Slack Slacker Says Social Media Is Minding Your Business
Facebook asked me, "What's on my mind?" It does this every time I open my Facebook page. But this morning, for some strange reason, I decided to answer Facebook with a question of my own. I asked Facebook, Why do you want to know? If I don't get an answer within a reasonable amount of time, the next time Facebook asks this inane question, I will respond with, "It's none of your damn business. And I suggest you do the same!
Bottom Line: I know it’s generous to share, but be careful what you share and who you’re sharing with. There are a lot of nosey bastards in this world, and not all of them are wishing you well. I’m just sharing a few wise words to ponder. Enjoy your Day! BTW, Share this message with a friend.
Sincerely, Lee Bines aka Slack Slacker😎
P.S. Call me a "Psycho Conspiracy Theorist" if you will; however, I beg to differ. So there.
As you may recall, last Friday, I was forced to miss work due to severe injuries sustained during my kidnapping and eventual rescue from Islamic militants seeking a billion-dollar reward for my radicalized Yorkie Terrier. After that life-changing event, I prayed to Jesus that I'd never lie again, as I was determined to turn over a new leaf. Actually, since I was sure Jesus had never caught me lying before, I was sure the sucker believed me. Little did I know, Jesus had been keeping track of me for weeks, maybe even months. So, here's how it all went down.
I exited my favorite watering hole on the Upper West Side of Manhattan late last night with my best bud, Crazy Lazy. After an evening of Tequila shots with draft beer chasers, Crazy Lazy and I thought it'd be cool to check out a nearby A.A. meeting to taunt the twelve-stepers trying to get their lives back on track. That's when we heard the voice. "Say, fellas, may I have a word with the two of you?
Without a sound, a black tricked-out VW Beetle van appeared curbside with Jesus behind the wheel. The front passenger window rolled down, and a woman, whom I later realized was Mother Teresa, yelled, "Hey Slack, you wanna party?" Startled but curious, I took a quick glance in the rear seats and saw two of the hottest babes on the planet. My answer was a no-brainer: " Let's roll!"
Peeling away from the curb with reckless abandon, silently, my only concern was with Mother Teresa riding shotgun. How do we let Jesus know he's getting stuck with Mother "Mugshot" without offending him? It was then that Mother Teresa lit up a spliff and passed it, along with a flask filled with Patron Gold, to us in the back. Crazy grabbed both and picked up where we'd left off at the bar. But I was trying to ask Jesus if this was cool. After a long toke on his own doobie, he said calmly, "When you party with Jesus, everything is cool.
During a slow spin through Central Park (closed to traffic at the time), Crazy and I got to know the two angelic babes better while enjoying Mother T's heavenly weed. Jesus, just cruising the city and taking in the sights, suddenly says, I always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. I tried to remind him it was late, it was closed, it was cold, and it would be impossible to get there by van, but after a long toke of his doobie and a few shots from his flask, Jesus said, "When you party with me, nothing is impossible."
Putting the tricked-out VW Beetle van into interstellar drive, Jesus headed south on West End Ave toward South Ferry. Neither red lights, stop signs, nor even pedestrians appeared to impede his intended destination, as Jesus carelessly navigated the rocket-like vehicle through the city streets like a maniac on meth. To say we were exceeding the speed limit would be an understatement when an NYPD ground unit began following us.
Anticipating my concerns, without flinching, Jesus took a toke, a swig, and with a sly smile on his face said, "Yo Slack, I got this!" It was apparent the cops had no chance of keeping up, so Jesus ignored them and floored them. When we went airborne off a patch of black ice, Mother T just laughed wildly while telling Jesus to go faster and faster. By now, my stomach was doing cartwheels, and when I looked over at Crazy, he'd passed out.
Since the two hotties were just as excited, I had to ask, "Was Jesus always like this?" Oddly, they both said yes, but mainly on Thursday nights. I asked Jesus to pull over and let me out, but he just called me a pussy and said the fun hadn't even started yet. As we continued to careen wildly out of control, helicopters could be heard above, tracking our movements. I saw lights ahead with heavily armored vehicles positioned along the street.
Smashing through police barricades, road blocks, and spike strips designed to puncture tires, Jesus made mincemeat of the NYPD's defenses. When we finally arrived at South Ferry, I just knew the party was over because cops were everywhere, with weapons drawn and malice aforethought etched on every face. "Jesus, you had your fun," I said. "Don't you think the party's over now?" "Besides, how can we cross the river to the Statue of Liberty in this van?" Jesus took a toke and swig and said, "When you hang with Jesus, you gotta have faith. And that's when Jesus exceeded his own hype.
Ploughing through the last guardrail of sanity, Jesus plunged the van into the river. Oh shit, I'm thinking, but miraculously we didn't sink. Jesus was driving on water. When we arrived on Liberty Island, my heart was pounding, and my head was aching. Jesus got out of his car, looked around briefly, and said, "I always wanted to visit the Empire State Building. "You Boyz Down?"
When I, Crazy, replied "Hell no!, within the blink of an eye, Jesus, the two hotties, Mother T. and the tricked-out Cooper Classic were gone. After watching the cops swarm all over Liberty Island searching for Jesus and his crew, they turned to Crazy and me for answers they wouldn't believe. C-Ya Next Monday
Yeah, Doobie is back! Dressed in a camouflage uniform with a patch over one eye and carrying an AK-47 automatic weapon, with another crazy scheme to scam Slack Slacker into an adventure that'll put his life and job in jeopardy. While I know you've concluded by now, I have reality issues. I learned long ago that insanity can be a blast. And no drugs are needed because crazy is organic.
Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slack Slacker😎
Oh, what the Hell, here's the copy!
After the incredible circumstances I find myself in every Thursday night, drinking and carousing with all sorts of unsavory characters, I'd just chill for once and make it into work on a Friday morning. However, God as my witness, if Salacious Curvaceous, AKA Sally Curves, weren't meeting at my favorite Tequila Joint on the Upper West Side last night, I'd be sitting somber and sober in my stupid cube today.
Unfortunately, it was five shots for the price of one night at the spot, and since Sally Curves can drink her bulbous booty off, naturally, it'd make sense to hook up on the cheap. After downing enough to build a pyramid of shot glasses just short of the ceiling, Sally said she'd be ready for round two after a brief visit to the big girls' room. Eying Lanky Swanky, one of the joint's snootier patrons while awaiting Sally's return, my cell rang, and, believe it or not, it was my dog, Doobie, calling. Knowing it could be nothing but trouble, I answered like a fool.
Come outside, I need your help getting a message to the Department of Homeland Security. I didn't know what to think, because as you may recall, Doobie was radicalized and was placed on the DHS's shit list for hooking up with ISIS. Why would Doobie want to make contact with the authorities, I wondered. Curious, I left out the back door as instructed and saw Doobie smoking a Cuban cigar with a patch over his right eye.
Not having seen him in a while, Doobie looked tough and hardened. After explaining how he'd lost his eye during a firefight with ISIS fighters in Aleppo, he went on to tell me that the upper West Side of Manhattan will be attacked this weekend by forces the world's intelligence agencies have yet to detect. Why are you telling me this? I wanted to know. Doobie said he's tired of being on the run. After a violent falling out with all the world's terror crews, he tried to come in from the cold, but needed to do something to show he'd changed his ways. So what's up, I ask. "Leprechauns," he says.
Even in my inebriated state, I wasn't buying this nonsense, especially since Doobie is such a liar. Anticipating my disbelief, Doobie flipped me the heaviest gold coin I'd ever seen. By today's cost per ounce, I was holding about 25k in the palm of my hand. "Interested?" he asked. I was. We hailed a cab, telling our stuttering Somali driver to follow the rainbow downtown. When we arrived at a brownstone on the Lower East Side, I was stunned to see three tiny little guys, all dressed in green with glowing red eyes, scurrying down into a basement apartment. WTF?
You ain't seen nothing yet, Doobie says as he warms me, "No matter what happens, don't look them directly in the eyes." "They're really tricky," he said.
Apparently, the Leprechaun community was convinced the price of gold would increase tenfold if the world were hurled into global chaos. What better way to create panic in the streets than headlines reading Radicalized Leprechauns Rape and Behead New Yorkers by the Thousands. Using ISIS-like tactics, everybody would suspect ISIS was behind the terror. Well, that's what my dog Doobie said.
"So what's the plan?" I ask. "Simple," Doobie says, We go in, jack-em for the pot-o-gold, rat-em out to the Feds for a deal to take the heat off me and chill in Miami this spring like the kings of bling. Won't they resist? I ask. "Slack, they're tiny, just bitch slap the bastards and grab the pot." Okay, I say, but you do the slapping and I'll do the grabbing. "No problem," Doobie says as we stealthily enter a door left slightly ajar.
After descending several unexpected flights of stairs to a sub-basement level, we came to a large, heavily reinforced door being guarded by three tiny, green-clad figures with red, glowing eyes. Without the slightest hesitation, Doodie rounded the corner and started beating the living shit out of the startled trio. "Yo Doobie, don't you think we should find out who has the key before you slap them senseless?" "Sorry," he says, "I kinda like this part the most." From behind and avoiding eye contact, Doobie snatched the smallest by the collar and shook him so violently that a key fell from his hand. Flinging them aside like rag dolls, we opened the door and witnessed a Mother Load of gold.
"Grab all you can carry," Doobie says, "We'll need a little for evidence and a lot for us" No problem," I say while filling every pocket with coins and wondering how we're gonna get the heavy pot-o-gold upstairs. Just then, a loud, piercing alarm sounded, and the sound of thousands of little feet could be heard approaching. "Forget the pot, take what you got and let's get the Hell outta here". Doobie says, while reminding me not to look them directly in the eyes on the way out."
That was easier for Doobie than it was for me, because Doobie only had one eye. Somehow, one of the little bastards caught my gaze and said the magic words "They're Magically Delicious" before disappearing in a puff of greenish smoke. Suddenly, I felt dizzy and nauseous. I stumbled upstairs and staggered out into the streets with Doobie nowhere to be seen. The cab we'd instructed to wait with the meter running until our return was gone, and it was beginning to snow.
"God damn it", I scolded myself. Here I was, with another evening of tall tales and not a shred of proof to back me up. Briefly, I had a ray of hope when I remembered the gold I'd stuffed in my pockets. Nobody would ever doubt me again once they saw all the gold coins I had.
Unfortunately, when I reached into my pockets, they were all filled with nothing but Lucky Charms. And even though they were tasty, they upset my stomach something awful. See you Monday, I've got a monster tummy ache with a mean hangover to match.
Let’s get serious for two New York minutes. I’m aware that many in my life have wondered why I’ve never pursued the concept of working hard to achieve success, notoriety, clout, power, wealth, and material “trappings” to impress people who hold no meaning or value for me. In this video, you will find some wise words that you should seriously consider to save yourself from a shit load of regret as you reach your inevitable end!
One hundred years from now, all of us will be dead. Someone else will be living in your house. The car you drive is going to be scrapped. Everything you work so hard to build will be gone, given away, forgotten, and your name will completely fade away within just a couple of generations. Think about that. Do you know your great-grandparents' full names, their story, anything about them?
This should make you realize that 99% of the worries that fill your mind every day are entirely pointless. We live on a rock that's spinning 1000 miles an hour in a universe with 400 million sextillion stars. That's a four with 23 zeros after it. And you're going to be dead soon, and I'm going to be dead too, so if you can think about that for a moment every single day, that awareness that none of that actually even matters can actually free you up to truly live your life.
This is why I’ve always adopted a carefree attitude, never worrying about the small stuff, and living and letting live. But most importantly, I always give everyone who crosses my path a reason to smile and be happy. This is my philosophy of life, and it has served me well. So relax, life is not meant to be difficult, stressful, chaotic, or dramatic. Life was always meant to be happy, peaceful, and easy.
Yours Truly, Lee Bines, also known as Slack Slacker. 😎
In this adventure of Slack Slacker, Slack is attacked by a giant foul fowl, bent on avenging his family that was consumed as appetizers by greedy partygoers looking for cheap late-night munchies and Tequila.
Were it not for Colonel Sanders of KFC, Slack Slacker may not have survived this horrible, harrowing experience. This is genuinely one of Slack Slacker's tallest tales told! Thanks for believing me. So, few do.
We want to introduce you to Doobie, Slack Slacker's radicalized pet Yorkie. Doobie has been on the run from every domestic and international law enforcement and spy agency on this planet. Doobie is a bona fide mad dog, determined to undermine the world order as we know it. And as usual, Slack Slacker is caught up in another unbelievable situation that'll challenge your faith in Slack's ability to tell a tale without exaggerating.
This tall tale is more than ten years old, when my pet Yorkie, Doobie, turned to the dark side. He committed himself to a life of crimes against humanity. Yes, he expanded his criminal activities internationally. Doobie went so bad that the CIA, NSA, FBI, ATF, MI6, and Interpol wanted him dead by any means necessary. Now, AITA for thinking you won't believe me when I say I was forced to apprehend Doobie because I was blamed for his radicalization. Ain't that a Bitch?
Well, since I retired from doing essentially "Not Much," I've had time to reminisce about the unbelievably misadventures and unlikely fantastical predicaments only a SLACKER could find himself in. I know this all sounds ridiculous, but my life choices beat working hard for a living. And I got away with it. Go figure!
I’m going to give you the blueprint to find success in the highly profitable, but high-risk and crowded field of crime. Make no mistake about it, crime is on the rise in every field you can imagine. If you’re smart, this ain’t news to you. You just haven’t realized how to enter the life of crime without being detected. And that’s the key, committing crimes undetected. However, we'll discuss that in later lessons.
These are difficult times, and opportunities to make an honest dollar are dissipating faster than a fat man’s fart in a windstorm. People are desperate to make ends meet, and working hard in this corrupt economy just ain’t cutting it anymore. So, it's time to think outside your comfort zone.
Firstly, the newbies need to understand that crime is like a competitive sport. And like any professional competitive sport, the reward for winning is a shit load of money. And anytime money is the prize, lies, backstabbing, rats, women, corruption, and unsavory characters like yourself are lurking in the dark to claim more than your share by any means necessary. Don’t kid yourself, crime is a blood sport. Winners go to the bank. Losers go to jail.
When you prepare for battle with an “OG” gangsta who's determined to test your mettle, you’d be wise to stack your deck with three extra aces (aka) solid alibis, a knife in your boot, have at least two bent cops in your pocket, and the best-connected legal team money can buy on retainer should shit go south.
Next, you need a trusted and tested crew, preferably cons who've done enough time with nothing to lose and have a love for he big scores. No females. They’re weak links that’ll rat out under pressure when the real cops start to snoop. No junkies, boozers, screwballs, or loose cannons need apply.
Next, you are the brains. You are the only one with the plan. Every team member is replaceable. This is business. You have no friends. You have no family. You maintain temporary alliances as long as those alliances serve their purpose. Your primary objective is to accomplish your mission and reap the highest rewards from your investments in it.
Bottom line: If the president of the United States, a convicted felon conducting himself like a Mafia Don, extorting, strongarming, and grifting sucker nations daily on a global scale, don't you think you should get your cut while the getting is good? If you think I, Slack Slacker, is full of shit, click the link below to see my receipts.
This Video is the first installment, providing satirical insights into the ground-floor, entry-level career paths that successful criminals have chosen in the past. This fast read offers the Long-TermUnemployed creative alternatives to food pantries, panhandling, and homeless shelters. I invite those with a sense of humor to enjoy a break from reality while watching the madness unfold!
My apologies for opening this post with a touch of levity, but sometimes one needs to smile to hide the tears. Let's get to it, shall we? UN General Assembly This Year Was Volatile
The UN General Assembly this year is hotter than fish grease on a Saturday night in South Central L.A. I've covered these events over the course of my career, and after all these years, there appears to be no solutions on the horizon. It's just what it is.
This week, I watched King Abdulla of Jordan give a passionate speech to the UN General Assembly with eloquence and sincere empathy for the Palestinian people who have been abandoned by the world community for decades. And his most devastating accusatory tone was simply this: How long will the world allow an unabated inhuman bloodletting to continue against a people forced to resist against a force of unbridled evil supported by a partner in its genocidal crimes, happily providing the instruments of death and destruction to prolong the pain and anguish of those who only offence is the audacity to desire to be free.
Even as a descendant of slaves, I am ashamed today to have enjoyed the fruits of freedom while others are still suffering this level of dehumanization in a world that humanity has decided to ignore. Perhaps that's why I've concluded there must be more than one "God" because the one the world is waiting for is not one I could ever have faith in.
Bottom line: I know my rant may be considered blasphemous, but two thousand years is too long to wait for changing the hearts of the heartless. So, I'll simply have to take my chances that the "God" I yearn for will forgive me for being impatient.
Yours Truly, Lee Bines (aka) Slack Slacker😞
C-Ya'll Monday (Hopefully with some good news)
By the way, King Abdullah of Jordan is one Cool Dude! Bravo Bro.
What the First Amendment Actually Protects | Explainer
If you're reading this post, you're likely aware that I have yet to complete and activate the syllabus for Slack Slacker's Cool School. Therefore, the class has not begun yet. However, that doesn't mean I'm letting you off the hook without offering you an assignment that is most important in these trying times. Now, instead of Cool School, I'm going Old School.
Based upon current events that I need not expound upon Regarding free speech and the lack thereof in America's current dictatorial regime, I feel there's a need for we the people to review the US Constitution as well as the Bill of Rights to fully understand the information therein That clearly outlines the rules that this country was and still rely upon to consider its citizens free and independent of government tyranny and overreach.
So, without further ado, I'll let this video speak for itself. I will provide links to the US Constitution as well as the Bill of Rights to make it easy for readers of this Blog Post to access these documents for review. And rest assured, there will be no test.
This YouTube video was posted by someone I've subscribed to because of her intelligence and insights, which offer valuable thoughts for those seeking clarity in the fog of gaslighting, deception, and outright lies we're all being exposed to at the moment.
Bottom line: I'm encouraging anyone who finds this material helpful to share it with those they believe would benefit from it. Remember, knowledge is power. Don't let it go to waste when it's staring you in the face.
