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Yet another aristarchus submission has met it's appointed fate. Nothing surprising, but, there was a non-blank rationale field, highly unusual!

We're sorry, your submission "This online comic shows how pick-up artists morphed into the alt-right" was declined for the following reason:
All hail the Supreme Gentleman! -takyon

The editors felt it inappropriate for them to correct the issue themselves. Please feel free to correct the issue yourself and resubmit.

Of course, I think the entire point was that these are no Gentleman, and the Red Pillars need to get themselves over to The Art of Manliness website. And apparenty, this includes one of our more prolific editors? Cause for pause, Soylentils! What are we part of, here!

I have _never_ regarded my Bipolar-Type Schizoaffective Disorder as a disability for the specific reason that I chose coding for my career despite my degree being in Physics, as I was quite pleasantly surprised to find that I still write great code even when floridly paranoid or even suicidal.

Thus I persistently refused to apply for Kuro5hin's repeated calls for me to apply for SSDI - Social Security Disability Insurance - throughout my five years of homelessness, thereby redoubling their convictions that I really _was_ disabled.

That I missed two shrink's and a witch doctor's appointment so far this month led me to conclude that I will now - but _not_ due to any mental illness.

One's benefit is determined by one's last ten years' income before the onset of one's disability. For me, that's May of 2010 when I had my first seizure, dissociative fugue and short-term memory loss - WHILE I WAS DRIVING A CAR!!!!

Before 2010 I was making SCADS of money.

I am absolutely serious: as if God Almight Himself said "LET THERE BE MIKE!" the entire UNIVERSE sprung into existence with me not having a clue as to whose car I was driving, where I was going nor where I had come from. That I passed Mt. Shasta an hour later led me to recover my memory of having set out from my Mom's place in Vancouver, Washington late the previous afternoon and that I was headed home to South San Jose.

That enabled me to realized I had no memory of the previous sixteen hours. Eventually I recalled being pulled over for a busted taillight in Central Oregon, then very early that morning posting a K5 Diary - what you sorry lot call a "Journal" - at the Shari's Restaurant And Pies in Medford, in Southern Oregon.

I still have no memory of entering that restaurant, being seated, looking at the menu let alone ordering or eating my food. I hope to God I didn't Dine And Ditch but really I have no memory of paying either.

Once I got to south San Jose, Hilarity Ensued. I'll cover that later.

The Washington State Health Authority quite reasonably request I submit proof of income eligibility for my Medicaid in late October. About an hour ago I concluded that I am neurologically incapable of going my own books and so will request the Health Authority retain a bookkeeper to do my books for me - I hope she knows GnuCash!

I initiated an SSDI application in late November because my Broca's - or Expressive - Aphasia was persistent for the very first time; before that it always cleared up in four to eight hours.

But I withdrew my application when that Aphasia abated two weeks later.

My case manager Michelle Quesada is coming to haul me off to a food pantry in West Vancouver in a little bit. (I live in Central.) During our sojourn, I'll ask that she help my prepare my application.

That first step was to request an Application Interview, which I cancelled. Even so, the SSA sent me an application form. I'll ask Michelle to fill it out by asking me questions.

I am no longer able to fill that application out on my own.

And I Reiterate:

Kill Me.

She set her phone to block all texts. That was unexpected.

I hope that's because of someone else, not because of me. But really I don't know.

Even so, she's a drop dead knockout working in a highly-visible oldest profession. I expect they get stalkers all the time.

Sometimes, they turn up dead: it's wasn't just Jack The Ripper preyed on them.

Kill Me.

In other news, really, really early this morning I finally got it together to shop at the better grocery store. While some of WinCo Foods' prices are cheaper than Grocery Outlet's not all are, however WinCo has a Jesus Big selection.

The God Emperor announced that February's Food Stamps will be coming out on January 20th, so I'm going to stockpile some non-perishables. Also I'm going to make a Metric Buttload of Guacamole then freeze it, this because Avocado is rich in Vitamin B6.

Just now I read that Opioid abuse can lead to Vitamin B12 deficiency as it degrades the lining of the stomach, which is responsible for the secretion of Intrinsic Factor that's part of the process that enables the small intestine to absorb B12.

So I have yet _another_ reason to obsess about B12. My brother-in-law bought me some 1000 ug Methylcobalamine tables - the US RDA for _normal_ people is just 2.4, but a helpful Soylentil who if I remember correctly actually _has_ B12 Deficiency - or maybe it was Pernicious Anemia - pointed out that _some_ such patients can get by with tablets and so don't need injections.

My Neurologist now thinks it's unlikely I really do have B12 Deficiency; she based that on my first test for low B12, a Methylmalonic Acid Blood Level was normal. While I'm somewhat skeptical and so request at least one of the other half-dozen or so tests, another physician pointed out to me that if I really was low in B12, the symptoms would not come and go as they do for me, rather they would persist until I was getting the injections.

It's quite likely that _most_ of my symptoms can be explained as being due to Temporal Lobe Epilepsy, but in my understanding _not_ the numbness in the soles of my feet, the palms of my hands and in both my lips.

I eagerly await the result of the Electroencephalograph Test I had just after Christmas. While I fully intended to be well-rested for it, I of course stayed up all night doing Hookers And Blow and so fell asleep during the test.

But the EEG tech actually said that my falling asleep was quite helpful.

I had three dollars, enough to Get There And Back Again with four bits left over.

I was getting fixated on sex. This isn't - not for me at least - quite the same as getting horny, rather it's an inability to think about anything else.

However it was early evening. I do the best at getting tipped from late morning to mid-afternoon, but since yesterday every fucking Portland street corner has been occupied by canvassers who were raising money for a campaign whose objective is to legalize shrooms for treatment of depression, a cause I heartily support. Whenever I spoke with such a canvasser, I promised I'd shell out a generous portion of my tips, but my take is down lately.

It worked really well to print a US Letter-sized poster that read "Please Buy Me And My Lady Tickets To Spiderman And Some Popcorn $20.00" I actually raised $25 in just two twenty minute sets; two different people each gave me ten spots.

But since then I've used a sign that reads "Please Buy Me Five Hundred Business Cards $9.95 At Vistaprint" with the result that my gross revenues dropped right down into The Seventh Circle Of Hell".

Now that everybody - incorrectly - believes I've already seen Spiderman - she wasn't feeling well that night, so "Sarah" - not her real name - and I instead blew it on Caffein, seeing how she's so comfortable with being a drug addict.

So instead I'll ask for $22.00, seeing as how Portland's Living Room Theater, this because that particular theater's tickets cost eleven clams a head.

No one will believe - correctly - that I've already seen it. And I recommend it _highly_ to the lot of you. But I must advise you that if you've ever been with an addict, that movie is going to be hard to take - I burst into tears toward the end.

So now I've only got the four bits and no train fair.

The happy news is that I got blown by two different gents. They both requested I reciprocate at the same time, the first that's happened. Having only one oral pleasuring unit, I instead gave them both handjobs.

Do.
Yer.
Worst.

My Medicaid got cancelled as I was too sick to prepare the Profit And Loss Statement the Washington State Health Authority wanted from me so as to prove my income eligibility.

To run out of my Happy Pills won't make me crazy for a while, but skip just one dose of either of two of them will make me quite physically ill.

The ER won't give me many doses but it will give me _some_.

I'll take the bus, as I'm not so sick - not yet anyway - that I need at ambulance.

HiRez.

In other news, yesterday and today I listed many of Apple's US locations. They have shops all over the country; I didn't even look up other countries yet.

A broad search for US openings turned up 162 pages of open reqs. That wasn't 162 jobs, it was 162 _pages_.

Fuck MDC

The latest ada dition to my Wall Of Text Fan Club is Lexi, the cashier at an Oldtown Portland Convenient Store.

Whenever I set foot in her shop Lexi calls out "My Hero!" because I defended her agains a shoplifter who tried to put the arm on a pint of Ben And Jerry's.

While I did not injure that right chap in _any_ way, I put the fear of G-d in him when I grabbed him then shouted "Put That Back!" as well as "Call 9-1-1!" The particular way I grabbed him prevented him from punching me.

He won't be shoplifting at _that_ particular store any time soon.

Sammy used to work at a donut shop near my home. I was very proud when she told me she shared my writing with a friend. For Sammy I bought a binder; when I saw her each week I gave her a new essay, article, rant or manifesto which I three hole punched at work.

Sammy doesn't work at the donut shop anymore, so I'll be mailing my Walls Of Text to her at her new place of work.

“Sarah” is not her real name because she’s got a Monkey On Her Back.

She held out hope of such Weasel Action last night but actually spent fifteen solid hours in the can doing her makeup as I myself whiled away the early morning hours instructing my own Monkey on the crucial importance of avoiding recidivism

I just now left her at my place as I set off to totally blow away an Electroencephalograph machine. I am by now Dead Certain I have Temporal Lobe Epilepsy - thus my Hypergraphia and my “Altered Sexuality”.

What remains to be seen is whether the TLE explains _all_ of my Neurological Disorders as I _also_ have all the symptoms of Pernicious Anemia. We’re that actually the case, Vitamin B12 Injections would save my very life as it _killed_ my Great-Grandfather.

Doubt was cast on any form of B12 Anemia by another doctor when he pointed out that my symptoms were transitory. We’re it B12 only the injections would enable me to speak or to write intelligibly.

It is difficult to detect TLE as one’s Temporal Lobes are small and in the very center of our brains, just to either side of the Corpus Callosum that bridges our two lives together.

  It there is a far more sensitive EEG electrode array that one wears like a hairnet. I don’t know yet which electrode type I will have as yet.

Sarah suggested she and I hand over a ten spot for a private theater this evening. It happens that try as I might I simply cannot Spooge if I hadn’t enough sleep; she hasn’t slept in days and would need to “Get Well” to do so.

“What do I do when you fall asleep at McDonalds?”

“Call me on my phone or tell me to go outside and smoke a cigarette.”

So when she falls asleep at the skinflick tonight I’ll drop her a dime to suggest she have a smoke.

She’s a member of the very same sex club I’m in, which far more than bodes we’ll for William Jefferson Clinton:

It means I’ll only have to pay ten clams to get in when the manager throws a... uh... “Party” and so springs for pizza and snacks.

While us male regulars at the Oregon are all old familiar friends, for unaccompanied women it’s not nearly so humbly homely:

“I had to call the cops.”

In other news, Google Webmaster atolls yields the insight that 58% of my search referrals are for “Oregon Theater”.

It’s helpful that my business and personal sites are now on different domains as I would not want potential clients to regard me as unprofessional.

Global Rank For Warp Life:

https://www.alexa.com/siteinfo/warplife.com

What link would yield my United States Rank?

I Am Absolutely Serious:

ALL BY MYSELF I made Kuro5hin #6 for Bangladesh!

But I'll _never_ tell!

My friend Norman King has been working part-time for me to list all the homepage URLs of VC Portfolio Companies.

Earlier this evening I tried to list a certain robotics company but was unable to figure out where they were. That company did mention their "acquisition" by another robotics firm, so I looked there to, only to be turned away empty handed.

So I googled for "Foocorp Location", whereupon Wikipedia yielded the insight that they were out of business. It also said that the robotics firm that had acquired them had only bought their IP.

HOWEVER!

Neither Foocorp nor their IP-acquiring company claimed Foocorp had any open positions. I expect the continued existence of their site enables them to sell off their existing inventory.

So.
There.

Sigh. Kids These Days.