Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archives
8-3-06 to 11-23-06
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since 05/28/01
11/23/06
Marla and I are not having a traditional Thanksgiving feed; Elvis will be consuming vittles with his future inlaws in San Antonio. We were kindly invited, but we're opting to bunk in a cheap motel in Austin near the Continental club where Wayne Hancock will be having his annual post-turkey trot show. I've missed a couple, but really enjoy the relaxed non-nightclub atmosphere of these shows so we're gonna chow down somewhere in A-town and let Wayne entertain us. I need to wind down for finals and this is a good chance to.
Anyway, Elvis and his fiancé came by tonight to have some drinks and have a pre-Thanksgiving feed. I wound up being the primary chef. I found a lovely 4 pound "eye of round" hunk of beef, marinated it for 20 hours in balsamic vinegar, low sodium soy sauce, tons of garlic and of course non-salt spices. It came out fork tender. I wasn't shooting for any heat or exotic flavor...just 100% pure-dee COW. I made up a big batch of Idaho russet creamy mashers with a whole head of garlic, whipping cream, a stick of low sodium butter and a cup and a half of parmesan cheese we freshly grated ( yeah, a medium sodium cheese...a concession to a holiday meal). Romaine lettuce salads and carrots and mazatlan sweet onions that were cooked in the oven juices.
Elvis's main squeeze baked up two killer pies: a pecan fudge and a buttermilk ( never had one before) that kicked ass. A pre-holiday call came in from Brother Jeff Clayton whose been hard to get ahold of. He's doing fine.
The Melvin's road show has a couple days off. Buzz told me they're going to be bunking in Amarillo for a couple nights for a rest that includes a trip to a hardcore, infamous steakhouse that I'm sure the Funk family has been to a zillion times. Good for them. I hope they visit the double-cross ranch while they're up there.
I hope those of you who aren't deserving of abuse from mouthy relatives settle in somewhere else for some chow. If you live in big cities Asian restaurants are always high percentage places to go for food and drinks on Thanksgiving. MAKE SURE they have a bar and stay open late and you'll probably have a good time. I speak from experience. Hey, nothing beats a #3 combo platter washed down by a half dozen bourbon and waters; or perhaps a Vietnamese beef stew joint where you can guzzle a bushel of beers to put out the fire.
If you're going to visit relatives, good luck. It can sometimes work out and be a lot of damned fun. Just don't let yourself get pushed around by brow-beating kinfolk. Buy alcohol EARLY AND OFTEN if you drink.
REMEMBER: You can't choose your relatives, but you can choose your vices...whether they be liquid, or something meant to be smoked, snorted, swallowed, smeared or crammed down your gullet with a fork.
May the bird of happiness crap on your enemies hollow noggin while you sleep face-up, arms akimbo, ball sack empty with a holiday, "day-off" grin on your mug.
11/21/06
I finally got the last of my many papers due finished. The Bukowski paper turned out to be 8 pages and took a lot of time...the Porter Wagoner piece won the fucking prize though...12 goddamned pages.
Only 3-5 pages were required, but as the man said we needed to COVER THE SUBJECT even if it took 100 pages. Now I'm glad I had the sense not to tackle Hank.,,
I bet there's a few students in dorm rooms scattered around the campus who tried to tackle Johnny Cash and are now crying uncontrollably realizing the nature of their fuck-up.
Me? My paper is due at my class that starts in 90 minutes. I have the paper, it's printed. Even if I have a flat tire I can take the shuttle bus.
But, my brain is as dead as a petrified crowder pea. Hell, my I.Q. has dipped at least temporarily to the point where I must be down to YOUR level.
I think I'll just skip class, say fuck the paper...slip off my sweat pants and sit here and play with myself until Marla comes home and yells at me. The cats are telling me to do that....UUHHHHHH...what? They want mee too fed tHame 1sTttt. O.k....giys. lits gOOoooo...................WWhhhhhee........itSssss daaa Wubbaaa Wooooommmmmmmmm........mooon, juNne scpoon, moon DDoooom prooooon;
11/18/06
It was a helluva lot of fun playing shows with Thee Melvins Thursday and Friday night. Marla says I gave false and incorrect information in an earlier entry about the date of one of the shows...oh well. Fucking shoot me.
The Thursday night show in San Antonio was good by the standards we're used to attendance wise, but so-so for the Melvins tour. The show in Austin though SOLD OUT the joint. Something like 1,000 paid. Shit.
I felt honored we were on the bill. They don't exactly need opening acts and have used few on this tour I am told. Big Business and Men of Porn both feature members of the Melvins band and crew. It's like a sort of traveling high volume cavalcade of thrills show, fully intact. If you get a chance to see the last segment of this tour get out and do so.
We get treated like dirt so often ( yeah, yeah, we ask for it sometimes ) it's nice to play shows like these. The entire goddamned entourage of musicians and crew were like a big cuddly family in a warped way. No, they're not sissies and mollycoddles. Just quality men with friendly attitudes to go along with professional skills from the merch and technical guys to the musicians.
Marla had an especially great time. She's seen and heard so much bullshit over the years where we've played in so many instances that it's nice to see her have a really goddamned good time.
I have no idea what was said behind the scenes or implied, but we were treated really decently by the staffs of both clubs. We had the run of the facilities for the most part, no arguments. I was treated like an endangered species musical veteran rather than a run of the mill scumbag. Yeah, yeah. we've been treated well before in various places where we're highly regarded on both coasts but not often enough in Texas to be honest. I do understand that as a heel band that's to be expected to some extent.
I must've had 20 people in Austin alone ask me why we don't play there more often, as if it's a matter of choice?!?!?! They have no clue the kiss-ass games you need to go through to do so...and we're not having any part of that. There are scores of bands willing to play for free for "exposure" in Austin; that clearly impacts us. We're not gonna give it away and bend over for the satisfaction of pulling the curtain for a bunch of local jack-offs who live close enough so they can schmooze the club bookers.
If Austin doesn't "like us", why do I sell so much merch there?
It's the bookers and not the music fans, that's clear.
Anyway, the Melvins set in Austin probably cracks the top 10 of musical sets I've ever seen ( you know, Fats Domino and Jayne County are #1 and #2 ). I got to watch it from behind the stage which is my favorite vantage point as a veteran "hobby" musician. Of course you know how good Buzz is; he's a man of vision and XLNT taste. Impeccable timing and prescense as a musician. The bass player was great....he looks like Bluto from the Popeye cartoons sort of and plays through a mountain of cabinets. The knockout blow was provided by TWO drummers, Dale and Coady...who pounded in unison creating a turmoil like I've never heard. It was pretty damned good in San Antonio the way they played in unison with exotic large kits...but they ripped in Austin. I've seen a few drumming duos in my time, several as a matter of fact ranging from jazz to pop to punk rock. These guys were the best I've seen in person.
They were handsome too. UUrrppp.
Most drummers shouldn't even try it.
I got to see some people in Austin I haven't seen in a while including Justin from Buzzcrusher. That was fun. He was working security and appeared capable of administering a smackdown on anybody deserving it.
I personally tried to break my "empty stomach whiskey shot drinking" record in San Antonio. I came close. I didn't pay for a one of 'em, it just happened. I drank quite a few and maybe a so-so number of beers ( I don't count, 15?) but didn't get drunk and suffered no hangover.I didn't even passout on the way home riding shotgun. I forgot to wear my earplugs though for a half dozen songs of our set...UURRRPppp...........
11/15/06
It's very strange that as I immerse myself into writing my final papers for this frigging "come-back" semester of higher education I'll be writing about familiar favorites of mine. I've listened to Porter Wagoner's music for many, many damn years usually shitfaced. Of course I've read Bukowski for even longer a period of time never having the slightest notion I'd have to prove my appreciation for his work on paper.
In both cases I'm concerned about doing my best work and full of anxiety, but interestingly Marla who knows me obviously pretty well just laughs that end of it off. She's probably right...but what the hell; these papers aren't part of some drunken early morning revelry, they're being submitted for credit in advanced collegiate courses where you need to back up what the fuck you say. If I could bring the Professors over to my house for a night of boozing and deliver my thoughts in an aural whiskey breathed impromptu rant I'd do fine. That won't do though.
I feel perfectly comfortable writing about shit I'm not that serious about. For the sake of being pragmatic and going for a grade I should have maybe written about a singer and a writer I'm not so personally into but understand.
I'm pretty sure the key to doing these guys justice is to get in the mood by dunking myself into their work again as a refresher course. This can be done 3 sheets to the bloody wind..which I'm working on right now.
If I had to generalize about the most common writing mistake I've noticed on the part of students I've talked to it's without a doubt their lack of ability to get down on paper a personal take on a subject. I've gotten primarily A's because I've been able to do that. I've written about stuff I've been mildly amused by for the most part. Can I tackle the big boys?
We'll see....it'll be over very soon. The papers are due within about 5 days.
Readers of this diary will notice a shifting away from my b.s. about my university experiences. For 6 weeks or so that is. I'm already enrolled for the Spring term.
I still have to survive 2-3 weeks of this sack of woe though.
Ahhhhggh. I'll be dedicating the next couple days to our shows with the Melvins Thursday night in San Antonio and Friday at Emo's ( outdoor stage ) in Austin. It'll be good to see Buzz and do a couple back to back shows. I'll have to remember to bring my new, fancy batch of LOVELY PINK GIRLY protective EAR PLUGS!!!! YES!!! Are you sure Hank done it this way?
11/14/06
I know I'll be in the minority on this one, but I say FUCK Borat. The advirtisement clips on TV look dumb to me. I've asked a couple avid movie goers I know for some sort of explanation; they gave it there best shot but didn't convince me it's anything more than a trendy millionaire comedian doing a hokey ethnic schtick for 2 hours.
A quick check on the internet lead me to a couple suggestions that this film works the same territory that one of my favorites Phil Hendrie does, so shouldn't I love it?
Nnnaahhhh. Not so fast. The only people who get ridiculed on Hendrie's show are people who call in and ask to talk on the radio. There's a difference there. I don't like it when people approach me in what Uncle Anton LaVey referred to as "neutral territory". Sorry Mark; what this millionaire comedian is doing violates this satanic concept.
I really despise the human species. I don't recognize the people who leave the theatre feeling smug as being one bit superior to the "dumb rubes" the millionaire comedian exploits.
The main reason I'm not going to see it though is that it just doesn't seem funny to me, the TV commercials OR the clever over the top one liners quoted in reviews on the net.
Really though, if you think you'll enjoy it...go see it ten times...more power to you. Buy a DVD of out-takes. It's not like there's some sort of right or wrong when it comes to judging films or bands or paintings or other artistic expressions. It's all a matter of opinion...and now you all have mine.
11/11/06
I'm sucking downing my first Budweiser after spending the entire fucking day writing. Hell, except for practicing last night down in San Antonio for our shows with the Melvins ( on Thursday the 17th in San Antonio at the White Rabbit..on Friday the 17th at Emo's..both shows will start early, and we're almost certainly playing first..so be there early and buy me beers early and often ) the whole bloody weekend was devoted to writing. I edited and finished writing the 7th and 8th papers of the term for my Fine Arts class. I'm 4 pages into Porter Wagoner, but can envision a problem; it's supposed to be a 5-8 pager and I haven't even got him to Nashville yet. Shit, I'm long winded when it comes to Porter.
I haven't started my Bukowski paper. I've already cleared it with the instructor that I'm going to ( as a sort of wacky stunt perhaps ) attempt to simulate Bukowski's writing atmosphere in my home. I'll fire up a stogie ( uhh..outdoors ) imbibe freely of whiskey and beer, have the classical radio station playing and bring the cats into the room. I'll just let it flow and see where his trappings take it. Then, the next day I'll get up from the floor and see what i've got. I'll likely preserve it even if it's gibberish and comment on the results in additional pages done using my normal boring methods.
Sorry, I usually write sober now except for these diary entries..which explains why they can get repetitive and dull. After 3 years of solid chess steady and 12 weeks of college classes I can barely remember the names of the cats and...the name of that broad that sleeps a few hours per night in my bedroom...Darla? Starla? My brains full. So, I sure as hell can't remember much about what I write here and how often I have devoted time to the topic.
Hell, I have to look at the toilet paper roll to tell whether I need to take a shit.
I forgot something about one of our songs at practise last night..or was it that other practice..or Friday night? Urpp....what was it I was trying to say. Hi...who are you?
My name is Ed, may I help you?
11/07/06
I'm upset. I seem to have lost my ability to drink beer without spilling some on my beard several times per refreshment session. I think my goatee runs about 5-6 inches or so these days. I'm not sure why the length of it has anything to do with why in the hell I'd spill beer in it? Why does suds aimed down my MOUTH wind up several inches lower? I don't remember sloshing beer on my chin when I was clean shaven?!?
I'm just now getting over my cold. I wrote 13-14 pages last weekend under the full-on effects of a bad one; maybe I should expose myself to another or maybe a relapse so I can write a few papers this weekend?
My upcoming Porter Wagoner history class quality paper is bound to be a real toughy. Maybe I should try for a case of the flu to boost my writing abilities?
UURRppp.
I was so out of it Monday...in a stupor hacking like mad from my cold. Still, I showed up to my classes like the martyr that I am. I got out of my 2nd class at noon and waited around reading before my 3rd class of the day. At 12:50 I rushed into the class so I could get one of the good seats with a roller style chair and a huge amount of desk space. HA HA I cackled. I opened my book and read smugly. After a bit I wondered why nobody else had showed up yet. 10 minutes later, no one was there still. About 8 minutes after the class should have started I was still in an empty room. FUCK!!!! I realized then that there wasn't going to be any class that day; the Prof. had a dental appointment.
I trudged to the shuttlebus stop. It just goes to show you what starts to happen to we chessplayers who gain strength late in life; it just means your brain power in some other area is going to get lopped off......
HEY, RAW sucked on Monday night...but Britney's hubbie once again delivered a better heel schtick promo than 99% of the guys on their payroll..in spite of the usual stupid whiteboy rapper pop culture horseshit hand gestures..anybody agree??
11/02/06
My country music history class is not a "fluff" course. The standards are higher than I expected. I got an "A" on the mid-term, but not by much of a margin.
I've been aware of the fact that I'd be called upon to write a major paper. Hey, it's a frigging upper division history department course...not a community college circle-jerk.
I need to pick a subject to devote 5-8 pages of serious work to. It's got to be somebody "pre-1980". I'd write about an obscure talent..or even a semi-obscure one...but what the hell? I've been given only 3 weeks to create this paper in. And, I need to footnote it..thoroughly document my sources of information. It's not like I can just get sauced and start rambling a load of inspired hoo hah.
So who do I write about? I wrote on my midterm about Jimmie Rodgers. That's enough of him ( thanks for the "a" Jimmie). I've got Hank Sr. tattoo'd on my arm. The Prof loves it..but shit, I can't write just 5-8 pages and do Hank justice.
Johnny Paycheck is more deserving of a nice academic paper than any country legend I can think of...but he crosses too heavily over the 1980 timeline.
Lefty Frizell? Ernest Tubb? Bob Wills? Shit, I can't write anything new about any of the Texas guys. The instructor Kent hung out with Tubb on his bus for a fact...and might've met Lefty too. He sure as hell knew a handful of Will's Texas Playboys. I need to pick somebody apart from the Texas scene he didn't know intimately.
I'm about 99% sure I'm going to tackle one of all time favorites from any genre period..the mighty PORTER WAGONER. Why the hell not? I own one thick biography on him and know there's lots of periodical pieces from the 60's I can dig up. I have a few vhs tapes of his TV shows and at least 50 of his Lp's. If I miss an aspect of Porter's greatness it won't likely stand out so much as if he were a Texan. He's sure as hell deserving.
I don't have long to shilly-shally with my thumb up my ass deliberating. I need to complete something like 40-50 pages of papers and columns by the middle of the month. SHIT. College isn't for mollycoddles.
11/01/06
A Whiskey Rebel review: BLOWFLY "Blowfly's punk rock party" CD ( Alternative tentacles label ).
I don't rate cd's here with stars, but if I did..this'd get an unequivocal "5/5". Blowfly is a living legend who is as mighty a force in his corner of the musical world as Hank William's Sr. was in his. He's the King of the X-rated party-song. There have been others who have boomed forth from my rumpus room stereo speakers ( such as Doug Clark and his mighty band ) but Blowfly's recordings over the years have always stood up well to repeated listenings and seem genuinely and pleasantly twisted as opposed to being merely pleasantly naughty.
I have little time to mollycoddle prudes. If you can't handle nasty motherfucking lyrics and uninhibited filthy fun this isn't for you...and never will be. If you're like me and wallow in this sort of thing..join the party. GO hunt this son of a bitch down.
In the spirit and tradition of a lifetime of making albums wherein Mr. Blowfly shoves his pecker in the mouth of one area of sub-genre of popular music or another, he has now tackled punk rock old and new with this 25 track spew. Those of you who have thrilled to his live show over the last couple years may have heard a few of these: "I wanna fuck your dog" "V.D. party" "should I fuck this big fat ho?" "R. Kelly in Cambodia" and of course "I wanna be fellated".
If you hate top 40 commercial rap like me,,,don't worry. This has nothing to do with that. You will LAUGH YOUR FUCKING ASS off if you have a sense of humor.
Better order a couple extra copies...X-mas is coming up and it'd make a perfect gift for the filthy perv's in your life. FREE YOUR ASS...and YOUR MIND WILL FOLLOW....Viva BLOWFLY.
10/30/06
A good weekend and Monday. Saturday Marla and I headed to a frigging art museum in San Antonio so I could write another critique for my fine arts class. When I saw an exhibit I liked my brain clicked on and I was able to ask myself many, many questions about the work of a painter who seems to focus on incredibly realistic paintings all centered on a chunk of property with scenic views and various buildings. It seems like he's spent the bulk of his life getting down his immediate surroundings. I liked it. I don't know dick about painting..but, so what? Appreciating art is all about relaxing and letting your imagination go.
After that we went to the house the Texas Stud is living at ( the longterm digs of Derrick from Shit ) and spent several hours drinking and yakking with him and Marilyn the mighty bassplayer from their band Pillcrusher. I rarely get to simply sit and talk to people I respect. I actually had the most fun I've had in weeks. Whatever happened to the fine art of boozy conversation? It's alive and well down in Bexar county at least.
The next day I studied for a German quiz I took today ( I think I got an "A" ) in the afternoon and then decided to give Marla a break on her day off and head up to the Austin chess club to watch the 2nd round of a tournament. We've figured out that when she has 2 days off back to back it's best if she has one mostly to herself. Nothing wrong with that. Folks hoping to make a relationship last, make a note of that. We've been together for 29 years due to our being able to enjoy time apart.
Most tournament players don't spend 5 minutes per year watching other people play serious, slow rated games. I love it. I really got off on the psychology and expressions on the players faces as their games went well or poorly. I figure I'm best off studying ahead of time for a test and letting nature take it's course rather than burning the suckass midnight oil cramming for it. My results seem to agree with my instincts.
I drove home from the chess club and started pouring down beers with reckless abandon playing Tiger Woods PS2 until I was sleepy and climbed in the rack.
Of course I talk to fellow students who stay up all night before a test and are convinced that pills will keep them stay productively awake and help them do better. I'd guess from my casual observation about 1/3rd of them benefit from that approach and 2/3rd's are fooling themselves. I'm not making a moral judgement about pills. I didn't react well to them when I took them years ago ( crosstops, etc. ) when I was in the inventory biz. That could be because I'm just a big pussy. Then again, they could be overated ( my opinion ) or they could be great for some users.
If I thought a pill would actually work and keep me awake without side effects, I'd take it. Until that pill is marketed either over or under the table I'll stick to beer and a 4:00 night of sleep.
We've got a Rancid Vat practice lined up for Thursday. We've got 2 ( count 'em ) shows with the Melvins booked for Nov. 16th and 17th in San Antonio and Austin. We'll be going on early since we're playing in big rooms pulling the curtain..the Melvins pack a mighty box office wallop by my standards. It'll be fun to see ol' Buzz. If you live in Texas and are one of those people who travel from other cities occasionally to see us, I'd suggest coming on down ( or up or over ). The Melvins are a relentless rock and roll act AND rank highly in my book as true innovators. Leaders, not followers. We never have graced a stage with them even though our bands began in the lovely Pacific northwest within a couple years of one another. I know the turf well that they started out in..western Washington. Rough blue collar towns. Dying mills and lots of crankhead freaks with bad teeth. Aged "muscle" cars with cheesy letter tires. Ranier beer comes out H-E-R-E!!
Yeah. The thrift stores in those towns smell really bad probably still to this day. People speak in Southern accents even though they've never left the State in their entire lifetime. It's a far cry from trendy Seattle. UURRPP. That suits me.
10-26-06
I survived a few days of unrelenting academic brutality. I don't know what grade I got on my political science midterm yet. I felt really well prepared but of course was tired as shit. Oh well, that's what it's all about. The strains put upon you in college are a preview of the "real" world. Everything can seem deceptively simple and smooth until a gut check tough day comes along. Either rise to the occasion, or prepare your slurpy-pulling technique for 7-11.
I found out tonight that I've achieved my frigging chess goal since I was a teenager: an official "expert" rating. There's a sort of slight catch..it's not a rating from the USCF which is the governing chess body here..it's from FIDE which is the world chess federation. They don't rate mickey mouse local touraments. I played in my first FIDE rated event in Vegas last June and upset a master from Germany in the first round. I wound up with an initial FIDE rating of "2057" which is over the expert level of "2000". 1) I'm well aware that if I don't play well at my next FIDE rated event it'll come crashing down. 2) Yeah, it's just a number...if my skills don't live up to it I don't deserve it. Still, it's enough that here I am glugging down Beam shots over the news ( I just found out ) a mere 7 hours before by German class.
It's not a bad idea to set goals for yourself in this stinking life. To achieve your first expert level chess rating at the age of 49 is jolly. It runs against the grain of conventional chess progress. I'm supposed to be sinking like a stone ability wise. I guess I'm just a late bloomer.
Really, I'm like a baseball player batting .300 for the first time in his life...but it's only June. Still....
I can't wait to see how my academic study techniques which have been sharpened up a lot will impact my chess game. It's got to help.
Oh well.....I'll still be the same booze sucking s.o.b. whether I have new business cards laminated up including the "FIDE expert" tag or not. If I do I can certainly present myself as a worthy chess teacher and give lessons to some kids.
"Expert" level may have been one of my long term goals, but it's not my final goal. I still fucking want to hit the master level which is "2200". Experts seem like pussies to me now. I've beaten my share. Fuck 'em. I'll shoot for 2200 thank you. Even if I get there I'll still be a clueless patzer compared to stronger senior masters and titled international masters and grandmasters. Those guys flick experts off their sleeves like pesky mosquitos. Oh well. If you hit 2200 for 5 minutes you're breathing air breathed by one out of several thousand players I suppose. What the hell.
I'd feel silly crowing about my new FIDE rating if I hadn't been able to write in detail about my losses to 10-11 year old kids. I've earned it by bouncing back from the agony of defeat damnit. UURRRPPPPPPP........
10/24/06
I don't really have time to be focusing on this, but I can't help it. The speech pattern I hear females at the University use is driving me apeshit. I couldn't quite put my finger on why it bothered me, but a 12 minute busride I just took in which I kept score allowed me to figure it out.
What I want to know is whether this is a local English language bastardization or regional or national. Here's some open ended sentences that I heard from SIX females in close proximity to me. NOTE! The word "like" is the obvious culpret.
"So like I ______"
"He was like _______"
" It was like _____"
"Like I was ______"
"It was so like ______"
and my favorite...the double whammy "like"
"and like I like _____" or "it was like..like ______"
Who is their role model? Do guys ever talk like this? Doesn't anybody else feel spiritually whipped hearing these broads talk like this? Do they make a conscious effort to jabber the word "like" in every sentence, or have they picked it up from those around them?
I need to know. Your help is requested.
10/23/06
If I can survive until Wednesday at about 2:00 p.m. I'll feel relieved. College isn't for pinks or mollycoddles. I've noticed that several good people I used to talk to from my classes have simply vanished. They're gone. Kaput. Down the fucking drain...at least until next term.
It's tough to survive. I have 3 things to do at the same time Wednesday at around 8-9 a.m.
I have to register on the internet at home for classes for the next term that begins in January. As a senior I have a priority spot in line if I log on at exactly 8:00 a.m. I've been told by several people you need to load the data onto the screen and push the "enter" button at the stoke of acht uhr morgens. If I get it entered by 8:15 ( viertel nacht acht uhr ) I'll be happy. If there's a technical problem, I'm simply screwed. The classes I need will be filled before I get another chance.
Unfortunately, I have a German class at 9:00 a.m. that I should be at. There's a couple tests next week. And, worse yet I have a Political science exam ( 1 of 4 ) at 1:00. I need to be boning up for it. To complicate things further I have classes tommorow on the eve of the registration at 9:00 a.m., 2:00 p.m. and a night class lasting until 9:15 p.m. tomorrow night. I'll be beat to shit by the time I get home. I've got to get drunk fast and hope to fall asleep for the chaotic Wednesday. No time for study really unless I want my brain to explode like an elephant stomping on a tube of hemeroidal cream.
After the Wednesday afternoon Poly Sci test I'll come straight home, knock back exactly 2 measured shots and take a nap. As a low sodium diet freak I'll only be eating tuna sandwiches and bannanas and juice with vitamins for a couple days. No time to shop and prepare a real meal from scratch. Marla works 11 hours per day. She's got it worse than me.
TOUGH SHIT, though. I've had plenty of work schedules over the years that were worse for months on end. I hope I don't snap. But, as Billy S. wrote "if wishes were horses beggars would ride".
Elvis has a healthy load of classes ( he rarely misses any ) and works 32 - 40 hours per week as a chef and will soon add on student teaching at the local high school.
It was a bizarre jolt seeing him today on campus. There's 27,000 students and I've only seen him one other time. I was walking with a guy from my German class having a chat about things and..there he was. It was strange. I had forgotten he existed. My own Son.
It's hard to explain. He looked like hell and I told him so..but in the way I'd tell another one of my student chums.
The Gideon's set up a card table loaded with new testicle-ments to give away on campus today. I was approached twice with "hey Mr. would you like a bible?" by stiffs wearing suits that made them stand out. I shrugged the first time and kept walking. The second time I spontaneously busted out in my best Fonzie "AYYYYYY?" implying that was ridiculous. They didn't press it. I saw discarded new testaments everywhere I looked all day long.
I enjoy such atheist outbursts at a school loaded with so many lukewarm, white products of christian upbringings. The story I wrote about church camp and submitted to my writing workshop went over really well in spite of this. I thought they'd grill me really good. A few of the girls eyed me and avoided commenting on it in the detailed discussion that ensued, but the rest of the class applauded it as a full blown, complete story ( a rarity in the class ). One guy said he was going to name his next band after a phrase I used in the story: "unholy hard-on" describing my being in a state of arrousal during a camp revival meeting. I hope he uses it. Seriously though, if they had torn it to pieces I would've understood. This is Texas where god and football reign supreme ( not neccessarily in that order ).
Shit. I better try to get some damned sleep.
10/20/06
OK, I know nobody's going to listen to me on this one..what the fuck.
I got to thinking about the official Texas State song "Texas our Texas". It's pretty clear that it's an outmoded martial Sunday school reject ditty. It's the sort of song you'd expect from Idaho or Iowa.
The fellow teaching my country music history class Kent ( who has met more legendary musicians than you can shake a damned stick at from Ernest Tubb to the Texas Playboys ) has pointed this out and suggests "the yellow rose of Texas" or "deep in the heart of Texas".
Being admitedly inebriated but endowed with "clarity of vision" I've got a better song to suggest than those. No, it's not the rousing "T for Texas" blue yodel by Jimmie Rodgers. It's a song that wasn't even a hit by the late great aforementioned Mr. Ernest Tubb. A song that received so many requests at his shows that it amazed a lot of people "waltz across Texas".
There's a magic to the damned song and a lilt to Tubb's voice that is irresistable. I think it could be sung by ordinary morons at public functions. Could kids sing it? Well, the current Texas song is a stiff, outmoded plaster of paris hunk of dookie. An aural chocolate hotdog. They can sing "waltz.." at least as easily.
The song represents the charms of our great dancehall tradition. Ernest Tubb was a topnotch Texan. A great man and a stunning songwriter. Plus, he packed one of Jimmie Rodgers guitars around with him his entire life (given to him by Jimmie's widow Karrie ).
Ernest Tubb to me wins by a nose talent wise against other great Uber Texan's such as Bob Wills, Hank Thompson, George Jones, Waylon Jennings and Lefty Frizell. That's just the cream of the crop. I could name 20 other Texas musicians approaching their ability.
Tubb whips all of their fanny's. He's our "Hank" ( William's Sr. that is ). Ernest Tubb spanks Johnny Cash and even Webb Pierce. "Waltz across Texas" should be our damned Texas State song....go listen to it a few times and then send me your thoughts....UURRPPPP.
10/18/06
I had a rough frigging time at my classes today. I didn't get much sleep at all. The beer was going doing very nicely. I have a hard time still getting to sleep early. I didn't drop off untill 3:30 a.m. at least. I woke up just a tad bit drunk still. I hoped a vigorous tooth brushing would cover it in my early German class. It's a small room and we talk back and forth for most of the hour. It's the wrong class to be tanked up in, even though the prof is a German bier loving Oktoberfest enthusiast.
Ich trinke gern bier! Ich habe eine katze. Er hat kurzes schwartz haar. Er nicht gern bier.
My second class Ifelt a little bit better. I had my 3rd cup of coffee of the day. Unfortunately, coffee can backfire on me..and it did during my 3rd class. I tried to take notes but my writing just trailed off in mid sentences.
Afterwards I trudged to the bus eager to make it home, Of course whenever I'm tired and grouchy I always manage to sit near at least a couple rude cell phone yakkers blathering away about idiotic horseshit in loud voices oblivious to their own pathetic dialogue.
When I got home I needed a nap. But, as often happens I needed a beer even more. It's the way of the drunk; we suffer through a hellish day swearing we'll get some sleep when we get home....if we make it..if we just make it through the work shift or school. PLEASE...let me make it..I'll go home and sleep properly.
Funny how once we get home those icey jeweled bottles in the fridge look so good. So, you get started and don't want to stop. UUrrpp.
I take a couple beers to bed with me That usually works. I drop off a lot quicker having a couple frosties on the nightstand.I woke up in the early evening and saw that Mr. Jinx had puked in 7 different spots on our linoleum. I tossed newspaper down over the little yellow pools of chunky spew. Hey, I couldn't find a mop.
I tried to watch a little boob tube, but gave up quickly. Seeing Bill O'Reilly argue with Rosie O'Donnell was uninspiring. YAWN. The food channel has recently been obsessed with all these fucking cake bakeoff, jerkoff contests. I can't bake and have a hard time relating to the tempermental twits that enter these things. No world series game to watch. No wrestling to be jaded about.
Oh well. It was back to the books. I studied hard for a few hours instead. Marla came home from work and cleaned up the cat barf. I'm not sure where she found a mop. Maybe she used paper towels or coffee filters. Now I'm about to repair to the PS2 Tiger Woods where I'm about to play round 4 of a tournament at a Greek golf course that always kicks my ass. Will I manage to get a decent night of sleep this time? I doubt it...
10/16/06
A Whiskey Rebel review: The SWINO'S "piss drunk and spinnin"
Goddamn, do you like relentless hard rock loaded with dapper guitar riffs and balls-on-fire vocals? I do. The Swino's hail from the blue collar portion of the Puget sound South of fad music oriented Seattle. 40 miles makes all the difference. No lip service to fashion here..just straight forward pounding and fun.
The Swino's aren't burdened with the trappings and gimmickry toted by punk or metal bands. They play as energetically though as the best of what you'll find these days from either genre. NO BALLADS...NO DRUM SAMPLES. This isn't an "alternative" band. They just kick ass with a heavy emphasis on fast songs. The production is professional, but not excessive. The singer belts out the songs as if he's on stage.
I'm sorry; the band didn't provide a lyric sheet. The songs titles should give you an idea of what the words are or aren't all about: "blowin' off steam" "snake" "fuck or fight" "out of my skin" "MPH". HHmm. Doesn't sound like the basis for a poetry recital, eh? These are odes to the sicker pleasures of Pacific Northwest blue collar living at it's finest. These songs are about SINNING..living life to it's fullest. Non-partisan fun and debauchery...overall DISSIPATION, DAMNIT!! My old pal Mike Schuppe is one of the guitar players in this outfit ( I played with him on the "Conqueror Worm" and "Big Red Goad" cd's). He can play many styles..but 99% of the time on this cd he's simply blazing away with the rest of the band. Over the years he's played with a lot of people, but this outfit takes the fucking cake.This is refreshingly BALLSY in a no nonsense way like so many great bands from Australia for instance.
I'm not gonna introduce the whole band here...go to their damned website "www.swinos.com" where they do it better. Order a frigging cd while you're there.
Final thoughts: this is the audio equivalent of a 12 pack of Ranier beer in 16 ounce bottles..why? Both are damned heavy but refreshing.
10/15/06
We went to see Wayne Hancock at his "cd release" show last night at the Continental club in Austin. I'm glad there wasn't a load of breast beating festivites or midgets shot through cannons ( well, on the other hand..) to commemorate the new cd. Wayne's music is at the top of my list for the "country" genre and I enjoy the way he overlaps into other musical territories such as swing, rockabilly and early rock and roll. REMEMBER! Back about 55 years ago these genres overlapped in honkytonks all over the country on a nightly basis. Many bands that try to play a diverse ( I hate that word..sorry) batch of sounds wind up coming up short on getting the beat or the feel down.
Wayne Hancock's own personal way of doing things simply absorbs all those sub genres like a wad of Sillyputty rolling over the colored funny pages of a Sunday newspaper. Lux Interior from the Cramps can pull that off too. Link Wray could've played "3 blind mice" or "Mary had a little lamb" and pulled it off..and so could Wayne or Lux ( uhh..Blowfly too using his x-rated methods).
The new cd is titled "Tulsa" and you'd best go out and buy a copy, unless you're one of those people playing the same 20 cd's over and over again until you die or lose interest in music.
Representatives of the growing cultural phenomna group I refer to as "mouthy bar cunt's" or "M.B.C.'s" were well represented last night at the club. They stand out yammering away close to the stage about their dull lives and whatever else strikes them as amusing.
A great jazz legend bass man Leroy Vinegar once told Marla that you'll find a higher incidence of imbeciles jabbering away in clubs when the music is neither TOO LOUD for them to grunt and cackle over nor TOO SOFT for them to be heard blatantly 50 feet away.
At the club last night the M.B.C.'s trying to ruin my night competed with the music in about a 6-8 foot radius.
As I've pointed out, if M.B.C.'s were men they'd get their blacks knocked off once in awhile or at least be given some menacing glances. Since they're women and therefore off limits for men to deal with the only way they're gonna shut the fuck up that I know of is if a gutsy woman tells them to shut their yaps.
It just so happens that I'm a big fan of the strong sort of women who wouldn't back down from doing that. I married one and have been glad to know many others over the years. It's time some of you tough broads started dishing up a few lessons to M.B.C.'s in your community's. It's a problem that's getting way out of hand. With "Sex and the city" so heavily in re-runs all over several cable networks the problem isn't going to go away anytime soon unless there's a grassroots movement directed against them.
And in case you think I'm a "Sexist pig", I'll be happy to point out that I know plenty of women who are just as disgusted by M.B.C.'s as me. Also, I'll be the first to admit that they're only being as obnoxius as men have been in bars for years; the difference is it's fair games for we men to call them on it.
I'm too much a sensitive gentleman to deal directly with M.B.C.'s. I just try to walk away whenever possible. I don't believe in upsetting women in public much less lay one of them out with a backhand slap.
I almost blew my stack at a Chinese buffet the other night though. This wasn't a case of M.B.C.'s. It was a case of several screeching....S-C-R-EEEEEEEEEE-CHHHHING babies and toddlers running amok going "OOhhhh oohh Woohhh wahhh...WWWAAAHHH!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKK". They were almost as annoying as the M.B.C.'s, but of course they're tiny children and you can sort of excuse them.
It was a rare once per month or so trip to a restaurant where I was permitting myself to eat normal, sodium laced food. Right as I was eating a final bowl of softserve ice cream one of the cherubs who had been screeching like a fucking MONKEY for 15 minutes let out a big one.....AAWWWGGGWWWHHHWWWGGEEEEEEEHHHHCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHH!!!"
I threw down my spoon making a loud sound that silenced the whole restaurant instantly. You could hear a pin drop. I uttered my own existentialist cry..: "AAWWWWWGGGGGhhh"....
When it trailed off I got to my feet gave Marla my "we're leaving...NOW!" glare and stomped to the cash register. The poor guy taking money asked me if everything was all right. I said "NO!". He apologized...and I calmly told him it wasn't his fault...it was the braindead parents..(who hadn't made any sort of reaction to their brat brood at all that I could see. They had just sat calmly in front of dirty plates quietly visiting..unphased by the bedlam. Well, of course..they're used to it). Anyway, I told the guy nicely we'd see him next time.
Walking through the parking lot I briefly thought back to those blissful days last Spring when I was totally deaf..AAHHH.
10/11/06
Somebody asked me if I'm still reviewing cd's since I'm a student now. The answer is very much yes. I have about 4 reviews of new releases to put up one day soon.
That query made me realize that..SHIT...my college semester will be over in 6 weeks or so...well, add a week for finals. I'm just getting used to it all. I'll be registering for the winter / spring semester in 10 days or so. Since I'll be easily passing all of my courses this time (knock on wood...I'll be getting decent grades unless I collapse) if I do the same the next semester I'll be very, very close to earning my degree. The time consuming course is German. I've got to take 4 semesters of it. The last couple I'll take with a smaller class load unless some tempting History or writing courses are offered. Maybe I'll take a work study job at the same time.
Longtime friends and readers may want to know that I now realize my true vocational calling..what I should have steered for in the late 70's. I should have aimed to work in some sort of library situation probably behind the scenes. Maybe at a large museum with an archival wing. I'm good with old stuff, filing systems and tedious bookish crap that drives most people nuts. Hey, I'm a chess player. My work in the title insurance industry dealt with maps, records, documents, etc. I did pretty well there. Of course I'm likely blackballed from the biz after what I did in the last section of "Jobjumper"....eh?
Maybe I should use my degree to wrangle a tour guide spiel deliverer job at a historical site like the LBJ ranch or the Alamo. HHmmm.
Then again, I could always switch to bartending classes.
Decisions decisions.
Of course I still haven't managed to pass 4 semesters of German. That's the crucial class. If I get through that the rest is easy.
At Elvis's birthday drink-a-thon I got to see his pal Joe who is ahead of him academically by a year. He's student teaching at a high school in a ritzy neighborhood in Austin. He's kicking ass since he's dedicated to his chosen field (theatre). Elvis will be doing the same sort of thing in a year or so since he's getting a teaching certificate to accompany his theatre degree. Just like Joe he's intense and should do well.
Can I put a history degree to work for me? I dunno.
What the hell.....I might drop dead next week..low sodium diet or not.
Next Tuesday I'll get raked over the coals again in my writing class. I brought copies of a piece last class and I'm pretty sure the budding writers will largely be put off by the anti-religion "angry" voice. It's the story of my church camp experience. The worst week of my life. It's got some classic dialogue I must admit between me and a "youth" minister who was gunning for my soul. Of course I didn't crack or you wouldn't be reading this.
THAT calls for a few more beers and a round of Tiger Woods PS2 golf.
German phrase of the day: "Ich spiele gern schach"
10/10/06
The time honored tradition of two men with an axe to grind stepping out into the alley to settle things seems to be out of vogue...and I think that's bad. On one side we've got a youth culture that's been treated to the romanticized option of dragging guns into a dispute that could be solved with fists. On the other we have pacifists who either abhor violence or pretend to in the interest of affecting some sort of p.c. stance (I think a helluva lot more fall into the second category).
It's simple: you duke it out, one man stays down when he can't continue. The two hug or shake hands..and go back in the bar for a round of shots drank together. Sounds a lot easier to me than dragging guns or lawyers into the situation.
We've all seen instances in chat rooms in which some clown with no guts thinks he can snipe away endlessly at a public figure without risk of being called out.
I remember not long ago reading about an incident in which a guy was goaded into actually driving several hundred miles to settle up with some internet jackass. I've wanted to do that myself a few times, haven't you?
Wouldn't it be great if people had to post their real names to post messages on the internet? Yeah, yeah,...I'm sure my fellow Libertarian buddies would kick and scream..so let 'em. People should be identified with the slurs and insults they make on the net. If they had to ponder the possibility of a slandered dude showing up on their door step with his shirt sleeves rolled up ready to go fist city things might get more civil quickly.
Just a couple thoughts as I sit here drinking a few Bud's pondering the incident today on an international chess website in which a couple world class Grandmasters got into it and one guy called the other out and has been chastised for doing so. UURRppppp.
Today's German phrase from my studies: ICH TRINKE GERN BIER.
10/06/06
The school work is piling up around here. My days are jammed with classes, papers, studying and transport to and from the campus. I asked for it. I'm staying ahead of the deadlines when it comes to writing papers which means things will eventually slow down and become study oriented. I'm submitting my last creative piece for my writing class next Tuesday already. I chose to rework a chapter from an unpublished book concerning the worst week of my life: the week I spent at a church camp when I was 14.
One thing is for sure about Texas . They believe in god here as firmly as they believe in high school and college football. I mean, everybody seems to. The folks in my writing class seem to be fairly sophisticated compared to the general pool of obvious christers I see by the score daily. Still, I think they're mostly brainwashed beyond repair too. I feel like a pariah amongst them with my tendancy towards using profanity and scat-poo references. I'm the ANGRY guy. Hey, if I had an old man buying me a new vehicle every year and sending me monthly checks and paying the bills and pulling us out of jams I probably wouldn't have become so "angry" over the years.
In my eyes I'm not that angry. I'm REALISTIC. I've been shit on by life for quite a few years. When I write it's bound to show that..HEY! I'm fucking "ALIENATED". I'm more alienated as far as I can tell than most of the other students. I think a few of them are on the right path though. Of course being pissed off about humanity and life doesn't make me any happier, so the pampered and well adjusted students win.
I don't dislike them in spite of that, incidentally.
I'm just a bad seed..and it's my mission in life to challenge the religious notions of these kids with a story.
I heard a form of dialogue on the shuttle bus today that has irked me for years. A girl was loudly telling a half dozen others who looked just like her about her day. Her speech pattern was repetitive. She'd speak a couple sentences in her normal voice setting up several lines in a horrible sort of psuedo-imitation mockery. I'm sure you've heard a few women in your burg talk this way. "So I went to my science class. We had a mid-term. The guy was like (she goes into a high pitched squeeling accent no professor would actually use) "don't write on the back of your paper or you WILL GET A ZERO!" (back to a normal tone of voice). So, I thought GIVE me a break. Anyway, I went to get a coffee. They were out of cream. (into screechy accent at loud volume) "the bitch said WE'RE OUT OF CREAM!". I was sOOooo pissed off. I had to pay $90 for a text book. I asked if they had any used copies. She said (into whiney screechy accent again) "NO!! we're OUT of used copies".....
Sound familiar?
A "Future Mouthy Bar Cunt of America" for sure.
How do women learn to talk like that? She must be imitating some cunt from a TV show, right? How do broads like this manage to pass the s.a.t.?
9/30/06
This has been a weird fucking week. On the bad side my creative writing Prof. had to withdraw from the class for a personal reason. His replacement is a first year teacher. I'm not optimistic. If I could get a refund for the course I would. I didn't sign on for a typical academic circle-jerk. My first writing class in 25 years...and it goes right down the fucking toilet. It could well be my last too of course.
I did manage to pull out a 92/100 "A" in my Political science class. It's the class I've put the least amount of effort into by far. No papers, just 4 tests and lots of students in the class taking it because they have to. Contemporary politics is not my bag, but this class covers political history that I've gotten exposure to from reading History books over the years and of course through my studies long ago. I figured I must've gotten a "C" or so and would've been happy with a "B". I hope I can keep it up.
Last night I came down with eerie sort of flu symptoms. I slept 15 hours and rested all day watching about 20 Dragnet episodes with Marla. I still feel a bit shitty. I'll finish a sleep-aide 6 pack and retire early again.
The world chess championship match is making the headlines of big U.S. papers. Why? The match is in risk over being called off due to a dispute raised over how many times one competitor visited his personal shithouse off the stage. The "busy butt" a fellow named Kramnik is ahead in the match 3-1. There's a tough system in place to ensure there's no electronic cheating going on. It's seen by many in the chess world as a psycological tactic by the guy ( Topalov ) behind in the match to distract and humilate his opponent. Since it's at heart an accusation implying a plot involving electronic devices it's being called by some world news sources "water closet-gate" and "bladder-gate".
I know most people reading this don't give a rats ass, but HEY! For chess players this is our superbowl/world series. It's a big deal in a lot of places. It's fun to read commentary that discusses Kramnik's "elimination stream". Hey, maybe he drank the crappy tap water in the kookie despot ruled province which used to be a part of Russia that the events being held in?
That's enough for now...I feel my own "elimination stream" kicking in.
9/26/06
Damn...Kinky and Jesse didn't make it to our classroom, but I had my moment with them just the same. I strolled outside after the class and noticed some sort of group huddled by a bench. I saw a photographer standing on the fringes of the small crowd. I didn't think much of it.
I paused a few feet away to switch over to my sunglasses. As I zipped up the pocket on my backpack I noticed a short guy sidle up next to me like he wanted to chat. That happens all the time.
But, this guy was nursing the last third of a stinky looking black cigar. He was wearing a flattened cowboy style hat. OH......I thought. He asked me what my name was. I responded Phil and met his outstretched hand. "I'll be supporting you" I assured him and he thanked me. I noticed the photographer had snapped a photo..
Now, I ask you? Would Rick Perry want his photo taken with me? What a waste of film it'd be according to his Sunday school teacher type campaign workers.
I watched Kinky stroll away towards their vehicles (one was a sports car convertible painted red, white & blue with "Kinky for Governor" logos).
I turned as I heard another voice say "HI!" in an excited fashion. He wasn't happy to see me though; he had spied Governor Jesse Ventura and wanted to shake his hand. I thought, why not? I approached him and shook his hand and told him that I had read and enjoyed his books. Then, I told him sincerely that I went out and registered to vote for the first time in many years as a direct result. He nodded and said "vote again"....and then "VOTE EARLY...VOTE OFTEN!"
Wise words. Jesse looked lean, mean, darkly tanned and had dyed his beard black. He had long black dreads or extensions or braids or something running down his back under a cap. He was wearing jeans ( but no feather boa ) and looked like he had gotten back into great condition.
Damn, I do hope that man runs for President.
My point is this..what other politicians would give me the time of day? I bet the Governor of your State would have standing orders for his security staff to shield him from "my type" and maybe "your type" too. I saw lots of normal pink cheeked students greeting them too. These are politicians that aim to represent ALL of us.
Smart guys too. Both of them are multi-talented renaissance men. I guess you know who I'm voting for.
Oh yeah...as they pulled away in classy but modest campaign vehicles I noticed Kinky had changed to a cap (cowboy hats don't fit inside most cars) but was still puffing away on the stub of that black stogie even though the car windows were rolled up! I wonder how many he goes through in a day?
9/23/06
THEE WHISKEY REBEL, KINKY FRIEDMAN and JESSE the BODY VENTURA all in the same cozy room on Texas soil? It could happen believe it or not this next Tuesday. I have a country music history class at 2:00 p.m. Kinky is making an appearance the next building over...with Jesse Ventura evidently in tow at 1:00 p.m.
Here's the thing; the fellow teaching the class is a veteran Texas songwriter, club owner and musician and an ancient pal of Kinky going Waayyyyy back. He's gonna try to get him to pop in if his schedule permits.
This man is not a shit talker. He's known and respected. I wouldn't be surprised if it happens. It'd be good press for Kinky's campaign, wouldn't it?
I haven't exactly sat here and stumped for his gubernatorial campaign. I don't agree with him on all issues, but I decided a few weeks ago I'd vote for him. Elvis is of course going to get a teachers certificate to go with his theatrical degree. Kinky's biggest push is to take care of Texas teachers. I'm not positive I'd side with him if my son wasn't going to join their ranks, but I'm more of a pragmatist than an idealist. If Elvis could make some extra bucks I'd vote for Al Sharpton (well, not quite...but almost) and I like Mr. Friedman's sense of style.
Jesse Ventura is the only candidate I've really gone apeshit over in my adult life. It's not because he used to wrestle....although that drew my attention to him. I've read his books. I disagree with some of what he has to say, but I disagree with A LOT of what the elephants and jackasses say on the whole.
I truly believe that the 2 party system stinks worse than a sauerkraut fart in a small elevator. I want other parties to do well and challenge those bastards. Yeah, yeah, I'm a registered but unenthusiastic Libertarian. They piss me off too...quite often. The Green's seem to buy into every conspiracy notion trowled out. I'd like to see them grow as a party though. The 2 party system is like screwing a knothole that's already left several big splinters in yer dicky-bird...right?
It's Elvis's 22nd birthday tommorow. We'll be spending the evening boozing and eating with him and his fiance. I'm proud of him...more so every year in fact. He's a frigging individual with his own unique slant on things and many quirks. Bully for him.
Well, back to my ADAM 12 VHS tapes.
Did I gloat yet? I got a 100% 10 out of 10 points on my serious Count Basie CD essay..."the complete ATOMIC COUNT BASIE". Not bad for a guy written off as dead, insane or past his coherency by a few ignoroids. My intellect hasn't peaked yet.
9/21/06
Well, no one defended the frigging pope. He'll be sucking Islamic tool in the way of apology soon...and it's all the fault of you Catholics who won't stick up for him.
I couldn't care less. Almost.
Marla and I have been enjoying a VHS "Adam 12" marathon. We were thoughtful enough to religiously tape the show in 1999 and now are having fun watching some good copies of old favorite episodes. You've really got to have that stick up yer ass wedged up there tight to not enjoy any Jack Webb production.
Yunno, I'd trade in meeting just about any 3 famous rock stars I've met in exchange for the memory of meeting Mr. Webb.
What's that? He looks stiff on screen?? So what.
He knew that the Joe Friday charachter was a square by the standards of the late 60's. I feel really happy in a goosey, grinning way when I think of how he hoodwinked so many of you bone-hippies into thinking he was actually Joe Friday. That's silly...he was an actor...Jack Webb portrayed Joe Friday.
Jack Webb lead quite a swinging life full of sexy broads and a lot of booze.
He was a regular at the same bar in Hollywood for many years according to what I've read. I'm fairly sure it was the place bearing holy Dean Martin's mug depicted on the great show "77 Sunset strip".
Martin Milnor was a fine actor. He had a big TV series in "Route 66" and appeared in quite a few movies too before cementing his place in the dramatic hierarchy as Pete Malloy in "Adam 12".
When we lived in North Hollywood in the late 80's it happened to be in a neighborhood in which alot of scenes for Adam 12 & Dragnet were filmed. I feel lucky to have directed my family there into a holyland of TV lore.
Yeah, I crow a great deal about having attended the University "Animal house" was filmed at in the same year of its creation. Knowing I drove the same streets that the charachters of Jack Webb productions did is much more satisfying.
My favorite episode of Dragnet would have to be the one in which Joe Friday attends a "sensitivity training" course that is all too similar in an eerie way to the one my old man got stuck in in the late 60's. I think too many people who see that episode now think it's exaggerated...but, look how things have turned out. All the p.c. professors today are very much like the uber-cool leftie Prof. depicted. It was a terrible wakeup call for men like Joe and my Dad that men could behave like that.
The hippie values portrayed in "Dragnet" were abandoned by the aging 60's freaks. Of course new waves of hippie wannabe's who are the Grandchildren and children of the 60's brood try to ape the "good old days" today.
I hated hippies as a child in the 60's and hate 'em now even more. I'd frankly rather have a few beers with Pete Malloy...or Joe Friday at "Dino's".
"C.h.i.p.s patrol" another great show. "Emergency"? great..except I can't handle all the protuding bones and other medical shit.
9/18/06
Wouldn't it be great...if we had a clear thinking atheist or agnostic President in office right now? I get a lot of heat for defending Bush at times..well, not defending him so much as trying to remind people who hate him beyond measure that he's a humanoid and not the beast or a "nazi". He is a christian though...and the excess baggage he totes about as one weighs him down.
It was his Pappy who REALLY pissed me off when he questioned a few years back the patriotism of atheists and their ability to live by a moral code.
The best answer ( and clearly on about a 7th grade level intellectually )to Muslim over reaction to simple criticism of their brand of religious hokum in my opinion would come rather naturally to a non-believer. The question should be posed: if your faith is indeed "peaceful" and beautiful, then let your actions prove it. You can't get that kind of straight talk from a christian President who likely lets his own faith in part guide his actions and responses. The christians have pissed their share of mattresses.
I myself have pointed out the violent history of the christian church maybe fifty times in columns and diary entries. It's silly for them to try to call the Muslim over-reactors (even though they're clearly sent into the streets by clerics with an agenda) on their violent acts since most christian churches have skeletons in their own closets. It seems silly for christian Americans to be calling for secular takeovers in Muslim nations without acknowledging the benefits of a non-bible thumping administration here too.
Hardcore fundamentalist christians are amongst the most stubborn people in our populace. I know, I was raised by a couple of them and grew up constantly around dozens more and never wore them down or saw them suddenly become cooperative. There's NO REASON to think that Muslims in the middle east and asia will be any less bullheaded.
That being said, as I've pointed out many times before, the christians may think I'm an atheist slimeball with no morals.....but they have no plan to do much more to me (at present) than insult me and treat me like a heathen boob without sense.
I'd be much worse off living under Muslim rule. There's no comparison. A lot more of them want me DEAD. Worse, if I had to live in a Muslim law dominated nation I'd have a hell of a time drinking every day and following the frequent daily public prayer schedule.
At least the interpretors of the christian god don't deny my right to drink or be a cynical gadfly.
I can't count how many times I've heard or read some line of bull from lefties and conspiracy theory nuts who insist that Muslim rage is some sort of myth cooked up by Bush and ye olde bevy of ominous bankers whom they claim control everything behind the scenes. Religious fanatics are stubborn and muleheaded...they of different but similar faiths have more in common than people widely recognize.
I believe that most christians and muslims aren't very devout; they accept the teachings of their ancestors. They'd prefer to be casual about it if truth be told, but the hotheads and extremists often take control. That can leave them with little choice but to feign a more strident level of devoutness than they'd prefer.
Bottom line: I back the American christians over the Muslim world. I really wish we had an atheist in the oval office...but the only ones we've ever had were forced to pretend to have christian beliefs.
Oh yeah, as for the pope...when are you catholics going to defend him? Do I have to? Please, don't force me to point out that he was only making a historical reference that flew right over the heads of the breast beating Muslim masses whipped into a frenzy by their clergy who undoubtedly know better.
9/15/06
Have you seen the media coverage of the Muslim world reacting to the pope's recent remarks?? They're burning him in effigy in the streets.
The Muslim's hot button (at least that of the clerics who order rank and file Muslims out into the streets to "react" in this way) seems pretty clear. One spokesman from Muslim nation Pakistan quoted today in the media expressed it in a revealing manner:
"Anyone who describes Islam as a religion as intolerant encourages violence," Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Tasnim Aslam said.
What if an individual or small group made a statement like that.."don't call me a hothead, or I'll FUCK YOU UP!!". Or "stamp out iggnorunce"...or "I'm a pacifist..and I'll kick the shit out of anybody who disagrees".
I feel like making up a batch of Whiskey Rebel bumper stickers that read: "Don't blame ME...I'm agnostic".
It'll be interesting to watch the pope and all the cowards terrified by Muslims grovel to them. How will your favorite U.S. politician react to this situation?
When will one have the balls to stand up to this sort of silly horseshit? Are there any pragmatic secular leaders in the U.S. left? What do they have to say? Are they all gutless?
And how about my Christian readers (there are plenty of you out there...I know) if the pope grovels before the Muslims, how long will it be before they'll have your personal church kowtowing?
Catholics...they're burning your direct line to the big man upstairs in the streets; demanding he cave-in and beg forgiveness for reading a quotation from some Byzantine era source. Are you folks all a bunch of pussies? Are you going to stand up and defend your pope? HHmm??
9/14/06
When I was busting my ass all last weekend at the university library I was bewildered over the fact that so few students out of 27,000 were there. By Monday night after completing my first full fledged, researched academic papers in 21 years I was FUCKING WORN OUT. It was painful. As I flopped in my chair resting up..trying to revitalize whats left of my brain I occasionally wondered why the students across the street were able to party every one of those nights until it's so late it's early. What about the steady stream of vehicles going up and down ranch road 12 day and night filled with students, music thundering, frequently yelling out the windows, either going somewhere to party or finding a better one.
I pondered....am I so fucking old and over the fucking hill it was taking me days to do what they had possibly banged out in a couple hours? It couldn't be possible that an entire city filled with students could all be that much better at school than me..could it..that they could manage without all the hard work I'm putting in.
I turned my "Richard III" paper a couple days before the deadline and my Count Basie essay the very day it was due. The professor returned Richard III to me; he said EXCELLANT! as he handed it back to me..nodding and winking.
I was a bit shocked. Also, for some reason I can't explain I didn't want to rub a good grade in the faces of the students around me (I'm geting soft?) ..if that's what it was. I looked on the back page: 10 points out a possible 10. A+
This professor is very demanding and fussy...to be honest, I had written two papers figuring if I got horrid failing grades on them I'd have time to write extra credit papers.
A couple of the students I always sit next to in the front row (aren't I a kiss ass?) wanted to see my grade. I showed it to them..and they both looked sick. Neither one of them had made the deadline with even one paper.
I've spent my adult life gloating at other jaded adults at times like this. These students are Elvis's age though. They still have the potential to be on the same side of the fence as me in life..some day.They, like literally dozens of other students talk politely to me and don't try to make me feel like some middleaged loser. So in return, I didn't want to crow. I wanted to...mostly, I wanted a beer.
Bitch #1 about college) there's no beer on campus, and no bar within easy walking distance back. You could get down the hill to a bar, but FUCK IT ALL..try walking back up when you're looped or sober. It would be hard for an athlete to do it during an hour break. Maybe that's why fraternity's are so popular? Keg's within easy walking distance? HHmmm. Maybe they're onto something.
Of course if you go to a class in a small room stinking like a brewery these days I bet you're gonna wind up in a heap of trouble...lots of questions to answer. I really would like a couple quick ones before climbing on the shuttle bus back home in the afternoon though.
My writing class the other night was amusing. Remember, the prof. is good..REALLY good..worth my respect. Worth me telling people to find his books. He's a rulebreaker, but he's got his shit together when it comes to literary matters..and he's well spoken on people like Hubert Selby, Bukowski and Kerouc to name a few. He doesn't like commerical crap people read on airplanes anymore than I do. He's trying to teach the class to personal stuff from the soul.
The class discussed a couple other stories by a couple other people before it was my turn on the cross. I heard about what I expected from the other students. The people who had worked crumby blue collar jobs related to my Radio Shack experiences and loved it. Of course there's always a couple folks who are confused by my perspective. "If you don't like your job, why don't you just go find one you like that pays good?"...Yunno. That's like saying "if you don't like your crappy worn out car, why don't you just get a new one?" That's just a way of saying "let them eat cake" to me. It seems so simple to people who come from families with money. Scores of millions of people NEVER find a job they like. Scores of millions of people in America have it even worse than I did at thee Shack. The people who liked my story out voted the ones who thought it was misguided anger.
The prof. had some good suggestions I payed close attention to. I want to get BETTER. He summed up the overall good points about the story he liked..and then got on to what was really valuable: how I might do better in the future.
Over the years I've been asked five hundred times by people in bands what I think of their recording project. Most of them only want to hear unbridled enthusiasm...even though what they need is an assessment of how it could be better after a nod at the good points.
One out of a hundred maybe ever get to the next level...which is when you know it's good...but don't want just meaningless back patting. When you quit working to improve at anything creatively you drop anchor and start living in the past. When people who've recorded 1 or 2 or 4 records or cd's and start coasting they rarely seem to realize it.
Jobjumper was really good in many ways...but that was years ago..I want to improve. My columns in various mags are uneven in quality. I'll be the first to admit it. These diary entries are often worthless...but it's clearly just a practice ground for writing about "my struggle". No preperation. No lofty goals. If you think it's bad, I can direct you to a lot worse.
Sing along with me: "UURRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP"
09/12/06
COLLEGIATE MIND RAPE #??
It took place today on a shuttle bus I take from the hub of the campus to a remote parking lot a 7 minute walk from our door. The driver was acting as if he wasn't in any hurry as it was...then, a guy hopped on board who he knew. This was a "nice guy" who I'm sure thought he was being polite..TEXAS polite.
I was in a poor state, tired and cranky. I wrote and researched 2 major essays over the weekend overlapping into Monday. Tuesday morning my balls were hanging low. I needed rest between my 9 a.m. and 2 p.m. classes. I only wanted to get home. I had a 6:30 p.m. class too. A long day as it was.
The Texas polite guy began loudly yakking his apologies over not "stopping by the house" when he was near the drivers residence recently. OK, OK. Then he crossed the line. As the driver froze the bus at the stop before the one I get off at, the nice guy turned to the within earshot folks on the bus and said "uhh...sorry..for this.." and launched into a graphic description of his recent TESTICAL SUGERY.
OHH...fucking great. We got to sit and sit and sit for several minutes as the guy went through his little medical adventure. As he droned on, I felt like I had been whipped about the head and neck with a belt.
As if that wasn't enough, he said his goodbyes climbed off the bus...and then just as the bus driver was beginning to rev the engine popped back aboard and apologized once again for not "stopping by the house".
He left again,....the driver began closing the doors...and the polite fellow slithered back in yet AGAIN...to remind the driver to say hello to his wife.
Off he marched..likely content that he had been a good guy...a polite Texan. A proud Bobcat.
As for me, I silently cursed the fool and concocted a mental hex I cast on his remaining nut.
Most of these shuttlebus rides aren't that bad; the co-eds in shorts factor is high. Nothing wrong with casually looking, is there? I have both testicles still, but about 10,000,000,000 brain cells less than before that bus ride. It's a reminder how being "polite" can be so fucking annoying more often than a lot of do-gooders imagine.
9/09/06
I'm wound up fucking tight..physically sore and mentally drained from writing a goddamned Richard III paper. It's just a mickey cock sucking mouse fine arts course, but I've thrown myself into it like my chess studies which are intense and intentionally grueling.
I'll probably get a mediocre grade..because I'm more focused on seeing the truth in the project than "playing the game" of academia.
It's after midnight and my cat Dixie has been coming around every half hour trying to get me to back off and go play PS2. OK...ok. Tiger Woods golf in a few my little feline friend.
I didn't envision getting this intense with my studies..but so be it.
Out of the 27,000 students in this town I bet 26,800 are shitfaced and happy right now. The library was nearly empty today..how could that be? My weekends I work harder than during the week.
"A horse...my kingdom for a horse!"
My kingdom for a shot of Rebel yell....umm. Here it goes down ye olde frigging hatch. Ah.
And HOW NOW...here goes a dram of beer from the house of Adolphus Busch..NOW is the winter of our discontent made glorius summer by this frosty brew. And all the clouds that lowered upon our house in the deep bosom of my glass buried.
Now are our shotglasses ringed with glorius wreaths; our crushed cans hung up for monuments. Our stern alarums changed to merry merthful drunken hijinx.
Dive, thoughts...down to my soul..here Budweiser comes.
What light beyond yon window breaks...somebody threw a fucking rock!
I'm not that big a Shakespeare fan at all..but, I sure would rather be walking with the bard than reading some of the man hating lit that is required reading in quite a few English classes. You wouldn't bloody believe some of the tripe that Elvis was forced to read in some of his classes at this same university.
Hey, they're unvailing a statue to good ole' LBJ on campus next week.
I wonder if he'll be shown sitting on a stool grunting one out while barking out orders to his staff? If so, I'll be there. Or, maybe LBJ on the throne alone...the "thinker". Brap. Or Lyndon taking "jumbo" for a walk...like a nude David statue, Texas style.
LBJ can't be popular with the feminist professors. That's why I like him. I never had a bad word to say about feminists until they started coming up with reading lists for lit classes.
LBJ would personally escort driving tours of the LBJ ranch in one of a fleet of Lincoln continentals (never cadillacs) customized with drink holders that would accomodate dixie cups filled to the brim with Wild turkey..or whatever the hell brand Lyndon drank (doesn't Wild turkey seem right?). Since there were few roads on the huge sprawling ranch and LBJ liked to drive about 90 MPH at least at all times, the drink holders were needed to keep visiting heads of state from spilling distilled gold on their nice suits. He used to take them out hunting on his ranch in this manner too. They'd stick shootin' irons out the windows and blaze away.
I know we're supposed to revere him for civil rights legislation, but I like LBJ as a man's man...who drank more whiskey than any 5 of you in his lifetime.URP.
9/06/06
I spent something like 14 hours in and out of classes and studying at home on Tuesday. Rather than be a goof off like I was in the 70's and early 80's during my first crack at college I've been really dedicated.
It's enough to make to make you puke, eh?
I think I could stand to relax a bit more. I don't want to overdo it.
My roughest class is "German", but I took a short quiz the other day and it seemed Mickey fucking mouse. I have a growing pile of home made flash cards that I go over and over. Oddly enough I seem to be getting it for right now.
If I work TOOOO hard and fry my brain it won't lead to a good result.
I'm writing a couple papers for a "fine arts" class. One is on the Shakespearean play "Richard III". It's a lot of fun really. The deformed, classic heel Richard III was Johnny Rotten's role model when it was time for him to conceive of his Sex Pistols stage schtick. I'm going to cover an Al Pacino version and also one Larry Olivier starred in a half century ago.
I get to write about a cd: "the atomic Count Basie" which I would listen to for pleasure anyway. It's got a sound similar to that of TV private eye show music from the 50's. SHIT.
I submitted my first paper for my writing class. We'll see what the class thinks of my account of Radio Shack experiences. I'm not 100% sure it stands as a "short story"..if I had designed it as such it would be a bit different. Still, I think it's loaded with atty-tood. Will that be enough? I'm interested in hearing what the Prof. has to say about it. He's good. Really good. He's a lovable, irreverent, profane guy. Disciplined, but informal.
His analysis of stories is strong. I feel like I've picked up quite a bit already from a critical standpoint.
Here I am writing about school still. I should be relaxing.
Anyway, after my 14 hour intense regimen of study and class attendance I came home and ate some leftovers including some turkey (I roasted up a killer bird the other day) and a serving of mashed potato's with gravy.
I'm revealing this factoid NOT because it's important what I eat, but because I didn't re-heat the gravy well enough and I wound up with a horrid bout of stomach pains and the squirts which prevented me from attending my classes today (Wednesday).
I had about a 40% attendance record in the late 70's and it bothered me not a bit. I felt pretty shitty missing classes today though. I guess it's all a matter of perspective, really. Back then I was cocky and was sure everything was going to work out great in this life whether I blew off some classes or not.
Nowdays I know goddamned good and well that even if I get straight A's my life from here on out might suck; and if I screw up in my collegiate "comeback" things will only get worse as a result.
I wouldn't change anything I did in the past, really. If I did though, it would be to reserve my weed smoking to the last few hours or so of the day. I might've graduated in 4 or 5 or 6 years if I had. My life would've likely been different. I'd now be a Captain of industry...or perhaps a mogul or a mover and shaker or a lynch-pin.
Of course, if I had you wouldn't be reading this...and I probably would've had an ulcer by age 25. What the fuck. I'm satisfied being me...even when things suck for long periods of time. Is that sage wisdom or nostril mining stupidty or what?? UURRPPPPPP.
9/03/06
We played last night at Emo's in Austin to warm up things for our pal and hero Blowfly and his band. It was a different room and stage set up than we had experienced before. They've built "Emo's lounge" in a corner chunk of property on 6th and Red River streets with the entrance being immediately on the corner interesecting the other two rooms they use.
This lounge is well layed out; the floor is tiered in levels so everybody in the place can see the stage well. They had several fancy unisex bathrooms in working order. Hell, they were clean enough to shit in or easily have sex with 3 other people. DON'T WORRY...they'll soon be trashed and unusable thanks to the psyche of the modern day music fan and the low standards clubs universally have.
Get there and enjoy a few positions in one while you can.
The staff seemed new; hey, a clean slate for Rancid Vat for once?
We were treated very well..given a slew of drink tickets, paid at the end of the night more than we expected and I for one drank many a free beer courtesy of the bartenders.
Emo's employees have often seemed jaded, aloof and spoiled to me..although even their worst staff is still probably better than average in your burg.
People working at clubs try to use their priveleges to wield POWER!
Well, I've explained that a few times...nuff said for now.
It was a good turnout and a fairly responsive audience. We weren't headlining, so no need to tear the damned walls down or foment a riot with our pals coming on next. Blowfly and crew were fucking great. Last time I saw 'em in Austin it was a nice audience but few gals. This time women were pushing up to the front of the stage vying for a good spot they could flash their boobs at Blowfly from. That always makes for a congenial evening of wholesome fun.
Personally, I was really paranoid about parking and loading in. Of course I've been that way for a few years now..but last night it was bad. I've seen things go wrong so many times I'm on edge waiting for the worst to happen. Once we got things loaded in (it was simple) I felt great. I felt better on stage moving around using all my sexy moves (!?) than I have in several years. Ordinarily I have to rest up big time the day after a show; this time I rolled about of bed and went on a big thrift store run. No knee braces either.
Before I left for the thrifts I hung out in our driveway where Elvis's future Father-in-law whom I've never met as of yet was working to replace the starter in El's Caddie. He used a hydraulic jack to make room for himself under the rig. When he did it sent me into a routine about how modern day jacks SUCK..and how I'd hate to have to change a tire with one...and blah blah blah.....how fast I could change a tire in the 70's.
Gloat..gloat...gloat about old school jacks.
So, what happens? I'm backing out of a half-price book store in South Austin and..FRUMP FRUMP FRUMP FRUMP. The right front tire is fucking bloody flat (or bloody FUCKING flat goddamnit). My common sense took hold. I let 'er roll on the rim over to a place in the parking lot where there was maximum lighting (it was evening). My first decision was whether twas best to perch the cheesy modern jack lip 1) under the front bumper 2) under the frame of the vehicle or 3) into the dumpster behind the store and call AAA. I opted for #2. Whad'ya know? I got it under the frame and cranked the car up a bit. I knew I needed to loosen the lug nuts next. I couldn't find a goddamned tire tool in the trunk. HHmm. I couldn't recall us needing to use it to threaten anybody in a road rage incident. I looked closer and found a frigging crescent wrench?!? WHAT? Was I supposed to use that? Was that the "modern" way? Needless to say I didn't get very far with it. I looked closer and found the crow bar tire tool wrapped in a faggy little nightie made of the same fabric the trunk was covered in. How SWEET!!
I hope the fabric matched my eyes, honey!
I realized I was almost home free..as long as some gung ho tire store dip shit hadn't been too assertive tightening the lug nuts using a power tool. The rest was fairly easy. Since the spare was one of those effeminate half-assed temporary things I knew I'd best head straight for home.
Hell, I WANTED TO. I couldn't wait to get back to the homestead to crow to Marla about how I managed to change the damned flat in spite of the fact that for some reason Detroit has made doing so MORE DIFFICULT over the years. Give me my old 1969 olive green Chevy Malibu and it's simple, strong jack and I would've been out of there in a 3rd the time. Not only that, I wouldn't have to be worrying about having the tire patched on a holiday since the spare would be a NORMAL, MANLY tire instead of a simpering numb-nut eunuch affair. UURRPPPP.
9/01/06
I was just sitting here in the computer chair feeling bad about our buddy Aaron out in Oakland laying in a hospital bed in a coma. It makes my head pound and my gut freeze up. What can I do? What can anybody do?
My way, is to get the Beam bottle...and reverently hoist it up in the air...mumbling "here's to you pulling through Brother..." and then spill a generous amount down my throat.
Some people don't understand this. They feel remorse should be expressed with cards and flowers and prayers.
I wouldn't do anything to stop any of those folks from any of those actions. I'm sure their emotions and intentions are likely very sincere.
I have my way of doing things.
The cats are well tuned in to my emotional mood moments. When I put the bottle back down on the bar and turned around, both of 'em were standing sort of "at ease" somberly checking me out to see if everything's ok. They're as helpless as I am to actually do anything in this situation....except make their token gesture of sincere goodwill support to me..like I did to Aaron.
I follow my own well intended instincts. That's all any of us should be expected to do in an uncertain situation like this.
I'm glad he's got a lot of friends on hand and elsewhere who love and care about him.
He's earned them.
8/30/06
I lucked out on my writing professor. His name is Dagoberto Gilb. According to my internet research he's received a pile of big time writing awards and grants and accolades, but he didn't mention a word about any of that at our first class session. A humble, decent, considerate but two fisted man from what I can tell. I wouldn't want to piss him off too much at any rate. A rulebreaker who has done well in the writing biz. He's a brutally honest guy who spent a long time working construction jobs a jillion fucking miles from the ivory towers of academia.
It was a joy to see a prof swearing like a sailor in a classroom filled with mostly pink cheeked kids some of whom are inspired by literary stuff that he frankly admitted he couldn't understand how they could enjoy it (Jane Austen? eewww). How could the U hire anybody this honest and real?
This is the first serious writing class or experience with other writers I've ever been involved in. I'm a lone wolf....AAWWHHOOOOO. I'm alienated.
Dr. Gilb seems alienated too. What more could I ask for as a budding, but cynical and suspicious writing student? UURRPP. I thumbed through a book of stories he's written I found down at Half-price books. I can't tell if a book's gonna be really good after about a 5 minute going over...but I can usually spot artificial horseshit that fast.
You readers out there desperate for some good shit..go dig up a copy of one of his books at your local literary emporium. Lemme know what you think.
I was one of a few volunteers willing to bring copies of original stories to the next class for everybody to read. I'm gonna bring the Radio Shack section of "Jobjumper". I think it stands alone as a "short story"...certainly in a flexible class like this. We'll see what the pink cheeked kids think about being in a class with a former Radio Shack loser.
8/28/06
I've been busting my ass to keep up with my German class. I've spent a lot of time studying and what the fuck; it went fairly well in class today.
That's rather responsible of me, eh? Pretty sickening aren't I?
People don't come here to read about me being boringly practical and ordinary. Oh well. Don't worry...I'll be fucking things up soon enough.
I got to thinking about the time when I was attending University of Oregon in the 70's when I drank a fifth of tequila in 22 minutes to win a bet. The story is in "jobjumper" and our drinking stories magazine. The punch line is the fact that the next day when I took a final astronomy exam I was so hung over I missed all the questions on the flip side of the test sheet!
The truth is, when I wrote that story on at least 2 different occasions it never occurred to me how STUPID I was to get drunker than I'd ever been in my life the night before a final. Why didn't I just arrange the bet for the next night? Or the night after that or ANY OTHER BLOODY night?
I haven't had a trace of a hangover yet for my 9:00 a.m. German class. Yeah, I've drank every night..but I've started early.
Now, I'd be a LYING SON OF A BITCH if I tried to claim I won't wind up suffering through a few real bad ones before the semester is over..hell, before SEPTEMBER'S over. I WILL. But, as long as I can resist it I will.
Does that mean I'm morphing into some sort of boring square ? Well, if you thought I was anyway this bit of common sense practicality wouldn't change things. It's not so bad to learn from your juvenile mistakes is it?
Marla and I got to talking about our mutual policy in regards to friends we see doing stupid shit that's sometimes trivial but often could lead to a nasty result.
Being older than 99.9% of people we know socially it's natural that we see people making mistakes that cost us dearly over the years.
We've made a pact to warn a younger friend ONE TIME when they seem to be pulling a fucking boner. We bust our asses not to excede that single warning. We've probably slipped here and there. But, we're prepared to stick to that policy even if it means watching a few of 'em wash over the rapids in the river of life.
If you know us personally..you now know: you get ONE "warning" hopefully delivered in a light hearted manner.
People DESERVE the right to fuck their lives up in minor and major ways.
People RESENT it when you stick your nose in their affairs.
I know I hated it when my Father-in-law butted in and tried to run our lives. I haven't seen him in 21 frigging years..guess why? I almost cut my Mother off due to her constant, repetitive preaching.
Marla's Grandmother is a rare, model relative. You could have a lit stick of dynamite hanging out of your jeans "barn door" and she'd tell you once and then back off. She's right for doing so.
We NEVER STOP doing stupid things in life...we just die..hopefully not as a result of another reckless act.
If you get around all the typical teens and twenties and thirties hurdles you'll find there's a whole frigging NEW BATCH waiting around the next corner; that is if you're not in prison or as Jim Varney once said having your mail delivered by gophers.
Ironically, my nosey meddling Mother (who I love anyway) makes a LOT of mistakes all the time that cost her a lot of money. She's been bilked by relatives, mechanics, crooked greedy bankers, sales people, etc.
Ask me 5 years from now and I'll tell you what mistakes we're making these days...I know we must be...UURRPPPPPPPPP. Meanwhile, go ahead and fuck up your life. Don't worry...just like we gamely resisted the impulse to preach to you...we'll do our utmost not to say I TOLD YOU SO to your face.
WE'LL BE THINKING IT THOUGH.
8/26/06
I'm a regular social butterfly at Texas State...well, by my recent standards. I haven't had much human contact this summer, so that's good. It's the first time in 20 years I'd say that I actually began feeling "lonely".
Lasting "friendships" to come out of this"? I don't know about that. That's not the point. I'm a loner to an extent, but even many of we social misfits need to yakk with humanoids now and then. I don't need much chit chat...but since Elvis moved out I rarely get any. Marla of course doesn't count. I've worn her out with my conversation when I've seen her....like a guy living on a desert island who is finally rescued. URRpp. Telephone conversations don't count either.
Don't get me wrong; I don't need much dialogue. About enough to know I'm not some unapproachable freak is enough. You start to worry in the back of your mind when you're talking more and more to the goddamned cats.
My first few days at school I've talked to a guy from the football team, a lady working on campus with a normal family, a guy wearing a rebel flag bandanna (my gimmick?) to class and several others.
I'm a misanthrope who hates people in general but needs to talk to some from time to time. OK?
I'm studying my ass off so far. Clearly, far and away my German class is the toughest. I've spent a fuckload of time at home hand writing up flash cards. If I don't figure it out it won't be because I blew it off and didn't work on it.
I could probably be teaching a few of the other classes...but "German" is rough. I don't want to make excuses but I'm at a huge disadvantage compared to the rest of the class most of whom studied high school German.
That's the way it is. On the other hand I'm at a huge advantage compared to my classmates in other courses. Part of the secondary college "experience" is dealing with obstacles tossed into your path.
When I went to school at U of O and Portland State many years ago I'd be stricken (in the earlier years especially) with "Spring fever". A nice sunny day (rare in boregon) would send me to my car to drive off somewhere to drink cold beer. I'd just pack er' up and drive to the Oregon coast on a whim sometimes. More often I'd head to my favorite playground for getting shitfaced: "Washington park"...which featured a panoramic view of that 3rd tier dopey little burg that wants so bad to be a world class city.
Sometimes I'd just get up and stroll out of class on a whim and head to Sam's Hofbrau or the Cheerfull tortoise (can you believe I'd drink at a joint named that?). Spring fever. A reaction to the sun emerging from behind the constant Pacific northwest haze of perma-rain. I won't have to deal with that here where it's summer 9 months out of the year.
We practiced last night for our show in Austin with thee mighty BLOWFLY. Are you gonna be there or puss out?? HHMM? I always did have misgivings about you.
8/23/06
First day of classes was today. I guess I'm surprised to the extent at which I felt more like an amiable spectator at some sort of show than a nervous student.
My German class started the day. There's only 20-25 people in it which surprised me. Waiting outside the room a bit early I saw a girl wearing a "DEAD MOON" T-shirt. Being an outgoing, friendly sort I complimented her and "name dropped" the fact that I know the band and have for many years. She was friendly. A few other students yakked with me. They didn't seem freaked out by me at all. Of course, they could have been holding back laughter or disgust.
You've got to be on your toes in that frigging class. Lots of talking back and forth and interaction. I couldn't help but think back to my horrid failure trying to learn German at University of Oregon in the mid 70's. I have 3 things going for me this time: 1) better work ethic and heightened intellect (believe it or not!) 2) better learning methods (we NEVER spoke out loud in class back then..there were 400 students) and 3) I'm not stoned half out of my wits all the time. SORRY! I hate to be a wet blanket; I LOVE weed and will get back into it "some day"...but if you think you're gonna be a better student stoned I think you're missing the point which is to get H-I-G-H. I agree it could make you more relaxed, it may even heighten the learning abilities of a few...but it sure as hell made me want to eat pizza and skip class.
I'm gonna have to minimize my hangovers as much as possible when I have to be at this German class (4 days per week) until I feel comfortable. This means starting drinking earlier in the day I guess.
My "fine arts" introduction course calls for a lot of written papers evaluating artistic spectacles, wonders and performances I make a special trip to see. I've developed my own "critical" criteria..but I'm flexible enough and wise enough to realize I'm better off writing these papers the Prof's way which is very particular. I enjoyed observing the confusion and nervousness of many of my classmates to whom "the arts" probably consists of lazy, cookie cutter rap music, my space hogwash and formulaic Hollywood tripe. Like I've claimed for many years in columns, I'm a modern day "aesthete" compared to people with popular tastes. I don't feel the need to prove it of course; I'll just write using the standard methods needed to get a decent grade and enjoy watching the steadily shrinking class squirm.
Outside my political science course I talked to a 26 year old guy returning to school. He was glad to meet me...he had been lampooned by dorm mates as the "old guy". I made him feel young. I chatted with him for about 20-30 minutes which was pleasant for a change since I rarely seem to talk to anybody in person anymore in this burg. He told me he had made the mistake of arguing with Professors during his initial aborted college attempt years ago. Like me he vows to keep his mouth shut until the grades are dished up.
The Political science prof. is brand new. I watched with great amusement as he tried to lecture the class about the importance in showing up for class. Elvis told me this sort of class usually winds up with 10% attendance. Most of the people in it are majors in business or agriculture or ANYTHING but poly-sci. I'll be watching closely the bored or confused expressions on the faces of the flower of our nations youth...TOMORROWS LEADERS when the constitution, the federalist papers, George Washington, etc. are discussed next week.
My final walk of the day to try to hook up with a shuttle bus to take me within a couple blocks of home involved a mile long walk up so many stairs it was like climbing the wall of a volcano. I was a boob and should have walked about 100 yards from the building my last class was in where I would've also been picked up. LIVE AND LEARN.
My legs aren't even tired though. I'm getting back into walking shape. Pretty good for a guy who wore knee braces to the grocery store mere months ago.
I did sweat like a fucking pig though marching around in the lovely 100 degree Texas heat. Oh well.
It was amusing watching all the recruiting being done for campus organizations. The sorority broads looked predictably catty strutting around in large groups groomed and dressed identically in matching T-shirts, flip flops and toenail polish. Perfect conformity...just like the frat guys in their uniforms. The flower of American youth..TOMORROWS corporate cogs and their bored housewives.
Oh well. They avoid me for obvious reasons, so I have no quarrel with any of 'em. Yet.
Tomorrow..country music history class. Will it be all about Garth and Gram Parsons? or REAL country? I may feel the need to argue a few points vehemently in this class since it's a senior level affair and a class from my academic department. If I need to, I'll invoke Hank Srs. opinion by flashing my tattoo at the class, holding his visage to my ear and relaying his thoughts on country music to the class. "HANK HERE SAYS we should burn Nashville to the GROUND my friends!! HA HA ..."
8/21/06
Early morning 8/22...actually, late night. Trying to get my sleep schedule adjusted..classes start Wednesday. I'll be getting up early 4 days per week at least for awhile. It's been a nice long run of experiencing sun rises. I'm sure I'm due for some more. I spent many years watching sunrises after I get up as opposed to before beddy- bye.
Did I mention that my books(numbering 6) cost $445? Did I also mention (I don't remember) I thought that was a good deal considering how books are about $100 a whack these days and I was expecting to shell out $900 for my full load of classes?
What a fucking racket. Most of them were USED copies I might add. I understand that there are efforts in some states to try to create sources of reduced cost or loaner text books. I think the U.S. is WAY over fucking due on that count.
In an ideal world professors should be voted out by students when their efforts are lame. In that same ideal world professors who rack up an expensive pile of books for students to buy just to profit their colleagues should be tarred, feathered and forced to teach in Utah as punishment for a few years.
The reason nobody (well, few) complains is the fact that 80% of students are either in college thanks to their upper middle class parents deep pockets or getting grant or loan money. I fall into category 2 I guess. Still, I'm complaining semi-formally here and now.
It's time for school to start. The last few days it's been a steady stream of new students in groups in cars driving around the city all day and night trying to act cool. Lots of stop light pick-up lines you can easily hear (and groan at). I did the same obligatory chick chasing in the 70's. It rarely worked then and it doesn't seem to often now. The bars are full..which is a good thing. You have a better shot of picking up a casual sex partner there than driving around.
I still say the guys who work the laundrymats are the smartest.
Good luck, everybody. I hope you get laid before you flunk out (which a huge percentage of incoming freshmen will within a few weeks; it happens every year). It'll be hard to find parking and apartment units for a few weeks; then, WHAM! Midterm exams will once again just like old faithful spouting create a renters market and free up several thousand parking spaces.
The attrition rate isn't as high at private schools you have to compete to get into. Texas state is a public school though. By November it'll be a much emptier campus and city..and once again the women will outnumber the men 4 to 1.
Could I wash out? I guess so, if I can't learn to speak German. Cross your fucking fingers.
I hope I can make it onto a drinking team...do they still have those? Sanctioned by the NCAA or the AAU?? UURRPPPP. I'll try out for pivot man.
8/18/06
GODDAMN...classes start next Wednesday. Am I ready? As ready as I can be I guess.
A few months ago when this idea came up I knew I'd have to get my dead writers legs back into shape to attend this university. It might sound silly considering how 99% of Texas is so flat; San Marcos is in the corner of the "hill country" which reminds me of West Virginia where you can gaze at an object 1/4 mile away which would take you several miles of driving to get to thanks to the hills.
University of Texas in Austin (home of the longhorns..and site of the infamous tower sniper massacre in the early 60's) 30 miles North is on a pretty damned flat parcel of land. Not so Texas State. I don't think they ever expected the teachers college it started out as to get so frigging big. When LBJ was walking his pecker "Jumbo" on Friday and Saturday nights it was a fairly small school. I believe there's 35,000 or so students now which might be a big deal if it weren't for the fact that UT draws all the attention since it's 50,000+ and one of the biggest colleges in the U.S.
I've been on a big walking program doing a little bit more everyday. Last night I walked from the post office a couple blocks away from the campus up a hill to the foot of the library I'll be calling home; then, I walked downhill a few hundred feet to the "quad" which is what they call the central strategic intersection where the oldest buildings are located. I plodded down an even steeper hill on a road named for LBJ to the flatlands and back to the post office. I guess it's not all THAT bad, but Elvis has told me he see's athletes sweating and straining walking these hills.
Elvis is taking a full load of classes too, but they're all at the theatre arts building which is down on the flat portion of town. We won't likely see each other.
My legs are ready. It's still gonna be hot clear into November down here (90-100 degrees per day at least) which makes it interesting although not that big a deal to a true TEXAN. It's part of life..and you get used to it or cower off to Ohio or Jersey.
TO be honest, it's more of a big deal when it rains. When it rains here, it fucking comes down all at once creating slick roads and flood waters. When it rains on the top of the hill in the "quad" it all starts flowing down the hills...hence the deep gutters and trenches you have to climb over in hot weather.
In the cowboy days in Texas you had to watch where you road a horse. If you were in a dry riverbed you might get washed away by a wall of water in a rain storm. It was almost as dangerous as facing a grass fire which could move faster than a man on a good horse.
We rarely get little northwest style pussy ass rain storms that last for days. It's always one extreme to another. We live large baby...and you've got to be ready for anything.
That's ok with me. I come from hillbilly stock damnit, remember?
I think my granny out there in Southern Oregon (who I'm proud to say I look like) would be able to adapt in about 5 minutes.
Remember too, my Grandpa on the other side was a TEXAN.
Some of the kids (when you read the word "kids" here in the coming months think 18-25 years old) I saw on my final preperatory stalk around the campus seemed a little bit soft. The attrition rate is very, very high; something like 30-40% very soon drop out of school. I imagine I'll see many scenes of jolly academic failure. That'll make my day to be honest.
I still say, this place is a MECCA for "average" guys who want an easy crack at gals. They out number the guys by 3 or 4 to 1 and look way hotter than girls from California in my honest opinion. I know I'll be fending off the advances of the ones with "Father figure" fetishes. Such is life.
I got my grant money check today to cover books and go towards expenses. I wound up smiling after spending ONLY $445.00 for books!!!
What's that? You think I'm loco, chico? I was happy because as a pessimist I expected to shell out $900 or so.
Text books are Soooooo fucking expensive. $100 per book is a real deal.
And of course, that's USED text books. The one brand new one I had to buy was $165.00!! It was a German language text with a couple cd roms sealed inside.
Great. I hope I get to be instructed on camera by some goose stepping beer monster hun. Or some beautiful blonde milk-maiden honey. I'll probably wind up watching some guy with male pattern baldness and a weak chin. Shit.
"German" is the only class I'm worried about since I have to take 2 years of it. I'll be completely done with the rest of my degree requirements before that of course. I might be able to take the entire 2nd year in a 3 month span next Summer.
My Political science and "music" classes are bonehead freshman level. I don't mean to be cocky (well), but..I am a drunken philosopher and a veteran "hobbie band" musician and BMI registered songwriter.
My country music history text book looks like something I could've improvised over 4 months with a puny $5,000 advance.
My "creative writing" professor is a former construction worker and a cross between Steinbeck and Bukowski. He drinks and behaves in a non-p.c. manner. Gee, I might do alright if I apply myself.
I'm sweating the "german" class though, since I've never been able to learn a foreign (oh pardon ME! "modern"..) language.
There are some nights when you just crank all the tops from all the beers in the house KNOWING you'll be getting around to them all.
I feel the same way about this college shit.
"GO FOR IT Whiskey Rebel!" oh please...don't make me sick.
However I do, at least I'll finally do something that pleases my aging Mother in Eugene Oregon by merely trying. She hasn't approved of anything else I've done since before I had hair on my balls.
If I have a heart attack dealing with those hills, you may feel comforted (or alternately pissed) knowing that it was a matter of BAD LUCK rather than bad planning. My blood pressure has gone from near death to lower than yours. UURRPPPPP.
That calls for a SHOT!
JIM BEAM. The breakfast of the flower of Texas academic elite.....UURRP. BBRRAPPPP.
Beefsteak, Beam and BUD. I've had all 3 today..how about you? UURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP......
8/18/06
OHHHHHHHH GAWD!!!!!! NO!!!! NOT MORE JONBENET RAMSEY media coverage..NOO!!!!!
Isn't 10 years of gratuitous suffering through all that ENOUGH? LET HER REST for fucks sake. I read my weight in true crime books every year...but I'd never consider picking up a magazine with one of her cutesy pictures on the cover. I'd feel dirty.
If you never understood the allegations made of latent racism in this country and the imbalance of media attention going towards the case of one cute little white girl dying in the face of scores, hundreds of deaths on the "other side of town"..here's your example. I MEAN IT.
OK. Some guy was picked up in Thailand who has confessed to her murder. FINE. It's a news worthy story. But like in the wake of other upper crust white kids who are victims, this one is already being crammed down our frigging throats non-stop.
I just text messaged my Wife (who is evidently in a meeting) "Jonbenet Ramsey eats poo in hell".
I'm not particularly proud of speaking ill of a dead kid...but I can't help it. These media assholes and the public who they cater to has driven me MAD.
When a pope dies..there's a lot of media hype..but eventually the story dies down. When a kid gets caught in a drain pipe....the hand wringing ratings hounds at the news services and TV sources go into overdrive; but even that story faded. Now, after Mama Ramsey passed away a few months ago I hoped this beaten to death story was done with for good. BUT NOO!!!!
Is it because I find the whole kiddy beauty pageant mentality grotesque that I'm so bellyful of this story? In part, yeah. I'm not predisposed towards crying over the woes of the beautiful people PERIOD. I've had quite enough bad experiences in my lifetime with physically beautiful people looking at plain old me like I'm beneath them. It started on the playgrounds and continued through every hell hole work place I've ever suffered through. When I go back to college in a couple weeks I'll be surrounded by smiling, carefree beautiful, spoiled kids from wealthy families. They'll be smiling and waving to each other from their expensive convertables on their way to the tanning parlor. Meanwhile, I'll be trudging along in $30 shoes with sweat sticking my sleeveless T-shirt to my beer gut; going home to my clunker.
The beautiful people are one cellphone call away from rich Daddies and strong siblings who can waggle their AmEx cards and be at their side to help within hours.
I have no support system except my wife. I haven't in many years. I'm not exceptional...a huge portion of our population is simply SCREWED if our cars break down or we need new furniture or clothes or have an "upsetting" experience.
The beautiful people will always be around...I realize that. In spite of their money..occasionally one of them gets wacked...like poor JonBenet Ramsey. OK. That's too bad. Really.
The fact is, if she was just some plain looking kid with braces and acne from a cheap tract house or a trailer or a project we'd possibly only read or hear a blurb about it. Yeah..if she was black the chances the media would cover the tragedy are even more remote, because...well...you know. A lot of people die up in the dirty ghetto. Nobody wants to hear about that, right?
It might make for poor ratings.
INDEED, it might. And, if you think about it for a few minutes maybe you'll understand why the poor and the average looking and folks from non white racial stock often feel resentment.
You know good and well I'm not a crusader for racial relations..I don't have time to solve the worlds problems. I'm just a poor slob trying to get through a painful life of my own. A loner..an oddball..a overgrown nerd from a lower middle class home.
I've felt for many years that problems that get chalked up to "race" should be filed under the heading "social class". Hey, folks...don't blame me for the inequities of the media. I'm not a member of the privileged caste. Now you know what I mean when I say that some neighborhoods and cities are "too white" for me.
Do you have any idea how many kids are regularly abused..beaten..groped and molested....in this country by their own family members, priests, coaches, etc? Why doesn't that story get equal billing with the Ramsey girl? Or even 1/10th of the coverage..HHMM? There's your 21st century media in action.
8/13/06
A rare tale of "romance"....
Well, rare for me at least in this diary. After 29 years and 1 week of blissful marriage I can offer this up to all you budding young love-birds out there.
I remember this day 29 years ago quite, quite well. As I just told my longtime sweetie I can remember what I was wearing when I bought her flowers that day to commemorate our being married for a week. I can remember where the shop I bought them at was located (it was sadly torn down in the 90's).
I brought the lovely flowers home expecting to be well received.
Little did I know that our future "romance" would take a different course from most folks.
Her reaction was "DON'T WASTE MONEY on flowers!! I DON'T WANT FLOWERS!" She clearly meant it. She was pissed. She was in total bitch mode. I slunk off very confused. How had I gone wrong? Don't ALL women want flowers? Should I give her a 2nd chance? Maybe she was just in a bad mood.
I was young and upset. She had hurt my feelings ripping into me like that. I had meant well. After a while I started getting a little pissed off. I decided if she could be such a BITCH, I could be an asshole in return.
I solemnly vowed I'd never get flowers for her again. I didn't either. I haven't in 29+ years.
To be honest, "vows" are humanly forgotten after this long. I refrained from buying her flowers for 10-15 years or so and since then it's been more a matter of habit than anger or stubborness.
I just asked Marla...she doesn't remember this little moment of "love" from early in our marriage. She doesn't doubt it..although she contends that now she LIKES flowers (is that a hint? or is she setting me up for another humiliating tirade?)
Not many marriages these days last 29 years. I'd have to say that while flowers are indeed nice, she did have a point in that they're DAMNED EXPENSIVE and an inconvenience to have to buy. It was worth some hurt feelings that first week after our marriage to save 29 years worth of having to buy fucking flowers? What the hell would that add up to? It'd have to be at least $1,000 wouldn't it?
A marriage based on "flowers" and other material items won't last all that long. We've proven though that a marriage openly based on our mutual HATREDS can last the test of time. That's my advice for all you young lovebirds.
8/06/06
TWO diary entries in one sitting. You can tell my chatty nature is unrequited these full moon days. When my son moved out he charitably left the Play Station 2 if you recall an entry from a few days ago..out of mercy. I begged him.
Well, I knew he'd show up to take it away sooner than later and today was the day. He tried to hook up the old Play Station 1 laying around here for me but couldn't find the power cord.
If you know me well (or even just a little bit really) you know I can be helpless when it comes to getting electronic wonders to work. I've become dependent upon Marla and Elvis. Marla had no idea where a PS1 power chord might be and went to bed. Not wanting to face an early morning wind down time of infomercials (which sometimes are great fun..but you've got to be in the mood) I looked in the room I thought some controllers might be in and BOING.....UURRPPP! I found a couple candidates for the right power cable and 3 controllers.
Believe it or fucking not, with Elvis helping a bit over the telephone I managed to get it working. Not exactly "by myself" but as close to it as you're gonna get.
The first PS1 favorite I popped in is a card game disc that I only use for one game: "El Presidente". It ranks right up there with the poker scenario in the old Super-Nintendo "Vegas stakes" game which Elvis fondly remembers me playing when he was little. He'd be woken from a deep childhood sleep to the sight of me perching my butt on a little childrens chair in front of the Super NES in his bedroom; I'd be draining 40 ouncers of PBR, blasting back whiskey shots and more involved in the game than any other parent on the planet in all likelyhood. This was back in the days I drank a reasonable amount of Thunderbird and Night train. How cool is it to sleep in a room your Dad is playing gambling video games and drinking bum wine?
yeah, more Ozzie NELSON than Osborne.
Vegas stakes ruled due to the fact that it's creators worked in a lot of psychology. Other gamblers would approach you in the casino and ask for handouts giving you hard luck stories. Some poker players were fucking pussies you could bully. Other's would try to psych you out with trashtalk...like a guy with dreadlocks named "Johnny" who would cackle at your lily-white-ass misfortune.
The PS2 "World series of Poker" game is a real marvel and an amazingly capable game; the players who communicate with you trash talk and babble catch phrases...but not in the lowdown insulting way that good old Johnny did.
"El Presidente" as featured in my PS1 card game is right up there. The charachters are pretty much reserved to one in-yer-face insult each, but the game itself is complex..much more of a challenge than poker without being too difficult to win whilst getting very drunk. There's a magic to it that challenges my ability to offer an explanation.
Incidentally, you might imagine that I probably love video wrestling games...but that's not the case really. I'd rather watch Elvis. I've tried them. I'd rather play a golf game. I'd rather play my bass fishing PS1 game like I'll probably do tomorrow.
I'll admit that "Grand theft auto" is without doubt the coolest video game ever....without peer. Who can resist the carnage and gratuitous violence? I've played a few sniper modes..but again, I'd rather watch Elvis play it. It requires more creativity and manual dexterity than I want to expend when getting shitfaced.
Does that sound like an excuse? I dunno..you decide.
Oh yeah, I also have a bitching bowling game for PS1 I can immerse myself in. Who needs fucking human contact?
8/09/06
2 Overdue CD REVIEWS:
SIOUX CITY PETE & the BEGGARS "Necro blues" CD (Steel cage records)
THE BOILS "from the bleachers" CD (TKO records).
I decided to just review these together to make a point of sorts. These outfits use different means of making entertaining CD's. They both avoid the "corporate" theory of production in which you try to hone everything to the musical equivalent of pressed blue jeans. The BOILS (from West Chester Pa. a Philly suburb) do a good job of using a variety of punk rock and hardcore beats and riffs. They keep the songs coming (there are a nice 25 tracks) one after another and things never get boring. They thrash away in songs like "the Iron eagle and the liberty bell" and "anarchy in action"and "blue route blues". On the other hand "bullies" is a nice medium tempo punk rock song with U.K. drunken inflections. "The cogs will turn" is "melodic" but not sweet in a raw, bonehead manner sort of like the Anti-nowhere League in their prime. "Skinhead reggae beach stomp" gurgles along to a ska beat with a nice organ in the forefront. I hate lots of ska experiments being a bit of a snotty purist..but these guys did a decent job. I have to obstain from comment on "Philly shreds" which is too much of a "scene-positive" number for me to personally stomach..but overall these guys get a big thumbs up. It often sucks when a band tries to use a broad variety of sounds..but they pull it off. I appreciate the fact that as a PUNK ROCK band they don't try to polish the songs into MTV friendly, flawless but boring dreck.
SIOUX CITY PETE & the BEGGARS are very different, sick Motherfuckers. This disc is chock full of references to cannibalism, kinky sex, murder and mayhem of every stripe. I LOVE IT. I first heard it on a day I really needed it. I had become fed up with bands being so fucking nice and well behaved. There's nice, comforting (to me) and up front satanic art on the booklet cover and a variety of well chosen black and white photos inside depicting the wonderful sick goddamned world we live in. Gore, mayhem, lunacy, SLAUGHTER ranging from twisted personal acts of violence to wholesale carnage. The minds behind this gem chose to use RAW as fuck heavy handed, bluesy open ended sort of psych jams in many cases to get the message across. An occasional accoustic guitar is heard, but this no goddamned Donovon mellow yellow crap. "Psychotic bluesy folk" is the best way I can sum things up into a neat package. Lots of really creepy samples are used to add an eerie quality to the festivities.
Uhh..try this one: The Manson family meets the Birthday party for a hoedown at R.L. Burnside's grave? The song titles alone pulled my coat to the fact this wasn't gonna be no MTV polished bullshit. "Voo doo Motherfucker" "pedophilia" "necrophilia" "goin' to the church" "John the revelator". These folks should tour with the "Electric Hellfire club" even though they sound nothing like them. Their fans would love this I'm betting. A twinbill with Helios Creed would rule too.
8/08/06
WOW. I got to talk to a real live fella at the grocery store. Yeah, ok..he was the clerk running the register scanning my groceries. Still, it was an intense 3 or 4 minute conversation. It felt a little funny at first when I realized he was asking me a question and wanted a verbal response. It's different talking to a grocery clerk than the cats or my wife. It's...sort of exciting.
He was obviously a college student. He noticed that I bought a tiny jug of red wine vinegar and asked me what to use it with. I plunged right in and told him it works well with beef dishes..to use it when cooking the sort of food you'd drink red wine with (believe it or not I've drank a little bit of wine in my time). He related how he bought it thinking it was balsamic vinegar; and when he noticed his boo boo it wound up sitting around gathering dust. I told him that I like to use red wine, white wine and balsamic vinegar's each for their own special purposes. We talked about how he should use his red wine vinegar to cook some sausage he had at home. Then, it was time to go.
A short but exhilarating discussion. I get to talk to band members at the recording studio this Sunday, so it's going to be a lively week for dialogue.
I've probably down played in this diary how much I've been cooking lately. You've simply got to if you're forced into a particular way of eating. I can't buy prepared low sodium food anywhere in this burg. I've got to cook it all everyday since Marla works long hours.
I'm not sure if I've made it sound like a sacrifice eating low sodium style over the months. I never re-read these entries unless I'm looking to forge bits of a couple of them into an AMP column which I occasionally do.
I don't miss salt or prepared foods much at all. I crave sausage more than anything I don't eat (bacon too!) and cheddar cheese..but always have nice low sodium swiss cheese around which I like better anyway. I meet more beef than I have in years. I don't get all bloated up from it or suffer from heartburn. Like Rachel Ray on TV says, when you eat well you can eat more.
When you can't use salt you have to figure out other ways of seasoning foods. I use tons of garlic and onions,lots of olive oil, sesame oil, Asian "hot" oil, and a selection of basil, rosemary, mushrooms, scallions, several different peppers, shallots, dried red pepper bits, sage, more mushrooms, sour cream (in measured doses) paprika,all spice, cumin, ginger, low sodium chicken stock (can't find l.s. beef stock here) low sodium tomato products and a variety of low sodium "Mrs. Dash" type spices you can fall back upon when you're drunk or lazy. Worcestershire sauce and parmesan cheese are ok in small doses. I've found a brand of salad dressing you wouldn't even figure was low sodium but is, I've found a low sodium candy I can eat at will (dark chocolate M&M's) zero sodium nacho chips (they go well with the naturally low sodium salsa Marla still makes) and lovable trisquits.
Since extra lean hamburger is so easy to work with I use it a lot. I can't imagine how I ate all that greasy fatty hamburger for all those years. If people wanted to make just ONE change to their diets and probably see dramatic results it'd be to switch to the extra lean stuff. I made a "mexican" meat loaf last night..very low sodium but a reasonable amount of heat....with bell pepper, onions, cilantro and lots of spices. I used to have to take a nap after eating meat loaf. This sort of hamburger based chowe makes me feel STRONGER believe it or not. We had red beans and rice and a little fresh guacamole with it.
Of course, I wouldn't have listened to any spiel about the benefits of being "low sodium"before I was forced to either drop my blood pressure stats my own way or submit to a pushy general practitioner and his manipulative course of life style change and prescription medications.
I'm never dizzy anymore. I used to be a few times a day. I just figured it was the hangovers. It wasn't. I still drink my fill, so it wasn't the alcohol.
I can't go to Chinese / Thai / Vietnamese restaurants anymore except on special occasions. Why? This is a hick town and there aren't any places that I trust to not dose the food with MSG or use meat cured in high sodium situations. Having lived in big cities before I now appreciate why a few places in a bustling Chinatown district will advertise their non-use of high sodium seasonings. I wish those places were around.
Oh well. I load up at an Asian market in Austin on curry powder, rice stick noodles, long thin cruchy noodles and other stuff (curry paste and hoisin sauces are too high in sodium).
I'm gonna make tomorrow night a curry / peanut / low sodium cocoanut milk curry sauce chicken dish. MMmmmm. I've got low sodium teriaki sauce on hand too. My next project is to make my own General Tso's chicken with crushed red peppers and apricot jam. I want to learn to make low sodium BBQ pork too. Lean pork is actually lower in sodium than most fish and even beef and chicken.
Well, I'm off to drink a few 18 millogram corporate beers.
Enough of all this sensible healthy talk.
8/06/06
29 YEARS AGO this day Marla and I were married in a Lutheran church in Renton Washington. Elvis and his fiance came by for a couple hours to help us acknowledge the day.
There was a decent sized crowd present at the wedding. We still have lots of the presents..household items and the like.
Oddly enough (or is it?) we didn't receive a single phone call, card, email or any other form of acknowledgement from either any of the relatives and friends who were there or folks we've met in the mean time.
Of course I don't exactly keep up on the anniversary dates of married couples I know or relatives either for that matter. Still, it seems a little weird.
If we really wanted some artificially induced congratulatory email blurbs, we could have set up another "My space" account and sent out a mass mailing coyly mentioning the date. The blurbs would've come rolling in.
That seems to be the preferred way for folks to communicate with "friends" these days. What a wonder; that a website can replace all those old fashioned aspects of friendship such as people bonding eye to eye..beer to beer..sending long, well thought out and personal letters...phone calls that often lead to friends pouring their souls out to one another discussing lifes high and low points. It's all gone by the wayside. For 15-20 years we annually got enough mail and lovely packages from folks all over the world to fill a couple decent sized boxes. Now, a years worth would fit into a large manila envelope.
I guess for the moment most people prefer to communicate with light and simple internet one liners accompanied by amateur photos. That includes most of our relatives. I don't mind them...but I didn't feel this year like sinking to having to prompt people for them by reminding them of the dates significance.
The upshot of all this melancholy drivel?
Should I knuckle under and search for high volume / casual friends on the internet? Or maybe surprise some people I've neglected with long, personal letters some time soon??
Maybe I should just stick to talking to the cats. I've found a brand of kitty-treats that gets their attention. I dangle a morsel over them for several minutes as I fill them in on my inner thoughts, hopes and dreams..the doings of the day. Their little beady eyes follow the morsel....when their attention starts to flag..I drop it to the floor to keep them interested. There's a mad scramble..until one of them chomps it down. Then, I waggle another treat..and maybe go into my thoughts on politics, the neighbors across the street and the middle east "crisis".
They're a captive audience. If I wanted or needed human companionship that badly I suppose I could get peoples attention by buying rounds of drinks at a local bar. That's a GREAT way of getting people to pretend that they like you and are focused on your every word. HHhmmmm....
8/05/06
Everybody's bitching about the weather it seems...EXCEPT my fellow Texans. It's been hotter than a fucking pepper sprout here too all summer. We expect it and plan ahead for it. We've got a.c everywhere. Homes, malls, work places, dog houses..even public housing units.
THAT'S the key. Seems like every time I talk to some chucklehead from the West coast they shake their heads and remark that there's no way they'd leave their pristine West coast climate for a bone baking hell hole like Texas.
GUESS WHO'S ENJOYING this summer? All of us boot wearing, ten gallon hat sporting, horse riding, rodeo loving, BBQ eatin' Texans...while all the rest of you west AND east coast folks are pissing and moaning. If you're suffering now it's only because you're too fucking cheap to buy an air conditioner your self. I have NO FUCKING SYMPATHY for tight wads.
The fact is, even though you're convinced that your neck of the woods is cooler and more livable and comfortable than Texas, you're only FOOLING YOURSELF. You'd be having a nice summer sleeping with two blankets on your bed at night if you lived here. Why? you'd have a proper air conditioning unit..and there'd be skilled technicians to service and maintain it year round.
Since you don't live in the Republic of Texas (which you turn your nose up at) or even Arizona or stinky Oklahoma and therefore haven't planned for the heat..you're suffering. Go ahead! Sweat yer balls off.
I hope as you lay there tossing and turning on your sweat soaked sheets in your "cool" "pleasant" part of the country you think about Thee Whiskey Rebel down here in Texas happy sleeping with a smile on his face...the gentle hum of his central air conditioner lulling him to sleep.
UURRPPPPP.
Yeah. GET IT? If you lived here..you'd be content and cool and comfortable. It's the portions of this great rugged land where people are TOO FUCKING CHEAP to provide for and maintain air conditioning units that are the hot hell holes.
I remember all too well what it was like when it cracked about 85 degrees in my native State of Boregon (which I now disavow of course) and up Seattle way where I lived for a while. People would be crying and sobbing and pissing and moaning.
It was the same thing in the winter when a little dusting of snow or freezing rain would coat the roads. Everybody would fucking PANIC!!! Why? There was no planning done ahead of time on a civic level to deal with snow fall. The people are just TOO SHORT SIGHTED and TOO FUCKING CHEAP up there for their own good. They "hope" there will be no snow...that's the extent of their preperations.
In cities like Chicago and Buffalo they may get hit with big snow storms, but they're PREPARED for it. Life goes on when you think ahead. Life sucks and turns into a dangerous nightmare when you don't, chumps!
Like everybody else I used to believe that there were climates in the U.S. I couldn't handle. Why? I was systematically brain washed by wussie Oregonians around me when I was a child.
When I broke free of that ignorant, inhibited way of thinking life became better. I can travel and live anywhere within our mighty shores now WORRY FREE.
Pacific northwest types (and of course people in places like Maine too I imagine) like to crow and boast about how their neck of the woods is the only habitable place in America; that the humidity and snow and high temperatures else where make the other States unlivable.
To those folks...I hope you're enjoying the heat wave Daddy!
I hope "global warming" is indeed a reality. I hope all future summers are like this one so you cheapie's have to break down and buy air conditioners to get me to stop LAUGHING at your misery. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA ...URPPP...HA HA HA HA HA HA HA . Pass the blankets Marla, I think it might dip down below 80 tonight!! Where's my shawl?
8/03/06
AN OPEN LETTER to Howard Stern (forward this to him if you wish).
Dear Howard: I understand you've been talking on the air about wanting to take up chess; that you used to play as a kid and want to get back into it. That might seem funny to some people (like Robin?) who have the impression that chess is some sort of refuge for nerds.
Maybe that was so back in the 60's and 70's. To be honest when I was a kid playing in the 70's my nerdish side dominated my personality for a while. I saw plenty of pocket protector sporting goofballs at chess tournaments too. Eventually though I discovered the joys of rock and roll, females, alcohol and violent spectator sports.
I didn't touch a chess board for well over 20 years becoming obsessed with enjoying various "manly" pursuits in my spare time.
When I came back to the game in 2003 I noticed at my first chess tournament (the National open in Vegas) that there were lots of female players whereas there had been almost none when I was a kid. Some of them looked pretty hot, too. Also there were loads of blacks, Asians, Latino's and of course lots of ex-Soviet block country natives.
Hey, two black guys kicked my ass over the board at that event. I decided in the weeks after my eye opening "come back" that I was glad that chess was no longer a lily white activity for pencil neck geeks.
Since then I've learned that top chess players these days attract groupies in Europe and elsewhere. HOLY SHIT! Sexy female masters pose semi clad in magazines and sell photos through their websites.
It's understood nowadays certainly in chess circles that competitive chess requires serious physical stamina. Most top players have conditioning coaches just like you.
Plenty of virile celebrities such as Will Smith and Sting and Bill Cosby have learned to play decent chess behind the scenes (not to mention some celeb's no longer with us like Bogie, Ray Charles, Sinatra and John Lennon). You need to hire a good coach to work with you either live or over the telephone while hooked up to ICC. You can meet them there, log on with a handle to preserve your privacy and avoid the computer cheats. Pick a Grandmaster with a Russian or Eastern euro sounding name from the many with credentials posted right there on the website.
You don't need all that strong a player to get you up to intermediate level.
Hell, provide me with a plane ticket, motel room and $10 per hour and I'll fly back out there and pull your coat as to what you need to know. I'm just beneath the "Expert" rated 1926. I'm also a very discreet guy, a long time fan of your show and mostly uninhibited. Ask elephant boy about my long running band "Rancid Vat"which specializes in songs glorifying pro-wrestling. He'll vouch for me. On second thought, scratch elephant boy. Check the Village Voice archives for a small piece about us from last Fall.
Don't let Robin or anybody else talk you out of learning the game. It's a good activity for virile, two fisted guys like us in spite of it's American societal stigma as being a nerds game. It's even popular in NFL locker rooms these days..a place you'd never see a chess board in the 1970's.
I know you'll never see this...so it'd be silly to say "thanks for your time".
All for now.....Thee Whiskey Rebel a.k.a Phil Irwin; cult band level rock star, philosopher, functioning alcoholic, pro wrestling connoisseur, history major and USCF rated 1926 chess fanatic.
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