This is really not funny, but…

… it’s still funny as shit.  i told mr dankkkkkkk on the phone already, but you’ll all appreciate this little gold nugget.

sooo, i told you that i work at a school, right?  well, anyways, my boss is out of town — in sri lanka, actually (not doing drugs or getting blowjobs — aka he’s wasting his time), but during this trip, i’ve been running the show in this class that i’m also enrolled in.  ok, so the dean was pissed off that i was in charge and am not a professor, so he made my boss’s boss sit in on the class while he’s out of town.  his reasoning?  and i quote, “what if someone starts stripping in class?  the g.a. [me] can’t be responsible for those liability issues.”  so, my dept. head and i were laughing about that.  i mean, who strips in class?  nobody, right?  i told her i’d rather have some VT type shit pop off than have some lady start ripping her clothes off in class.

ok, so fast forward to last night’s class.  the lecture was going on, and about an hour into the class, we took a break.  i smoked a cig, and on the walk back to the class i see this dude (i’m not saying he was black or anything, but he wasn’t white, hispanic, asian, american indian or pacific islander) walking through the hallway.  i didn’t recognize him, but no big deal. 

so, about 30 minutes later, i see this hand come in the doorway of the class.  it was the same guy, but i didn’t make the connection at the time.  he pulled the door almost shut so it was only opened like 4 or 5 inches, maybe.  i figured he was studying or talking on the phone, and we were distracting him.  again, no big deal.

then, like 10 minutes later, this lady in my class whispered my name from across the room.  i walk over there and sit down.  she says, “there’s this black guy masturbating in the doorway!”  [pffft]  i didn’t know what to think, so i look over there, and sure enough, there he stands, dick in his hands, wacking it in the doorway of my classroom!  right there so this lady has no choice but to look at his junk!  my department head says to me, “call the cops right now.”  so, i go out of the class toward my office.  by this time, the dude has zipped up and is digging it to the exit.  i saw the back of his head, and he was gone. 

 hahahaha.

 so, i called the cops, and they’ve been interviewing me and my classmate all day long!  how funny is that shit?  with all the porn on the internet, this dude is going to wack it in public to a bunch of 40-60 year-old school teachers?!  w….t….fuck?!  that is some deviant shit fo-rizzle.  the cops didn’t catch him, and in my conversations with them over the past day, they’ve had like 4 other reports about him doing the same shit all summer long. 

my hope is that i’ll catch him next time.  i see myself tackling him and kicking him in the balls.  that’d be funny, but what happens if my hand accidentally touches his johnson or ballsack? 

does that make me gay? 

seriously? 

does it? 

cuz…  

i mean…

 (i really am not sure if i can handle that.)

so, anyways, that’s my funny story.  i’ll bet stoney never saw no shit like that in venice beach!  so, for all you easterners, stop packing your bags.  there’s no need to go west.  we’ve got plenty of sick fucks in this part of the country, too.

feeling like a loser…

…is terrible.  especially when you’re feeling like this because of a blog.  i go to work everyday, grow a sick garden and fish like Bill fucking Dance mixed with Roland goddam Martin, yet still i find myself in the dishonorable position of this blog’s weakest link…  damn, it’s sad.  before you comment, realize that i’m dead serious. 

 roughty is right.  my rolecalls are just little opportunities for me to interact with this ever-growing bloghole.  i wish i could do more…  just the same, instead of commenting on all these dif. posts, i’m going to assert some wide ranging, general comments to everything that i’ve seen going on in the past couple weeks.

 first, it’s important for me to shout out large and loud to senor twitchles.  good work, sir.  if you can put up with stoney’s bullshit on a reg. basis, my hat is off to you.  punch him in the face behind the dumpster for roughty, and then laugh your ass off for me.  twitch, your insights on the posts by dankkkknugs and roughty are very very refreshing, though i must still side with roughty on the savage-content of shoes.  keep up the solid contribs, dude.  maybe one day you’ll get “promoted” to full-editor.  then you can be as much of a fucking waste of space loser as the rest of us.  (i got my fingers crossed for you, holmes.)

 dankkkkkkkkk, you’re doing it dude.  got your junk wet one day, and now you’re back in the land of the living.  talking about the old days, writing poems and smoking fattttttties no doubt.  my hat is off to you, and it’ll stay off until the next time i hear “That Smell” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

by the way, can you smell that smell?  “I don’t know, dude.  what smell?!!?”  man, you got so pissed at me that time, and i was just trying to be funny.  oh well, we’re past that.  at least we were until now, right?  right??  come-ooonnn!  by the way, redsox suck.  big papi’s about to have a coronary, and then the team will fold and move to new mexico.

stoney, you ripped my haikus and caused me to have to respond on you with scalding profundity.  i’m sure you’re still crying yourself to sleep about that.  the good news is that i haven’t gotten any threatning comments lately like, “if you don’t like what i’m talking about, why don’t you get your own blog?!  they’re free.”  i gotta admit, those comments hurt my feelings…  anyway, you’re the one keeping this festival of idiots alive, and i give you a 20 gun salute for it.  it takes a lot of effort to keep a bunch of ne’er-do-wells like us organized in any project, and you should be proud of yourself for it (and i’m sure you are!:))  what’s missing is the timely political commentary.  what’s up?  you didn’t pay your cable bill and lost msnbc?  oh well, with the elections coming closer every day, i imagine it’s just a matter of time.  

next, i was ssoooooooo surprised when you characterized yourself as our group’s john….  can you detect my digital sarcasm?  you’re john alright — complete with all the plusses and the minuses… (HELP!  I need somebody…) 

all of this…

 and all of this…

 

if i am george, i can be proud of that.  george was the w.p.wensk of the band anyways — realistic and somewhat cynical.

roughty, as usual, you’re the funniest one on this blog.  i can always count on you to crack my ass up everytime i log on here.  i liked stoney’s reference to your trumpeteering and wish i could relive those days (with the volume turned down slightly).  however, i don’t think you’re the paul.  just the same, the trumpet connection is a hard one to top.  however, roughty, your commentary on the strokes is worth revisiting when your musical taste grows up a little bit… 

roughty, we are the VA connection on this blog, and it’s time we formed some solidarity.  you need to give up on your shitty giants and start being a real football fan — a skins fan.  ps — the mets suck.  they’re going down the toilet as we speak.

finally, i gotta say, you guys are all running a great (if not heavily trafficked) blog, and i hope to contribute with a higher frequency in the future.  the braves are coming on strong, and you all better wait and see how they’ll dominate each of your respective “teams” — if they can so be called — once fall comes along.

last thing, i want to show you all some pics from last weekend’s fishing expedition.  not too many fish, but a couple interesting pics.

tadpoles

 a copperhead swimming the river.  (i saw about 20 of these sonsabitches)

 i did catch a few trout.

  look close and see a snapping turtle underneath that rock.

  who the hell is that guy?  oh well, at least he’s wearing a braves cap.

a final thought and maybe a shortie roll call just for shits and giggles —

i got no thoughts of my own, so i’ll leave you with a thought i stole from stoney’s counterpart.  take this to heart for real, guys.  he’s not regarded as a genius for nothing, i guess.

People say I’m lazy dreaming my life away,
Well they give me all kinds of advice designed to enlighten me,
When I tell that I’m doing Fine watching shadows on the wall,
Don’t you miss the big time boy you’re no longer on the ball?I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round,
I really love to watch them roll,
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go,

most savage beatle:  george h.

fuckin right bitches.

 

 

American Rock = The Blood of the Universe

Before I start, I want to mention that I did not include Pink Floyd in the Brit bands. Pink Floyd is classic, but never one of my loves. Pink Floyd, I forgot about you, but I don’t really care that much. Sorry.

The broad scope of American rock makes it hard for me to pinpoint any one thing, or to focus too long on anything. This is going to be a whambamthankyoumam kind of thing.

First, Elvis. Elvis is the fucking King of Rock and Roll. There is no other king. Chuck Berry is there too, but Chuck Berry is not the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis is the King. Without Elvis, I don’t know what would have happened. We would probably have an Elvis with a different name. Elvis, as a red-blooded American rock student, I salute you.

The 27 Club. The 27 Club is an exclusive club, reserved only for rockers who achieve amazing, superstar status through the exceptional qualities of their polyphonic debris. 27 Club members all died when they were 27, at the height of their fame. Most of the deaths can be linked directly to over-consumption of drugs, or a very closely related factor.

These people did not get rich and internationally famous because of their connections, their pretty face, their money, or any other thing than how badass they were at rocking the fuck out.

There are 5 member of the 27 club. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones and Kurt Kobain. How many Brits are in this infamous list, the sealed stamp of approval of rockstar god status? 1. Uno. Un. One. The ratio of Brits to Americans in this most critical list is 1:4, and that ratio plays itself out all over the place.

Is it wrong to base my decision on a list of musicians that glorifies a fiery death through rock and roll? No. Rock and Roll is a force of nature, a force unto itself, a mythical beast which exerts an enormous influence on the way people perceive and act upon the world. The thing about rock and roll is, it’s not even subliminal. These people are singing songs to us, lyricizing our deepest fears and desires, using everything that they have experienced to create a new experience for us. And we willingly buy (or steal online) these people’s souls, the product of an extraordinary effort of introspection, and then projection. It is a transcendent experience to listen to a live performance of rock; “a more perfect union” can be achieved, which is not all that different from doing the nasty.

Rock and Roll is a form of art, but it is also a form of religion. I, for one, deeply believe in the power of rock and roll, and the feelings and sentiments the music can inspire. Rock and Roll has changed my real-world actions before, it has pushed itself into my life and into the lives of the people around me. I am better for it, too.

When John Lennon said, “The Beatles are bigger than Jesus,” he was fucking right. There were, and still are, more people creating a more personal, intimate, transcendent relationship with their chosen rocker, than there are people creating those same types of relationships with Jesus. If you go to church and daze off, or do whatever, that doesn’t count, and I know it, and Jesus knows it. When you go to a real rock show, and something hits you in the stomach, you choke up, you tear up…you are having a fucking experience that can never be achieved again, ever, by anyone. It was your show, the band is on for you, and if you do it right, you can come away with something that is more than just a light show or magic show. It is a religious experience.

Now that I have established that rock and roll is a religion, I move on. Every religion needs a sacrificial lamb. The Gods of Rock are not a mellow breed. They do not take kindly to negligence. They need blood, and that’s what American rockers are here to provide. American rockers are the soul of Rock and Roll. Rock and Roll was invented here, Rock and Roll grew up here, and Rock and Roll will die here. The blues are from the deep South, via Africa, and I’m not really sure where country western is from. Mix those fuckers up, and you get some rock and roll.

I could go on. I could list band after band of American rockers, and compare them with British rockers, and see who borrowed what from who, and blabla. I’m not going to, though, because it all comes down to the fact that Rock and Roll is an American past-time, and it always will be. The altar of Rock is built on American soil, and stained with American blood.

I think that the icing on the cake is a club I kinda made up…the 28 Club. Right now, Bradley Nowell (sublime) and Shannon Hoon (blind melon) are the only two I have in there. I’m saving a spot open for Pete Doherty this year; he’ll be 29 next March.

For a sum-up, I chose Blind Melon’s song, “Galaxie.” Shannon Hoon died of a cocaine overdose, a roadie found his body in the bus, right before the band’s soundcheck.

Rock and Roll = Savage

For anyone who has shit to say about glorifying the wrong things about rock and roll, or blabla, I say, “Fuck off.” If it wasn’t about dying in the name of rock, then why aren’t there a bunch of badass rockers, making real rock and roll? They are out there, but they are few and far between. I am not lamenting the end of rock, because I believe in it too much to doubt. White Stripes, Strokes, Pete Doherty, here and there we see glimpses of eternal greatness.

There will be more.

The Strokes: A Dedication

I like my music. Roughty likes posting asinine, stupid videos. Here is an asinine, stupid video about music I like.

The Strokes are one of the defining bands of this generation. Period. Is This It? came out in 2001, and it was fucking nasty. Whether or not you like the strokes, or how they look and shit, you cannot deny the beats and the tunes. It’s like trying to deny Al Green or something, it just cannot be done, all matters of taste and opinion aside. If you are alive and listen to music, you cannot deny the strokes.

Watch this video of Jules, the lead singer. Jules is a fucking savage pimp, and all indie-hipsters who claim such recognition and categorization owe a large percentage of their self-identity and worth to this biotch. Fucking savage.

I would like to note a few things from this video. I only watched it once, and I’m at work, so I’ll try to paraphrase, and keep it fuzzy.

1. Note Jules’ excessive inebriation. He can barely speak. If I had to guess, he is real fucked up on a variety of drugs, which I won’t even try to put my finger on, because my guess is, it’s probably a lot worse than it looks. This guy is a fucking rockstar, and he is totally whacked out of his mind.

2. Note Blu-Blocker sunglasses. No coked-out, fucked up interview would be possible without the strongest, and biggest black UVA-blocking glasses on the market. In the general sense, I apply a simple rule for identifying when rockers are fucked up. The bigger the sunglasses, the more they are hiding. If you are wearing bright yellow, tiny trendy glasses to the show, then you are not hiding hideous, glaring red eyeballs with a black eye to boot. Jules is fucked up, and very much so. Rocker.

3. The guy asks Jules, “Remember that time when you put out Room on Fire, was it really just this huge whirlwind of drugs, booze and sex? Like they say it is? Was it really like that?” Jules goes, “Uhhhh ya.” Period. He’s not bragging about it. He hasn’t slept in days….”remember the good old days when you were a rockstar?”….uhhh you mean like what I did last night and what I’m doing tonight and the night after that? Ya I remember that, it’s called rock and roll, and that’s why you are a reporter, and I’m the star. Next question.

Anyway, I could keep going, but I won’t. This video is dedicated to Roughty, who loves the strokes more than me, and introduced me to this most excellent band.

Julian Casablancas = Savage

Also note, video is in French, excessive use of over-used clips of over-used songs, and again, how fucking wasted is Jules?

Again…am I a rockstar blogger? I like to think so.