Opening Notes

The Cat Rants are meant for entertainment purposes only. They are not designed to give you a warm and loving glow because of how bad you feel you were treated by your parents, other family members, or the people that you went to school with. These are mearly things that pop into d.cat chopra's head at any given time. They are not designed to help you define your belief system.

d.cat chopra enjoys your comments and will respond most of the time but he isn't interested in getting into long involved discussions about why you don't agree with him. These are rants. They are not cocktail conversations. Take them as they are intended and then go interact with those who think the same way that you do or go seek professional help in dealing with your insistence that everything that you encounter must fit in with your peer group's world view (or how invalid things are if they don't fit in with same).

Art isn't yours.

It just exists.

Thank you.



If you'd care to know more about me go here:

http://www.angelfire.com/ca5/drunkenhousecat/

Psych 102

i love people who don't believe in psychology
like pavlov was a wanker or something
damn
those fuckers really make me laugh...

Make It A Double!

sometimes
it's kinda like
i can only be honest if i'm drunk
and
spilling poetry
(if i may be so bold)
straight out of my guts
straight from my heart
straight from my hand
to these pixels
no brain in the way
sloppy and cryptic feelings
pooled like the spillage around a shot glass
if you could drag your finger through them
you could draw liquid pictures
and
if you waited long enough
watch them evaporate
sucked into the air like a whisper
invisible vapor
the ravings of a guy who's only slightly mad
just insane enough to try and capture clouds
but sane enough to sometimes set them free
before his fingers freeze
in some lame ass claw shape
a superhero of sorts
but only if you squint
in just the right way

Kicked In The Butt By Love

Look...

I've been in love before. Lots of times. I'm talkin' real love here, sports fans. Talkin' The Big L, Baby! Heart of my heart and all of that. Soulmate City. The kind of love where you say, "Damn the potatoes! Full speed ahead! I fucking love you, you hot mamma you!" and you don't really care all that much how the object of your desire reacts. You only know that if you don't say it loud and proud your chest may very well explode what with trying to contain the big ass wonder and joy that your poor throbbing soul is pumping into your poor throbbing head (or something like that). Hey, Sparky! We're talkin' L-O-V-E here!

Then we have crushes.

I don't know about you but it seems like most of the women I end up with crushes on are just too damn young. Of course we have to factor in my age in order to get a clear view of what I'm talking about. I'm fifty-one, man. At this point in my life Drew Barrymore is too damn young. Sure, it's a pisser but what am I gonna do about it? Women my age are hanging out in malls riding wheelchairs, for Christ's sake! Trust me on this, I know of what I speak! And, Hey! While we're dwelling on women who are too damn young and people who hang out in malls let me tell you a little story. I promise it won't hurt and you just might learn something you can use later in life...

Back in 1988 I worked in a store in the Beverly Center, a slightly famous upscale mall located here in Los Angeles. All in all it was a pretty cool gig. We had songs on tape and customers would come in, sing along, and leave with a tape of themselves butchering the fuck out of a Beatles tune or whatever. It was fun most of the time and somehow our store became a sort of a hangout for both pre and early teenaged girls! Wanna talk about job stress? Try being a red, white, and blue blooded American guy in his early thirties who has killer teenage babettes in real tight clothes asking if you'd like to be their daddy! Man, that's stress in Cinerama and six track Dolby stereo! I'd go home at night, deal with myself for about twenty minutes, sleep, and wake up, shave my palms, and head off for work.

But enough about me...

One of the chicklets that became a regular fixture was a thirteen-year-old actress/model named Angora. You may have heard of her. Maybe not.

She was beautiful, gang, I shit you not! A dollface with a side salad! It was as if the word "dollface" was created just for her. She dressed great, looked great, smelled great. Just fucking great, daddy-o! She made me insane with all sorts of nasty thoughts that I really don't think I have to explain right here and now. Does the name Humbert ring a bell? I mean, Kee-Reist! This girl was on my Christmas wish list for sure!

But enough about me...

These kids would hang out in the mall after school and on weekends. As the assistant manager I was allowed to give our services away to anyone I liked at any time o' day and there were a couple of these girls that I'd let do pretty much anything they wanted. It was an honor and a thrill just to see them smile. It got to the point where it almost seemed like the primary focus of my job was making people smile and if they were cute and female so much the better.

Everything else was just grunt work, psychic payment in order to get the chance to do the smilework I felt I was born to do. I loved it! Their eyes would light up and their fresh, painfully pretty faces would sparkle like a pinball machine. At times I felt like a really small god, "Your wish is granted, my child! Go forth and have a bitchin' day!" It was cool.

Anywayz...

One day Angora came into the store and asked if she could do a song for free. I was bored that day and felt a little snotty. "Nope!" I said, "What do you think this is? Your house?"

"Oh, please?" she asked, "Please, please, please, please, please?"

"Nope." I snapped, "No way."

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek, whispering soft and low in my ear, "Pleeeaaassseee?'

BLAMMO!

At that exact moment I fell in love with her. She was beautiful, playful, young, warm, firm, slightly weird, and one hell of a cheek kisser.

"Well..." I pleaded, "If I give you a free song will you marry me?" Hey! I was serious, man.

"I can't." she said.

"Why not?"

"Because," she replied, "You're just too fucking old!"

WHAMMO!

It hit me like a wet brick. What the fuck was I thinking? I was asking a thirteen-year-old girl to marry me! She was so underage it was insane. Besides I was already in love with a twenty-three-year old woman that worked in a store across the way from ours. Like I was gonna throw all of that away and go spend a few years getting raped in prison for a thirteen-year-old girl? Geeze! Was I nuts? It was time for me to get a king-sized grip and I'd best do it on the double!

I laughed it off, gave her a free song, and tried to act casual about it. I gotta tell you though, it hurt me bad. I fell in and out of love in less than a minute. Ouch! It was like I had a mini heart attack or something. What the hell? Sure, our love would never happen but at least I had a grip.

Ah, well...

But

...the crush remained.

She'd come into the store now and then and ask for a free song. I'd say, "No way, baby." like I was some big time hard ass and she'd beg and plead and gaze warmly into my eyes. Then I'd give in and she'd hug me and thank me and kiss my cheek. That was as far as it went. Ever. It was very bittersweet.

I had made myself a promise: I'd never make a big deal out of it again. I was determined to carry my crush like a grown up (or at least carry it as close as I could to being a grown up) and never let Milla know that in a small way she would always own a piece of my heart (at least I wouldn't tell her until she became eighteen). Sure it was a big fat shoulder-crushing bummer but I learned something important along the way.

Love is amazing. It can make you kill dragons and sing show tunes from rooftops but crushes are more private things that you carry deep in your heart. Love can move mountains and cause countries to go to war but only a crush can make a thirty two-year-old guy punch a lamp across a living room. They are the kind of thing you wear deep inside your soul because if you spill the beans you might get your heart broken. Or your face. Or maybe your ass will end up in jail. Or in the ground. Or all of the above. C'mon! Who needs that shit?

Love and crushes are both life lessons and both are wonderful. The downside is that you never know how wonderful until years later.

CUT TO:

Years later.

Sometimes I remember all of this.

Wanna talk about bittersweet?

Man, I'm the poster boy for bittersweet!

But enough about me...

I Might Have Done This Before

I sit in this room
And I'm bored
And lonely
I feel unloved part of the time
Not always
But from time to time
It beats me down
And I drink so I don't think
It's kind of like lighting a match in the dark
But I go too far
From time to time
And the match burns my finger
And I curse the darkness
And I howl at the moon
It don't mean nothing
It's just the venting "wherewolf"
Raising his stupid head
The id punching the super ego
With a silver fist
I'm a genius
I'm an artiste
And I'm insane
I'm not violent
I mean no harm
I'm just a pain in the ass
I'm nothing to fear
But
From time to time
I am something to ignore

The Old Mike Piece

the best of mike myers was on snl a few weeks ago. whatever happened to that guy? he used to be fucking funny.

any movie that dares to be called "goldmember", as if that's a great joke is not the kind of movie i have the slightest interest is seeing. he says the word "mole" about a hundred times and some lameass pop chick is a fake pam greer?

fuck fucking that.

"goldmember", huh?

i guess the title "prickfinger" was already taken. how about "reallybigpussy"? "moonkisser"? "dr. no penis"? how about "from russia with a glove"? ooh! i got it! "thunderballs"! pretty funny, huh? "thunderballs"? it's just like "thunderball" only when you add an "s" on the end 12 year olds will giggle. man! i love comedy! where's my check?

geeze...

i can't believe anyone even cares about that movie.

Ripping Off Eddie Grant

"Baltic Avenue"

We're sitting 'round on a Sunday
And we ain't got nothing to do
Somebody pulls down a board game
And decide that they'll be the shoe

"Oh, yeah!"

CHORUS:
We gonna roll and move past Baltic Avenue
And then pick up a Chance card
We gonna roll and move past Baltic Avenue
And then pick up a Chance card

I take the top hat and place it
On the square that we all call Home
I toss the dice and get doubles
So again my turn gets to go

"Oh, boy!"

CHORUS

Your roll...
Let's go...
Your roll...
Let's go...

CHORUS

I got a nine and I'm landing
On the space where parking is free
Race car just bought Marvin Gardens
And screwed up my Monopoly

"Oh, no!"

CHORUS

Monopoly...
Monopoly ...
Going to jail...
Can't afford the bail...

CHORUS

Play it in the daytime
Play it in the night ...

Flipping

whenever i flip through a magazine and i hit on a cd or dvd ad i always count off the ones i want. i have always done this, even back when it was an ad for an lp club.

'round about high school whenever i changed TV stations i have always counted off the chicks i want to sleep with.

after the count is done i forget about it.

i swear i've never noticed this before.

DAMN!

I'M FUCKING CRAZY!!!

I'm Actually This Crazy

"The First Animated Church (of everything) or F.A.C.(e.)"

1)

It's my opinion that every holy book or idea can be summed up in two simple words: "Be Cool" (think about it). As this is the case I don't really feel that anyone needs to know anything else. All one has to do is remember to "Be Cool". This is the be all and end all of "The Church".

2)

There are no dues to pay, no humans that you have to persecute, and I am not a boss or leader. I'm just the asshole who thought of this one night while rather stoned. There is also nothing else that you have to read or study, what is in your eyes right now is all you need. You also only have to be as cool as you are capable of. Just do what you can. That is all anyone CAN do, right?

3)

The abbreviation of the church's title is pronounced "fay-saw", extremely bad French for the word "face".

4)

Seeing as to how every church should have a logo here's the one I came up with: the two words "Be Cool". It should be on a T-shirt, printed upside down. So that, if you are in a tense or volatile situation and you find yourself confused, all you have to do is look down and read your shirt. To my mind the letters should be in a simple white font on a black shirt but you are free to use whatever style or colors you'd like.

5)

Making fun of somebody else's shirt is fucked up and, therefore "Not Cool" (maybe they don't have a lot of money). If someone copyrights this idea and sells shirts for profit they are fucked up and "Not Cool".

6)

If you'd rather you could wear a button that says "Be Cool" upside down and refer to that. Profits made on these would be pretty fucked up as well.

7)

Then again...you don't really have to do anything.

8)

Or give a flying fuck about what you have just read.

9)

Do whatever you think is cool. Just as long as it is really what is in your heart.

10)

That's all there is to it.

In Dreams

i had a dream where i was fighting molemen with the fantastic four. at one point ben was cornered and really started kicking ass. he yelled. 'it's clobberin' time, bitches!' and i woke up laughing. i love when i wake up laughing.

The Old Thanksgiving Piece

what am i thankful for?

i guess that my country hasn't locked me up in some kind of camp so they can shut me up. that i can rant and rave like the unsane asshole that i am and post those ravings on the net. that there are actually people that bother reading my pointless shit. that i do feel love most of the time even though that whole late sixties/early seventies thing that i believed in more than anything ever died in fucking wimp ass flames as my co-people sold out for big fucking cars and shit like vh1 and american idol. that no matter what happens someone, somewhere, at sometime will raise his or her head and say 'fuck this shit! frank zappa was amazing!'. that at some point the american spirt will win out even though there is really no such thing right now. that freedom is just another word for kiss my ass, you stupid fucking drone.

i love this country.

i'm just really fucking pissed of at what has happened to it

My Peace Prize

oh, man!

i just had a great idea!

seriously!

check this shit out
i mean

i should get a nobel peace prize offa this motherfucker
check it out
famous people should do public service announcements
wherein they say
"Hi! I famous and you know what? I masturbate. You should too!"

i bet there'd be a lot less suicide
and people joining cults
and drug users
and murder
and war

yeah

i rule

i know

i know

i fucking know...

Paper

i was out of toilet paper last night. i hate that. yeah, who doesn't, right? so i'm stuck, sitting there and i figure, what the hell? so i'm ripping up the constitution, cuz it's pretty much worthless these days anyway. and i saw something printed on the back. it says (and i'm paraphrasing here), 'if you're too fucking stupid to look at the titles of songs that you listen to and you really think that the clash did a song called 'stop the catbox' or whatever you should go to your local post office and tell someone right away so that you can be killed. quickly and painfully but fucking killed. you know, just to help make the world a better place.'.

now

i didn't write the thing.
i'm just reporting what i saw.
there's really no need to get mad at me...

KISS THIS!!!

you know that thing?

where you kiss someone
or maybe you don't
and you exhale
and make a woof sound
or an oof sound
or a shoof sound
not a sound that can be turned into a word
just a tasty exhale
and the other person
breathes that in
they just be who they are and the moment clicks
and your toes fucking tingle
because you are just in the mo
and it's all good?

how could you hurt people after about fifteen or twenty of those?

why would you give a flying fuck about a car?

or a bank account?

or what you have been told on the news?

it's life, kids

stop stopping it

dig the fucker til you die

cuz

um

you will..

Mustard

dude!

what's the deal with mustard?

salami and mustard
pastrami and mustard
your mommy and mustard

that shit fucking rocks, man!

The Switch

if

there was a switch
a frankenstein switch
a big wooden handle
locking the metal contacts into switchness switch

and

CLICK!

SWITCH!

i wouldn't be here anymore

i'd flip that mo-fo like a coin
but
the pain and guilt that i'd pass on to the now?
when i check out?
the questions that i leave in my wake?
the way i make others wonder
why they fucked up?

i really can't do that...

but
christ
dude

it's really not my world anymore
i'm the biggest stick in the mud that you have ever heard of
i'm proof of nothing
i'm more than ready to pass that same stick on

so

go nuts!

live your top forty
MOR
and the hits just keep on coming!
i'd rather not think about anything
and just fit in
life

i'll just watch from over here

i'll be in the back of the bus

the guy hitting off the bottle in the paper bag...

Stuff I Want

they can't ALL be amazing, you know? the muses tap my shoulder and i pass the experiments on to you. it's hit and miss. i'm just a pop culture plumber. i go with the flow that flows how it goes when it flows and flows the way that it goes. i create so my head doesn't kill me. i'm nothing more than a guy who thinks up weird stuff and posts them. i'm the guy your mother never warned you about because she never knew a guy like me existed. i'm a nightmare with velvet gloves. i'm the pimp of the soft and slow slap to the face. i really want you to question the world around you. i want you to doubt. i want you to search. i want you to kick life in the nuts and laugh as it crumples to the floor. i want you to figure out who you are. i want you to get so ahead of the game that you think that i'm a wanker. i want you to love you just because of who you are. i want your friends to think that there is something seriously wrong with you. i want you to break down walls. i want you to blow up cars. i want you to eat nails. i want you to kick in windows. i want you to die with a grin on your face. i want you to pick up the thread. i want you to say fuck this. i want you to point to the speakers in the supermarket and say this fucking sucks. i want you to make fun of trends. i want you to understand that meat is food and that murder is murder. i want you to live. and live. and live. and live. and live. and live. and live. and die. i want you to kill fashion. i want you to break the chains. i want you to know that bling is working for the man. i want you to kiss top 40 off and live for art. i want you to smile. i want you to smile. i want you to smile. i want you to smile. i want you to smile...

Life (as yard sale)

um...

when you die your life becomes a yard sale
all the stuff that you thought was so important
is just stuff
average people wade through it
as they wait to die
and make it happen
all over again

love people
forgive others
try to understand
go for the zen
give stuff away
give love away
make art
be rude
have fun
kick ass
that's what really counts
nothing else matters

trust me on this

i saw it happen...

Loving Life

i dunno

i think that
maybe you should start loving your life rather early
if not
when that age thing
kicks in
like a wet brick to the face
you might drink a lot
you know
so you don't roam the streets at night
wanting to punch innocent people
in the gut
just because they remind you of old school teachers
that never warned you about this shit?

Universeseses

There's only one parallel universe that I'm even slightly interested in. The one where Danny Elfman did the soundtrack for "Ed Wood". Or, you know, the one where Carrie Fisher and I went to the same high school. That could have been kind of cool. Hmmmmmm... the cigarettes don't kill you and shots and malt liquor are free if you don't vote universe wouldn't suck too hard either.

And four or five more years of "Twin Peaks".
Did i mention walking through walls?

NO!
Fuck walking!
Teleportation!
Yeah! That'd be a winner!
Or maybe...

Phew!
Is it tired in here or is it just me?

Milk Is Truth

you know those milk cartons?
how you should open one end and not the other?
well
when i was a kid
sometimes
the milk carton would be mangled
the other end would be all fucked up and torn up
and it looked like a fucking bomb had gone off in the kitchen
they would say
'stupid milk carton! something should be done about that!'
i would say
'you should have tried to open the other end. milk cartons work that way.'
i'd get grounded for being a smart ass
sometimes i'd get smacked
but
i couldn't let it go
i wanted the truth to be known
that's all i'm really saying here

i'm not a normal person...

Why The Hell Do I Even Bother?

you know
there's a lot of stupid laws in this country
like
in california
where i live
you can't buy booze between the hours of two in the morning and six
for the life of me i can't imagine why
like
if you show up at one thirty
you can buy a fucking truckload of booze
but
at two
your ass is grass

(as the kids say these days)

but that's the law, daddy
live with the motherfucker
and
yeah
it sucks like a hoover
but
they can't ever change it
cuz
there'd be dipshits
yelling
'it's after two and i bought booze!
yeeeee haw!'
and
then
there'd be a car wreck
or
a murder
or
fucking
whatever

you can't even smoke in bars anymore

what the fuck is that shit?

why can't we have a law where
there are these signs
one has a lit cigarette on it
and
another has a cigarette
with one of those
big red circle crosses on it?

and the owner of the bar gets to choose?

that way
you'd know which bar to go to
you could go where you want to go

some bars would have smoking
some wouldn't

everything would be cool

but

that would never happen

wanna know why?

because then we'd be free

that's why

i hate this stupid fucking world

logic should always win

but

that will never happen either

welcome to the world these days!

stupid people win

and

it's all about bending over

grease up, gang

and smile at the watchmen

it's only gonna get worse...

Kicked In The Butt By City Hall

when i was about 18 i actually called the city. i wanted to know how i could get help with my fucked up mind. after about nine hours and about fifty four forwards to other people it turned out that, since i'd never kill anybody or blow up a bank or anything that i was pretty much on my own.

they could help me if i was dangerous but, if i was just a pain in the ass i was fucked.

story of my goddamn life, gang...

The "P" Word

hebbs
(a net friend)
has a prob with the word

'pussy'

(being a rather proper noun)

(if you ask me)

now
it doesn't bother me
as a word
i actually think it's pretty pretty
and
i didn't bring this up
i read it about two weeks ago
and
i've been thinking about it

(um...
not THAT much!
calm
the
fuck
down!)

and

well

how about "toaster"?

it's warm
and it makes loafs rise

and

um?
visually?
sideways?

you know

i'm just putting it out there...

Pants

wait a minute here!

we've now got cars that can park themselves?

where the hell are my vr pants and marilyn monroe chip?

Humor 101

there really is this new trend
this thing where we live in such a pc ridden
bullshit
pussy ass country
that being weird is passing for funny
shit like family guy
and borat
and tom greene

i just saw the first 5 minutes of jackass 2
and
it's a freak show
there is no comedy structure

bulls running around smashing shit up and some schmuck's dick in a sock taking on a snake?
that's NOT FUNNY
it's pee pee ca-ca wee wee schoolyard crap

try some marx brothers
get into w.c. fields
snort some bill hicks
check out firesign
eat a plate of zappa

that's fucking anarchy, gang

Thing

you know that thing?

where you need something
or
maybe you just want it real bad
and fool yourself into needing it
but you can't say what it is
(and you're not just being coy)
because if you say it
it will happen because you mentioned it
and that's not the same as it
actually happening?

i feel that way everyday...

Saturday Afternoon

so

this friend of my grandmother has lost her mind. she was a sharp old broad, very funny, very cool with her herd of pets. so cool that she took my cat to the cat killer place when the cat was falling apart because i'm just way too much of a wimp to do that kind of thing myself. and she caught this flu or something that knocked her old lady ass into bed and, after the flu went away so did her mind and she's now in an old folks home where she gets lost on the way from her room to the dining room and she doesn't have her animals anymore and her daughter got her a stuffed dog and she petted it and thought that it was a real dog and asked her daughter if the dog might bite. and she used to be so together and now she's all in pieces.

i heard about this
and i snapped a bit

and i drank a lot
and slept a lot
and i woke up
and drank a lot
and slept a lot
because i'm an old fuck
and i'm afraid for my mind

and now it's saturday

how have you guys been?

Them Wacky Gays

i really
kinda
side with them gay folk
i won't top
or bottom
or nothing
but i do tend to side with them
they're really just people trying to be who they are
just trying to survive
and not cry too much

i have got to respect that
honesty being best and all
life being live

besides

if we wipe them out
who'd be next?

people who just aren't happy?
people who don't give a shit about big useless cars?
people who like to suck down some booze and a bowl of smoke and watch 'the outer limits'?
people who laugh at how stupid we are?

you know

'those weirdos'?

you know

me?

or

you know

you?

Oh!

you're aware that i don't know fuck all about what i'm talking about

right?

they're all just theories

i'm only a genius/moron

i'm just a putz with a keyboard

and

you are the only you

run with that motherfuckers...

psssssst...

(i want you guys to stop thinking about the carrot
you should be thinking about who's holding the string)

Fuck!

fuck videos
fuck mtv
fuck vh1
fuck bet
fuck soul train
fuck your mom
fuck your dad
fuck your teacher
fuck that guy from high school
fuck being sheepish
fuck your radio
fuck your tv
fuck your pod
fuck the net
fuck file sharing
fuck broadband
fuck rap
fuck american idol
fuck that guy with the cool car and the bass speakers
fuck top 40
fuck dancing with the stars
fuck the world
fuck you
fuck me
fuck everything

what ever fucking happened to songs?

You Know, Love Ain't All That Bad

there's gotta be a word for it. most likely something
yiddish or something. like:

SMURFEL: even though you pretty much hate everything
and want it all to explode in a big ass bloody mess
there are some moments wherein you just wanna swoon
deeply and say something stupid like, "Wow! Nice
tummy!".

or

FLOYNBEE: a deep seated feeling that everything is
really okay after all and that you should shut the
hell up and just groove on it.

maybe

GURFSHULS: so goddamn cute in every sense of the word
that you just melt into a puddle of goop in your shoes
even.

something like that

not that exactly

but

you know

something like that...


(for Heather Michelle)

Voting No On Yes

i honestly feel that it's your RIGHT to vote
and
your DUTY to vote WISELY
seeing as to how i don't know beans about politics
i don't vote

maybe
just
maybe
you should stay out of it too

i mean
you wouldn't operate on a brain
or
pilot an airplane
would you?

not unless you knew how?

so

why fuck around with an entire country?

Learning Is Free (sort of)

you never hear about some guy (or gal, let's be fair here) who goes to hell and it turns out that he (or she) should really go to heaven. it's always the other way things go. that god guy is always in charge. look! everything's cool. just don't be an asshole (or a cunt, let's be fair again). it all works out in the end. forget about the glossy stuff, blow off your ego, fuck the pride and live life like a nice person. you don't have to believe in god. you don't have to believe in anything. just stop believing in being a dip shit and it will all work out. it's all out there. everything can work if you just shut the fuck up. it's my world as well. try to listen. then stop. read more. notice that glitter is pointless. wait in line. take naps while awake. let your fist rest. love art. love being wrong. love love. love learning.

learn.

learn.

let yourself learn.

being wrong is learning.

kill your mask.

grow the fuck up.

screw god.

screw your guru.

screw you.

learn.

learn to love to learn.

9ine

was thinking about ernest borgnine today and i thought, that's just what i need. an earnest borg 9.

aw, blow me. i thought it was funny.

ungrateful jerks...

Popes

if they get to the point wherein they elect a pope called john paul georgearingo i'll think about joining the church

you know

i'll think about it

Dreaming (again)

i was reading 'on the road'. kerouac, right? born march 12, just like me. i'm holding the book in my right hand because my left hand, the fem side hand, the heart side hand, the love hand, if you will is holding a foot. not gripping it tightly just holding, kind of cuddling the foot. the heal of my hand is resting in the arch of the foot and, when i look down at them this hand/foot combo looks sort of like two fish, one swimming up the other down. pisces time, right? the owner of the foot is a blonde who face is obscured by her hair. she's playing a video game and the door opens and this guy is standing there. his pissed and obviously her husband (sometimes you just KNOW these things, right?). he shakes his finger at us and says, 'why don't you two just fucking fuck awready?', and storms out of the room. she turns to me and says, 'what the fuck was that all about?', pronouncing the word 'about' 'a-boot'. big canada cloo, fo shore. i shrug my shoulders and reply, 'you got me on that one...' and we snuggle closer together.

and i wake up

thinking

if all my dreams were like this
i'd understand the whole goddamn universe.

Grim Facts

oingo boingo did not do 'turning japanese' it was the vapors
the kinks did not do 'what i like about you' it was the romantics
devo did not do 'pop musik' it was m (robin scott)
the tubes song 'she's a beauty' is not called 'one in a million girls'
almost every parody song that you have ever heard was not done by weird al they were done by asshole dj's and most of them aren't even all that funny
disco still sucks
myspace blows
peta is a scam
if you think that praise is the same as love you should seek help
soup actually is good food
and
freddy would have kicked jason's ass

did i leave anything out?

Wrap This!

lemme get this TOTALLY straight
you know
in case there's a test or something later
rap stars are just telling about what their lives are really like?
so what?
so did the beatles, the who, the kinks, joe jackson, devo, oingo boingo, laurie anderson, the dead kennedys, fats waller, the the, frank zappa, and paul simon
and that's just off the top of my head
and they don't suck or wear a gold hub cap on a giant stupid ass gold chain

Hear Here

you know what i don't hear very often these days?
'what the fuck does that mean?'
i think you should ask that a lot
even if you already know
just to see if the motherfucker knows what they're talking about...

The End Of "Con Air"

cyrus 'the virus'
is stuck to the front of a firetruck
and
he crashes through a glass skywalk
and
lands on high voltage wires
then
drops to a conveyor belt
where
he gets his head crushed by a pile driver
that's
just randomly smashing things at night
with
nobody around to supervise it?

that's not cinema, gang

that's MOVIEMAKING!!!

Here's The News

sometimes
while i'm flipping through the channels
i'll see some newscaster chick
droning on about some lame ass story
that doesn't really have a goddamn thing
to do with my life
and
i know that it's being broadcast live
so
i say rude things to her image
dirty things
twisted things
evil things
sick and nasty things
the kinds of things that i don't even write down here
cuz
i'm thinking
she might be psychic
and
you know
fuck newscasters, man...

Nov - 01 - 2006

i was thinking of posting some sort of halloween thing last night but i'm all broke and didn't have any beer or chocolate or anything and felt all bad and hated the entire world so i figured, 'screw those guys! what am i? halloween boy or something?' so i didn't even bother trying to figure something out which turned out kinda cool cuz i didn't have to worry about spelling things and that was fun for me to not have to bother doing. zounds! this earl grey can really kick your butt into overdrive, huh? aw, well... back to silent hill 3. it actually looks like i'm gonna hafta kill god. i hope it's a bad god though because i think that killing a good god would look really bad on my resume. or maybe that's just me. does anyone else hear those really noisy bats flying around outside? maybe that's just me as well. oh, wow! i just rembered that 'lost' is on tonight! monstro super cooly coolness! of course, what with halloween over we're sliding into christmas and that means i'll have to have dinner with the family. twice. so now i'm all pissed off that i'm not drinking. if you only take one thing away from this message let it be this: it never ends, kids. you might get a moment's rest now and then but, in a basic sense it just never ends...

Monday, 4:32 AM

i was standing in the kitchen
nothing on but the refrigerator light
scanning the contents for a snack
or two
the cat meowed and i bent to scratch her head
back pain set in
yet again
that good old throb in the lower portion of my spine
hurts like a mo-fo, gang
i don't even like to talk about it very often
but
i was thinking about how it's worth it
how i was trading a cat-touch for a body ache
how most of us wouldn't bother
how afraid we are of pain
danger
taking a chance
going out on a limb
how childhood can really create some lame ass people
what a great world it could be if we could learn to...

and then i thought

WOW!

a cold hot dog dipped in leftover chili!

Help, Mr. Wizard!

i could hang out with the cool crowd
avoiding those who drool loud
sliding 'tween the pain
(bah bah bop bah boodoodley bop)
i could grease every door hinge
maybe find a rhyme for orange

if i only wasn't strange...

T.V. Jibe

know what i think the problem is?

i think it's satellite tv. you got these guys in these video backward countries and they're seeing stuff like pizza hut ads, drew barrymore getting humped from behind in 'poison ivy', long cool glasses of budweiser, maya wearing a tight turtleneck on 'just shoot me', old madonna videos (way back when she was a babe. remember those?), shirley manson's see through shirt in the 'queer' video that garbage did, victoria's secret ads, cool ass looking car ads, they're getting into fights about who's hotter, mary ann or ginger or , you know, becky or darlene, and getting all hot and bothered by pretty much anything with gwen stefani in it and they can't get the final jeopardy answer correct and they can't believe that we're so advanced that we have shit that makes the pain go away if you apply it directly to your forehead and their minds snap and they go, 'know what? fuck it! let's just blow the fucker up!'.

it's like i've always said, 'if you can't handle the heat drop the fucking remote.'.

i'm a grumpy old fat ass and that's my review...

Something To Do When You Get Rich

1) Buy a bunch of cheap vases that all look the same. Like, 50 of them or so and stick a single fake flower in each one.
2) Put them all in a cupboard, stacked very nice.
3) Get a small table. About a foot by a foot across with a flat top and four legs, about four feet high.
4) Saw one of the legs off and put it near a light switch.
5) Put a vase on it.
6) When you're showing your house to someone new reach for the light switch and knock the table over, making the vase break on the floor.
7) Stand the table back up, open the cupboard, put a fresh vase on it.
8) Say, "Fuck! I hate when that happens!".
9) Continue showing the rest of the house and never mention it again.

A Pause That Refreshes

why don't all these doctors and chemists and shit stop fucking around with trying to make our minds 'cured' with zoloft and all and invent something that just fucks you up for a while? something that can't kill you, isn't addictive, and just jacks your head nine ways from sunday?

'doc! the wife's on my ass, i can't make the car payment, and i'm stressed like son of a bitch. what should i do?'

'hmmmmmm... take two of these and go to vegas.'

come Monday morning the dude shows up at work and says, 'i dunno about you clowns but my weekend was fucking amazing! is that the time? shit! i gotta pile of work i gotta get done! see you guys at lunch!'

they could call it fukitall
have the pills pink
shaped like little tits or something

ax for it by name!

Snakes

the snakes in spain stay mainly on the mother fucking plane

Links To Lameness

used to be
people would forward you stupid things
like blonde jokes
and chain mail
about how to save some poor fucker's life by clogging up your friend's in boxes

now
people send you links to lame ass videos
of kids running around back yards
with an old chicago song
or some shit like 'the house at pooh corner'
laid into the background

these assholes must be wiped out in our lifetime

won't you please help?

Planes

there's a movie coming out about world war one flying aces
i'm really curious about that
i fucking love dog fights with planes

planes fighting other planes?
guns firing?
all that chaos?
like in the end of 'a new hope'?
the trying for the exhaust port murder/death/kill/wrap the movie up/james bond thing?
i fucking love that shit!

in fact, that's a lot of why i hate the other star wars movies.

it's like,
beat the first one, mo-fo!
(or maybe the fourth one. at this point i dunno anymore)
when they go for the death star is the best stuff fucking ever, man!.

my point being:

i love seeing things flying around all askew
i love things blowing up
i love the madness of it
i love the crashes
i love the anti normal

it's soothing

i get calm

it's like watching the inside of my fucking head
from a distance;...

Poetry For Mobsters

"JERSEY BY MOONLIGHT"

Three shots rang out
the noise bouncing off of the brick walls
that lined the alley
behind Big Tony Monstasquigleoni's Bar and Grill
it sounded like somebody had thrown a housecat
into a fucking gong
like they got in one of those pagodas
or some shit like that
The first bullet hit that Louie
the scumbag poodle fucking motherfucker
in the crook of his arm
it blew his fucking elbow
out the back of his shirt sleeve
funny bone and all

(I swear I heard it clank into one of those dumpsters Big Tony's got back there
but I could be wrong)

Anyways...

The second slug
entered Louie's belly
blood shot out of his stomach
like some big ass weightlifter fuck
had shoved a tomato into a fucking funnel
so hard that spaghetti sauce sprayed out the small end

(He was really screaming now
"Oh,fuck! I'm fucking shot!
Please don't kill me!
Please,God,please!"

I'm telling you
you should've been there
it was fucking great!)

The third bullet
hit that scumbag
square in the mouth
and the back of his head
fucking exploded
baad-ah-bang!

"Hey,asshole!"
I laughed
"I betcha won't be messing with my wife anytime soon!
at least...
not till you get a new fucking face!"

Hey,Bobby?
Where's our waitress?
She's got my scotch and soda...



"BAD NIGHT NO.12"

I lift him up
I drop him
I lift him up
I drop him
I lift him up
I fucking drop him

If you're going to drink
don't try to hang a squeeler on a meat hook



"REFLECTIONS OF LOVE"

You tell me you love me
that you'll always be mine

You tell me you'll need me
until the end of time

You tell me want me
like two turtledoves

So why can't you tell me
how to get this fucking blood stain out of my rug?

Be A Jerk, Save A Tree

You know those little cards?

The ones stuck inside magazines?

The ones with the postage already on them so if you want to join a CD club or get a plate with Elvis on it or whatever all you have to do is fill it out and stick it in a mail box? I hate those damn things. I'm looking at a TV Guide, a Playboy, or something and I can't control the pages because the magazine keeps automatically flipping to the page with the card! I hate that to death! Don't you too? What the hell can be done about those damn things?

Well...
I have a job for you. Consider it a social experiment. An art project. Hell! If it works for you feel free to consider it as being a good old American pain in the ass.

The next time you find yourself trapped in the evil web of those stinking cards simply tear it out of the magazine, write "NO THANKS, TREE KILLER!!!" on it, and mail it away. Do it as often as you can. All the time everytime and get your friends to do it too. Have them get their friends to do it. And their friends of friends. It would be a chain protest! Pretty cool, ain't it? It'd be like throwing tea in the harbor! Good old American ass pain, kids!

See...
the reason those cards are in magazines is because they are monetarily valid. I mean, enough people are stupid enough to order things with those cards that they turn a profit for the companies that pay to have them stuck into our magazines. It's like those annoying pop up ads or that lousy AOL (can you believe that AOL still makes enough money a year to be able to afford sending out those free CD ROM discs? I get one of those damn things in the mail every twenty seconds or so. It's like something out of a Douglas Adams novel, for crying out loud).

It seems to me the most effective way to get rid of those cards would be to somehow make them monetarily INVALID. Every one that goes through the postal system is that much more postage that the company has to pay and if they end up paying for nothing over and over and over again it seems to me like they'd get the message eventually and stop polluting our magazines with their mindless crap. See what I'm getting at here?

Now:
You don't have to write "NO THANKS, TREE KILLER!!!" on it. You can write anything you'd like. "GO YANKEES!" would work. As would "HI, MOM! CAMP IS GREAT!", "THE PRESIDENT IS FULLA BEANS!", or, my personal favorite "STUFFING! NOT POTATOES!" (get cryptic on the bastards. Screw with their heads. Have fun with it!). You really shouldn't write anything too dirty though. It would really suck if it got back to you and you had to go to court for writing "KISS MY FUCKING ASS, YOU NAZI DICK LICKERS!!!" on some stupid little postcard. Then again, you might end up on 20/20 and get a sit-com out of it. Who knows? All I'm saying here is that I don't recommend you swear, cuss, or use the lord's name in vain. There's no reason to be snotty if you can just be annoying. I think my dad said that once and, if he didn't he should have.

Anyway, you are now on your own. I have planted seeds and if they sprout or not is your business.

It's your world. Have fun with it.

Or don't...

The Monster

Night

Darkness cracked by lightning
The kites are flying
The switches have been thrown

The monster awakes

“Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnggggggggghhhhhhhhh!”

He growls
And smiles a crooked smile

“Me have story to tell

He looks into a mirror
To straighten his tie
The mirror shatters
Raining tiny pieces to the floor

“Huuummm...”

He thinks

“Gonna be one of those lives?
me need drink...”

He laughs
Slaps the doctor
His creator
On the back

(a little too hard}

The doctor stumbles foreward
And falls from a window
To his death

The monster shrugs his shoulders
And sets off toward town.

The Goldfish Piece

I got this fish.

A goldfish, you know? His name is Dave, Dave the goldfish. And all he does. All he ever does, man, is swim in his bowl. That's his whole life, that bowl. And he's swimmin'. Swimmin' around and around in his bowl. Around and around in his bowl and I thought…

Hey!

My man the fish needs a change, a new look at his life and the life that exists around him. A piece of greenscreen behind that little castle that sits atop those colored rocks that line the bottom of his world and that little castle, man, the one that he never seems to use (at least he doesn't seem to use it while I'm awake).

And I thought I could take him to Marineland or something. A trip to his own private gene pool to see his ancestors and brethren. A higher link in the foodchain of fishlife.

Or out on a boat. Looking bird's eve view wise at my buddy bud's homeland.

A new bowl perhaps? A larger than large, tank type, mansion sized lake of a cage with room to move, man. With room to scoot.

And then, captured in the moment I flashed away, man. I went to a mindspace where all fish are equal and freedom is the only buzzword and people (humans, you know?), we should be kinder to the souls of the sea. And I thought, man…fish need help. My fish needs help. And me? I'm the type of guy who could…I mean, I am just the kind of guy who could help fish and people band together in a life of love and honor. A whole wide world where nobody has to worry and time alone will be in charge of everyone and everything that we happen to…

And then it hit me.

Hey, fuck it!

He is just a goldfish, man…



(Mar. 1996)

Time Wuz

Time was...
I hated time
It just kept moving
On and on and on
Ever foreward without a rest
I aged right along with it
Slowly becoming my father
(Like I need that shit)

Time was...
I dreaded time
And it's cousins Entropy and Chaos
Things fall apart
(My mind is proof of that)
Someday my cat will be dead
(I think of things like that)
One day nobody will remember Jack Nance
(I worry about stuff like that)

But...

I saw you Saturday night
And changed my mind
(Yet again)
Sometimes
Time is cool!
And if you don't believe me
Go find a mirror
And look at yourself real close
Both
On the outside
And on the inside

See?
I told you!

In Advance Of The Big One

Boom, boom, boom
Crash, crash, crash
The earthquake is coming to town
He knows when you’ve been sleeping
And he knows when you’re awake
But he doesn’t give a shit about that stuff

Houses
Cars
Stores
Mirrors
Windows
Books
Televisions
Cats
Dogs
Goldfish
People

Any and all manner of nouns
Will be destroyed
Or lost in the rubble of his wake

But, hey!
Look on the bright side

So will many poets

Problems

She asked me
“What’s the deal
Why are there so many problems
In the world?
Who’s to blame?
How do we make everything okay?”

“Women...”,
I answered
“It all rests on chicks.”

She was insulted by this
Wondered what the hell I meant
How could I be so rude
And thoughtless?

“Look...”,
I replied
“If all of the wives
And girlfriends
And secretaries
And whatever
Of all of the oil company guys
And chemical plant owners
And factory owners
Said...
‘Hey!
Clean up this planet
Or I’ll never sleep with you again!
We would all be living on the cleanest planet
In the whole damn universe.”

She thought about this
And then slapped me
In the face
As hard as she could

Chicks, man

I don’t know…

Bridgehoser's Holiday

The clock strikes five
And I pack my shit away
The mops and nozzles and rubber boots
I grab my pen and my notebook
Hop in the car
And head for the airport

The boss is waiting at the fork in the road
"Hey! You've got a job to do!
You haven't finished!
Don't you wanna get paid?"

"Fuck you, buddy!"
I yell, from the safety of my car
And throw my thinking cap out the window
"I'm on vacation!"
I exclaim
As I drive off into the evening

God!
I love this country!

Where wasting time is a birthright.

Road

Life…
It's like a road
Long
Never ending
Twists
And turns
Forks and underpasses
Other people's cars
Burnt and hollowed out
Over turned and blocking the way
You swerve to miss them
But have to look
Fascinated by the flames and burnt bodies

And as you strain to listen to their radios

And as you smell gasoline and burnt rubber
You sometimes miss your exit
And then you think
"What the fuck did I do to deserve this?"

But

Keep driving none the less
For someday
Someday soon
You'll be home
Safe and sound
Without a care in the world
Without a single problem
Without a single teardrop

And it will all come together
Again…

Ducks And Rabbits

Look…

There’s really only two types of people
Ducks and Rabbits
Trust me on this

DUCKS:
The ducks want things
Anything and everything
For no fuckin’ reason at all
Just like Daffy, the duck on TV

RABBITS:
Rabbits just wanna have fun
Anytime and everytime
For no fuckin’ reason at all
Just like Bugs, the rabbit on TV

DUCKS:
The ducks like to push the rabbits around
It proves to the ducks that they are right
Ducks are like that
They need to be right all the time
Why is this?
(because deep down the ducks know that they are wrong)
It’s Freud or something like that…

RABBITS:
Rabbits like to fuck around with the ducks
Why?
Because it’s fun to watch the ducks shit bricks!
That’s why!

So there you go
Ducks and Rabbits
And that’s all there really…

Oh, shit!

I forgot about the ELMERS!

ELMERS:
Elmers like to kill the ducks and rabbits
With guns and bombs
And all of that stupid shit
Just like Elmer, the guy on TV
Why?
Why do the Elmers want to kill the ducks and rabbits?

Easy…

The Elmers never watch TV
Oh, they look at it
But they don’t really watch
They don’t learn from it
They don’t know how to dream
And that’s why the Elmers like to kill the ducks and rabbits because the ducks and rabbits are dreamers
They’re full of dreams
And the Elmers hate dreamers
For the Elmers know not the truth
And here it is
Here’s the truth

It’s a gift from me to you…

THOSE WHO FAIL TO DREAM
ARE DOOMED TO ONLY SLEEP

And just how do I know that it’s the truth?
How can I be sure?

That’s easy too…

I’m a rabbit
And I dreamt it.

And if you don’t agree with me
And you think I’m full of shit
Then you are a Duck
Or an Elmer
And my theory has just been proven correct

And you are more than welcome to kiss my cotton tailed ass, Doc!



(Feb. 2001)

A Musical Piece

INT. A USED RECORD STORE ON MELROSE – DAY

He’s thumbing through some albums.

D. CAT
Lemme talk about music for a minute or three, huh?

He holds up a used copy of “The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars”.

D. CAT
This is my favorite album of all time. I got my first copy back in 1972. I was in high school at the time. I heard a couple of tunes on the radio and flipped out. Back then rock and roll was all but dead. All that was going on was the tail end of that hippie drippy crap. The Beatles had broken up a couple of years before and there was this country hippie thing going on. I hated it. Twangy guitars and blue jeans that made me feel like an old man sitting on a porch with a glass of lemonade and a big hairy dog curled up at my feet. I’m from the city, man. I wanted to hear the sound of neon lights. Car wrecks. Music to throw chairs through windows by. I was sixteen years old and I feared getting older bad enough on my own. Bowie saved me. And Alice Cooper too. And T. Rex. Glitter Rock was fucking beautiful.

CUT TO:

ANOTHER PART OF THE STORE – A FEW MOMENTS LATER

He stands at a record rack.

D. CAT
Not too long after that disco hit and it hit big too. GEEZUZ! I hated that crap even more! Mindless, heartless, moronic shit. Music to get laid by. It sucked then and it still sucks now. The only people who listen to that junk these days are people who weren’t around and rocking when it was new. “Ring My Bell”? “Fly Robin Fly”? Fucking “Night Fever”? Gimme a break, huh? “Saturday Night Fever”? What about the guy who jumped off the bridge? What happened to the guy who didn’t want to be a priest anymore? I hate that fucking movie and the music sucks even worse in retrospect.

He holds up a copy of The Ramones first album and sighs.

D. CAT
Then these mother fuckers came along. Just some assholes from the east coast who couldn’t take it anymore. They kicked ass and didn’t give a shit how you felt about it. I hated them. For years.

He holds up the soundtrack of “Rock And Roll High School”.

D. CAT
Until I saw this movie. About a half an hour into it my head exploded. These cats were fucking funny, man! They seemed to be saying “Fuck You!” and, well... isn’t that what rock and roll is all about? I mean, it is to me anyway.

STILL ANOTHER PART OF THE STORE – MOMENTS LATER

D. CAT
About the same time I was pissing and moaning about The Ramones I was flipping through the radio dial and I heard three songs that changed my life forever.

He holds up a copy of Devo’s “Are We Not Men?”

D. CAT
These guys did a ball busting cover version of “Satisfaction”. It fucking rocked! It pealed paint off of walls, made parents break down in tears, and blew up speakers all over the world. Most of my friends couldn’t stand it and thought I was insane for liking it. This made it even more important to me. I was never a huge Rolling Stones fan and, if a cover of one of their most famous tunes pissed the die hard fans off that much it MUST be great. It was. And it still is.

YET ANOTHER PART OF THE STORE – MOMENTS AFTER THAT

He holds up a copy of the first B-52’S album.

D. CAT
Another song was “Rock Lobster”. It was so...WEIRD! I went nuts! Funny as all fuck and rocked like a son of a bitch. I love these guys. Lots. Um...

He flips through some more records and holds up a copy of Blondie’s “Parallel Lines”.

D. CAT
...these guys...and Debbie...

He kisses the album cover. M’wah!

D. CAT
...they had a disco song called “Heart Of Glass”. BLAH! DISCO? Yeah, I know. One night I was very drunk and had the radio on. So drunk that when “Heart Of Glass” came on I was too lazy to change the station. I laid there and actually listened to the lyrics. I ran out the next day, bought the album, and shit a brick. The Blondies quickly became my favorite group, “Plastic Letters” being another one of my most favorite albums ever. Boy. When Chris got sick? Well...I’d rather not talk about it.

EXT. RECORD STORE

d.cat steps outside.

D. CAT
I need a drink. How about you?

He steps to the curb, sticks out his right hand, and screams as if hailing a cab.

D. CAT
YO, BUS!

A bus pulls up, screeches to a halt, and the doors open. He turns as he boards it and smiles.

D. CAT
I love when that happens!

Night Calls (a dark one)

Night calls
And I'm walking
Drunk on moonlight

And hunger
I see you up the street
And I move

Closer
Closer
And closer still

Until I touch you
Scant moments pass
And you go from warm to cold

So I seat you at the bus stop
And glide away
Into the black

My hunger is gone
Until tomorrow
When again I'll rise

And search the dark
For another
Just like you

My Sister's Brain

My sister wasn’t very smart. It wasn’t her fault or anything she was simply not born with a very active brain. Not to say that she was an idiot, she was just a chick with an average intelligence.

Here’s an example of her brain:

Let’s call her chick “A”, okay? And let’s say she had two friends, chick “B” and chick “C”. When chick A was hanging around with chick B they would they would gossip and talk shit about chick C behind her back and, when chick A was hanging around with chick C they would gossip and talk shit behind chick B’s back. Nothing wrong with this of course. It’s just chick nature. The thing was though, it never occurred to chick A that when chick B and C were alone they were gossiping and talking shit behind chick A’s back. Chick A had no idea that her friends really didn’t think that she was very together or that she had the slightest clue about either herself or the world around her.

Pretty strange, huh?

Strange but true, dear reader. Strange but true.

In fact, this could very well apply to your own life.

Your friends might not think that you are anywhere near as together and wonderful as you think you are. They may think you are a fucking headcase and just as much of a pain in the ass as you think they are but they never tell you to your face simply because they are afraid of being whacked in the skull by flying furniture as you tear the room apart screaming that nobody really loves you and you’ll show them all a thing or two one of these days, goddamit!

Take a tip from me. If you don’t honestly consider the kinds of things that are spoken about you behind your back and realize that you do a lot of really, really stupid things from time to time there’s a pretty good chance that you are a total asshole. Having a positive attitude won’t change this. Keeping up on your daily affirmations won’t change this. Praying to whatever god you believe in and hoping He, She, or It will show you the way and make everything alright won’t change this. You have to look at yourself honestly and decide what to do from there or you will stay a total asshole for the rest of your life.

How do I know this?

That’s easy! Most people I know think I’m a fucking jerk off who should shut the fuck up now and then and get a fucking life.

They also wonder how I let myself get so goddamn fat and how I can spend so much time alone with my face pressed against a TV screen when there is a whole wide world out there and I really should grab for that brass ring and what’s the deal with those T-shirts and Converse shoes anyway? Weird? His motherfuckin’ face should be in the dictionary under the word weird for Christ’s sake! SON OF A BITCH! THAT COCKSUCKER REALLY PISSES ME RIGHT THE FUCK OFF SOMETIMES! NO FUCKING SHIT, MAN! I’M TOTALLY SERIOUS ON THIS SHIT! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS WRONG WITH THAT ASSHOLE?

See how easy that was? And, you know what? It doesn’t bother me in the least. Why? Because I feel the exact sort of things about them from time to time.

The fucking dorks.

Crack? WHACK!

I think the government must be behind crack. Why else would it be so easy to get a hold of? Besides, I find it hard to believe that some broke jerks are hiding in a house in a bad neighborhood somewhere making the stuff in their bathroom. The main ingredient is cocaine, for Christ’s sake! That stuff costs a fortune if you buy it by the gram. What’s it cost to make a shitload of crack? Oh…a couple of zillion dollars? I’m not real good with numbers but I bet I’m in the ballpark.

Scoring the stuff is pretty gross too. You pull up on a side street and these rejects from “Return of the Living Dead” amble up to the truck, moaning like zombies, “Less brains. Less brains…” then you make the deal and they hand you a rock. Out of their mouths! No lie! You give them money and they pull a piece of crack out of their mouths and hand it over to you. See…the stuff is compressed so solid that it melts in your pipe and not in your mouth. You could swallow the shit and it wouldn’t hurt you. Or so they say. I’m not gonna try it to find out but if you have any beer feel free to give me a call.

I think that if you’re caught even holding crack the cops should shatter your kneecaps with a nightstick. It should be mandatory. Crack? Whack! Then, every week they should have these losers as guests on shows like “Oprah” and “DR. Phil”. The host would show you a semi-circle of eight or ten of these assholes in leg casts and wheelchairs and go down the line, one by one. “Are you ever going to do crack again?” “Are you fucking serious, Jerry? Look at my legs!” I bet it wouldn’t take very long for the next generation of kids to get the idea.

It’d be Pavlov by way of television.

Crack = broken legs and hospital food.

It’d work like a charm.

And another thing while I’m at it:

How come you never see sports heroes doing public service announcements that say, “Kids? Stay in school and learn to read. Look what it did for me!”? Then you’d pull back and see the guy sitting around a pool with a squad of bikini clad babes playing catch with a beach ball in the shallow end as he hits you with a big ass toothy smile and a full on thumbs up. After seeing this three or four times kids would be throwing their TV sets out the window and begging for a trip to the local library.

If you know what I mean.

Tax The Trendy!

screw those dorks!

tax cigarettes
tax cigarettes
tax cigarettes

how about putting a tax on your sacred grande sized coffee?
or those goddamn energy drinks that nobody really needs?
both of which are gonna give your ass a monstro heart attack one of these days?

well...
nobody will EVER tax that shit
know why?
because it's totally fine to be a cranked up money mad suv driving asshole
most people are so it must be a great thing

but those smokers?
fuck them!

(someday someone's gonna get murdered by somebody who was stressed because they couldn't find a butt to light up. and, when the guy wins his court case with the landmark 'smoker's defense' the shit's really gonna start coming down. wait and see, tweakers. wait and see.)

Dali Say...

"Liquid Television! My last invention. Put liquid on hands - TV appear! TV will one day becoming correlated with DNA. Everything mechanical will collaspe except cybernetic machines!"

- Salavador Dali
TV Guide
June 8th, 1968

No...

actually everything isn't a joke to me
everything is stupid and pointless because we give birth to things that die
(meat ain't murder
birth is murder)
and you can't take it with you
and it's all just spilt milk anyway

so i'd rather laugh than be known for owning a big ass car
or whatever


(hey. i didn't bring it up.)

Cat Rant Cat Rant Rant!

'only nut cases want to be president. this was true even in high school. only clearly disturbed people ran for class president.'

- kurt vonnegut
'a man without a country'


i don't believe it! the guy who once wrote some of the greatest novels in the world is now ranting! goddamn cat ranting! and he's kicking my ass at it! i gotta bow down to that action, gang!

Possible Bumper Stickers

1. i'd rather be laughing

2. honk if i'm in your way

3. my child is fine just the way he is

4. your guru has emotional problems or he wouldn't need to have people pay so much attention to him

5. if you can read this you really should be reading more

6. i voted for blofeld

7. burn your self help books and start helping

8. creativity + boredom = art

9. bumper stickers are pointless

Sun Lite

the sun is roughly 93 million miles from earth.

therefore, when you look to the sun it isn't there anymore. it's where it was about six minutes before you are seeing it. it takes about six minutes for sunlight to reach us. you are actually seeing just the light from the sun. a light that is six minutes old.

it amazes me that there are people who think that they have control over their lives. that if they try hard enough and believe hard enough that they can have anything that they want. that people that can't get the things that they want just don't really want it bad enough. that if everybody felt the same way that they do that the world would be a perfect place.

people that can't really see the sun.

but that think that they do.

Any Day Now

Hmmmmmmm... It says here, "May cause depression, lycanthropy, pon farr, and/or a sudden and unexplainable desire to vote Republican." I'll guess I'll go for the thin crust.

Burping

next time you burp
and you say
'pardon me.'
do yourself a favor and run with it for a while
like:

'no! really! pardon me! c'mon, ya prick! pardon me! pardon the fuck outta me! i double fucking dare you to pardon me, you low class nazi bastard! pardon me or i'll kick the living fuck outta your sorry ass! what's wrong with you? why don't you just give me a pardon, for christ's sake? pardon me awready! pardon me! pardon me or die! say it! Say It!! SAY IT!!!'

then smash a lamp against a wall and fall to the floor screaming as if insane

if you really commit to the moment
it would be very funny

i promise...

Love/Hate

i love everything
and
i hate everything
it's not like i want to
you fuckers drive me to it
and you never park
when you kick me out of the car
as it's still fucking moving
and my head hits the guard rail
like a watermellon
heaved by a quarterback

you are stupid as all fuck
but
you have these moments of pure soul loving logic purity

i'm on this razor edge

wanting to hug you

and

wanting to kill you

all at the same time

and

i can't really do either

i'm the host
of the weirdest fucking game show ever
america's funniest home assholes
(and bitches
let's be fair here)
or
something

and

it never gets canceled

you know

unless i'm totally wasted

Key Reist!

for the last fucking time
of course christ was married and had kids
ain't you assholes seen 'dogma'?

screw that 'code' shit

geezuz...

An Un-Christmas Carol

(spoken)
Twas the eighteenth of August, some elves did revolt
They were sick of hot chocolate, and building toy boats
They started with Ozzy then moved to LaVey
And summoned a demon, one without a name

Sliced open a chicken and drank of its blood
Danced around naked, smeared bodies with mud
Spoke the dark passage contained in a book
Bat wings and frog eyes they started to cook

The ground it cracked open, the demon arose
"Hi! How ya doin'?", a question he posed
"You all are my masters, what bidding say you?"
"Go possess Santa!", so that he did do...

(sung)
You'd better take off!
You'd better right now!
No time to pack bags!
They'll just slow you down!
Santa Claus has got summer off

He's checking his list
And packing a gun
He's got all the boys and girls on the run
Santa Claus has got summer off

He sees you when you're sleeping
He'll sneak into your dreams
'Don't care if you've been bad or good
'Cause your soul he's gonna steal

With a sharpened chainsaw
And long butcher knives
Peel off your skin and set it on fire
Santa Claus has got summer off

Wrong

you know the biggest bummer about dealing with people who have trouble with ever being wrong? you can never address the fact that they have trouble with ever being wrong. which is actually kind of strange. i mean, if you mention that they have trouble with ever being wrong wouldn't they tend to agree with you? you know, so that they'll look like they're right?

i think it was art linkletter who said it best when he said, "People are fucked."

wasn't that art linkletter?

i dunno for sure.

maybe i'm wrong...

The Meaning Of Life

i know what you want
i know what you need
i'm your uncle cat
i'm a pisces
i'm a genius
i'm a artist

you want to know the meaning of life
you want to know what it all means
you want true enlightenment

well

you want it
you got it

THERE IS NO SUCH THING

once you get that down you've got it all

can we move on now?

R

'know why, when you're walking down the street and money falls from the sky you never catch a shitload of it?

because it never happens.

'know why i was watching tv last month and saw an ad for a movie and noticed that the little box under the 'r' rating listed everything good about the movie and i was so amazed by how stupid we are as people that it kept me awake for two days?

because it did happen.

that's all i'm saying...

Old People

i have come to the conclusion that old people don't really have trouble hearing. what they have trouble doing is paying attention. if you say something they never try to understand you WHILE you are talking. they wait until you have finished and then say, 'What?', so you have to say the whole fucking thing over again. they never say, "What was that about the soap dish?" or, "How much do you need for the paper boy?". they never 'what?' you followed by the last few words that you say. they make you say the whole goddamn thing twice. more often than not while the tv is blasting some shit thing like court tv or fucking 'cops'.

and why do they watch those shit shows? because if they watched movies or old sitcoms they'd have to pay attention so it would make sense.

see how it all fits together?

so...

what are we suposta do about this?

'easy question to answer, gang.

the next time you have to talk to an old person say something totally stupid first. like, "The cod fish have stolen my wristwatch.". or, "Satan called and he wants your knee socks." or maybe, if you really feel bold, "I'm having an affair with the poodle next door and we're thinking of naming the first child after you."

then, when they say, "What?", you can talk about the thing that you wanted to talk about in the first place. and they'll listen just fine, exactly like they would if you had said the same thing twice.

see?

i told you the answer was easy.

not only will you not think about beating the living shit out of old people (at least not as often) you'll also have something to giggle about while you're alone in the bathroom. don't think of it as being cruel. think of it as performance art. and remember, a lack of art can kill.

fucking old people, man.

i bet if you stuck a gun in some old windbag's fucking face they'd hear you just fine and goddamn dandy.

Global Warning

i'm not fully convinced that the hot summer that we are having is because of global warming.

why?

because it's summer. it's supposed to be hot. some summers are big bitch hot ass summers and some of them aren't. last year we hardly had a summer at all. it was great. what does THAT prove? that global warming suddenly kicked in this year?

i'm not saying that it isn't happening. i'm just saying that i'm not sure that just because some movie came out and that it's also hot out that it means that the movie was flawless in it's scope.

i haven't seen the movie and don't want to because gore's wife once tried to kill rock and roll and he can kiss my ass for christmas (remember the p.m.r.c.? i bet most of you don't. i remember. i was here) but in the ads? when you see those icebergs falling apart? it doesn't mean that those icebergs are falling apart just because of global warming. icebergs have been falling apart for centuries, gang.

it's part of what they do.

besides
do you remember the killer bees?
the harmonic convergence?
y2k?

do you know what happened with those things?

that's right...

nothing

not a goddamn thing

The Elf Man

i can't ever die
not until
danny elfman wins an oscar for best original score
at least not til then
so
buckle up. mother fuckers
it's gonna be a long flight...

Doorways To Dumbness

how fucking stupid do you have to be to stand in a doorway while you're talking to somebody?

like
i have nothing better to do than say

'excuse me. i need to get through here.'

or

'coming through, please!'

or

'HEY, ASSHOLE! GET THE FUCKING FUCK OUT OF THE FUCKING DOORWAY!'

you'd think that at some point pavlov would kick in and that a candle flame would ignite in their tiny little minds and they would think

'stand in doorway bad. me move from way.'

but no!

these dipshits never learn to take an extra three steps
three little steps!
what the fuck?

you know what i think these fucktards need?

a bit of the old ultra violence
a tolchock to the bleeding gulliver
fucking negative reinforcement

next time
ball up your fist up real tight and popeye punch these assholes in the ear as hard as you can and when they're laying on the carpet in a fetal heap scream at them in a shrill voice

'SORRY! YOU WERE STANDING IN THE DOORWAY AND WHEN YOU STAND IN THE DOORWAY OTHER PEOPLE CAN'T GET PAST YOU! IN THIS CASE YOU WOULD, IN FACT MAKE A BETTER WINDOW THAN A FUCKING DOOR! WATCH THAT SHIT IN THE FUTURE, ASSHOLE!'

yeah
it'd be a bummer thing to do
at first
but
after about the eighteenth time
i bet those morons clear the fuck out of your way whenever they even think about you

psych 101?

make friends with it, gang

But...

of course
i couldn't really ever hurt anybody
sometimes
it's just kind of soothing
to think about that stuff

like
'if i whack that fuck in the back of the skull with that giant ass jug of mazola oil i could be next in line. i'd probably make it to the parking lot by november and everything.'

or
'she ate my last doughnut. guess i'll drop kick her ass off the fucking roof. fair is fair, you know? i mean, we ARE talking krispy-kreme here.'

or
'hmmmmmmmm... is it still against the law to park a car on some lunkhead's fat fucking neck or did that revenge thing get voted in last time? i was killing poodles for satan that day.'

see?

i feel better already...

Stone Cold Crazy

one of the worse things you can say to someone who's totally out of their fucking mind is, 'you know you're out of your fucking mind, right?'.

know why?

because the insane are always the last ones to know.

this can be applied to other areas as well...

Fun Things To Yell At Your Cat

'what? timmy fell down the well? up at big rock mountain?'

'grow a thumb, ya cave beast!'

'you and what army?'

'if i see him i'll be sure to let him know!'

'aw, banana oil!'

'yeah? how's about i drop kick your ass into next week?'

'no soup for you!'

'you want some of me? do ya? well, lets mambo, tough guy!'

'meow? meow THIS, ya cunt!'

Midgets

You know, if you're driving around and you spot a midget through the window it's almost impossible to tell how tall they are. Unless they're standing next to a mail box or something. You have got to have that point of reference or you're just fucked out of luck, man.

Read This

some people listen to n.p.r. everyday
and they believe whatever they hear
they hang out with people who do the same
and they all agree
and it feels good

some people watch network news everyday
and they believe whatever they hear
they hang out with people who do the same
and they all agree
and it feels good

but

if all you read are western novels
all you are going to know about are western novels
and when other people talk about vonnegut
you won't know what they are talking about

not having knowledge of something
doesn't make you more correct
in your assumptions
it only means that you should learn more...

Party Dream

i had a really strange dream
one of those hollywood party dreams
the kind that have famous people with names i can't spell
and that would take far too long for me to figure out how to type
the basic deal was this though:

BEAUTY IF FLEETING SO DON"T BE AN ASSHOLE ABOUT IT
IT'S ALSO NOT PROOF OF SANITY OR ANYTHING ELSE, SO THERE, MOTHERFUCKER!

just before i woke up
jill
the weather babe from the morning news
on channel 11
here in l.a.
who's party it was
asked me if i had ever got in a fist fight with someone
because i didn't believe that they were psychic

i said
not really
i'm a pisces so that doesn't happen very often

she smiled at this
and said that
wouldn't other people be aware that that was going to happen
and try to avoid it?

i started to laugh
and she said
no
not because they are psychic
but because of all the other fist fights that they get into
because they aren't

i love blondes
even when my mind makes them up

you know
disney said that
a dream is a wish that your heart makes
(at least someone that worked for disney did)
and that might sound like a nice thing to say
but
if i remember right
disney was a transvestite
who had his head frozen
so i'm thinking
'woah, uncle walt! we might be talking grain of salt over here!'

but enough about me...

Party

i can't really think of a perfect party that i ever attended

and i mean Perfect

one where the room was spinning in just the right way
and all the colors were just right
and the music was exactly what it should have been
and the moment froze in my head like an imax frame
sounds and smells included
one of those moments that you smile about when you're not listening to somebody
and they ask what you're thinking
and you say "nothing"

one of those parties

maybe that's what i'm really looking for

in some ways

maybe we all are

Action Packed!

i dunno about you

but

whenever i look into a mirror
i never see myself
not really
i tend to ask
"who's that 50 year old fat fuck that's looking at me?"

then seconds pass

and i think about drinking

yet again

life on earth?

it's fucking action packed, kids!

Pinko

i went to a party the other night and the host wondered if i'd like a pinko.

"a pinko?", i asked, "what's that?".

he answered, "it's a white russian with a dash of borscht.".

"dude,", i replied, "i might lean to the left but i don't lean THAT far to the left."

The Top Ten Reasons The Burffle Isn't A Korf

10) we stood on the grelm
9) there once was a driff on the keegle
8) two knoigles don't add up to a roalff
7) he stuppled a cloygle
6) a pluggle and a burufnez ain't no groff
5) what? me tuuurglee?
4) tuesday
3) nine
2) mom says burffley
1) kersploygoin!

Voting

there once was a prez and he got his dick sucked in the white house
and a whole buncha 'publicans got all pissed off
and closed the entire goverment down
like a bunch of fucking kids in a goddamn schoolyard

then

arnold wants to get elected and a bunch of 'crats get all pissed off
cuz he might have grabbed an ass back in 1970
and a buncha chicks get pissed cuz he called people "girly men"
like a bunch of fucking kids in a goddamn schoolyard

know what?

fucking blow me

i'm not going to play anymore

you all fucking suck and you can fucking kiss the fuck outta my fucking fat white ass

there...

i just fucking voted...


eat me...

Paws

i twitch for a fix of my favorite drug
a look that could cook me or maybe a hug
a lump in the throat like a bolt from above
even a dead dove needs love

time like a lime can sure screw up one's face
cats chase the rats as we join in the race
cards can cut hard when you joke with an ace
even the spacey need space

worlds spin
mouths grin
corks pop
hearts stop
gears move
souls groove
night calls
we fall
eyes wide
inside
i fret
you bet
moving through nothing and yet:

we know that to toe that thin line is insane
prancing and dancing with fog in the rain
grab straws with both paws and slide down the drain
even the strange must be tamed

Rappers

what's the deal with these scowling rappers? guys that look like they wanna punch you in the fucking face? i'm thinking marketing ploy aimed at 14 year old assholes who confuse being "tough" with being cool.

"yo, yo, yo, motherfucker. i'm just keeping it real, see what i'm saying? i'm from the motherfucking streets, see what i'm saying? i'm just telling shit like it is and shit, see what i'm saying? shit, bitch! where's my motherfucking lemo? i gots to get to sony so i can pick up my motherfucking check! if i piss off the white motherfucker who owns my motherfucking ass i'm not gonna get paid, see what i'm saying? i got to get my bling on or the punkass white motherfucking fans of mine will think i'm not all up in there and shit, beee-atch!"

one of the things i love about the beatles is that they were funny.

and they thought that love was cool too.

see what i'm saying?

How To Be Happy

1) get a file sharing program

2) download "alphabet lost and found" by they might be giants

3) drink as needed

4) listen over and over until you know the words

5) drink more (but only as needed)

6) lock the doors

7) crank the fucker up to 12 and scream along not giving a flying fuck what others think about it. (strip naked and dance if you'd like)

8) smile and kiss the sky

for more information consult your local muse

Supermarket 4

Have you ever been in a supermarket and you had to step around some bonehead who's standing there with a cell phone asking whoever is on the other end what type of milk he's supossed to buy?

Do you know why that happened?

Because the guy owns a cell phone and now he doesn't have to remember things like types of milk anymore. All he has to do is call and ask.

I think that technology might be a bad thing in the hands of average people.

Then again, I know how to write a grocery list.

The Eloi Blues

3, 5, 7, 9
The siren blow and they fall in line

My old lady is an Eloi
She gots that pure white skin
I say my old lady is an Eloi
Gots that pure white skin
When she smile I lose my senses
Don't know what time zone I'm in

Well, my baby is an Eloi
Just hang around all day
You know, my baby is an Eloi
She hang around all day
When she kiss me I go crazy
I don't know what to say

(middle eight)

Well, my woman is an Eloi
Looks like Yvette Mimieux
I say, my woman is an Eloi
Looks like Yvette Mimieux
You know, she's just meat for the Morlocks
I don't know what to do



(for H.G. Welles)

Supermarket 3

overheard at the supermarket:

"well... i'd rather not see a movie at all than watch it on vhs."

and my first thought was "does this guy vote?"

let's say... you know, i'm pretty artsy and i love movies so i'm gonna run with this one for a mo. let's say you go to somebody's house and there's a movie playing on the tv. a really good one. like "clockwork orange", or "some like it hot", or "godzilla vs. megalon", or something and you haven't seen it in a long time and you say, "ooh! i love this movie!". you sit down and start grooving on it and, in passing somebody says, "i can't wait to find this on dvd. it's got extra stuff and everything.".

what do you do?

get up and leave rather than suffer through the pain and sorrow of sitting through a vhs?

if you answer "yes" to this question you don't know scratch about cinema, you don't know anything about art, and you should go grab a cookie and a nap while the grown-ups are talking.

Zombi 2

a friend (heather michelle) posted a couple of caps in her journal from a movie called "zombi 2", where a zombie fights a shark!

yes!

that's right!

A ZOMBIE FIGHTS A FUCKIN' SHARK!!!

'know what?

you can take your "who wants to be a heroin freak and finger barf backstage at a fashion show?" and "america's next artless pop robot who's working for the man", and "lemme fuck a rich guy so my friends will be impressed with me because i don't really understand love" and shove them up your ass!

fuck reality tv!

i want fantasy tv!

i wanna see sharks vs. zombies!
i wanna see vampires bowling!
i wanna see werewolves driving monster trucks!

WAIT!!!

a zombie bites a shark and it turns into a zombie shark and it attacks a beach in the summer and it bites a bunch of hot chicks who hitch hike on monster trucks driven by werewolves who crash into a bowling alley full of vampires and the building explodes and everybody dies except for the hot blond zombie beach chick (played by kaley cuoco) who loses her clothes and walks around slowly under the fire sprinklers for twenty minutes while soft jazz saxophone music plays and i ruin yet another pair of tube socks (if you know what i mean).

THAT'S ENTERFUCKINGTAINMENT!!!

Kids

back when i was a kid i did all kinds of things that i wasn't supposed to do. shoplifted, joy rode in stolen cars, ditched school and got real drunk and danced around the living room naked while blasting alice cooper, dropped acid, played around with heroin, the list is almost endless. these days i don't do any of that stuff anymore. well...i still get real drunk and blast alice cooper but now i dance sitting on a couch fully clothed.

the point being: i did stupid things, learned that they were stupid, and then stopped. IT'S JUST MY OPINION HERE but i think doing wrong things are a part of life. my parents didn't have a thing to do with it. they were "oldtimers" and "didn't understand" myself or my friends or our modern life style. what did they know?

sure. there are things that you should watch out for but maybe not all the time.

i'm really pissed off at this pc world that we live in. this idea that if we get rid of all the "bad" things everything will be fine. kids raised like that are going to grow up to be assholes that can't stand waiting in line, litter because it's too far to walk to the trash can, and think that just because they are on a cell phone that everybody else should shut up. they're going to be so "special" that they suck at being actual.

i check out chicks on line, don't want to have anything to do with child porn, and have no desire to meet anyone that i've spent time with in real life. the net and the sidewalk are two different things.

how come there are no shows about guys like me?

because nobody would watch, the ratings would dip, and they would lose millions in advertising dollars.

that's why.

learn to laugh at the media.

it's laughing at you...

Drinks

can we stop with the high energy drinks now?
how about some calm the fuck down drinks?
i wouldn't mind having a couple of cases of that stuff on hand at all tines.

Bus

i sit on busses and i see, out the window
all kinds of people running this way and that
they often tell me, "hey! be one of us people!"
i'm not a people i'm a fat cartoon cat

i sit on couches and i see, on my tv
all kinds of people screaming this stuff and that
i often hear them screaming, "buy this, you people!"
i don't have credit so to me it's chit chat

who do you when
what you did way back then? and
why should you cry
when you maybe soon die? and
where do you look
if it's by hook or crook? and
try first then buy
cuz it might be a lie

i sit on benches and i see, passing by me
all kinds of people looking this way and that
i see them looking, they say, "wow! check out that thing!"
"it's bright and shiney and it beats what i have!"

who do you when
what you did way back then? and
why should you cry
when you maybe soon die? and
where do you look
if it's by hook or crook? and
try first then buy
cuz it might be a lie

who do you when
what you did way back then? and
why should you cry
when you maybe soon die? and
where do you look
if it's by hook or crook? and
try first then buy
cuz it might be a lie

Wallpaper

alright, let's mambo, kids...

you know, a lot of people are pretty good with photoshop. i know this is true because i'm not bad myself. i'm no god or anything. there's a lot of stuff that i don't know how to do but i pretty much rock at an upper medium level. i've got a book and all but i'm just too lazy to crack the thing open. well, maybe "too busy" is more like it. i've got this huge writer's block so i can't finish my novel, for example. i'm thinking i'll blow off the guilt of that and just write the screenplay first. naw, you're not gonna like it. it'll be a film instead of a movie. besides, nobody really likes "angora" anyway. don't worry. if i get the screenplay finished a lot of you will get an acrobat copy. just be ready to have it sit around on your hard drive for years.

i'm also busy trying to get the hang of cool edit so i can pull the radio show together. truth be told, i'm nine cuts into my first actual cd. i'm sitting around the house one day and it dawns on me, "fuck! i'm a record company! i outta do something about that!"

do you have a burner?

then check this shit out:

YOU'RE A RECORD COMPANY TOO!!!

get some programs, get off your ass, and make a fucking cd! can you make music? what are you waiting for? got a microphone? talk into it! read poetry, make answer machine messages, bitch about that fucking asshole and/or raving psycho bitch that really fucked the shit out of your life. did your parents sell crack so the CIA could afford guns and tanks for some weekend long war that nobody knows about? spill them beans! are you a nasty lil' girl who masturbates a lot? record your voice and send it to me! NOW!!! i'd love to hear all about it! throw in some pictures and some underwear and i'll make you a wallpaper or two.

and

speaking of wallpaper

(see how i did that? i got back on track with a lame (half) joke about underwear. yeah. i write. i can do stuff like that.)

why does every goddamn wallpaper in the world have text on it? i mean, i get some cool ass picture of marilyn monroe and it says "MARILYN MONROE" on it in giant fucking letters! no shit? is that her name? good thing you included that on the wallpaper or i'd have no idea who i'm looking at! thanks, mr. knowledge! what the fucking fuck? it's marilyn monroe for christ's sake! if you don't know what marilyn monroe looks like you shouldn't have her on your desktop!

you know what i love most about warhol's tomato soup cans? the fact that it says "A TOMATO SOUP CAN" across the top in giant fucking white letters. that's art!

ooh!

and "a clockwork orange"? it's one of the most perfect films ever made and you know the best part? it says "A FILM" in huge motherfucking block letters from the start to the end! right over the camera shots! that's why kubrick was a god, kids!

here's a big fucking clue for you guys: a lot of art is knowing when to stop. being able to say, "you know what? i'm not going to make my wallpaper like everybody else's wallpaper. i'm gonna stop with the photoshop before i look like a total fucking moron. i'm gonna get the image just right and then i'm gonna grab a snickers and a nap." that's what art is, breaking stupid rules and kicking ass.

you can apply this to your life too but you prob'ly wont.

Mystery Joke

i've been puzzled lately by a punchline that i keep thinking about.
it goes like this:

"...and then he raped your mother and beat a dolphin to death with a whiffle bat!"

i can't figure out how the joke that leads to that punchline goes but it really doesn't matter, i guess.

nobody would laugh at it anyway.

Positive Schmositive

what is positive?

whatever you believe in.

what is not?

whatever you don't.

i should give up the ramones, stephen king, and zombie movies because you don't have a total sense of art and/or humor?

blow me.

let's say i was going to get a movie made and i said to you, "here's five thousand dollars. i wannna make a cast of your head and blow the fucker up with fake blood and fake brains in it and we're gonna use a ramones tune when it happens."

would you do it?

if you would take a lesson.

if you wouldn't you are full of shit.

let's move on from there...

K.

i was thinking about k. the other day

(it happens on rare occasions)

she was great.

she wouldn't ask, "Do I look fat in this?", sucking me into some sort of mind game. she'd state, "I look so fat in this.", so i'd have to be all guy-like and play the mind game, "Are you kidding? You look amazing!"

her smile told me that i was doing well.

she once wrote me a note on the front of my t-shirt as we were talking and another time stole a hologram pin off of my jacket. both times without missing a beat. as if it were the most natural thing in the world. she'd grab my hand and drag me through the mall, showing me things in windows. i'd fake bitch about it and make jokes, loving the moment i was living in.

it WAS the most natural thing in the world.

i didn't have to act like i was in control. i just lived in the moment. i could react instead of ACT. her games were more real than my having to force my ideas of reality on things. they just... were.

she was the zen goddess of flirting.

i miss her a lot.

of course, she turned out to be crazy.

but

who the fuck isn't?

Everybody

everybody vomits
everybody shits
everybody sneezes
everybody farts
everybody lies
everybody makes mistakes

we're all just people. until we own up to our faults and calm the fuck down we will never be special. we will be a bunch of assholes who waste time talking about how special we are.

people who are so afraid of actually taking chances that we never do anything but agree, and, therefore never really learn anything.

fuck that noise...

Bite Me

you know those people?
the ones that can't really like something if you love it?
they say things like
well
that's something that you're into
like your fanship has somehow ruined it?
the same people that get really hurt
and then pissed off if you don't like something that they love?
like it's some personal attack or something?
like your love of the book 'blue movie' is pointless
and
if you were really cool
you'd be reading books written at a high school level
like 'illusions'
or something like that?
and
since their boyfriend
or sister
or best friend from college feels the same way
it's further proof that you're a loser?

like:
when i first got an on line journal i told everyone how great it is but nobody wanted one and now, since i think that my space sucks i'm a jerk?

screw those visionless robots...

Cockfighting

they busted up some cock fighting in town today.

what's the deal with that stuff?

am i the only person in the world that still loves a good tit fight?

Again With The Thinking

i keep thinking
that there's a perfect set of words
a collection of curves and straight lines
a set of magic pixels
and
if i wrote them
when she read them
all of her problems will be solved
well
maybe not solved
but pulled into focus
and simple to deal with

like turning the lights on
and
finding that the monster is only a coat over a chair

way do i bother?

because i'm an artist?
because i'm a moron?
because i'm trying to un-cause a car wreck?

if i could answer the questions that float through my skull i'd be a zillionaire

It's Still Just Typing

i think that i should point out
once again
that
what would text being flat and without tone there is a good chance
at any given time
that what you think you are reading into something written might be wrong
and that
when you are wrong it's your fault
and a learning experience

(much like this post)
(which wasn't written about you)
(i have much better things to do in life that waste time making you feel bad)
(you sick, paranoid, deluded, martyr, dip shit, childish, loser-fuck)

take it like a grown up and move on to whatever is happening next

high school is over
and this is real life

fuck you very much...

Going To L. In A Handbasket

i saw l. today
being the rough tough manly man that i am
i totally forgot how she never writes to me
even after she promised that she would
we made eye contact
and
i melted like a nestle's crunch bar in a long shoreman's arm pit

god

i'm such a fucking lame ass...

That Pointless Paris Hilton Piece

at what point exactly did it become obvious that she was a whore?
was it that cover story in 'big fucking whore monthly'?
that interview on the tonight show where she said to jay leno, 'well, in my spare time i'm a whore.'
maybe it was that time you gave her money for sex and said, 'thanks, you huge stinking whore!'?

know what i think?

i think you heard some dip shit hanging around the water cooler at work
or some skank at the lunch table
quoting some stupid joke
and that hundredth monkey thing kicked in
and then
whenever you were reminded of her
the first thing that kicked in
was the thought
'whore'
it's pavlov for the trendies
and i refuse to play

again
she might be a raving bitch and a full on idiot
i have no idea
i don't know her personally
but
does having a scumbag ex-boyfriend that sells a private tape make someone a whore?

calm the fuck down

it's only the media
and
the hundredth monkey
only has an average intelligence

Another Great Idea

you know what i think would be a great idea? having a guy on the news that asks questions. wouldn't that be amazing?

'and now, with the big questions, our own wally carlson. wally?'

'well, the president said this and the governor said that and congress said something else. the big question this week? who gives a shit? i mean, none of that chatter really has anything to do with you so whatever, am i right? back to you, steve.'

'thanks, wally. truer words were never spoken. now let's go to the sports desk.'


you may say i'm a dreamer but i'm not the...
hmmmmm...
maybe i am the only one.

All You Need Is An Empty Soul

i honestly feel that any company that would even consider using the song 'all you need is love' in their ad campaign should be blown up, rebuilt, and blown up again. and, when they got to hell the people who work for them should be kicked in the nuts over and over and over again for the rest of whatever. yeah. i know what you're thinking. what about the women? they should be assigned nuts and then have them kicked over and over and over again for the rest of whatever. oh! and their children should be forced to watch.

Supermarket 2

the folks who shop at my local supermarket amaze me. it's like picking up food at a mental hospital.

you're aware, of course that there are actually people that think that if they get mad at you it's because you're an asshole and that they shouldn't have to deal with that negativity. you shouldn't bring their reality down to that low a level. you should stop invading their space.

they also think that if you are mad at them it's because you are an asshole and that they shouldn't have to deal with that kind of negativity. you really shouldn't bring their reality down to that low a level. there's no need for finger pointing.

'know what i call these people?

that's right

assholes

and their parents?

assholes

isn't it strange how everything ties together?

Overheard At The Supermarket

"...i dunno, dude, i think it needs new tires and shit. OH! DUDE! so's i go to my bro's, dude, to check out the car and shit and he's watching 'twin peaks' again, right? that's like all he fucking does and shit, right? so like that sharon fenman babe, the one that he has that picture of on his fucking wall and shit? her dad shoved her fucking head into a fucking FIREPLACE and shit, dude! that show's fucking WEIRD and shit, dude! i was like all, 'DUDE! NO FUCKING WAY', and shit! SERIOUS, DUDE!"

Free Band Names (Sorry, Jello)

black band-aid
the snoochies
four toed foot
pen in the neck
gentlemen nail redheads
the pleasant tomorrows
the egg needers
ungentlemanly haymakers
stomp the poodle
yoda morgenstern
mondo con carne
the living nixons
wac's and wayne
the flying dead
funkmeisters of the new despondency
the wankers
flying eraseheads
the honkeys
dr. skinflint's purple tinted airport monkeys
the flaming hetros
the aristocrats
back 2 bach
pink water
bring me the head of lou jacoby
beatlemaniaphobia
mad about plaid
liquid lunch
the sneeches
greta garble
melted leopards
not perry como
father and sum
the nocturnals
the orgone donors
skip toomaloo
april may june and jewel eye
half cocked and fully crocked
wet nightmare
colombus was a fink
singed eyebrows
chunks of pulchritude
the skinks
knights of the lepus
loni anderson's cleavage
the stolling roans
cream of groucho
thyme and tied
the bruce lee spotters
murder is neeto
underwater tractor pull
friday the 54th

So Long Spring

Welp.

It's just about summer and you regular readers of my stuff know what that means. Yeah. I'm going to have to beat down those mole men in the backyard again. Man! Am I ever tired of that whole scene! It just never fucking ends!

You know, once I found out what a total sham voting is I should have just kept my mouth shut. Not me though, not fucking me. I was so filled with that ass-holy-ness that's better known as righteous indignation that I actually called the government to bitch about it. Have I ever told you that story? Maybe I haven't. I don't remember if I have. Come to think, maybe you're new here so I'll drag that old chestnut out for another spin. Forgive me if you've heard it already and feel free to skip ahead if you'd rather. It's not going to kill me if you do so, whatever. Know what I mean?

So I call the government. It's not very hard to do, anyone can. You just have to know what to Google to find the number, right? I'm pretty sure a lot of you can figure it out on your own. So I call and this voice asks me what I want and I start screaming about what a lame ass scam voting is and how I never will again because all politicians are jag offs and if I had to pay to vote I'd want my goddamn money back and fuck this and fuck that and fuck you too, sister. Really letting it rip. And she says can I hold on for a moment and she puts me on hold.

I fire up an ultra-light 100 and do another shot of spiced rum and I'm sitting there wondering when the guys with the high powered rifles with the silencers are going to show up and pick my ass off through the window. On the news it'd be reported as one of those drive bys or whatever and boo hoo hoo, time for my funeral and some shoulder shrugging and who'd give a wet fart anyway?

So she gets back on the line and says that she checked with her supervisor and that I have two choices. Either a plain white van is going to pull up and I'll be shot with a high powered rifle through the window or I can make a deal. So I go what kind of deal are we talking about here? You know, like, is there a lot of math involved or what?

She says that it's cool if I never vote again but if I tell other people what a crock of shit that whole school yard game is other people will stop voting and then they'll start thinking for themselves and stop watching hit TV shows and giving a good goddamn about 'Scrubs' and total wankers like Celine Dion and whoever wins 'American Idol' (no matter what a babe Kelly is or how hot Carrie looks in a real tight T-shirt) and then they'll stop buying big ass cars that they don't really need and they'll realize how fucking stupid caring about empty headed junk like this whole bling bullshit is and the economy will collapse and where the fuck am I gonna get my spiced rum from then, thank you very much. At this point I see her point and I say I'd like to deal, please. And if you'd like a cherry on top I could arrange that for you real easy-like. I'm nothing if I'm not polite in a crunch. It's the romantic in me.

Anyway, she says seeing as to how the government is going to spare my life I'll have to do a favor in return. I say it sounds fair to me which is exactly the wrong mother fucking thing to say for sure.

So I hang up and keep drinking and screaming along with old Alice Cooper songs and watching "The Brain That Wouldn't Die" for about the eighty first time and the next morning or maybe the evening after that I've forgotten the whole thing. Which is yet another mistake in an entire life that's chock full of huge ass mistakes, believe me, you.

About nine months later a guy in a dark suit with a clipboard shows up and has me sign in ink at the bottom. I'm a fucking moron so I sign. I was also pretty well hung-over because... well, I'm an American, and it's one of my rights since I was born here and all of that shit you see in the movies and in those old books about history. It might have even been a question on "Jeopardy" once or twice but I'm not gonna swear to it.

As it turns out the government knew about these mole men that were going to show up and my part of the deal was having them sent to my house and now I have to deal with them every summer for the rest of my life. Even if I move they'll just have them go there. So I'm stuck and it sucks and you can write the second verse yourself so, like I said before, it never fucking ends.

In fact I was going to wrap this up with a real cool story about how one night Drew Barrymore, Melissa Joan Hart, and Avril Levine gang sucked me while Jennifer Tilly made me eat her nipples and kept calling me daddy but I hear a scratching noise outside so I have to get a flashlight and a rake and go kick some mole man ass.

It never ends, man.

It just never fucking ends.

What I Believe

most of the world doesn't really hate us. we're the home of jazz, the blues, rock and roll, cinema, the telephone, television, thx sound, marilyn monroe, the marx brothers, jerry lewis, woody allen, francis ford coppola, bill hicks, george carlin, oingo boingo, the ramones, the donnas, and countless advances in medicine, electronics, and
technology. what they hate are ugly americans. those boneheads that think that we should be thanked for everything that ever happened in the world and who think that the american way of life is the ONLY WAY that all other countries should be run. you know, the kind of morons that believe whatever they see on the news because they're just too dumb to understand that it's just a TV show. the kind of folk who rush out and buy a plastic flag because everybody else does and then throws those same flags away when it's no longer in style to have them. the sort of jerks that really think that people die in wars so they can buy those cheap ass flags that are made in other countries and wave them in the face of guys and gals who don't agree with them, the feeling being that if they have an opinion it must be the only opinion that's important because any REAL american follows orders and never asks questions. you know, assholes.

all i know is this:

1) i used to have money and now i don't.

2) i can spell potato. being a devo fan i am one.

3) ketchup is NOT a vegetable and before reagan all of those crazy people that you see living in the streets were in hospitals.

4) we are at war with some guys that bush's daddy hated and those clowns who blew up those buildings are still free.

5) strangely, gas now costs a freaking fortune. just like it did in the eighties. i don't really know why and i don't really care.

6) you should all rush out and see, 'duck soup', 'wag the dog', 'network', 'starship troopers', 'the president's analyst', and 'josie and the pussycats'. you should see them over and over and over until you really understand them and tell people that won't see them to get bent. any truth you need is buried in pop culture. trust me. i'm a rogue sub-genius doctor/pope.

7) no president really does or says anything. they have advisors and writers and people they have to answer to who helped them get elected in the first place. anyone who thinks differently isn't really thinking.

8) this is my country too. i was born here, i'm fifty years old, and i can have any opinion i want. just like anyone else. if you don't agree with me you can stick it where the sun shines now and then. like if you sleep naked with the window open or bend to tie your shoes at a nudist camp or whatever.

9) if you'd like a much easier life send me rum and vodka. the only reason i took the time to write all of this junk out is because i'm not screaming along with old alice cooper tunes right now. i miss drinking and, like most people who feel gypped i blame those rat bastards in office. whoever the hell they are they never ask me anything...

Might Have Been A Model

she was pushing eighteen. not much of a problem there. i was in my mid twenties (going on about twelve) and she had a boyfriend anyway. besides, i take things kind of slow. i wouldn't want to hurt anybody, once bitten, better safe, apples falling from trees, pick one you like, okay? she was blonde, hips like a dessert cart, painfully pretty. wanted to be a model and might have done very well at that kind of gig. face like a really hot angel.

so... we're at this party and her boyfriend (a real nice guy, btw) leaves for a while. i'm feeling good, drinking a bit, nothing serious, just hanging out. we've known each other for three or four days and i'm playing at flirting with her and she's playing at being pissed off about it. we're both laughing and bothering other people with our fun-vibe. i go to the bathroom and, on the way out the host drags me back in.

he says:
you like her?

i say:
yeah. lots.

she told me not to tell you but she's leaving her boyfriend.

so?

she's thinking about you.

why would she tell you that?

so i'd tell you.

but she told you not to tell me.

what are you, man? a fucking moron?

(long pause)

oh...

at one point she's really acting shocked at my attitude, goes into the kitchen, comes back with a glass of warm water, and dunps it over my head. it wasn't beer. it wasn't cold. it was art. i would have married her right then and there.

her boyfriend comes back and they get a ride home. she and i act like we don't really give a shit that the other's leaving but the eye contact was promising.

a few hours later we get a call from the emergency ward. the car that they were in was in a crash.

i figured that everything was okay, or at least not all that bad or they would have told us over the phone so it's off to st. john's.

we sit there for about an hour and they call her sister into another room.

there was a scream. just like in the movies. just like nancy allen in 'blow out'. anybody that tells you that chicks don't really scream like they do in the movies is full of shit. you can trust me on this one.

so there's this scream like in the movies and then she yells, 'that's not my sister! she doesn't have a face!'

she was dead before the cops had shown up.

we all kind of floated home in a fog.

a couple of days later i got the story: the car had rolled over quite a few times. she was in the back seat on the passenger's side and her face was torn off when her head was smashed through her window. her boyfriend was crushed in the wreck. the driver lived. he was saved because he was pinned in the seat by the steering wheel.

she never became a model.

the strange thing is that i rarely think of her and when i do i can't remember her face.

then again

maybe that's not so strange after all...

Zooology

Look:

It's not pronounced "zoo-ology"
It's pronounced "zo-ology"

How do i know this?

Because it's not spelled "zooology"

You stupid fucks...

405 Days Later

FADE IN:

EXT. STREETS OF LOS ANGELES - DAY

"Cool Places" a song by the band Sparks begins.

We see a montage of empty streets, dead cars, vacant buildings, etc. Basic L.A. landmarks.

From a freeway overpass we see only a few vehicles and they’re not moving.

The Hollywood sign in need of cleaning.

Scraps of paper being blown along the Santa Monica pier.

A rather old set of corpses slumped at a bus stop.

Wilshire Boulevard, stretching all the way to the vanishing point with no one to be seen.

The empty parking lot of the Ralphs Market on Wilshire and Bundy.

Off in the distance we see a guy walking toward the store. He is wearing a black “Pinky and the Brain” baseball cap, a khaki hunter’s vest with lots of pockets over a black “Eraserhead” t-shirt, black pants, pink high top Converse basketball shoes with black laces, and headphones.

He is alone.

As he gets closer to the store he pulls a backpack off of his back and unzips it, taking out a gas mask. He takes off the headphones, puts on the gas mask, and then replaces the headphones. There are several shopping carts. He wheels one in through the shattered glass of the market’s doors.

CANNED FOOD ASILE

The shelves are almost empty.

He tosses cans of ravioli, tuna, and Spam into the cart.

Tosses in cans of mushrooms, carrots, corn, etc.

PRODUCE DEPT.

He passes fruits and vegetables that have rotted into nothingness months and months ago.

MEAT DEPT.

He passes rotted and decayed meat.

LIQUOR DEPT.

He loads a couple of half gallon bottles of Cap’t Morgan’s Spiced Rum into the cart.

BOTTLED WATER

He loads up the rest of the space in the cart with bottles of water.

EXT. AN ABANDONED CAR - DAY

A length of hose is inserted into the gas tank.

His mouth spits out some gas.

A five gallon gas can is being filled by the other end of the hose.

The rear window of the car is shattered by a crow bar.

He walks away from the car and up the street with the can of gas. Every car behind him still has a rear window. Every car he passes has the rear window shattered.

EXT. A BACKYARD - DAY

The gas can is filling a portable generator.

INT. HOUSE - NIGHT

He empties an envelope of punch flavored Kool-Aid into a jug of water and ads sugar, shaking the jug after replacing the cap.

We travel through the house in a single Steadycam shot.

There are cases of bottled water and canned goods in large stacks.

Cases of beer and malt liquor.

A large freezer that has the word "SMOKES" spray painted on it.

A huge professional stereo system with two turntables and giant speakers.

About three thousand vinyl records arranged in shelves.

The biggest goddamned plasma television everyone has ever seen takes up an entire wall.

He enters this room and moves to a shelf on which hundreds and hundreds of DVD’s are held. He takes one.

Sitting on a large comfy couch he presses "Play"

The Twentieth Century Fox fanfare plays followed by Rod Serling’s voice.

It’s "Phantom of the Paradise"

He smiles.

GUY
I love this movie!

He does a shot of rum, chasing it with the Kool-aid.

He lights up a cigarette as the song "Goodbye Eddie Goodbye" begins in the movie.


FADE TO BLACK

Late Night Olympics

I don't know about you but I'm a bit of a night owl. I sit up late
and suck up television while the rest of the world sleeps, right?
This being the case I have been lucky enough to catch some of the
more obscure Olympic games. The ones that you guys missed
because of your sleep patterns. Being the nice guy that I am I kind
of feel it's my duty to fill you in on the winners of these games.

Knocking Richard Simmons off of a bar stool with a tennis ball
serving machine was won by the USA. No biggie here. It was a
lock.

Standing around quietly while waiting for the phone to ring went to
Canada. No big surprise here either. They kill at this. They do it
every goddamn day.

Six man luge on an upturned coffee table was won by the French.
Nobody really knows why. I'm thinking it might have been the
wine.

Turning into a bat and feeding off of the townspeople was a gold
for Rumania. Geeze! They win that every year! Like we had a
chance!

Limbo for fat guys was nabbed by Japan. For some reason the
limbo has become a huge thing over there. I don't know. I guess
they just love old American pop culture or whatever.

I hope this has caught all of you up and we can get back into
watching "Saturday Night Live".

And now the news:

Madonna played to a sell out crowd in Los Angeles tonight. The none too good looking ex-professional boy's masturbation fantasy and wanky ass pop star said, "While it's true that I am richer than all of creation I'm so fucked in the head that I still need attention from people that I don't actually know in person." She then added, in a very phony English accent, "Know what I mean, gov?" Twenty minutes after making that statement she was shot in the face by someone who the police didn't bother trying to contain, figuring the world would now be a much better place. They were right. She is now dead. We'll have more on this story just as soon as the three people left who give a shit bother calling the station and asking us for it.

Hitting My Head On The Ironyboard

i just knocked over a flashlight
it hit the floor and broke open
scattering the batteries under the desk

i can only see one of them

it's odd
the one thing i need to look for the battery
is lost under my desk

that's my life, gang
the whole mother fucker in a nutshell...

Christ On A Crutch!

so...

either christ was married or he wasn't

(if he even existed in the first place)

who gives a shit?

what's the dif?

so fucking what?

who said that if you're the son of god you can't be married?

i don't remember ever hearing that. how does that work? if you're the son of god and you say, "I do.", does your head explode or something? was christ like rumplestiltskin? could you get rid of him with a word trick?

it's like getting in a debate about his shoe size:

"If he had size 12 1/2 feet he could walk on water and, therefore he was the son of god. But, if his feet were size 10 or smaller his feet wouldn't cover as much of the water's surface and he wauld sink, proving that he was a human."

of course he was a human.
if he wasn't he'd still be hanging on a cross waiting to die.

why can't you be the son of god and still be human? he ate food, didn't he? he slept, and woke up, and bled when he was cut. what does that tell you?

shouldn't they be talking about what the guy SAID?

i think that if you read any of those books you should do yourself a favor and read one of the books about how none of that stuff is true. you know, just to be on the safe side?

you shouldn't believe something just because everybody else does.

trendys are suckers and fashion is for followers.

back about a gerzillion years ago people thought that the world was the center of the universe. in fact, if you didn't believe it you were killed. as it turned out, those folk were wrong.

there was this book once called "chariots of the gods". it was about how space people have been visiting us since the cave days. many people thought that it was true. it WAS in a book and all. as it turned out, it was all a bunch of crap that a guy wrote so he could sell a lot of books.

most people thought that it was a great idea to send a shitload of our young people over to some sandy place to kill a bunch of bad guys. if you didn't believe that it was a good idea you were called an unamerican...

i think you can see what i'm getting at here

use your mind

or

don't


me?

i have to see the movie because ron howard directed it and tom hanks is in it. i just saw a clip though and i seriously doubt that the painting of the mona lisa has a secret message on it that you can only see with a black light.

other than that, the painting of the last supper has an "M" in it if you squint and trace the outline of some of the figures sitting at one side of the table. that "M" is proof that he was married.

HUH?

who the fuck says? maybe it stands for "Mercury" and we should all run out and buy a car.

or "Merlot". he liked wine, right? 'even turned water into it.

what's the latin word for "married"?

does it even start with an "M"?

maybe it does.
i don't know.

but, it looks like a very badly scrawled "M" if you ask me. it looks like some dipshit is making something up and is reaching real hard to prove it. what about the other side of the painting? what letter can you find there? and what would it stand for if you did find one?

i don't care about the book.

and i think i'm gonna laugh real hard during the movie...

I Turn Me Off

And leaning on the hallway wall
I watched you put your eyes on
I thought I felt my heart enlarge
You walked out and it shattered

Excuse me while I turn me off

Your airplane flies the friendly skies
Unaware that I am fading
It lands and you move somewhere else
With new sights through your window

Excuse me while I turn me off

(spoken)
"The traffic rolls by
slowing to a stop
and I'm reflected in chrome and glass
and I can't see my face
it was stolen by you
and when I call you the line is dead"

You're running with the roaring crowd
I'm quietly meowing
The dream falls and some parts are lost
I can't find the instructions

Excuse me while I turn me off...


(for Gary Numan)

Donald? Duck!

it's official. i am totally sick to death of that asshole donald trump. what the fuck? it's bad enough i have to see that dipshit in magazines and on talk shows, now i gotta see him in commercials? that rich white money mad comb-overed mother fucker can kiss my fucking ass. the voice on that cocksucker could peel fucking paint, for fuck's sake. look: if you buy products because you see that spawn of satan on your television you should be smacked in the side of the head with a goddamn paperweight. the donald? fuck the fucking donald.

My Eighth Day On Zoloft

i'm gonna try to spare you most of the details here
but
i feel this should be mentioned...

masturbating has been a real task lately. something that i've been very good at for a very long time (it was my major in high school) has become an olympic event or something. it takes a lot more time, a lot more work, and a lot more concentration. it'd be great if i had a partner

(you blonde chicks on my friends list know who you are.
*winks and flashes you a thumbs up*
how ya doin'?
call me!)

but
being alone it's a bummer.
sometimes i just give up.

and you know what?

i don't get angry about it.

it wouldn't bother me half as much if the pay off was equal to the work involved. i think when the orgasm finally hits it ought to make me pass right the fuck out and, when i wake up i should know the secret to cold fusion or how to fly by using just my arms. another language at least. but when i do get off (if i do) it's a let down.

i mean
it's good
(it's always good)
but
not as good as i think i deserve.

the last time it was such a monstro chore that i slapped myself on the back after.
sure
maybe i should have washed my hands first
but
i figured it was a rented tux so
you know
fuck it...




(from 'The Zoloft Notes')

Total Babes

it must be a real bummer to be a total babe
you know
to look like
jennifer tilly
gina gershon
or
tara reid
or whatever

"i'm sorry but you aren't allowed in here."

"really? check out my cleavage."

"fuck! i'm sorry! what was i thinking? go right on in. help yourself to anything you want and, if you'd like to kill the president or anything i'll be sure to say that i never saw you. oh! um...do you need any money?"

god
us guys are dumb...

People Who Should Be Shot

Oh, man!

Some people really piss me off.
Like, people who say 'man-aise' for example.
What the fuck is wrong with these assholes?

It's not 'man-aise', it's 'mayonnaise' for cryin' out loud!

It's a French word!
It's prob'ly pronounced 'may-oh-naise-eee' or 'may-oh-naz-ah' or some shit.
That's a big pain in the ass through, so here in America we say 'may-naise'.

People who say 'man-aise' ought to be killed to fucking death!
They should be fucking shot in the kneecaps!

Say you go into a deli and you don't want any of the white creamy stuff.
What do you say?
Do you say, "hold the 'man-oh'."?
No! You sure as fuck don't!
You say, "hold the 'may-oh'."

Why?
Because it's short for 'may-oh-naise'
That's why!

Suppose you don't want any of the yellow stuff.
What do you say then?
"Hold the 'man-stard'."?
No! You don't!
There's no such thing as 'man-stard'!
It's 'mus-tard' and 'may-naise' you dim bulb motherfuckers!
Get a grip and get out of my face or I'll kill you!

Fuck!

These assholes prob'ly drink Coors Light too!
I hate Coors Light!
Coors light?
Gimme a break!
What?
Like a regular Coors is too strong for these people?

"Gee? I like a can of Coors now and then but that aftertaste! Yow!?"

Silver bullet?
How'd you like a silver bullet in your fuckin' chest?

Ball Park franks too!
They plump when you cook 'em?
Big fucking deal!
The ads don't say a goddamn thing about how they taste, man!
All they say is that they plump when you cook 'em.
What does that mean, anyway?
Does that mean that some schmuck at the Ball Park factory beams more hot dog into your hot dog when you heat them up?
I don't fucking think so!
I think that the water in them makes them expand when they get hot!

That's what I fucking think!

And those low fat Oreo's?

Fuck you!

Don't even get me started with those low fat Oreo's!
If you can't handle a fucking regular Oreo now and then, it's time to end your fucking life!
You pussed out, post yuppie motherfuckers!

Fuck fucking you!

You wanna know what's wrong with this country?

Have a Ball Park frank with some 'man-aise' on it, wash it down with a Coors Light, pound a couple of low fat Oreo's, and give me a call.

I'll tell you what's wrong with this fuckin' country...

Truth

Alright...

Lemme get this totally straight

If we all believe in something it'll come true, right?

All we have to do is believe in it hard enough? Just be positive?

Well...

I don't know if you've noticed

But...

The emperor has no clothes!

He's naked
And fat
And I have no desire to see his dick flopping around

Fuck positive
You can believe anything you want

But

As for me?

Gimme truth any day of the week

It sets me free

Fish

My dad was the kind of guy who would spend more than the cost of dinner on a fishing pole hoping that he could catch enough fish in his lifetime to make the cost...um...work out in his favor. He wasn’t a very spiritual guy, he was a moron who actually thought that "the system" could be beaten if he could just figure out "all the angles" and latch on to the "right one".

Back in the very late fifties he drug me to the Santa Monica pier on just such a fishing trip. I was about three or four years old at the time. I seriously doubt I was even into TV Guide at the time.

We sat on an edge of the pier and cast our lines into the wind. Somehow (and I don’t even remember this) I reeled in a fish that was roughly the size of a nice "sammich".

There was another kid about my age, bored to death as he hung out with a father who was about the same age as mine. Another asshole who was hell-bent on "beating the system" just like my father was. This poor kid didn’t catch a fish and his dad was more than a bit peeved at this. Fucking fathers, man. You got me on that one. His kid was a fucking KID for Christ’s sake.

This kid’s dad kind of laid into him. "Geezuz! Can’t you even catch a fucking fish?", that whole vibe, so I reached into my dad’s bucket and gave the poor little fucker the fish that I had caught. He and his dad were amazed and both got real happy real fast, the whole point of life (at least in that moment) being "FISH!!!!" and not at all connected to real life at all.

My dad smiled and "let things slide", saying something sage like, "Kids? What you gonna do?" and let the dad and the now happy kid stalk off into the night.

On the way home he threw the fucking book at me and called me a pussy. Many, many, many times.

This is how I deal with my friends. Both in real life and on line. I give away my fish.

It’s left up to you to figure out what I mean by this. I’m not a professor. I’m an asshole with a ton of fish and it’s up to you to pick out the bones.

4-puff

i've just said something funny. a perfect face on a body built like both sizes of marshmallows in perfectly stacked puffs is smiling. then laughing. then speaking in flirty tones as fingers brush my shoulder. the marshmallows are soft and warm like fresh out of the bag and microwaved to an almost liquid state (but not exactly). virtual scoops of the stuff speaking in visual girly rhythms. fluffy and bouncing and next to dancing as it laughs. almost too painful for a simple human to look at. somehow more than alive and flowing with it's own inner heat as it moves warmly through both time and space at the same moment. on a trip across a timeline without either limits or a worry. then i watch and melt a bit myself as you pass me in this narrow doorway. sometimes my hands reach out to caress you. sometimes they don't. i'm never sure of the impending reaction. i'm willing to take a chance at least half the time however. it goes either way. you hold me close or squirm to freedom. both feel fine as i'm not all that forceful or determined. but my heart always reaches. sometimes when mearly aware that you are in the next room. or a town or two away. and when you laugh hard enough your head moves foreward and back in near jerky nods. your hair bounces as well. it dances on it's own to the music of your giggling. then your tongue wets your lips. and that is why i often bark at you like a dog in a bad cartoon.

Ed Would

I first saw a little movie called "Plan 9 From Outer Space" in high school. This was around 1971 or so and in those days high school meant exactly that, at least it did at my school. One night I smoked a nice sized joint and saw the movie at about three in the morning. I had no idea what it was (or who Ed Wood Jr. was, for that matter) but, as a young and hungry science fiction and horror fiend I thought I'd check it out based on the title alone. I couldn’t believe it. It was the sloppiest and downright lamest thing I'd ever seen.

I laughed my ass off.

Nobody really had a VCR back then so if you wanted to see a movie a bunch of times you’d have to wait for a rerun. It would replay every six months or so and I'd see it every chance I got, often making friends and people at parties sit through it as well. There was no two ways about it, you either loved it or hated it. Most hated it. That was their loss as far as I was concerned. I was hooked and the most amazing thing was that it got better with each viewing. It didn’t take very long for it to become one of my favorite movies.

These days it seems that almost everybody with a quirky taste in cinema loves it and it has reached the height of cultdom. Books, magazine articles, and a comic book all sing the praises of what has been called "The Worst Movie of All Time".

But is it really the worst? I don't think so. Have you ever seen "Gone with the Wind"? "Mrs. Doubtfire"? How about "Pretty Woman"? Those are some bad movies, pal.

I mean, look, at least "Plan 9" has a message: "Stop playing around with weapons or we'll come back and whack your whole damn planet!” Pretty heavy stuff. Sure. I know. Robert Wise said the same thing in the film "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and he said it better too.

But here's the thing:

The reason the aliens come to earth in "Plan 9" is to stop us from discovering Solaronite, particles of sunlight so small they can't be measured. If we create a Solaronite bomb it will blow up the sun and then follow the sunlight, blowing up everything it touches thereby blowing up the whole universe. Now, here's no such thing as Solaronite but there are neutrinos, teeny tiny particles of sunlight. If a neutrino bomb were created and set off would the sunlight explode setting off a chain reaction that would destroy the universe?

I'm no scientist but it sure seems that way to me.

And what about Ed Wood?

Did he "discover" neutrinos long before whoever is credited with the discovery only to pick a really stupid name for them and use them in what has been called "The Worst Movie of All Time?

As Criswell, the guy who narrates it says, "Can you prove it didn’t happen?”

Bring The Boys Down South

i've got a great idea

why don't we get the hell out of iraq
invade mexico
turn it into a state
clean it up
and tax the fuck out of those people?

there's got to be oil there somewhere

besides
if we had a war the soldiers could go home on the weekends

why am i the only one who thinks of this stuff?

Flick This!

ever meet someone
and they seem really cool
getting along
and everything
and then you notice that their bic lighter still has the warning sticker on it
and you just want to smack them in the fucking head with an end table?

i mean
if you swung it up from the floor you could really get a lot of power on that downward arc

i hate that...

Beach Blanket Life Lesson

it's summer in california
frankie and annette are together
right?
everything's great

and

then
this other chick shows up on the beach
she's new
she ROCKS!
everybody thinks so
even frankie

so frankie thinks
"whoo-ah! whatta babe!"

and

he strays from annette
he's got thighs in his eyes
(that whole darwinian thing going on)

so

he strays
annette finds out
it don't take long

and

she strays too
she starts to hang out with another guy
"i'll show that frankie, goddamnit!"
she's just being a chick

so

about 90 minutes later
they get back together
they learn that love is all that matters
that they were both wrong
that the most important thing is to be true

be honest and everything will be okay
love is the REAL THING
anything else is crap
don't be a dick
or a bitch

and

your world will work out fine

sure

it's just life on the beach

but

why waste it?

and that is really all you need to know...

New Pair Of Shoes (a song from the 1920's)

I'm gonna up and pick and choose
Go to a store and ditch the barefoot blues
Drop some money, gonna pay my dues
And buy me a new pair of shoes

I saw an ad in the morning news
Believe me, buddy, I ain't no fool
So I caught a bus, had no time to lose
Now I got a new pair of shoes

They've got black laces and they match my pants
It says on the box that they were made in France
Gonna take my honey to the springtime dance
This ain't no time to snooze

Then it's up the aisle between the pews
We're both gonna say our yes I do's
A wife, a house, and a baby too
'cause I gotta new pair of shoes

Dude

I gotta new pair of shoes

Game Shows You Will Never See

You Bet Your Ass!

The Check Bouncers

Ooh! My Back!

Twenty Thousand Dollar Pink Belly

Let's Make A Sandwich

Wheel of Blisters

Make Me Puke

Celebrity Bar Room Brawl

Tic Tack Bleed

Bowling For Blowjobs

Squish That Zit!

Fishing With Pistols

I've Got a Chainsaw

Name That Wound

Are Those Real?

Win, Lose, or Die

Who Threw That Brick?

Underwater Checkers

Shoot the Stars!

Drinking and Driving for Dollars

Beat Your Mom

The Price is Fucked

Some Lame Ass Back Story

About a bazillion years ago the Earth cooled. This was a good thing. If it hadn’t we’d all be jumping up and down a lot and screaming about our feet more often than we do now. The air would also hurt our lungs and there wouldn’t be any clean water.

Can you imagine living in a world like that? I just barely can and I have a rather colorful history of drug usage.

There were these pools of water laying around back then and, through some electro-chemical process that I don’t have a lot of knowledge about these tiny fishy things came to life. Chemistry tends to vex me on a daily basis. If you take some motor oil and lemonade and toss in some cotton balls you get retsin? How does that work? I mean, there can only be a finite number of chemicals, right? How the hell do those research guys come up with new ones? I had a chemistry set once and if I mixed up a bunch of stuff all I ever ended up with was a tube of blackish slop. I just don’t understand it in the slightest.

This may tend to explain why I write. I may be trying to understand things.

Ah, well...

Whatever...

Some weeks later dinosaurs stalked both the surface of the Earth and each other. These were dangerous times for the more fragile life forms who were mainly walking snacks and sandwiches for these dinosaurs. The whole world was a giant Burger King and you didn’t have to deal with money.

One day a chunk of what was basically iridium zipped through space, got caught in the Earth’s orbit, and smacked into the ground with a resounding boom. The impact of this smack and boom caused a huge cloud of dust to blanket the sky, blocking out the rays of the sun and making things rather chilly for the dinosaurs and snacks that lived here. The plants died, the plant eaters died, and the meat eaters followed suit rather quickly.

Things were looking bad.

However, some of those snacks had fur coats and they hid out in little caves and hollows and rode this badness out. They kept warm, ate when they could, and had a lot of little furry snack sex.

Such is life.

These little furry things evolved and after spending a couple of years in the trees they lost their tails and walked tall on the ground. Cave people had arrived.

Now…

I don’t know about you but I would have made a lousy caveman. Most of my leisure time would have been spent crawling around nearsighted looking for something to read. I doubt my tribe would have been into my sense of humor either. Some burly cavedude would have crushed my head with a rock just to shut my ass up. “Yeah. He was an asshole and now we don’t have to hear his fucking whiney voice! What’s for lunch?”

I’m not real hot with history but, if I remember right those guys and gals didn’t even have Dr. Pepper! Barbaric? Don’t get me started! Have you ever seen a TV Guide from back then? They weigh in at about seven thousand pounds. You had to do the crossword puzzle with a hammer a chisel. And if you made a mistake you were just fucked and that was all there was to it, man.

But enough about me...

Somehow the more aggressive caveman tribes grew up in what is now known as Europe. These were serious hunter/gatherers who just had to have more. And more. And still more after that. They built ships and crossed oceans and got to work setting up what is now known as The East Coast. Not content with that they pulled this thing called “Manifest Destiny” out of a hat and moved west, hacking their way through viscous plant life and a few million Indians. Once they got to The Pacific Ocean they chugged Margaritas, beat the living shit out of a bunch of Mexicans, and said, “Wow! If we had some well built blonde women here we could make television and movies! Let’s do it!”

So they did.

This sort of wanderlust still pretty much exists even to this day. Tons of people who really have no business being here move to Los Angeles every month. They seek fame and fortune in what is sometimes called “Show Business” (although other times it’s referred to by it’s more rightful name: “A Motherfucking Pain In The Ass”). These people don’t kill each other or anything (not too much anyway) but they do play their stupid little schoolyard games with each other and make life a big old bummer for those of us who were born here and really just want to tell stories and get paid for it.

Oops!
My bitterness is showing!
Sorry about that!

Anyway...

Some people moved here from other places to try to carve a life for themselves and set about finding meaning in the face of their assorted neurosis.
We all want love and good things right?
And there’s really nothing wrong with that at all.

You know.

Unless you're a total asshole or something.

Bee-Bop (an old episode of 'The Outer Limits')

I took shape
And moved into your world
I was curious about humans
And about love

I tried to break up your homelife
With newly discovered charm
Because I needed offspring
Your wife caught me feeding

Transforming back into myself
It frightened her
Deep and black
It must have been illusion

But when she found me
Talking with my drones
I had no choice
But to release them

To do my bidding
To bring her death
And at last we were alone
Just you and I

I made my move
In a long white dress
I thought you'd like me that way
But you turned me away

With a declaration of devotion
For your wife
And all that it stood for
And so I fell away from you

Off the balcony and back into myself
You'll never see me again
But I have learned about love
It stings…




(for Joanna Frank)

Seeing Orange

It’s been going on for years, man.
The age old question.
Is the glass half-empty?
Or is the glass half full?
We all want to know the answer, we all want to know.
We all have opinions but we can’t be sure.

Me?

What do I think?

I think the glass is half-empty.

I also think that if you look around you just might find a faucet. And there may be some ice in the freezer. Look in the refrigerator. Is that a bottle of 7-up? And over there, on the shelf, I think I see a bottle of bourbon! Wow! There’s a bag of Doritos on the table and somebody has left out a bowl of salsa!

Too cool!
I love this place!
Where’s the stereo?

Yep!

That’s what I think.
That’s me.
I’ve got a jaundiced eye and I’m looking through rose colored glasses.

I’m seeing everything in orange.

Scene From An Unwritten Movie

FADE IN:

INT. SUPERMARKET - DAY

DAVE, a rather normal looking guy in his mid twenties, is standing in a aisle trying to decide between two boxes of doughnuts. He talks to himself.

DAVE

Hmmm...these are plain and plain is good. I like plain. Doesn’t get in the way if you have ‘em with chocolate milk. These however are chocolate and chocolate doughnuts are always perfect with regular milk... I’m vexed yet again.

PETE, another rather normal looking guy in his mid twenties, drops a couple of bags into the shopping cart. He and Dave are roommates and close friends.

DAVE

Chips?

PETE

Nothing but. I went for nacho. You cool with that?

DAVE

I can find no fault with my favorite style of crunchy thing. These doughnuts are giving me a headache though.

DAVE

Plain or chocolate? Again?

PETE

The age old question.

DAVE

You have got to get a girlfriend, my man. I’m being serious now.

Dave picks up a box of doughnuts and shows it to Pete as if trying to teach him something very important.

DAVE

Pete? These have sprinkles. Don’t you like sprinkles?

PETE

I love sprinkles.

DAVE

Sprinkles rule.

PETE

It is a known fact that sprinkles are one of the basic cornerstones of capitalism. In some cultures they are considered a way of life.

DAVE

I’ve read that. Sprinkles also fit in perfectly with any beverage you could possibly mention.

PETE

Except for gravy, Dave. Be honest.

DAVE

I’ll need to do some more research on that but for now I’ll take your word for it.

PETE

Thank you. My thanks surround you and follow you whenever and wherever you happen to travel in this crazy world. This is my pledge to you. Don’t take it lightly or I’ll be crushed.

AL, a third rather normal looking guy in his mid twenties, steps up to them. He is also a friend. In fact they all went through school together.

AL

You guys are nuts, you know? It’s never going to work. Not in a million years. Do you hear me? Not in a million years.

A long pause.

DAVE

So... We’re going to go for the sprinkles then?

Pete drops the sprinkled doughnuts into the cart.

PETE

Fuckin’ a.

(for Kevin Smith)

E-Life

i feel connected
is a small
yet moving way
like threads
(or whatever)
little tugs
flashes of light
notated moments
written thoughts
captured images
spanning miles
flying through phone lines
splashing on screens
electric life
and all of that
it's not so easy to explain
and i'm not bad with words

i've heard it said that being on line is false
that it has nothing to do with real life
that you don't have to deal with other people
and that it's stupid and empty

it's like having someone who only listens to mozart
telling you that the beatles suck
having a thought is one thing
backing it up with knowledge is another

then again
i'm just stating feelings here
thare's a pretty good chance i have no idea of what i'm talking about at all
so
clocks tick
and the world spins
and i'll post something different tomorrow

toong! Boof!! SPLAT!!!

I knew this guy named Newmar, right? He worked in construction, heat sealing plasti-beams for the MondoCorp building downtown. He was an average guy. Kept to himself. Never caused any problems or nothing. What you might call a square egg.

So...one day he's up on, um...I dunno, like the two hundred and thirty fourth floor or whatever and he stops for lunch. Opens his lunch pail and starts munching on an egg salad sandwich with bacon bits. Real bacon bits, mind you. None of that fake stuff for this guy.

And he's gulping down his chow with his feet dangling over the edge of the building and this swinging crane pops him in the head with a beam. Right in the fucking head. He's not looking behind himself and he gets whacked it the head. And his helmet goes TOONG! That was the sound it made when the beam hit him. TOONG! Like a tuning fork or something, right?

And BOOF! He goes flying over the edge of the building! And he's falling and screaming and suddenly he can't see anything. His eyes go black and then his whole life goes reeling by. He sees himself being born, and growing up, and going to school, and all these old girlfriends, and houses that he lived in and such. All the way up to being smacked in the fucking skull and falling off of the building.

Then...and this is the weird part, he sees a baby being born. A little girl. And she grows up, and goes to school, and has some boyfriends, and some houses and jobs, and she dies in a plane crash.

And Newmar says, "What the fuck was that?"

And then this voice enters his head. Deep in tone and rather soothing. It comes from inside and outside of him all at the same time.

It says, "Scenes from next time."

SPLAT! He hit the pavement at about nine zillion miles an hour and was buried in a sponge.

The end.

The Extra U

i love british stuff. the pythons, the beatles, and screaming, "fucking hell!" in times of stress being just three examples of this (yeah. i know. veronica zemenova looks british but she's actually from russia or something so i chose to leave her out). i'm a bit of a freak over that british stuff. it amazes me that there's this whole other country on the other side of the world (or thereabouts, i live in los angeles and don't know a map from the front of my hand) that pretty much speaks the same language that we in the states do. like, if you were stranded in england and really had to use a bathroom you could ask pretty much anyone in the street where one was and they could tell you what you needed to know. you wouldn't have to point or do some lame ass charade-type dance or whatever. you could ask a simple question and get a simple answer and yet, it's an entire different country! how cool is that?

of course, in england they have different slang terms for things but the basics are pretty much the same. "geezuz! i really gotta take a leak!" wouldn't be all that hard for a native to understand.

they spell some things in ways other than our own as well. like "color" is spelled with an extra "u". it's spelled "colour" over there. lots of words have an extra "u". "neighbour" and "mould" are the only ones i can come up with off the top of my head.

given that our forefathers and mothers came from there (some of mine must have anyway. my last name is "armstrong" and i have been known to get a major league sunburn by sitting too close to a 25 watt light bulb) it seems as if we should be spelling things the same way that they do. well..to be honest we do spell things the same way that they do except for that extra "u" thing or, in our case a left out "u". i'm not going to mention the way that they spell "tire" as trying to remember it has given me enough of a headache already.

i guess at some point, maybe after the revolutionary war someone said, "alright! this stinking war's over! we beat those bastards bad and, just for good measure let's drop the letter "u" out of a whole bunch of words! that'll show 'em!".

everybody else said, "you betcher ass!", or whatever it was that people said back then and now we spell the word "colour" wrong.

really makes you think, don't it?

then again, i just smoked the scrapings out of my favorite pipe and there's a pretty good chance that i have no idea of what the hell i'm talking about.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

I had just closed the front door. Was standing in the foyer of the big house when there was a huge, ham fisted pounding on the great slab of oak. I thought this was a bit strange. Didn't see anyone behind me as I made my way up the driveway, right?

Now, you have to consider the condition of my brain at this point. I had gotten a ride to the party in Stan Lee's limo, Stan was hitting the Jack rather fiercely that night and, seeing as to how he hadn't been invited to said party felt a need to challenge me to some guzzling. "C'mon, you true unbeliever! Suck some back!" I tried to be polite. Told him I'd be having my fill soon enough but when he started calling me a pussy I figured the gauntlet had been thrown and chugged about a third of the bottle with my right hand while flipping his ass off defiantly with my left. "Pussy THAT, old-timer!", I snarled and handed the bottle back. It was about that time that he laid out some Godzilla sized lines of what he liked to call "South American Jumping Powder". Suffice to say that on the way up the drive the drops of water glittering on the oh so green of the lawn struck me as solid and complete proof of God's existence. "How could anything that beautiful come into our reality without some kind of divine handiwork involved?" You know, that whole drinky/druggy vibe.

So I opened the door and Robert Conrad is standing there with a huge tank of nitrous (the kind with wheels and a handle attached for easy transportation) and a case of Night Train. I guess he was slumming it that night. "Hey, asshole! Where's the fucking party at?", he screamed, and by the smell of near cheese on his breath I could tell he had been into the 'train for quite some time.

He shoved a bottle in my face and said, "Drink this, nancy boy or I'll strangle you with a live dachshund." Laugh? I nearly crapped. The guy did have his moments, humor-wise, I have to give him that.

I'm standing there, putting away the Night Train when he bellows, "Where the fuck do I put my coat?". He opens a door and Paul Lynde sticks his head out of the crack, sees the confusion on Conrad's face, and says, in a Chardonnay fueled impression of himself, "Sorry, Bob. I'm not out of the closet yet!"

Conrad: "Suck my dick!"

Lynde: "Take a number, cowboy!"

That did it. I totally lost it at that point. Was laughing so hard I started to lose my balance, right? So I stick my left hand out and grab the first thing I feel to steady myself. Wrong move on my part. I found myself hanging onto Margaret Dumont's left breast! She says, in that shocked, upper crust kind of way that is all hers, "Well! I never!"

Pat Sajak is walking by at that point, helping Dianne Arbus to the bathroom. You know how she gets after seven or eight Bloody Marys, just a full on pain in the ass. Pat says to Miss. Dumont, "Oh, yeah? What about that night with the donkey at that boat show in Sheboygan?"

Dumont blushes and, just as she's about to answer him Dianne Arbus says, "Aw, shut up, bitch! I've got pictures to prove it." That Dianne Arbus being ever at the ready with a cutting rejoinder, to be sure.

I'm on the floor at this point, laughing as if insane. Dumont shoves her hand into a nearby salsa bowl and crams a fist full into my open mouth. I'm so wasted I don't even feel it. Either that or it was one of those wimpy mild brands of salsas. I swallowed it and flipped her off as well.

Just then I look up and I see Wavy Gravy hanging from the chandelier. I guess he had been there the whole time and I just hadn't noticed him. He says, "Wow! Bad news, man! I spiked the salsa bowl with some acid I got from Walter Cronkite! First class government stuff! You're gonna be tripping for a month, man! It's heavy duty shit! The kind they use on blue whales! Fast acting too!"

I look down at this point and see that I'm slowly sinking into the floor. I'm waist deep in some kind of retro/googie/post-moderne space ship pattern that's like something right out of George Jetson's kitchen. Blurp, blurp! It a matter of moments I find myself chest deep and sinking deeper. Fast acting doesn't do this electric salsa justice. I'm fucking ripped!

A voice screams out, "Just the asshole I've been looking for!"

Oh, Christ! It's Billy Barty! He's been gunning for me ever since he got burned on that heroin deal. I've tried to explain that I had nothing to do with it. That I don't even know Bill Cullen but he just won't listen. The blame has to fall somewhere and he's picked me for the fall guy. He kicks me in the nuts, awfully hard for a guy his size but I'm so fucked up I just laugh even harder. Now he's crazed. "Nobody laughs at me!", he screams.

I'm about to shoot back with, "Yeah. You're just not very funny any more, Tiny!", when I see that I'm sunk into the floor up to my chin. Billy straps the mask from the nitrous tank on my face and cranks the gas up to eleven.

Just before I pass out I think, "Great... it's one of THOSE nights?"


(for Terry Southern)

Top Ten Reasons Stalking Can Be A Bitch

(10) The hours suck.
(9) You lose sleep.
(8) It doesn't pay for shit.
(7) "The Catcher In The Rye" gets boring the 12th time you read it.
(6) In the TV movie of your story you never get a writing credit.
(5) Clothes get torn when climbing barb wire fences.
(4) The annual stalker's dinner and dance has a no host bar.
(3) It's hard to think of something new to leave on the answering machine when you call 25 times a day.
(2) Them stinkin' headaches.
(1) You get rubber cement all over the place when pasting cut-out words on threatning notes.


(for Snowy)

The S. Effect

He sat at the motor lodge bar
Drinking
And smoking his brains out
A guy sat next to him
Offered his hand
A salesman from Sheboygan
Both said hello
Bought each other drinks
Joked about sports
And presidents
And cars
And such
At one point
The talk turned to women
And the problems that pop up with them
When you least expect it
The salesman laughed
And told him a story


"I don't really know how it happened. Nope, not me. Not really. I'm not very good with real life. She was a blonde, I do know that much, and a babe to boot. Matching collar and cuffs. The whole deal, man. Hooo-weee! A total dollface, that's for sure."

"She met another guy and caught a plane to dreamland or whatever. I guess he was a better hunter/gatherer than I was, you know? Fuckin' life, man! Don't ask me. All I know is movies. Yeah, life is kind of like a movie. Takes too long for stuff to happen though, no fades or lap dissolves. There was a time when you didn't have music anywhere you wanted but the Japanese invented the Walkman and that was the end of that problem. One down,Etc..."

"The babe left. Busted my ass up pretty bad, if you catch my riff. Spent a whole lot of time curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor cryin' all four of my eyes out, bad news time and all like that. Woulda just got drunk and stayed there but I lost my job too. It was a very shitty month. The sort of thing that turns quiet guys into psycho killers and makes heroin such a popular way to spend your free time."

"One night: I'm done, man. This shit has got to end. The floor is really talking my bones into all new states of pain. Besides, now and then somebody will knock on the bathroom door, "Hey, man! Ya wanna snap it up in there? I had Mexican for lunch!" Then I have to wipe my eyes and act like everything's okay, "sorry about that. I was reading the new TV Guide, Lemme know when you're done. I gots to finish the crossword puzzle, bla bla bla..." I can't take this hurting any longer. Must pull my stuff together, you understand."

"I start to work it out in my head. Why does this happen? Why do relationships fall apart? Who's the blame for crap like this? After a couple of days the thoughts jell and I figure it out. Shall I tell you? Would you like to know?"

" 'The process of natural selection in conjunction with the second law of thermodynamics'. That's it man. That why it all crumbles. That's why shit like that falls apart."

"There was this guy a long time ago. He was a doctor or a writer, some shit like that. His name was Darwin and he said that women tend to seek out strong and dominate males in order to propagate, to reproduce, and keep their species alive. Chicks dig big, strong, bad ass guys with shitloads of cold hard cash. They can't really help it, it's in their DNA. It's called the process of natural selection. Oh, and guys do it too. That's part of why guys like big tits."

"Also there was this other guy, I don't who the fuck he was but he discovered entropy."

"Let's say you've got s nice ice cold glass of Dr Pepper sitting on your coffee table and you get tired and leave it there when you go to bed. In the morning you wake up and what do you have? You've got a flat glass of warm brown crap, that what you have. The soda has fallen from the cool goodness to the harsh badness. That's entropy, man, things collapse. Entropy is the second law of thermodynamics."

"And that all you need to know. The process of natural selection in conjunction with the second law of thermodynamics. It's my own theory. I call it "the shithouse effect" for short. The other person's ass is always greener and most things fall apart anyway. It's not her fault and it wasn't mine either. So I got up off the floor and grabbed the remote control and got the fuck on with my life."

"Now so can you."


He slapped the salesman on the back
Offered him a smoke
And told him how he understood
How he had been there as well
How women are nothing but trouble
But...
What can you do?
Take up knitting?
Build ships in bottles?
Maybe go homo?
Real guy talk stuff
He shoved some quarters in the jukebox
Played some old R and B
Called the bartender over
And bought a couple more doubles

It was time to move on to the knock knock jokes

Liquid

The sun is liquid and gold with love and promise
It flows aside me, watching
Flows inside me, talking
My eyes are aglow with heart's desire
Birds sing both opera and doo-wop all at once
Blues and greens collide and dance along
Flowers whisper my name as a chorus
Love rains down, taking the solo
Soaking us all with the music
Its wet resolve hums the backbeat
The sky looks down
And smiles it's kindly smile
It's yet another beautiful day
And we are the children and the owners
Of the earthly homeland that swings
Beneath our feet.

Man!

Sometimes these acid flashbacks are fun!

Lime Green Time Machine

The funeral was sad
(No big surprise there)
Dark clouds
Rain
It was just like in the movies
Newmar stood in the back
Taking hits off of a pint of Jim Beam
Mixing tears with pain
A poem, a quote, a mound of earth
And his Uncle Pete was buried
Newmar sighed
As his mind wandered back

It was the fourth of July
A bar-b-que with his family
He was playing in the dirt
With toy tanks and plastic dinosaurs
When he suddenly felt a weird vibe
He caught a feeling of something very bad
And very hot
He jumped up and tackled Uncle Pete
Knocking him down and safely away
Just before the grill exploded
In a huge fireball
For no reason at all
He had saved his uncle's life

"You've given me time", Uncle Pete had said
"Someday I'll do the same for you"

After the funeral he went home
To a big yellow house
That his uncle had left him in his will
He stood in the living room
And looked at Uncle Pete's stuff
Books, photos, and the like
Mere objects that were all that was left of his Uncle Pete's life
It made him feel empty
For Uncle Pete was also a trusted friend

Then
One night
Drunk on white wine and memories
Newmar found himself in the basement holding a cardboard box
A post-it note on it said:
"You gave me time
Now I've done the same for you"
It was signed by Uncle Pete

Inside the box were a couple of thousand
Styrofoam pellets
A strange looking lime green belt
And a small blue notebook
He took the belt and book upstairs
Sat down in a chair in the living room

And
An hour later was the owner of his very own time machine
That Uncle Pete had built from scratch
And even though Newmar was amazed
He still felt empty inside

Newmar examined the belt
There were knobs and buttons on it
And some small lights
On a panel on the front
It didn't look real
It looked like something out of Flash Gordon

All at once there was a flash of light
And a popping sound
Air being shoved out of the way
Standing next to Newmar
There was another Newmar
Exactly like himself
But he wasn't holding the belt
He was wearing it

"Hi!"
He said
"I'm from the future. Why don't you give it a try?"

Newmar put the belt on
Set it for a minute in the past
And pushed a button

There was a popping sound
Air being pushed out of the way
Newmar was looking at himself
Holding the belt

"Hi!"
He said
"I'm from the future. Why don't you give it a try?"

He watched himself put the belt on
And then set it for a minute in the past
And push a button
A flash
And a pop
And he was alone again

He went upstairs
Got very drunk
And thought about things

In the weeks that followed he saw
Martin and Lewis live
David Bowie in 1972
Blondie
Marilyn Monroe arriving at various movie premieres
The Marx Brothers on tour
His parent's wedding
His own birth
And so on...

(he resisted the urge to visit Uncle Pete
he just wasn't ready for that)

He had fun
And learned a lot
But
He still felt empty

See...
Newmar needed a purpose
A mission in life
A reason to live
He needed to feel full

One day
While visiting the fifties
He took in a movie
And before it was over
He knew what he had to do

So he returned to his own time
And went to a coin shop
And bought all of the fifties money he could
And went to the fifties
And bought comic books
And returned to his own time
And sold them
And bought fifties money
And went back
And bought more comic books
And returned
And sold them
And bought fifties money
And went back
Over and over again

When he was rich
He went around town and bought even older money
And packed a bag
And bid his house goodbye

Standing on the pier
In Santa Monica
He threw the belt into the ocean
Thankfully
It sank

Then he hailed a cab

There are no questions
That money can't answer
So when he signed the papers
There were smiles all around
And he picked up new daughter
And walked out of the orphanage
And smiled wide himself

"Are you really my father?"
She asked

"Yes. I am now."

"Then can we get some ice cream and go see the new Clark Gable picture?"

He watched the sunlight
Dance through her hair
And he patted her head
And smiled again

"Anything you want, Norma Jeane,"
He answered
"Anything at all."

Then he stooped down
And gave her a hug

"He gave me time"
He whispered
"Now I'm doing the same for you."

He didn't feel empty

Ho-hum

she said: "i think a woman should be able to breast feed wherever she wants."

i said: "why?"

she said: "because it's a beautiful, natural, wonderful thing."

i said: "then i should be able to watch."

she said: "that's sick!"

i said: "how come? it's a beautiful, natural, wonderful thing."

she said: "but it's a private thing. something shared between a mother and child."

i said: "then it should be done somewhere private."

she said: "god! you just don't get it, do you?"

this is one of the many reasons i don't have a girlfriend.

Headlights

Hi kids!
How are you all doing today?

Good.
That's real good.

Today I'm going to show you how to make people's eyes lock up like a raccoon caught in a pair of headlights.

Does that sound like fun?

Are you ready?

Then let's go...

Don't you hate it when someone asks how you are doing? I know I do. I always have to say, "Fine. Everything's just fine." Or, "Not bad. How are you today?" Sometimes I just want to grab their face and yell, "None of your fucking business, asshole! What are you? A fucking cop?" But that's not very nice, is it boys and girls? No. That's not very nice at all. So what do you do when you feel like that? Do what I do.

Tell them how you really really feel. That will show them but good. Say something like, "Geeze...I've got this pain in the small of my back, a huge ass headache, I think my lover is cheating on me, I'm late with the rent, my goldfish doesn't understand me, and what's the deal with this fake metal shit? I mean, what the fuck ever happened to good old rock and roll?"

You'd be suprised at the number of people who won't know that you are just messing with them. Most folks will leave you alone real quick. It works most of the time. If you are a girl throw in a mention of "that time of the month", or vaginal warts or something like that. If some guy is bothering you he'll walk away in no time flat. That should work about eighty-five percent of the time.

Of course sometimes you don't feel that angry, just a little bugged.

In that case try this:

Point to your arm and say, "Well, my Aykroyd is grinding against my Verhoeven...you know? Right where the Zemeckis meets the Beatrice Dalle? It makes my Coppola throb like a son of a bitch. My doctor gave me some of that Bon Jovi and, as long as I rub it in deep enough i seem to have it under control."

That ought to show the bastards, huh?

And always remember to tell those Christians, "Um. No thanks! I tried that in my last life and it didn't work out all that great for me."

Welp...

I can see by the clock on the wall that i have to go buy a new clock.

Until next time, see ya next time!

Bye bye, now.

Elephants

the elephants are moving
(slowly, slowly)
one foot at a time

not going uphill
(lowly, lowly)
in an ordered line

don't think for themselves
(empty, empty)
it's not something they do

wait for instructions
(tempting, tempting)
the trainers make the rules

don't bother with the elephants
they'll freeze still with remorse
their brains are small
and filled up all
with peanuts just

of course

Some Loose Thoughts

The shortest distance between two points is teleportation.

Don't cry over spilt milk. Unless it's a lot of milk. I mean, like a tanker truck or something.

In the land of the stupid the guy with an average IQ is a god.

I think The Big Bang was named wrong. I mean, how could there be a Big Bang if there was no one around to hear it? Maybe it should be called The Big Flash or, even better The Big Thing since there was no one around to see it either.

If cats had fingers would they flip us off? I know i would.

A penny saved is another stinking penny laying around in an old ash tray, or sock drawer, or whatever.

Violence is entropy plus speed.

I wonder what would happen if Donald Trump yelled, "You're fired!" in a crowded theatre.

If dolphins are so damn smart why don't they have thumbs?

Homer Simpson drinks Duff beer.
Hillary Duff is an actress/singer.
Am I the only one who sees the marketing genius in this?

You only go around once in life. You know, unless you're two faced.

If pork is the other white meat why is ham pink?

Buy the world a coke? No way! I'd like to buy it a shot and a beer and tell it to calm the hell down. The whole world all jacked up on sugar and caffene? Thanks but no thanks, pal. We've got more than enough problems with things as they are.

There is no 'I" in "ART".

I like my women like I like my horror movies. Cheap and funny.

Wearing fake fangs and calling yourself a vampire is exactly as cool as wearing fake ears and calling yourself a vulcan.

I saw a really old movie last night. It was called "The Alamo" and, for the life of me I don't remember anything about it.

I know there is an amazing joke about Shake 'N' Bake but I can't figure out what it is. Sometimes this keeps me awake at night.

Q: How many werewolves does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Two. One to change the bulb and one to eat your face.

Okay.
For the last time:
Headphones go on your head.
Earphones go in your ear.
Are we all straight on that one?
Cool.
Let's move on from there...

How'll?

for carlo marx

1

i've seen the best minds of my generation sell the fuck out for an suv and some starbucks,

waiting madly for the "will and grace" box set to grab a blissful fix,

addleheaded trendies yearning for an easy connection to justification of their shared assumptions,

etc...

Smith

what's the deal with this anna nicole smith thing?
she was promised four hundred million out of one point six billion?
where's the problem?
what's one point six billion minus four hundred million?
like... i dunno, i'm none too slick with the math or anything but i'm thinking it's gotta be around a gerjillion or so.

if that's not enough for you you should get a head exam.

shit!

i'd be more than happy with that.
i'd even take the point six.
or a point one even.

no, really.
it's cool, man.
i'll be fine.
you guys keep the billion.

people amaze me.

give her the fucking money already.
she fucked the guy, right?
that's how things work.

getting on a high horse don't got shit do do with it.

you know, unless you pay extra for that kind of thing.

American Idle

for the last time
american idol sucks!
it's three people who can't get a better gig than sitting around talking about how much people suck
then
the person who sucks the least wins and gets to suck on the radio
look
it's all about being safe
and bland
and artless
how long do you think david byrne would last on that show?
or david bowie?
pete townshend?
patti smith?
tom waits?
buddy holly?
fats waller?
laurie anderson?
little richard?
joey ramone?
courtney love?
iggy?
fucking iggy?
iggy wouldn't last two seconds
"would you like to stop screaming and put your shirt back on? you're just awful. i heard better the last time i stepped on a cat. and blah, blah, blah..."

forget about it, kids...

OH!

i was watching a commercial this afternoon and it hit me like a flash of light!

i UNDERSTAND now!

we were born to buy shiny shit that we don't really need in order to impress people that wouldn't be impressed with us if we didn't own shiny shit that we don't really need.

and all these years i've been busy trying to learn about art so i can express myself better?

whatta fuckin' doof!

Morphs

Two polymorphs are having a spat. One is a male, the other a female. Things get more and more heated until the chick takes a cheap shot at the guy.

"You know", she says, coldly, "being a polymorph I don't understand why you don't have a bigger dick!"

"Well", he answers, "if it bothers you that much why don't you just make your pussy smaller?"

She screams at his rudeness and beats him to death with a floor lamp.

At her trial she is found not guilty and cleared of all charges and, after a huge bidding war The Lifetime Network pays her twenty million dollars for the rights to her story. The TV movie ( "I Beat My Hubby To Death With A Floor Lamp: One Woman's Story") is one of the highest rated in the history of all time.

And she lived happily ever after.

The End



(for Mr. Mike)

LOVE IS GREAT!!!

I consider myself a neo-poet because I seem to be doing things with words that I don't see anybody else doing. I'm not writing about how pretty trees are, how beautiful her limpid pools were, or how my love is like a red, red rose. None of that stuff has any real meaning or point of view. I'd rather express ideas. And maybe make you laugh while you think about those ideas.

Besides:

If you don't know how great love or beauty is by the time you're twenty or thirty then you're a moron and there's not a whole lot my writing is going to help you with.

I'll tell you what, if you need to be reminded how great love is here's a little gift for you:

LOVE IS GREAT!!!

Feel free to look at it anytime you'd like.
And...
Now that we have that one out of the way you are free to think about other things.

Objects

Some people don't like to be thought of as objects. If you are one of those people guess what?

You have shape and you exist in three dimentional space (four if you include time) and, therefore you are an object.

I think it was Sting who said, "Truth hits everybody", and seeing as to how you are an object it just hit you.

Somebody else once said, "Truth hurts", And if you're feeling angry right now that would tend to explain your reaction.

I'm sorry about that.

Next time I'll try to remember to tell you when to duck.

But don't count on it.

Safe

It's a great feeling to praised, to be told that you've done a good job. To get that little pat on the head, that tasty hunk of cheese after you have ran through the maze. It's a way of having what you think is true accepted, and for most of us that's pretty much all we really want and need. It feels warm to feel loved.

On the other hand, being told that you have failed hurts. How much could somebody really love you if they don't love something that you have created? It gets cold and lonely out there sometimes and who needs to feel like that? Being alone in the cold sucks. It sucks ice.

And that's one of the major reasons most people will never be artists, no matter what they tell themselves or others.

They don't take chances.

Crossing the edge scares them.

Better safe than artsy.

A Post Modern Mantra

jump the ship
turn in mid stream
shoot your guru in the face
burn your mask
tear down the wall
beat your ego into shape
hate your fashion
love your hate
stare off into space
kick a clown
punch a priest
show up late for a date
stomp your feet
raise your voice
it's your life and it's great
hug your guilt
kiss your pain
it's all too true to waste

Girls

I want a girl that reads. Not that says she does because she reads a book or two a year and her horoscope now and then but, someone who can handle Vonnegut and some Stephen King now and then. The kind of girl who I'd catch reading the side panel of a cereal box just because she hasn't read one in a while.

I want a chick that writes. Not that says she does because she can copy, paste, and send an e-mail. Someone who can compose a series of paragraphs and reach some point or other. The kind of chick who might teach herself screenplay just because it's a valid form of writing.

I want a babe that understands cinema. Not just says she does because she likes happy endings and has a crush on some actor or another. Someone who's into Dick Miller and loves John Waters. Someone who lives for widescreen and listens to second audio. The type of babe who laughs at zombies and cries at cartoons. Someone who digs Roger Ebert but takes him with a grain of salt.

I want a post-beat, neo-new wave, funny faced angel who's accepted her freedom as a woman and a human being and doesn't feel the need to quote lame sayings and opinions because she lives in fear of not feeling special every three or four seconds.

I want a woman who thinks, damn it!


(big breasts are cool too)

Kitties (a bedtime story)

Kitties at the IHOP
Kitties at the wheel
Kitties at the bus stop
Kitties always feel...

Sad when they are hungry
Happy when they're full
Glad when playing checkers
Sappy when they pull...

The switch that causes teardrops
A mistake while on the ice
It melts and causes kerplops
And they don't swin so nice

So close your eyes for dream time
A pillow for your head
I've run clean out of cat rhymes
Make up your own instead


(for Heather)

Questions

i grew up in a stupid world
with stupid people
they weren't dumb
they were stupid
they never asked questions
they had no vision
they did things just because they did things

i'd ask why they couldn't take the butter out when they first got up
that way it would spread easier when the toast was ready

i asked why things that we used every day were kept under things that were used once or twice a month

why we couldn't try it with cheese just this time

why do you vote for people that you ended up calling jerks six months later

why i couldn't finish the page i was reading first
it's not like the garbage men would leave the trash on the curb the next morning because of my book

i got sent to my room a lot

a lot

now i still ask questions
sometimes i scream them
and stupid people look at me like i should have stayed in my room

i actually know a couple of people who think that i'd be happy if i just told myself i already was
as if delusion trumped truth

lots of people think that way because it works for them
so they think it will work for everybody else
i guess it could work
maybe
if i'd stop asking so many goddamn questions

Jargon

"download the update"

that's fucking funny...

Lung Butter

anybody else here ever
have a big ol' hunka lung butter in your neck
so that
when you said,

"better check my friends list" to yourself

it sounded like

"Franz Liszt"

so you laughed real hard and got all pissed off that you were downsized at work and you haven't had a drink since fucking christmas or something so you really wanna just beat the living shit out of anybody, really...ANYbody. c'mon! ANYBODY GIMME A FUCKING REASON YOU PINHEADED DIPSHITS!!! I"LL CLEAN YOUR FUCKING CLOCKS AND CHARGE YOU DOUBLE FOR PARTS! HUH? HUH? YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU SAID, YA MOTHER FUCKING PUSSY! WHY I OUGHTA...

(passes out in a blind rage)

The Oscars

i'm really sick and tired of people saying that the oscars are too long
i don't think they're long enough
i wait all year for them
i wanna see stuff at three in the morning
nobody is forcing you to watch
if they're too long and boring for you
change the channel

i think the superbowl is long and boring
so
know what i do?

i don't watch the superbowl...

Clones

personally?

i don't really care if they clone people or not. the thing i'm wondering is where clones get souls from? i mean, would a clone be souless or would some poor schmuck (or bimbo. let's be fair) sitting sround in heaven suddenly get sucked back to earth?

"yeah, biff! i'm at this party with lenny bruce, right? and george washington really lets a huge one go! like, the fart of all farts and lenny says..."

WOOSH!

the guy gets yanked away!
his friend's standing there and

"SUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

the guy collapses into a dot and then pops away
that'd kinda stink, huh?

and then these army/death avenger/ninja angels come to earth and start fucking stuff up and screaming about how there's some shit that we REALLY shouldn't fuck with and all of that crap. we're spoiling all the great afterlife parties because the host keeps vanishing and shit, right? and then this alpha clone says 'NO!" for the first time and these wars erupt and century city gets blown up like in the planet of the apes movies and then all these christians think christ's coming back so they start fucking in the streets and running around naked and these asshole biker types think that they're in charge now and they're setting banks on fire and all of these cults are having fist fights on street corners and i can't get to a liquor store and...

on second thought

fuck cloning!

Car

don't ya hate it when

you really really want something
and
it's all you think about
and it fucknig owns you
and
then
it never happens
so
you pick up a hitch hiker
and
shove a crowbar into his head
and hide the body in your trunk
and
it starts to smell really bad
so
you drive the car into a lake
and
you left your cell phone in the car?


HAW!!!

i fucking hate that shit!

Dog

a guy goes to russia and, while taking in the sights he sees a stray dog. he asks around and the dog doesn't seem to have an owner so he decides to keep it. he doesn't know what to name it so he looks up and sees a street sign that says "ballzytch" so that's what he names the dog. he vacations all around europe and the last place he goes before heading back to america is england. he's standing on a corner and the dog runs out into traffic and WHAMMO! it gets creamed by one of those double decker busses. he freaks out and starts screaming, "OH! MY BALLZYTCH! OH! MY BALLZYTCH!".

an english guy who's on the way to work stops and says, "guv'nor? when my balls itch i scratch them."

hey, i was about 10 when i heard it and i fell off of my skateboard...

M.F.M

i'm watching "some like it hot"
again
and
i'm thinking

(i really think)

that
it
would be cool
if
next year
Marilyn Monroe's name
would be changed

by law

to

Marilyn Fucking Monroe

i mean
c'mon
we're talking about
Marilyn Fucking Monroe here

Marilyn Fucking Monroe!

what?

am i alone on this one?

Patch

i'm not too sure about that non-pregnant patch thingy
i mean
if you're screwing around
and
can't remember to take a pill
or
pack some gloves
maybe you oughta cut down a bit...

It's some good fucking food!

man!

i fucking LOVE soup!

it's a whole fucking meal

and

you get to drink it!

add some bread

and

woah, lawdy mama!

amazing stuff, that...


(fuck the citizens for ordinary jam!)

Yes, asshole. It's my final answer.

three things to do if you're ever a phone a friend on "who wants to be a millionaire?"

1) answer the phone, say, "hang on a sec, huh?", then flush the toilet. wait a moment then say, "burritos, man... geezuz!"

2) answer the phone and start to talk then hold the phone away from your face and yell, "WANNA SHUT UP? IT'S THE FUCKING MILLIONAIRE SHOW! IF YOU KIDS DON'T KNOCK IT OFF I'M GONNA KICK THE LIVING SHIT OUTTA YOU!". then say, "sorry. what do ya need?"

3) answer the phone, breathing heavy and acting all tired. mumble, "i guess that'll show that bitch." then say, "hi! what's up?"

Sheesh!

A lot of people (and I'm talking most of them here) have had pretty fucked up childhoods. They have to somehow deal with grownups who only have an average intelligence. The type of grownups who really don't listen to them because they are only kids. These kids are often told things like, "Because I said so.", "You wouldn't understand.", and, my personal favorite, "When you grow up you can be unfair too." These things are driven into their heads and, at some point their tiny minds snap and they figure, "Yeah! Once I get grown up I'll never have to be wrong and, anybody who ever tells me I'm wrong can kiss my fucking ass! I'll be all grown up!" It never occurs to them that most grownups are total assholes and that, therefore it would be really stupid to become yet another asshole, regardless of their neurotic need to never have to ever feel bad or wrong again. It's a mind fuck pyramid scheme that never gets broken because it feeds on itself. It becomes its own get out of jail free card. "I CAN'T be wrong because when I was younger I decided that once I got to this age I'd never have to be wrong and if I'm wrong then my poor little head would hurt and that would be way too wrong for me to deal with."

(read that more than once )

This, in a nutshell is why we have wars.

And why I really think that most people are fucking morons.

Aw, fuck it all.
What do I know?
I'm gonna start drinking...

"The Lady Is A Skank"

she sleeps with rap stars
don't care if they're dead
kicked out of high school
for using her head
once pulled a three way
with barney and fred
that's why the lady is a skank

had a crack party
just her and your mom
caught giving hand jobs
to mothra and kong
she's quite excited
i re-wrote this song
that's why the lady is a skank

everything's free folks
don't hafta pay
two drinks and you're laid
her throat
don't choke

dresses in latex
it makes her ass damp
that's why the lady
i'm talking lady
that's why this babe's a big ol' skank

Disgruntled

i don't think i'm disgruntled
i think i'm really quite gruntled
in fact
i've got gruntled written all over me.

Klondike Bar

what would i do for a klondike bar?

hmmmmm...

i guess i'd say

"klondike bar? wow! can i please have one?"

and

if i got one i'd be sure to say thank you

U.F.O.

if you see an ad on tv that says

"mysterious lights in the sky
ufo's?
find out at eleven."

you can pretty much figure that they won't be ufo's.

why?

because

if they were ufo's the show you are watching would be interrupted
and a newscaster would be screaming

"HOLY SHIT!!!
IT'S UFO'S!
RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES!"

11:37 pm

PISCES:
"You've got the answer, but they might not know it. Speak up and let your gang know what it needs. You'll be surprised by the end result but you have to get the ball rolling."


hmmmmmmm....
you should all be nice to each other
don't litter
don't pay any attention to the news
and send me money
lots and lots of money

Purple

fuck the red pill

fuck the blue pill

take half of each

the truth is purple

and
sometimes
there is a spoon...

Really

i think that if you are really hungry
i mean REALLY hungry
you should be able to walk into a store
and tell someone
and they should give it to you

i think that if you really need a CD
i mean REALLY need a CD
you should be able to walk into a store
and tell someone
and they should give it to you

i think that if you really need a drink
i mean REALLY need a drink
you should be able to walk into a bar
and tell someone
and they should give it to you

none of these things will ever happen however
because
as humans we have no real sense of honor
some asshole always has to take advantage
and fuck it all up for the rest of us

some of the people that i know think that i'm a downer
that i just create negativity

they are wrong

i'm just honest

and

as people

we suck

SPLAT!

i'm walking down the street, listening to "sgt. pepper's" and there's these piano movers hoisting a full sized grand piano into a window on the twenty-seventh floor of an office building

it's a pink enameled piano. the white keys are black and the black keys are pink

the cable snaps and, just as the piano in the song hits that really long note at the end of the "pepper's" album

WHAMMO!
i get crushed before i even know it

SPLAT!
i'm liquid!

on the news that night a guy in an oingo boingo t-shirt says
"well, i didn't really see it happen but it sounded fucking amazing!"

i really want to die this way
i honestly want it to happen
and the fact that it never will will be proof
cold, hard, scientific proof
after my death
that new age people don't have a clue
about what they are talking about

A Prayer

serious?

musta been
aw
twenty five
thirty years ago, right?

i'm in my room
looking at a sheet of thin lined notebook paper
words drawn on it
in purple flair pen
and
i look up
and
i see my face
reflected in a window
and
it dawns on me

i'm a fucking neo-poet?

shit!

like

i don't get to be an astronaut?
keyboard player for alice cooper?
or a major league cocksmith or something?

thanks, God!

i know a couple of guys who are gonna have a big ass talk one of these days..

About The Author

Rock Benjamin Armstrong really, really, really, really, really hates his given name. If you happen to meet him do him a favor and call him "cat".


Thank you.