Dia de los Muertos Part III

Just to quickly recap, I've put the highlights in bullet form:

-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.
-Happy Halloween!

Dia de los Muertos Part II

-OR-

Il Diavolo Siciliano

"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.

Dia de los Muertos Part I

"I got a ghost in my house! I swear to God I do!" That was the impassioned ranting of a co-worker named Renee. Citing her past tendencies to create her own realities and truths, I temporarily ignored her. But it didn't stop.

"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.

Negro, Please

I bought a gun rack at an antique shop today. Before that I spent a few hours down at WNCW learning the ropes to become a volunteer DJ. In a few weeks I'll get to man the ship, albeit, when most people are fast asleep (12am-4am EST). I've been warned not to play anything too controversial. So I suppose Suicidal Thoughts by Biggie Smalls is out of the question.

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.

The Lost Highway

As I looked up to the big blue moon hanging low overhead I couldn't help but think of Teddy Roosevelt walking for days on end in the Dakota Territory hunting deer and bison. For my own fleeting feelings of masculinity I was glad that I was unaccompanied by the modern conveniences of man such as a cellphone or OnStar. Five miles down the road my legs and feet were in strong disagreeance with my pride.

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.

The Revolution Will Not Be Downloaded

In an age of political sound bytes and speed dating, isn't it about time that our art be dumbed down as well? Bekki and I descended from our little hilltop village last week and ventured into the big city. I was interested in purchasing a CD and thought that Best Buy might be the only place around that might have it. Remember when Blockbuster Video slowly let their VHS collection fade away? Well, that's exactly what Best Buy and every other store are doing with their CD collections. Finally we can usher in the age of the One Hit Wonder.

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.

Fists of Fury

Has anyone else seen or even heard of the indie film Mysterious Skin? If you would prefer spending an hour and a half of your life feeling as uncomfortable as possible then this is the movie for you (just don't watch it with your parents or, Heaven forbid, your children). It deals with pedophilia, homosexuality and aliens. Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays the lead role as an ex-child abuse victim who has turned to a life of homosexual prostitution. Brady Corbet plays opposite Gordon-Levitt. His character is also molested as a child, but opts out of promiscuity in favor of becoming an asexual retard. This only confirms my belief that all homosexuals are either the victim of a sex crime or mentally retarded.

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.

Top of the Pops

This is not their best song, but probably their most POPish. Plus the video is pretty nice.


And for those who see the glass as half full:

This Post is Very Uninteresting

I got home late from work last night. Normally I throw open the car door and am greeted by a slight breeze of honeysuckle. Tonight it smelled like butthole. The city tore up half the street about a block away. Some poor sucker was still waste deep in the sewage system when I went to bed. The whole place just smelled like butthole. Poor guy.

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.

Hank Jr. Still Has Large Testicles

Oh, Hank, say it ain't so. I was watching CNN the other night and was horrified to hear that Hank Williams Jr. is in support of John McCain. Can this be so? Not fully trusting CNN's credentials, I rushed to the internet for a more reliable source- some random blog. Yes, it's true. Bocephus will be playing at upcoming John McCain rallies.

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.

Maverick McCain Lets the Colored Folk Speak

Everyone's over-exaggerating what John McCain said the other night during the debate. So what if he referred to Barrack Obama as "that one"? It's alot better than some of the things he called Obama during the rehearsal including "my dark-skinned opponent", "that colored fella" and, of course, "that stupid nigger". So what's worse, people? Give McCain a little credit. It's not everyday that a Republican is reduced to debating "the help" on national television.

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'.

Asheboro Zoo

The other day, Bekki and I went to the Asheboro Zoo with our good friends from Charleston, Amanda and Lisa. It was a blast. Amanda is from Asheboro so she got to show us around a little bit. She drives like a maniac, but that's ok. The zoo was mad funky. I wanted to bring the bobcats home with us. Amanda took a bunch of pictures with her digital camera. I had to get all old-school with the disposable. I'm sure to post more when she emails them to me, including a picture of me performing fellatio on a bison. Word? Word. So stay tuned.

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.

Calamari

-Or-

What Foreskin Would Look Like If You Deep-Fried It

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!

Queen Latifah is a Maverick

Thanks to a certain Homosexual for posting the SNL clip parodying the VP debate. I was attending a late night book burning down here in Dixie and missed last Saturday's episode. I know it's somewhat taboo for a white man to be with a colored woman, but does anyone else think Queen Latifah is all that and a bag of chips? I watched every season of Living Single growing up and loved her short-lived talk-show. I still haven't seen Set It Off or any of her lesser films (save Beauty Shop), but I think I've seen enough of her to consider myself a fan. I wonder if she has a fan club.

And even with breast reduction surgery, Queenie, you'll always be my BBW.

the business of being born

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.

Re: Bad Sum Bitch

This post is in response to the worst blog post I have ever written, Bad Sum Bitch. The post was horrible not only for its subject matter but for its style as well. It is as childishly rudimentary as it is unimaginative. I would also like to recant the statements made concerning vulgarity and adopt my previous held philosophy that writers use swear words as a cop-out for more descriptive adjectives (nouns are still fun!). I still find it acceptable, though, to use biblical swears such as hell, damn and bastard. Here's why:

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!