Because It's Been A Few Days....

1. I think I want to be castrated. What the hell will I need them for once I'm happy with the amount of offspring I've created? If I did go through with the whole procedure I would get into scuffles and dare people to kick me in the balls.
"Go ahead. See if I care." I'd say.
Then when they have that shocked look on there face from me not feeling pain I'd uppercut them in the jaw and kick their still existing testicles.



2. I know that I've said many times before that everyone in this country is crazy but are they idiots too? Just go see the crowd at a WWE event or watch people at a wedding reception become way too excited over the Electric Slide and the Macarena. These people just make me sick. I'm a crazy idiot like that.

3. I like birds but they just fly away when I try explain my fondness to them.

Hoping For The "Good" Crazy

Everyone that I know is crazy. So, if they're all crazy I must be crazy too. It's fine with me if everyone one is not quite normal. I think it's safe to say, though, that there is "good" crazy and "bad" crazy. Soon, I will go crazy. I'm hoping that it's the "good" kind.

A bandmate and friend of mine recently phoned to tell me that he's going out west to "get away". He thinks his sanity may be out there living amongst the craziness that is southern California. Los Angeles was the place he named first and then San Diego. We've been writing music together for the past year and a half and suddenly this didn't matter to him anymore. Just last week the son-of-a-bitch mentioned buying a P.A. system and not being able to wait until we started playing out. The only thing I could think of saying to him was "Well, sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do." Then he says "Yeah, well...okay, I'll stay in touch."

A half hour later he calls me back to ask for a phone number of a mutual friend of ours that lived in L.A. We hadn't spoken to this person for 9 years. What did he expect this person to do? I played out the conversation in my head:

"Hey, remember me?" he'd say to her.
"Yeah, wow, its been a while. How's it going?"
"Umm, well, I'm coming out to California tomorrow. Do you think I could crash with you for a little bit?"
"Uh, dude, I'm married and have 3 kids now. I don't think that'd be cool" she'd say.
"Aw c'mon. I'll just sleep in your basement or your attic. Just until I get a job and a place to go. You'll never know I'm there"
"I'm sorry. I don't think that will work"
"O.K. Well....see ya"
"Yeah, nice hearin' from you"
CLICK

So I'll move on and keep writing songs by myself because it's what I do. By the way, anyone know a bass player or drummer?

Looks Matter When You Kill

So now we've got this Neil Entwistle character. A handsome fellow if I do say so myself. And he's got that charming English accent to go with those looks. A one time stranger in the world is now a media star for blowing away his wife and 9-month old daughter.

Is it just me or do you have to be good-looking to get national recognition for killing family members? I'm sure that people are killing their spouses and children on a daily basis but if they're not white, young and handsome no one ever hears about it. Think about it. Why on earth did Scott Pederson get so much coverage? I'm sure there were at least 20 other guys who killed their pregnant wife in the same year as him but we didn't hear a thing about them. But he was hot and his wife was hot (oh my god, did I just called a guy "hot"?) and that is clearly why these cases make the news. Face it: Unfortunate looking people are killing and dying every day. If I can't hear about these "ugly" murders well then I don't want to hear about any at all. CNN wouldn't cover such a story if the murderer and/or victim looked like people in this blog's pictures. (apologies to the people in the pictures)

40% Of Strato Cumulus Clouds....zzzzzzz

I feel the urge to write something just to keep my blog going. Of course, when I go into writing a blog with this kind of attitude it usually turns out lame and I end up deleting it. As someone with not much of a life at the present time, I don't have much to say. Hell, I don't even think about anything anymore let alone speak about them. I am a living "Duh".

When I do think of something to say it's almost always interesting to me and me only and when I try to tell others what I'm thinking about I start noticing a glazed look in their eyes. I get the gratuitous nods too. Sometimes I'll say "floppy dolly dinglehouser" right in the middle of a sentence just to see if they're listening.

I tend to be fascinated by things that no one else seems to care about. That should be fine but I should learn to keep some things to myself. Random statistics, cloud movements and hockey are good examples of things that are best kept locked up inside my head. Amen.

Don't Tell Me That Sports Are Silly, I Already Know

I feel kind of silly when I realize that I am a fan of sports. What does it matter to my life if my favorite team wins or loses? I understand the inanity of it all but I still cheer for the jocks who I hated in High School. Well, High School athleticism is a whole other story. Maybe it's that I haven't had much success in life and I'm winning a small victory when my team wins. I guess I'm living vicariously. Who knows?

One good thing is that I'm not quite as crazy as those around me when it comes to football. I thought I was a Pittsburgh Steeler fan but when I got around some other rabid people during the recent Superbowl run I saw that I wasn't much of a football fan at all. If that's the way I'm supposed to act to be a "true" fan well then I should find some other interests. I just sat there and looked at those screaming and dancing people and thought, "Why are you so insanely happy?" " What do you get out of this?"

My favorite sport is hockey and I recall reading or hearing somewhere that the most intelligent bunch out of all the sports fans is the hockey fan. O.K. I'll go with that.

The Forgotten Games

Does anyone really care about the Winter Olympics? Or the Summer Olympics for that matter? I can't think of a single soul who anxiously awaits these silly events. The most ridiculous events would have to be the biathlon and curling. Where does it come in handy to have the ability to ski far distances and then shoot a rifle? Maybe a park ranger in the Rockies might be accustomed to that sort of thing. Somehow I doubt it. And then there's curling. Are people that practice curling (called curlers I assume) considered athletes? I guess cleaning snow that lay in front of a moving rock can be tiresome. Anyway, me just talking briefly about the Olympics here suggests that I might have given this topic just a little too much thought. Damn! Another ten minutes completely wasted. Now I'm going to go get completely wasted.

Lazy Days Will Soon Be Gone

I wanted to be jobless forever. It's everyone's dream. Well, at least us reasonable people. I guess there are wackos out there who actually enjoy taking orders. These people are known as freaks and I want nothing to do with them.

I've been a part time bum/stay-at-home-dad for over a year now but something strange is happening. My attitude toward joblessness is changing. I want to work now. Employment, I'm finding, may be necessary to stay sane. This is very unfortunate because I felt that being employed had actually made as me crazy as ever. It is truly a Catch 22. I guess I doomed to be insane either way.

So let's all shed a tear for the guy who must soon return to work. Poor me.

My God-Damned Right Eye

My right eye is evil. It's always watering and red. I don't know what I ever did to it to make it hate me so much. How do I make my right eye like me and stop doing these terrible things to me. I tried reasoning and begging with it but it wouldn't acknowledge my pleas.

One thing that puzzles me is that the left eye always behaves itself. It never acts up and is always kind to me. It's like those cartoons you see with the devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.

Both eyes work well together when it comes to the task of vision but I assume that, at times, the right eye gets bored with that and has to mess with me just for shits and giggles. My right eye laughs at my allergy drops. In fact, when I was looking in the mirror, I could have swore that I saw the right eye acting as if the drops were just a delightful spring rain. It had it's little umbrella twirling and everything. And I know I heard singing.

I will get you right eye! The left eye and I have a plan.