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!
September 28, 2006
September 25, 2006
September 24, 2006
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?
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?
September 21, 2006
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;...
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;...
September 14, 2006
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?
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 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...
September 08, 2006
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.
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)
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!
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
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…
“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.
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…
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)
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!
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
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.
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.
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.)
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.)
September 07, 2006
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
- 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.)
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!
- 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!
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