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.