours some solution on it, and my hand involuntarily jerks … just a little bit … but enough to send the pan careening to the floor, Stucky-blood spattering on Ms Freud’s shoes. She hates the sight of blood and semi-freaks out, and the girl comes over to calm her down. Damn. There goes my nice ass view.

Shortly afterwards, a Physicians Assistant shows up, takes a look at Hulkthumb, and I swear on my everlasting soul the first fucking thing he says is “Wow!”. This is probably the 3rd worst thing a patient ever wants to hear a doctor say after, 1) ‘Huh, I’ve never seen that before’, and 2) ‘Let me go get another doctor’. He did a good job though. Plus, he was attending Seton Hall, the same school Ms Freud graduated from so, short of amputating my thumb he was Golden in her book. I got antibiotics, a tetanus shot, and some oxy-whatever pain pills … which I believe I can sell on the streets of Newark for $30 bucks a piece, thereby recouping my loss, plus some. I will have a scar. My thumb, once beautifully proportionate and well formed is now ugly. Will I ever be loved again?? Yet, somehow, I found the will to live. It’s the kind of guy I am.

Let me conclude by giving ya’ll two Stucky PSAs; 1) God help you if you ever need extensive medical care and you can’t fill out a fucking form and, 2) ALWAYS use the blade-guard on slicers

Stucky BUYS A BUSINESS !!

Yessiree. Last Saturday Ms. Freud’s best friend Broomhilda (name changed to protect her identity) came over for a visit. She told Ms Freud that she came across this “incredible” business “opportunity” that she just “had” to share. We said ‘yes’ because this dear friend is a dear friend who helped Ms. Freud a lot when she had chemo.

I shall start with the conclusion. I am now a proud Amway Business Owner. The details ..

It’s all about “control”, Broomhilda said. Don’t I want to be in total control of my time, she asked? Fuck yes! Don’t I want to decide when I work (fuck yes), how long I work (fuck yes), how hard I work (fuck yes). Don’t I want to be in complete control of my future (goddamn, right I do.). My enthusiastic responses only encouraged her.

It’s also all about “family”. Do I want to work in a cubicle and the rat race or do I want to work where people care about each other, encourage each other, help each other, and make each other wildly successful? (At this point I’m wondering; “Why is Broomhilda throwing me these fucking softballs??)

It’s also all about “Financial Independence”. This part lasted almost an hour and I shall relay only a couple highlights.

One of her charts had a bunch of people on the bottom row, fewer people on the next row, and so on until there was just one person (ME!!!) on the top row. I said, “Hey, that looks like a pyramid!”. This startled her momentarily, but she recovered nicely; “Yes, it is. We call it the pyramid of success.”. Fucken A, this chick is quick on her feet and I got so excited that I noticed a slight movement, you know, down there.

So she tells me ALL I need to do is get seven people to join my business … (it’s soooo easy she said cuz the products are “world class” … and then all I gotta do is train those 7 people how to get their own 7 people. She said that with my “outgoing personality” (really) that I should be able to accomplish this in just 4-5 months. (I suspect she’s bullshitting me because when I first met her she later asked Ms Freud “What do you see in him?” … which is not, IMHO, a sign that I could get even one person, no less seven.) Anyway, she said I should be making $20,000+ per month in no time at all. Selling soap and shit.

Nevertheless … seven. Such a small number, really. I told Broomhilda that I was a Big Dog on a website that gets 10,000 hits a day. I think she had an orgasm right on the spot. She wanted to develop a “business development strategy” right then and there on how to “seed” the business. I told her the site Admin only makes $45 a year on Ad revenue clicks and that you all are generally a bunch of cheap-ass tightwads, and that I would get back to her. She then helped me understand my “circle of influence”, and told me start there.

I hit up my sister first. It was a short meeting. She told me to fuck off. I love her for that .. for not beating around the bush. I really didn’t want her to be part of my group anyway. She whines and bitches too much … plus she voted for Obama twice. I just wanted to sign her up so that I could fire her … like llpoh does. Everybody should be able to fire someone once in their life.

I can’t hit up my parents. My ex-wife is already in Melaleuca. My youngest son has two full time jobs. My oldest son is nuts. And, so, my “circle of influence” is drier than Joan Rivers’ vagina. And we got over a hundred bucks invested …. yeah, we bought some fucking products. Shut the fuck up.

So, that’s where you guys come in. WHO WANTS TO BE PART OF MY TEAM?? Fuck gold. Fuck silver. Fuck guns. Amway is the way to go!! I’ll get you stuff at wholesale. We’ll gang up on the Newbies and sign them up. We’ll all be rich in no time at all. What could go wrong?

Who will be first?