Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: July 2005
Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table
I can truthfully say that I do this Blog for me. Because late at night when I’m reading what I wrote earlier that day, even I don’t understand at times what the hell I meant. So if you’re reading something and a general feeling of fuckedupness comes over you, take a few sips of cold water and put your head between your legs. Or breath into a goddamn brown bag for all I care, but the feeling will go away. Trust me on that.
Friday, July 29
sweatin the small stuff
From the “boy howdy” department in conjunction with the “I gotta get me one of those” department………
Comes a story from the land of the rising sun, the land that after getting bombed harder then a stoner at a reggae concert brought us Godzilla, bukkake, bondage, extreme hentai and manga, along with the very irritating habit of fuzzy pixels in their porn. Yes, I speak of the Japanese, who after overcoming war and adversity have preformed their ultimate accomplishment. The Japanese have developed a “female” android that has these attributes.
1. She has flexible silicone for skin rather than hard plastic, and a number of sensors and motors to allow her to turn and react in a human-like manner.
2. She can flutter her eyelids and move her hands like a human. She even appears to breathe.
3. She can be designed to follow the movement of a human wearing motion sensors or to act independently.
Do you muthafuckers have any idea how big a deal this is? Huh, do ya? After talking shit over with my very excited many inside sources I found out more about this wonderful creation. They told me that Repliee Q1 (that’s her name) is not like any robot you will have seen before, at least outside of science-fiction movies. She is designed to look human and although she can only sit at present, she has 31 actuators in her upper body, powered by a nearby air compressor, which are programmed to allow her to move like a human.
Now I know that some of you are thinking, hmmm, this would be great for space exploration or doing jobs too dangerous for humans or any such scientific shit like that. But really, I’m sitting here in my underwear thinking…..as soon as that muthafucker comes out on the market I’m throwing away the accujack and getting one in blue with horns, a year’s supply of red lipstick, a giant rack and a self lubricating snappin pussy.
From the “me Tarzan, you Jane” department ……..
Comes a feel good story that will warm the cockles of your heart. It seems that ole former US president Bill Clinton on a recent trip to Kenya had been offered forty goats and twenty cows for his daughter Chelsea by some horny hard-up jungle fever feelin African government official. According to my many inside sources he was offered the animals as a traditional African way of getting a father to give away his daughter's hand in marriage.
And according to my sources the dowry is very muthafuckin generous by the country's own standards. Mr. Godwin Kipkemoi Chepkurgor or Eddy as he’s known to his close friends wrote to Mr. Clinton through Kenya's Foreign Minister to set all this up. Disappointed but glad he gave it a try; he was overheard to say;
"Had I succeeded in hooking the rich white devil bitch, I would have had one grand muthafuckin wedding. I would have invited South African Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu to preside at the ceremony and shit." He went on to say that Chelsea was a fine looking woman with large hands good for milking the cows and goats and possessed a strong bone structure.
Now from the “oh yeah baby, that’s how mommy likes it, faster faster” department…….
Comes a story steeped in antiquity and old as time it’s self. Whilst researchers in Germany were digging inside the famous Hohle Fels Cave near Ulm in the Swabian Jura area of southwestern Germany they unearthed a sculpted and polished phallus shaped object that they believe to be around twenty-eight thousand years old.
The prehistoric "tool" was reassembled from 14 fragments of siltstone and when put back together somebody was heard to say. “Hey, that looks like my wife’s Doc Johnson vibrator”. After much study researchers believe the object's distinctive form and etched rings around one end mean there can be little doubt as to its symbolic nature.
"It's highly polished; it's clearly recognizable as a large cock” said one female researcher as she and others fondled and passed around the ancient device. My many inside sources tell me that in addition to being a symbolic representation of male genitalia, meaning it’s shaped like someone’s cock. Its life like size suggests it may well have been used as a sex aid by its Ice Age makers.
My many inside sources went on to inform me that female art with highly accentuated sexual attributes are very well documented at many sites across the globe but male representations are very, very rare indeed. Let the Intelligent Design muthafuckers figure that one out.
And lastly from the “how to know when god hates you” department…….
Comes a story a story of a woman from Rio de Janeiro who died of a heart attack. The women’s family and close friends had gathered inside the chapel of a local cemetery to pay their last respects. Everyone’s standing around the casket praying and crying as folks at these types of events are wont to do when outside the chapel gunshots were heard ringing out. It seems that there was a fire fight going in a nearby slum betwixt the local police and a gang of drug runners.
Suddenly people were scattering as the stained windows of the chapel were peppered by bullets along with the casket of the deceased woman. After shit calmed down everything seemed cool until folks noticed that one of the stray bullets had entered the casket striking the dead woman in her pelvic region. After a bit of discussion it was decided to leave the bullet inside the already deceased woman and proceed with the burial.
“This is just too sad. My god, to get shot after death”
the dead woman’s sister was quoted as saying. My many inside sources told me that such standoffs between drug gangs and police or just between rival gangs often claim innocent lives in Rio, which has one of the world’s highest murder rates. Yeah, and getting shot in your pussy at your own fuckin wake is just some fucked up shit and a sure sign that god hates you.
you sure you wanna point that at me punk? For years I actually owned a small arsenal, knifes, guns, shotguns and most anything else you could imagine. Some my father threw my way, some I bought or traded shit for. I actually once owned enough knifes to cover my living room wall. I had machetes, daggers, flip knifes, throwing knifes, and boot knifes. I had butterflies, bayonets, Gurkia blades, Bowie knifes and some custom made Gerber’s. For years I never saw a knife I didn’t like. To me a good knife was like a piece of jewelry, they still are as a matter of fact. But the bad thing about keeping knifes and guns always within reach is that you’re always fighting the temptation to use em as god meant em to be used.
You’re always fighting the urge to throw a cap into some muthafucker’s ass or slice some cocksuckers shit three ways from Sunday. It was my father who got me started on weapons. He was a career cop for most of his adult life and if you saw my father sitting on his porch, in his car or dozing on the couch, you knew that he had a piece somewhere within arm’s reach. My brother and I have fond memories of being small children around the age of ten or so. My father would be getting ready for work and since he was a detective he always wore a suit. And as he’s gettin dressed and headed to the front door he’d holler out;
“one of you kids bring my gun off the dresser”
And we’d run into his bedroom and there’d be half a dozen on the dresser and it was like which one?
“Goddammit! Bring me the chrome one, don’t make me late for work or that’s your ass!”
So it goes without saying that with him being a cop and all we kids were exposed to firearms at an early age. He’d come home and take off his holster and drop it on the dining room table and we knew better then to touch it. I’ll need to check with my brother or sister but I think he shot the couch one day just to show us what a gun sounded like and how big a hole they made in shit. My sweet elderly mother even packed back in the day, and if you saw her right now on the street she’s probably still packing.
Like I said back when we were all kids living on the block my father was a Detective for the local police force here in town. He was also a member of the force’s Bomb Squad. So as a result he kept shit around the house cause he was always bringing his work home with him to study plus he also trained various law enforcement groups in bomb disposal techniques. One Christmas I was given this huge radio controlled truck. My father walked up one day and asked me if he could borrow my truck for a while. Next thing I knew he had strapped timers, proximity switches, mercury switches and a shitload of fake dynamite to the muthafucker and turned it into a rolling classroom project.
Daddy had taken my toy truck and turned it into a weapon of mass destruction. Behind his back the kids on the block called him Willie the Bomber but they had huge respect for him. One year somebody stole the battery out of one of his cars in the driveway and he simply walked out in the yard and stated in his outside voice that he wanted his battery back. We were having dinner that night when we heard the hood drop on a car, he told us to just sit and finish eating. After dinner he went out in the driveway and popped the hood on his car and not only was the battery back in the car but it was all hooked up and shit.
As a kid he was always giving me knifes and shit to play with, and when I moved out on my own he started giving me guns. So it was from him that I got my fascination with weapons. But the bad thing with me having all this shit around the house was that I was always fighting the urge to use em, and I had already learned at a young age not to ever pull a weapon unless you were prepared to use it. But as I got older and more into shit the urge got harder and harder to resist. All during my bouncing years I always kept some sort of edged or striking weapon in one form of another on me and in my early years with the MAN I never traveled without a gun in my bag.
But it came to a head when I was home in bed reading one night. My stupid cat was makin a fuss as cats will and being a rude jerk, so I pulled a revolver from the dresser and pointed it at the dumb furry fucker. I then removed all the bullets from it and spent the next few minutes dry firing at my cat’s head. This got boring so I replaced all the bullets with blanks and thought how much fun it would be to see him crap himself when I pulled the trigger and it made noise, but lucky for the cat we both were both getting sleepy and I decided to put it off till next time.
I happen to tell my father about what I almost did and that’s when he informed me that blanks from a revolver of that size would have taken the cat’s head off. I decided then that I was having too much fun with guns and that’s when I started getting rid of most of my arsenal. Most of my knifes went to a female friend of mine who collected knifes as a hobby, plus I figured that’s something a women can’t have too many of. My guns I traded out for various things over the past few years including a new carb for my ole truck. I still have shit around the house plus I got a lot of my father’s things when he died, but they’re of the “I can’t slip up and kill something by accident variety” and that’s the way I like it.
So since I’m all about being down with the equal opportunity and shit, I’m gonna bag on a few black folk today. As in what the fuck is wrong with these ignorant muthafucker’s living down in Miami? I open the news and the first thing I see is that Miami city leaders are apologizing for a news release that invited summer campers to a ''Ghetto Style Talent Show'' and ''Watermelon Eating Contest”?
The news release said that children who come to the summer camp who "know the meaning of ghetto style" would have a chance to "prove just how ghetto they are.'' But after hearing from some really pissed members of the black community, city leaders have decided to change the name of the muthafucker to the “funky talent show”. Even though the director of the Miami parks who is black by the way doesn’t see what the big deal is with the original name and still insists on the watermelon contest.
Doesn’t see what the fuckin big deal is? My god you stupid backwoods, corn eating not knowing nothing fuck! Black kids are killing each other every fuckin day and doing the drugs and having the low self esteem and looking up to all the stupid baggy pants wearing gold toothed rappers with all the stinkin bling bling as role models, and black leaders are always with the why, why, why? Blame it on this and blame it on that and blame it on what the fuck ever, but ignorant cocksuckers who come up with ideas like a Ghetto style talent show, and watermelon eating contests for black kids are doing nothing but adding to the problem as far as I see it. And yes I eat watermelon, but some of you have to see where I'm coming from?
And fuck those stupid city leaders who have the so-called liberal racist balls to back up a play like this. The only thing missing in all this is let’s slap a bitch and a find the crack dealer contest. And of course some leaders are saying that the critics which I suppose would include my stinkin ass are missing the point. "They have to understand that the young generation has a whole different style than they do … at a ghetto-style talent show the kids are getting together to show their talent." And to that I say
“NO, FUCK YOU…I’M NOT MISSING THE POINT YOU RACIALLY INSENSITIVE BASTARDS”
As far as I see it, our civic and city leaders instead of being happy minding the store, should be working to enlighten and show the kids a better way. And I know all we’re talking about here is a fuckin picnic and shit, where kids are supposed to have fun. But along with the fun is it ok to tell the kids it’s ok to be ghetto, that it’s ok to use the work nigger when describing each other, that it’s cool staying where you are and not wanting to better yourselves? Cause that’s what I see going on here. I guess the reason this fucks me up so bad that besides being stupid, it teaches kids that certain shit that used to be wrong is now ok.
The other night I was hanging at the Hurricane talking with Cor(e)y and Rusty of “Planet Rusty” fame, along with Charley the most well liked booking agent in town. This blast from the past is for them.
Here’s something about me you didn’t know. I almost held the future of America’s youth in the palm of my hand. Years ago before all the tough guy shit I actually worked (and I use that word lightly) as a stand up comic. I started doing it as a dare and after a while I found out I was kind’a good at it. Once I got over the stage fright I loved it, what a fuckin head rush. When I did a good show it was the biggest rush in the world, but when I sucked, I sucked harder then a three dollar whore on crack, and nothin’s worse then fallin on your ass in front of a hundred people.
I worked (there’s that word again) with some nice people. David Naster, Sinbad, and a bunch of other people whose names I can’t remember but who I see on the TV from time to time. Get this, I was doin a show one night and in walks Henny Youngman. He was doing a benefit downtown and he decided to stop by for a look-see. The ass kissing was amazing, the noise from all the bending of knees and bowing and shit was so bad I had to cut my show short.
So I’m standin outside the club when Mr. Youngman comes walking out to his limo, “nice show young man”. Oh my God, Henny Youngman’s fuckin talking to me. I just stared, awestruck until my mouth took over. “Show? What Show! How could you hear anything you old noisy bastard”. As he walked away I found myself again speechless again cause suddenly I had these two huge muthafuckers in bad fitting suits pressing on me from both sides. Who knew the old man had bodyguards. They quietly showed me the error of my ways then eased off and let the oxygen back in.
It was cool; at least I got to meet the man on a one on one basis. Back in the day there was a children’s show here in town called Uncle Ed’s Playhouse. This guy was sort’a huge in the Midwest. He’d sit behind this old desk and talk to all the kids and show cartoons and shit like that. He was like Whizzo but deeper. It was all doing good till he got busted for wagging his dick at little kids. He always had that dirty uncle vibe going on don’t you know. But anyway the show’s producer used to come to see me perform from time to time, and somewhere in her blond head she fermented the idea that I would be a perfect replacement for the infamous Uncle Ed.
I ended up auditioning for the show three separate times but I just couldn’t pull it together. They took me into this studio that held Uncle Ed’s desk and I’d set behind the desk and got comfy, or at least I tried too. But there were two things in front of the desk that bothered the shit out of me. One was the bigass camera that stood maybe five feet away pointed directly at my head. I think it was the camera lens and the big red blinking light that had me on edge.
The other thing was a video monitor that set on the edge of the desk. You ever videotape yourself and watch? It can be very disturbing cause when you’re lookin at yourself lookin back at you, it can creep a cat the fuck out. That’s one reason why the porno gig also fell through. I couldn’t keep a straight face. I’d say my lines then start laughin like an idiot; I just couldn’t get over lookin at my self. To say the least I blew it. But just think how close I came to undermining America’s youth.
This is a car advertisement from Great Britain showing a car being driven along a country road. What’s fuckin people up is that when they finished filming the ad, the film editor noticed something moving along the side of the car, like a ghostly white mist. From what my many inside sources tell me the ad was never put on TV because of the unexplained ghostly phenomenon.
The sound isn’t that great but if you turn up your speakers you can barely make out the film editor freaking out and shit as to what the fuck is going on with the mist. Watch the front end of the car as it clears the trees in the middle of the screen and you’ll see the white mist crossing in front of the car then stopping only to turn and follow it along the road. Kind’a cool in a fucked up kind of way. click here to see it
I see that the shooting in London has gotten a lot of people all riled up and shit, claiming that the British police mercilessly shot to death an innocent man. Well in my opinion a mistake may have been made but the British police did what they clearly thought was the right thing. But let’s see what led up to the shooting.
During a two-week period a total of eight bombs have been set off in buses and subways killing scores of innocent people. Britain is undertaking a huge manhunt trying to locate the latest group of bombers. A special squad of British “Swat” type police has this building under surveillance because they think it holds a connection with the latest group of bombings. They see this cat leaving the building and when they told his ass to stop he refused.
Furthermore the cops were understandably concerned because despite the summer heat the cat was wearing a heavy coat. He broke and ran into the subway and the cops chased him down and from what the reports say, after taking him off his feet gave him a few rounds to the head thus killing him. Now I don’t know about where you muthafucker’s live, but here in Kansas City it’s a given that if you’re told to halt but you run decide to run from the cops around here, you get shot.
Then there’s the deal with it being a hot day and here’s this cat that’s not only insisting on running from the cops, but he’s sporting a heavy padded coat to boot. That alone would raise the hackles of any law enforcement officer worth their salt. Hell, when I was working in a bar in the summer and some cat walked in wearing the leather jacket or duster, I better see the bike he hopped off of or he’d soon find himself being shoved into a corner and patted down. And why some of my slower reader’s may ask, because aside from being a fashion freak, he could be hiding anything from guns to knives to bombs under the coat.
And lastly it’s a sad fuckin given that we live in an age of suicide bombers with muthafucker’s all wired up and shit willing to kill themselves along with all around them. All it takes it getting amongst the most people and fingering the trigger in their pocket and their jobs done. So you got cops chasing this muthafucker wearing a thick coat in the middle of July who dives into a subway station.
Most likely in the cops minds they got themselves a suicide bomber on the run and they have shoot him before he can trigger the switch. Except that this cat was just some freak wearing a heavy coat who for whatever reason, maybe he just scored who knows, but refused to stop when the cops told him too. I know there are overzealous cops the world over cause god knows we got some of those muthafuckers here at home and mistakes are made and people are sorry and all that good shit. But just ask any local cop or maybe ask the cat down the street who just got back from Iraq and see if they would have done it any different. I kind’a doubt it.
Since I was cleaning up my links and tidying up the place a bit, I decided to throw up a link to all of Cousin Erma’s bullshit. Some of you might remember my wayward cousin from Matador, Texas. Anyway, I went ahead and made some room for her in the links under the title, “Death’s Door presents Cousin Erma”. So go give her a visit and hopefully she’ll drop in again.
On the way home last night I saw one of the most beautiful sights in nature. It was a bit on the cloudy side but suddenly the sun popped thru and in the glistening sunlight I saw a herd of gussied up MILF’s thundering thru a parking lot. It was a sight to see, MILF’s of all colors and rack sizes moving as one making that little squealing chatting sound that MILF’s are known for.
I looked to see what was causing such a sizeable herd to stampede and on the marquee of the Uptown Theater across from the parking lot I saw that Mr. White Wedding himself, Billy Idol was playing. If there’s a thing custom made for MILFs it’s a Billy Idol tour. We just sat there on the bus with our faces pressed to against the windows like little children until they passed from sight.
Why is it that the fattest fucks on the goddamned bus insist on sitting in the aisle seat? My fuckin god, you got the whole seat to yourselves, move your fat ass over to the inside so that I don’t have to squeeze my fat ass by on the way to my seat. Plus is there anything more unattractive than some fat chick in dirty spandex whose wrinkly stinkin fat ass is spilling all out into the fuckin aisle and shit?
But enough of mother’s I’d like to fuck and fat chicks on the bus, let’s check in with my many inside sources and sweat the small stuff shall we?
From the “hi, Rogers, Buck Rogers, good to see ya” department………
Comes a story of scientists who after inventing some shit find themselves rethinking the shit they invented. Which happens to be a "Star Wars"-style ray gun due to be deployed in Iraq for riot control next year. This little jewel cutely called the Active Denial System weapon, is classified by the Pentagon as “less lethal” then just up and shooting some muthafuckers.
This “less lethal” ray gun thingie fires a 95-gigahertz microwave beam at rioters to cause heating and intolerable pain in less than five seconds. Now I don’t know what 95-gigahertz is, but I’m so very sure that I don’t want something that shoots something called a gigahertz pointing at me. Anyway the idea is that muthafuckers caught in the beam will do their goddammist to get the fuck out’a the way, thus breaking up crowds and shit. Now I don’t know about you cats but when I’m in the kitchen microwaveing popcorn, I’m very cognizant of the fact that I’m standing in front of something unnatural.
There’s this box that I stick food and shit into and after a few minutes of being bombarded with invisible “microwaves”, it comes out cooked. If that ain’t white mans magic I don’t know what the fuck is. And now they got a fuckin gun that shoots out microwaves? I ain’t standing in front of the muthafucker, especially after hearing from my many inside sources about all the shit that went down during “live” testing.
Yeah it people playing the part of rioters were put on hold for a bit as all the scientist went into a huddle. “Uh, if you all could remove any glasses or contact lenses you might be wearing, that would be nice”. Then after another huddle the participants were asked to remove all metal objects like coins from their clothing to avoid local hot spots developing on their skin. I’m not even going to ask where do you get muthafucker’s gung-ho enough to stand in front of a so called “non-lethal” ray gun just to see if it works or not. But I guess this is the kind of shit that happens when folks get all pissed off when you test shit on cows and pigs and shit. A vehicle-mounted version of the weapon named Sheriff was scheduled for service in Iraq in 2006, and that U.S. Marines and police were both working on portable versions. Hmmm, coming soon to a riot near you.
here's your zero tolerance coming right at ya
From the “Jane, you stupid bitch” department comes…………..
A story of rules and responsibility gone horribly wrong in Houston. Last month seventy nine year old World War Two vet and school-crossing guard Francis Light was just minding his own business and thinking about trying to take a pee when this chick walked up to him and asked for a urine sample. According to Mr. Light, he was baffled, “gosh darn it, I've been doing this school job for nigh onto 16 years, and I never heard of anyone taking a drug test, at least the crossing guards, most of us are old people anyways."
So naturally he told the chick hell no and to go lick the dangliest part of his nut sac, then he went about his business. About two hours later, when he got back home the school district called and told him he was terminated. According to Mr. Light, they told him he had ten days to turn in his shit. You know, a stop sign, raincoat, stuff like that. Now according to my many inside sources, Terry Abbott, a Houston Independent School District spokesman said that Mr. Light shouldn’t have been surprised. "Every employee understands if you refuse the drug or alcohol test, you are automatically terminated. We cannot allow people who are responsible for our children's safety to refuse to take a drug or alcohol test."
Now Mr. Light does remember being told such a thing some months back but he also said they give us rules and regulations all the darn time, and every year they get thicker and thicker to the point where he doesn’t even bother to read em any more. Mr. Light, who once you get his old ass to talking can’t seem to shut the fuck up, goes on to say that he drank his last beer 51 years ago and has never used illegal drugs. Well except for that one time in the war when he had to bail out over this small atoll in the South Pacific and smoked some banana leaves.
Anyway he would have submitted to the drug test, except he couldn't find any one in charge to tell him it was required. “My nurse, my secretary, my principal, nobody was there. I didn't have anybody there to talk too, and I didn't know the skirt who told me to take one from a hole in the head." Local parents are up in arms over the firing of Mr. Light and are lobbying the school district to give Light a second chance. "This is just one of those situations where a better look at what's going on would serve everyone well," said one parent. "I trust my kid's life with this man." But according to the Houston school district they can't make an exception for Light, even if Light does have a perfect work record. "It would completely destroy our ability to keep children safe if we allowed people to refuse the drug or alcohol test”.
Now one of my many inside sources ran a very good point by me. It’s understood that rules are emplaced to protect and shit like that. But in certain situations there’s a thing called common sense that needs to take place. I understand zero tolerance as much as the next muthafucker, but in situations like this where the person is clearly a good hard worker, who has the respect and admiration of those who place their kid’s safety in his hands, you bitches need to think outside of the fuckin rules. When I see so called zero tolerance shit like this, all I see is a bunch of pious cocksuckers who can’t or won’t take the time to think for themselves. Cause to them it’s much easier to let a set of catch-all rules decide things for em.
you must seek out greg, he knows where the taint lies
Just a few short musings before my day kicks in and I go looking for a bell tower to climb. On the way home on the bus yesterday I noticed a possum on the side of the road. I’m looking at it thinking, “oh look, a dead possum on the side of the road”. It was kind’a propped up against this construction wall that faced a really busy street.
All of a sudden it snapped it’s eyes open and I couldn’t help but notice that it had this really freaked out look on it’s face. (If you could imagine a possum having a freaked out look) It actually looked like it was hyperventilating and shit and it’s little black beady possum eyes were just darting every which way. Now I’m thinking yeah if I was a fuckin possum sitting against a wall on a busy street I’d be freaking out too. Hell, it’s not like possums are known for their acute traffic sense and shit.
But as the bus turned the corner one of those giant street sweepers came into view. I’m looking at the street sweeper and picturing the path it followed, then I looked back to where the possum laid freaking out against the construction wall. Damn that muthafucker had to pass right over the fuckin possum, no wonder that muthafucker looks all freaked out and shit.
I’m always amazed at what people talk to me about. It’s a given that if you’re a lonely drunk in a bar, you have to come over and tell me your fuckin life story. But lately and I would love to see how I look to other people, but folks have been rolling up on me in the oddest places to ask me questions, anything from government issues to sexual advice to crop circles.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that, because these people are serious as a muthafucker when they ask me shit. Like my answer will set them free and light the way to karmic salvation. Fuck, when I look at myself in the mirror I don’t want to ask me a fuckin thing. Have I reached that point and stature where I’ve turned into the elder wise man? Are there muthafucker’s walking the earth seeking the answers to life that are being told to travel to Kansas City and seek out the fat black cat in Midtown?
It’s like one night in the Hurricane this hot young chick ran up on me and I swear to god this is what came out of her mouth. “Are you the one called Death? I heard you’re wise and can help me”. And then there’s the cat that wanted me to tell him how to become a man. Now that one was easy, I told him to go out and rent every movie he could find featuring John Wayne and Samuel Jackson and do what they do. But I’m telling you, do I really need that kind of pressure? Do I want to be the wizened one that people seek out?
Next to Bones and Uhura, (I would beam onto that ass without hesitation) my favorite old school Star Trek actor James “Scotty” Doohan died today at the age of eighty-five. Besides playing one of the best characters on Star Trek, ole Scotty was one bad muthafucker. You know what I dug about Scotty was that he never minced words.
If shit was fucked up and bout ready to blow the fuck up, he’s just come out and say it. When Kirk would holler out for more thrust, ole Scotty would holler back, “fuck you, thruster’s are out”. Talk was that he never gave much of a shit for William Shatner and probably died thinking “what a pussie with his over acting ass”.
He was a veteran of D-Day in World War Two and during the storming of Juno Beach he got shot the fuck up taking six machine gun rounds to the body and lived to talk about it. Besides being a war hero and a famous TV star, during the course of his life he sired nine children with the latest being born as he hit the ripe age of eighty. Hitting that ass at warp factor nine.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuckin fuck! For a guy that believes in ghosts, and believes he’s seen ghosts, and lived with ghosts, why do I insist on watching shit about the muthafuckers? I just finished watching two episodes of “Ghost Busters” on the stinkin Sci Fi channel and now I’m sitting here in my dark apartment getting chills up my goddamned back. If I can’t sleep or start with the cocksuckin nightmares I’m gonna be so fuckin pissed. Wanna see for yourself what the fuck I’m talking about? Go here if you fuckin dare……………
I was a bouncer in a rock club that had bullet holes above the front door and carried no bottles or glassware, and we averaged three to five fights every night of the week. This was back in the day that when a cat took a swing at you, you had better swing back or you were everybody’s punk. Big hair, spandex, and leather was the rule of thumb. On a good night we could hold six hundred screaming assholes, and get this, the place only had six bouncers. The place originally started out as a cowboy club, and until they closed “Asleep At The Wheel” would play there every year.
I learned a lot of things working there
... I learned that Rob Halford of Judas Priest dressed his boyfriend in matching outfits and made him stand on stage where he could watch him.
... I learned that if anyone touched Johnny Winter he would head back to his bus and wouldn’t come out.
... I learned that Yngwie Malmsteen was a huge asshole.
... I learned that groupies will do anything, and I really mean anything to get on the bus.
... I learned that having a sweaty Joan Jett sitting on your shoulders while doing a guitar solo and at the same time trying to rub her pubes through the back of your neck is very cool.
... I learned that having the lead singer from Great White stop during a song and call me the meanest muthafucker he had ever seen, and the crowd cheering me is pretty cool.
... I learned that watching Country Dick Montana of the Beat Farmers walk into the crowd and tell everybody to sit on the floor cause he wanted to tell a story, and watching in stunned disbelief as over six hundred people did exactly just that, had to one of the finest examples of crowd control I had ever seen.
... I learned that having some drunk chick slap the wrestler “Jake The Snake Roberts”, and then me having to tell him he had to leave the bar had my guts in a knot.
... I learned that it’s not the fight that hurts it’s the recovery.
... I learned to hate bachelor parties, cause when you got twenty guys that decide they wanna beat up on the bouncers and the before mentioned bouncers pulling out all the stops, getting “Old School” on their asses and sending half of them to the ER is not cool. Mainly because as soon as the smoke cleared the Cops camera crew came running down the ally and it was all over by then and my mom didn’t get to see me on the TV.
... I learned that I really enjoyed a good moshpit; cause when you got a good pit rolling it’s the best relief valve for stressed out kids I have ever seen.
Somebody asked me what was up with the “blast from the past” shit? Well, excepting for the weekends my goal is to update this page on a daily basis or more. So when I’m too busy or somewhere in a corner dying, I’ll search thru my archives and find some shit just to throw up. And I know that it’s most likely that some of you have seen all my old stuff but then again there’s a lot of you that haven’t. So that answers that.
This weekend was a fuckin bust, Friday I didn’t even go out after work. Instead I went home and after cooking dinner, went to sleep. Saturday night I headed to the Hurricane but left there when I heard that the band Tenderloin was playing up at Davy’s. I got to Davy's and much to my surprise I was waved thru the door and even had a couple of drinks sent over by friends in the bar, but I ended up leaving and going home. Free pass to one of the hottest tickets in town that night plus free drinks, but I just couldn’t find my center. You know how it is, some nights no matter cool shit is, you’re off the bubble and when I get like that it’s usually best for me to go home because in the hunt to find my center I always end up over doing shit. So instead of going out and listening to some good music and hanging around some cool folk, my biggest deal this weekend was going out Sunday and purchasing a new alarm clock. My life in the slow lane.
I was happy to read this weekend that Whirlpool is currently beating out China’s bid to buy Maytag. I have issues with the Chinese government buying American companies. Not withstanding the fact that it’s fuckin China who keep boasting about their ability to hit the United States with missiles and shit. And I’m so fuckin sure that Americans can’t just waltz into muthafuckin Beijing or Hong Kong and buy major corporations without a by your leave.
But it got me curious as to what American companies have sold out to the highest bidder. And I know, selling out has kept some American’s employed and shit. But goddamn, we’re turning into a nation of corporate whores who are apparently more then willing to go sucky fucky with the highest bidder. But anyway, here’s a short list, and I mean a very short list culled from a very long one, of former American companies.
Amoco Corp, owned by British Petroleum, United Kingdom, paid $48.174 Billion
Texaco, owned by Saudi Refining Inc, Saudi Arabia, paid $1.280 Billion
VoiceStream, owned by Deutsche-Telekom, Germany, paid $29.404 Billion
AT&T-Worldwide, owned by British Telecomm-Worldwide,United Kingdom, paid $5.038 Billion
AlliedSignal, owned by Robert Bosch, Germany, paid $1.500 Billion
Mack Trucks, owned by Renault Vehicules Industriels, France, paid $0.104 Billion
General Motors-Assembly Line, owned by China-General Engine Factory, China, paid $0.017 Billion
Simon & Schuster, owned by Pearson PLC, United Kingdom, paid $4.600 Billion
CBS Records (CBS Inc), owned by Sony Corp, Japan, paid $2.000 Billion
From the “future Darwin Award winner” department………..
Comes a tale of somebody’s really stupid children. It’s the forth of July and the apartment complex is ripe with the laughter of children and the sound of exploding fireworks. Squatting in the dirt in front of their building we find thirteen year old Jimmy holding court surrounded by half a dozen smaller children waiting for him to fire off another bottle rocket. But wait, what’s this, as Jimmy calls over one of the smaller kids.
“Hey Mickey, put this bottle rocket in your mouth and let me light it”
Little three-year-old Mickey agrees and Jimmy sticks the end of the bottle rocket in little Mickey’s mouth and fires it up. My many inside sources tell me that what happened next was some of the most fucked up shit they’d ever seen. It’s bad enough that little Mickey’s holding the bottle rocket in his mouth, but it’s in his mouth tip first, so that when Jimmy lights the muthafucker it goes down Mickey’s throat and explodes.
After doing his impromptu impersonation of the Human Torch, little Mickey’s rushed to the hospital where he spent a couple of days undergoing treatment. He suffered burns to the inside of his throat and it’s not yet known if Mickey will any suffer long-term effects from his ordeal. (we already know he’s stupid) And of course the cops are all over everybody wondering why there weren’t any adults around keeping an eye on shit. I’m thinking at least he didn’t blow a finger off.
And now from the “look, no more cameltoe” department…….
Hails a tale of a young lady from Burma who between selling chickens in the market always dreamt of being a man. And in a true testament of what the fuck ever, her dreams have come true, but hey, lets hear it in her own words.
"On the morning of the full moon day of June 21, I noticed my thingie was not the same as before and my breasts disappeared. So I called out and showed it all to my mom and dad. It was very strange."
Yes, according to her, her parents, and the thousands of stunned villagers who’ve thronged to view her junk first hand, she has somehow grown a cock? My many inside sources who got tired of waiting in line, tell me that after being examined by experts, test results are forthcoming.
And from the “I killed a man just to watch him die” department comes……..
A question I saw on one of the forums I frequent. “Where has the tortured soul gone, what happened to the Johnny Cash's and the Cobain's of the world”? Good question huh, and one that I think I have an answer too. Let’s start by understanding what a tortured soul is. To me a tortured soul is a person who’s writing or singing sends the listener to places they might not want to go, bringing up painful or sad memories or even making the person listening think.
To be considered a tortured soul means that at sometime in your life you have either hit absolute bottom or done things so bad that no matter how much you try, you still think of yourself as a piece of shit. You’ve done and seen things that the average muthafucker would run away from. You’ve embraced the fucked up and ejaculated on the face of god. (wow, where in the fuck did that come from? “ejaculate on the face of god”) You know what it’s like to kill a man just to see the “why” in his eyes. You’ve crawled out of bed in towns whose names you can’t remember and cracked off the needle. And you’ve done things with your body just to buy a meal that you’re still ashamed of.
A lot of today’s artist might consider themselves “tortured souls” but I’d be the first to call bullshit. Tortured soul to them is maybe back in the day being unable to borrow their mom’s car to go to the mall, or losing the fuckin remote to the cable box. Sorry Cochise, singing about the back porch swing or homemade ice cream ain’t tortured. And speaking of back in the day, I think that if you’re under twenty-five you shouldn’t be allowed to use that phrase. What, your fuckin back in the day was high school? Anyway, I don’t think I answered the question, but you get my drift.
What is it with me and the fuckin Tour de France, I can’t stop watching it. Lately I’ve been all about watching cats sporting the tight spandex racing around stinkin assed France on bicycles. But what’s really cool is that when I go to the coffee shop in the mornings, I can conversate with the best of em about the prior day’s race. But there are a few things about the race that fucks me up, like all the stinkin people crowded on the racecourse.
Goddamned, it’s bad enough if you’re in the pack, but you have to deal with muthafucker’s watching the race who insist on standing inches from your fuckin face screaming and hopping up and down and shit. Then there’s the chase vehicles and the cameramen on motorcycles whizzing around you. That would irritate the fuck out’a me. And then you got our boy Lance Armstrong, who clearly has “the devil went down to Georgia” thing going on.
“Ok Beelzebub let me make sure I got this right. I’ll survive the cocksuckin cancer, win all the Tour de Frances I want and get to fuck a hot rock star, and all you want is my soul”?
I’m just sayin and shit. I also watched this special on the CNN about WorldCom boss Bernard Ebbers, who has to be the silliest muthafucker ever. Here’s a guy who started a small company that after years grew into a billion dollar corporation only to fuck up leading the largest corporate fraud in U.S. history which earned him twenty five years in the slammer. I wanted to feel sorry for the guy cause I’m thinking here’s a CEO who maybe didn’t pay enough attention to shit. But after watching the special and seeing this cat in action, my thoughts are that ole Cooter is getting his just rewards. Not only did he cook the books and fuck a lot of people but the cat was a huge micro managing, good ole boy, dumber then a jar of cat piss, Kenny Rogers lookin, asshole.
There’s a couple of things in the news today that makes me want to kick people’s teeth in. The first is the twenty-five year sentence that the MAN threw at Bernie Ebbers of WorldCom. Some lawyers are viewing the sentence as too fuckin harsh, and I’ll quote one of the simple cocksuckers.
“Should a corporate executive get 25 years when drug dealers are serving five to 10?"
The cat goes on to say that Bernie Ebbers is being punished for the failure of the U.S. government to have sent a meaningful deterrent message before the corporate fraud cases of the last few years.
For those of you that don’t speak bullshit, let me clean this up for you. The lawyer is saying that it’s the government’s fault that ole Bernie’s being punished. They should have told him years ago that if you steal from the public you’ll go to jail. It’s like some cat robbing the corner store and saying it’s not his fault due to the fact that since he was stupid and couldn’t read, how could he know it was wrong? What a bunch of cocksucker shit.
And that brings me to the question, is his sentence fair compared to that of let’s say a drug dealer getting busted? I say fuck yeah it’s more then fair considering that this muthafucker was already earning multiple millions per year as CEO of WorldCom. Owned multiple million-dollar homes, the largest ranch in fuckin Canada, and a fuckin yacht building factory for fuck’s sake.
So what I’m saying is that the asshole had all the riches of the world at his feet. And even though some cat with bad teeth on the corner dealing crack is a lowlife cocksucker in anybody’s book. The cat who steals from and fucks over thousands whilst at the same time hobnobbing with kings and presidents showing his fake ass to the world, deserves everything they get.
“The older you get the less you give a goddamn about peer pressure”
Some nameless guy I overheard on the TV.
My apartment here in lovely Midtown Kansas City sits in the middle of what’s called the Art Ghetto. If a cat walks two blocks south he’ll run into the Kemper Museum of art, The Nelson Art Gallery, and the Art Institute, all within a block of each other. My neighborhood is populated by students, and instructors from the Art Institute, “free spirits”, old hippies, drug dealers, stinkin ass crackheads, stinkin bums, the rich “eccentrics”, stoners, kind’a normal families, and “plain” folk like me, and you got quite the rockin little neighborhood.
Except for the ten years I owned a home I’ve lived in that neighborhood since the early eighties. As a matter of fact I’m in the same apartment I had before I owned the house. When I sold the house I found out my old place was open and I jumped right on it, so I guess I can say that I really like the neighborhood and the place I live in. The only things I have issues with are students, bums, and parking. Now parking and bums are just some of the everyday shit that a cat living in Midtown deals with. But the one thing that chaps my ass are some of the students, and that’s mainly because they don’t have any sense of propriety.
What you got here are a bunch of young cats going to school either on the family dime or some sort of scholarship. Mom and dad puts up the rent for the apartment and the only responsibility they have is showing up at the Art Institute everyday. So when they’re not learning how to draw a circle or the hottest trend in papier-mâché, they’re usually fuckin something up like what happened this morning. I’m sitting in front of my computer at a quarter to five checking out the news, cough cough, and what do I hear, some muthafucker in my back parking lot setting off what sounds like bottle rockets.
And I know that the only muthafucker’s up at this time of the morning doing that kind’a shit are some fuckin baggy pants wearing, backpack carrying, stoner art students. I swear that after turning off the TV I could even hear that stupid ass stoner laugh. Then as I’m leaving for work I see in front of my building that some cocksucker had set fire to the large pile of furniture that’s been sitting on the curb for the past couple of weeks. That kind of shit just makes me want to sit in the dark and ball bat some muthafuckers. But that’ll be wrong wouldn’t it?
I had to pull the battery on my old bike so this weekend I went over to my mothers where I had it parked. I thought this was gonna be a pain in the ass but after removing the seat and side panels along with the starter solenoid, the battery slid out on this little tray neater then shit. And whilst there digging around her back porch I found this old cast iron Dutch oven that belonged to my grandmother. Muthafucker even had the iron lid to go with it, man I’ve wanted one of those for a long time.
Anyway last night betwixt cooking pot roast I got stuck on this TV show called Dr. 90210. I never watch this shit but when they showed the folks appearing I spied this chick with a huge rack so I kind’a stayed tuned. Speaking of huge racks and not meaning to sound all odd and shit, but this morning while waiting for the coffee shop to open I saw a rare thing. Walking toward me was a young attractive woman of Asian decent sporting what had to be a pair of 38DD’s. Now I know what you’re saying, “but Greg, big tits on a chick, big fuckin deal”. Which is all well and good until you remember the ancient proverb spoken by the blind minstrel Homer. Hmmm, now how did that go?….
“find a women from the land of the setting sun with big rack and kings will beat a path to her door”
So I’m telling you, this was special. Anyway getting back to the show, the chick with the big rack was a porn star getting her asshole bleached. Yeah, they got this shit that after being spread over the ole starfish will bleach it to blend with the rest of the ass. Haven’t you ever seen some chick in a porno and wonder what the deal was?
Fine whatever, another chick who was with her mom wanted some tuck work done on her cooch due to the fact that is was rather large? By large and without getting too graphic, her shit had extensions if you know what I mean. Like her butterfly was all droopy and shit. The eagle had landed.
Ok, moving on…the last person wanted some work done on his chest to get rid of his man breasts. Until they showed that the cat was actually born a chick and was taking hormones to grow hair and bulk up and shit. If you were to see this cat in his skivvies in the locker room, you’d never think that he had the inverted peehole and shit. And the oddest part was when they were talking to the cat’s brother. “Oh, I just see him as the same old Susie I grew up with.” And I’m thinking that no, Susie was your fuckin sister; this cat looks like he’s here to replumb the house.
Got to talking about how it is living with two women in the same house when their monthly cycles get all synched up and shit. Its just bad juju anyway you look at it. Then you got that dominate cycle thing going on or what’s known as the alpha pussy. The chick with the dominate cycle or the alpha pussy turns into the head bitch in charge and as far as she’s concerned everyone else in the house are her minion’s to use as she pleases. So once a month all the female cycles break into this weird lockstep and the cat’s start clawing the sheets and shit while the fuckin dog and me stay barricaded in my bedroom hoping they forget we’re here.
Pimping ain’t easy
Then you got Valentine’s Day that’s always a fucking crapshoot. Lets say there’s some chick you dig, do you get her something or not? Will she be cool with it or burn your stinkin house down. If you buy her something too pricey will she consider you a stalking freak? If you low-ball it are you now a cheap bastard? And if you try to circumnavigate all the above shit, then you’re just a cockless bastard? If you buy her roses, it’s “you don’t know me that well”, and that’s only after you become pissy pants confused over the various colors they come in. Oh, and if you do go that route please de-thorn the muthafucker’s, because if you don’t and the fuckin jewel of your eye gets pricked in her goddamned thumb, you’ll be licking ass for months. Cause you know women never forget shit like that, c’mon, we’re taking about chicks that can remember not only what your ass ate on your first date, but the color of the fucking socks on your stinking ass feet.
Pimping ain’t easy
And as the choir breaks into a rousing rendition of swing low sweet chariot, I’m here to tell you that women are the most confusing animals in the jungle, well, next to cats. But you get my fucking drift. Women will spend hour’s getting their shit together before they go out so as to look good. But when you see one and she catches you giving her the round eye its “hey fuckhole, what you looking at”? Or god forbid you make eye contact with the wrong one and she’s out chumming the water’s for fresh kills. The next thing you know your stupid ass wakes up wearing plaid shorts and a wife beater whilst driving a minivan, and all your old friends are busy deleting your name off the speed dial.
Pimping ain’t easy
But what the fuck am I bitching about? We love em and always will. Like I’ve said many a time, if it weren’t for women, men would still be walking around in furry loincloths pulling sticks out of each other’s stinking asses. Cause when they walk up to you all round eyed and innocent and cock their heads to one side and in a little pouty voice asks you if their nipples are properly aligned, none of the above matters for shit.
It might just be my fucked up eyesight or is the new “MAX” transit system that’s set to start later this month in town running the Main Street corridor not looking quite right? I’m gonna take a closer look but the bigass stations that were built for the muthafucker seem to take up a whole lot of shittin sidewalk especially here in Midtown. I’m just saying and shit, but I’d hate to be the cat in a wheelchair or some such device trying to negotiate past one of those muthafuckers. Someone else wanna check and tell me what they think?
what's that touching my leg? is that you touching my leg? please hurry and take the picture, something's touching my leg....
Remember my vacation where I went to see the ocean? Well apparently Bud Light heard about my exploits and wrote a song about me.
Bud Light Presents Real Men of Genius
Today we salute you Mr. Paranoid of the Ocean Guy Wind surfing, para-sailing, body boarding.. Not you.. you prefer activities like flailing, shivering, and whimpering (Please don't judge me) Bravely you step into the water, one wrong move and you could be pinched to death by a hermit crab (Tell my wife I love her) Was that a piece of seaweed that brushed against your leg? Or a giant man eating eel? (Ooooooooh) So crack open an ice cold Bud Light O' swimmerous minimus, because someone has to man those shallow waters, and that someone is you (Mr. Paranoid of the Ocean Guy)
drinking on the company dime.....free kickass band rocking out on stage.....free ignoring the band cause we're too cool for school.....free sharing mouthhugs.....priceless
Friday after work I was at the Hurricane hanging out and whilst there a bunch of folks from the “Pitch Weekly” started showing up for one of their after work parties. For those of you not hip the Pitch is part of “New Times” which since the seventies has grown to become the largest group of metropolitan newsweeklies in the U.S. Most every city has some sort of weekly news rag that works the local music and news scene and the Pitch is ours. Well anyway, the Cowtown Playboys were up on the stage working theirs asses off playing the rockabilly and I’m sitting in the back on the couch drinking some ice coffee and digging on the band.
And I just couldn’t help but notice that during the few hours the band played the Pitch crew did an exceptional if not outstanding job of keeping their backs turned to the band the whole time. No applause, no acknowledgements that the band was even there, the way these people acted the fuckin jukebox could’a been playing. Not much else I can add to that except for what a poor example of local support from what’s supposed to be one of the main rags supporting the local scene. Bullshit little posers.
what you mean, they didn't like the movie? bitches!
From the “you gotta fuckin be kidding me” and the “you’re pulling my leg right?” departments……
comes a story from the shuttered land of North Korea, the land shrouded in mystery ruled by a master despot with an iron fist who appears to the world in the form of a badly coifed ruler by the name of Kim Jong ll. It seems that during the early days of the Korean War a young North Korean was dispatched to South Korea to do a little spying and shit. And whilst doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that, he missed his truck and got left behind enemy lines when the cease-fire agreement betwixt the two countries was signed. A while later Lee was narked out and shoved into a South Korean prison for being a spy.
Time goes by and the two countries decide to work out one of those exchanges we’re always hearing about. You know, you say I was right on points A & B and give up some shit, and I’ll give up some of your boys I got cooling in lockup. But according to some of my many inside sources, Mr. Lee along with sixty-two other North Koreans decided that they wanted to stay put. Which was fine by South Korea since they knew that the second Lee got back across the border, he and his boys would be used in some sort of propaganda campaign talking shit on South Korea. As a matter of fact Mr. Lee spent almost forty-five years in various South Korean prisons before finally getting kicked out due to old age and bad health and shit.
Sure enough as soon as Lee got home he received a hero's welcome and, sure enough, North Korea made a film on Lee's "HEROIC STRUGGLE FOR THE MOTHERLAND" whilst being held in South Korean prisons and made sure all North Koreans saw it. But according to my many inside sources, who after buying a few defectors some mixed cocktails got to hear the real deal, that when the propaganda film was released to the viewing public, shit backfired.
The film detailed how Mr. Lee and others during an act of righteous North Korean anger, refused to eat and went on a long hunger strike. To say the least, reactions to all this were mixed from the man on the street.
"What we called bullshit on was that in the movie Lee and others were conducting hunger strikes in the prison," said one mystified defector about the movie.
"Refusing to eat was a form of resistance in the South? That was the baddest stick it to the MAN shit these cocksuckers could come up with, not eating? Boy, South Korea must be some fuckin kind of paradise"
Many North Korean defectors said their first reaction upon seeing the film was to ask how people could stay in prison for more than 10 years and remain alive? It was like goddamn, muthafuckers barely last even three years in North Korean political prisons. And being fed three regular meals a day is utterly unimaginable. Hell, even the word ludicrous was being heard bandied about.
After asking my many inside sources what the deal was I found out that after many years of economic fuckups and shit of that ilk, the North Koreans since the mid-1990s have relied heavily on international food aid to feed muthafuckers while continuing to spend all their shit maintaining an army of about 1 million. The nation has gone thru its eleventh year of food shortages because of a lack of farmable land, collective farming, weather-related problems, and chronic shortages of fertilizer and fuel. Meaning that unless it was for the army, muthafucker’s got severely short-stroked.
Massive international food aid deliveries have allowed the regime to escape mass starvation since 1995, but the population remains the victim of prolonged malnutrition and fucked up living conditions. Large-scale military spending eats up resources needed for investment and civilian consumption. Which is more or less what I explained above. North Korea, a nation that covers an area more or less the size of Mississippi and dealing with a population of almost twenty-three million stinkin muthafuckers, is on the brink of famine. So when muthafucker’s see a propaganda film where the worst things that could happen to a cat was to miss a few squares a day and shit of that ilk, of course they called bullshit on the whole thing. Word has it that the film has been pulled from circulation.
Once again its early Wednesday evening and the Boardroom at the Cane is in full effect. I’m sitting at the bar doing my usual bit, which means watching the bums across the street on Monkey Island and listening to eight different conversations going on around me. (if you’d ever seen our zoo here in town and where they keep the monkeys then you’d understand the name Monkey Island) Suddenly I see this drunken Bum push down this other Bum. I don’t really think too much of it cause these cats are always beating on each other about something, usually about who got the bottle. As long as they keep it across the street we don’t give it much thought.
There’s this one big juiced up muthafucker screaming at the Bum on the ground, who’s makin a sorry ass attempt to get to his feet. Just then it hit me, the ugly ass Bum on the ground getting screamed at is a chick. I suggest to the bartender that she hang near the phone cause this could go south real quick, but the ugly chick gets up and moves to another spot, and shit seems to calm down. Now out of the blue comes this super nappy-headed cat that apparently knows the ugly chick. He finds out what’s happening and gets all worked up at the Bums on Monkey Island.
There’s all kinds of screaming and posturing going on and in the back of my head it made me think. This is just like something off the Discovery Channel, you got a bunch of hairy smelly muthafuckers on their “turf” fighting amongst themselves and with the strange hairy nappy headed muthafucker over this really ugly smelly hairy female. We find out later that the strange hairy nappy-headed muthafucker is a self professed “pimp” whose friends with the ugly chick.
I told the bartender that he had to be fuckin the ugly chick cause he didn’t seem to be the type to take on all that ass kickin just to be polite. He must’a heard me cause he later mentioned that he had all his ho’s just up the street and that him and the ugly chick were just friends. Sure pal, uh huh. By this time local security and the cops had the big juiced up Bum handcuffed and leaning against the wall of the bar. I bet one of the security guys that this fucker was probably fresh on parole, you should’a seen how cut this guy was. I’m pretty sure that there’s no Bum fitness center so all those muscles were courtesy of the local lockdown. I found out that he had been out of the big house less then thirty days. Hmmmm, who would’a guessed, just another hump day in the big city.
The radio station I listen too just finished up an interview with “Diamond” David Lee Roth of Van Halen fame. I’d forgotten how much of a guilty pleasure Diamond Dave can be. I actually got to meet Van Halen in the mid eighties when I managed the music store. Unfortunately I cough, cough, met the band just after Sammy Hagar signed on. We were doing another guitar signing and we had Eddie lined up to do the honors. Back then I was hanging out and drinking with this pair of sisters. That’s sibling sisters, not sista’s.
Other then the fact that they could be uber bitchy at times they were cool to hang with. I think that when they were born the doctor must’a slapped em too hard. Also at times the sibling rivalry would get out of hand and I’d have to separate the two, though in retrospect I couldn’t think of a better Springer moment then two hot chicks hooking it up. Other then that they both knew the deal and oddly enough didn’t mind watching my back on occasion. One of em still has the award for best one liner from a female. This guy walked over to her one night and asked how could he get next to her? Her exact words were;
“three hundred more pounds and black”
I looked at the guy and said;
“oh my god! are you ok, that must’a hurt like a muthafucker, bye, bye now"
You gotta love shit like that. I had to go do this Van Halen thing and I thought I’d take one of the sisters along for the ride. I picked the older one cause I thought she’d be a bit more stable in a crowd. Fuck, was I wrong. We were all hanging out backstage in the “Green” room waiting on the band to show up. It was me and the sister along with the guitar winner and his date standing there staring at a table full of warm beer and bad deli food, woo hoo, Some kind of treat huh?
Finally the band walked in, I’m always so amazed how short these guys are. The only cat near my height was Alex Van Halen. The rest of the band was pretty short or so it seemed, maybe I was just tall. My girl was standing near the wall sucking on a beer when Alex walked up behind her. I guess he was in full rock star mode cause the first thing he did was reach down and grab onto some of that ass. Did I mention that neither of the sisters was sporting a full tank of gas?
The one sister that I’d thought would be cool in a crowd turned around and slapped Alex Van Halen right across the teeth. I freaked, the crowd freaked, and the sister was doing her best to break a beer bottle in half and fuck somebody’s drummer up. I ran and grabbed her and moved her to the other side of the room. Alex was pretty cool about the whole thing; he knew even for a rock star he had overstepped his bounds. I need to find her, I imagine that by now she’s probably doin the soccer mom thing and telling her kids about the day she tagged a famous rock star in the mouth, and the little rat bastards not believing her. I’ll have to send pictures of her hanging with the band.
You know since I work for the MAN, I’m privy to some shit that if you knew would just eat away your stomach linings till you bled blood out’a the back of your asses. This is upsetting and I thought I should pass it along.
Check your driver's license...
Now you can see anyone's Driver's License on the Internet, including your own!.. I just searched for mine and there it was. ..picture and all! Thanks Homeland Security! Privacy, Where is our right to it? I removed mine, I suggest you do the same.
Go to the website and check it out. Just enter your Name, City and State to see if yours is on file. After your license appears on the screen, click the box marked "Please Remove". This will remove it from public viewing, but not from law enforcement
And please don’t drop any dimes on me cause the MAN doesn’t know I’m doing this. Click here!
Due to the Man being an asshole about my money this turned out to be a very uneventful holiday weekend. Friday and Saturday I hung out at the Hurricane, and since I had developed a taste for it, I drank ice coffee. And what do I get for drinking coffee on ice? Shit from some of my more uncouth friends. For some reason drinking ice coffee was considered not very manly by some of the people I associate with. Bitches. But all that aside I got to hear some cool rock this weekend. I heard a new band, at least new to me called “be/non”. Now I’ve seen all the members of the band in various projects, and I was curious to hear how they sounded together in the mix. I came away very impressed, they played it hard with a Zeppelinesq kind of vibe and that was just fine by me since hard was what I wanted to hear, so “be/non” was a very pleasant surprise. Plus the keyboard player is hotter then a muthafucker and sweet to boot which did nothing but add to my enjoyment.
I was able to watch some movies this holiday weekend like I wanted so here’s a quick and dirty rundown.
1. Be Cool, featuring John Travolta and Uma Thurman. This was the sequel to the film “Get Shorty” and as with most sequels it was an exercise in what the fuck. Travolta looked and acted bored the whole time and Uma was just wasted. The only saving grace and enjoyable parts in the movie was due to two actors playing against character, Vince Vaughn playing a black man, and the Rock playing a gay bodyguard. As a matter of fact the Rock stole every scene he was in as far as I was concerned. Look for his dance scene at the very end of the movie as well as the video he’s in.
2. Kill Bill, vol 2, starring Uma Thurman. I’d seen this before but since I had just watched the first one the other day, it gave me a taste to see this one again. These two movies are a Saturday Kung Fu movie watcher’s wet dream. The coolest parts of the movie came during Uma’s training with the master Pai Mei, who was just a hoot to watch. And I’ll put the fight scene in the trailer with Uma going against Daryl Hannah up against any fight scene in movies today.
3. Hostage, featuring Bruce Willis. Again this is a movie where the lead has played the same character so many fuckin times that it’s boring. How many ways can Willis play the burnt out maverick cop who saves the day against all odds? Huh? Moving on.
4. King Arthur, starring people that I’ve never heard of before. As a fan of history I really enjoyed this one due to it being closer to what I consider the real history. I wouldn’t mind watching this again at a later date. Check out the one knight wearing the Samurai armor.
5. War of the Worlds, starring Tom Cruise. I enjoyed this mainly because it wasn’t played for warm sweaty hugs. Tom Cruise was workable but I would’a kicked Dakota’s teeth in a long time ago. I’m not a parent but is there anything more irritating then the sound of a little girls screaming voice? What is it about that peculiar pitch that makes me wanna break someone up? And her brother would have been the next in line for being such an asshole jerk. And can someone please explain to me how the aliens from “Independence Day” showed up in this movie? Didn’t fuckin Will Smith kill those muthafucker’s off a few years back?
But the special effects and the tripods were cool. And as a person who’s been on the receiving end of a crowd in full panic mode, I dug the way the film perfectly captured that aspect of it. There’s nothing more insane or irrational or scary then a mob of panicky people. All rhyme or reason goes out the door and they don’t give a fuck about nothing except for getting away from what’s scaring em. And if you’re the voice of reason standing in the mob’s way trying to stop em, you’ll do better trying to stop a stinkin stampeding herd of cattle with a switch.
P.S. Someone got hold of me and told me to ease up off Dakota’s ass due to the fact that her part was played as a needy little girl. Well you can excuse the fuck out’a me? Fuck her, cause when the fuckin monsters are coming and I say shut the fuck up and get in the goddamned car. The last thing I’m gonna deal with is a needy screaming little girl. She’ll get her “needy” ass thrown in the fuckin trunk along with her “I’m grown” big brother. Like I’m going to sit there and patiently explain everything I’m doing whilst trying to get away from the stinkin tripods and shit. She’ll either shit up or I’ll leave her “needy” ass for the monsters to eat. Bitches!
Woke up this morning with memories of the strangest dream. There I was walking down this hallway, where on one side stood these huge windows that looked out on a ridge of mountains, on the other side stood an Applebee’s restaurant? Walking toward me is an old friend who as she leaned up to kiss me, suddenly grabbed hold of my throat with her teeth thus dragging me to the floor. We’re on the floor struggling and rolling about as I try to break the hold she has on my throat with her teeth.
As I unclench her jaws she switches gears and starts kissing me hard on the mouth whilst at the same time grinding her breasts into my chest. As I run my hands across her writhing body, I’m thinking this is good and soon the painful teeth on my throat are just a dim memory. She reaches her hand out to my ample waist and as she begins to shove it into my pants I black out only to wake up sitting at this small table inside the Applebee’s. I’m looking around and I notice the odd seating inside the restaurant.
There must be thousands of people seated, and instead of being laid out on a flat plan the seating is tiered like a movie theater. Everyone is eating and staring at the large stage where Luther Vandross is singing? Isn’t he dead I ask myself as I notice something else really odd. I’m sitting in a giant Applebee’s totally buck assed nekked. I’m not wearing a stitch of clothing and as a waitress passes, I ask her what the fuck’s going on?
She tells me that I have to talk to a manager and where was he I asked only to see her point to the top tier in the restaurant. I start climbing to where he’s sitting talking to customers which I find very embarrassing cause after all I am buck assed nekked and shit. But I get to the manager and after asking him about my clothes he directs me to this red door just a few yards away. I enter the door only to find myself in a long dirty tunnel leading down to who the fuck knows where. At that time I figured shit was getting too freaky and made my self wake up. I took a large pee and commenced to looking at the Hun’s Yellow Pages on the internet to calm myself down.
Inside the bunker lays a man smoking down a butt. He blows on his scorched fingers as he tells himself out loud that he has to stop smoking or it’s gonna kill em. He chuckles quietly as he figures that his fingers and smoking are the least of his worries. The “most” of his worries are sitting just out of sight over the ridge. It’s been almost ten minuets since the last rush. He counts the bodies on his side of the ridge and comes to the conclusion that he’ll get a medal for sure.
He wonders where his mom’s gonna hang it, probably with that nice picture they took together when he came out of boot camp he figures. She always seemed to like that one the best. He checks his watch again and notices that almost twenty minutes have passed. The rest of his team should be clear by now. Damn the luck that he had to take one through the spine, but at least it gave him a reason to stick around. Somebody had to stay to lay down cover fire so the guys could get away.
The squad had propped him up next to the bunker window and left him with water and their only working machine gun, and oh yeah, a shit load of ammo. Suddenly a shot rang out and he saw a puff of dust jump from his leg. Good thing my spine’s gone he thought, that would’a hurt like a bitch. As other shots start peppering the bunker he checks his watch and realizes the date. Son of a bitch, it’s July the fourth.
He smiles as he shoots back the bolt and squeezes the trigger. They gotta give me a medal now, I’ve saved the squad and I’m dying for my country, and on the fourth of July to boot. Hmmm, Independence Day, can’t think of a better day to die for my country. Wonder who’ll they’ll get to play me in the made for TV movie? Later as the enemy rushes into the bunker they stare down at the man with a mixture of respect and curiosity and wonder what kept him going when he should have been dead hours ago
from the “don’t call it a comeback” department……….
Comes a story that I’m still not so sure about how to read it. It seems that in the Howard Beach section of Queens in New York, a white man is facing hate-crime charges after police said he and a couple of friends beat the fuck out’a three black men with a baseball bat. All this went down in a neighborhood that became infamous two decades ago when three black men were beaten in 1986 after their car broke down, starting what became one of the city's ugliest racial episodes. But I’m tempted to call “quid pro quo”, which is Latin for "something for something", or as we call it at Death’s Door, “bullshit” on the whole thing.
Meaning that asskickin aside, the black cat’s fully admitted to entering the neighborhood looking for a car to steal but changed their minds when they were spotted. And even though the white cats came all strong and shit with the racial negativity and beat some muthafuckers up. I’d be the first to say that shit evens out cause you come into my house looking to take what’s mine and get your asses handed to you? And I start hating and shit whilst beating you down, it’s “quid pro quo”. And I’m not saying that the white guys are right cause there’s always other ways to deal with shit, but goddamn, how fuckin crackhead stupid do you have to be to tell the cops the real reason you were on the block was to steal a fuckin car?
and now from the “Rube Goldberg” department……
Unfolds the fucked up story of a playful family dog, who whilst chasing a ball ran his clumsy ass into the ladder on which his owner was standing while trimming bushes with a chainsaw. The dog running into the ladder caused the man to fall off the ladder with the still running chainsaw clutched in his hands onto his wife who was holding the ladder thus sending the still running chainsaw into her neck and killing her deader then shit. According to my many inside sources this was just some fucked up shit to see. One minute everything all Lassie and Timmy, and the next minute mom's all over the yard. They also said something about a comedy of errors.
An illustration of a machine for pouring a cup of water From the “I’d love to hear Lance Armstrong’s kids try to weasel their way out of walking to school” department………
Is a story of a man who was told by his doctor that he was dying of cancer and only had so long to live. After hearing said news the man did as I, or most of us would do in such a situation. He informed his family then made final plans for a future that according to his doctor would be very short. Now the man is suing his doctor because he survived his cancer longer than the doctor predicted.
Now a lot of you might ask yourselves why? Shouldn’t the muthafucker be glad that his doctor was wrong and he’s gonna live a lot longer? Well yeah, unless you did like the cat did, and subscribed to the Death’s Door, “bye bitches, I’m dying” plan. Which is if I find out that I only have a few months or a year to live cause I'm dying? You might as well say I won the fuckin lottery, cause I’m living larger then a muthafucker.
First off I’m getting every credit card and bank loan I can and start maxing those muthafuckers out since I won’t be around to pay em back. At the same time I’m buying guns and bazookas and shit with the intention of settling some old scores. Yeah baby, bad time to be an asshole and shit with me dying. And it goes without saying that I’m gonna try to fuck everything with an inverted peehole.
And the best thing about it, muthafucker’s will be begging me to die after it’s all said and done, cause due to the fact that I'm dying, I won’t give a fuckin hooty-ho who I piss off. So if I was told that I only had a short time to live and then I just kept on living, Yeah I sue the doctor too.
This reminds me of my friend Kyle who survived his fight with cancer. Every time I see this muthafucker I just stare and grin and wanna touch and poke em cause I’m so fuckin happy to still be able to see his ugly ass. He went back to work and I told him to take it easy and if he gets tired to tell folks to fuck off and sit his ass down somewhere cause as far as I’m concerned he has the best excuse in the world. “I got cancer bitches, I’m sitting down for a few”.
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From the “boy howdy” department in conjunction with the “I gotta get me one of those” department………
From the “me Tarzan, you Jane” department ……..
Now from the “oh yeah baby, that’s how mommy likes it, faster faster” department…….
And lastly from the “how to know when god hates you” department…….
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