On the topic of my shirt.

I had been sitting around waiting for something to write about but that wasn't working, so I went to the book store. The fortuitous part of popping on down to the compendium cache was that I happened to throw on the only relatively clean shirt that I found on the way to the door. This shirt just happened to be my Bad Religion t-shirt, the one with the red slash running through a crucifix. A wonderful shirt, red and white on black, a real comfortably beaten up shirt that matches all my outfits from shorts and flip flops to jeans and boots, that shirt works perfectly into my ensemble. Fast forward to me, standing in the checkout line, books in hand awaiting my turn to give away some money. In front of me is a couple, middle age, soft of belly and pale of flesh in the typical, non-labor worker, sort of way. The woman turns to look at me, I say hello, she looks at my shirt and her eyes widen. Her husband was also glancing back and his eyes widened a bit as well. The woman let out a huff of air, in obvious disapproval of something. Her husband quickly tightened his grip around her shoulders, trying to calm her down, it didn't work. "What do you suppose Jesus would say about that shirt?" the woman asked me, acid spitting from her lips. "I don't know but I doubt he would be a dick about it." I retorted. The woman's eyes lit with rage, her cheeks flushed with anger and her ass sagged with fat. In typical Minnesota fashion, she mumbled under her breath and looked away, glancing back now and then to see if I had changed my mind about my disdain for her particular brand of holier than thou-ism. I hadn't, she left. I purchased my books and headed to the local caffeinated beverage hut so that I may purchase one. I walked through the door, took my place in line and realized that I was being sneered at. Once again, a couple was in front of me and the woman didn't like my shirt. "What would Christ say about that shirt?", she asked me. "He would probably agree that crucifixes suck.", was my answer and I watched the woman huff in anger and then display some more passive aggressive traits, common among Minnesotans. Two run ins like this in such a short time span made me both gleeful and pensive. I was always a big fan of Mad Magazines "Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions section and any time these things fall into place for me, I am filled with joy. Yet, any time I am confronted by one of those, arrogant about their own stupidity, types I become very thoughtful. Mostly because I don't understand them. This is why I have decided to write several self catharsis posts that I may exercise the evil imps that all the recent stupidity in the world have placed in my head. I shall start with religion, then over to some politics, then maybe religion and politics , then, who knows? I hope you will come with me on this less than interesting trip through my unstable mind.

Coming soon: Sectual Healing.

Trying!

I have had my ability to write molested by a four ton rhino with a sexual affliction towards anal cutting. Long story short, having a bit of a bad time. Will write in the future. Don't you all worry, I still hate everything. Later.

I gotta say this...

What the hell Seether, you South African crap rock rats, did you really have to go and remake Careless Whisper? Wasn't Wham doing this song enough? Apparently not. Maybe the 80's was cool in South Africa but here most people not currently sporting mullets, would tell you how hard it sucked and now you have to take one of the worst things about the 80's and shove it up the ass of our society (actually the appropriate placement for a Wham song, cover or original)! It is a sad state for me that, at work, I am forced to hear other peoples radios playing and I am inundated with popular music from all sides, so you jag-offs had to make it worse? Damn you! You could have at least pepped it up a bit, Limp Biscuit absolutely sucks but at least they perked Faith up a bit when they covered it and that became their only partially decent song. If anything, you bastards slowed your cover down. When I was growing up, my sister would listen to Wham, all day, all horrible day. In fact she had a crush on George Micheal, like so many young girls back in those days, not having any idea how far up the wrong tree they were barking.

So you remake this song and now it's getting radio play. The great masses of reality TV watching drones have deemed it good enough to be pop and you are making money off of someone else's crappy song that you have re-crapitalized (ya new word) on and...Damn it thoughts failing me, anger steeping blood like hot tea whistling out of my ears. God how I hate you Seether, you and your ilk. You DisturbNickleCreedish bands and the indistinguishable, interchangeable, irrelevant, insipid, inane, and lethargic bile you spill out on our already weak minded society makes my ire hard to control. I tell you, if looks could kill I may consider going to one of your concerts. If all these bands had any humanity left inside, they would go eat molten lead until the fart hot death and burn. Stupid song.

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.