What if God was one of us.......

I guess this is the time of year when we all are supposed to be thinking about God. I think about God all the time. I talk to God all the time. Were cool like that. And its the time of year I guess, that makes me kinda wonder what He would be into. I mean, Im pretty positive he would love FaceBook. And dirty jokes. Especially dick jokes. He would love to make us laugh till we pissed our pants, then He'd be the first to tell everybody. I think He's a hugger, and he's got really great dental hygiene. He loves sweets, and his cholesterol may be a bit high. He would love those Vibram FiveFinger shoes, but He really never dug Birkinstocks, contrary to popular belief. He loves rock&roll, and He tolerates rap, but only because He likes cannibis.He isnt fond of the word booty. Unless its used in pirate talk. And hes a great dancer. I think at times He has to stop himself cuz He may have a tendancy to wait to talk instead of listening. And He loves the smell of Old Spice. And he isnt a big wine drinker, but, every now and then he will take a sip of Bombay & 7 Up. I think He is most worried that we wont put our pride aside and let people love us. And I know He is really happy when we do.Yea, I dont think anyone would ever have a hard time recognizing Him. He is everything that makes us smile and feel. So whatever you are doing today, Im hoping that you will have a reason to smile. And if ya dont, hop on FaceBook. Thats where He finds his best dick jokes.

Stand behind me, Satan!

I really need someone to tell me why I hate Oprah. Really, when people ask me,I cant give them a good answer. By all accounts, this person has done nothing but good things, right? She is the poster child for do-it-yourself success, overcoming the the "hurdles" of being poor, ethnic and female ( wow) and becoming an icon so well known and powerful, that just the mention of her name sends people opening and emptying theyre pockets, and worse, marking the ballots . From the first time i heard her, I knew there was something diabolical going on. Shes scary. And obnoxious. And powerful. And scary. Oh, I said that. I really want to learn more about her, but, to do that would mean delving into the gaping maw of evil. I just know it. Its like have you ever walked into a strange house and you KNEW it was haunted? I have, but, um, thats another story. Ya just know when something aint what its painted to be. Am i the only one?? I cant be. When you have hundreds, thousands of people dying for the chance to sit in her audiance, just to get up close, and well, I guess the hopes of getting a free pair of cashmere socks or a car or whatever carrot shes got out for the flock, that dont hurt, either. Im telling ya, one of these days were gonna find out the truth. I hope Im wrong about her. But Im not fighting for tickets to be in her studio. Cuz the way i see it, pretty soon she will be giving away that trip to Mars for those lucky few hundred that braved the hours of waiting in the cold Chicago weather. And Im pretty sure that new book she loves so much, we will find out, too late, that its a cookbook. You know the one. TO SERVE MAN.

braaiinss .... part deux

Ya know, I think we should just keep our undead the way we found them. On a dreary day, in an unidentified cemetary in upstate Pennsylvania. They're coming to get you, Barbara,,,,,,,

Braaiinnns....Pat Deux

Braaiiinnsss..........

Looks like zombies are the new vampires. Its time for me check out, cuz brother, there aint NOTHING worse. I have had a re-occuring nightmare  since i was a little kid. Im laying in bed at my Gram's house, looking at the drape covered window. There is a small hole in the drapes, just about eye level. Just as im dozing off, a shadow falls behing the drape, and i look at the hole, and i see an eye peeking at me. ZOMBIE EYE!!! Now, in my dream , I never actually see the zombie, but, i know a friggin zombie eye when I see it, i dont need to hang out for face time with the bitch. A childs dream? Yea, bad enough. But now the fuckers can run! And apparantly pick locks, climb fences, use tools... Whats next?? Driving cars so they can mow us down before they gobble our grey matter???? The more writers try and evolve them, the worse they get. I just finished a book, Handling The Dead by John Ajvide Lindqvist, the author of Let The Right One In, great book, right? Well, in Handling, hes got the bastards, now refered to as "the reliving" as bodies that just get up, and  mindlessly going back to doing the same boring shit they were used to doing in life, sitting at theyre desks, shuffling paperwork ,etc. No chasing, no growling, no crunching of skull to get to the sweet gooey center. I kinda felt sorry for them, i mean , bad enough you cant even stay dead, but now you gotta go back to your job collecting carts at the Wal-Mart for eternity?? No fucking way.

Baby sister, I was born game.......

Dang. I LOVES me a good ol' western. Always have. and I really could'nt tell you what the big whoop is. i mean, I'm not a big fan of killing the natives, horses scare the shit outta me, and unless im the one doing the shooting, gunfights dont really send me. But you slap a leather vest and ten-gallon on John Wayne, crank up a sweeping sountrack and just HINT that there is some dirty dealin' going on in Dodge, and brother, you own me. So, the other day when I was watching t.v. and I saw....wait, I gotta get my breath.... the trailor for the remake of "True Grit"... well, lets just say a change of drawers was in order. TRUE GRIT!!!! Sweet creepin' Jesus! One of my favorite movies of all time, actually starring men that i would pay money to see?!!!!!!! Well, Merry Christmas to me, cuz I got all I need. I think this movie made such an impression on me because it had such a strong female character. One that I felt was really respected by the hero. And maybe cuz, John Wayne friggin' rocked. Anyways, so began my love for my westerns, which most people couldnt really grasp. The Serchers, The Sons of Katie Elder,The Cowboys, The Shootist, damn... and dont even THINK of speaking to me when Im watching Rio Bravo. And yes. I can sing every word to "My Rifle, My Pony, and Me".  Give me a weekend with nothing to do but catch a buzz and watch Clint Eastwood, that poncho draped over his shoulder, hat slung low, cigarillo burning at his strong, hard mouth....Shit man, empty your pistoles, Pale Rider, ill be right here when you re-load. So, needless to say, Im more than a bit happy to see that the good folks at Where Movies Are Made are doing somthing for me for a change. Actually remaking a classic with the finest actors I could think of for the parts. I mean, Jeff Bridges as Rooster Cogburn.... fucking stellar. You all know where im gonna be on Dec. 22.  See ya there, podner.

What a drag it is, getting old........

Last night while watching The Daily Show, Jon Stewarts guest was an actress named Michelle Williams. Seems that this adorable waif is what, im guessing ,  an accomplished actress, and is apparantly an "It" girl. After staring at her sweet face for a few minutes, and commenting on how cute her haircut was, Gerard muted the sound, looked at me and said, "Who the fuck IS she?" In that moment, I believe i experienced  what humans have been doing for ages... I realized i am now ,officially, out of the loop. I make jokes about living in the 70's and liking it there, but, really, Im pretty hip to the jive, yo. Frig, I subscribe to Rolling Stone, not much that gets by me.  It was actually a  mental 'snap', to be faced with this. I see this person, who obviously is famous enough to be his guest, and all i can say is , "Um, I think she was married to, um, you know the kid who died, um, the Joker dude..."  It seems the only way i can even identify new actors these days is if they are starring in a biography about rock n' roll. I mean, I found out who the hell Kristen Stuart was just cuz she played Joan Jett.(and I wasnt impressed) Ya see where Im going here? Its not like i really even feel im missing anything, it just feels like the world has moved on. So now what happens? Do i take my place, as others have, and admit that it all doesnt belong to me anymore? How can it possibly be that time already? Is this the part where I start my decent? Is this the time to aknowledge the Crone, ever so lightly, tapping at my consciousness? Or to hear the the screams coming from the darkness of the half century mark,snapping close, closer, at my heels??? If they want me, they're gonna have to try alot harder. Cuz i blew my eardrums out at AC/DC, and i cant hear a fucking thing.

Oingo Boingo Farewell - No One Lives Forever

Everything Ive ever needed to know, I learned from Oingo Boingo

Socrates. Nietzsche. Alfred E Nueman.  Great thinkers all. But for me, its Danny Elfman.  That man is a philosofical one stop shop. Dont hurt that his wisdom is hooked up with best musical compositions that I have pretty much determined, will be the soundtracks of my eternity. I mean, ill be in my hospital bed, wont know my own name, but i guaran-fuckin-tee ill be humming "Cinderella Undercover.  Got Questions? he's got the answers. Your day got ya down?? "Just Another Day" is for you. Need a modern-day telling of The Prodigal Son? click on "Home Again". Fear of the afterlife? "Dead Man's Party"! Your mortality keeping ya up at night?  Take "We Close our Eyes" and call me in the morning. Truth about our stinking society?? "NO Spill Blood" and "Only a Lad". Nuff said there, no??  Has you paranoia been getting in the way of even the most menial of tasks? "Nothing To Fear". Better than fucking Lithium!!!! That 1st dance for your wedding? "Not My Slave". Screw that "Sea of Love" shit.  Do you still doubt this man is a genius? Jam "Elevator Man''.   Then tell me you dont see Obama in your periferal vision.  Dont swallow that barrel of your .45 till you at least play "Only Makes Me Laugh" at least twice. See!!!!! Cant do it!!!!!! Ahhhh, magic, I tells ya.

Shine On, You Crazy Diamond

Today is my little brother Jim's bithday. December has, for reasons too numerous to list, yet no real reason at all,has always been my least favorite month. December is a FEELING month. i dont dig that much. I prefer to feel what I want when i want, and December, well, it had the effect of an unwanted suitor on my soul.My brother is the human enbodiment of December. We grew up, he and I, both adopted from different families, only 15 months apart, in what was then  middle America, but is now one of the most notorious ghettos in Rap  legend & lore. He and I did everything that kids do,took every lump kids take, and fell into every snare that is out there. All the while, he was my champion, my protecter, and my biggest fan, while I slapped him silly, scratched him to bloody shreds and locked him outdoors in his underwear at every opporotunity.The snares became more seductive as we became teenagers, and it was in those days that he became caught in what became his path in life, his drug addiction.The facinating part of becoming a drug addict is its like a time capsule. no matter how many days or years go by, you forever stay the same person you were the day you trade your soul. The remainder of that life, even in sobriety, is lived thru the egocentric, self-serving, and means-justify-the-end eyes of a teenage boy.As our lives  moved on,relationships were built children were born, loves were won and lost, and all the while he exsisted in this life i wish i didnt recognize. We were children of addiction, and the things we swore would never happen were our reality.So I checked out.Justified by the rhetoric I rehearsed..."I cant have that shit around my kids".... I bailed. Today, like every Dec.8th for the past 30 years, give or take a day, I think about him. his big soulfull eyes, so dark that you could see your own refection in them, allways a tilt of sorrow, until, of course, he would get you laughing so hard you would piss yourself. Then those eyes would turn just a bit soft and yet devilishly sharp, and seemed to take such pleasure in the fact he could bring me such pleasure. As if he were grateful to be giving me that gift.He is equal parts Peter Pan, Billy the Kid, and fucking Don Rickles.Everything he has ever done wrong, and I dont think even he could remember all of it, never touched him. He is the epitome of the word "Teflon" nothing ever stuck to him. No squaring the accounts, no paying the piper. His angels flipped the bill, over, and over, and over. But he could never get the pink slip on his life. I could go forever. So, today is his birthday.He is 47 years old today. And I am counting on the fact that those angels are there with you Heimy. I wish I could have afforded to pick up your tabs. I love you.

Pearl Harbor and Kathy Griffin in a bikini. Two things that made me sad today.

Pearl Harbor...'nuff said for the sad part. Now on to the really shocking shit. WTF is Kathy doing out in her skivvies??? She looks awesome, whats the problem, right??? The problem is she is KATHY GRIFFIN. She has now stepped into the celebrity Twilight Zone that she has so famously blasted in her career. Will she now be the kind of person she hates the most? I fucking hope not, cuz she was a hero. C'mon Kathy,we loved you the way you were.Work out, get lipo, whatever, but do it for yourself, not public consumption. Your way too good for that.


                                      You've been served.

Pearl Harbor and Kathy Griffin in a bikini. Two things we never should have seen.

HEY! LOOK AT ME! IM A DOUCHEBAG!!!

That got ya. as you can see im just figuring this stuff out. hang in there with me, i think it will be fun.