I'll remove the cause...

...but not the symptom.

Just for fun, share your favorite "Rocky Horror Picture Show" moments and/or experiences from events. My favorite moment was getting monster mashed by a topless woman at one of these showings. She ran down the isle before I even knew what was happening. If only she knew that I was sporting some Arby's. I'm guessing that I threw a hotdog at her and it got her real riled up and just had to say hello in her own unique way. I am eternally grateful.

Happy Halloweeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!

Happy Almost Halloween: Alice Cooper Live, performing "Steven"!

Go here, "Ghost Story", if you want to hear about my true life encounter with the other side. Just promise me to leave my cousin alone. He doesn't blog anymore and doesn't need Gruntonians asking questions about this story. I was the one that told him to post on his blog on my behalf (this was before he got me into all this blogging mess). So, if you have questions about this story, you can email me or leave comments here.



I love Alice Cooper, and "Steven" is one of his more disturbing songs and this is an entertaining live performance of part of it. It's Halloween, so enjoy.

My celebrity look-a-like thingamajig

Why do I have to be looking like the worst President of the United States, ever? I think I make up for it more than enough by looking like all these other shit-hot guys, though. I don't have a straight-on shot of my face, so this will have to do. I'm still going as McKinley for Halloween. Who's Hrithik Roshan? Damn! I need to start telling people that I look like him, or go to his native land and clean up! I don't know what happened to Bela Bartok, but he was another good looking guy.

My favorite here is a toss up between Kanye and Kyle. Mr. Mac Lachlan gets my pick for having done so many cool flicks with David Lynch, plus that one Vegas movie. What was that one called? Oh yeah, "The stupidest movie ever invented, but as long as there are horny men in the world, will always be out of stock at your local Blockbuster Video", or something like that. I just remember it had a very long title. I have a bad memory, I think.

As for the rest, the Tom Cruise thing is not so desirable anymore. Spike Lee is beyond cool. What can I say? I look like Johnny Depp! That association could possibly get me laid on its own. I think that I need to add a few of these to the results: ??? I'm not complaining, though.

I need to get a straight-on shot and see who I look like. I'm hoping that Don Knotts and Colonel Sanders pop up.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Halloween III

Why'd they make this movie? It is so stupid. It is TIGF, but not in a good way. However, the Silver Shamrock song is way cool, and totally TIGF in a good way. Enjoy!

At the speed of fudge many interesting things happen

Seen right is Beaver O'Lindy and her magic blue ball. Lindy is what is known as a woofer in a tweeter's clothing.

I have given much thought to creating something that I'd like to call a roast beef pizza. I think it would be a hit. Gravy for the sauce, mashed potatoes for the cheese, and a Yorkshire Pudd for the crust and that is just the basic foundation, folks.

One thing that I've noticed is that the Arby's logo looks rather phallic. Every time I see Arby's ads about "I'm thinking Arby's" it's like that person just has penis on the mind. Yeah, you heard me: penis! Don't know what I am talking about? Look here: Arby's. Stick around for a bit to see all the people go walking across the screen. I swear Arby's is trying to start a revolution of phallic porportions. You want curly fries with that?

I think if I were to be any character from the Mad Max trilogy that was not Mad Max, the dog, or the Feral Kid, it would definitely be the Humungus:
He has the best body, a bitching revolver, and a kick ass car. Plus, check out his posse...holy crap! I can't wait for Fury Road to come out. I don't care how crazy Mel Gibson is. I just want one more of those movies, please!!!

Alright, short but sweet post tonight. My sister "B" is suffering from complications from her gastric bypass surgery and is still in the hospital. Yeah, nothing is easy, but I have faith that things will eventually go well. BTW, we got snow today and it stuck on the roads. Fun stuff, and yesterday it was so warm. Anyway, If you all want to, say a prayer for "B" for me, or do whatever it is that will bring blessings her way. I'd appreciate it. I try my best to not show it, but it really is worrying me right now.

Just a post in passing

I have been mui busy today. I have been working hard on some recordings and I need to wrap all that stuff up because it could just keep going and going.

Some of you are probably wondering what in the hell that green buggy is pictured to the right. That is a John Deere Gator 6x4, diesel. I have one for my work. They are fun as hell and mega useful. Today I picked me up a nice tall blonde gal, our community relations manager. I was pretty chuffed having seeing how she was responding to it all, and so gave her a nice long ride. I was tempted to take the Gator off some awesome jumps to impress her. She had a lot of fun, and I think she is finally going to grow a pair and get rid of the sad-sack ex-fiance/on and off again boyfriend just so she can go cruisin some more with her new mate--me!

There's another lady at work that every time I see her she giggles uncontrollably--real high-pitched too. I love it, because I can start pecking at her with silly remarks and almost make her hyper ventilate until she faints. She's another looker with brown hair and hazel eyes--great combo. But, she is married. Drat!

The lady that runs our mail room has confessed to me that she had an erotic dream about me. She is married too. She said that in dream world the rules are different and that she can get it on with strapping young studs such as I. She then said that she was very married after licking her lips a bit and giving me the thrice over. That one was pretty great, but now I am a bit nervous to be alone in the same room with her. Kidding! Naw, she's cool.

Now here's where it gets strange.

This guy is back following me around. I found out that he now works in our mainframe. He cornered me the other day and asked me if I were married, then what I like to do for fun. He doesn't look like it, but he's 60 and single (I thought he was younger). He was asking me all this stuff like if I wanted to come over and see his dogs, then he pulls out a big freakin' tazer, scarier than the last one and starts zapping it in my face. He then rolls back his sleeves and shows me the scars where he's tried it out on himself. After that, he pulled out a Saturday Night Special out of his boot and just held it there, twisting it around so that the nickel finish would glimmer. He then started going on about his 50 calibers and I told him I had to get going.

I think I am going to need the help of "Grunt's Angels" to protect me from this crazy sonovabitch.

A post that Christielli will love

I admit it: I am an addict. The McRib is back, folks. I have been such a good boy, too. Today I snuck off to McDonald's to get me one. I pulled up to the drive-thru talkbox and was so excited. I even called it a "McRibwich". I felt just like my buddy Homer Simpson, haaaaahhgurgle *drool*.

I got through to that magical second window and the Mexican guy was real nice and prompt, but I couldn't understand what he said other than, "You have meal and Diet Coke?" Well, I heard "McRib". I pulled away and parked in a nearby trucker lot--the prostitutes weren't out, too cold. Sheesh! I'm not like that, okay?

So, I get into my bag of goodies and find out that they gave me a Big Mac! Nothing wrong with that, I love 'em. But, that was not the fix I needed. I mean, if I am going to get fat it is going to be death by McRibwich! So, I went back in and hooped and hollered. I am a reasonable guy until you cross my animalistic needs. I mean, this sandwich is like a shrunk down version of that rack of ribs that tipped over Fred Flinstone's car. Don't they understand this? Well, if they didn't before, they sure as hell know now.

I got my meal gratis. I am special. I think I want a t-shirt to commemorate this moment. In fact, just like The Simpsons, I want to become a McRibwichead and follow its farewell tour throughout the nation. I might even get a Corvette out of this deal. I must have the last one!

Anybody want to fix up an old VW bus and come along with me?

Sorry

Some will have had the Early Bird Special, Bloglines crowd will have it as well. Just know this: I was pretty out of it and super emotional. I just didn't like what I said. I'm feeling increasingly angry and frustrated and I just need to chill out. Things are not okay, but that is something that me and my 3D's will have to take care of. If any of you did read it and got in anyway offended, well, you'll just have to contact me.

I am doing the Flickr thing for my trip photos. I didn't know that you had a monthly limit on downloads there. I will have to be selective. There are quite a few water damaged photos, but are still cool. There were some really cool shots that didn't turn out because the flash didn't work. So, look for those coming up. I want to put them on my sidebar like I've seen on other blogs. I will probably repost the blog entry after I have had a chance to look at it some more. I sometimes hit that publish button prematurely. Of course, subscribers of my blog on Bloglines get to enjoy the post. It probably wasn't that bad. I just needed to take it back in and sit on it for a bit.

Back by popular demand, and only slightly tampered with: "Type type type type type type type type type type...."

Warning: This post will be going all over the place and is not funny. Enjoy!

Seriously, I'm having a hard go of it lately. Not blogging, however; I'm good at that. Too many surgeries going on in my family, accidents, financial problems, etc. Apparently my sister decided to go and get herself scheduled for gastric bypass surgery. I found out about this when I got back from my trip. I'm dancing barefoot and outside the gym in the hallway all by myself this time because that's just the deal now. Tired of all this shit, really tired. Enough is enough. I've had it up to here...wait, you guys can't see, but I had my hand way above my head.

I had a day out with my sister. She goes in for surgery on Monday. She told me that aside from the health reasons, she was wondering what it would be like to be looked at again. She started to cry a great deal when she was telling me this: people don't look at her when they talk to her, it's as if she is not worthy of that kind of contact. In a world of big boobs and Paris Hilton-meets-truck-stop personalities, I find this rather disheartening. My sister is big, but not so huge that it is a pain to the eye. I really despise people's superficial obsessions about thighs, boobs, ass, abs, whatever. I really despise individuals that are only about that, or perpetuate such things. Hitler hated hook noses, look where that got him.

Okay, so the Hitler thing was a bit extreme, but preferences are fine, ridicule is not. As for myself, I am a very strong man physically. I have been able to bench 330 lbs. My grip has been measured at 180 lbs. Don't get me started. My point is that I can rip my shirt off and have no claim to looking like a beefcake, despite being able to kick beefcake's ass. Pasty white guy am I. I do not have that sculpted look, rather, cornfed. I have had fun looking at non-athlete, chiseled men get bested by cornfed or wiry sorts (I respect true athletes). My body can take enormous abuse. I am very calloused. However, my enormous strength and toughness are not ideal in terms of body aesthetic. My body is so broad that even when I am skinny, I look stocky. I am the last of the Neanderthals.

Since my accident I've gained back about eight pounds. Let's see, I was 260, dropped down to 215, and am now 223, all @ 5'11" tall. I could get my weight down to 185 and still look pasty and fat. I accept it. Anyone who has enough disgust with my body can arm wrestle me or get their strongest friend to do so. Some good looking people are so unhealthy it is ridiculous, but because they look good, no one cares. I love isometrics and real world labor/activities to build up strength and toughness. I had a job once that I basically shoveled dirt, picked up and carried scrap steel and timber all day long 10-13 hours a day. Before that, I worked in a window fabrication assembly line. I was carrying, lifting, flipping 15-70 lbs of finished window stock over and over, 10 hours a day (I made tons of Tongan, Vietnamese, and Armenian gang members shit list for being different as well at that job--they grouped me in with the rednecks--that parking lot was crazy). After both those jobs, I threw garbage and drove the truck for an old man and then the damn polygamists. I've never once had anyone say that I looked hot, but I could out-tough and out-last most.

Getting my education was nice, but I really didn't fit in well on campus because I had to go straight to work in blue collar land after I was done with my classes. Being truly different is not attractive, folks. Welder's caps are only cool when they keep hot cherries from lighting your mop up all spectacular and shit. I have had people tell me that a guy like me is cool, etc. Yeah, on here it is easy. I've had my share of people reach out to me online and most have been great. Occasionaly you get some that will mess you up just like 3D land, where some turn out to be real whackjobs or just plain hit and run type pals--you know, the ones that always have their running shoes on just in case things get icky (if anyone thinks that I am referring to them here, I can't help that--just get/stay in touch, okay, then obviously it is not a problem).

I have felt that until people in "real life" start noticing all these wonderful things about me, it is just a load of Mister Roger's land of make believe bullshit, but now I feel that some of you are people I can trust and count on enough to take what you say to heart.

In the real world, life is ugly and it is beautiful. From my eyes I try to see beauty, but there's too much that is ugly in hate, ugly in profane and vulgar revelry, ugly in exploit, ugly attacking children's minds in the base form of pornographic excrement (yeah, I know some of you enjoy some "hey hey", but you are adults--I won't preach to you). I can't even begin to tell you how much sorrow fills my heart at what we have done to our bodies and our minds--our souls and our earth.

I will only say this on this blog once and will edit it out eventually for the sake of it not being a distraction. My life spent as a minister/missionary in England was one of joy spreading peace, hope, and love, but I witnessed so much unhappiness that I nearly needed to forget my own name and identity to regain some of my sanity back. While that is a great moment of my life, probably the greatest, the aftermath of it all has left me alienated in a world that I was being groomed to inherit and lead. I am caught between two worlds now and am disgusted by both. I have seen the disappointment in leader's eyes when they've seen me since. I was truly remarkable and valiant in my work. Logically, it should've meant I was a lock. They see me now as a wayward soul. The world sees me as a square.

I try going to clubs and doing that stuff, but I just can't shake my past lifestyle--ironically, a lifestyle that saved me from truly anti-social and reckless behavior. I've never got the whole "I'm bad" pantomime, especially from people that are able to do so much good and uplift many around them. Only if you could see how silly you look pretending. Come and see me when you've got no hope and bad is just what happens. Then on the flipside, I can't be genuinely involved in something that I am not comfortable in administering any longer.

I have resisted running away from all of this, but I think that I might need to relocate and hit the reset button. Eventually people will wonder why I try to live such a clean life, but do not go to church and am twisted as hell. Best of all, I will have the pleasure of explaining everything to them. Talk about conflict. Talk about feeling/being alone. I know that this missing puzzle piece just made things a bit clearer. You can never escape your past.

I'm spinning till I puke still. Are you guys still spinning with me?

TIGF (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Tommy Seebach's "Apache"

Tommy Seebach's version of "Apache" has got to be the single most gay thing I've ever seen in my life. Now, what happens when you take a gay video and edit it to synch in with Judas Priest's "Painkiller"?

This:

Rob Halford, the lead singer of Judas Priest, is gay, but not TIGF gay. He is totally prison gay and I dig his scream.

I always felt that if Rob Halford

Got it on with Liberace

You'd have "TIGF!" as their uholy offspring.

Helen Keller as an imaginary friend

That's right, folks. I have an imaginary friend. What is most surprising is that it is none other that Helen Keller. Mind you, it is the young Helen, and not the older, more talkative one. So, what is it like having an imaginary friend that can't hear me, see me, or isn't able to talk to me? A bit crazy to be honest. See, she tries real hard to let me know that she is there for me by letting out a playful moan, then slaps me over the head with a kipper. She's heavy into vaudevillian slapstick.

You know, I'll do something, write something, say something totally awesome and all I get from her is, "Whuhahagurgle....bleh!" It is so one-sided. I have to like shove things right into her hand for her to even respond at all.

Me: "Hey, Helen!" (I know she is deaf, but remember this: deaf people just need you to shout real slowly like, then they can hear you fine--kind of the same deal as with foreign people.)

Helen: "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaag?"

Me: "Do you want to go outside and smell stuff and throw rocks and shit? I know you sure do like that."

Helen: *Silence*

Me: "Here." (shoves a meatpie up close her nose and places a medium sized stone in her hand).

Guess what she does? She throws the damn meatpie at me, hitting me in the face, and then shoves the stone in her gob.

Helen: "Mmmmmmmhmhmhmhmhmhmhmmmm...ehhhhhhhhh!"

She is quite the little pill.

The things that she tries to tell me and yet can't quite do it. Where's the damn Miracle Worker when you need her? The thing that has kind of been a bit of a head scratcher is that I caught her having a conversation, an honest to god conversation, with Mr. Magoo and Fozzy the Bear--other remaining friends from my childhood. It seems that I have a certain effect on Miss Helen, but she takes great measures to make me feel like I don't. I did manage to get a word out of her. She said to me, "F-f-f-fuh-friend!", and then poked me in the eye. Damn, that hurt!

I am thinking that a trip to the well is in order. It's either that, or I will have to start re-arranging the furniture, put oven mitts on her, or leave the plunger in the toilet. I mean, come on, if you can talk to other people so often, yet are totally mum to me, someone you used to hang with all the time, well, I'm not a dipshit. It must mean that you want to bump into stuff somewhere else.

But, I gotta say that Miss Helen sure is a capricious little gal. She will run off for a time, then I will hear her moaning and grunting playfully again--you know, "Where's Helen?" She then jumps out and hits me in the nuts with her walking stick then runs away! How she can freakin' see where my softies are, I don't know. She is anything but off the mark, and fugking fast too!

I tend to get my hopes up that she'll stick around and at least whomp me over the head just for old time sakes, but alas, she runs away and hides longer and longer nowadays. *sigh* She used to like carrying on with me, her wonderful, wonderful friend, but I think that I am no longer cool enough for her anymore. I just only get brief glimpses into her wacky hijinks with Fozzy and Mr. Magoo, now. I don't know what happened, but it sure did happen. I know that I am still willing to go to the well and try to get out some meaningful words from her if only she'd let me.

Helen: "Wha? Ooooh still f-f-fuhriend! Sa-stop b-being aaaah beeetch."

Me: "Freakin' sweet!"

Helen: (Gets out a heavy kipper) WHOMP! "Heheheheheh! Mutton head!!!"

Me: "Meatbag! Wait... you're talking now!!!"

On a related note:

Doremifasolatido!

This is how it feels to have regular conversations with people who are my friends and also getting to hear from my regulars in Gruntonia. I think I will be quite busy having fun singing and spinning around till I puke with my homies and beloved Gruntonians. Can I get a hell yeah? Oh, you know I just can't stop the music now. Doe a deer, a female deer indeed!

Post Evaluation

First off, the previous post (Not the "Where's Waldo?" post) I kind of went with a feeling. I don't know why people think that I was directing this at a particular person other than myself. I have realized that most of the time you (I) choose how you (I) feel. I have been frustrated with only one person: Me.

A dolphin swims around acting stupid eating fish, but is smart. Many people react a certain way to what a dolphin does. The dolphin is just being a dolphin, you are allowing yourself to be amused or enchanted by this creature. This is what I was driving at. The persons that have been a part of my life that were of this experience are who they are and I like them for it. They did a good job of being them. Take a bow.

I am just trying to evaluate the emotional choices that I make. No one else is responsible for the way I feel--they do not have that much power over me, unless I allow it. I made this period of my life sound like it was a bad thing. It wasn't; in fact, it was quite the opposite. It is that I can't force an experience to end up exactly how I want it to. I have been known to be one that views drama as something of an amusement. I am not a pure child. I will sometimes choose to involve myself in something for inspiration. It is selfish, but sometimes it fuels me and my creative nature. I find this troubling for my lasting happiness, so I am deconstructing this behavior in order to better deal with it. I'm a little stinker.

Working on shaping my future starts with these kind of choices. The harshness of my post was like burning my crops and letting the ashes fertilize my soil. The trip was good, but I could not force the experience. I was trying, in those quiet moments, to contemplate certain things when I already knew the answers. The confusion and murkiness comes when I choose to dwell on things that really do not need further attention. I just need to get out of a rut and I feel that I chose to ponder dead issues. The notion of love being dead, or non-existent, was my way of burying my notions of love--a subject that I write a lot of songs about . I am now like a child again, ready to take in a new meaning, a new experience, redefine what it is to me, that thing.

Death is a reality that does not disturb me. How and when things die can disturb me. But, death is something that I find fascinating and beautiful in the sense that it is a very special and meaningful part of our existence. There are many forms of death, but all will and do contribute to other forms of life. I am killing off a section of bad crop in order to grow something better to harvest. This field fire is violent and scary at first, but if done with care, will rid myself of unnecessary internal longings and muse. I will have discovery and continue on. However, this time I evolve to the next level of creativity.

I am building something here. You all are allowed to watch me work. I am considerate enough to minimize collateral damage; in fact, my priority is to uplift those that I am in contact with and ensure that my creative process does nothing but enlighten them.

Are you all still part of this fiesta?

Where did Thomas go???

I'm on my dinner break at work and just had to ask, where did Thomas run off to? Did he delete yet another blog? If he did, why? Is he alright?

Something Up There Hates Me #56,700

I was working on my vacation post and something happened where everything on my computer froze. I hadn't saved what I wrote and it is all kaput!

One thing I will say is that this vacation did nothing to clear my mind. I had a great adventure. I did not relax one bit. I thought a lot about my life and certain people. No clarity was achieved, only more complexity. As I looked at the surrounding desolation and numerous dead things, the struggle for life was the only thing that made sense to me. It's the only thing I know. I don't know much about pleasure or love, to be frank. I think that love exists only in one's mind. Where I was, love does not exist. Nature kicks the shit out of it and leaves it bleeding in a dry wash somewhere to die.

This may sound Nihilistic, but I have only had more motivation to stay unattached and without obligations to a companion now more than any other time in my life. I let my mind entertain fairytales for a spell this year of my life and feel a deep frustration over it all. Fantasy left me high and dry. Now, I don't trust fantasy. Fantasy pales in comparison to complex reality. There is nothing more real than that smell of wet death drying out in the desert. Please, no more cosmic bullshit for me, thanks.

I no longer believe in fairy tales. If I happen to decide to carry on with a person who wants in my deal, fine, but they better know that bullshit is not allowed. I know I'm wrong about some of this, but it is the way I feel at the moment. I am right about the things that matter least to me and wrong about the things that I hope for. I feel like such a damn fool for believing. That's life. Suck it up, bitch!

I still have no idea what people see in me and why. Why some people stick around and others treat me like a flavor of the month. I just love being sucked on hard, then tossed out for wild cherry, grape, or whatever shit tastes good at the moment.

All together now: DANCE MONKEY!

I promise a more coherrent and funny post ahead.

I'm Baaaaaaaack!

Just a quickie to let you all know that I made it back in one piece. It was full of adventure. Floods going on. Water and mud everywhere. It was epic!!!

It is good to be back. Thanks for the send offs and concerns. Viva la Grunt!

Stay tuned

I am on vacation. I'm exploring some slot canyons down in Southern Utah. So, while I am gone, take a gander at my vast archive. I recommend this one since it takes place down around where I am going: A Springtime Story.

Y'all take care. If you don't hear from me next week sometime, It's probably a bad thing. Send out the cadaver dogs.

Tuesday's Tips for Teens, featuring "Crazy Old Grunt" from an alternate reality

Yeah, I started playing around with my old Speak and Spell. I made it say watanassayahm three times while microwaving it on high. Don't ask why, just know that I am a genius when it comes to doing stupid things. What happened next was just amazing. I couldn't believe what was happening; like, it was some kind of apparition forming before my eyes. Then I heard a familiar tone of voice, different, but very much like my own. It turned out to be me from another dimension. The first thing out of his mouth was, "Where's the toilet? Don't you know that I am lactose intolerant??? I just had a huge milkshake fer chrissakes!"

I had him around for a short time and asked him to guest blog "Tips for Teens". I don't know how coherent it will be, so I will apologize in advance.

Crazy Old Grunt from an Alternate Reality:

Cigarettes are fascinating. I had a full pack the other day and they were all jabbering away in there all happy and shit. I figured that I shouldn't bother them, but I had the nicci's something fierce and just had to kill one off. I know that my younger alternate reality compadre doesn't smoke, but where I am from it is good for ya. I wanted to tell all you youngsters to smoke, but Young Grunt told me no way. Eh, fugk! But, you should have heard the screaming when I took their friend out and smoked him. Cycle of life, kids. It was a bit quiet in the pack after that. Now they are all against each other trying to survive. It makes me feel powerful.

Soda crackers make you feel better after a bad day, I find. Um, I like to pet my dogs (ten in all) and let them run around while I eat cheese curds and smoke pot and drink some bath tub gin. I live in a trailer, but not in a trailer park. I park my trailer next to my house. The house is where I keep my newspapers. Um, it is an okay life but prolly not something youngsters should aspire to, unless you like to live like a total vagabond! That is cool. Start talking to yourself out loud. That is usually a good way to kick off going totally mental.

Listen to your parents and authority figures. No, I mean there are hidden messages. You have to really listen good to hear them. You will find out that they are indeed conspiring to destroy you and take your stash away. I'm not kidding, dammit!

Never go to a dentist. Those dentists try to put stuff in your teeth that the government uses to keep tabs on ya. Lucille Ball knows what I'm talking about. She's still alive in my world. I'd tap that ass. Hey Grunt, that toilet needs to be cleaned. Where's my fugking milkshake, eh???

Me: "Well, you know that you can't handle your milkshakes, yet you demand to have one three times a day. You are mister lava shits when you get dairy into ya. Ugh! Okay. Okay."

Where was I? Oh, tonsils.....Hockey! Yes, you need to wear skates when making love to....no? Um, condoms??? Yes, if you need to make extra money, keep a pack of condoms around just in case you have a mule gig. It is how I was able to retire. Never in Turkey, though. Seen "Midnight Express"? "Oh, Billy!!!" Eheheheheheh!

Flip off as many people in a day as possible. Every time a person flips someone off a porpoise has an orgasm. You love porpoises, don't you? What in the hell is wrong with you that you don't like the fugking dolphins??? Where's my ciggies?

Ciggy #1: "Oh shit! It's that one guy again. Crazy mofo. Get...get away from me!!!"

Ciggy #2: "Nooooo, take him!"

Ciggy #9: "Would you guys please shut the hell up? I'm trying to sleep! Gosh!!!"

Ciggy #4 "Heeeeeeeelp meeeeeeeeeeee! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

All the other Ciggies: "HAHAHAHAHAHA! Douche!"

(I am so sorry teens, really.)

A conversation about life with the Hillbilly Twins

I came across these two guys while looking for meteorites out in the back country. They (Larry and Tim) were using a half-spent plutonium rod to heat their cabin. Well, we can't all be superhuman, so I declined the offer to step inside and feel the "green heat". I found their little compound to be well organized and decided that there was more going on with these two than their looks. I started up a conversation with them out by their wood pile. We all sat on a log together shooting the shit. I'd like to share that with y'all.

Me (throws in a bit of the hillspeak): "Well, you two sure look fit. What'd y'all do for getting on top of that?"

Tim: "Ya see, there are things that are left untouched by the man. What ya have that is untouched is still fresh from the God's hands. Lord of Hosts, mercy me tenfold!"

Larry: "Yasum boy, ya listen now. Y'all partook of second hand goods what's gone thru the middle of man. We sup right from the teat of God's dairy cow. Whaddya s'pect with all y'all meddlin' with the nature?"

Me: "So, if I understood you two, the reason for your abilities to survive living in the same room with a hot plutonium rod is that God is serving you breakfast and supper. Right?"

Larry: "Some'd say yes, but I's say hell yeah!"

Tim: "The God, the Holy Ghost, and most of all the Jesus Christ over easy, toast with jam and butter!"

Larry: "Don' forget coffee."

Tim: "Well, that's from that Juan fella. He's Catholic, but I figures he's a'ight."

Me: "Changing the subject now, how much proper schooling have you two had? If not at a public or private school, then what?"

Tim: "Well, our nanny Jean raised us proper and clever enough. I mean, we's got a handle on where we's living better than any man."

Larry: "I 'member what ol' Jean tol' us about how shit rolls down hill and that's the reason we's all still keepin' ourselves upwind an' high like."

Me: "One of my favorite musicians, Captain Beefheart, only went to half a day of Kindergarten but was considered a child prodigy. At 13, he was offered a scholarship to study sculpture in Italy. One of the things that he has said is something that I try to live by, 'If you want to be a different fish you gotta jump outta the school.' What do you two think of that?"

Tim: "Now there's a bit o' sumpin' that ya can hang yer hat and yer coat on."

Larry: "Clever an' true. Jean's second man was quite the wise feller. He was half Chinaman and the rest o' him was pure Scotch Irish with a touch of Melungian in him."

Tim: "Yeah, he had the shovel teeth an' all."

Larry: "Now, I'm the one talkin' here. He was one o' them railroad worker/tent city whore bastards. He had on him the most innerestin' talking ways. Foreign, but no one's get him on the button."

Me: "What did he go by?"

Larry: "Lee MacConner, but we all called him 'Colonel Y'all-a-naw', 'cause he done naw jus' 'bout everthin'. He says to me one night, 'Man who go to bed with itchy bum wake up with stinky finger' and then hits me o'er the bucket with a trout. He then says, 'That there's a rainbow's end of knowing, son'."

Me: "That's actually kind of gross. What did he mean by that?"

Tim: "I gots this'un. He means that y'all gotta take care of things before ya rest, 'cause if ya don't ya'll will wake up with that awful unfinished business sharing bunks with yer boogers."

Me: "That is very wise indeed."

TIGF! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday): Trying to find a reason for gay

Yeah, wouldn't it be hilarious if you could do this and find out. But, isn't this what people try and do? Can't people accept that some people are and that is the end of the story. I understand the scientific community and their stake in it, but when people start looking for origins, there are some that either want to obscure the facts, or spin them in their favor. Duh! Yeah, we all know this. Big Deal. I just think it is incredibly gay that people will take this info to "cure" people. There is no cure, unless you want to something totally diabolical and kill all gays. I wonder how often such horrible notions run through the minds of men.

If you have beliefs that being gay is wrong, then that is fine. I just think that the expectations some believers have are unrealistic. I think a person can suppress their sexuality enough to conform to some standard, but it will be an unrelenting challenge. If you are gay and want to live in a way that does not allow you to express your true sexuality, fine. I can respect that. If you are not gay, but think that gays are totally changeable and they only need pray hard enough, time to step out of the prayer circle and back into reality. I think there is more to it than that, but some people really want to believe that is all there is to it.

I can remember church folk coming to my house and telling my dad all he needed to do to overcome his mental illness was to pray, repent, or read the bible more. I remember as a kid witnessing a church leader coming into my house and berating my ill father in front of all of us for being a fat loser and that all would change if he chose a righteous life (I have since been filled with quiet rage for such men).

My dad is about the most honest and moral man I know. He has faults, weaknesses, and his illnesses, but did his best considering. There was no amount of religion that was going to cure him. I think in the right application it can be a big help, though. But, my point is that ignorance has led, and still leads, to the suffering of many. Am I gay? No. Do I know someone who is? I do, and his "righteous" family has done a good job of letting him rot away. He has HIV and you'd think that they'd try to take care of him. But the title of "gay son" is too much for them to handle. It saddens me.

Really, if there were a cut and dry test for gayness, people would abuse it. If they happen to come out with one, though, it should look exactly like the one depicted in this Addams Family pic.

That'll be the day...

I have been flirting with the notion of escaping this little island. Next week I will be in the desert, so I do get to be away for a bit. I think I heard something pop inside my writing gland. I have totally let people down on the whole Wooderson saga. My serial blogs have died. Somehow this one keeps on chugging along. But, I am having some serious internal troubles that only I can overcome. We all get those moments in life. I'm not going to be a bitch about it, just take it like a man and stick it out.

I've been through these times plenty, so I know the score and what to expect. I think my "popularity" will suffer some. I am going to need your understanding with what I will have to write about in order to get myself in the groove again.

I once tried to check my own groceries out. It didn't quite work out like it was supposed to. Normally, you wait in that line for the checker to give you the bill. Some people hit that express lane. Since I was unsuccessful at checking my own, I have decided to load up as many carts as I can carry, and find the longest line. In fact, you may find me at the magazine rack looking at MAD magazine and the latest Mojo. Hanging out meeting people in the produce section is also good. You can even get free samples of Jimmy Dean sausages.

Just enjoy the shopping experience while you can, because I hear that parking lot can be hell.

I couldn't resist it. I am now addicted to You Tube: Some bits from Father Ted

Blogger ate my post. I am tired. Here are some clips from "Father Ted", one of my favorite shows of all time. Enjoy!

I got tagged and now my innocence is gone

Please, hold me. I don't know how to go on. Logo, being a savvy woman of the world, got into my mind and screwed with it. Now I am doing her bidding. Oh, whoa is me! Now I have to do seven songs.

The Posies, "Solar Sister". Why? Because I love, LUV, this group. This song is off of "Frosting Off The Beater" and it hasn't suffered the same fate as those other Seattle's bands by sounding dated. Remember kiddies, this song is now thirteen years old!



Next!

Iron Maiden "Wrathchild". Why? Because I am one, son!


MC5 "Kick Out the Jams". Why? Because these guys were a true menace to society, and ate hippies for lunch. Not to mention fierce as hell!



Next!

The New York Dolls, "Looking for a Kiss". Why? Because, I need a fix and a kiss, baby. Oooooh, so trashy!


Next!

More glam rock from the MENSA pop masters, Sparks! "B.C.". Why? Because, the keyboardist, Russell Mael, looks like Hitler and the lead singer, Ron Mael, had to have spawned Gwen Stephani and that dude from Hot Hot Heat. This one is fun! Yes, they are brothers, and they both were models growing up in LA. No wonder they are so weird!


Next!

The Human League, "Don't you want me?" What can I say? I have a total weakness for this song. I love the video as well. Classic 80's cheese!


And Finally!!!

Kevin Rowland's Dexy and the Midnight Runners, "Geno". Why? Because this song is guaranteed to get your ass shaking! Plus, this was before they all started playing violins and looking like hobos and shit. Plus, he kind of sounds like he's related to that Sparks dude, Ron Mael.