Hey Mr. Fashion Punk.

This is an open rant about some folk I don't really know, yet I truly hate. I ran afoul of this strange creature in a Super America while I was getting caffeinated beverage. Now, to get this little story you must accept the sad fact that the punk ideal is dead and has been since Malcolm Mclaren killed it by stuffing a fashion show down it's gullet in the early 70's. Any time after that in history, anyone who loudly shouted "I'm a punk rocker", or wore a very fabricated jacket with an Anarchy symbol, some safety pins and a Swastika with or without a big red line through it, was most likely just a kid caught up in a fashion trend. I myself was guilty of several such infractions as a youth. The sad fact of the whole "Punk" look is that for some it makes them feel like they are outsiders, dangerous and they believe they frighten other people. This was once true, however familiarity does breed contempt and people hardly notice such things anymore in most societies. I guess if you dressed up like a gutter punk and marched through a small Missouri community that was brimming over with Evangelical Christians, you may turn a head or two but in any large city, you are just another smelly asshole. Recently I had the misfortune to bump into a couple of guys at a convenience store near my work. Both of them were clad in outfits that looked more like uniforms than statements on their individuality. They also had taken their emo hair and used gel to make it look like they both had mohawks. When deuchebags do this, I suppose they think it looks tough but honestly, Rosario Dawson looked tough like that in Sin City, everyone else just looks like a retard that got a hold of a bottle of L.A. Looks unattended. One of them also wore an Obama button and an Anarchy symbol, which would have been hilarious if it wasn't so damn sad. These two walked around the store for a bit, obviously trying to attract attention, as if to say "Watch us, we might do bad things". Which is the opposite of what you do if you actually plan on doing something criminal in a Super America. These guys weren't young either, younger than me, yes but not teenagers whom you accept as idiots because you remember being that stupid once. Long story short. They bought a couple bags of some kinda nut and a four pack of RedBull, salt and caffeine being staples of the counter culture revolution, I suppose this was the most "Punk" thing they did but they actually paid for it so they lose points there. Then they went outside and got into a Lexus. Sad, stupid jagoffs.

Dirty minds.

Many years back, when I was in High School, (if you aren't supposed to experiment with drugs, why is it called High School?) I was dared to make a Christmas story dirty. So I told it in a suggestive way that made it seem very sick indeed, not that that foul holiday needed any help but it was fun at any rate. Now, many, many years later, I have had time to hone my pervy craft to the keenest of blades. In fact, my friends and I have set out on a several year mission to find the dirtiest phrases and place them into conversation in a humorous way. The effect is that this act renders the word less dirty and more humorous, to a few people at least. You will always have that one person that believes booger or fart are filthy words and would go into a coma if say, dog in a bathtub or rusty trombone were explained to them. I am no George Carlin but I feel that to master the the English language and the vast humor that lies within, you must understand the worst parts of it. Dirty words and phrases are a very important part of that and they are, as a group, the most unchanged yet evolved speech we have. One of the biggest problems I have had on stage in the past was the fact that I would say something, something that wasn't dirty or shocking to me and the audience would go numb for a bit. However, if given time, more than three lousy minute, I could turn them around and make them feel sick for laughing at my bad person thoughts. Sadly, in doing this, I found I was not educating people. I was being called a shock comic, I was being grouped with Howard Stern and his ilk. I was saddened by this in a rare showing of emotion. I told an audience that being funny wasn't funny anymore and I walked off stage for a few years. I hope to get back up there in the next couple of years, write some more stuff and give it another try. See if people can grow up and deal with my dementia. I think I am just writing this because last night my girlfriend told me she fully expected me to go insane some day. She thinks it's weird that I laugh uncontrollably at things in my head. My friend Marty gets it but I think he believes I lost my mind years ago. I just hope, one day, I find the connection in verbiage I am looking for. Dirty words are people too.

Okay so I have to do this.

I have to briefly pimp my blog about pooping. please go to www.fecesfiles.blogspot.com and tell me what you think.

Then why aren't you rich and famous?

Why am I not rich and famous? This is a question the recently was handed to me by a coworker. He found out that I used to do stand up comedy and that I plan to again someday. The coworker said "You know what I like? That Larry the Cable Guy. You should do something like that. People like that guy a lot. Git 'er done." Seeing my eye twitch and my face fall a bit, he continued, "What, you don't like Larry the Cable Guy? Everybody likes him. What's wrong with you?" Here is a mistake many people make in my life. A) Asking my opinion and B) Equating popular with good.

Asking my opinion of something is not unlike playing Russian roulette. There is a good chance I won't say anything that bothers or offends you but, when the right chamber clicks into place, you should not act amazed that I opined a hole in your skull. Now just because seventy percent of the populace enjoys your act does not mean it's good, actually, it tends to mean just the opposite. Not in every case mind you but in many. Look at how the Redneck Comedy Tour sells out arenas but last time I saw the Comedians of Comedy tour it was at about a quarter capacity. Thousands of people will go to a Linkin Park concert but Flogging Molly and Anthrax are small venue only. In all actuality, being good at what you do and taking pride in your work tends to get you no where. Mass appeal is a two edged sword. Great, a large percentage of people love you and you have a comfortable amount of money but, and this is the point, that does not mean you don't still suck. More over, just because fifty people I know might like you doesn't mean I do. And having money doesn't make you a master at a craft. Tom Cruise is a crap actor, he is wealthy. Donald Trump is a wealthy realtor that has gone bankrupt at least three times and is still rich. Jackie Collins has made more money in her life time than Robert Hienlen. Oh, oh, oh L. Ron Hubbard, wrote like a retarded first grader and his "teachings" have earned billions. That should shore up my point I think.

So what happens every time I try to make the popularity to talent point? Some shmoe take offense and asks my why I am not rich yet, if I am so good. People take offense to you not liking what they like or even not liking them. That's funny to me. I don't care if not everyone likes me, doesn't bother me one bit. Ergo, when I offend someone with my views, not a damn give I. Don't get me wrong, I would love to be rich and if that day ever comes, I will be happily drunk two hours later but for right now I am fine being slightly under middle class and proud of my aggression towards normalcy and my lack of a catch phrase.

Classic movie update.

I can't take this anymore. I have been trying to compile a list of movies, pre- 80's, for a friend of mine and there is too many. So I said screw it, I want to write about other things and since I know the guy, I can just tell him what he should check out and not wrack my brains about this anymore. I wash my hands of the whole ordeal. Sorry if I disappoint anyone but I have crumbled this particular cookie in this way. Maybe one day I will publish the list but it will be long as hell.

Movie classics.

Recently my friend Joe asked me to write a list of my favorite "classic" movie that I would suggest he see. That is a real tough one. I had to decide what I considered classic and what I considered just amused my own strange sensibilities. I decided that the dictionaries definition of the word was best, IE: "Classic: A work recognized as definitive in its field" that works for me so let us now talk fields. No let's not talk fields, that will stretch this into an all night write and an all day read. I will just tell you a few of my classic picks that I will watch every time they are on, some of these are simply clumped by actors by the way. Oh, I will also not venture into the 80's or beyond.

That said, first their are the Marx Brothers, if Groucho and Chico never made you laugh then you have either never seen them in action, or you are a very boring person and must stay away from me. Then absolutely anything with Cary Grant in it, the man was the embodiment of what a Hollywood acting legend should be, Philadelphia Story(1940), His Girl Friday (1940) and Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)top the list of Grant movies for me.

I am a big fan of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Planer in the Sherlock Holmes series for m the 40's and 50's. I consider these must sees if you are a Homes fan that is. The Lady Killers(1955), the remake was good but the original was messed up and had Sir Alec Guinness in it. On the subject of Sir Guinness, the movie Murder by Death (1976), which he is in as well, is one of the greatest comedies of all time. Okay one foray into the 80's, Clue (1985) is the grand child of murder by death and must also be seen.

Now if you have a Steve McQueen movie anywhere that to, you must watch. The Great Escape (1963) The Cincinnati Kid(1965) and of course the Magnificent Seven (1960) top my list there. Since I am on the subject of the Magnificent Seven I should also point out its grand father, the Seven Samurai(1954) the Akira Kurosawa master piece see that also.

Okay this will take forever like this so what I will do is compile a list decade by decade and when it is done I will put it up for your perusal okay? sounds good.

Damn you Joe, there is not enough hours in the day for this kind of mad typing.

Here this will be fun and this way everyone can understand the "One of us" chant my friend Marty and I do to people on the street. Google the movie Freaks(1932) and stare in awe of the scene where the guy with no arms and no legs sloshes towards a person with a knife clenched in his teeth.

Toilet paper pets.

I had a thought the other day. Some of my friends and I were discussing activists like the ones on that show Whale Wars or those people you see at Green Peace rallies. These people take saving animals to an extreme, placing themselves in the line of fire so they can save a creature or two. Standing on a dingy between a spear gun and a mammal that forgot to evolve, leave the ocean and buy a digital watch (Thank you Douglas Adams), chaining themselves to trees to save a habitat and, I am sure, we have all seen the anti-fur protesters outside of your local Macy's, picketing and releasing Patchouli fumes into our ozone. It is these anti-fur folks that I have the biggest problem with. Not because of their tactics or motives but the fact that they are avoiding the most obvious play on their activist chessboard. So listen hippies and listen well, I will only explain this to you once.
The plan is simple. Go into the forest, find an cute, fuzzy animal that you wish to keep safe and vested and wipe it slowly across your anus. Yes you read it write, unless you're dyslexic, place that beloved, woodland critter betwixt your scrawny, fetid cheeks and give it a good knuckle drag and twist.
What is the purpose? If you can't guess, it's pretty simple. No up and coming parvenu would be caught wearing the skin of beast that was repeatedly raked on ones rectum (damn near killed 'um. that one is for my friends). Instead these people would be forced to move on to a more feces free cloth. Faux, non-pooped on fur springs to mind. If you have ever been in your bathroom, cleaning it after a party and discovered a strange looking scrunchy of toilet paper that seems to have a brown streak evident on its surface, you will remember the level three Haz-Mat containment devices you broke out to deal with it. Now picture wrapping said TP wad around your neck and wearing it to the regatta.
So come on hippies, start snatching and wiping. Sure you may get bitten or scratched. Maybe you will catch the rabies. Really thought, isn't that a small price to pay for the safety of a species? I say no. Now the simple fact that I am not in league with the activists, I do not condone nor disapproves of their actions, you may wonder what stake I have in all this. It's simple really. Watching a bunch of hippies get mauled by wild animals they are trying to shove into their cracks would be really funny and the videos would sell more that Girls Gone Wild and Bum Fights combined.

Here is a slogan:

Dependence on fur will surely shrink, just wipe your ass with a mink.