#this post has no other point than it made me yell omg terry it's you

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

So I am rewatching The living and the dead (in the middle of the night because I'm very good at making bad decisions)

and omg hello vintage, suicidal, non-vegan version of Terry from one of my other favourite shows about dead people

Come to think of it ... farmer ghost from 1894 anyone?

[cdt12345]

Here are some of my rambling thoughts on Shameless 11x09. My only real issue with this episode is the way it ended. For some reason these episodes have been ending awkwardly. I feel like the episode isn't finished yet, but then it ends. Like, what the hell happened to Gemma and Amy? We never saw Kevin find his children! It's like whoever is in charge has never ended a show before and don't know where to stop.

I hate that Mickey was in pain and crying, But I did love that he was allowed to cry and grieve. He had a safe space and safe person he could cry in front of and go through all his crazy range of emotions with.

I loved that Ian gave Mickey the space he needed, brought him coffee, and kept Mickey's perspective of Terry in check. All the while still letting Mickey grieve and helping him through.

The scene with them going through Terry's stuff was a reminder of what Mickey said to Ian in season 7. Ian always had his back more than his family ever did.

Mickey is left to deal with Terry's arrangements and going through his stuff and all the Milkovich's are gone. Where was Sandy, where were the other Milkovich's who were actually living in the house with Terry? They wouldn't even take care of him when he was alive. Not a single one is there to help Mickey. Only Ian!

Ian was there through everything. Ian always has and always will have Mickey's back. I don't know what more proof people need to see how the Milkovich's just aren't close and Ian is the only one who was and will always be there for Mickey. I need no more proof of Ian's love for Mickey. Haven't needed it for a long time.

People wanted Mickey to be close with Sandy when she was introduced last season, but they hardly even interacted. How is it, that people like to point out how Mandy and Mickey weren't close, but actually believed Sandy and Mickey could be close?

I agree Mandy and Mickey aren't as close as we'd like them to be. Especially not as close as she was with Ian. But if Mickey was close to any of his relatives, it would've been Mandy. They grew up in the same house with the same father. Sandy didn't. She may have lived with them from time to time throughout the years, but it was not the same. Not to mention she was never even mentioned before, just like the rest of the Milkovich's that showed up this season.

I didn't expect it, but I thought this would be one of the last chances they had to at least mention Mandy. Maybe saying they talked to her and told her about Terry's death over the phone. Anything! But still not a single mention. Like the writers forgot she existed. Even when Mickey is reminiscing about dodge the dagger, he mentions his brothers. If someone was watching the show from season 7 on, they'd never even know he had a sister.

When Mickey described the nun as "A cold blooded killer in a nun costume. We don't actually know that yet." that made me laugh. Ian stopping him from ranting any further was hilarious!

I loved how @annatrow pointed out that Ian still thought Rachel could've married Terry after he killed her father because Ian would've, had Mickey done the same to Frank. Ian's like that's not a deal breaker for me and Mickey! 😂🤣😂🤣

Omg the knife scene at the funeral home! When that guy was behind them and they get all awkward and Ian tells Mickey to put the knife away! I laughed so hard at that! That was fucking hilarious! These two are so embarrassing, you can't take them anywhere! 🤣🤣🤣

Another time that Ian took charge for Mickey. Like finding Terry a nurse, he was talking to the guy at the funeral home about Terry's wishes and asking what the most affordable package they had. I love that Ian takes charge for Mickey like that, even when it's for Terry and Ian could care less about the man. Ian knows, seen, and has been a victim of Terry's. He even knows about Mandy's rape by Terry. I don't even think Mickey ever found out about Terry raping Mandy. Only Ian, Lip, Mandy, and Terry knew about it. Wonder if that would've changed the way Mickey grieved Terry? The love of Ian's life has suffered so much because of Terry. Ian has every reason to hate this man. It continues to amaze me how he still keeps helping take care of Terry and makes arrangements for him because he knows that's what Mickey wants and needs right now.

THEY SANG AGAIN!!!! I know some people find it odd. But it was a final fuck you to Terry. Ian even said I know what Terry would love. Obviously he was being sarcastic because he knows Terry would hate that. Maybe if it hadn't been right after they just sang in the bathroom, it wouldn't have seemed so odd to people. Maybe if it had been more spread out from the last time they sang. But I do love that it's canon that they sing together pretty often now! They're free and happier than they've ever been before. Who is to say that it's ooc for them now that they can be themselves and their happy for the first time in their lives.

The song Ian picked?! Fucking perfect! It was Mickey's life story in that song! And the fact that Ian picked that song shows how Ian really sees Mickey. As a survivor who has been through so much, tormented by a father who wanted to knock him down, but Mickey persevered. He sees Mickey for who he really is and how much he's gone through in a way that no one ever has or ever will.

Mickey deserves that. He deserves Ian and vice versa really. They deserve each other and in moments like these I'm so freaking happy they have each other for the rest of their lives. When Ian lost his mom, he was alone in his grief and that broke my heart. Not anymore!

Okay, and the whole time they're at the cemetery, I was watching that guy behind them. I was thinking, Ummm are you going to do this with that guy right there?! I'm sure he's gonna notice the fire behind him! 🤣🤣

I didn't notice until a GIF was made about Mickey touching Ian's butt at the cemetery! When re watching, I realized Mickey wasn't holding Ian until the guy yelled at them. I don't know why that made it so much funnier to me, but it really did! The guy yells at them, Mickey grabs Ian's butt in response and then they run off. That's fucking hilarious!!! Love the parallel from them running off after Mickey punched Ned in season 3. Even laughing when they ran away at the cemetery! I wish we could've seen them laughing and running away in this one instead of just hearing them laughing.

When discussing this episode with @luckyshazmrsmonaghansblog we spoke of how everyone seems to be more stupid this season, especially Lip in my opinion. When watching season 8 & 9, I forgot that Lip was supposed to be the genius of the family! I literally forgot! There were easy words that I knew, that he would ask what that meant. And I was like what? How does he, the genius, not know what that means? Even I know what that means! Not to mention remodeling a house he didn't own this season! The writers have really dumbed everyone down. Probably for comedy sake but it's just frustrating.

Other character points:

• Debbie had the nerve to ask Liam if he wanted to ask her what she was doing, after she told him she didn't have time for his shit when he had real concerns about being homeless. She won't listen to him but she expects him to listen to her. Then she tells Lip about Liam's fear! Meaning she knew what was bothering him and she never tried to console him or talk to the others about it.

• I did find it weird that Lip said he and Tami talked about it and wanted Liam to come live with them. I thought when did they have time to have that conversation? Lip didn't even know that Liam was worried about that until Debbie told him. Then I saw a few posts about people even doubting that that conversation even happened and I now feel like that is a real possibility. Lip has spent this whole season lying to Tami and keeping things from her. So, it's not far fetched to think he didn't talk to her about it. If they did, why not talk to Liam about that sooner? Also doubt Tami would be okay with it. Though Liam is just a kid, she never cared for the Gallagher's and only cares when it's her own family that needs something. Like wanting the Gallagher's to chip in on her sisters medical bill. I'm never gonna get over that! I know she was scared but what the hell was that?! You know she wouldn't do the same for the Gallagher's. She's the kind who only cares about her side of the family and not her significant others family.

• I know they're going to sell the house and I would normally be okay with that. But I hate that Lip is making the decision for everyone. He doesn't live in the house, it's not even under his name, Carl paid for the house when they almost lost it, and the rest of the Gallagher's have been paying the bills while he's been out of the house. Lip is not the all mighty one in charge of the house or their lives. He makes me not want them to move out of the house only so he doesn't get his way. Especially after he tells everyone they're not talking about it anymore and he starts tearing down walls to a house his siblings and niece are still living in and when he doesn't even live there anymore. Fucker needs to not get his way every once in a while.

• Vee keeps telling her mom, she's not going to last in Kentucky and she'll be back in a few months. That's a sure fire way to make sure her mom never moves back to Chicago. Could just be me, but when someone says shit like that to me, it makes me want to prove them wrong even more!

• I'm not usually a fan of Frank, but I did like seeing him with Serena. It showed a rare moment of his humanity, hugging her and even putting on his mask before doing so. I thought that was thoughtful of him.

[pilgrimonpoint]

“The Pattern Aggrandizment of Self-Delusion.”

Is There a Term for Convincing Those Around You of The Obvious, Then the Obvious Thing Doesn’t Happen?

Yes. It is called “The Pattern Aggrandizement of Self-Delusion.”

I have been in a near constant state of awakening and suicidal ideation, but really, who hasn't been?

Anyway, one of the realizations I had sprang from the analysis of my accrued data metrics that addressed “whether or not”, in aggregate, “listening to my ‘gut' had the generalized overall result being beneficial, certainly positive, and nice feeling upon post examinations of my necessarily subjective experience of the undocumented events as remembered after the fact".

What I learned was ‘jaw dropping.’

The unqualified result was that, astoundingly, I had never listened to my gut up until the age of 46, and my life had generally been a sucky experience, BUT, since then, while being in the most chaotic time in memory, it has also been the most mind-bogglingly creative and satisfying time I have ever lived!

The crises personally and country wide were seismic! In many, many ways I was the same me, but in a different place and time. The question then occurred to me, "what is the most consistent random thing to occur in my life?”

Without hesitation, the thought manifested within my expansive mind, “420”.

Now mind you, I am not a pot smoker. Sure, in the past I liked to “loosen the screws", but for me the experience was “losing the screws altogether. Has anyone seen my glasses? How about my keys?”

You feel me.

Since I was 16, you would not credit as believable how many times I have wondered,” what time is it?”

Looked at the clock, and, you guessed it, exactly 420.

It happened so much that I have been using it as a running joke for over 10 years now. Even going as far as to text my partner every time it happens to try and share the weirdness of it. It did not even occur to me to wonder, “I wonder what it could mean in relation to April 2020?” prior to last Nov.

When it did, the first thing I thought was, “I wonder if that is when I am going to die?” My ‘gut’ reacted when I considered it. So, I considered it more.

Now this is the part of the story where it REALLY starts to make sense. When I was 22, and just out of the Marines, Texas had just started the state lottery. Looking at the odds of winning, it occurred to me that the best random odds one could have would be to pick one set of numbers at 21, or 22, then play those numbers with odd regularity until I died at 127, and have a better chance of winning than any other strategy.

Let me tell you, I was SO impressed with myself. Especially when each number I chose had a special significance. OF COURSE, I told my family, my friends, strangers, little children, EVERYBODY about my brilliant plan. I talked about it so much, my friends and family knew my numbers without the need for hints.

After two weeks of being fully the most annoying pleasant intellectual in all West Texas, my roommate and I were parked in front of The Colonial at 9 pm. Terry was in the store, and my gut went crazy!

I had the darndest feeling that I should buy a ticket, BUT I only had 5 dollars and we were headed to the dollar theater to watch a movie. $1 to get in. $2 for a large soda, and $2 for a hotdog or nachos. So, in weighing my desires, I found getting a soda and hotdog outweighed my need to buy a lottery ticket, and realize again I was paying “the poor man's tax” as my father was want to call the lottery.

OK!

I had decided.

Shut UP gut!

Then Terry got into the vehicle.

“Aren’t you going get a lottery ticket??” He asked significantly, leaning over towards me and wagging his eyebrows to indicate he was only half mocking my intellectual prowess, which was profound, yet untested at such a young age. I then had to explain to him my well-reasoned excuse not to purchase a ticket, even repeating my father's moniker for the gambling game.

“Alright!” Terry said, and we went to the movies.

In those days, the theater would put up the numbers next to the movie screen on drawing nights. I was watching the trailers when Terry punched the holy living hell out of my shoulder.

“What the F Ter-,” Terry interrupted my indignant anger, “Look!” he said loudly, pointing. Following his pointer finger I saw at the end of it, my lottery numbers. Loud, recriminations ensued.

That was my first gut failure and will long live in the annals of family history of missed chances.

I have had many times from then to my present 47 years where, every time I ignored my gut, I later learned I should have listened to my gut. It was with this infallible information in hand last Dec, I decided TO follow my gut for ONCE in my life. Further, I decided to combine it with another observation regarding my life.

That observation was my life seemed to, without intent, be the most cliché life that I am aware of. So much so, that if I am in an unusual situation, or witness to one, and I can think of an absurd situational cliché similar to what I am witnessing, then further picture an even more absurd cliché that involves me, then it will probably happen, and then leave where ever I am because I am tired of experiencing absurd clichés in my life. Really.

As a brief example of what I mean, I have actually been in a situation where a hot, beautiful, younger woman was BEGGING me to be with her, and my response in that moment was, “No, not until you tell me something personal about you. It can be made up, I don’t care, but it has to sound personal.” To which she said, “Shut up and GIVE it to me!” I then responded with, and I am completely serious, I said, “But I want to get to know you as a person!”

Really? What!

And I meant it! I realized the irony of the situation as well as the cosmic humor of the organic interaction.

My friends said that I could get struck by lightning on a cloudless day. It was so ridiculous, even my friends and family could only agree with the sentiment.

Back to 420.

So I combined “Cliché” with “420” and came up with the conviction, not mere supposition, but conviction that the “Big One” was going to happen in the San Francisco Bay area on, you guessed it, 4/20/20.

For those too busy for historical references, “Big One” in this context refers to a geological tremor, of OMG proportions. If I had lost some of you to a more debauched definition for “Big One” when associated with San Francisco, no worries, I added some useless but fun filler for the rest of us to read until you came back from your “wonderings”. We are not judging.

Welcome back!

I further backed this up with a dream I had my first night in the area. I dreamt that I was on a roof with another guy and water was swiftly rising up and overtaking us, and I was yelling, “which way do we swim for the Berkeley Hills?!”. Not a normal dream, but one of those super lucid, real feeling ones.

I had had 5 of them in my life. One of THOSE 5 was a dream where I standing on a cliff on the west coast overlooking the ocean, and there were meteors, several of them trailing huge smoke trails behind them, and I said in the dream, "And behold, a mountain was cast down from the heavens, and this is the 6th seal”

I quietly began telling friends and family and those I like to go camping or be out of town on 4/20. Hell, I was so convincing, my sons and partner were trying to help pack so we could get on the road at 2 am on 420! It was such a mess despite all efforts, I took that as a sign I should just chill and not drive to the border of OR to wait. The border of Oregon, OF COURSE because, during our research, we discovered that our RV Trailer Park of extravagant plushness, was encircled on three sides by liquefaction zones. LIQUIFACTION ZONES! We were also within a 15-minute walk on our other side to the Hayward Faultline. As well as 5, not 4, not 6, but 5 volcanoes that had active within enough historical time, to add a nice hysterical flavor to our familial rash of survivalist instincts!

Did I really want to see if, in another cosmic cliché, I was a prophet?

“Oh man. Please no. Not in the middle of a pandemic with apocalypse feelings like this happening with everyone in twenty-seven social interactions I had been having lately. I even read a couple chapters of Revelations. The only thing more catastrophic than reading revelations with serious intent to understand is our local crazy on the street corner not carrying an “end is nigh” sign. OMG, he is carrying a sign! I will get burned at a stake for sure!”

I reasoned one of two things were going to happen come 4/20/20.

One, my talent for identifying unusual, but true patterns in meta social data was more that I wanted to actually have, or two, I had a lesson to learn and needed to reevaluate some of my life choices.

Not doing anything would be irresponsible, where doing something COULD save some lives. If nothing happened, no real trouble for anyone, and I didn’t broadcast across the internet, and set myself up for being an I-D-I-O-T publicly. Only privately, and within a small circle of people who would either need to be stopped from making more of my prophetic powers than is seemly, or hopefully, they could accept the above reasons as fair, and let me learn said lessons without too much joking about Nostradamus or even considering crossing a pandemic border to then go into a more serious lockdown for 14 days of shame, or anything. I mean, I DID tell them the same thing as in this paragraph BEFORE 420, so I have a very reasonable, and self-evaluating insanity.

YAY!

*my partner says I must inform y’all that we had actually been planning a trip to OR for many months before our invisible stalking COVID frenemy began crawling up both legs at the same time

It being June 8th now, you can figure that I learned the lesson of not associating entirely subjective experiences into any kind of designation of anything prophetic or inane. Trust me, I am not that guy, which is exactly why the whole collection of things felt MORE probable. People were like, “Man, Adrian is saying this. Shit! Maybe something IS going to happen!”

Yeah Something happened. I realized my hair was not on fire, and humans are silly as hell. Oh, I made up the term up top. Seemed in keeping with the tongue-in-cheek feel I was going for.

Pattern Aggrandizement of Self-Delusion in no way whatsoever, needs to be credited to me when bringing up who coined the phrase, but if absolutely necessary, you may use Sabrina Siebert, 42, from Troy Michigan. She IS the boss. I merely dictated this answer.

*OOOOwwwww

**she is giving the evil eye, but smiling, and denying, and now looking down at her phone. Mission accomplished.

Feedback in comments! THANKS!

Respectfully,

A. Yobi Blumberg

#veteranartist #voctrbe #veteranwriter #ptsdtherapy #thetruth #hmor