I apologize hugely for my lack of interesting content lately. Mesmerizing cadences and structures can only hold the attention of Doug Addicts for so long. So in the interest of Christmas and the spirit of giving, I present to you the greatest gift of all. Me. A lot of these started out as innocent selfies. Little did I know they would become the majestic beautiful moments they are, frozen in time.
This is how you do it folks. Instead of being angry with me for getting all the honeys, do something to make yourself fascinating. I am fascination personified. Because of that, I get the best honeys. You may get a nice looking honey but she would be devoid of any magic or substance, incapable of making you smile or laugh, or in some special cases, provide and intelligent thing to say….. Ew. Enough of that.
Anyway I didn’t come out here to be all negative. I came here to present you the best gift you’ll ever receive for Christmas.
I’m not like you. What bothers you, may not bother me. What bothers me, may not bother you. Your prison is my sanctuary. My sanctuary is your prison. I’m not looking for something that doesn’t want to be found. I don’t need what you need to be happy. My mere existence is a dashing and bold adventure. It begins at myself and ends with infinity.
Don’t cry for me. My pain isn’t the same as yours. My pain is inspirational and fucking gorgeous. It moves me. It helps me create. It helps me destroy. I am one with my pain. I don’t run from it. I’m not ashamed of it. We’re in this together. I have no desire to defeat my demons. They have just as much right to be here as I do. We got here the same way. We began.
I will help my demons understand. They will teach me too. We have use for each other. There is no conquering demons. War is the way of the bully, and the psychopath. I don’t want war. I will do my best to understand everyone’s grievances. It is my responsibility as a gorgeous and demented soul to be objective even in the face of madness.
Don’t cry for me. You may be disgusted by me. That is ok. If that’s what you need to make your life more livable. If that’s what it takes to make your world a little less scary, then you go right the fuck ahead. I won’t oppose you. I have enough opposition within myself to worry about your frivolous endeavours.
You’re not the only one. You are not the only one who hates me and who would love to see me fall. I know you think that every post I make is about you. That’s the I idea, you think. But it’s not. I’m just emoting and being as honest as possible. That is not to say that once in awhile I don’t center someone out. I am not saying that. But a post like this one today is generalized. There is no victim. I am not speaking to any one person. That’s the truth.
But that is also my power. I am The Reckoner. I came into this world to destroy evil. My super power? I exist. As long as I continue to exist, it will infuriate and diminish evil. I have to survive. No matter how much I want to die. The innocent and weak need me. I am their saviour. I upset the balance of the greedy and evil.
One day I will die. But there will be a legacy. You know it and it infuriates you. BAM! Feel that stab of anxiety you just got? That was me saying what’s up fuckface? I know who you are. And you know who I am. You hate me but you’re addicted to me. You wish I was dead but you’re here reading every word. You’re a fan.
Big fucking milestones. One of them achieved. Another one coming up. January 1st will mark my first year of being smoke-free. A year! We’re talking about a jackass who smoked for 30 years!! I don’t even crave cigarettes anymore. I do enjoy vaping once in a while though. Even more than I enjoy smoking.
Milestone achieved? Not even close. I’ve had Fallout 4 for over a year now. I’ve logged in over 2000 hours. I haven’t finished yet. Why? I’m hooked on building settlements. I hate that I am hooked on building settlements because Preston Garvey drives me up the fucking wall. But I love settlement building. I have almost all of them completed and fully functional. All my provisioners are well-armed robots. They all run from The Castle to keep things less complicating.
Ok look I apologize. This is gay. I know. You don’t come here to read about my settlements or channeling my inner Bob Villa. It’s just…. Fallout 4 though.
On the bright side, I am a week away from being completely homeless. At least it’s Christmas! Well I have nowhere to go for that but at least I’m macho. Last night I played at The General and got hit on all night by girls 20 years younger than me. I AM VALID!!!! I love my weekly gigs with An-dop dop Frederico. Jesus fucking Christ. I almost used Angus’s real name. If the wrong person were to find out he would make a terrorist post about how he knows something that is common knowledge. The last thing I need is the absolute traumatic horror of danger. I HATE absolute traumatic horrifying danger.
So I’m rocking a tie dye shirt today. I’ve recently lost all my clothes. A few weeks ago I was in Walmart with Li- errrr dop fuck- Bruno and I had to buy a cheap red shirt. Well I ended up wearing and sleeping in that shirt for three weeks. I didn’t launder it once. So yesterday when I was an An-errr dop dop – Frederico’s house, I borrowed a tie dye shirt off him. I told him that I wanted to match him but in actuality I was just jonesing for a clean shirt. Well I’ve been wearing it for over 24 hours now and yes I slept in it.
So one of my best friends in the world, Gav Nemertolnemnov, has moved back to Toronto. I love Gav and always have loved Gav. Even when we were younger and he was a petty thief, he never really fucked me over. He and I had laughs like you wouldn’t believe. I’m hoping he will do a Youtube or Podcast show with me. He’s hilarious, witty, and one of extremely few who can hold their own with me when the riffing starts. Sorry Gav, I realize I just make you a target but much like me, you can verbally spank any motherless fuck stupid enough to mambo with you. Dana missers and skull thieves alike.
Thanks for tuning in guys. Everything is going pretty awesome even with my imminent homelessness, lack of shirts, and ABSOLUTE FUCKING TERROR OF THE DEEPEST KIND!
If I don’t talk to you before Christmas I hope you all have a wonderful one. That means every single one of you. I mean that. I love you all.
Here is a picture of me after a week of no shower wearing the aforementioned stinky red shirt.
I don’t know about airports. But it’s definitely stress that gives men wings.
Listen up you sad motherfuckers. I am a hair’s breadth away from disabling my comments section. Are you idiots even aware of how fantastic modern technology is? There’s not a whole lot you can’t do to expose a troll these days.
If you freaks can’t man the fuck up and post under your real names then I’m just going to disable the comments. Get a friend. Don’t post under the names of one of my honeys. I know who was responsible for that malarkey. Again, IP addresses. How does a man in his forties go from reaching out to one of my honeys pretending to be worried about me to posting under one of their real names? Pure honour. ANYWAY!
I might even go a step further and use my Facebook fanpage as a personal site instead of this one. It sure as hell is a lot easier and more convenient. It reaches more people. The best part, is demented cowards can’t post incognito from the shadows. Not only that, I can block them into oblivion. Of course they could create dummy accounts, but I have no problem with that. If my mere existence pisses people off to the extent they have to go through great hassle just to watch me dance, then I would say that’s a good thing. And I’m lord of the fucking dance.
What the hell did you expect I would do when I discovered you posting under a girl’s real name anyway? Did you think my mouth would form an “O” of terror and my eyes would widen in horror? It’s like your some kind of low-rent Hannibal Lecter. Some kinda psychological terrorist. What you are is a bully and a coward. And we all know what happens to bullies when you stand up to them. Keep your shit up and you’ll be charged for harassment. You know everything you do online is traceable. Trust me, I know. I learned the hard way when I was trolling someone a few years back! The fucking cops showed up at my house and no one even knew where the fuck I lived. I had a fun time explaining that to my roommate and landlady. Not that you have any shame.
I have since learned not to troll anyone. And I don’t have to. All I have to do is sit in my room and write. You guys come to me. It’s fucking legendary. You come to me to get abused, as opposed to me having to go after you. That grotesque little feeling you have inside you right now? I’ll explain what that is. That is from you knowing I am fucking someone you can’t have. It’s from knowing I hold the magic. It’s knowing that I can write circles around you. It’s knowing that I am ten times the human being you could ever dream of being. It’s knowing that I will always reject you and not let you into my world. It’s knowing you can’t bask in my good grace, which incidentally, is the greatest place to be on earth.
This isn’t an angry guy spouting off. I’m not a psychopath either. A psychopath has no remorse and was born a bad person. I have plenty of remorse and I CHOOSE to be a bad person. You fucking hate that. You wish you had the balls I do. But you don’t. And for that I must pay…..
Ugly tattoos. Non-existent photo albums. A burning desire to make the devil laugh. It’s pretty much all I have to remind me of 43 years on this planet. Don’t talk to me. I’m not interested in talking. Unless you’re just going to shut the fuck up and listen. That right there interests me.
I don’t need anyone. Especially the ones who aren’t ever here. I don’t reach out to the ones I love the most. Even in my darkest moments when the most benevolent grace shines a light down on my worst intentions. I don’t reach out. I prefer the cold.
Please don’t be arrogant enough to think I could possibly get lonely. Your love is weak, and at best a nightmare car crash. Do you believe I am thinking of you? You weren’t designed to comprehend me. We’re not in this together. There is no we. There is no together. There is only that sick little feeling inside you knowing that you can’t rub up against my soul.
Death cries out. I empathize. Death won’t let me down in the end. Death is the only one I can count on.
I don’t live my life for you. I don’t live my life for me. Things don’t happen for a reason, you stupid fucking arrogant cunts. There are only reasons things happen. Your self deceit is so fucking pleasing because the alternative is too god damn terrifying. Grow the fuck up. I refuse to condescend to your bad fucking case of wishful thinking.
People need love. Love will do a lot more good, than using fear and humiliation as behaviour moderators. Yet we as human beings are never allowed to be ready to die.
Upon accepting our demise, we are seen as irrational. Some of us came into this world without the proper tools. So we create our own. More often than not, those tools are seen as crude or unconventional. Therefore, we are forced into the shadows by our lesser minded brethren.
I wish I could take all your pain away. If I could, I would be the most powerful man in the world, but alas I am not man. I am no man’s friend. There is an excellent chance I will betray you, or let you down. There is no life after Doug Hell. If reading that statement causes you great pain, then I would reckon you know exactly what I am talking about. And for those who don’t, you best fucking tiptoe. Because there IS no life after Doug Hell.
For now I am stuck in this parody of reality. I am the reckoner. I am the angel of retribution. I’m what never was and never will be again. Are you paying attention?
Being a human is hard. I am beautiful, and I am damaged. My soul is true and more complicating than you could ever grasp. Not even on your most insightful day. I am in love too. There is a girl who loves me back just as hard.
Let’s undedicate ourselves. Set ourselves free. All of us.
I fucking love music. Hell, I am music. I don’t hate any band. I think that just about every band has something good, somewhere. You know that frustrated feeling you get when you ask someone in a bar what kind of music they like? I find 90% of people will tell you they like EVERYTHING. Well guess what, douche-nozzles? I love it all. I am going to list songs by bands you probably hate. I may not necessarily be a big fan of the band but I do happen to love the song I am posting. Get ready to cringe your ugly little faces off.
Woman In Love. God damn I love this song to no end. As a wee lad this played regularly and often in my house. My mom had great taste in music. She must have had ten million 8 tracks. As long as my piece of shit abusive father wasn’t home, there was always music going. This song hits all the right feels with me still some 37 years later.
You wanna talk about a fucking chorus that just soars? I discovered this gem of a song one day when watching Watchmojo. The category was Top Ten Comback Songs. While this one didn’t make the actual cut, it was listed as an honourable mention. It showed a clip of it right at the beginning of the chorus. I’ll tell you that 4 or 5 second clip was enough to make me fucking love it. The video is fucking awesome too. Four chickmen walking through Iceland with deep looks on their faces. Love it. I want to do a video to one of my better ballads in which I am walking around looking tortured and deep.
These poor bastards can’t get any love from anyone who isn’t a teenage chick. I get it. They’re total babes. Brandon Urie may not be completely gay but he’s definitely seen a few up close. Fuck that. These guys are fucking talented. They write their songs. I am not saying it’s all great. I’ll even go as far as saying that they may not even know what the hell they’re even singing about half the time. Northern Downpour is no exception. The lyrics make little sense. It’s just cadences and structures that sound pretty good. Regardless, I love the fucking song.
West End Girls are a horrible fucking band. One of them is the daughter of a member of that shitty Canadian band, Chilliwack. Remember them? Am I that old? Anyway, I absolutely adore their cover of the Jackson 5 classic. It’s a hard song to fuck up. It’s literally one of the catchiest songs ever. I do prefer the West End Girls version though. The video too. The butt ugly singers. The horrible dancing. This rendition just makes me feel so damn good.
God damn! I’ll never forget when I first caught this video on the Chum 30 when I was a kid. It seemed so fucking heavy back then. I was already a rabid Duran Duran fan. I was in the company of ten million chicks. But Culture Club held a big spot in my heart too. I didn’t know what the fuck Boy George was. Boy? Girl? Really happy clown? It didn’t matter. This song never failed to get me off my ass and dancing.
I was going through a ballad phase. It was a very dark time in my life. I was 26 and at the end of my tether. This song jumped on Much Music one day as I watched, strumming along with my acoustic guitar. I had it cranked. I loved it. A friend showed up and laughed hysterically at me. He called me about ten million names and ridiculed me for listening to Hanson. I didn’t understand. I loved what I was hearing. He was making fun of me. His ridicule wasn’t making me like the song any less. Even to this day I am impossible to make fun of. There are a few reasons. A) I can do a better job of making fun of myself than an inferior twat like yourself. B) I’m a giraffe, motherfucker. C) Hanson has my back.
Another Hanson scenario. Handsome brothers who can play their own instruments. I can’t believe this song only has about 150,000 hits on Youtube. I don’t know if it’s the Canadian element or what. I wonder what ever happened to these guys. I think they could have grown as musicians and out of the pop fluff they were playing. I didn’t really like too much of their other stuff. That I’ll Be There For You song of theirs was cute but I love Misery. I loved it when it came out. I love it now.
Anyway, I’m bagged. All this typing and cutting and pasting takes longer than you think. Do yourself a favour and listen to all these songs. Or don’t. Go back to your worthless lives trying to figure out how you can be the center of attention in all your useless endeavours. Crank the Metallica and talk about they have sucked since the Black Album but hold on…. wait a second!….. The new album is great!! Oh my god!!!
Negan fucking sucks. Let me be clear. TV Negan sucks. Comic book Negan is awesome. Jefferey Dean Morgan is doing an absolute SHIT fucking job with Negan. I don’t understand why TV Negan doesn’t swear like a sailor. Dexter’s sister did. Oh I’m just so mad. Up until season 7 of The Walking Dead, the television version was better than the comic. But man did they ever fuck up Negan. I’ll bet you my bottom dollar there isn’t one fan of the comic book out there who likes TV Negan. I just might stop watching the show. If you’re reading Robert Kirkman, get your fucking head checked. Idiot.
Comic book Negan did not have a big porn star moustache. He didn’t have eyebrows that don’t quit. I swear I’m so pissed off. Good thing my boy Daryl is still alive on the show. So I can keep watching for now.
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Do you have any words that you find hilarious? Am I the only one who can laugh out loud when I hear someone with a funny voice say a word that I find funny? Here are words I find hilarious:
There are tonnes more. I just can’t think of them right now.
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Movies I watched lately? First on the list in a new horror movie called Hush. It has a 100% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. I saw a screenshot and it had a dude in a spooky mask. I HAD to see it. It was alright at best. I don’t know how the hell it got its 100% rating. I think maybe people are just easy to scare these days. It really was meh at best. Or maybe I’m just desensitized.
The mask the psycho wore was great but he took it off way too soon in the movie. Underneath it he just wasn’t so scary and looked like he would ordinarily get a lot of babes or something. The movie and setting was very reminiscent of that movie, Strangers.
Most interestingly though, the protagonist in this movie was deaf. But that’s been done before.
Doug Hell’s favourite scary movies in no particular order:
The Crying Game
The Evil Dead (original not shitty remake)
Pink Floyd: The Wall
The Shining (Stanley Kubrick version)
REC (Spanish Original)
American Werewolf In London
Another movie that I watched that I highly recommend is a movie called Green Room. Fuck me. That was such a good movie. You gotta see it. It has beautiful brutal realistic violence and has Patrick Stewart as the leader of a Neo-Nazi Skinhead movement. It’s a great fucking movie. See it.
I have a stalker. I’m not kidding. Should any of you be contacted by someone by the name of Chris under the pretense he is worried about me, I just want to make it abundantly clear he is no friend of mine. I’m not going to tell any of you who you can and can’t be friends with but I just want to reiterate that we aren’t friends. He has been reaching out to my exes, my mother, and my friends. Chris is no friend of mine. I’m not going to get into a bunch of shit and dredge.
I’ll sum it up. We grew up together. We were both delinquents. We were shitty to each other. Many years ago I got wise and stopped associating with him. Then a couple years back he got hit by a bus. He spewed all this shit about being a changed man and not taking life or people for granted. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It took about two months to realize he hadn’t changed a bit and stopped associating with him completely.
No one is all good or all bad. I get that. I’m no saint. But our relationship was toxic at best so I choose not to be an enabler. I have no animosity toward him. I just don’t want him anywhere near my life. But he’s aggressively making overtures to people I know.
Lindsay made a point to me the other day that just about everyone she meets knows me and wields that reality like it’s a badge of honour. That makes sense. I keep it real. I am honest and I am real. The ONLY people who don’t like me or want to see me fall are people I’ve rejected or haven’t given enough attention to. That’s not me being arrogant. It’s true. That is my power. I didn’t ask for it. It’s just a reality.
Anyway I hate having to resort to this petulant bullshit and I apologize. I’m not posting his full name because I don’t want to give him the attention he’s looking for. Please be vigilant and don’t feel the need to contact me every damn time he contacts you. Just don’t discuss me. Or discuss me and don’t tell me about it. I don’t care. It’s a free country. I’m just pointing out we’re not friends.
When I was 26 years old I had about enough of Hamilton’s shit. I had spent 13 years there previously. Hamilton did me no good. I thought Hamilton was to blame for my problems. I had just got out of an abusive acrimonious relationship with the mother of my son, who was only two at the time. I wasn’t ever positive he was my son because my so called best friend was fucking her at the same time. I hated Hamilton.
I began drinking extremely heavily. After about two weeks of this I deduced I was an alcoholic and went to see my friend, Garth, for help. Garth worked at a group home I was a previous resident in. Garth got me in touch with a rehab facility in Ottawa. I was excited about the prospect of having a new start somewhere else.
My problems didn’t end in Ottawa. I lasted two months in rehab before moving in with a girl. Her and I met on the bus as I was on my way to an AA meeting. Things moved really fast. We moved in together. I went back to school. I was taking a remedial computer course.
Janine was her name. She had recently moved from England with her family. She was a gorgeous girl who managed to have nice teeth and an absolutely beautiful accent. She was very clingy however. But her clinginess aside, I was not really present in the relationship. She used to cheat. How did I deal with that? Well I would tell myself that I should try to be more present in the relationship and that is was my fault she was cheating. Cheating is never ok but I have to admit that I was a horrible fucking boyfriend. Cheating breaks a lot of people. But for me I would look at what was causing the cheating. I’m sure some people cheat for the sheer fun of it, but I can’t help feeling like I deserved it a little.
This was right around the time I became Doug Hell. I was living with Janine and a guy named Jack Martin. One day a laughing Jack came to me waving a cheque from the government in my face addressed to “Doug Hell”. He thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world and started addressing me as Doug Hell. it caught like wildfire. Before you knew it, everyone was referring to me as Doug Hell. Not Doug. Doug Hell.
I’m such a dick. Here I am telling a story and off I go on a tangent.
So one day Janine and Jack ran off to be together. I shrugged my shoulders. Better him than me. Let him put up with her bullshit. Three days later while I was at work I got a call from her wanting to come back. Sure. She uses this guy to get her rocks off and then she wants the emotional stability from me.
I laughed and hung up the phone. Within months I was dating my future wife. Janine ended up living in the apartment next door to us. It was a hard ride for her.
I wish I knew how it felt to be jealous. I’ve never been a jealous boyfriend. I’ve been cheated on. No one has ever been killed as a result. I usually just try to be objective see how I contributed.
Ultimately, I’m just a bad boyfriend. I’m impossibly picky and shallow. I have unrealistic expectations. I’m never ever ever present in my relationships. I drive my significant others nuts. And rightly so. I’m too arrogant and self-absorbed to be in a relationship. I’m a great friend. Music is my mistress. No human being can make me feel the way music does. I am one with it.
I’m glad I finally realized this. There doesn’t have to be any more casualties. If a girl I’ve ever been with has nothing but ire for me than that ire is well deserved.