Tard and Heder-ed, Special Ed. Report...

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...
No cops!
"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...

Heaven IN Hell?

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?
Hope so...

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
Always 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...

Violent Femmes Photos from Saturday Night!!!

So...
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.
Sweeeet.
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!
Super sweeeet.

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 came...
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...

Gordo's Gospel in the Stratus-Fear...

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.
15... 16...17...
18??!?!?!?!
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.
Sweeeeet!
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.
That's why!!!
I love cliffhangers...
To be continued...

I Know It's True, But I'm Sorry To Say...

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!!!

Dark Love in Limbo...

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...
Denied!
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.
WHO, then?!?!?!
Uhhhhh, Nancy Grace...?
What about P. Diddy?
Hopefully he is on enough lists already...

Cup the Balls a Lil More, Randeh!

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.
You, sir...
SUCK.
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.
If only...
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.

Ed Tu Begley Jr?/ Sassafrasquatch Sightings...

Sassafrasquatch hates one thing more than anything else.
GODDAMN hippies!
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?

Time to Get the Hell Outta Dodge?

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.
Hmmm...
Now who would rather see Allah's Green Earth destroyed before living in some semblance of peace and harmony?
I wonder...
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...?
NAWWWW!!!!!
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...
That guy!!!

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...
say-y-y-y-y-y...
one word.
SPLAT!
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.
Kill...
Now see what you've gone and done?
I better get the hell outta Dodge!!!

Death's Head Soup, Anyone...?

Look deeply into mine eyes and know the disdain they feel...
So what's new then with mein main Graveh, then? Not much. Working my ass off and needing to make my ass go work out today. Not sure if it's gonna happen or not.
Kinda tryin' to pump myself up for it right now...
I did go buy me some kick ass Nike Force hightops, black and shiny, so I'd better put them to good use. Also growing the Zappa 'stache and accompanying flavor saver. Hope it comes in better this time. I've come to the realization that I may be cursed with...
"the world's first documented cowlick within a moustache!"
Yay for me!!!!!!!
So other than that, my schedule looks pretty bleak and solitudinal for awhile. Wish somebody most awesome would come and play a show nearby. But I live in hell with a bunch of tone-deaf fucking morons.
So you know what kind of artists come round here then?
Fucking Lyle Lovett.
Big band, Swing, and Country to choose from?
That or fucking REO Speedwagon and whoever the fuck is pathetic enough to tour with them.
HARRUMPHHH.
Look away now...
Piffnicity with all the necessary trappings...
(to boot.)

See What I have To Work With Here?

My brain is fried, creativity is gone. I am nothing more than a husk. What would you have me do then? Bleed the last drop of my sanity for your amusement and perverted pleasure? Also nothing much has went on, and even though I saw Accepted, it wasn't even worth ripping on. That bad.
And the fat kid from Granny's Boy was barely even in it. Nice trailer, assholes!!!
I bought Silent Hill on DVD, and the trailer for Ghost Rider is unbelievable.
Who would have thought Nicky Cage had it in him, eh?
Now...
Check Frank out!

May 1981 and a 1991 Cure flashback...

So...
This was when my life was the coolest. No bills, no worries...
And I had absolutely no idea what pussy was in any way, shape, or fuzzy form. Actually, although it doesn't look as glamorous now, we were styling back then. We also lived in a brand new house with lots of room. With exception of the birth of my daughter, my life has never been happier than in this picture. I know I look happy in my later years too, but I mean pre drugs and alcohol life. I would smoke pot for the first time around a year later, too.
Ahem...

Segway, please?
Here is me around 1991 maybe? Using Sandy's camera to snap surprise pic in the middle of a main street in Springfield, lipstick crosses on forehead and all.
Eat your heart out Robert Smith!!!
Back in my senior year of high school, I dated a weird punker chick that was only 14 or 15. Very interesting hangouts with her, I dumped her shortly before she got the mohawk. Once I gots a little more money, nicer threads, and a car, choicer pieces of ass followed. I'm sure Einstein has a theory on it somewhere...
What, you disbelieve?!?!?!?!
I wish I had more pics from this time period. I was one wild lil sumbitch!!!

Spike, You Lazy Eyed Halfling!

I will keep this short and sweet.
Spike Lee?
I hate you. There, I've said it. I saw your interview on the net yesterday. And you are full of shit.
The rest of you need to wake up. He's the kind of guy that takes us back a few steps. And that is not good.
And did I mention he is full of shit?
What will you do when THE MAN is gone?

WTC, the 411 on 9/11!

WTC. Saw it. Wasn't as impressed with as I was Flight 93. I already remember what the pain of that day feels like. I did, however get a view from that day as I hadn't pondered before.
The one from under the rubble. From the gasping voices of number 18 and 19 out of twenty to be pulled out alive. A courageous story, indeed, but a little long in the tooth. I think we can dispense with the niceties now...
Stick a fork in it, it's done.
When I'm sitting in a theater, more interested in rooting out chucklers to whup the tar out of, then it is time to move on to the next underappreciated tragedy. I can give remembrances in my own special way from here on after.
We were also the youngest in the audience too. When it was over, you could have heard a mouse fart. Creepy.
I give it a strong B. I just wasn't in the mood for it. I need zombies. Things Crunching.
Tacos...
I bought all the ingredients but must have grabbed the wrong thing on a few of them. Whole black beans instead of refried, a pain in the ass but still easily remedied. Instead of grabbing the superfilled 18 pack of taco shells, I snagged a 12 shell deal that came with seasoning packet and sauce. What a dumbass!
So I will now leave you, as I have to head back to the Neighborhood Market and grab some more shells. My kids and I have been craving crunchy tacos for the longest time. Twelve just won't do. It never does.
First day of school tomorrow. I don't have to worry about my kids burning the house down for awhile. Now I just have to worry about the freaks out there!!!
What a trade-off...

Did I mention...?

That Charlie don't surf?
An-n-n-n-nd it's my birthday!

Charlie don't surf and we think he should
Charlie don't surf and you know that it ain't no good
Charlie don't surf for his hamburger Momma
Charlie's gonna be a napalm star

Everybody wants to rule the world
Must be something we get from birth
One truth is we never learn
Satellites will make space burn

We've been told to keep the strangers out
We don't like them starting to hang around
We don't like them all over town
Across the world we are going to blow them down

The reign of the super powers must be over
So many armies can't free the earth
Soon the rock will roll over
Africa is choking on their Coca Cola

It's a one a way street in a one horse town
One way people starting to brag around
You can laugh, put them down
These one way people gonna blow us down

Charlie don't surf he'll never learn
Charlie don't surf though he's got a gun
Charlie don't surf think that he should
Charlie don't surf we really think he should
Charlie don't surf

Snakes? Ebert? Italian Meatloaf? Muthaf**kin' Planes?

Well, I must say, I'm flabbergasted and at a loss for words.
"Why?" you ask.
Snakes on a MUTHAFUCKIN plane!
That's why!!!
Shaft was in there too. How fitting, as I felt quite shafted myself.I had planned on seeing World Trade Center but Snakes was rated R, and I didn't want to leave any kids' eyes and ears unprotected. And it started way later, about thirty minutes. So I spent about an hour and forty minutes looking up at the sky (through the cinema ceiling) and asking the gods how they could let something like this happen. He also throws out a random M.F filled rant about said Mutha-lovin' snakes on said Mutha-lovin' plane. My kids loved it.
Hopefully they will grow out of it...
Hey, I used to love the shit outta Knight Rider so...
I'm already hearing talk of sequel, maybe Hasselhoff can sign up and dust off his acting chops for us so the Germans can quit hogging him all to themselves.
So it's my berfday. I'm hopefully going to eat at Johnny Carino's tonight, they are way better than Olive Garden. They also serve this bread with the oil and some kind of seed thingies, and the calamari is the bomb. I will gorge. Eyelids will grow heavy.
Then sleep will overtake me for awhile...

I saw a picture of Roget Ebert, he looks like a handpuppet in that suit. It is also creeping the hell out of me.
In the words of Keanu:
"Cancer? Whoa!"
Time to pass the ball, Rodge. I'm open, baby!!!!
Over here!!!
Wanna see my creds?
Hey, I gave this turd a twiddling thumbs down. How's that?
SWISH...

Halle Berry Scary...

Went to da cloob tonight. Place called Savannah. It's ok even though they only play beaner music. Even danced some of it with my old lady. Weehaw!!!!
She has a black friend that's into the latin flavor. Some OTHER chick showed up that looked an awful lot like Halle Berry.
Emphasis on de awful!!!
Awfyl ugleh!!!!!
Nice grill she was sportin. I could have kicked a football through the gap in those chompers...
Yet another reason to get down on mah knees and thank Jehovah I don't drink!
An EDIT to deal with here...
This just in! Someone got some sloppy doobers. Pretty sure it was me. I got called in after I posted this short but sweet blog entry. A couple of tequila shots and around six beers was too much for my wife to overcome her lust for a steaming hot bowl of the Graveh's manchowder.
Yes, yes, I know. Do the math. I know it wasn't a marathon, ok?
But when you are dealing with someone who had, once again gang, six beers and a couple of shots of tequila, you wanna get it before they pass out or
throw up. It's just that simple.
I likes it simple...

The Magnificent McFlurry!!!!

Clocks go slow in a place of work
Minutes drag and the hours jerk
So get back to work an' sweat some more
The sun will sink an' we'll get out the door
It's no good for man to work in cages
Hits the town, he drinks his wages
You're frettin', you're sweatin'
But did you notice you ain't gettin'?
Don't you ever stop long enough to start?
To take your car outta that gear
Don't you ever stop long enough to start?

That's how it feels. I ain't gettin' and I'm gettin' a little weary of frettin'. The sweatin' is startin' to piss me off too! It's been a long hard week at work as well. Jamming to a Little Sandinista by the Clash right now. So what's new?
Hmmm...
Went to Springfield for Russell's funeral. I got into Springfield kinda late, then did a snatch and grab mission on my sister. We went over to Keith's house, where I met up with he, Greg, Bennie, Bennie's indian lass, and Jennifer. Keith and Jenn were already well on their way when I got there and were reliving past tragedies. And falling down alot, mostly Jennifer.
Ok ok, all Jenn.
But Greg saved the day and got us out of there intact. We headed over to Sam's. I met up with Russ's cousin Kenny, his two kids, Sam, Roy Jones, old hangout chicks named Theresa and Meredith, and other assorted peoples whose names escape me at the moment. Believe me, brow furrowed deeply remembering the names I did put down. So, I saw alot of cool pictures of Russ and the Philzone site he used to post messages at. I was feeling kinda down, and the weed I brought wasn't hitting hard enough for some reason. I was hoping somebody had the "killer" bud. Sam asked me if I'd been adjusted yet.
I said, "No, I feel kinda maladjusted, to tell you the truth."
He bellowed, "Well-l-l-l then! Let's get this man his adjustment then!!!!"
He hands me a pipe with black stuff smeared in it. Hash, he says. It was very nice, and had a good body high. I would like to dance with THAT devil again...
Yay for me! I can check hash off the list now, if such a list exists.
The next day, after buying new shirt and shoes for my suit, I stop over at Sunny Valley to chat with Russ one last timeand smoke an obligatory doobie. When I finish, it starts pouring down hard and a lightning storm spun its macabre web in the sky, RIGHT OVER THE FUNERAL HOME WHERE RUSS WAS AT. And I had just asked for a sign.
Go figure. Russ was always like that...
Proving me wrong.
(The rest of the story tomorrow as it is 2:35 in the morning and I am a wreck. I can't keep my eyes open any longer.)

Russell Lane's Obituary

I'm heading off in just a little bit to Springfield. My friend, Keith called me earlier today, he had just found out. I'm dreading this, but have to go.
The picture above is his obituary, if anyone who happens to look up his name and finds their way here, please get in touch with me. I would love to hear from any other friends of Russell, regardless of whether I know you or not.
Peace...

Descent Into Possumtoed Bitter Reflections of Tig Ol' Bitties...

So I went to see The Descent tonight. A gaggle of cameltoed chicks spelunking their way through uncharted caverns laden with ghoulish possum headed broccoli babies and pitfalls by the oodles.
Can you say "Snap"?
(As in bones crunching...)
After snazzy but lame trailers for Saw 3 and Texas Chainsaw Massacre retread, I was wowed and amazed by what I saw. Although only female characters, the writing was sizzlin'...
Until the end. The very last scene/scare is just as unnecessary as the fact that they practically telegraphed it beforehand/leading up to it. It just cheapened it for me a tad. Otherwise, it would have stood out nicely. Thankfully, it didn't even have any T&A in it. I give it a solid B+ for the sweet semi tasteful gore and edge of your seat fast paced...ness. You get the picture, right?
Just leave when she starts sobbing by the road at the end. Before she looks into the passenger seat really slowly...
Still missing Russ, saw his death notice in the "net" paper, still feels unreal. I'm probably going to hit Springfield early evening tomorrow, see some people, crash somewhere, maybe with sis, and go to his funeral the next day.
There is a spot in the back of my head that feels like someone is putting minor electrical charges through it, and I feel the sensation of falling, but in a bad way. Like I am gonna splatter all over.
Death blows. I'm glad I never died by any accidental/purposeful means. But the alternative isn't all it's cracked up to be. Outlive everybody and feel the pain of their death.
Yay!!! Our purpose in life is to die and ultimately be forgotten, or if lucky, perverted by historians or (at best) gossipy mentally challenged descendents. Double yay!!!
I've heard that hearing the true MEANING OF LIFE is maddening to the mortal mind. Isn't this maddening enough? A lifetime of near bursts of greatness followed by crushing defeat, wearing away slowly at your lifemeter, not to mention your resolve. What a way to go.
Doomed, I say!!!
If you are lucky, you find God from wherever you stashed him way back at the end of childhood innocence. You can dust him off and hope that you either don't need him for a long time or you can hold up the facade long enough to slip into those pearly gates lest you backslide into sick depravity yet again. Comfort is nice. No one likes to go knowing that this is it. Maybe I will take that route myself some day, maybe not. Either way, we all gonna find out.
Who is behind the door? Jesus? Bhudda? Burt Convy?
Who, damnit?!?!?!?
Whoever you are, I am not amused. But I'm just being realistic.
You must be though...
amused, that is...