Tuesday, May 06, 2003
Here's a joyous soliloquy in which I ream that SaveKaryn bitch a new asshole. this is old-school, hoes, before the bigwigs were ragging on her. see, I AM original dammit. hmmm. I haven't convinced myself, well then, whateverz.
A lot of people ask me about my relationship with Randy Rhoads’ ghost. The fact that for me a lot of people equals no one so far has not stopped my delusion. For those unenlightened fools among you, Randy Rhoads was Ozzy Osbourne’s guitarist for a couple albums back in the 80’s before he (randy, not ozzy, well maybe ozzy’s brain) died in a plane accident. Here’s a fascinating conversation that I like to think we might have had as babies in the same hospital which we were both born in in Santa Monica, California. If you don’t understand how special that makes me, then, well, I’ll have to live with that, and just hope that you get struck by lightning. Here’s a nice little convo I had with Randy in the car on the way to work one day.
I used to have tons of conversations with Randy Rhoads’ ghost, but that fucker has split the scene with a gangster lean. He never even utters a word to my ass anymore. Hopefully some day he’ll come back and hang out, even if just for a couple minutes. I like to think he’s in a “better place” and like to think that place isn’t some boiling cauldron of squid urchin stew. I don’t think it is, fuk, if Randy’s stuck in hell, then what the fuk? You bust out the rawest chords ever and you burn? Shit if that’s the case, line me up.
I was gonna say some other crap but I can’t think of it now.