Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thanks to those fiery-tempered Middle Easterners and those I'm gonna tell you I'm not a terrorist but I really am Israelis, a resemblance of normalcy has been restored. Now, I don't care whether Phillip Seymour Hoffman plays hide the erection with 11 year olds or whether Tom Cruise plays dress up with the Third Reich, real life drama is always just a tad more exciting than Hollywood. That's why I could never get into those shoot-em-up movies. Give me the nightly news or a snuff film, because red dye #23 doesn't hold a candle to human suffering.
One can only assume that this is why the Israelis and Palestinians continue to fight. It can't be over religion, because their religions clearly dictate to them that killing is a sin. And it certainly isn't over land or some large scale, historical family feud, because I'm sure those would both be classified as the "sinful ways of the world". So it must be that both sides just have an honest penchant for violence. And that's something I can live with.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
This incident does well to explain the events circling Kanye's recent appearance on Saturday Night Live. Eyebrows have been raised by people everywhere by what appears to be West caught lip-syncing to the single Heartless. For anyone who has followed Kanye West and his trail-blazing career, this is nothing more than a one-up on Miss Ashley Simpson who was similarly caught lip-syncing on SNL last year. The balls in your court, Ashley, make your move.
Kanye is not content with merely lapping his peers in what some would consider "failures" or "huge disappointments", he also wants to succeed in profitable trends such as the emergence of a style in hip-hop lovingly referred to as RoboRap. RoboRap was popularized by New Orleans rapper Lil' Wayne and uses a device known as an auto tune to distort the artists voice into a metallic space-age parody of itself. Many artists including Jay-Z, TI, Akon and Cher have used this device to great success. In the recent SNL debacle, West performed Heartless in which he sings through an auto tune. Is this the part where the genius of Kanye West comes full circle? I don't think they call him the greatest rapper alive for nothing.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
My first live radio show will be Monday December 29th from 12am-4am EST (So I suppose it's technically Tuesday morning, not Monday night). If anyone is interested you can listen to the station from your PC by going to their website WNCW.org and clicking on the Listen Live button in the top left hand corner of the page. I'm listening to the station right now and it sounds crystal clear. So if anyone is curious to hear my infamous lisp/stutter, tune in Monday night (especially you guys on the West coast. With the time delay, you've got no excuse!).
Be good, Bitches!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Hey, it's me again. Sorry I never got around to sending a thank you letter for last years gifts. I know that I've already got a lot of wonderful things in my life (new house, new car, new dog and the love of my life happy and healthy), but there are a few material possessions that I've been Jonesing for recently. I tried asking Jesus, but he was too busy having brunch with Joel Osteen. So, if you have a minute I have a few items to request.
Have you heard of the new vodka Ciroc? Apparently Sean "P. Diddy Daddy Puffy" Combs took time from his scientific laboratory where he makes perfume to oversee the fermentation of French vodka. Plus, he's like the new Frank Sinatra or something so his vodka has to be awesome. Two bottles ought to make Christmas night a littler warmer.
Next on the list is KY Yours and Mine genital lube. You know, they have those commercials where some random couple are sitting on a bed, speaking in short choppy sentences right before they knock boots? I know the lube works because the commercials give me the same uneasy panicky feeling that actual intercourse does. So if walking down the "naughty" aisle at the supermarket doesn't bother you, could you please pick me up a tube? Thanks.
If I think of anything else, I'll be sure to give you a ring.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
After hearing the remake of Family Tradition (now McCain/Palin Tradition), the realization of what the song and the artist are capable of destroys any nostalgia that the work once held. It's like seeing the girl you took home from the bar lying on your bed in the light of morning. She doesn't look so hot now, does she? Meanwhile, she's just realizing the only reason she sucked your nasty dick in the first place was because Lil' Wayne's song Dick Pleaser was blasting at the club. Now, both of you are sitting there with your goodies hanging out searching aimlessly for the words that will alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. And now whenever you reach into your "spank bank" for her bad dye-job jumping around on your lap, all your left with is the image of a digitalized Jabba the Hutt singing McCain/Palin Tradition.
But then your buddy reminds you that you're the type of douche that goes to clubs where they play Dick Pleaser over the sound system. And once you realize that you spend more time in front of the mirror than your 13 year old niece (who, by the way, has Dick Pleaser as her Myspace default song) you're forced to agree with your friend and say, "yes, i am indeed a douche". Now you're left with a mild dilemma- Do you pursue your new-found morality and taste or do you tap your toes when McCain/Palin Tradition comes on and say to yourself that it's not that bad? Either way you're exposed as the shallow fuck that you are. But don't worry, everyone else is tapping their toes as well.
Thanks to my wife, Bekki, for providing the Lucas/Williams comparison during a heated discussion at Chili's last week.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
This is Red sitting with Ernie, our Rat Terrier. This is a pretty rare moment considering all he wants to do is mount her or avoid her. Dogs are so human-like.
This, on the other hand, is a pretty common occurrence. Dixie, our Chihuahua/Dachshund mix, and Red act like life-long friends. I just hope Red doesn't turn on Dixie when she hits puberty. Teenage girls can be so cruel.
As the realization of Warren's words take hold, perhaps abused children across the country will start to view gays with the same contempt as they view their fathers and uncles. Pedophilia and homosexuality are both epidemics in American culture. God bless Rick Warren for connecting the two. Personally, I am joyed in anticipation for the joint-damnation of murderers/people-who-wear-white-after-Labor-Day. Or the combination of adultery and Catholics who eat pork on Friday.
Rick Warren did not choose to be hateful. Let us, the American public, not condemn or persecute him for his lifestyle. His lifestyle is not a choice. God has made each of us in his own image and endowed us each with our own special talents and destinies. Some were destined to seek love in unusual and unorthodox places. Some were destined to spread fear and devision. Surely, Rick Warren was destined for greatness.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I suppose this caption should be about the new car in the photo, but all I can think to say is how beautiful my wife looks. She seems so peaceful and serene here and not nearly as turbulent as she is in real life. Even the dog is confused.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The question of masculinity has never been an unanswered one with President Bush, though. His rough and tumble demeanor and cowboy persona have followed him from his days as head cheerleader in a Boston prep-school to his Top Gun-styled antics in the Texas Air National Guard (DUI's anyone?). So the real question should be, "How long does it take Bush to kick the ass of a man with no shoes on?"
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
The only reference that comes to mind is a willful and swift newcomer by the name of Katrina who dared to steal the headlines from President Bush and his record low approval ratings. In a show of good will, though, Katrina was sure to name drop W numerous times during the weeks to follow her arrival. One can only think if Blagojevich will follow this strategy. So don't be surprised if you wake up to find all the black people in your town stuck on a roof or bloated and floating down a river where Main St. use to be. That's just Rob Blagojevich's special way of saying "Thank you".
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The dog is less than 4 months because she's got all her baby teeth still. She also hasn't been fixed because I can't see any scar on her belly AND because Ernie, my male Rat Terrier, won't stop trying to knock boots with her. Bekki thinks she's a pit bull mix. The vet said she's a red bone coon hound mix. I don't know what the hell she is. I'll have pictures soon, though, so you the viewer can decide.
I now have one full hour of live radio under my belt (I had to remove the balled up socks to make room). So when my first "show" happens, I'll let all of my adoring fans out in cyberspace know. The station, WNCW, has a way for you to listen live from their website. Don't worry, I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
I was hesitant at first to review the evidence, but as it stacked up so weightily and so dauntingly before me I found myself with no other option than to examine myself. I love Star Wars. It's true. I am not ashamed of this. If light saber duels are wrong, I don't want to be right. This alone, though, is not enough to condemn me. Sigh. I am also a huge Twilight Zone fan. And I use to watch the original Star Trek growing up. And I watch Ghost Hunters on the SciFi Channel. I know, I know. Please keep your disapproving eyes off me. I feel enough shame as it is.
Upon this new revelation I decided to embrace my new found identity instead of hiding behind a facade of ubercool swagger and dashing good looks. A few years ago, I went to see the first Lord of the Rings movie in the theater and walked out 2 hours into it. I decided to give this "masterpiece" another chance. Round 2 came on TNT the other night. I watched it. The next night they played Return of the King, the third installment. I watched this one as well. My conclusion: Lord of the Rings still blows.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
I've used "the Dad Test" for many years to measure whether or not my actions were acceptable. The Dad Test is simple. Let's say, for instance, you're out rollerblading in the uptown district of your city while wearing a pair of aerodynamic spandex bike-shorts and you have a sudden epiphany that what you are currently engaging in might not exactly be masculine. So you use the Dad Test to determine if your fears are justified by asking yourself one simple question, "Can I picture my dad doing this?"
Growing up, my grandfather would tell me a story from time to time about a bar fight that he had during his days in the Navy. As I grew up I couldn't help but come to the conclusion that a bar fight is quite possibly the most masculine thing a young man can do. So naturally I added this to the list of things that I must do before I die, my very own Bucket List (everyone has one, right?). The fact that I lost the fight is not important. He was bigger and tougher than me. I was drunk. And he was swearing at a woman. That's all the justification I needed. Now if he had been smaller than me and I had lost, the shame would have eclipsed me for the rest of my life. It would be a cloud that I could never escape from.
Recently, though, I've thought that maybe I should raise the bar. Getting slapped with a large, wet fish (alive or dead) is perhaps the next rung on the ladder of masculinity. No, I'm not asking for someone to slap me with a fish. If the fish-slap occurs under premeditated circumstances it loses any and all validity. Perhaps I should move to a city that has an open air fish market.
I realize that during these trying times, alot of us have grown up with Full House-era Bob Saget-styled parenting. So if the Dad Test doesn't hold up for you because your father is a fairy, just call it the John Wayne Test. And if you're wondering, John Wayne doesn't have time to text you on his Blackberry because he's too busy kicking Chuck Norris' ass.
Slightly different from the studio version, this live outtake does well to showcase the band's incredible energy. If you like this track, check out all the songs from the bands second studio album Favourite Worst Nightmare as well as their website ArcticMonkeys.com.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Buzz was found in the ditch in front of Amy's house the other day with a gunshot wound to his hind leg. The vet said the .22 probably didn't kill him but made him incapable of crawling out of the wet, icy ditch where he more than likely froze to death. Some people out there think it's ok to shoot an animal for no good reason. Sadly, more people think this than you would think.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Or perhaps we could all enjoy a slasher/adventure entitled John Holmes: Assassin in the Flesh. In this game, players maneuver porn-legend John Holmes' zombie corpse around Wonderland Avenue looking for the man or woman that gave him the AIDS virus which eventually took his life. In the meantime you get to shoot it out with drug pushers and pornography protesters. It would be damn hard to argue with 13 inches of justice.
This explosion of real life horrors being made into interactive games can only be seen as the progressive strides of mankind. What with pornography and virtual homicide so easily accessible, our vices are evolving into routine and accepted events rather than shady dealings that take place in darkened alleys. Now if we could only find a way to simulate shame and regret, we would never have to leave home.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
We ran into Austin at Wal-Mart yesterday. I swear to God that his mother must've banned him from talking with us. She's done it before with the other neighbors. I've already got my cappuccino truffles, though, so I don't really care who won't talk to me. Oh, 410 pages into The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. Never mind that it's 3 months later and my wife has devoured 3 800-pagers in the process.
I've also been tied up with training down at WNCW to host their volunteer ARC Overnight program. It's a different format from what they play during the day with mostly artsy underground music. That should be fun. All that and working 50 hours a week has preoccupied me. I apologize for my cyber-absence. I promise to write more when I'm unemployed.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Bekki Martin is my wife. Yes, we are married. Her last name remains her own because she's one of those uppity new age women who burn bras and take yoga. She also thinks my last name is a bit too ethnic. That's fine, but I'm still naming our first born son Lorenzo Leonardo. . .
Austin is the little red-headed neighbor boy who lives next door. He hasn't been over at all since the whole Chocolate Fiasco. Perhaps his mom came to the realization that it's a bit weird for a young boy to want to hang out with an older man and his wife. And just because I told him he had a real pretty mouth doesn't mean I want to sleep with him.
The Family for the moment consists of our three cats Blacky, Clementine and Jane. We also have a rat terrier named Ernie and a one year old chaweenie (dauschund-chihuahua mix) named Dixie. Every year Bekki and I get closer to having children but for some reason buy another dog instead.
I'd also like to big up Movin' Down the Road as well as our silent readers BMW, The Daily Soup and Shaikens. Oh, I've got this thing tomorrow. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Prince Gomolvilas is a big-shot playwright from California. He's Asian and he's gay. There's not much more to say about him than that. After conversing with him on numerous occasions I've found him to be overly shallow and materialistic. $5 to anyone who can find a beating heart behind that cold and chiseled exterior.
Peter Varvel is more of Prince's attack dog than an actual side-kick. His humor is more sexually perverse, though he makes numerous religious references. This adds a slight paradoxical charm to an otherwise vicious and visceral man. He has a history with the theater and the performing arts, but, beware, he is an animal first and a homosexual second.
Quin Browne is the sensible side to the Prince and Peter triad of mayhem. She's a pretty captivating writer, but not actually a homosexual. To anyone reading, I'm not a homosexual either. For some reason queers just flock to my charm. I'm not sure why Quin flocks. Perhaps my charm applies to women as well, but my wife doesn't tend to think so.
Misty Harris is a Canadian journalist whose blog, Popcultini, is now seemingly defunct. Her style of riding on the glistening waves that pop culture pushes over the bloated corpses of the modern man is pure euphoria. Popcultini's passing will be felt by all.
I'd also like to big-up The Over-Thinker as well as Louise on the Left, RivaFlowz and Ziggy Za.
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Mormons vs. Homosexuals
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints believes that marriage should be between one man and as many women as possible. Homosexuals believe that Barbara Streisand is actually entertaining.
Wanda Sykes vs. California
Sykes, a strong black comedienne and now an outspoken homosexual, believes that Proposition 8 should be overturned. California, the highest populated state in the Union, now has the highest population of people who believe what Wanda Sykes does in the privacy of her own home is not only morally wrong but not nearly as funny as what she does in public.
Obama vs. Rural America
President-Elect Barack Obama believes that positive change can only be brought to America by unwavering unity and understanding. Rural white Americans believe that burning black effigies in their yards is a suitable reply.
So whether or not you side with the Mormons, a group who revere a man who claimed to have talked with God and then moved out West to practice polygamy or Wanda Sykes, a woman who reveres Barack Obama, a man who still claims that he is in no way a secret Muslim and will very shortly be moving to Washington DC to practice politics, let us ALL agree that our hidden prejudices and crippling fears are what makes us more than Republicans or Democrats, but Americans above all else.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I suppose the moral is 'Judge not lest ye be judged'. Back in Charleston we had an Atlanta Bread Company and a Yankee Candle Shop right next door to each other in this quaint little shopping area. I could never remember the name of either store so I inevitably ended up referring to both stores as Ye Old Yankee Bread Shop. I think the 'Ye' came from Ye Old Fashioned Ice Cream which was across town. I'm not quite sure.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
As infuriated as I was, I continued to read on. What distressed me most is that President Bush has completely ignored the fact that his admitted "blunders" have actually boosted our lagging economy. In the CNN interview, Bush expresses regret over the "Mission Accomplished" banner hanging aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln. Really? Do you realize how many Mission Impossible DVD's were sold after that? Plus it acted as free advertisement for Mission Impossible 3. Yes, Mission Impossible 3 was terrible, but I think we can all agree that it had more to do with Tom Cruise becoming riddled with dementia than Bush's public endorsement. Kudos to you, President Bush, for having the courage to stand behind Tom Cruise when others would not. (That's a shot at you, Spielberg!)
The interview also claims that Bush has mixed feelings concerning his remarks that Osama Bin Laden was "wanted dead or alive". You may have mixed feelings about this, Mr. Bush, but New Jersey thanks you. This allowed for Bon Jovi to steal the show during the Concert for New York City following the 9/11 terrorist attacks with their massive hits "Livin' on a Prayer" and, you guessed it, "Wanted Dead or Alive". Is it any wonder why Bon Jovi got a resurgence in popularity? So the next time you see those Stock Market numbers jump up like Michele Obama's ass in a Ludacris video, thank yourself, Mr. President. Thank yourself, because I already have.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
There are a lot of choices these days when it comes to buying a car. There are also a lot of factors that weigh into the equation such as gas prices, green technology for the environment and the economy affecting loans and interest rates. I chose color. What screams America louder than a white sedan? George Wallace? Perhaps. But what confuses me is why "environmentalists" keep pushing these hybrid cars when they are obviously not fully committed to the cause. What may the cause be? Al Gore and the Liberati may lead you to believe that they're fighting for the well-being of the planet and all of its creatures. I get the feeling it's a bit more sinister than that.
Gasoline is an American tradition. Why are liberals so intent on destroying these cornerstones of American values? Perhaps they are all secret Muslims hell-bent on eradicating freedom. Maybe their mothers stopped breast-feeding them too early. Or just maybe they hate the sweet smelling aroma of petroleum and garbage that perfumes the modern-day watering holes we call gas stations. It may smell like shit to you, but to a plumber shit smells like profit.
Why do the Liberati push hybrids so much, anyways? Because electric cars are too expensive and the average Joe Sixpack can't possibly afford one? No, it's because they want to slowly lure you away from petroleum. The liberal automotive elite understand that Americans love gasoline. So they've teamed up with the liberal scientific elite to create a car that satisfies both the environmentalist and the real American. To me that just sounds like pandering. Don't test the waters, liberal (insert noun here) elite, just jump right in and feel that cold rush of regret wash over you. Go ahead and build that two door coupe that runs on rainbows and organic milk. When you do, though, that milk better be soy. If it's not, that's just insensitive to cows and the lactose intolerant.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Indeed, we should all be fearful now that the far left has grabbed the reins of this great country of ours. The election of Barack Obama is not only historical for being the first time a black man has held the office of president, but for being the first time the office has been held by a socialist. Even though the election is over, we must not give up the good fight, fellow comrades. If we allow our capitalistic ideals to be watered-down by tap-dancing liberals, where does this slippery slope of greased hardwood floors and stumbling shuffle hop steps end?
Now that the most tap-dancing-ish liberal of all, Barack Obama, has defeated what five years in Hanoi could not, are we headed for a Russo-Vietnamese style communist system? Joe Wurzelbacher, better known by his nom de plume Joe the Plumber, described Obama as an experienced and accomplished tap-dancer and "almost as good as Sammy Davis, Jr." Can we possibly survive as a nation when we're being run by light-loafered reds who want to replace the 3-count time step with the "one step closer to socialism" followed by a gancho and enchufla?
In the words of Joe the Plumber's parents who went on welfare twice during Joe's childhood, NO! Spreading the wealth is as un-American as race-mixing or gay marriage. But to those who embrace a changing America, the newly announced engagement of Gregory Hines and Sammy Davis, Jr. probably comes as a pleasant surprise especially considering the fact that both of them are dead. Just a friendly reminder, even though they're no longer living, like Obama, they are both definitely black. So as ballrooms across America morph into time-traveling Slip-n-Slides aimed at 1950's-styled McCarthyism, we can rest easy on the knowledge that at least in the 1950's gays couldn't marry and blacks had their own water fountains.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Barack Obama claims that us small town folks cling to guns and religion. Well, if that's what he thinks then he's probably right. But what's wrong with guns and religion? We're gonna need those guns when Obamas election sparks the race war prophesied in the Bible. Lord knows the Blacks, Asians and Latinos are all packing the heat, so why do the Jews in Washington insist on unarming law-abiding white citizens? That's the question you have to ask yourself come election day. And religion? Well, if Barack Obama views religion as a crutch that simple folk use to their advantage, I have one thing to say to him: You may win this election with your smooth talk and extended vocabulary, but you won't be standing in the winner's circle when the Rapture comes.
And guns and religion aren't the only things us small town folk cling to. We have a wide variety of extra-circular activities that include but are not limited to:
-beating our wives
-making racist jokes
-cashing unemployment checks
-pawning our stuff
-pawning other people's stuff
-smoking more meth
So the next time Obama and his secret Muslim buddies want to pigeon hold us small towners as simple one-dimensional hypocrites who preach acceptance but fear change, I've got one word for him: Jealous?
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
-Renee is a woman who works for me
-Renee is crazy
-Renee believes a ghost is haunting her house
-Michael is Italian (sort of)
-Renee believes the Italians killed Jesus Christ
-Jesus Christ is responsible for countless wars and billions of lost lives
-Lives are something only appreciated in theory by Republicans (ie Abortion of the Unborn vs Abortion of the Born thru War and the Death Penalty)
-Renee is crazy (wait, did I say that already?)
In case you're wondering, she did end up calling that Roman Catholic priest. Apparently he kept referring to her as "baby". This led her to believe that it was an impostor on the other end of the line. Maybe she dialed the wrong number? Maybe she imagined the whole thing during a schizophrenic episode? Those would be logical answers. The only answer Renee could muster up was that it was the spirit communicating with her through an unrelated human medium.
To briefly sum up these events:
-Renee is crazy
-Renee's sister hung herself
-Renee's sister hung herself exactly three years ago to the day
-The anniversary of her sister's suicide has now passed
-Renee is not crazy any longer
-Well. . . I guess 'less crazy' would be a better way to describe Renee.
"My brother would kill me if he found out I got a priest comin' over to bless my house". "Why?" I asked, "He doesn't believe in ghosts?" "No. He just doesn't have anything to do with those Roman Catholics".
Despite her brother, Moses, having killed someone, I knew that he considered himself a very religious man. "Hating Catholics isn't very Christian-like, you know".
"Oh, he doesn't hate Catholics. Just the ROMAN Catholics. They're the ones that killed Jesus. Not the Jews. The Romans".
I was perplexed as how to approach this argument but gave it my best shot. "You do understand that the Roman Catholic Church is just a denomination of Christianity, right? The Romans don't actually exist as a people any longer". "Oh, yes they do!" "You mean the Italians?" "That's right!"
I paused. "Renee, you do realize that I'm Italian, don't you?" I wanted to scream Can't you see it on my face!?! The olive skin! The Mediterranean hook-nose! The dark, coarse hair! The god-like beauty! She looked at me puzzled. "No you're not". I looked down at my ID badge, "Michael Anthony DeAn- err, I mean- Valentino! If my name had legs it would walk to Brooklyn and open its own pizza place".
I couldn't convince Renee that ghosts weren't real, but I think I did manage to convince her that I was indeed Italian. She left work that day swearing to get in contact with the priest despite what her brother on the hill thought. It doesn't bother me that Renee hates Italians, but I helped slay Jesus? No, Mel Gibson did that.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
"My daughter hears it, too! Everyone that comes over to my house hears it! It sounds like Big Foot's walkin upstairs!" I found it a little incredulous that she referenced a mythical man/beast to help plead her case, but continued to follow her logic for the sheer delight of it. "I had all my neighbors come over and search the upstairs and none of 'em could find nothin! Then when they'd come back downstairs you could hear it. It was like Big Foot, I tell you. Big Foot".
I then proceeded to explain to her how our Biometric Time Clock is actually what the Bible references as the 'Mark of the Beast' and randomly hummed the refrain from John Carpenter's Halloween. This frightened her to the point of painting giant crosses in the windows of her home. I found all of it amusing. Her landlord, however, might not share my sense of humor.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Speaking of black folk, I had my first black reader a few days ago. Riva, you must understand that your endorsement gives me free reign to expand on all of the horribly racist things I've said over the past few months. Like this: Remember when John McCain said that he didn't hate all Asians, just the "gooks" who tortured him? And, yes, he did use that word. Well, he has revisited that issue by declaring "I don't hate all niggers, just that good looking one who's gonna steal my job". When a reporter asked the follow up question, "Really?", McCain responded with, "Oh, yeah, and the 40 million other niggers who live in America".
That's pretty intense stuff. I do have to state that I am in strong disagreeance with him. Good thing I bought that gun rack to keep the shotguns handy. No, I don't hunt. No, I'm not preparing for a race war. I just thought it would be nice to have them displayed. It's a daily reminder for me to kill myself if the McCain ticket wins.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I left work last night around 1am and decided to drive south into Landrum, SC. The small town of Landrum is only five minutes from the North Carolina border and considered by many to be worth the effort to avoid NC's $.17 sales tax for gasoline. On the trip back, however, I found myself stranded on the side of I-26 after my car sputtered to a stop. The five mile walk back to town was quiet and black, interrupted only by the occasional big-rig pushing 10 tons of cold air onto my back and my sporadic singing of The Lost Highway by Hank Williams, Sr.
The cars that made a point to avoid me by switching lanes probably upset me more than the 18-wheelers barreling down the shoulder five feet to my left. I figure that there was always a chance that the 18-wheelers hadn't seen me. The cars that actually swerved into the far left lane had no such excuse. I should hold that judgment for myself, though. I don't pick up hitchhikers, either. At one point I glanced to my right to see a herd of deer looking curiously in my direction. I've never before stood so close to a wild herd of animals. Possibly they heard me butchering away at the Hank Williams' classic and decided to investigate the strange noise. Unlike Mr. Roosevelt, though, I allowed them to turn and gallop hurriedly into the night.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Now we as consumers won't have to shuffle through the filler crap that artists put on records and can go straight to the top ten hits we yearn for. This, of course, removes one more hurdle for the corporate executives that are only in it for the quick buck. Who cares if it limits artistic expression? I think that a room full of suits with business degrees are far more qualified to tell me what I should listen to than my own cognitive reasoning abilities. So analyze that market trend data, set up your target demographic and create me a wonderful melody that speaks to my inner consumer and plays on my own narcissistic nature by suggestively selling me on who I think I am as a person.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Bekki and I watched Mysterious Skin this past Monday. If anyone is wondering, she picked it out. I probably would have picked out something a tad more masculine like Enter the Dragon or Dirty Harry- which, by the way, I finally got to see Tuesday night in my hotel room in Charlotte. The first half left me shaking my head at what I thought would be just another predictable cop movie, but then the vigilante-style butt-stomping pinned me to the wall as Clint Eastwood pounded on the back door of the crooked judicial system.
Dirty Harry is what America needs right now. So while those Prop 8 fags out in California petition you to pound on their back doors, remember that this country was forged by the hard work and dedication of real men like John McCain. The debate last night left no doubt in my mind that McCain has the spunk and grit to lead this country out of the Hell that he voted us into. So if you enjoy films about children fisting old guys with moustaches then vote for Barrack Obama. But if you enjoy a good, old-fashioned American butt-stomping movie then vote for John 'the Maverick' McCain. Because although McCain endured horrible acts of brutality as a POW in Hanoi, I'm sure his mind is scarred in a completely different way than the boys in Mysterious Skin. No, the only thing that clouds John McCain's judgment is a heavy fog of raging patriotism.
Monday, October 13, 2008
I read another two chapters. That makes it what, 300 pages in two months? Yeah, that's not very impressive. But the important thing is that I AM still reading, albeit very sporadically. Oh, I am taking my first business trip Tuesday. I'll be gone to Charlotte Tuesday and Wednesday. The business trip, like my reading progress, is not very impressive. So if anyone is in Charlotte Tuesday night, the strippers and coke will be in my room.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Williams has a history of right wing, gun toting politics, but I was still hopeful that maybe time had changed him. Johnny Cash was a life-long member of the Republican Party until he came to his senses in old age. Merle Haggard repented for a life spent in the conservative trenches and spoke out against George W. Bush and the current administration. And Willie Nelson-well, Willie was always pretty much a liberal nut-job. But the point is that when men age they lose testosterone and in return gain a heaping dose of common sense. Despite everything Williams has said and done in the past, I was hoping against hope that his testicles had finally shrunken in circumference. Maybe by 2012 his balls will be smaller than mine.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
God Bless John McCain for having the decency to let that "spear chucker" speak. I know that there are alot of folks who are going to call McCain a "liberal" for talking with blacks, but I think the word they're really looking for would be 'Maverick'.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
I looked for Austin on my way home from work today. I know that little bastard's ducking me. I can feel it. Normally he's playing outside after school, but today he was nowhere to be seen. I think his mom's tipping him off when she sees my car coming. Oh, and at the zoo I saw a polar bear. He seemed to be doing just fine, Mr. Gore. And, Austin, when I can finally afford to buy that Bobcat from the zoo, watch your tail.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
I finally watched An Inconvenient Truth last night and was astonished to learn the extent Al Gore will go in order to remain in the spotlight. You lost the election, Gore. Why don't you go grow a beard or something? I am now fully convinced that "global warming" is nothing but a bunch of liberal Jews complaining that it's too hot outside. What are they whining about, don't they all eventually move down to Florida, anyway? Plus, everyone knows that polar bears are on the endangered species list and if you can't hunt them, who cares if they drown?
Bekki and I ran into Austin, today. He was selling mail-order chocolate a few weeks back for his school. Now a few weeks later I'm $9 in the hole with still no chocolate to speak of. I asked him what the deal was and he said "I don't know. It must have got lost in transit!" That lying little s.o.b. Now I've got to call his school and find out when the chocolate got mailed out so I can officially catch him in a lie. I figure his mom spent my $9 on two packs of cigarettes and a can of soda down at the gas station, which STILL doesn't have gas, thank you! Oh, nice Smart car, Varvel. What's the mpg on that thing? And, yeah, who's that hot girl standing next to it?
And since all the women want to argue with me about child birth and images of women in the media AND since Prince gave me such a great jumping block for a topic I've been wanting to rant on for some time, here it is: Circumcision is wrong! It serves no medical purpose whatsoever! Your baby is not a handbag with a strap that's too long or a pair of pants that needs to be hemmed up. I, like Sarah Palin, am pro-choice. I think the abortion decision should be left to the woman and her rapist, but once that child is born (this is for Rabbi's, pedophiles and parents everywhere) keep your hands off your child's dick!
Monday, October 6, 2008
And even with breast reduction surgery, Queenie, you'll always be my BBW.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
As I mentioned earlier, Bekki and I recently got a new DVD player after our cat, Clementine, broke the old one. After watching Milo and Otis being thrown off of cliffs, we decided to sign up for Netflix in order to receive a better selection than our local Wal-Mart has to offer. The first viewing was The Business of Being Born, a 2008 documentary directed by Abby Epstein and produced by Ricki Lake.
Ricki Lake was not my first choice of talk-show host to see naked and giving birth in a bathtub (Queen Latifah, anyone?), but I have to admit that it was probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It was a ballet of nature and humanity that held you truly riveted. To see that little rascal (no, not Buckwheat) slide out of Ricki Lake's cooter into the water was a shock to the system and one of those reaffirmations you sometimes have that life is truly beautiful. Words fall short in describing this spectacle.
If there are any expecting mothers reading this out there in blog-country, watch this film! Remember that you have options about your own body, no matter what Sarah Palin thinks.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
I took Dirt, my 20+ year old cat, to the vet today. He was a trooper as always. No cat carrier for this guy. He sat on my lap completely calm the whole time. He did, however, throw a major temper tantrum in the office. It is hard to be angry with him, considering some big black dude was pushing a cold thermometer up his boonky. I know some cats that might find this exhilarating, but not Dirt. I got him some pills for a respiratory bug that he's got and, hopefully, all is well.
How does this tie in to my use of biblical or 'old, crotchety man' swears? If I refused myself the right to use these words, how would I talk about my blog? I'd probably have to rename it and everyone knows that I'm a stickler for tradition. What would I scream out when I stubbed my toe? And, of course, I'd have to toss out all of Dirts Wu-Tang records and never mention his namesake, Old Dirty Bastard, again. Forget that stuff!
Monday, September 29, 2008
My wife swears I'm a nice guy. That's why I kick my dogs just to prove I'm hardcore. Don't blame me, though, it's in my nature.
The film shows Milo the cat jumping (being thrown) off a cliff into the ocean, fighting a black bear and many other dangerous and harrowing stunts. But the sickest thing occurs later in the film. The director tries to construct a 'love story' out of this blatant 'buddy film' and it falls short in so many ways. Milo totally ditches Otis for a hot piece of cat tail. Then Otis finds some poon as well. Neither one of them gets married, mind you. But I let this slide. Until. . .
. . . Until they show closeups of the cat and the dog giving birth! Not fake Hollywood stuff, but real birth. The cat eats off the sack from the kittens and everything! All of you Republican men who dream of sucking the retarded afterbirth from Sarah Palin's pussy lips need to see this movie. It might turn you queer.
When the credits start rolling, I see all these Asian names. I know of Prince Gomolvilas , so that accounts for one Asian in California, but who the hell are all these other people? So I Wikipedia the film and find that it's a Tokyo release, which would explain all the weird shit.
I, for one, agree with the racist statements of John McCain and denounce this film as well as anything else done by those "squint-eyed sons of bitches"! I also support McCain's right to call his wife a cunt . I'm not afraid to say it. Don't believe me? Then, here: John McCain's wife is a cunt.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
ring ring ring
Prince: Hey, Mike. It's me, Prince!
Mike: Oh, hey buddy! It's nice to hear from you! What do I owe the pleasure of this call?
Prince: I was just calling to check in, see how things are going with you.
Mike: I appreciate that. Good, good. The cream you suggested work brilliantly. The pain is almost gone.
Prince: That's good. What can I say? This beat-up Chevy's been around the block a few times, if you know what I mean.
Mike: (uncomfortable chuckle) Yeah, I think I do, Prince. So, anyways, is your sister still engaged to old what's-his-face?
Prince: Yes, and I wouldn't care that she devotes her life to some stranger she barely knows if it weren't for the possibility that she discovers that they aren't compatible and divorce.
Mike: I wouldn't want my sister to go through that type of heartache, either.
Prince: Fuck heartache. I just don't want her to get re-married. One wedding is enough to attend. I'm not sitting through another. If Brad Pitt can't get married because gays can't get married, then she shouldn't get married.
Mike: Well said.
Prince: She needs to respect Brad Pitt's premeditated decision to use one group's lack of civil liberties to disguise his own fear of commitment.
Mike: Not all weddings are bad, though. Mine was lovely. It was a Spring wedding, small, outside. . .
Prince: Shut the fuck up.
Mike: Or if it's a large wedding, maybe it'll be like the opening scene of the Godfather. Remember?
Prince: Yeah. That was a pretty fun looking wedding. The best part was when the curly-haired guy. . .
Prince: Yeah, Sonny. When he was fucking the bride in that room. That was crazy!
Mike: That wasn't the bride. It was a bridesmaid he was screwin'.
Prince: No, it wasn't! It was the bride!
Mike: Prince, the bride was Sonny's sister. He was fuckin' his sister?
Prince: (awkward silence) Well, that certainly changes the plot significantly.
Mike: Sorry to cut this short, but I think I have to reapply some of my cream. It's starting to puss again.
Prince: Alright. Bye, BFF.
Mike: Bye, you.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
How old are you, McCain?
McCain needs to stop comparing himself to Theodore Roosevelt. If Teddy wanted to light a fart on fire, McCain wouldn't be worthy enough to hold a candle to his buttcheeks. Roosevelt had more integrity and determination concerning himself and his country than John McCain could ever wish for. Also, Teddy was one of the few presidents who was always faithful to his wife. John, didn't you cheat on your- wait, you're married to- and there was a stripper-?
If anyone has the Daily Show clip from 9/25 about the 2 Roosevelts I would love for you to shimmy it over this away. Oh, yeah, and I just devoured another chapter , bitches!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Yes, she somewhat resembles the ever captivating Tina Fey. But does that entitle her to MILF status? Hardly. I don't care how many dicks she sucked to be voted into office, her fake tan and multiple orgasms are no match for the wit and candor of an intellectual like Fey. Plus there is nothing sexy about shooting stray dogs from a helicopter. Is there? Not unless that dog's wearing lipstick.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The concept is really quite simple: Group A rescues Group B from Group C. Then relocate GroupB to a holy land that they haven't inhabited in 3,000 years. Totally ignore the fact that Group D already live there, and if they bitch, kill them. Or better yet, play on their religious zealousness and constantly refer to them as "evil". That's always a nice way to pass the time. Wait a few years and become friends with Group C and use their military weight to crush the defiance of Group D. Then wait until Group B and Group D are too busy killing each other to notice you steal all of their oil. And who will reap the benefits of this global theft?
Probably Larry King. I just don't trust that bastard. Meanwhile, I'm waiting in line for an hour to pay over $4 a gallon for gas. I wish I had a camera with me last night. They had police officers directing a clusterfuck of 100+ cars at the gas station. But even a photograph wouldn't have caught the magic of an SUV full of black women yelling 'muhfucka' at me for supposedly cutting them off. Then I flip to the local news to see that regional auto part stores are selling out of tubing and lockable gas caps at breakneck speed. 1/3 are syphoning gas from the next 1/3 while the final 1/3 are apparently smart enough to buy lockable gas caps to put on their cars. What third do I belong to? None. I'm too busy flipping back to the Larry King interview and ranting about
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Man 1: Look at those two over there.
Man 2: Over there?
Man 1: Yeah, over there. Them two right across the street, there.
Man 2: Yeah, I see them.
Man 1: Of course you see 'em. They're right in front of our fuckin' faces. Whaddya mean, 'you see em'
Man 2: I just said I see them. What else do you want? Eh? What about 'em?
Man 1: What about 'em? I just ask you if you see 'em and you say 'yeah'. Now you gotta ask me 'what about em'? Obviously you weren't really lookin'. If you see 'em like I see 'em you'd know exactly what the fuck I'm talkin' about.
Man 2: What then?
Man 1: Look at 'em! They're fuckin' disgusting! He's sittin' there lookin into her eyes all attentively. It makes me fuckin' sick! She was probably sittin' at home shavin' her box when she got the funny idea to call up Mr. Appleseed. She's all like, 'Hey, Johnny I was thinkin' we could go out to lunch and have something to eat. It'll be like a date but with less strings attached because it's not dinner'!
Man 2: What does dinner have to do with it?
Man 1: Dinner is everything! Dinner is romance. Dinner is deep conversations between shallow people. And most importantly, dinner is fuckin'. Guaranteed. But lunch? Lunch is pretty meaningless, too. It's just people too bored with their fuckin' lives to think of anything intelligent to do. So instead of reading a book or writing the great American novel, they go to Red Lobster and order the sampler platter. After they've milked that for a good hour and a half they go home to fuck. And if the broad wants some alone time? She goes in the bathroom and takes a shit. That, or shave her box. Eating, fucking and shitting. That's what those two right there boil down to.
Man 2: (sighs) So, you wanna leave?
Man 1: Hell no. Wave the waitress down, I'm fuckin' starved!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
But the best possible reason could be that I got my contacts in the mail today from 1-800-Contacts and I was so relieved to have my glasses off my face that I went a bit crazy during the whole shedding process.
Bekki's gonna kick my ass when she gets home from work.
Maybe that's because dogs lack the reasoning skills that (some) people have!
I met Bekki in the yard this morning to see her cradling a very scared little pooch that was covered in feces. We bathed her (twice) to get the poop from her neck and face. I washed her collar which was covered in poop and wiped the rabies tag clean so we could find a number to call. Bekki soon found out the dog's name (Sadie Mae) and the location of her home (2 blocks from the highway). Sadie Mae soon found a budding friendship with another Southern belle as Dixie made her feel more than welcome to play in the backyard. Ernie, who had to be locked in the computer room, was less welcoming.
Her spotted skin was very apparent, especially when we bathed her. This, coupled with her coloring and face, led us to believe that she is a Jack Russel mix. Her body screams either Dauschund or Basset Hound. A weird combination, I know. After the cat I had to bury a few weeks ago and the German Shepard that ran into the woods off of Highway 70, it was nice to be able to have a successful rescue.
#13 The wife and I finally got to see There Will Be Blood last night. I've been itching to see it for a while and wasn't disappointed. Daniel Day-Lewis was just as phenomenal as he always is. The guy that played Eli was pretty stunning, too. This film brought us back to a conversation we had about another movie we recently saw, Shutter. Joshua Jackson is by no means anywhere close to Daniel Day-Lewis (in the wedding scene he has stubble! who doesn't shave on their wedding day?), but the difference that was the most interesting was the length to which each director went to explain their plot. At the end of Shutter, the director gives you a five minute recap to explain the "twist" as if you're a complete idiot. There Will Be Blood, on the other hand, left us scratching our heads at various occurrences. This leads me to my point. The brilliance of any film (or any other artwork for that matter) is not in any one performance, but in how intelligent the director perceives the audience to be.
The title of this blog is a Bob Dylan reference, just in case that was lost to anyone.