DEFROCKED AND UNVEILED

2009-05-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

I
I can't help but love comedian Lewis Black. He's a fiery, curmudgeonly old man teetering on a breakdown by just the verge of his hysterics. This style of entertainment for him is very funny and rings true because his generally angry rhetoric about vulnerability into denouncing stupidity is real & dead-on. 2 for the price of 1.

II
Hot girls into reading books. Seeing them buried in pages stirs my urges amidst the backdrop of shelves of volumes. Sexy brains conjuring up library fantasies. Sometimes quiet cannot remain shushed.

III

IV
Pretty redhead in the checkerboard/tablecloth-patterned cotton dress. Yellow flower in your hair tucked behind your ear. Cute parasol held by white gloves. Looking like a picnic date emerging from some breezy park or beachside patio with the name cherry. You're a real Memphis Belle & your shiny black heels just knock me out.

V
Victor Lustig was a Czech-born swindler performing some of the most colorful cons in the 1920s & 30s. He actually sold the Eiffel Tower(!) TWICE(!!) Imagine the absurdity in telling people the monument was being sold for scrap metal & they were buying the rights to take down the structure. Classic.

VI
Been following up on Sasha Grey after her appearance on Tyra Banks. She's a smart 21yr old porn star attempting the difficult feat of jumping from adult film to mainstream having landed the lead in an upcoming Steven Soderbergh movie. With a 150+ fuckography, having worked with photographer Richard Kern & her co-manager being guitarist Dave Navarro, it's easy to see how her persona is one of unflappable attittude & astute transgression that explores some extreme corners of sexuality. Apparently one of the reasons why she got into the biz (at 18) was to challenge its ideals & while agreeing that too many women do get chewed up n' spit out, success & survival depends on the savvy of playing the game of the old boys network. Such existential alertness not surprisingly is resulting in her launching her own label soon. Prestige crossover & understanding the market. Are we looking at porn's first artiste?

VII
Thinking of the archetypal dumb blonde in Hollywood brings to mind Marilyn Monroe and Judy Holliday as Billie Dawn in 'Born Yesterday'. But for the beauty n' wit; the cliches & quintessential stereotypes reveal far more into the actual women beyond character roles interpreting bimbos. To be 'dizzy' is a person unformed as well as uninformed. Lack of oppurtunity or vision is always conquerable when respect for position is shown allowing one to blossom wonderfully. The journey toward education & learning to think is reward for self-assurance which is victorious because of that knowledge. Marilyn into 'Dostoyevsky(!) & Judy in 'Solid Gold Cadillace' - proof positive.

2009-05-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

'This is England' is a great movie. Highly recommended.

A NIGHT OUT IN NAWLINS: DIVAS IN THE FISHBOWL

2009-05-17T10:07:00.000-07:00

Clubbing with cousins in the 'Big Easy'. Shaking booty in sweaty outposts where hipster indie-rock kids are too cool to dance but everyone else does just fine. The weekend invasion of the countless bulging the scene. Cranky resident associations like some new temperance society complaining to councils about noise. Tweaked out dudes in untucked shirts looking like C n' D list celebs with the star appeal. Over-aggressive alpha males trying to ply us with liquor as sweating DJ sets of techno & house music swell the floor for strangers without conduct or regard for the sensibilities of others. The snobs who say the venues are contrived with bad art & cheesy desgn. Go-go hotties writhing in suspended cages while also up above, balconies n' staircases allow for impromptu make-out sessions & glimpses of cameltoe n' commando by slobbering, slurring hook-uppers. Drunk bimbos taking skanky pics on their cameras & cellphones to no doubt post on facebook. Trips to the bathroom where ladies form a wall infront of the mirror to primp their hair & adjust their tits in their tops. Ridiculous lon lines at the bars as the demographic of regulars play out in their moments (where at any given moment reason or common sense is outnumbered & outweighed). Bouncers n' security participating with their part to play in this performance of the sacred n' profane. Prosperity for all whatever the locality. Trippy is the disparate experience & my head is swimming. 3AM, roll on.

2009-05-11T11:29:00.000-07:00

Mark my words, Jamaica: One day I WILL visit!

REPETITION IS THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT AS THE SHOULDER-SHRUG OF CLUELESSNESS MARCHES ON

2009-05-09T08:24:00.000-07:00

INFLUENZA
The Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918-19 had first worked its way into the trenches on the Western front during WWI & the severity wasn't recognized until soldiers returned home with the first cases of illness involving symptoms of dry coughing, fever & diarrhea. Soon military bases began reporting an alarming rise of stricken. City medical officers told people to keep fit as possible & avoid anything which might give them with a cold. Teachers n' students began emptying schools & hotels began doubling as emergency hospitals (regular hospitals having since been overrun with infected patients). The crucial stage of the flu involved people's lungs filling with liquid causing them to drown in their own fluids. Undertakers couldn't keep up with the death toll & cemeteries were ordered to stay open for Sunday burials. Horse-drawn hearses & volunteers digging graves became a regular sight. Theatres, movie halls, storefronts & public areas were closed, women on the street took to wearing veils and amazingly only doctors & nurses were told to wear face masks. As quickly as the deadly, disastrous, potent pathogen arrived, it just as suddenly subsided and while normalcy took time to return, families had been decimated & left to grieve as news broke that peace had been declared in Europe. Around the world an estimated 40 million victims died - 4 times more than the total deaths of the Great War.

2009-05-02T09:20:00.000-07:00

I
Pig pandemic panic! (the sickness believed to have originated in pork since the 1930's but now mixing with avian bird flu, the mutation has become a powerful virus & with the jump from livestock to the community, infection from human-to-human transmission greatly increases the risk of killing us). Ever notice how fear moves from the sublime to the crazy? I knew the world financial crisis got REALLY bad when redlight disticts recently offered rebates as witnessed by German prostitutes introducing flat-rate discounts & daypasses as incentives to keep the punters shelling out. Hey, sex is business but now this disease outbreak shit to contend with? From the global launchpad that is transportation and all the alarm over Mexico & threat-level warning alerts drumming up impending scary visions of possible sudden death? Out of the frying pan into the fire, desperation has no boundaries.

II
Kathie Lee Gifford says she doesn't understand the appeal of thongs & why some women want to floss their heienies. Well seeing as my garments range from cotton undies & silk/satin teddy bottoms to smiley face n' crayola boxers and playful Wonder Woman y-fronts, naturally, g-string wear will be right at home. Some of us just like to naughty it up & have no interest in anything from Kathie Lee's child labor/sweatshop clothing line. I'll stick with my t-bars & she can keep her granny panties.

2009-04-25T13:34:00.000-07:00

9. AND IN CONCLUSION, FUCK YOUR EMO-SCREAMO AND THE 15-PIECE BUCKET IT COMES WITH
2007. Age 20.

It's been quite a journey from first hearing The Police, Rush, Cheap Trick & Genesis. And metal has certainly come a long way in definition. Today it's an all-encompassing term embodying so many questionable bands. My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, The USed??? Get real. Guyliner, haircuts, skinny jeans & studded belts on par with ACTUAL heavy metal? Gimme a break. The real screamo crashed & burned in the mid-90's. As an antidote to a first wave of boo-hoo emo, it mutated into spazzy powerviolence. The MTV-core stuff now is nothing but an accessory; packaged rebellion sold in Hot Topic. Phoney, fake & fraudulent.

Coming home one night from a filmfest of having seen documentaries on metal n' punk, some friends & I decide to steal a KFC flag. For some reason the local outlet has become a hotspot hangout for donkeyville, emo avant garde dorks. I once got into an argument questioning whether Kurt would still be the almighty championing punk rockish credibility, value & merit if he was still alive. And if anyone would be listening (funny how he seems more alive in his death). I was a called a neanderthal. Odd that I'd be deemed a primitive cave-dweller from a group I'd just as consider cro-magnon sludge. Another time I stated that Marilyn Manson & System of a Down, however intelligent, are overrated. I was told I know nothing of heavy music period. This was a great source of laughter depending on whose point of view. Just as funny as being called a devil worshipper seeing as black metal (while I'm an admitted lesser amateur if not novice with this genre) has never been my forte. Yes, the red flag with the grinning Colonel bearing a slightly evil resemblance to our dark majesty is coming home with me. Some nights later near the deserted parking lot we unhoisted Mr. Sanders from his pole & made off. There was a cleaning crew by the front windows & we weren't exactly ninjas of stealth outside. How we weren't heard or seen must have been due to Beelzebub's unearthly assistance as a sign of approval. It was 3 or 4 days until the flag was replaced. Being in that KFC once in a blue moon is still an ongoing battle to have bathrooms clean of alcohol empties, puke, cigarette smoke smell, stale piss and/or unflushed toilets. So much for real orders of business.

Reflecting & reminiscing on so many events makes me think of how I used to say "I want to have a real life". Whatever that means, it comes part n' parcel with a series of developments. Entries & episodes of shaping where only much later do we realize that perhaps it's possible to live more in moments than ordinarily in months or years without knowing it at the time. And only when we remember or have brought to our attention this equation, whether heightened urgency, setbacks or sheer elations do we have the concept of 'smothered into the mural of the past' infact an axiom now more clearly seen than ever before.

CHASING GUTTERFLIES

2009-04-25T08:20:00.000-07:00

I
Obama returns from Turkey where he was asked about the Armenian genocide. He says that the government should deal openly & honestly with it's troubled history; an episode which the government continually refuses to even properly acknowledge. A short while after, The Iranian President (again!) this time in Switzerland at a UN conference on racism makes inflammatory remarks about Israel during holocaust commemorations. Some 20 EU delegations protested the speech by walking out. And lastly David Duke (remember him? Ex-Klansman & Louisiana Repub.Rep. no stranger to hate speech) is detained by Czech authorities & then kicked out of the country after his invitation by neo-nazis has resulted in reports of him allegedly making statements denying 'the final solution'. How do we vindicate victims of tragic pasts when on-going pain only continues to serve up denial by revisionists, making healing impossible?

II
Hahaha, how we love to burst people's bubble. Championing the underdog & then taking perverse pleasure in kicking them off the mountain; top of the heap into trash. Look at how Susan Boyle from 'Britain's Got Talent' was the toast of the town n' hailed only to face backlash within a mere week. Paraded because ridicule equals ratings? The newspapers calling her frizzled, frumpy & ugly duckling. And thousands of bloggers calling her rise, fake & forced - headline dosage of fresh healthy cynicism. Nastiness, insensitivity & cruelty notwithstanding, the homely Scottish spinster, singing sensation has infact challenged sterotypes about beauty; eye of the beholder & skin deep. She represents the hidden gem of talent in a person where perceived appearance is totally misleading of her human value so it stands to reason that in this context she must grasp the irony & allusion of what it is to be 'plain' and to exploit those features for fame. I think the exposure of her stature has made her triumphant if only for being the outsider who finds meaning & her place in life. Good for her, a reminder not to be too quick to judge a book by the cover as character is destiny & proves timelessly that the meek can inherit self-worth.

III
Did Miss California pretty much lose the Miss USA crown to NC because of her honest reply in saying she didn't support gay marriage which resulted in a low score & therefore no title? Fuck yeah. To me the real harm is not even in mistakes with the Q&A sessions but the subliminally forced banality: have confidence without opinions and smile & say nothing of substance. Violation can & clearly does result in punishment and apparently straying from world peace & an end to hunger is just too costly. Pageants suck!

2009-04-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

My Aunt & Mom have been spinning me crackers lately. They both saw The Phantom of the Opera classic, silent movie not long ago & now apparently have big designs on catching the musical. They're intent on dragging me with them (Abbie could use a little artsified culturification). Being with the 2 of them at the same time is fun because the pair of them together are always a card but I just don't think I'm gonna be down for all that singing. Lon Chaney, I think I'll settle with you for the time being.

2009-04-14T13:36:00.000-07:00

R.I.P. forever Marilyn (Ann Briggs), (Ann Taylor) Chambers

2009-04-13T11:27:00.000-07:00

If Cobain was still alive, there'd be a whole lot of angry feminuts to shove a song title back down his throat.

EVERYTHING I ALWAYS WANTED IN A SHOW ABOUT SEX BUT AM AFRAID TO MULTI-TASK

2009-04-13T10:45:00.000-07:00

My Easter weekend was full of broken halos, immaculate conceptions, forbidden fruit & my very own personal Jesus -for the 2nd time in my life, I was at a weekend sex show. A convention filled with replica vaginas & latex lady parts; hundreds of goodies being peddled casually as if kitchen ware & for the most part viewed with modest intrigue. As my friend and I are strolling the aisles of adult playthings, skintight outfits, dvds & publications all in a warehouse under bright lights with David Holmes blaring from some far corner of the building, it just hits me - the sterilization almost clinical (can dirty be this antiseptic)? As porn & sex becomes more significant in relationships, it's quite strange to see the emotional provocation of these kinky items infact somewhat pointless to certain degrees. Strappy leather harnesses with grips & handles, traffic-cone-size buttplugs, gorgeous but humanly impossible heels? It seems more like functional art on display for how else can you view the glass dildos with a flower inside or stainless steel ridged vibrators that you'd half expect to dice onions & absorb spills? While I have nothing against any of these & didn't come across anything that I hated, something about this trade show failed to ultimately pique my interest. Maybe some are deliberately meant to be unsexy as to not intimidate the more conservative attendees; pandering so as not to put off. But isn't he whole point of sex toys & their demo pitch booths meant to be exciting thus putting the mind at ease because otherwise the opposite inference suggests that we are too guarded or scared. Or even worse - boring. Organizers can be credited for being risque but perhaps the reality of battery/plug-in products is that they aren't sexy - people are. It's all about what we can do with imagination that makes for inventiveness. There's nothing wrong with accessories & coming home with an overstuffed grab-bag of freebies will make for some neat conversation pieces but for now (as someone still working on getting a sybian or one of those lo-fi machines improvised from powertools & a little carpentry) I can pass on d.i.y. dungeon kits & the permanency of drilled holes in the ceiling to install a love swing.

2009-04-07T13:25:00.000-07:00

My God, the Rolling Stones were actually cool once.

2009-03-24T13:27:00.000-07:00

March 24, 1973

ST. PATRICK'S IRISH STEW & OTHER RECIPES

2009-03-17T13:25:00.000-07:00

Spring lamb. click here
Corned beef brisket. click here
Blackcurrant tart. click here

2009-03-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

Happy International Women's Day

2009-03-08T11:39:00.000-07:00

BONO-fide

THE 2009 IRISH ALL-STAR TEAM

2009-03-07T09:10:00.001-08:00

Goal. click here
Defense. click here
Midfield. click here
Forward click here

2009-02-01T09:09:00.000-08:00

8. CANNIBAL CORPSE HELPS THE SPAWN OF SATAN CONQUER THE BULLIES
MAR 2006. Age 18.

St. Patrick's Day turned ugly real quick outside of a sports bar when the sound of a car's squealing brakes was not enough to keep from hitting some dude in a leather jacket. Some friends & I turned just in time to see a body in mid air slam into the windshield then hear the thud of him frontwards hit the pavement. Making our way over behind a running crowd we watched the driver get out shaking his head to check his fender, hood & headlight damage and then shout at the barely semi-conscious pedestrian "You fucking skid, what the hell's the matter with you?" Still yelling at the poor guy, witnesses begin cursing the driver for his insensitivity. Completely dismissive to the victim, he angrily harps back about insurance going through the roof & not being at fault. Unable to see he's not the one worse off, he abusively launches some racial profanity at some black men which seals his fate as he is chased by one of whom that promptly proceeds to kick the living 7 shades of shit out of him, before others pull the assailant off. When the cops arrive the crowd has doubled, the black man is cuffed & the driver treated in a more humane & sympathetic manner. This infuriates many & with more arrests, what seemed to be a full riot in the making, evaporates shakily when more cops arrive. The crowd only disperses when the driver is cuffed, placed into the back of a squad car & driven away and when the paramedics (last to arrive) & tow truck show up.

Not that I was a fugutive fleeing a mob (or was I?) but my own encounter of surrounded hostilities came about as some yet again perceived infraction. One never explained to me except only through its intention of threat - you're dead! This time another trio of vapid enemies has arisen dispensing grief. Their contempt & disdain galore, somehow I sense they regard me as the very antithesis of what they consider good taste & thus the epitome of an outcast. To them I am a walking mutiny as much as a mutant. That's ok, for beneath all the pedestals, crosses & high horses I'm under, the introduction of gravity has an ironic way of putting things right. Real winners these Kelly Clarkson-Avril Lavigne-Fergie clones. Glamazons & fashionistas they aren't. Their leader, a chunky bad-breathed loudmouth who I once heard someone call 'Dumpy McChub Stub', has an infinite capacity for making outrageously false accusations against me such as ---

"you devil-worshipping bitch who slaughters cats"
(Um, no. But my love of death metal & grind may be responsible for the slur. The music is gutteral & gruesome to make a serial killer blush; enveloped in powerful, razor-ripping, sandblasting machinist sound n' fury. With morbid but inventive titles & a variety of gory, gross & grotesque visceral visuals - I love it. As for animal cruelty? Never, but oddly I do have a pet black cat with a white patch over its left eye. His name is Faust)

"you make me sick"
(The real cause is called indigestion you overeating heffer)

"you dyke, slut, whore"
(Lez, yes. They honestly don't know how right they are. Easy & loose? I'm not a virgin but I'm also not the one who was suspended twice for giving blowjobs in the library & then the gym stands. Nor was I knocked up & then dumped only to take on 2 more useless specimens)

"you white trash, trailer park redneck skank"
(Nope. I'm devoid of uneducated ignorance. Try upwardly mobile middle class raised in non-decrepit, non-rundown surroundings. Sorry to say I didn't just come in off the turnip truck and my home (albeit in the South) is not a house perched atop any wheels so you can take that stereotype & stuff it up your cunt. But I can imitate the hick drawl with the best of them)

"you hick, cowgirl slut"
(Um, all of us are born & raised in the same state genius so what does that make you?)

"you stupid bimbo cheerleader"
(Ha! Smarter than you 3 tools put together anyday. And actually I'm on the basketball team but apparently being an athlete is the exact same as being a pep rally pom-pom shaker)

Everytime I countered their claims with sarcasm, I only fuelled further physical confrontation. If I was with friends they backed off & when I was alone they came after me. The time came to stand n' deliver when I was followed into the girls washroom one day. Myself, the trio & 4 gawkers waiting to see me get my ass kicked. Chunky tried to provoke me into making the first move so I could be jumped. After being bombarded with variations on countless lame insults I've heard before (I faked a yawn out of real boredom) & failing hopelessly to make me cry, I sprang my debauched imagination into gear. Having just read American Psycho & having absolutely no finesse for trash talk whatsoever, I respond to "now whattaya gonna do bitch?" by sticking my face into Chunky's and telling her in the best vulgar homicidal eloquence I can muster, maybe I can shove a hungry rat up your pussy then cut out your fucking heart & eat it, fatso! I hold her stare hard & after the gulp in her throat infront of stunned onlookers, my desired effect is achieved. I guess the prospect of a carving-flesh-eater wielding vermin is too bizarre & demented. Chunky contorts her face, calls me a twisted sicko & squeezes past suddenly not so tough nor wanting to lay her hands on me anymore. All that bravado & bluff turned inward on another coward. She makes a hasty retreat with her 2 lackeys & the 4 gawkers promptly flee as well. For the rest of the year ALL of them steer clear of me. Looking back on that anti-climactic day I realize I was wearing a shirt saying Damage Inc. It was lost on me then but metaphorically I finally vanquished the ogre without having to lift a finger & here it was the 20th anniversary of Master of Puppet's(!) A surging tide of pride filled me.

BEFORE THE SUPERBOWL THERE WAS THE GRUDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI

2009-01-31T11:19:00.000-08:00

Food for thought - is it Asian Flu if Koreans are allergic to me & I'm getting sick of them? Mae West once sang about a yellow fever of an alternative kind but my race relations with the Pacific rim for this past month have been less than stellar. Here's a shitlist ---

The idiot in my history class who hits on me, keeps getting rejected & now has his girlfriend believing I want him.
(?!?! Ok, if I was after sausage, I'm positive on the first try that I could land someone WAY more attractive, probably not hung like a baby carrot and someone without fierce halitosis & a smile devoid of food stuck between the teeth. Seriously dimwit, do something about the fucked up grill. Toothpaste, mouthwash & a dentist are usually a good start. As for you bitch with your hinting of wanting to fight me, hahahaha, we both know you got nothing)...

Tweedles dumb, dee, dork & doorknob in the internet cafe who tried to rip me off after I paid up front first.
(4 against 1, my how brave you lads are. You pricks were exposed as liars, would-be cheats & potential thieves and after proving you were the ones in the wrong who made the mistake, you STILL take the attitude n' approach that I'm at fault to blame to begin with? I should be sorry? And to add insult to injury you want to overcharge me double(!) on top of what I had already given you? Fuck off you squinting twerps. I bet if I was to return, I'd find myself on the slowest problematic computer. Coincidence? I think not. I have nothing against the mentally challenged having a job but seeing as you're all RETARDED, maybe you shouldn't be working front counter having to deal with money seeing as you can't properly calculate & making it up as you go along is not good business accumen as it'll only invite trouble when you dishonestly try to pad your till. Crappy memory & indecipherable lisp are also disadvantages to have, dumbasses)...

And lastly the cornerstore owner who refused to give me a simple plastic bag.
(So let's get this straight - young girl comes in with a heavy bag full of items about to burst at the seams & you deem it completely impossible to bestow a simple act of kindness; as if one less bag would bankrupt you to which now justifies you yelling at me. Way to stake your claim that even a little chivalry is a whole lot dead, you cheap n' rude miserly bastard)...

To every last one of you losers - wow, to think that I've been called devious or shifty. You take the cake. I ask what is it about your individual nature that makes all of you seem like perfectly content non people-persons? Are you really that stubborn & arrogantly closed off in your culture because if so may each of you giant, negative turds drop dead (from the restaurant to the laundromat). And the irony is not lost on me that of all times, such are my feelings on the matter when we've just been delivered a fresh, vibrant, uplifitng address to the nation about tolerance & understanding (well it's obvious you don't have it for me & I just don't get you so recognition my ass because the whole 'one bad apple' saying seems like a joke). Yeah, I know I must sound callous, shallow & wrongly too dismissive. Perhaps the real question is which of us is more ignorant right now? I say it's definitely you. I hate that you could aggravate me so much that an easy, general acknowledgement of difference could reach an all-time low ebb as to be approaching zero. Thanks & congrats, MOTHERFUCKERS!

2009-01-24T12:35:00.000-08:00

I'm in a dorky mood & feeling a bit tin pan alley this afternoon...

RABBIT STEW

2009-01-21T10:22:00.001-08:00

1. WOULD & COULD THE SEXUAL REVOLUTION HAVE GOTTEN UNDERWAY WITHOUT HUGH HEFNER?
Yes & rather easily. He certainly was a major socio-political kickstart but by no means was he alone. There were other crusaders.

2. FROM THE VERY BEGINNING COULD A WOMAN HAVE STARTED THIS EMPIRE BEFORE HEFNER?
Most def. There's no reason why a woman couldn't have made the strides n' achievements not only for the recognition & acceptance of men's fare but in also paving the way for the nudie mags to follow. An entrepreneurial woman is not out of the question. I think we have to look at someone in particular removed from the stigma of madams n' brothels & society's then overly conservative view at the time of the concentration of pressganged fallen females being exploited from the underground for money to be made purely in the interests of criminal enterprise. It most likely would have been scandalous (and it's easy to scoff at) but to dismiss all this & say impossible a woman couldn't have done it - who's to deny that infact not only did she exist somewhere but would have been poised & ready at the right moment?

3. PROBLEMS THAT CONTRIBUTE AND/OR JUSTIFY CRITICISM OF PLAYBOY
Certainly an impression that one gets. There's so much of an immediate sameness that most of the girls may as well be of an alien race. Also you have to look at intention. The girl growing up wanting to pose for the mag quite often has a certain high degree of exhibitionism, attention craving & narcissism going. I'm not saying educated women never come along but while the ultimate goal may be high fashion or mainstream modelling & this route can provide the outlet, a large number of the girls sadly aren't particularly bright (Anna Nicole, anyone?) so it could be a mistake to not have a career beforehand unless you know that you can use Playboy as a sure-fire compass to meeting someone super rich if that's all you're after.

4. WHAT DO WE SUSPECT ABOUT HEFNER THAT MORE THAN LIKELY ISN'T THE CASE?
Truth has a way of being stranger than fiction. Hef's whole realm seems to be a microcosmic universe & we've been conditioned to think that he is surrounded by a hedonistic harem; a cornucopia of bubbly pop tart, bimbo courtesans (and he helps with that imagery) but away from all the mansion trappings, the overall product could perhaps be seen as rather ordinary. Even boring. Just because he's secluded in that world, if he thinks everyone wants to be a part of it, well that's clearly false. But keep in mind, this is based on a perception & not an absolute. I mean, if it's true that makes advances & propositions to young girls and they respond with not dating anyone over 24 or 25 to which he replies neither does he, I can see the dirty old geezer/naughty humor in the allusion to a casting couch because of choosing ladies for his stock n' trade, but on the other side of that coin lies 'Ew, Grampa! Hands off'.

5. HAS THE BUNNY BRAND BEEN DUMBED DOWN AND/OR LOST STAYING POWER?
I think the original relevancy being about the all-natural girl next door for all its success is incredibly tame to its competitors (in a sense it always has been so it's humorous to think how harmful Playboy was once considered) & simply stresses what mainstream porn today reflects tiresomely - entrenched stereotype. With porn period, that accusation can be made against everything but when playmates venture into hyper-reality TV, to me that proves that the supposed cornerstone of sexual coup has become yet again another bitch to scripted choreograph. Let's face it, all regimes end up being watered down & thinned out but I think this is a case here of re-invention being the mother of necessity. It's all about the value of keeping your name out there & expansion is the key.

6. VIEWS ON THE LEGACY OF PLAYBOY
Well about Hef, I think the launch of Playboy mag was unspectacular (it's the impact that was made a big deal but not to forget, Albert Kinsey and the Masters & Johnson institute were rattling the status quo first with pioneering sex research studies). You gotta admire him for taking on the government; the feds came after him saying mailing porn was a violation of decency & obscenity, it was contraband trafficking, he stood firm challenging those laws and won laying the groundwork for a cottage industry of publications & riskier adult entertainment pushing the envelope. And not to be overlooked was his contribution to the idea that bureaucracy can't legislate morality & that communities should set the standards. So yeah, hats off to that. Hef was saying 'proteck ya neck' before Wu-Tang, ha.

7. WHY DOES THE ATTRACTION FOR PLAYBOY REMAIN?
It's always been high profile. There's an air of seductive respectability because it proclaims itself as providing taste & class in its quality. That's gonna draw ambitious girls everytime. When they can make $25,000 for a pictorial & subsequent appearances, it's that flash of instant stardom which is the lure but going back to problems, the big letdown is in the 15min. that quickly fades. It takes business savvy & determination to stay in the limelight and that's always easier said than done.

8. THE FUTURE IN STORE FOR PLAYBOY AND HEFNER
The mag is gonna keep on rolling, no doubt. The iconic association is a pure money maker & an international machine in various media territories which shows no signs of slowing down. It's identification & visibility is enormous. I believe Playboy have played their cards right in catering to a youth market & their portrayal/vision of women (superficial? you be the judge) will continue to adapt with changing times because even non-explicit, softcore women baring all will always have an audience. As for viagra Hef, isn't he a father of 2 pushing 80 & a recent divorcee? That right there is stamina. He's a likeable old fogey who's done good work with his money-giving to many charitable causes & is an impressive film buff historian to boot. I think when he dies he'll be properly commemorated & spoken of fondly and perhaps in the final irony, even feminists he's clashed with will or may have something highly respectful to say.

2009-01-18T14:32:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching the Sex Pistols 'Filth and the Fury' documentary and felt like sharing this humorous commentary which I first heard on a Total Chaos cd.

2009-01-05T13:26:00.001-08:00

7. STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT RESULT IN AN UNLIKELY MARRIAGE BETWEEN PORN AND PINK FLOYD
2004. Age 17.

Before I met charismatic Amber, she was the quiet girl in art class I had seen around & was able to guage that we were possibly quite similar. The first time I noticed her outside of school was at a party where my arriving was greeted with 'Ace of Spades' blasting from a top bedroom window & my departure was with a bet I made to a friend to 'liberate' a 24 case of Rolling Rock beer right out of the kitchen. A few weeks later I spotted Amber in a downtown club most frequented by djs, drum&bass heads, technofiles and ex-skinhead cretins in search of E & special K fixes; for the most part all harmless showoffs & topped off with boastful drunks starting fights to impress their girlfriends. That summer I went to my first concerts (Megadeth, then Arch Enemy & then In Flames). I found out Amber had gone too, awesome. 3 years older than me, she was also a huge Sabbath, Zeppelin & Bowie hound to boot. We became fast friends where I further learned she was a big movie buff, generous with her pot & hash and loves to make out. For our birthdays we exchanged beautiful books on cool painters, graphic design & propaganda posters. And there's a Metallica video along of course with several burnt cds - some of which were Canadian bands & punk.

Once, while both in search of a gag gift for another friends birthday we wandered into a sex shop. It felt like being in a red light district with most of the patrons checking us out; short n' portly potato men, scarecrows, business types & a disproportionate number of orientals. I was taken with the row upon row of dvds that took up literally 2 full walls while she went to look at vibrators. I hid myself from invasive eyes behind a magazine rack where I found an infamous Hustler back issue. The cover of an upside down woman in a meatgrinder with only her shapely legs remaining as the rest of her had been minced into hamburger. I show it to Amber & ask if she's ever seen 'The Wall'. She has & makes the obvious connection to an animated sequence in the film - about how totalitarian regimes with imperialist ambitions in bleak & dismal futures are like all war-mad societies, serving citizens up on a platter as modern day cannon fodder to preserve ruling interests. I'm smiling the whole time we discuss other fragmented scenes & the use of songs. Either because I'm captivated by how we agree on our explanatory exchanges or that she is physically the first girl to make me wet, no way am I not buying the magazine after this. At the counter is also a dildo for the freind's present. The cashier is an Indian or Pakistani with a thick accent who seems delighted to be selling his items to us. To me he doesn't come off creepy but Amber's wicked sense of humor replies that he probably likes the young stuff & will jerk off to both of us in a rape fantasy. My road to a dildo collection of my own as well as penchant for the classic xxx filth would soon take hold.

It's amazing how much possibility opens up when you find yourself on the same wavelength & exact footing with someone attractive n' sexually adventurous. In October we went to a burlesque n' fetish show & on Halloween I dressed as a zombie bride to her zombie nurse. If I knew what I was in for at the sight of her in ripped fishnets, short skirt & red thong, I swear I would have gone commando. Didn't matter anyway. We eneded up fucking just the same as we had been for quite some time by then.

2008-12-14T12:27:00.000-08:00

2008-11-15T08:28:00.000-08:00

6. THREE CHEERS FOR THE HEAVY MENTHOL KID DROWNED OUT BY PLANES OVER MANHATTAN
SEPT 2001. Age 14.

I've bought my first metal album & with a profession of love I remain hooked on thrash while totally indifferent to Korn, Godsmack & nu metal for the most part. 'Ride the Lightning' was unlike anything I'd ever heard. It's high charged songs throbbed in my head, it's driving guitars & rapid drumming were propulsion personified & the lyrics blew me away. I instantly knew I'd want more of this intensity & along with a new smoking habit (and just like it), the crave for more would increase because the indelible impression that it left would never be forgotten. Soon Sepultura, Iron Maiden n' more Metallica are the next to follow but not before I find some affinity in & with an odd assortment of scattered new friends: alterno-hippie grunge looking rejects with dyed hair, nose n' lip rings - others with dreads, goth freaks with black lipstick and skaters with saggy baggy pants n' chain wallets. My personal tastes are setting a stage in an unseen role to play with rites of passage that will be based on either acceptance or abhorence. Sometimes we learn the hardway about making friends but atleast I'm never stiffed by the metalheads; scary how this logic is identical to political blowback -- embracing an outsider in the context of a hopeful partnership-relationship only for existing conditions to bring about negative or disastrous consequences n' repercussions...

On a particular Tuesday morning I remember like it was yesterday, I had slept in for school & planned on showing up after lunch. This was going to be a good day because of beautiful weather, an impromptu half day of classes & cashing in a lottery scratch ticket worth about $50 to buy another album. I was awoken by my Mom's phone call anxiously telling me to turn on the TV quick as something awful had just happened in New York. Every station over n' over n' over again showing low flying jumbo jets crashing into the World Trade Center. Transfixed, I was numb & then in total disbelief first from people jumping n' falling from windows and then when each of the towers came tumbling down in a shower of glass & debris sending up enormous, thick choking clouds of rolling dust blanketing the streets. The ground zero aftermath of rubble n' wreckage was just as traumatic. I never made it to school & by lunchtime some friends had come over knowing full well why. They didn't return either. The rest of that day is a TV panorama of panic; a combo platter of shock, tears, neurotic fear & non-stop talk about terrorism on American soil & revenge. Away from the boob tube madness are personal huge sighs of relief after frantic phone calls to relatives in Staten Island found them safe & ok. Incidentally, the album I was going to buy? 'Kill 'em All'. I bought it towards the end of the month with the words of the mulleted cashier ringing in my ears: "Hell yeah, that's what we're gonna do to those dirty Arab camelfuckers".

APPROACHING THE FINNISH LINE

2008-11-15T07:49:00.000-08:00

So just a little bit of catch-up on current events for me: at the tail end of summer I was in Canada & had a blast; returned home to catch the ass end of 2 hurricanes; the White House race came down to the wire & quite noticably with Tina Fey's SNL impressions; the economy seemed to go straight to hell in a hand basket; Halloween was full of zombie brides, Absolut vodka & snickers minis; Obama emerged victorious & I just hope he'll be given the chance to live up to expectations (fuck all the haters); Remembrance Day was not exactly a lest we forget occassion when every other channel is one war movie after another; Thanksgiving is shaping up to be another crazy Turkey Day as usual for the family and Christmas I'm not looking forward too. To cap it all off, school is busy and I've been having dreams of Scandinavia - particularly Helsinki (must be something about ice & elfish features).

2008-11-02T06:42:00.000-08:00

Dedicated, passed, Grape overdose, a few words, a Bullet in Texas, patsy and Guitar God

Jonestown juice. click here
The horror, the horror. click here

Speech, speech!. click here

Zapruder's zenith. click here
Conspiracy & hypothesis. click here

Ruby Sunday. click here

2008-10-05T12:08:00.000-07:00

5. GLORY GLORY HELL-ELUJAH, SORRY SORRY THE EMPORER HAS NO CLOSE
APR 1999. Age 11.

Grade school is a primer for the high school social scene which is all about wanting to belong & the fear of exclusion. An impending dread of the painful reality of peer pressure to come in the cruel discovery of pecking orders, fiercely competing cliques, snobbery & immature vendettas. Even after or if acceptance in a group, in the blink of an eye the no-longer once nerds, geeks & losers can be relegated right back to that status because of some petty vindictiveness that revokes your cool factor.

The hysteria of Columbine was a rude awakening. A shooting spree by marginalized misfits is reduced to a perception of uniform -- look different, seem different, get your ass kicked & turn the tables with a gun. Add to the equation another media circus blaming every conceivable form of entertainment as responsible. More shameless exploitation, more lurid sensationalism, more labelling. Our end result? More division for factions to fight over. Mistrust, misunderstanding & misinterpretation. Everyone missing the mark yet stamping definitive impressions. What a disaster as we approach the Y2K meltdown.

2008-08-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

4. BILLY CORGAN IS THE NEW ANOINTED STATESMAN AND ENTER PUBLIC EMILY IN THE HOUR OF CHAOS A.D.
1996. Age 9.

On the TV front, how much Dawson's Creek & Buffy the Vampire Slayer can a girl watch? Still though, Katie Holmes is limited in her acting. She whines & nags too much with longwinded speeches. The future Mrs. Tom Cruise you say?? Impossible. Over in Sunnydale things pick up best when Angellus drops by & Faith turns her back on the Scoobies to run wild. 5x5. Oh, the future Willow a budding flower of gayness & later a sorceress junkie with a wicked, pernicious alter ego? Nah.

After Nirvana, the outspoken Smashing Pumpkins are icons who take over offering views on everything in music. As much as they are lord-like they are just as loathed. Musically I'm surrounded by 4 genres of which knowledge & familiarity will come later but whose immediate meanings will exemplify excursions into new territory of which all is not well. Rap-rock is still around but critically on its last legs having outlived the novelty of crossover. Atleast Faith No More & Rage Against the Machine managed to evolve... The first vagina monologues are spoken by L7, PJ Harvey & Bikini Kill striking the first chords for riot grrl which will inspire & influence rambling, angry dentate manifestos further sparking a thousand reasons for female unity & emancipation and just as easily n' equally result in a thousand arguments... Punk has seen a comeback with Rancid, Green Day & The Offspring hailed as saviors much to the chagrin of anarchic gutter crusties & new school vs. old school hardcore kids of the personal/observational politics & straight edge variety. It's the 20th anniversary of the Sex Pistols celebrated with a reunion tour culminating in controversial endless debates of who & what is 'selling out'... Hip hop has devolved moving away from strong afrocentricity and gangsta rap into its first boring phases of bling garbage braggadocio for excessive wealth & deluded greatness because of ass-kissing entourages paid to tell many artists so. From here it's repetitive, submissive hoochie misogyny...

Right around this same time at school, I've attracted a trio of pee wee stygian witches who've decided to hate my guts. I'm on the receiving end of daily mean stares & whispered secrets right in front of my face erupting in hushed laughter but help is on the way. I gain an allie-in-persecution by these pubescent, teen diva-worshipping hags in the new girl: Emily has deep roots in the Bahamas & Bermuda. She has access to her older sister's cd collection and her fave bands are the Beastie Boys, Living Colour, Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest & Guns n' Roses. I think she may have had a black Rolling Stones shirt withthe red tongue and a Run DMC button on her knapsack. Together we dub our dollhouse oppressing toremntors ' The Stupid Cavity Scummies' & for a short time we are immune. We have fun sharing magazines, trading cards, shoes, sleepovers, dinner invitations & our sworn hatred of the trio. Sadly, in just a few short years she moves away & once gone I vow to someday visit the Caribbean. My suffering resumes with the SCS becoming a considerable thorn in my side for the time being (if only they could have taken the place of Jon Benet Ramsey) --- unbeknownst to me Kathleen Hanna's screaming, Johnny Rotten's sneering face, Tom Morello's screeching solos and the Chuck D. designed logo of a human target in gunsight loom large over my feelings of little girl torture & despair.

More next time...

FIREWORKS FOR ALL THE FUCKING FLAGGOTS

2008-07-02T10:11:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all, no matter how many pompous, patriotic holidays we invent we'll celebrate any self-congratulatory, masturbatory means to wave & salute the stars n' stripes. And today is our gran'pappy of them all full of inflated, egotistic glorification to pat ourselves on the back, handshake, high five & look at jobs well done through missions arrogantly accomplished when our infact imperialism & history is a different truth entirely. Thank you, manisfest destiny. Still, (self-serving bragging rights of being the best aside), who cares when there's always a barBQ cookout & booze-bash to enjoy on the 4th? I'm not about to spoil that fun. Oh well, play it again, Uncle Scam. Happy Independence Day all the same.

Prouder than Archie Bunker. click here

SOME U.S. OF A. GRADE-A BEEF PROVIDES THE LOUSIEST CHUCK IN THE LAND

2008-06-27T10:39:00.000-07:00

So I just returned from visiting relatives in Albequirky, New Mex (or was it Albekinky?) We went to eat at a Black Angus Restaurant. BIG MISTAKE. This has got to be the worst steakhouse chain in the country. We arrived to no menu outside. Inside was small, quaint looking & too darkly lit. (Apparently they advertise specials but we were informed of none. The road to our disaster just beginning?) Very very slow service & what luck that our waiter (Methuselah lives!) had NO personality - a real zero. Don't get me wrong, if there are those in the geriatric legion not ready to retire into the twilight of Lawrence Welk memories & still interested in working then fine but provided they still can through capability & competence. Prompt, courteous & knowledgeable our guy certainly wasn't. It was ridiculous. Who hired this codger & how long has he been working here? Then again, who cares because no matter what anyone says, 100yr old mumbling old coots who are deader than the slowest snail do not make good servers. So what have we here: $42 for rib eye, $45 for fillet mignon and no wine under $30. Pretty damn steep. Had to wait 25min. just for water and no bread. When asked we were told it was $2 extra & instead of rolls or buns we got sliced(!) When the steaks FINALLY arrived after nearly 50 minutes they were overcooked and fatty (probably 70% so with 15% accounting for meat & the remaining 15% bone). And incredibly even before we are properly beginning our meal he's already serving the dessert menus. Pushy or what? Oh, No veggies or sidedish either and the baked potato was dried out with clumpy sour cream that looked slopped n' glopped from a cheap container & then dumped out with a spoon. The wine that they served tasted like some cheap $10 bottle of screwcap poured into a fancy bottle to justify the 200% jacked up price. My Mom had flattened shrimp served with the shell still on. Her garlic mashed potatoes tasted like boxed instant & when inquired our waiter proudly denied. When we asked him for napkins he was sure he had given us some so now thought we stole them and told us. Senile senior idiot. And amazingly he was under the impression that things looked to be going well as the night went on. Little could we have imagined the long lingering bad aftertaste of crappy eatery. Finally when our misery ended, we explained our total disappointment with the unappealing food & how it was difficult just to get his attention. Unsympathetic & without a single apology he told us that since we know for the next time, be sure to order something different. Who the fuck would want to return?? He was not tipped & was told he was by far amongst the most terrible waitstaff we've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. He was visibly taken aback in complete shock. And we almost had a field day writing our criticisms on the receipt and comment cards. Why even bother speaking to the manager? All he'd probably do is dance around the issue, hell, they can't even get their gift cards right. The bill in total was close to $160 which absolutely was robbery for this place. Do not waste your time or money here, people. With any justice a few of these restaurants will sooner than later see the wrecking ball & replacement by a gas station.

HOMO ERECTUS FROM STONEWALL NOW STROLLING DOWN PAST STOREFRONTS

2008-06-24T09:36:00.000-07:00

Isn't it funny how political statements can be steered into party crowd paradise? Take gay pride & its spectacle of street parade as much about tourist dollars as it is about the freak show. In the first place, the set up is always the same: bars with beefed up prices, outdoor stages booming music & rainbow flags; the jockeying for positions in an arts n' culture fest atmosphere battling for dominance in oven-baked parking lots. Either it's all wildly exciting or hell on earth. Reaction depends on your personality but it seems it isn't even about gay vs. straight anymore (heterosexual attendance keeps rising) as the new divide is between introversion vs. extroversion. If you're particularly young & just coming out of the closet, dyke/queer pride may prove salvation with so many of the same in one place at one time chanting pro-acceptance & anti-hate. The quieter identity types stay away from noise n' crowds as somehow the larger the participation, the more the alienation I guess. Sure, community is about renewal with acquaintance of itself but the Red Army-like review of marchers in tank tops n' flip flops strikes an interesting paradox - either pretend & play up to being a queen or quickly tire of the celebratory lifestyle sensual overload (is such the contrast of bodies on display?) Whatever the stance I think the main pressure comes from some forcible elements that want you to have fun & if you're a miserable sod it's kind of like seasonal mood disorder at Christmas -- an actual commercialization of depression & dismissal in which the feeling of holiday here (pardon the pun) is just a flaming drag.

MAKE WAY FOR BITCH ON THE PITCH AND KEEP THE HOOLIGANS AT BAY

2008-06-13T09:15:00.000-07:00

Tartan crests on argyle breasts, y'all. Guess which fave nunfucker of yours signed up for Park League Soccer a few weeks back? Yeppers. I haven't played intramurals footy, let alone joined a team since high school. So what do we have here - 5 teams all named after colors (blue, red, green, black & white), 8-game sched (opponents play each other twice), all matches on early Sunday evening & weeks 3 n' 6 are doubleheaders. Seeing as we're not in Europe, games are only 40 minutes & the nets are thankfully not a million km. apart (leave it to the pros, huh?) As for the uniforms, nothing to write home about just basic colored t-shirts for our team namesakes. The harsh catch is if we don't wear them & don't have a substitute same color, we have to play topless(!) Just kidding - actually we can't play. No exceptions. Yikes, fascist much?

Apparently PLS was initially the province of reform school teens on break from court-appointed community service; a sort of half-time from picking up litter & painting fences to pay their debts for underage drinking, driving without a permit, shoplifting & curfew violations - first time offences hardly the making of future prison inmates. It didn't take long for smart-asses (cue my halo) to call it 'punishment league soccer' but I guess it became a regular enough sight & it expanded to include the non-troublemakers (stabilizing influence?) too. Surprisingly enough, a lot of the bad girls have stuck around so you see, we all get to be angelic athletes in the end.

Originally I was upposed to be on team blue but nothin' doin', I wasn't havin' that so I traded with another girl to be on team green machine (gee, take a guess why? haha). So to recap our first game, it was a doozy filled with some highlights: I hit the goal post twice (swore loudly the 2nd time), clocked a team mate in the head with a free kick, was tripped out of bounds, called offside a few times, had a shrew of a soccer mom call me for interference (she was wrong) & almost go ballistic on me when I told her to shut up, glimpsed some cameltoe, cautioned for spitting on the field (holy fuck, our ref was strict), yellow carded for handball & whistled at by a dreadlocked passerby who looked like rapper Lil' John (I should've yelled back with volume 'WHAT?!') Final score: green 3, red 2 (we were lucky because they had a goal called back). I think I'll be named MVP in no time (not!) So yeah, lotsa sweaty fun & showersex afterwards (Nah. We have to trudge our grimey bods home to clean up). As for my whirlwind (somewhat shambles) of a debut, Mia Hamm, looks like you have nothing to worry about.

These colors don't run. click here

2008-06-13T08:53:00.000-07:00

3. A SHOTGUN FOR BREAKFAST AND WHY IS AFRICA A MESS?
APR 1994. Age 6.

Beavis & Butthead is interrupted with news that Kurt Cobain was found dead from apparent suicide. It seems that the pressures of fame & a high profile, turbulent celebrity marriage took their toll and caused something called 'depression'. I hope I don't get it when I'm his age. 'Teen Spirit' & 'Heart shaped Box' play for weeks on end, back to back with a rising death count far away...

Meanwhile at school in geography, we're studying the sub-Saharan continent & the Great Lakes Region. Strange how the teacher mentions nothing of what's unfolding everyday on CNN in a country named Rwanda. Civil war, rebels, refugees streaming across borders in panic & tribal hatreds fuelling violence into systematic mass murder have people being killed horribly by machetes in full view of a world that has turned its back on genocide. So why is the bloodshed abandoned from discussion in class? Elementary, mini-Watson: because genocide (now sanitized into the new term 'ethnic cleansing') is WAY WAY too advanced for our fragile young minds to comprehend (maybe Mommy & Daddy can explain it) so we stick to the lesson plan of customaty food & wardrobe, safari animals of Nairobi & capital cities.

To me, TV coverage of death is super scary & confusing. Ultimately whether one person or a country, shouldn't reporting by priority of importance be easy? On-going blinding obsession has turned into farce & sadly the flipside of injustice is to be forgotten inspite of exposure. Such disturbing outcomes either way is my introduction to media sensationalism. And besides, President Clinton not lift a finger to help stop the slaughter? No way. We're America. He'll definitely intervene.

To be continued...

2008-06-13T08:42:00.001-07:00

Triskaidekaphobia & superstitions

MEMENTO meMORIa OMNES CULPA

2008-05-23T09:55:00.000-07:00

Pomp. click here

Circumstance. click here

2008-05-23T09:36:00.000-07:00

2. WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT A DRIZZLY BACKWATER COULD RAIN REVOLUTION?
1991. Age 4.

The so-called 'year punk broke' began with the Gulf War. The flag was everywhere & for all those pledging patriotism to stars n' stripes, my loyalty was in allegiance to Sesame Street. It was here that the first vestiges of rock began to seep through as puppets & educators playing instruments to upbeat tunes are bound to make a huge impression. Classic rock radio is prominent in our house and the first band names I ever hear are AC/DC, Van Halen, The Beatles, The Who & Alice Cooper.

And then comes the underground overthrow from Seattle & something called Sub Pop. Suddenly music fans are sick of poseurs like Warrant & Poison. Cock-rock, escapist glam metal based on poodlehead hair has become irrelevant overnight. A new alternative dystopia of feedback & caterwauling rules the day joined by Industrial (which in itself will usher in a new era for the remix). Youth fall in line with domino & 9-pin precision and I think that Christmas sees my first plaid shirt.

More to come...

2008-05-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

I've always thought Father Ted & his hilariously bizzare, eccentric brood easily put Swaggart, Roberts, Robertson, farting Tilton, Bakker & portly Hagee to shame but now that silly quintuplet have been absolutely owned again by the cutest Dublin schoolgirl EVER (accent intact of course) telling the story of John the Baptist. Once more the Irish kick ass & she's fucking awesome. If we all have to have a mini-me, she's certainly mine (Peppermint Patty, I'm not neglecting you). I'm glad I found her. She rocks!

RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINARA

2008-05-11T10:25:00.000-07:00

This Sunday afternoon I had a long post-poned Mother's Day meal (pasta lunch with beer) and Me n' Ma caught up on some talk (basically her questioning anything n' everything under the sun & all inbetween about this daughter that never ceases to puzzle her). It's been quite awhile since we've had sauce n' suds and I've got to hand it to Ma - as infuriating as she can be (my Aunt says she's infamously so) she makes me laugh...

"When will you outgrow that crazy music?"..

"What could you possibly need clear heels for? Are you exotic dancing?"...

"Why do you have so much black nail polish that you never wear?"...

"Are you really considering both nipples pierced? Oh for heavens sake Abbie, a lip, nostril or tongue I could tolerate. And the tattoos. Next it'll be labia. Is that anyway to start Spring?"...

"When are we gonna stop procrastinating and take a trip to Ireland?"...

"I thought you liked running and track, why didn't you ever take up jogging?"...

"Have you ever noticed that a mopped floor in the Produce section of a supermarket always smells like vomit?"...

"Um, what is that faintly familiar, sickly sweet, pungent pongy presence that reminds me of my first Led Zeppelin album everytime you're in the basement? Are you & your friends pretending to be 'That 70's Show'?"...

"Whatever happened to that one girl who always smelled citrusy like a nice fruit grove? You know, the one I caught you making out with?"

Same ol' Ma (no stranger to sarcasm that's for sure). What could I do but help myself to another serving of garlic bread? She gets rather lively in discussing my years of "rebellion and deliquency" (her words). In hindsight I certainly raised her eyebrows with brief goth and punk stages complete with hairstyles, ripped leggings, combat boots & colorful friends with episodes involving vandalism, the Principal's office and standing before no more than 2 or 3 Judges for lightweight court appearances. In the end though even if our pasts amount to what our parents consider some mild embarrasments n' grief, I wonder just how much of that is still considered real disappointment by them even as they say they're proud of you years later (maybe it has to do with the apple really not falling that far from the tree). I don't think Ms. Marigold Astrid Hewett is a judgemental person per se or really even a nag in the sense of the word - well... not really... naturally born curious sums it up best. I like to get all formal on her when she especially prods me about sex. Amazing how this woman in so many ways can be a prude and yet a surprisingly frank (even slightly raunchy) weird love advice columnist of sorts when least expected so it's nice to know she's maybe not such a wet blanket after all. She's bewildered n' fascinated by people in the context of my direct relation and while M.A.H. (gotta love those initials) certainly is no fool or pushover, she makes for an interesting compendium of sometimes dorky cluelessness, incredible perception, aggravating stubborness, sentimental acceptance, innocent naivety & abrupt directness. What should be therefore contradictory or even hypocritical, never works out to quite just that. I love her too much to label her an idiot savante. She's miles above that.

A final case in point:
Last year on Mother's Day we went to a museum exhibit. Back at home after another meal I went to gab n' blab on the phone and she went online to check email and find some map directions. I forgot I was still on myspace as the browser was below some music pages. I also forgot some of the pages were also of fetish photography and fishnet mailorder. UH OH! (I'd been watching some Grey's Anatomy lately. Is being a scatterbrain contagious? If so I blame that annoying birdbrain/ditz/flake Meredith). I guess I can't blame Ma for being nosey and clicking onto the pages from the taskbar so after an eyefull of adult laced baddies n' lovely bodies (and death metal album covers), she scrolled down the myspace page and read the ENTIRE profile(!) Then she went through the inhabitants of the friends list (thank God I wasn't in her presence). When we were back in the kitchen about 30 minutes later, the whole compendium came up - different people sparking different reactions n' repsonses...

"Your curiosity about stripping was one thing Abbie & I had some issues with the modelling but there'll be a REAL problem if you EVER venture into pornography!"...

"What's with the vampire brides with all their shrouds and fangs?"...

"I went to school with a girl of the same name. She had big boobs also"...

"How can someone with such a great Scottish name send you such a bizarre & freakish video like that?"...

"Where did those Nuns come from?"..

"Don't these girls have anything better to do than sit infront of a webcam & trade nudes?"...

"I saw something involving menstruation. How have you been?"...

"There's a lot of blood, profanity and religious desecration. I shouldn't be surpised but why is everyone so seemingly angry n' harsh? I don't believe anyone is that evil"...

"Does anyone else see the heavy combination and connection to life n' death? You were always attracted to that"...

"The notorious criminals and tragic starlets are an interesting mix"...

"I don't like this at all! It's inviting trouble"...

Same ol' Ma (no stranger to over-analyzation that's for sure). I've come to realize that she's not about undermining but instead reaching for understanding - albeit in odd manner. Best to just veer her unease back into our next (no doubt ongoing) post-poned pasta reservation for 2 (to be joined by Budwesier & Heineken). Haha, recipes & cooking gets her everytime. So note to self for next time -- turn off the computer! Keep all newly bought garter belts n' accessories out of sight (didn't get caught this time). Use pine mint air freshener to mask the lingering smell of pot. And lastly, if faced with untimely discussions of sex such as Abbie, there's nothing wrong with me talking about orgasms! God knows I've overheard (make that eavesdropped) you do so dozens of times, best to just answer with a mouthful of tomatoes & sausage spiced with onions n' oregano.

2008-05-11T09:26:00.000-07:00

THE TRIVIALITIES, TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS, TREPIDATIONS, TRIUMPHS, TROPHIES, TRANSGRESIONS, TROUBLES & TRAGEDIES OF A HEADBANGER IN TRAINING (AND NOT A GUIDANCE COUNSELLOR INSIGHT)

1. SMASHING THROUGH THE BOUNDARIES
AUG 1987.

I was born a year after 'Master of Puppets' was released. An album of pure perfection & a masterpiece from start to finish that flawlessly mirrors journey factoring in shape, countour & terrain. Understanding lay of the land helps in describing & defining who we are and obviously as a baby it's impossible to know this or know that for better or worse, music in the ensuing years - especially metal - would come to serve as memoirs in central moments of my life.

Stay tuned...

2008-05-10T10:14:00.000-07:00

Shalom at 60.

Righteous. click here
Wrongus. click here

2008-05-05T07:40:00.000-07:00

Mayo Cinco para la cerveza, amigos y amnestía de immigración.

Phil Collins pimps his saucy sister version. click here

2008-04-22T08:55:00.000-07:00

HAPPY HEMPY 420 & GREEN DAY HIGH TIMES

2008-04-20T09:44:00.000-07:00

Lawn mowing. click here
Peddling and puffing. click here
Dope for dupes. click here

STEPFORD MEN BEHAVING SADLY

2008-04-20T09:02:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine in Toronto told me about a website belonging to a pickup artist calling himself Dmitri the Lover, a self-proclaimed guru who has incurred an avalanche of wrath after a newspaper story detailed his sven gali advice & seminars on scoring with women. After taking a stab at his laughable page before reading the feature article that spawned the uproar, his techniques along with his thoughts, let's just say leave a lot to be desired --- approaching romantically belligerent, shellshocked sluts with a mindset of them not being individuals to begin with... sexual submittance through erotic anal rape as an acceptable behavioural tool to break her in like a wild horse because female insecurity needs to be psychologically & forcefully overpowered and is a just punishment for bad attitudes(!)... feminazi cunts are just whores that need to simply worship the cock... the 10 Commandment declaration stating that since man is a born violator & murderer, all females have an obligation not to provoke him or he will be justified in his actions...

Hahaha, is this asshole serious??? Nobody could be for real with this shit. And yet it's understandable that a trickle down effect of negativity would cast a huge shadow of scorn & outrage (and another re-affirmation that lesbians are in no hurry to switch teams & sex toys are better than creepy, miscreant pigs) --- condoning offensive tirades promoting misogyny n' violence n' slavery... using oppressive mind control in the advocacy of hatred... reducing women to machines who then behave like subservient, obedient dogs... justifying sexual impropriety with patients (he was allegedly a one-time doctor who lost his license) because he was horny & his wife was frigid... This is one hell of an act if this is supposed to be a joke or satire of the most severe. (For some reason my first thought about this was an attempt of an extreme reaction gone horribly wrong in the vein of the movie 'Baise Moi'). It's weird to know that every adjective in the book has been thrown at something which is so obviously engineered to annoy & make uncomfortable (disturbed, disgusting, regressive, sick, crap, perverted, dangerous, psychotic, psychopathic). Still amounts to a reverse kind of praise. No one can honestly endorse & support any of this as genuine or authentic because it's just too way way WAY over the top. (Apparently the player community have distanced themselves from Dmitri & venues have stopped booking space for his performances). Truthfully, I think the facts speak for themselves: crazy, wild, shock value (which has proven to have worked) & yes, I dare say funny theories in which the explanations say much more about the who then the what - the impression of a gigantic, emasculated, pathetic loser showing he is exactly that & deserving of complete mockery because he's positioning himself in this outrageous position of being the center of the universe in his beliefs. And no doubt Dmitri is getting the last laugh revelling in the uproar (the intention all along?) so calm down, people. It's the only reasonable conclusion one could draw. But hey, it's all a matter of opinion isn't it?

ANGRY-LA HULLABALOO AS THE FLAME NEARS

2008-04-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

Athletes, politicians, entertainers & activists the world over are demanding action be taken at the upcoming summer Beijing games over China's handling of violent unrest by demonstrators in Tibet and also its military connection to Burma's junta & Sudanese rebels. Not for nothing has this been dubbed the Genocide Olympics. Further criticism is levelled at China's abysmal human rights record (remember the Falun Gong?) & their pompous-assed Politburo's state censorship involving the internet (privacy violations with Yahoo & Google collusion). With increasing protests, riots & arrests disrupting the torch lightings (and refusals to carry it) in major capitals/cities, US lawmakers are pressing Bush to follow the lead of the French President, British PM & German Chancellor and not attened the opening ceremonies. China insists the Dalai Lama is an evil, criminal mastermind trying to sabotage the games through using Buddhism not for harmonious tranquility but as a push for independence by encouraging the call for boycotts. The accusation is paranoid, delusional garbage.

Long story short in this turmoil: China invaded Tibet decades ago. It's army enforced iron rule wiping out any & all opposition. The Dalai Lama fled. Ethnic Chinese made Tibetans the minority in their own land. Traditions, culture, rituals, customs & beliefs were displaced. Tourism is extremely rare & demonstrations are crushed brutally... How can there not be bitterness & resentment? Western support is fully behind Tibet and the Dalai Lama continues to gain a wider acceptance as his deep intellectualism simplifies intricate philosophy & complicated ideas; he's the embodiment of peace. So serenity now? Nope. China continues to panic over prestige embarassment & any soundbite by downplaying global anger with idiotic & disastrous counter propaganda. Basically it's arrogant, powerful economic muscle-flexing by accusing foreign goverments of not protecting their interests; they show zero signs of caving into pressure to change policy & have issued that all visiting athletes are to shut up with their personal opinions or be sent home.

And amidst the growing hostility the International Olympic Committee has a collective thumb up it's rectum over the never-ending controversy. While not oblivious to media (not a chance), they sit on a neutral fence waiting for sighs of relief while declaring passively "sport & politics must remain seperate" knowing full well the statement has no weight because (regardless of inappropriate forums to discuss a country's oppressive, destructive methods that make way for atrocity) high-profile competition has been used to advance agenda & messgaes from day one since the first modern games were staged over 100 years ago. How the IOC can come off so seemingly blind, ignorant, naive & dismissive of it's own history as a testmant to this is amazing in itself. They need to grow a backbone. It appears in reflection of course the only reason Beijing was awarded the games was purely out of financial profiteering to host. Human rights would work itself out so who could have imagined that it would end up being such a huge monster biting ass? The continuing crackdown crisis only ensures at this point that Beijing is already a fiasco & the latest in a legacy where massive public disapproval makes disengagement impossible - especially when the offender imposes on-going wilful deafness & aloofness onto every outside message for change.

ANNALIZED

2008-04-05T09:04:00.000-07:00

by Anna Nymity (click here)

"I've noticed that on Xpeeps.com in the politically minded group, that a few people are calling the Democratic election race a "civil war". I've always loved hyperbole as a literary device. In politics its all too common and often used to convey bathos (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bathos). No, not pathos, or logos, I do mean bathos. So I'll try to navigate free from hyperbole as I answer this charge of civil war and the call for Clinton to step down and allow Obama to win. I guess forfeit is the right term?

From the time that NOW endorsed Senator Clinton, I really knew it was going to take a miracle to get her close to being in office. Please bear with me just a bit on developing this explanation. Thanks.

1) The Clinton name has now been pop-cultured. From Family Guy to the Simpsons, SNL to MadTV, we've seen the Clinton's caricatured. And that portrayal in most respects runs counter to the history of Clinton's time in office. A history that saw great strides in the economy that paid down the deficit and left us economically sound and at least thinking of revising health care that is now paralyzed. Oh, and even then big bad Bill was hunting for Bin Laden without having to commit our armed forces in a 600 billion dollar of Vietnam revisited. Were Bill Clinton's missile attacks successful? About as much as Bush, but much less expensive. I mean those water boarding experts are expensive to outsource. Remember, too Bin Laden is very clever at what he does; he was, after all, trained by us in the Afghan war. But to the point? Americans replace real history with American culture's retro-history called Television...and Youtube. It's tough to overcome the underly-educated public of America to reinvent oneself.

2) Hillary Clinton was a bulldog on many issues that pissed off the GOP. She, for example, took a key role in health care reform and global women's rights...um...why did it get so quiet in here all of a sudden? I hear crickets. Oh yeah. I said health care and global women's rights. Most could give a flying Feinstein about it, unless you are a 9-year-old African girl being raped by men so they can cure their AIDS, since shaman teach that a virgin can cure the disease. Or the acid washing of Indian women? Or a sister of a wrong doer being raped by the wronged men of a village? Oh yeah, we could keep going with many other atrocities. Then we come to equal rights and having laws that protect women in other countries. We seldom praise Clinton for what she did on that issue. I wonder how Barbara Bush is doing on that issue today? Oh, yeah, she's dedicated to examples from Iraqi women gaining freedom while introducing her husband's speech to "stay the course" in Iraq: http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/03/20040312-5.html

3) Senator Clinton is a woman over 50 and a survivor of the establishment. It's so hillaryous to me how women survive (and I borrow a term applied to African Americans here) a double consciousness. I alter Dubois' term in its definition a bit here though. Whereas African Americans want to be recognized for the achievements and intrinsic values of African American culture, but also do not wish to be taken as the sole representatives of that race upon which they are "generalized", so do women feel the need to be "as tough as men" in speech, body language, and action/job performance; however, they do not wish that embodiment of them being able to have all kinds of potential behavior be generalized as "lesbian", "castrating", "cold", "calculating" and "bitchy". For example, it took Clinton to "cry" and get "choked up" saying how much she loved this country before she could be taken as authentic. Meaning, she is a real woman after all because women cry when they feel something. Did McCain have to cry? Did Obama? Well, you might say, Anna, big boys don't cry. Just big girls. And to that I say again, double bloody standard.

My numbers are now done. And it's time for me to bring this into focus. I've seen so much attributed to the Clintons as being "self-serving", "cold", "calculating", "inauthentic" and all the other descriptors related from above attributed to Senator Clinton. In Senator Clinton's campaign, some see her as polarizing democrats when they should be unifying to take on...McCain. Ironically, we didn't make so much a stink when Romney and Huckabee hung on. The news media didn't use the word "polarize" with them. Even when Huckabee did keep going after Romney. It might be that he didn't stand a hell of a chance. But people now keep saying the same about Clinton too. She doesn't stand a chance. So then, why the difference? Why all the anger hurled at her?

I identify with such anger. I've heard it myself in professional life and so many times in private life. So let's not couch all this in political euphemism. Please. It's quite apparent that we are all still saying what history has born out. Here it is: we value men above women. End of story. In fact, even though for many years this country devalued African American men to the point of enslavement (boy how long did it take African Americans to be "allowed" to vote?), we would value an African American male, over a woman in terms of the power to participate in politics and have a voice in making/altering law. So African Americans can vote in 1870, right? (by the time it's all ratified). And in that same year is the first time we have a black senator Hiram Rhodes Revels. Now how about women? They get the vote in 1920. Even Russia beat America, land of the free and the brave, in sufferage "allowing" women to vote in 1902. Um, only two countries came after us by the way. Turkey (1926) and wee Lichtenstein (1984). So that same historical attitude carries through here, can you see it? Can you feel it? I smell it. African American studies at Universities is the same. It finally took the first independent "Womens Studies" program until 1980 to be up and running. So all I'm saying is that Americans as much as we keep blabbing about "equal rights" and the attitude of "we are all caught up now" really aren't. Here it is 2008 and we are saying yet again; the white male gate keeper is "allowing" things to happen, "yeah, we'd rather have the man than the woman, even if we wouldn't let him into our gentleman's club". Apparently having a cock in the pants is still worth two in the Bushes, or Obamas in this country. My lack of one gets me called a cunt for writing stuff like this too."

Candidly,

Anna Nymity

2008-04-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

A good, clean funny thing happened on the way to floor 'em pulling pranks n' stunts along the way. So here's to whimsical one-off births & hilarious dupes (misfortune welcome). The spirit & splendor of a clever ruse is a gift in a world where diminishing returns is the law. Another sucker, another minute.

HAPPY CHOCOLATE EGGS, BUNNY RABBITS & CRUCIFIXION DAY

2008-03-20T07:39:00.000-07:00

2008-03-20T07:37:00.000-07:00

Jesus is a P.I.M.P. for deep inside, his power compels me.

SHAMROCK SHAME VIA SWASTIKA STAIN

2008-03-17T09:33:00.000-07:00

Documentarian Cathal O'Shannon ran a program last year exposing Ireland's troubled Nazi past involving the entry of war criminals into the country after WWII and the subsequent cover-up by the govt. The revelation is uneasy especially as the exposure of these officials and the relationship to the Irish people (with the impact of their administrative actions on the population) aren't really delved into. Still, it's disturbingly gripping considering the period of history.

The 1st episode. click here
The 2nd episode. click here

A controversial essay. click here

ANNALIZED

2008-03-13T08:24:00.000-07:00

by Anna Nymity (click here)

"Hiya me dairest of lassies, the maist bonnie o'the glen.
Okay that was kind of Scots/Irish LOL. I was in Ireland almost a year. I was there on business really, or study. I focused on Celtic designs and especially those relating to women so I spent a fare share looking at relief work and carvings of old chapels in god knows where and sketching the hell out of the place. I became fascinated with the yonic symbols of early and late Celtic designs, like the "horseshoe" shape. I was in France for more time so also managed to do much work on the La Tene culture, both early and late (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_T%C3%A8ne_culture). And I loved also visiting Switzerland, although I had a wonderful bout with lactos intollerance there LOL. But I was able again to sketch the hell out of and do rubbings of many designs to find a common sense of pattern related to female iconography there.

As for Ireland though, I also was very interested in sussing out much of the Macha lore and the typologies of women glyphed and iconicized et al. My favorite by far was the Sheila-Na-Gig (http://www.goddesscafe.com/yoni/sheila.html). Mostly witnessed in the 16th Century Old Irish Churches, her figure is haunting and a remnant of past holy site artifacts integrated into the Church, or is an Irish integration of the notion of death in rebirth through Mary, but made in the Irish fashion. What I love is again the idea of women being complex there. Women are not just virginal life givers but also life takers and the idea of God passing through a vagina shows the understanding of its revererance and a complete reversal to most of the phallic tendencies of humankind after the greco-roman hegemony. I'm of the opinion that the integrations of Chrstianity with hellenic ideology stripped away the importance of the gynocentric. The idea that life is to be womblike (dependent, abject, weak, vulerable, caring, collaborative), similar to Kristeva's "chora", is what I see in the ideology of the Celts that was eviscerated through the Roman Church and resisted by the Irish. Even the Gallatians were giving Paul one hell of a time LOL. So I left my research concluding that women have a dynamism in meaning not just predicated on their ability to give life and nurture alone, but were relevant and central in how best to ellicit motive for living. Much of that is found in psycho sexual dynamics. The Greeks thought them vain, but perhaps another way of seeing it is that they enjoyed beauty, the body, and weren't ashamed of it. That to me is a sign of the matrifocal/gynocentric power that was a superstructure of the culture.

I just love Ireland. I was granted permission to regard the stored Shielas in the Dublin Museum as well as regard many torcs and such. They have a gorgeous collection and I was gobsmacked by it all. I, as so many tourists did, spent time in the Temple Bar area; I had a rented apartment in a building just across the Liffey and could see the part of the city from my room. I shared the apartment with a friend. It was inexpensive, really, but I was a student and the subletters had mercy on us I think. Well and one of the women made a pass at me before we left I do wish I could live in Dublin. But it would be a difficult thing to lug my Mom all the way there and start new as so much of my research and practice is based on American sexual tendencies, especially California attitudes; it would be a tough acclimation I imagine, to start again in a culture that in many respects has a fair amount of misongyny in it. I've heard many Irish women writers speak about the abuses visited upon them and the need for so much institutional change.

So that's my adventure summed up Have fun with it. If you want any part embellished or some such let me know."
xoxo, Anna

2008-03-13T08:15:00.000-07:00

American Celtic imagery to modern day shanties always manage to emphasize that if it wasn't for bad luck, the Irish would have almost no luck at all.

INNOCULATION FOR INAUGURATION

2008-03-13T08:02:00.000-07:00

Picking a President takes too long. Sure the current race although increasingly testy is exciting with great historical implications for the country whether the first-ever woman or Afro-American ascends to the oval office but how quickly my interest fades even when things haven't exactly run out of steam or when candidates make guest comic appearances on venues positioned as being political pawns. Primary this, caucus that and how many different ways can the same speech be spoken over & over? Everything of course stresses change. If the Democrats can turn the economy around, create jobs & at long last provide real healthcare, good. If the Republicans feel that what we need is 'more of the same' & that essentially what already exists needs to relatively stay in place, bad.

Let's face it, at this point the White House is between Hilary & Obama. Atleast with these 2, we won't be run by a severed head of state (intelligence dead from the neck up) like the cowboy still in charge. And McCain at one point saying that on his watch, he sees nothing wrong with US troops remaining in Iraq for possibly the next 50-60 years, maybe 100... are you fucking kidding me?? America should remain an occupation army LONG after most of us will be dead & that should be seen as some proud legacy? Even the commies saw the writing on the wall to end the Cold War, senile asshole.

The problem with all elections is the cynicism to follow with our new leader. We've gotten to the point where we are no longer really voting for who we like the most - more so who we dislike the least. Regardless of who wins, the real countdown seems to be towards how quick campaign/platform promises are reneged with the blame/reasons/excuses placed on the faults of the previous controversial administration having done so much damage making mistakes (damn you for all time, you sonofaBush, lost by a million votes, Supreme Court appointed hayseed). Actually, I'm waiting to hear why 3 years after BILLIONS of dollars in disaster relief were raised, the funds have still yet to result in any significant initiatives in place for a major constructive effort underway to rebuild an area of New Orleans. Had it been DC, NYC or the city of Angels underwater, I doubt the question would even be asked after just one year because somehow, that guilt & shame of red tape wouldn't have been allowed to prevent future recovery & thus stand in the way of infrastructure renewal (now instead lies the possibililty of gentrification - another defeat for the displaced).

I don't wanna sound like Michael Moore (with all his skewering) but maybe we should take a page out of Canada's book. Yeah, they have about a 3rd of our population but up there a federal election for Prime Minister is all but done overnight. And afterwards just as admirably, they manage to keep their shit together without scandals revealing voter booth tampering or illegal removals from electoral rolls. So come on, Nation - wind it up already.

ANNALIZED

2008-02-28T12:25:00.000-08:00

by Anna Nymity (click here)

"I think I might have pissed off [... at Xpeeps] seeing as she posted something about Lohan's Monroe shoot for New Yorker and I went off on it. Not like she and her friends did, commenting upon how her wig looks or whether Lohan's a drunk scum bag, but about how most people miss the fucking message! It was intended to be IRONIC!!! That's New Yorker photo sets for you. They aren't literal people! It was supposed to show how Lohan (and Britney et al) are following in the footsteps of their media mother, Monroe. Her journey through media's harsh gaze is following to them now. No they aren't media icons like her, but Monroe isn't even who she used to be in the hands of pop culture. Time is gracious to her. But in her day the "Mr. President song" wasn't so cute, the failed marriages made her a whore and her increasing size was frowned upon as losing control...which she was and no one really gave a fuck. So Lohan and company are part of the culture, the same one that crucified Monroe only later to idolize her. We like fiction more than reality, let's face it. So that's what I said. Now Mel's not talkin with me. There's my confession. Praise be to God. I'll take my swats and rub my clit like a rosaries for penance."

The one & only! click here
This is how you celebrate sobriety? click here

Lindsay Lohan as Marilyn Monroe
by xMAGNIKKICENTx

"Quite possibly the worst set of photos I've ever seen. What were the creators of this magazine thinking? The fact that she actually thought she could pull off imitating Marylin is ridiculous! She looks like a cardboard cutout. I could see if it was like... 5 years ago when she was healthy, and had curves... But the only thing curvy about her are her tits, and they're creepy because there are no freckles on them... they look like alien transplants! And the makeup failed to improve her looks in any way either, You can't hide the fact that she's completely dead inside with rouge lipstick and heavy eyeliner. Ok that's my rant. I could say more but I don't feel like it. Call me a bitch, call me jealous. I'm not jealous, I think it's a down right shame that a girl who used to be so naturally gorgeous has destroyed herself. At this point they should just drag her out back and shoot her. It's getting old."

-No love for stiff coked out hookers name Lindsay Lohan,
xoxoxN-

ANOTHER SURREAL NIGHT DOWN IN SUCK CITY

2008-01-31T12:10:00.000-08:00

Ah yes, the visitation & variation of nocturnal visions. And you thought your dreams were weird. Here are some excerpts on a returning theme I've had. I've given up on deciphering. Any arm chair shrinks out there are welcome to take a shot --- I'm hanging out with a talking penguin named Huddlesworth. I'm not sure if he's a real penguin or infact a puffin. He might just be a suave businessman from Iceland in a tux enquiring about brochures regarding the South Pole. Seems he's fleeing Reykjavik because of its dreadful contamination of incessant, insipid dance music...

We're both inside a strip joint bored to tears from a particularly chubby dancer who seems to be the only club employee. She's about as exciting as an arrow through the neck. Hud tells me that 'nudie cuties' are a blessing & curse just like technology. I think of supernerd Kip from Napoleon Dynamite. A trip to the ladiesroom somehow teleports us through a fax machine to a secret freemason lodge named the Exalted something or other & I'm satisfied that I haven't landed in some stupid Star Trek dimension. The inhabitants include a cabal featuring Mozart, Mark Twain, Henry Ford, Oscar Wilde, Ben Franklin, George Washington, Abe Lincoln & Karl Marx to name just a few. I think to myself 'aren't these guys all dead'? I put on a hat of the Loyal Order of Water Buffaloes, give a dumb handshake which I'll forget easily, have my tits puffed & we enter the lodge straight into a roundtable discussion proposing to make either the number 13, Leonard Cohen or carpentry a new religion. (I think it should be Devo). People whisper about new toolboxes, hammers, screwdrivers & powerdrills leading me to believe woodwork has this vote locked and these clowns will be bowing down to cabinetmakers in no time.

We head to the bar down a deathrow corridor where I see the Unabomber shaving infront of a mirror, lyrics to 'I am the Walrus' scrawled on the walls & ketchup chips on top of a picture of Salvador Dali. Where's a French maid when you need one? I ask a waitress for a bottle of Smirnoff but instead a waiter throws a milkshake at me. Uh, not what I ordered and with eager zest & zeal, Hud proceeds to pound the living shit out of him while using the oppurtunity to divulge trivia anecdotes all pertaining to ass; "did you know that the toilet was invented by Englishman Thomas Crapper? Imagine him trying to convince GG Allin to use his invention. After all, pooing on peasants is SOOO 1500s. And did you know flatulence involves bodily nitrogen, carbon dioxide, hydrogen & methane? Well, Hitler was a chronic farter so picture his expulsive vaporous ingredients in an atomic bomb. Oh, the STINK of such a detonation"! An Irishman overhears & introduces himself as insane. Sounds like 'Sinn Fein' & with a glass of purple cough syrup I raise a toast to Michael Collins, green fertile rolling hills & celtic frosted lucky charms. He stares at me completely perplexed certainly thinking I just stepped off the planet Nimrod. Big'Orra...

The chunky stripper reappears with a glass of absinthe & says her name is Paprika. She toyed with the idea of naming herself Treblinka but opted for exotic & spicy. She asks if I know any women who have dumped upwards of 14 or 15 would-be husbands at the altar. To her this is an epidemic. I reply "sorry, I've yet to come across a genobridal maniac". She shrugs & dares me to tell her to do something crazy. (hmmm, I think of asking 'ok, what does c. a. t. spell & give me the correct answer to 2 + 2') but I play nice however & tell her to give away all her money and surprisingly she obliges. What seems like Fort Knox is showered all over. Lincoln, Franklin & Washington freak over seeing themselves on dollar bills and start a stampede to grab cash. In the chaos, Paprika laughs like Fran Drescher & asks me if I had a choice between hypnotism, pugilism, pessimism, botulism or feudalism (she actually KNOWS these words??) which would I go to bed with. I reply that Canada should have a President (I'm lying but she doesn't have a clue) while the USA should have a Prime Minister. Just for the hell of it I throw in that I like dark navy blue & ask her if by any chance if she's the lovechild of William S. Burroughs. She says "umm, not that I know of but my Uncle Murray lives in a van down by the river"...

Bill Gates has scooped up an astonishing wheelbarrow full of still raining money. This angers me greatly. As if HE needs any more dough. Hud thinks this lodge needs a crest with an owl on it. Lame & gay. Too Harry Potter. I approach Bill yelling a false battlecry of mockery, "in the name of the celebration generation embracing the imagination of creation (anti-trust diatribe for the bastard) & in the name of downy freshness"! (I like the aroma), I home-run swing an iron beam into his forehead & he hits the floor like a sack of wet cement (if Fear Factory & South Park can off him, why can't I?) Paprika the ninny squeals that I've just murdered a fellow lodge brother. NONE of these people have a sense of humor? So much for putting the laughter back in manslaughter. Avenged for Windows Millenium crashing my system. Glitch-free, phhft... Confusion city & cast members from all 3 CSI shows arrive. NOT good. Time to get the hell outta Dodge pronto.

Hud tries to reassure me quoting Goethe "as long as people are stupid, there's no need for the Devil to be clever". Intriguing but not helpful. "Oh yeah? Well did you know that one of the 5 suicides in Hindu religion is to cover yourself in cow dung & light yourself on fire"? I look at him wide-eyed & laugh. He looks at me thinking 'the cretin'. Towards the exit, Elvis is leaving the building & a stunned lodge brother with a Che Guevara t-shirt gives us cooked shrimp. Hud burps loudly and inexplicably yells 'olly olly oxen free'. Amidst the mass confusion, a bag lady tries to sell me junk jewellery. She'd have better luck squeezing blood from a brick. I'm legging it from detectives so do I need a lousy gold chain right now? Hud tries to drop more of his ding-a-ling shit facts. I tell him to give it a rest wishing I had a tylenol-4 right about now. He mentions something about the cosa nostra & suburban sprawl in Montreal before shutting up...

A Nun taps me on the shoulder waving a placard calling for sinners to repent. She has a cum-fuck-me look in her eye and seems taken with my snake skin boots. She's aphrodisiac poison & switchblade sex with a checkerboard garter belt and stilletos under that habit. The Dawn of the Dead remake, Japanese rope bondage & double-donged dildo pussy grinding are what her convent needs. I make a date for us to meet in the future so we can burn together in the lake of fire. Hud yawns and is shushed by Yoko Ono who then shrieks before releasing bluebottle flies from a jar all doused in perfume. Serenity now as I roll my eyes.

I flashback to a French cafe named the Crescent de Croissant. People decked out in white sweaters with thin black stripes wear sunglasses, berets & hold long thin cigarette holders as haunting accordion music plays. A framed portrait of Inspector Clouseau on the wall. I think it's open mic beat poet night meaning more hacks nowhere near the talent of a Cassady or Kerouac. One mademoiselle looks twilight zoned straight from a Van Gogh background of sunflowers n' dandelions - vibrant, thick, earthy, uneven & densely packed. Either that or in slow motion, bouncing up n' down in a wheat field, hair in the wind. Like some long lost 1970's shampoo or tampax commercial. Hud shakes me like a rag doll fading the mirage. He drags me into a supermarket to the snack aisle. A sign reads 'no cookies for the rudeness people'. That's us so we shrug & head out but not before accidentally knocking over an entire display of Corn Flakes & Cheerios on sale for $2.99 with a free carton of milk. No dice, I'm financially embarassed at the moment...

We end up back in our seats at the strip joint. Birdbrain Paprika is gone but I have a strange, crooning lounge song stuck in my head which I sing - "call waiting / I've got... / LOOOOOOOOOOOVE ON THE LINE"! Hud laughs and says at 18 we should all have a personal theme song a week for the rest of our lives. Interesting notion. I start with Trenchtown Rock by Bob Marley. A stuttering vegan Sherpa (impersonating Nina Simone while riding a yak) offers us hamburgers asking what's my specialty. I tell him identity theft, vitamin C, Babylon and mistaking astrology for astronomy. Hud regales us with Sylvester Matuschka; a Hungarian WWI vet who went on to derail trains so he could masturbate to the carnage of twisted track & mangled bodies. Would you believe he only served 6yrs in prison? Seems about right. Another new-age Nero fiddling while Rome burns...

The dream police beckon me to surrender. Definitely not in Kansas anymore & something's rotten in Denamrk. The view begins to disappear & particles dissolve into nothingness. Vague memories linger no more & vanish. It's been a strange trip like some demented, over-extended cut away joke from Family Guy. And how fitting & symmetrical to the refrain, 'this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper'...