Hey Chong!!
Where's Cheech?
Find out here: by clicking.... (video)... 03/21/2007
Funny Video of Vince Vaughn and Jen Anniston claymation hilarition
gHETTo rEmIX OF THAT STORY: if you thought that was funny, you will cry watching this (funny cry) 3/18/2007;
****added at 18:02:00: A DIFFERENT VIDEO w/ Same song: Hilarious.............
Happy St. Peter's Day: 3/17/2007
Don't let it bring you down, it's only Castles Burning...
3/17/2007: St. Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland in a
piece of shit Hyundai wheelbarrow. Or not. But William
Carlos Williams wrote poetry like his name suggested and I love him
till the day he lived for it; my favorite poem is:
The Red Wheelbarrow
William Carlos Williams
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
____________________
Such a brilliant smartass that his wife loved and I could admire insanely.
Sometimes we try so hard that our efforts nullify the result.
At moments there is just a rejuvenating speck staring right back at
us in the windowpane while we sit there rejoicing, taking a pee,
revelling in our earthly essence and it just sends a shivver up one's
spine. We sit there marvelling that we are borne, at the same
time, almost dead, and haven't even lived yet at---the same time;
peering from grandma's bathroom window over the cornfield and the woods
and the powerlines and infinity and nothing. I always smile a
great smile then; proud and stupid.
You can smell the bathtub drain cleaned with draino. You think
about your love. The toilet flushes. You smell the strong
odor of soap and you creak on back down the wooden steps of the house
your granddad built with his own two hands. Still alive somewhere
in O-hi-o.
(When will I see you again?)
Bitches:
3/16/2007: Amazing how somebody who is 36 just dies of natural causes. Maybe he is one of those Geico cavemen.
When are car companies going to save us from ourselves and put in breathalyzers to start our cars. This dude has had 28 DWIs. If he had a built in breath deal he'd be a productive happy, stupid drunk and not so famous for his intoxication.
The overeducated nympho. She's probably not hot, but her topics are.
Rehab this: Insane 13 yr old from little Appalachia
Frotuss News 03/14/2007 (Pi): Andrew
Riley faced 128 felony charges Tuesday that included theft, vandalism
and intimidation, but he is no adult; he is a seventh grader.
He's
kind of got the "fuck you, whatchu goin' do?" look down cold
already. Euthanize now or rehab him? Perhaps a swarm of
white tents and an army of social workers over the whole area for
intense educating and culturization would put a bandaid on their
perceptions; maybe a SWAT team of buddhists in place of police officers
in the villages and villes where would-be schwastika-bearers/crack and
crank dealers are spawned would make the world a better place.
America
is just wound too tight. The legal system is going to step in and
make some money off the state on this one. With it's steel, oil
and paper and this kid is just the spark plug in the engine making this
little tooth-cavity of a dying farm belt dependent on rust-place- go go
go.
Gets
his clothes from welfare or disability from dad or mom or from them
being insane, from the small taxes paid in the county and from the
state; and his food and his television with the role models on MTV and
the cops and social workers and judges to bust him and to get paid by
the state so that the state can charge more taxes to their workers
until the state is in debt or graizing on the more profitable segments
of commerce like Proctor and Gamble and 7% sales taxes on items bought
mostly on credit.
The
old town has lost their way watching reruns of Mayberry while the New
Opie is out yanking downs girls' dresses, wrecking stuff when he's not
playing mind numbing video games that will teach him how to use such
skill to crank out a meth lab in old appalachia's hillsides like some
moonshine stills.
More Than a Feeling...
Frotuss:
03/10/2007: Sources have indicated that Boston lead singer Brad Delp
has been dealt a death card. While no foul play was indicated we
can view his picture and see that at age 55 he looks quite a bit older than that.
Heavy drug use and surviving the crush of the 1980s spread of cocaine
abuse we can probably get a little more than a feeling that he might've
had some other vices. This album cover seems to bring to mind
mushrooms uber alles (over all).
Don't Trust No Religion
Frotuss:
03/09/2007: Okay. I can buy that they're Christians.
Mugshots sometimes distort character. But these gentlefolk were
once considered Catholic Priests held in the highest esteem. They
demanded that their congregations stop being chintsy! That's what makes them filthy buggers apart from the real story behind their greed and stupidity. 8.7 million documented.
Intriguing Research:Demi Moore's Boobs: They're quite striking. Really.
Frotuss 3/8/2007: Now, we're looking at Wonderbra... I think not actually. See Ashton's eyes...
It's
taking a little left elbow here to even give us a sembance of
cleve. Hmmm. Just something I noticed. Anybody ever
notice there's a Rabbi marrying them in the top picture? That's
kind of weird. I guess Demi's had a nosejob, too. Ashton is
like the white version of Spy vs Spy in "Hasidic vs Hasidic".
Not Being Served Anymore
Frotuss:
Fans of "Are You Being Served" will mourn today as John Inman has died
at the age of 71 in a London Hospital. Famous for his gay role as
Mr. Humphries he will be missed by all who ever enjoyed the show.
Click the picture to watch the news report.
PoonStang
Free Association Frotuss March 7, 2007
Her name is Trudie Styler. She is Sting's wife. She's being raked over the coals by an employment tribunal for being abusive to her staff and acting like she's royalty. Money will do these things. In fact Trudie looks younger than she ever has. Money will do that too.
The above picture is just funny because
she appears to be the more confident o fthe two and she almost looks
like she's got one of her hands firmly squeezing on ol' Gordon Sumner's
jacobs. He doesn't like it and she does. I know it's just a
picture but she has a look that leaves little wonder why Stinger left
his wife for this little tart who wouldn't even change her name to
Trudie Sting. It's a "plow my field" sort of look with a "now"
sort of emphasis. One of my curses is always thinking women
want action- based on certain keys or looks and she's got the look of a
green light.
Free Association Frotuss: March 6, 2007
Not much happening if you
want to look for breaking news two days in a row but i had so much fun
yesterday commenting and linking that I thought I'd do it again
today. I read a lot of different news articles (skim
rather). There is one thing interesting happening at The Grand
Canyon where they're putting a in a transparent skywalk over the whole thing. That might actually get me there.
Ernest Gallo died today at age 97 proving that if being a wino is wrong, I don't want to be right.
Australia is kind of cool. I
always enjoy their news. They don't have the same culture as us
so their gangs and hooligans are typically just other white people
trying to act out rather than usually being some real hard ass
minorities. I recently saw an article that makes me think that
Aussies just want to be a bunch of badass Mad Maxes.
Too bad John Holmes ruined the last name "Holmes" for all parents wishing to simply name their boy "Johnny" or even "Jon". Not so oddly enough, he's not the only famous John Holmes.
According to Yahoo's web movie rating service there is not a single movie worth seeing. Except for the lowest ranked movie, Breach,
which I've never heard of, that's actually got a "B" rating. It
could be low rated because it's been at the theatres so long but
because I've never even heard of it I'm going to vote that it probably
was seen as the most risky movie and had the smallest release, maybe,
because, it actually had a beginning, middle and an end.
Actually, Zodiac has the highest rating, but still...
Free Association Frotuss: March 5, 2007
In an "I can't stand myself" type of moment and
fleeing from all normal thought processes I find it too bad we can't
jack off on unsuspecting women on redeye flights across the country
anymore. Rather appalling, really. I mean who would've seen this coming?
Australian websites are reporting that Brittney Spearschucker has attempted suicide and is running around a hospital writing 666
on her forehead and claiming she's the antichrist. Honestly,
she's only anti-christlike. She's not sly enough to actually be
the undoing of humanity. And. As a matter of simple
soul-searching fact; who hasn't run around a hospital's crazy person
ward acting crazy. Once you're in you might as well take
advantage of the freedom to express oneself.
At first glance, this headline kind of grabs your attention...
Man sentenced to life on drug charges in federal court...
as something kind of cool that happens if you're a
real fuckup but never hurt anybody. "Hey man, we're dosing you...
for the rest of your life. But, really, the dude was just busted
for having 16.4million dollars worth of cocaine. Just imagine if the state could actually sell it for 16.4 million dollars, the taxes we would save. It would be great. California would have a surplus overnight.
Seriously, I would never have given that dude
16.4million for all that yayo. Like Scarface. "A move
here. A move there..."
The band Coldplay is coming out with a new
album. Their old album, X&Y has sold 2 million copies which
isn't nearly as impressive as 16.4million dollars worth of
cocaine. The singer, Chris Martin who celebrated his 30th
birthday on a mexican beach whilst his countrymen back home in jolly
ol' England froze off their jacobs said he's got a new song that's basically genius
and that everyone should hear it before they die (good thing we've made
it so long- so we could here another whiney ass Coldplay U2 ripoff).
Something happens to 99.5% of musicians that become too rich; they actually think they're demigods.
(I can hear the snickers already). Stop.
Or I will strike down upon the with furious anger and you will know my
name is the...
Dick Cheney actually has a second heart and in its in his leg.
Puff Daddy is beating up nerds again. And that is sad because Puff Daddy is actually the next Lagarfeld. Apparently he's a clothing designer now.
In an ironic twist of fate, Jerry Springer is hosting a show called "America's Got Talent" after taking over for the the uber talent, Regis Philbin.
Free Assocation Frotuss: January 24, 2007
Fear about
absolutely everything has been grossly exaggerated. Compensating
for that fear causes one to act even more dumb than they are
naturally. If we wanted to be more safe we will drive less often
and eat fewer fatty food-types. In fact I'm not surprised there's
a movement to ban fast food chains altogether. Frotuss became
banned in the wake of the film "Reefer Madness" because it said right
there in that film, in black and white, that we would all become
zombies.
Well not really.
It's one of
the crimes that is more or less ignored by police unless one is caught
trying to distribute large quantities and even then prison time can be
avoided if you can afford the right legal help.
Cold
industry, namely DuPont conspired to shut down the hemp garment
industry because hemp is the only threat to nylon in terms of
durability.
What makes
us feel worse? Getting hammered all night by drinking for 7 hours
or getting blazed all night by smoking grandma's cheeb out of a water
bong and rolling up j-bones?
Uhh, no
contest, you're back up blazing first thing the next morning without
headaches and all the other wonderful things brought to you by
Budweiser, Heineken, Fortune Brands, etc.
Free Association Frotuss: February 17, 2007
"You
ain't ugly you can kiss me if you like." Oh wait. That's a
line from a song by Belle & Sebastion's "White Collar Boy".
Doesn't seem to relate to our latest reflection of our own ugly vanity
rearing its ugly fiber in the form of Brittney Spears.
It
would be a stretch to say that her shorn head is a symbol of our shorn
respect as a society for her and her pop star celebrity. But that
would be a waste of thought and thought is running at a premium
these days as it is such a scarce commodity.
Free thought that is.
Click
on every news outlet on the internet or on the television that is
American and you will find pictures of our broken celebrities' lives
and the same 5 or 6 headlines that are worthy of causing grief,
consternation, anger, lust and the green-eyed monster itself:
jealousy. Crime causing jealosy.
So
easy to sense that we live in a void but that is a short cut to
thinking because there is a palpable sense that we're here together
enjoying art in its many forms, desperately trying not to offend
courtesy. It holds us back. It ties us together. A
schadenfreude and her sister apathy. Brittney's up in smoke,
Paris is disease-addled, Anna's Crapped out, Pamela is diseased.
I could care less about all these things but the 5 sources of news
outlets can't help but ram the stupid shit down our throats.
There
are over 3 hundred million people living in North America alone.
There must be 5 things better to think about than the silly format
we're digesting now because it's causing cancer, heart disease,
anorexia and a perception that there is no God.
"Dancing
through the whirlpool. Naked. Formless. I hope it can
continue just a little while longer. She was a Princess.
Yeah!"
But
maybe this is all right. Maybe we just grin and bear it. We
light that joint. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again.
Hold it in. Pause. And say, "What the fuck was all that
about???" Trailing off into a cackle of laughter over the absurdity and
the patterns of absurdity. Pause. Inhale the Nitrous Oxide
and feel yourself going madly berserk as the quiet sounds become loud
and the loud sounds begin to smell like candles and insense and your
body melts for a few minutes.
Just keep breathing.
Anna, Anna
Free Association Frotuss: February 11, 2007
Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna Nicole you're so
outrageous....ly not alive. In other news Anna Nicole rolled a 7
and crapped out at the not too far from FROTUSS HQ in nearby Broward
County at The Seminole Hard Rock Casino & Hotel.
Is anyone, honestly surprised by this?
(Crickets)
Let's run down the well-documented facts known by
anyone with a pulse and a penchant for E! when it's not football
season.... Uhhh... how to begin...
Oh, yes. Stupor-ridden obese model with 4th
grade education, negative 6 A.C.T. score in legal rangel with family of
deceased oil mogul over ill-gotten gains launches idiotic TV program
'ala The Osbournes and gains notoriety for being Stupor-Ridden obese
model with 4th grade education and negative 6 A.C.T. score but at least
the weight to handle her obvious addiction to narcotics, masturbation
(not there's anything wrong with "REGULAR ORGASMS").
Enter TRIMSPA. Anna loses weight.
Gains more notoriety. Tragically loses son to his own mishap
(children... are precious). Skinny Anna, can no longer tolerate
her own bad habits due to a lack of ability to absorb excess
stupid-ness.
Breaking NEWS!!!!
Coroner finds no evidence of ANYTHING wrong with
Anna? Solution? No! Why? The coroner forgot to
check teeth for signs of bulemia. The drugs effects took place in
the brain but were no longer "quite" evident.
Free Association Frotuss: February 10, 2007
Tell me lies. Tell me sweet little lies….
This reminds me of my mother when I was a teenager. She never wanted to REALLY know that I was burning down with my friends, Matt, Dan, Bryan, Amish, J, Zach, etc. But she sure didn’t mind if they shared a little pot every now and then.
It’s an old topic and I’m much older now. At least 10 years. Mom
is the same, especially after her surgeries (we hope) and me and my
boys have kids and mortgages and marriages but next month is the
Frotuss beat down. Vegas STYLE.
No ladies.
Just my boys. Las Vegas. Seeing how we deal with the damage for paying the dues for Amish waiting so many years to get knotted up. The older he gets the more dangerous we become. We should preface that with “more harmless” and at the same time “monetarily less incompetent”. I
hate the word conundrum because Greendouche harkened that word for a
hundred years so I’ll use its true meaning and say at this point in our
dualistic lives we’re quite capable of dichotomy: dissimilar goals with
dissimilar results through quality action; or: something to that
effect, ie. “he can’t have quite happy but instead looks insane…… life
again.” (See Pearl Jam Circa 1989; the song called EVEN FLOW).
No ladies.
Like I said; and reason being that if I didn’t
show up for said event my friends were going to dress me like a
bridesmaid at the wedding and at an Indian wedding the bridesmaid has
to fight men off like sewer flies at a NORML event in East Deli and it
is not pretty. It’s sad. They just don’t take no for an answer. Kama Sutra this, Kama Sutra that… Like who doesn’t have the “Sex around the World” board game. (Polish Sex is the best if you ask us!)
Just imagine Jesus Singing this to… Us Who Waited for His Return…
“The waiting drove me mad...you’re finally here and I’m a mess
I take your entrance back...can’t let you roam inside my head
I don’t want to take what you can give...
I would rather starve than eat your bread...
I would rather run but I can’t walk...
Guess I’ll lie alone just like before...
I’ll take the firmest path...oh, and I must refuse your test
Push me and I will resist...this behavior’s not unique
I don’t want to hear from those who know...
They can buy, but can’t put on my clothes...
I don’t want to limp for them to walk...
Never would have known of me before...
I don’t want to be held in your debt...
And I’ll pay it off in blood, let I be wed...
And I’m already cut up and half dead...
I’ll end up alone like I began...
Everything has changed, absolutely nothing’s changed
Take my hand, not my picture, spilled my tincture
I don’t want to take what you can give...
I would rather starve than eat your breast...
All the things that others want from me...
Can’t buy what I want because it’s free...
Can’t be what you want because i’m...
I ain’t s’posed to be just fun
Oh, to live and die, let it be done
I figure I’ll be damned, all alone like I began...
It’s your move now...
I thought you were a friend, but I guess i, I guess I hate you...
……….
HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Ha.
I’ll be with you.
Free Association Frotuss: January 29, 2007
People are Strange when you’re a Stranger…
Isn’t it true? When you don’t know who folks are you tend not to be yourself?
What is it?
Dreams?
Dreadful Dreams? 3 nights ago it was me, my wife, another man and another woman I know well, lying around on a bed. 4 of us talking; I; thinking my own thoughts during a dream and nothing happened. 2
nights ago it was a demon that was weakened and frightened me and
turned green and then, after we shaved off its powerful beard it turned
long-knuckled- later fat.
Physical confrontation happens in dreams. Perhaps these evil folks are different facets of my psyche that I repel in the dead, dormant hours.
Last night I took two glasses of scotch and a sleeping pill and pretty much died. I’m in my 45th
parallax universe, surely, having died 44 other times where their lives
are all still going on; here we sit; together remaining dear gentle
readers of thoughtless transgression, greed and guilt, just like you
all. We sit in our 11th hour bemoaning ourselves. Rich
near death and poor in the beginning and mostly through the middle of
life we all look at each other and for now we drive our cars but in
death I firmly believe that we somehow end up watching ourselves. I have this severe feeling that this is exactly what is happening. The ancients couldn’t control themselves then, what would make them stop now?
“Take it easy baby, take it as it comes.”
My inclination is to go on living forever.
I’ll
sit on my porch watching the river stream, drinking tea in the
afternoons, wine in twilight and my various favorites thenceforward. I shall love my children and my grandchildren and my friends and their folks. This much I can guarantee should I dodge traffic till ever.
Free Association Frotuss: January 27, 2007
It’s a beautiful day.
Don’t let it get away.
Touch me.
Take me to that other place.
Teach me.
Know I’m not a hopeless case….
As if anyone thought Bono was hopeless. He’s a billionaire 40something musician. Most
40 something musicians are playing greatest hits somewhere along the
coast of your nearest tourist attraction in your country or hopeless
little Podunk attraction.
Good morning America. Remember
the shitbastardfuckhead you saw driving to work this morning that you
would’ve killed had you your druthers or properly cocked passengerside
12-guage? Well. Just remember that that shit is illegal and against the law but drinking scotch is not. In
fact; drinking scotch should be way more illegal than smoking weed
(frotuss if you will) but due to so many undoable circumstances these 2
simple rules are confused with each other.
At least Absinthe in the U.S.
is intolerable but would probably go completely unnoticed if it were to
transpire because it comes in a fancy-labeled bottle from Eastern Europe. It’s
an amazing brain-vaporizing substance that hilariously turns blue w/ a
little sugar and a flame lit upon its glowing brim… ahhh… and when you
down the coffee-cup sized shot of it should you be visiting that 12th
greatest wonder of the world with their clock and their requiem
symphonies otherwise known as Prague or Praha you shall rejoice like no
ordinary meth-head because you are civilized enough to not be hooked on
something that is cooked out of pharmaceutical pharmware that normally
cures colds and baby’s diarrhea. But you should be
fucked up and happy and oftentimes broke wondering why that gorgeous
Czech woman left you and your dreams of her well-endowed, over-educated
Pilsner-Glass-Shaped state of perfection.
This is life. And even women must suffer in their own self-bludgeon-ways
Free Association Frotuss: January 24, 2007
It’s New and It is Old; It’s all the same and it’s new:
I can’t stand myself but I’m filled with some cream of creativity and I just can’t help myself anymore. 3
months later of no dice because I had issues with the owners of this
website and now I don’t care about capacity as much as for my release.
I know this…
If one writes… what people want to read… they will not stop… it.
I’ve been hurt that way.
Can’t make confessions right now. Too many casinos on my mind.
Dear, Humbly Mumbly Readers, My Apologies for leaving you like stranded wolves in the wildness. As wolves we must learn to prey. In prey we learn to kill, gorge, starve, and kill again. Those of us who survive learn to do so with protection but not from the government. Some call it love. Call it what you will but it is amazing what we say to some people sometimes. (“Soul is affected”).
Part II:
Ciao Sun.
The Art of Sex has very little to do with the
actual fucking because she doesn’t really care as long as she’s getting
off; a little bit anyway. The French Kiss never will
forsake you as long as you drive nothing more than a sidewalk and an
intense thirst for her gorgeous pussy and that smelllll. (How I remember being such soldier of fortune)
Strange Apparition: Anything should make you happy. (Pink Floyd Piano/Beck as of Late)
Perhaps you don’t remember an intense surprise. Perhaps
you can’t get over that fierce reprise but just remember that really
and truly in the end of your memory only the ridiculous survive.
Vino Veritas.
I'm so tired of Scotch on the Rocks... That I've gone to Scotch on No Rocks... Otherwise known as The Cowboy
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires: 23:44:34:10/19/2006) In
the midst of our beginning, I wonder who is winning, but I really don't
fucking care... Oh, so sorry. That's the news on Baseball. As the
ratings continue to suck wind there's really nothing more to comment
on, so, that's the news. Why not drink Cowboys instead. Scotch/Whiskey-
no ice comrade.
So,
the Terrorists have missiles, and radioactive bombs and they tell us
before they bomb us where exactly they are targeting... Hmmmm.... One
of these things is not like the others...
Firstly,
All of our Police now have radioactivity detectors in their
Automobiles. If you know anyone who gets treated for cancer you know
that they get a special armband for when they get pulled over so that
they have an excuse for being their own little dirty walking bomb
selves. Knowing this fact is good. Knowing someone suffering from
cancer only makes you pray a lot and not for 619 nymphettes from heaven
who want to screw you for blowing yourself up in the name of Allah or
being 7 degrees from Kevin Bacon.
Secondly,
Terrorists tend to strike when we LEAST expect and not when and where
we MOST expect... Still, (Scarface Moment) "I have to hand it to you
Mr. Sosa... way to pump up the price of oil on low demand and a true
change to the American Lifestyle taking place before our eyes."
Thirdly, nevermind.
As
a voter in this American republic that somehow constitutes itself out
of the confluence of refugees wishing to drive taxis and landscape and
build railroads and own slaves and make them grow Frotuss and drive
native americans from their lands and pick cotton and export all those
jobs whenever we get a chance to enslave others I am very proud of our
piety thanks to all the commercials that we get brainswashed with on a
daily basis.
Not.
What's more important than becoming rich, quick and having a boner that lasts three hours and fifty-nine minutes?
Probably,
a 72 inch plasma screen, tivo, and a Bentley all rolled in to one with
a comb-over and supermodel (hooker) wife who's high heels almost give
me a need to not have to pop that little... blue... pill...
But
I'd still need those "Married-Dating" websites, anyway, right? Google
that (Married-Dating)... a bit oxymoronic but some good
American/Russian is doing rather well in that greenmarket industry and
why not. People are horny and in need of instant gratification at all
times.
That's
what the news is all about. The news says, "Look Fuckers. You fucked
up. You could've been lucky like this jackass in the same COUNTY as you
who won the lottery and will soon be happily divorced and fucking that
stripper that he spent all his lotto money on when he wasn't eating
velveeta slices out of the fridge and using up all of his wife's lotion
that she steals on their vacations via interstate... Is it COUNTY FAIR
SEASON YET? Aw, shit! That's already over because it's October and it
feels like Christmas is next week.
Colbert is hilarious.
He
interviewed a politician who said he would've voted against the war.
Colbert says "so you would be happy if Saddam was still in Power?"
And the dude said, "No but..."
Which pretty much sums up Colbert's thinking on Bush and how Bush is wrong on everything but...
Let’s Stay Together
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires:11:00:00:10/06/2006) Whether times are good or bad or happy or sad; I just can’t see; You’d never do that to me, baby. (Al Green)
Well. Let me tell you that I’ve written numerous unpublished Frotuss articles. And they were fucking good too, boy. I’ve
wised my ways though because the provider of the service that publishes
has all the sudden denied me space even though they say I’m only using
25 percent of my available space. I know I have tons of pictures, so I stopped putting them up but they’re really not respecting Frotuss’s enigmatic personality.
If
I only had a stick of hash right now that I could melt the tip off of
and rub across my thumb and break up across some really good weed and
then take a piece of cardboard from a cigarette pack and make a filter
on the end of a joint and then pack it all in and twist up the end and
just fire that fucker up. I would be so lit. And I would smoke that fucker by myself and be so fucking wasted after about 3 hits. I would get so blasted and paranoid. I would hear a pin drop. I
would listen to Miles Davis and freak out at the many wondrous things
of life like the crickets whispering or tonight’s full moon cascading
down at me and connecting to the pupil of my eye; tingling my spine.
Instead
of whining about the news (which is a double negative to do) let us
rejoice today that we are alive and still able to think about the
frotific spirit that binds us. It’s the spirit of kindness, generosity, the acceptance of what is and the willingness to push on despite it all. A little bit at a time.
Let’s see if this works.
Get a Job... Sha Na Na-Na, Sha Na Na-Na Na... Bip Bip Bip Bip Bip Bip
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires:22:44:21:09/15/2006) ... Insert group of outraged Muslim Protesters.... Here.
Hmmmm.... Broad daylight...
smoke hash all day... hear our clerics denounce The Pope or XBox or
something that is against our culture.... don't bother shaving... if
I'm hot, I throw on a green headband... I can't read but I have a
lighter... for my hashish and for burning an abundance of American
Flags... Ahhhhhhhhhhh Fuck it... Let's go find a Reuter's Camera Man to
stand in front of and pull the old... "LOUD NOISES! I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M YELLING... LOUD NOISES!!"
College was fun wasn't it? They still do it up like this at Kent State.
Painful Blow for Bush
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires:21:22:14:09/06/2005) Now if that doesn't grab you as a headline I
don't know what does. It sounds political, but it's not. It's actually
a sports headline about Michael Bush, quarterback coming out of high
school that picked Louisville over Ohio State because Louisville told
him that he'd be a QB for them and Ohio State told him that he'd play
Running back.
Well, it turned out that Louisville did him a
huge favor and played him as a Running Back throughout his career (a
little white lie, one might guess) and he turned out to be an Earl
Campbell type player. A bruiser with quick feet and a sure fire first
round draft pick- who, just broke his leg on Sunday Night.
None of the aforementioned
blah has anything to do with my point really outside of it being the
antithesis of it. It's not political but it does sound dirty. Because
if you're thinking about receiving a blow (my beautiful Lauren at the
salon told the girl next to me that she could take off her top before
she gave her a blow and it was all I could do to contain my internal
snicker mechanism--- I wanted to ask "Where's mine?"... but... being
married... being a gentleman...and an officer-- okay not an
officer...blah blah) there's nothing painful about Bush; or the mere
notion of it. And it's not like bush is really even going out of style.
Now, if you watch 70s porn Bush was big but it hasn't really gone
completely away. Bush is still huge but in a small way. It's more of an
accent or an apostraphe now than it was in its raging old days. Bush in
and of itself is almost the line of demarcation between the true dark
ages which includes the seventies and all eons leading up to it and the
modern age. Bush nowadays is sublime, absurd and still what it's all
about.
If you see enough porn, even
dudes are trimming their trunk-stashe these days. It's a little gay but
even I must admit a nice haircut down there makes what was once
considered large abnormal. Heck, girls might even turn us down due to
girth and the misperceptions mere scissors and electronic razorblades
have made possible.
But that's not the end. In
fact. That whole load of nonsense, while humorous and stupid and
meaningless still doesn't have anything to do with the point I was
trying to make... the point... HEADLINES... They're funny.... hold on
while I go grab some more...
How about a little of the old Pizazz?
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires: 22:46:42:09/04/06) I spent my whole rainy afternoon wondering
why I wasn't already dead and watching reruns of Florida State Miami
football games on ESPNU and ESPN Classic TV. Those games were fucking
exciting.
Teams came back from large
deficits and scored loads of points and kicked and missed meaningful
field goals. The last 3, maybe four seasons- okay the one season they
played twice and then again for a third time in less than one year- and
it's been brutal to watch. I don't want to undersell the offenses
without crediting the defenses. Both teams have stacked all their
talent on defense where there is a multitude of first, second and third
round picks but their offenses flat out stink by comparison.
Give me all the nonsense you
want about their prototype pro QBs. Their receivers have given them all
their stats so far in the game and UM's all world tight end is yet to
catch a pass and we're here in the 13:17 mark of the fourth quarter-
and we're punting again. Every good reception has been an up for grabs
three step fade route up one of the sidelines.
I just thought, maybe this
season we'd see some scoring so I took the 40 point over on my gambling
site- to be different. It was too easy to take the under. The last
several matchups with these two they've been lucky to score 20 combined
let alone 40. So with that said... there's another up for grabs fade-
caught and I'll go back to drinking and leave you, humble readers,
alone with your porn and your internet and stop whining (uuggg... the
QB stood up in a meeting and said.... "Come on Guys"- a regular fucking
Tom Brady).
Okay, I'll stop being cynical now. Hoooray Beer.
While you were in mid masturb...
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires: 06:51:00:09/02/2006)
There was this sudden stirring noise rising from deep within our
bosoms... Ahh... Yess, the quiet sound of leaves dying; turning
colours. Judas sending Summertime to bed once again in favor of reaping
the harvest of our long summer's work of tending the fields and the
livestock and typical bathing duties. Just in time for the sport of
Kings and Court Jesters alike: Football.
Why, yes boys and girls. It is
time to have good reason to make food and eateth up like starved pigs
on a pig farm gnawing through the flesh and bones of rotting corpses.
Aha! Indeed, it is football season. We Americans will now become
obsessed, football crazed cuckoos.
Conversations might take on
some sort of bend like this, "Why yes, did you know that Iraq is
costing our country billions of dollars and ruining our economy on some
level...?"
"Indeed, but how bout that fucking game last night, huh!"
To quote ol' Vonnegut: SO IT GOES.
There you have it. And so what.
Heartbeat Pigmeat
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires: 23:22:09:08/18/2006) "They're taking our nags ace..."
"A Florida Holiday..." Many have never heard of Michaelangelo Antonioni or his bizarre classic Zabriskie Pointe
which I bought only because my friend, J, discovered the soundtrack to
it. The film centered around a guy who stole an airplane for kicks and
an orgy in the desert. (Spoiler Alert) The guy gets shot after he
returns the plane unharmed only painted. None of the actors in the film
were actually actors (if that makes any sense).
I regard it as a beautiful
treatise on beauty. And the great lengths any stupid man will go to for
impressing a beautiful woman. We often lose our minds but at least
Antonioni gives us a compilation full of Pink Floyd and the Grateful
Dead with some other beauties thrown in for good measure.
Heartbeat Pigmeat is the title
of a Pinkus Floydus tune located somewheres along the soundlot and is
perfectly enjoyable alongside a spliff, a stiff drink, a sunny day or
cruising several hundred feet above the dark side of the moon or
antarctica. There is no perfect time for the right song that might be
long but sets you along a clear path or train of thinking.
The girl on the cover is identical to my old gal pal, Julie. I miss her sometimes. Who doesn't?
Don't even talk to me about that...
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires: 06:03:03:08/10/2006) ... That Monkey-headed Clarett. He's just another jackass pulled over for carrying fire arms and acting like a dickhead (again).
He
does look like a monkeye and that's not being racist. I'm talking about
his ears and that silly goatee/beard/growth in the latest mugshot of
the man who's becoming better known as "mr. mugshot".
Here's
a newsflash for sports fanatics who get upset about their heroes who
fall from grace: MANY OF THESE JACKASS JOCKS ARE STOOOPID.
This jagoff in particular
should be locked up. His motives are so suspicious it's ridiculous.
What the fuck was he doing? Going hunting? "Excuse me officer, for
speeding and cutting across the median on the interstate. I'm wearing
this kevlar vest to protect me from the bears. They fire back. Haven't
you seen those Larson comics?"
"Son, who slipped you the shitty gel-tabs (LSD)?"
I don't believe he's fortunate
enough to be temporarily out of his melon due to hallucinogenic/herbal
supplements. He strikes me more as the type who's got a bad case of DNA
whereby he revels in dangerous activity that is an end in itself and
not necessarily a means. His motives are attention, sympathy and
inflicting pain upon others (emotional and certainly physical). He
wasn't hunting for deer or bear but cabbage, rather. He's such a
phucking moron that he's a celebrity with a well known face,
particularly in the state of Ohio and he's dumb enough to go around
holding people up.
The kevlar indicates that he
was going to shake down some drug dealers if you ask me and that he
probably didn't care that they know his name because drug dealers don't
call the cops when they get robbed and threatened with guns. "'Scuse me
officer. That ex-football player took me drugs and me greenbacks."
Bet you didn't know...
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires: 20:25:18:08/05/2006) ... That Fleetwood Mac's Peter Green wrote
Black Magic Woman... and recorded it first and had an awful darn good
version of it.
Ever remember those commercials...
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires: 20:28:38:07/29/2006) Those commercials were classics. The first
one that comes to mind is the one where the couple is laying in bed
having just copulated and the dude asks the girl a question and she
can't think of an answer... something to the effect of "So... how many
dudes have you had sex with before?"
She rolls over to the other
side of her and asks the guy next to her the same question and they
show a giant bed with people next to each other
man/girl/man/girl/man/girl to infinity and then the commercial cuts to
a close and says "Just remember. When you have sex with someone
unprotected. It's the same as having sex with everyone they've ever had
sex with unprotected."
While it is a scary thought
and makes you think two or three times about unprotected sex it's sort
of a funny thought. I remember having that commercial flash to mind
while I laid there next to a girl or two before. The commercial made me
feel more gay than anything. I kept thinking about their wanker ex-es
and what fuckers they were. I could've cared less about that little
cantelope rolled over on its side staring at me.
And let's be honest. If you
see a beautiful, gorgeous hot thing and she wants to have you pivoting
your pole-vault at her station raw and lewd and savage, if you are a
free spirited funloving male you are going to oblige and rain your
sticky quarter dixie cup of whathaveyou wherever she pleaseth and think
about the consequences only if there are any consequences. "HONESTLY."
The other commercial that I
reference more often than caddyshack is the one where the lieutenant
from Miami Vice catches his kid with a cigar box of doobies and he
yells at him and asks, "WHERE DID YOU LEARN THIS! WHERE?"
The kid is crying. He's
isolated in his flannel shirt; teenaged and confused and helpless
looking up at the old man. Angry, he bites his lower lip before crying
out tearfully, "I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU DAD!! I LEARNED IT FROM
YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The message: Don't do drugs in
front of your kids. Make sure they're asleep before you light up and
toke. That Steve Miller dude really did have a message.
We're on a mission from God
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires: 19:14:16:07/29/2006) Seven or 10 years ago an angel spoke
directly to me. He said that I was going to utilize the world
superinformation highway. He said I would write a book that would
change the world forever. He was giddy. I told him that it would make a
great story someday.
I was more concerned with sex and an afterlife.
I laid in bed, sick in the
head for weeks and dreamed of harems of horny women talking to me
through a bubble on the "other side". I took out my dick and tried to
stick it into the static channel through the TV Screen. It almost went
through but I ended up changing the channel to "Welcome Back Kotter"
somehow. Horshack turned me off and shut me down. The static
electricity sensation was unique but in the end of the nine month long
buzz I obtained from ergot and then from a reintroduction of the
psychedelic phenonomen from an overall excess of consumption of
mushrooms and more LSD nearly caused me to be institutionalized for the
rest of my adult life after I told my mother that I was GOD after I was
arrested at 4am at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
I kept asking them if there
was a party going on inside for me. I kept asking them if I was on
Terra X and if the Spiders from Mars had arrived to escort me. This
freaked out the people that work in the loading dock area at the Rock
Hall enough that my police escort arrived and escorted me to the drunk
tank. It upset me most because the took my weed(frotuss) and
confiscated my dugout. The police must've let them know that I thought
I was the King because the drunks kept referring to me as Elvis. The
guy in the second cell they put me in looked just like Snoop Dogg. The
large chubby guy who booked me wanted my whole hand print and asked for
my autograph and seemed shy and he looked just like Jerry Garcia
without a beard and 25 years younger than Jerry. But Jerry had just
died and I had his palm prints cut out of a rolling stone and taped to
my wall. Up until a few nights before that night I would fall asleep
with Jerry's handprint above my bed and my hand pushing back on the
wall. I was taking any hallucinogen I could think of to try to
communicate with the dead. I was pushing all boundaries. And I thought
I was getting somewhere. But eventually psychiatrists told me to cut it
out or risk them turning me into a veg for the rest of my life.
After that, I decided to
resist temptation to become a modernday practitioner of the black arts.
While, I no longer need excessive Frotuss or hallucinogens to feel
abnormal (I have flashbacks regularly- usually in place of hangovers) I
will never forget those times.
You fucked up ass bitches!
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires: 22:21:10:07/18/2006) These cannot be the days that we've grown used to; can they?
I wake up and I go to get a
cup of coffee and read some computer graphics and give my baby matter
and my dog food and I walk the dog and dip my toes in the pool then I
eat some shit and I go to the bathroom. After that I take a shower and
shave at the same time only after I've just brushed my teeth. I put on
a suit and a tie and I drive to work and I work all day with a lunch
break (not all the time) and I come home and I eat food and play with
my baby boy and get drinks; in me and I look at the computer and watch
the TV and listen to music and dip myself in the pool sometimes (rinse
and repeat). It's that easy. I'm not unhappy. I don't want to kill
anybody or even die so why can't we all just do this?
If you don't have a pool just
come to my house... most the time i even work Saturdays and if I can, I
work to 7, and then work from 9 to 10, but I... like it.
Why's all this war?
Are people just bored?
Maybe they better stay indoors.
Or find some whores.
If you have nothing to do,
I've plenty for you.
Just give me a call.
Here's to Better Times
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires: 23:16:00:07/10/2006) The 4th has come and gone and thus marks
the point in the summertime where as lads and lasses we began our
descent down the crest of the summer's wave. We sailed searching our
souls for our identity grasping at any beer or cigarette or puff of
frotuss that might've been bad for us.
Ahhhh... Such memories this
episode of Pee Wee's Playhouse brings back. Phil Hartman. Paul Reubens.
Larry Fishburne as Cowboy Curtis. The word of the day. I could delight
to LSD with such glad glee.... "Connect the dots... la la la..."
It looks like the world is
still coming to an end all around us. We're another day closer to
death. The zealots are shrieking. We are not taking them seriously
enough. I must be rich or something. Maybe so poor that I have to work
too much to notice the effervescing doom gladly pumped out by the top
down analysts of the markets, the gold bugs, the talking heads from
every Fox to CNBC to CNN to Al Jezeera.
Business as usually. Our
sleazy brains will remember all the rest. I sleep at night sometimes
thinking I've done my best. Sometimes not.
It's storming here a lot. So much rain.
I think I should be really
afraid but I'm not really sure about what so I'll just keep my eyes on
the road and watch out for the incredible offers.
ODE TO DICKER
(11:11:11:06/30/2006) He Is Strong, He Eats Cigarettes
What will he say to me?
My Friend Dicker is fine.
My Friend Dicker will drink wine.
My Friend Dicker has made me dry.
I wish he would stand up and give his sigh (SHLUP!!).
His sigh is that of someone totally obnoxious.
Someone totally noxious.
Dicker is Job.
Dicker pushes the stone up the hill every day.
Dicker has already died once and he cannot
Be killed again.
I was there.
I died with him already then
Down by the River
We already sank like big boulder rock stones.
Drank like boulder rock stones
Sipped like boulders on the rocks
In KMart Frocks; or at least I wore my genero jeans:::
Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.
Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.
You take my hand,
I'll take your hand
Together we may get away
This much madness
is too much sorrow
It's impossible
to make it today.
Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.
Be on my side,
I'll be on your side,
baby
There is no reason
for you to hide
It's so hard for me
staying here all alone
When you could be
taking me for a ride.
Yeah, she could drag me
over the rainbow,
send me away
Down by the river
I shot my baby
Down by the river,
Dead, oh, shot her dead.
I'll do this one... Myself...
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires:00:59:00:06/26/2006) REminds me of the time Bob Geldof made a big thing out of Frotuss.com saving the shit out of the african kids.
Could've
been worth it outside the fact that PINK FLOYD PLAYED TOGETHER for the
first time in forever. Waters looked like a beautiful man and Gilmour
looked dead several times over. The band was made up of architects.
Minus Gilmour. He was a Spanish Guitarist and the rest of the guys are
studied architects who obviously never quite had to build real
architecture (but surely did).
This
shit all amazed me tonight. If you were at Hyde Park then certainly,
unless you caught a rude cabby named Rodney or something you had a good
time. On Monday I must console someone who lost a young spouse. What to
say, what so say... at a quarter past a'holy knows. A confrontation
must be made so a dissident is here.
It's wrong and it's brutal and there is no escape. So I am that person.l
I'll take your interest back.
I'll guess I'll lie alone just like before.
I don't want to live for them to walk.
I'll pay it off in blood then I'll be wed.
I'll end up alone in blood like I began
I don't want to take what you can give.
Can't buy what I want because its free.
I seem to recognize your face...
In fact it's a Gas
(Associated Frotuss Press Wires:22:15:34:6/23/2006) Excuse
the lack of Frotuss posts. It's been a hectic world in the land of
paradise and judas priest loving buddhists who walk around with surf
boards and no waves and hot crystal blue, clear ocean water and the low
waves break over toe-rings on the legs of long Florida chicks that go
to community college. They're dummies, but wise in their ways. You
can't tell if they're crackheads or the daughters of billionaires up
the street or both. I saw a woman walking down Dixie in West Palm
headed north from town into the ghetto. She was white and tall and
wearing blue jeans. Her hair looked like it might've cost some dough to
frost on the top and stay dark on the bottom. She was tall and lean and
looked really psycho. Every few steps her upper torso shook wildly from
right to left and left to right. I thought she might've been a hooker
from 25 to 45 years of meticulously wasted age. I couldn't tell from 60
feet and I wasn't wearing glasses (that I barely need). I told the 80
year old woman I was talking to on the phone that there was a crazy
person trapsing through my view and it was fuckying crazy like a
hallucination and might've been a hooker. We laughed but I wondered if
the dirty skank was trying to get, me- humble tie-wearing sunglass man
to pull over for solicitation-. Wondered but I thought about being
eaten alive, too. I've wondered about all sorts of shit I'd never
actually do.
Oh Young Man! YOUNG MAN!!
(Associated Frotuss Press
Wires: 8:55:42:06/10/2006) There are things in life we just can't
forget that we'd like to get around. As you read this a few things
probably pop to mind and fuck you, you say. But hey, things can get
better if you want. If all you're doing right now is sitting there
reading your computer screen from your continent or your yacht then you
got at least a little something going for you.
The next thing you need to
worry about is getting some food, some beer/wine/liquor and if you're
single- sex. That's about it. Buying houses, cars and clothes is pain
but a necessary evil and usually not something you sit around
regretting so forget I even mentioned it.
Now, shit. You're all set. We
just wait on death from here. Don't stick your thumb out and look for a
ride for heaven's sake. There's a lot to do while we're all still
living. Listen to music. Read. Play with babies. Children. I've learned
so much from my 14 month old son.
I've never worried or wanted
so much for someone other than myself. I was never really selfless in
so many ways until now. I could never help my ego or being this alpha
whatever until now. It wasn't anything overnight but it was something
that became altruistic right in the middle of me. I've always been
emotional but now I want to break down the moment I hear that a child
has been harmed. My skin turns green and my clothes rip apart and my
muscles bulge to enormity. Oh wait, that's another guy. BUT sort of
seriously here...
Hey, anyway. GO FROTIFY and SMILE ABOUT IT. YOU AIN'T HURTING ANYBODY. NOT KILLIN.
In fact. I recommend frotuss to the violent masses. Smoke it bitches.
and ciao
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