Monkey See Monkey Do

I've been trimming my pubes again. It's a big step for me and I thought you'd all like to know that. It helps you relate to me. I know most of you think of me as some god like man. And sometimes Gods have a way of being alienated. And just like Thomas Sowell I think your preoccupation with alienation is the key to understanding your tendency towards totalitarianism.

None of you know much about the secret missions I am on. I will let you in on one.

It comes from good friend, the Drug Monkey:

The flood that brought back the pain happened about mid-piss, and it had nothing to do with kidney stones. It was a flood of memories, and it was triggered by the fact that the bathroom had finally been cleaned. You see, it would seem my employer has changed the mixture of chemicals they use to sanitize the little boys room, and those that they now use, and I swear I am not making this up, smell a lot like the perfume an ex-girlfriend of mine used to wear.

Like most monkeys this monkey is caught in a maze. Unaware of even the tiniest streams that reality pours forth. My response seems cruel. But I know truth. Or more of it than any of you will ever know.

"All the time we have been watching you I never considered you a fool. I admired your dogged determination in the face of adversity. Did you really think such a beauty could be won over by some scotch swilling smock wearing monkey? She was there. In your piss room. Collecting valuable information. I just hope I haven't compromised myself by identifying and outing her to you."

I am doing my best. I will protect him. I keep a watchful eye over this monkey. Because as monkeys go, he's OK. He almost never takes a dump anywhere else but the toilet.

Things go deep. Very deep here. But perhaps I have talked too much. I cannot risk divulging myself. Not at this time.

Taco Bell customers are dicks.

They are also pretty bad shots. I can attest to that. Some asshole who just finished gorging himself on TacoSmell threw his cup at me while I was walking home from another fast food place. I had my back turned to the fucker and he still missed. I am not sure if the culprit was the truck that immediately passed by, so I chose not to throw my Wendy's drink at him.

Plus I love Coke. So I don't want to waste any. And maybe the guy just hated Wendy's. But I could have hit him if I chose to. From the 1st grade to the 8th grade I was an 8 time all-star in the backyard football league I started.

Check these Amazing Stats out :

Attempts 4,387 Completions 3,689 TDS 647 Int's 74 (I kept stats)

I was also 7-2 in Super Bowls and was always chosen as the "all time quarterback." If you don't know what ATQB is, then let me explain.

Whenever there is an odd number of players in a backyard or street football game one player gets chosen to play QB for both teams. Everybody thought it unfair for just one team to get me. Because my team almost always won. That's how good I was.

In fact I was so good at backyard football back then that my brain chemistry has been completely re-wired to expect that level of dominance in all my activities. Be it trivia games at local bars, humping fat chicks, or just getting ahead of all the losers in this world.

A lot of things are finally starting to make sense to me. Like Jeff Fahey and I have the same birthday. I had a dream last night about the Benefactor, only it wasn't Mark Cuban. Because Mark Cuban is an ass.

In the dream I had someone named the "Benefactor" donated 40,000 dollars to me on PAYPAL. I don't really feel like making this post lucid or tying up all the disconnected ramblings today. Deal with it.

Make a Donation and save the whales and by whales I mean my fat ass

I've always respected panhandlers. With them you know exactly what you're getting for your money. Nothing. Other than participating in the slow eventual suicide of a mentally ill, chemical dependent, social outcast.

I am not really asking for money. But you could think of a donation as preventing advertising from appearing on this website. Of course any reader of this site understands that I am a Marxist and would never put advertising on the site.

The reason I can't ask for money is the quality of this website isn't worth any amount of a donation you might think to give. That's why I thought it would be fun to set the minimum donation at 1 million dollars. Then if I just got one donation I'd be a millionaire.

But then I thought it would be more fun to see people donate crazy stupid amounts like 45 cents. That would be funny.

I am really trying to find work so don't feel guilty about not donating. I mean do we really need another Mark Leyner rip off artist staying home trying to write the next great comedic novel?

The donate button is all the way at the bottom of this site. So you can totally avoid ever seeing it if you never scroll past the latest post.

When I meet a girl I try to impress her by telling her I will only pay child support for kids born in-wedlock.

Because I think we can all agree on punishing sluts.

The thing about all my children in/out of wedlock is I don't really like them. Otherwise I might pay child support. But probably not. Child support payments don't exactly leave you with enough Benjamin's to pay for twin lactating Asian hookers.

You would think I could get my lactation fantasies handled by one of my baby mamas. But you try getting between a toddler and a tit when he hasn't been fed all day.

I read somewhere that it was OK to breast feed a child for 7 or more years. So I convinced my girlfriend to do it. She'd just sell the food stamps for crack anyway.

And then I'd make her trade the crack for RC Cola. Cuz I'm Ghetto like that.

Top songs about strippers/prostitutes by UFO

Don't be knee jerk liberal and get pissed off by the title of this blog entry. UFO loves women. And unlike most bands out there UFO actually will take the females point of view seriously.

Not the typical misogynist hair metal that you might expect from Def Leppard or Dokken. Though it is true that British Heavy Metal is heavily influenced by UFO, Ufo's brand of music "may be the most under appreciated archetypal rock band since Thin Lizzy."

This guy totally gets what makes UFO great.

"Genre divisions don't apply inside my head, though, and the key advantage of UFO over most of the truer metal bands, for nostalgic purposes, is that nostalgia is a wistful emotion, and not many bands ever did wistfulness better than UFO. Their old songs sounded distracted and nostalgic when I was hearing them for the first time, and thus now I can listen to the new ones both as the subject of my recollections and the soundtrack of the exercise of recollecting. UFO sing me through reveries I know no other way to reach. I just wish I knew who else still wants albums like this."

"There's not currently much market for casual craftsmanship that isn't cloaked in period affectation or overproduced into abstraction, or discretion that isn't couched as coyness or jaded irony. UFO do no individual thing that some other band doesn't push to an extreme. I understand the logic of extremes, too, maybe too well. Maybe that's part of what I'm nostalgic for, an age when I knew less, when my world wasn't yet distended in so many directions, when the center didn't always seem so far away."

So here is the list of songs:

1. Cherry-The gold standard of all stripper songs. Note I mean songs about strippers , not songs strippers like or would play. Most strippers have never heard of UFO.

Dance for me there’s only you /Play the barrooms just for pennies /Wish I wasn’t just passing through.

On the tabletops she’s dancing, sit and smile into your beer /Turn around no cherry for me, let me know you know I’m here

Tell me your secrets, tell me no one way lyin’ now/ I feel just like a rolling stone/ Into the highways of the night I roll alone

Seriously what guy hasn't sipped into his beer and hoped his stripper was really looking at HIM?

2. Highway Lady

You may hear this song in some of your "dive" bars. It made it as a selection on Harley Davidson's Best Road trip songs Album. The song is about a trucker who has sex with the titular character. He recognizes that she takes away his pain and wonders "How she feels?" about it all. The John with a soul archetype song.

You will nedd to skip ahead to 4 minutes in the song unless you want to hear "can you roll her?" a good song , but nothing to do with strippers or hookers.

3. Dance your life away!

Chains chains!!!

Mrs. Romiustexis aka "Keri Russel" is with child

You heard it here last folks. Felicity is pregnant. With this news My pregnancy/lactation fetish fantasies have reached their Apex.

In other news I have finally settled in to my new/old hometown of Tempe.

Some might find these to be interesting facts about Tempe.

It's OK to cut in line at the local gas station if you are "just here for the beef jerky." Just stick your dirty hands into the beef jerky dispensing apparatus and be on your way. There is no need to pay for beef jerky in Tempe. As long as you know how to answer the clerk if she asks you the following question, "Just here for the jerky again?"

Yes. The answer is Yes.

I might be posting again on some kind of regular basis, but don't get your damn hopes up. None of you missed me. You just went on about your life like I don't matter. But if you stopped here at least every now and then you would know that it is OK for teen girls "to go wild." A scientist said so. Or a woman. Look Just go read the article for yourself if you don't believe me.

This post is dedicated to Apex TVs. Try and find a better 200 dollar TV anywhere. I dare you. They don't call it Apex for nothing.

I may have just killed Kafka

This isn't my last night in Palmetto, but it is close. So I thought it was about time that me and the bug had it out.

"It's kinda late isn't it?"

I guess it is.

"Before it strikes a quarter past seven, whatever happens I must be completely out of bed. Besides, by then someone from the office will arrive to inquire about me, because the office will open before seven o'clock."

What?

"I thought you liked Kafka."

I do.

"Haven't you read Metamorphosis?"

Of course I had.

"You must be the biggest bug I evber seen in my life."

"Do you really fail to see the irony?"

I live in Palmetto, Florida with the biggest Palmetto bug in the world. But I swat anyway.

"Yeah, I am leaving though."

But I don't think I quite get cockroaches. They have some crazy ass ability to flaten themselves out. And this flyswatter approach is going to leave a disgusting amount of splatter.

"I just can't believe you didn't recognize the quote as Kafka."

Fucking roach. Contact buzz. But even my halucinations are smarter than me.

"They won't know. If you let me go. I'll just go back to hiding on your paper plates."

No can do Mr. Bug.

A Third Letter of Concern for Mrs. Steve Nash

I feel like that last post was a little rushed. It felt formulaic. Also I may have made some unseemly comments about you giving me oral sex. I am deeply sorry for that. I didn't mean to imply that you wanted to give me oral sex. I did not want to imply that I wanted you to give me oral sex. It's not like that for us. We have a special bond that transcends sex. Anyways I am not the type that has sex with married women. At least now that I am out of my twenties.

I don't think todays post is any better than yesterday's was, but at least this time I have a real reason to contact you. I was doing my usual Google searches for Steve Nash's wife. I went to the same old site that inexplicably show up higher than mine.

Nothing's changed really. None of "those" sites keep in contact with you as much as I do. Unless they use the old mail system. But I am too worried about George Bush snooping on what should be our private correspondence. I know you are thinking that the Internet is not really private. But since nobody reads this site we might as well be talking in hushed tones in the girl's bathroom stall.

Like I said nothing has really changed until I noticed one of the comments that a blogger left about you. It really concerned me. The only thing that makes me feel better about this whole situation is that I am relocating back to Phoenix. So if this guy fucks with you or your family, just let me know. I can take care of things like that for you.

But here's what he said:

I see more and more people coming here to look for Steve Nash and family pictures... Glad you decided to stop by.

I'm doing my best to exhaust all my free Internet photo sources...pretty soon I'm going to have to go another route...

Another route? What the fuck? How far is this guy willing to go? All the way? Is that why his google page rank is higher than mine? Is this guy rumaging through your garbage. Are there high priced blackmail photos of you out there that I should know of? Because I would like to know some of them.

A letter of re-introduction to Mrs. Steve Nash.

I know I promised a while back not to write letters to you any more. But I break my promises a lot. Ask my parole officer. If you see him tell him I said hi.



I figured since I was moving back to Phoenix I should send you a "letter of introduction" just like they used to back in the good old days.

I am not too sure how these things work anymore. I mean the FBI has already handed you a threat assesment about me. Your more likely to die in a car accident than ever meet me. Much less perform oral sex on me.


Thing you might want to know about the oral sex thing. It takes me forever to come that way. You could be down there for a while if that's the way we go at it.


Also my poop turns yellow the next day if I drink a lot of beer. I think that is a sign that my liver is ready to quit. I am not sure if you needed to know that I just wanted to tell you something personal and private about me. Since I know so much about you.

In what can only be described as a coup Tempe Arizona lands relocation of World Headquarters

That's right folks. Tempe lost the cardinals and some may say that is a blessing. Along with losing ASU's college football coach.

But Tempe has gained. World Control as relocated World Head Quarters from Palmetto, Florida.

Light posting if any while the transition is completed.