Tag Archives: sad

Apr 14 2017
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Clinically Depressed Werewolf

Clinically Depressed Werewolf – Dropped Ice Cream as a Metaphor for Life

By: Clinically Depressed Werewolf, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Sad Lycan Correspondent

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Arr…arr…arrrwooooooo…oh who am I kidding?  Howl today, gone tomorrow.  What am I even howling at?  Whatever it is, it is only a temporary blip on the endlessly changing radar screen of life.

I went to the ice cream parlor the other day, 3.5 readers.  I was hungry because, you know, I’m a werewolf and the one good thing about being a werewolf is that we can eat as much as we want and never gain any weight.  You’d think that’s a positive thing but honestly, I can turn any positive into a negative.  Frankly, if you’re constantly eating and never gaining any weight then it’s like it doesn’t even matter, like pushing a boulder up a hill only for it to fall down and then you have to push it up the hill again.

Where was I?  Does it even matter?  Oh right.  So I went to the ice cream parlor and I got a three scoop cone.  I got a scoop of rocky road, a scoop of strawberry, and a scoop of peanut butter fudge.  Three diverse scoops, all bringing their own benefits and detriments into the mix.

I got it into my mind that I could not exist without these three flavors missed together.  But alas, a freak gust of win blew in and knocked the peanut butter fudge off the top of my cone.

Oh, how I cheated I felt as I stared at that glop of peanut butter fudge ice cream lying on the ground.  I didn’t have any idea what to do next.

I’d already paid for it so I felt cheated.  I paid for three scoops so I should have gotten three scoops.  But it wasn’t the ice cream parlor’s fault.  They don’t owe me what they already gave me.

Then I was mad at myself but why?  It’s not like I could have preconceived that the wind was going to knock the scoop off my cone.

Suddenly, I was mad at the weather, the forces of nature, the world.  It felt like the fates were conspiring against me to prevent me from having any kind of enjoyment.  Oh, what a depressing feeling.

At one point it popped into my head that I should just lick the ice cream off of the ground.  I mean, sure it had germs on it but who am I?  The King of England?  I’m a werewolf.  I eat people, like, all the time.  And you know what?  People are dirty.  They’re extremely filthy, you have no idea.

I’ve eaten people who haven’t bathed for days.  I’ve eaten people who just got off of a sixteen-hour double shift at a hot, sweaty machine shop who tasted disgusting.

Hell, I’ve even eaten people who were sitting on the toilet who were right in the middle of doing their dirty business, a half pinched loaf stuck you know where.

Yet, all of a sudden, I’m all like, “Look at me.  I’m so fancy.  I shouldn’t have to lick peanut butter fudge ice cream off of the ground.”

Then I felt an internal struggle inside of me.  Am I a pretentious prude for not eating ice cream off of the ground?  Am I just being a proud werewolf, that I believe in myself too much to do something so disgusting and better yet, I deserve to feel that way?

Was all this mental turmoil really about the ice cream?  Was it about life instead?  Are we all just a bunch of ice cream scoops, happy to be a loved and desirable part of a cone one minute only to be knocked off our pedestal and left alone to rot in the mud the next?

Ahh…such is life.

So many questions.  So few answers.  I got so upset that I ran to a farm and ate seventeen sheep.  For awhile I was starting to feel better…until the eighteenth sheep fell on the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

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Feb 07 2017
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Clinically Depressed Werewolf

Clinically Depressed Werewolf – Hello, I Guess

By: Clinically Depressed Werewolf, the Bookshelf Battle Blog’s Official Sad Lycanthrope Correspondent

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Arr…arr…arr..wooo….oooo…ooo…oh who am I kidding?

Seriously.  What’s the point of howling at the moon?  It’s just going to rise again.

Hello, I guess, or whatever, 3.5 readers.  Clinically Depressed Werewolf here.  I’ve been playing in Video Game Rack Fighter’s Super Violent War Shooter league for awhile and well, I don’t really play.  I just log on and steer my character into a corner and listen to other people play.  I’m so lonely that if I don’t do things like that then sometimes my mind begins to wander and then I begin questioning whether or not I’m really like, real, you know?

I mean, think about it.  Do any of us actually know if we are really real?  We think we’re real but maybe we’re just a figment of someone else’s dream.  That’s why I don’t even bother to bite people anymore.  Where’s the fun if I’m just going to disappear when the person dreaming about me is eventually going to wake up, thus shattering my branch of reality?

Anyway, Video Game Rack Fighter told me she won this blog in a divorce.  Sigh.  Divorces are so sad.  Why do people even get married in the first place when divorce is such a real possibility?

Then again, I don’t understand why people even leave their homes when getting run over by a truck, falling down a well, or being eaten by a happy, non-depressed werewolf are all real possibilities.

Don’t worry about me.  I don’t eat people.  Too much effort.  I’ll just get hungry again.

Moving on, VGRF said I should try my paw at being a columnist for her blog.  She felt there aren’t many columns written by clinically depressed werewolves and that immediately made me sad.  I mean, the idea of a column written by a clinically depressed werewolf can’t be that great if no other clinically depressed werewolf has ever written one before, am I right?

Yikes.  Why do people even blog?  Why do people read?  I just want to lie down in my cage, lock the door and take a nap.  Don’t even bother letting me out once I turn back into a human and the full moon is over.  I might as well stay in here seeing as how next month’s full moon will be here before you know it.

I’m sorry.  I’m not a very exciting columnist.   I will try to lighten the mood with some Clinically Depressed Werewolf jokes:

#1 – How Many Clinically Depressed Werewolves Does it Take to Screw in a Lightbulb?

None.  Clinically depressed werewolves prefer the dark.  The light allows us to see everything that disappoints us.  Also, why bother to change a lightbulb when the new one will blow out sooner or later?

#2 – Three Clinically Depressed Werewolves Walk Into a Bar…

…and there they sat, nursing their beers and commiserating over days gone by, talking about dreams deferred and yearning to turn back time, to get a do over at life yet accepting that just isn’t in the cards.

#3 – Why Did the Clinically Depressed Werewolf Cross the Road?

He didn’t.  He knew that sooner or later he’d have to return to the other side again, so he just stayed put and it was as if he never left.

Conclusions, I Guess, Whatever

I’d say I hope you enjoyed this column but really, hope is just a form of delaying the inevitable dissatisfaction that we all experience sooner or later.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to gnaw on a dead water buffalo carcass and listen to some Coldplay.  Clinically depressed werewolves love Coldplay.

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Apr 09 2015
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TV

In Memoriam – Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane

HAZZARD COUNTY, GA – Flags are flying at half-mast in Hazard County as the citizenry pay their last respects to infamous lawman, Rosco P. Coltrane.

“Why I do declare this is the saddest day Hazzard County has ever known,”  said County Commissioner Jefferson Davis “Boss” Hogg.  “Sadder than that time Bo and Luke Duke were replaced for a season by Coy and Vance.  Even sadder than that 2000’s movie with Johnny Knoxville.  Rosco was a top notch Sheriff and an even better lackey/henchmen/bumbling dupe in my hair-brained schemes.  Why, if you were to total the numerous times I was disappointed when my schemes and scams aimed at relieving the Dukes from their precious farm failed miserably, you would still not begin to reach the level of disappointment I feel at having lost our beloved Sheriff Coltrane.”

Sheriff Coltrane, seen here with his beloved pooch, Flash.

Sheriff Coltrane, seen here with his beloved pooch, Flash.

“Every week it was pretty much the same thing,” said Deputy Cletus Hogg, who has long insisted his hiring as Deputy had nothing to do with nepotism.  “We’d chase them Duke boys.  For some reason Rosco would have a hard time finding them even though they drove a bright orange charger with a confederate flag painted on it in a backwater area that didn’t have that many cars to begin with.  Eventually, the chase would end with them Duke boys getting away and Rosco’s car ending up smashed or in a ditch or something.”

When asked why Sheriff Coltrane never bothered to reconnoiter with state police and arrest the Dukes at their Uncle Jesse’s farm, where they lived out in the open, Deputy Hogg scratched his head and replied, “Damn.  Wish we’d thought of that.  Oh well.”

Bo and Luke Duke were interviewed at Uncle Jesse’s farm.  When contacted by this reporter, they were loading jugs of clear liquid into the back of the General Lee, which they insisted were not moonshine.

“We’re very sad to have lost our arch nemesis,”  Bo said.  “We realize though that Rosco was more or less a puppet of Boss Hogg so we never really held a grudge against him.

“Even though there was that time that Boss Hogg tried to evict Uncle Jesse from the farm under false pretenses,”  Luke said.

“And that time he tried to frame Uncle Jesse to get the farm,”  Bo added.

“Pretty much every week Boss Hogg and Rosco were trying to get their grubby mitts on the farm,”  Luke said.

Cousin Daisy was unavailable for comment as she was busy cutting the legs off her jeans.  Uncle Jesse was too busy making clear liquid, which he too insisted was not moonshine.  However, in a display of his trademarked Southern hospitality, stated to this reporter, “Y’all come back now, ya heah?”

Local mechanic Cooter thanked Coltrane, noting that the weekly repairs he had to make to Coltrane’s car following botched chases with the Duke boys allowed him to retire a rich man.

Sheriff Coltrane passed peacefully.  His last words were, “Gyoo gyoo, gyoo gyoo!  Them Dukes, Them Dukes!!!”

In a related story, James Best, the actor who played Coltrane, also passed.  He was awesome and in addition to Coltrane, appeared in a number of serious roles.  He will be missed.

Some might argue that since Best appeared in over 80 movies and 600 TV shows, it’s a bit unfair that he’s best remembered for playing a bumbling incompetent Southern Sheriff.  However, most press reports read by this reporter indicate that Mr. Best was a good sport and was cool with it.

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