TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Magnum P.I. is so moustachey and wet!

I don't know about you, but this is totally worth being a transient prison picnic punk! Though I am a straight man, I must say that I have deep gay feelings for chest hair, short shorts, and uber macho 'staches. Really, I just want him for his Ferrari.

Say what you will about Magnum, he still has nothing on this guy:

That's right, Hot Mo' Jesus, y'all. Yeah, Magnum and Jesus are so getting into danger and solving mysteries together, and driving fast cars. Jesus cheats just a bit. You aren't supposed to use miracles: it's in the crime fighter's hand book. But, all the women want them, and the men are dying to be like them--one more so than the other. I hear that Kool-Aide is pretty cheap still, but don't actually drink it at the "social". Pssst...it's a trick!

I'm keeeding....Golly-gosh and darn it!!!

Horton's Alchemy

You know, sometimes I get so wrapped up in the cares of the world--my little world--that I don't pay attention to people around me. I think we all do this from time to time. In fact, being able to shut down and recover from sensory overload, stress, too many Full House re-runs, really is a necessary part of coping and healing. There is a natural, good side to depression: normal depression. It is your body's way of telling you to cut it out. The best way it can do that is make you feel all crappy--you feel like crap and you go and close off for a bit...hopefully.

Who are you....?

Has it been a week of this? More??? Maybe your body is shouting, screaming, alerting you to danger. You are bouncing horrible thoughts off your mind's brick wall, like some insane handball death match. No one is playing with you. Who is there to be an objective ear?

Who hears you...?

"God," you say, "why is this happening to me right now? You must hate me." Maybe it has nothing to do with God. Maybe you have blessings in store, but you've only got on your robe and you haven't any makeup on, either. It's just too overwhelming a prospect to have to go outside (of yourself) and get to that store stocked with blessings. You need someone to share the load and draw you out, but not only that, to take in and understand what that load is first.

Who is there...

And willing to understand? There is always someone. Someone to take those inside thoughts from you, examine the contents, and then display them in a different light for you to get a better perspective on yourself. You came in feeling like dirt, but came out gold. What sort of ancient way, alchemy, have you been touched by here?

Someone listened. Someone cared. Someone treated you like you were something other than the flavor of the month. Someone like this will always be there, and doesn't care if you've not been made up, or are in a bad mood. Someone puts on their game face and sticks around to keep listening and caring for you. Yeah, I'm listening.

Also, there's that other thing:

"God, I need someone."

"God, I need to be heard."

God: "You know, you could try putting on some lipstick."

"God!?"

The essential quest of any alien

Come to think of it, I go through this every day. Both can be desperate and pathetic, or hopefully become a rather worthwhile and pleasant journey. Sometimes you have the moments where you wonder if you have any friends. We all know rationally that this way of thinking is silly, but sometimes that is such a real feeling.

Sometimes your old friends get too run of the mill, or you get too comfortable with them, that you just touch base once a month, or longer. They're doing their thing and you are doing yours (hopefully). Maybe it is good that you can go that long without talking to them--a sign of security. But, they have somehow fallen from your daily or weekly routine. I really wonder if you could go back from this to the way it was. Maybe it can be something better than before. Yes, I think it can!

Sometimes you make new friends: It is real fun and intense with each other, then somewhere along the line things change and you re-categorize them, either an upgrade or a downgrade. It always sucks to get the demotion. Is that for reasons that you didn't beat them to the punch, or is it like some quasi rejection? I don't know. I don't think that this has happened to me recently, but I have been wondering about it a bit. Anytime you have developing friendships, I think you go through periods of insecurity and adjustment. I know about the adjustment part, and it is good, so long as there is effort to improve the bond. You have to adjust or perish. I adjust and I do not quit, so long as I feel that it is worth it. Yes, it is worth it!

So, I add my bit to the comic, "Duh, must keep the friends I have! Duh, go out to eat food with them!! Duh, must understand new friend's challenges and feelings!!! Duh, not give up!!!!"

Duh....what wisdom you alls got, eh?

Yeah, Imma Goober

Sometimes I can't help but feel like this guy here. I so wanted to be like Floyd the Barber. He's Cool. Otis was sure entertaining, but I don't think I would be cut out for a drunkard's life. I don't have Barney Fife's temperament. I am in many ways like Andy, pretty much all the time, and look like Opie. But, for now, I feel like a Goober. It isn't so bad, actually. Those ignoring me for any reason, please, I will wear the hat and fix your car if if gets you back.

Which Mayberry character are you channeling at the moment?

Who has the shortest meme of them all?

Uh, I said meme, okay? Yeah, just so you know, I'm not the type of guy that talks about his...er, ahem--well, you know what. Let's start...

What is the craziest/best thing that has ever happened to you?

Answer: You.

I thought that you would like that. I know that you would be vain enough to think I meant you, too. But, that's okay--I like that. If you think this post is about you, well, then it is. See, I want you to feel special today, whoever you are. But, you know who you are, right? That's right, you are the coolest person on earth right now. You are crazy. You are the best. Why wouldn't I be singing your praises right now?

I just want you to know that someone cares about you very much today. Someone wants to see you be happy. Someone wants five dollars....Okay, I think that my cover is blown.

If you are making your cursory visit here to just say you still read me, please stick around and read other posts. I worked pretty damn hard on them.

Oh, you!

I'd rather be a free man in my grave than living as a puppet or a slave

"Well they tell me of a pie up in the sky
Waiting for me when I die
But between the day you're born and when you die
They never seem to hear even your cry

So as sure as the sun will shine
I'm gonna get my share now of what's mine
And then the harder they come
The harder they'll fall, one and all
Ooh the harder they come
The harder they'll fall, one and all"

This was an excerpt from a Jimmy Cliff song, "The Harder They Come". Of course, I have been listening to a lot of Johnny Thunders lately, and the version that I have been listening to is him and Wayne Kramer (MC5 fame) doing a cover of this song.

I'm facing a vacuum of expectations. This is a new experience for me. My old expectations were like lead boots. I had to take off my old ones because they were giving me blisters and I was not getting very far.

In my life, between being lost and trying to find a kernel of truth in the couch cushions, I always thought that if I did something more--something that was not expected of a messed up boy--that I'd magically graduate to the land of the normal, successful people. Well, I've done all that and, well, zip!

I always thought that there was some big reason for me, a grand future, whatever--I believe the word I was looking for was fate. You know, you can't count on anything, except cliches regarding death and taxes.

So, guess what? I'm a weirdo! A sweet, silly-hearted weirdo. I'll always be walking aft from forward. I have no plan now. Plans only got me to be someone that I was not. "Plans" also got me into recording again, but that was a Death Cab For Cutie album, har!

So, I'm probably going to save up enough money to buy a plot of land out in the desert, make a house out of mud and hay bales, and start making some kind of twisted monument dedicated to Don Knotts and Buddy Holly. I will start by collecting colorful pieces of broken glass, rocks, old cans, and bind them together with some mortar. I figure I can raise some insane dogs that will like to run all the time, put them in a big wheel hooked up to a generator and pump--bam! I've got water and electricity. How else am I going to run my water fountains and flood lights?

I already have a guy that is going to teach me how to make bio-diesel from cooking oil. I'm thinking that the used cooking oil business will be a good racket to get into, anyway. I sure as hell would be left alone by many. I'd be known as the un-hitched crazy man, who sings strange songs and stinks like grease.

Maybe not.

Um, the expectations are coming back now....

You might not be able to put your arms around a memory, but you sure can suck it's toe.

Johnny Thunders is one of my guitar idols. He's played with the New York Dolls and with a whole host of punk legends, including Richard Hell, Tom Verlaine, and the likes. He wrote this short, yet passionate song about feeling alone, drug addiction, missing old friends/regrets (probably the Dolls), and losing his grip on what he had. On a concert album he once said, "I don't fuck anymore. I haven't fucked since 1989. I still get my toe sucked, though. You into toe sucking?" He died of a heroin overdose in New Orleans in 1991.

Now, I'm only sharing this because I have been listening to this song today. It reminds me of how precious it is not to lose the ones you love, so they aren't just memories. But I think you could also do a 21 century version of this tune, because you can't put your arms around a bunch of pixels, either. I wish I could. Wouldn't that be nice? So, to my blog buddies, I leave you with the lame equivalent: *hugs*.

“You Can’t Put Your Arms Around a Memory”
by Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers

It doesn’t pay to try,
All the smart boys know why,
It doesn’t mean, I didn’t try,
I just never know, why.
It’s isn’t ’cause I’m all alone
Oh, baby, you’re not home.
And when I’m homeBig deal,
I’m still alone.
It’s so restless, I am,
Beat my head against a pole
Try to knock some sense,
down ’side my bones.
And even though it don’t show,
Those guys are so old.
Can’t put your arms around a memory. (x3)
Don’t try...Don’t try.
You’re just a basket case.
And you got no name.
Could you live with me?
Go on and say.
And even though it don’t show
Those guys are so old.
Can’t put your arms around a memory. (x3)
Don’t try...Don’t try.

TIGF!!!(That's Incredibly Gay Friday): The soft drink for "robust" men of sophistication

It just would have been too easy to post up the "pink" Tab can and go "Totally Gay!" I go the extra mile when I wear my sailor's cap. I give you a vintage Tab add from the late sixties-early seventies. Either way, it is totally gay, I like it, and it tastes good. Have a Tab today and wear your silk smoking jacket with loafers and no socks. You'll be thanking me.

What's your favorite "TIGF" drink?

Please God, no more scary assed dreams, okay?

I decided to down an "STP" (Super Trucker Pop) the other day along with my medication. Not a good idea. Anybody that received any communications from me should note this. Sorry for either giving you hope that it would be a good conversation, only to turn into "yep" and "LOL", or emails that made no sense whatsoever.

My medication usually makes me want to sleep, and I didn't want to sleep yesterday. I was going stir crazy and wanted to try and get some hobby time in before today, when I start "light duty" at work--I'll be delivering light stuff instead of fixing things all day.

I had fitful sleep. I didn't knock off until about three, even though I tried like hell to go to bed just after midnight. After that it was one hour of sleep then half awake tossing and turning--lather, rinse, repeat.

Dream #1: The overwhelmed hero.

Now, I had many dreams, but these were the most vivid. I had a dream that a portable classroom full of children was being taken down a sinkhole. I tried to save them by tying a rope to the building and tugging them out with my own strength. I would get the building out, only to have another disaster try to destroy or consume them. I kept trying to save the building, until....

Dream #2 The frustrated watchman.

I was placed on a high brick wall. How high? About five stories tall. This brick wall went in a circle, broken only by a ten-foot gap. For some reason, people on the outside of the wall wanted to get inside this bricked enclosure. Being on top of this wall I could see that when these people actually went inside, they could not get out. The gap was like some one-way invisible trap door. I was frantically trying to warn everyone not to go in, but they didn't listen to me. Some of these people were just your garden variety dream extras. But, what was most disconcerting was seeing loved ones and dear friends not listen to you and get trapped. The worst part of all was trying not to fall while running along the top of this wall and often getting told "F-you". I had floating distractions as well, vying for my attention. Either attractive, interesting things, or heart breaking and horrible news. The worst distraction was when my own fears and feelings of inadequacy started to really dig a hole into my will--I started to doubt myself to the point of wanting to jump. It was all in effort to keep me away from my precarious watch tower.

Dream #3: Looking for justice, while being hunted down. A really disturbing dream.

I was driving down a road at night and came across a stretch where many animal and human bodies were left for dead. I got out to investigate, but all were either dying or expired. I spent the rest of this dream looking through this dark, creepy town for answers. This one was terrifying, because I couldn't find out why this was happening, but felt that I was being followed constantly.

Dream #4: The "Hail Mary" climb. Terrifying, but hopeful.

I had a dream that I was being forced to climb an icy cliff: If I didn't climb, someone close to me would die. I have no ice climbing experience in real life, but my dad has, and has told me enough to know a few things. I was being forced to climb by two eccentric and wealthy gay guys, who constantly made out. I think one of the guys was the agent from HBO's "Entourage". The refused to give me any gear at first, but I plead with them to give me at least a rope, some screws, carabiners, crampons, and a couple of ice picks. I chose these over warm clothing. Yeah, I was totally naked except for some boots.

I started up this cliff remembering what my dad always said: Keep three points of contact, always, and keep your butt close to the wall, don't let it hang. I managed to not get knocked down by falling ice, and survived a few broken holds. But, I started to get near the top and I ran out of screws to anchor myself in with the carabiners and rope. I decided to go on ahead, figuring my last secure point, if I fell, would at least have some chance of saving my life. I got about three yards up and then my rope was at the end. I had all this distance, about fifteen feet, to go. I had to go without any security other than my own ability to climb out. I got to the top.

I still feel like crap, however. I need to get some sleep.

A guy dies and goes to heaven...

He is greeted by angels and he asks to see God. Upon meeting with God the man is informed that he will not be staying, that his time on earth is not finished. He is allowed to have a short conversation with God before he has to go back.

Man: Whoa! That star just exploded. It seemed like it was in an instant. How long did that really take to happen?

God: Billions of years.

Man: Well, I guess time up here is different. Like, a million years on earth could be a minute here, or something.

God: You can look at it that way, I suppose. Time is relative. Time really doesn't exist here.

Man: Well, maybe I don't get that part, but if a million years on earth is like a minute here, does the same hold true for money?

God (humoring the ignorant man): Sure, why not. Yeah, my one cent here will be worth a million dollars down there.

Man: Well, since I gotta go back anyway, why don't you give me a penny to take back with me?

God: Tell you what, son, when you get back down there I'll give it to. It will just take me a minute.

The lament of a beautiful instrument: Someday, just someday...

I can be the first one--the one that gets picked. I have a unique sound. Many say they want a sound like mine, but not me. Do you realize how frustrating it is to be picked up and stroked only to be put back? It's the varnish, isn't it? My varnish makes my bridge look fat. My F-holes aren't perfect either, are they? My neck feels good, doesn't it? Can you feel the vibrations and harmonics running from me into your own body, into your soul? I felt you quake and weaken at the knee, why deny this?

Go ahead and tune me, but you better just keep moving along. I get so full of hope that sometimes I am sad with it: All the history, the pain, the tragedy. What makes me still hope? Maybe that's what makes me sound so sweet, but also why no one wants the responsibility of making music with me. When their hands touch the bow, rest their chin on my body, and finger my neck, a whole symphony of life comes forth like a cascade of tears and blood. A sound so good that only the best can handle. But for now, I'm just second fiddle.

Does anybody have a freaking clue what I'm talking about?

Thanks!

I really appreciated the fire department, sheriff, and paramedic EMT's who helped out with yesterday's accident. I got to get all strapped on a back board and still have the neck brace. My EMT that was riding with me, Brett, really made the ride fun. He was cracking some good jokes, and in between asking the legit questions and checking certain things, made great conversation. This really took my mind off the pain and really set me at ease.

The Officer on the scene was really efficient and handled the accident scene professionally. I can't remember his name, but I am grateful for him and the law enforcement professionals that soon arrived. Thanks to the ER staff at SLC Valley Regional Hospital, not exactly the best in town, but you were the closest. My only gripe was that you seemed to have forgot I was there and left me strapped on that damn back board for almost three hours! That was uncomfortable. But, when things got less crazy your nursing staff, doctors, and radiologists did a great job. A big thanks for giving me my own room and making sure my mom, who just had eye surgery, did not get lost or bump into things.

A big, huge, thanks to Kirk, my man at Allstate. You are going to get me what I deserve, right?

A big thanks to the spaced-out teen, who was in a freaking huge F350, for at least trying to hit the brakes 10 feet before making your license plate impression visible in my trunk space (yep, you can see it). I was not in Clyde, BTW. I was taking my mom home from her eye surgery in my parents' car, a 2004 Mazda Protege. Not exactly a car that wins a fight against an extended cab Ford F350 hitting you at 25 Mph from the rear. It is obvious that it would have been much worse if he did not at least slow down to that speed.

I am not ready to tell the whole deal yet on the blog, just because I have already had to tell it to so many people already. I'm kind of sick of talking about it. I will soon. I just wanted to make sure that I sent out my thanks to the people for their help.

Lastly, thanks to my family members who have come out of hiding to help out. Thanks to a friend for calling me not too soon after I was released and putting up with my hyper text messaging. That was really nice and it left me feeling better. Thanks to my blogger buddies, you guys, for your comments and also to the ones I chat with.

Thanks to God for protecting us from further harm, and letting my mom get out without hardly getting strained. I'll take the hit any day, if it means protecting someone else. She is doing great, and her eye is doing fine--she just got her check up.

As for me, I'm drugged up and off of work, so you know it is good! I still have to wear this dang neck brace, but it is there to help me heal.

Take care everybody, and be cautious out there on the roads. There are some seriously distracted drivers out there.

I'm up for a sec, so this will have to do

I am in recovery from an auto accident. My X-rays turned out good. I just have massive whiplash. I'm all drugged up right now. I'll post sowemthing better whenI am able eo.

The Janitor and the Warehouse Manager: Artwork from another "Grunt"

I stumbled upon this while searching for various images. I don't know why I've become more of an image commentator lately, but I used to do these stories about all the soul sucking and alienating jobs that I've had over the years. Being a custodian was one of them. So, I happen upon this guy's blog, Thoughtworm, featuring this post . It is totally true.

I feel like I need to throw in some of my old stories again. There are so many people that are invisible because they work/live out of phase with the rest of the world. It is disheartening that this profession is marginalized by most people. You should be grateful that you are being taken care of by willing souls--people who do what most do not want to have anything to do with. You can lump a whole host of jobs in there, as well. I know that when I see someone waiting tables, I can't help but want to assist them in some way. Same with the "invisible" jobs--I always wonder who it is that is working at 3:00am, now that I do not have to.

One thing that most people will not even recognize is that it was not modern medicine that is responsible for the bulk of the increased quality of life, health, and age over the past century and a quarter. It is cleanliness and hygiene. Think about who is keeping your world clean for a second. They are improving your existence immensely.

Have gratitude and open your eyes for a change. There are invisible people helping you out. Didn't we call those angels, once upon a time?

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): MacGyver Lust

Yeah! Hell yeah!!! Women want him and men want to be him. The fact that my ultimate fantasy includes being this guy and giving simultaneous orgasms to a whole stadium full of women--with my mind--makes this totally gay.

What are your thoughts on MacGyver? Patti and Selma, speak your mind, but don't kill any naysayers. That's just impolite.

Thursday's Post: Uh, let's see....

No pics. I'm going short.

I had a wierd dream last night that I was sliding down a dried up creek bed standing, like I was skiing, and on my backside, also like I was skiing.

I feel pretty strange lately. My nose has started bleeding more, but that has been one of my deals for as long as I remember, so it doesn't bother me much. I'm glad I finally got some rest.

Listening to Cheap Trick and Slayer lately. Rounding them off with A Band of Horses, Flamin' Groovies, and The Rancounteers.

Lost weight again. Did any of you notice? I have a bunch of clown pants now.

I've peeled out in Clyde this week enough to need new tires. It's something I do.

Haven't flipped anyone off this week. Still waiting for a reason. Hell, that's right; you don't need a reason to flip someone off nowadays.

Okay, you all have a good day.

I...I think, yes! I'm *yawn* actually going to sleep

Thanks all for helping me out. I laid off the STP today (Super Trucker Pop) and am trying to let go of some concerns. If I can get six hours of sleep I will kiss the nearest ugly person in the morning. Oh yeah, that's me. That's just wrong!

Wooderson's inventory check: Right before he left on his final voyage

1. Glock: Check!

2. Brass Knuckles A-Go-Go!: Check!!

3. Wicked Scary Skull Bong and a quarter-pound of hash: That's a big motha fuckin' 10-4, with posi-trac six-pack--shit yeah!!!


What they hell else y'alls got man? Oh no, the fuck you didn't:


One giant assed motha fuckin' retarded white tiger: A big double D motor boat check on that. Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrap!

The investigation into his death has started...

(This shit has pushed all my sidebars and links way down the page again, so you'l have to scroll down to find them.)

If you just have to have your funny fix today

Go over to this guy's site: Vollewraithe. He's an alright chap. This is pure juvenile shit, though. So it probably will only appeal to frat boys and board room executives. I warned you.

Grunty, you 'ave some esplaining to dooooooo!

Okay, I need to clear things up.

Logo knows that I've been seriously dosing on the trucker pop--caffeine! It seems to be one problem--a big addiction. At least it isn't speed or meth.

I have also had some anxiety that I'll hear my dad's cries for help again--I'll find him passed out and naked again, or worse. You know it's bad when 911 is on speed dial. This has kept me up and worried to no end. Oh, BTW, I do live with my parents: I have been taking care of my ill father while my mom works off her last until she retires. This has stressed me to my limits and am looking forward to having my freedom again.

I had a major fight with someone close to me (3D).

I had a misunderstanding with Crystal. This post and the previous one, that she unfortunately saw, was not about her. Crystal is one of my best online friends I've made ever, and I was horrified when I saw that she felt the way she did. Can you just see my face when I saw that comment? My heart plummeted. I'm so sorry, Crystal. God, how could I ever write something so nasty about a great friend like you? If I did write anything bad like that about you, God would spank me hard--I'm talking about the real one here. If anyone here even for a moment thought anything bad about Crystal, get down on your knees right now and pray to God for forgiveness. If you don't do that, then God will have me do something biblical to you. Ok?

My insomnia has to end. Sleep apnea is also a problem in my family. I sure as hell hope I don't have that. Insomnia really messes with you. It has made me worry more than usual, so I've seemed obsessive. It has also made thoughts pop up that are not welcome. I know what to do with these thoughts--just kick them out as soon as they enter, then talk to somebody right away. If I was hounding you, whoever, just know that I eventually find someone who can talk to me and I'm good. I can't help it if I have preferences=) You should feel good that I try so many times to get your attentions. It means I think highly of you and value your words. You know who you all are.

Thanks everyone. You have all helped a great deal, and I will reward you all for sticking with me. There's going to be some rip-roaringly funny shit coming up. I just needed to vomit out the darkness first. I don't want to taint the pure gold coming up.

The dove in below's post is for peace. I hope that settles it.

Shalom.

Early Bird Special

I have had problems lately within. I could not sleep. I haven't been sleeping, unless you call passing out at inopportune times sleeping. I have been obsessed with other's sleep. God, why can't I just sleep?

I got up at six and worked on a post. I posted. I hope nobody read that post. It is unfair to put stuff like that up. I know that some of you know me well enough to probably get real worried about me, so I took the post down and am going to give today a chance. I changed my mind. This would have made #3. There's never going to be a #3--I'm determined (Takes a deep breath and uncrosses fingers).

The one line I will share from that deleted post is this, "Conclusions aren't worth playing hopscotch with here." The other's involved eating my brainstem like lobster, so I think I made the right decision to take it down.

I'm going to be around family today, so I'll have company. God, help me. I just can't help it sometimes.

Momma's Coming!!!

Wooderson's death needs to be avenged!

To catch up on the saga: Wooderson is Dead.

Sexual intercourse: Just Four Easy Steps!

Have you kids got any questions? Okay, commenters, have at it--give it your twist, your take.

Just once....

I'd like to wake up in a strange room to a pig and a monkey in a dress.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Am I gay that this movie makes me cry?

Yes...yes it does. What? Don't be talking unless you've seen it too. It will turn you into a teary-eyed bitch, seriously! Plus, toasters totally get me hot. No, really, I put my hand in one and got third degree burns once. Third degree burns are totally hot and gay. I'm glad I did get burned, though. If it felt good it could have led to a sexual disfunction of some kind. We all know how hard those are to quit, don't we kids.

Chance

I have six gas cap keys on my key ring. They all look the same, but are not. I kept losing gas caps, but never got rid of the keys.

I like to play a game at the pump. I feel in my pocket for my keys and make a wish. Now, I know what you are thinking, "That Grunt sure likes his pocket pool!" Well, I grab a gas cap key and if it turns and opens the cap, then my wish is granted.

So, today I'm listening to the recent New York Dolls album and there's this song about creating redemption on the rim of a volcano. I had that song in my head and a wish came to me. I will not say what that wish was, only that I have felt like that most of my life has been fine for helping others but not quite feeling like I was worth a plum nickel. When I finally get something promising on my horizon, I feel real nervous.

This time my wish was serious. I put the key in and I got scared. I know this sounds silly, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to get gas that bad to find out. I took a moment, washed my windshield, checked my fluids, and then came back to the key ring.

It turned.

P.S. I think I should get my keys down to a 50/50 chance. These current odds are stressing me out! But, at my side is God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost. I'll do fine. (Only a few will get this last part)

I don't wanna be an artist. I'm already a work of art.

I don't want to be a writer. I want to be the book.

I don't want to let things go. I want to give them a chance just to see if they'll still want to hang around.

I don't want a love slave. I want to emancipate a person with love.


I don't want it so much as I need it.

I want it all.

I need nothing except all that I need.

Are you confused yet?

More Techno Ecstasy!!!

This is my vast stable of hand made devices. I have other things that I've done but these are specifically my "stomp boxes" or effects.

From the top left (uncompleted circuit boards): Tri-wave Pico Generator, 4-stage phase section-kluge, Noise Swash, Forgot what in the hell that was going to be.

Second row from left: Jordan Bosstone Fuzz clone, Mutron III Envelope Following Filter clone (for that funky porn sound--it goes up and down!), Fulltone '69 Fuzzface clone/clone (King Bee), Kompressor (Opto-isolater controlled compressor--very transparent), Four Fuzzes In One (crammed into an Altoids tin).

Third row from left: Cool Chorus (Clones both CE-2 Boss and Electro-Harmonix Small Clone--selectable), Dallas Rangemaster Treble Booster clone (Clapton's "Beano" tone), A very naughty Downward Expanding Limiter--won't work, Enphaselope--super cool and unique--a clone of nothing (more on that later), Two Altoids Tin pocket guitar amplifiers (just add a good speaker cabinet and you'll be shitting yourself in amazement at how good these things do sound).

Fourth row from left: Big Muff Pi clone (Very dense thick and bushy sustain and wave distortion--David Gilmore's distortion of choice--it can explode speakers), Octave-Up Sick Box (exactly what it sounds like--ultra exotic and nasty as hell--oh, the squeals!), Ultra flange (sounds okay), Marshall Plexi 100 in a box--this son bitch sounds great!

Okay, that is the run down. I'll have to profile a couple later and give them the whole erotic treatment.

Me geek! Geek on!! Show us your geek!!!

Got my X-rays back and it explains a hell of a lot

You know, I just thought this was normal: Every time I'd clean the pipes, I could hear pins getting knocked down and club night cheers. It all makes sense to me now.

Another thing, being nice just doesn't cut it. I am the nicest guy that I am aware of, but don't ever underestimate me. From all the crap I've had to deal with in my life, it was essential to have grown a massive sack. Reminds me of an AC/DC song, "She's Got Big Balls".

So, how big are your balls? We are talking metaphorically here, folks. I do not want anymore emails from dudes in far off and not so far off lands with their windsocks and truffle bags making first contact with my beautiful blues. I might have to unleash the wonder twin powers on you (my big hand, and Chica's pinching toes of fury). I'm sure the rest of my crew here have Superfriend powers that they'd like to unleash upon you too.

So, commenters, tell me how big they are and then share with us your super powers. Then, I want to know how your super powers can be utilized in the Grunt Army! You know, to serve and to protect me, Grunty.

If you are looking for my wiener, it is airbrushed out. I'm not a perv...gosh!

JTM45 Bluesbreaker Combo

This here is what dreams are made of: A 1962 Marshall JTM45 Bluesbreaker Combo. This is the producer of Clapton's famous "Woman Tone". It also helps to have a Les Paul going through it with a tone bender and a wah wah. Now, this is my fantasy: To have my dream gal sitting on my amp while I play something with low resonant notes. That's woman tone!

This is one of my next projects: To clone a Woman! I will not do a combo, but a head. To have head or a combo? Maybe I should do both.

Two of these, KT66's, give out fat hairy tone, not quite the Marshall crunch yet, but close--more like rolling thunder, early AC/DC. The "Crunch" came along with their 100 watt Plexi Superlead, sporting four EL34's and a hotter front end. That's Jimi Hendrix's baby.

I don't apologize for my inner geek.

Some of my mornings have been all out warfare on myself: What am I doing about it?

I woke up today with that feeling. It just sucked hard. It is happening on the weekends for some reason. You get all those things flashing in your head, like, "I don't want to be/die alone", "I'm that old?", "It seems like forever since I last talked to so and so. Have they forgotten me?"

So, I have been combating these negative feelings with acts of kindness. I just got back from helping a 46-year-old woman move into her home--she had a real cute wiener dog, btw. I hadn't met her before this, but knew that she would be moving in and needed help. I had all this morning doom heaped on my shoulders. It was so real. I felt like running away. To where, I have no freakin' clue. But, I took a little time out from myself and helped another person. It was the best thing I could do, not only for her, but for me.

There are certain vital people in my life that I am dedicated to lifting up as high as I can, further than that of this lady. The return from helping them is greater, but the toll on me when I am away from them, or they are in any kind of hurt, is felt a hundred fold--but then again, so is their love. I don't know why, but it is true.

God help me, there have been more things thrown on my table, and my state of being is already in the balance. I am not going to give up, but when will it end? I didn't know that life would be so hard. I have no wife, kids, or career (just a grunt job) and it is the thing that I've desired more than anything. But, I've put my life on hold to care for the infirm and it just never ends until it does.

God, I never knew that you cared so much to give me such blessings. That's how I have to look at it, or else I'll kill myself with a heavy heart.

The worst of it all is when those who are vital to me do not share. An unknown burden is hard to judge, therefore I prepare for the worst case scenario, something my military infused pops is good at. I am feeling heavy again. I need to get out and do some good. My life is my own worst case scenario already, so what have I got to lose?

I love my vital people. You make me live--alive--good. If I could surround myself with you all 24/7 would you get sick of silly old me? I know of no other way than to care.

All of the many great things that I have accomplished in life I cannot put on a resume. Sometimes, I wonder why. I wonder if I'm just out of place or out of time, exiled from my home planet.

There is this: "Who the hell cares?" It can mean many things.

My answer: I do.

Maybe it is for purely selfish reasons that I do, because it lifts me when I help. It's just hard to help and see it only be swallowed up whole by life. When I see that I make a significant difference, my heart leaps. Sometimes I get more out of it than that, but I am always dogged by that cold morning feeling. I have to start all over again. It's better than total darkness.

Now more than ever, I hate the darkness. My fascination with it in the previous years was only trying to evaluate it's existence or purpose in life. But with the help of a truly vital friend, I have tasted a light that has made me vomit out my darkness, cast it aside. That morning feeling is now so unwelcome. I am compelled to do good now. I'm just looking forward to the day when that morning feeling is met with light. That day shall come. I may not know how, when, or with who, but it will happen. I won't quit.

Today is the first day in a long time that I've actually cried tears. I usually just sweat them. This is strange but good. I think I can allow this.

TIGF!!! Huckleberry Hound

Jeez, I couldn't steal a pic with his trademark hat, but you know who this is: Huckleberry Hound! He is the Jim Neighbors of cartoon dogs and funny as hell to boot--just like Gomer Pyle. I love him!

That's Incredibly Gay Friday would not be incredibly gay without him. Let's give it up in the comments section as to who your favorite gay cartoon character is. Wheeeeeeeeeee!

Altogether now: Oh my darlin'! Oh my darlin'! Oh my darlin' Clementine!!!

For those about to rock...

Pat Robertson salutes you??? I watched Pat and an apocalyptic nut job author on the T.V. the other day and pretty much figured out that the end of times is porn to these gentlemen. They were over the moon about Israel's conflict with Lebanon/Hezbollah. It was like they enjoyed the fact that they finally had some "Gog on Magog" action going on. This is their bread and butter.

I really feel that Jesus would much rather stay in Heaven and see all us kids get along, take care of our planet, and truly live godly lives--without killing each other. One that looks for signs with glee is a tool of the Great deceiver. They want the self fulfilling prophecy of mankind's destruction more than anything else in the world. Why? Because they then can say "I told you so...neener, neener!"

Not only that, they make out like stardust pimps on a winning streak at Caesar's Palace. How? Because good people buy into this crapola and fork over their hard earned cash. If this was a real religion, that money would not go to the clergy, but right back into facilities, the members, and out to charity: Not to a bunch of opportunist douchebags like "The Great Robomoses".

I'm not done.

Two guys and a Savior: JW art, Ahoy!

Okay, I am not knocking Jehovah Witnesses, but as you may have seen from an earlier post I enjoy taking their unique artwork and giving my own version of events.

Here Jesus is saying to the thief: "I didn't know it would be this hot up here, but is is really freakin' hot! Mysakes!!! Did you think it would be this hot...and humid too? Also, is your diaper riding up your ass? Hell on a cucumber sandwich! God, why is the wind blowing sand in my eye? Do you really have to make it that much more uncomfortable for me?" (Inner dialogue) I need a Tab. I should just make one myself. Nah, that would just make everything worse. I don't want to die with people thinking I was a homo. No, here comes a centurion with a sponge. Bleh! That's freakin' vinegar, for Mysakes!!! I'll just turn it into Tab. Brilliant idea, J-boy!

The thief in the background is totally feeling left out. This is because he told an off color joke about lepers. This didn't quite sit too well with ole' J. That, and he had severe gas. Something about death makes one's GI tract get a little hyperactive.

The man in the foreground is just happy to be there and finally have someone to talk to.

Quack!