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 just things that pop into Cat Waller's head from time to time. They are not designed to help you define your belief system.
Cat Waller 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).
Thank you.
December 31, 2007
March 17, 2007
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...
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
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'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
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.
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 ...
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!!!
'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!!!
March 03, 2007
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.
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.
February 24, 2007
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.
February 13, 2007
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
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...
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...
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..
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!
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...
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...
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?
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?
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...
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...
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