Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Lost And Shit Faced

Must take quick break from work. Tired. Overwhelmed. Pissed off. Will blog!

Rather than frolic in the freezing rain last weekend, my roommates opted to watch videos. Remember that silly 60's sci-fi TV series "Lost In Space"? Well that's what we watched. A whole bunch of episodes. Now I have a problem with the show: Dr. Smith. He was the antagonist/comic relief for "Lost In Space." But if I was on the crew of the spaceship "Jupiter 2" (yes, for those of you paying attention, that is the name of my band as well), Dr. Smith would be wearing his balls as earrings after his first attempt at sabotage. Instead, the crew inexplicably forgives him! I mean, he is always putting them all in mortal danger episode after episode. Even the most left wing, activist, criminal loving judge would have him tortured and executed if they ever found their way back to earth which of course they can't because Dr. Smith always fucks with the navigation system. Oh the pain!

Dr. Smith is forever peppering the robot with alliterative insults like "mechanical menace" or "adleplated armor-bearer." Wouldn't it have been great if he could have used spicier language? I can just hear it: "You bubble headed bastard!", "You cybernetic son of a whore!", "You mechanized mother fucker!", "You tin plated pig fucker!", "You piezoelectric pile of shit!", "You soldered sodomizer!" If you can think of some more, let me know.

It also would of been a riot if the robot was gay. Can you just imagine him wheeling around in ass-less leather chaps yelling in that monotoned voice of his (with added lisp of course) "Warning, warning hunk approaching!" or "Danger, Will Robinson, the alien life form approaching is a fashion disaster!" or "I will scratch you little eyes out, Dr. Smith!"

And it would be hilarious if the crew regularly got drunk. Just picture Don West putting the drunken moves on under aged Penny or Dr. Smith stumbling around trying to get into Will's pants.

What am I doing? I've got to get back to work.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Moore's Law vs. The .45-70 Contender

Fucking computers. I'm working on one right now. I have been working on it for the last two days. Piece of shit. I just want to take it to a gravel pit and shoot it with my .45-70. Too bad I'm at work.

If you want to really feel like you've shot a gun, try shooting my .45-70 Contender handgun. Half again as powerful as the mighty .44 magnum (got one of them as well), it will just about knock you on your ass when you pull the trigger. I actually had to gain weight in order to be able to fire it and not end up in the next county. It does have a muzzle break which, for you liberals, is a series of holes bored through the business end of the barrel to help tame the muzzle lift when you fire it. So it recoils directly backwards. It's like getting kicked in the hand by a pissed off mule on the juice.

Perhaps the best part of the .45-70 Contender experience is the site and sound. So loud that, even wearing hearing protection, it makes your ears ring more than going to a Jupiter 2 concert. Plus when you shoot it, a big ass flame erupts out the barrel and muzzle break holes. More than enough to scare any game to death in case you miss. And anything you hit with a .45-70 is going to be fucked up. Big time. It will split an engine block, it will vaporize a squirrel. It slings some seriously large pieces of lead at very high speeds. It makes me want to sling some yogurt just thinking about it.

So I'm here at work fantasizing about shooting computers (I'm also fantasizing about Hillary Swank in a little French maid's outfit but that's for another blog entirely). Sometimes it unnerves me to think that I'm the sole contact for any problems that might arise from any of about two thousand work stations or several hundred servers spread over a dozen countries. Shit. I need a drink.

Speaking of drinks, my nephew The Cod God is in the hospital. I think he is getting his lithium levels adjusted or his liver replaced or something. Anyway, I send him my best.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Rip It Off, Wrap It Up, Stick It In

This blog thing is getting tedious. I'm beginning to think I should change the whole nature of my blog to make it more interesting. Now, how should I change it? Here are some thoughts-

1. I should just do political blogs. This is the obvious one. There are so many right wing shit bags out there pulling the wool over people's eyes these days. Maybe I could be the counter weight to the government propagandists like sean Hannity, Rush Dimbulb and the lot. Of course no one really reads my blogs so what good would it do?

2. Just be obscene as hell. I like this idea. I know you will find this hard to believe, but I'm constantly euphemising myself in this blog. I find it hilarious and a challenge to be as gross and scatalogical and obscene as possible. I live for it. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because my sense of humor hasn't matured since the "Pee pee! Hee hee!" stage. My favorite band is The Fugs ("Coca-Cola douche" "River Of Shit" "Saran Wrap" etc..) who were obscene as a political statement. My own bands have been populated with some of the greatest filthy thinkers of our generation such as Fuzzy Fortier, Rodger Shosa, jOn Morse, Little Dougie Pork Sword and Tom Colletta (what an all star line up!). Band practices to this day consist more of shit-talking oneupsmenship than playing music.

3. Be serious for once in my life. Do an actual heart felt blog with all my hopes, dreams, fears and life observations. Yeah, your right. Too fucking gay.

4. Tell stories of my past. The Cod God tells some great stories on his blog. Problem with me is that nothing really interesting has gone on in my life. At least anything that would make for noteworthy blogs. Of course I could make shit up. That's pretty much what I do now.

5. Find some other theme to base my blogs on. Like UFO's or something. Or dragracing. Did you know that a top fuel dragster puts out over 8,000 horsepower? You don't really care, do you?

6. Just post "Go Sox" on my blogs.

Any other suggestions? If not, I might just continue on with the same old insipid crap I've always done.

"My baby ain't got no money
But her snatch it tastes like honey
cause she uses that
Coca-Cola douche"

Thursday, May 12, 2005


I have tomorrow off! Yes, a three day goddamned weekend! I am so happy, I could whistle "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah" out my asshole! How did I rate this? Well because I needed it. Because I'm burned out. The last few weeks have been hell here in this corner of the semi-conductor biz. I've been busy building computers, moving systems, listening to people wonder why their computers are so slow and their home page is suddenly now, and making sure our fucking Singapore servers are up. My god. Enough of that bullshit! At least for three glorious days. Drinks on me, mutha fuckas! Hopefully if I see you downtown this weekend, I will remember it. But don't count on it.

Well, I've got my ankles firmly in my grasp. Give me a C, a bouncy C!

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
My, oh my what a wonderful day!
Plenty of sunshine heading my way
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay

Mister Bluebird on my shoulder
It's the truth, it's actual
Ev'rything is satisfactual
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay
Wonderful feeling, wonderful day!

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

This Blog Contains No References To Latvian Ass

I'm so sick of my career/life that I've decided to become a cartoonist. I haven't drawn anything (except the ire of countless women) in many years but that won't stop me. I know it's an unusual way of acting out a mid-life crisis but I don't have enough money to buy a Dodge Viper and I know of no young chicks who want to run off with me. So I will come up with an unusual cartoon series that I'm sure an underground magazine will pick up and I will make a few bucks and earn some cred with the young, hip crowd along the way.

So here's one of my ideas: The poorly drawn main character will be a down on his luck homeless guy named Nigel who speaks with a proper British accent. His whole life will revolve around his misery, bad luck and chronic constipation. He will do anything to take a shit and he will have a wacky band of friends who will try to help him out. Hi-jinks will ensue; like one of his pals will get caught trying to steal an eighteen wheeler full of prunes. Or another one of his cohorts will convince Nigel to shove a quarter-stick up his ass. You know, funny stuff like that.

Or maybe I will draw series of non-linear cartoons. Consider two poorly drawn guys standing on a street corner during the winter. One says to the other "My balls are cold." The other one says "Not surprising since its -12." Then the first one says "I don't mean literally cold, I mean emotionally distant." Thought provoking or what?

I might just come up with some sort of super hero cartoon thing. It would be like the X-Men except it would be a group made up of different poorly drawn and exaggerated ethnic types who conform to society's stereo types of them. Lazy black guy, drunken violent Irish guy, etc. But in the end, its their diversity that always wins the day and defeats the bland, white bad guys. That plus a bunch of dumb luck and lotsa ho's, blow and whiskey.

Perhaps I will draw something and scan it in so I can share my brilliance with you, my followers. Maybe I will even shit-can this blogging bullcrap and express myself strictly through my cartoons. Let me know what you think.