The Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archive
10-02-07 to 12-29-07
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since 05/28/01
12/29/07
For the 2nd year in a row Marla and I headed to South Padre Island Texas for a few days of post Xmas relaxation. We knew from last year to expect lots of midwest squareheads sharing the hotel with us. Our expectations were fulfilled. What a bunch of pale, anglo dopes.
Even though it's such a hot spring break destination, you'd never know from going there this time of year. That's fine by us. The weather changed hourly ranging from windy and in the upper 50's to the upper 70's for most of one day.
The Radisson hotel we stayed at offered really lowball rates or we wouldn't have booked passage there. They're used to a younger, "better" breed of customer wielding Amex cards provided by their parents, so to say the least the help at the hotel was snotty.
Nothing compared to the snot exhibited by a waitress at a venerable Mexican restaurant we visited 3 times last visit: "Palmetto's". It's not a gourmet joint..so why the attitude?
The waitress kept checking with us so often, pestering us with questions with the obvious intention of improving her tip...it was a bad meal.
I can understand that..sort of. I am still pissed off at a remark she made to me that crossed the line. I ordered a plate that included 2 beef tacos and 2 cheese enchiladas. It was very safe, bland chow. I understand Mexican food having lived in L.A., having dined on massive, quality burritos in San Francisco's mission district over a quarter century and most of all having spent time eating the REALLY good shit for years at a place in Snoreland named "little Mexico" that was operated by a chef named Romeo from Panama. He didn't serve the stuff that resembles what you see at taco hell. It was topnotch..steaks, pork, chicken in spicy chocolate sauce, etc.
The taco/enchilada plate served at this plate was about as challenging to my pallet as a TV dinner. That didn't stop the snotty waitress from interupting our meal to give me a lecture on how to eat the food. She told me in a crabby voice that if I wrapped a soft tortilla under the hardshell taco it wouldn't crack and disgorge its contents.
FUCK YOU cunt. Save your advice for the cheeseheads and stump jumpers.
It was shocking...do I look THAT DUMB? Like all the midwestern geeks whom they have to warn about the heat in the green salsa?
The cunt ruined my meal.
I explained my anger to Marla with an anology; if I was a waiter in an anglo steak house and interupted a hispanic (for instance) persons meal with a line like "cut your meat with your knife!" or " if you use this fork you won't have to lick your hand dry" I would be guilty of being a patronizing asshole. You don't assume a customer is a dumb bastard until they have proven so..and I hadn't even started shoveling my food in before I got lectured like a stupid twat.
If I need help, I'll ask. I occasionally do. Over the years I've eaten plenty of Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Korean ( which I'm not partial to ), Italian, Greek, Russian, Spanish, German and of course many local dishes from our exotic Southern U.S States. I've tried a bit of Norwegian, French, Hawaiian and other cuisines I'm forgetting because I've tippled a bit tonight.
I'm not the most worldly gourmet..but I don't need some cow insulting me.
If I really do look that dumb, don't bring it to my attention!
People who serve moronic, dumbed down Mexican food to Elmer Fudd types for a living are in no more of a position to be acting arrogant than clods who trowel out crud at Jack-off in a box or Bougar Queen.
12/21/07
It's been a peaceful, serene holiday season so far; maybe TOO peaceful.
Usually, since the internet became big about 10 years ago we've heard from at least one long lost acquaintance during the thanksgiving-New years day period..not this year. Zilch.
We've gotten a pitiful number of christmas cards and almost no phone calls even from relatives.
I've received absolutely zero party invitations. Nobody has even suggested I come see their band play somewhere.
I can't remember a holiday season I've spent with so little human contact in my adult life.
Oh well. There is a positive side to being a social leper. You just go about your business and get things done that the social butterflies talk about doing next year.
Marla brought home a 12 pack of Canada dry ginger ale tonight. Call me a poofster, but I really enjoy this time of year mixed drinks using Canadian whiskey. On the occasions I've run out of REAL whiskey and resorted to knocking back shots of Canadian I've been glad it was there..but it's pretty plainly second rate for that purpose.
On the other hand it's superior for what it was designed for: mixing with soda for holiday pussy drinks.
Each form of alcohol is best used to conform to it's special purpose. Good wine with a meal, corporate beer while mowing a lawn ( or watching somebody mow your lawn ) or sitting or standing or laying flat out on your back, vodka for hangover drinks, fortified wine for guzzling before you walk into a crowded toy store during the holidays to shop for your kid.
Scotch is great for sipping slowly and contemplatively
Irish whiskey shots are great for celebrating great news or accomplishments.
Moonshine is king when you're relaxed and on home turf ready to have a frigging blast with trusted friends ( you'd best have comfy pass out/snooze space at hand ).
Tequila is great for getting wild with. It works better with beer than anything but whiskey.
Brandy rules in cold weather...especially with plenty of ice water to chase it down with.
Rum is versatile and jolly.
Rye whiskey is for when you're in a pissed off mood...
Malt liquor is the absolute best for making a favorable impression on juvenile idiots.
I was gonna mention that stuff that begins with the letter "g" and is clear..but my heads still smarting from teenage hangovers involving it....think up your own pleasant use for it.
Jagermeister is great for people who don't really like the taste of booze..
Champagne is the choice for well heeled people who like a good time and have plenty of time to sleep off BRUTAL hangovers..that feel like somebody whacked you upside the head with a tire tool.
Micro brews are great for nursing when you're out with your boss attempting to make some sort of impression and can't afford to let your hair down and really get drunk.
In all other cases..turn to my favorite...my nectar..my ambrosia: good old American whiskey hailing from Tennessee or Kentucky.
Pray to your holiday gods and practice-practice-practice and maybe one day you can enjoy it as much as I do.
12/19/07
A consumer lesson for you. As you may or may not know based on the length of time you've read this diary, we Irwin's began a ritual 15 years or so ago of watching "CAR 54 where are you" episodes on christmas eve while we drink and relax. That's what we do...
The last few years we've found the old video tapes we watch which date back to the early 90's are less and less appealing. The sound quality on lots of the episodes plain sucks. We've waited for a DVD release to come out..and about 10 days ago we thought our "prayers" ( to something..I'm not sure what) were answered. A complete collection of the entire series was offered by a slick, professional looking website for about $70. Wow. Marla's eyes glowed when I told her about it. We ordered it...wisely using a credit card we knew we could use in "dispute" fashion if something went wrong with the order.
It was a very nice looking website, offering all sorts of treasures. They provided a 24 hour hotline to answer questions or field complaints.
Unfortunately, about 4 hours after placing our order I checked the outfit out at some consumer websites and learned they were scam artists.
They don't answer their phone often..and when they do it's voicemail. It's a case of a bunch of pro's setting up a nice looking site and hauling in as much money as they can before the shit hits the fan. The consumer site had accounts of people being burned for $300-$400.
We immediately realized the shipment of our DVD's would never likely take place, so began preparing to dispute the charges on our credit card.
Meanwhile, I searched for a half hour and found a poor suffering bastard dealer in California selling the same set of 10 DVD's for $29.99 which included shipping in the US.
He accepted Paypal and had lots of solid +++ feedback on Ebay. We bought it..and received 10 unmarked, unpackaged but very welcome CD's a week or so later.
There are multiple lessons here. Don't get suckered by a slick looking website. The crooks had all the sizzle you'd like but were complete scam artists. The poor suffering bastard who actually delivered the goods had a cheesey looking, Ebay competitor website with little in the way of flash and graphic aesthetics..but he DELIVERED THE GOODS.
We have a day circled on our calendar in which the credit card company has told us they'll accept our complaint against the scam artists and refund us.
If we had waltzed around the house with superior ego's unable to admit to an initial mistake we'd be fucked and upset right now. Instead, we owned up to our pulling a boner and went about correcting things. We'll be watching Gunther Toody ( "ooh-ooh!") and Francis Muldoon during our fambly get together..35-40 episodes we've never seen, plus pure quality copies of our old favorites. Don't be a stubborn JACKASS this holiday season...UUrrppp
12/17/07
Thee are few people more annoying to me than those who are newly converted to some sort of idealistic way of thinking.
Until you've gone through the stage of realizing that there are many types of limitations to what you or your big mouthed friends or your favorite blogger or radio talk show host or pop-star with an agenda really knows, you're talking out of your ass pal.
I include in this group conspiracy faith converts who have conned into believing in a poorly defined group of evil forces 99% of the time only described as "they". Yunno, "they" are enslaving us; the election process is a pre-determined farce. The same vague "they" people who control the media and the banks.
Just as one dimensional intellectually are the suck ups who believe everything they are fed from the straight laced conservatives...as if god is smiling down on the oil companies, watching over our stock markets and garnishing our home football team with strength to win a championship.
Personally, until you're capable of discussing the strengths and weaknesses of your faith based idealism I don't value what you have to say. Hey, when I used to argue actively with christians when I was 20 or so, I was capable of switching sides at will. A friend and I often did that. We'd terrorize the preacher and his assistants in the public forum and then for the hell of it tear into the next bunch of vile sceptics who came along. Hey, it was fun.
If you're having fun being a rube spouting all the pop cliches, by all means...continue. Don't let me stop your fun. You'll be a happy, breast beating typical dumbass. If you want to elevate yourself to the next level learn the weaknesses of the arguments you're spewing and the logical counterpoints.
12/14/07
I'm going to elaborate a bit on my political remarks from a few days ago. I have no problem with Huckabee being a baptist, I DO have a problem when he's an ordained minister. And no, it matters not to me if he is currently assigned to a church ministry or not.
Politicians and priests should stay OUT OF one anothers business.
If you need a couple examples that lead me to believe this, consider the meddling politically oriented popes from over the centuries and the muslim leaders who influence political happenings today. Religion and politics should remain seperate.
I'm no more fond of christian Rev's of recent history who ran for office here in the U.S. and yes, I realize it's legal for them to run for office. I think it's a really, really bad idea.
I'm enough of a realist to understand you don't stand the chance of a fart in a whirlwind of being elected President in this country without paying lip service to one form of christian dogma or another. Whether or not you live up to the precepts and beliefs of your faith is another matter of course..but hell, that just makes the poser religious Presidents more like the lame, lukewarm citizens who have created this situation over the years.
Have you seen that TV commercial ( for auto insurance I believe?) that begins with the ridiculous statement "people are smart"?? Well, people AREN'T smart..they're easily swayed by pretentious political candidates spouting pleasant generalities. That's the underlying reason we wind up with such a bunch or moronic, double talking, imbeciles in office.
Fuck, you're probably one of them..why do I feel like I'm wasting my breath and time trying to make sense of politics? PEOPLE ARE WORTHLESS BOOBS for the most part. It's a bad bad bad bad species.
12/10/07
The upcoming election is filled with candidates that mostly make me ask..how do you want to have a pile of turds served to you for your dinner? Hot? Cold? Worked up with soy beans into veggie burgers? Mixed with chocolate and a few blasts of hot sauce to mask the taste?
What a rotten assemblage of choices..as usual.
Where do I start? With the democrats? OK.
We've got John Edwards...pure fucking stinky snakeoil. $400 hairdo's and a guy with a great hard-on for attention. A man who reminds me of WWE's Eric Bischoff charachter.
I would never, ever vote for the Hilary machine. I'd rather vote for..well, almost any Republican.
Obama. A pure idealist..with the clown Queen of the facile Oprah stumping for him. I don't like him at all...but would mildly and unenthusiastically support him against the wrong Republican candidate.
That candidate would be Rev. Huckabee. Hey, I'm not influenced that much by those I admire. Yes, Ric Flair is a Huckabee man..so is Neal Boortz.
Hey, this guy isn't a simple christian baptist..he's a frigging ordained minister.
Hell, I'd vote for Obama first. Why? Either Huck will serve as a hypocrite or he'll uphold his beliefs as a sworn servant of the baptist church. Either way, UH UH.
Ron Paul? He's like mixing the turds with LSD. If you're a Libertarian or a lefty...RUN AS ONE..don't try to feed me this hokum that he's the one "true" conservative". As far as I can tell, his idea of a defense program is guys like you and me and him running around in gun show camo gear with our own weapons. UH UH.
Romney? He's a goddamned Morman...and I could never vote for a Morman...except maybe against Hillary or Edwards. I'd vote for Obama over Romney...I know I'll get some heat over that, but so be it. Hey, REMEMBER THOUGH...I don't like Obama either. He's an accolyte of the church of the bleeding heart..which is less an offense to me than some multi millionaire dude who honestly believes in the worthiness Brigham Dung and Joseph Piss.
Who is left? Who is left that stands a chance of a fart in a whirlwind that is.
Rudy Giuliani. A middle of the road, pragmatist. A catholic, but sure as hell not a priest..probably a LAPSED catholic...which is the best of their breed.
Rudy had the balls to endure probably a zillion death threats from the mob guys he prosecuted. He made N.Y.C. a better place to visit and live in..cop haters will barf at that statement, but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. It was a clean up long past due. You can't have your way all of the time. Hey, how would you Rudy haters fare under Rev. Huckabee?
The period of time for magic, last minute candidates has pretty much come and gone.
I'll probably weigh in again here in a few months or so..that's all the attention this horrid brace of candidates deserves. It's a bad election year coming up, REALLY bad.
12/09/07
I've been really getting annoyed over the past couple years at females ( many of whom qualify as MBC'S or "mouthy bar cunts" ) I come into observational contact with in bars who screech and make sounds like "OWW!" "YEAAH!" "WWHHOOO!" and "PARTEEEE" in public.
I'll point out that if pressed to choose I'd actually rather drink and talk with women at bars than men..who by the way have been yelping out similar party battle cries more often than women for years. I'm not attacking women here except for the ones who seem to have fallen under the influence of the Paris Hilton/Britney/ etc.-ization of America.
Hey, girls..having a good time? You don't HAVE to yelp these cliche's out or start pawing on your straight ( like you ) female friends and swapping spit with them like an out take from a girls gone wild commercial on TV to impress us..to prove to the world you're having a good time; you can simply relax and enjoy the good time without all the GRATUITOUS HOGWASH. After you've been seen blorping out all the TV celeb crap in public a few times it starts seeming FORCED my dears.
You know who you remind me of when you ladies blurt out party catchphrases like anthems and start smooching and groping your straight girlfriends on cue?
The lovely ladies of the world of porn...which is chockablock with cartoon level GRATUITOUS yelps, utterances and cliche catchphrases. Adult film professionals are just that though...PRO's...they're getting paid for their work.
Hey, I respect them..I SALUTE them. BUT I LAUGH at all of you MBC'S who feel like you have to ape them to prove how cool or fashionable you are.
I stood in front of my house a couple nights ago and listened to party sounds coming from 3 blocks away; you know what you could hear? Nothing but females in a non-stop chorus of "OOh!" "Owww!" "Yeahh" "Awww" "PARTY!", etc. etc. etc. etc.
For many years it was boneheaded guys who used to do this...now it's MBC'S making all the GRATUITOUS, boring, repetitive, FUCKING BUMPKIN sounds.
I act like a total dumbfuck in public sometimes..usually on stage...hey, I'm an ASSHOLE. And, as a part time musician I often am being paid for being an asshole. I'll work on it though, really..in 2008. I promise. When you women act like cookie cutter cunts in public you are being assholes too, but you're not being paid for it. You're more than likely just looking for attention. You might get more if you're the lady in the bar who is showing some fucking common sense and NOT being a Britney.
12/06/07
My last final came and went without a bang, but a whimper. Even so, I"M FUCKING DONE! I limped home, both legs worn to stubs I lurched on, both arms aching at all joints, my nervous system shot.
I immediately lurched for the whiskey bottle and refrigerator. I got nicely drunk at 1:00 p.m. and eventually took a lengthy, unhurried nap of 5 hours or so. It might take a couple days for me to recover because I AM FUCKING SHOT TO HELL. But I survived. I even scored 104 out of a possible 100 ( yes ) on my final Philosophy exam. I not only got an "A", I scored 392 out of 396 points for the semester.
I'm still sweating hoping I get "B"s in German and Physics. Oh well..
It's over.
Hopefully my very next diary entry will be of a completely non-academic nature.
12/03/07
I staggered down to the last meeting of the Senior History seminar..and gave a poor casual presentation of my Crockett paper; I'm worn down. Disheveled. It didn't matter though, because I scored a frigging 95 on the goddamned thing.
In the words of my Prof I've "mastered the format of the historical term paper" with my effort. It's taken a few hours of drinking to fully set in, but it's great news. It makes the body and mind wrenching sacrifices worth it all. Several of you have requested it to be emailed to you..and it'll be done sometime tomorrow evening.
I've had fun with old Crockett. The bottom line was and is that few of you know dick about him. Hell, I've researched the man for 4 months and I can only guess about him. If he were magically reincarnated today he'd make one helluva great pro-wrestler..not so much due to his physical might ( which was considerable..he was a fine outdoorsman..a rugged dude ) but due to his gift of gab and ability to win over the "common folk" Southern style.
I kid you not...Crockett could've delivered some incredible mic work. Guys like Bob Armstrong and Tommy Rich in his NWA prime and Hillbilly Jim and Dick Murdoch and even Ron Bass and Terry Gordy at times fit into the Crockett mold. I feel like I'm forgetting somebody. Oh well..you get the idea. He was as Southern as grits but not an imbecile like the Moondogs for instance ( who, I also admire ) and not as elaborate as Michael P.S. Hayes or Dusty Rhodes.
My Prof thanked me for what it's worth for NOT including this personal conception of Davy in my paper...Urrpppp
12/02/07
I felt fucking tired today from the pressure of my classes and the efforts involved in playing music last night. It was one of those rest up Sundays. I flipped through a number of old chess magazines published in the northwest when I was a kid.
Just like I used to inspire myself by flipping through massive piles of cd's and records I've appeared on, I used to get a real charge from gazing at my 22 trophies..now I feel seperated from that kid way back when. It's like he was somebody else.
I found some stories in the old mags today that made me laugh my ass off and feel close to the kid I was. The egghead geek...raised by stern christians to toe the line for Jesus. All for nothing of course.
I saw a story about a team match I appeared in that I had forgotten about. I played a board for the Hillsboro chess club against the Portland chess club. I was 13 years old. The Hillsboro guys were freaks, average age 20. They helped enable my early substance abuse...( thank you!). The Portland chess club guys were fossils..average age about 50.
As the report reads in the magazine, a guy from the PCC declared upon our entering their hallowed chess shrine "you must be a high school team"..he said it with a sneer. The dumb bastard wound up having his ass kicked by the one junior high school player for Hillsboro...ME.
A report from another issue describes in detail about how I hid a napping tournament directors glasses while he was sleeping...and laughed uncontrollably while he chased me around the room.
I'm starting to like myself back then.
The clincher that made me pat myself on the back and knock a round back to the old me was a reading of an issue from a 6 month period of time in which I was the actual contributing Oregon editor to the mag. I used by power as a source of making mockery of stronger opponents I had beaten. Usually the rule of thumb for really good players is to play passively and wait for weaker their opponents to make a mistake...and then cash in on the win. I wrote an article annotating the moves to two of my wins over stronger players who blundered and lost to me. I pointed out that the way to beat stronger players was to wait for THEM to blunder. It was really snotty the way I dis-respected these guys..but you know what? It was genuinely funny too looking back.
I haven't been in the habit recently of giving the youthful 12-15 year old me much applause, until today.
11/30/07
Two days, two more academic hoops jumped through.
I'm fucking DONE with my 3rd semester of German. I hope my "B" holds.
Today I turned my attention to Crockett and the final 20 or so changes neccessary for my my paper revision. It took a few hours longer than expected, but about 2:30 a.m. technically Saturday I polished it off. Yunno, I could work on it until I fucking for good snap..or until my next birthday..but really you need to set limits. I've reached my limit on going over and over the damned thing. It'll be shipped off via email tomorrow and THAT'S FUCKING THAT.
That leaves me ready to go entertain local rubes at the bar up the road tomorrow night without the paper hanging over my head. I can let my balls swing freely in the breeze..
Well, sorta.
It's operation RELAX around here for the next couple days. Drunkeness, chess, music, more drunkeness, more testicle swinging, maybe a few phone calls to neglected friend and relatives. Hhmm...I have a hankering to shoot some pool.
UNWIND..RELAX...just sit in a chair with a mass of bottles at my side at about 5:00 a.m. with a bit of classical music gurgling.
In a week or so, after my last two less stressful finals are done I'll blast loud and fast music loudly.
I haven't had a thrift store run in 4 months. It's way over due.
I'm dying to hit a Dale Watson show at the Continental club. If I can't make it this Monday ( I can't ) I'll target the 11th. OOhh...
11/27/07
The semester is really winding down fast. Just a few more hoops to jump through.
A bad break that was hurled in our direction about 1:00 a.m. Sunday morning was dealt with..but barely. A water heater crisis...FUCK. I was able to hit my Physics class and then my incredibly important meeting with my History seminar Prof. The meeting was to discuss the changes I still need to make for the final draft of my Crockett paper. It was a jolly meeting...he gave me some good tips..which I'll try to use wisely.
Yes, I've had exposure now to some strong creative writing instruction and a few other demanding writing oriented Prof's, but this guy is the real deal. Let's not forget, he's the appointed State historian. An authority in his field but also a writer with a keen eye.
In the future, as a result of what I've picked up from him I won't be able to tolerate sloppiness that I've gotten by with...EXCEPT HERE of course, where I admit to writing drunk frequently. I come here to relax.
The grammer and technical standards I've had to deal with for this class are beyond anything I've ever attempted..by far. Don't expect to see a difference here, but look for it the next time you read one of my swell columns.
I've had a few people ask to read my Crockett paper when it's finally done ( which will be in a few days). If you want to be added to the list let me know. I'll email it out on demand. It's not a biography or a rehashing of the Alamo siege, it's a look at how the American people have perceived him down through the years..lots of emphasis on key films including the Disney Fess Parker epic. Some of the obscure factoids presented are mind blowing. Opinions range from those who blame him for influencing masturbation, perpetuating racism and the slaughter of woodland creatures to others who consider him not only the A#1 top American hero ..EVER...but also as a member of the supreme pantheon of superheros including Superman, Batman and 007.
We attended a one act play directed by Elvis tonight. This was his final exam for his direction studies. There was a good audience. It was nice that a rash of his inlaws made a point of taking the time to see it too.
It was pretty impressive. Theatre gets very sophisticated beyond high school level..which actually can be pretty strong itself from what I've experienced. The group of a half dozen or so performers he directed knew their parts and lines well..at this stage it's assumed they will. The more difficult aspects of direction include set design, costuming and nuances that turn performances into something better than most of what you see churned out on TV. His goal is to act, but he's learned how to teach and direct. Who knows where it will all lead.
We have an A.U. show this Saturday where we can all let our frigging hair down. My German class will be done by then, my Crockett final draft submitted. Two lazy finals next week. It's about fucking time.
11/21/07
Today, for the first time in months I didn't think about my classes. I need to regroup.
I got my best chess board and set of pieces out and went over some games from a newly acquired book on an old world champion..Petrosian. Chess has been VERBOTEN during the semester. Fuck it. I sucked down a few shots of Beam too..and concentrated on a marinade which made a roast I cooked up damned good. Melt in yer mouth..Umm.
Last Thanksgiving Marla and I checked into a motel in Austin near the site of Wayne Hancock's annual Thanksgiving day show for freaks who either have no family's (or those who know how to get away from them) at the Continental club.
This year we're reaping the rewards of being on good terms with a now married child. We don't have to cook a damned thing. We're reporting to Mr. and Mrs. Irwin's apartment in the early afternoon for a feed. Remember, he's a damned good professional chef now. It's all gonna be really good. And, his lovely bride will be baking pies so good you'd kill for 'em. A great match...a baker and a general chef.
Elvis's inlaws have been invited along with us. I actually like 'em, it'll be fun. It's amazing things have worked out as well as they have in that department. I'm not sugar coating things. Elvis's Brother in law is a vinyl collector in his early 20's.....how perfect? Yeah, he listens to some crap, but he's closer to the bone than I was when I was his age.
Oh yeah....after last nights diary entry about the "gold pants..light blue shirt" phenomena, I plopped my ass down in front of the TV...and what outfit did I see in the infomercial that had taken over the cooking channel????? Yep.
Marla says it's been a "thing" in the workplace for a couple years in Texas at least.
Why?? I gotta know..WHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????? I'm at the point in which I'd slap a friend upside the head for wearing this combination..for their own damned good. Maybe whomp 'em with a Hostile City licking stick.
11/20/07
A mental crack up is no piece of cake to deal with..neither is a physical breakdown. I've known since the beginning of the semester that I faced one or the other or both near the date of 11/19. My Crockett paper 1st draft was due that day. 20 pages with detailed footnotes. Tons of research. An assortment of tests from other classes serving as garnish to my woes.
I sent the paper in on 11/18, but I was already weakened both mentally and physically. It's just been too fucking much. I rallied for the once per semester oral German exam the Thursday before and a miracle occurred; I scored a 100..unbelievable. It lifted my average up from a suckass level to an ok position with the final test coming up.
By Sunday the 18th in spite of the fact I had made the Crockett deadline I was seriously rattled. We had a practice..I played ok but was so rattled Elvis and Marla had to rally me. Monday, after yet another Physics test I was in the toilet..no resilience. Physically battered, mentally even worse off.
Monday night was bad, really bad. I felt lame and my nerves were shot. In desperation I broke out a chess board and went over a couple games from a book for the first time since August. I still felt horrid though..but, TOUGH SHIT. I had another small German quiz this morning. I took it and limped home..feeling the effects of minor injuries in both arms and legs.
I got a bit of good news before my 3 hour nap; my history instructor liked the paper.."enjoyed" it. That was good news. As the reigning Texas State historian he's no soft touch. When I woke up it was good to realize I have 5 days before I have any more classes and I'll need them all to recuperate. I still have to clean up Crockett and resubmit it and take final tests in the 3 other classes.
I've been hobbling around the house drinking beers and a few shots.
This semsester is one of the toughest challenges I've faced down. I've endured it without reading a single book for pure pleasure ( the longest time I've gone since maybe Kindergarten without doing so) almost zero music, no chess whatsoever and of course a limited whiskey regime on most weeknights.
I nailed Crockett well though..even though there's some technical stuff to clean up. There's no question that I have layed down a nice paper I guess.
When I look back, I'll remember a 4 month period of FUCKING SHOCK and AWE at the latest fashion trend that is driving me apeshit. What is it about men and this new dominant business casual "gold or tan pants with light blue shirt" horseshit?
Every bloody time I turn on the damned TV to watch one of the rare cooking shows I'm addicted to, THERE IT IS...Gold pants, light blue shirt..in every other commercial.
Hells goddamned bells, you can see it in about 80% of infomercials.
Gold pants..light blue shirt..gold pants light blue shirt.
I've asked Marla about it..she shrugs it off; big deal.
GOLD PANTS..LIGHT BLUE SHIRT.
I'm oddly fascinated by it.
WHY? HOW? What is it about that particular combination that has overnight shaken the Dockers on "business casual Friday" set? If anything pushes me over the edge, it'll be seeing one too many instance of Gold pants..light blue shirt.
When I worked office jobs I wore cheap black slacks with either a black or white dress shirt. Most of my co-workers wore a variety of colored dress shirts and slacks...maybe 1/3rd of the shirts plaid or striped. Now, if I worked in an office I bet I'd see: Gold pants..light blue shirt every other peckerhead in the joint.
WHY? WHY NOW? One of you office workers reading this better fill me in....
11/16/07
OK, do you wanna see one of my Uncles posing by his rig? I'm gonna appoint this Uncle's day and post this link. www.dailytidings.com/2007/1112/stories/1112_gas_prices.php
I've been quiet about the identies of my relations since digging them up after Oregon changed its law about a persons right to see his or her birth certificate.I don't blather about them much here not because I dont want to, or not because there's not a lot to blather about.
The day Elvis and I met a large group of relations all at once, the two who came to meet us at a convenience store were my Uncle Don and Uncle Tom.
Uncle Tom got stuck with us by marriage..to my Aunt whom I'll talk about on Auntie day in the future. Elvis thinks he's the funniest man alive. I respect the hell out of him and consider the couple of times I've gotten tanked with him to be some of the best times of my life. He has plenty of songs loaded into his computer that have been amongst my favorites for many damned years. "The ballad of thunder road" by Robert Mitchum for instance. If the newspaper out there in Oregon ran his photo I'd include the link here. Sorry..for now. They'll get around to him.
Uncle Don is my biological Mother's Brother. I'll tell you more about his wife on Auntie day; she's the geneologist in the family, completely responsible for locating one of my Sisters ( whom you'll read about on Sisters day).
Don has been pushing an oil company rig up and down the interstate for I believe 35 years or so. Last I heard, he had missed 2 days over that period of time. DAMN.
Uncle Don has the build you'd expect to see on a fit, retired pro-wrestler. He would likely whip your ass at arm wrestling; I wouldn't even try him. He's not a mean guy though, to us at least. He can spin a good yarn and is the sort of man you'd want to have in a foxhole with you.
I came out pretty good in the Uncle department in the long run. UUrrpp...
11/11/07
Well, due to my ability to write in a nightly disciplined manner, I have my Crockett research paper 95% done a week "ahead" of time. I just worked for a page or so each day for a few weeks and here I am. The bibliography and footnotes are mostly there, I think. I won't know for sure until I submit this first draft. There's one helluva lot of technical guideposts to follow. For anybody who hasn't liked my grammer over the years or maybe my way over frequent usage of ........................'s you can rest easily. I've been educated. Don't expect any difference in these drunken diary entries. Next time you read a column of mine or a book perhaps you'll see the difference.
I haven't really reread the Crockett paper, so I hope it doesn't read back like dogshit when I do. I've worked pretty slowly and carefully though.
I'm looking forward very much to wearing to my 11/19 History seminar class the Crockett tie bolo I bought on Ebay. Like I think I mentioned in another entry the center claspe hasn't been worked in 50 years. Luckily at A.U. practice Mark used his delicate Tattooing touch to loosen it. Is it a childish trinket? Of course. It's been my link to old Davy though.
I'm really feeling like my ass has been kicked this semester and can't wait for it to be over. I'm not going to get Deans list grades, so be it. 3 incredibly hard classes are too much to expect that. I've suffered weird headaches the last few days and haven't shit until evening on a few occasions which means my system is REALLY fucked. Two nights of nine hours of sleep back to back ( after writing until three a.m. ) aren't enough. I feel hammered.
Oh well.
Oddly enough, even though I can't remember the most basic of recipes and have lost the flow of decent chess and my Mothers phone number, for some goddamned reason I remember every single word of every A.U. song it's my duty to croon. Usually when I don't have much on my mind I forget plenty of words.
I wish I had the braincells left to write something more exciting than about my class horseshit...I'm too far gone. I often can't even remember whether the year is 2007 or 2008. Not that it matters much.........
11/06/07
Yes, yes, I'm sure as hell capable of feeling sorry for my self these days as a student jumping through academic fucking hoops.
I'm capable of laughing at myself too....
Ergo, after a Monday of hell in which the Tx. State shuttle vans I'm dependant on to get me into the path of the larger shuttlebuses simply didn't show up on a day in which I had a test...I was glad to see a white van ready to pick me up after my 1/3rd of a mile hike from home. I climbed in...and heard from the lips of the van driver that my previous day of hell was due to a one time set of circumstances.
I disembarked a half mile further away waving over my shoulder to the shuttlebus guy prepared to climb on a large shuttlebus that would deliver me to a German test I HAD TO TAKE. No excuses excepted. I HAD TO TAKE the motherfucker..PERIOD. And it was to be held within the hour.
I walked across the street and plopped on a concrete bench. The temperature was about 62 degrees Farenheit. I immediately reflected, uuhh...DAMN this bench is cold. I stood up and felt a breeze. OH MY FUCKING GOD... I reached back and felt a hole in the ass portion of my new sweat pants big enough to drop a fucking cantalope through.
WHAT TO DO?? I felt back there a few more times in disbelief..yep...it was a BIG fucking hole. No way to pass it off as a tiny rip. No way to walk around stylishly..it was a BIG massive hole and my underpants ( from J.C. Penny's) where all that protected my fanny from the breeze. I at last felt heartened that I where underfucking pants.
I was already at my wits fucking end from this semester. No reserve emotional or physical stores left. I'm going through the motions through most classes and working on my Crockett paper by night.
My German class has been the most disappointing of the lot. A mismatch Prof./student wise. I needed to get to that test though..without fail. There is rarely any reason accepted for missing a test at this University.
What to do?
First, believe it or not..I laughed out loud. In spite of the stress and the fact I'm a life long hothead I laughed.
I looked up and saw the guy in the van driving the other way. I flagged him down and quickly explained the situation. He dropped me off at the end of the massive parking lot closest to my walk home. I fucking double timed back there....burst through the door and found old faithful sweat pants. I slipped them on and double timed back out the door and a1/3rd of a mile back to where I could get picked up again.
Much of the walk found me reflecting on two things 1) at least I didn't shit my pants and 2) I'm gonna reward myself with a chess book after this.
I got picked up by another white van at 10:35 with the test at 11:00. I was dropped off at the same pick up spot for the big shuttlebuses. I kept grabbing my butt trying to ensure myself I hadn't ripped these sweat pants. I made it with 3 minutes to spare. I mnangled the test, but not as bad as I might've mangeled it.
When I told Marla about it all, she was pissed off..at Walmart..who sold me the sweatpants. They were brand new. I have another unworn pair..navy blue instead of black. She didn't seem to relate to the heroic aspect of the debacle..she seemed more concerned about getting $12.88 back.
I called Elvis up and told him the story. I related to him how the hole in the ass of my new sweatpants was big enough to drop a large cantelope through...a large fistfull of grapes..and perhaps a couple oversized jars of pickles.
I only rip my pants about once every 15 years, but when it happens it's a bad situation. At least I didn't shit 'em..and that is a distinct possiblity. Ask Mark.
HAHHH.....
11/04/07
Oh, I have slipped. I earlier remarked a few times how I wasn't drinking whiskey on school nights..or something similar to that. That has changed. Yea verily. For the last few weeks I've been putting away shots nightly. It's the home fucking stretch for my classes. I'm coasting to an effortless A in Philosophy, am fighting hard in Physics am enduring German ( just wait until next term when I'm back with my favorite Prof ) at a B level now, but perhaps sinking soon..and I'm proud to say my Crockett research paper is half way done. Actually, since I'm writing it chronologically from page 1-20+ ( for the first time in my life with 2-4 footnotes per page ) I figure that since the bibliography info for all the footnotes is all keyed in and since there's more to easily rant about from 1954 on ( which is where I am ) I'm significantly over the halfway mark.
I've got my Crockett Ebay ordered tie bolo here at my side. I've watched and rewatched the Crockett films in my possession so many times I'm starting feel froggy....not like an expert..but educated.
My sanity and health have rebounded for now. There's still 3 weeks to go though and I don't expect it to be without surprises and bad moments. This semester has just been a fucking fight. A lonely fight. But, I don't squat to piss. I laugh at the pinks and mollycoddles who I see washing out all around me.
I do have one regret. I don't have time to eulogize Porter Wagoner or Moolah properly. I guess I can improperly. The Fabulous Moolah is quite simply the greatest female wrestler I've ever seen. You've got to go to Japan to find her equal...and spend time poking around there. She held a strap for 28 years goddamnit. Also, my pal Rev. Axl Future spent some quality time with her and spoke very highly of her both as a person and a professional..which means a lot to me. It might be many, many years before we see anyone approaching her likes again in the women's ranks. She was an innovator..which means she ranks high in my book. I salute her now..with a Texas shot I may regret tomorrow.
What can I say about Porter? Long term friends of mine know how much I dig his music. When my country music album book eventually see's the light of day, you'll see how high I rate him. Of all the country singers you can name who've ever tread the frigging boards, Porter was top 10. A total professional, an innovator ( there we go again ).
I own about 50-60 of his albums.
He recorded top notch blue grass, spoken word narrations, Hank style tunes, drinking exploitation songs, insanity exploitation songs, etc. For many folks lucky enough to live in the part of the country his revolutionary TV show was seen..Porter Wagoner WAS country music.
His delivery was precise and incredibly inspired.
He wasn't much of a drinker, but that shouldn't stop you. Tipple a little in his name.
My favorite Porter songs? You're gonna have to dig to find some of 'em.
** the cold hard facts of life, George Leroy Chickeshay ( YES!), the first Mrs. Jones, Company's coming, the Rubber Room, What aint to be just might happen, Sorrow on the rocks,Waldo the weirdo, skid row Joe, I've been down that road before ( one of the best Hank Sr. covers ever ), What would you do ( if Jesus came to your house ), A hundred dollar funeral..etc.
I wrote a lengthy paper for a History department course on Porter about a year ago. Maybe if I'm classy enough I'll remember to post it here for the hell of it. Either way, goodbye Porter. You had a good long life. I've always considered myself amongst the most intense of your fans. I still do Brother......thanks.
11/02/07
I'll be goddamned if I know why it popped into my head for the first time tonight. I have a full plate from school..lots to think about. So, why did it occur to me for the first time the notion that I really am lucky compared to so many people in their early 30's and 20's...who were raised by hippies?
I rather I would've been raised by Catholics even..or maybe as a wolf cub in the wild by a pack of frigging weasel dogs.
I was raised by neurotic bible bangers who could've used a drink..which never seemed to be much of a break..until now.
I don't find anything endearing in hippie habits. I want no part of it.
Even on my worst day, sporting bell bottoms and pink crushed cord flair leg pants in the 70's have I ever, EVER gravitated close to hippie beliefs.
I consider my hatred of everything hippie as a badge of honor and give a double thumbs down to any of your hippie parents.
The only thing worse is latter day hippie sheep; young people who still have time to save themselves...to BREAK the cycle of hippie insanity.
They won't. Most of 'em that is.
The hippies are running things right now in the US, not Bush (who has minimized himself from relevance more or less). Nancy Pelosi is their spearhead. Jane Fonda, Rob Reiner, etc. head the Hollywood chapter. Nan's a vile cunt who makes me sick. I'm no fan of blind religious right types either of course. If I'm going to be stuck in an elevator with either/or, you KNOW whom I'd be better able to stomach.
"So, Mr. Bush sir..have you ever played Pebble Beach?" Uurrpppp........
Anyway, I shudder to think what sort of holiday traditions those of you who had hippie parents suffer through. As a guy born way too late and with the wrong mental makeup to be a first generation hippie I've always had to suffer watching them stumble like lobotomized lemmings through the next phase of life that I'm about to enter. I'll enjoy with relish watching them all get toted off to resthomes to die agonizing, neglected deaths.
11/01/07
Well, for better or worse..I had a physical breakdown of sorts today that seems to have prevented a perhaps worse mental breakdown. Is that good news or bad? I don't fucking know..Urrpp.
I've been under psychological pressure which I wrote about a couple days ago. This morning I woke up with a minor but painful foot injury that causes me to limp; actually, it was the second day of the limp. It had gotten worse. I was ready to go to my classes anyway. I always do. One pain or injury isn't enough to knock me out of attending. I practically crawled home from a bus stop 1/4 mile once already this semester.
I was stricken 10 minutes after waking with a diarreah fit that almost made me fill my shorts. After taking care of business I poured a cup of coffee. It went cold as I had to dash into the bathroom for another emergency stop.
Hey, I might try to attend a final exam with a bad hoof and shit running out of my ass unpredictably. Not a normal class day though. I had two. My Philosophy class was a non event. We just had the 2nd mid term. I got a 97. Yawn.
This was the day of the routine review for my 3rd German test out of 4. I've had real problems getting on the same wavelength with the instructor. I'm just out to survive this class and get onto the next semester. I'm understanding the material. If you don't believe me, email me back in German and I'll respond in kind. The Prof will cut me no slack. Most of my instructors respect me and single me out for dialogue. My Physics Prof and I yakked for 20 minutes after class the other day. The German instructor has a hard time trusting students..and doesn't draw a distinction between me and the lazy ones. Oh well. Tough shit for me. All I can do is try to get through it.
Anyway, I realized even in the poor state of mental health I've been in that I couldn't go to classes with diarreah AND a game foot.
I wound up sleeping into the afternoon. I woke up with the pain gone in my foot. For some odd reason within a half hour of being up I had plopped down at the p.c. and written a day and a half's worth of Crockett for my research paper.
After that I ventured to the post office where I knew I had a package waiting: a 1950's official Davy Crockett tie bolo I ordered off of Ebay!
It's so old I'm not sure I want to slide the Davy emblem up and down the genuine artificial buckskin strap. Still I can gaze at Davy as I polish off his paper.
Marla eventually got home and we ate a normal meal for the first time in what felt like several days. We lucked out as I discovered a couple episodes of "Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares" were scheduled on the BBC channel. I love Chef Ramsey..sort of. We watched for a couple of hours. Marla went beddy by ( she's been under incredible strain too ) and I popped in my DVD of the 1915 "Martyrs of the Alamo". It's a very offensive ( by todays standards ) film in which the Crockett charachter is played by a guy who looks like a taller Jim Varney with a Beatle wig on 'Roids. Santa Anna is portrayed as an opium freak into orgy's. I wrote a paragraph about it for my paper. In a few nights I'll be tackling the John Wayne film. I fucking hate the bastard; he was the worst Crockett EVER.
10/30/07
I'm posting here to mark a rare..maybe once every 5 years occasion when even alcohol can't life me a bit. I got pissed off during a class today due to some obliviousness by a professor..and felt like snapping. I didn't. Looking back, maybe I should have. I might've been tossed out of the University, but shit..what's worse..that or completely blowing my mind for good?
I'm limping through this semester. A certain professor has fucked it all up really, nothing direct..just ignorance. Treating students who are way older than the usual freshman nitwits like children in essence. It's layed a stench down over all my classes.
The lack of intelligent human contact has gotten to me. When I'm going taking classes I get few emails and only calls at awkward times. This is too bad. Like most people I need a bit more. I need to be able to blow off some steam so I can laugh off stupid horseshit..but Marla is too busy, Elvis has his own row to hoe and the bars are filled with M.B.C.'s who cancel out the good I get from the prescence of a few friends and acquantances with sense.
For a couple years now chess has been my therapy...but I can't play or even study. NO TIME...SORRY.
Tomorrow nights Halloween. It's sad to say, but it's just another day around here. No plans..no candy..no decorations. I can picture in my minds eye some friends of mine who value halloween having fun and get a bit of a vicarious thrill from that..
More power to you. It's amateur night at the bars..I won't be going there for 5 minutes.
If the alcohol would kick in...I wouldn't be so glum. Maybe I need an extra big blast...
I'll pour a Texas double shot and order a chess book on-line I can enjoy
when this hell is over...and then get back to Crockett.
10/28/07
I'm immersed in my Crockett research paper now; destined to be 20-25 pages or so.
I've got to say, I've never written like this before. I've worked hard at times, but the historical style involving detailed footnotes is different. I sit in front of the p.c. in a new "managers" chair with a recently converted chess table housing 12 or so books, a notebook filled with research printouts that are the results of weeks of work and a technical writing guide, a thesaurus and a new handy dictionary.
I bashed out the first page quickly. The second page came to me as I climbed out of the sack today. At midnight the page didn't look very good at all. I wiped out all but a sentence. Oh well. I replaced it over the next couple of hours.
That's the pace I expect over the next few weeks.
For moral support I ordered an item on Ebay..a tie bolo from the 50's with Davy's visage grinning on it. It cost only .99 cents. I think I'm going to order a coon skin cap next.
I predicted at our last class session for a month ( we're expected to complete an 80% complete 1st draft before meeting again ) that my classmates and the Prof. ( the official Texas State historian..a great mind ) would find me pacing in circles in a courtyard outside the History building on the night of our next meeting..with a Crockett coon skin cap on my noggin.
My objective is to portray the various ways that folks have perceived Davy since his death...and show that their perception was in most cases ( if not all ) tied in to the sensibilities and ways of the time they lived in.
My research has turned up all sorts of nutty Crockett trivia. Did you know a man in 1905 attempted suicide at the "spot" ( alleged of course ) of his death at the Alamo? Did you know a hand held nuclear weapon was named after Crockett in the 50's??? Did you know around 1960 a childrens author penned a series of books portraying Davy as a lefty "working class hero" type? Did you know it was argued he was a precursor for Elvis Presley? Did you know that the Crockett toy boom of the 50's was the biggest haul for toy manufactors to date? Did you know that he has been blamed for being the proto-typical wandering male..wasting his life away drinking wantonly, shooting helpless animals and masturbating? I'm sure before I'm done I'll find an article somewhere blaming Davy for 9/11. (UPDATE..I found one online in 10 minutes!!)
10/23/07
All night long I feel like my balls have been in a vice grip courtesy of the University. I've had to choose a course in pre-1800 literature for next Spring due to my dereliction in realizing it was a requirement since I'm an English "minor".
May I say first, FUCKING THANK THE GODS I chose to be a History major. It's a department shunned by slackers and lazy nostril miners, but I enjoy it.
Elvis warned me when I started out to finish my degree that the English department was run by lefty feminists and ( having been trained by me ideologically of course ) he wasn't exagerrating.
You know what? I don't worry as much about having to deal with lefty feminists as a lot of you might. Even though I've encountered some really stubborn, blind man haters in the work place most of my problems out there have been with Napoleon complex males. I understand why some women get sick and goddamned tired of being delivered a steady stream of male oriented academia. I prefer having an abundance of female classmates to male for multiple reasons.
I married a "strong" woman and admire others.
All that being said, I'll be god double-dip damned if I'm going to sign up for radical feminist oriented classes. I don't care to make up for centuries of uber-male dominance in one semester by groveling under the jackboot of a female professor bound and determined to cram "womyn's" studies down my throat.
An exagerrated focus on the writing of suffering, man hating womyn is no better than an exagerrated focus on white anglo saxon males.
So, here are the choices I faced tonight planning my Spring registration tomorrow afternoon.
1) a 16th century Brit poetry/prose course with a radical feminist who is also a faculty leader in a campus christian group. Great, huh?
2) a medieval Euro lit course with an emphatic pre-stated tie-in to 9/11...how the medieval christians "understood" the muslims of their time. The reading list seems about 80% female. Ick..
3) Chaucer....eeww!
4) A challenging Shakespeare course that might be over my head. The class sessions are taught in small conference rooms..only a dozen students per section. No bluffing..some rigorous study of the bard for sure.
That's it. Yep.
First off, Chaucer wrote in olde english which might be great as a malt liquor to get you fucked up, but is a questionable period of study to combine with my German course...which will be the 4th and final of my academic career. I mean no insult to Chaucer heads...it's not my cup of tea though.
Shakespeare and I have had a strange relationship. I've always done well understanding his work..and I got an "A" in a sophomore level course 25 years ago and wrote a brilliant Richard III paper for my fine arts class just last year and have even been in Shakespeare's birthplace home ( I bumped my noggin drunkenly on an entrance way ) and saw Richard Burton tread the boards at the next door Stratford theatre...but shit, it's not my thing.
Elvis is inches away from a theatre degree and even HE isn't a big fan of him..although he respects his work.
My old man Bob was a devout Shakespeare buff. He had a weathered Shakespeare collection from the 30's-40's he grew up with. I think I have it around here somewhere. He'd read it cover to cover every few years. He frequently quoted from it...not the same line over and over either. He would've been really pleased unlike many Grandpa's to see Elvis waltz up to snag his Theatre degree next Spring. He was a businessman by vocation, but an egghead fan of Shakespeare, Whitman, Frost, etc.
I grew up in the midst of his constant self-education and was heavily influenced by his gung ho work ethic as a home scholar, but SHIT...I'm not a Shakespeare guy.
Bob and I shared common ground with Sam Clemens and Sinclair Lewis, but Selby or Buk or even Carver would've turned his stomach.
I know one thing, he would've hated either of the feminist courses listed above. Elvis endured some of that sort of dreck, but hated it.
When I called him tonight, he advised me to go for Shakespeare....without hesitation. Will it be heavier sledding..in a tiny class probably including several deep devotees of the bard? Fuck yeah. At least I have a basic respect for it though. At least my pecker won't count against me.
10/18/07
IT'S HERE..UURRPPP
We just got a load of our brand new Alcoholics Unanimous CD: "20 years of Tanked Up Tunes". Thank you Steel Cage label.
They are XLNT and Bee U T full. 24 tracks....100% drinking songs.
Is this a sales pitch..?? Of course.
This disc includes 5 brand new never released songs by our A.U. Texas lineup, the never before having seen the light of day on CD "Dixie Fried E.P. " featuring Jeff "Mad Dog" Clayton on vocals and 15 other festive numbers from over the years. If you have the sense to order this, you'll have a 24 track non-stop party starter. Drive the straight edgers from your home with this CD!?!
Picture yourself on X-Mas morning playing track #16 "Santa Claus DWI" repeatedly while getting tanked up enough so that you tumble back into the sack...wisely missing your obligatory family celebration entirely.
There are several songs about wine on this CD, beer ( of course ), Vodka, Whiskey ( naturally ) gin, and even a number for the malt liquor drinkers out there ( Crazy Horse ).
The CD is $12 postpaid in the US or even Canada. You can Paypal the dough to my email address: whskyreb@centurytel.net at Paypal's site. You can send in $12 cash or a M.O. or even a personal check to P.O.Box 1781 San Marcos Tx. 78666
If you live overseas, it's gonna cost more...probably $4-$5. Inquire above for the postage rate.
If there are any other bands on the face of the earth recording 100% drinking songs, I'll forgive you for being blase and blowing this pitch off. Lemme know who they are.
BRRApppppp.............
10/13/07
I know there are goddamned few people older than me that read this. Most of you are probably average age 29 or so. I'll say why I know this for another time. My subject of today may seem about as dull as a Greyhound bus ride through Indiana; you might benefit from paying close attention to it though. It's a few words of advise for people who haven't yet fucked up their limbs with bad furniture.
We've moved around a lot over the years. We've left some nice furniture behind counting on finding new stuff in the new burg we set roots in. Marla and I started out very early in our marriage buying decent Sears sort of furniture. We learned very quickly how fast respectable furniture could get ruined by the sort of people we hung out with at the time.
So, I started scoping out furniture at the thrift stores I was combing for records.
That worked fine for a long time. When you're in your 20's you can sit or sleep on anything. When you're in your 30's you start noticing how plain crappy so much standard furniture store fodder is. When you get into your 40's, if you have money you've probably got some pretty cool furniture by now; if you are living on the edge ( like us ) you might wake up at the age of 42 one day and look around and say DAMN!!
Back when I worked for finance companies we used to call household furnishings "sticks" as a concession to the fact that most peoples furniture might have value to them of some sort, but it's usually beat to shit and of no worth to anyone else.
It's completely feasible for a lot of folks to survive a pleasant life with "sticks". Sadly, if you're like me the years of poorly constructed furniture with bad back support and a too small seat and maybe a piece of a frame that jabs you in the guts can eventually take it's toll on you.
From sitting 10 years usually several hours per night at a poorly designed computer set up, I realized about 3 years ago my legs are really fucked up. I'm not crying or begging for sympathy here. One of my favorite authors Ann Rule ( whom perceivably is a millionaire a few times over ) has written on her web site about the effects on her of sitting at a writing desk for too long. She recommends that writers get up and walk around literally every hour to avoid what she's going through now.
I know, I sound like a pussy suggesting you can fuck your legs and maybe back up sitting at a poorly conceived computer set up, but I swear on BEER it's true. You can develop bursitis and arthritis and tendentious and fuck-all-itus from dangling your arms without support a year or two too many over a keyboard.
I know you jokers in your 20's will likely shrug this off; I'm just being a pussy..and you're invincible. Yeah. SURE.
Do yourself a favor...when the pain starts, commence to doing something about it right away. If you just live with it like I have you may wind up like a skinny-dipper in a snapping turtle pond.
Yesterday, after a few years of dealing with pain and minor injuries like Sabu might, we finally got wise and bought a couple decent identical computer chairs. The chairs are broad enough to fit my fat ass. There's plenty of back support. The arm handles can be raised to provide support ( and so as not to knife into my gut ) or lowered. The part that always breaks on office chairs in our home is the undercarriage spring arrangement. It's not exactly made of titanium on these chairs, but it's an improvement over the plastic set ups we've have in the past that broke within months.
I'm facing a 20-25 page research paper on Crockett that will either be done in 6 weeks and be a big success or be a stick in the spokes in the last lap of my history degree. I NEED a decent chair I don't dread sitting in.
You don't need to wait until it's too late and you've got carpal tunnel syndrome or mysterious pain that makes you scream. Treat yourself to a decent set up in front of your computer and you won't wind up like me.
The chicness of enduring pain is over rated.
OK. UURRPPP. I've said it and now I'll back off. Go ahead..fuck yourself up.
10/11/07
After constant pummeling by sadistic professors, I'm still standing. Sort of.
I'm way the fuck over my head with too big a class load. AAgghhhhh.........
I'll keep going until I either wash out or survive.
What amazes me as I slump past my front window at night on my way to get 4 hours of sleep or so, is the high number of supposed students getting bombed across the street in the party house until apparently hours after I finally give it up.
How do they survive academically? It's beyond me. I'll be goddamned.
Yes, yes I know there's a high attrition rate. Probably half of them are going to be withdrawn from the University by the 10/25 deadline. Still, as much as that factoid amuses me and although I'm rubbing my hands together in anticipation of the parking spaces that will be available when they all head back to their parents houses...as FAILURES...it makes me feel like a pussy to be hitting the rack when music is still booming from the brightly lit facade of the rental house.
As a child I really hated it when my parents would force me to go to bed in summer before the sun had gone down. I'd hear the voices of kids of NORMAL parents still outside enjoying themselves and feel jealous and deprived.
To say the least, I don't get satisfaction out of being better rested than folks around me in the morning. It's the night owls who rule the stool. I can't understand why in a town that rolls the sidewalks up at 9:00 p.m. there are more people staying up around the clock than any place I've ever lived. I've never known of neighbors anywhere we've lived who regularly stayed up hours after I called it a night until I moved into this house.
I've got to hand it to them....
You'd think that with so much night-owlin' going on there'd be some more 24 hour coffee shop action, but FUCK NO. Not since the diner Elvis worked at went belly up.
There's an overcrowded IHOP and a putrid Kettle's franchise. That's it.
HOW DARE they have fun across the street...?????? I'll dance a jig on final withdrawal day..if I survive it myself that is.
10/05/07
I just saw a middle of the night TV screening of the great 1953 film "the Wild One" . It's not the sort of thing I've ever wanted watch at 10:00 a.m.
Of course in case your math is bad it came out years before I was born, so I've never been nostalgic for it in the purist sense. I first saw it as a late late night movie on Portland's fine independant station KPTV...the same channel I watched wrestling on for so many years.
If you've ever worn a black leather motorcycle type jacket...this film is indirectly the reason why. The film influenced Presley, James Dean, the biker film genre, the rock and roll "menace" film genre, etc. etc. during it's theatrical run.
I really sympathized with the Brando charachter from the first time I ever saw it; HEY...you fuck's...I've been alienated since goddamned DAY ONE. I've never touched a Harley, but I've had the "pleasure" of being ganged up upon by squares many a time. I was young enough when I first saw this movie that I hadn't tasted beer yet..not quite. This very night, when the bikers on my tube started swilling out of stubbies whilst listening to pre-rock and roll music on the juke box I started breaking out in goosebumps.
Brando's "Johnny" charachter was without a doubt an influence on me just like the heel wrestlers in our town. No, I never emulated his sullen mood, I just always gave his attitude a double thumbs up. He gives the world and all the squares inhabiting it the finger...and that's pretty much the way I've looked at things.
The very best charachter in the film from a cinematic appreciation standpoint is the one played by the late, great Lee Marvin. Whereas the Brando charachter seems beaten down, the Marvin charachter is full of life and confidence. He mocks the squares by bawling "oh the shame!!" as he's being lead off to the smalltown jail.
When I first saw "The Wild One" the hippie horseshit era was in full bloom. I never identified with all the peace love and flowers crap. I DID identify with those drunken bikers and their fun loving "fuck you" attitude towards the world.
If you've never seen it, I suggest you bone up on it and get wise. This was a film stocked with maniacs worth emulating. It came out in 1953...it's clear what superstars of rock and roll took it to heart...isn't it? The Haight Ashbury crap was a clear move in the wrong direction...UUrrppppppp!!!!!
10/02/07
My god...John Cena is out for 6-8 months? The Texas Stud will be elated. I'm fairly pleased. He's just not my type. Hey, I'm not into kiddie/women oriented wrestling. He's not the worst ever, but his matches are as boring to me as soccer.
On the positive side of things, the PHILLIES are into the post season. No, we Irwin's haven't quit worshipping the Phillies just because we live in Texas. We're HARD CORE. Many folks would say we're fucked up in the head for following them instead of a Texas team..but they have our primary loyalty. Yes, when they get eliminated from contention ( as usual ) I usually revert to the Card's or somebody else.
We're fired up. Marla wore a Phillies interleague play cap from several years ago around the house last night.
I want to make sure that our pals in Philly are aware of our continued loyalty from afar.
We bought the baseball / cable package this season and watched a lot of their games. I already like 'em more than the 1993 squad. That's saying something. Elvis might smack me one when he hears that I do. Maybe not....shit..UUrrpppppppp...GO PHILLIES
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