Wednesday, April 19, 2006

The Bizarre Green Mantis Is A Killer !!

If you are new to this site, take a moment and consider the plight of the young lady pictured below. If you find yourself in her predicament on a frequent basis, you might want to stop right here. sad loser. Look! PEE! I just said PEE! Shit! Gall Bladder! Animal Faces! Oh lordy I'M OUT OF CONTROL, people!

After the object lesson in restraint that was April 18, I decided to go a-roaming on the www to cheer myself up, maybe find some nice art. I had a post in mind about pictures of women named Mary, and so I was happily clicking away. But see, staying on task is not my strong suit.

results of FUN SURVEYS :
smurf name: EVIL SMURF
how will you die: I will live to be 115 and be killed by Godzilla
ninja name: CRAZY BASTARD
....all of which please my inner child no end. Yes, for nothing more than a few moments entertainment I volunteered all kinds of information about myself which is now in some marketing database somewhere available to all and sundry. But I'm hoping that whoever purchases this info will be put off by the thought of contacting 'Evil Smurf' about changing her long distance carrier.

Here's a really hairy guy with one nut sort of hanging off to the side. I don't think his name is Mary, but it could be.

Aren't you glad thats not your bedspread?

Madonna, by Edvard Munch. Qualifies as a Mary, I think. But if you search this, and you enter
'Munch images' sometimes you get a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT search result. Try it and see.

You can tell his ideologies are the result of clear reasoning.

This is a cute little dog, I thought. Kind of matched my mood the other day...cute, but terribly disgruntled. Stupid conservative multiple wife having dinner interrupting, doorbelling, bicycle riding toilet heads.

This guy totally reminds me of the first guy I ever lived with. Except he was blonde and had a nicer ass.
Oh, heres a couple of urls I came across. This is real, and both my dogs totally need one. My grandson too come to think of it. For when you just can't be bothered to purchase more Ipecac. I know you run out a lot.

Oh hey, and speaking of vomiting, heres a guy I totally want to f...

No, not really. Well, maybe. If he changes out of the 'Lite Beer' shirt. I dunno. I need to think about this some more.

What do you suppose he's looking at out of the frame there? I say its an AMERICAN EAGLE. On a HARLEY. And, like, they're flying magically across the sky fueled by the strength of their patriotism, trailing a red white and blue rainbow with sparkly things in it like Jem and the Holograms had, but not pink because that would be faggy.

Ever since I found this next picture I have this stupid song running through my head and I can't remember the name of it for the life of me.

"Oh, wibby wib wooby, nibby nobby noobie, la la la, lo looooooooooooo....."
Always check the tanning bed before you go just hopping in all willy nilly. As it were.
Heres something I've always wondered about...can nads tan? They're already a color anyway. Guys?

Here's Eninenstein doing some freestylin for us... You can make this guy say anything. Heres the url:

Tuesday, April 18, 2006



Anyway, what would jesus do?
Good question.
Lets examine the J-dog, shall we?
He: hung out with prostitutes. and fishermen. got married, if you buy the apocrypha. thought globally, acted locally. kicked asses in a synagogue. did miracles of feeding and healing. was generous. didn't suck up to the rich. was an orthodox jew. enjoyed public speaking. got his feet wet.

Phone interview, 9:30 am, Tuesday
her: So what is his condition?
Me- Well basically he's perfectly fine except he keeps passing out all the time. No alzheimers or anything like that. Its just that if he stands up he passes out, and he keeps standing up. All he needs is someone to steady him while he gets up in the mroning and gets know, bathroom stuff, not, you wouldn't have to bathe him or wipe him, but steady him while he does all that.
her: Oh, thats fine. (laughs) and only part time?
Me: Uh huh. Well, five days a week for a couple of weeks. But just from 7: am to about 11:00 am for the first couple of weeks, then three times a week, then twice...just until he has his operation.
Her: (laughs) Well...lets see...I'll have to do some juggling...I have another client...
Me: Oh. well, we need someone next week. Listen, do you know any other resources; like services or, do you know anyone who needs a client?
her: Oh sure. (laugh) Get ahold of the LDS Job Service. Its a free service, they don't charge a fee, and they have, like caretakers and chore people..
Me: LDS? the Lakeway Drive...?
her: Latter Day Saints. Uh huh. (laughs) They have lots of people.
Me: Hm. You know, my father in law's out.
Me: Does...
her: (in a higher voice) oh, that doesn't matter......they help everyone...uh. they
Me: So they have a job board...
her: (same voice) oh, well, yes.....they dont care, i mean......its....well....oh. He's....?
Me: Do they-
her: (same voice) I, he...but, I mean, don't worry; they help anybody.

So Remember:
If you are old, sick, a danish cartoonist, a child molester and a raper of dogs, the LDS has got your back.
But if you are old, sick and gay, lie in your own shit and die.

Heres a subject Ive been meaning to foam and rant about for a long time, but I havent because i didnt want to say anything ignorant. first off, my tastes are eclectic. yes, my family knows. but that doesnt qualify me to talk about anybodys sex life except my own anyway, but still
tell me who in fuck does it hurt for two people to have sex? or for two people to love each other? tell me who?
once you're a consenting adult, its all good. and thats what i taught my daughter.
they didnt know everything back in bible days.
but you know what? the only person in that entire book who made any sense, who had nothing whatsoever to say about who screwed who?
Love one another.
Not love one another but only opposite sexes; everyone else out of the pool. no.
There isn't a lot of love in the world now and there wasnt then.
So love one another.

but if you want to go shit in the LDS' mailbox, i'll give you a box to stand on.

Monday, April 17, 2006


Generally I don't listen to the radio while I drive because if a good song comes on it makes me drive faster, and let's just say that's been a problem for me in the past. But the yummy biker was behind the wheel the other day, and so the oldies station was playing and we were singing along and beating on the armrests, punching the dashboard, yelling 'fuck, yeah!' and generally acting like a dignified middle aged couple.

Now it's a good thing there was a nice lineup on or I'd have started whining...the man, god love him, does tend to stick with the classics, while I'm up for just about anything musically as long as it doesn't involve yodelling or fake southern accents or taking a popular tagline and whamming it against a fence until it bleeds and then setting it on fire and peeing on it; or as it's more commonly known, Country Pop.

Well, as fate would have it, later on that evening we were at our favorite eatery, sitting in the bar having dinner and they started in with the inbred Waylon jr. shit. I made my displeasure known verbally, eliciting a noise from the yummy biker. Kind of a 'huh' noise.

But damn. This is a place that usually plays ranchera. I like ranchera. It's kind of like oompah band in spanish, with someone intermittantly cutting loose an 'aaaaaAAA-HAIIiiiii...' or 'ooooooOO-PAA!' which is rad because it sets off everyone in the kitchen to doing it too.

This lead to a conversation about our favorite radio stations when we were kids, back when you had to rub two dinosaurs together to generate fire. His was Armed Forces Radio. Well, he had no choice; he spent a large portion of his childhood in arctic military installations and that's all ya got. Mine was a Portland, Oregon fm station called...
No fucking lie. Is that not cool?
That motherfucker changed my life.

Those guy were nuts. They were all refugees from college radio trying to outdo one another proving that they weren't really selling out, so to say the resulting lineup was eclectic is an understatement. You'd get tibetan nose chant* followed by an entire side of Disraeli Gears, some Tom Lehrer, a couple boring comments from Alan Watts, some ZZTop, a little Monty Python, Mountain, Nixon speech remixes....oh damn, I miss them. And the later in the day it got, the stranger the lineup became. Around 9:30 p.m. the jazz dogs would take over. They had a running feud, modern vs oldschool, so you heard a lot of Blind Faith-that seemed to be the audio demilitarized zone-while they mustered their forces against each other.

Oho, but at 12:00 midnight my boy came on. I wish I remembered this guys' name. I called him the 'Lude Dude. His on-air personna was so profoundly laid back and so unself-conscious that you felt like he was in the room with you dropping ashes on the carpet.

Apparently all semblance of management supervision dissappeared around 10 pm at KINK. By midnight, fuggeddaboudit. 'Lude Dude would audibly toke on air. One night he gave a brief tutorial on how to heef coke off a turntable with an empty bic pen by stopping down the rotation with his thumb, during which the technicians were falling on the floor laughing in the background. You'd hear them taking bong hits and hacking. One night he spilled it on the desk and ruined his mix tape, so he did a call-in show and took requests; had to be titles dealing with altered states and illegal substances. First time I heard Billie Holliday was that night, singing 'You Make Me High' (which isn't about drugs; its about sex, but oh well.)

I discovered this guy by sheer accident, only because I had trouble sleeping when I was younger. To me, it was like discovering a hole in a tree that magically refilled with gold coins.

'Lude Dude was no brainless wastoid. He was brilliant and interesting. Most importantly, this guy knew his music and loved it. He'd stick to the playlist for a couple of songs, start expounding on the influences and start picking from the racks to illustrate his points. It was an honest to god free associative education in music, tits out, not sealed for your protection. He gave me my favorite music in a way I could OWN IT. ZZTop and Neil Young. Janis. Brother Jimi. Led Zeppelin. He did a whole show on the music that the Rolling Stones had re-released and made famous long before 'This Ain't No Tribute' was a gleam in some producers' eye.

Can you believe I had never heard Blues before I found this show? Oh, every now and then you'd catch a couple of sanitized bars in the soundtrack of a movie, or some sad wad like Dinah Shore would warble a selection froom Porgy and Bess in her soulless waspy voice while she shook her biznez, though only managing to look as though like she was struggling unsuccessfully against four point restraint. But 'Lude Dude played Muddy Waters for me. He played Howlin Wolf for me. I could not believe what I was hearing.

The effect hearing this music had on me was like having a question answered that I had no idea I was even asking. Read the first few paragraphs of Dante's 'Nuova Vita' because he expresses the type of transformative experience I'm talking about better than I can. All I know is that I was lying on my bed at 2:00 am, 1973, and that man played John Lee Hooker for me and it blew through me like I did not even exist. Something inside me opened up like an undersea flower and my life was different from one moment to the next. It was better.

*in case you were wondering, there really is such a thing. It's unearthly cool, too.