Friday, March 21, 2003
you know what? I just don't feel like it today.
have a nice weekend, though. and goooooooooo bears!!!
oh CRAP since i'm here in blogger i might as well write something, i GUESS. since i have a little time to kill and my fingers are warm, well, whut the fuck?
So apparently the first American casualties from the war have occurred. that sucks major ass. I guess there was a helicopter crash, killing 4 US soldiers and 8 brits i think, and 2 americans were shot dead by some Iraqi soldiers.
i hope it turns out that this was the right thing to do. I really really do.
and no I'm not turning peace activist on your asses. it just hits home when you hear about people dying, and i'm not gonna dodge the issue.
oh, shit what was that? (dodging issue)
fuck it, what does what I have to say about the subject matter any fucking way. go read instapundit or michael totten for the scoops. if you want to go left wing turn on cnn. well i guess maybe they're not left wing anymore. once war starts and the media starts salivating I think maybe they forget which side their bosses boss is on and realize that it's time to crank up the coverage and the flashy lights and expose every possible battle strategy that Sadaam and his buddies haven't figured out yet.
FUCK. whatever. i'm over it for right now. I started off this blog entry like happy but ambivalent and i got myself riled up. dagnabbit all blog you goatless goathole.
hollow words left and right. see this is a blog, it ain't the news, so if I report the news, i'm just rehashing crap you can read everywhere else. and if i say something hokey yet heartfelt like "keep safe over there, soldiers, we're proud of you," I just sound like a fukn saturday evening post refrigerator magnet. but it's true. we are at war, people, and our own men & women (well so far only men) are dying and the shit is real.
and i don't have anything to say that can make it better. I don't disagree with this war. I don't know if I wholeheartedly agree with it, I know there's a lot of other missions of peace we could be doing & I know damn well there MUST be (there always are) alterior motives for what we do. (and that is not necessarily wrong) and the fact that whatever I say, whatever wry little comment I make, ain't worth a hill of beans, is both frustrating and liberating, because I can say it and no one can take it away.
see now that just sounds like "go out there george and preserve my freedom of speech." bah. bah bah bah. bah is a word i see bandies about quite a bit on the ol innernet bloggerville as of late and I am officially co-opting it for my half-ass non comprehensible diatribe of dogshit. bah. bah. bah.
Thursday, March 20, 2003
You’d think it’d be a piece of cake, being mc mac mall and booking a flight, but oh no not so annie moe, the peeps just wanna babble and admire your shirt and tell you things like, “everyone down at the malt shop is just ga-ga over your new album” and shit like that.
After a while it gets old. I ain’t gonna lie. Every once in a while some attention and a compliment or two are damn nice. Good stuff. But shit after the 83rd time of trying to polish my shoe to a perfect shine with their own hard-earned elbow grease, they could knock it off already and move on with their day. I’m cool, really. Seriously. Gee in the fee. Oh, si.
Why do I have such deep thoughts and night and then when it’s time to type this it’s like, “it was a dark and stormy evening in the gulf of Mexico. Keanu and Shealani were about two astro-medallions short on a six pack of Pacifico. Things were looking dire, and then rode in on his horse Silver was this threatening but nonconfrontational haole with a black mask and a white hat with a red sash on it. he seemed happy to see them, and no that wasn’t a gun, they were pretty sure, at least in his pocket. As for guns, he had two, one in each hand, and a knife in his mouth and his eyes were as daggers, deflecting the wind but counting your worth from first glance to final battle.”
See why is it crapola like that that comes out, when all these deep thoughts are just waiting to come out? Like what’s up with war? Will history show that we were totally justified? Will evidence come to light that if nothing had been done, then Sadaam would have torn the world a new a-hole with some secret samadai plan that no one except Ghandi could have predicted?
And even if there’s no indication of any of that kind of stuff in actuality, will our government fabricate something, weave a little web to make it appear so? To validate everything, all the death, all the sacrifice? How many American lives will be lost, what is worthwhile amounts? But screw that, the fact that we know the score afterward should not affect anything, you gotta move forward, knowing victory is at hand, and if shit ain’t right, then rearrange and plagiarize until it’s pretty as a picture and all wrapped up like Little House on the Prairie. See I start talking and don’t know whut I’m representing, and suddenly I’m accused of hamster abuse. Should we be talking in terms of casualties applied to each side? Is it good if they die and we live?
Part of me says fuck yeah, gotta break some eggs to make an omelette, sam, but another part of me is like “every sperm is sacred”every person is a special little feller or girlie and who are we to play judge jury executioner to people that for the majority are just pawns of some madmen and his thugs. And then it’s where the issue gets flipped again, an argument against something turning in an argument for it…
See that’s why I don’t go into that place of Alfredville acres. It’s controversial, it’s not cut & dried, it’s not random ranting, there’s no order, no predicticablity, no room for made up words people stories fantasy ass horse manure. Straight up reality, something that a weiner dude attitude ain’t gonna account for in the final reckoning.
Um, and that’s why the new state bird should be a pigeon. Rebuttal?
Oh good job, dude. Such a clever little ending to some earnest and dogshit-eared diatribe which you wouldn’t be able to back up into a boat-sized parking spot. Feel better?
um, let me think about that one... I do, yes I do, thank you.
Cal advances, baby-cake, and that is the lbc in the plizace to bizee.
Richard Midgley is my new hero.
Bring on the fukn Sooners. Cal’ll beat em down like the little hoes they are. IF Oklahoma can beat Asscrack State or whoever the hell they’re playing.
Ok that’s it for now. Boatload of work to do.
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
I think it’s really damn cool how Zak talks to optimus prime. Original, very original. Good. Zak, your shit is good, mellow out and stop calling it crap, THAT is my territory main. I am the master at calling my shit crap, and as long as long beach stands I will take that cake.
Shit crap shit crap shit.
Ok I’m back. The water guy came to drop off some water bottles. As I was signing for it he said “how’s it going,” and I said “alright” and he said “yup” and I said “another day another dollar,” and he said “well, maybe 50 cents,” and I said “ha ha” and he said “ha ha” and he left and it was one of those connecting moments among the working class eventually of which will come some kind of Marxist revolution.
But no. with all the various balms and medications available to numb our anger and resentment at our various lots in life Georgie Porgie and his pudding pie are safe in DC, which makes me wonder what the FUCK is up with the war on drugs. They should be thanking God and apple pie every fuckn DAY for all the drugs. It’s the only thing keeping the masses happy. Take away all the drugs and we will rise up and throw Dubya out on the south lawn faster then Regis can say “is that your final answer?”
Yes, very very dated joke. The millionaire show is so over with. But see that’s my styleee, pimp the random references months after they’re vogue. If I pimp them at their peak, well I’m just riding the coattails of CNN and espn and the home shopping network, just giving you more of the same ass dog ass crap that everyone else is doing, which I do NOT want to do. You will see a big ol stinking poo on this page before you see that, and long beach is in the hizzle on that fizzle.
Maybe if I was Buddhist everything would seem ok, but from where I’m sitting, with the shit going down the way it is, I am wondering whut the fuck, I gotta admit. Whut the fuck. Questions mark after that? Nah, it’s a statement dawg. A statement on world affairs and my own issues that happen to be percolatin. Actually not my OWN issues but other people’s issues that have seeped into my reservoir, stanking up my milk-duds that were nice and fresh. Ah but such is life. No man is an island, as simon & garfunkel once crooned, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Where the fuck is Randy Rhoads at a time like this? Shit main, hit me up! Just one note from your guitar would make it penny lane, and fuck the beatles, you’d do it more 80’s rock style, I know that. Whatever. What the fuck ever. Just talk to me dawg, you used to have so much shit to say, I woulda needed a tape recorder and a secretary pool to get all that shit down, and now, nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it sucks. I had a conduit to a dead rock god, and I took it for granted, and now it’s gone.
So Zak, be thankful for Optimus Prime, because just when you think you’ve reached your last levels of patience with his truck-mutating ass, he’ll up and vanish into thin air, never to be heard from again. And you’ll be bummed my friend. Oh yes, you’ll be bummed.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Progress continues on the project at an unabated yet constantly fluctuating basis. The original 23 have been whittled down to 5 dedicated and hardcore soldiers that will ensure the continued perpetration of the struggle.
We miss your inspirational words during weather endurance drills, especially on Tuesdays and Thursdays. As you know, ever since the hot boys informed us of this problem with the NOPD, our numbers of unanticipated arrests of personnel has fallen of drastically. Sgt. Strickerstan is quite happy with this development, which makes my days much easier.
The lack of morale for the coming trip to the grocery store has been a minor distraction and I have usually been able to get the troops ready with use of otter pops and wheat thins. So that’s worked out aiiiight. (I guess).
Times are definitely tense, however. Even Captain Treacher has indicated a certain degree of antsiness, and he is usually about as flappable as a tin can lined with titanium steel and reinforced with silly putty.
Long story short, we are doing well, but await your return to guide us in true spirit towards our ultimate goal of total consciousness.
Monday, March 17, 2003
My cell phone when it rings & it’s next to my monitor, my monitor does a funky chicken screen wiggle. Like a zzzzz and then it’s over, but timed with the rings, and then it did it, and I picked up my phone, and no one was there. Does that mean the clippers are going to win the championship?
But wait fuck the clippers, it’s golden bear time. Whut the fuk is a wolfpack?, we’re fukn packin the mac in the backadda ac, mufuh. Sheeeiiiittt. Nc state can lick my ballholios.
Ah so desu ka. Whateverz. Even if they beat the pack, who actually looks pretty tuff, at least half as tough as the New Kids on the Block, er sorry, NKOTB, but still, pretty damn (so damn) tough. Tougher than ice-T’s bodyguard.
So what the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah how tuff nc state is. Yeah for little bitches they’re pretty tough. But then, after that, it’s Oklahoma in Oklahoma, and I’m not talking about the play I’m talking about the university, mad pony territory, and they are tough as in Arnold schwarzenegger’s pectoral muscle optometrist if he swallowed like 18 steroid capsules of 835 milligrams.
Tough. In other words, extremely difficult. They’re good.
But the golden bears WILL prevail.
I have spoken.
Oh yeah, I guess we’re at war now. And yesterday, hose monster pontificated on it in the most thus and concise and perfected manner in the history of astromedallion counting. (i can't link the post for some reason, so you'll have to find it. complaint letters regarding this matter should be addressed to my cousin elroy) And the funny thing is, he’s not even picking sides. (hose monster, that is, not elroy, elroy is in a coma) He ain’t saying whuts up in the hizbang only that it’s frizzled (the situation, not hoseman, but hey, you never know). You NEED to read it. it’s one of those things you’ll tell your kids about trust me on this one.
So what do I think about this war? Whatever. There’s a lot of hostility going around and it’s not good for the vineyards. And even though I’m not that much of a wine guy (I gotta be eating swordfish, honestly, to be in the mood for it, but that is JUST me. Not you, I’m not trying to project my shit on to you in any way shape or form, ferreal). But the war for me is like this big pot full a gumbo, and the beans are mad at the tomaters, and the onions are all pissed off at the lamb guts. And then you throw in some Tabasco, well damn shite that kettles gonna frizzle over and dump a whole bunch of zucchini chunks on you faster than you can pull off Diane Sawyer’s wig.
And I won’t say it when it happens, but just to preemptively warn you about it, I told you so.