What a freakin' liar douchebag!

I guess you just can't blame a guy for wanting to get laid, though;) BTW, I know elkspeak and this guy claims to have slept with Rachel McAdams, was a secret adviser to the Obamas, and invented the delicious desert that we all know and love: ice cream. Amongst other embellishments, this elk claims to have been the first member of the Cervidae family to land on the moon. The problem with lying your way into people's pants, hearts, and lives is that that you end up more alone and lost than you started out.

Farewell, Scott. It was nice knowing the fabrication that was you. And like a coward, you took down your blog and tucked your tail between your legs without so much as an apology, defense, or an explanation. This is how you lose respect and lose friends--people who would have heard you out. But, no, you slid back into your mossy crevice, waiting for the right time to reemerge and troll upon trusting people on the internet. I really hope that you get your act together and respect people enough to tell them who you are and not who you think would impress them. I, at least, hope that the good guy that I saw in you was real and that you can take from this humiliation something to build upon: truth. It is the only way that you will find happiness and I will gladly eat my harsh words towards you if you do so.

For those who need a back story on all of this, go here and especially here.

I'm sorry to have to kick your ass, Scott, but you need a good old ass kicking to get you started in the right direction. May your best efforts in restitution be rewarded.

Hike-itty, hike!

Sunday, I went up into the mountains behind where I live to go for a bit of adventure. Sunday was the best in a few awesome days of spring weather that has been long over due around here. I decided to check out some old mine tailings that I had spied over the years--see if I could access them.

Here is the first mine shaft that I reached. It wasn't that big. I crawled in and it did eventually open up enough to walk in without crouching. On my way out I noticed that there was a spot where the shaft ceiling was vertical. I pointed my flashlight up and there were about a dozen bats right above me. I must admit that I turned into a bit of a spaz and ran out of the mine, tripped right before I had to crawl, and got all muddy. At least it wasn't guano.

This is the reward for hiking in leafless oak brush. I had to come down the mountain in the dark, but I was treated to herds of deer, relics from forest fire crews, and a duck. Yeah, a duck. I had no idea that ducks got that adventurous. I was at around the 6,500 foot mark on the hill and I hear this rustling in the brush. I got real curious when that rustling started going "quack-kwa-kwa-kwa-quack". Thinking that I was either going crazy, or the psilocybin was starting to kick in. I ran towards the thicket to see if I could flush this thing out and there it went: a damned duck at that elevation with no bodies of water around. I'm thinking that this duck just had enough of the daily grind of people throwing bread crumbs at him and all that quacking. Sometimes, you just have to get the duck outta dodge and go up in the hills.

Ah-hahaha!

P.S. When you bushwhack through oak brush that was burnt from a forest fire, you'll end up looking like you lost a fight with a big bag of Kingsford.

Kwiky

Just letting you know that I am doing well. Life is life and family issues are a source of never ending excitement.

I talked to a friend today that I haven't heard from in awhile. BTW, I did end up going on an epic hike today and my policy of taking a flashlight with me now has paid off. I was in the dark for quite some time. I will do a post about it later, with pics!

More blog pals are jumping ship lately. I feel sad about this, but that is just how it goes.

My hair has still not been cut since I was made bald from chemo. You'll get pics before I cut it.

Clyde, my truck, has finally been fixed. I have had steering problems since the beginning of the year. It started with one component seizing, then causing a chain reaction of failure throughout the whole steering system. Here is an inventory of parts replaced: right and left tie rods, drag linkage, upper and lower ball joints on both sides of the axle, front axle locking hubs, passenger side axle stub shaft u-joint, steering gear box, new front discs and pads (because I might as well do the brakes if I've gotta do the rest of that shit), and a partridge in a pear tree. So, I did all of the above repairs myself, with a little help from a friend's brother's 12-ton hydraulic press. Oh, my friend was there to make fun of me here and there. This is proof that if you want to go off road and get a bit rowdy that you have to be willing to pay the price. Let's just say that doing it myself, as much as that sucked, saved me around $1k. Oh, and I'm going to have to take it easy for awhile, or until my wallet cools down.

Yeah.

I'll ask you

I've been asking people this question lately and I want to hear from you: How do you wang chung? What is wang chunging? What sort of time frame and commitment is involved in this sort of thing and how many people does it require? Is there a risk of chaffing?

Is there such a thing as pet circumcision?

Why are there so many songs about rainbows? No, why do people say that, and then upon further inspection, you find that there really aren't--that there are more songs about rainy days--yet, people still sing that damn "Rainbow Connection" with total blind faith that Kermit the Frog is not a lying sack of green shit?

Let me hear your thoughts on these.

FYI: Bigfoot is completely covered in thick hair with the exception of his genitals and crack. He likes those to be clean shaven.

P-ost

So, there I was at this IHOP. The server dude kept calling me boss. It annoyed the hell out of me. I could taste the grill on the pancakes and their urinal was so brown from urine buildup that the smell made me tear up. On top of all of this it made me fatter. The kicker is that I paid over $13 for this experience. So, you tell me how the economy can be in the shitter when people still pay to eat the shit?

And, yes, I am part of the problem.

Spring break at the hospital!!!

Don't be alarmed! I'm just having to spend my first full day of spring break at the HCI for a regularly scheduled poke and prodding. The problem is that I will be there from 8:40am till 4:30 pm going from one clinic and tests to another. I am certain that everything is fine. Like I said, this is just part of the regularly scheduled programming.

Oh, I can at least share a dirty joke with y'alls.

This dad is tired of his half-wit son, Timmy, not going anywhere with his life and figures that he just needs to get him laid for motivation. So, this dad sends his son off to the outskirts of Reno with $300 and an address to a whore house that his buddy from work gave him. We now enter the whore house.

Timmy: (Puts the money down on the barrel head) My dad gave me this many dollars for a pretty lady to turn me into a man.

The Madame: Hmmm, well, that's nice of your daddy, but my ladies aren't into tutoring little boys. Y'all got some experience?

Timmy: (Confused) Uh, I think I do. Yeah, I've had experience.

The Madame: (Skeptical) Something tells me you don't, sonny. Tell you what, there's an old sycamore tree out back with a bunch of knots and holes in it. Why don't you go out there and practice on it first.

Timmy: (Still confused) Okay!

So five minutes pass and the madame goes out to check on Timmy.

The Madame: Boy, what on earth...What have you been doing out here?

Timmy: (Proudly) Going number two!

The Madame: No, son. You've got to practice by screwing the tree (explains what screwing is). Now, I'm going to leave you out here a little bit longer until you get the hang of things.

Timmy: Okay.

This time the madame waits a couple of hours and then goes out to check on Timmy.

The Madame: So, you think you've got the hang of it yet?

Timmy: (Exhausted, yet feeling triumphant) Yep!

The Madame: You think you are ready to try it out with one of my girls?

Timmy: Uh-huh!

The Madame: Well, all right then. Let's get you in there, tiger!

The madame escorts Timmy into one of the rooms where one of her girls awaits. The madame closes the door and lets nature take its course. Three minutes pass and the madame hears her girl start screaming like crazy. She runs into the room and finds Timmy chasing the girl around the room, poking her with a broom stick.

The Madame: What in the hell do you think you're doing to that poor girl?

Timmy: Checking her for bees!

Badoom-doom-kish!!!

\][\][\][\][\][\][\][\][\][]\][\][\][\][\][\][[\][\][\][ \][\][\][\][\][[] (Updated!!!)

Otter Pops need to stop using artificial flavoring. Don't they realize that I can tell the difference between real and imitation otter flavoring?

I was at a hardware store this weekend and noticed that there is a company that makes urinals and toilets named TOTO. This got me thinking: There needs to be a toilet that plays Toto's "Africa" while it is being used. I thought about this one. I really did and I thought of other possible songs that would work on the toilet and none did. Black Sabbath's "Sweat Leaf" sort of did, in a stoner sort of way, though.

There is a need for the existence of a mythical being or creature that cleans between my toes at night and leaves money under my pillow. I call that mythical creature a wife.

Gurngh!

Update: REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling" seems appropriate for the musical toilet idea.

I almost died today. I swear!

So, there I was driving down a busy road going fifty in a forty. A Geo pulls onto the road right in front of me and slams on its brakes. This is a four-lane road with a suicide lane in the middle. I slammed on my brakes and the rear brakes lock up on me, causing me to slide sideways. The cars behind me are desperately trying to stop as well, trying not to run into me. My slide then takes me in to oncoming traffic. That is when a bit of Einstein's Theory of Relativity comes into play. Time just slowed down to nothing and my senses were sharp. My hands did this magic thing with the steering wheel and I ended up 180 degrees the other direction perfectly positioned in that middle suicide lane, where the cars behind me and the oncoming cars passed by me A-OK. Aside from feeling like I was the center of attention and suffering from extreme embarrassment, I felt incredibly lucky and drove off unharmed. All of my personal effects were thrown over to the passenger side, but, other than that, I was fine. Do you want to know why the person in the Geo stopped? Way over on the other side of the street was an old lady starting to cross the road--there isn't a cross walk at that point. So, being nice trumps other people's safety. I hope emotion does not triumph over logic on the road, ever.

Pohst

Nothing much to say. It has been cold and snowy around here and I'm freaking out. My finger feels like it has a toothache. The highlight of my day was musing upon my turkey avocado on rye sandwich. Damn tasty, it was. Make a fine Jedi lunch, it would have. I've been watching an old French documentary called Blood of the Beasts. Check it out if you like watching a draft horse get dropped by a captive bolt gun, oh, and the slaughter of calves is just the ticket for those needing some extra motivation to eat less meat. My new favorite weapon of niche destruction is now the English Axe. I think might be on youtube.

That is all for now. Stay tuned for more updates.

Fries without a face

I like taking titles from classic movies and screwing with them.

Clyde might get a new paint job this summer. I'm seeing if it is in the budget and how much of the work I want to take on myself.

An ATV ate my right index finger this weekend.

The bully at work is now afraid to talk to me.

I saw I Love You Man this weekend and parts of it were so true that it was Spinal Tap scary. It makes me wonder what my friend's spouses really think of me.

Tired. Me go to bed now.

Daayo

My mom's surgery was a success. I spent over twelve hours in a place that used to make me throw up. Fun. I got some laughs out of the day, though. My mom forgot to tie the back of her gown and bared her ass at a bunch of people. I started yelling, "Nurse, come help my mother cover up." Another moment of fun came when the head nurse was talking to us and he said, "The surgeon will be in soon to go over the nuts and bolts of everything." I then replied, "Hey, I didn't know that nuts were involved in a hysterectomy." The nurse and his assistant did not laugh. My mom did, however.

On Monday I got into an ugly confrontation with a co-worker in the parking lot. He was supposed to be covering for me last week and basically did nothing. Some people were not aware that I was off doing other things and thought I had stopped doing my job well. I gathered up some facts and told my superiors about what happened. Well, one of my bosses told the guy that I was the one who told him (basically this guy was letting his subordinate push him around and passed the buck to me). Well, this fellow, who is quite a bit bigger than me, comes at me in the parking lot, saying that I am turning everyone against him and that I am trying to get him fired. I felt like he was trying to bully me, well, he was. Anyway, I am a nice guy until you back me into a corner. People's first impression of me is that I wouldn't stand up for myself or face off with someone. Well, they are terribly wrong. I don't like to get mixed up in this kind of shit, but when it does happen, I don't fool around. I held my ground, laid out the facts to this guy, and then told him to step it up or get the hell out. He took a step at me, did this weird, nervous laugh, then got in his car when I wouldn't back down. He called our boss about five minutes later and started talking shit about me, yelling at our boss, and basically trying to bully him into getting his way on this. Today, my boss talked with our head boss about this (I was informed)and our head boss was impressed with my handling of the situation and wrote the douche bag up, effectively insuring that he will not go any further up the promotion chain. It's been a long time coming that someone finally took care of this guy and I didn't even have to lay a finger on him. Bullies aren't used to people standing up for themselves.

If you want to watch an incredibly good, but strange German film, watch Stroszeck. It has a dancing chicken, a blue-darting inmate, an armed robbery that nets a frozen turkey, a musical retard, a whore, a bunch of rednecks, and some pimps. It's not a film for everybody, that's for sure. Fun factoid: This was the last movie that Ian Curtis, of Joy Division, watched on TV just before he hung himself. Very poignant, considering the ending of the film.

I'm McStuffing It

Stuff. That's what you have and what happens. I could go on and on, but George Carlin has already covered all of that before and much better than I ever could. Here's some stuff that's happened.

My truck (you know him as Clyde) has, in recent months, decided that steering against the will of its driver (me) is good sport. This has led me to ponder the reasons why and unload my bank account in buying tools and parts necessary to rebuild the entire front end and steering system of my truck. Why? Because, I am obsessive. And that, folks, is why I am not married yet. The good news is that I rock and my mechanical skills prove this. I also was able to do all of this for under half of what it would have cost me to have someone else do it. The downside is that I am now officially disabled and walk with a hunch. Parts that have been secured under 120 foot lbs. of torque for over thirty years and all sorts of weather do not want to be separated. The solution is to use a bit of the good slippy sauce, a long breaker bar, and a BFH. My will and knuckles were stronger but now pay the price. The final upside is that I pissed off my neighbors and got to pound on a pickle fork really hard.

I've started finishing a lot of my "nerd" projects as well. All of those electronic effects and amplifiers that were laying about the room, providing evidence of the decline of my mental health, well, no more! I am selling off the brand name stuff that I no longer need and have fixed and the homebrew stuff will get put to use.

I will be taking my mother into surgery on Tuesday. She had precancerous polyps growing inside of her uterus. Seeing as how she has had lymphoma and breast cancers before, we are not taking any chances, and I am giving up hope of having a younger brother. She will be getting a full hysterectomy. That is right: we are taking her Def Leppard CD away from her. In all seriousness, it is a relief that the doctors have a way to take care of things before they progressed.

During my many voyages to various auto parts stores, I had some rather frustrating experiences. I went to the local Lobotozone and asked to purchase a certain tool to set the preload for my new ball joints. The dude looked at me like I was the dumb one and said, "I ain't never heard of adjusting no ball joints." The more that I explained in detail the process of proper installation and adjustment of 4x4 ball joints I realized that I had might as well been explaining to him the existence of Bigfoot. The only problem with that is that he would have then told me that Bigfoot was his mother, and I would, by his demeanor, been forced to accept that as fact. I have come to the conclusion that these employees of certain auto parts stores are just "flipping" brake pads and dropping spark plugs into the "fryer".

I think that the name "Roscoe" should make a comeback as a name for boys.

That's all I got tonight.

Post: Not dead. Still breathing. Must eat cheese.

Facebook is a tool of the Devil designed to depress me

First of all, I feel like I can't reciprocate any acts of friendship on Facebook because I quickly tire of being on that site. I would rather just call you or respond to you here.

The other thing: I finally started looking around on Facebook and looking for people from my past. Big mistake. You can think that you are ok with how things have turned out in your life. You can think that you no longer have any animosity, hurt, or feelings for those people from your past. Then, you go ahead and start looking. You see them smiling. You see that they are happy. You see that their life didn't fall apart without you. In fact, they are better off without you. You also see those assholes that didn't give you two thoughts are still vacant, yet, somehow they got it and have a wonderful life. No justice as you thought was needed, or the way you thought it should happen to them. Those that ruled during high school are also doing really well now--not how it happens in the movies. The worst part is that it got to you when you looked them up. You are not as over it as you supposed you were. It makes me feel like like that odd ball misfit all over again. But then again, I am that. That's why you guys come here, right?

Of course, this is all conjecture, but the point is that it still got to me. I still can feel like I'm not included in whatever it is that "they" were in on. That really disappoints me. I think I would have been fine if it weren't for coming across a certain person. That one girl was the lynch pin. I think it is funny how you can have certainty for something that is so completely not going to ever fucking happen that it is not even funny. It has happened to me several times and I can only sit back and laugh at my folly. I am a great person to talk to, to hang out with, and to say is your friend, but somehow there is something about me that ultimately causes people to pass on. It should bother me. It does a little. But I have just come to the conclusion that I am not easily accessible on a certain level. There are not that many in this world that it would end up working out with and I get tired of that fact. There are reasons for me being on this earth. Maybe those reasons take me places that others don't want to go. I have, for the most part, accepted that. It is just that last night I had a huge moment of doubt and reflection. I wished I hadn't even crossed her path.

Of course, this post is just my way of chastising myself for allowing myself to relive past disappointments. We all go there, now and again, and it is never as bad as you make yourself to believe it to be. Going to that "place" brings about an unreliable way of perceiving past events. You project and interpret things incorrectly all to beat yourself up over something that you no longer have anything to do with. Anyway, I welcome all one-liners that refer to me as a "weeping pussy". Thank you for your time.

TIGF!!!

The come-from-behind sneak attack hug. I'm getting real tired of this fellow at work doing that to me.

Any of you getting molested by coworkers?

I'd rather

• Play doctor than play house.
• Eat dirt than eat shit.
• Wear a cape with an ascot than biker shorts.
• Listen to Antonio Vivaldi's Guitar Concerto in D Major, 2nd Movement while watching my lover disrobe than listen to Motley Crue's Girls, Girls, Girls! while watching a stripper dance.
• Be watching a cat fight than two guys humping each other in the octagon.
• Think about women, guitars, and cars than the economy.
• Meet Joe Walsh than President Obama.
  
• Be on stage jamming with Jack White than make it with Meg White; see, 'cause Meg would screw me anyway after she sees how freakin' awesome I am.
• Work on my truck than buy a new one.
• Be a Pepper than a Coke fiend.
• Do a 180 than a 360.
• Freak out like a monkey than soar like an eagle.
• End this post here than continue.

No, but seriously...

If aliens did instruct the ancient Egyptians on how to build the pyramids, how come they don't drop by there more often? I'm thinking summer home.

If you and I were stick figures, dots and dashes would imply various things: emotions like surprise, looking at something in particular, nipples, wieners, poo, pee, and Morse code. Right now I am ---------- at a very pretty lady in another window, which causes me to become a bit ! In fact, \!/ dots and dashes are a bit naughty.

Dot, I'll be back in a dash...I need to take a slash.

I've often wondered what the consequences of my actions will be. I've also wondered what the consequences of my in-actions would be. I've never considered what the future held for my actions until I stopped doing something. I never thought about what would happen if I did nothing while doing something. I have thought about Rambo in both cases.

God did not put me on this earth for your amusement. This is something that I kind of fell into.

Satan once said something similar: God didn't put me in hell to be the Devil....

I guess the point I am trying to make is that my depravity is contingent upon your gravity.

The End.

Too tired to blog

But, I'll give it a shot anyway.

Have you ever replaced the tie-rods on a truck that is over thirty years old? Well, I did today and my arms are dead. Everything was rust welded together and it took everything I had, including inventing new and improved swear words, to get the old parts off. The funny thing is that taking off the old parts took forever and putting on the new parts took twenty minutes. If I were to be a mechanic for a living it would have to pay at least a six-figure salary for it to be worth my pain and suffering.

My brother bought this DVD collection of old driver's Ed videos--the really gross, violent ones. It's been a hoot watching them. I've got to hand it to the Ohio Highway Patrol, circa 1958; they make great gore flicks. It was interesting to see how little damage some of those big old cars would receive, yet the passengers would get totally mutilated by having nothing absorb the energy from the crash, as well as no seat belts. There was one scene where they were pulling this dude from a roll over and his lower half was gone. Yum!

I've been thinking about what kind of super power I'd like to have lately. I'm really thinking that being able to control odors would be awesome. I was working on a roof today and happened to stand right over a restroom ventilation exhaust. It was like mixing the smell of a witch's crotch and a homeless pirate covered in bile. I got pretty sick after that and dry heaved for a bit. Some smells are so bad in this world that I'd rather spend a day living in a dead elephant than smell those smells. The worst smells that I've encountered were houses of people that I came across in England. One house had fourteen dogs and crap was everywhere. The people living in the house didn't bathe and there was rotting food just laying about. The other worst smell was an apartment of a schizophrenic guy who kept all his urine, sperm, and feces in open buckets laying about. His name was Leo and he wrote me poetry. The last worst smell was that of an old man whose leg was gangrenous and his shin bone was visible. There were all sorts of vermin running about his place and I picked up a tray of "green", which used to be some kind of food at one time. To put all of this in perspective, I used to work as a garbage man at one time.

Ok, I'm done.

Things that used to be funny (a new theme).

Steve Martin. What in the hell? I think the last funny thing he did was Bowfinger and that was just one thimble full of wet in a Sahara-sized dry spell of comedy. He used to be my comedy hero. His stand up routines were absolute genius. Now, I think the best thing that he has going for him is his banjo playing, and I don't mean that as a cut. I'm thinking that it is time for him to move on and to stop embarrassing himself and making Peter Sellers spin in his grave. But, Steve, if you are reading this, I think that a good way to revive your comedy career would be to change Leslie Nielsen's diapers on live TV, thus, killing two birds with one stone.

The truth

Your heart either swells with joy or shrinks with pain. Your body either weakens or is carried by its virtue. Your mind is always enlightened no matter how hard the truth may be.

My heart is in pain. My body is weak. My mind expands now a bit further and I understand the nature of unconditional Love's duress on the one who takes upon him another's cross a bit more.

How can it be? It is the truth that hides behind self imposed blinds that hurts the most when revealed or discovered. Love allows you to express your disappointment and hurt without imposing further debt. This is the hardest exercise, yet the simplest path towards the fullness of joy. Our lusts dare reach such heights on wax wings. Withdraw not your hand when your pride fails you. Be there for those that you love, because, it may be you having to tell the hard truth about your imperfect self sometime.

Garden Gnomes and other creatures

I took the above picture while hiking in a deep canyon in the Wasatch range. It's a bit out of focus. I was frightened. I could not hold my camera phone still. What are the chances that I would come across such a mythical creature in the real world? But there it was: a garden gnome roaming around in its natural habitat. I was just happy to get out of there without a shovel mark or a bearding.

Here is another rare creature: the "ghost-eyed" Yogi. This is rumored to be the ghost of a tortured circus bear, a brown bear from Russia. Apparently, the bear died from dysentery--he drank the water down in Tijuana. They say that if this bear appears before you while you are eating a taco, you will suffer from lethal diarrhea.

This is the place where bad animals and garden gnomes go when they die: to motor travel lodges along the old highway systems around the U.S., doomed to entertain and scare the shit out of lost souls who can't afford to stay in a real hotel.

Oh, and yes, that gnome is giving you the finger, the other gnomes belong to the Crips, and that baby bear is giving a hand job to the bear on the left.

Giblet gravy

Scientists need to find a way to harness the power of dog farts. This would end the energy crisis.

I asked a hypothetical question of some of my friends recently. The question was, "If clown tears cured cancer what would be the best way of collecting them?" Here were some of their answers:

• Run over their floppy shoes with those little cars of theirs.
• Onion goggles.
• Torture.
  
• Hide their liquor.
• Tell them that they are a chicken and if they don't start producing eggs that you will start taking off toes one by one with a pair of bolt cutters.

I want to hear your suggestions.

I think everyone on my mom's side of the family has found me on Facebook. I guess my dad's side of the family is too busy getting drunk and hitting each other. I'm just happy that only one of my relatives knows about this blog.

Whatever happened to nun chucks?

I often think about the Hamburglar's motivations for stealing all those hamburgers. I don't see how he can eat them all himself. I think he is in love with Wimpy and is trying to win over his heart.

Have you ever been someone's PDA?

When you have erotic dreams involving people at work do you find it hard to look them in the eye the next day? I do.

You haven't lived until you've seen a cow eat an orange.

Squirrels are dreaming about nuts right now.

Dogs are dreaming about smelling bad things right now.

Cats are dreaming about how they are going to ignore you tomorrow.

Cow's are dreaming about winning a speed boat race and saying "Moo!" at random things.

What do you dream about?

I am The Grunt's lack of enthusiasm

So often I chastise myself for not living up to my ideals that I set up for myself on this blog: Nothing.

So, I was bored tonight...

This is my "bored" look. Muhammad Ali protects my slumber from evil leprechauns and monsters. Let's see...I know! I will take pictures of a tract that I defaced.
This here is a tract from "Religion" brand religion. You may have heard of it before. Anyway, whoever does their art, I want to do a special happy dance for you, because I always get a big kick out of your work. Ok, the text here is fairly simple (read: idiotic). Playing on the whole, "God didn't create Adam and Steve" mentality, I just wondered if God just did away with the whole Adam guy altogether (defective nipples or something) and this guy Steve just shows up one day picking fruit, which we all know is gay. Eve is patient with Steve, and his coast to coast nipple chain (with a junction down to Foreskinville), but soon resorts to animal therapy instead. The caption reads: "If Adam were really Steve". Steve's says, in a "Oh, what a beautiful morning" voice, "Mmmmm! Fruit again!!! La-la-la-la!" Eve is engaged in a deep one-on-one with Scamper, the squirrel. She is saying, "Oh, Scamper! You are the only one in the Garden who truly understands what a woman needs." Scamper is embarking on his first of many "WTF" Garden moments.

You know, I think this really happened. I should go check the Bible to make sure.

Music meme I got from Scott

Scott's a man with one hell of a sense for music, so when he did this I had to follow suite. Here we go.

1) What's a piece of music, any genre, any year, and form, (i.e 45, album, MP3, etc), that you often return to. Something that continually resonates throughout your life, and seems to gain greater impact as you grow older. How often do you find yourself seeking this piece?

Answer: The Who's Quadrophenia. I have always been trying to integrate all the competing parts of who I am to find the real me. I've been listening to this album since 1989 consistently.

2) Is there a specific story that relates to this?

Answer: Nope.

3) Was there a piece of music, despite the fact that you may have "outgrown" it now that at one time changed your life? How about something you feel you'll never outgrow?

A: Um, probably "Eruption" by Edward Van Halen and various works by Steve Vai. I am well over it now, but when I first heard those works, it was when I was a kid and it blew my preconceptions of what the guitar could do. I wasn't around for Hendrix to blow my mind while he was alive, so these guys did it for me. As for never outgrowing something, that would be Heavy Metal.

4) Could a piece of music that you found in common with a stranger bond you for life? Is there a story behind that?

A: It could, but it hasn't yet.

5) Is there a favorite artist that you had that you gave up on only to have him or her redeem themselves?

A: Yes: Alice Cooper, Jimmy Page, and Roky Erickson.

6) Has music ever got you through some really tough times? How?

A: Yes, probably Neil Young and Chris Bell, but Rush got me through adolescence because they are geeks who stick together and kick ass.

7) Can music change the world or is that naive wishful thinking?

A: It already did in the sixties, but not exactly how they wanted it to.

8) Is Rock and Roll dead?

A: Aw, hells no! As long as there's that sex in music, that rocks back and forth in the rhythm, then it isn't dead--they are just re-branding it so the kiddies will think that they have something original for their generation.

9) What's the song you wish played at you wedding? How about your funeral?

A: At my wedding I would want Pachelbel's Canon in D Major to be played. While my body is being prepared for burial I want Strauss' The Blue Danube waltz to be played. When my funeral is actually happening I want Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" to be played.

10) What's the greatest live show you ever saw? In what year? Why? How old were you then? Did you attend with friends? Were you a skeptic going in?
Did you enter a huge fan? How about the most disappointing show? Why?

A: Pink Floyd at ASU stadium in 1994. I was 21. I was with friends, strangers, and my brother.
How could you be skeptical about Pink Floyd? I was a huge fan. The most disappointing show was ZZ Top at a festival because Dusty Hill was too fat and sweaty to finish the set and they left early. Billy Gibbons was awesome, though.

11) Has your feelings about recorded or live music changed over the years?

A: Arenas are evil. Small venues are bliss. Recorded music: MP3 compression is evil. Analog is the best when it is done/heard under the right circumstances. Digital is user friendly, economical, and has a high potential for both good and evil.

12) Do you listen to radio? How do you listen to music?

A: I don't listen to the radio unless that's all there is. I listen to music via my computer, Ipod, my truck's system (CD and MP3), my turntable, and my Walkman for my old tapes. I also get a kick out of listening to music on my brother's antique RCA phonograph.

13) Has the amount of time you listen to music changed over the years? To what extent?

A: I mainly listen to music now while I am doing something, like driving or working. I used to take hours out of the day just to listen to albums. It sucks, but I can't help feeling like I am wasting time just sitting there. I chalk it up to growing older.

14) In these tough economic stressful times do you gravitate towards a different kind of music, i.e happy, nostalgic, the blues, then you did say, 4 years ago?

A: I haven't been listening to bleak music for awhile because my life has needed more sustaining influences lately. It isn't that it is sunny music, just not dark without any redeeming quality. So, I haven't listened to much Dissection, Electric Wizard, or Bauhaus lately.

15) You're stuck on a desert isle, you've got a mix Cd with 10 songs you're stuck with until your dying day, (or at leas until you're rescued) what are those 10 songs and why?

1. "Wish you were here" Floyd: Because I wish I'd have someone else there with me.
2. "The Knife" Genesis: Because I need something to make me fall asleep and it's long.
3. "2112" Rush: Because I said so.
4. "Powderfinger" Neil Young: Young is so cryptic and I still need to figure out the whole story on this one.
5. "Like a Rolling Stone" Dylan: This song always makes my neck hairs stand on end, especially Al Kooper and Mike Bloomfield's contributions to the playing on this one.
6. "Mahgeetah" My Morning Jacket: This song just feels beautiful.
7. "War Pigs" Black Sabbath: I need my heavy metal and this one is the finest example of the genre.
8. "Wild Horses" Rolling Stones: It gives me longing.
9. "Waterloo Sunset" The Kinks: This song breaks my heart in a good way.
10. "Won't Get Fooled Again" The Who: Because Roger Daltery's yell is empowering.

That took way too friggin long.

Pitch Chewer

There's this old lady in a play pen, peeling hard-boiled eggs. I don't know what her name is. She sits there like a prisoner, chewing pitch gum and cussing at imaginary people. Greasy-haired W.C. Fields lookalike with big floppy breasts, one slung over her right shoulder. A mean old lady with swollen feet and ankles, arm flaps and missing teeth. I call her "mom" and pay for her time.

A post from a Viking: "Target Audience"

Whatever you do, just don't feed them. They'll keep coming back. We here at Vollewraithe are actively engaged in providing adolescent and adult men, who have no purpose in life, shelter from the storm.

We see that the specimen on the left is pretty far along in his mentoring. His right hand is in the correct position for sitting. The specimen on the right clearly needs our help. If he does not stop we will have to get Richard Simmons and Tom Cruise over here to scare him straight.

As always, Chuck Norris will be watching from the bedroom closet. He's old.

(Taken from an old blog of mine. Enjoy!)

Still sick...

But getting better. I felt like I bought the whole damn pharmacy today. I have to say, though, after having cancer I get a lot of time with my doc. He's making up for not figuring out what was wrong with me in a timely manner back then. So, anyway, I've got a nasty bronchial infection going on. Of course, that all sounds too familiar in that most dreadful way. However, I don't have all those mystery symptoms going on and there is no pain, that awful organ crushing pain. Damn, it's good to just have to deal with small potatoes.

I've got to get some shut eye. I'll be around to visit soon.

Sick

I'm sick. The good news is that I've now got my new laptop to keep me entertained. The laptop isn't ultra high-end, but it is pretty freaking awesome. It's a "Hell" Studio 1525.

What else? I dunno. The eternal drama that is family still keeps going on. I can still deal with it. I am pretty jazzed about getting a recording interface for this computer and sell off my cheesy digital 8-track mini studio. I will always keep my analog 4-track machine, because you never should lose your roots. There is a lot that I plan on doing now. But, right at this moment, I have to get some sleep and get well.

TIGF!!!

I haven't done one of these in awhile. Anyhooter, spring is coming and you know what that means? Scooters! A scooter is to a motorcycle as a femme is to a butch. Or, a scooter is to a fat man as a monkey riding a dog--funny. Girls on scooters are a pleasure, I must say. But, a girl on a bullet bike is even better, but not TIGF!!! I think the reason scooters are gay are the tiny wheels and seating position--it looks like you are observing correct posture, very square. I wish there was something else. I'm pretty tired right now. You'll have to help me out on this one.

BTW, the video clip that I stole features a song from one of my favorite obscure punk bands from the late '70s, The Pop Rivets.

Wander Lobster

Am I the only one who likes to lift the door and watch the washer wash my clothes?

I want to become the Hugh Hefner of dairy products, specifically, cheese.

Imagine being inside a car where the interior has been turned into an aquarium. The car still drives. You are in full diving gear. There are all manner of tropical fish swimming around inside. This is the ultimate driving experience.

I want to go camping on Mars. As long as we depend on the government to bail our stupid asses out of our mistakes we will never innovate and my dream will never be realized.

Will humans ever be evolved enough to live without external government?

Where are the obtainable wild frontiers anymore?

A fart is the same in all languages.

The key to world peace is unbridled flatulence.

My address book is shrinking fast.

Dogs and cats should be equipped with bluetooth so that they can connect to your computer and chat, play W.O.W., and become online predators.

Farmers need to grow stuff that lets you know how it feels so that some people will have to just deal with the fact that to gain the energy sufficient to live, other things must die. Some people will then resort to living off of dust.

Are dust bins used for dust only? Are rubbish bins exclusive to just containing rubbish? Are the British retarded?

I've never known anyone to get excited about Nebraska. Have you?

My alter ego has its own secret identity that I am unaware of. This could be the reason that I woke up with a strange taste in my mouth this morning.

A girl told me today that the '80s are coming back and that to say "word" is cool again. Do we really have to do this to ourselves? Shit.

Word out.

Go hang a salami. I'm a lasagna hog.

My duplex neighbors are moving. The sound of them walking in and out of their side is depressing to me. The depression of them leaving will soon get replaced by the anxiety of new tenants moving in. The renter's cycle of life is much like a palindrome--you think you are going forward with your life but you can't tell when you are actually going backward. It's all the same. You rent your living space. I want to own my living space.

Very few people actually own their living space. It is all temporary on this earth. Whether you rent, lease, or borrow, how much are you really going to own in the end? Do you own your soul? Is there eminent domain with that sort of thing? I often fantasize about living totally independent of God and man, but this is impossible. I also question my motives for having such desires. To totally disconnect is to enter the void--to cease existing. If I believe in an afterlife (which I happen to), then death does not bring that about. If there is no afterlife, then why rush the trip to the black? I'm back to realizing that I am in my place on borrowed time. My goal is to exit that place without tragedy. No, I want to transcend my situation and my environs.

I continue to ponder about what it takes to preside totally over my own being. I have to realize that this is possible while remaining connected. I will have to deal with neighbors and they will want to trespass. I'm going to have to allow some people on my lawn, in my living room, into my room. I think it has something to do with giving. You can't give something away that is not yours to begin with.

Now, I must ask who is it that has ownership of me. What do I need to do to negotiate a deal to get myself back? When I get what I want how will I behave? There is an art in selflessness that does not betray self preservation. I want to learn that. I want gain myself and give of myself, without loss. To give with exponential gain in return; that is the investment that I need now.

Yeah.

"Bike" and random

Last Saturday I was helping sort things out at my parent's storage unit. There was a ton of crap that was taken to the D.I., our version of Goodwill in this area. Also, a huge load of garbage was hauled away as well. This is when I came across my dad's old bicycle, a 1950 Mohawk. It would make a perfect beach cruiser. The chain guard, fenders, back rim, name plate, and original seat are gone. But, the bike would not take much at all to actually become a nice "about town" cruiser. So, this is going to be my next project and it will be just in time for spring.

I'm going to a funeral in the morning. John was accidentally killed in a fast food restaurant men's restroom by a man who was carrying a loaded gun in his pants. The man just got done going to the toilet, pulled up his pants, when his gun came out of his concealed holster inside his pants. The gun hit the floor and went off, shooting John dead. Before any of you start to lament the senseless loss of life, I need to confess something to you: John is a toilet. The restaurant actually will be holding a funeral for their deceased toilet as a publicity stunt. I live seven minutes away from this place and go there often, so I figure I might as well attend. I mean, how often do I get a chance to hear a eulogy for a toilet?

I watched Kubrick's Full Metal Jacket last night. That is one of my favorite war dramas. I can't help but wonder, though, about Private "Gomer Pyle". I think that they should have just locked him in that bathroom and let him have a bit of a freakout, then ship him off to 'Nam where he could actually kill the enemy. I guess the point was that his Drill Sergeant and his fellow privates became his enemy. The other thing about that movie that I marvel about is how far five dollars went back in those days. Jeepers!

I was told by a higher up today that my hair was becoming "mighty robust". I asked if that meant that she liked it. She just replied something to the effect that I could appreciate it more than others. So, I guess I don't have to get my hair cut yet.

I think you've had enough. Hey, if you haven't checked in on my previous post's roll call, just do it here. Ta!

Uninspired (roll call 2009)

I don't have enough self discipline to not post when I lack inspiration. I still feel like a funny guy but my needs to be funny for people have changed. Mainly, I don't give a shit if you don't find me funny anymore. I can feel that my humor has shifted. I am older. How could I go through what I went through and not come out a bit different? I just find myself musing on different things nowadays. I am fine with this.

I like the fact that a handful of you Gruntonians stick around and leave comments. It shows me that you are in this for real and not because I was the guy that did wacky shit or gay Fridays. Between you and me, the TIGF gig was becoming a drag for me, no pun intended.

Could you all do me a favor and check in for me? I need to see who still rocks it Grunty. Roll call!

The mostest with the postest

I don't have a lot to say. I took this photo at a auto salvage parking lot.

I bought a new laptop. I should be getting it next week sometime. Now I am cool.

I watched First Blood on Blue Ray. It was cool as always. One thing, however: How come, in the Viet Nam flashbacks, Rambo looks like a cousin of Three Dog Night's Chuck Negron? Were all the army barbers being held prisoner by Charlie or something?

My goal this year is to learn how to hambone.

I'm starting to develop crushes on all old fugly trucks. Trucks that look like this:
While I could buy one now and fix it up, I'm waiting to get married, sick of her, and then buying it to piss her off. I am thoughtful.

I don't have much more to say. I'm going to watch my Simpsons' DVDs.

Everything is fine, just fine

I have to tell myself that once in a while. Even if it may not feel true, I repeat it over and over until I believe it. It isn't denial. Its mood management. I am still aware of the challenges that confront me and those who I care for. When I'm calm, however, I am better able to deal with the problems at hand.

In order:

1. Mother
2. Brother
3. Niece
4. Sister
5. Father
6. Myself

The issues (not in order):

• Jobless without direction and excessive debt.
• Frail and trying to come to terms with the inevitable.
• Part of the fat that might get trimmed.
• Will he pop the question?
• Passing blood and undergoing extensive tests.
• Worn out, in pain, and displaced from their position at work.

Sometimes life is a white blur. Sometimes it is as real as obsidian. I wear gray and try to walk that line the best I can.

Going back

I finally got my files backed up from my ancient computer. Since then I have been reading old papers from college and various proto-Grunt writings. I decided to open up a file: a novel that I started in 2001. Boy, it sucks. I went through and edited, changed things here and there. I've decided that with a major re-write that it could be as good as I thought it could be back in the day.

I wanted to be a writer. I've gotten away from that. There's such pretense about saying that you want to be a writer that I eventually could not stomach it when I uttered those words to anyone. Now, I think I'm going to have another go at it. Only this time, I am not going to worry about being a writer. I just want to tell a story. I think being away from school has helped me in that my writing style has become more colloquial. There are no more professors to impress or cohorts to outdo. It's just me now. I like it that way. It's Grunt.

Happy Human Rights/MLK Day!

I decided that I haven't posted a decent "come hike with me" video in a while. I still haven't got a hair cut. I am surprised that it isn't longer than it is.

Anyway, I was thinking about the parable of the Sower and the Seed today. The seed that fell in good soil flourished the most. It got me thinking about what makes good soil: bullshit and lots of it.

I was helping my brother fix his '98 Ford Exploder on Saturday and my disdain for American automakers only deepened. I love the old American iron, but it is such a crap shoot buying anything American made in the past thirty-odd years sometimes. I drove a brand new Toyota Tundra the other day and I about cried when I had to give the keys back. I hope Detroit gets its shit together. It would be nice to have some pride in "Made in America" again.

On the flip side to that, I helped my friend Jason with his '71 Chevy pickup project this weekend. There's something about looking at a vehicle and not having any mysteries about its inner workings, it's so simple. The fascination of putting together a really big go cart is what I think it is, basically. Plus, I can go home and not have to deal with all the clutter and mess that comes with this kind of hobby.

I just want to give a shout out to Megatropolis: Congrats on getting married! I bet you feel like a new kind of woman now.

Dream #47,372

I had this dream this week, Monday night/Tuesday morning sometime abouts.

My friend Wayne and I were venturing in a strange part of the country. We saw a chapel that had a strange glow about it. People were filing in. We wanted to know what was going on, so we entered in the building. Inside the chapel there was a congregation of about 300 people and several open caskets with fresh corpses, not preserved, in the front near the pulpit.

My friend and I sat down on a pew somewhere in the middle of the meeting hall. The pastor gave his sermon and people began to be filled with some kind of pentecostal-like rapture. A man behind me started to grope and fondle my shoulders and head. I ordered him to stop. He said that everybody was joining in and that it was part of the ceremony. A woman told the man that she would take me instead and she started caressing me. This went on for a while. It wasn't an orgy as it was more like some weird holy roller "love in", without overt sexual contact.

At the height of the group's fascinations with each other, the pastor raised himself atop the pulpit, was delivered a corpse, and reached into the body and pulled out the rib cage. He then said, "Communion for those who believe. Damnation to those who do not. Eat! Eat!". The pastor then threw the rib cage out into the congregation and the feast began.

While this was going on, I could not find my friend. I was scared out of my wits and tried to escape the church. When I broke free from the congregation, some noticed and they sought out to apprehend me. I evaded them through the maze of dark halls and classrooms. I ended outside, via an open window. I hid up in a thicket, waiting to see if my friend would make it out. My dream ends there.

I'll tell you, this is the last damn time I roast my own peanuts and eat them before I go to bed.

Those guitar clips I promised

Okay, never mind the fact that I just woke up, put on a baseball cap to hide my scary hair, and took the videos with my crappy cell phone, the guitar speaks for itself. This is the "No-Nocaster" in all its glory. My phone only will do short clips, thus, the concise wanking. Also, not all of the guitar and my playing is in the pictures because I had to prop up the phone on a pillow. I couldn't tell where I was in the shot and got tired of things being perfect. You can hear what's going on well enough. Anyway, the guitar feels and plays great. I'm playing dirty in most of these clips. That's how I like it.

This clip shows some twangy rhythm playing with the amp mildly overdriven. This is probably as clean as I like to play in most cases.

This is the 1998 Fender Stratocaster "Deluxe" that I bought new in 1999 and is my most modified from original guitar. A Strat is a great "hot rod" in that you can take a whole bunch of parts and swap them out--modify to your taste. It is hard to do that to something more precious, such as a Les Paul. Anyway, 1998 was a great year for the Mexican Strats. I changed the body from a black MIM to a three-tone sunburst 2007 American Standard Strat body. However, the secret to great guitar tone is in the neck. If the neck doesn't have it, it never will. So, already having a great neck, the better body enhanced everything nicely. This is my most comfortable guitar to play and the most versatile. The neck pickup and the two "quack" positions (#2and#4) are this guitar's signature sound. Good for SRV, Mayer, Frusciante, Hendrix, and more funky styles.

This is my early '70s Les Paul copy, a Japanese made model by the Suzuki instrument company. It isn't the most desirable copy, but it is still a great guitar for what I paid for it. It is the most full bodied and sexy sounding of all my electrics and the most temperamental at the same time--the most woman like, if you will. It doesn't like to stay in tune, loves to shift with the humidity level, and it hurts my back if I play it too long. Love hurts. But when I get it dialed in, I just can't get enough of this guitar. Makes me want to save up for the real thing. Someday, perhaps.

The amp I was playing through is my '57 Gibson Skylark, all of 5 watts with a tiny 8" speaker. This small amp is still plenty loud and you can hit the sweet spots without killing off your sperm and glassware. It's funny that the engineers back then thought that the distortion produced by this amp made it an inferior design. I helped it along with my own modifications when I restored it.

Enjoy!

A great day

I had my quarterly cancer exam and things are looking good for me. The only thing that sucked was looking at my weight, post holidays. You know what is really weird? Having a lady doctor feel your groin and then ask you if you are currently dating someone. Anyway, it wasn't inappropriate of her at all, just that taken out of context it seems rather funny. I celebrated afterward by eating a giant calzone and then finishing my shift at work. I am happy, but I've got a major headache right now. Plus, I keep looking at my body and going, "Wuh, so fat! Ugh, can't eat anything now. Erf. I need to be rolled in flour and served to a small, starving village."

I did some video clips this morning of me playing a few of my guitars. I just woke up and have that scary homeless man look. I used my cell phone to do the video and the only way I could do it was at an upward angle and not all of the shots have the whole guitar in them. I had to set the phone on a pillow and the clips are short. I will post these soon.

If you haven't read my ten commandments yet, please do. They are in the previous post. Remember, I know when you are sleeping. I know when you're awake. I know if you've been bad or good. So be good for goodness sake! There's something so creepy about the concept of someone who can see everything you do and think.

Feeling better

The leg is doing better today. I was able to do a full shift at work. Blah, blah, blah.

I look like a hippie now. It is really starting to piss some people off. I might cut my hair soon just because it gets a bit wild.

I'm eating Special K now for breakfast. I still haven't figured out what makes it special. I thought it would be the strawberries that you see in the bowl on the front of the box, but it doesn't come with them--you have to supply them yourself. Captain Crunch, now there's a pretty freakin' special cereal. Losing weight is a suck. I know I worded that funny, but it sounds more right, or "righter", if you will.

I had a dream once where I could command the eagles--the football team. I commanded them thusly:

1. I, Grunteweh, am your lord your god and your best friend for realsies.
2. You shall have no other gods before me, only after two hours and between meals.
3. You shall not make yourself an idol. That is the public's choice and you will have to put up with that nasty Simon first.
4. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of your god. Do not say, "I would like my eggs over god," or "I cannot go out with you tonight. I am busy washing my god. God, please leave me alone. God, can't you take a hint already?"
5. Remember the Sabbath and keep it free from dust and fingerprints for long use and enjoyment.
6. Honor thy mother and thy father by announcing your alternative life choices at family gatherings with company present.
   
7. Thou shalt not kill, unless I am super pissed at somebody and tell you to draw up thy sword and slay their ass. "Why?", the jury will say. You say, "Because, god told me to."
8. You shalt not commit adultery. Because you are only as young as you feel, why hurry the aging process? I don't care that I misused the term "adultery". I'm your god. Deal with it. Okay, thou shalt not lie with thy lawn chair as thou doest with thy wife. To know thy neighbor's goat is to also know that thou art in need of a serious prison raping.
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbor, but it is all right to bear false witness of the person two houses down from you because they live further away and are less likely to figure out that you were the one who screwed them over.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife. So, technically speaking, you can bang her all you want only if you do not want her specifically. And, playing "Naked bumps in the dark" is all right so long as the furniture is unharmed and the cat is put outside.

I'm tired now.

Grunt just lucky, I guess

Have you ever been removing snow with a snow blower, backed up, fell backwards onto a fire hydrant, then had your leg get pinned? Well, you haven't lived until you've done that, my friends. Thank goodness I still have some high quality prescription painkillers left. I'm as sore as a muhfuhka. On the plus side, the McRib is back.

I'm Finished!

I finally completed the "No-Nocaster" project. This electric guitar was inspired by the lawsuit period, where Fender had to take the name off of their flagship solid body Broadcaster in order to not infringe on Gretsch's name rights of their "Broadkaster" model drum kit. Anyway, what you see in the picture above is the way a real Broadcaster/Nocaster/Telecaster/Esquire guitar's bridge plate and saddles should be like. In my opinion, there hasn't been a better mousetrap made for these guitar's since 1949. There have been nice improvements here and there, but those improvements (compensated brass saddles) have stayed true to the original "flawed" design: a ferrous bridge plate that focuses the bridge pickup's magnetic field; string-thru body; thick, brass bars for string saddles, which share two strings each (sympathetic harmonics); and the ability to mangle your hand if you attempt a Pete Townsend "windmill" power chord.
The other thing that makes this guitar is the philosophy of KISS, and this has nothing to do with Peter Chris or Paul Stanley. My dad taught me the Army's Keep It Simple Stupid philosophy early on in life and I try to KISS everything that I come into contact with. There wasn't much to these guitars and this is evident in how simple the wiring is in them. Believe it or not, this is just a tad more complex than the original three-way switching. I prefer four-ways, myself. That goes as follows: bridge, bridge/neck (parallel), neck, bridge/neck (series). It all adds up to various forms of ballsy, American twang!
I think the grand total of this build was a little over $600. Every component is top grade. The pickups are BG custom winds. The neck is a heel adjusted, beefy, boat-shaped profile with the unforgiving, but comfortable, original vintage 7 1/4" fretboard radius. This thing has serious bite and transmits the percussiveness of your picking attack a great deal, but without picking up Mexican radio stations. My only gripe is with the vintage style tuners that I got for a supposed great deal off of Fleabay. You can buy an entry level American standard Telecaster for about this price, a Mexican made for a bit less, and a Korean Squire for hardly anything at all. The Fender Custom Shop models go for a lot more. I figure that I have a near Custom Shop quality guitar for a standard price. The real value was the knowledge and skill gained through building this project. I've been able to set my other guitars up now in ways that I would have had to pay a tech/luthier a hundred or two dollars to get done.

I guess a low quality video clip on my crappy camera phone is in order. Oh yeah, now I can finally get my room back to looking like less of a Katrina ravaged Guitar Center.

Anniversary

Yesterday, Friday the 2nd of January, marked the year anniversary of my last chemotherapy treatment. I'd like to think that my team in crimson won the Sugar Bowl in my honor. Really, it doesn't seem that long ago. I remember that last infusion session quite well. It was bittersweet in that I was happy to be done with one long therapy and on to my radiation treatments. Also, I think that I barfed my spleen that night. I was given a blanket for my chemo graduation, a blanket in memoriam of a young boy that had passed away that year. His name is sewn into the flannel.

I want you to know, Ben, that I've often thought about your life and how it ended--what dreams that you had that were unrealized due to a life cut short. I wonder what fears you had of death and dying, because my fears were tremendous. That is a reality that all must face, but with diseases like cancer, it holds a unique form of dread. Did you suffer much? What did your family go through? How are they feeling about it now? Is there an afterlife, Ben? Is it worth giving hope to the hopeless? I certainly pondered these things as I went through that special hell and I don't query in spite or bitterness. In all humility, I just want to know.

However the many questions I have, I want you to know that the blanket that bears your name comforted me through the rest of my hardship onto recovery. That was tangible; a real shelter that I could not find in scripture, nor in ecclesiastical leader. I find it odd now that church people wish me to inspire them through my experiences when the time that I was suffering I could not find solace in but a few of them. I will do it. Not because I feel the burning in my bosom. Rather, because I know that I can offer them a blanket of my own instead of hocus pocus. If there is no god, may god exist through us.

Amen.

What I'd do if I won the lottery

I was near the Idaho border on New Year's Eve, searching out old railroad ghost towns and following the grades in the snow, when the urge to go across the border to buy a lotto ticket hit me. I didn't get up there. Burely, the closest real town in Idaho to where I was, was just too far in the kind of weather that started coming in that evening. So, my bro and I turned back instead. The whole way down I thought of the things I would do or get if I had total financial security--no, complete and utter excess and power. Everything went their usual course of taking care of family and friends, then to my immediate financial concerns. But, the thing that surprises me every time that I fantasize like this is that all roads lead to me becoming an evil genius. This isn't something that concerns me; rather, I find it amusing that I need such an outlet. Indeed, it is actually reassuring to me that I at least acknowledge the evil and insecurities in myself and their desire to be expressed. It means that I am human and that I couldn't be the savior of the universe (Flash, ah--ahhhhhh!) That's a lot of pressure off of my shoulders, to tell you the truth.

I'll confess, part of the fantasy involves an evil genius fortress in the icy mountains of Antartica, where I copulate with sexy female drones and plot to rule the world...which then usually devolves into having powers to force mass orgasms at will. My evil weapon of choice is a blow gun, bow and arrow, and the mini cross bow from the movie The Osterman Weekend, all having extravagent asscesories and high-tech doo dads. It's all very campy and probably a tad too revealing.

I am a small man. Pity me.