Can ya believe this shit!? Chrysler dealership wants me ta pay $1400 to replace the broken temp control knob in my 2015 Promaster City. What the fuck!? Is the fucker made a gold?
It even halfway works! Just don't turn all the way, can't get the coldest cold nor the hottest hot.
Turns out the temp control knob is part of a module, the "climate control module." (That's the photo at top.) Gettin' a new OEM control module, plus the dealer's time ta rip inta the dash, is why it's so hard'n pricey. And for some reason, it ain't covered by my MOPAR VIP extended warranty (which expires in about a year anyhow). Cost me $125 ta find that out!
Well, well, well ... There comes a time in every vehicle's life when the calculus changes, when it's time ta move on. Not from the van, no. From dealer service. It's time for that scrappy combo a DIY, handy friends, junk yards, aftermarket parts, and just livin' with some quirks.
Now that winter's nearly over, I mighta just gone on as is. Heat ain't that big a deal. In terms a AC, headin' ta Canada for the summer anyways.
But an internet search found me scrap control modules bein' sold online. Junk yards do that shit now. Got one ordered off Ebay, only $40 with free shipping.
Might spend another $20 for a subscription ta ALLDATAdiy.com ta access their repair manual for my Promaster City. That's for instructions on tearin' apart the dash in such ways that I can put the fucker back together. Plus whatever new delights come up months from now.
So call it ... $60 ta fix? Vs. $1400!? Yup, we're in new territory now. ... And no, Vanholio ain't all that handy, believe it or not. But ta save $1300+? I'll fuckin' learn, goddamnit!
Fuck Texas! And fuck house imprisonment! Vanholio's got his dump on the market and's already hit the fuckin' road, Ya'll!
If ya read my last post 6 month ago, ya know that I'd decided ta settle awhile at my rental house in Texas – a failed Baltic Avenue type rental. Bad bizness.
Dreams! Vanholio'd dreamt a woodworkin', gardenin', paintin', and all such housebound pursuits! Especially hangin' with my peeps near every weekend and odd times.
But it was not ta be. Ended up doin' almost none a that shit. Ended up mostly sleepin' on the floor in one tiny room. Might as well a been a van with a cracked engine block!
What can I say? It was a dead end taken, a wrong road turned onto. The only good things was FAST internet and an oven ta bake my bread an' chicken wings easy.
I'm back in the Vanholio! Territory! – for now – livin' the vanlife and dreamin' bigger dreams. And hopin' that fuckin' house sells damn quick, afore it costs me too much taxes and utilities.
Won't beat around the fuckin' bush: Vanholio's outta vanlife for the near future. He's done moved back to his ol' sticks'n bricks. Deal with it!
Why? Well, it's pretty much what I said in my post a month or so ago: gardenin', woodworkin', cookin' (in a full kitchen), and bein' near my people.
Not ta say he won't hit the road again at some point. Vanholio's always had itchy feet. Could be I'll turn part-timer. Could be I'll sell up and go full-time again when I get sick a this shit. No tellin'.
Only thing for sure is, I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want!
Don't Expect No More Posts
No, I ain't bloggin' no more. Been at Vanholio.com for two years — It's gotten boring. Never did make much money nohow, maybe $20 a month. That ain't even a tank a gas! But most important, like I said, it's gotten boring. So there will be no blog about vanlife nor Vanholio's houselife from here on out.
Had fun writing 169 posts for Vanholio.com, plus more besides. Had fun chit-chattin' with readers and others I got ta know on social media. Even met a few folks IRL. But all good things come to an end.
I'll leave up Vanholio.com for a couple years. It covers most a the things newbies need ta learn, plus a bit besides. When Google drops the traffic way down, then I'll smother it with a pillow.
Partin' Wise Words
Get off your ass and hit the road, ya whiny bastard. Or don't, if ya don't really wanna. Just follow your heart, goddammit. It ain't that fuckin' complicated!
Goddamit, Thursday night sucked. Just as I was about to go to sleep, my air mattress went flat. Ended up in a pricey fuckin' motel room. I want my van back!
Wahhhhhhhhh, haaahh, awahhhh!!!
(In case ya missed the memo, my van's in the shop. And the fuckin' air mattress is part of temporary digs.)
Yeah, so, I got all settled down back in Cibola National Forest, up on a mesa between Gallup and Grants, NM. Was there for hours, no problem! Then about 10:30 pm, just I was settlin' in to sleep, the air mattress sprung a leak. Still don't know where.
A flat air mattress in that rental Dodge Grand Caravan meant almost no insulation on a 20° F (-7 C) night, a hard bed, and a good chance a tie rings diggin' inta my back! Fuck that shit!
So I loaded up and drove inta Grants. It were about 11:30 when I got in.
Now, a tougher (or broker) man woulda gotten a new air mattress at Walmart and slept in the lot. But Vanholio was a whiney wimp that night. He got hisself a Motel 6 room.
Not only did that shit cost me $45 with tax, it sucked. The room was blasted hot. The mattress was old. The room stank a sewer gas. And Ms. Barkley got stirred up by every sound of the neighbors. We didn't get no sleep till near 3 am!
Then I woke up at 8 am anyhow and was draggin' all day. Didn't get shit done.
Got myself a new air mattress. Hope it lasts til the van's done, Wednesday latest they say. ...
Goddammit, I'm tired of the fuckin' air mattress. I want MY van back NOW! Waaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!
No, it sure as hell didn't guarantee your rights to live in a van unmolested. Desertrain vs. City of Los Angeles only made the city rewrite their anti-vanlife ordinance. Now they fuck with LA vandwellers in new ways.
What Was Desertrain vs. City of Los Angeles About?
Los Angeles had an ordinance on the books since 1983 worded that it was illegal to live in your vehicle on LA city streets or city-owned parking lots.
In 2010, the city started getting a lot of complaints about folks living in their vehicles in residential and business districts who were making a mess. So the city started enforcing the ordinance.
A few cops went too far and fined folks who weren't doin' shit. Some were legally sleeping in their vans in private parking lots with permission. Some just looked homeless because they had lotsa personal belongings in the vehicle.
Homeless advocates helped a bunch a these cases come together and make a federal suit that ended up in the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. (Read a lawyer's breakdown here.)
What Did the Ninth Circuit Court Decide?
It found the LA ordinance unconstitutionally vague. Basically, they thought the wording was too flimsy. No way cops or vandwellers could figure out what was and wasn't allowed.
Plus, the court found the LA cops were using the law as an excuse to harass anyone who looked like they lived in a van. And I'll add, looked like they was poor.
What Does the Court's Decision Mean for Vandwellers?
So we're cool now, right? No. The decision hardly meant shit for vanlife.
Cities can still make ordinances that you can't sleep in your vehicle or park too long wherever. Just like they can make you have plumping on a land and house you own outright.
That's what LA did. In 2016, they passed a new ordinance making it illegal to "live" overnight between 9 pm and 6 am in residential neighborhoods. They also made illegal to vandwell at any time "within one block, or 500 feet, of schools, pre-schools, daycare facilities, and parks." Think they got some rules about parkin' in fronta businesses, too.
Redneck towns and asshole cops will still fuck with you. Might be illegal of 'em, but you got money and time to sue?
So … Is Living in Your Van Legal or Illegal?
As I wrote about in another post, living in your van is legal in principle. No law says ya gotta live in sticks'n'bricks. You're "free," so they say.
Federal land boondocking is still cool and easy. But cities? All kindsa petty ordinances and laws make everyday vanlife practices illegal in cities. It's fucked up and confusing if ya don't know the local laws. Just try dancin' around all them rules! Or if you're dealin' with asshole cops.
Well ain't that a fuckin' shock! In the age of online work, digital nomads, vanlife, freelancing, and all the rest, most still struggle to start a business!
… many confessed that their activity was (until now) not really profitable, with their activities being financed through personal savings, family support or gift exchanges.
So these authors – fuckin' academics! – visited with digital nomads in a bunch a countries and all kindsa settings, and it turns out the young people aren't really makin' a livin'. That includes the vanlife bloggers.
Isn't vanlife lifestyle bloggin' supposed to be easy? Don't ya just take some cool shots of ya doin' yoga by a mountain lake, retro vanagon in the background, and the cash starts rollin' in?
Look, gettin' started in business has always been hard. Most fail. And when you're doin' something artistic, it's even harder. Suppliers always exceed the demand. I posted about this a couple weeks ago.
The authors conclude that it's still worth it to young graduates as some kinda learnin' experience. Well, sure. Takin' life by the nuts is always worth a try, especially when you're young and can make up your losses.
But only a dumbass thinks they'll just jump out there and make a million in vanlife blogging. Or any other kinda digital nomad business, for that matter.
Vanholio ain't got much wisdom. But he's learned to ask hisself this question: If I only had six months to live, what would I do? Then I plan accordingly.
The power of that question come to me some years ago. I was going through a rough patch, a breakup with my ex. I'd always seen us together, growin' old. I didn't know what the fuck to do. Was totally fuckin' lost.
Then somehow, that question – What would I do if I only had six months to live? – came to me. The answer? Told myself I'd sell everything up, buy an RV, go sit my ass in Big Bend National Park, and write a novel. That was my guiding star.
After I moved out, I did something close. I stayed in my friend's country deer-hunting trailer for the summer. I wrote a crappy first draft of a novel. (It'll never see press. Trust me.) I was miserable after the breakup, but I was thrilled with how I was living.
That was a decade ago. And I went down some wrong paths since then. But that guiding star was always in my vision.
Today, the answer is almost the same: I'd travel and write. So I'm an OTR vandweller doing just that. It's a miracle life, this "living in a van down by the river."
What's *your* vision? What would *you* do if you only had six months to live?
Want to spend more time with family? Find a way to work less or maybe have longer vacations together, like going into teaching to have summers off.
Walk the Appalachian trail? Start backpacking on vacations and set aside money to take on the AP eventually. Want to make sure your kids and SO have a house owned free and clear? Prioritize your spending to pay that sucker off.
Want to work in your garden? Maybe look at going into market farming or community garden organizing.
In the real world, you might not bullseye your perfect vision. There's a whole lot of fuckin' considerations. But you can get damn close if you're honest about what you want.
What I found about getting into vandwelling and writing is that it wasn't that hard. Yes, I had to plan and make sacrifices. It took time to pull everything together. But the logistics flowed easier than expected once I set myself to reaching that star. It's bein' clear with yourself and makin' the fuckin' decision that's hard.
So I ask you: What would *you* do if you only had six months to live?
It's that time a year again. Every RVer, rubber tramp, nomad, vandweller, and any other kinda vanlife scamp is showin' up at Quartzsite, AZ. But not Vanholio!
At my camp in New Mexico right now, I got four other rigs in view. That's four vanlife rigs too many! My prayer as I go to sleep is that they'll be gone in the mornin'. Either that, or I'll be dead. One's as good as the other.
Vanholio's a Loner ...
Like hell I wanna crowd up in some piece a shit bit a flat desert Arizona with four thousand or more! How's a man supposed to step outside and pee with all them folks around? Tell me that!
Vanholio didn't get inta this vanlife thing to mozy up with strangers – even strangers in vans. He's a hermit on wheels, yessir.
Goddammit, I never did go to Burning Man. And I never even went to Ft. Lauderdale or Padre as a youngun. I ain't fixin' to turn joiner now!
If I want to meet someone – anyone, even YOU – I'll do it one-on-one, where I can hear what the hell you're sayin' and look ya in the eye. And leave shortly if everythin' goes tits up.
'But I Wanna Go ..." You Say?
Mind you, I don't begrudge others their fun. If you're goin' to Quartzsite for the big RV show, Rubber Tramp Rendezvous, schoolie gathering, Escapees, or whatever, why, God bless ya. If it creams yer gravy, go for it. You can have my share.
OK, yes, Vanholio is an ornery ol' sorehead. Ain't I always told ya'll that? Ain't ya been listenin'? (Maybe not ...)
So to sum up what ain't worth botherin' over – I ain't showin' up in Quartzsite this month for no vanlife rendezvousness. Unless I change my mind.
Sommabitch! Got stuck in stream gravel in Del Rio, Texas. Why does this shit happen to me? Has Vanholio got some kinda perverted talent for offroad driving? Like the time got myself stuck on a sand dune.
The sad part is it weren't even exactly offroad driving. Well, it was, but just for a second.
It was about 7:30 pm on New Year's Eve. Vanholio was headin' west, close to Del Rio. He was tired. It was foggy-misty and cold as fuck. He decided to check out this fishin' park near Sycamore Creek off US 277 in Del Rio. (It's a site I'd never explored but had marked on Freecampsites.net some time ago.)
I pulled in and saw a few picnic tables. But the paved drive kept on under the overpass. Wanted to see if there was campsites on the other side.
Gravel just past where you see
But just under the bridge, it turned to gravel and started down to the crick. Figured I'd better turn around. So I went to turn around one a the pillars. The gravel started feelin' soft.
Just as that thought came inta mind, I was stuck. Just like that. Front wheels diggin' down inta the gravel. Fuck!
Tweren't nothin' for it! It was dark, below freezin', and wet. Snow and sleet was potential. So I went to bed, figured I'd pick up at daylight.
Well, long story short, couldn't dig myself out. Too loose. Called AAA. Bein' New Year's Day, took the boys 'bout 3 hours to get there. No complaints, though. They ended up winchin' me out by a sideways angle.
Cold day on Sycamore Creek
As I write this, Vanholio and Ms. Barkley are sittin' at Goodyear in Del Rio. The news ain't good. Alignment is out. Worse, the frame or somethin' is bent, and they can't do alignment till that's worked out!
How the fuck much is a second a poor decision gonna cost me! Godammit, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!
At least it's still driveable. I'll nurse her to Las Cruces, where Vanholio's got some business in a day or three. I'll find a body shop up there and do the deal.
Note to self: Don't drive when tired and/or at night and/or in poor visibility. Dumbass.
Top question I get is: "Do you carry a gun?" Why!? Ya think van life is like livin' in Somalia or some shit? No, it ain't. And no, I don't. Here's 3 reasons why ...
3 Reasons I Don't Have a Gun for Van Life Self-Defense
1. Most Likely to Shoot Myself
Lookin' at the stats, my chances of dyin' by gunshot suicide are way, way higher than gettin' murdered by a stranger at my van. How much? More than 4500 times more likely!!!
Flip side, murder by a stranger ain't as common as ya think. Chance of gettin' murdered is 1 in 18,989 (0.53%). But most a the time folks is killed by friends and family. Less than 30% a them murders is by strangers in pursuit of a crime. Reduces my odds a gettin' snuffed ta 1 in 63, 297 (0.16%).
Sure, I recognize that the numbers might boil down differently in my particular case in a particular situation. But 1 to 4500 that I'll blow my own brains out vs. otherwise gettin' murdered is a big, BIG fuckin' margin!!!
2. Probably Can't Shoot a Man Anyways
I seriously doubt my ability to use a gun effectively and wisely under combat stress. In other words, I'll probably either freeze up or miss.
Did you know that most folks can't shoot another human bein'? It ain't that easy. It goes against our nature.
Years a battlefield statistics back this up. It takes training to overcome our innate resistance to killin' and to be good with that gun in a fight.
Now, there's a tiny percent a folks that can kill without blinkin', no trainin' needed. But as Vanholio can't watch a man get kicked in the balls without flinchin', he probably ain't one a them.
Lt. Col. Dave Grossman covers a lot a the facts behind this in his now-classic book, "On Killing." Lindy Beige hits the highlights in the video at bottom.
Vanholio don't have that training to shoot good and shoot to kill. And as he don't like the loudness a guns, nor the expense, that ain't gonna change anytime soon.
3. Prefer Prevention Over Confrontation
Look, whether you carry a gun or not, surely you don't want trouble. You know the old sayin', "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."
Vanholio does a lot to avoid trouble in the first place. When alone, I park the van in somewhat hidden locations, if I can. I got a loud little dog with sharp ears. I avoid any peoples and situations that gets my hackles up. I take other measures, too.
The point is: Gun or no gun, in vanlife there's a lot you can do to avoid ever gettin' to that dangerous, final confrontation. The best way to win a gunfight is never to have a gunfight.
Somewhere long ago, our formerly hunter-gatherer ancestors got off track and fucked us up. They got busy and built "civilization," which shackles us today.
Stuff. It's all about the fuckin' stuff. We got the stuff, maintain the stuff, want the stuff, build the stuff, and hanker after the stuff – especially other people's stuff. It's a lotta fuckin' work, Man!
But them that stayed hunter gatherers … they did a lotta nothin'. Sat on their asses most a the day, just talkin and fuckin'. The were the original affluent society. Sounds like Vanholio's kinda paradise!
I wanna get back some a that. That's why I vandwell. It's my dream to be lazy and contribute as much nothin' to this Earth-killin', human-crushin' society as I can.
Read this essay, "The Art of Nothing," by primitive skills teacher Thomas J. Elpel.He's addressin' primitive skills preppers, but there's a line a thought we can learn from.
Do' nothin' to save your money, save your life, and save your soul.
Don't know what the hell you expected! Van life ain't nothin' but LIFE. Most a the time it's boring as hell. Or at least, it's as boring as you make it.
See, Vanholio's low key, just a quiet guy who likes his quiet. He ain't got no sexy yoga momma ridin' shotgun. He don't hang glide, rock climb, surf, cook gourmet camp meals, meet cool people, or discover amazing restaurants. Mostly, he just keeps ta hisself in the woods and desert, a hermit, if you will.
Saturday — I got up late, ate some breakfast, cleaned up, journaled, called a buddy about some business we got, drove inta Silver City, N.M. for a Wendy's burger, dropped by Walmart ta take a shit and buy some coffee, came back ta camp, called another buddy, ate dinner, took Ms. Barkley on a walk, and otherwise wasted time Facebookin' and net surfin'.
Sunday — Got up, ate breakfast; cleaned up; drove into town ta get water, ice, and burritos at the grocery store; drove a big circle through Lordsburg, Hachita, and inta Columbus, N.M. (just for the hell of it, to see what's there, and I took a walk north a Lordsburg along the way); grabbed a site at the Pancho Villa State Park; cooked a one-pot rice dinner while surfin' the net; and took Ms. Barkley for a long walk round the park.
Excitin', huh!? Thrillin'!? Shit, coulda done mosta that crap livin' in a house or apartment somewheres.
So What's the Thrill a #Vanlife?
For Vanholio, it's campin' and walkin' in the quiet a the woods, livin' cheap so I don't have to work too hard none, and occasionally drivin' down a strange road ta see what's there (hopefully something beautiful or weird!). Oh, an' readin', writin', and web surfin'. That's all.
It's a simple life, but I likes it. Ta some, maybe it's boring. But then, it ain't boring if ya ain't bored.
And if ya wanna do hang glidin', rock climbin', surfin', and all the rest, ya can. Vanholio ain't stoppin' ya!
An admirer of these manifestos emailed with an important question: "What are yer plans fer escapin' certain death by autonomous killer robots built by Google?" Here's my response ...
Reader's Original Email
Dear Vanholio,
What are yer plans fer escapin' certain death by autonomous killer robots built by Google?
As you know, the Earth has begun a new Maunder Minimum. In the coming decade, we will see progressively colder climate throughout the world. Food prices will rise so high the common folk won't be able to afford it. The Facebook and iPhones that have made them incapable of individual thought and/or critical thinking and problem solving skills leaves the common chattel unable to survive without handouts from big pharma, big credit, big welfare, and big gubament.
As the world starves and eradicates itself through violent ass-burgers SJW eruptions of Orweillian-style hate, I expect the Vanholio to be hidin' in his van, of course.... But what about those gosh damn robots? Ya got yer lasers ready? They better be charged and ready, because aint no way a Vanholio would be able to survive in the megacities - under strict carbon taxation and control - stripped of individual thought and completely animated by the corporate overlords... Amazon, Google, Walmart, DowDuPont, Goldman Sachs, and the list goes on.
Never had a plan, but these are my general ideas, in order. (Vanholio is a sneak, not a fighter.)
Leave the USA. But that might not be enough if it's a worldwide crackdown.
Head to the southerly hills. Abandon the van if needed. Live like a coyote foraging in nature, scavenge dumps, and theft as needed.
Play along, act respectable, and engage in subversion from the inside. But seein' as I can't stomach that now, this would be a desperate move.
Expanded Thoughts on Keepin' Your Freedom
Since gettin' that original letter some weeks ago, I been thinkin' and readin' on this topic.
The comin' problems ain't really about autonomous killer robots, Global Warming (or another Ice Age), or today's dominant multinational corporations – though they could be. We don't know exactly who's gonna try and pen us in or how. But you can guaran-damn-tee someone or somethin' is.
Hell, they're doin' it today! Think how unelected credit agencies, like Equifax, got ya by the nuts. Most a us have had some bullshit on our credit reports. And if ya tried, you know what a pain in the ass it is to fix it. Then think how the bastards who hacked Equifax got ya by the balls, too. If they run up bills with your identity, it's gonna suck worse.
Civilization Has Always Oppressed the Common People
Look at your history, though. Ain't states, warlords, big companies, religions, and the like always had the common man by the balls?
The big players have always been forcin' folks to fight in their wars, work themselves to death as slaves or serfs, pay taxes that don't ever quite pay back fair, and generally forget they're born free and as good as anyone.
And the Common People Have Always Resisted
But historically, people have always resisted their rulers. Either they cheat or they run. As a lazy anarchist, Vanholio proudly identifies himself with this tradition.
The common people cheat on their taxes, smuggle goods, poach, steal shit from work, grow weed in their homes, avoid the draft, and desert the army. To put it simple, they do what they need to do to survive.
And if that ain't enough to get by, they vote with their feet. Either they move to another country, or they head to the hills, mountains, swamps, marshes, desert, sea, or wherever The Man don't have power and/or don't care to look.
Sure, they sometimes fight back direct. But that's more rare as the powerful usually got things stacked to their advantage.
Remember You're Free – And Act Like It
No, Vanholio don't know exactly how THEY are gonna try and fuck with him in future. But he keeps his heart free and his eyes open. As troubles present, he's gonna do what he needs to do, whether that's run or cheat. He might even rebel directly if needs be. And if Google sends out actual, real autonomous killer robots? Vanholio'll hide in a cave. And if I gotta, I'll shoot some down with an EMP gun!
Today, I ain’t doing shit but sleepin' in my van and writing. It’s my solution to nearly everything – all the big problems. Why? ‘Cause busybodies fucked us up!
We need to go to a four-hour work day OR LESS. How would that help? Look at our fucking problems in this country and on this Earth …
Unemployment and underemployment? — Job sharing lets more people have jobs, good jobs, not bullshit jobs.
Poor physical and mental health? — Less work per person means more time to sleep, chill, enjoy hobbies, socialize, and build strong families.
Pollution and habitat loss? — Valuing leisure and others over money and things means each person will buy less shit. Everything you buy, even services, takes resources out of the Earth.
Political tyranny? — Folks with more time on their hands can organize to fuck The Man! Overworked moms? — Woman now get behind because they end up balancing jobs with family. With a four-hour workday, they’re not handicapped. And men can damned well do more at home!
But you see, Children, that would be counter-fucking-productive. I heard tell that the Japanese government put together a board in the ‘80s to get their people to use more leisure time. It worked 90+ hours a damned week to find a solution! … That might just be an urban legend, but it points out the problem of busybody solutions.
So I live in a van. My costs of living are tiny, so I don’t have to work all the damn time. This very day, I'm up on a mountain, waitin' for the rain to com in. Got no where to be, and nothin' pressin. So fuck it!
What Am I NOT Doing Today?
I’m not burnin' gas. I’m not using energy to heat or cool a house I don’t have. I’m not goin' out to eat or to the movies. I’m wearin' old clothes. I ain’t doing shit but sleepin', eating cheap, and writin' this post.
I’m a failure as an American consumer. But that means I am cuttin' down my carbon footprint and not sucking hard at Earth’s teat. Don’t even need to invade an oil-rich country today!
We could all live the life of fuckin' leisure if we just worked less.
And with all our automation, we should be able to work on average four hours a day (20 hours per week). Economists predicted it a century ago.
This is a Public Service Announcement: When you leave up seat in a vault toilet and open the door, you're doing the opposite of helpin'. Close them up! Here's why ...
See, your vault toilets – the kind ya find these days in U.S. Forest Service campgrounds, rec sites, etc. – is much more than your ol' stinky latrine. That's good to know, 'cause in van life, you're gonna be usin' these a bunch!
3 Ways Vault Toilets Stink Less
The concrete vault (the shit pit) keeps out varmints. Plus bio-hazardous shit don't leach into the groundwater.
The vent chimney uses passing breezes and the sun's heat ta vent the stink out up high'n away.
The vault and chimney are screened off from flies (except for the shitter seat hole).
Now, all them three factors depend on you puttin' down the toilet seat when you're done. And closing the door helps too, plus keeps out the bigger varmints from makin' a mess in there.
If you even *think* that leavin' the seat up and openin' the door is gonna freshen things out, you're just plain wrong. You're invitin' more flies and suckin' that stink up into the throne room. Plus, you're an asshole.
AI and robots are comin' for at least half our jobs eventually. What will you do then? How will you find a reason to get up every day? What's gonna fill up your pride and keep ya outta the bottle?
Could be you'll be one of the high rollers with a job. But don't bet on it. What's your Plan B?
Vanholio ain't got no answers, just somethin' I'm codgertatin' on.
Sure, I'm like many who think a Basic Income will be needed to move money from the bot owners to the rest. That'll keep ya in tortillas and peanut butter. But just existin' ain't enough. Just existin' don't make ya happy.
Now, some of ya'll say, "But Vanholio, new jobs we can't imagine will be created." Or, "Vanholio, this is pointless. There'll never be a Basic Income." Maybe you're right, but let's just go on as if …
Say you're in the 50%+ whose labor ain't needed no more to drive the market. Say there ain't really no jobs to retrain for or them jobs got 1,000 applicants for each slot?What then?
Maybe retirees, trust fund babies, and those on disability got the answers. Surely some a them find purpose, even though they can't or don't need to earn. Since forever, Moms've taken pride in raisin' good kids.
If you're religious, will you devote yourself to prayer and good works? If you're creative, will you find purpose in art or scientific study? Maybe you'll work on cleanin' up the environment, one piece a trash at a time? Maybe you'll start a business to earn the extras?
Maybe another thing that'll help is if more people in unpaid occupations join into groups for recognition. It could be kinda like in the military, where part a pride comes from medals and patches. Money ain't the only kinda recognition to boost someone up.
I don't know. This is really a kinda speculation. But the day's comin' fast. Best to not be caught with your pants down.
Lately, every asshole’s got a fuckin’ opinion on takin’ down Civil War statues. Specifically Confederate statues. Vanholio says take ‘em all down, Confederate AND Union. Here’s why …
It's my estimation that every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of sommbitch or another. — Mal, Firefly
Vanholio says Mal called it right. Fuck all them generals and politicians. They didn’t do the dyin’ and bleedin’! They caused the war! They don’t deserve no fuckin’ statues of ‘em!
The Civil War Was a Leadership Fuckup
Accordin’ to the Civil War Trust, “Approximately 620,000 soldiers died from combat, accident, starvation, and disease during the Civil War.” That don’t even count the civilians dead or starvin’, or the horses, dogs, and other critters killed.
Why!? What was that fuckin’ war about? I know, I know — endin’ slavery, states rights, preservin’ the Union — take your pick. All worthy on paper, for both sides. But fact is, they shoulda worked all that out through talk, not murder.
And after all them dead, was it worth it!? Blacks got free, sorta. Until Jim Crow. Still an improvement, no doubt. (I sure as hell wouldn’t wanna be no chattel slave!) Overall, though, poor folk, the ones who did the bleedin’, Black and White, didn’t get no richer nor more powerful.
But the bigshot politicians and generals who pushed the whole fuckin’ thing stayed in charge mostly — on both sides. Some a them made fortunes!
Replace the Civil War Statues With Somethin’ Worthy
So here’s what Vanholio proposes: Take all them statues down, Northern and Southern. Yes, even Lincoln! And put them in a new DC museum, The National Museum of Will and Folly.
Then if towns need somethin’ in their places, how about this: A statue with two brothers, one Confederate and one Union, dead and embracing. The artist should make it unclear whether they’re huggin' or if they killed each other fightin’ hand-to-hand and died that way. And kneeling beside them is their mother, her hands coverin' her face in sorrow and shame.
That’s the only fuckin’ statue worthy of the Civil War. If God is just and loving, it’d be the only statue not an idolatrous abomination to Him. Unlike the shit worship of warmongerin', murderous sommbitches we got now. Might as well be statues of Cain!
Posted before on findin' a turd on the toilet floor, plus other crap – literally. Turns out this is common. A slice a Americans do this for shits and giggles. It's a well-known thang by the survivors a campground hostin', retail (especially clothin'), and restaurants.
Now, I ain't talkin' about folks as get diarrhea an' miss, then don't clean it up nor tell no one. That's gross, but understandable in a way. Who wants to admit to a thing like that!?
No, I'm talkin' about sick fuckin' bastards who sling their shit around on purpose! Psychologists call what these shitheads do "voluntary encopresis." They gots a name for it!
Don't know what more to say. Squigs ol' Vanholio out. So here's some stories to laugh, cry, or vomit over … (And do follow the links if ya can stand more.)
Shitty Tales of Shit Mishandled
Saw this on Facebook just this morning!
Shitty Retail Stories
"To everyone who thinks a job at Victoria's Secret is glamorous... Today I found and cleaned up poop in the fitting room #vsemployeeproblems" — Ashley Nyhoff, Victoria's Secret
“'There was a pile of clothes [in the Clearance section] that, like, three people could have slept on, it was so big,' she said. As she dug deeper into the pile, the first thing that hit her was the smell. 'Somebody had gone out of their way to stuff into the very center of the pile, not the bottom, mind you, but the dead center of the pile, a shitty diaper,' she said." — Amanda Atkinson, Old Navy
Shitty Fast Food Story
"Used to work at a Wendy's and we had a frequent douche that used to do this. The worst one was the time he shit into a wad of toilet paper and threw it on the ceiling. When you walk into the bathroom, there was this wad of shit on the ceiling with toilet paper ribbon-dancing down from it. Worst Halloween decorations ever." — Boner999, Wendy's
Shitty School Story
"our mad crapper was truly insane. they would drop deuces in the most random places, sometimes in locations that would be, ordinarily, impossible. hallways. the principal's miniature palm tree(while said principal was getting coffee ten feet from her office). assemblies. sporting events.
"the assumption was that the crapper had accomplices but nobody ever owned up to witnessing the maestro at work.
"never any notes, never any cute warnings or taunting the authorities either. the crapper was a ghost. a poo-terrorist that could strike anywhere. they had the school on edge for five goddamn years.
"as far as i know nobody has ever confessed. the only reason they ever thought it was just one person was the fact that, apparently, all the turds were consistent - roughly the same mass, length, girth etc.
"honestly i'm 90% certain it was the cheerleader who came back as an assistant coach and counselor. just because nobody could have ever suspected her and she had the physical access to pull off the crapper's big fifth year." — buttery_shame_cave, a high school
Shitty Summer Camp Story
Is this sign necessary!!??
"I once stayed at a summer camp as a child. We lived in the dorms of a local private high school for a couple weeks. Some guy would poop into paper bags and leave them around the dorm in random places. I think in total we found seven of them over the course of 2 weeks. After the RAs made an announcement that whoever was doing this should stop, someone drew a square on the wall in poo.
"My friends and I couldn't figure out how he drew the square. Did he hold his own turd? Did he squeeze it in his butt and draw a perfect square with his ass? What would drive a man to do such a thing?
"My main issue is that I become extremely frustrated with family members and the hospital. Sometimes to release frustration, I have resorted to urinating and defecating on Walmart bathroom floor. Maintenance closed the public bathroom. I laughed so hard and thought it was humorous. Then, my frustration was released." — aimlove_89, Walmart
"Sort of relevant: My friend worked in a fast food restaurant when he was young, and one day someone opened the soap container in the bathroom and put shit in it. So then people would start washing their hands and be like 'What's on my hands?!' and try to wash it off, only to put more shit on their hands. They never found out who did it." — cleanjudith, "a friend"
My Shitty Conclusion
I don't get this "voluntary encopresis." I don't want to get it. I don't want to see it. I wish I could forget everythin' I now know.
But if you're gonna get into van life an' use public bathrooms, ya need to be aware.. An' gawd bless ya if ya become a campground host or workkamper!
Vanholio is now your worst fucking nightmare. I’m that geezer driving 10+ miles below the speed limit, blocking traffic. And it’s earning me $600+ per year!
I wrote them last words and the rest a this post a year ago. But it's still all true!
See, I’ve always been a pedal-to-the-metal kind of guy. In my bad-boy youth, going 100+ mph wasn’t unusual. Even in my more conservative middle age, I’ve consistently pushed that extra 5-10 mph above the limit – just enough to avoid a ticket. But I’ve made a discovery: Driving slower saves lots of gas and cash.
After running the numbers on the MPG for Speed website, I learned I could save almost $300-400 in gas in one year. All I’d need to do is go a maximum of 55 mph highway and ease up on the acceleration and braking. I’d also be saving money on engine and wheel repairs (including tires).
Vanholio is a cheap fucking bastard, so I gave it a try. Goddammit! I increased my fucking fuel efficiency by 30%, from 20.5 mpg to 27.0 mpg! And that’s driving through the mountains and canyons of southeastern Utah.
Turns out, I’m going to save over $600 this year! That’s at $2.20 per gallon prices!
Holy fucking crap! Those are some serious goddamned negadollars, Hotrod.
That’s also 30% less CO2 warming the planet on Vanholio’s behalf. That’s another plus. I like the Earth as it is, more or less. I don’t really want a desert in Nebraska. You know, where we grow the food.
Do what Vanholio says: Slow the fuck down, Hotrod! It’s good for your wallet and our one tiny planet.
And if any of you leadfoots out there got a problem with my driving, you can kiss my ass.
I was fuckin' horrified to find the place crawlin' with people. Their camps was huge, and their quads sounded like Hellspawn. Half of 'em was Texans! Holy shit!
Well, Vanholio called this one wrong. See, he'd gone by La Junta Canyon (near Taos, NM) about a month ago on a weekday. The place were nearly empty of people. Perfect for a van-travelling hermit.
But then I returned on a June Saturday expectin' the same. Nope. The public was EVERYWHERE, packin' the campsites and stinkin' the place up.
Hopeful, I kept drivin' up Forest Road 76, higher and higher into the mountains, lookin' for a dispersed campsite without no neighbors. After 8 miles and at over 10,000 feet altitude, I give up and pulled off.
Well, my back view was that shot you see at top. Pretty. But the front view was an intersection of two forest roads. All afternoon, till after 7 p.m., folks went tearin' by in their pickups and on their quads, tossin' out Bud Light beer cans as they went. Fuck!
So I left and drove down to Taos. More people there, true, but at least I expect them in their natural territory.
I shoulda known. Lesson learned. Where good weather, beautiful scenery, and a fishin' creek are side by side, you're gonna find Vanholio's No. 1 enemy – Joe Public.
