I don't have any self help books on my shelf. I cannot tolerate them. Two girls at work recommended two separate books to me this past week. I hate those fucking things. I have never really enjoyed them. I read trivia books, true crime books, and the occasional biography, auto- or not. The Flake used to read them, but they were always "Mastering the Art of Sales through Zen" or some bullshit. Spare me. Those things are a crock because not a single one of them says that the only way to heal, to improve, nay to fucking HELP THYSELF, is to fucking own up to your bullshit. Take responsibility for yourself. Ultimately, you are in control of your own life. It's not always the easiest thing to do, but nothing worth having ever came easy.

Had to get that off my chest. In other news:

saw This Film is Not Yet Rated today. I was one of four people in the theatre. I love a good documentary, and loathe censorship, so I give two thumbs up. I've known for some time about Kevin Smith nearly getting an NC-17 for Clerks, which has no nudity and no on-screen sex, and about South Park - Bigger, Longer, and Uncut's difficulties, but goddammit! It's not fair for six people cloistered away in Los Angeles to decide that female pubic is too dirty for the world to see. Dirty whores show their pubic hair. Nice girls would not be so prurient.

Man, I am just fired up tonight. I should go do something else.