Click on the image to enlarge. It's really funny. Go ahead, click...it's worth the "trouble".
Sunday, November 9, 2008
This Spongebob Clock Is Five Minutes Slow
I feel as if I am wasting away. Stagnating like a piece of rotting wood floating in a dank, scum-filled pond. A dead carp drawing flies. A bag of atrophied muscles. A Mason jar brain full of molding honey. Eyes sunken, radiation burned. Cramping fingers and sore wrists. Nothing to smell, nothing to taste, no feeling, no feelings. Trash ready to be burned. I try and try to lift myself out of this funk but I eventually realize that it's not my doing. It's not within my power to change it.
I don't want your sympathy. I only want your money.
I don't need for you to tell me that I should get my shit together. You think I don't already know that? Don't you think I've made it the grand mission of my life to get my shit together? Let me tell you something. I had it together yesterday.
I don't blame you for not wanting to get inside my head to find out why my engines are so rusty. I wouldn't, if I were you. If the shoe were on the other foot I assure you I would walk as far away from this crime scene as I could. In fact, I don't WANT you fumbling around in my mind. It's mine, and I really don't want to share it. It's enough for me to keep a handle on it my own self without giving permission to pick it apart to every Tom, Dick and Harry who just happen to have a ticket they bought from a less than reputable scalper on eBay. It's too late to get a refund, you three stooges. You'll find no grand scheme in the chambers of my imagination. I would say you get what you pay for but if you spent even a penny you got ripped off.
It's okay, mom. I don't blame you. I never blamed dad, either. I don't blame anyone. I don't play the blame game. I'll just sit back and ignore you for the rest of my life. I'll sit by the phone and wait for a call. I'll leave that WELCOME mat out in front of the door. I thought that by now it would have been filthy with the mud from the bottoms of your shoes.
I live in denial. A day will come. I will regret so much until time passes and teaches me that it was a two-way street and maybe, who knows, just maybe, could it be that everything evens out in the end?
Or it could be that I've got really bad heartburn.
I don't want your sympathy. I only want your money.
I don't need for you to tell me that I should get my shit together. You think I don't already know that? Don't you think I've made it the grand mission of my life to get my shit together? Let me tell you something. I had it together yesterday.
I don't blame you for not wanting to get inside my head to find out why my engines are so rusty. I wouldn't, if I were you. If the shoe were on the other foot I assure you I would walk as far away from this crime scene as I could. In fact, I don't WANT you fumbling around in my mind. It's mine, and I really don't want to share it. It's enough for me to keep a handle on it my own self without giving permission to pick it apart to every Tom, Dick and Harry who just happen to have a ticket they bought from a less than reputable scalper on eBay. It's too late to get a refund, you three stooges. You'll find no grand scheme in the chambers of my imagination. I would say you get what you pay for but if you spent even a penny you got ripped off.
It's okay, mom. I don't blame you. I never blamed dad, either. I don't blame anyone. I don't play the blame game. I'll just sit back and ignore you for the rest of my life. I'll sit by the phone and wait for a call. I'll leave that WELCOME mat out in front of the door. I thought that by now it would have been filthy with the mud from the bottoms of your shoes.
I live in denial. A day will come. I will regret so much until time passes and teaches me that it was a two-way street and maybe, who knows, just maybe, could it be that everything evens out in the end?
Or it could be that I've got really bad heartburn.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
BIRD OF THE YEARToucan Sam will kick your daddy's ass. I ain't gonna lie. He knows how to throw 'em down. Step up to him, if you've got the nerve...if you've got the guts...if you've got a death wish because I swear to Almighty God that this colorful fowl is one mean-spirited son-of-a-bitch and if you don't think he'll put his foot up your daddy's rectum then you've got an education a-comin'...
Friday, November 7, 2008
Little League Hero: "All at Once"
Hey! I know these guys!
Didn't know they had a music video on YouTube, though, or it would have been "Music Video of the Week" a long time ago.
Band's called Little League Hero and they're all just the greatest, nicest bunch of people you could meet. Kyle, the vocalist on this particular song, is also an avid IDM enthusiast who has (had?) a side project called OIDA. James, the guitarist, the last I heard, had either gotten through the police academy or was almost there. Yep. He's gonna be a cop. The drummer, Digsy, is a new father, if my sources are to be trusted. Mike Watt, who plays the bass here, is probably the most animated bassist I've ever seen.
I'll never forget the night I bombed at VZD's and Watt gave me the twenty bucks he'd made because he thought I deserved it more than he did (at least that's what he said that night). I didn't want to take it, but he repeatedly insisted, so eventually I did. It wasn't but a couple of hours later and he comes up to me and asks for it back. Which probably doesn't come off as funny in describing it here as it was when it happened. You've got to know Watt. You had to have heard the profusion of compliments he made when "foisting" the money on me. It sounds like I'm being immodest, but the fact of the matter is that he loves me...he himself would say he idolizes me as a musician, songwriter, my taste in music etc...don't ask me why, I definitely don't think of my own self as highly as he does...so you can maybe see why I found it so hilarious that he would ask for his money back after all that.
Anyway, that's a legendary story.
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