you are visitor # since 05/28/01

Black T-shirt "We Hate You..." artwork $10 large or XL. XXL $12 + $3.85 shipping in the US or Canada

ALCOHOLICS UNANIMOUS "Drinking Team" t-shirts!!! $10 large or XL $12 XXL add $3.85 for shipping in the US & Can.

BRILLIANCY PRIZE RECORDS P.O.BOX 1781 SAN MARCOS, TX. 78666 For fastest service pay our paypal account: whskyreb@centurytel.net

whiskeyrebel@whiskeyrebel.com

8/05/04

We spontaneously had a few people over after our show the other night. We don't throw parties...we gave up on that formal party shit years ago. We merely invite people over occasionally. It was a real parade this time. First off our band mates from San Antonio came by for a few shots of whiskey with their ride. I won't tattle and say who their ride was; I will say he maybe had a shot or two too many. When he got to his feet to leave he staggered backwards and fell off of our back porch a couple feet smack dab on his head onto a Texas shaped hunk of granite. We thought he was dead for a few seconds. I saw he had wiped out Elvis's boom box..and I knew we were ALL dead if it was damaged (it wasn't). After they left (with a different driver appointed..I think) Marla and I fished around in the grass looking for a Stooges CD that went flying out of the player. I think it's damaged..I haven't had time to check.

Mark showed up with a bevy of 4 Women (!!) which I think ties his personal record. They brought along a guy who felt so intimidated by the sight of us all banging back shots of Jim beam that Elvis actually spotted him tossing a shot OVER HIS SHOULDER to avoid having to drink it. DAMN. I won't name him either.

Another guest brought up partisan politics at 4:00 a.m.!! My god..now he MUST have been drunk. I won't name him either.

A helpful hint: If you ever want to hang out here twice, don't EVER ruin a good time by bringing up politics except in passing or to curse ALL politicians more or less. I hadn't warned the poor guy in advance. Maybe I need to pass out rule sheets when people come by?? Another one is DON'T keep requesting a bunch of songs all night so I have to keep getting up hunting for CD's. A general suggestion at the beginning of the night phrased such as "I'd sure enjoy hearing some truckdriving tunes" is acceptable. An all night routine that distracts me away from enjoying myself is unacceptable.

Why do you think I don't alphabetize my albums?? So people can't find records they want to "request".

One more thing...WHO the fuck left their Bugs bunny underpants behind in my kitchen?? HHmmm????

Yeah...I'm gonna have to start administering rule sheets upon visitors.

08/03/04

Well, it was inevitable that Rancid Vat would emerge as the best band to ever call San Marcos a home base (actually 2 band members of course are from San Antonio..when it's opportunistic we declare ourselves a San Antonio band...we've come close to referring to ourselves as an Austin band...although it's obviously wiser to be a "Texas" band) we played a good ol' B+ show complete with blood, broken glass and lotsa stolen kisses ( I kissed several local gals with my Wife looking on..god knows what the Texas Stud did with 'em later) we rule this town now...but of course that's to be expected.

DAMN we're good. In other news...I plan on mowing the lawn tomorrow..or maybe not. Yawn.

7/31/04

I projectile spewed all over a clean (fairly) T-shirt tonight..when Marla related a story without giving me any due warning what the punch line was gonna be. The payload was heavy...quite a bit dripped on our lovely burgundy carpeting..and Marla was pissed even though she caused it to happen.

What was it she said??

She simply told me whilst I was ingesting Campbell's chicken corn chowder that she had overheard some clown she works with evaluating our possible future 1st lady Mrs. Kerry's convention speech using the following words:"she sounded SO great...it was like she was speaking from her HEART!!"

BBBBBWAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! BBBBBRRAAAAAAPPPPPP!!!!!!

Goddamnit Marla, warn me next time you bring that spoiled CUNT up...or don't be surprised if I'm too stricken to catch all the sour, hot puke in my hands.

It's beyond me how democrats can go gaga over anobvious aristocratic, double-inherited money (from Daddy..and a dead hubby BOTH) stone cold bitch.

Of course, our present 1st lady isn't any prize; she reminds me of the baby sitters I had to endure when I was a kid; ALL of them were girls from our frigging church..a bunch of holier than thou boring prudes. Still, I can deal with predictable christians a lot easier than I can deal with big mouthed, cause oriented, self serving, condescending society broads who've never experienced a Monday morning job interview or a problem too big for one of the male's in her life to buy her way out of.

Of course I'll be voting Libertarian..which is a nice, neat, intelligent and guilt free way more folks should choose to side step making a choice at the polls between cold shit and warm...but if I had to choose one of their ladies...I'll take Laura any old day.

She's hotter too for that matter. Oops...I hope there's no law against posting comments like that. What the fuck..it's just one mans opinion..and I'm not making any threats. Regardless, we'll survive no matter which aristocrat couple appeals to more mindless mainstream voters in the end. It's a shame that the masses cant respond to REAL candidates who are REAL people who've experienced REAL mainstream problems like most of us instead of constant doting, pampering and servile attitudes from lackeys and marks (like YOU most likely) since day one on earth.

Incidentally, the LAST time I suddenly projectile vomited and made a mess as stinky as this was when I heard that Al Gore had chosen the son of the man who turned his head while his political machine rigged the election for the late JFK in 1960 to be head chad counter in Florida during the last election!! Unbelievably, the Demo's went on the offensive insinuating that the Republicans were rigging the vote!!

That's like choosing a staff of scout leaders and Catholic priests to investigate charges of pedophile butt wrangling!! And NOBODY...I mean NOBODY from the media seemed to recognize the irony with a couple exceptions. It was like selecting Lee Harvey Oswald's son to reopen and investigate the Warren commsion's report!!!!

To quote the great Samuel Clemen's..."HUMPING, JUMPING, JESUS!!!"

7/27/04

I have a pet peeve against a certain type of bullheaded dumbass you can find insmall but determined numbers in any town large or small across the U.S.A. These are the brainiacs who have worked themselves up into an angry, potentially explosive lather over the parking space in front of their home or business.

It's easy to locate these imbeciles in residential neighborhoods; almost without exception they paint a crude swath around "THEIR" parking space and in many cases erect some sort of some sort of home made sign to stand alongside it often chockablock with spelling errors that are laughable..unless YOU have to live with a hotheaded, self righteous, goofball like this on the same street.

HEY DUMMY!!! You don't own the parking space in front of your house. No matter how current your property tax payments are...no matter how many home made peckerwood signs you post..no matter how big a skull and crossbones you spray paint on the asphalt (yep...I've seen 'em do it) you DON'T OWN or have a preferential right to the damned space. It's first come, first served pal. This is a goddamned DEMOCRACY..and whether you like it or not if a visitor to one of your neighbors happens to park in your perceived space...it's no different than all the hundreds of times YOU park YOUR car on an annual basis in a nuetral spot on a public street that you never even perceive somebody lives or owns a business near to.

If you're so muddled in the noggin' that you actually have come around to believing that people park in "YOUR" spot to piss you off...if you actually perceive somebody's out to "get you" or insult you or "dis" you....you NEED HELP. NOT SYMPATHY.

Hey everybody reading this....that goes for your boss, your Dad, your pal..WHOMEVER the fuck mentally deteriorates to the booby level in which you think you "OWN" a parking place or have special rights to it.

I've meant to write about this for some time. The reason I am today is the fact that I just heard that a local business owner got caught red handed keying somebody's car just across the street from the tattoo shop Mark works at which is also next door to where Elvis works. Evidentally the business owner next door to the lunatic who got caught has been pulling the same shit on people for a long damned time.

Incidentally, these merchants aren't exactly Bush supportin' Hank Hill types that you'd like to blame this sort of stupidity on if you're not a Texan. Uh Uhh. We're talking about the "mellow" owners of a hemp shop and a dyed in the wool goddamned hippie-dip bicycle shop.

"Hey man...PEACE....LOVE...DIVERSITY....and DON'T PARK YOUR CAR in "MY" space or I'll fuck your car over MAaaaaaaN!!"

7/24/04

Oh shit. After about 30 years of regular, enthusistic, mostly daily drinking I had to finally face up to a surprising and horrid truth the other night. I was sitting in front of the Play Station 2 pitching with a Tigers team Elvis and I co-manage. I had banged back about 3 shots..and maybe 8 beers fairly fast..in a couple hours or so. No big deal..it's my nightly habit to begin drinking until after midnight and start pouring 'em down fast. I don't really COUNT beers (only pink cheeked amateurs and college/high school lads do)..but I have a rough idea of what my capacity "range" is..which differs from night to night.

Strangley enough..I began to feel light headed and a bit dizzy. Usually that doesn't happen unless I've really been knocking 'em back with gusto or it's early in the morning..time for bed.

Was I having some sort of "seizure" or "bad reaction"?? was it time to fucking PANIC???

Hell no. I checked my heart rate...no problem there. No mysterious chest pains. I thought it over and logically realized it was the result of my weight loss..AND a bi-product of WHAT I eat...which in a nutshell..is NOTHING fun..NOTHING "sweet"...Beef on rare special occasions...and lots of chicken, fish and turkey...OVER and OVER and OVER again prepared in many ethnic styles and accompanied by broccoli, carrots, peas and other vegetables I like.

NO pizza. Except on a special occasion now and then. No potato chips. The only sandwiches I eat (and I treat it as a major meal) involve tuna, turkey and a sparse amount of cheese (I LOVE cheese....I bet I packed on at least 30 pounds of cheese blubber). Sometimes, no cheese.

I do get to eat corn nuts, soups (yeah..I eat crackers with it) like split pea, clam chowder and chicken corn chowder.

I fucking LOVE V-8 juice...and I try to toss down a glass every day.

I haven't consulted anybody from the medical profession about changing my eating habits..which dates back to last December or so. I'm sure if I did I'd be told to avoid certain things that I haven't given up....and likely WON'T...such as I eat fried chicken. Sorry Doc. I gave up all the other stuff..I'm not striving to be Suzanne Sommers.

I eat one "meal" at night (when you're not supposed to) and something healthy and approximately 300-400 calories or so earlier in the day. Maybe a banana and a can of soup. I've lost around 60 or so pounds I guess..we don't have a scale. I still am "obese"...but I don't feel morbidly obese. I can wear many XL size T-shirts again..and I haven't worn my fabric stretchy knee brace supports in weeks.

So why was I apparently having some sort of dizzy spell???

Fuck...that's simple. I've lost a great deal of my capacity to suck down booze as fast as I did for years. That sort of SUCKS.....but on the other hand, I'm a big boy. Drinking is no contest. If I can get drunk off of 8 beers and 3 shots or so on a given night (it still usually takes a lot more than that) or 2 shots and 4 beers...that's just money in the bank.

I've thought about Duke from New Hampshire a lot concerning this. He's an average sized guy...no apparent beer gut...but he can put away massive amounts of alcohol. Then there's Todd Goss..a vegetarian..with a slender build. I can drink TEAMS of normal vegetarians under the damned table with ease...but not him. He can go all night and until noon the next day. I still out weigh both of them by a helluva lot...but I bet I couldn't keep up with those skilled veterans these days without eating a platter of food I've sworn off of to keep up with him.

Will I get my drinking capacity back??

I've never once in my life bragged myself up as a big drinker..I made my bones drinking with guys like Pig Champion who could chug multiple 40's of malt liquor and fifths of fortified wine with ease. But I'm not used to being a "moderate" consumer of alcoholic beverages either.

Is this the end of the Whiskey Rebel?? Am I gonna have to start billing myself with a moniker that doesn't promise as much??

Should I start packing down the cheeseburgers and pizza pies and ice cream by the half gallon again??? Will I adjust???

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!?!?!?!?!?!?

HELP!!! MOTHER!!!!! HELP!!!!!

7/19/04

Goddamn I'm bloody sick of seeing news coverage every time some celebrity cracks a frigging fart. Even though I know humanoids are incredibly moronic, tasteless, predictable and unable to think of ways to entertain themselves without a television for the most part..I still find myself caught over estimating public opinion and the average Joe's ability to relate to watching a parade of pampered celebrities on the TV news...celebrities in "reality" shows...celebrities and their "cribs"...celebrities on trial...celebrities in and out of re-hab...celebrities and their same-sex partners...celebrities who play sports who are in a bad mood because some asshole reporter is sticking a microphone in his face.

I don't know why the masses of average, homely "working poor" people keep their channels tuned to shows that examine the doings of wealthy celebrities...but they do in droves. WHY??? I try my damndest to avoid the daily foibles of wealthy losers who are presented as significant such as Courtney Love (very minimal journeyman talents..married a wealthy rock star..yawn) Paris Hilton (zero brains..zero humainty...zero talent..mountains of cash..INHERITED) , Kobe (O.K...his story deserves coverage..but not one/one hundreth that it''s receiving) Bobby Brown (?????? what the fuck did HE every do?? ) etc., etc. My Son Elvis saw an episode of "cribs" in which the home of some top 50 charting one hit wonder hip hop NOBODY was toured; when the camera caught a bare spot in the kitchen floor where a refrigerator should be..the sap admitted on camera he spent all his money on the house...and didn't have any left for the frig. Huh?? That dude's supposed to be a dazzling celebrity who fascinates us all?? I saw HOGWASH.

I enjoy reading or watching television shows about actual interesting, talented people. Unfortunately, what is force fed to viewers is a steady stream of coverage of the beautiful and the wealthy....INSTEAD of the genuinely gifted..who are often average looking or even butt ugly.

The media has dumbed their coverage down to focusing exclusively on glamorous hunks and bimbo's..just because they've appeared in a couple movies or maybe some bogus "reality: show. America doesn't even know who it's INTELLIGENT people are who will determine whether we will continue to keep pace technologically speaking with the rest of the industrial world; America doesn't even know that there are lots of great writers beyond the familiar N.Y. TImes bestseller list...American's couldn't name a single painter, thinker, inventor or research scientist alive today...Americans are too obsessed with Rosie and Oprah and Martha and Whoopi and Shaq and Puffy and Hugh.

END OF STORY. The masses aren't going to change and start reading books and actually set intelligent examples for their mindless X-BOX obsessed brood of kids who grow up unable to perform simple math equations or name more than 5 or 6 State capitals.

That's the masses. I have my own way of looking at things of course. It's all quite simple..let's call it the "millionaire celebrity" factor. Once you've scooped up that million or so bucks...don't come crying to me later when you've pissed it all away on blow or fancy whores or cosmetic surgery. Don't expect me to do anything more than laugh when you go crying to People magazine about how you got ripped off by a manager and are living broke again with your Mom in Des Moines Iowa. Lose it all through bad investments?? BOO HOO FUCKING HOO!!! You should've had the sense to take care of your money and realize your fame would probably be as short lived as most other "beautiful people" who are hot one day and dropped the next by the papparazzi.

Yeah..I don't want to watch TV-mark tours of basketball center's living rooms...and I sure as fuck wouldn't give the spoiled jock darling the dew off of my balls if he was dying of thirst in the frigging desert.

Money is a GOOD thing. Handsome and vivacious people are pleasant to look at. But, most of us are plain and living on a budget. I don't see any reason for US to kiss their frigging fannies. Best of luck to the media darling's...but if you run into some trouble or wind up on the bottom paying for some bad choices...I say TOUGH SHITAROONIE. I have almost no sympathy left for anybody..and once you've crossed the millionaire "line" I don't have a goddamned lick of it for YOU.

A lot of people mindlessly repeat the old bromide: "money won't buy happiness"...

I say they just don't know where the fuck TO SHOP.

7/16/04

The "Hart vs. Flair" discussion continues on the wrestling websites. The quality of commentarys has gone down hill since the day the story broke. I recognized a disgustingly familiar pattern of response that reminds me of similar comments posted by the gossiping magpies at Antiseen's message board directed towards me on a couple occasions (NOTE! this is no knock on the band..I've expressed my feelings on discussion boards to Jeff Clayton personally).

It's amazing how many wrestling fans perceive that Flair and Hart have been going at it tooth and claw..back and forth. A lot of them suggest that they're "tired" of the fued and wish the two would shut up. How quickly simple moron's can lose the thread of an issue.

The fact is, there has been no repetitive back and forth dialogue between Flair and Hart at all. Now the FANS have been posting their opinions for a few days..but Flair and Hart haven't exactly been involved in what one especially stupid ass referred to as a "bitch fight". Flair made comments in his memoir. He's been criticized a lot over the years by other wrestlers..so he answered back after years of maintaining silence in HIS book. Hart answered back once.

That's it. How can you perceive that as a "bitch fight"??

One sage brilliantly stated that he's "bored" with the whole dialogue...and wish Flair and Hart would DROP it; Hey, NUMB NUTS!!! YOU'RE the one fanning the flames...and all the other "bored" internet wrestling geeks. Flair and Hart never asked anybody to get involved. How can Flair and Hart be actively "boring" anybody?? This must be a standard internet reaction. I remember making a statement on a couple of occasions to answer something posted about me..and then reading a lot of reactions and responses. Eventually, there came a wave or remarks from "bored" individuals..blaming all the usually repetitive, brain dead comments that followed my post..on ME.

If you were really "bored" by something on a message board or wrestling website discussion forum..would you chime in to express your boredom..even if many, many other people had already made the same non-point of being "bored"..or would you log off your computer and go for a ride on your shiney bicycle..or perhaps go checkout some porn at another site.

I'm not sure if I'm expressing myself very well here..but I definetly see a mindset at work that I have never been able to get as close to pinning down as I have today. Think of it this way....have you ever gone "SSSSHHHH!!!!!" in a movie theatre when somebody is yakking within range of your hearing...and then heard from all over the theatre a couple dozen other "SSSSH'S!!" and "SHUT UP'S" in answer?? There's nothing sillier than people YELLING at each other to shut up. Maybe it's the only remark that this mental type either consciously or subconsciously feels confident in making.

It all reminds me of how pissed off I used to get when I'd sneeze sitting at my desk at Commonwealth title in Philly....and hear 8 or 10 "bless you's!!" in response. I knew that if I sneezed 15 more times in the next 5 minutes they'd still chime in with dead serious "bless you's!" from all directions..and none of them saw anything comical or ridiculous or nauseating about their idiotic, superstitious catholic ritual.

7/15/04

I just read that my former childhood hero turned traitor (to his country..and his Jewish heritage) Bobby Fischer has been incarerated in Japan. He got busted at an airport with an expired visa. He's wanted by U.S. authorities because he violated sanctions forbidding him from playing a come-back match in the early 90's for a few million dollars in Yugoslavia...which was at that time controlled by an alledged despot. He's avoided the U.S. since then...and has given 50 or so interviews to radio stations in foreign lands over the intervening years 1) applauding 9/11....cackling with gusto over the deaths as a matter of fact....2) declaring that "the jews" (he is Jewish by birth) control the U.S. due to some sort of crazy-ass conspiracy..3) declares himself the world chess champion (he forfeited the title in the early 70's..there have been a handful of legit champions since)..if that last claim sounds funny in a pro-wrestling like manner...I suggest you check out his website which is loaded with delusion and aggressive rhetoric: http://home.att.ne.jp/moon/fischer/

He's fucking nuts....if you don't believe that from a five minute inspection of his website....then YOU'RE probably either fucking crazy yourself or watched the latest Michael Moore "documentary" (HAH!) on acid. I suggest if you want to read something really deranged you take a sidetrip there.

It's a damn good thing I had some other childhood heroes...like Bob Gibson, Orlando Cepeda, Beautiful Beauregarde and Mad Dog Vachon to name a few...isn't it?? Bobby let me down. Oh well.....FUCK HIM. If he is deported to the U.S. he'll be making headlines eventually. I don't have much confidence that at the age of 61 he can benefit from "counseling"...but I guess even he deserves a shot at it. Damn...won't he be a fun prison chess opponent on some cellblock for some poor bastard somewhere down the line??

RIC FLAIR is the REAL world champion Bobby...not you..you brilliant fucked up chump.

7/13/04

The 2 wrestling websites I visit daily are focusing today on the recent "feud" in the internet ring between Ric Flair and Bret Hart. Flair made some negative comments in his book about Hart that caused Bret to answer back in a lengthy diatribe. Hart fans and Flair fans are currently posting commentaries about their personal take on the situation.

I can't resist doing the same..but I'll do so right here rather than post at the wrestling websites.

I'll admit right off the fact that I've been a huge Ric Flair fan for over 20 years..and that I've only been an on again off again fan of Hart's work. Hart responds to what he presents as unwarrented criticism of himself, Mick Foley and Randy Savage in Flair's book "to be the man" which is hot on the book charts right now. I haven't read the book yet..but if the comments I've seen published are true excerpts I'll agree that Flair's remarks about Bret's reaction to his Brothers Owen Hart's death seem a bit harsh and judgemental. Other than that, I don't see how Ric's been out of line. He described Mick Foley (who I'm also a huge fan of) as a glorified "stunt man"...but what the hell..Foley passed judgement on Flair in HIS book...so I'd say all's fair. A lot of wrestlers have criticized Flair over the years...but Flair rarely seems to answer back publicly. This is his "moment" to answer his critics as far as I'm concerned...what's he supposed to lay down in his memoir?? HHMM?? HIS SIDE of things.

Hart ripped into him on a variety of wrestling business topics making all sorts of outrageous claims that are actually mostly answered quite well by certain fans comments on the websites.

I'd like to add a few points though. First off, when Hart accuses Flair of having not made his opponents look good over the years..I say BULLCRAP. I saw Flair wrestle live several times..and he regularly made regional guys like Billy Jack Haynes look like they came very close to winning the title. When he was finally paired off with Hogan for a few "dream" matches (HAH!) who made who look good?? HHmm?? I have tons of video tapes loaded with taped shows from regional promotions where Flair came to town and made some up and coming guy look good. That was his JOB....he wasn't being paid to hurt local gates by making local talent look bad.

Hart claims that Flair worked the same match with the same moves over and over for year and years. I don't claim to have a single iota of "professional" knowledge of wrestling..but from a long time fan's standpoint I think that's a huge exaggeration and over simplification..but if he did use certain signature moves in every match...he'd only be doing what the fans paid to see. On this point Hart reminds me of a whiney prog-rock or jazz musician with lots of technical skills complaining that low brow rock and roll cretin's play the same songs over and over and don't know enough complicated chords. Yep; he definetly reminds me of the snobbish "technically oriented" crybaby's who used to bellyache about the Ramones or the New York Dolls.

I don't claim to speak for more than a certain share of wrestling fans, but I know DAMN WELL that one helluva lot of 'em are so plugged into so many other cool aspects of a wrestling match that they wouldn't enjoy a match any more if they were treated to a wide variety of holds than if they saw a dozen or so basic moves. Yeah, yeah, yeah...it's cool to watch technical matches too...but regardless whether you'd rather watch Benoit or Abdullah the Butcher (a billion holds vs. constant punching and gouging) there's sure as hell no ironclad "rule" etched in the sky that states that "HE WHO DISPLAYS the most holds is thee better wrestler". Whatever entertains folks and brings them back next week WORKS. Some fans simply seem to prefer a lot of scrapping and brawling in street clothes..whereas others buy tickets to see lots of leaping around and a complex choreography of moves (such as you see beamed to you via cable TV from Mexico). It's best when there's a mixture of different styles of matches presented in a night (ECW sometimes pulled that off well I thought..so did SMW). I like it all to an extent. Since I was a kid I've always been especially turned on by interview segments. Maybe it's all because I was forced as a child to be around a large number of blowhard pussyassed hypocritical christians and preachers and church youth group asshole weenies all ready to give their silly "personal testimony" while the collection plate circulated through the pews. "Heel" Pro wrestlers were my first role models...I can now look back at my early life and it's clear that their influence did a lot to shape my way of expressing myself to people..particularly in public. I think Hart sells Flair short when he seems to discount Flair's incredible, world class ability for many years to piss off an audience with his words and struttin' around to the extent that they'll lay out cash for tickets to see their local humble hero hopefully beat the crap out of him.

In a nutshell: I'd rather be "entertained" by a guy with a gift of gab and a flashy look and an apparent dislike for the fans and maybe only a dozen holds...than watch a parade of 3 dozen holds as performed by a couple jocks with common, everyday, lackluster personalities.

In spite of what you may think by what I've written here so far..I respect Hart a lot. I've been entertained by his matches many times over the years too. He was raised up in his family's wrestling business; he's a professional..and of course has a PROFESSIONAL perspective on the relative merits of various other professionals that is by nature going to be different from that of lots of us ordinary fans.

Now, just maybe after all he's seen in a lifetime of being in the sport he's simply too jaded to appreciate a "simplistic" brawl; fact is, lots of us fans would rather see an old fashioned "slobber knocker" than a display of various suplex manuevers, or repetitive monkey flips from several angles with rest up head locks in between. What the hell..lots of other fans prefer high-fly action. It's a matter of taste. One things for sure...all the millions of Ric Flair fans can't be wrong..they KNOW what they've enjoyed over the years. It's silly to try to insinuate that they've been duped or cheated in any way. Just like Hart has never let down his fans..Flair hasn't let down HIS. Is Hart too consumed with professional jealousy or too obsessed with a perceived personal legacy rivalry to see that they have this much in common??

As far as Flair being "two faced" by greeting Hart nicely in the locker room and later be heard criticizing him..HEY!! What's he expect him to do?? That's simply professional courtesy. Wrestlers or shoe salesmen or fry cooks have to get along when they work together. I think it's chickenshit for Hart to try to point out instances in which Vince McMahon himself criticized Flair behind the scenes. That's incredibly fucking childish. It's also childish that Hart won't shake hands and bury the hatchet with Shawn Michaels...who is obviously a changed man...after the "screw job". He seems to still really have it in for him. Hart seems to be very bitter about a lot of things in fact; yunno what??? I can sympathize with that. There's a lot of bad experiences I've had that I don't want to let go..a lot of people whom I don't want to forgive that have pulled shit on me. But what the hell....nobody considers me to be some sort of paragon of virtue. Hart's rabid fans always seem to idolize him like he's this poor, persecuted man who is morally perfect and never wrong. I say HOG WASH. He's no more "perfect" than me or you or anybody else. Yeah, Flair perhaps may someday come to regret bringing up Owen Hart's death as a means of making a point about Bret..maybe he did fuck up. But what the hell...no matter what he said it doesn't change what kind of wrestler he's been over the years. If Hart had limited his comments to Flair's remarks about himself and his Brother and the whole Michaels/McMahon/Hebner title-change screwjob situation he likely would've gotten his point across on that issue; by raking Flair over the coals in a lengthy essay that's chockablock with half truths and factual errors he comes across looking like a jealous crybaby.

7/08/04

O.K....here's the problem with every "70's retro" movie I've seen to date. The directors always know how to deck their stars out in 70's style mustaches, leisure suits, etc..all the obvious overstated fashions that will get a cheap pop or two or three out of movie audiences.

The problem is none of them so far to my knowledge have made the connection to todays idiotic fashions..which are just as stupid. Movie viewers walk away laughing at the outrageous fashions from 20-30 years ago...and they don't make the connection that if they are laughing at 70's fashions today...people will be laughing at THEIR OWN stupid trendy look sometime down the road.

I knew back in the 70's that history was not going to be kind to the perms and the flair legged pants and the pastel colors, etc. etc.

But I also knew that the skinny tie wearing trendy assholes of the 80's would eventually be laughed at; ditto for the 90's grunge morons and their timeline rap equivalents clad in para-military revolution-wear and Dago meets Dillinger suits...not to mention imbeciles who didn't tie there shoes to be clever or left one sweat pant leg pulled up as some sort of "statement".

Hey!!! All you dumbasses laughing at the 70's retro movies such as the "anchorman" which appears to be debuting this weekend; I guarandamn-tee you your kids are gonna LAUGH...hell, they're gonna PUKE when they see some "retro-2000's" movie a few years from now. They're gonna ask you if YOU dressed in those stupid baggy pants or maybe wore one of those dumbass bead thingy's around your pencil neck or sported one of those greasy highlighted trendy 2 inch hairdo's you see on all the dating shows.

I bet you're gonna LIE..aren't you??? You're gonna be clad in traditional Sears Roebuck stretch slacks by this point...or maybe the latest "dockers". You sure as hell won't be reminding any of your kids or Grandkids of the money you shelled out for the trendy bass-heavy thumping car stereo, will you???

Go watch the 70's retro-hoot movies..but BEAR IN MIND...you probably dress in some fashion today that you short-sightedly imagine won't be laughed at by a few years from now.

I wrote something to this effect here a few weeks ago...but SO WHAT. I'm right..and if I'm still around I'll say I TOLD YOU SO eventually.

7/05/04

Finally the circumstances were right for a viewing of a film "MONSTURD" that Joey sent me a copy of (he has a cameo appearance..I almost didn't recognize him without a beer in his hand). My old pal Jeff Clayton used to watch horror movies everyday..maybe not the whole thing..but at least part of one. I didn't like horror films at all until I was in my late 20's and was steered to a few that turned me around. I still have to be in the right frame of mind for some...and frankly...I didn't plan on eating fudge and drinking Yoohoo during "MONSTURD" which clearly was about the ULTIMATE MONSTER...one that was created by a sloppy toxic waste dump that an escaped serial killer is baptized in down in the sewer beneath a lovable small town.

Imagine...a goddamned giant turd with corn and peanuts hanging off it rising up through citizens toilets to annihilate the unwary.

It was funny as hell..very well written for a small budget project. The best part was some of the dialogue surrounding the potential hazards the town faces by needing to stay away from their commodes indefinetly..JUST WHEN the annual chili cookoff is about to take place.

I think Mark thought the best part was 3 or 4 minutes of projectile vomiting and closeups of worms wriggling around in half eaten skulls....but that's just Mark's taste! I think he would've eaten a giant sized Baby Ruth at any time during the film if I had offered him one..he was unphased.

It was a pretty quiet holiday around here. I'm at the crossroads before diving into another time consuming book. The problem is I have to choose between: 1) a non-fiction work that has been written completely as a first draft...(I left off working on it a year or so ago) but only about 80% done factoring in massive changes I need to make that I've since had time to think over..2) another non-fiction piece about another aspect of my swell life or 3) I have an idea...a fairly complete idea for what would be my first fictional work.

It's times like this I'm glad I'm well read. I've sought out and read the definitive bio's of Erskine Caldwell, John Steinbeck, Sinclair Lewis and Mark Twain all in the last couple years. They all fumbled around behind the scenes jumping from project to project. Twain's first successes were in sarcastic non-fiction travel narratives; believe it or not he had doubts he could ever write fiction!!

I've read so many hundreds and hundreds of fiction paperbacks over the years that I'm pretty sure I can sculpt my own work based on what I like to read. I dig lots of action, brutal dialogue (fuck sensitivity), lots of references to booze and food being consumed by charachters, a few unpredictable swerves here and there plot wise..and a hero or heroes who would be described by "sensitive" conventional mainstream reviewers as "anti-heroes" (a categorization I understand but fundamentally disagree with.

An example of one of the most "perfect" series I've ever read. Warren Murphy (who co-wrote the "Destroyer series..and has written tons of other great books) created a lush private investigator named Trace who specialized in pissing off people he was supposed to question...and drinking lots of vodka. I don't think he ever solved a case himself..without help from his sex-bomb girlfriend and retired cop Dad bailing his ass out. Along the way he'd always manage to engage in hilarious conversations with politically correct types..whom he hates obviously. It made for great reading.

7/02/04

Shit .....Marlon Brando's gone; who the fuck is left??

Jack Lemon is gone...Robert Mitchum...Lee Marvin's been gone for many, many years. The entire ratpack is gone..I guess we still have Jerry Lewis and Ernie Borgnine (sp?). Who am I forgetting??

I of course am a big fan of lots of Brando's movies...specifically "the wild one" "the Godfather", "on the waterfront" "Julius Ceaser" and "Guys and dolls".

What a frigging wide range of different parts. He was obviously too talented to get stuck in a rut playing a gangster or a freak exclusively. He wasn't a "charachter actor" by any stretch of the imagination. Often imitated, never duplicated baby.

I've only read one book about his life...so I'm not an expert. But I can say this; he was obviously a helluva man and friend the way he handled the death of his long term pal the great Wally Cox. He took control and spread his pal's ashes and wept for him when there were no relatives to TCB. It was a lot easier for Wally to have been a pal of the great Brando...than for Marlon to be his friend..considering Wally's Hollywood charachter.

What the hell...Marlon and Wally went WAYYYYY back. I've always been impressed that Brando never forgot that.

It pisses me off that the wire services have to try to scandalize the death of an 80 year old man by reporting that he was 100 pounds over weight for the last few years of his life. So the fuck what???

If that's the best angle a "writer" can come up with they have no talent and no class so who gives a fuck about what they have to say???

It's amazing how much attention the wire services are devoting to his refusal of the academy award in 1973; it's not like he was Jane commie fucking Fonda who they always let slide for her unpatriotic acts.

Before you decide to agree or disagree with his actions way back then, remember...it was a different world back then. Don't let Marlon Brando's political interests interfere with your appreciation of his films...that's my 2 cents worth. Bottom line: his talent can't be denied. He deserves a tip of the fifth from you...he's been actually credited with about 6 tips around here tonight..and an equal number of beer chugalugs for that matter.

6/30/04

I won't be wasting a dime to go see Michael Moore's "documentary". I've had a goddamned bellyfull of partisan politics since the national election process began. I'm not a big fan of Bush..but if the democrats can't come up with somebody better than that obnoxius poodle-millionaire John Kerry then I guess they DESERVE 4 more years of Bush. In my eyes they needed to show the public they were serious about this election by shutting Sharpton up long ago rather than pretend he's a legitimate candidate. Nutcase Dean's campaign collapsed in a feeble heap, Edwards seemed on the surface like a simple devout idealist..but he's a frigging TRIAL LAWYER (no chance of a common sense torte reform during a presidency of his). Then there was that General who flip flopped on all the issues..what was his name?? I've forgotten already.

I was told about bumper stickers sighted in our town reading "anybody but Bush!". Unfortunately, that's the wrong attitude!! It seems to suggest..yeah, Kerry isn't inspiring...but vote for him anyway. Fuck that...how can I take that seriously?? Anybody??? How about David Duke?? Or Hillary Clinton?? Yuk. About Pat Robertson or the aforementioned Al Sharpton?? How about Ted Kennedy??? BBBRRAAPPPP!!!!!

Bush isn't as pure as his supporters would like you to think...but neither is he one tenth as bad as his hysterical detractors.

Foaming at the mouth Bush-haters I hear on talk shows and TV and radio discussion shows all vaguely claim that he's "lied" to us...or at the very least exaggerated. But they don't seem to mind the fact that Michael Moore obviously and blatantly lies and exaggerates in his current film with the intention of effecting the coming election. I haven't heard one commentator from either "side" claim that the Moore film is anything but partisan.

Moore has to have a good side..although I haven't seen it portrayed by the media...I'm in touch with an author who wrote a great book that Moore wrote an introduction to; I trust my author friends judgement..Moore can't be the complete sack of shit he seems like on my TV screen. But, whatever valid, objective points Moore had to make against Bush I'll never know because I refuse to pay to watch smarmy propoganda.

In other words: Michael Moore = Rush Limbaugh

I listen to Rush..for free on my radio. It's entertaining at times..but he admits that he's totally partisan. So, you have to question whatever you hear on his show. I'm sure as hell not going to buy one of his books....or attend a movie he writes about the Clintons or Gore or Kerry or whomever.

Why is partisan garbage any better coming from the other side of the spectrum?? HHHMMM??? If Moore appears as host on a talkradio show I'll listen for free like I listen to Limbaugh.

Remember: Michael Moore = Rush Limbaugh.

Class dismissed....

6/28/04

I fucking hate to be scammed or "worked" by people. I'm the last guy in the world whose gonna fall for any panhandling routine involving a hard luck story ( the hungry pregnant wife bit especially...or the bit about needing bus fare back home to the burbs..or money for just a gallon of gas).

Of course, a lot of the time scumbag scammers use an indirect approach rather than just come up and ask you for money or tell you about the sack 'o woe they're totin'. In addition to all my other talents and gifts...I can smell a pitch coming from farther away than anybody you know. I'm not a soft touch. Hells bells...I used to sell shit door to door with road crews trained by some of the most vile cynics you ever met. I fucking TRAINED kids how to bullshit squareheads into signing up for the newspaper for a living..and I was a top, manipulative salesman for Sears, Radio Shack, etc. As if all that experience wasn't enough..I attended the school of hardknocks Philly style for 7 years. When I hear about friends talking to street beggars for longer than it takes to tell 'em to get lost I shake my head in disapproval. I'm not swerved or swayed by sentiment, tears, smiles, friendliness, open loving expressions or compliments about my tattoo's. I don't find manipulative street scum-sharks to be amusing or pleasant to be around in any way. If I was appointed benevolent dictator I would immediately strip scammer pests of their right to even speak to strangers in public except in a designated zone. I would punish those little pukes who pull the old windshield washing bit at busy intersections by deporting them to Tiajuana where it's considered an art form.

The bottom line is: DONT try to SCAM ME!!!! DONT try to lead into your hard luck pitch with a "distracting" compliment about my T-shirt or tattoo work. DONT TALK TO ME IN PUBLIC AT ALL!!!! GO ASK YOUR RELATIVES for money ya scumbag loser. I DONT CARE whether you live or die..anymore than I toss and turn all night worrying about the hordes of poor people dying in 3rd world nations. I DONT CARE!!!! REALLY!! I have problems of my own...so FUCK OFF.

Any politician who advocates tough laws about pan-handling is doing society a service...and has earned a tip of the fifth from thee Whiskey Rebel.

That being said...I have to relate a funny story from my trip to Las Vegas. One night I was sitting at a video poker machine losing slowly..drinking complimentary beers (which aren't really complimentary always tip the waitresses $1..because they've EARNED my generosity) Marla sat at a nearby slot machine sucking down a cold one too. All of a sudden, a loud voice spoke from a couple feet past my right shoulder. "HEY MAN!!! I like your tattoo".

I'm always suspicious of that specific choice of words...since I have several.

The voice continued...

"All right man...T.C.B.!!! I like it man. Hey..look at mine!!!"

I turned and looked at the direction the voice was coming from. I saw a big ugly fuck with a lot of tattoo's...wearing a sporty frat-type cap with a large bill, a basketball jersey and shorts. A fellow was holding up his arm for me to inspect. He pointed at a swastika tattoo on his upper arm.

What a doofus!! He thought "T.C.B." (which just happens to be the slogan/creation of the King of rock and roll Elvis Presley) was some sort of white power slogan. I was immediately on edge..suspicious of the guy.

"Hey man...where are you from??" he asked..obviously trying to find out something about me with which he could concoct a lie to familiarize himself.

"Texas" I cleverly replied (it's a big State. There must've been 500 Texan's as guests at that hotel at that moment).

"No shit!!! He replied as if we were old pals meeting by a happy twist of fortune.

"I built houses there a couple months..in Boerne".

I was amazed that he chose Boerne...the home town of Stone Cold Steve Austin as his point of mutual interest between us. Of course I could practically hear the true thoughts rattling around in his drug ravaged brain..."I can't wait 'til I scam this fat bearded fuck..so I can score some more crank...and maybe later find adesperate slut to suck my dick"..that's what was REALLY going thrugh his mind.

You'll be a much wiser person when you finally come around to realizing that strangers who talk to you in public are usually working you.

That goes for the weird guy I saw on the same trip with glazed eyes who hung out in the guest laundryroom at the Stratosphere hotel offering free detergent packets and change for the dryers to women.

That goes for the change hustlers who tote around an empty gas can to make their sad pitch about needing gas money more realistic.

That goes for the guys who work the "blind" angle sitting on their ass all day with dark glasses on...with their junkyard dog at their side posing as a seeing eye dog.

That goes for the gal shoplifters who have a hollow "false-pregnancy" framework under their loose fitting dress to stuff New York steaks into down at the grocery store. When they get tired of shoplifting they stand on street corners perhaps with a child or two...waiting for marks...SUCKERS like you to feel sorry for them and contribute to their daily heroin fund.

Anyway....finally after some more meaningless phoney smelling chit chat..the dude with the nazi tattoo finally got to the point. He suddenly changed his voice..shifting it down to a gruff bark: "Hey man.....could you loan me money to take a bus back...ULP.." He ended in mid-sentence. Why??

Because all of a sudden...a big hand clamped down on the scumbag from behind. A heroic Riviera hotel security guard dragged him off without another word.

I chuckled and turned to Marla to ask if she had noticed the sociopath scammer. Of course she had. She used to sell encyclopedia's too...that's how we met. I wouldn't have married a soft touch.

Anyway, the dumbfuck was just asking for it trying to work inside a casino. In case you didn't know, there are camera's EVERYWHERE gambling takes place in our fair land. Behind mirrors, in light fixtures and other innocent looking objects. When you walk to the ice machine in your stained shorts in a drunken stupor..be forewarned..there's a guard or two watching...waiting for you to spit into the ice machine or flash an old lady. The wiseguys who run Vegas know how to take care of their money and how to make sure some pukesack like the phoney fuck I was pestered by doesn't annoy their customers.

Damn...I only wish the whole world could be policed like that..so that I'd never have to be disturbed in public again.

Viva Las Vegas!!!!

6/24/04

I never....and I mean NEVER spend an evening staring at the television. That's not to say I think I'm "too good" to. I just have other things to do. Over the years I've found myself in the same TV brainbox trap as most Americans at various times..it's been a long while though. I'm a huge fan of lots of ancient sitcoms and I love a few current shows such as South Park but I haven't seen much "contemporary" programming worth luring me away from writing, my ebay chores or play station baseball and golf. When I've criticized shows such as "Seinfeld" and "friends" over the years it's based on short snatches of shows I've caught here and there usually while waiting for a wrestling show or an old movie or a cooking show to begin.

In the past though I've found myself watching popular shows in motel rooms for amusement when I can't find an episode of "C.H.I.P.S." and I've already watched too much "sportscenter" for one night. My recent trip to Las Vegas was no different. I found myself actually watching 3 episodes..count 'em 3..of "sex and the city" in their entirety.

I was DISGUSTED to say the least. I would've changed the channel in 10 seconds but I found that watching that suckass show explained a phenomena that has left me at a loss for an explanation on many occasions..what I like to call the "mouthy bar cunt" syndrome. It seems like every month or so when I'm in public minding my own business as usual at a bar or Walmart or wherever some big mouthed, air headed bitch with a group of friends (usually both male and female) will come up to me and start babbling a stream of nonsense at me often pointing at my tattoo's or remarking upon my appearance in general. I actually had the displeasure to be accosted by a typical "mouth bar cunt" waiting in line to register at the Riviera hotel on this trip. As usual she was with a few friends both male and female..and as usual her friends looked really embarassed by this particularly cunt's forwardness. I can't recall ever talking to an MBC...in this case I just gazed at the dumb broad with my meanest look and over her shoulder to her friends. One of them led her away by the elbow as she babbled something like "HEY!!! you and your tattoo's just mind your own business..we're in line here" (makes a lot of sense, eh??).

MBC's aren't always to be seen at bars..and aren't always drunk. That's OK. They're STILL "mouthy bar cunts" to me.

I asked my Wife if she has to deal with mouthy bar cunts at her job. She says they usually approach her as a group of females out together. When one of 'em starts getting loud and obnoxius with her she simply talks back very quietly and slowly..as if dealing with a tard of a different type. She says that they seem to feel (to quote one of my least favorite contemporary human psychology terms) "empowered"...and that by speaking softly to them like you would to a child or low I.Q. individual they seem to feel "dis-empowered" somehow.

"Sex and the city" seems to explain the MBC phenomena to a huge degree...since afterall for years shrinks and purveyors of conventional wisdom have been theorizing that human behavior often imitates television. I FUCKING LOATH the kind of mouthy bar cunts portrayed on "sex and the city". They're all spoiled bitches who treat "common" people and/or "ugly" and "normal" lower caste people like servants and peons who they seem to assume dream about being as cool as their money has made them.

MBC's both in real life and on television seem to share that misconception with "suits"....male executive jackasses who are well employed, use all the latest predictable business-persons lingo who are of course convinced that the world revolves around THEM and their type.

Whereas it is true that a certain segment of loser probably envies "suits" and tries to emulate them...the majority of non "suits" walking the streets HATE THEIR FUCKING GUTS....and often laugh at their helplessness and fear when they accidently stray a block or two into "dangerous" turf..where you and I live.

Don't get me wrong...I don't have any problem per se with financial success or money or people who love expensive toys and can afford them. It's the arrogant fucks who believe that their car or their stereo or their trendy clothes or any other things you can walk into a mall and buy somehow makes them better than me who are full of shit. Watch any one of the late night dating shows ("elimi-date" and "the 5th wheel" are my favorites) and you'll see how the cynical producers of those shows have those types pegged..the main reason those shows seem to exist is so that "normal" "ugly" fucks like you and me can laugh at the fucks who think they're so perfect and cool.

Anyway, I don't find anything lovable or admirable about the MBC charachters on "sex and the city". If you do, I suggest you waggle your mouse and shift your fucking soft lame ass to a Paris Hilton admiration society website.

6/22/04

We're finally back from Las Vegas. The trip had its ups and downs..mostly ups. I think I'm going to start in on a new lengthy book in the next few days that will include many of my experiences..so I'm not going to give away all the frigging details here.

I can say this though: the low point spanned a 36 hour or so period in which I was flopping around in a feverish state on a king sized bed in a beautiful room on the 24th floor of the Stratosphere hotel. I was completely alone for a few days during that portion of the trip. Marla made a side trip to California and I was planning on studying for my chess tournament along with some heavy recreational drinking. I wound up being poisoned by a left over slab of pizza (which I hardly ever eat anymore). I had nothing but tap water and tums to get me through the crisis. I tossed and turned with strange, hard to define bursts of data flashing over and over and over and over in my head in an unrelenting pattern. I started spewing liquid from my ass every 15 minutes or so. I shit so much I went through almost two rolls of ass wipe. It didn't seem fair..I hardly ever eat anything fun anymore..why me..WHY ME?? I'm disgusted at the very thought of pizza even now..and it used to be one of my favorite foods. Eventually I made my way down stairs after the worst of it had blown over for some juice and bottled water. I kept it down...I had only heaved once throughout the food poisoning attack. It was my bunghole that didn't agree with the pizza...not my gut. I ate a sandwich later in the day and hoped I'd be able to hold my shit in long enough to transfer hotels the next day.

I somehow managed. An hour after I checked into the Riviera I was scheduled to play in a chess "simultaneous exhibition" in which a great player plays a long circle of players at once moving from board to board making one move at a time. I contemplated plugging my ass with a corn cob; I chose in the end to try to tough it out. I wound up not shitting until the next day actually. Anyway..I sat down to play the reigning U.S. champion..a man named Jaan Ehlvest..a goddamned bonafide GRANDMASTER.

I played a bit weakly in the opening and found myself staring down the barrel of an attack on my King that made me want to shit for different reasons; luckily I found a move to defend myself. The action turned towards the other side of the board. He began to make solid though non-creative aggressive moves..waiting for me to make a mistake. Instead of fucking up I developed all my pieces well..doubling my rooks powerfully on a file. Suddenly, I saw a way to dramatically smash through his pawn center with a temporary sacrifice to start up an attack of my own. Whereas Elvest's moves had been made in a second or so's though up to that point..he stopped in front of the board and stood for at least a minute realizing I had found something in the position. A huge crowd of spectator's silently began crowding around to get a look at the board. They stayed there for most of the rest of the game. I wound up making a few bad end game moves..I felt very rushed because all but 3 of us had lost and he was appearing at our boards every 15 seconds. How in the hell can you keep up with a player of that quality playing FAST. Of course, I lost..but for the next few days a steady stream of people who had watched the game kept coming up to me at the tournament to compliment me for giving him a fight..even though my thoughts had turned to other games.

Luckily the night of my game with Grandmaster Elhvest I was able to drink a dozen or so beers to prepare for the tournament which started the next day. I did much better than last year....my score appears in the results table as the same..2-4. But I played much harder competition. Every player outrated me..all but one by at least a hundred rating points..which is significant. I would have finished with 2 1/2-3 1/2..but I gave a draw to my last round opponent even though I was clearly winning. Why did I do a thing like that?? Donny Death and Marla were both waiting for me to finish the dude off (who out rated me by over 150 points)...I was crushing him to death...but I'd rather draw the game than lose a couple more hours of yakking time with Mr. Death..the man who wrote the infamous "who needs a queer-cut" for his legendary band Puke Spit & Guts. When I offered the guy a draw..he looked like he had been rescued from a lifeboat filled with Insane Clown Posse fans. He pumped my hand. It's not like money was on the line.

Oddly enough, I played in the 2nd round a guy I played in 1971 or so who had been helped and advised as a young chess player by the same man who bought me my F.G.B. (that's FIRST GODDAMNED BEER, turkey). I remember my old mentor Pete Luvaas losing to this guy in a tournament game in which he was blown off the board by an attack. I talked to the guy for a long time. It was a rare opportunity to actually compare notes with a guy who knew the people I knew way back when (he didn't remember me..I was just a shithead kid then). Our game was probably the most bizarre I've ever been part of in a tournament in my entire life. It was a chess version of a pro-wrestling flaming-barbed wire baseball bat match. It was like bowling with your left hand while knocking back shots....or having sex with a knothole without wearing a rubber to guard against splinters.

We did a reasonable amount of petty gambling..video poker, slots, etc. Nothing too extreme. I feel refreshed by 10 days of the constant background din of 700 slots...a sound I find to be therapuetic.

Oh yeah..another hellish moment from the trip was realizing while we were still buckling our seatbelts on the plane to Vegas that we were on a flight loaded with cornball self styled "comics" who seemed to be loudly competing to see who could act the stupidest. We wound up stranded on the ground for 25 minutes at the end of a tedious flight with one big mouthed fucking stoner yapping about dull tripe like his prefernce for BAD (by my opinion) whiskey brands at 4 times the volume neccessary. He actually started in on a very naive, stoner-childlike explanation about blackjack card counting systems...when luckily the plane lurched back into taxi-gear and spared us all from his boring hokum. Not only did he have a cash register jaw that was always jutting forth like many other total boobs...he had a perm and a strand of puka shells like that teen dream poofster Leif Erickson wore in the 70's. What a clod. What a waste of pressure-ized air.

I have a lot more to bellyache about...And I mean A LOT MORE; I subjected myself in the hotel rooms to watching TV shows I'd ordinarily never watch..including "Cheers" (a yawner) and a candidate for the most pretentious show I've ever seen "Sex in the city" which left me with an increased respect for fellows who dedicate their lives to raping and killing precious, spoiled darlings like the ones depicted on the show. More about that next time.

6/10/04

Damn..it seems sometimes like this is turning into an obituary column.

Ray Charles is gone. He was one of the great ones...maybe the last of the breed. He wasn't just a typical commercial musician. He played several musical instruments and recorded albums in several genres including blues, jazz, R&B and country. He was a LEADER..not a follower of trends. My favorite Ray Charles song is probably "greenback dollar bill" recorded in the 1950's for Atlantic records. His performance of "shake a tail feather" in the BLUES BROTHERS movie kicked fanny.

Not only was he musically inclined...he was a chess player..a GOOD one...even though he obviously had to use a braille chess set giving his opponents an advantage. He was a cool guy...when he was losing his sight as a young boy instead of giving in to depression he tried to just live as normal a life as possible. I remember there was a funny story in his book about him riding his bike still when he was blind...he loved to freak people out that way.

I'll be knocking back a shot or three in his honor later.

We're flying out to Las Vegas to hang out for a couple days with one of my Sisters and her Hubby and Daughter...and then I'm going to play in the NATIONAL OPEN chess tournament again. I hope I don't have to face that 9 year old kid again (I guess he's 10 now). I also signed up to play a game along with 30 or so other players in a "simultaneous exhibition" against a Grandmaster.

as If that isn't enough fun..I hope to meet up with the man once known as Donnie Death from "Puke Spit & Guts". Hell, he's still Donnie Death to me no matter how much time has passed.

When I get back from this little rest I'm gonna either start up a brand new book of some sort..or spend a month or so final polishing my "bad childhood" epic "escape from cookieland". It's 80% done..I just want to expand and improve the part about my high school years. By the time I'm done it's gotta be clearly better than "dazed and confused" (which I actually enjoyed) by a long shot or it's not worth seeing the light of day. It's about a tie at this point...wait'll I'm done. I wonder who'll play Mike McNally when it's made into a movie?? Johnny Depp??

6/09/04

I couldn't care less about Reagan's death. I'm a history buff and I can find something to admire about most Presidents from both parties after the smell of their presidency has faded..but I never liked Reagan. Not for 5 minutes. In spite of the wonders of trickle-down economics I remember his stint in the white house as being the absolute worst economically speaking for Marla and I. It was goddamned hard to find a job for years. Times were hard....I don't know what people mean when they say the 80's were a prosperous time. Maybe it was a hangover from Carter's administration I dont know. I do know that Reagan always turned me off. He reminded me of lots of bosses I had back then and even more pompous businessman jerkoffs I had to deal with in job interviews.

I never claimed to actually hate Reagan. He wasn't as bad as the exaggerating lefties claimed. I remember them wringing their hands in despair..just CERTAIN that he'd "push the button" his first day in office. I'm glad he stood up to the commies in the Soviet Union. Compared to them he was a great guy.

He hated people like me though. I heard a caller on a talk radio show chirp happily about how wonderful it was that he ordered that men weren't to be allowed in the oval office who weren't wearing a business suit.

What a load of crap. President Jackson drew hordes of hillbillies to the white house on his inaugeration day. Even in Lincoln's time the public was allowed to enter the white house and talk to the President. He talked to common people often 3 hours per day. That was typical Presidential behavior for generations. Business suits my ass. Just for that I hope Sinatra really did bang Nancy a few times.

You've got to hand it to old Ronnie though..he probably inspired more sophmoric punk rock songs in the early 80's than the Queen of England, Margaret Thatcher and Jerry Falwell combined. I suppose that was his special niche.

6/03/04

Summer is officially here..a great time for beer drinking games that influence inordinant amounts of chug-a-lugging. Elvis and I worked up the best one we've come up with in a long time the other night. We were playing EA Sports 2004 baseball game for Play Station 2. We started drinking beers slowly about 2:00 am or so. Oddly enough there was no whiskey to be found in the house..we were gonna have to make it with beer.

The team we manage together is a mixture of current Red Sox (we're big fans of 'em in "real life") and legends from the past whom we have unlocked and added to the lineup. The pitching staff is mostly current guys..with the exception of Walter Johnson. We've also got Babe Ruth, Pee Wee Reese, Mike Schmidt and fellow Oregonian (by birth..I couldn't choose the State I was born in) Harmon Killebrew..a big stocky slugger..one of my boyhood favorites.

Some how we reached a point where we agreed that every time that night that Harm' clouted a home run..we'd literally "Kill-A-Brew" on the spot. It seemed more like a tribute to the killer than anything. Yeah..I remember the remark was made "what if he goes on a rampage?? will we keep up the pace and chug 'em as fast as he can swat 'em out of Fenway park"??

Wouldn't you know it. He went on a frigging tear; he began clobbering homers left and right..and we laughed our asses off and drained cans. Eventually we started going through a lot of Busch beer. It's not that easy to get beer drunk for us. Elvis is usually a rum drinker. I usually drink shots with my beer. But, we started getting nice and looped. Marla got up and left for work at 6:00 am or so..and we were still "Killing-Brews" with Ontario Oregon's finest export. The sun rose and as our neighbors were enjoying their cornflakes we were watching the beer supply diminish.

Eventually we got so tanked we were sucking down entire cans when other players homered. Shit..Mike Schimdt hit 4 in one game!!!! The end result was we managed to kill off every beer in the house..a rare Irwin feat..since I always stock up heavily with lots of backup. I was tempted to march to the convenience store...but at 9:00 am or so we trundled off to the sack.

Looking back on it..we realized we don't remember whether Nomar Garciapara hit for the cycle..or was left in a bloody injured state on the turf. We're about to play a few more games..and the "kill-a-brew" rule will be enforced.

Play Station advertising motto is: "live in your world..play in ours". I think we'll amend that to: "drink in YOUR world..but be ready to "kill-a-brew" if you're ever invited over on a night/morning that we're kicing ass and taking names with our Red Sox.

05/31/04

It's the early morning after Memorial day. I didn't go to a graveyard..I'm over a thousand miles away from where all the vet's in my life are buried. I sure as hell didn't go to the hiphop moron-athon fest in Miami either. There's a long line of soldiers in both of my families adopted and blood..and I respect them all for their bravery. Yes..war sucks..but sometimes it's neccessary. I have zero tolerance especially for WWII revisionists who try to portay the use of atomic weaponry to end the war with Japan as barbaric. My Father and one of my Uncles were scheduled to help invade Japan; they had said goodbye to their women (my future Mother and Aunt) and had their lives spared when the Japanese surrendered after a taste of atomic death. Japanese leaders started that war..too bad innocent civilians had to pay the price..but that's the way of the world.

If you think THAT"S an outrageous position...you've just scratched the surface. I do damn well believe that me owning MY TV SET is more important than your dead junkie friends former life. If you dont crawl through my window or pick my lock you wont die. If you do....you've just issued me a license to smother you to death with a seat cushion I've been farting into for years...or to destroy you in any manner I'm capable of.

Have a pleasant morning...Urp...

5/25/04

Damn..I got walloped with some bad news just before retiring to bed this morning. Devon Curtin the infamous "drunken janitor" from Washington state passed away. Some people reading this know of Devon from his hilarious story he contributed to our drinking stories mag "drink around the clock". Attendee's of the C.O.S. supershow in Philly a few years ago may remember hanging out with him..he wore glasses..looked very intense..and drank like mad. Unlike some folks, he wasn't too "cool" to stand in front of the stage and express his appreciation for the bands. I liked that about him.

I also liked his letters..which were unique and fun and obviously written while he was plastered. He started writing to me well back in the 90's..I remember once reading a letter of his out loud in the recording studio with all of us standing there with instruments hanging around our necks. His letters weren't "intellectual" ..although you could tell he was more intelligent than most. In fact, I always thought of him as a super intelligent guy..like me..who simply chose to have fun and get loaded and listen to crazy music instead of applying his brain to some ball and chain "career". Of course, I never meant to demean him by referring to him as a drunken janitor; HELL....I don't qualify for a janitor's job. I sometimes wish I did.

Devon appeared at our 1998 return to Portland Rancid Vat show. He stood in front of the stage all night..andI believe amazed our singer Cosmo with his look and the crazed gleem in his eye. He flew 3,000 frigging miles to Philly for that supershow. He had the balls to walk the hostile streets of Philly unlike most folks from Longview Washington who dont have the guts to travel east of the snake river in their lifetimes.

Whether he knew it or not..he personally inspired me to do my part of whatever the hell we do musically. I wish I could've gotten together with him many more times to get plastered..but of course we moved away from the northwest in 1994.

Now it's too late. SHIT. Nobody expects a guy to die when he's only in his late 20's...even though he partied at a grandmaster level. I would've bet I'd go first. If I had..I know he would've drank quite a few rounds in my honor..and that's what I'm gonna do tonight for him..and of course a few dozen times in the future as well. That's OUR way..Devon and me..and maybe YOU too..that's our church service..that's OUR way of saying so long pal. We REMEMBER our pals. I'm glad he packed as much fun as possible into his too short life. The world would be a much more fun place to exist in if more people lived like Devon...wouldn't it??

5/23/04

When I was very young I was eager for acceptance..and I made a point to try to keep up on the latest fashions. I wore nehru jackets and some other shit you might not quickly picture me wearing if you know me personally. As I grew older I grew wiser..and of course more bitter..and full of hate for the human race. I gradually quit going along with common fashions and trends. You'd be hard pressed to accuse me of following trends now..particularly fashion trends. But the point is, I've hated most "fashion" apparel for many, many years. Mike McNally and I were laughing at disco and it's unique "fashion statement" before the 70's had been declared over by Dick Clark and Casey Kasem (sp?) one cold night in Times square.

By then, we already KNEW that 70's fashions were gonna be looked back upon as being somewhere between putrid and pretentious. At that point in time people were already laughing at hippie fashions. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that subsequent generations often have a good bellylaugh at the expense of elaborate fashions from days gone by...particularly fashions associated with "rock" music.

A thought for the day; I've known for YEARS now already that those stupid droopy, baggy oversized pants that a lot of trendy types (maybe YOU?) have been sporting are gonna be raked over the coals CONTINUOSLY as amongst the fucking WORST styles of the "modern rock era".

I bet a lot of you who wear those stupid piece of shit threads (and those dumbass mandatory necklaces as well) yapping away in your soon to be considered outdated hip hop jargon are gonna settle down and have kids one day..and they're gonna come up to you one day and ask you if you wore those stupid looking britches like all those stupid people back in the 90's and 2000's..and you're gonna deny it. Your brood will be sitting around yee olde Sony TV one day and there'll be a sitcom poking fun of the era we've passed through the last 8 years or so..and the charachters will be causing your kids to double over in laughter using obviously moronic words and phrases like "dope and "phat" and "da' bomb" and "word up". Maybe on that day I'll be long dead; maybe not. What I DO know is you're gonna eventually 1) realize how STUPID you talked "back then" and how stupid those pants look (not to mention your frigging over priced athletic shoes )..or you're gonna LIE..like so many parents do these days about whether or not they dressed like sluts or experimented with drugs "back in the day".

Since like I said..I may not be around to laugh at you then..I'm LAUGHING AT YOU and your silly clown pants NOW..and have done so for years...just like I laughed at your parents and their dumbass disco-wear.

FUCK YOU!!!! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!

5/19/04

It's 8:00 am..too fucking late (well, early for most of YOU) for a big entry here..I'm finally tired..and drinking my next to last beer.

Last night we had a good RANCID VAT show finally right here in San Marcos (remember, it's a small town..even though there's a university attended by 35,000 or so). We wound up entertaining a lot of ordinary people who had been drinking at the bar since after work (yeah..they were shitfaced.....good).

It was a wild night overall. I was oddly the most sober of any Rancid Vat show in our23+ years..I sipped on one beer until we were done (I had been puking like mad 24 hours earlier..I dunno why) then I wound up guzzling quite a frigging few along with a generous bounty of shots of Ezra. I've lost about 60 pounds or so since December when I quit eating (anything fun that is) to repair my digestive system and lighten the load for my fucked up knees. I wore fabric knee braces..but likely didn't need them. I wrassled around a bit and waggled my annoying cowbell (the Rancid Vat official "bell of Justice") in the face of everyone in the bar and I wasn't even winded at the end of the set.

This is all proof that if you're packing a big beer gut you don't need to quit drinking to get back "in shape". Just eat very little..and very sensibly..including daily brocoli and salads..and V8 juice..and you can drink all you want to. I know lots of skinny drunks.

I guess this is as good a time to publicly announce to any potential people who may take me in as a house guest; I no longer am bound to the dire wake-up/shitting schedule I once was. Sometimes I don't shit until I've been awake 8 hours. I'm sorry if this is shattering anybody's illusions.

I physically felt better during and after this show than any in five years at least. I doubt I'm gonna get into the fabulous physical shape that my ol' pal Cosmo has (at least the last time I saw him)...but I'll look better in my casket if I drop dead tommorow than I would've in a few years.

Enough of that crap.

Anyway, a band member (I cant reveal names, stupid) was arrested last night on a petty pot possession charge. To make it all worse an innocent non-band member pal's truck was towed. It was ugly. We had to of course gather for ritual shots dedicated to this jailed band member on our back patio.

As I banged my shots down it all reminded me of my pals from the Tunnel Rats up in New Hampshire. They sure as hell aren't the only damn band I know that risks drunktanks and legal fee's whenever they deem it worthy to perform in public..but I thought of them (maybe because it's long past due time to plug their swell new damn website: http://www.thetunnelrats.com).

Anyway, any night in America exactly 22,356 musicians risk arrest in order to bring their music to "the people"..a putrid, undeserving clique that just happens to include YOU more then likely.

Today, everybody is safe and free from the frigging Texas chaingang..for now.

It's 8:35..I'm watching all the day workers blaze a path down Ranch Road 12 to their jobs. Mark is in Freeport for his Sisters wedding (give her a big, sloppy drunk wet kiss for me Mark).

I have only one question that Elvis reminded me of last night; how could our proud nation be short on oil?? I thought we went to war to seize Iraq's supply?? Why have I not heard any accusations from the lefties on that count lately?? Didn't we get it?? Why not?? I don't really want to hear anybody's half assed theory...I have a pretty good understanding what's going on. Here comes that antiquated fossil Paul Harvey on the radio ...to borrow from him..Good day..for now.

5/18/04

A strange vomitational flow around here tonight. I ate a normal portion of stir fry..and an hour later started in drinking my first few beers of the night. Mark came by and after a half dozen beers or so we broke out the jug of Ezra Brooks. I poured shots..and held back from clinking shot glasses..I just KNEW I was gonna puke for some bizarre reason from the shot (Ezra is good pure shit..don't blame those folks..it was my short coming. Elvis was waiting to take him to the store for smokes..so against my better judgement we knocked 'em back. 5 minutes later I had heaved up the whiskey and stir fry. Thank the dark forces..I had digested the beer already I guess...so I didn't waste much alcohol. I spit for a few minutes and started in drinking beer again.

People, THATS what you have to do sometimes. I'm a finely honed machine..but even I can put it away a bit too fast for my own good.

Puking is good for you; DONT fear it. And DONT be a baby and stop drinking when you barf...if anything you've just created more room...now FILL it up.

I heard tonight a friend woke up at a weekend party in Austin on the floor with a cirlce of people around him; they were paramedics!! He had overdone it for the night I guess. HIs car somehow got fucked up so that the power seat is stuck so far forward he cant drive it!! He didn't whine or cry...he stayed in Austin to party more. A pure case of a grade A memorable extended weekend if you ask me.

Speaking of whiners..we just listened to a 24 song 24 band sampler from a magazine I write for (AMP). Several of the songs were actually OK...perhaps surprisingly. There were quite a few bands who were rendered OBSOLETE by whiney, typical "alterno" wimp singers. The most disturbing "trend" that I heard on this compilation was a tendancy for metal bands to go into segments in their songs that featured alterno-whine vocals and assinine, unbelievable BAD harmonys that almost sent me to wretching again.

Our Play Station 2 MVP 2004 baseball game displays an even WORSE apparent "trend". What could be worse than alterno-metal you may ask?? Try alterno-pussy ass pop punk with frigging white boy rappers babbling in the same old sing-song moon-June-spoon tradition. I've learned to hate the songs so goddamned much I actually researched some of the responsible bands websites. They all bill themselves as "punk rock" in spite of their crossover rap nonsense (why is it I just KNEW they weren't gonna try to sell it as rap with "punk" influence?).

In case you've wondered..or stumbled onto this diary recently by mistake..I fucking HATE rap and goddamned hip hop bullshit. I heard some funny stuff back in the mid 80's or so..and I'm a fan of the much early originators of the genre like Rudy Ray Moore and the Last Poets and the Watts Prophets. The rest..well, you can just slip down your baggy ass pants (first worn by Stringbean on "Hee Haw" incidentally) and fucking cram it all up your goddamned ass.

I've preached before that music is all a matter of OPINION; you can't "prove" that Puff Daddy or Beethoven or the Shaggs or the Beatles or Flipper or even U-Motherfucking-2 is any better or worse than anything else.

I know what I like..and I hope for your sake you do. If you're into the B.S. I hate, well..good for you. It's a mistake to judge people by the music they listen to (do you love your Mom and your Granny?? Do you love their music too?). There are usually a couple hundred reasons to hate almost any humanoid that have nothing to do with music...and sometimes even a few redeeming reasons to like that person. I've met a lot of people who wanted to meet me who were wondering if I was gonna give 'em a hard time for listening to rap and hip hop since I've written about hating it. Of course they're relieved to find that I don't give a flying turd what they listen to if I like them as a person. Likewise, if I hate somebody..it doesn't make them any better to my thinking if they like music I respect or enjoy.

Oddly even though there are exceptions to the rule, it seems that the biggest assholes I meet are into one band or one "sound" or genre that they want to pester everybody with.

I'm an excellant role model as a host..I rarely pound one genre into the ground when guests are over. If I do, it's usually because I know my guests like that kind of music..or because I've discovered they hate it..and I'm in a nasty mood.

Incidentally, I try to limit "requests" when there are multiple guests to one or so per person. A Whiskey Rebel Lifestyle TIP: I never file my albums or CD's (and especially 7"'ers) into any sort of order; that in itself means it's gonna be damn tough for a guest to find a pile of albums they want to hear that's going to piss me off. Since I have a jillion of them in every room except for the kitchen I smile and say..well, good luck finding it!!

On someone's first visit I always try to play hard to find stuff they NEED to hear..but probably can't find..like Simon Stokes and Puke Spit & Guts. After a few visits I lay some Big Jay McNeely on established friends who've earned it.

Whatever you do, DONT EVER bring into my home some goddamned cliche rap metal or hip hop cassette! We'll just listen to maybe NOTHING..which means EVERYBODY will be happy.

5/11/04

A strange thing happened at our yard sale the other day. It was only a minorly profitable sale...we had customers in bursts and a lot of dead time. About noon (I had stayed up all fucking night and drank slowly but steadly) I'll be goddamned if in a symbolic act of nature a bunch of vultures began circling overhead. At one point a vulture proudly landed 30 feet away in the branches of a frigging tree.

Marla claims they were after a possum carcass they had been picking clean over our fence..but I dunno. Today...days after the possum must be bleached bones a vulture with a very large wingspan flapped around our driveway a few feet off the ground. HOLY SHIT. This never happened in Philly, or L.A. or Seattle or Everett or even Snoreland Boregon.

What does it all mean?

The wildlife scene is very active here in Texas, that's for sure. We drink a lot of alcohol often enough with friends on our back patio. A regular ritual involves us breaking out the pellet guns to blast aggressive (and very big) mice that crawl up the bird feeder 20 feet from where we're sitting drinking. It's all very funny. In case you wonder whether I care about the life of the mice..the answer is not no..it's FUCK NO.

My idea of a living creature to respect with open mouthed awe is a "walking stick" I once saw in our driveway. It looks just like a crawling bunch of thin twigs. I bet if I could capture one I could sell it on Ebay. I'm not gonna try though..I'm too lazy.

I hate mice and rats and snakes and hornets and wasps and even little precious honeybee's. I see no use for any of them..except for target practice or a means of getting out my aggressions by stomping them into submission.

I know folks who keep pet rodents and vermin..and that's ok..at THEIR house. I wouldn't think of telling you how to deal with pests and insects in your home. I respect enough snake and rodent owners to acknowledge they must have some sort of charms that elude me..but after a few cans of Pearl I only want to destroy them.

I visited a website dedicated to endangered species to research a portion of a column I sent to AMP just yesterday. There were all sorts of "alerts" drawing attention to the fact that lovable species such as the "Kretscmarr cave mud beetle" and the "tumbling creek cave snail" possibly exist in limited numbers. It's not like I ignore their plight in favor of starving children in India or aids victims in Africa; I don't really give a shit about ANY of them. I'm just being honest. I don't think most people do even though they won't say so out loud.

I love watching our cats Mr. Jinx and Dixie put insects and tiny lizards and other creepy crawlers to death. Maybe that's the ultimate purpose of "gods creatures" (HAH!!) I don't understand. More likely there isn't any "master plan" at all rendering insects and rodents and crawling critters neccessary.

I think in retrospect there have been many tradgedy's in American history involving misunderstood animals being slaughtered in wholesale numbers. The great buffalo herds of course spring to mind...and it's sad that the American eagle exists in limited numbers; but how can I identify in anyway with annoying insects, crazed possums and mice (who like to shit everywhere when they find a way to sneak into your home) ?? HHmm???

I don't believe there's a "purpose" for all creatures..and I believe in fact that a thinning out of the human population (directed by me of course) would be a great thing; don't worry..race or color wouldn't be an issue. We'd start with...well, go back and read the first few years of this diary and you'll KNOW who I'd start with..such as Paris Hilton and her ilk, inept fastfood clerks, pushy panhandlers and bosses who cancell previously existing Christmas bonus programs.

BELCH. Goodnight.

5/07/04

We're throwing a yard sale here in a few hours. GODDAMN..the shit I subject myself to. Maybe nobody will show up..or maybe I'll get a wave of moron dickhead collectors knocking on the door early (that's what usually happens) to get first crack at the collectables. It's ALL collectables we're selling..no baby clothes or furniture. I've been sorting out records, VHS tapes, T-shirts, baseball cards, comics, action figures, etc. for hours. Either way I'll nap for an hour or so and get up at 6:00 am for the final set up. I'll be drinking from the very start. I may offend a few squareheads..but I'll have booze on my breath instead of coffee from the get-go. Every day for the next 10 or so I have some sort of big event or deadline to deal with..I'm frigging swamped. I'm on the cross without let up in sight.

Well, of course I have a long trip to Vegas on the horizon in June. 10 days..that will include a meeting with some of my newly found siblings, a chess tournament loaded with Grandmasters (the National open) and a few nights to kill staying at the Stratosphere in the middle. Hopefully I'll be meeting with the man formerly known as Donny Death from Puke Spit & Guts during the slack days. If you're a friend from the West Coast and need an excuse to hang out in Vegas for a few days and get drunk with the Whiskey Rebel...nows your chance. Get in touch. No book readings..no band bullshit..just occasional minor league gambling along side the blue haired Grandma's...and living large in Satan's playground. URP. Is that somebody coming up to the door already??? SHIT!!

5/04/04

FINALLY, I read about a death in the early hours of this morning that I can APPLAUD. The fire and brimstone sack o' shit preacher whom I "grew up with" has preached his last. GOOD RIDDANCE. I ask that all my satanic, atheist and agnostic pals out there knock one back in his "honor". Not only was he an asshole, his Wife only a few years ago organized a prayer meeting of church wives to pray for my poor old Mother...for having to endure ME!!...lovable ME. I know that seems hard to believe..but it's true.

If I had a bible handy I'd wipe my ass with a few pages just to signify my total disrespect for the son of a bitch. Not only did his teachings influence my parents to insist on incredibly strict guidelines that permanently spoiled our relationship in the long run, he refused to answer my youthful questions seriously which leads me to believe he was simply an Elmer Gantry. Which means of course, that my childhood was fucked up indirectly (almost directly) by a fuckface who likely delivered his two fisted sermons merely for "effect" as opposed to any deep convictions on his part.

Oddly enough, one of his Daughters married a cousin of mine who was the black sheep of the family for a few years before I took over way back in the 1970's.

I've written about this spiritual bully in depth in an unpublished work ("escape from Cookieland") that will likely see the light of day eventually.

Mean while, FUCK HIM!! I just rocketed the finest tasting blast of Jim Beam down my throat I've gargled in a long time. I'm sitting here at 6:09 am grinning from ear to ear.

For toying with peoples minds in a holy manner, I hope he died an agonizing death.

YEE HAWW!!!! Champaign and Kentuckey Fried Chicken tonight!!

5/03/04

Several times over the last few days I've seen local's behave in a manner in which I would've been forced to object if I was still living in Philly. Why would I find their behavior objectionable in Philly but not here in San Marcos Texas?? It's obvious. In Philly, folks lived to fuck one another out of a parking space or a spot in line at a post office, grocery or beer store. In Texas, I get annoyed often by drivers going out of their way to admit fellow drivers in parking lots into the flow of traffic and shoppers who stand at the counter and jabber for several minutes with the clerk..SLOWING ME THE FUCK DOWN!!!!!

The same fat cunt who rudely cut me off for a parking space last week did so again today; in Philly I would've lambasted her verbally..because I know goddamned well it would've been INTENTIONAL!! In San Marcos, it's obvious she's just a clueless bitch taking her bosses mail to the post office a few minutes before closing time. She's too stupid and unsavvy to intentionally fuck with ANYBODY..including me.

Today at the grocery store a senior sporting a Tom Landry hat stepped in front of me while I was waiting in an organized line. In Philly I would've said something like:" DO YOU MIND!!...DO YOU FUCKING MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!"

In Texas I only would've made an ass of myself calling him on his rudeness. He was just a harmless, oblivious fool. People in Philly are total fucking SCOFFLAWS. I've written about them before..I felt at home amongst them even though I'm a pussy when it comes to intentionally running red lights and stop signs. I also feel at home for different reasons amongst the "polite to a fault" Hank Hill types here.

I guess I'm just an adaptable guy. I consider that a GOOD thing. I'm a social chameleon. I identify with the way Philadelphian's behave at sporting events..but I prefer the well mannered lines at the post office here in San Marcos. Goddamn...people don't even pack their mail pouch shit ahead of time here...the clerks do it for them (which would NEVER happen in Philly!!) still, the lines move faster because they aren't loaded with hot headed, extroverted, pain in the twat urban types who feel compelled to bitch to management as a matter of routine. There's not a bit of arguing and "attitude" to be witnessed here in San Marcos's post office like you see in Philly or Boston. I think the post office in San Marcos Texas is the most efficient I've experienced anywhere. On the rare occasions I've spent a long waiting in line I always find the clerks (veterans all ) apologetic..which of course is a state of mind that RARELY happens within 20 miles proximity of the of the schuykill river. When I tell 'em their post office is the best in the land they blush....and don't believe me for a minute..even though I'm CONVINCED sincerely.

I'd REALLY be happy if the talents of the postal clerks in San Marcos were equalled by the world-class-bozo nitwit fast food dumbasses. But, that's another diary entry.

4/28/04

Last week, I was so understanding about my Nephews from Seattle who visited along with their Mom running around like Dennis the menace ripping their clothes off for effect; they seemed like good healthy boys. I had never met them. My line of bull that I hope they'll remember me by was about my "pet snake...TEX". Of course I'm terrified of snakes. I'd be more likely to have a pet armadillo. But kids remember shit like pet snakes named Tex..and they seemed entertained by the idea.

Today at the post office I felt like strangling an over-indulged trio of little screechy bitches. There was 2..count 'em..TWO Mom's accompanying them. It seemed like common sense to me that one Mom would watch the kids whilst the other took care of the post office business. NOPE!! Not in this case. Obviously their objective was to piss off as many people as possible..and the post office was loaded with innocent people like me to irritate, irk and annoy.

One of the kids was a grabber...pulling at every item within reach and throwing it onto the floor. This meant a nice pile of official postal forms were soiled on this day in San Marcos. One of them was a screamer....screeching at high decibel level's occasionally. The third was one of those kids who craves attention; she'd start off really low belting out a gutteral uhh...uhhhhhhh...uhhhhhhhhhhh...UUUhhhhhh...and eventually wind up mind raping every adult in the building with a forlorn primal scream....UUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! At this point her Mom usually threatened to spank her..but she didn't even look the kid in the eye when threatening to do so. She was in a total haze..a purple frigging haze of obliviousness.

I know a lot of fairly new parents; need I remind everybody at this point that:

1) kids don't really serve any purpose in post offices or other public buildings designed for the execution of business.

2) Kids don't have any business being in theatres, restaurants or aboard airplanes. It's YOUR responsibility to schedule your affairs so as not to require them to be in those sort of places.

3) When kids run around screaming and colliding with people's knees and thighs in public, it's not THEIR fault...it's the fault of the inconsiderate, clueless parents who brought them there. Threatening to spank a kid once you've brought them to a building you had no business bringing them to is pathetic.

4) It really DOES make a difference if you apologize to people around you on the occasions you simply have no other choice than to take your baby/toddler into a public place. I'll cut any parent some slack if they have the courtesy to do that.

5) I know alot of fairly new parents..who understand what I mean. Being a parent sometimes means not going places because you have a kid not ready to be in public..luckily most of them seem to comprehend this. THANK YOU from the rest of us. .

4/26/04

All you married people or folks thinking of taking the matrimonial plunge would be doing yourself a favor by paying close attention to todays frigging sermon.

Marla and I are compatible in many ways..but very unlike one another in lots of others. Lots of couple are drawn to each other by mutual interests, passions, dreams, blah blah blah. We've always felt the warmest and mushiest when we had a common enemy at hand whom hated. Ungirdled, foaming at the mouth HATE can a powerful unifying force. For instance, I was never more in love with her than the time long ago when she was pregnant with Elvis...and almost came to blows at work with another pregnant woman over the horrible secretary rock the tasteless, typical Portland dumb-cunt was booming from her radio 9 hours per day. Another time I felt all fuzzy and warm in the cockles of my heart was the night a couple guys from the band surprised her with a lifesize cardboard standup of the recording artist she HATES the most..Billy Joel..watching her destroy that fucking thing publicly really gave me a charge. Ahhhhhh...in my mind I can hear Elvis Presley singing "memories"..

Anyway, that's the sort of pleasant experiences we've shared over the years. There are a lot of things that we DON'T do together because our interests our simply different. I was taken to a thriftstore by a friend in 1980 or so..and something SNAPPED inside my head; ever since then the thrill of the hunt for vinyl, books and other stuff has been a dominant interest in my life. Marla went around to thrift stores with me for a few years..but she honestly hates it for the most part. I think she started hating them when she had to wait for me to plow through a huge mountain of records.

So where did we go from there??? Couples??? If this sort of problem comes up in your marriage, what the hell would you do?? Should I as the "male" in the partnership demand she go along and keep her mouth shut even if she got bored?? Should she as the "female" have demanded that I stay home from thrift stores and mow the lawn??

Marla is one of those many people who gets a big thrill from all the usual white trash methods of utilizing a purchased or rented vehicle or implement designed to: A) getting you wet, or B) physically shake you or move you rapidly over surfaces of water, asphalt or dirt. GUESS WHAT??? I'm NOT one of those people who enjoy that shit. I've been on a lot of boats..but I have no interest in skiing..never did. I enjoy drinking and watching the world float by. Skates, Snow-ski's, dirt bikes, dune buggies or anything else I can think of designed to give you the rush that Marla and the majority of other middle class white people BORE me. If you rented a beach house with me..you'd quickly learn that I'm more like the great aesthete Oscar Wilde than the people you see running around in a frenzy being active. Mountains are to be LOOKED at and admired..NOT climbed. I'd rather drink beer and look at a body of water than be dunked over and over in it. Give me a hotel room with a balcony and a view..even of a parking lot..and I'll have no desire to go to some damned tourist ridden waterpark. We learned after being married a few years that we don't have to agree on everything and that it's GOOD for us to be apart from one another even on days off from work together. Hey..you wanna take Marla out on your boat?? go ahead. I'll be back at the motel drinking beer living the life of a modern day aesthete. If you and your partner plan on being together for the long haul, BELIEVE me..you're gonna need time away from each other including the occasional seperate vacation. I can think of a few friends who are exceptions to this rule..but only a few. I can think of a truckload of demanding females from relationships I've known who didn't want to give the poor male a goddamned night off away from her clinging possessiveness even once a week. Likewise..I can think of a helluva lot a guys including many friends who've treated their Wife like a goddamned maid with a pussy. I've known a few women who WANTED to serve their man that way..and that's cool with me; but I've known a lot more who were taken for granted...and an equal number who treated their henpecked hubbies like dirt.

I think it's damned important that in a marriage both he and she maintain some sort of individual "identity". Each partner should strive to acheive goals within their own interests at work or play; yet, each should feel a measure of victory from the others accomplishments. I think it's a hideous notion to enter a relationship with somebody you hope you can CHANGE after you're legally hitched up. Gals, if you married a beer drinking philosopher (yunno, a BUM like me) you knew what you were getting into. Guys, if she makes you nervous by dressing sexy when she goes out with her girlfriends..well, you knew what you were getting into when you married her most likely. Don't freak out when she looks at some boy toy's ass!! You know goddamned well you mentally undress 90% of the women you see at least.

If you've had a good partner for several years, maybe it's time to do something special for him or her. HEY..maybe it's time for me to urge Marla to pick out a goddamned boat?? Wouldn't that be considerate of me?? I'll even help her look for somebody to go out on it with her....(HO HO HO...just kidding..I know she reads this). I'm afraid I gotta draw the line at any snow oriented white trash fun...but a boat would be ok. See?? thee Whiskey Rebel is a living example of how you should aspire to behave within the bounds of blissful, holy matrimony.

4/19/04

Hi all, this is Elvis. The much featured son of the Whiskey Rebel in the Diary. Lately the old man has been asking me for some odd reason to do a guest diary entry, ( Maybe he's having too much fun with the video baseball or something.)

Well, either way I'm going to crack open a beer and substitute for a second to bring up something that has kind of been bothering me lately.

Okay, buckle up for a wild rant that will probably go five directions at once, but you'll hopefully see my point.

In this era of loud liberals, Politically Correct prudes, uniform child raising techniques and bands that all sound the same, meaning and purpose serve such a large role that they can totally ruin stuff for people whether they're there or not. Well, that kind of words it weird, so let me try it this way.

I've been getting rides with this classmate of mine up to Austin and back for classes. Of course with a 30 minute drive to kill we have to talk about something. We both appreciate many bands that maybe aren't in the spotlight, but damn well should be. As well as very popular acts like David Bowie. It was last week after I mentioned the Cramps for about the 137th time this month that she finally asked why I liked them so much. (F.Y.I. The Cramps are my favorite band without a doubt and I preach them almost everyday.) I told her how there were many genres incorporated into the music that they do and how it's very catchy and fun music to listen to that suits my personality perfectly. Do what you want, how you want to, even if it's for your own personal pleasure. They obviously didn't come across their style trying to make hits. I then asked what era of the band she'd heard. She mentioned "Haulass hyena" which was off of "Big Beat From Badsville". This song lead her to believe that they were a rockabilly retro band or something. Either way, she said the one thing that I do NOT agree with in music. "I like music with meaning to it.". MEANING!

I hate songs that try to have meaning to it, you can throw all of the songs like "Imagine", "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Dream on" that you want at me, but unless it's catchy or has a good riff/beat/etc. to it, I'm not going to like it. My favorite Johnny Cash song is "I walk the line" not because of the undisputed heart and soul he puts into the words, but the off tempo is what sells me to it. Along with that eerie hum sound he does before and after each verse. It's a cool song, probably with meaning, but I don't care about the meaning.

A good example I can relate to every day life is Aerosmith. I as a rule don't like Aerosmith, yet in San Marcos, TX they are the be all and end all to some people, especially people that I try to have this conversation with. Now I like three songs by Aerosmith, maybe four...five is a stretch....but possible. Anyways, I like Ragdoll, Dude looks like a lady and Walk this way. That's it. (Love in an elevator could be shorter). What's odd is that those are the songs that "Aerosmith" fans I encounter don't like! Why? Because they don't have meaning. DREAM ON HAS MEANING! So of course they all love Dream on. God that song bothers me. Why can't these people dig a song just for the way that it sounds? Anyone who doesn't understand the raunchy sound of Ragdoll is either deaf, has smoked too much weed, or not enough. Another good example is the Beatles. Now don't send email after email to my old man defending the Beatles' greatness....yeah yeah sure whatever. I couldn't care less about "Hey Jude" or (fill in the blank of your most deep Beatles song.) I honestly like their early bubble gum shit almost more than anything else. I'll listen to Twist and shout, or She loves you ya ya ya 8 million times. Why? Because it's meant to make you happy. Which if you want to get deep, the fact that they're trying to make you happy is a meaning all of it's own, but I'm not trying to be picky here.

I just heard a Rammstein song on a burned CD of mine and it was great! I also can't understand a word they say, but do to it's catchy riffs and beat, I like it. On the flip side there are Rammstein songs on the same CD I burned it from that bore me to death.

Well I could ramble on and on about music and meaning for about 5 more pages, but I think I'll move on to other parts of our society and their meanings.

Remember when Jerry Falwell was accusing the BBC and PBS of Tinky-Winky being gay? WHO FUCKING CARES! I just finished a visit with my aunt, she has two wee ones and her and I even had this conversation. Kids don't care if Tinky-Winky is gay or not, or if Bert and Ernie are gay. Or if Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Michaelangelo is a stoner surfer like Spicolli from "Fast Times at Ridgemont High". It's enjoyable to kids and that's all that should matter. Fred Rogers smoked a joint before every TV taping. It's an exposed fact of a few years ago. Do I care? No. Should you care? No. Do your toddlers care? No. Kids don't know about the evils and sins of the world yet, no matter if they're truely bad sins or fun sins. When I was 5 I didn't understand Pepe Le Pew. When I was 17 I laughed my ass of at Pepe Le Pew. I didn't understand what was so funny about a skunk kissing a cat. I had to learn that it was the way he minced after the fleeing in fear girl cat, or prepared himself with perfume and cigarette jacket that was funny. Not to mention the sexual inuendos he presents. Are we really much smarter as adults? I don't like to think about Pee Wee Herman's criminal record when I watch his show, or "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" which I've easily seen more times than any other movie ever made. So how do guys like Robert Tilton get excused?

If anything, as adults (adult is all in the mind not in the age) we should see these child hood characters and laugh at them inside our selves while the kids laugh at some other concept of the joke. I'll admit it, I wathced Teletubbys when I was 15/16 til PBS stopped showing it. Why? Because it was a fucking acid trip...LSD not required. It was weird meaningless entertainment for kids that adults could sit and watch with their kids. Maybe this is all a conspiracy to spend less time with our kids. Get rid of all the entertaining characters and shows so that we don't watch TV with our kids. I remember wtching The Flintstones, The Jetsons and Pee Wee's Playhouse with my parents during my youth. Since then they've told me how they were actually fun to watch as adults also.

Another thing taken away from our youth is the good old fashioned Comics page. It was back in 2001 when I first started to read the comics. On our drive back to Philly from Texas after 9/11 I figured, what the fuck I'll buy a paper a do an old fashioned cross word puzzle. It was on this 4 day trek that I discovered that comics had fluidity and that they carried plot lines. Until this point, I never read the comics on a regular basis. Once reaching Philly, I then veered more toward the crossword puzzle path, finding an online site, etc. In 2003 however, I was in a play that involved me being a bartender that was an avid follower of the races. Instead of a racing form I figured I'd kill time on stage by reading the comics and doing the crossword puzzle. Much like my father's drinking binge record I haven't missed but 2 days since march of 2003. I've been noticing lately that even the comics aren't related to kids these days. Granted I never really thought of them being "funny" when I was a kid years ago, I now see why. Kids aren't going to understand political humor, or humor being made about kids between two parents, or humor about the office. No they understand "Haggar the Horrible" and "Blondie" and "Hi and Lois". Since maturing quite a bit in the last year and a half, I really can understand some of the humor. Today was the day ultimate head scratcher though.

I click onto Yahoo to read the headline that Doonesbury is going to have a character lose a leg in Iraq. Okay...I can understand Doonesbury doing something like that, as much as I disagree with the guy. The cathcer was the not as well know strip called "Get Fuzzy". Usually about a dumbass dog, a cat hell bent on world domination and their confused owner, they made no sense as of 4/19/04. The man picks up the phone, hears his father tell him something, he responds "I'd like to meet him at the airport", hangs up and announces that his cousin William lost his leg in Iraq. The dog says "Oh we love cousin Willie" and that's it. THAT'S IT! That's like me walking into your room, taking a shit on a green Buddha and yelling "Zippy the Pinhead for Mayor of El Segundo." It made no sense. A comic featuring these animals and their zaniness has no purpose doing pointless, unfunny, meaningless strips about the war in Iraq.

Well people, y'know what. I have to go get more beer and I have class in the morning. I have basically said what I wanted to say, but I always remember the best stuff about 5 hours after I'm done doing something.

Next time the old man should be back, with beer and alcohol at his side.

This is Elvis, signing out for now.

4/18/04

For over 10 years my son Elvis and I have played video games together. If you tallied up the hours I'm sure it'd be way up there between 7-10 thousand at least. Of those thousands of hours, 75% or so at least have been spent playing various baseball games (we've preferred EA Sports PS2 and PS games for several years).

I didn't log on drunk (yeah...I am) to write about baseball even though we've had some terrific seasons including one in which we programmed the one year wonder Seattle Pilot's team of 1969. I logged on to express myself on the topic of FARTING.

FARTING when performed in company is much more intense and ultimately much more interesting than video games or even real live baseball. The two of us have never been pinks or mollycoddles when it comes to objecting to each other cracking 'em during the thousands of hours we've spent (mostly during the wee hours when YOU are asleep) in one anothers company.

Tonight, I simply HAD to say something. The farts Elvis was cracking not only reeked like something you'd turn your nose up at the frigging ZOO goddamnit..they lingered forever..like the odor wafting up from the seat of Grandpa's favorite recliner (if you risked burying your nose in the cushion). I HAD to call him on it. He objected immediately.

He said "I thought we agreed a long time ago not to bitch about farts like women!!" (he said something like that..those weren;t his exact words).

I felt a bit guilty....but I had to express the truth!! "Son..those farts you've been greasing tonight are cause to bend any rule we've ever either verbally agreed to..or entered a silent pact over. Those farts of yours tonight are LINGERING...for several minutes. I hate to upset you..but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to retaliate at the earliest opportunity (those weren't my exact words. So what. You get the idea).

15 minutes later I spun the index finger of my right hand in a tight circle a FEW TIMES..LIFTED UP MY RIGHT CHEEK AND....BRAPPP!!!!!!

"There's a kiss for you son"!! (I didn't really say that..that's what my old man used to say preceding HIS worst farts).

We sat and looked at each other for 15 seconds....Elvis took the wind out of my sails.."I have a cold..I dont smell anything".

Unfortunately, I DIDN'T have a cold...and I learned then and there that my farts are every goddamned bit as stinky as young El's. I dragged the collar of my shirt up over my mouth and nose..."OH sweet fucking Jesus!!!!!!!!! What have I done!!!" (again....not my exact words. Who fucking cares..it STUNK.)

There's a lesson to be learned here....but if you haven't already figured it out..you never will...so there's no reason to continue with this topic. Good night...but first..here's a little kiss for ya: "BRRAAAAAAAAP".

4/14/04

Anybody who has the common sense to have read my book "Hostile city or bust" knows how pissed off I've been for years at the pseudo-intellectual fools that populate the city I've lived in longer than any other during my lifespan..Portland Oregon (a.k.a. Snoreland Boregon). When I was a young lad in the late 60's and early 70's Portland was a great place to live. Unfortunately, a million or so Californians moved there in the 90's and changed everything for the worst. Whereas there had been dozens of fine bars to drink at well into the 80's..90's Portland outlawed happy hour (!!) and the old bars with cool neon signs that Grandpa drank at were toppled one by one and replaced by brightly lit, over-priced snob-appeal brewpubs. The massive park I drank in nightly as a teenager (Washington park) went from a facility you could use around the clock to get loaded, make out in a car or just gaze at a great view of the city to a heavily patroled haven for excercise nuts protected by a ridiculous batch of prudish RULES RULES RULES.

Prudes...politically correct prudes. Politically correct prudes obsessed with the small town notion that Portland is somehow the center of the universe..and at the very least a place MUCH preferable to places like L.A.; HELL!! Portlanders collectively consider any place East of the rockies uninhabitable..even though few of them have ever been to any of the hellholes they sagely condemn..like New York, Chicago..and of course the entire South.

One of the best things I ever did for my 19 year old son Elvis was convince his Mother of the need to get him THE HELL OUT OF PORTLAND. Well, you can read a very detailed account of what lead up to our move..and how I almost died at Mt. Rushmore along the way by ordering my book.

Fast forward to tonight at Elvis place of employment..a survey company that makes calls all over the U.S.

When he heard that the company would be calling Portland and Eugene (another fucked up place to avoid..my Mom lives there. In Eugene they sell veggie taco's and goddamned garden fucking burgers at baseball games instead of hotdogs. I might add..they know NOTHING about baseball in Eugene..it's just a place to take your kids to run around wrecklessly annoying anybody there to actually enjoy the game) he tried to warn his co-workers about how fucked up Portlander's were gonna be to talk to. They're all young and impressionable and have only heard the oft-repeated LIE that Portland is one of the friendliest cities anywhere (HAH!!!!).

By the end of the night after dealing with Portlanders via long distance telephone for a few hours..even veteran employees of long standing all conceded that Elvis hadn't been exaggerating; Portlander's are the biggest assholes you could ever hope to talk to. Rather than simply answering the questions (which essentially advise advertiser's as to what radio stations and newspapers people in their local community respond to ) or SIMPLY hanging up the goddmaned phone..all night long Portlander after Portlander after Portlander had to go into a long-winded breast beating speech WHY it wasn't in their best interests to continue the discussion.

Cajun's in Louisiana (who had previously been considered the worst folk to deal with) simply slam the phone down; Portlanders have to climb on a soapbox to simply end a phone call. One of Elvis co-workers hit the nail on the head concerning Portlanders; she remarked "they THINK THEY'RE SO SMART!!".

One "friendly" Portland lady was cooperating with the surveyor..until she noticed the fella's Texas accent; the Portland cunt "cleverly" remarked "it's obvious YOU'RE not an Oregonian"..The guy sheepishly said "no"..I'm calling from Texas. The jolly Portlander then quipped in a snotty tone of voice "I FEEL SORRY FOR YOU THEN!!!!!!..before slamming the receiver down.

Portland Oregon..where just like in Sinclair Lewis's ficticious would-be dynamic metropolis "Zenith" everbody is a civic booster...convinced their 3rd tier city is somehow the center of the universe.

I sometimes actually fantasize about the dormant volcano in the center of the town (Mt. Tabor...site of another park that's been ruined by too many nosy RULES) erupting annihilating the entire now worthless city. I only hope my few remaining friends get the hell out of there first..but what the fuck.they've been warned.

4/11/04

"The very best rock and roll records ever made all have a knack for pissing off lots of people"...Thee Whiskey Rebel 4/11/04

Yea verily...this formula works. Permit it to be a lantern to thy feet..and a guidance before moving thy tongue to heap scorn upon a band you haven't even listened to. I remember as a young lad in Beaverton Oregon gazing at a $1 "cut out" bin that was heaped to overflowing with albums by the New York Dolls (HATED!) Captain Beefheart (LOATHED!) Frank Zappa (he was hated at the time by mainstream morons for being "weird" in spite of his being "accepted" later). The Stooges and the New York Dolls..two incredibly influential bands were both HATED by the mainstream...both bands failed miserably.

Lots of earlier greats from the 50's were likewise widely despised. Gene Vincent for instance...he scared the shit out of parents..and later on his memory still scared the shit out of the "rock and roll hall of shame" clique hippies. And how 'bout those threatening (in the Eisenhower era) black hedonistic singers such as Wynonie Harris and Little Richard?? Yeah...many of us love 'em nowdays..but they were hated by huge numbers of terrified squares.

Even I hated the Sex Pistols "never mind the bullocks" LP before I wised up. It never ceases to amaze me how many people in their 20's and 30's HATE the Sex Pistols in favor of "punk rock" bands who are non-offensive and always sing and play in tune. I saw a Dad at the record show a week ago leading his two son's past my table; they appeared to be 7 or 8 years old. One of them was clutching a "Green day" Cd..the other an "Offspring" selection. Why not the Sex Pistols and Jayne County?? You know why.

The early Alice Cooper band literally cleared the room when they played. You know damn well Iggy and the Stooges did too...and G.G. Allin?? HAH HAH!!!! HAH HAH HAH HAH!!! You KNOW he was one of the greats..NOBODY had more enemies.

I've come around to giving a bit of credit to a few certain more recent rock bands whose music I'm not into..but who seem to piss off all the right people..meaning that they must be good according to my formula even if they're not my cup of tea. Marilyn Manson is on that list..I'll gladly drink a beer with him anytime (does that piss YOU off??). Rob Zombie is definetly on the right side of the fence too (he's also the most successful Jeff Clayton emulator in the business).

Humanoids "HATE" music acts that challenge the music that they perceive is decent, proper and catchy. When they see some band with weird, unfamiliar haircuts and clothing playing something new and different they're reminded that they're getting old and out of touch. Of course, not even your square old man with his BTO 8-tracks thinks of himself as "out of touch"..so he refuses to recognize what is unfamiliar to him and his little world in which Springsteen is the "boss".

Incidentally, even though when it comes to "Pop" music I'm "out of touch" by choice I'm different from your old man in several ways. First off, I'm only "out of touch" when it comes to POP music..which today means rap, hip hop and rap saturated hybrid metal/rock. I don't hate it because it's "new" or because I'm shocked by it..it's simply not rock and roll. I'll listen to whatever rock music you have. I likewise don't want to hear your modern "country" bullcrap..because it's not really country music at all.

More importantly, I'm different from your old man because I actually would love to see some sort of "next big thing" rock and roll wise come along. When it does, I'll know the best bands right off..they'll be the ones that piss everybody off the most.

4/07/04

Another brilliant and insightful review of my book "Hostile city or bust" was recently brought to my attention..if you haven't ordered the book yet, maybe it's time?? Ehh?? It'd make a great Mother's day or Father's day gift for the lovable old coot in your life. Check out the review and contact me or Steel Cage for ordering instructions: www.geocities.com/houseofsmut/whiskey_rebel.html

This is my birthday week (I was born 4/9/57)..which perhaps I'd like to pretend is the reason that the San Antonio Chess Club posted both of my victorys from the Texas Team championship on their website along with a few games played by other folks. If you understand chess notation you will know how to play over the games in the comfort of your home; if you don't...well, go crack open another brew and go play candyland with yer friggin' kid.

As if it isn't enough that I write books, play tournament chess worthy of display on the internet AND have played on 60-70 vinyl and CD releases..I also wind up stuck at another goddamned collectable record convention this last weekend. I've written columns for I believe 3 different mag's about record con's of the past that left me sitting in a corner with my index finger bobbing up and down across my drooping lips going "BLALA LALA LALA LALA BLALA LALA LABLA LALA....". I may write yet another column about THIS one. There's no delicate way to say this..so I'll be blunt: I fucking really HATE record collectors. At this show somebody was actually selling T-shirts with a little cornball logo and the proud word "record collector" emblazoned across the breast. I'd rather wear a goddamned greenpeace T-shirt..or even a stinking Jerry Garcia T...OR EVEN a Chump Hogan yellow tank top with red trim. The "collector" factor is what ruins an otherwise enjoyable room full of vinyl. Mark was along to help me..and he told me within a couple hours of getting to the show that he was amazed at the jaded war stories the old doo-wop/Beatle horseshit type vinyl hounds were exchanging within earshot of customers.

On a happier note, I have another accomplishment to gloat about outside of chess, music, writing, jerkoff record show attendance, etc; I finally got a DVD copy of the BIKINI BANDITS movie I was in. I don't have any speaking lines (though neither did Chaplin) and I only appear in a certain section of the film..I play one of Jello Biafra's (he's actually playing an evil director of 'tard porn) henchmen ala Batman. You can recognize me easily by my rebel flag bandana. I must say..I look GREAT. Don't worry..just because I'm in a film don't expect me to suddenly become humble; I'll be the same vain asshole I've always been trumpeting my greatness. WHY NOT???

4/01/04

We're on the cutting edge of fashion here in San Marcos. As strange as it may seem at first to you..several of us guys have discovered a really, really comfortable way to dress when we're just relaxing..playing cards maybe..or just talking and drinking beer on hot Texas nights.

It all started when Mark and I were at the local Goodwill thrift store shopping for a dress he was planning on wearing as a gag when our pal's from Illinois Rocky and Alesha visited. He found a lovely muu muu that fit him perfectly..a floral print stretch terry lounger to be exact. On the rack next to it was a sleeveless shift with pastel stripes that looked just my size. We tried them on together in one of the dressing rooms and both instantly came to the realization that they were the most comfortable things we had ever worn.

We brought our muu muu's home and slipped into them again. We decided to sit down and have a few beers on our back porch so we could surprise Marla and Elvis when they came home. As we sat outside drinking beers and shots we both were amazed how comfortable and practical the muu muu's were. Unlike jeans and T-shirts muu muu's don't cling to your body or restrict movement in anyway; not to mention the fact that when you have to piss some of that beer out you just lift the hem of your muu muu and let it flow. As you might imagine the air that blows up from your legs is cooling whether you're wearing underpants or not. By the time Marla came home and joined us we weren't considering the muu muu's a joke..but a great discovery. As usual, Marla was very open minded about it..she went indoors for a couple minutes and re-appeared in a muu muu of her own.

Elvis came home eventually. He gave us the business for a while..cracking jokes. After a few beers he fessed up and admitted that we did indeed look damned content sitting there knocking back brews in our muu muu's. Marla found a spare one in her closet..and it wasn't too long before El had slipped into it.

After a while Mark was stricken with another one of his sudden urges to poop. Thanks to the convenience of his muu muu he didn't soil himself this time. He just bunched the hem up around his waist and trotted to our bathroom...squatted and did his business without being hampered or slowed down by zipper, belt and shorts.

The next Tuesday when Eddie arrived for some beer drinking and chess the three of us were wearing our muu muu's standing in front of the house leaning on my truck drinking beers. He was a smartass at first saying "I'm not sure if I'm at the right house!". He's a man with a sharp eye though..and he noticed right off how at ease we were..and how flashy our muu muu's were. Eventually he held up his hand and said "hey guys..I thought you were crazy at first..but I'll be damned if I don't want to give one of those muu muu's a try. I nudged Elvis with my elbow..he slipped inside the house and returned with a box from a local department store.

"Here Eddie..from us!!" I said and handed him the box. He was delighted to find a plaid seersucker lounger that complimented his red hair.

Since then a few other local guys including a couple of Elvis's pals have hung out with us and eventually they've all wound up slipping into one of the guest terry zipper front lounger's we keep on hand now.

If you've been reading this diary for long you KNOW that I wouldn't give you a bum steer; head down to Walmart and pick out a muu muu that you like..and give it a try. Even if you don't dig it..you can always give it to your Mom for Mother's day. Remember..it's NOt that different from wearing a bathrobe..be open minded..and hopefully you'll be rewarded with a new pleasure.

visit WhiskeyRebel.com for more info

.