Opinion: UPdATEd Sometimes AlwaYS

25 January 2008

Oh, no, I never meant to do you harm.

What do we have now?  What is the dividing 6 issues of the day?  It's been several months now since Mohammed proclaimed he had a religion different from Judiasm.  Christianity is but a by-product- dirty Christians simply paying the rent on life- forget about the Aztecs and Incas- spit on them.  It's too late to change events, it's time to face the consequence... never again is what you swore, the time before... oh, I forgot, divisive religions- yes, those humble solutions- hello Hinduism... keep dying, you'll get there.  Eventually.

(Where were we.. ah, yes... kill self... with big bomb... wake up in heaven with a dozen girls who don't know the first thing about screwing... brilliant!  It's a wonder idiots keep blowing themselves up for bad blowjobs, but, the things people do for money--- amazing !)

From my womb to my tomb, I guess I'll always be like a child......... (Devendra, you devil).

Where was I?

Oh, yes.  Third world parents too stupid to save their own children from religious zeal... but for that 10k they get.. only buys so much flour- shouting oh shit I hate America while drinking a coke doesn't really deliver any real message.  Might as well just fuck an urn.  Save the world a hassle since DaVinci doesn't seem to be in the cards here if all we're interested in, in these circumstances is a microbomber, but I tell you what- my kid is going to be what ever it wants to be.  Maybe that's america- or freedom- or just good parenting.  Never, will you catch me telling my son or daughter to blow themselves for Jesus or Mohammed or Abraham or Moses or even ME.  Fuck That Shit.  Pretty words, and petty thoughts- don't let someone else control your mind man!

Here's a message from God:  "Make Friends, Be Nice".

I smoke two joints in the morning.
I smoke two joints at night.
I smoke two joints in the afternoon, it makes me feel alright
I smoke two joints in time of peace, and two in time of war
I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints,
And then I smoke two more

Smoked cigarettes til the day she died
Toke a big spliff of some good sensimillia
Smoked cigarettes til the day she died
Toke a big spliff of some good sensamill...
Easy-e were ya ever caught slippin? hell no!

Daddy he once told me son you be hard workin man
And momma she once told me son you do the best you can
But, then one day I met a man who came to me and said
Hard work good, and hard work fine but first take care of head

(guitar solo)

Whoa, rock me tonight,
Whoa-oh, jah sake,
Whoa-ohh

1 July 2007

I want to run away and join the circus sometimes.

I could fall in love every day and just be off to the next town every day with the bearded lady and the elephants that drive unicycles and the clowns that read haiku, surely, in their down time- when they're not piling into their car.

23 June 2007

15 June 2007

15 June 2007

15 June 2007

"Flesh-confounded, languishing in ridiculous desire..." Quoth the Raven, Anthony Burgess, second to last paragraph of chapter 2 of Part II of Nothing Like the Sun, a reconfigured story of Shakespeare's life. 

Burgess was a professor of Shakespeare's and had studied and taught him like, perhaps, no others and with his vivid skill for language reconstructed a complete world of narcisiscm and infatuation and just pure "madeupness" that could've been 100 percent correct or 0 percent false but probably lying out there on the golf course somewhere between but it is so full of fruit and most delectibly, language.  Language that this entire earth has scarcely known or probably really even taken the time to understand.  The language on its own makes him Shakespeare's equal on some level.  This, I feel, personally.  Granted he didn't sit back and write a Bible's worth of plays or even copied plays (who knows really- I have read Marlowe's story; at least one novel, going back 10 years probably now) but that was never going to do anything for him like it did for Shakespeare.  Shakespeare could write plays during the end of the plague and after it ended and was wildly popular then like a Tarantino but even moreso. 

Burgess, like Shakespeare and many others will be remembered better than he is now, far longer than now.  History will see.  We are dumbing down now, and lazy, but there are more of us so we should keep on, perhaps, on some sort of elevated path, but always thinking that the past was better than it is today.  Of course until today is but a hundred years ago. 

28 April 2007

16 March 2007

Just read a funny post somewhere that 3/14 is steak and a blowjob day.  They funny thing about it was that it was written by a woman!  Egads, I like the way she thinks.  The logic is that it's been a month since Valentine's Day and we're due.  Even better since it's the day before March Madness begins.

Unrelated:

I'm bugged by the whole democrat republican thing.  Can't we really be friends.  It's like society created a rule somewhere in the mid 5000 BC era or something that said "We must always find a reason to dislike others." 

I get it.  Competing agendas have competing champions, but to buy all their bullshit in the process is like being a mouse in a container that is happy he's getting taken home from the pet store.  Happy with his brothers and sisters and family in the little haypiles until we're set loose in the cage with the python.

You can paint a picture knowing what the end result will be; forcing the colors to shape what you want them to become.  It's an agenda.  It's research.  It's economics.  I don't believe in any of it.  I want to throw paint on the canvas or just look at the clouds and guess whatever they might be.  I want to be left alone and have friends, not enemies.  Being competetive is something else.

Unrelated:

That was a bunch of nonsense.

Why are women so beautiful now?  Is it because I live some place far away from my childhood, my adolescence? 

It's because I'm older now.  And so are women my age.  And there are lots of them.  I see them every where I go.  They are hard not to notice because they are pretty and often they have cute little kids in tow.  I like them too because kids are little comedians.  Mom can be as sophisticated as she wants to be but little Freddie and his drool and his boogers can provide minutes and minutes of ga-ga-good times. 

There are so many beautiful women these days but you only see them, really, during daylight hours.  If you are on the road at 4 am or 2 am or 6 am you will not see a beautiful woman for miles and miles and miles.  But you will see real loser-ass men on their way home; or businessy guys on their way to work.  The really good looking women have already been taken home from by their dates or they are too good looking to have to go to work at that hour.

(I was channeling Mitch; I think)

15 March 2007

Mind is numb.  Waters are placid.  Took an ambien that didn't take.  Read about a side effect where people actually go out driving.  I go out typing with regards the everyday wars of words and how there is bloodshed in every conversation.

There is a class distinction at the check out line.  At the red lights and not so much on the golf course.  Etiquette will give you and invisible card for anywhere you go: ie: "Have perfect manners, young man?  Delightful!  We've been waiting for you, right this way to the front of the line, no questions asked."

Fight like most and suffer innumerable setbacks and set-tos.  Try to correct these folks blaming conspiring foes and skin tones and be barred by one's own mind anchored to reality.  Your reality.

9 March 2007

I figured out one thing. 
If you're confused about the faces people are makin on album covers or mugshots or anything really and it's bothering you just imagine to yourself that they've made a pie and they're kind of wondering what you think of it:

"Is it good ol chum?"

"Did I make a good pie?"

"What type of Port would go best with it, mate?"

That kind of wraps it up.  At least you can imagine that you have an idea of why these jackasses are standing behind a tree a bit sheepish or feel the need to transmit radio waves in rainbow frequencies through a pyramid.  At least their shy little message takes on a bit of sense.

8 March 2007

Uh.  Not much happening.  Very busy with business-life.  Soon, I will be going to Las Vegas for a bachelor party in two weeks.  My friends and I have always been relatively harmless but I feel even more harmless now than I have- ever.

We have March Madness coming up which is usually pretty exciting because I've won it before in an office pool.  But going to Vegas and dropping a hundred on a game or two for the instant payoff will be even better.

No striking op-editorial on anything related to Frotuss or Sex or the over all general malaise that America wakes up to on a daily basis.  I live in Florida.  I work all week and then visit the beach and my swimming pool whether it's December or June or all months in between.  It's a very systematic system of maintaining.  Life revolves around waiting for the new strip mall or city center to open up or finding new nooks or crannies in the cities nearby because traffic sucks and who wants to wait forever on lights.  95 and the Turnpike make Florida a breeze on the weekends.  I can be in Miami in an hour and Orlando in 2... if I wanted... but I have all the same stuff right around me so why?

So much is... just over the ridge.. only to find that... it's not totally different.  So I'm stuck watching Big 12 Basketball when I could be watching ACC or MAC.  Much of it is to do with the quality of the HD or regualar cameras.

17 February 2007

I must admit that Thievery Corporation rocks the house.  BigTime.  For Venereal Disease Day my wife bought me "Versions" which is ultra-ethereal.  The way my house is set up... it just reverberates off of the angles and open spaces.... sooo coool.

So Cool, man.  Takes me back to Geneva, hanging out at some casual jazz club. 

10 February 2007

You can do anything you want sometimes except turn frickin "BOLD" off on this web design online program so bear with it for a moment of your time.  If you're reading this gibberish then evidently you've found some freakish time to spend trolling the web for cheap, cheap entertainment.

While not PORN ITSELF.  Frotuss is another word for WEED and is thereby entertaining.

From an op ED standpoint.  I have no opinion on anything of any significance outside of the two separate hemispheres of Football and Finance.  Good Day.

28 September 2006:

Spark Plug of Indifference

I love you.  You are filthy.  I love you.  You whore.
I hate you.  Thank you.  I hate you.  I would be dead withouth you.

Oh, the misguided scum walking the planet.  Where does it start and how do we end it? 
Well, it all started over a million years ago, but the virus known as stupidity in its simplest form cannot be cured.  It begins in the home when the child begins learning how to function in the simplest ways like an asshole.
There have been great hopes, given out to the public to try and quell their stupidity and thus save themselves from themselves and more importantly from us (ie the Smart Ones; as in to keep them away from us).  We've created religion and laws which on their own could be good but the enforcers of such creations have taken and badly bent those around so badly that they've had much the opposite effect of their original intentions.  Those things aren't all bad, but, they tend to pop the wrong braincell hither and yon.

There is a brilliant doctrine baked into many of us and it is "common sense".  Television news anchors marvel at it at times especially when it is coupled with "courtesy and kindness".  It is almost scoffed at on the news as though it were an unbelievable event that people actually perform nice actions.
We are light years from a society that doesn't actually need a government or laws or the television news because at some point millions of years ago the cave men who had all the common sense and the courtesy and the kindness got (metaphorically) fucked in the ass by the dolts who created a strong lineage of dolts who bore offspring amongst dimwits and thus perpetuated their murderous, idiotic sub-human species.

Through meditation and constant self-supervision there is the hope that some would achieve the basic fundamentals of what we might otherwise know as "common sense".

18 August 2006: Mother do you think she's dangerous?

Mother will she tear your little boy apart?

Oooohhhhhhhh uh

Mother will she break my heart?
Hush now baby baby don't you cry....

Goddamn America.
I have been cured of smoking weed (frotuss) for so long (thanks to my stress) but watching South Park and the joint laying on a tree stump and the fact that I just finished another glass of pure alcohol made me want to reach through the screen and light up that cartoon j-bone! That and this Pink Floyd music that is nothing more than fantastic interactive opera with my warped brain; the brain of a person destined to die (like you) (how dramatic!)... but anyway...

I used to keep enough frotuss around me at all times that I kept a whole platter stacked with shwag just in case of emergency and then one night sitting in the back of my condo I worried about somoene suing me and that fucked me over in my brain for life. It was me. The Joint. The Christmas lights and a nice May evening. 80 plus degrees and Florida and tires ripping over asphalt in the background that made me get so paranoid that I swore off frotuss because it made me scared.

5 years later.

I'm bold. I'm still an idiot but I don't sit on the back porch worrying. Now I just worry about... oh, that's not important... I'm ready for a re-introduction to my old friend... a new avenue. I'm an old man now. I have a pool. I have a full cocktail. It's Friday. I could just kill-a-man! (My testosterone level is entirely too high, I've been working out, too; lest we forget wife is prego w/ numero deuce child).

6 August 2006: COWBELL; More

Oh!
I can't handle this life.
Send me to hell this instant!
Why?
It's probably what I deserve and the kharma that I'll eventually draw to myself.

But in the solopsistic view of my favorite artist who ever lived, Andrew Smock, it's all about me anyway so why should I care about any other human because it is only I WHO EXISTS. NOBODY ELSE. ME AND THE AIR CONDITIONER VENTILATION VENT IN THE PAINTING THE ARTIST ONCE DREW IN MOSTLY GREENS *(MY ARTIST friends hate it when I stare at their paintings for long times drawing more inferences from them than was probably intentionalized- but that's the great thing about ART; again).

It's brother Frotuss's birthday today (AUGUST 6th) and he's about as much help with this website as sweat on my hemis (hemrhoids) but we love him even if he's busy doing upside down kegstands in mom and dad's swimming pool in OHIO.

It was only a rumor that people swam in Ohio anyway and now we know that besides taking acid with their girlfriends they do upside down kegstands in the water when they're NOT DRAGGING PADDLEBOATS OVER DRY LAND WHILST DOING KEGSTANDS ABOARD SAID PADDLEBOATS THUSLY DRUG BY LAND VEHICLE AKA "GATOR".

Not to worry. Those who survive will yet ready their penises for hand torture one day again. It's a given college football fans... and now for lyrics from Belle and Sebastion:

Honey lovin you is the greatest thing

I get to be myself and I get to sing

I get to play at being irresponsible

I come home late at night and I love your soul

I never forget you in my prayers

I never have a bad thing to report

You're my picture on the wall

You're my vision in the hall

You're the one I'm talking to

When I get in from my work

You are my girl, and you don't even know it

I am livin out the life of a poet

I am the jester in the ancient court

You're the funny little frog in my throat

My eye sight's fading, my hearing's dim

I can't get insured for the state I'm in

I'm a danger to myself I've been starting fights

At the party at the club on a Saturday night

But I don't get disapproving from my girl

She gets ALL THE highlights wrapped in pearls..

You're my picture on the wall

You're my vision in the hall

You're the one I'm talking to

When I get in from my work

You are my girl, and you don't even know it

I am livin out the life of a poet

I am the jester in the ancient court

You're the funny little frog in my throat

I had a conversation with you at night

It's a little one sided but that's allright

I tell you in the kitchen about my day

You sit on the bed in the dark changing places

With the ghost that was there before you came

You've come to save my life again

I don't dare to touch your hand

I don't dare to think of you

In a physical way

And I don't know how you smell

You are the cover of my magazine

You're my fashion tip, a living museum

I'd pay to visit you on rainy Sundays

I'll maybe tell you all about it someday

29 July 2006: COWBOY

So I'm emailing my buddy in BH. We're talking about warm Bushmills. He says "out here we call em "COWBOYS"".

So here's to you ANDREW. I'm drinking warm Johnny Walkers all night tonight. JW Blacks. I'm sure I won't kick the sleeping dog. And I'm sure I won't watch Hostel on channel 182 with my wife.

Did I ever tell you that THE KINKS are superior? They've inspired me to live out my final days aboard a yacht in the islands of Greece. Just because of a goddamn echoing refrain.

10 June 2006: You ain't a beauty but, eh, you're all right

Hey What else can we do now? Except roll down your window and let the wind blow back your hair... We got one last chance to make it real... The offer's waiting.

Ok. So my wife made fun of me for listening to The Boss. She said, Springsteen is so "Not You." And by looks, she's right. But the Boss is an intricate designer of my interior makeup. As a kid and as a young man some of the most influential people that I've admired from an intellectual standpoint were Springsteen fans. So. In being around them, I had to endure The Boss. So let's just call it what it is. A residual after-effect. And leave it at that. I do know one thing, though. I can play Thunder Road at 8:36am and feel like hammering back some wet cervezas and getting a blow job.

Just kidding about the BJ. It doesn't take much at 8:36am to feel sexual since I'm a morning/afternoon sex type person. I'm not much past 9pm because "I'm usually been drinkin'."

4 June 2006: Good Day. I say Good Day

My apologies to those people who's articles I had to pull off of Frotuss, but my quota is about up so I'll be posting many articles but not many pics.

28 May 2006: I fucked your mother Trebeck!

It's good to be home after a week of utterly ridiculous debauchery in Charlotte, NC. I'd like to thank Andrew from LA, Brendan from Providence, Kendall from Dallas and the spots on my liver for the performance of a lifetime. It's amazing how we can sit around all day long and feel like complete shite and by 6 or 7 have nothing to do but get whacked out on J&B, warm Bushmills, Guinness and make the rudest comments every known to man about absolutely everybody and how fucking funny it is.

I morphed into Sean Connery (in voice only), Fat Bastard, Tony Montana and laughed until it hurt regarding the Whimsical little man who sat behind me all week in training, Graeme.

If someone could please get Tony an arm extension, I'd really appreciate it.

13 May 2006: Moving, still.

7 May 2006: Moving again; 4th residence since December 2000

If you haven't moved about 7 times in 7 years or so you don't know what your missing. We moved to FL in 00 into an apartment for 2 years. Bought a condo for 2.5 years. Rented a house for 1.35 years waiting for the Florida Bubble to implode. It never did but prices finally stopped going up and somehow I managed to get unlucky and lucky at right about the same time in terms of companies to ply my trade with and my 3rd company of my licensed career helped me get in to a house with some extra bedrooms and a pool; heated with a screen encompassing it. Amazing!

Yes, amazing, and for the past year or so the strains of not owning bugged me into buying again. That and my wife. But not having DirecTv for the NFL package... sucked. Not having a convenient pool to lounge around... sucked. Living 35 minutes from the beach... sucked. Not being able to put all the light fixtures in that I would like... sucked. Not being able to put a plasma screen in my bathroom... sucked.... but then... we made the offer... the offer was accepted.... and... there goes... all.. my... money... I won't go into detail about chunks of change but suffice it to say I'm paying for movers and they've triple what they charged me last time. I'm paying for every room to be painted, new fixtures to be installed, wallpaper to be stripped and cabinetry work. My low ball offer probably wasn't low enough.

Like I'm prone to say... money is funny. It doesn't mean anything but it rhymes and it makes people feel comfortable and confused when I foot the bill for things like dinners, lunches, cocktails, pay-per-view, lap dances and the occasional lawsuit.

Or I could quote Marty Sheen in Wall Street, "Money... it's only something need in case you don't die tomorrow..." as he's handing over three hundred bucks to his stockbroker son who made 50k in the prior year while his old man had just made 35k in the previous year. Hmmm.

20 April 2006: Welcome to your space ship

I just don't think that people ever really experience the joy of drinking. What's a rum and coke? A pina colada? A rumrunner? That's all baby shit. That's disguising your drink so you can tolerate alcohol. If you can't tolerate it then you should probably not be even drinking. Drink your drinks on the rocks or with a splash. Don't lie to yourself. Be a man.

Just so you know. Whether or not you care or think I should die. Sorry. But the bands that I like listening to that I think are the best right now are The Black Keys and Wilco. And yes, in that order. The Keys are from Akron and yes that does make me biased, but just go ahead and listen and tell me you don't think they're from 1971. It's fucking unbelievable.

WILCO LYRICS

"Handshake Drugs"

I was chewin' gum for something to do
The blinds were being pulled down on the dew
Inside, out of love, what a laugh
I was looking for you

Saxophones started blowing me down
I was buried in sound
Taxicabs were driving me around
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown

They were translated poorly, I felt like a clown
I looked like someone I used to know
I felt alright
And if I ever was myself
I wasn't that night

Oh it's okay for you to say
What you want from me
I believe that's the only
Way for me to be, exactly
What you want me to be

Oh it's okay for you to say
What you want from me
I believe that's the only
Way for me to be
Exactly what you want me to be

Oh I was chewin' gum for something to do
The blinds were being pulled down on the dew
Inside, out of love, what a laugh
I was looking for you

Saxophones started blowin' me down
I was buried in sound
The taxicabs were driving me around
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown
To the handshake drugs I bought downtown

Oh it's okay for you to say
What you want from me
I believe that's the only
Way for me to be
Exactly what do you want me to be?
Exactly what do you want me to be?

Felt like a clown
They were translating poorly
I looked like someone
I used to know
And if I ever was myself,
I wasn't that night

Exactly what do you want me to be?
Exactly what do you want me to be?

29 March 2006

This was a funny thread on a football sight that I decided to get rolling like a Chuck Norris site. Things got outrageous and this was my latest addition:

Re: Chris Wells Thread

His poop is used as *currency in downtown Akron, at Brubaker's Pub and Jillian's and can get you 3 free beers at Aeros games (tickets for those games are free unless you want behind home plate, but those just cost a couple of... nevermind). If you've been pulled over and it's after 2:30 and you've been drinking at the Ido (long O) on South Main and you tell the cop you know Chris's jersey number (2 he'll ask you to come back to the Ido for a Jaimeson and ginger ale, an Irish Coffee and ask if you know how to roll up confiscated contriband (don't mention that Chris lost to Hoban or any other school, they'll pin the contriband on you for that).

It's all true, I swear! (It keeps happening to my brother who lives on Brown St. & Palm(the crackheads will steal your car and park it right in front of your house-or high speed chase- there and tell you that they used an old dirty sock to plug the leaky radiator(brother's roommate- happened to him; cop offered him a free shot to the crackhead's cranium, but he declined.))

Akron cops have real crime to worry about, you know; population of 220k in the city after all these years of all of us moving away.

*turd currency is the full nomenclature, but that's like saying "hand me a Grover Cleveland" for a thousand dollar bill instead of "pass me my k-note".

12 March 2006

Hello Earthlings! Deepest apologies for anyone who contacts me via ganja@frotuss.com. I don't check it sometimes for months on end. This can lead to me not getting back to you for some time. Recently, my bro from Geneva emailed me letting me know all the changes he's been through and I would've like to have gotten back to him much sooner. My sincerest apologies.

Life is amazing. God, Kharma, Vishnu, Mother- seems to smack us with one hand and reward us with the other. I'm just trying to stay out of jail because I've proven again and again that I showed up about 5648 (plus or minus 10) years too soon on this planet and I'm still trying to adapt. I'm suffering from a language barrier. We seem to be speaking a lot more than our voices ever give us credit for.

22 February 2006

Give me back my TV. Give me back the key to my heart. And let my love grow like a river straight into your heart. Dear.

So said "Uncle Tupelo" once upon a time. Songs. So funny how they sing and they echo in a head... Funny how we wonder about ourselves; wondering what the fuck is really wrong with us. Living in Florida I'm driven to question my mortality daily. I wonder how I've lived so long and I'm 30. I think about what a miracle that is. All the frotuss I've toked: megatons. All the LSD: let's not even mention it. All the cocaine: ???? Worse than any of the aforementioned: All the chemically soaked foods?????????????????? The coffee. The stress. The driving. The strip clubs. Amsterdam. Geneva. Trains. Planes. Automobiles. Gasolines and jet fuel. All the time I've spent swimming underwater with no oxygen. All the boredom; the pent up desire.

17 February 2006

Nothing like listening to Pink Floyd and feeling like a part time God. The way the guitar scintillates over the horizon is nothing short of mindblowing.

You could be getting your knob clobbered or not and just knowing the song and the atmosphere is enough. Life gets huge under that giant guitar noise; that giant happening; that giant movement between you, the stars and the Floyd; LOVE...

I love my friends I have gathered on this thin raft.........God Bless them... Pretty Women...

You find yourself standing

at the end of your line

looking for something.

4 February 2006

I've decided that Frotuss is a secret and you should tell no one about it ever. It's ours and no one else's.

There were several thousand hits on this website in the last month. I don't know why. It must be because we're in the "ary" months and people are chained to their computers.

I used to close my eyes for a second or two and see myself naked and chained to a bed and the only thing I really noticed was my penis because it looked like I had been fucked to death almost. After I opened my eyes back up I wondered what I was seeing. What kind of vision was that? I think it was my own intrapersonal metaphor for what I was putting myself through at that time. So I decided to force a vision on myself instead. So I would close my eyes and see myself in a big Kent State sweatshirt marching gladly across campus on sweet sunny days wearing shades and shorts and proud and smart. It worked. A few years later I was graduated after having pretty much flunked out of Ohio State and had to go to a branch campus of Kent State because they wouldn't even let me on the main campus. The trick was to keep playing it over and over again in my mind. Now, I'm thinking of myself in my own jet, with my own pilot coming to visit you humble reader from an island in Greece- near an island- on my yacht.

17 January 2006

I'm back again. From Ohio. It's cold and it snows there and I think that it's really part of Canada. South Canada. The frotuss there is plentiful however and my frotuss brothers and sisters are living their lives well there. I couldn't be more proud of them.

The only problem with going there is all they want to do is party. It's like I'm on vacation or something, but I'm just back home visiting. No big whoop, really. The faces all are the same but the places just keep changing.

Great seeing my friends from Chicago and San Francisco while I was there too. They got to meet my son. Hope they liked him. But how can you not like an 8 month old? They're all smiley and poopy and drooley and as a friend of the fam you don't have to really worry too much about that stinky part. When he stinks you just hand him back over.

28 November 2005

I'm back from Ohio and I feel like I was thrown out of an automobile motoring across the frozen tundra traveling at mach 1. Actually, the second night I was there, the baby was crying and I hadn't slept all night, not due to alcohol but because I just couldn't sleep. At 5am when he was wailing a bit I slipped down the long corridor to the stairs and skipped on down the first flight, made a right and proceeded to fall down the second flight as I caught on to the bottom of the railing as my left middle toe cracked down. I thought I broke my shoulder and my foot and/or toe.

Thanksgiving night I drank too much and there are about 16 steps leading to the basement (carpeted) to the theatre and I was quoted to have told Joel G that I did three cartwheels down the steps. Later, I fell again and he ran over to see what it was. I was not exactly upright but most of my Tanqueray X and tonic was still in the "plastic cup". (emphasis on plastic cup, because I know that I have a tendancy to drop and spill).

After awhile you begin to feel like you've been beaten with a bunch of pipes.

7 November 2005

After making through the hurricane alright the phone lines were doing great until sometime last week when ours just went blooey. The neigbors' work. Not ours.

31 October 2005

Yesterday morning I was cautious emptying the dishwasher. Paranoid. Things seemed to be going relatively well in various areas of my life. I had a dark cloud feeling. Despite the Hurrican Wilma catastrophe going on around my region I could not really help but smile like an idiot on the inside because I have my son and my wife and they are pretty awesome and really all I need.

But I worried anyway because feeling good just never goes on forever and I wondered when it would end.

Well, today I got a message on my answering machine from my mother and it said there was something pretty important that she wanted to tell me. After coming in from giving out candy to the kids trick or treating and hearing this I looked right at my wife and said, "Somebody's got cancer."

"How do you know?" she said.

"It's either that or one of the dogs died, but I think she'd be more upset about one of the dogs."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because everybody I'm related to gets cancer."

Well, I wish I was wrong, but I found out that my mom has a lump and the Dr. hasn't said for sure but because he's from the Cleveland Clinic and because he's got a lot of experience he seems to think that it's malignant and my mom will need chemo and and some kind of lumpectomy or possibly even a mastectomy.

She, my mom, basically told me that she told everybody before me, including my wife- sort of, because my dad's cancer and ensuing death was so "vivid" for me. This sort of psychology is a bit irksome but my wife was pissed off because I was so nonchalant about the whole thing. I told her, my mom, that she'd be okay and that I have much older clients who beat all sorts of cancers down here and that she can do it and that she'll be okay and that she'd better quit smoking.

Sounds good, maybe, but my wife was pissed off anyway.

That kind of little bit of pissed off at me is enough to stick in my craw, you know and just make it grow and get under my skin and that is a poor, poor analogy in this instance but that's what the little things people say to me do sometimes.

I told her, "Can't I be strong? Can't I be confident that she'll beat this thing?"

She didn't respond.

21 October 2005

Mirror in the bathroom, I just can't stop stop it, just to gaze at the reflection of my own sweet self... Or... Try living in Florida if you want to feel like a turd being slowly swirled down a toilet drain. It's really amazing how helpless one can feel. The only comparison, and I know it quite well, is to be a stock broker or any asshole in the business of managing money. The problem is, is that you're not controlling your own destiny. It's not as simple as saying, "I'll draw up that contract," or "I'll plug your heart from bleeding," or "I'll make that part that makes that airplane not fall out of the sky."

If it was that simple and planar. It could result in readily apparent solutions but instead you're dealing with a solution as viscous and fluid as dreams themselves in the money management business. You could take the easy way out and try not to achieve anything but then they'd figure out they could do it themselves. You can try to be a hero. And destroy lives. The line doesn't seem so small, but it can be microscopic and destroy your ego and your life. You have to use math, and get wise real quick sometimes if you don't want to destroy your own sense of worth or perhaps even your own life. Remember. None of it is definite. You can be a rockstar or a bum begging for coffee in the span of 5 minutes. The important thing I've learned is to stand your ground. In the immortal words of Leland Stamper in "Sometimes A Great Notion" by Ken Kesey, is "Never Give an Inch."

18 October 2005

Okay, I figured out what Jon Stewart's costs were. They were his monthly maintenance charges for his building. Ouch!

15 October 2005

Even though it's only almost ten past 6 am I'm feeling surprisingly invigorated for having just turned 30. I was depressed all week but after getting to laugh last night at comedian Gabriel Iglesias or however you spell it, my spirits feel lifted. I don't even remember last night. I remember a comedic dream that I had but I don't remember leaving the comedy club or the second half of being there, but I'm pretty sure that that's just me and a problem I have once I have a few drinks. I did consume about 5 martinis in a 24 minute span at Blue Martini, and I no longer think they're a rip off because I realized when I order one I'm actually getting about 2 martinis. I'd like to thank Kim the Bartender who made herself available upon my whim. She was nice and didn't even know it was my birthday. I guess that's why I tipped her 15 on a 47 making it a nice 62 in 24 minutes. When you decide you want to consume mass quantities, just come and hang out with me. I don't play around. I don't remember anything, and I have to roll over first thing in the morning and tell my wife I love her with all my heart and last night was the best night of my life to see if I did anything really dumb-which, apparently I lucked out and did not (perhaps that's a sign of maturity)- I don't remember anything but obviously I didn't need to remember anything anyway.

The feel bad factor:

After a night like last night and I drank too much and woke up with zero pain, I always find something to feel awful about. In this instance it is the birthday cards that were given to me. I folded them up and stuck them in Ericka's purse and forgot to get them. That's it. But it's something to make me feel horrible. I've come to realize that I'm a born loser who's got a big ego, but no matter what I'm always feeling really bad about something I did. If you feel like this also. I guess you at least have me to keep company with you. I'm always going to keep company with you.

On getting sued:

My first legal matter has reduced itself in size from the some of $50,000 to getting a settlement offer sitting on my desk after I returned from lunch on my birthday for $5,967. I guess my letter telling them that I had a baby and a wife and that I made over $500,000 for the firm in 4.5 years on my 5.0 year contract did have a slight effect. Of course I was told that it was void if I shared any information at all with anyone at all, but that's a horse of an entirely different hue.

It's 6:25am and I've already downed my first diet coke of the day.

11 October 2005

Not getting sued today. Nope. Being reprimanded by my own firm for 85% of my money made coming from 4 accounts, thus far at my new firm. That'll happen, I guess.

But I probably shouldn't be talking about that.

In other news, I'm completely miserable and turning 30.

6 October 2005

Long live the football lineman. The tricky fat kid, especially, who can knock kids down while nobody's looking. Then step on them.

3 October 2005

Good day.

It is football season. Football season is good because football frequents our television boxes and is aired in place of horrid, putrid, unimaginative reality television shows that suck and make me puke. I feel exponentially more stupid after I've witnessed one of those types of washed up shows. The sad part for the people on them is that they don't feel that they're being exploited. They'll unashamedly do anything to be on television. It strikes a cord in me everytime there is a newscaster reporting about blood somewhere, typically, that people are compelled to "get on TV" and wave or act like an ass of some sort. It's not their fault. They're just conditioned that way.

Speaking of conditioning and hypnosis one wonders if we truly are in control of ourselves? Why do I binge drink? Is it because of the ads on television? Is it because I live for danger (and/or stupidity)? Am I brave? Why did the man murder his wife and child down the street from me? Did he think that would solve something? Am I going to wind up in jail or standing on a street corner someday with a sign asking for money like so many? It's got to be a mortal fear for some that perhaps it's beyond their control and that perhaps their destiny is chosen for them? Are we pre-coded genetic beings? If our hair color, skin-type, toenail thickness etc are pre-scripted then why not our actions?

Free will? What free-will? Wasn't I predisposed to read Sartre fall out of a window in Madrid, hear music in my head? What is my destiny? To hit a hole in one?

The answer?

The answer is to say fuck it, after a while, get distracted, and do as they say, do what you love and act moronic, I guess.

30 September 2005

Desmond Dekker's song, "Isrealites" has the effect of making me want eggs. My wife thinks he's saying, "He has read eyes" which I find very annoying. I mean the song is the main theme to Matt Dillon's classic, "Drugstore Cowboy" so why? Why make fun of something that is so classic and wonderful that you won't even know what a classic it is with William S. Burroughs in it until you're geriatric yoursefl? Ridiculous.

Speaking of ridiculous. For the second time in less than a month I have learned that I am going to be sued. The more that I am threatened, the less I'm affected. It's like, after the first time someone threatens you with idle talk, the second time it's a little hard not to chuckle at their poor attempts. At least the first time it was in writing. Even my lawyers didn't want me to offend them with offering them (the lawyers) money to write a letter. They're more like, "You're smart enough to say in a letter, ummm... not really." It's not like you can say to me, "Well, I think you owe me "X" dollars" and I'm gonna write you a check. When you decide to go the mattresses. That's it. It's over. And you're not getting shit unless my guts are about to be ripped out.

Here's my message to these jackasses: The stock market goes two ways, and after 4 years it decided to take 2 months off. So sorry.

24 September 2005

I read a book about 7 years ago called "Winning through Intimidation" by Robert Ringer. I don't know if the book actually changed my life but it did help me out in a few ways. One of the ways that was fascinating was that it preached a sort of negative mentality and that was to expect to be disappointed.

Don't expect to close deals and you will. Expect that person to have no interest in you and your persona will come off as a lot more genuine and its a whole reverse psychology that may work but it's not completely realistic to abide by.

Heading into this weekend's football games I carry that same feeling toward the Buckeyes and the Brownies. The Brownies are picked to lose and everybody is picking Ohio State over Iowa in the Big 10 opener but I think we lose because this year's team is too full of itself. They were talking National Championship all summer long and now after they lost a game those hopes are nearly dashed and they haven't lived up to their own press clippings. The coaching on offense has been disappointing and the defense has been great against lesser opponents but has had massive lapses in the secondary. Iowa is coming into the game with a chip on their shoulder much like Texas did and that kind of thing leads to a negative conclusion for me. The Buckeyes may win and that wouldn't surprise me to see another senseless, ugly game, but if they lose, I might be the only one outside of Iowa City not shocked by that outcome.

19 September 2005

Watching the Saints vs Giants while simultaneously flipping over to the Cowboys/Skins game. The Saints are supremely talented and so poorly coached that its ridiculous. Granted, they play in the most physical and probably best conference in the NFL, the NFC South, but they flat out fuck shit up non-stop for themselves. 13 penalties, 92 yards with 11 minutes to play. 2 Interceptions off of tipped balls and one shank off a goal post to go with a fumble on the openting kickoff.

If you fumble the opening kickoff and the other team scores a TD you should be allowed the option of folding and sending everybody home before the game really gets going. Why waste everyone's time and risk injury? Haslett, the Saints coach should be allowed to throw out a white hanky on the field that says "We Give Up" you guys got us today. "Everybody Go Home. Fuck it. Our Biorhythms are just off tonight."

Aikman, Emmit Smith and Michael Irvin all got their numbers retired. The Cowboys were great and all but Aikman was no Joe Montana. Irvin ran two routes over and over. They were all good but really great? I think just real good. Plus. The Cowboys are going to run out of numbers real soon at this rate. You're going to see guys running around with no numbers on at all. They might look like cars or something. Boy, "A6" is a fucking sweet defensive end!

1 September 2005

Going to Ohio next week. Ohio seems so awesome... Now that I don't live there anymore.

My friends were always cool before, but they're even cooler now that I only see them once a year or so. My family, too.

Instead of my dad telling me to do this little bullshit for him here or that little bullshit there, he'll tell anybody else within earshot to take care of replacing the lightbulb in the garage just so he can hear my new tales of fatherhood, etc, etc, in the lush rich land of South Florida where plastic surgery and hundred thousand dollar cars flow like bermuda grass on numerous golf courses. Pretty hilarious really.

Your people all change, too. That's the funny part.

I have friends who don't probably think that I think about them much, but occasionally I do and when I see them on my annual or semi-annual or bi-annual trips to the great white north of southern canada, err- Northeast Ohio- I see how much they've changed. Unbeknownst to themselves or to those around them or their family for that matter. And that's always interesting to see what inadvertant heros they've become; teachers, business owners, saints, hypocrites, bartenders, sex-slaves, comedians, bussers, brass and every thing in between and beyond.

A year ago this night I can remember watching Texas Christian University (TCU) beat up on Northwestern University (who would later upset my 6th ranked Buckeyes) as I awaited Hurricane Frances to hit our area. Hurricanes suck because it's really just a rain storm with real high winds but because it's a hurricane you can count on it being really unpredictable at the last minute and last year it whipped up on us during the first weekend of football season and that really pissed me off in conjuction with denying my prego wife with the creature comforts of such things as electricity for 6 days while she had just become prego with our little beast of a son (thank God).

And speaking of him.

I've never seen a baby who thinks he's a bear before but mine does. He thinks he's an animal. This is hilarious. I'm sure I've not helped much in his development because all I've done is pretended to fight him like a kung fu movie; moving my hands around real quick with the sound effects of something moving real quick through the air; you know those 'whoosh' sounds and then pretending to pop him or myself and making that 'splotch' sound that they always make in those movies. He loves that shit.

"Spch" "hhhhwqqhh" "sppch"

31 August 2005

Wined And Dined (Barrett) 2:58

Wined and dined, oh it seemed just like a dream!
Girl was so kind.
kind of love I'd never seen
only last summer, it's not so long ago...
just last summer, now musk winds blow...

(refrain)

Wined and dined, oh it seemed just like a dream!
Girl was so kind.
kind of love I'd never seen
only last summer, it's not so long ago...
just last summer, now musk winds blow...

Chalk underfoot, life I should prove
dancing in heat, our love and you...

Wined and dined, oh it seemed just like a dream!
Girl was so kind.
kind of love I'd never seen
only last summer, it's not so long ago...
just last summer, now musk winds blow...

19 August 2005

Amazing how the right touch of booze contributes to Acidosis... or the ability to wake up at 2:43am and think about responsibilities in life extremely seriously, to a point so unmerciful that you can't fall back asleep and your anxiety level raises your blood pressure to the boil-over point to want to get things done. Like write a letter to an attorney who is trying to sue you from your old firm for 50 large.

Now that that's taken care of, my response, my muscles have this stiff feeling that only LSD ever did duplicate. Like I want to wake up my adorable little wife and tell her how much I adore her and that she's a great mommy to our little son.

I sure could use some frotuss right about now. Only the frotuss can bring me down from this buzz I have right now at 6:39am. I remember this feeling all too well. The body doesn't know whether to fuck or flee. The skin is grimey. Strange thoughts pervade the brain. If you walk outside and see people you look at them and they seem quite like cattle or pigs. They don't have souls. You can see the vessels in their skin pumping blood like some large organism/insectae.

They're awake but the full functionality of their brains isn't fully realized and it's never more apparent than right now. I recollect walking across the quad on South Campus at Ohio State and after having been up all night and happy- seeing the grim looks on the weary morning face of a girl and of others as they trekked their way 15 minutes in every direction to pursue their studies. I walked alongside them with my number two pencil on my way to Classical Mythology 101 for the second quarter in a row having just browsed my text book, paying mostly attention to the pictures and noticing how the stories were all extreme metaphors for gay love. I must've smelled like a dutch coffee house.

7 August 2005

I must be a good deal more twisted that I previously thought. Last night, I went to a party and had a great deal less than I normally drink. Mainly, because my son was just a real unhappy baby. Everyone wanted to touch him and dote on him like crazy and he really just wanted to be in the quiet house alone with his old man; me. So, I spent the majority of the time just holding him and explaining to every woman there that was trying to take him away from me that he was tired and not in much of a good mood. But. During one moment I found myself looking at myself in the mirror much like the picture at the top of the page here. Consulting myself and wondering what it would be like to get in a fistfight with the other two older men who were at the party. I said to myself, "they've never seen such power and quickness as you... you'd lull them into thinking you were a slow fighter... then pow! and with quickness and ferocity." Then, I looked a little more deeply into my own eyes and told myself to shut the fuck up that such instances were beyond the realm of belief and comprehension. A piece of my face looked back and said, "you always gotta be ready."

4 August 2005

Why not go ahead and celebrate the 4th of August like we celebrate the 4th of July? Get those leftover sparklers, get real drunk and do something unexpectedly stupid. The neigbors would never have seen it coming that you and all your friends would be singing the last of the Star Spangled Banner in your skivvies, spinning your sparkler in one hand and your johansen in your other hand beneath their bedroom window.

I used to be that guy. But I'm not anymore. My wife just cracks up at the neighbors who have all this outdoor furninture sitting in their backyard of their zero-fenced, zero-lot line catty-cornered to us on the marsh backyard. I ask her, "How late did lalapalooza run last night?"

I don't have it in me anymore to be that guy. After a thousand drunken stupidisms, of which I'm still quite prone, the majority of the time now, I can foresee the end result- which, kind of ruins the fun of getting to that point.

3 July 2005

So what happened on the way to the forum? Personally, I quit my job and simultaneously got a new one. Same career tract. But the reason for the switch was, of course, money. Actually, same exact job, different company. The real problem was the amount of stressed I felt in switching as it has to be done in secret and secrets aren't exactly my forte. Without fail, my previous boss was aware of my forthcoming move and had taken my book of clients to his office so that he could divide up my clients before I even left. Yes. There was a snitch in the ointment. Yes, the manager who would like for nothing other than for me and my family to starve had some parting shots for me as I knew he would. In business, sometimes, is that one day you're like the boss's son and the next day, he'd rather see you die. He thought I got paid off to leave. It wasn't the case. I just thought I'd rather get a much nicer chunk of what I make for the company without getting penalized for being generous to clients. Turns out, I'm the son of a bitch.

Oh well.

I had something else to say, but I have to go try to purchased an unreleased videogame.

25 June 2005

"Your daddy's broke and your mother's homely"... lines from a song called Illegal Oyster by The Gourds. The Gourds are a sweet band from Austin that was introduced to me on a train to Spain by my friend Derrick from San Fran who I haven't talked to for about 7 years. The other guys on the train didn't like it when he played it at all because it is twangy. I didn't say anything and when I got back to Akron I went to that Quanset Hut on West Market looking for it because I figured Quanset Hut, being home to the alternative-type employees and music, would have something that relagates itself to the shelves outside of the Top 40 Universe. Alas, it didn't. They did order me up Stadium Blitzer by The Gourds and about a week or two later I picked it up and much to my liking I smoked fatty after fatty and bong hit after bong hit to such delightful tunes as "Plaid Coat" and "I like drinking" or whatever the hell it's called but "Maria" is the real show stopper on that album. I get chills just typing about it..."And she comes from Guatemala..."... such joy ye shall perhaps n'ever know.

This day I programmed this laptop device to devise such ways as for I to download said music with such happiness that I actually sat and thought to myself "I can have anything I want" until I kept myself from buying the $229.00 black loafers by Prada on smartbargains.com. Oooohhhhh they looked like they've been worn for ten years by some curly toed person. I thought, "how cool... Prada for men just says $$$$$$$$$ like nothing I could think of outside of Armani..." Gasp.

My Napster trial is going so swell I thought I might share some ideas on music thanks to my shoutcast.com listening experience in the "downtempo lounge" area where one can listen to "music for couch potatoes" I heard this awesome song and I thought, "Geee, I shall purchase that with my lovely credit card aboard the internet. That shall be cool." So I sojourned all the way to amazon.com and logged in and searched up old Earl Zinger and pooof, there he was, and zap I had him loaded in my shopping/shipping cart and amazon being the geniuses they are suggested that I should keep shopping and purchase The Gourds latest album, "Blood of the Ram" and I listed to the snippets that they offer and whoosh into my shopping cart landed the blood of the ram and zig zag boom I was about to check out but Amazon being the evil geniuses they are made further suggestions and I kept shopping and then by accident I'm sure I happened upon the desktop item referring me to napster because of my recent purchase of this glorious 17" Qosmio Toshiba laptop... so... I ventured to begin to read the entire disclaimer and guessed that it'd be a good idea to join up and download my tunes rather than wait for a week and then get them and pay shipping and handling...

Earl Zinger on Amazon= 12.95, (plus shitting and handling and taxes, etc) on Napster 9.95 and no shipping... no CD either but who cares I have a tower of unburnt CDs in my office and all I do is download it to my PC or laptop anyway and listen away anyway... I figure I'll save the 9.95/mo charge that napster charges after the free trial month no matter what.

2nd, I saved about 4 bucks on my Gourds purchase and I'm listening to it right now... so Amazon can go and... sell books because that's all I can think of for them right now...

Anway.

Yesterday was a fun evening. I walked out of BJ's Liquor store feeling victorious. I had two bottles. One in each hand. I had the undeniable look of a man: happy (probably more posessed than anything, really). The patrons who were entering the store recognized the madness for what it was and looked horrified (really) but tried to cover up their feelings of envy with that distracted look of thoughtlessness so random and redundant in today's societies.

22 June 2005

Being a dad and business person takes a huge toll on one's ability to find time for jacking around on a website, so my apologies. I'm taking down the business blog link, not because I think business blogging is for losers, but because I cannot remember my password and/or username and apparentlhy I used a fictitious email address when I signed up while drinking scotch so even my pleas for password help are like farts in the wind.

Too bad. That section could've been a lot of fun. Perhaps I'll work on it again sometime. Perhaps I'm spreading myself too thin by doing such things as that and the crazy links page. Methinks I need an employee to run this site.

Anyway the new laptop enables me to update from the comfort of leg-numbing toilet or the metro in paris so we'll see if this forum does not become a more enjoyable or mind-altering experience.

4 June 2005 (c)

What is kind of funny is that one of my clients was friends with John Lennon and lived right next to him. She and her husband were devastated when he was shot. They hated his music.

But.

I'm sitting here listening to "Don't let me down" and I guess I'm missing Mrs. K because I'm wondering if this song might be about her since she had to have had some appeal to John L. especially considering Yoko. Considering Yoko I'd consider Mrs. K even today with all her work over Yoko!

Anyway. She and her husband thought Paul and John were "nice boys" even though their music sucked to them.

Imagine Oasis, I guess. Without any other type of band like that. I guess.

4 June 2005 (b)

There is no song that makes me feel coked out of my skull like corduroy by pearl jam. It must've been the season. Maybe it was "Spin the Black Circle" by Pearl Jam instead. I think I'm lucky because I have fond recollections of coke up against such 1996 tunes and no fond recollections up against anything more recent.

What's cool is that the song itself induces the same pulse within my jetstream as a line.

Never abused that one too terribly much.

4 June 2005

This is sick but the nape of my hairy pit does resemble some fine ass frotuss. Especially at 1:33 am after drinks, scotch, sex, more scotch and in the middle of a song called Chloe Dancer (don't worry, there was more sex to go round should that've been the scenario).

Stamina. Don't mean to be a dickhead, but it can honestly be your worst friend if your objectives are completely the opposite.

Where's my JB?

I keep pissing every five minutes.

For tomorrow I have coffee already a'set to brew and Bailey's Irish Cream so my son and I can coffeefy and smile, probably while posting drivel on this forum where there is very little feedback. It's not like I'm creating any real news.

Yes. Abercrombie & Frotuss.

29 May 2005

Was over visiting Sheff's Stuff yesterday and today and have come to the realization that there is a real maniac posting comments on all the articles which are all philosophical quotes from various authors on various subject matter. It's really quite fascinating to go in and read all the comments but it is at the same time it's really weird. The link on who's posting all of these take you to a free online poker sight or something.

It seems as though the posts were possibly generated by some kind of web-bot. A really quirky one though.

28 May 2005

I was walking down the street one day
In the very merry month of May...

Hello frotifiers and verminous mendicants (see: Baudelaire.. my favorite) trapsing through the mire otherwise known as the internet on your way to and from porn, sports and hither and yon.

Drink coffee.

Frotify and smile.

Good day. There has been no news in the world. Of course if you live near Miami like me, then there is a lot of damnable chaos in this chasm just judging by channel 7 news which resembles nothing short of what would've happen if Hitler had gotten control of South Beach rather than Brazil.

Last night they placed a man with a microphone on the sidewalk across the street from The Clevelander so he could say that hotels there were booked and traffic sucked so park several blocks over (which we should all, always do in South Beach- and only go during the day, anymore because the place is amok with much muck). And by chance he was interviewing passersby who could barely form a sentance, not due to inebriation, but rather from a lack of intuition erstwhile known as the slightest of sensibilities. A rather average looking youngish twentysomething girl said, "woo hoo... South Beach.... it's where all the beautiful people are... woo hoo," this renderance of insanity was followed by a group of young, black clothen, short, thuggish marauders of the night who were greasy with sweat and not exactly handsome (at all) who attempted but alas, did not form a sentance of the least intelligible cohesion but to the typical homeviewer like myself actually rang: "beer... titty... go home... frotify... fun... fun at South Beach where the rest of the morons run and blow our 7 bucks an hour on 7 bucks a drink... titty, titty."

15 May 2005

What feeling can corporate drug dealers not elicit. I challenge them to come up with a drug that makes everything appear medieval to the drugged eye. Another drug to make things look futuristic.

We have lots of drug ideas:

The orgasm drug: A drug that makes you smile all the time. You are at climax stage 100% of the time you are on it.

The stupid drug: A drug that makes you feel really happy and dumb all the time. The coolest thing about this drug is that when you come to, you feel super smart by comparison. It's kind of like reliving your childhood and being able to something about in the middle of recollecting it.

The elderly drug: A drug that makes you feel like an elderly person while you're on it it. You forget things and try to drive the wrong way down one-ways. You have an incorrigible sense of how great the past was (specifically those glorious (good) war torn 1940s) despite a lack of technology and rampant racism. The benefit, again, is when you come to, you're quite happy to be yourself again.

We need more of those drugs that you take and when you come down you're relieved. Like a progressive acid trip. I always used to be able to go on those with people. Almost always. Those trips alone were the scariest.

15 May 2005

John Malkovich is the new Jack Nicholson. In fact he's even better. Jack was great and could act crazy. Malkovich is crazy. It's obvious that his own person suffers as a result of his condition but, good for him, he probably doesn't even notice it.

The portrayal of broad arrays of himself in various movies only serves to solidify his position as one of th greatest comedic actors of all time that doesn't intend to be funny really.

Sort of how Jack kind of wound up being serious as a heart attack yet hilarious in that same and last dying breath. Malkovich is doing that same goddamn thing wherein he doesn't even seem to know just how fucking brilliant he is because he isn't even really acting like someobody other than himself, perhaps acting like himself at an awkward fish dinner with distant, distant relatives but go figure Malkovich to be a nice guy.

He'd be absoloutely perfect to play lead in all of Anthony Burgess's Books starting with The Clockwork Testament; or Enderby's End: which is a roar and anybody who doesn't read Burgess just doesn't care about life after (our) death because it's hilarious. Post modernism, or more succinctly- post death novels by this British author are so fucking real you couldn't imagine it otherwise (unless of course you have a PMA or postive mental attitude).... but we digress. The Wanting Seed is perhaps even more visual to read. Nevertheless, John Malkovich would bring any of these surreal stories to life in a seond with his nonchalant attitude with regard to roles, times and space.

14 May 2005

Good morning Iraq!

It's gotta be me. Everyday, just before I wake up the Iraqi insurgents bomb something. They make it all night long and then just down the road from the hotel where CNN is doing business, sonofabitch! It's like it was planned or something. It's not like they just woke up and said, "Shit. What the fuck are we going to bomb?"

No.

They woke up and said, "How close can we get to CNN without ruining their telecast?"

In fact it's almost like CNN is doing the bombings themselves. Would people really pay attention to the news if everyday they woke up and and everything was just fine? What would the news say then?

I have an idea. It would be very post modern. Like Farenheit 451 meets Pink Floyd the Wall: "Good morning citizen number 9059-4Z. Population growth for the past week declined to 552 thousand versus 128 thousand dead in your sector. Job growth accelerated by 448 thousand last month. Corporate production is flat this year with corporate expenditures expected to be slightly negative to flat. The value of your ownsership in corporations in your world-sector will decline with the poor sentiment... Good luck retiring this year unless you own a porn website."

7 May 2005

Apparently we're not good enough for bustedtees.com becuase they never got back to us on a marketing agreement wherein they paid us to sell their shirts. Apparently we weren't up to their standards with our morality or something to that effect. We're not going to let that affect how we feel about them.

In other news there is a big awesome wedding I'm missing in a galaxy far away.

Regarding other galaxies I witnessed Douglas Adams's movie rendition of Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy which he wrote the screenplay for last night. I enjoyed it. To say that you walked away with a new understanding of the cosmos would mean that you were on a LOT OF DRUGs which I was NOT so that was not POSSIBLE but I still enjoyed it. The song by the dolphins was killer. Very Monty Python. Let me be one of the first to say that this flick will garner cult status on college campuses by the time my son is raising holy hell upon them. It's that kind of movie with so many little quirky, bizarre little special effects that you could definitely make a drinking game out of every time Arthur has to correct himself for calling Trillion, by her former name, Trisha or Tricia (who know really).

It's a movie for MAD universalists. Those who love to sit and ponder about the true meaning of time and whether we are not just part of some giant molecule embedded in the toenail of some larger organism (which we are not and could not possibly be as we are a much larger experiment or shall we say- parallel consciousness---- awake!!-- ha ha(the Egyptians called this experience the Ka- I call it the KaKa, but it's all relative isn't it). You cannot wake right now... anyway that's just silly isn't it.)

Featuring:

Arthur	...	Martin Freeman
Ford	...	Mos Def
Humma Kavula	...	John Malkovich
Marvin	...	Warwick Davis
Mr. Prosser	...	Steve Pemberton
Questular	...	Anna Chancellor
Slartibartfast	...	Bill Nighy
Trillian	...	Zooey Deschanel
Zaphod	...	Sam Rockwell

5 May 2005

Hey now.

Cinco de Mayo. That means get drunk and hit on waitresses and bartendresses in spanish, I'm pretty sure.

Yesterday was the 35th anniversary of the Kent State Shootings. I find it quite sad that it has yellowed as a national tragedy in the wake of other gargantuan tragedies. The thing that will always set Kent State apart is that it was no enemy of the state perpetrating such acts against innocent civlians. It was the state going Fahrenheit 451 or 1984 on the citizenry.

Nowadays your fellow citizens just look at you like you're from another planet whenever you don't conform psychologically urging you to fall in step and get the fuck to work.

Or I could be completely paranoid. But that's okay. I can live with that.

27 April 2005

Get Back. Get Back to where you once belonged.... Get back Joe...

I'd have to say that aside from LSD my biggest influence, aside from Football and Basketball, has got to be music which is really coupled right in there with LSD I guess so it's like a nice (not viscious) circle.

Think about it. What makes the hairs on your arms stand up for no other reason than perhaps that emotional tinge that you get from some number. In this case I'm bringing up, "Get Back" by the Beatles, which, won't get you, unless you let it.

"The way things are goin'... they're gonna crucify me" is more my speed. I've been crucified before. So I know how it feels. The suckiest part is you suffer and everybody feels better about themselves. In my cases it was called "an intervention" and it was over one of the aforementioned saviors/afflictions and it wasn't Basketball.

24 April 2005

This after(noon) we visited Lion Country Safari and it was good. How many times in your life can you drive right up to a Lion and have it stare you down in your car? It's fucking Jurrassic Park and it's cool and the Rhinos are fucking awesome. If you've never lived in a prehistoric era then you've got to visit it sometime cause Rhinos are fucking Dinosaurs- not that Alligators aren't. The elephants they keep far away cause they could fuck your shit up I guess and I guess that the Rhinos are drugged up enough not to do too much damage. But it was funny how the one time I slowed down and there was a rhino coming toward the car and it just kept right on mosying past us. Very polite.

How bout the NFL draft. I watched all that shit. Kiper wears a great helmet on the set doesn't he? The rest of those pukes can stick it in their ass. Berman needs to retire. Jaws and Hodge can stick it up their ass. Suzy can come sit on my lap, or give me a kiss, or it should just be her and Kiper the whole time because their the only two that seem to know as much or more than I, the casual fan, do. ESPN really emphasises the "E" a little too much for my taste with all the shouting. Somebody tell Mike Golic to stope making jokes about his eating habits. It wasn't funny the first 2 million 64 times, it won't be any funnier in the future.

We should get our choice of commentators on all sports subjects. Redneck Channel. BET channel. Geeky Suburban Channel. Switch back and forth and hear them give their completely biased input. At least that would be more entertaining.

For my Miami Dolphin fan friends, lookout. Saban's picks were eerily similar to those of the Butcher, Butch Davis- picking players he'd coached, recruited or played against in college: AUBURN RB, LSU CB... Michigan Stater player... hmmmm.... shades of the Butcher who drafted nothing but Miami players and players from Virginia Tech or University of Florida or Florida State... decent strategy but not for the NFL.... He'd have never drafted Walter Payton from Jackson State (4th pick of first round of the 1975 draft) or Jerry Rice from Mississippi Valley State (17th pick of first round of the 1985 draft).

21 April 2005

I'd like to thank the Jimmy Kimmel Show for using my John Ratzenberger from Cheers Pontiff joke. That was nice of them, for their writers to lift my material. I guess that I have a career in showbiz as a lackey (already- If they wanted me to actually try, they could just ask).

I don't know what happened actually, we were getting a million hits a day last month and this month nothing. Maybe the frotuss faithful actually left their parents' basements and went out and got themselves jobs at the food court or Starbucks. I guess if you want to move up to the KBs then you actually have to be able to afford those $50 eighths. That's where about 25% of the paycheck winds up if my college calculus serves me correctly.

Once again, I'd like to direct the gloopy ones to Shoutcast for their listening pleasure. My newborn son and I are really enjoying the classical shit.

19 April 2005

Well. The New Pope was elected by his peers today. What fantastic news! I bet that dude knows somebody who used to smoke weed. That's fabulous news.

Praise Allah!

God is Good.
God Is Great.
Dear God, let the world
Eat Chocolate cake
And Get baked,
Get a Blow Job on
The First Date.

Oh, Holy Holy Holy
Please don't ask
Me to send money
Cause I'm broke
And it ain't a joke
And My brain,
Dear God,
My Brain is a Yoke
And its like
Holy Smoke
'He Likes to laugh,
He's a laughy bloke'

16 April 2005

The Wee Man was born on the 12th at 10:00. He's totally awesome.

12 April 2005

My son should be born some time between now and the next time I get insane about Frotuss and people who don't give a shit. If its a daughter that pops out and the doctor's assistant got it wrong, then, I won't be upset. I'll just be scrambling for a name really quick.

In times like these I suppose you get sentimental for a number of reasons. About the future and about the past, but nothing is ever as we truly plan for it to be and if it does ever turn out that way its usually a little disappointing. My ever evolving philosophy on life has it so that I cannot plan, and cannot anticipate and can anticipate. It's eastern in its origin but I am by far a western being. Not so superficial. Not so simple either.

A son. What does one do with a son? I don't know. I'm excited to have a buddy over to the house with me all the time. I can't wait till next weekend so we can chill, have a few beers and watch the NFL draft together. That'll be really cool. No pressure to be a superjock like his pop was and sometimes still is, just a little indoctrination into Love of Browns/Buckeyes, and general football hysteria. We should have a good time together as I hold him up close to the TV and hope that the Browns GET IT RIGHT with the third overall pick in the draft.

Well that's it. My wife's giving herself an enema and we're off to the Hospital for an 8pm induction or inducing, whatever the heck you call it.

9 April 2005

I drank a LITTLE bit last night and in the middle of the night, according to my wife, I got up to go to the bathroom and instead walked into the closet and shut the door. She scrambled her about to give do to a baby butt out of the comfort of our warm King bed and shouted through the door, "What are you doing in there?" to me seemingly awoke from a dead slumber... "I'm going to take a pee!" "You're in the closet!" she shouted.

Humbly, I emerged from the closet and went to the toilet which has its own little room, relieved myself and returned to bed only to learn this morning that the whole fiasco had happened while I was sleepwalking/peeing.

Strange.

And my mother, who is staying with us for the next three weeks said that my father used to try to kill her in his sleep by strangling her. At least I know it's genetic and isn't that refreshing.

6 April 2005

Holy shit did you see the college basketball national championship?

I didn't. Really wasn't bursting at the seams to catch that one. Living in Florida, having a child due in several days, having family in to visit and hang out and whatever is not conducive to springtime tv watching, even if it is the national championship.

Nothing really going on save for having one toe firmly facing the sky sunday evening as I became "Toe Up" from forgetting to eat food all day and night sunday night, save for a couple of nibbles on some fish-n-chips down at the Anchor and some wheat thins in conjunction with 5 bloody marys, 6 Fuller's London Pride beers, 2 Boddington's, and about 7 to 4 or 8 Bombay Sapphire and tonics followed by a few too many at the next place where I was squarely inebriated in front of a client- he even sold us another bottle of liquor from his bar.

1 April 2005

Remember A Day:

Must've had a bit too much to drink. Out to a club with so many fools.... Kesey told me to keep writing. Writing what I don't know but I can relate to his Hoolihan/Lars Dolf (circa Demon Box) in so many ways that it's frightening. I've been that guy for so many years of my life. I've been Hoolihan and so many others that I've read that I'm scared to wonder who I really am.

Life. Living has taught me to discount so much in everything that I read and wonder about. Look around you. Remember your classes in school/college. Who were the kids that really enjoyed elaborating and going on for hours and writing and making up great stories? Now remember their actual prowess, and their actual friends. Even if they were "cool" or something else there's something austere and fake about the whole thought of somebody actually "cool" in every sense of it like my uncle Mike the master comedian, the mechanic, actually writing about themselves or even writing really cool songs about themselves like the Grateful Dead or Pink Floyd. I'm left all my life wondering "Are these people really cool" or some really dumbed up geeks in cool drag trying so hard their whole lives to come across as cool. Going so far as killing themselves just to come off as cool. ?

Jim Morrison? Fucking geek? Yeah, probably sounds about right. "Prolonged derangement of the senses." Sounds about right if you're into William Blake and copying people. But I guess what is life and living if it isn't copying and pretending to be somebody else every now and then just to see what it's like. "Hey, I'm Huck fucking Finn! Watch me sail down the Missip barefoot on some sticks with a runaway slave or something.... Hey! I'm just trying to get the experience down because this is who I am!"

Not.

Anyway. Life goes on and then we all die. The superficialities are protrudingly annoying in this world. I know protrudingly is not a word but it should be because it's an adverb that means sticks out to great extent and doesn't even let you walk by. Kind of like my dick that I have to tape to my thigh because I love so many women that I see. But that's for another Sunday school class, as Kesey told me to keep writing (rather than.. what I don't know).

But protrudingly or not, I get the sense every time somebody has something nice, that they're trying to stick it to me for some reason that they're better than me (because there ain't no fucking way, right!?) and secondly I think they're stupid for running up such enormous debt. It's how we compensate for this stupid emotion isn't it? It's not like we all invented something to live off of for the rest of our lives when we turned 20. There's just no way. And nepotism may be respected by some, but for the rest of us self-made people we have ourselves to thank and love and maybe we should form an exclusive club to be the objects of our own self-loathing.

Perhaps Karl Marx rubbed off on me while I sat in the bar in Brussels across the square from the one in which he penned his Mein Campf, just kidding, his Communist Manifesto.... "Workers Unite"... Yeah, right!... "Workers... collect unemployment?"

"What do you do?"

"I'm a worker."

"Sounds noble."

"Uhh.. I collect unemployment and jackoff 7 times a day. ...... (uncomfortable silence).... on the internet."

"Very noble. That's what I do. But I do it at work."

(Insert obligatory cartoon of two men reaching across a desk to shake hands, and a second cartoon of them pulling their hands back rather quickly... think Larsen)

31 March 2005

Hedberg?

Mitch? What happened? Fucker. Down and died. Many people only wish they were funny as you. Who said, "I used to use drugs. I still do. But I used to, too." No need talking to ghosts anymore.

How many times did this creepy lingo seep into my brain in the last 12 months? Many times. I can hear him now. And yes I know the lingo wasn't creepy. It was stony. People who spent the better halves of their lives being irresponsible and shunning real work and reality in general know this. These people related to Mitch. And those who used to be able to relate to Mitch and still get his comedy- they bought his tickets to his shows and DVDs and listened to him and laughed because they have jobs now and could afford to buy his shit and remember what it used be like by listening to funny ass Mitch. Those other fuckers just watch comedy Central in their parents' basements and thought he was pretty funny, too (notice it seeping all around my brain- pervading it as I allow it.)

26 March 2005 afteroon

Why did I have to go to the pool today and see no milf action and the Euro-man, aged 60, promoting himself in his speedo! Goddamnit anyway!

For my trouble I'm a little sunburned and have an image burned into my frontal lobe that I'm going to have to erase with lots of J&B as soon as i get tired of drinking diet coke.

I'm loving life because I remembered to go to shoutcast and search for sports and am now listening to Sporting News Radio. You can search for anything there and find some nice new something to listen to ie: Indian Music is fun. Always gets me fired up. Bluegrass is a nice change of pace from jazz. For a while there was a station that played nothing but Wilco but I can't find it anymore.

I can't wait for NFL Europe season to begin. I'm a big Rhine Fire fan. I like the Amsterdam Admirals when they're not playing the Fire. In Amsterdam you can go down to the coffee shop, frotify, walk across the street and get a blow job if you wish for about 50 bucks and make the one pm start. What doesn't sound great about that? Other than the possibility of contracting HIV, nothing.

26 March 2005 morning

All I can remember is falling asleep on my friends' couch on Easter Sunday while I was shunning my family in search of the other side of the universe. Next thing I knew I was burning a joint with my old man in the car I knew as "La Bamba" because it was a giant white Pontiac piece of crap 1975 car that I actually hid in the backseat of because I was so embarassed to be seen in it- dad and I were in La Bamba passing a J-Bone back and forth and with him being my dad I didn't wish to frotify with him, although I knew he was a rasta man; didn't wish to frotify because he was... my dad and that was awkward... but he looked over at me as I refused at first (in my dream on my friends' couch) and allayed all my feelings because he said to me, "Ganja, in the light.... (as he held his freckled, hair covered forearm up to mine) we're all the same age."

My dog is asking for poo privelage.

23 March 2005

I wish there were more time in the universe for life and less time for illness. Laying in my shack I wonder about all the little kids of the universe who's shack's don't have air conditioning like mine do. Those little kids cowering in the corners of tents fatherless whose mothers get pushed around and treated like meat by predators.

You wonder as you gaze up at those stars we all share. You can't move any closer to the stars unless you go up a mountain and/or out in the country far away from all the city lights. Funny how we appreciat those around us not enough and think longingly about that which we will never probably attain.

To my friends: I apologize for every time I have offended you. I'll probably do it again, but my ego and lusty appetites are beyond even my control or comprehension.

I'm afraid some day I'm going to disappear. Nobody will know it because they'll find an identical replacement dead in my place and everybody will say, "Well, that fucker's dead now." But I won't really be dead. I'll have just left without telling anybody, kinda like drinking with me.

20 March 2005

Excuse the reproachable morbidity. I'm often my own conundrum. Happy while drunk with the saddest thoughts and unhappy while not drinking but with the happiest thoughts. Or maybe not exactly.

But forget that. For anyone who reads, I praise you because it is a noble pursuit to seek knowledge outside of the tube or in this day, outside of the monologues, dialogs and ulugies (sp?) of the internet (what a hypocrite! you must be thinking! and you're right as we, if we may be so bold as to acquire the recently overused verbiage from a master of fork-tonguedness Mr. Greenspan, are our never quite completely 110% true unto ourselves people all the time- but I digress- quite badly too) it is nice to remember authors or to seek the written word as a body of work for knowledge or simply to escape into a nicely protracted view on things such as society or in one of my erstwhile readings: bullfighting of all damnable things.

Today I purchased a work called Demon Box by Ken Kesey and after I'm done writing this little passage I intend to begin it. Kesey often ties me up with his wrestling moves of logic that sometimes leave me bored to the point of tears or in the case of "Sometimes a Great Notion" I literally put it down for about 8 months while I read Aldous Huxley's epic "Devil's of Loudun" but that was ages and ages and books and books ago. When I went back and gave "notion" the attention in deserved my belly hurt from all the visualizations and comedy and exceptional prose. I've read a few other books and I'm pretty sure that this one is a biography of some sort but I really don't care. I need substance after attempting to read American Psycho by Ellis I just couldn't take anymore of the grotesque killing in it and went to the back of it just because I wondered if the ending was different than the movie. Sorry, but it could not compare, and it wasn't fair to compare it to the 19th century Russian novel called the Idiot by Dostoyevsky that I had finally been drawn into the bottom of after about 5 months of nonchalantly reading only at the pool- when I finally started digging it it took me 1 week to read the last 250 pages of the small print.

Anyway- enough of my hot air. I'm going to read something else other than my own stream of conscience (yes, I mean conscience, not conciousness).

Good morning, good afternoon, and good night. Now, the corgi must poo.

17 March 2005

Nobody is really better than anybody else. Especially if we judge from the bottom up which means that if we start from death and work our way downward. You could die driving a Pinto and the billionaire killed himself just so he could drive a Bentley and guess what?

Yes. You both died. And with little fanfare.

I hate to harp on my father again and he didn't really know too many people but I doubt I'll ever see as many people for a funeral in my life as I saw for his. There must've been around a thousand people. And I don't think I'm exaggerating. Granted a lot of the people were many of my fellow school mates just getting out of school, but still, it was something I won't too soon forget (maybe I will donate money to Hoban... nahhh.. but they're persistent).

Happy Scotch Day!

I know, it's a beer day, but God, doesn't beer make you want to just piss like mad?

God I have a million things on my mind that I can't possibly share because they're mostly X-Rated. You know. Man Thoughts--- the every seven second type... they make me want to almost kill.

Returned to my home this evening and I don't get it. I live in a bigger home so we receive much larger gifts that require a hernia lugging up the staircase, lugging them, but I won't put them together because putting together shit is bullshit and I'll pay anybody whatever they want to please do it for me. I went to school for most of my life and I now make money for using my brain and I'm happy to pay people to use their bodies so if you know somebody, anybody who likes odd jobs in or near my zip, give them my number because I've had it (still). I know. I'm disgusting to, probably, most of my friends for this 80s attitude but I'm still a child of the 80s and a child of divorce so what am I to do? That's my excuse for being late most of the time anyway.

16 March 2005

It's Thursday evening. Do you know where your scotch is? If so that's just super duper because it's not even Thursday evening yet. Nope, it's Wednesday night and I was just testing you because you, humble reader, are probably not even reading this within any certain time frame of my typing it. Oh No. You are probably working at your workstation.

Did you ever wonder what people did to look busy before there were computers? I'd probably have been fired for sexual harassment a long time ago. I would be calling the water cooler R2D2 and putting my arm around it at work, calling it my friend like a drunken sailor that gets to drink aboard ship.

What did people do before computers? Oh yeah, that's right. They actually worked in factories and actually had their nose, almost quite literally, to the grindstone for hours on end. My dad worked this way most of his life from 15 years old until he died at 39. He pulled knobs and levers and wore safety glasses and looked into a machine that had laser beams that responded to his sine, cosine, tangent computations that he did in his head as he had a book as thick as a phone book filled with trig computations committed entirely to memory that was there for reference as the laser beams sliced titanium from mounds into airplane engine pieces for stealth American war machines of the sky. He liked his job very much, but there was no computer and no hot girls in the office who would grace him with cleavage- not minding- actually almost enticing him to lean over their way. What will we ever think of next? Perhaps we will all employ virtual sex slaves.

Think of the conversations you'll be having. "Hey Rick... we think you need to meet a real girl now instead of that 3D Raquel Welch you seem to think you're dating."

8 March 2005

Ha Ha! Fuck, Fuck. Stupid, Stupid. Laughy, Laughy

Forgive me oh readers of Frotuss. You are many and frotuss is mainly just one. Bless our rants and depraved ignorance as we talk before we know the complete question into the blindlessness of nightfallen scattergorical heaps of romantic unabashed trivia that's missing much like Alex Trebek's moustache that we all wonder if he might be taking estrogen suppositories these days.

We are brave and over the weekend your humble narrator once again toked upon the frotific beauty that once bared its presence in my presence like an old girlfriend that you could never really give up on. Almost like you could be married for years and she could walk up and tell your wife to walk away and you'd run to the door to fetch your wife but your hesitation and decision would cause the old girl to faint, your wife to run and you end up divorced and hurriedly marrying that old sword-mistress, because AHHHHH wasn't she good in bed!

God Bless America. Frotuss is legal. You must want to get busted if you do get busted.

24 February 2005

I want to apologize to anyone who thinks that I'm being a little bit of an asshole on frotuss.com these days. I want to take a personal time out and tell you that I'm trying to be funny. Not be an asshole. People go through phases. I go through various periods. They used to be marked by women. Nowadays they're maked by authors or comedians. I would have to say I'm going through my (Lewis) Black period.

For your entertaintment I'm including an email I sent to most of my friends and was embarassed so badly the next day, so, to crucify my spirtit and to free my soul I'm posting it on here (funny how, I wrote the word "Soul" and the word "sold" found its way onto my computer instead...

>How fun would it be to have my own religious
>christening... where I played the music to "Shine on
>You Crazy Diamond" while all my friends took their
>turns coming up to kiss my child on his forehead.  The
>music plays and he receives a kiss.  For health.
>That's all I ask.  (Imagine all the drugs you once
>took and feel it with me)
>
>In a great big church or a great big bar.
>
>A****** J******** H******* is due April 13th, and he's
>already a character, let me tell you.
>
>If you're interested I'll be making this event so by
>about  May 15th.  I know.  A little late for Florida
>weather but if there are any difficulties that is what
>I'm here for.  Obnoxious yes.  Fun?  You're talking to
>me.
>
>This probably won't happen but if you have a light
>heart and think that others might respond, then
>respond because... well you know why... because.
>
>What I guarantee is that you will have a wealthy soul
>that is guaranteed beyond infinity.
>
>Good Bye Blue Sky,
>
>Ganja
>