Mental Illness and Mass Shootings

Oregon Killer’s Mother Wrote of Troubled Son and Gun Rights (The New York Times)

From what little detail is given in this article concerning the recent mass shooting, it seems clear that the shooter in Oregon had an extensive history of mental illness. Once again, everybody is “up in arms” (pun absolutely intended) on either side of the gun rights debate, as is what always happens after one of these now all-too-familiar tragedies. Nobody ever seems to have much to say about the mental illness aspect that is present in nearly each one of these cases.

My personal experience has confirmed what I already believed, that the way mental illness is perceived, addressed, and handled by today’s society is in need of drastic change. The way mental illness and those seeking help are treated by social programs and government bureaucracy is in need of drastic fucking change. And, while I absolutely support the 2nd Amendment and believe Americans are entitled to the right to legally obtain and possess firearms, I also believe their need to be measures in place to prevent these firearms from ending up in the “wrong” hands, whatever that is defined to be.

People with certain severe mental illnesses, myself probably included, should be regulated in some manner in relation to handling and possessing potentially deadly machines. Cars, guns, rocket launchers, forklifts, armored tanks, Mexican firecrackers, whatever…REGULATED. I made the personal choice not long ago to sell or give away all of my firearms, for my own safety and for yours. Too many nights spent in a fucked up head-space with the barrel of a .45 in my mouth, or days spent in a misanthropic murder fantasy. Not everyone with similar problems has the capacity for such a personal decision, and these are the times when a governing body is meant to step in for the safety of the people.

Nothing is so black and white as we make it.

Here is a link to an article with more information about the nine deceased victims of this tragedy.

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Ten Stupid Things That Sound Intelligent and Profound (Or Do They?)

Or. Do. They? O.o

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1.))) Every experience in this life is a lesson. The most difficult moments hide the lessons we most resist learning.

2.))) The things that make us angry show us when we need to practice letting go. Typing that sentence is a million times easier than figuring out how to actually do it.

3.))) Expectations are the surest way to bring oneself meaningless suffering.

4.))) Everyone is wrong, all the time. Nobody knows what the fuck is going on. The more we resist our own basic ignorance, the further we are from true knowing.

5.))) Any statement can seem wise and profound, with the right measure of language and conviction.

6.))) A great way to relieve some of the pressures of the burden of existence is to remember you are just a mostly hairless monkey with delusions of grandeur and too much capacity for complex thought.

7.))) With all the complexities of the human mind, even the most intelligent and capable of us are still pretty fucking stupid and clueless most of the time.

8.))) For all the grandly evolved capabilities, ideals, achievements, responsibilities, and sense of self importance displayed by humankind, we are all at our core simply grasping blindly to find our place and our path in the accident of existence. You are not nearly as important as you think you are. Neither am I. Neither is anybody. There’s a sense of calm in that.

9.))) Talking has fuck all to do with getting shit done. Real motherfuckers get shit done.

10.))) Using profanity to illustrate a point is called “perfervidic expletivication” and releases the same chemicals in the brain as sex and heroin. I read it on the internet, so I know it’s true.

11.))) Fuck self-imposed limitations, in lists and in life!

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Just Insanity Things…

I think I might be schizophrenic. Does doubt concerning one’s own sanity itself exclude the possibility of insanity? I am definitely paranoid and delusional. As stated here before, I can identify certain things in my mind as absurd and delusional on an intellectual level, but that does not prevent me from believing these absurdities to be true, on an emotional level. It is impossible to form or maintain any sort of healthy and lasting connection with another person when the things in your mind are constantly distorting and perverting your interactions with and perceptions of everyone and everything around you. Paranoia and confusion breed frustration and I only know how to react in anger and desperation. Those closest to me suffer the brunt of my unpredictable and destructive flailing throes of madness even as I doubt the very legitimacy of their existence.  How can I make any attempts to resolve my issues when I don’t even know what’s “real”? This life is a fucking joke and I am the punchline.

I will not do what the tick tells me to…

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Misanthropic Rant Hinged on a Gypsy Dream (No Dharma Here)

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I hate people. It’s a horrible thing for an aspiring Buddhist to feel. But, I hate people. I hate their busted faces, and I hate their bullshit opinions, and I hate having to put up with their constant barrage of inane moronic stupidity. But, most of all, I hate that they are goddamn everywhere and that I have to live among them. Because SOCIETY.

SO. The plan.

1.))) Make some money.
2.))) Learn how to save money.
3.))) Purchase a caravan.
4.))) Trick that bitch out, ultimate gypsy wanderlust road warrior style.
5.))) Plug in the Gogol Bordello discography for perfect rubber trampin’ ambiance.
6.))) Live on the road and/or in glorious hermetic seclusion the fuck away from everyone as much as possible.
7.))) Work on my “attitude problem.”

This may take some time, but I’m in it for the long haul! Also, I should maybe move the “attitude problem” thing up a few notches in priority. Maybe…

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* I’ve been doing this whole #LetsBuseyThisPlaceUp thing on the Books of Face and that Instacrap thing. It is…ridiculous. 🙂

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Misplaced Indignation

All day, the internet has been up in arms over a depiction of rape that occurred on a fictional television show last night. A show that is no stranger to intense and disturbing content, mind you. Still, fans and critics alike have been passionately and vocally outraged over the incident.

Meanwhile, in the United States a sexual assault happens about every minute or so, depending on the source for statistics. About 80% of those sexual assaults are at the hands of someone the victim knows. About one in four women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. And only about 20% of sexual assaults are actually reported. Exactly ZERO of these rapes happen to fictional characters.

Hey, Public. Hey Internets. How about you people express some moral and emotional outrage over something that actually fucking matters?

National Sexual Assault Hotline 1-800-656-4673

Rape and Incest National Network (Including Online Hotline)

Click here for other national hotlines, helpful links, and information for victims of crime.

Rantings on Madness with a Dose of Damn the Man

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After months of dealing with paperwork, questionnaires, waiting in lines, hours on hold on the phone, ridiculous inquiries, bullshit red tape, and other fucking ridiculousness, I still am no closer to obtaining health insurance. I have no idea what is going on with my mental health disability claim, and am at a loss of who else to try and contact. All avenues explored for low-income or no-income access to medical and/or mental health treatment services have been a fucking flaccid cock suck. I am too broke to afford food for my dogs. And I can’t even get hired at goddamn shithouse Target or fucking Wal Mart.

THIS. THIS is why motherfuckers snap and lash out in horrific, destructive violence. Fuck my life.

I’m throwing a self-pity party, and you all are invited. Bring cake you fuckers.

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Then, later….

So.

Around the same time that I started trying to get that good government-funded insurance coverage at the beginning of February, I also filed a claim with the Social Security Administration for mental health disability. Anything to get a little assistance while I try and un-fuck my mind.

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Just as we were about to move to Cheyenne at the beginning of April, I finally saw some movement on this when I got a call from a representative at the Tucson SSDI office. They needed to schedule an evaluation with a head shrinker to determine if my Crazy is legitimate. However, this appointment wouldn’t be happening until the start of May, by which time I planned to be nestled snuggly in the springtime snow drifts of Wyoming.

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Of course, this creates a problem. And the government minions in Tucson have no powers of influence outside of their own little Sonoran desert bubble, so the entire case would have to be put on hold and transferred to the Cheyenne SSDI office for further processing. Sure, whatever, just get it done. “Someone should be calling you in a couple of weeks,” I was assured.

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Here we are, six or seven weeks later. Fuck all. So I call the local Social Security office to check in, find out what’s what, see if I can do anything to move this along. Lo and behold, it turns out the fucking case was never even transferred from Tucson. It has just been sitting in limbo this entire time that I have had a thumb jammed up my ass to try and keep the Crazy from leaking out too much.

Fuck you, Government. Your shit is ABSURD.

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Oh, and I forgot to mention. It’s not that I don’t want to work. I have had several interviews over the last several months, in both Tucson and Cheyenne, for jobs I would have been proud to work. The interviews start off great. By the end of them, I have devolved into a bumbling, anxious, sweaty mess that can barely utter a comprehensible sentence. Call me crazy, but I suspect that might have been a factor in me not getting hired…

BitchFest over. For now. 🙂

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But first, for good measure….

In my madness, I am actively trying to alienate most or all human meat popsicles from my life. I’ve managed to purge several high profile carcasses so far this year, and there have been a few unplanned casualties. But all that means is we clearly need to step it up a notch!

Still chock full of irreverent sarcasm, however. We’ll need plenty of that to be in this thing for the long haul…

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Right Prick Rant

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Asshole Art

Image yanked from Polyvore

You’re goddamn right I’m misogynistic! I’m also misanthropic, controversial, offensive, irreverent, belligerent, empathetic, egotistical, megalomaniacal, effusive, contradictory, paradoxical, sarcastic, benevolent, largely confused, spiteful, forgiving, aggressive, lethargic, prone to rampant adjective abuse…

…and SO many other things.

Update: Such as the following, contributed by a friend, or possibly the voices in my head…

“[Also] macabre, narcissistic, sadistic, repugnant, irascible, incorrigible, indomitable, surreptitious, ethereal, immutable, perspicacious, tenacious…sorry, I would have more but my mind doesn’t seem to be working properly tonight. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.”

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Also an Asshole

From the self-titled album by Black Plastic Caskets

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Hip Cynical Transcendence: A Rant on Sentiment, Fueled by The Talk

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STOP. TALKING.

I’ve got The Talk on in the background while the Dish Network guy fixes all the shit his comrade fucked up during our install a few days ago. One of the vitally important topics I overheard them discussing was the recent breakup between Ariana Grande and Big Sean, and specifically their topic had to do with length of recovery time from a break up.

I don’t specifically personally give a shit about any of that as it relates to two pop celebrities I know nothing about. But, when did it become so admirable to act like life events such as a relationship ending don’t affect us? One of the vapid talking heads on the show made a remark about how it takes her 30 minutes or less to get over a break up, because that’s how long it takes her pizza to get ready. Seriously? Maybe the reasons your bullshit relationships don’t work out is because you’re so fucking full of yourself and your obsession with projecting an attitude of “stoic indifference” that nobody wants to put up with your narcissistic ass!

Bottom line, if you’re spending so much of your effort and psychic energy on pretending you don’t give a shit and aren’t affected by the people in your life, you will NEVER be open to any kind of love or affection from another person. So FUCK YOU.  Not only are you wasting the time and energy of anyone you try and fuck with, but you are leaving a trail of psychological and emotional damage in your wake.  Yet another factor behind the ever-increasing personal and emotional distance that seems to be perpetually growing between all people.  But you probably don’t even give a shit.

“What passes for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human […] is probably to be unavoidably sentimental and naïve and goo-prone and generally pathetic.” — David Foster Wallace

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Minutiae and Whimsy of a Day

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“My schedule for today lists a six-hour self-accusatory depression.”

― Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

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It looks as though our last day in Tucson (for the time being) will be March 31st. As of April 1st, we will be hitting the road to live out that gypsy wanderlust dream life! Also, Imma go to my sister’s place for a bit and write a book while she cooks me mac ‘n cheese and forces me to do my own laundry.

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Ever been combing through old possessions and become angered at the person you used to be? Like, “Motherfucker, how DARE you own three Limp Bizkit CDs!”

I’m, uh, asking for a friend….

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“I did it all for the nookie…totally justifiable.” – Fred Fucking Durst

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Apparently, during ’95 – ’96, I was designing my own magazine covers. I have no memory of this, nor any notion of what made these obviously masterful rags fold. Interesting…

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Now that Sons of Anarchy has wrapped, and Molly no longer has Chibs to idolize, she has been looking for another show to watch. I thought she would be into The Wire, but I didn’t realize how into it she would get!

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She said she wanted to be like Omar, cuz nobody fucks with Omar, and anyways it’s all in the game, right?

Because a dog has to have a code…

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As I have empirically discovered this languid and glorious eve, there seems to be only one negative aspect to sitting in the dark for hours spinning Sleep and OM records and meditating on the oft tragi-comic eccentricities of this mortal ebb and flow…

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…when one eventually goes to fire up that sweet and succulent stogie, the flame from one’s lighter may be fucking BLINDING, man! I have no eyes… O.O

Earlier in the day, jets and carriers from the base were out performing thunderously loud drills. Then there are, of course, the chem-trails. Over the past two hours we have had four separate power surges that reset everything in the house and fucked up my viewing of Better Call Saul. Then, just now, while staring out the window in a daze, the neighbor’s backyard flood light began rhythmically pulsing on and off, most likely beaming top-secret codified information into my face holes.

Coincidences?! I think NOT!!! I’m onto your clever, pygmy-conspiring, brain-wave manipulating ruse, you bastards! You’ll never decode my mind, NEVER! I’ve unsystematically randomized everything!

MUAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! ;-P

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After I go live like Thoreau in the North American wilderness for a bit and write my book, I’m tossing around the idea of renouncing all worldly possessions and desires and living as a pious reclusive monk in some remote Buddhist monastery in the Himalayas, pondering upon the nature of scorn and loathing and tending to the tiniest, most fragile and sickly of bamboo stalks as I observe vows of contemplative silence followed by therapeutic bouts of soul-screaming…

Step 1.))) Find out if “renouncing wordly possessions” precludes me from bringing my record collection along. I wonder if any of the Himalayan monasteries are presided over by a Master who appreciates some good DOOM?

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Ryan Scattered

I dont know what is going on in my head right now. Have been on a downward spiral for months. Every rock bottom just gives way to a deeper chasm. There will be stacks of days that it feels like things may be improving, moments of clarity and epiphany that seem to lead towards a surface, and then we wind up confused and lost and more mixed up than before. Everyone seems to be telling me different things, no idea which way to turn, path to take, who to trust. Those we have trusted implicitly we have also consumed with our fury, and they failed us even as we pushed them away.

It just gets so fucking loud up here. And it hurts. And it smells of electricity and dampness.