Opinion | Opinião


When truth scares audiences off, the best way to get them back is through laughter. One must avoid solemnity and presumption at all costs. Humor and laughter are not only part of life but a fundamental tool for survival.

There are several types and tastes of humor, about such diverse topics as excrement and philosophy, sometimes in the same joke. The quality of humor is very hard to determine, to the point of people being killed for alleged profanity.

Whatever the reaction might be, humor is a very efficient tool to reveal the unpleasant truth and make peace with it. One of the most relevant examples is the nonexistence of God and the afterlife. The fear to die is the barest emotion of every living being. It is what keeps life in the first place. No wonder the human need to soothing the finitude of existence. Making fun of it helps us to acknowledge such hard reality and face it as something natural. For instance, one could say we don’t have to worry about death because we won’t feel a thing. We have physical pain from injuries and diseases that might take us to death, and the last breath is the utmost relief. Opium is a bless, much better than a priest asking for our darkest secrets before we pass away.

When creating fiction, an author concerned with the construct of a fantasy that expresses the truth will find humor extremely resourceful to captivate audiences. The disgraceful truth can always be funny, even in the most cruel and darkest moments. That is precisely when humor becomes the fundamental boost to survive or to have some anesthesia. Society demands us to be serious in painful and disgraceful moments. Solemnity at all costs, at the expense of our last energies. It’s much more helpful to do the exact opposite. If you find something to laugh about, don’t restrain yourself, as long as you’re not laughing at someone disrespectfully.

Respect is a very complex issue, since people like to take offence. It makes them feel important. Being offended ads value to one’s self-esteem. This doesn’t mean they like to be insulted. It means they like to act as if they were insulted and have an opportunity to make a stand and gain attention. When making a joke, an author must verify whether he’s being really offensive or just offering an opportunity for stupid people to act as if offended. This requires tremendous skill and knowledge of the human nature.

Success comes from the largest number of people willing to laugh with your work. All it takes is finding out the least controversial humor possible, that is, the soft humor of our daily lives. If some of these get hilarious enough, people must find worthwhile investing their time in whatever you do. It takes hard work.

Opinion | Opinião


When writing on the hazards of fantasy, I’m referring to the denial of reality and it’s highly harmful consequences, mental illness and genocides included. Religion, extremism, obscurantism and negativism are notorious examples.

The good role of fantasy lies on creativity, imagination, the establishing of goals and the play with both laws of nature and society, either through utopias or contemporary impossibilities, like flying once was, or through the creation of allegedly absurd worlds. These are the fantasies of scientists, engineers, entrepreneurs with vision, some authors and children.

Fiction is, by definition, an expression of fantasy. It is a made up narrative. In each segment of it, an author makes the crucial choice of either obscurantism or vision. Each scene becomes a statement on human nature and it’s up to the author to be false or true.

Most consumers of fiction chose candy, no matter how true or false. They look for catharsis and this is juicier with blunt lies of accomplished desires or sentimental tragedy. It is all about soothing frustrations in the land of bestsellers.

There are exceptions and some of them become classics. In order to become a successful herald of truth through the means of fiction and fantasy, these are the ones to study.

Opinion | Opinião


The Berlin Wall has fallen in 1989, but the Cold War never ended and it’s here to last.

This episode about submarines is both comical and tragic, for the same reason: the obsession with money and the irresponsible moronity of world leaders. As far as I can get it, Australians need subs, so they say. China, Japan and Australia claim portions of the Ocean. It’s all about having control over navigation routes. If China wins, it will be disaster.

Australia had some contract with France to buy a handful of conventional subs. France was having multiple orgasms with the prospect of money pouring in. America got jealous of such a tremendous joy and makes the elitist proposal of nuclear subs on sale, reactors made in Britain. Join the grown-ups, you cangurus! It will be far less submarines, but they will be nuclear! All among brothers of the English language. How awesome is that? Now Australia was jumping with a never ending hard-on.

France cries hysterically, no more orgasms, all pissed-off. Europe feels betrayed. First the Brexit and now this. The European Union is a joke and is treated as such. NATO is shown to be what it always was: America is the guardian of Europe; without America there would be no Europe; America does as pleases and Europe shuts up. Have no illusions, you French and alike. Australia will have our submarines. Subs from America nearby Chinese waters. It will be America, not Europe, to have control over the place. A big nuclear sub. Our sub is bigger than yours!

The world is all messed up and leaders are spending millions on nuclear submarines. Leaders are crying for the loss of contracts to build submarines, amidst a pandemic and a climate crisis. Blame it on the communists. Then the Russians, now the Chinese. I wonder what Putin is thinking about. First, Crimea. Next, Ukraine?

Biden leaves Afghanistan, saying at the UN it’s the first time in twenty years an American president makes a speech there without America being at war. I guess the Taliban are grateful for that. Go make submarines to Australians and play naval battle with the Chinese. Have your orgasms with blowjobs from willing Brits and cangurus. We’ll keep on with our terror agenda and exodus of infidels to Europe. The more flooding away, the more for us to bomb there with suicide squads longing for virgins.

Nuclear subs, nuclear reactors, nuclear energy, nuclear power, nuclear morons. Business as usual. Millions in blood money. Lets give a boost to the arms race. The more nuclear we get, the more orgasmic the Apocalypse.

Personal | Pessoal


The greatest problem of an author is not running out of ideas. It is running out of money. Worse, it is not making a dime with each oeuvre. One works to death for the void, finding no audience, and no payment. When finding an audience, there’s still no payment.

Here I am blogging, to keep a non-paying audience, still with the illusion of making it grow enough to the point of being paid for add space. This is so silly. It won’t happen. My content isn’t comercial enough.

Being an original author is no way of making a living. One has to be trendy, fashionable and formula rendering to get some income. It’s a matter of finding a tasteful recipe for the crowd and serve pudding over and over again, just like Hollywood. Some illuminated call this recipes genres. The more you follow the recipe, the better author you are.

There are also some enlightened critiques defending the idea of compromise between originality and recipes for success. Those shrunk brains don’t understand that compromise means loss of new meaningful content, which is cut out to be replaced by standards. It is commercial censorship and soul amputation.

Who am I kidding, then, with my silly project? Both this site and CHRONOS will never make me money to survive. I will only make it through commissions, as a drawing and copywriting machine. A working author, I suppose.

Personal | Pessoal


I just realized my level of concern with couples, relationships and marriage is even more abnormal than I thought. My brain is constantly rambling about that, in unstoppable cycles. People don’t get lost like this.

Then there’s this sharing thing, a quest for some sort of redemption and love. Somehow I have the expectation of my words being gratifying to someone and my loneliness ceases. This is completely out of reality.

My suffering, which I call loneliness, is nothing such. It’s depression, pure and simple. It is a chemical imbalance in my brain and the solution is not to be found in a companion. It is all up to me. On treatment and healthy habits. Looking obsessively for a companion certainly isn’t one.

I must find a healthy way of living. This quest for love must be abandoned. I should focus on having fun and make friends. I haven’t done so on childhood and on my teens and now I’m paying for it.

I must silence the voices in my head that launch me to this neverending romantic enterprise and just be outside of my head. It’s time to receive the world, instead of making up one.

Opinion | Opinião


Paradise and hell are in the same place. Quite frequently, paradise is an expectation and hell is the final result. The striking evidence of this is on the dynamics of couple relationships.

Hell takes the form of psychological war. Couples inflict upon each other severe violence right from the start.

The first aggression is the romantic narrative. Though ethic values are fundamental, most dos and do nots are absurd and doomed to failure. The denial of this absurdity and the commitment to fantasies makes aggression kicking in rather soon.

To avoid war, couples must understand without prejudice the basic elements that make them a couple in the first place. These elements are behaviors towards one another they must guaranty at all costs: 1) provide emotional support and safety; 2) provide sex. That’s it. More than this is selfishness.

Number 1) is prone to highly abused interpretations, so it’s best to make this clear: provision of emotional support and safety can never be made at the expense of one’s identity, character, personality, vocation and all other components that are unique to an individual. People are who they are and that must be respected. Demanding change or improvement is extreme violence.

There’s one fundamental rule in all kinds of human relations among adults: each person must do it’s best to become autonomous and independent, that is, to avoid being a burden. Most couples take the provision of emotional support and safety as the enthusiastic offer of services and availability. Worse, they take offense when the companion makes no offers or refuses to provide such services. This is pure manipulation, venom, psychological war with chemical weapons.

A couple is a consensual connection between two distinct individuals who commit to make each other happy. This happiness relies on emotional support and safety and on sex. Unrealistic and selfish demands make happiness impossible. This goal has no room for illusions about rights and duties. It’s up to each individual to evaluate realistically how much satisfaction can enjoy and provide when taking this commitment, instead of blaming the companion for what is missing.

Personal | Pessoal


We live only once and most of my life has been a total waste. This is not a middle-age crisis digression. I have not lived. I’ve been only witnessing existence. Though I’m aware of this for a long time, I haven’t find a way of changing my way of living yet.

I suppose my frustrations are the same as everyone else’s, namely the lacking of love, intimacy and sex, all three connected in a relationship with someone not too demanding. I think this is the key for the all thing. People demand too much from each other, wasting their own and others’ lives with resentment and remorse. Demand should be replaced by acceptance, as long as abuse remains rejected.

It horrifies me the frustration I witness in most relationships and marriages. Such horror started with the divorce of my parents when I was a kid. I became obsessed with love, connection, and all fantasies about soulmates and their sexual fusion. This made me a hungry and scary animal, incapable of anything casual or any abusive commitment, and highly intolerant to the presentation of sex as a favor or gift from women to men. The idea of deserving the opening of her legs is extremely violent to me. Things only work for me when both do our best to feel horny all the time. This requires the effort to excell in all of the spectrum of a relationship, and a profound knowledge, respect and acceptance of the limitations of our companion.

No wonder I feel my life totally wasted. I should have learned to embrace much less than this and invest on hedonism. The thing is I don’t know how and I’m not getting younger. More, I’m afraid of the hedonistic approach being an absolute hell to me. I can’t get rid of my hunger for connection.

I feel my life is wasted because of the absence of connection. I’ve been connected a few times, but unrealistic demands, intolerance and abuse eroded everything. I grieve every day for these losses and long for someone who finally gets it, or who makes me get something else worth fighting for.

Meanwhile, life keeps getting wasted.

Short Stories | Contos


They were all dying gently. No pain whatsoever. They would just fall asleep and die. The victims were all politicians, and there were always a note on paper, capital letters in Time News Roman, on a wall somewhere on the premises.




            “Pure demagogical rubbish,” said Norman to the Cozy Murderer. “This is the opinion of the Prime Minister about your notes. What do you say about this?”

            “I might say the same if I were him in his place,” was the answer of the distorted voice on the sound speaker, like a robot. “If you, reporters, did your work, you would fact-check my accusations and find them true.”

            “That’s no excuse for murder,” retorted Norman.

            “I would rather call it casualties of war.”

            “How is that?”

            “Dear God…,” the sound speaker muttered. “I thought you were a real reporter, Norman.”

            “What war are you talking about?”

            “The war between politicians and the people. Where the hell have you been?”

            “Give me a break,” shouted Norman. “We had a deal about this interview. No radical speech. You promised to speak the all truth.”

            There was the sound of a deep breath on the sound speaker.

            “Thousands of people are dying because of unemployment, poverty, the bankruptcy of NHS, violent schools, high taxes to be diverted, and low wages. People get chronic physical and mental illnesses because of the abuse from politicians and corporations. This is an ancient war between those who rule and those who work. My mother died in a factory where she worked ten hours a day for an income insufficient for a daily meal.” An even deeper breath taken by the robot voice. “This is a pure slow genocide that lasts for generations. Politicians and corporations kill us massively. Abuse and poverty are their weapons. They are much more violent than myself.”

            Norman stroked his forehead.

            “Hence the Cozy Murderer signature, right?” Getting close to the window of his office, Norman glanced at the people on the street. “Tell me, how do you do it? Forensics says you kill painlessly, with some sort of venom. Your victims just fall asleep and die.”

            “That’s right. I use darts, surfaces in touch with their skin, or simply their food and beverage. The venom takes about four days to have an effect. This makes the poisoned item virtually untraceable.”

            “Why do you bother with killing them painlessly?”

            There was a robot laugh before the answer being given.

            “Finally you get to the point, Norman.”

            “What’s that?,” asked the reporter, now facing the sound speaker as if it were a person. Then, he listened:

            “I’m more human than they are.”

Saturday, September 18th 2021

Comics | Banda Desenhada


Though my drawings are very synthetic and cartoon like, without accurate proportions, modeling shadows and textures with the paintbrush gives sometimes a realistic touch, a bit like grained photography. This is the wonder of illustration. We can create the universes we want and present it to people’s eyes. Perhaps my lack of virtuosity is a blessing.

Personal | Pessoal Sem categoria


Is it just me or meeting people is really hard nowadays? It might be just me. I have a lot of handicaps for such an enterprise. I don’t drink alcohol nor coffee. I don’t eat cheese, greasy food, cream nor too sweet desserts. I get brain freeze with ice cream. I am prone to headaches. I don’t smoke. I have no interest whatsoever for sports or any sort of competition. I find gyms too loud and crowded. I like to dance but I’m more frightening than Elaine from Seinfeld. I find myself shaking after five minutes in the sea or in the swimming pool and become a shrimp under the sun. In short, due to physical limitations, I don’t feel comfortable in activities most people love.

Besides myself, what else makes it hard meeting people? There were balls and fairs on weekends decades ago. Not anymore. Some people go to church on Sundays, or other places of cult on Fridays or Saturdays, but I will never go to religious places. My job experiences did not make possible enough social contact among co-workers and work parties were poisonous. As to social media, they are not social at all. Likes and comments among people who will never meet. A total waste of time, blogging included.

I’ve been looking for activities and groups where I might feel comfortable. I once tried amateur theater, but I soon got bored and memorizing lines is not my thing. I recently joined a writing group and I’m loving it, looking forward to meet them in person instead of Zoom. It’s the only artistic and creative community not focused on measuring dicks I ever met. I hope to find more in time, and meet kind people in the flesh.