Jason's Place

New Blog

2011-06-13T23:00:00.001-07:00

If anyone still comes here, I don't have a regular day to day blog, but have started one about comedy at elevacions.blogspot.com

So check it out!

Have you ever seen spiders?

2009-12-21T07:13:00.000-08:00

For those of you who aren't aware I have a sleeping disorder. I suffer from time to time from sleep paralysis. Which is a condition where I wake up conscious; but I cannot move.

When this happens I just lay there cool as a cucumber drifting between an awake and dream state. My brain is fully active, and I can hear everything that is going on in the room I am asleep in. But at the same time I am also dreaming.

I have never had a bad sleep paralysis experience, but I have heard and read about tons of people having horrible ones. People that have this condition; often report having crazy dreams about demons sitting on their chests or about aliens coming into their bed to lay with them.

It has always been my prediction that they have these crazy dreams because they are really bothered by the fact that they cannot move, so they try to scare themselves awake. The reason that we cannot move is because when you go to sleep your body temporarily paralyzes itself so you do not try and physically act out your dreams. And in those of us who encounter sleep paralysis in our lifetimes, there is a slight chemical imbalance.

In my particular case, I'm never that bothered by the fact that I cannot move. I don't know why it doesn't bother me, but it doesn't. So I just lay there motionless, asleep and awake floating in my mind.

I would say that has been going on since 2002. And I'm not concerned about it in the least. But lately something else has been happening related to sleeping that has been making me think I'm crazy.

And tonight it happened again, so I decided to look up my symptoms on the internet and find out if anyone else was having these weird occurrences happen to them too. And now that I have read about 400 testimonials, and feel a little bit more normal, I will discuss what's been happening here.

About three hours ago, before I started reading these testimonials, I fell asleep. I woke up about fifteen minutes later, and was facing the wall. On the wall was a black orb that was moving towards me. The orb turned into a Black Spider and kept crawling toward my head. As I moved my head away, as to not get bitten, it disintegrated.

I wasn't freaked out in the least. This has been happening for quite some time. At least over a year, and possibly longer. It doesn't happen every time that I wake up, but it's a fairly frequent occurrence. Tonight was the first time that I thought I might be mentally unstable, that a spider that my mind has conjured up climbed down the wall and tried to bite me. But now that I have been reading about so many other people that it happens to, I feel better. We can't all be crazy can we?

I almost feel like I'm onto a mystery now. Perhaps the most fascinating mystery that I will ever work on and the most important. There are some interesting questions that I already have about this, and I think it's a mystery that will never be solved. Very little is known about sleep or the inner workings of the brain. And even if the technology caught up to the brain at some point, would it still be able to tell me why so many people, myself included, see black spiders when we wake up? I doubt it.

There is no medical answer for the question. That's what I have learned from the testimonials. There are just 500 of us or so that are seeing these damned things. Some of these people think it is a spiritual issue and not a medical one. Which I think is plausible. Not that I think giving my life to Jesus would make them go away, but perhaps there are some subconscious spiritual issues that I need to deal with, and until I do forever shall I see these unclean creatures.

Why are so many different people from different regions and different walks of life, seeing spiders? It's kind of freaky to think we are all seeing the exact same thing. And there are some people that are claiming they are seeing worse. They are seeing small persons, and dark spirits in their room. At least for now all I am seeing are the spiders. It could be worse I suppose. But I think it's a very significant clue that everyone who has this phenomenon is at least seeing spiders.

I personally think that what I'm really seeing is a black orb. I am seeing it for the same reason that I have sleep paralysis, because there is a slight chemical imbalance between my rem cycle and awakening. It's the exact opposite of when I'm having sleep paralysis. Instead of not being able to move, I can move completely and open my eyes, so my paralysis is gone but in some respect I am still dreaming.

That little black orb carries over from my dream land to my awakened state. And because of its size and shape my rational awake side of my brain thinks it must be a spider. And then my imagination makes it act like one. And when I completely wake up several seconds later, when my chemicals level, it disintegrates.

I hope this orb stays spider sized. Because that's what I think these people who can see larger visions are seeing. They just have more carry over chemical to the awakened side of their existence, so they can create larger dreams, day dreams in fact. Real day dreams with as many characters as may exist in a sleeping dream. Which is a terrifying, slightly provoking thought. Because if I have learned one thing from my sleep paralysis it is this: dreams are very frightening. Even the best friendly dreams have their insane mind shattering moments. Trust me the one little spider I see in the morning is enough to ruin my whole day. But what if an entire dream that you couldn't shut off haunted your every morning? That's a ride I'd like to take one time, maybe. Some of these people report that it takes up to thirty seconds for their chemicals to level. Thirty seconds in a dream is an eternity. Sometimes when I lay there paralyzed only a minute has gone by in reality, but I could swear I've been laying there for hours.

So that's my crazy sleep life, in general. What's your crazy sleep life like? What do you dream about? Have you ever had a lucid dream? I think we need to talk about these things. Do you have any thoughts about why I see black spiders when I wake up? I'd love to hear.

An urban missile

2009-11-28T10:22:00.000-08:00

Before you read this entry, click play on this youtube video and enjoy the sounds of Grizzly Bear. This is a potentially life altering track, do not miss it. This video is of the movie Seven and has nothing to do with the music, aside from the fact that whomever posted this montage on youtube.com thought it went together.

And now....that you have that playing in the background.... onto urban missiles.........

I don't know how many of you smoke. Well that's not entirely true. I know exactly how many of the 4 people that read this blog smoke. But you don't blog for the blog you have. You blog for the blog you want ;)

Since none of you do, you might not know about throwing an atomic missile. You see smoking turns you into a monster. A cigarette flicking fire tossing 500 pound gorilla in the room is what you become. Smoking cigarettes numbs your mind to the fact that they're even on fire. You soon forget it as the addiction overtakes your common sense. And after a while you don't even notice what you're smoking around. Or even care for that matter, in any way.

So here's how it goes down. You're smoking on your father's oil rig in Houston Texas.... Two guys who have just been in gigantic oil spills come running on your position. Without even thinking you throw your cigarette directly at the gentleman and they burst into flames....causing company ending law suits....

Ok it never goes down that way. If it did you might start to care about where you toss your flaming step children. But for some reason cigarettes, I am human enough to report, never blow stuff up.

I don't know why they don't, but I have certainly seen enough field tests to know they will not ignite anything. I have, with wind guided precision, flicked a lit cigarette into a carburetor this morning. some twenty minutes ago mind you; having yet to hear an explosion.

I have also flicked my cigarette fire starters into especially dry forests and have yet to cause damage or harm to one. One time a lit cig fell right out of my mouth onto a wooden casket that I had just personally spilled alcohol on, and.... nothing.  Well not exactly nothing; everyone got to see me run and cover.

I had a step grandmother who had a fire in her apartment one time when I was a child. I'm starting to think that the adults in my life just told me a cigarette started the fire, so I wouldn't consider smoking.

Seriously I have launched so many horrendous urban missiles that my right to smoke should be revoked. Seriously who smokes near a paper factory on a windy day? Who has put a cigarette out on his great grandmother's oxygen tank? Who picks up his hair spray factory girlfriend at work chiefing?

I do. The smoker. The dirty all powerful me. It's disheartening really to see every butt you toss, regardless of aim, end up in a dry leaf pile.

Big Black Epiphany

2009-11-21T03:34:00.000-08:00

If it is my destiny to teach others how to love themselves, my own experience must be what I impart. Being awesome and loving yourself is not just my message, it is also my journey. It’s a path that I can only lead others down once I know the way myself. But I know it’s real, it has to be because I’m not just selling it I am living it.

The therapeutic power of admitting the following information to a wide audience about myself cannot be measured. It is invaluable. You do not have to admit anything to the world, but when you can admit something as equally distressing to yourself as I am about to admit to you, something amazing will happen. You will take action.

Just by admitting or acknowledging to yourself, that you’re very aware what goes on, starts a process. You may not fix what needs to be fixed, but you’ll start to figure out how to do it. When you’re awesome and you love yourself you make yourself submit from exhaustion, to be who you will become. It is going to be one hell of a fight. Round one is honesty. Here is my fight:

For my entire life I have easily become addicted to things. Until recently I thought the term “addictive personality” was kind of cute and not in any way a serious condition. I thought it only applied to alcohol, drugs, and preferences. For the most part I have been aware that I get addicted to things rather quickly. What I have failed to understand is how deep it actually goes.

With my addictive personality there is no bottom. It doesn’t stop it’s just a big black hole. And it’s not just a part of me, it is me. It is me completely. I am a hole, and I am dark and bottomless. And the more that I try and fit inside of me, the larger that hole becomes.

I just thought that having an addictive personality meant that I could get addicted to things easily. Things like cigarettes and chewing gum, and watermelon jolly ranchers. What I now believe to be true about my personality is that all of it is an addiction. My addictive personality is my personality. Everything I am and do is for or at least fueled by an addiction.

When I get a mosquito bite, I scratch it. It feels so good, why wouldn’t I scratch it? And I do not stop scratching, and scratching, and after a while I bleed. The way I treat my mosquito bites could surmise the way I interact with everything.

I am a user, and an abuser. I am quite possibly fake all the way thru to my core. I am a walking talking expanding addiction. I am a two hundred and thirty two pound self deprecating demon.

I think I have just realized my largest problem. And it’s a little scary, but at least I now know what I have to fix. I don’t really know how to fix this problem, because I have been living it for so long. I have 29 years of habits to evaluate and exterminate.

Do I even do what I want to do? Do I even like the things that I crave? Who am I, and why have I been asleep for so long?

I don’t know what your biggest flaw is. You might not either. But I do know until you admit it to yourself you will never truly be in self love. So you’d better figure it out, before you destroy yourself.

Global Warning!

2009-11-11T19:36:00.000-08:00

I will never ever pay a carbon tax. I owe my allegiance to the Bill of Rights and the Constitution of the United States and no other entity. A carbon tax is almost as ridiculous as the idea of global warming. And I will tell you why.

Global Warming is a hoax. If you want to know why the globe on a whole has been warming for the past 100 years you need to look to the universe. The Solar System is warming, at exactly the same rate. If our industrialized world is warming at the same rate as the uninhabited space around it, are SUV’s and carbon dioxide really to blame?

There is only one reason that the climate in the Solar System is warming, and we call it the Sun. Every 500 years solar flare activity in the nucleus of the Sun increases. We don’t exactly know why it happens, but you can set your clock to it. During the 1500’s “Global Warming” was happening too.

Carbon is not the problem. Carbon is one of the four building blocks of life! That’s what they really want to tax, is life. We cannot give the power to tax a building block of all life to any government organization. Especially not to a multi-national organization!

Taxing carbon is a slippery slope, and it’s being sold to the people of the industrialized world as a step to save planet Earth. The modern green movement is a sham set up by Eugenicists a long time ago. They do not want to save the planet, they want to enslave it.

And when I say they, I do mean a multi national organization. Call them what you will, “A New World Order” “The Bilderbergs” call them what you will. A Carbon Tax is the first step toward a one world government.

Global Warming has never ever been proved. There are several international proclamations signed by thousands and thousands of Climatologists stating this exact fact. You can find any of them out online if you know how to work a common search engine.

Despite what Al Gore wants you to believe, it’s just not scientific fact. Here is a scientific inconvenient truth however, since Al Gore launched his movie, “An Inconvenient Truth” in 2006 he has earned more than a billion dollars for himself. He sold out to the highest bidder.

Senator Harry Reid has put the Carbon Tax bill on the docket for November 15th. It has already passed in the House of Representatives, and I fear it will narrowly in the Senate too. These could be the last few frail days of what used to be a truly great independent nation.

It may in fact be time to start asking yourself some very important questions about what being an American means to you. What line would the government have to incrementally cross before you did something? I for one am considering ex patriotism. As I fear a pestilence of apathy has already suffocated the possibility of a revolution.

Please Watch this Documentary

2009-11-11T06:25:00.000-08:00

This is Alex Jones documentary called "Fall of the Republic: The Presidency of Barack Obama"

Do I believe everything in this documentary is 100% factual? No. I certainly do not, but I think there is plenty in here you should see and disseminate for yourself. Let it swirl around your brain for a while, and draw your own conclusions or research these topics further. Don't just automatically think something is true or false, find out for yourself.

Death, loss, and nothing you can do

2009-09-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

The cruel hand of death has been all around a lot of people in my life lately. And while it has passed over my door this time, next time I may not be so lucky. I have suddenly been asked to be a shoulder to cry on for several close friends who are dealing with the loss of a loved one. What do you say? What can you do? The answer is, nothing.

There is nothing you can do after someone is gone to show them how much you love them. That is a hard pill to swallow for anyone, but we all must. When someone is gone, that's just where they are. There are no secret bridges or passage-ways to the other side.

Lately I have been thinking if I have been preparing myself for the loss of anyone. And I really don't think that I have been. If you love someone you better go and tell them. If you haven't talked to your grandmother who raised you, or your mother in a while, you better just go and do it.

That's really the only way to deal with death. Spend your life loving those who love you, and making the most of every today. Tomorrow may never come, you might not ever get that chance you've been hoping for.

I challenge you to call everyone who is important to you right now, and tell them why they are. Don't leave things up to fate, take control.

Be awesome and love those around you. And in turn you really will be loving yourself.

The most wronged man in the history of planet earth

2009-09-07T06:15:00.000-07:00

I have waited for over two years for it. My favorite player is back. I bet he's still awesome, and I bet he can still do everything that he used to do.

I don't want to stir the pot one more time, but I really think it's a shame that he had to miss the past two seasons. I have always been a believer and had his back.

In case you don't know he's the best player that has ever played the game. And here are ten plays to prove it.

Do you still???

2009-08-31T18:41:00.000-07:00

Yes I still....

Here's the latest thing

Chaos doesn't exist...

2009-08-20T18:00:00.001-07:00

Have you been being awesome and loving yourselves? I know I have. I've had plenty of reasons to give up lately too. August of 2009 has left its mark on my vessel. No doubt about it, and I'm sure it hasn't been easy for all of you either.

But even in these darker of times we can practice self love and make it work. I have had my share of personal, social, and physical dilemmas lately. There has been plenty to worry, cry, and sweat about.

But it's really easy to be into self love when your chips are up. However, a true warrior on the path to being awesome, remains unshaken in lieu of the circumstances. A good thing that I like to remind myself of when my chips are low, is that chaos doesn't actually exist.

Perception is life. It's what it's all about. And if you understand that there is order in everything, then your perception can always be of your own choosing.

The only thing that makes a situation appear chaotic, is the lack of an assumed outcome. All situations have outcomes, even ones that make you stay up all night crying. Your little tiny worrying brain just needs to calm down, because everything is going to be alright. Because even when all the shit you can imagine has hit every fan in your house, you live on. There is order in chaos. Sometimes there is more order in a chaotic situation, than a serene one.

There is nothing to worry about. Whatever could happen, will or won't, and you will fall into order. Just as everything in the universe will obey the order of life, so must you.

So all you can really choose is what kind of attitude you will have. And nobody loves a sour puss.

So be amazing, take some risks, and keep following through.

The Year of the old girl friend.

2009-07-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

I have unofficially declared 2009 the Year of the Old Girl Friend. They have really been coming out of the woodwork lately. Calling from different states and shit just to talk to me.

What's even more ironic about the situation is I never ever once thought that I had a good break up. It seems like the girl and I just sort of stopped seeing and talking all together. I never thought I was doing any of this intentionally but I thought I'd play along with it to make everything seem cool.

What is it about the sound of an old flame's voice that can take you back in some sort of time machine? Instantly you're 16 or 24 again and you're right back there. You are for a moment even emotionally back there.

I'm hearing good things about the old me I guess. I was always good to them, treated them right; the sort of things you'd want to hear from an old gal pal. But I dunno it just makes me think of all the reasons it didn't work out. It's a very nice happy way to start a good sad thought.

Loving yourself

2009-07-09T01:14:00.001-07:00

Why do I want to be awesome and love myself?:

You might be asking yourself why any of this is relevant. And to be completely honest I don't have a really good answer for you. I'm sure there are billions of humans that have already lived and died who didn't ever love themselves. Or there were people who loved themselves to a certain point but than jettisoned their own passion for some reason or other.

My belief is that when you love yourself unconditionally, and strive to be awesome every waking moment that only then are you working at your fullest potential. You may not be depressed about yourself or your situation in life. You may perceive everything to be fine and comfortable. And you might be right. I'm asking you to find out for yourself. Along the way you might find that you've been living exactly the way you should be all along. And if that's all you get out of this book, wouldn't that be great enough? I think it would. Even better what if you discovered something(s) about yourself along the way?

The very best reason that you need to start loving yourself is because nobody is going to do it for you. There is only one "me" in every one's life. And it's a very important person to be. There is nobody that can love you like you. And you will be the greatest love of your life. And you will allow yourself to live unashamedly and reap all that you sow.

Who am I?:

You have been living with your self for a very long time, and you probably have no idea who you even are. There are so many demands of living in a society there is almost no time to be an individual. Especially in a modern society where anyone can text, call or page you almost instantly.

You have to make some time to be alone. You have to love being alone. Because it's the time you'll get to be spending with the greatest love of your life. I have never been a person who has hated being alone. I know a lot of people who are very against the idea however. But you have to make some time to get to know yourself and fall in love with yourself a little more every day.

I like to take myself out on dates. A nice stroll through the library with yourself is very relaxing. Myself and I we love going to the video arcade together, and we have seen some pretty great sunsets in the park. This idea may seem a little silly at first, but if you would try it I think you'd be pleasantly surprised at how much fun the two of you can have on your own.

Why am I trying to date myself?:

Yourself and you have been fighting ever since you were born. You are a walking contradiction between the person you choose to be and the person you are. Don't you think it's time to re-examine some of the choices you've made? Maybe the person you are knows something too.

That's what myself and I spend a lot of time with. Who are we? It's a very big question, and an even more important conversation to be having. Especially with someone who unconditionally supports you. There is actually no other person you could be having this conversation with.

Hopefully when you really do find out who you are, and who you're trying to be you can make some compromises. You can reach an apex of the individual you are and the socialite you feel you have to be.

Everyone lies to themselves:

It is such a silly thing actually. Lying is so easy to do we don't even think about it sometimes when we do it. We learned how to do it as children and we've been doing it ever since. A little white lie here, a slightly larger one there it's so easy! Everyone believes pretty much anything you tell them.

The only problem is when you've become so adept at lying, as we all are, you start to forget you're even telling them or who you're telling them to. Pretty soon, sure enough you're lying to yourself.

The main problem with lying to yourself is that you are yourself. You will believe your own mind over any other source of knowledge. Even in spite of contrary evidence your gut always knows best.

When you love someone and I mean really truly love them you cannot lie to them. Because if you did really love them like you say you do you would be willing to talk to them about the hard things too.

It's very easy to avoid conversations with those close around you. Some people might even prefer to keep being lied to just to keep the smoothness of it all. Life isn't always about being smooth though. When you love someone you bring up those things because you want what's best for them.

And when the greatest love of your life needs a cold dose of the truth you need to tell it. How can you love yourself if you're not even brave enough to admit that you've told him/her lies?

If you want to love yourself like I want you to love yourself this might be a good time to admit some of the times you've lied to yourself. And it's ok to cry I won't tell anyone and neither will yourself.

Now that you've had a good cry(don't worry there will be more) STOP LYING TO YOURSELF DUMMY! And when you're ready to stop lying we'll move on.

Being Awesome and Loving Yourself

2009-07-08T17:50:00.000-07:00

Over the next few weeks I'm going to be work shopping the next new thing for me. It's a book called "Being Awesome and Loving Yourself." I'm not going to post the book here, but I'm going to use this blog as a brainstorm environment for themes and ideas that will ultimately make up the meat and potatoes of my book....at least we'll get some blogs out of it anyway.

Being Awesome:

Awesome is obviously slang for something being really great, or awe inspiring. Awesome is the word I use for myself. Ultimately I want you to have your own word for yourself that means something to you. But until you do, go ahead and use mine and be awesome. Say it right now. "My name is ________ and I am awesome."

You might already think you're pretty cool, even a little awesome. You might start thinking to yourself, I don't need to know how to love myself, I love myself pretty darn good come to think of it. You might be right, not everyone needs this book. Put it down, stop reading and go be amazing. Best of luck to you. As for the rest of us...

Being awesome has a lot in common with hitting a home run. I have hit 7 in my life time. Hitting a home run and being awesome in life have nothing to do with results and everything to do with follow through. You show up everyday, and you keep your form solid and eventually you hit one out of the park.

Awesome people don't have time to worry or fear. It is not that they don't feel those emotions but they have already made arrangements for them. If something is scary they are going to confront it, and if something is troubling them they are going to get to the bottom of it. And whenever something comes up they keep at it and always follow it through to the finish line.

They don't do it because they want the recognition that comes along with being impressive, they do it so that their mind is doubtless and an open canvass ready and in shape for self love.

That's why people should be awesome. Not to win an award, or a ribbon, or be the most popular kid on your block. But because you are awesome. And anything less from you would be a disgrace. Now go look in that mirror, wink at that handsome guy or gal winking back and say to yourself "you know what baby...you are awesome."

Bad things happen to awesome people too:

You are going to fail and things are not going to go your way. That's life. Even when you're so amazingly awesome you fail. You trip, you get bruised, but you get up. You dust yourself off, and you follow through. You keep being awesome, don't ever give that up.

People, friends even, are going to point out all of your flaws along the way. They are going to tell you a million reasons why you shouldn't expect anything good, and question every major decision you are about to make in your life. They are going to hit you when you are down and it is going to hurt like a son of a bitch. They do this because if you do actually become the person you want to be, then they might have to become the people they want to be too. And for most people that's a little bit too much to handle at the moment.

Everyone has anchors, ghosts and skeletons in the closet. But when you're awesome and not a victim but the perpetrator who is completely utterly in charge of everything that goes on around them, and prepared for whatever could not be perceived. You are going to untie your star from all of your prior baggage and soar off into the night sky with only the edges of the universe as your boundaries. And when you get there you will have a plan for them too, you're fairly certain.

Being awesome begins with you. Take another look in the mirror. You see yourself? Look at all of that awesomeness looking right back at you. Put this book down and go out there and start soaring. Don't take shit from anyone today, especially all of the haters. If anyone says anything negative to you today you put up a fight, and teach them some manners. You're the awesome one now. Well that's actually a lie, because you cannot be awesome until I teach you how to love yourself. Tomorrow come back and read the next chapter on loving yourself. And when you do really love yourself and put your new awesome personality on top of it, nothing will ever stop you.

So I'm getting a haircut

2009-06-26T13:01:00.000-07:00

My regular barber was way too busy to fit me in today. Which was fine. I just went down the street to a Supercuts which has offered up satisfactory service in the past. Usually I enjoy the Supercuts experience, there are usually young beautiful women waiting there to cut your hair and take all of your tip money.

Not today.... Today there were haggardly old women working at the Supercuts. I was wondering if the recent downturn in the economy has seen all of the younger more human ones go away, due to lack of hours or seniority. I didn't really know how to ask the question without being rude..."So where did all the hot chicks go?" So I sat there quietly and thumbed a Maxim.

Right before it was my turn this 30 something Indian woman came in to work her shift. I was to be her first hair-cut of the day, and she didn't really look....awake. I was in a rush and I'm actually quite an agreeable person, so I didn't mind that she was waking up on the clock so long as we got the job done.

As I'm explaining to her my intentions for my hair, she took the reigns. I never know what I really want anyway. Usually when it's one of the younger broads we just flirt and talk for a bit, and then they decide what looks best on my head. Although they ask me questions about the hair along way and we come to some sort of mutual agreement toward the finish line.

With this lady whose name was something like Zuta or something like that, it was going to be a different affair entirely. She told me how it was going to be, and what was going to be done and where to put my feet. When I slouched, or even attempted a conversation she let it be known that we were having none of that.

And I kind of liked it. I liked her controlling ways. I guess I'm more submissive than I thought. At the end of it all I didn't even like the hair cut, but I liked how I was treated.

I left there wet and pleased. I even tipped her. Thanks Zuta (?) for letting me know that I like to be handled.

My Mom reads my blog everyday

2009-06-15T23:21:00.001-07:00

Everyday since March 20th my Mom has been reading my blog. She is my most consistent reader and I love her very much.

So I'm writing this because I know it will make her smile. But she doesn't get off that easy. Here's a picture I took of her in her favorite reading chair.

love you...

I fell and then laughed about it

2009-05-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

Just some small updates because I haven't posted in a while.

I went to Chico CA last weekend, and had a blast. Got to play harmonica with a few people and play guitar and sing for people in Bidwell Park for the better part of two hours. Chico is my kind of town. Everyone I met there played an instrument and drank beer. I will probably retire there one day.

After I got back from the Chico trip I went to a small kegger here in Sacramento. Where we arranged to have about 14 instruments all get together to form the largest porch band ever. I would have to say the star of the show was a lady who came by from off the street with a fiddle. She was amazing. I would have never guessed how cool a fiddle could be.

When I left that party with a buddy of mine I decided that I needed to take a shower back at my apartment. During that shower (I was pretty wasted) I slipped and fell hard. At the time I was laughing and laughing. I always laugh when I fall for some reason. Since then my left quadriceps has been pulled and it looks like I was shank ed through prison style on my back.

The next day I went and played 30 holes of disc golf and I've still got it. I was spinning Big Nasty's down the course left and right. My putting game was deadly too. I hadn't played in over a year, but I guess muscle memory is thicker than thieves.

Also I picked up that UFC Undisputed game for the XBOX 360 which is one of the best things I have ever done for myself. It is teaching me Brazilian Ju Jitsu. You need to get this game and play it. Do it for yourself. Because you're dark and you like blood.

I guess this isn't much of a post, but I'm bored at work and it works for me.

Good times noodle salad.

Take 7 minutes

2009-05-18T00:06:00.000-07:00

Having just been through a situation with a few people who I will not out here, I realized a very important part of life.

When something that was very important to you doesn't work out the way you exactly wanted it to, you need to react. If you don't then the little reptile that lives inside of you is still going to react anyway. You may as well try to get him to react on your terms, rather than his. He's got big jaws and can kill without hesitation. So you need to teach him not to over react. You need to fully come to terms with the amount of carnage he wants to do.

When you try and cage the beast in your body. He will soon turn into an angry bitter beast capable of just about anything. He will sit around and plot out schemes taking up all of your day in pensive contemplative pestilence.

Until the day you realize a little too lately that the cage can no longer contain the violent animal. So you have to grab it by it's mouth and try to fight him off. But he is already so powerful and mighty. He pins you to the floor devouring you in minutes.

And now you can't tell any bit apart. None reptilian nor human. You walk and talk and act like he and him you. And then you go on a killing spree. Maybe you don't commit murder, but you murder a relationship, friendship or social contract. Because you've become an unthinking lizard. One so confused he knows only to protect himself.

When a pile of shit could best describe the highlight of your day you need to take seven minutes. Seven minutes of havoc, consequences free. Screaming at the top of your lungs the entire time.

The beast gets tired. Too tired to fight, droopy eyed he wanders back into the box willingly and forgets all.

You're dark dummy! It's the reason you sleep. Be Dark sometimes.

-AND SCENE!

My brand new evolving survey.

2009-05-05T23:52:00.001-07:00

I didn't find this survey anywhere. I just made it up. In fact you need to help me create it. That's the twist on my survey. You have to add your own 8 questions to it, and pass it on. Let's see how big it can get.

1. What is something we’ll never hear you say?
I'm going to become a famous armpit model.

2. When you’re a rich famous millionaire your house will have one wacky room that a normal house wouldn’t…. what is that room?
The room of a thousand chairs.

3. Have you ever broken anything? (Promises and bones count.)
One time I signed my name on my grandmother's really expensive table. I etched it in with a pencil. She was so mad. So mad, she's probably still mad.

4. How close have you been to bearing children?
Uhhh, I've been close. I've also had a girl I was sleeping with become pregnant and keep the child. Thankfully she was sleeping with the father at the same time as me. That was such a scary time. Wondering if the child was mine. And seeing her walk around all pregnant.

5. If you could pick your parents who would they be?
Well I'd have to go with A Walrus and a Donkey. Sure I'd be ugly but I'd be hung.

6. If you could pick a celebrity best friend who would it be and what is something you and said CBF would do occasionally?
Hands down it would be Christopher Walken, and every Saturday night we would hit up a really popular dance club and have dance offs.

7. You’ve just been abducted by aliens what’s one thing you hope to get to do with them?
I hope they let me stick around long enough to do some abducting and probing of my own. If not I hope they let me steer the ship for a trip around the Milky Way.

8. The city you live in has just elected you chairman of the city renaming committee what are some possibilities you will put fourth on the ballot?

This town sucks.
Monkeyville
The Dark Hole
Move Away From This City.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok so now you have to add 8 questions to it and post it somewhere. Do it.

65 Questions and some bees.

2009-05-05T14:51:00.000-07:00

Umm I don't exactly know how to put this. I just had to leave my apartment and go get some bee spray. There was a bald face hornet the size of a humming bird and 4 yellow jackets fighting in my bathroom. The weird thing is I didn't notice them until after I was done taking a piss. I've never been so scared in my entire life. I just hosed my entire bathroom down with Wasp and Hornet spray. That stuff kills quickly. In fact I'm feeling a little faint myself. I'm sure it will pass.

Two lovely ladies wanted me to do this survey so while I'm waiting for the slightly weird embrace of bee spray high to wear off, I will indulge them.

1. First thing you wash in the shower?
My chest, it's really easy to reach.

2. What color is your favorite hoodie?
It's dark blue and it says ANALOG on the front. I look like a thug in it.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
If I could even remember who that was, I bet I wouldn't.

4. Do you plan outfits?
No men can't be slowed down by such things.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?
I am feeling a little proud of myself for killing the bees. I was actually going to hit the hornet with a shoe. I had it in my hand for about five minutes just staring at that thing in the eyes. I'm so glad I decided to go buy chemicals. I would have probably missed him and been stung and bitten.

6. What’s the closest thing to you that's red?
A small capsule of Old Spice.

7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having:
My last dream was totally nut-tacular. However the details are escaping me. When I remember one part I forget another. I think it has to do with dreams existing in the frontal lobes and consciousness existing in the rear.

8. Did you meet anybody new today?
Do giant bees count?

9. What are you craving right now?
A shower. Where I will almost certainly be washing my chest first.

10. Do you floss daily?
That's kind of personal.

11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?
Cabbage Patch Kids trading cards.

12. Are you emotional?
I am. Yes I am, and if feels good to admit it. *Gets teary*

13. Have you ever counted to 1,000?
I usually fall asleep around 187.

14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?
I bite into but only after trying my best just to lick it. It happens every time, but usually it tastes so good that licking it just doesn't seem to do it for me. Neither does biting. I don't exactly know what I want to do with the ice cream, maybe make out with it, or cover myself in it.

15. Do you like your hair?
I have great hair.

16. Do you like yourself?
Yes but I'm starting to hate a few of my bad habits.

17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?
Yes he likes sports and so do I. I would love to watch a ballgame with him at hooters.
18. What are you listening to right now?
My new dirty little secret : Death Cab for Cutie. I'm trying to learn how to play soul meets body on guitar.

19. Are your parents strict?
No. Two of most genuinely laid back individuals you'd ever have to pleasure to meet.

20. Would you go sky diving?
I would need to be pushed and shoved out of the plane, but yea lets do this!

21. Do you like cottage cheese?
Nope. But dogs do.

22. Have you ever met a celebrity?
Yes and I'll drop those names now. Robert Duval, Sheryl Crow, Lance Armstrong, George Lopez, Arnold Schwarzneger, Dick Cheney, The lead singer of the Kaiser Cheifs, George Thurgood, and my personal favorite moment of all time was smoking a cigarette with Forrest Whitaker.

23. Do you rent movies often?
Can't say that I do.

24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you're in?
The sunlight is hitting the back of a DVDR just right, and yes it is actually sparkling.

25. How many countries have you visited?
4-5

26. Have you made a prank phone call?
It used to be one of my favorite things to do. Why did I ever stop? Oh yea...caller ID

27. Ever been on a train?
Yup but only at mueseums and stuff never one that was taking me anywhere. I've always thought it would be cool to go around the country on a train though.

28. Brown or white eggs?
Whatever you're making.

29.Do you have a cell-phone?
Yes I do. And we're in love.

30. Do you use chap stick?
Not really. Only when my lips are so apparently chapped that they're bleeding. Ok that was a joke, but you get what I mean.

31. Do you own a gun?
Nope but I've got it all picked out. I want a .44 caliber.

32. Can you use chop sticks?
Yea but only to drum on the salt and pepper shakers.

33. Who are you going to be with tonight?
My good buddy Mike and his family.

34. Are you too forgiving?
Nope I am just the perfect amount of forgiving.

35. Ever been in love?
Probably not. That sucks I know, but I'm being honest.

36. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow?
He's in Amsterdam right now. Probably sight seeing.

37. Ever have cream puffs?
I don't exactly know what that is.

38. Last time you cried?
When I got dropped off at the airport by my Mom last month.

39. What was the last question you asked?
"Who else has been working on this computer?"

40. Favorite time of the year?
I'm a fally. Football and girls in sweaters. And football and cold rain, and muddy football.

41. Do you have any tattoos?
I have two tattoos. A famous stick figure on my left shoulder, and the theatre masks on my right shoulder blade.

42. Are you sarcastic?
Nooooooo, I'm not.

43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect?
Yes. What a great movie! Seriously Amelia watch it!

44. Ever walked into a wall?
Yea they're sneaky.

45. Favorite color?
Blue

46. Have you ever slapped someone?
Yes but she asked me to.

47. Is your hair curly?
No it's pretty straight.

48. What was the last CD you bought?
Well I just downloaded Death Cab for Cutie's entire discography, so we'll go with that. I haven't payed for a cd since 2002. It was probably Chevelle's self titled album.

49. Do looks matter?
I'm starting to think that they don't. And I'm finding myself more and more addicted to chubby women than I'm frankly comfortable with.

50. Could you ever forgive a cheater?
Yea but I'd rather not.

51. Is your phone bill sky high?
I don't gab on it a lot during non free times, so nope. And I gots millions of roll over minutes.

52. Do you like your life right now?
I want to change it so badly. I'm stuck. If you're reading this, rescue me!

53. Do you sleep with the TV on?
Yes I have to.

54. Can you handle the truth?
Yea I can, but I'm better at hiding from it, or running from it.

55. Do you have good vision?
20/10 baby.

56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people?
I don't know how many Arabs are there? That made me laugh so hard. You laughed to admit it.

57. How often do you talk on the phone?
With the right person I can talk for a very very long time.

58. The last person you held hands with?
???

59. What are you wearing?
Jeans and a red shirt.

60.What is your favorite animal?
I like cats and dogs and humans.

61. Where was your default picture taken at?
In my bathroom.

62. Can you hula hoop?
The last time I tried I was pretty good. With all of the dancing I've been doing I'm getting better at hip eye cordination. I bet I could kill a hula hoop right now.

63. Do you have a job?
Yes I do. I work for Presentation Services. I've been there going on four years now. I think they're poisoning the water, I usually quit jobs after about two months.

64. What was the most recent thing you bought?
Raid Wasp and Hornet death in a can.

65. Have you ever crawled through a window?
Have I? *smiles*

My Problems with 9/11

2009-04-24T06:02:00.000-07:00

I am not a conspiracy nut. I swear to God I am not. But I have a few problems with the official story of what took place on September 11, 2001. And here they are.

There have only been 3 sky scrapers that have ever collapsed from a fire. They are World Trade Center Towers 1, 2, and 7.

There have been hundreds of sky scrapers that have been on fire over the years. And none of them have ever collapsed. Some of them have even burned for six to seven times longer than the Twin Towers did, and they did not collapse. And they were not constructed as well as the Twin Towers.

My second problem with the official story is 9 of the 19 hijackers are still alive! This has been verified by several news agencies as well as the governments of Saudi Arabia and The United Kingdom.

How could 9 of them still be alive, unless....they were never in the planes.

My third problem with the official story is the fact that the particular type of Steel used to construct the towers, which has a melting point around 3000 degrees Fahrenheit is supposed to have been melted by Jet fuel which only burns at 1100 degrees. And it only burns that hot when the fuel level is constant. You can see most of the Jet Fuel shoot out of the side of the towers on impact. How could something that doesn't burn hot enough to melt something else, in fact melt it?

My fourth and final problem with the official story is this. There has never been one shred or inkling of evidence that ties the crimes that took place on 9/11 to anybody. Especially not Osama Bin Laden. Or a covert organization called "The Base" which when translated in Arabic comes out "Al Qaeda."

There are thousands of other incredibly false statements in the official 9/11 commission report. But these four prove beyond any doubt in my mind at least that the story we have been forced to believe is not true.

What does anybody else think? It's OK to think, and to question your government.

My night with Gob Bluth

2009-03-30T00:41:00.000-07:00

If you don't know by now, I'm an Audio Video Technician. And if you don't know what that is picture a monkey in your mind. Shave that monkey and dress him in a suit, and that's me.

So tonight I'm helping out this Magician. All I am supposed to do is hook his little musical device into my sound system. No big deal right? Well his little box called an Mp3 Tech made by a company called Wireless Wizards, doesn't work.

It's a shame too because this device allows him to attach a little wireless remote control to his ankles and wrists, and they all control this little box that plays all of his sound effects across the room. It's a great idea too, because only the Magician can know for sure when to do the effect; so why shouldn't he be the one making it happen?

It's kaput. We call tech support, and everything but we can't get one in time for the show. So I ask him what the backup plan is. And he tells me, "Cash the check and run."

He thought about it for a moment, and decided against that plan. So what he made me do is watch his show three times in a row (three times too many), and learn all of the musical cues. Which was impossible! This mother shut your mouth had almost 100 musical cues for his act. There are entire productions of Cats, and The Producers that have less cues.

And as I'm watching his act I'm learning why. He needs the music to cover up all of the tricks that don't work. Nothing worked! It was like watching Gob Bluth do his "illusions Michael!"

So somehow we pulled this off. It reminded me of staying up all night to do a scene with some classmates for Michael Landman's Characterization class. Somehow this guy who I had thought was a total clown on the verge of collapse, is sawing women in half, and finding people's cards. And even more surprising throughout my scribbled notes, and his laptop I was able to play all of his cues for him. Did a few of them come early? Or late? You bet your ass they did. But we made it work, like a finely tuned Directing II final. I helped this entertainer get paid.

I know for a certainty that he made at least a thousand bucks for his two hour performance. He's a C-List name that I won't drop here, to save him some face, but let's just say this guy charges a bundle.

Now I wasn't expecting a tip, but I really was. A nice fat one, wrapped in money. I just saved this show, and his reputation. And for that he slipped me a twenty. I felt like a bottom ho getting an allowance from her pimp. I was all used and wet.

So you know what I did? I just stood there. But you know what I was doing in my mind? I was urinating. All over something of his something with intrinsic vale. Like his rabbit, or his wife.

Seriously though what a bastard. I had a better shot at being the magician than the sound guy based on the amount of prep time I had. And then I somehow pull it off, and this is the thanks I get?

I don't know what I really was expecting though. I think I would have settled on a Mercedes. Maybe a Lexus.

The Cannonball House

2009-03-18T20:15:00.000-07:00

Today I forged the sweltering heat of Macon Georgia to see a Confederate War museum. Before leaving we checked the website to make sure it was going to be an official place, and not some bumpkin's back 40 with a flag on it. It appeared real enough so off we went. My step father doing the driving as my DUI is still valid even in the deep south.

After parking and finding the house, we realized that we had ran out of camera battery power. So off we went in search of some double A's. Which were very hard to find, especially since we were not natives of Macon.

Over and across many hills did we trek, until providence itself guided us to a local camera shop. Seven dollars and thirty minutes later we arrived back at our original destination.

The Cannonball House is famous and aptly named because during the Civil War two cannon balls were shot into Macon Georgia. And one rolled up into and destroyed the front of Judge Polk's house. Apparently it was rebuilt by the Daughters of the Southern Confederacy. A group who goes around to minor historical sights and fixes them up out of boredom, and their plotted escape from it. With the eventual goal of over charging yanks and lookey lous admission to poke and trod through southern antiquity.

There was nobody else around. Aside from the tour guide and my traveling companion, we were we abandoned. That should have been a tip off to the "treasures" that lie within. Only in hindsight can such a poverty of foresight be seen!

Twelve dollars and some short introductions later we began the tour. The tour guide was appropriately named Mary-Lou "A fine southern name", she said. A 76 year old woman who has been giving the unfortunate tour for unfortunately too long.

Mary Lou did her best to keep our attention and spirits high as she peddled little tidbits of a remarkably unremarkable blip in the ides of history. The house in total had 9 rooms. And was a lovely house. A giant parlor and grotesquely over sized dining room were the key features.

She spent about twenty minutes rambling on about nothing much in every room. We had slated the entire afternoon to tour most of the town of Macon. Little did we know it would take almost all of the allotted time to get through Mary Lou's speech.

She was a pleasant enough old gal. At times a younger and more focused train of thought would peer through her cobwebbed spiel. Only to be derailed by a combination of old age, and what I detected hatred at the story. A story that she herself had told thousands of times, to thousands of people.

I felt like I had to pass out at least 4 times during the tour. I made myself remain stable for Mary Lou's sake though. I didn't want to ruin this poor old woman's day, even at the expense of my very own.

I never asked my Step Father if he wanted to leave as badly as I did. But I'm sure while he was standing there next to me the same thoughts were going through his mind. Trying to figure out some polite way to leave, or hoping that one of those over-sized chandeliers would fall on her. Not that I wanted her to die, or give witness to that event. I just wanted some reason, any reason deservedly so to leave.

There was a moment a slight lapse of constitution where I caught myself day dreaming of shoving her into a small out of the way closet and running toward what was left of my day. All I could do was remain attentive and polite however. After all I have the rest of my life ahead of me. How many tours could Mary Lou really have left in her? I was supportive and attentive for her sake. Even asking questions about what she had just been saying. A technique I have picked up at work which makes people actually believe you're listening.

Finally at the end of the tour we got to the advertised War Museum room. Which was the entire reason we went all that way. It was an 8x8 foot room full of not one but two Confederate Uniforms, and three bullets. What a disappointment! What a disaster! What an afternoon!

On the way toward sunset and the car, I remarked to my traveling companion. "At least we got to meet Mary Lou." Who is by far the treasure of the Cannon Ball house. An idiosyncratic lady, on the obscure road of life.

One blog for the road...

2009-03-13T03:40:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy week. I managed to bang my head(for details read the blog after this one), and bust my knee up pretty good. Two Guys and a Truck got pulled off without a hitch, and I was able to unify the belts once again in Fight Night Round 3 as "Smoking" Joe Frazier. I retired after going 60-0.

I know that's not Joe Frazier, but I didn't want to spend the time searching for a picture of him. Fight Night has got to be my favorite video game. I think I like it so much, because the games are short, and the blood and violence levels are high. Just when you think there's no way you could possibly injure the computer player's face anymore than you have already done, it happens. Seriously they need to show the guy hosing the ring off after Smoking Joe Frazier is done with them. The only negative thing about that game is, I'm done with it. I've cranked the difficultly level all the way up, and tried it from every different angle it could possibly be played. So come on already EA Sports where's Fight Night Round 4 when you need it? I'm going to feel jipped if it's already out and I don't know about it.

I don't know why I feel compelled to write a last blog before I leave. It's not like my parents don't have the Internet. I'm not going to be spending every second of every day with them. There will be time to blog in Georgia.

I got to work on this sick ass show this week. I'm usually not that stoked about the things we do at my hotel. We do some pretty good shows, but they never look fantastic or anything. We convinced the client to fork over fifty thousand dollars so we finally got a chance/budget to do something crazy. And it took a lot of fucking work. But here's a picture of the finished product.

I built that. I built all of that. Did people help me? Yes they did, but I built it all. You may not be able to really see what's going on in that picture so I'll tell you. It's a 27x22 foot box truss standing upright on 14 foot legs. With one extension wing to support a rear projected screen. There are 5 Mac 550 moving lights on the rig, 30 Led up-lights, and 20 ACL back lights(There are some sprinkled in ellipsoidal too). It's also got over 100 feet of diamond shaped spandex. It looked awesome, with the spandex coming alive when all the movers were working together. I don't usually get to work with the project manager I was working with this week. But I'm sure after this show I'll be working with him more. It's nice sometimes to put out a good product and feel like you're making a difference every once in a while.

So yea I've officially been on vacation all day I suppose. I didn't get done breaking that damn set down until 5am last night, so I slept the first day of vacation, but I've got 7 more in a row.

I guess this is supposed to be the part where I tell you all if I die in a fiery plane crash that I love you all. I am that easy! If you read my blog you have my undying love. And if you're pretty! No fattys!

There should be a service that goes around and deletes your myspace/facebook account if you die. I was just thinking about that. How horrible it will be to still be able to go to my friend's pages after they are gone. I have seen a few, and I suppose they turn into a sort of tribute site. But I don't want whatever was on my mind last to be the first thing everyone sees for the rest of eternity.

I need to give someone my password so if I perish they can maintain my account for me. I know that's a pretty heavy question to ask someone though. And I should probably have a back up too, in case they die before I die. Like an alternate. I don't like thinking about this stuff, my stomach kind of hurts now.

A Gonzo

2009-03-08T01:20:00.000-08:00

When I hurt myself people like to hear about it. I have never been one for collecting the acceptance of others, but until I overcome my self inflicting accident proneness problem I might just have to put up with it. Let's not kid ourselves either, if I didn't enjoy telling a double whopper with sound effects and the like would I be sitting here in my undergarments at 2am scribbling away, and hating every paragraph until I write the next?

So people like people when they hurt themselves. And people know about this. So other people tell people about it. So that somebody else might feel comfortable enough talking about a time they hurt themselves. Unless they lack the skills necessary of captivating their audience with the best material money can't buy. Then even if they did hurt themselves in the story, you can't enjoy it because you've fallen asleep.

I know one girl who loves it when you fall. And because of this she is almost certain to become a tripper. That's why I always walk down the stairs behind her, not because she has a great caboose, that's just the icing. She loves it when you fall because she's just like everyone else. The pleasure in someone Else's pain must be the sixth sense of the human being.

And if you cannot see someone fall down or take an arrow of fire to their crotch. Then hearing about it, is the next best thing. But if the person who lit the arrow on fire and then shot it at their own crotch, lives to tell you about it it is like a little slice of Heaven. Or some secular equivalent. Like pie. A little slice of Cherry pie. With a small side of vanilla ice-cream.

So here's the latest incarnation to fuel the sixth sense of my fellow man. Sometimes I wonder if I do these things to myself knowingly. But if it were planned I doubt I would walk away as unbroken as I always do. Luck plays an important part in living to tell the tale. He's perhaps the most important attribute of every accidental circumstance.

I'm driving a lift today, and everything is going smooth. My operation was running like a hard knife cutting through a soft cube of butter. I have taken this vessel many times on a very similar journey like today's.

I maneuver through elevators, crowded hallways and tight loading docks. Full of passerby fuck nuts who think because they're in your way already they might as well stay there. And who could blame them? They walk as if moving a singular muscle at a time, never quite grasping that the hip bone is connected to the foot bone. Their pace makes all of us older, and then quite younger again as they slither on by.

It is at this time when I ask two of my fellow men, to help me watch the wheels as I have to make a 19 point turn down a skinny concrete walkway. Whomever designed the loading dock at the Sheraton Hotel in Sacramento should be shot in the nuts with a device of electrocution. Or buried alive in the ocean with concrete stockings holding giant bags of shark bait.

As I'm making part 18 of the 19 point turn to back down the ramp, I turn to my right to check my back wheels. When all of a sudden I'm hit with what feels like a Louisville slugger on the right side of my cranium. The gentleman who are supposed to be looking out for my safety during the time, both see this happen, and at the top of their lungs "OH!?!?" "Watch out!."

Let me recreate that turn of events for you. In case you weren't paying attention. The corner of a giant wooden awning doing exactly what it is supposed to do, staying inanimate and where it was put in the year 2003 gets attacked with the full force of my cranium smashing into the corner of it, and then......my "spotters" tell me to watch out. That is some excellent spotting.

So I'm probably the only person who has ever slammed his head into such a structure and not immediately passed out. I had to put off passing out until I was done driving the lift. I didn't cry or flinch or swear. It didn't even effect me.

However my spotter extraordinaire told me that I had a second head growing out of my first one. And because I didn't want to have to start buying shirts with two holes for my heads I put some ice on it. And that's when the pain really started. Whomever invented ice should be forced to do body shots off of Roseanne Barr's hairy stomach.

I felt like I needed to vomit. That's how hard I hit my head. I didn't hear the loud noise that the impact made, because I was in some sort of acoustic shadow. I only got to hear about how loud of a noise that the others heard. I was too busy making it. Silly me.

And everyone was laughing it up and it was great. Aside from that giant knot on my head. And that lingering thought in the back of my other one; the part that had not succumbed to a concussion that I could have been very less lucky. For if I was to take that same blow to the head one inch lower and one inch to the left give or take, that I would be blogging from the hospital right now. Just thinking about that is making my right temple hurt at this very moment.

In the great battle of cranium versus awning we learned that no matter how hard you may try, you will never be able to break a giant piece of wood with your head. Especially at the corner where it is attached to another giant piece of wood. That's perhaps the strongest part of the structure. I would recommend for anyone trying this in the future to attack it from the side. You might just have a break through.

Has Collective Soul always been this hardcore?

2009-03-01T18:04:00.000-08:00

If there was one album that I owned as many as 4 times while growing up it was Collective Soul. The blue one the self titled one. Everyone owned it. If you look through your old cds it will be in there. And if you can't or won't admit that to yourself that's fine. But you're a dirty liar.

I'll give you a hint, turn it up!

SeeqPod - Playable Search

Isn't that some of the most hardcore shit ever? I'm bringing back 1995 one band at a time. And it all starts with Collective Soul.

Why we lie...

2009-03-01T00:28:00.000-08:00

I found this in a book I'm reading. It doesn't tell you who or where it's from. I found it to be pretty inspiring. A little poke in the head, if you will?

Why We Lie

Everyone lies a little bit, and that’s no lie.

It may be a little white lie told to spare someone’s feelings, but everyone
does it. We are all guilty. We start lying at a young age (around four or five)
to finagle something we want or to get out of trouble.

We lie both to please people and to appease them. We lie to strengthen
relationships and to maintain them. We lie to make ourselves feel better
about lying to someone else.

However, oftentimes the best lies (meaning the ones that are most believable
to other people) are the lies we tell ourselves.

If we can hide the truth from ourselves, it’s so much easier to cloak it
from others. Why do we lie? Generally speaking, because we can get away
with it.

Dear Blog...

2009-02-27T03:03:00.000-08:00

I can't sleep tonight blog. I'm terrified, and laying there with my eyes closed just isn't making me feel any better. So I thought I'd get up and lay it all out on the line for you, you always know what to say to make me feel better.

I haven't felt the scorn of the bitter economy yet. I say yet because I know, as a logical man that it is coming. I fear not that I will be laid off, but that it will be much worse than that. I have pretty good reason to believe that there is a scheme going on behind closed doors.

A letter from a superior at work woke me up tonight to the situation. As always us little men on the bottom are being asked to sacrifice more and more to save a company that at the best of times has always kept us down. We shall be showered with the gifts of nothingness and destitution. While those on top shall reap the reward of "saving the company."

I fear that through their actions they are trying to make us the worst of us quit, and the best of us stretch out so thinly that we shall be unseen. And it's a really crummy way to feel.

A part of me quietly dreams when I can sleep about what I would do if I were not a slave. What adventures I am missing out on, and the pitfalls of freedom. Sooner than later I'm afraid that I will find out. How desperate times can really get, and how I shall react.

You see I finally realized it tonight. They will not lay us off. They will simply not schedule us. And it's already happening. It's really quite brilliant how short sighted and greedy a massive corporation can and will be.

What will become of me blog? Where will I sleep and eat? How will I keep the lights on, and maintain you?

A part of me knows what I'm capable of. If I had to rob, murder or kidnap ... well let's not finish that sentence.

I'm so sick of my chains. I keep dreaming of a little creek somewhere in the middle of a beautiful valley. A place where there aren't any walls to attach these shackles. Somewhere where people help each other. A place just to be. Whatever you are. Full of smiles and hope.

Smiles and hope. Those were the days. Thanks blog, I feel a little better.

A Piano Beat

2009-01-29T05:50:00.000-08:00

So I made a drum track that was speaking to me.

Then I decided to bust out the concert piano synthesizer.

And I thought it was so cool I made this movie.

Enjoy.

My Brother

2009-01-24T15:13:00.000-08:00

I know it's a little late for Halloween pics. But my brother was a nun this year, and I just found some of his pictures, and they won't really do him justice, but check em out.... he is too funny.

We naturally do it.

2009-01-21T02:34:00.000-08:00

I'm sick of that word. Why do I say it? I'm sick of a lot of words. I'm so sick of the word sick right now.

I'm so ailing, bedridden, broken down, confined, debilitated, declining, defective, diseased, frail, ill, impaired, indisposed, laid-up, and wobbly of the word.

Here's some other words and why I hate them.

Naturally - I actually love the word naturally. I just don't like how there aren't other ways to say it. Most people use it. If you didn't say it people would ask you..."do you mean like....naturally?"

"that's how he naturally does it?"

So instead of replacing it with another word, I'm thinking about replacing it with some short gibes which are more my style than quips:

"And so just like all the other blood sucking maggots he drank the blood."

"And like all busy beavers, her shit was for sale."

"And so it came to him as if it were something out of nature. Yes indeed like something that was natural. And so he broke it."

How about those things that you say, that you don't even know what they mean? They're like social cues that somehow shoot without warning out of your mouth.

Things like the phrase loud and clear.

"How well can you hear me?"

"Oh I hear you LOUD_N_CLEAR"

We even change the way we talk to say things like that. To a more kind of guy in a fire station yell. "LOUD N CLEAR"

Have you ever really heard someone loud, or clear? No you just say that because once you actually tried to say something original in it's place. You said something else like "I hear you just fine."

You were being silly thinking that you with all of your cleverness you could even fathom how many eons of languages it took to perfect the phrase LOUD N CLEAR.

But they don't understand. They think you're not hearing them fine. They're asking people around them, "Did he say loud, woah?!? did he say.... clear?" They're waiting for a LOUD N CLEAR. And you're forced to give it to them.

Or what about that game we all play, called "How are you doing?"

Has anyone ever wanted to know how somebody else was doing? Really? Somebody that just happens to be walking down the same hallway as you. Sometimes it's not you though, it's them. They start the game. It doesn't matter who starts, you're playing now.

"Hi how are you doing?"

"I'm....doing great!"

"Oh well that's nice, Yea you know who else is doing great....me yea."

"great."

"yes and it's great you're great too."

(and then as you walk away)

"Hey, next time we're in the hallway....?"

"Oh most certainly. We must do this again."

Here's another version of "How are you doing?" This is the version that you've been down before with some really good hallway buddies in the past. The one that makes you kind of realize that things like this aren't ever meant to be.

"Hi how are you?"

"Oh hey what's going on?"

"Hey we see each other in this hallway a lot don't we?"

"Like totally!"

"Do you wanna meet in another hallway sometime?."

"YES!!!"

"Or what if? Like say, I didn't want to see you in a hallway at all? What if I wanted to see you in something that had like 4 walls and shit?"

"Yes, you could."

"Could I say hi?"

"Sure, unless unless... I say it first."

"Oh I will say it first. Because you are so cool."

"I dunno because I think you're cooler than me."

"Well we'll see who's cooler. When we (beat) hang out!"

"Oh we will. We will sooooo hang out."

"We are so hanging out."

"I don't even need your number, because I'm already going to be at your house."

"I will not be there, because I will be knocking on your door."

and then a week goes by......the two of you meet again. Neither of you has kept any of the promises from the previous engagement. Which you have to address. Because there's no secrets between hallway friends.

"Dood I have been meaning to call you."

"No it is I who has been meaning to call."

"I'm sorry, it's just that life outside of this hallway is very hard."

"I know it's hard for me too."

"You're not judging me?"

"No man, I love you."

"I love you too."

(you embrace)

"Ok so we are definitely hanging out now right?"

"I mean we just hugged in the freaking hallway man. You complete me."

"So it's on then?"

"Like Donkey Kong. I don't even know what that means, it's like Jesus just mouth raped me."

"No I say it too. It's OK."

"It is OK, to say those things sometimes. Things you don't mean."

"Sometimes those things just come out of your mouth."

"Yea, hey wow you really understand me!"

"Are we going to get like matching tattoos?"

"If we don't somehow figure out how to just inhabit the same body."

and then another week goes by.....And you still haven't talked to this person again. And when you see them, and they see you you both kind of hate yourself. And so just to be polite. You feel it's best to just tone it down. And over time not even talk anymore. Because well, you need to be able to walk down this hall way and not have a five minute conversation with everyone. And they in turn need it too.
And this time, you both try something.

You just start ignoring each other. And it's working, and it's beautiful. And it's a great place to be sometimes. And that goes on and on, until one of you brings it up.

"Yea I knew it"

"Knew what?"

"That we could be more than hallway friends."

"Oh no we could never be more than that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're some just freak I met in the hallway."

"Oh yea well hey! So are you."

"You're creepy. Talking to someone in a hallway. What is wrong with you? I could be a serial killer.

"Well are you?"

"No."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Good keep it up."

"Yeah you keep it up too."

You see you'll never be friends. And if you are, then you'll have to tell people that you met in a hallway. And then all those questions are going to start up.

"Well what were you doing? Just standing there. Cuz that doesn't make any sense."

"Yea I was just there man. And so was he."

"He was just standing there too?"

"Dood it was like destiny."

What words do you hate?

Come in touch with something new today

2009-01-13T04:41:00.000-08:00

The human brain is a cataclysm of comfortable past experiences. You are an emergent entity, that changes overtime from the inside out. Have you really become all that you can be? Or are you stuck in a state of acceptable stress, or acceptable identity?

You are who you are only because you taught yourself to be this way. But what if I were to tell you that you could change the past by influencing your own future? You have the ability to re-wire or remap your own brain. You have an enormous potential to change your life. You only need to believe that you can do this. The first step is letting go of yourself.

It could all start today. You could start letting go of all of your baggage right now if you wanted. You feel compelled to be yourself only because you are addicted to your emotions that are chemically produced when you are.

I challenge every person who reads this message to start making the shift from "me" to "one."

Today is an opportunity that you're never going to get again. A singular point in time and space where you can start the creation of your own reality.

Do something uncomfortable today! Create something new today, get in your own face. Let go of and challenge your own morality. Step outside of that comfortable little box you've created. There is no wrong no right there is only you. You have to become it, to know what you should become.

That which we are most afraid of, is what thrills us the most.

A little song I was working on this morning

2009-01-07T10:15:00.000-08:00

Just a little improv because I was up early...

There are a couple of weird mic pops in it, I've got to get a better mic for the house. It is what it is.

While it's not a necessity this song sounds bad-asstical in headphones.

Inspired by a conversation...

2009-01-07T02:11:00.000-08:00

It's never a planned out thing really. You're most definitely not sitting there at work watching the seconds go by thinking about it. You're not in your car on the way home telling yourself : "OK I'm gonna shower, change my clothes, and then flip it on".

What I'm talking about is watching a porno-Esq flick on your television.

It starts out innocently enough.

You're watching that re-run of Seinfeld. The one you've seen a million times, called "Not that there's anything wrong with that." You're laughing and have a great time. Then a commercial hits, and instinctively you press the "guide" button to see what else you could be watching.

You scroll down through the endless list of nothingness that you're paying ungodly amounts of cash each month for. The commercial break is un-seemingly long and now you're down in the movie channel section.

Two words stand out to you on the screen for some reason. Fatal Attraction! You start to process what those two words mean. A curious voice in the back of your mind starts probing your frontal lobes. "Isn't there some tittys in that movie?"

And then being the good detective that you are you have to find out.

And after further examination there aren't just tittys in that movie, there are fantastic tittys in that movie.

And nobody is around. And before you know it, it's 3am. And now you're watching ....

Sex Games Cancun 3.

And no you didn't set out to do this. But you did this because you're a dirty male, with a dirty mind. And you're a slave to testosterone.

Are you ready for some change?

2008-12-31T04:23:00.000-08:00

I hate to be the bearer of perceived bad news. But because everyone I talk to thinks that Barack Hussein Obama is going to change their lives, I must deliver some. Basically everyone I know voted for him. And I can totally understand being passionate about your candidate. But when I hear the aspirations and beliefs of devout Obama followers, and see that just drank the poisoned Jones town kool-aid look in their eye, I want to slap them. But I'm not a slapper, I'm a blogger.

You honestly think you voted for change. And I cannot for one second hate on that. You really think that you helped yourself and your country. And that is an admirable quality. To bestow your hopes and dreams into yet another politician is what I don't understand though.

I seem to remember another president elect that was suppose to change America, reform Washington and leave no child behind. His compassionate conservatism and executive experience were destined to lead us into the new frontier and make us a bolder better country than we had ever been before. What was his name again? George W. something.

You were standing there at the rally pledging your allegiance and shouting those three little words yes we can. And it was this big swirl of emotions and deep feelings and tears. Did anyone stop and ask the important question? Can we? Can we really bring about the social reformation that we all deserve? I doubt it.

I'm sorry but I seriously doubt it. Every election cycle we basically elect the same government. The faces change, and so do the issues. But the greed, power, and bureaucracy still exists. And I don't for one second think that America has changed at all. It still smells like a rat. It still looks like a rat. So it must be America.

Let us not forget that Barack Obama is a politician. And beyond that he belongs to a political party. You didn't vote for change. You voted for a Democrat. A Democrat who exists within a political system that is only interested in self preservation.

As long as we keep electing these life long politicians to elected office we will never rid ourselves of the problem. I'm fearful that you're expecting a new America, and all we're going to get is a fresh coat of paint. When what we really need is a brand new house.

Do you even know what kind of change you want? Change is such an ambiguous term.

I'm not all gloom and doom. I want the new president to succeed. I hope he is the man that you really thought you voted for. In fact I have high hopes. I presume innocence like a good citizen is supposed to.

I think it's important to know what kind of change you want though. Most Obama supporters who voted so fervently for it, don't have an answer to this question. Here are some changes that I want.

1) A return to the gold standard of monetary policy, as dictated by the supreme law of the land, the U.S. Constitution.

2) An end to entitlement programs such as Welfare, Medicare, Medicaid, and the Department of Education.

3) A return to Free Trade policies.

4) The disbandment of the Federal Reserve System.

5) The abolition of the 16th Amendment to the US Constitution, the Income Tax amendment. As it was never legally ratified, and is unconstitutional because it is an un-apportioned tax.

I don't know if the changes I listed above would fix America. But I didn't claim they would. Those would be real changes though.

I will let Barack Obama take office and put things in motion before I judge his Presidency. I will give the alleged changes a fair amount of time to work. But so far the only changes I see on the horizon are the following.

1) The color of the skin of the president.

2) A $1,000 tax cut for couples, and a $500 dollar tax cut for individuals. However because an income tax in the first place is unconstitutional this change is mute.

3) Some minor tweaks in health care.

4) Talking to Iran.

Did I miss anything?

I do sincerely wish you the best Mr. President Elect. Our country is broken. Would you please fix it? We don't need band-aids anymore. We need drastic surgery. And I'm concerned that the status-quot will win because of greed, money and corrupt able power....just like it always does.

Help me people!

2008-12-29T04:44:00.001-08:00

It's a new year. So I thought I'd change the look up here. Before I go changing anything else, I need to ask you some questions.

Why do you read this blog?

Was I doing something in the past, that I have now stopped doing that you would like to see more of?

I hoped to start this site so that my friends would have something to look at when they were bored. But I feel it has drastically been evolving. Help me construct this site into what it should or could be.

I think a good start would be a name for the site. "Lately I've been Thinking..." was just something I put in without any thought a long time ago. What should the name of this blog be?

My audience has been steadily growing and expanding. I now have recurrent readers from Australia, China and Canada.

What can I do in the future to keep you coming back?

I've been thinking about splitting up the content of this blog into a more organized structure. Perhaps moving all of my politically minded and esoteric posts on one venue, and having another one for the more mainstream posts.

I understand that not everyone wants to read about the Federal Reserve System, and International Bankers when they've only got a few minutes of time to zip in. It must be a real turn off when you come on this site looking for my latest herpes joke and I've got you watching videos about why God doesn't exist.

I've also been thinking about doing some audio blogs. Taking some of my most popular posts from the past and turning them into an audio format. It might blow chunks, but it may be very entertaining. Because your internal reading voice might use different key words than I would. It might make some of the jokes or wordplay more colorful. Then again it may just inflate my ego.

Thanks for making my first 8 months on blogspot.com a real success. I'm looking forward to really delivering for you the reader in 2009.

Thanks for coming back.

Why I don't believe in god.

2008-12-27T19:37:00.000-08:00

In the future when people ask me why I don't believe in god, I'm going to refer them to this video. I've been doing research along these same lines for years. But here you go. Make sure to watch all three parts. I am not posting this to make you question your own religious beliefs but so that you will understand them in the context of secular logic. I understand that faith is a serious hatchet to bury. I once like you, did believe in God. After knowing what I now know, I can no longer do that. I would never judge someone for having faith in something though. Faith is a fantastic human trait that you should wear on your sleeve. With that in mind, here's why I don't believe in God, and especially Jesus.

After realizing that my own faith in god stemmed only from a fear of hell, it was easy for me to stop believing. I would seriously love to discuss this with any/everyone.

A very useless product.

2008-12-17T17:43:00.001-08:00

I love when I'm up late at night watching television, and I see a commercial like this one.

Listen to the marketing points for the Snuggie:

-Blankets can slip and slide!
-Use your hands!
-Use the remote!
-Use your laptop!
-Enjoy a snack!

Who was having these issues? Who was like... "If only there was a better way!" I'm very fond of using a blanket on the couch, and I've never once thought to myself that it was inconvenient. It's really easy to read a book while using my blanket. This product is useless. They make it seem like you couldn't enjoy a snack without one. Classic.

I don't know if this next one is real or not, but it's funny stuff.

Doing the Ipod Scuttle and how does myspace know who I know?

2008-12-10T21:49:00.000-08:00

Myspace.com the international phenomenon and scourge of the earth now has a feature called "people you may know." Which is a direct rip off from facebook.com. But my facebook account is only 1 friend deep. I never use it. My Myspace account is a little deeper. And when I click on "people you may know." I know all of them. There are like 50-60 people there who I know. I don't may know them, I absolutely know them. I'm just not friends with these people on Myspace. How does Myspace know who I know? It's convenient but scary.

I got an Ipod Shuffle today. It's the first product I've ever owned from Apple. And I'm really impressed. I'm impressed with the fact that with just the click of a button it is automatically filled up. I am not however impressed that the product was assembled in China. I think it's going to change my life. I'm going to be able to patch it into the sound board at work when I'm working. It's going to make me jog around the park, I just know it.

Its got this neat little clip on it, and it really holds up well. It took a little mustard to get it off of my sweater today. I was testing to see how fragile the clip is, and it's not fragile at all. I was the one who was fragile.

I don't really like how it forces you to use the Itunes program. I've never been a big fan of that program. It took my computer about an hour to "import" all 15,000 of my mp3s. I wish it would just let me view the directory without using Itunes, but that's a marketing firm for you. I bet I could hack it, but it's not really a priority.

I know I'm so behind the times. I'm probably the last person to get an Ipod. You're probably reading this thinking to yourself... "welcome to the year 2004."

At work tonight while using the little tiny device, we started calling it a scuttle, and it sort of stuck. So now it's called the Ipod Scuttle. :)

I got a raise. I got a 7% raise. Which in this economy is huge. I still make slightly more than a homeless person, but it's getting better. I think I'm going to have to relocate to advance with this company. Which is kind of exciting, because I could use a new scene. But it's kind of scary because while I'm not thriving in Sacramento, I am nice and safe here.

Every time when I think about moving, I think about all of these reasons not to do it. But honestly the more I process it, it's not that bad of an idea. My company is world wide. I could move to any state I wanted to. I've really just got to make a decision and go for it. And be open to it, and jump off the cliff and fall.

I want to move somewhere where they do a lot of lighting. Corporate lighting, stage and theater lighting and everything else. Every time I get my hands on an opportunity with some lights and some creative license I come through huge.

I wish someone like a really good friend, or one of my parents, or one of my mentors would just tell me where to go. That would make it so much easier. Then there would be a reason to pick a place.

It's going to be so weird being the boss. I guess it's all pretty weird anyway. Putting on these suits and ties everyday, and coming back. So if it's going to be weird, and I'm going to be doing it anyway I might as well go ahead and get paid.

That's enough rambling for one night. I haven't written a funny blog in a while have I? It's coming soon I can feel it in my funny bones.

Profit, and Scarcity

2008-12-04T09:20:00.000-08:00

My new found zeal for economic discussion stems not from a sense of patriotism but a sense of dispossession of my own inherent value. This mercantile monetary system that rules the globe did not come about overnight. It has been passed generation by generation over the ages through deceit deception and disorder. My own intrinsic interest in the cosmos and generation of the galaxy guides my logic to understand that everything and everyone is inter-connected. We all came from the stars, and we're all here. That should mean something.

So when I discuss the theft of my own value, I symbiotically address the value of existence. Religion, money, institutions and self worth de-value the world and existence. The world could be full of unconditional love if the weight of these conditions and their determination to preserve themselves were lifted from our reality.

But instead of being able to have full possession of our own time, we are enslaved by these apocalyptic horsemen to our own demise. We are devoid of a truer human existence and are forced into sheepdom by these irrelevant forces.

The universe is emergent. That is to say that it is constantly changing and expanding. As we are all part of the universe should we not be emergent as well? Instead we are forced into a static existence. Instead we are taught to chisel away at others, compete against them in the work place, and in the most extreme cases hate and damage them. Because we were given a name, taught how to be humanistic and infused with a belief system all by the age of 4.

The maximization of profits is the manifesto of any monetary system. To sustain the enterprise and value the enterprise over all other commodities either inanimate, automated or human.

This is the main reason why all financial systems fail. Because to maximize profitability you have to suppress abundance and productivity.

When you let profits rule judgments you get scarcity. It's that simple. There is no happy medium. That's not what the enterprise wants. It doesn't want a happy medium, it wants maximum profits.

The more goods and services there are, the less profit is made. That's a basic economic principle. You can learn that in any high school economics class. The more scarce something is the more profitable it is. So what benefit would there be in finding better ways to produce these things? There wouldn't unless it would increase profits. So instead of investing in technologies that make their products better they invest in those that automate the current process. Because a machine will work forever for free. Where as a slave er I mean man will not.

So you would think that corporations would strive to find better ways to make products, and better ways to engineer them. But instead they spend most of their time figuring out how to make their product more scarce. Diamond mines burn diamonds. Lumber companies don't plant as many trees, gasoline companies don't refine as much fuel as they did last year.

And everyone just accepts it. And it's really easy to accept the world as it is. There are a lot of great things about the current world. Route 44 Cherry Lime Aids, Roller Coasters, Race Cars, and Super Sonic Jets to name a few. But it's a tad scary to even imagine the un-corrupt un-inhibited world that we have been robbed of. The one where equality and un-division rule not because they're powerful but because they are the emergent ways to exist.

Maybe in that world, I could grow a beard.

Alex Jones Zeitgeist together at last

2008-12-04T05:35:00.000-08:00

This is Alex Jones reviewing clips from Zeitgeist Addendum which is not a movie he made. Alex Jones has been fighting the war against International Bankers for decades. I don't believe in all of his theories, but he's a pretty even keel conspiracy theorist when you compare him to the likes of David Icke.

What I want you to do, is watch this, and don't believe a word of it. Just sit back and take it in. Then if you're motivated I want you to go out and discover for yourself how International Bankers such as the Rothchilds run the world. My research in this area has lead me to believe that nobody really knows the real story.

For more info on Alex Jones visit http://infowars.com
For more information on Zeitgeist Addendum a great movie I recommed despite what Alex Jones thinks of it go buy it, or search for it on YouTube. I believe you can watch the entire movie on Youtube.com

For more information on International Bankers, and the Federal Reserve System there is a great movie called "The Money Masters" which is also availiable on Youtube.com

You can also look up the Federal Reserve Act of 1913, The Income Tax Amendment to the US Constitution of 1913, or the financial crisis of 1907.

The Federal Reserve System is neither federal, or a reserve system. It is a group of International Bankers that run the US economy, through enslavement of our financial system.

Write your congressman. Get some bullets. :) Have a nice day.

The Thanksgiving that never was and the beard that never could be...

2008-11-28T19:00:00.000-08:00

I got the entire week surrounding Thanksgiving off and a few days after it. I think it's like 11 days off. Which I haven't had, since probably last Thanksgiving. I had a few invites for Turkey day with the family and a few with some friends, but I declined.

I envisioned this ten or so day period as a time to relax and recharge. I think I needed to get in touch with my self, and think about some things. Nobody was really surprised by my not wanting to come to Thanksgiving either. I guess they know me. I excel at isolation.

I decided that I wasn't going to think about anything, and I was going to grow a beard. I've never had one before. I have to shave at least 3 or 4 times a week for work, and I've been doing that for the past 3 years. So I figured by today that I would have at least a little beard.

But what I have is a non-beard. A nothing beard full of patches of little tiny hair that don't seem to be working together at all toward my goal. Here take a look.

Am I even going to live long enough to have a beard? My little brother can grow a Merlin the magician beard, why can't I?

Everyone says that not being able to grow facial hair is not really a problem. That most men would prefer it. I just want to know what I'd look like with some. Just one time.

I am thankful for a lot of things this year.

Stephan called me out of the blue, because for Thanksgiving one year we both celebrated it together in San Marcos. He called just to remind me of how much fun we had having a poor man's thanksgiving. For a couple of poor men, we put together a mighty feast, I even made the Turkey. I haven't talked to Stephan in over 5 years, I don't even know how he got my number, but he called just to tell me he was thinking of me. Which for him is a gigantic step toward normalcy.

Dustin called yesterday to remind me of when I went to his Thanksgiving. He says that all of his relatives still ask about me. I think he gets pretty sad around Thanksgiving, so I'm glad that he at least has some nice memories of the one we spent together in the past.

I am thankful for dancing. Which I recently just discovered, and discovered that I am really good at. I love dancing, and I'm comfortable with that. There I said it.

I am thankful for Earhart. Since February or so (?) we have become really really close. And for whatever reason that happened, I really appreciate it. I can't really put it into words, but I dig you! Thank god for guitar hero.

I am thankful for the music that I'm constantly playing with the Wheel Chairs for your ears project, and all of the open mic possibilities in the greater Sacramento area.

I am thankful that for being 28 I could be doing a lot worse. I get down on myself a lot because I don't have a Mercedes, or a girl friend, but I could be homeless or penniless. But I'm not, I'm just single and Mercede-less.

I am thankful for Dr. Proctor. Who I hope never stops calling me at 2am just to call me a pussy. I miss living with you bro.

I am thankful for Marc P and Cherise too. I've always thought of those two as my brother and sister who sleep together. We're like a little inbred family and I miss you guys and I'm coming to visit soon.

I am thankful for a ton of other things at this point in time too. Which don't come to my mind, but I'm surprised that my list was even this long. I reserve the right to augment this thankful list at any time I deem necessary.

And I'm thankful for dancing goofy in the bathroom....

Bankers Rule the Globe part 2

2008-11-15T02:41:00.000-08:00

We exist in a Fiat money system. That is a money system that is based on notes of tender that are received purely on a promise to pay. A note of tender is money. It is borrowed from the Federal Reserve System a private corporation, by the United States Government. And that money is borrowed at an interest rate.

With the passing of the Federal Reserve Act in 1913 the first of these loans were granted to the United States Government by the Federal Reserve System. And in 1913 the Income Tax amendment was also passed by congress, to pay for the interest on this loan. That is what your Federal Income Tax goes toward, the interest on the money borrowed from the Federal Reserve System.

By its inherent design flaw the Federal Reserve System is the main cause for our national debt. If there were no debt, there would be no money. That’s all a note of tender is, a promise to pay.

Your federal income tax is not a legal one. There are a lot of reasons that the law itself is un-constitutional, but beyond that this amendment to the constitution was never ratified by three fourths or 38 of the States. There is no law, written anywhere that declares you have to pay one. Your income tax pays for the interest on all of the currency that has ever been printed or created by the Federal Reserve System.

It’s such a brilliant scam. We will never be able to repay our debt to the Federal Reserve System. The principle on our loan to them is all of the money in reality, but we still owe them interest! How is that even possible? We will forever and always be the banker’s slaves. We will always owe them. They have made it this way.

More to come on these bankers… stay tuned.

Bankers rule the globe

2008-11-08T02:43:00.000-08:00

I’m so upset right now with monetary policy, that I thought I would take a brief moment of sarcastic delight. I need one to get my mind away from information that has come to me about the world’s banking system.

The world banking system is a topic that I’m sure I’ll get all heated about in another post or two. But for now I’d just like to imagine a world, of equality in its purest form. The antithesis of a world banking system, and how rediculious it would be. You see, I’m so frustrated about the rich getting richer and the poor getting extinct that I need some emotional leverage against my fondness to help my fellow man.

I demand a fair world out of a longing for a candid existence. Does that make me a hypocrite? So I probe my accusatory mind of the atrocities of a world banking system. The residual angst is: what would I fancy?

So I reckon take the wealth of the world and divide it equally among six billion seven hundred thirty five million four hundred eighty six thousand nine hundred and thirty eight of us, and what do you get?

You get a piece of toilet paper and a slice of bologna. They’re yours to do with as you please. Choose wisely. I’d go bologna then TP myself. But that’s just me. For some reason I can’t help but think I’m destined for a greater purpose.

I deserve more than you; is a phrase we can all get on board with. If polled 100% of people would say they deserved better than 75% of the people. So how do we get there?

What if everybody had a yacht? Wouldn’t that suck? It would. Why would you even use one if everybody had one?

“Hey do you want to go out on my yacht this weekend?”

“No, fuck yachts everyone has one.”

Would you go to your friend’s house with the Wii, if you had one? I doubt it. If everyone had a Wii would you play it? I doubt it.

If everybody didn’t have anything would nothing matter anymore? Would we all be so fucked in the head that we couldn’t talk about anything? If everybody was homeless would it matter anymore?

I think collectively we like it the way it is. And it really sucks to admit it. And if you haven't admitted it yet you really should. Because good like Adam and honest like Eve you're always going to ruin your fellow man. You would do it in an instant to eat for a day. We're not monkeys. We're scaly reptiles. Slithering through the life. Monkeys will pick insects off of each others backs. Reptiles eat others unhatched children.

Some people have shit.
Some people don’t.
Some people get shit.
Some people won’t.

We need the opposite of wealth, destitution to remind us of how rich we are and how far away poverty realistically is.

Granted I still think we’re all getting fucked, but because this is my sarcastic escape from Philanthropic pursuits….. I want a yacht. And I want my first yacht to be cool. And I want owning one to be cool. I want to be the captain and I want that to be cool. It’s only going to be cool, if other people don’t have one. So don’t get one. Because I’m insecure and confrontational, not only will I get a yacht. But I’ll make sure that when I do get one, I’ll have the lake to myself.

I don’t know how to end this though. I want a better life. That’s honest. And if the only real way to define one is through other people living a worse one so be it. I guess we all make that decision at some point. We sacrifice liberty to pay the debt on our soul. That Albatrostic obligation of being an individual. Free will and its price.

A free world, free from every outside copious force would exist with unlimited wants versus limited resources. Any world for that matter has limited resources. Never shall we all own a Wii.

What can I do? Really?

2008-11-05T01:21:00.001-08:00

So last night while Barack is winning the election, I sneak outside for a smoke. As always there is a homeless person asking me for change. I really didn't have any to give. I checked all the usual places I would carry change and none was to be found.

This transient is a 50 year old white male, who could really use some help. I guess because I see so many homeless people in Sacramento, I know the difference. The difference between someone who is down on their luck, and someone who has been down on their luck forever.

But what can I do? I can offer him a cigarette. I'm always good for a cigarette. Once when I gave a homeless man a cigarette he said, "So you'll give me lung cancer, but you won't help me get a place to sleep tonight?" I took the cigarette back. I don't need that shit.

So the guy tonight takes my cigarette and lights it. I'm probably the first person who has actually stopped to talk with this guy in quite a while. We're all alone suddenly too. Which is kind of freaking me out. Is he going to try and take what I'm not going to give him? Is he going to find out if I really have any change or not? I always wonder this. I'm probably not careful enough. I'm a big guy, and I would smash a transient's homeless little face in if he ever tried something, but what if they had a knife, or homemade weapon?

So this guy takes the smoke, and he's talking about what he used to do. I think he was a chef, I wasn't really listening. Not until he started breaking my heart. I've never had it broken before. I guess it was the first time, I'd ever put myself in someone else's shoes.

I mean he's 50, he's not dead, speaks well, and worked his whole entire life. He's someone that I know right now, in 20 years. At least exactly like them; exactly like me.

I could see that he was just mad with himself. Completely bonkers about the entire thing. He had wrapped his mind around his situation about a thousand times that day, and several hundred past. What would you do if you were homeless? Stop and think about that one for a moment. You don't have any relatives, money or clean clothes. There's also not a self help book, and you couldn't afford one if there was. What would you do? You'd do everything. Anything. You'd have to, as long as you wanted to live that is. How long would that be though? The will to live would be constantly chipped away at moment after moment.

I tried to give him some advice, but nothing good came to mind. All I could tell him was that I had none of that either. I was all out of change, and I was all out of advice. A lot of good I was.

He just stood there talking to me. I couldn't pull myself away. Because I felt so guilty for the rather meek yet sheltered existence of my own. And because of that flaw I got to hear a most disturbing phrase.

He asked me if I had a gun.

"A what?" I say.

"A gun" This time I hear.

"No I don't have a gun." I was being honest. I didn't know where this was going. Does he have a gun?

"Damn... if you did I'd want you to shoot me in the head."

I know if you're reading this, and listening to Itunes that those are just words on a screen to you. They might even be comical for whatever reason, but tonight they were everything but. They were real, honest and arrogantly brave.

He told me that he was so sick of pan-handling and started to lose it. But then he did the most remarkable thing. He realized that I really was a good person who couldn't help him, and that it was actually troubling me. He caught himself out of the kindness of his heart, and didn't want to show me what being homeless has made him become. He was about to lash loudly and he spared me.

He got himself together, in an instant. It made him feel normal, pretending to be. Pretending is a luxury that people with homes don't even know they have. I saw it in his face. He felt good. He needed that. We parted ways. I've been to that moment about 500 times with other homeless people, and they just go ballistic. But this one, he was different. So I realized that he's a good man too. He's just like me, minus a shower. How many other good people are out there? How many people just like me are out there?

So I've been thinking, and thinking. I couldn't help that guy, but what about the next one? And I don't have any ground breaking ideas just yet. But they're coming. I know they are. I'm brilliant. And if anyone can save the homeless it's me.

Because today I learned there is one thing I will not stand for. And that is having my heart broken again.

Fuck you poverty you're about to be my bitch.

Anti Piracy Day

2008-10-22T07:05:00.000-07:00

With the passing of Anti Piracy Day yesterday I feel that I must comment on peer to peer file sharing, Thepiratebay.org and the state of illegally downloading copyrighted material.

I'm typing this by the way on a computer that I bought and paid for. On an Internet connection that I pay for monthly, and on a Microsoft Operating System which I got from a friend two years ago who burned me a copy onto a DVD + R. Which he got from a friend who got it from an Internet site called RETESTRAK.com.

So I stole my operating system? Hardly. I paid for the same version I'm using, I'm just using a version that is tweaked, in a way that Microsoft doesn't want it to be. I like this version so much more that I don't use the one I paid for. And I feel that it is my choice as a consumer to be able to have multiple copies of things I've paid for. What if my original CD broke? Do you think Microsoft would replace it? I don't.

I do however have a 200 gigabyte hard drive, full of things I've never purchased. And I'm adding to it more and more weekly. I feel it is my patriotic duty to illegally download copyrighted materials and I'll tell you why.

The entertainment industry is a scam. It's possibly the largest most fraudulent industry ever. They get you to pay for the concert, they get you to buy a shirt at the concert, 3 beers, a lunch pale, and a parking voucher. And then later they release a CD of a "live" performance of that exact same show for another $15 bucks. Or they get you to come and see the movie, then the sequel, then all the prequels, but wait there's more. There's always more. At Christmas time they're re-releasing something you've already paid for 3 times, but this time Gredo is in a new mask.

Another reason that I illegally download copyrighted materials: monopolies are illegal. There is only one motion picture industry, one music industry. They all hide behind a number of aliases, which propagate the appearance of multiple companies, but they are all ran by a few larger companies. Think about it. There is no other competitive way to buy an album. You have to get it on a CD. You have to buy a movie on a DVD. That's where it is a monopoly. You are forced to believe that there is only one way to do something. And you're forced to believe this why? Because they're ripping us off.

Thepiratebay.org is the most popular peer to peer file sharing site on the planet. It is ran out of Sweden, and if you want the entire history you should go to that site, and type in "Steal this Movie" which is a documentary made by Thepiratebay.org themselves. Sweden is like the Delaware of Europe. The Swedish government does not deem it as illegal to share information.

That's really what happens when you peer to peer. I have a file that you want. And I share the information with you. You can use that information to make a CD, a DVD, or share with others.

Sites like Thepiratebay.org are actually a blessing to the entertainment industry as a whole. They are just not smart enough to realize this. They're so abundantly greedy that they fail to see how successful Internet piracy ultimately makes them.

It is the best form of free advertising that money can't buy. The record industry alone claims that 50 billion dollars are lost through piracy annually. That number seems a bit exaggerated. But what they cannot calculate is the money that it generates. And I bet it's bundles.

I have to look no further than myself to know that they benefit immensely from torrent sites and the Internet in general.

My knowledge of music has expanded a hundred times full since I've been a peer to peer user. I've bought several albums that I never would have bought from artists I would have never ever known, solely because I was able to check them out on a torrent site. The same is true for movies DVDs and even some computer software.

On top of that, I'm a very influential person in other people's entertainment decisions. I see a movie on the Internet that I like, and someone at work asks me "Hey have you seen _____________?" If not for the Internet I would not be able to recommend that they go and check that flick out, because I wouldn't have seen it either.

How about instead of Anti Piracy day, we have real holidays that mean something. Like Anti-Dictator day? Anti fat girls in spandex day....? Something tangible.

I'd really like the feedback on this one folks. What do you think? Am I just another criminal?

The best music video ever?

2008-10-17T00:08:00.000-07:00

What other video has George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne? None. Exactly None.

October 27th

2008-10-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

With two weeks before the big day, I feel it's important that I leave a couple of clues as to what I want for my birthday.

But I feel that my clues are often too vague, so I'm just gonna spell it out this year.

I want a remote control tank, that has a little army man that rides in it, and shoots little air pellets. Kind of...NO exactly like this one.....

A grape soda baby.

2008-10-14T00:16:00.000-07:00

Wait not that kind of Grape Soda Baby. The other kind.

Yeah that's more like it.

Freaked out by the traffic of a very un-busy street, I had to make hasty decisions. The clock was on, and I had to get the best of it. Thirst quenching, my emotions in a dark struggle against my mentality. Parched, with nowhere left to go, my hand found the Holy Grail. The Holy Grail of soft drinks that is.

A grape soda baby! Grape Drink…

I never had one before. The only reason I can even think that I purchased it was because of Dave Chappelle. He said that black people prefer it. And today it hit me. What is the one thing that all the black people I've ever known have in common? They all get high. Every one of them. Every single one of them. Everyone of them I’ve ever met smokes reefer. My tongue is definitely in my cheek by the way.

The reason I had this thought was not because I was on my way to bigotry class; no it was because I too, was high. I was time traveling actually. Back to the third grade. I was third grade, eat the glue, mirrors on my shoes high.

So I was high at the grocery store. The store was kind of freaking me out. And I was trying to think about what could cure my ailment. Since they didn't sell amunition there, my brain went another route.

I started thinking about what someone famous would drink, who is always high. Snoop Dog, Chappelle, Tyson, Mr. T. They all smoke weed. I pity the fool. And that's when in my mind I made the connection. Based on four independent sources. HA!

I had just reached that point where the little pussy voice in my head saw his opportunity to speak. Like he does every time when I get high. He's at the party in my brain, and he see's all of the other voices in my head are high and passed out on cheerleaders. So he decides it's his turn to grab the mic to my inner monolouge.

Telling me things like:

“You should call your mother Jason, it’s been two months.”
“Why did you kick that little kid in the second grade for no reason at all? What was that about?”
“Why didn’t our football coach ever love us?”
“There are other things to do on the internet besides porn.”
“When are you going to lose those twenty pounds you’ve been promising yourself fatty?”
“Why are you high right now? What are you some kind of hippy?”
“What was that noise?”
“Is somebody following me?”
“Oh my god a shadow!”
“Maybe we should run?”
“I think we’d better run?”
“Am I breathing?”
"I don't think I am!"
“Oh my god I’m not breathing!”
“Holy shit take a fucking breath dood!”
“Oh fuck dood we almost suffocated!”

And usually I can just smile his little nappy ass away. He realizes I’m not paying much attention to him, and he goes away. But tonight I couldn’t shake him. His words were criss crossing me like a serrated blade.

The only way to calm him down was to grab a nice cold drink. And while I was searching for the cure to all of my paranoia I saw a grape soda. “Grape Drink!”

Grape Drink works! It saved my life.

The new Mitch Hedberg album and some new strings

2008-10-07T16:03:00.000-07:00

During the month of September a new Mitch Hedberg album was released posthumously.

It is possible you don't know who Mitch Hedberg is. I didn't until 2 years ago. He was already dead, and I didn't even know of him. I think that kind of made me like him more. That he was already dead, that I could never go and see one of his comedy specials. All there was, was already out there.

It was always his dream to get an HBO special. Which because of heroin and cocaine he never got to do. But the new album is him on the road work shopping for the special.

It's a different kind of Mitch this time around. These recordings must have been made late in the year 2005. Just before his death. While there still are parts that made you erupt with laughter, there are other parts that are failing miserably. And he doesn't seem like the same Mitch between the routines. He seems troubled, anxious, like he's bored.

It is unfair to judge this as an official album, or really a piece of work that he approved. There were a couple of times during the routine, as a fan of his prior work, I thought he kind of "sold out" to be cliche.

Surprisingly there isn't a lot of Mitch on Youtube.com

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I took the time today to restring my gold Ibanez guitar. I still need to cut the cable excess though. Has anyone seen my wire cutters? *looks around*

It has been a long time. I remember the last time I bought Elixir poly web 80/20 bronze's they were over $30. For one set of strings that is a ridiculous amount of cash. I know. But they sound so warm, fresh and toney.

Anyway because of the economy I was able to get two sets for that price yesterday. So I bought a real thin set of them, to try out for a while. I'm almost certain I'll break the little .10 string in no time. These strings really do make a difference on the overall quality of your music. They enunciate better and break down less frequently.

I almost forgot how beautiful this guitar can sound.

What kind of strings do you use? Why?

What is a Philly?

2008-09-30T17:04:00.000-07:00

I've been a fan of the Philadelphia Phillies since I've been born basically. They won the world series once. It was on my birth day. My real birthday. The exact day that I was born. That means something to me. For some reason, I don't really know why. I have always followed them, not by choice but by destiny. I don't want to turn this into a blog about sports, but this post is going to be devoted the Fightin' Phils.

They won the NL East this year. They will probably do that exactly twice in my lifetime. The Phillies suck, let's face it. They're always bad to milidly horrible, but this year they won their division. They're so good this year that they may just win the World Series. And if they do there most certainly will be a follow up blog to gloat and brag.

Does anyone know what a Philly is? I think it's a term used to describe a female horse. Why would you name your team the "Female Horses" though? The best player on the team is the mascot. He's the nuttiest craziest mascot in the business.

The Phillies are one of the oldest franchises in baseball. They're so old and they've been bad for so long that they actually have the most losses ever. In any professional sport. That's something to be proud of, don't you think?

It all starts tomorrow when they host the Milwauke Brewers. It's really october. It's really here! GO PHILS!!!

SoundClick Widgets

2008-09-16T21:25:00.001-07:00

Here's a neat little widget that I got from my sound click .com page. This is a nice collection of my music since about 2004 in Austin Texas. The first six or so are newer ones from California. Check it out!

I'm somebody...

2008-09-14T01:41:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to start a trend. Five minute write. No editing, no caring, just writing. Get over yourself, and get to typing. 5 minutes.... today's topic:

I'm somebody

1:39am

I'm somebody that will tell you about my experiences. Some people mistake that as a cry for help, or insanity. But it's really just a personality trait. I have to tell you about these weird things. Because I know you do them too. And frankly I'm sick of keeping secrets for the sake of appearances. I need to know how you feel about these things too. We need to talk about these things.

I want to know how you feel about phone sex. Because I think it's really weird too. And the time I told you about my gay dreams, I was just trying to trick you into admitting that you had them, you big hairy fag. No I don't have gay dreams, but one time I just kneed a guy.

I was walking down the hall in high school and saw this skinny little kid. And I just kneed him, with my knee right in the leg. It was so awesome, you have to do it guys. He was just laying there, and I was running. Running so fast.

5 minutes comes pretty quick....

I really don't want to stop now, for obvious reasons. But a rule's a rule.

I'm somebody... who are you?

PS: If you don't re post this to everyone you're pretty much going to die from an excess amount of fire ants in your anus.

Smile, it's the lord's day

2008-09-02T10:35:00.000-07:00

I'm starting a new tradition, or rather picking up where I left off on an old one. At 9am after doing some dishes, and vacuuming I decided that I would make today the International Day of the Lord. AKA "The Lord's Day!"

When I lived in Texas, some mornings I would wake up and decide that I was going to sit at home and do nothing more than drink, all day, a ridiculous amount. Drinking in the morning is fantastic. I can see why old people do it.

It's not something you should do all the time though. Which is why you need a special purpose to do it. Which is why I invented the term "Lord's day." The funniest part about it being the day of the lord is that has to be your answer to every question.

"Hey Jason why are you drinking?"

"Why don't you ask Jesus? It's his day fucker."

"Hey Jason what do you think about the World Banking system?"

"Fuck it man, it's the Lord's Day."

"What time is it?"

"Lord's Time!"

You should try it yourself. You'll be surprised at how many of your friends you can convert to your faith. They'll see how much fun you're having on the day of the lord, and they'll want to join in too.

It only works if it's impromptu, you can't plan a "Lord's Day" it has to be spontaneous. See how many of your friends, lovers, and comrades you can get to call in to their respective work places and celebrate it with you.

You'll thank me when you're piss drunk by 2pm. It's so convenient, there's practically no hang over the next day. You may be thinking to yourself, I don't even believe in the lord, well you can celebrate it too. Everyone will think it's such a great idea, they won't question your devotion to the Lord. They'll just be eyeing that slanted smile on your face and want to join in the fun.

From all of mine, to all of yours Happy Lord's Day.

This is not a political blog

2008-08-30T05:38:00.001-07:00

This is not one. You should not be reading my blog to get your political information. I am not a political person. I have never voted in any local, state, or national election. I have ran for two offices in my life, winning one tight race as Treasurer for the Just Say No club when I was ten years old, and losing in a land slide for Director of Assemblies as a junior in high school. With that being said, if there were an award for being the person who is the most interested in American politics without actually participating, I would win it.

This election cycle has been one of the more interesting ones in my lifetime. Not only because of the historical aspects of race and sex, but because it is all existing in a 24 hour multi-media culture. Not only can you be interested in this election, but you can be connected to it in many many ways.

I am not, nor will I be involving myself with any political party this election cycle or in the future. I am not a Democrat and I am not a Republican. I am not for any candidate at this time. I feel like I am the only person I know who is actively watching this election, and not rooting for anyone. Which grants me a very unique perspective that I feel I have to share.

Before I tell you the good and bad about the candidates I believe that it's important to note that you will be electing a senator as President of the United States. Which has only happened twice in the last 25 elections. Anyone wanna tell me who they were? John Kennedy is the easy one. And the significant one. Anyone wanna tell me the other? You're right, Warren G. Harding. Because a senator usually has a longer voting record than any other elected official they tend to make bad presidential candidates. Most senators who are elected to 6 year terms (the longest of any elected official) evolve over time, with their political ideology because they don't have the constant threat of being voted out of office. Because of this they often have contradictory votes over the years. Early in their career they are for something, and then they are in the middle, and then they are against it. I think it's just fascinating that both parties have nominated persons with traditionally un-popular occupations as candidates.

What's killing me about this election year is how vicious democrats and republicans are being toward one another. Even if you don't share someone's political ideology, can't you at least try to recognize their passion to serve? It's really easy, I'll show you how to do it. You give the benefit of the doubt to them. Believe in these people, they are politicians, but they're people first.

I will promise not to get personal or ugly. That is my promise to you. If you want personal, or ugly I'm sure you can turn to one of many news sources, or political blogs. What I will do is objectionably give you concerns about the candidate, and some kudos. Then finish up with the ridiculous things the other side is saying about them.

I wanted to put here that I'm doing this is no particular order. But that's the biggest lie in all of politics. Everything is in a particular order, by it being in that very order. So I guess what I'll say is in a very particular order.....

John McCain:

What concerns me about John McCain the most, is that he will not be able to effectively get anything done in the legislative branch. He will inherit the office at a time with a democratic dominated congress and senate, and even the people on his side of the aisle will vote against his wishes 30-50 percent of the time. While I do think a person who goes against his party time and time again is an interesting choice, he could not effectively govern in the current political climate.

Actually that's really my only glaring concern about him as a President. There are a couple of smaller issues like he's 72 years old, and a few gaffes he's made on the political trail this year. But it's no crime to be 72 years old, and who among us hasn't misspoken before?

As a president he obviously would not do a bad job. He's a very wise man. He's voted against his party as much as any politician on planet earth ever has.

The Democratic party would have you believe that he is an old geezer that coughs and wheezes, and is on his death bed. Ok that was intended to be funny, but on a serious note.... They would have us believe that he picked his Vice Presidential Candidate Sarah Palin on the soul reason that she is a woman. I seriously doubt that. I will give him the benefit of the doubt that she's just as intelligent, independent, and captivating as he says she is. I say we all take a breath and get to know the Governor of Alaska.

Barack Obama:

Let's face it, Barack Obama is more popular than Coca Cola and Jesus right now. And that concerns me for a couple of reasons. It doesn't concern me about him the man, it concerns me about his voters. I think a lot of young people aren't too intelligent. And I think they may just be pulling the lever for Obama because their friends told them to. My only real issue with his political agenda is all of the promises that he made during his acceptance speech the other night. I guess he's been making these promises all along in one grandiose word "change". The reason that politics don't work, and America has little or no faith in their politics/politicians/congress is because that's the way it is. You cannot change America, because it has chosen to be this way.

On the positive side, I really love that he thinks he can! I really love that he's either that brilliant, ignorant, or downright silly that he thinks he, along with our help, can actually change this country. He's a fantastic speaker, and his in-experience at the national level is probably more of a positive trait than a negative one. He hasn't been in Washington long enough to be poisoned by the drinking water. He would be just as effective a leader as anyone currently in the competition. He's an integrator, and he wants to talk to Iran, which is something we've been needing to do for quite some time.

Republicans would have you believe that he's 6 to 7 years old. That he watches cartoons on Saturday morning, with a juice box in his right hand and bag of chips in his left. Also a joke, see I'm being fair and balanced. One of the most ignorant things they say about him is that he's only been in the Senate 141 working days. Which is true, but it doesn't sound as bad when you think to yourself, that they only work about 90 days a year.

I wish there were more candidates involved in the presidential election. I wish American politics were not winner take all. The reason I will not vote in this election is because no matter what I would do, were I to vote, a democrat will carry California. And when I used to live in Texas, I did not vote because a republican will carry that state so long as there is one star on the flag. There are other forms of democracy in the world where if you win a certain percent in the election, you get that percent of the government. How fair would that be?

No matter who you are voting for, or fighting against, I just wish it wouldn't be so negative. I'm not saying that you have to hug or kiss the person who is debating you at the water cooler or on the street. But just remember that they're an American too, and they're important just like you.

My only goal at the on-set of this blog was to get some of the political voices in my head out in a positive way. I don't know if I hurt, helped, or alienated some of my friends or readers. At the very least you might have learned something.

I'm certain this is the last time I will ever write about politics. So tune in next time for cock and fart jokes. Because they're coming...

I'm not just curse words

2008-08-16T13:37:00.000-07:00

On my way to hang out with some friends the other night I was confronted by a grizzly looking African American. He was in his mid fifties and immediately my "homeless beggar" alarm was going off.

He tells me that I'm just the sort of guy that he's been looking for. I think he called me a nice young man. He was obviously trying to get into my good graces.

He explained to me that he was diabetic, and had been off of his insulin for 4 days. He said that he had recently made a decision to change his life, and had been living in a shelter. But that the shelter only lets you stay there for 6 days, then they kick you out.

At this point I felt that he was telling me the truth, but I didn't feel obligated to give him anything. I told him that I maybe had a dollar that I could spare.

I'm reaching for my dollar, when he just breaks down and starts crying. He said that he was a peace officer for 35 years, and very recently he broke his leg and was let go. He said that for the past 6 nights he had been sleeping under neath a bridge with some other transients, who he was terrified of. He was scared of them, for several reasons, but the worst reason of all is that they had been stealing his syringes and insulin shots. He told me that his mom lived in a small town about two hours away, and that a bus pass to there was $16.50. He was crying this whole time, and I saw a look of fear in his eyes, that will forever be unparalleled.

While he's telling me this, I'm opening my wallet. I'm staring at a $20 bill that could possibly save this man's life, and a one dollar bill that I'm going to give him. I've had some personal issues with diabetes and understand how dangerous it can be to be away from your insulin. Especially if you have type I diabetes, and especially if you're black.

And I don't exactly know how I knew that this guy wasn't the average bum, but he wasn't. He was a person in need. And I was a person that could help him. I've been a person in need before, and while I couldn't empathize with his situation, I could sympathize with his shame.

So I gave him the twenty, and told him to go see his mom. And at that point I was done with it. Twenty dollars is really nothing in the grand scheme of things. I was moving on with my day. And moving past this man, who I hoped was on his way to the bus station. When he tapped me on my shoulder.

As I turned around he was still in tears. He said that over the past week, he had completely lost his faith in people. He said that he had been thinking to himself that there wasn't any decent black people left, and he definitely didn't think that there were any decent white people left out there. And this big 6'4" 200 something pound man wrapped his arms around me and we had ourselves a good cry. And as I'm standing there in this strangers arms sobbing, I realize that I myself had lost some faith in humanity. I as well have been struggling to find decent people in this world.

I hope he made it, to where ever he needed to. Or that if he did not make it, that at least he has a little more faith in humanity than when I first met him. It was the best twenty dollars I never spent.

Me and Abe Lincoln

2008-08-09T22:01:00.001-07:00

I was dreaming this crazy dream the other night... And while I'm sure this blog will not encapsulate my visions in their entirety I had to try....

I'm working at the white house during the 1860's. I was making my living as a court jester for the President of the United States. I got a tip from one his presidential aides that he was fond of "colored humor."

I said really? The president? Did he not just sign into law the emancipation proclamation? Did he not just end slavery, at least in the north? The aide told me that while publicly Abe Lincoln was being politically correct, privately he felt this way about Black people : "Why don't we just put them on a boat and send them back to Africa?"

So I spent the rest of the day trying to write a joke about black people that was politically correct enough for a President, but lewd and racist enough to make the man that held that office laugh.

I came up with one and then went to his office right away.

I said, "mr president your new proclamation is really going to suck for southern plumbers, because they're not going to get all of that extra work installing two drinking fountains now."

He looked me dead in the face and said this to me.

"I would have enjoyed it more if you said Niggar." "And then if you maybe made of fun of their big niggar lips, and danced around like one of them crazy niggars."

I said "Mr. President please!"

He recanted and told me that I needed to spice up my act a little. Like he was doing with his top hat and beard.

Did they just make.... a baby?

2008-07-24T13:00:00.000-07:00

I was watching a porno today. That's right America a porno. If you don't know that I watch porn, you haven't been reading this blog for very long have you? It was some sort of girl next door themed 15 minute short. It's probably on youporn.com.

So it starts out as a normal porn, she's in town for a few days, and he talks her out of her clothes. He eats her out, then she returns the favor. Naturally he puts it in her. And they keep banging and banging. She rides him, then sides him.

I've been watching these kinds of porns for a while now. I've had the Internet since 1996, so we all know what's coming next right? He's going to pull out and jnutt on her forehead. Probably right after she screams something like "I want your jnutt all over my face!" Or he's going to aim for her forehead, and hit the couch. Because sometimes you don't always hit your target with the jnutt.

But not this time. In this rarest of porns, the guy does the screaming.

"Do you want me to cum inside you?!?"

Which was sort of a bold move on his part. Because from the look of things, the sex wasn't going so well. They were doing a lot of acting for a porn. And then out of left field, he asks to cum inside of her? I mean imagine the balls on that guy. Oh wait I didn't have to, they were right there on my computer screen.

And then she says ..... "sure."

(What the hay? It's just my pussy.)

She said it in the coolest of ways too. She was so cool about it the professional porno actor (of all people) had to double check. Because it's not standard protocol. I challenge you to find porn like this. It's out there but it's rare. Because well you know.... you can't just have random porno actors jizzer sizing in all the random porno pussies. And I don't know why that's a rule, but it's a good rule. So he asked her again. He asked her like he didn't believe what she had just said. He asked her with the tonality of this phrase: "are you high bitch?" But he used only one word to convey all of that....

"Really?"

And she nodded, and then he....

And then he just... did it. (high five)

Like right inside of her. He filled her up. All the way up. Deep within her soul was jnutt from a guy she just jmet.

And when I realized that he wasn't going to pull out and John Hancock on her face, I was kind of excited. Because I like that kind of taboo shit. Because deep down I'm a filthy whore. But then when I actually saw it all go down. I was un-excited. I was kind of depressed. I felt like, I needed to go pray for her soul or for mine. I felt like, a not so dirty, no so whorey whore.

It was a cavalcade of emotions. On the one hand I'm very pro no condom, fill her up style. But when I'm doing that, I didn't just make $50 and a new friend. You know it's classier, like a third date sort of activity. And I probably know her name.

I mean they just made a baby; and a porno... all at the same time. And then they what? How do you top that I wonder? A suicide note and a heroin injection?

twenty plays and bitterness...

2008-07-17T20:19:00.001-07:00

It has been over three years since I dropped out of college. I think I've been bitter for those three years. Someone recently asked me if I still thought about acting. My honest response was I hadn't. I said it so quickly. It had to be true.

My recent battles with work, career, and life goals have made me realize some things. I no longer want to be a victim. I no longer am one. When you're not a victim you can change the future. The past still remains never fleeting, but it doesn't have to bear any weight on the future.

In the past it has never been my fault. Nothing has been. It has been easier to just blame others. Not to say that I was always at fault, but I'm at least half to blame for everything that has happened to me. I was there too wasn't I?

Everyone learns this lesson in their own time. I won't be 28 until October, and I've got a lot of life left. At least I hope I do. No longer will I let being a victim, leave me out of the things I enjoy.

Isn't that just pathetic? That I have stopped doing the things I used to enjoy because I was burnt once or twice.

I understand now that I am flammable. If I'm going to get burnt in the future it's going to be on my own terms.

I went to the Sacramento Public Library two days ago. It had been about three years since I had been into a library. My friend asked me what I was looking for. I didn't even know. I actually had followed him into the library. But what I said so quickly and uninhibited was one word : "plays"

You should see the theatre section in this library, it puts a lot of others to shame. It was sort of bittersweet, there they all were. Shaw, Begosian, Willy Shakes, Silversteen, Checkov and others.

It had been a while, and I didn't really know what I wanted to read, or what I even liked anymore. So I picked up one of those 20 in one books. Twenty off Broadway plays from the seventies.

I've read about three of them. And I haven't forgotten how to read a play, even after all this time. Backwards then forwards. Isn't that right David Ball? And these plays are horrible. None of them are good.

I wonder if it's just me being older, or not being a victim anymore, but I'm noticing things in the plays that I didn't use to notice earlier in my life.

Scenes in plays are supposed to be about the best and worst days of life. People in those scenes do everything that we do in real life. Everything.

People in plays tell bad jokes.

And the other people in the scene make fun of them when they do.

People are racist in plays.

People play practical jokes in plays.

People are always doing something in a play. To each other, to themselves, or to nobody in particular.

A long time ago the word "playable actions" was introduced to me. And I didn't get it right away, and maybe I still don't. But I'm noticing an entire level of consciousness that I never used to notice on paper before.

There's the things people say...the script.

There's the motivation for that in the plot.

There's the playable actions beyond that.

And then there's this thing that I'm only starting to notice.

Their suspicions.

Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. After all I don't have a degree in theatre or anything. But everyone in every scene, on top of their playable action, lines, and motives also have suspicions. And it's making reading; even the most horrible off Broadway plays from the 1970's bearable.

I need a one minute monologue and a cattle call.

I moved and America had a birthday

2008-07-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

July 3rd was 103 degrees in Sacramento, CA. It was the day that I had to move out of my old apartment and into the new one. It was such an unbearable heat. I'm still sun burnt from the experience.

Aside from the heat the move was actually not a bad one. Everything was done in a matter of hours, and it was the first time that I had ever moved that I didn't do everything at the last minute. I had a plan and stuck to it. I never did more than two hours of work on any day leading up to the move, and when it was finally time to move it took about three.

I've been in the new place a few nights now, and I've noticed some things already. I guess I've just been spoiled living near a college, in a college apartment complex. All of my neighbors have been hot young girls, who have always invited me over to play twister, or rock band. That sort of thing won't be happening at the new place. I don't want to say that I live in the ghetto, but it's a distinct possibility. The other night I was fortunate enough to see two homeless guys get into a pretty nice fight. One guy in the fight lost his vision out of one of his eyes. And he wasn't dealing with it well. Not that anyone would, but he was freaking out. I think for a moment, it took his mind off of being homeless though.

While there aren't any hot or admirable neighbors, there are a few diamonds in the rough. There is a guy with one arm. Well OK he has two arms, what he doesn't have is two hands. I met stumpy (a name which he told me to call him) when I was taking out some trash the other night. He wants the recyclables, and won't take no for an answer. He's very pushy about it too. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood to recycle. I tried to explain it to him, but I think it will just be easier if I leave all of my beer bottles at his door.

Then there's a lady named Gloria. A sweet gentle soul. She reminds me of my grandmother. And she's probably just as old as her. She's very down to earth. She's a little too curious for my likes though. I don't always want to have a conversation with an old lady in a house dress. Not that she's boring, or that I don't want to talk, but sometimes I just want to do my laundry. That's it. I suppose I'm being hypocritical though, I bet if Gloria was a 22 yr old hottie, I'd make the time to let her interrupt me anytime she wanted.

The idea of America is 232 years old. And I celebrated it in a grand fashion. There were a lot of fun times had with fireworks. We went all over downtown Sacramento setting off fireworks and then jumping through them like they were sprinklers. One time while I was jumping through a larger one, I kicked a nice piece of flame up into my eye lid. It burned I won't lie. But not so much as to get me to stop. Just so much so I had to think about it extra hard before the next time.

I shot a Roman Candle into the side of a building. Not something that I'm overly proud of. But something that, after it happened and nobody was hurt was hilarious. We got it on film. I was kind of hoping to have the film of that by now, but I just don't.

The best part of the evening on July 4Th, was jamming. We had sort of a rag tag band going on for a good part of the night. We had a banjo, a ukulele, a guitar, and a harmonica. We kept passing them back and fourth, and it was a pretty good time. We kept meaning to go out and sit on J street and play for people walking by, but it never cemented.

Haven't posted in a while, and I'm sorry. Hope this keeps you biting. Catch you on the flip.

your mom

:)

Too Particular?

2008-06-25T05:30:00.000-07:00

When something is funny to me it means that I find it both interesting and curious. When I say something is funny it doesn’t necessarily make me laugh. I guess I should stop saying that I think things are funny when I’m actually saying they are otherwise something else entirely. I choose not to be that descriptive when I talk though. Words that I use often have several meanings and in my mind fitting in the simple words into a more complex structure is much more important to me than actually using the specific word for the case. That is how I am interacting with language when I use it anyway. I want my sentence to be a joke, the correct direct answer or response, and include several layers of sarcasm. Many you won't get until hours later. So I tend to hate people who are particularly descriptive. Using insane words that nobody else even knows unless they are a world literature major. Those people aka the grammar mafioso don't interact with language. They treat it like a rock. But it's more than a rock. Well it’s not that I hate them; I just want to not only understand what you’re saying, but I want to know how you feel about what you're saying. But I don't want you to tell me, not directly anyway. And if you won't allow for the rules to be bent I doubt you'll get to interact with the language too much. Why does language have to be exact for you? Why can’t things be left unsaid, or under described? You can’t describe everything, you know that right? So stop trying.

Language is a very funny topic. So you know I mean that it’s very curious right? Just checking. For instance: take something that you think that you know and try to describe it to a child. Go to wikipedia and type in the word love. You can read all 8 pages if you’d like to, but I’d rather you spend the time reading my blog, so I’ll just pick out a choice phrase that I found funny. (Checking again)

Love is lust attraction and attachment. That’s it. Plain and simple. Or is it really? I don’t have an official explanation of what I think Love is, but I doubt I would have used the words lust, attraction, or attachment. Wikipedia goes on…

“lust, attraction, and attachment. Lust exposes people to others, romantic attraction encourages people to focus their energy on mating, and attachment involves tolerating the spouse long enough to rear a child into infancy.”

If I had to explain what love was I could use words to do it. But they just wouldn’t be enough. They wouldn’t even come close to hitting the mark. If I had to explain what love was I would grab the person in my arms, and never let them go.

Language is alive. It is not dead. It is also an experience. Those are the only rules. And sometimes when I'm telling someone where I was yesterday, I say me and Tim, and sometimes I say Tim and I. It's really a judgment call, and grammatically
speaking, grammar does not bear any weight on intelligence.

Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, I can show you something I made last month when I saw the FloBots video for the song called “Handle Bars.” I took a porno featuring Jenna Jameson, Tera Patrick, and Brianna Banks called Pretty Bitches. I made it look like a cartoon. In the small player, it’s a bit hard to see. But there I go again using language to describe something that you’d have to see for yourself to really understand.

It has come to my attention

2008-06-23T00:34:00.000-07:00

It has come to my attention that there are two types of people in this world. Guys that will ask before they fuck you, and guys that just fuck you. I say the term guys, because it grabs your attention. But girls you're in here too. So when I use the word guys, I mean to say guys and girls, but I'm not going to be saying that. And I know some women take offense to that. Calling them dude and whatnot. But c'mon dude....

Let's talk about the topic:

Guys and girls (there I did it one time) that want to fuck you. All guys, girls, children, and the old want to fuck you. Because it is in our nature to fuck. And so we all set out to do just that. Fuck can mean so many things. And I'm not talking about physical fucking. I'm talking about fucking the old way. The way it was meant to be done, with your mouth. It is because of this very reason that all guys, children, and the old want to fuck. They want to fuck you, before you fuck them. Those fuckers.

But you yourself just by being part of that very same species, will by mere chance be thrust into a situation where you get to do all of the fucking onto another. And they must lay there and be sub-serviant to your wanton wit and devious desires.

"Not me Jason. I'm not a fucker."

"Yea you are"

So you're a fucker. Nice to meet you, I'm one too. You're just like the rest of mother earth. You only have one choice in the matter really. How you fuck. That's all you have to decide.

Some people take pleasure in getting permission to fuck other people. Hearing them say "yes fuck away."

Some people don't care for that mess. And those people do it without your knowledge. Always fucking you behind closed doors. You're asleep, you don't even know that you're getting fucked, but there they are those fuckers, always fucking you.

Some of us get so good at both styles of fucking, that's all we do. We fuck all day. Everyone and everything we know.

I love the whole lot of us. Well except for retards and midgets.

The Best Band Ever

2008-06-18T02:54:00.001-07:00

Every month I Jason Reed find a new band and proclaim it to be the best band ever. And this month's band is no different. They're a new group out of Seattle, WA called Fleet Foxes.

What a refreshing sound out of this ensemble.

I cannot stop listening to the new best band ever. They're a cross between The Shins(which isn't a wonder because they're on the same label), The Beachboys, and Bob Dylan. I know that combination doesn't sound like it would make any sense, but it really does.

In the past I have made several earth shattering predictions about the next big thing. And these guys are it. The proof as always is in the pudding. Click the link and enjoy the breath of fresh air.

Oh yeah and if you didn't know, or didn't bother to find out. Weezer put out their self titled Red Album on June 3rd. It's the best thing they've put out in a decade. You need to give it a listen. Well worth the twelve or thirteen dollars.

Weight of the world

2008-06-14T01:03:00.000-07:00

Found this on the recorder the other day. This was the first take. The finished product got far away from this. I think the original feeling is in this one. Or am I wrong?

I promise a reel blog reel soon.

Recorded in Austin Texas August 2005

2008-06-10T22:42:00.000-07:00

This is Dustin Ingram, you may know him as Statutory D. He let me rap with him on this track too. Can you believe it?

Check it out. It's one of my favorites.

A small scene for 4 actors, and a story about wrappin

2008-05-29T23:27:00.000-07:00

Rap Studio / A small scene for four actors.

2 blogs in one? You got it.

I was at a rap studio for an extended amount of time the other night. There are a lot of things that go on at a professional studio that don’t go on at the kind of musical outings that I get myself somehow or other involved in.

I also was the only Anglo-can American at this studio. And there were a lot of people there. I have never been more in the minority in my life. But I passed all of their tests. I had to show them my chest so they wouldn’t think I was wired. I had to buy the weed that was smoked, and I had to partake in their vodka. And after I was in, I got to see an entire night in the life of a rap studio producer.

Immediately I liked how they actually had a recording booth. And then an entire separate room where they did the rest. And a glass booth and an intercom system set up, so they could communicate easily.

I also liked the fact that they had hoes. There were a lot of random hoes just chilling at the studio. And there was this like whole party going on. Drugs were being done off of titties, porno was on the television, and all that amidst eight miles of cock being sucked.

Yet somehow official work was being done, by the rap chemist in the corner. He couldn’t be bothered. While me and the other doods gang banged half of the girls in Sacramento, he kept producing.

Then this cat named Skurge laid down one of the sickest sounding verbal slams I had ever partaken in.

Life is all this real shit-----------

That could or should not happen

If you click your heels

Then your heels should be clacking

But they took my wheels

And now I got these bills

Cats don’t want the minimum

Aren’t making any deals

-Jr Reed

And here's a little scene I wrote not too long ago. It made me chuckle. I think it could grow into a one act play called "The nuclears". Here's a little section. Do this in your beginning acting class, I dare you.

(children are seated with parents at dinner this is the worst table conversation in history)

(over loud ipods)

Mom: Well kids we’re trying to have a baby again. Kids can’t you hear me?

(they can’t)

Dad: slams the table really hard (the children turn off their ipods and straighten up)

Can you hear your mother yet?

Kids: yes!

Dad: Alright now let her finish.

Mom: I said that your father and I are trying to have a baby.

Male son: Alright dad! High fives him (male son and father begin dancing together like they’re both celebrating in the endzone)

Daughter: (as they do this) So you and dad are fucking again huh?

Mom: Well, yes unfortunately.

Daughter: You should cheat mom.

Mom: Well you see that’s complicated.

Daughter: Why is that again?

Mom: Because I’m ugly baby. You get all your ugliness from me, your fat ugly mom.

(dad and son rejoin the table, with 40oz beers)

Mom: You’re letting your 16 old drink?

Dad: Sure, at the rate we’re going we’ll be making a new one in no time. So I figure if the kid wants to drink, and he dies, well then we just won’t let the next one.

Mom: Well that was an incredibly large, specimen you deposited in my throat last night.

Dad: Yeah think of the possibilities if you’d make me stop wearing those damn condoms.

Daughter: Don’t do it mom. You don’t know where dad’s been.

Dad: Hey is it my fault that your friend’s all love giant cocks in their asses?

Daughter: I guess you’re right dad. But I’m getting a little bit sick of hearing about how large your cock is at school. And then when I get home now, I suppose, that’s all we’ll be hearing about around this house. Won’t we mom?

(looks at mom)

Mom: (thinks about it) well…….it is really big.

Daughter and son: We’ve heard.

(the son immediately without hesitation, whips his cock out on the table. After his father high-fives him. They do a similar version of their victory dance again.)

Dad : You know son, when I was your age, I was banging chicks all day.

Son: Really dad?

Dad: But when you’ve got a fabulous cock and hair like this, there comes a great deal of responsibility.

Son: Responsibility?

Dad: Well you see son, women want you to fuck them. All the time. And when they don’t know that they do, they do. If you don’t accept no for an answer, eventually any woman will come around after a short period of time.

Daughter: Isn’t that date rape dad?

Mom: Not if you pull out before you leave DNA, sweetheart.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's an evolution

2008-05-22T19:28:00.000-07:00

I'm a blogger. All I had to do was sign up for an account, and learn how to use a keyboard. That's really the only qualification necessary. That's all you have to do to spit venom across the world wide web. I can reach a world wide audience with no credentials. But it's not my fault that's just the way the world works now.
To reach a world wide audience twenty or even ten years ago, you had to get a journalism degree. Or become a broadcast major, and minor in journalism. You had to learn ethics, and ethics in journalism. To report on something, you actually had to go to the event.
I can understand why professional writers take offense to the blog-o-sphere. Because we don't have to go anywhere. We can sit in our underwear, click on a you tube video and report on any event in the world that we want to. Even if we're doing so from a location nowhere near the actual story. We don't have to do any legwork that we don't want to do.
If another blog, or a commercial web-news site has done the work for us, we can just link to it. We don't even give them credit sometimes.
If you ask anybody over 50 years of age how they get their news they will tell you they read all about it in the morning paper. Anyone under 40 is basically 80% Internet, and the ages between are some mix of Internet TV and newspaper. I understand why professional writers despise Internet writers. Because we're diminishing their medium. We're a bunch of crack-shot amatures who occasionally through nostalgia and dumb luck reach larger audiences than they ever will, even though they happen to be a 15 year veteran of a very popular national publication.
It is because of blogs, that all newspapers will cease to exist in x amount of time. I say ten years, and they're done. By that time, even older people will have made the switch to at least Television, and probably toward the Internet.
I say good riddance. But I say it in the nicest way possible. Those professionals will have to find a way to co-habituate the blog-o-sphere or stand in an unemployment line. Every time there is a new idea in society there are people who are against it, because humans are creatures of habit. If you're used to sipping your coffee and flipping through the morning paper, you don't want to sip your coffee in front of a computer screen.
What does this cultural switch mean for humanity though? If you count on the Internet to get your news, are you really getting it from reputable sources? I have never broke a news story on this blog, because I am not a journalist. But there are bloggers out there who actually think they are a barer of news. Even though they don't understand the responsibilities that being a barer of news carries. And for better or for worse people are reading them more vigorously than they ever read a news paper. Possibly because of the sheer volume of entries that they can read from any one specific blogger. Bloggers are not competing for a limited amount of space, like professionals in news rooms do. When you have a blog, "every thing's in" every hiccup. You're the editor after all, and you love yourself.
This may be un-self serving because I am a blogger myself, but I dread the day when all there will be to read about any subject casually (without buying a text book) will be blogs. There are many blogs that I read, and I'm always looking for new ones, but I always keep these things in mind.

A) Who is this person? What do they stand for?
B) How good is the writing? Is it really that captivating? Or am I just attracted to the color scheme?
C) How did they get this information? Do they really know about the thing they're talking about?
D) Could I be getting this story another way? Is this the only place this information exists?

For the most part I don't read "news blogs" because of these reasons. Nobody who blogs about "current events or headline news" actually went there, or actually knows anything more than a major news network has told them.
And I think that's the exact reason that I like the kinds of blogs that I do read. They're real people writing about the real things that they know about. The things that happen to them, and how that makes or breaks them as an individual. When people drift too far from themselves or from themselves interacting with their own specific reality (be it a political rant, or social concern) I tend to change the channel.
Which is why I think that blogs are getting a bad rap in the professional media. Because professional writers, fail to distinguish between personal blogs, and agenda news driven blogs. A personal blog, deals with the person and their life. And if there are topical issues of debate or "news" that come up in a personal blog, then the reader can easily make the distinction in their head that this is not "news" it's mere speculation by an author they like. Which I think has a valid place not only on the Internet but in society.
Which is why I think there is a place for those professional writers and also a place for us johnny come bloggers. Because it's their job to give perspective on things greater than themselves. But not out of spite, or out of anything, other than their editor. They have a budget, and press pass, and those things still mean something. They're not stuck in their basement all day, they're out there risking things, sometimes even their own life. To give us an unbiased review of what their own two eyeballs have seen.
Let's leave the news to the professionals. And let's keep writing about ourselves. At least for me that's what I'm here for. Is for you. You know; I'm interested in you. Keep it up.

Illegal Couch Activity

2008-05-03T00:10:00.001-07:00

I was just involved in a couch dump. If you're not familiar with a good old fashioned couch dump, let's get you up to speed.

You have a couch.

You don't want it anymore.

You don't want to pay to dispose of it.

So what do you do?

Well you dump it somewhere.

A lot of people gasp at that thought. "Well where would I, place a couch?"

It doesn't really matter where you place your couch.

So long as you put it somewhere, where nobody sees you put it there.

Tonight, we put it behind a building, no wait let's call it a church because that's what it was.

And felt that it was such a good hiding place, we stuck a mattress there too.

The best part about couch dumping is the conversation after you're done. All of the justifications for doing what was done, are being discussed.

"Well.... at least someone will get it"

"Well it's just a couch, and a mattress, how much trouble could I get in?"

"Hey the city comes 5 times a year, to take their big trash."

"Yeah the city!"

"fucking city rules bro."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken my friend..."

"Odoyle Rules"

"Indeed they do."

Could Somebody get Marlon Brando a condom?

2008-05-01T05:23:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I think he needs one.

I watched Mr. Brando's biography on the biography channel the other night. He had a whole two hours devoted to him. And they had to cram a lot of information in there. I bet it could have been two more hours.

One recurrent theme in his life stood out above all the rest. The dood wasn't into pulling out. He never was. He has like 14 children that he will admit to. And there are rumors of dozens more. And after watching this bang-o-mentary I wouldn't doubt that I'm his child now. If you ever want to make a list of the women he's fucked, save yourself some time and start with the people he hasn't fucked.

Alright we'll call this a blog combo.

Does anyone remember Lisa Bonet? From the Cosby show, and the movie High Fidelity. Would a picture help?

I'm being completely honest when I say this. I would never ever ever go black. But for Lisa, I would never, ever ever go back.

I used to play Dungeons and Dragons

2008-05-01T00:36:00.000-07:00

I was talking to my brother a few nights ago, and we were talking about Brian Bean. Which got me thinking about things a few days later that me and Brian used to do together. Which made me think of a story so funny, that it just had to be blogged about.

Actually there are a few stories here to be told. And to make the story relevant I'm going to have to reveal something rather embarrassing about myself. I used to play Dungeons and Dragons. A lot, all the time, anywhere I could. But I figured to really tell this story, I must first discuss how much of a geek I used to be.

I suppose my geeker-dom was born in 1987. Until then I was just a kid. Played with my toys, did my chores, said "yes sir" and lost teeth every once in a while. Then I got a Nintendo. And me and Mario went on a wild ride. At some points I would imagine that I was Mario, that it was really me on the screen, dishing out fireballs to the gumba troopers.

Then I got a game called Bard's Tale. A completely horrible game by today's standards, but a great game in its day. You got to pretend you were a party of four, and you didn't have to be a human, you could be a dwarf, or an elf, and the game had levels. Not only were you a dwarf or a half-imp but you were a level of dwarf or half imp. And sometimes when you hit things, you didn't just hit them you critically hit them. Causing double the infliction adding gasoline to the addiction.

I had a friend named Matt growing up. He was the first role player that I ever knew. We met at school, and I was probably talking a little bit too much about my party of heroes on Bard's Tale, when he asked me if I wanted to play D&D. I was like...."What's D&D?" And when he explained it it basically sounded like Bard's Tale, but Bard's tale in real life. And that's how I got hooked. I went to the first meeting, and I could tell that I was going to be there a while.

Brian, Matt, myself, and JR all met up on a weekend, to play D&D. I didn't even know what to bring. They said bring some dice, so I raided Grandmother's Yhazee. When I got there, I emptied all of my dice out, and they laughed and laughed. They were laughing because while I did have 6 dice, all of them were six sided dice. Apparently, I needed all kinds of sided dice, ranging from D (dice) 3 to d(dice) 20. When I saw a 20 sided dice for the first time, I was pretty impressed. They let me borrow some for the first meeting, and I got my own set of oddly shaped plastic fate changers at a later time.

Then we made my character. Which is the most important day of your life, when you're role playing. It was on that day that Fargle Fire Dwarf was born. He had the class of a warrior, and the intellect of a dim light bulb. You see I rolled a very high score for strength, and a very low roll for intellect. At times I would need an Angel of Understanding to explain things to me. Some would say of Fargle after he roamed through their nook, "Now that deaf dumb mute, could sure swing that ax."

And so I was this undernourished mind, for the next three summers. And I kind of was a spaz when I was 8-10, so I think everyone enjoyed me playing the part of the retarded Dwarf, because I would always respond to questions with a harpooned stutter.

We campaigned for years, just the four of us, in the basement of Brian Bean's house. And some good and bad times were had. Sometimes, when you're role playing, people become very very stubborn. Because they're all imagining, and trying to tell a story, and a lot of ego's get hot and heavy.

I think when we all got into the Eighth grade we realized that maybe we were growing out of playing Dungeons and Dragons. Girls were growing breasts, something called The Play Station was coming out in September, and there was a lot more shit going on in our lives than a few years prior. We had to stop, and I think everyone could feel it in the air.

The last time I played a little D&D was the last time. And we didn't even play. Everyone wanted to do something else. But what? We ventured outside and found out something about Brian's house. We had been going over there for over 3 years, but had never noticed this before. He lived on the top of a Giant gorge. It was at least 800 feet to the bottom of it. And because we had been playing that shitty game, we had all never seen it before. There was a giant hole in the earth, that we never ever knew about.

JR and myself start rolling down the sides of it, about 50 feet at a time, not caring what we ran into. Everyone started doing that, after they saw how fast we could get going. Then after we were all just laying on the side of the hill, breathless from actual physical activity, we saw something else. There was a trail that we could go down.

We decided to walk it, and see where it lead. We were still a party of four weren't we? So off we went. Not as dwarfs or Imps, but as tweens. And we may have not been the coolest or the hippest kids around, but we were the only ones headed somewhere down that dusty road at that moment in the united universe. In fact we were about as un-cool or groovy as you could possibly get. We were role-players, and little did we know it, we were about to become ......well cooler than role-players.

It's a very steep slope the trail is on. It looks as if it goes down the entire giant hill. While we walk it we find that it's nearly impossible to just walk, without falling. So one of us gets this Bootsy ass idea to start running. The rest of us who were either too scared to be left behind, or viscerally chasing after him, started running too. When you run down this hill you are like a Cheetah without gravity. Only the twinkle-toes of your feet touch the ground, as you zoom. And you don't know what's ahead of you, if you had to stop you couldn't, and you don't care. Because for once in your life you don't care. You've never ran like this before.

And as we make our way racing toward the finish line, we see it in the form of a cliff. There was a little place at the very last second that if you really thought about turning off you could. But you still might break your legs if you do that. There wasn't much of a choice, in how you got to be punished. Reckoning would soon follow. The only decision that we got to make was how we faced it.

There were those of us that sped up near the cliff's edge and those of us that didn't. I don't want to call anyone out, but I sped up. And while other's stood huffing and puffing, at the top of the cliff, I spent if barrel rolling, summer-saluting in time. I landed on a nice little tree, one the perfect size to break my fall.

As I lay there feeling the pain of a slightly sore shoulder, I couldn't stop laughing. I haven't looked at a dice since.

It was shocking

2008-04-26T14:19:00.000-07:00

I work with electricity. I've never been afraid of it. It's probably the most dangerous thing that I work around. I'm not an ax man or an ice road trucker. I don't have to worry about real hazards. Electricity usually works how it is supposed to, and so after a while you stop worrying about it.
Yesterday I had an encounter with electricity, which was rather interesting. I was parking a scissor lift, and plugging it into to a 12ov circuit to charge it. While doing this, I had the ac chord in my right hand, and with my left one, I completed the circuit against the metal lift. When you are working with electricity, it is generally a good idea, to only use one hand. That way what happened to me, won't happen to you.
Your body is 70% water. Water is a great conductor of electricity. Anyone who has ever committed suicide with a toaster, in the bathtub, could tell you this. If only they could talk. Water molecules are very stringy and they always stick together. There is practically no resistance.
So as I touch the metal lift, with my left hand, while holding a broken ac chord in my right that just happens to be plugged into a 120-v 20amp circuit, my body was a perfect conductor of electricity. You may think I'm an idiot for doing what I did. The truth is, I've done this a million times before, because as I stated earlier electricity always works the way it is supposed to, so you stop thinking about it.
So I wasn't thinking about it, I was thinking about the next thing I was going to do. As I look down, at my hand a rather bright arcing bolt of electricity reached out and "tagged" me. Luckily for me, I hadn't plugged in the lift yet. There would have been 10-12amps through my body if I had. Amps are what kills people, not volts. Luckily I just had around 120-volts go through me quickly, for like 2 seconds, until I moved my hand away. It didn't even really phase me, and I kept doing what I was doing. I guess it takes electricity a few moments to attack.
About 5 seconds after the arc left my body, I fell to the floor. I just sort of lost control of myself for what I think was a few seconds. I just collapsed. And then I came to. I was really weirded out. It is hard to explain, and I still cannot wrap my mind around the sensations I was experiencing. A co-worker that saw what had happened, and who had heard the "pop"ran over to me with some water.
When you get electrocuted, you need about 25 minutes to recover completely. Unless you're dead. Then even after 25 minutes you'll still be just a fried corpse. 120-v is nowhere near fatal. Actually you can have many thousands of volts in your body, and be fine. If a couple of amp's sneak in though, you could die. Like I said before the amps are fatal.
It was a little scary at first. Only because it had never happened to me before, and I was feeling really out of sorts. After I calmed down, it was all better. You know that phrase "I was scared shit-less?" It is a cliche thing to say, but it actually has real meaning. After I went to the restroom, I felt much better. :)

This is my new blog

2008-04-17T00:27:00.000-07:00

You've probably been reading my Myspace.com blog, or you're a close personal friend of mine, if you're reading this anyway. So I won't waste your time with introductions. You know me. And if you don't there isn't much to me anyway. Just a few house keeping details and then you can get onto the blog.

a) This will be the blog from now on. It will be here. Not "there." Let's all make commitments to never go "there" again.

b) I've uploaded a few of the best of the best from "there" to tide you over until I write more for "here".

c) So sit back and enjoy a few laughs from the past. Oh yea and welcome to my new blog fuckers.

Barber Shop Blues

2008-04-17T00:25:00.000-07:00

I've got to look corporate for my interview tomorrow. I've been letting the hair grow to a nice hippy mop, and I was sad to see it go. So I find this little barber shop, and sit there and read Men's Health as there's no penthouse forums to browse.

This barber is fucking slow, but after waiting for a half an hour, was I really going to leave?

Years pass, governments are formed, generations of mankind pass before my eyes. I'm reading relationship advice, from guys who obviously have no clue. I hear razors clipping in the background.

I'm reading about how to survive a break-up. My strategy for the longest time has been to avoid relationships at all costs. Apparently if I were to meet a girl, and we were to become a hot item, and then she dumped me (no fuck that it's my blog I dump her) I should completely erase her from my life. Take all of her belongings down to good will or have a mutual friend take them back to her. And I shouldn't let her talk me into "being friends" because if she wasn't cool with me, after all of that time, then I should move on. I should erase that desktop picture of us in Costa Rica, and look up other hot girls in bikinis on the Internet. I should get out and go to the gym, and not drink my problems away. I should get on with my life.

Who are these men that need to read this article I'm wondering? How small is there cock? Why do they feel they need to define themselves through women? Girls are great don't get me wrong. I've always been a big fan. But how close can you really get to someone? Don't they know that they're going to die alone? You can't become one with another person, and I'm pretty sure that love doesn't exist. Don't they know this? It seems to me that this magazine is pretty girly. Maybe I should be writing articles for a similar publication. Telling men to not let women claim them. To not let the upswing from the women's movement sweep them from their throne. To eat raw meat sometimes because it's good for you. To do some fucking push-ups. To continue being men like our fathers were and their fathers were. To walk tall and carry that big stick. To stop taking penis enhancement medication, and how to impress girls with the giant bulge that is your ego and your confidence. Tell them that being completely buff and ripped isn't how men are supposed to look. That self image starts in the mind, and that when you break up with a girl, that you obviously were co-dependant on, that you should bang her sister and or room mate.

Then I read yet another article giving advice on how to meet that girl. The girl that just broke your heart on page 49. Well we find out how to meet her on page 67. There was a lot of good advice in that column, if you want to trick a girl, make her think you're a man, and then wonder why girls always leave you. I've got an idea as to why they leave you, because you put out this big front, but then you're not a man underneath it all. Because men don't read magazines to get advice on meeting women. Because the only time real men ever read a magazine without centerfolds is when they're in the slowest barber shop ever. How much hair did this guy have when he came in I wonder?

So I finally hear the clipper stop in the background. And 7,000 scissor clips later, it's my turn. I wonder if I've already missed my interview tomorrow as I sink into the chair and get tucked in. For the entire time I was waiting for my "world's longest hair-cut" not a soul had entered the shop. As the barber starts slicing my mop, this dark skinned "male" enters. He sits in a chair very close to the one I'm getting my hair cut in. And he, just sits there. I want to scream at him, "hey dood it's going to be hours maybe you ought to pick up one of them there magazines." But what does this Nancy Boy do? He sits there the entire time, and watches me get my hair cut. Which was kind of weirding me out. Then to make matters worse the barber keeps turning my chair towards his. And this flint won't stop locking eyes with me. It was getting very awkward, except not for him. As if my hair cut was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. I'm obviously, to anyone who understands the subtleties of body language telling him to fuck off. But he just kept staring. I mean come on dood.

Am I un-normal? Would that weird anyone else out? Having to sit there three feet from somebody, who's staring at you get a hair-cut? Even if I was the best looking thing in the world to him, that still wouldn't be normal would it? And if he was seeking my number, he was going about it all the wrong ways. (ha)

Anyway somebody get back to me with a similar story to make me laugh or something.

What happend to porn?

2008-04-17T00:19:00.000-07:00

So I'm just chillin yesterday. And I get the urge to go get some porno. Nothing high class or fancy, but if I watch that .avi of that big breasted blonde getting run through on the classic pick up truck again, I might just hurl.

I don't even really know where to buy porno anymore. So I go into this real shady place called discreetly enough "NEWS." It doesn't blatantly advertise "we sell porno" on the front window.

And, to be completely fair they don't just sell porn there. They had a novelties rack, with sweater pins on the front desk, and some regular looking magazines, oh yeah and 700 square feet of porn.

There was an overload of porn. And I don't really think that I was ready for it all. I guess I don't have a perverted fetish, or new fangled gadget love.

In fact I almost had to ask for help. In their mega-plex of porn, in their stacks and stacks of DVD and dirty mags, I really couldn't find what I was looking for.

It seemed that every dvd in stock was a double anal flick. Or a Bukkake extravaganza. Or the movie was full of cum guzzlers, but no occasional sippers. Everything appeared to be pierced, with in-appropriate sized piercings, and no holes were going un-filled.

I guess none of that stuff seemed interesting to me though. I even passed on Bridget the Midget's new movie, and she's as big as you can get.

So I'm getting rejected at the porno store, of all places, and I realize my problem. I do not have a sexual fantasy. Or if I do, it isn't reflected in the current trend of porno.

My fantasy involves...

well just me, and a bitch. And she's got big titties and a nice ass, and she gets mad when I call her bitch. And I dunno we get naked and we ...fuck and then I take a huge piss and smoke a cigarette. And then maybe she has a room mate, and she gives me a hand job before I leave.

But there's no strap-on accessories, or lubricants, or guzzling. And yeah we talk dirty, but that's to get her filthy ass off not me. And if we try anything new, it's usually related to her not biting down on my cock as hard as she didn't intend to last time. Bitch

So finally in some small corner of the "NEWS" store, dimly lit I find the nice conservative porno that I set out for.

I pay for it, and get to the car, the daylight. And I couldn't really see what I got. All I saw was on the back of the box there wasn't anything weird going on, just one guy, to one girl, probably doing each other. And now in the light I finally can see what I bought.

"Topless Window Washers"

And except for the cellulite ridden 40 year old actresses I think I got exactly what I paid for.

But at least they weren't washing any classic truck windows. :)

Jokes about your pussy and poems about Herpes

2008-04-17T00:12:00.000-07:00

Ok so what are you still doing reading this? Get the hell out of here. Well alright if you must.

Herpes Herpes

everywhere

Herpes- Herpes

in her underwear

Herpes Herpes

on the wall

why don't we just touch them all?

Herpes Herpes

everywhere

in fact there's some

right there... and there!

Everything would

seem so clean

I mean

If I had herpes

you and

yes she.

One less worry

one less concern

one more lotion

rub rub

oh! it's warm

--------------------------------------------------------

this is poem number 2.... oh dear lord stop reading.

Honey,

The baby fell on

the herpes today.

Do you think the baby

will be ok?

I just put him to sleep

and called it a day

what a day

cuz the baby fell

right on my herpes

So I just left you

this note so you

don't kiss his nose

or touch him there

ever! or expose

your skin directly on him.

Because nobody knows

See when he touched he

sorta of rolled and tickled

and giggled then licked it.

I guess we'll know

once he's grown

and we ask him

So we'll know

yeah we'll say

to him someday

"johnny you licked

mommy's herpes"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok before this next section. I've met some very funny girls over the years, but they're not funny like me. I'm trying to give you a lift to a higher echelon of comedic carnage here. I possessing both cock and nut sack could never say these things in public. That's a lie, I think I could pull it off, however I'm not that desperate yet. I've got other material that I can say out loud. Damit, I want a chick to say these things. Damit girls pick up the funny. You want to make me laugh, you know what to do.

Here are a few jokes about your pussy to get you started. I want to hear more by the end of the week, bitches. I know you girls tell them. Shut up, yes you do. There's a lot of good dick jokes out there. Haven't really heard any about a pussy in a while. Maybe you girls wait until the guys aren't around. Maybe you were telling them to me and I wasn't paying attention, anyway... here's some more things I wish I would hear girls say.

and action...

My pussy's been battered like New Orleans.

My pussy has a table of contents.

My pussy's got an old lady that accepts donations to tell you the "entire" history of the pussy.

My pussy has a tattoo of a dick on it's ass.

My pussy has been raped 4 times......................................squared.

My pussy is bloody, right now .....................Like.......................right now. Does that make you un-comfortable.

My pussy eats a bowl of cereal in the morning.

My pussy yields a high performing yeast which makes a frothy dark ale.

My pussy's fine, but my nipples are all crusty.

Last night I popped a pimple on this guy's nutsack with my teeth.

The time I shit my pants.

2008-04-17T00:03:00.000-07:00

I write this as a way of coping and for others who may be going or have gone through the same thing. Plus it's hell of funny. And if you hold it against me, you're going to hell.

It was a hot August day. Actually that's not where the story begins. It begins the night before when I was drinking 12-23 heineys on a cool August night. I had to help my parents move in the morning, and I knew that the next day was going to be a bitch. At that point the only thing I knew for certain was that I was going to be hung-over.

I showed up at my parent's house to help them move. They had twenty years of stuff to pack into a moving truck, and it was about 365 degrees outside. I was dehydrated and sweating. Not a good combination. As the truck was filled, I had probably lost around 10-25 pounds.

As we got to their new place we began unpacking. We were all very hungry but all we had to eat was some spicy chicken sandwiches. I ate two of them, because I wanted to get extra fat that evening.

I finished helping them organize the garage, and move in the big items, and then I departed. I was still very dehydrated, and exhausted. I had a 40 mile drive ahead of me, and I just wanted to GET THERE. Where was there you might ask? My bed.... my comfortable extra large extra comfortable solace.

I had a new car that day. A car that I wasn't quite yet familiar with. I knew where the gas pedal the brake was, but that's about it. About 5 miles into my drive I felt the combination of exhaustion, dehydration, and smoking cigarettes all day kick in. Or maybe it was the chicken sandwiches, something kicked in that night.

6 miles into the trek, I knew what was doing the kicking. I had to take a dump. And we're not just talking rabbit pebbles either. A dump that would rival the largest feces of all time, either ape or gorilla. I had to drop all the episodes of the Cosby show off at the rental store.

Most days, I would have just pulled over and dropped trow. Simple as that. But on this day, because of my impeccable bowel control, I decided that I was just going to "MAKE IT." Because I'm a man, and men don't pull over. Men get there. We only brake for gasoline, and I had a full tank.

So I clenched up tight, and continued my drive. I got closer to the outer limits of Sacramento, and I was doing OK. I had almost forgotten about the pestilence in my pants. I was doing like 10,000 on the freeway, swerving to and fro.

A light went off in my head: "Why don't you take the shortcut home?" Of course, the short cut. I had recently discovered this under-traveled gateway toward home. When the exit for the shortcut came up, I diverted from the direct route, and entered a sublime one.

As soon as I got on the shortcut I was reminded by my stomach that he had to fill 1,000 orders of double double fudge. I was feeling the pressure. I was tired from all the clenching. I had been holding in a trans-Atlantic mudslide for 40 miles and the tension had built up. Something was going to give soon.

A mile and several hundred feet away from my house, something happened that made me question my decision to just "Make it." The longest train in the history of trains, made me come to a complete dead halt. And I was sitting there counting the cars creep by .... "1,009....1,010....1,011..." I almost lost everything.

I don't know how I made it through that train stop. I prayed to any deity who would listen. I hummed quietly to myself. I bit my lower lip. I was screaming at myself "Don't shit your pants! Don't shit them Jason! We're almost home." And with that little bit of encouragement, and with the passing of the train, I was on my way once more.

I did mach 18 down the streets of my neighborhood. And I saw my house. I pulled up the driveway. And I reached for the handle. A handle that, because it was dark, and because I was under so much pressure, and because it was a new car I was unfamiliar with, I couldn't find.

"WHERE IS THE HANDLE?" I screamed. I couldn't find it. And it was time; I had a second to decide my fate. I grabbed everything, in everyplace that I could think of, but nothing would open that damn new car door. I was starting to cry. I knew that by not finding the handle I was never going to get out of the car. And I knew that.... something was about to happen.

AND THEN...

There's a moment that you get right before you shit your pants. It's a moment of peace and reflection. It's a moment where all the pressure is lifted. It's a nice moment, one that doesn't last for very long. You give in, you have to, and you can no longer resist temptation like this. Then you proceed to do the unthinkable. You shit yourself.

It starts. I had been holding it in for so long. What was once a mole-hill is now a mountain range. I'm shitting, and shitting, and shitting, and shitting. I'm crying, I'm mortified. I'm shocked. I'm scared. I'm afraid of what they're going to think of me. I'm afraid of what's going to be the fate of my favorite pair of pants. What's going to happen to my car seat? Does my insurance cover this? At the same time, I'm feeling GREAT. I'm smiling, and it feels good. If I were not sitting in my car, but sitting on my toilet, this would be the best shit ever!

It creeps down my leg; I feel it in my socks. I never had a contention plan for this. I didn't know what to do next. I took a minute to just sit in my shit and contemplate.

You'd be amazed what two showers, two loads of laundry, and a garden hose can clean. You'd be amazed at how quickly you can make yourself normal again. You'd be amazed at what you can do, when you have to do it quickly, so that nobody ever finds out.

I lived through this experience, and so can you. You can shit your pants, and like it. You can do it. I know you can.

But if you don't think that you can. Heed this: If you have to go, go then. Don't procrastinate with your bowels.

Nina's Cock parts 1 and 2

2008-04-16T23:43:00.000-07:00

So I'm chatting with this chick last night on the Internet. And one thing leads to another, and she's like "Would you like to view my web cam?"

And so I do, because I'd already seen Sports Center earlier in the day.

And she's Asian. And she's kind of hot. And she's wearing something skimpy. And I want to assure you that my hands are nowhere near my pants. Because I was working on some music files.

I was really just watching this girl in the background, between beers. So she tells me that there are like 15 other doods watching her as well. And I wasn't that jealous, because of the above reasons.

She starts posing like a porn star, and such. Showing off her thong. Leaning in close to the cam, kind of rubbing her tits in my face and such.

And then she sort of positions the cam on her crotchu-lar area.

So out of my curious nature, I being to pay more and more attention to Nina and less and less to my ongoing project.

After the camera settles on her cash and prizes (thanks dane cook) she tells me that there's a little secret that she forgot to tell me about.

So now I'm a little creeped out. I think that's what a transvestite tells you right before she's about to whip out her cock on you.

I called her out on it. I was like "Oh did you forget to tell me about your cock?"

But I've been staring at her crotch for like 10 minutes now, and if there's a cock in there inside of the mini skirt, it's not a big one. So I being the comedian that I am, ask her how hung she is.

And she tells me that she's somewhere between 8-9. She's a 8:30.

But she's sitting with her legs crossed real tight.

And I'm only rocking a solid 5:45 myself, and I know that I couldn't sit with my legs crossed like she's got hers if a billion dollars depended on it.

So I call her out on that too. I'm like "Hey if you're rocking that kind of heat, WHIP IT OUT." "I wanna see that big hunk of junk."

And she gets all fluttered and instead of whipping it out, she shows it to me under her skirt. After she obviously put something under her skirt. Like a cucumber, or a mailable dildo.

And I tell her that I don't believe that she has a cock. And that I think she's really funny. But that for me to believe that she actually has an 8:30, I'm going to need to see some proof.

Which she never produces.

She cut off her cam, and ran for the hills.

Which leaves with me with more questions, than I would have had if I were to see a Transvestite's cock.

If she would have just whipped it out, I would have been like, "wow nice cock." And then went on with my day.

But I don't really think Nina has a cock.

I think Nina is a weird girl. Who pretends to be a Transvestite to make men feel bad about thinking that she's hot. Like she enjoys putting the "Am I gay?" question inside of men's heads.

Maybe I would have felt bad if I was touching myself and she showed me her cock. But I doubt it. I've seen a dick before. I've watched some porno in my day. I don't think it would scar me like she thought it would.

Plus, she's not a Tranny. She's a she! Which is the most confusing part of this entire evening.

I wish she'd come back online and talk to me so I could pick her brain. Because if it is all just one big giant joke, I'd love to know the back story.

She's so funny. Nina and her cock.

Nina's Cock part two

Since I broke the story last week there have been several new developments in regards to Nina's cock. So I've decided to share them with the many of you that I know will care.

I must tangent for a brief facetious moment. I guess I didn't know what the readers of my blog were into. There have been 250 views this week. That's the best week ever. All because of transvestites. So, now that I know what you guys are really into, I may just have to write about them more often. I might be putting out a book next year called "Everything you've never wanted to know about chicks with dicks." Look for it at a half priced books near you.

Back to nina...

Nina read the blog. And she was upset. But fuck her, I will never take it down. I thinks she's most upset about the fact that I busted her operation wide open.

Also Nina is curious about me. Because I'm the first person to ever confront her problem head on. I think that challenges her in ways she's never been challenged before.

As nina put it "I've showed my cock to several hundred guys before and you're the first one who actually realized it wasn't mine." That statement alone let's you know so much about her, and how deeply rooted this problem is. "I've showed MY cock" She calls it her cock. She's taken ownership over an appendage that she never ever had. Isn't that ridiculous? It's like reverse phantom limb syndrome.

So we've been talking, I've been picking her brain and putting together a profile of who this girl actually is. And we've been becoming, I dunno friends.... online buddies? What's the word? Cyberly connected. That's it.

It took a while for me to break her down emotionally. But Nina has finally talked to me about why she does what she does.

Nina is a girl. And that I now know. Which makes me feel a little bit better. About the whole thing. About everything. About my sexuality. Whew.

She thinks it's really funny to flash men her fake cock. Because she's a giant attention whore. And the biggest tease on the planet.

I think she's destined to be a porno actress or a stripper. Maybe she'll do them both. And I for one hope she does. Because Nina is drop dead sexy. Especially without her huge cock.

But is it really that funny though? As Nina tells it "you'd have to be there." I'm assuming that "there" would be in the room while she's flashing her dick to men.

Nina lives in my town.

And I'm probably going to meet her at some point. Because this story is just too huge to do over yahoo. I need to go in for an interview. I need to see her set-up, and figure out what she's using as a fake dick.

I've never met anyone off of the Internet before, and I'm kind of worried about it. But There could be so many more blogs that come from getting to know Nina. I bet she does a million other things that are way worse than this. Things that are fucked up, on a scale larger than you can even imagine right now. So I'm doing this for you people. Because I love you.

And because I want to fuck Nina's brains out. I want to give her the cock she's never had.

See she's a really messed up girl. And I've just got to get the bottom of it all.

She's so funny. Nina and her cock.