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Tuesday, September 28, 2004
FRIED TWINKIES
mmm. mmm. I believe Elvis himself would push his own mother down to get a run at a deep fried twinkie.
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Monday, September 27, 2004
I WOULD DONATE TO IT!
I sure as hell would donate good money to that secret fund. That part of the city budget that is kept off the books, column "X". You know the one where the city hires ex-navy seal guys and such to work as snipers killing taggers. Hiding in bushes, by freeways, across from restaurants and stores at night. Waiting for their opportunity to take out some scum. I would give money to this portion of the budget that is stridently kept off public records. And, here is the good part; it would work. Nothing teaches a lesson like death. If you were a tagger and all of your tagger buddies were turning up mysteriously dead you might stop to think twice about going out and vandalizing.
That is what it is; vandalism. I want to kill not only every last tagger in the world but all of their mothers as well. The ones who rationalize it to themselves by telling me that it is "art". "That is how kids express themselves, nowadays. My Johnny is just doing art." Bull!! It is vandalism and it is ugly! If it is such an innocuous form of expression then give me your address so I can come to your house in the middle of the night and write my name on your front door with spraypaint. "Street artists" are you listening? I am sick to the point of wretching every time I read an interview where you espouse your political view that the cops and the city officials are fascists who hassle you. What a load of crap!
Quit tagging and putting those goddamn stickers with the same image repeated over and over on everything. Let me come to your place of business (if you have one, the local skate hangout doesn't count) and start putting crap all over everything in sight without any rhyme or reason to it. This lets you know why grafitti seems to spring up mostly overnight. Because...
TAGGERS ARE COWARDS!!
If this is not true then why don't you see taggers during the day, when stores are open? When cops can spot them easier? Because they are cowards every last one of them.
Unfortunately, the common citizen seems to share in this malaise. People put up with grafitti. They capitulate. "Oh well. No one is really getting hurt. This is a problem that can't be stopped. We can't do anything about it, etc" No! If people stood up and said, "Hey! Stop that! Turn down your radio! Get out of here!" If we would rise up as a society and shame these people into behaving things could get better. Fifty years ago if someone caught you writing on public property and kicked your ass they would receive a medal for doing it. But now they would be the one in jail. Most people either turn a blind eye to this problem, are afraid that they will get shot, or actually can't perceive the problem. Thus, these vandals and despoilers are enabled to turn my city and yours probably as well, into an uglier and uglier version of itself.
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Saturday, September 25, 2004
SO REMEMBER KIDS...
DON'T BE GRACE SLICK!
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Tuesday, September 21, 2004
IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?
This next rant may reveal a little more about myself than I normally let into these things. Not that I don't actually feel how I indicate in previous entries.
Have you ever had a conversation with someone you don't know very well and the topic turns to U.F.O.'s? You know, somebody who has heard some story and is convinced that it is so unbelievable it must be true? And then they turn right to you and ask you if you believe in U.F.O.'s. I have had to endure such people on several occasions. I would roll my eyes and answer in the negative. Only because it is much easier to just say no, than to correct them.
I wish they would say what they really mean. What they want to ask is, "Do you believe in life on other planets?". In that case I have great faith in the probability of intelligent life on other planets. Statistically speaking it is a certainty in my mind.
So yes, I believe in life on other planets. Do I believe they have visited earth? Not at all. Are you kidding? I wouldn't come here, would you? A bunch of savages breaking rocks over each other's heads so as to get a bigger piece of meat at the cookfire. Wait, I mean the Gulf War.
With that bit of preliminary explanation out of the way, on with the rant.
I hate television for the most part. At least , t.v. nowadays. I am sure this is looking back with rose-colored glasses but it seems I didn't mind t.v. a bit as a kid. But now whenever I think I am going to sit back and enjoy some piece of entertainment it does nothing but provoke a barrage of vitriol from me. And this is how the idea of aliens ties in, I do believe that there is intelligent life somewhere out in space. And either we are going to become technologically advanced enough to go out and meet them or they are going to come here. And if they are more advanced than us with technology then perhaps they would be more advanced than us socially. I am afraid that if humankind does make it out into space and encounters a grand civilization, greatly ahead of us I personally would be embarrassed. That's right, I feel that any race of beings capable of interstellar travel would have left reality television in their dark ages. "Oh, you humans still broadcast programs that glorify the crude, inconsiderate behavior of your fellow humans to each other? We quit doing such behavior ages ago. Let alone broadcasting such drivel."
I am afraid. Afraid that in the galactic scheme of things humans will wind up being the
equivalent of the Indian butler in one of those English series. Humans will wind up being the comedy relief for the rest of the universe. This is the underlying reason for my hatred of all things mediocre. That it will personally reflect on me despite that I am sure I will be long dead at the time of such a meeting of our race and another. I don't want to be lumped in with a bunch of goons on our planet who equate journalism with entertainment, who time after time elect people who will lie to them, and who can't wait for someone to tell them what to wear, eat, watch, listen to, read, in order to be "cool".
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Saturday, September 11, 2004
MULLETS
Whether you call it the "business in front, party in the rear", "Kentucky falls", the "ape drape", or the"achy breaky", one must eventually stop and contemplate the mullet. I have discerned that there are four distinct types of mullets and one I am putting an asterisk by because I am not sure how to parse such a thing.
1. The almost cliched, expected, down-south "Joe Dirt" type of mullet. Nothing extraordinary
2. The east coast/New Jersey guy with a collared shirt and a lot of gold chains type of doo. Standard Guido haircut.
3. Canadian hockey fan type. Oversized favorite team jersey, blue jeans, no teeth. Again, nothing too amazing here.
4. Bounty hunter/ sheriff's department type. Usually comes with country western shirt with sleeves sawn off.
5. And this is the one I am unsure of. I am sure it fits into God"s schematic of people with bad taste on earth. But I am not sure where at: the forty-year old woman in a plaid school-girl skirt and mullet. The LPGA type.
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Thursday, September 09, 2004
WHAT A JERKWAD!!
I swear! The kid next door! He is like a sophomore in high school. And the street we are on is a giant horseshoe. This will be important later. I was sitting here at the computer trying to do some work the other day, and what do I feel but "thump,thump,thump!". Not hear mind you, but feel the bass of his wannabe hiphop gansta asscrud music.
I keep thinking it's just another asshole cruiser going up the street and around the curve back down. Nope, it persisted and persisted. Then it would die down and I would breathe a sigh of relief. Within moments it would be back in full force. This went on for about half an hour.
Eventually it became stupid. I was going mad with eurythmia. So I go outside to see what the hell is this all about. And I see.
Lame ass punk from next door has got himself a car. Not a stupendous car but a little rice burner street racer wannabe. And this complete piece of festering dogshit of a person is doing nothing but standing by his car playing his canoe music as loud as he can while he is on his cell phone.
Then when he finishes the call he turns down the "music". Then he decides to call someone else and of course he has to crank up the volume again.
What a complete hydrocephalitic quarterwit!! He is calling people so that when they ask, "what are you doing?" he can say he is chilling by his ride blasting his music. Again we are not on a throughway. There really is not that much heavy traffic passing by. No one is going to see him in front of his house acting like an asshole so he has to call people and tell them he is acting like one!! What a complete poser idiot! Who has no consideration for others! People (and I am using the term loosely) like that make me want to start the doomsday device program back up!
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