Whiskey Rebel's Diary

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Archives: 03-06-03 to 04-01-03

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Hostile City or Bust!!

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4/01/03

I'm LIVID with rage. When I got up a few hours ago I learned that another "mystery" half Sister of mine has been tracked down. She sent a cheerful email to my skilled relation who located her. I immediately sat down to get in touch with her.

For an hour I poured my heart out into a loving, welcoming message..

It was a memorable moment all right. Made even MORE memorable by the goddamned fucking "yahoo" glitch that wiped it out without a trace. I was back to square one.

I've experienced this before; spending a long time on a heartfelt message only to have it stomped on and annihilated by some stupid computer error. You just have to saddle up and do it all over again.

So, that's what I did..even though it feels cheesy to rewrite a message that once had a spontaneous flow when you know it sounds more contrived and rushed the second time. I vowed to "save" the text part way through.

A half hour later I learned to my dismay that you CAN'T "save" text within the moronic yahoo email system (it's Marla's email address which I use when communicating with relatives). So I was very careful not to fuck up for the next half hour as I recomposed the entire letter again. I signed off at the end of the message..proud that I had been able to recompose the message...then I depressed the "SEND" button and waited for a confirmation that it had been sent.

But of course you know that THAT didn't happen or I wouldn't be sitting here pissing and moaning. I got an onscreen message telling me that the message HADN'T been sent for unspecified reasons involving either her address or ours which I was forwarding it to.

But the GODDAMNED FUCKING Yahoo-schmahoo-fuckface who designed the damned program didn't leave any way of getting back into my reply to try to send it again..which meant once again..BACK TO SQUARE FUCKING ONE.

Oh yeah, I tried calling in a total panic to Marla at work to help me save the message; but after spending 20 minutes waiting for her to call back I was told I was simply SCREWED. She had NOOOO idea how to access a message I had spent an hour pouring my most heartfelt emotions into.

I wound up slamming down one of our phones so hard it's busted for good.

Slackjawed I stared at the yahoo email program for 10 whole minutes wondering where I had gone wrong. I looked at all the friendly little icons lining the top, bottom and both sides of the screen and suddenly realized that it had been designed BY MORON'S..FOR moron's. I couldn't tell you what 1/3rd of the icons are supposed to help you do..and I have a HIGH IQ and almost TWO DOZEN Chess trophies.

Dummies and fools whom I could whip across the chessboard blindfolded seem to understand what all the little helpful icons are about..but I'm TOO SMART to understand what it's all about in the same way that I can't understand how our negative-IQ cats communicate.

It's the same thing with what I've seen of AOL and it's "helpful" software...designed for borderline imbeciles with IQ'S under 100. To me AOL is just gibberish because instead of using the King's english to define an icon or suggest a step you need to take to accomplish a task..the software has been DUMBED DOWN so that it can be used by uneducated rubes..the sort of people who look like the crosseyed bozo's depicted in the AOL TV commercials.

I AM OF A HIGHER MENTAL CALIBRE..and I'm glad that on a daily basis I use an email system that is designed for folks in my IQ range.

On to other news. Yesterday we cracked open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate the arrival of a box of copies of my 2nd book: "Hostile City or Bust". I'm gonna send out the copies that have been ordered already tomorrow. I'm also gonna enter it into our Ebay store. It looks great..Steel cage has done a superb job with it..as usual.

We had visitors over the weekend..Mark from Dual Exhaust and his pal Keith were down all the way from Illinois. We drank alot of beer of course..me working on Coors and Lonestar and Bud, Elvis slugging down rum drinks and them guzzling cans of Old Milwaukee. Yeah..OLD MILWAUKEE. Old Raisin-poop. They left a bunch of full cans behind and Elvis and I each braced ourselves with one for a salute last night to Mark and Keith wherever the hell on the road they were. Oddly enough they tasted OK..must be because it was purchased in Texas.

Elvis band "the Cats from Mars" played last Saturday in a local outdoor park as part of some frigging youth program. The lasted a 40 minute set without having the plug pulled even though they performed their anthem "I hate censorship (fuck fuck fuck fuck!!)". A few square types whisked their kids out of the park immediately upon Elvis getting a group of trouble makers from his high school to chant along waving their fists during the "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK" sing-along part.

The had their set down pretty damn well...all Elvis had to do to signal the ending of a song was swivel his hips back and forth in a Presley like manner.

I haven't interfered in their band or even made any "helpful" suggestions in a LONG long time. They sound like a raw crude garagey punk rock band playing at medium tempo. Besides performing a bunch of offensive originals, they covered "train kept a rollin'" ala Yardbird's as part of a train medley..and opened with the Peter Gunn theme with a Davie Allen and the arrows sort of approach.

I'll continue to NOT tamper with what they're doing...I'll most likely be too busy working on my 3rd or 4th or perhaps even 10th draft of my spontaneous heartfelt first greeting to a real live blood Sister.

We're playing New Orleans Friday..and Hattiesburg Saturday with BEFORE I HANG. Can't wait to see all those folks. I'll be toting new books to peddle to them's that can read...

3/26/03

I have a very strong theory as to why so many people in the US (and even more so overseas) are having a very difficult time coming to grips with the way the war is playing out.

Some people seem to get very upset and ridiculously paranoid over what is actually a very small number of casualties from the side of the coalition forces. Some people seem to think that if the war isn't over in 7 days that it's become a Viet Nam-like quagmire. Obviously a large number of people out there are concerned enough about the rather small number of civilian casualties to date..which the Iraqi's "non intelligence" liars are trying to blame on the US.

Ever wonder why the closet commie protest organizers are able to attract so many seemingly ordinary mainstream do-gooders to the protests being orchestrated in certain US cities??

You can trace the mass stupidity and lack of judgment on the part of a huge portion of American's to the simple fact proven over and over and over by polls and tests and studies from sea to shining sea conducted BEFORE the war; American's are D.U.M.B. when it comes to even the most fundamental facts concerning geography, political science and basic intelligence.

THINK of how few US teenagers and even adults when tested couldn't even locate Iraq or Chicago or Rhode Island on the frigging map!! My Son tells me that to this day only a tiny handful of high school seniors he attends classes with can even identify a majority of States of the union on a damn map. They DON'T care...they don't do any better with basic geographical data concerning the nations of the world..they DON'T CARE.

Learning about geography is considered UNCOOL to most high school students. Being cool means sitting in class with a sullen expression on your face whilst sporting the proper trendy clothing and hairdo.

If this isn't the case in YOUR town..bully for you; it's precisely the truth in most towns across our country.

These are the moron's matriculating to colleges and demonstrations that involve the students..whose parents have invested a lot of money in tuition fees..walking out of classes they have paid for a few times per week so that their "voice will be heard".

I wonder how many protesters whom have expressed love and concern towards innocent Iraqi babies could even find the country on a goddamned map??

It's NO WONDER that people who have NO KNOWLEDGE of the history of warfare would sound like ignorant boobs theorizing on this war to educated people like me and hopefully you.

The ranks of the protests are jammed with folks who don't know "Antietam" from "Normandy". When I hear people theorize that Saddam is hiding in a bunker conducting the war..I wonder how many of them know that Hitler hid in a bunker?? Do they know how long he spent there?? and what his eventual fate was??

When I hear that pea brained, senile, drooling dumbfuck the pope wagging his tongue passing judgment on nations who have the audacity to "wage war"..I wonder how many Catholics or non Catholics or folks over the age of 11 in the United States realize the hypocrisy of his statement considering the repeated mass warfare spearheaded by crusading pope's from the last couple thousand years???

It's a shame to think how dumb average Americans are but it's the truth.

It's NOT SO BAD when you factor in how fucking stupid people in other countries are. Consider for instance the boobs who martyr themselves based on what they see on severely controlled State operated news shows courtesy of the "Al Jazeera" network.

Incidentally, I don't mean to imply that ALL war protesters are dummies. And i SURE AS HELL don't mean to imply that all the folks who support the war and our President know much either. If you've done your homework I salute you. It'd be ridiculously arrogant of me to claim that I know more than some of you in the fields of politcal science, geography or military history. Likewise I'm sure alot of you waving signs and seeing to it that your "voice is heard" must deep down realize that a helluva lot of the sheep that've been lured into participating in their neighborhood protest don't know dick.

As long as intelligence and knowledge is considered "uncool" in the vast majority of our nations schools we're always going to have huge vocal mobs of uninformed boobs being taken seriously at times like this.

ONCE AGAIN I'm reminded: "Damn..it's a shame everybody can't be as smart as me".

3/24/03

Hey...how about the ugly mug on that Iraqi foreign mis-information minister who delivers statements for them a couple times a day; doesn't the poor bastard look like Yogi Berra??? Or maybe Gunther Tudee on "Car 54 where are you"?? He reminds me of a boss I had in the credit racket many years ago who was chronically bound up for days at a time even though his Wife fed him prunes and laxatives like candy.

There are a few more important things going on in this world than the war..my 2nd book's imminent release being one of them.

I've received word today that they have been printed and I'll be receiving a load of them very soon from the friendly (and rarely constipated) folks at STEEL CAGE.

It is NOW TIME for anybody interested in getting a copy of "Hostile City or bust" directly from me to ACT NOW. The cover price of the book is $12..and I can ship it for an additional $2 in the US 1st class rate in an oversized envelope. If you want a firmer packing job and a bit quicker turn around time add $3.85 to the cover price for priority shipping. If you live in Canada add $2 for surface rate..and $4 for air. If you live in most countries in Europe (the ones that participate in the "Global priority" rate system) you can receive the book in 4-7 days for a shipping fee of $5.

I'll happily sign your damn book and make it out to whomever you want; if you want to send one as a gift I'll send it direct from here if it makes it easier for you.

Remember all you foreigners...you MUST send US funds! Cash, Money order or check are all fine unless your checking account is new.

"HOSTILE CITY OR BUST" isn't nearly as long as "Jobjumper"..a fact that will probably prompt a few timid slow readers to tackle it. The topic is a real life move from hell..or should I say TO hell depending on which coast you prefer. I say it's a move THROUGH hell utilizing piss-poor U-Haul equipment that almost cost me my life. Besides containing a day by day account of my white-knuckle cross country ordeal I've written at length about what caused us to uproot our lives and move to a city that a half million people have fled in disgust over the last 40 years. I've written quite a bit about what it was about Portland and the Portlanders I knew that drove me away from that supposed paradise (HAH!).

I AM THE HEEL of this book..and I've told alot of tales within these pages that make me look like a hotheaded, borderline psychotic jackass. What the hell...moving rarely brings out the best in anyone. To those of you who know me personally...even including borderline friends or enemies...you'll never know if I wrote about YOU in this book...unless you send in your money and get a copy.

If you write reviews for a legitimate publication and feel you deserve a review copy better get in touch with the folks from Steel Cage.

3/21/03

I don't want to spend too much time on the subject of the various demonstrations against the war world wide since what I have to say is so damned obvious yet unfortunately at the same time seems so incomprehensible to the people who need to profit by it.

I've read an awful lot of internet accounts of protesters happily declaring themselves "patriots" for their actions.

When your protest interferes with the rights of others (I'm speaking directly now to the folks who deliberately have blocked and stopped traffic such as in S.F. the last couple days):

A) you AREN'T going to win over people to your cause..you're gonna PISS PEOPLE OFF and you know. Which makes your motives as a "patriot" suspect. How is pissing off random crowds of commuters going to aid your cause or convince people of ANYTHING other than the fact that they are faced with a selfish mob of spoiled rotten people playing god??

B) What gives you the right to play god and declare the "overall good" is served by interfering with peoples basic rights to drive down the goddamned street unmolested???

C) The people hurt by being caught up in traffic aren't wealthy yuppies or Captains of industry..its ordinary working folks..whom you may CLAIM to represent..but SURE AS HELL don't understand. For instance, It's poor working people who have to pay huge penalties when picking their kids up late from day care because a bunch of people who seem to have all sorts of free time are playing GOD by blocking the roads.

D) When you demonstrate with the sole intention of fucking up the morning or afternoon commute..you no longer can claim to hold the ideological high ground. You are acting like a little child throwing a temper tantrum. You're simply proving that your protest activities rather than being a serious means of expression are simply a means of getting a peace of ass after the demonstration or some cheap thrills: ATTENTION!!

The hilarious twist to the social upheaval in San Francisco was pointed out to the press by their emminent Mayor Willie Brown today; he pointed out that of all the cities in the USA San Francisco had probably more folks sympathetic to the protestors point of view..so why fuck with those poor folks???

To quote the Dead Kennedy's "trash a bank if you've got REAL balls"...

Down here in South Texas where most of us haven't forgotten about 9/11 and are skeptical of your cause you might be able to have a real laugh at our expense delaying our commute. But no...you keep pissing in your own bathwater..and in the long run probably drive people away from your point of view.

How could that be satisfying?? why alienate people who at the beginning of the day were on your side??

An obvious reason is that the organizers of these protests see the clock ticking down on their efforts to recruit people for longterm involvement in their fringe political party after Saddam Hussein has been dispatched of.

Shit, I spent more time on this subject than I meant to; I never meant to pull myself away from the cable news channels for so long. It's really sad that a handful of you are persuaded that its all phony footage I'm watching that somehow all the journalists and editors of our nation have agreed to stage so as to help the evil satan George Bush steal Iraq's oil supply.

3/17/03

The "Good old days" my fucking ass!!!

In a nutshell that's my opinion of the late 60's hippie era that seems to have fascinated so many kids from later generations. Worse yet, not only have we endured hippie wannabe's for many years, the recent wave of anti-war protests have brought old hippies out of mothballs so that they can babble the same time worn cliches into reporters microphones and wave signs bearing poorly thought out slogans such as "war is terror too!"

Yep..what a happy nostalgic time they must be having crooning dated anthems like "we shall overcome". I bet the grey haired 50 something's I saw on CNN being arrested for crossing a police line at the white house must've felt a tremendous rush being incarcerated for their principles.. "just like the old days".

This is 2003 though...NOT 1969. We aren't sending our soldiers to languish in some sweaty jungle for years dodging guerillas. We're gonna give Iraq an enema of 3,000 or so laser guided explosives for 2 or 3 days followed by a round up of surrendering Iraqi soldiers who'll be glad to see Saddam driven out of power. Damned few people are going to miss ol' Saddam whom is ten times over the bigger shitheel when compared to Bush (whom I'm not a fan of).

All of this is lost upon the nostalgic protesters both young and old. They're too busy reliving the "good old days" of the late 60's.

GOOD OLD DAYS MY FUCKING ASS!!

I wasn't old enough to be a hippie. I was born in 1957 which made me too young for the draft...too young to join protests or attend "love-ins" and too young to score pot until a ways into the 70's. HELL, by the time I turned 17 I wasn't even expected to register. I WAS old enough though to realize that the hippie generation and all their talk about "peace" and "love" was every bit as hypocritical as my parents generation and their talk about "god" and "values" and "do as I say not as I do".

I saw through my parents..and became a self taught atheist at the age of about 9. I saw through the hippies...and became a lifelong HATER of everything they stood for.

Everywhere the filthy, stinky goddamned hippies went they personified the very opposite of "peace". Being unable to resist peer pressure, they were always freaking out on drugs they swallowed or smoked or shot to "be cool". They were always getting into loud disputes with people they were trained by the hippie mumbo-jumbo dogma to perceive as "uncool"...whom without exception they labeled as "narcs" or "fascist pigs".

Far from being truly "free"..and in any way "unique" or "original" or "innovative" or "individual" the hippies followed a strict fashion code and cookie cutter political views.

Many rock stars such as members of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones flirted with the idea of being "hippies" for a brief period but obviously most were too original in their own ways to allow themselves to be bogged down by the hippie lifestyle.

Percentage wise most kids of the hippie era actually never spent all that much time stumbling around in a drug induced haze. Quickly and mercifully the 70's and it's delightful fashions came along and free'd us from the "hippie era".

The question was often asked in the 1960's...what would happen when the hippie generation was old enough to vote and run for office and control things?? Like every other generation before and since the hippies merely grew up and out of it. By the late 70's former sex/drugs/rock 'n roll loving hippies had grown into low level supervisors at the sort of crappy jobs I had to endure. They usually seemed embarassed by their checquered pasts. Even more so than my parents generation (whom essentially held the same values throughout their lives) they were such fucking HYPOCRITES!!!! They were the generation that celebrated pot, acid and loud music..yet they scrapped it all in favor of overpriced Starbucks coffee and "Yanni" new age cd's.

Of course, they didn't ALL grow up into yuppie types. There is a small percentage to be found inhabiting college towns to this day. Usually within a few years of 55 years old the men wear beards and earth shoes and beret's to cover their bald spots. The gal's sport moo moo's and surround themselves with rainbow bric a brac and lots of smelly incenses. Most of these folks have found niches working on or near college campuses never actually being able to leave the old familiar security blanket of the ivory tower atmosphere.

There's also a number of 55 year old lowlife "angry-post-hippie-syndrome" guys inhabiting parks and occasionally allowing themselves to be rehabilitated by the Salvation Army. Most of them look like David Crosby. Most of them aren't above posing as a legitimate Viet Nam war veteran to earn handouts. These guys are the scumiest of the hippie scum. I've hoped for a long time this bunch would die off first..and as of this rant they're living up to my expectations.

Like lemmings a helluva lot of hippie age folks have left their nice middle class homes on occasional weekend days (or in some cases their park benches) to relive the past. They perceive George Bush as being the new Richard Nixon and Saddam Hussein and Bin Laden as oppressed dudes who MUST be "cool" because they badmouth Bush.

I've had to endure my entire life watching these fucks get older and older and nuttier...it's gonna be a real pleasure to watch them all die out one by one a few years ahead of me.

3/15/03

I've quit hacking up neon green slime..for now. My knee is still painful but it's improving enough that we were able to go last night to see Dale Watson play a mile or so from our house. I can't walk around but I was able to lean on my crutches and on a deactivated jukebox for two whole sets. He had an entire new set of Lonestar's (backing band members) who played well although it'll probably be awhile until they can match the last batch who were with him a long damn time. Of course Mr. Watson is the star of the show and many folks probably don't give the band much thought. They just come to hear some music and dance awhile and hopefully get a piece of ass later. The ladies just LOVE Dale..but even he can't take 'em ALL home, so there's usually a horde of gals running around in heat after one of his shows.

I made a decision as my life was passing before my eyes while I lay on my sickbed at some point last week. I'm not going to go to my grave without diving headfirst into a full fledged competitive tournament chess "come back". The bulk of my tournament chess career took place of course when I was 11-18 years old. I peaked when I was 17..and I didn't understand why until the last few years. I now know that I pissed in my own pocket when I was 18 by smoking tons of pot all the time. It coincided with my becoming my own master in my own apartment for the first time. I drank alot too...but alcohol operates differently. When you smoke pot often your brain tends to fog up and stay a bit fogged up even when you haven't smoked in a while.

Now, I'm not trying to cheaply piss off my pot smoking friends by making this judgement. If this is you, smoke a bowl and read on..I've got alot more to say on this subject.

Alot of folks have argued for years and years over the short and longterm effects of marijuana. As a former longterm user there is absolutely NOTHING that an idealistic anti-drug super-Christian type can tell me about it (unless they happen to be a research scientist of course). Likewise there isn't a damn thing a current heavy pot smoker can tell me about it either..I've BEEN there.

I quit smoking it years ago under the assumption that you can only smoke it for SOooo long (it differs between individuals) until you start acting spacey and a bit in a fog like about 95% of the veteran pot smokers I've met throughout my adult life. I'd rather quit voluntarily and have it to go back to in my old age if I feel like it (or perhaps if my liver gives out).

At the same time, I'm not being judgemental about anybody else.

I'm NOT going to be one of those "do as I say not as I do" jackasses. I'm still totally in favor of marijuana and its cousin hashish being legalized so that people who want to can use it or grow it can do so without being dragged into the legal system EVER even for a handslap.

We ALL react differently to marijuana and alcohol or what have you. I know LOTS of pot smokers who stay high all day long for years at a time without it ever causing a problem at work or in their personal life or even when they're behind the wheel of a car. Of course there are also individuals who CAN'T handle booze or pot or caffeine or cell phones for even a damn week without pissing off and endangering alot of people.

YOU RUN YOUR LIFE..and I'LL RUN MINE.

Same thing goes for kinky or simple sex or no sex...satisfy YOURSELF. Who cares whats right for others??

The folks I mentioned earlier who are veteran pot smokers who all seem to be in a bit of a fog at times are very likely QUITE HAPPY that way. I wouldn't suggest they do anything different unless they feel the need.

As a daily drinker for umpteen years I've had to "pay the fiddler" a few times one way or other..so who am I to lecture pot smokers??

My open mindedness incidently ends with CELL PHONE ASSHOLES who mindlessly drive the streets of this fair land endangering us all120 times over as much as drinking drivers or pot smoking drivers; but I digress..THAT'S another rant for another day.

Anyway, back to my chess career being cut short by my preference for constant imbibing and daily smokeouts.

My game really went down hill all of a sudden just at a point in which I had considered actually trying to travel and compete for money. You see, MONEY was introduced into the game in a significant way about the same time my skills went up in smoke.

I was born with an incredible knack for the game....ranked by the United States chess federation for years as one of the "top 25 under 16" players in the entire nation. And I pissed it away...which was MY doing entirely. I'm not sitting here crying that I wish I had it all to do over again. I had real REASONS for wanting to relax by any means neccessary back then.

Nowdays I consider myself a "professional" alcoholic of sorts. I know what I'm doing and am in control (uhh..with an occasional exception). I now have the maturity to set aside for a few hours or a few days the tools of getting deeply fucked up long enough to focus on something that needs to get done.

Embarking on my "come back" I will utilize alcohol as a training tool that I will permit myself AFTER my daily study is done..or AFTER the tournament is over.

Incidentally, I made a "come back" in my early 20's. I played in 5 or 6 tournaments with mixed results. I won the Seattle amateur open..and then the Portland amateur open..but got my ass kicked by weak players in a couple subsequent tournaments. My last tournament I entered the "master" section of a tournament in Seattle and managed to break even 2-2 including drawing a couple very strong masters.

Here I am about 16 olympic sized swimming pools full of whiskey and beer later. I've been on the net and kicked ass on supposedly very strong computer programs. When I read chess books nowdays I have a superior command of whats going on whereas I seemed to get by more on instinct when I was a kid. There's a psychological aspect to the game when played competitively. Now, that's where the last quarter century of experiences I've had (including studying hundreds of the finest professional wrestlers working the same type of dopes ) simply have to pay off. What tinhorn frigging chess player is going to intimidate the Whiskey Rebel?? HHmm??? They could beat me over the damned head with the board or the table and I'd just laugh demonically. They can try to "psych me out" I suppose...I'll laugh in their damned pimply little faces when they do.

There are additional benefits to my "come back". Studying chess seems to re-awaken dead brain cells and is condusive to song writing since you use the same portion of your brain you haven't yet destroyed. If all else fails..I'll write a damn book about the experience. How can I go wrong??

I know already that none of my friends give a flying fuck about me doing this..but that doesn't mean a damned thing. I'm not doing it to impress them..I'm doing it to see how far i can take it..and to at least wrap up unfinished business from a long time ago. My chess career ended when it really should have just been beginning.

Next week I'm going to rejoin the U.S.C.F. and pick a tournament a few months away in San Antonio to enter.

3/11/03

I'm getting sicker and sicker and more physically fucked up by the day. I'm not just hacking up ordinary flem as I have for 10 days or so..it's NEON colored. No more nosebleeds..but my left knee is now so bad off I can't lay down or sit in a chair without suffering incredible pain. Unbelievably the most comfortable position for my knee is for me to stand immoble using crutches. You can imagine it's a great posture for getting sleep.

I'm too sick to go to the damned post office..too sick to check our mailbox. If I didn't have Marla around I'd figure out a way to the beer store up the street though.

I've had several knee injuries over the last few years...all of them resulting from trying to sleep on the goddamned futon Marla prefers to a normal, healthful, non-injury causing bed. It's not just a little cushion..It was expensive and has a redwood frame. It's so goddamned low slung though that it's not as easy to get up as sliding off of a normal bed. The frame itself is dangerous as fuck..it's as hard as brick. If you stubbed your toe on it (as I have so many times) you probably wouldn't be going to the post office today either unless you have an ace bandage and crutches handy. When I get up off the futon half asleep to go take a damned leak or maybe a beer shit I somehow pivot on my knee(s) in a way that causes frequent injurys.

This is all part of Marla's plan to KILL me.

Whenever we go to a motel with a nice, normal King size bed I sleep SOOoo well. If I need to get up for any reason (as I eventually always do) I comfortably swing my legs over the side of the bed in a normal non-injury threatening manner and happily walk away from the bed.

Marla HATES this; she makes sure to complain everytime we've slept in a motel bed "my back hurts..beds just aren't any good!".

Occasionally we start up our old "bed" vs. ""futon" argument..but whats the damned use. There's no point trying to reason with her since she's obviously TRYING to kill me.

One day it may just backfire on her. I may be so injured eventually that all I can do is lay in her precious futon 24-7...shitting the damned thing several times per day. She's gonna have to come up with a homicidal edge to add to the futon torture or I'm only gonna wind up lame. Maybe she'll start poisoning the bottled water I leave by my side of the bed?? Or perhaps she'll have installed a heavy ceiling fan over my side of the futon that might just accidently come unbolted and split my head open? I wish she'd just slit my throat in my sleep and be done with it.

I just read a news story about how today the US Senate declared the French fries in their cafeteria to be "freeedom fries" so as to spite the spineless French appeasors.

Will we all be calling French bread "freedom bread" in the near future?? How about French tickler condoms = Freedom ticklers??

It's amazing to me the current roster of 3rd rate 3rd world nations on the U.N. security counsel. These countries can't even intelligently feed their own people..why should they be consulted about important issues?? It's like putting a handful of little chidren in charge of the family house ruling over their parents.

I sure hope the dollar diplomacy handouts to all the countries who don't support us at a time like this end immediately.

While we're at it..remember the old South African apartheid-era boycott?? Remember all the rock stars recording the anti-Sun city song?? Considering Nelson Mandella's own blatant anti-white racist stance and his open support for Saddam Hussein (a Jew hating racist) I'm waiting for the usual rock stars to urge a NEW boycott of South Africa. Of course I'm not holding my breath. Apartheid was wrong...I'm not going to defend it in anyway. That still doesn't change the fact that if you check Mandella's statements to the world press he comes off sounding very, very little like Ghandi or MLK...and a HELLUVA lot like his fellow huckster racist pal Al Sharpton.

If you think I'm exaggerating...do your HOMEWORK. Go to the Yahoo news archives and you'll see what I mean.

I'm drawing a line in the sand as of NOW; I'm taking a STAND; from this day forward until things change for the better in South Africa I'm going to REJECT all booking offers for my bands. For that matter any potential record labels in S.A. can fuck off too. Likewise I won't be doing any readings down there to promote my upcoming book. So there...NNyyyaahh!!!!

3/09/03

Still sick as hell. I blew my nose in the middle of the night a couple nights ago and was amazed at how much warm snot seemed to be filling my hankie. I held my hand up to gaze at it and realized to my surprise I had a handful of blood. my nose was bleeding like crazy for some reason. Chalk it up to a long list of accompanying miserys I've experienced with this bout with the flu.

Anyway, I leaped up out of bed really fast so as not to bleed all over the sheets. Unfortunately, I pivoted on my knee in a bad way (I was still half asleep) and I'm sitting here tonight with a pair of crutches I've been hobbling around on tonight.

Nosebleeds are a real pain in the fucking ass in the middle of your sleep period especially. The worst part is that for a day or so I can't feel free to pick my damn nose.

April has to be a better month. We have about 3 shows booked as of today for RANCID VAT. We'll be playing along with our pals from the mighty "BEFORE I HANG" at the Dixie Tavern in New Orleans on 4/4/03 and then the next night 4/05/03..90 miles up the road in lovely Hattiesburg Mississippi at Tal's music and Jagermeister emporium. We're playing in San Antonio on 4/10/03 (the night after my birthday) at somewhere I forget with SHIT and the BHAGDAD BOMBERS. Don't worry...if you're within range and want to attend any goddamned day now we'll have detailed info somewhere on this website.

Our new Italian 7" on the "Casual" record label will be available very soon and of course my second book "Hostile city or bust" is being printed as this is written (it takes a while though). I guess these are enough good things to want to survive this fucking flu to experience.

I've been following the semi-amusing press releases from North Korea that have the world fairly shaken up. I can understand if their brashly worded threats scare the pants off of folks who haven't spent much time in the taverns of our nation. To me North Korea is obviously just a 3rd world commie scumbag country with a leadership trying to use tough talk to extort yankee capitolist $$$$ from the United States. It reminds me SOOOO MUCH of the "vaguely threatening" (!!) beggars who hang around inner city bank cash machines trying to intimidate suburban dorks and tourists who don't know any better.

As a large man I've lost count over the years how many drunk dudes with the short man's "Napoleon" complex have waddled up to me in some bar trying to talk tough in a funny squeeky little voice..trying to start a fight for no reason other than the fact that they feel inadequate when they get looped and see a natural born stud like me.

It's always been my policy to point these sad faced shrimps out to the bouncer rather than flick them out of the way personally. It's no challenge to kick ass on these types..and I think it shows that you have a lot of class as a "big guy" (alright!...tall FAT guy) to turn the other cheek in a way that you wouldn't to full sized fellows who had a legit beef with you.

North Korea is a crumb to brush off of Uncle Sam's jacket; I can understand why Japan is upset over their trash talk...they have a lot at stake and are essentially helpless. Still, bottom line I totally agree with the present course of the administration to refuse to be sucked into some stupid game of shit talkin' "the dozens" with a shrinkydink subpar rice paddy of a country.

It shouldn't be our ultimate responsiblity to deal with North Korea's assinine banter. In a bar situation the mouthy runt gadfly would in many if not most cases be dragged out of the place by it's more sober pal(s)...in this case China.

3/06/03

Sometime in the future you may check this diary over and over for a few weeks without seeing an update. If that happens it probably means that I keeled over dead and Marla hasn't gotten around to dumping all this in the desktop trash. Of course it's always possible that I will have finally snapped and wound up with a padded cell for a room. Don't assume either of those fates have befallen me too quickly though. If you do, you may wind up holding a big gala celebration of my demise all for nothing.

Today I'm so damn sick I don't see how I'm even finding the right damn keys at a fairly normal pace. I've been sick for many, many days...Marla has been sick for a few more and Elvis (who brought this fucking death virus into our home) has been ill for so long I won't even guess exactly how many weeks.

It's been about as miserable and unhappy and unhealthy around here as the field hospital at Shiloh or Antietam with the single plus sign that we haven't had to saw any of our limbs off...YET.

A low point for me personally came a few nights ago when Marla my beloved Wife of so many years developed a unique bird-pig snore that she would snort/gargle out with an accompanying sucking wind sound every 2 or 3 minutes. "SNorK"...."-sNoRK"..If it was a normal snoring pattern in a wood sawing back and forth manner I'd just wrap a pillow around my ears as usual. But this crazy "snork" sound's unpredictability almost drove me over the edge. I know eventually one of us wound up on the couch but I'm not sure which one of us.

We've all been eating lots of aspirin to kill the scratchy and constant sore throat pain. If we didn't we would've had a pier six brawl or two around here in spite of our tired aching limbs. We yell at each other alot for being disgusting and messy.

For instance our little cherub Elvis..he's 18 and stronger than his Mother and I put together but he insists on us waiting on him hand and foot through his illness as if he was half that age. He carries a roll of butt wipe around that he honks a wad of snot into every minute or so...discarding each one carelessly. After a few hours the end of the couch he's sitting on is submerged in snotty tissues. Only the top of his head sticks out. Marla blows her nose on kleenexes or butt wipe..but instead of using them once and discarding them like a martyr she tries to use each one as many times as possible until they're crusty and heavy as billiard balls. Me? I use handkerchiefs..like my Mommy taught me to. Unfortunately, most of my supply are packed away in some damn box from one of our moves and I'm always having to organize a load of laundry to cleanse the few I have.

Of course instead of the three of us agreeing on a mutual medicine that we could buy in quantity we each have our specific favorites and refuse to compromise making a shopping trip hell for whomever draws the short straw. Elvis wants Vicks "Daytime" and Sucrets (a certain flavor)..and he needs a 4 pack of ass gaskets of course every 12 hours. I demand to drink Sunny Delite mixed with Sierra Mist...also steaming hot coffee. I also need a supply of Fishermen's friends throat drops. Marla abstains from coffee and can't stand citrus juice for some reason I've forgotten. Instead she puts her faith in these litte goddamned vitamin "C" drops and drinks green hot tea.

HELLS FUCKING BELLS! You can imagine the chaotic scenes around here prior to someone making a trip to the grocery store!! And of course the bickering and finger pointing and dry throated cursing that takes place when the designated shopper gets home would put any "honeymooner's" rant to shame. No matter who writes the shopping list or does the leg work one of the three of us always manages to fuck up and either buy the wrong thing or to forget to put it on the list.

I commented to Marla during a brief calm period that either of our cats could probably kick my ass I feel so weary. The bigger and older one Mr. Jinx must have heard me; a mere couple hours later while I was laying sprawled across our couch he appeared from no where and slinked up on top of my gut with his razor sharp claws at my throat. He was doing the old "bread dough" kneeding motion thing that cats do.

"Jinx!"...I pleaded "don't finish me off like this! I'll give you a can of tuna..how's that?? alright TWO cans...just LEMME UP!".

He's been pissed off at me ever since I designated our newer solid black cat "Dixie" thee "official cat of the Whiskey Rebel". Luckily Dixie came up from behind Jinx and sniffed his ass provoking a return sniff and thus distracting him from slicing my throat. Damn..I'm gonna have to start sleeping in turtleneck sweaters I guess until I'm well.

Brilliancy Prize Records

PO Box 1781

San Marcos, TX 78666

whskyreb@mail.centurytel.net

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