Saturday, September 30, 2006
It's Friday once again and I'm in a rare chipper mood. Right after work we caught a matinee showing of School For Scoundrels...
"Ye shouldna done that. E's jest a boah!"
Sling Blade Carl VS Napoleon Dynamite!
(ding! ding! ding!)
I liked it, but then you just can't go wrong with Billy Bob Thornton. He's almost as much of a booster as Walken. Heder seems to have tamed his dufus persona down to just being clumbsy and quirky. I think he may have just pulled it off once again.
I was rooting for him to win the day, and of course you know he did. What did you expect? While no blockbuster by any means, I found the gags and schemes quite innovative and just downright funny.
"Funny haha or funny queer?"
I know I'll never see tennis in the same light ever again!
I give it a very promising B. That might seem a little high, but I had a good time with it. And I was a little high also...
Next weekend will be Employee of the month, with Dane Cook. It looks the bomb, and I am sure to be there. I also really like the earlier matinees like that when I can. No chatty cell phone addicted teens, no over perfumed Casanovas or stinky old timers, and most importantly...
"But... but... protect and serve!
Yeah, but "the fuzz" seem to like to home in on longhairs like me, even when I'm not stoned. I guess I just look like trouble. I prefer we continue to pretend the other doesn't exist.
What else have I been doing with, or to, myself? I get these youtube attacks, then focus in on one thing and ride it to death. Recently it's been Sigue Sigue Sputnik videos and Louis CK stand up. Great band, way ahead of their time, and an awesomely piss yourself hilarious comedian.
In one of the clips, he mentioned being the director of the epic urban tale, Pooty Tang. That is reason enough to give him a shot.
He makes funny people look... not funny. He tells it like it is, no punches pulled.
The Jim Morrison of comedy. He has, or had (I don't have HBO), a series called Lucky Louis on HBO, described as very All in the Family-ish. Hmmmm. I like the sound of that.
Also, if you haven't checked out Arrested Development on DVD yet, I am, and you should do so. David Cross, Jeffrey Tambor, and my main ex teen heart throb, Jason Bateman. I've always rooted for him since he was a lil smartass punk on Silver Spoons.
"And you've always had that THING for his sister, Justine...
I'm rambling again, time to end the post.
My dear, sweet Justine...
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Is there such a thing? I doubt it, but I've spent a few decades looking for it anyway. Will I find it? Perhaps. I have a sneaking suspicion the journey will do nothing but teach me that I should've just left well enough alone. Who knows. Fuck it anyway. Im in a weird funk and I've got a crooked beat right now.
Oh, the lives we lead. Is it all worth it?
"Will there be a job waiting for me in Hell?
Go go go
Push him away
No no no
Don't let him stay
He gets inside to stare at her
The seeping mouth
The mouth that knows
The secret you
A smile to hide the fear away
Oh smear this man across the walls
Like strawberries and cream
Its the only way to be
Exactly the same clean room
Exactly the same clean bed
But I've stayed away too long this time
And I've got too big to fit this time...
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I'm hanging out on the floor of the Blue Note, pretty close to the front. This guy looks at my shirt and asks where I had happened to get that Electric Apricot Tee. After an in-depth convo with him and his buddehs, he tells me that once the lights go out, he's gonna be burnin' the midnight bud and that I'm welcome to join in anytime.
So the opening band comes out, Miracles of God or something cheesed like that. They weren't bad but you know how it goes with being the opener for somebody with the kind of following the Violent Femmes have...
Then they come out!
I was, as you can tell, closer to the bass player. He played alot of really strange instruments. You can see some of the things he played behind him in this picture. I never realized just how awesomely talented those guys are! All three of them, too! The guitar player/singer also plucked on a violin for awhile, and the drummer was all over the place.
Move over Sheila E.!!!
He only had the bare essentials to beat on: a snare, and something that looked like it had an upside down bucket on top of it. He also played the entire show with brushes instead of regular drumsticks.
I have gobs more pics from the show, but I haven't had time to tweak the rest yet. I thought these three captured best how it was.
"Including that freak waterhead baby who almost ruined my last picture we've posted for your viewing pleasure."
I'm short, 5'8" to be exact. Tall people like to try to stand in front of me. I like to poke and prod them in the back until they get the hint. If only more hotties would've squeezed into the open cushion of space I like to keep between me and the people in front of me. Just one was all I got. She finally turned around after a few songs...
"I hope you didn't mind my hair flying in your face as I grinded my glistening young buckeye against your crotch."
Not at all, as long as you smell (and feel) nice, I don't mind.
Some grotesque, tubbo hippeh chick tried the same on me shortly thereafter and was denied passage. She gave me the old...
"Come on-n-n-n-n! I got friends up there!
To which I replied:
Don't we all, lady, don't...we...all!
Not on my watch! I can't just be letting everybody in front of me, that's how you end up at the back of the club. I had a roll of pictures to be taking, which I promptly finished just as the security guy tapped me on the shoulder to tell me to cut it out. He said he wasn't going to confiscate my camera, but methinks he wouldn't have got it without a fight. You can see some of the Femmes were looking right at me when I took the pics at times.
All in all, it was an awesome show. I had told one of the kids smoking with me that Gordo was gonna sing some gospel tonight and he did. Alot was played off of Hallowed Ground too. Black Girls was one of the last songs.
They rocked that place to a smouldering ruin!
I had a long and painfully police filled ride back home, fueled by Mountain Dew AMP and the desire to sleep in my own bed as quickly as possible. I never got pulled over, but more than a few did U turns to follow me for awhile. Long enought to freak me out. The kicker was when I turned off of I-44 onto 65 highway. Some blue lights were speeding up to me at a time when there were no other cars on the road. I was relieved to see him go on past me. Bastard had to know that shit scares the Dickens out of whoever is in front of him. I stopped off in Springfield to see my friend, Keith, and lay low until the sun came out a little.
I slept like a log early Sunday night. I'm still recovering from the whole ordeal. But it was well worth it.
"I'd do it again, in fact."
Just not anytime soon...
Monday, September 25, 2006
Ok, so here we go...
I arrived at Thrifty rental around nine am. The guy behind the counter informs me that Ive been "upgraded" to a PT Cruiser. Not remembering what they look like, I take the keys and chuckle to myself, my eyes scanning the numbered lots to see the sweet ride I'd be tooling off in.
So I'm staring dumbfounded at this melted shoebox with the most horrifying metallic blue paintjob. I had actually said fuck it, and still planned on driving it until I opened the door to peek inside. Looked like someone had melted a Snickers in the driver's seat and the whole backseat had had a bizarre Wesson oil fight.
To the death!
So I calmly stroll back and politely tell the guy that I wished to refuse the upgrade due to the above mentioned deficiencies. He told me that all car renters are pigs but that he'd switch it back. So thoughtful of him...
TO GIVE ME WHAT THE FUCK I'D WANTED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!
So I head out on the road, with a stack of cds almost as big as the twinkle in mein eyes. Finally, on the road!
I saw oodles and oodles of cops, which normally doesn't put my knickers in a bunch, but I had brought a little of the homegrown with me to enjoy before the show. Suddenly my choice of the kickass, sporty looking 2006 Dodge Stratus hit me full on. Add that together with the fact that I had Arkansas plates, and you've got a little extra attention from Johnny Law.
And that ain't good at all...
So I stopped in Eldon, Missouri along the way. Why, you ask? Because I grew up there, silly! So little had changed there and I had no trouble finding my old house. So many memories, and eyes got a little misty. I also stopped at the elementary school and messed around on my old playground.
I finished up the grueling drive and found myself in Columbia at a gas station and an hour to find the Blue Note! As I'm walking to the door, I catch glimpse of a black guy loudly proclaiming his sobriety to an unwitting gas pumper. Once inside, I ask the cashier how I might go about finding this mystical place of music and melodic merriment. The black guy, now inside, overhears my plight and tells me to go outside and ask his wife in the van how to get there.
I say, "Why the fuck not?"
She tells me that I'm practically there already, it's just a few streets over! Yay for me!!! I go inside to buy some smokes and piss. The black guy asks me if I got it figured out. I ask him about the sobriety thing after thanking him.
"Six years of sobriety with A.A." he boasts!!!
Well, twelve if you count the six he spent in the pen. So he starts screaming to his wife across the store about how I'm a friend of Bill W.'s. He then tells me that in gratitude, I should buy his drink and chips for him. Amused and stoked that I'm almost there at the show, I once again say, "What the fuck, why not?" It's gonna be less than three bucks anyway. As we stand at the counter, he says something about how he had originally planned on buying a sammich too. I looked at him and said, "Dood, I think that's gonna be enough. Don't push it."
I found the place with ease, but as it was swarming with cops, I found myself in a dilemma. Nowhere to make tokes in peace. So I ate a bunch of weed, and went to the door, bypassing the humongous line of ticketless schmucks, and making a beeline to the front door guy. He points me to the line and tells me that all those people have tickets and I gotta get at the back of the line. So I do.
But I got in fast once they started letting people in, and talked to some cool people along the way.
This is where I end the story, for now. Why, you ask? (again)
Because I'm gonna take this roll of film to the one hour photo store so I can post some of the better band pics for you to salivate over.
I love cliffhangers...
To be continued...
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Yesterday's a day away. I went to see the Violent Femmes last night in Columbia, Missouri. I haven't slept in well over twenty four hours due to all the Mountain Dew AMP Tallboys. I will have, hopefully, decent pictures and a tale or two to spin...
Man, those cats can play!!!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
For awhile now, I've been pining to see The Illusionist. Two weeks ago, I can't remember what I saw instead, due to lack of enthusiasm by the other family members, but last weekend I was determined to go...
Alas, it was sold out. So I suffered through The Covenant. But this weekend, I got there early, I even smoked a jay in the parking lot while they bought the tickets.
That cop was eyeing you an awful lot in the theater and beyond...
I eventually found my seat in a room that filled up quickly right before it started. Looks like the secret is out. Damn fine movie, Probably the best I've seen this year, possibly longer. I almost didn't mind the stench of the geezer sitting directly in front of me. Nice B.O. Ma woulda been proud.
But I digress...
Great movie, I loved everything about it, a breath of fresh air in a stale movie house. Edward Norton, as always, delivers a mind blowing performance. Paul Giamatti, aka "the Karioke-ing Monkey Man", plays a solid bumbling, goodhearted old timey Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane type of guy. You know the one: following the leader dutifully, but balking at truly evil missions.
To a Tee, my friends!
Jessica Biel is one sweet morsel as well. They even got a dead ringer for the younger version of her. Uncanny!
But tell us, does he really have magical powers?
I don't want to ruin it for those who haven't taken a gander yet...
I'm not going to spoil it, don't worry. But it better make more money than Snakes on a Muthfuckin' Plane or I'll be pissed.
Is this my first A+ review so far? I'm too lazy to check. I'm wore out on the created trippy (crappy, HA!) Illusionist picture I made in windows paint. And it's 3 am, but I wanted to get this out while it was still semi crisp in my mind.
Also, I've been reading the blogs of two separate recent evildoers in the world. Melinda Duckett and the guy that shot up that college in Canada. Both morons.
What, is the GRAVEH paranoid his blog will be watched too?
Not really, I'm more of a vigilante type anyway. And I'm not fucking loony either.
I do believe there are people out there that deserve to die. Bad people.
Not toddlers and college students.
Uhhhhh, Nancy Grace...?
What about P. Diddy?
Hopefully he is on enough lists already...
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Herm Edwards, what the fuck are you doing to my beloved team?
When Dick Vermeil left without bringing home the glory I just knew things were soon to be a big muss. Then they picked you up, after a tossing from the Jets, another testament to your inadequacies as a leader. Your plays inspire nothing but the taste of bile on my tongue.
Cincinnati should have been beat. Fuck Randy Cross and all his lauded praises on Carson Palmer. Amazingly, he stopped short of calling him an equal to Joe Montana. That's like a blowjob without the occasional tongue-to-balls action. Still gets the job done, but doesn't give 110% devotion. Kudos to you, Randy Cross. You still kept your integrity, somehow, in this crazy mixed up grid-iron world.
I hope you are accosted in the parking lot of Arrowhead stadium when next you set foot upon my beloved City of Kansas. And then beset upon.
In the meantime, we need a new coach and quarterback.
And what the hell happened to Willie Roaf?
(poison in my eyes...)
By the Way, I saw The Covenant. Teenage witches played by fresh faced twenty somethings. I give it a C, as it was semi watchable. Better than most teen fare but still lacking any heart. Looks like we won't be seeing The Illusionist today. I think the word is getting out on that movie. It looks the bomb.
What else then? I went to Zabana again last night. In an earlier post it is referred to as Savannah. My bad. There was a fight there last night but it was lame. The music pounded into my skull as well. Fucking salsa, reggaeton, cumbias, and merengue interspersed with a rare cheesed 80's tune. Last night the most memorable one was I Ran by Flock of Seagulls. My nephew asked if it was Duran Duran.
I scoff at the notion.
If only a guy could open a club and put some of those fat beats down to waft onto a jumpin' crowd of wrigglin' jigglers.
To cup thy mind's proverbial balls in loving, harmonic ecstacy and massaging thy vas deferens of soul wellbeing to a stunning climax of "Fuck yeahs!" and merriment.
That'd be sweet, Pete.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Sassafrasquatch hates one thing more than anything else.
He was recently spotted enjoying the nightlife on the riverfront in old St. Louie. Unfortunately, Ed Begley Douchebag tooted by in one of those electrical cars. This put "Sassy" through the roof. He then tore the head off one surprised yuppie looking piece of shit.
"Why?" you ask.
Because electric cars are for pussies.
Global warming, it's all bullshit. Everybody seems to forget Gore (the documentary maker), and especially Tipper, was big into the banning music thing where they deemed tunes too explicit for you. So nice of them.
Hmmmm, another hogwash in the making...
Enough of that. Tomorrow is Friday, what to do, what to do.
I will save that for manana...
Happy now, Flabio?
Friday, September 01, 2006
He's a hired gun
A man with no name
And when you meet him
You will never be the same
Feet in the gutter
Got his head in the stars
And his middle name's fun
He's a hired gun
And just so you know
The places he has been
You don't wanna go...
You guys like my Middle East solution? Make it unliveable for anyone. Wonder which ones would be for that.
Now who would rather see Allah's Green Earth destroyed before living in some semblance of peace and harmony?
I saw an interesting video of a former Muslim woman who renounced her faith after seeing her professor murdered by religious zealots in her native Syria. She raised so many unscoffable points that the guy on "The Other Side" just basically said...
Shut yer mouth, blasphemous whore, or I'm gonna put a Jihad on you!!!"
Strange that she smote his ass on Al Jazeera. If more Muslims weren't afraid to speak up for a newer, more applicable to our times, approach to their religion then I wouldn't be afraid to be on a plane with any of them...
Or on any moving object of flaming doom. I'm not asking for much. The fact that this is proclaimed to be a much watched video on the net makes me ponder...
Is there a light at the end of the tunnel...?
Doubt it, but I guess my only pearl for you is take out of it what you can, and leave others the fuck alone. This is the kinda shit that happens when you give Caddys to a bunch of nomads and tell em there's more where that came from!!!
So, on a lighter note, I saw Crank at the theater with that British guy. You know the one, the Transporter guy. That melon headed roughhouser with the abs and the sarcastic neck cracking wit, yes...
In all his glory, with just enough time to (quick breath intake) work his way round to the guys who fucked him over by giving him some synthetic Chinese poison that kills him if he slows down, but staggers around long enough to (sorta) save the girl and the day.
Let me catch my breath now...
I'm not gonna give away the ending but I will just...
And we'll leave it at that. In truth it was a great movie to watch with that kick ass THX thingstuffs pounding into my skull. I almost wasn't even bothered by all the Red Bull ad placements, among others, but the silliness interspersed in there was kinda nutteh for the Grav'meister. I give it a solid B+ due to the fact that I felt ill myself after viewing it, and wanted to thrash and hurt things.
Now see what you've gone and done?
I better get the hell outta Dodge!!!