For Whom the Bell Tolls

I was in the orthopedic ward of the hospital the other day--the waiting room, to be exact. I had arrived there by way of a knee injury that I prefer not to explain lest you, like my doctor, pronounce my motorcycling behavior as "self-destructive" and "tantamount to a death wish."

Minding my own business, I buried my nose in a natural healing book I'd brought as a hopeful way of avoiding places like this in the future, with the likes of doctors like that wanting to operate if it fit their expertise, and wanting you to "live with it" if it didn't.
We all sat quietly, presumably pitying ourselves with "Why me?" or berating ourselves with "What was I thinking?" for whatever had happened to deliver us here. I and my partners in needless suffering remained quietly withdrawn, some with eyes fixed on the obligatory television, broadcasting vacant Regis Philbin crap. Anything not to hear someone else's problems.

Anyway, the mood now set, a bright moment indeed flashed briefly and quickly in the midst of this.

An elderly gent had returned to the room, having just seen his doctor. He looked to be at least in his seventies, tall, sporting a dashing gray warm-up jacket, and somewhat hunched with frailty, but he was loud of voice. He approached a seated couple he'd obviously chatted with during his prior wait. Whether the near-yelling was for their benefit or his, I'm not sure, but all ears and eyes were upon him as he stood over them, delivering the following monologue:

"WELL, YOU FOLKS, IT WAS NICE MEETING YOU. THERE'S SOMETHING I WANT YOU TO KNOW. I'M SICILIAN--MY NAME'S CAMPANELLA. YEAH, CAMPANELLA, THAT MEANS 'LITTLE BELL.' MY WIFE USED TO CALL ME HER 'LITTLE DING-DING.'
HEH HEH, YOU FOLKS HAVE A NICE DAY."

The couple on the receiving end nodded and smiled politely, along with one or maybe two others. Little Ding-Ding ambled out the door, escaping us. We returned to our solitary ills.

An A for Aphorisms

My Dad has always been full of them.
Irreverent, welcome, and often instructional, his farm-bred aphorisms were plentiful. They served as a reminder to search for humor wherever possible, and to search even harder where it seemed impossible. I learned early on that the best humor is savored at someone else's expense, and you can run that tab up pretty high- but only if you regularly foot the bill yourself.

There were definitely some he wore out, but that was to be expected when repeatedly trying them out on new guests, absolute strangers, and my buddies who'd already heard them, always with the simple hope of getting a laugh.

Some of these don't strictly qualify as aphorisms (n. a pithy saying; a maxim.), but they were definitely part of the curriculum. Feel free to choose, overuse, and abuse any from the following categories:


Social Conflict:

-"That guy's got a head you'd never get tired of kicking."

-"He should be shot with a ball of his own shit."

-"I only had to put up with him for a few hours- he's got to live with himself for the rest of his life."


Physical Attributes (a rich source):

-Buck-teeth: "He could eat an apple through a picket fence."

-Chesty: "She's got a lot to look forward to."

-Elderly: "When I get to be that age, I hope I have the strength to lie down."

-Unkempt: "Looks like something that fell out of a tree."

-Tall: "a long streak of shit."

-Hair-piece/bad dye-job: "Who the *&%$ does he think he's fooling- is he fooling you?!"

-Large head- see Social Conflict...


Driver's Education:

-At light behind slow driver:

a) "Buddy, it doesn't get any greener."
b) "Any particular shade of green you're waiting for?"

-"Unintentional" tire-squealing: "Oooh, the track's a bit fast there..."

-Accident avoidance:

When a driver at the intersection ahead edges out to cross your path: "Yeah, you pull out and I'll hit you, you son-of-a-bitch." (growled with fake fury but genuine glee.)


Job Frustration:

-"Sometimes I feel my job around here is trying to put the shit back in the goose."

-"In another hundred years it won't matter."

-"If it was any better I couldn't stand it."


Psychological Assessment:

-"She's as happy as if she were in her right mind."

-"He was crazier than a shit-house rat."

-Now, this next one requires an intro:
My parents were visiting here in L.A., and as we drove north on Fairfax Ave. to Sunset Blvd., an obnoxious mansion loomed ahead, front and center, in the Hollywood Hills. Dad's response:

"There's always one cow that has to stand on top of the shit pile."


Fine Dining:

Just one here, and my brothers and I bullied him out of using this one pretty early in the game. But, for it's short life, he sure did get into it. To be announced dramatically as a sort of hillbilly bon appetit:

"You know, I was born and raised on a farm, and the food wasn't always good, but there was always lots of 'er- so get at 'er!"

Courting/Sex:

-At a naive 16, I told my Dad, when questioned, that I intended to take my date to the local theater to see a movie. My brain broke wide open when he replied: "Yeah- good place to get your hands wet."

-Soul-mates: "No matter how f*#ked up someone is, there's a perfect match out there for everybody."

-Frustration/hostility: "You gotta get it out of you." (also used to explain unlikely choice of mate.)


...enter subgroup of euphemisms for the Act itself:

Maintenance: a) "getting your ashes hauled"
b) "getting your pipes cleaned"

Astronomy: "kicking for the stars"

Calisthenics: "running the four-legged race"


On Marriage to Mom:

-Determined suitor: "I chased her and chased her until she caught me."

-Strict vitamin regimen: "I take these to make her feel better."

Thanks for the lessons and laughs, Dad- keep 'em coming!

Love and the Single Cylinder

I had been lurking and learning for the last few days on the KTM-Talk motorcycle forum site, anxiously building up the nerve to one day pair up with that special one-and what a ride she turned out to be......

My eyes first fell on her last Friday when she appeared the very first day in the Cycle Trader online. I could hardly believe my eyes- it was love at first sight. I'd been lusting for a dark-skinned 640 for weeks now, and there she finally was, sexy as all hell, long legged with only that little orange slip of material up the front. Wow......





She belonged to a man named Damian. Yes, she was SanSooRider's girl, and he'd fallen out of love with her, I suppose, but the loving he'd put on her was pretty obvious. All preened, primped and proud she stood there.
I guess it's true what they say- that no matter how breathtakingly hot a woman is, someone's tired of riding her. I, myself, was actually on the rebound, having just split up with my girl of 7yrs- Tyra, an English black beauty- a Triumph Speed Triple. We too had fallen out of love, and I was forced to watch as she left with a younger, more passionate Italian guy. Oddly, as life is wont to play, he too was named Damian- Damiano, actually, and I knew he could be true to her.

But my new girl- Katie M is the name she goes by- she has me head over heels, honeymoon-struck, weak-kneed, and totally obsessed. I've already started to shower her with gifts in the hopes she could love me back even 1/10th as much. New mirrors (vanity...), black fork protectors (those luscious long legs), and a supermoto side stand (I love when she kicks her hip out just so). I give it all to her gladly, for already in the short time we've been together, I feel younger, more enthused and infused with life. It's like "first ride" all over again.

Sure, we have our differences. She refuses to take a place behind others in public, insisting on strutting defiantly between and past the queues of 4-legged, slower creatures.
Neither will she hold her tongue, going anything but quietly- roaring, even barking forcefully, kicking for the sky (but that's for another chatroom...).
Yet how she teaches and inspires me, that man is meant to travel- quickly, lightly, surefootedly, looking often skyward. And that leaning far to one extreme is miraculously balanced out by an immediate leaning to the other.

Yes, I'll be the first to admit it- I'm smitten. As my Dad would always say of my Mom- "I chased her and chased her until she caught me."

Well, she owns me, I'm her boy, and I'm ever grateful to both Damians.

Art Nouveau or Art Pre-Owned

There's big, vacant space on at least one of the walls in my apartment that could use some good artwork. I'd say something painted, something 36"x48" or upwards thereof. That would fill the space. If it was, say, $40 tops- that would be good. Yes, that's what would make it good art- if it were that size at that price. I guess there aren't too many good artists around lately.

Don't think I haven't looked. I searched specifically under "Art" on E-bay, typed in "36x48" and couldn't find anything without paying skywards of $100. Shit, if I had to thin the wallet by even $50 to get a real eye-catcher, that would be fine. Just fine. But I'm not looking for fine art. I hear it's collectable and all, but I'm not about to settle. I want good art. Where the hell did all the fine arts grads go anyway?

Time Waits for No Man- er, uh...Person.

To quote Time magazine in a recent article, Ten Things We Learned About Blogs,
"Blogs wouldn't be such a democratic medium if they weren't so easy to set up."

What? Not so fast there. Blogs are easy to set up and they are a medium of free speech (so far), but what's up with the slippery democracy reference snuck in there? Was it to subtly coax powerless voters into believing that democracy is alive and well? Don't get me wrong- I'd trust the content of Time magazine with my life. They've only just chosen George W. Bush as Person of the Year. Probably all the publication needs is the folllowing instructions printed somewhere:

Deposit $3.95. Load brain. Select regular wash cycle. Allow full spin. Remove laundered brain. (More stubborn ideals may require soaking first in Fox News).

Time for a better quote.
Ever heard of H.L. Mencken? He wrote most of his work from 1920-1940, but as the following quote will show (your honor), he possessed an uncanny knowledge of events destined to unfold in the year 2004. Known as the most prominent newspaperman, book reviewer, and political commentator of his day, Henry Louis Mencken had this to say:

"As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron."
H.L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)

The Time has Come.

Sleeve Notes

Found this in the Sportsman's Guide Online, your one-stop shopping site for everything you need to act the part of Hunter-Fisherman-Farmer. Actually, in their defense, they claim to appeal to the "outdoorsman"- a term that I suppose includes anyone from a day-hiker to a husband locked out of the house for cleaning his gun at the kitchen table.
Getting to the point, it is this very store that has finally addressed the long overdue need for a "businessman" to pass himself off as a "rocker":

Businessman by Day, Hard-core Rocker by Night!

Trade in the suit for something a bit more laid back. Simply pull 'em on and these look like your arms are sleeved with tattoos. But at the end of the night, pull 'em off and you're ready for the office again. They're made of stretchable fabric with full color designs of skulls, python snakes, devil woman... and more.
Size Large / XL fits most. Get a pair ONLINE today!


Can you spot the businessman in this picture?!

What would any self-respecting businessman looking to kill deer want with faux tattoo sleeves? None of your goddamn business!
He's just had a full-salaried day of eating shit through a tube handed him by upper management, and now he's gonna cut loose. Hellbent on kicking out the jams, he's hitting the town tonight to pound some beers with Jimmy from Shipping and Receiving. Outta his way- 'cause shit rolls down hill, bro! No, I don't want no martini, dude- you see these tatts!?... Gimme a freakin' Corona!

That was a display of rather low morale, so let's let's do a little team-building and raise the bar here:
Why don't you businessmen just go ahead and push the envelope by requisitioning yourselves a pair of these bad-boys, at the end of the day? Think outside the box already and step up to the plate for a full-court press. The synergy's killing me!

All right, catch-and-release time. Look- it's pretty clear that something's a little fishy, a little gamey here. Everybody knows that if you're a businessman by day and you wanna be a hard-core rocker by night, that all you need to do is buy a Harley or Metric Cruiser (what they're called now that you can't say Jap bikes, overseas parts, or offshore fasteners, unless you're a war vet.) Bam- you get instant cred, good until the Hells Angels show up. So, what's with the sleeves? I smell a rat, but don't even check the trap, Clyde, 'cause I weren't born in a barn yesterday.

Businessman- come off it! This advertisement is no more than a duck decoy intended to distract the greenhorn reader from the true purpose of this product. When's the last time you made a living off shooting moose, snagging carp, or trapping muskrat? Exactly. An outdoorsman's got to pay the rent, fella! Well, in keeping with the stretch fabric theme, just accessorize the Businessman-by-day, Hard-core Rocker-by-Night Tattoo Sleeves with a Businessman-by-Day, Skiier-at-Night Mask, and you got yourself a night job, boy. But no one's going to announce they're selling the Businessman-by-day, Holdup Man-by-Night Kit now, are they?

That's right, detective. Play back the security cam footage all you want- nobody's ID'ing me. Go scour the rocker bars for the guy with all the ink... shake down the local ski hills too, while you're at it.

Businessman, Hard-core Rocker.......
Sure. I'm no idiot.

A Pound, an Ounce, Anagram

Toyota in the witness protection program

First time I've seen this variation. Seen Toy, seen Yo, but never seen the Maori Warrior/Happy Gene Simmons face before. So I tip my hat to the "GATE GUY" (his personalized plate) but I wish him busier times in his various roles of fixer, affixer, or keeper of the gate.
Takes me way back to the rotted-out 68 Mustang I had at age 16. I switched/discarded the MUSTANG letters on the trunk 'till they said G U T S, in what I believed to be an act of divine guidance, all the while fearing everyone else would do the same. But, to this day I've rarely seen car logos bastardized, and I'm kind of disappointed. Not counting the Toyota trucks, the only other sightings have been:

Land Rover DISCO VERY

Izusu POOPER

...but that's what I get for living in West Hollywood.


Here's a few closely-enough related tidbits I lifted from Wordsmith.org

TOUAREG is an anagram for - OUTRAGE

I wonder how well the ROLLS-ROYCE SILVER MIST sold in Germany, given that, in German, "MIST" means "MANURE."

The Mitsubishi PAJERO is sold in Spain under a different name because in Spanish vernacular it means something like WANKER.

Buick recently had to change the name of the LaCROSSE in Canada because it is French-Canadian slang for, (ahem) MASTURBATION.

And finally, my favorite, which may or may not apply to their unrequested contribution to the SUV pile :

VOLVO is Latin for "I ROLL".

My Bible Senses are Tingling

In case you haven't noticed, there's more than a little evil out there- we're fightin' a whole Axis, for Christ's sake! Things could not be more timely for Bibleman.

Although he's apparently been around for 10 yrs, and Lord knows how many years wandering around in the desert before that, he's got a video series, video game, and a daily scripture email for the kids. He's on tour, as we speak, coming to a church near you, and holy mass manipulation Bibleman, he may be able to explain why we're in Iraq!


Say Uncle Jesus!

Bibleman's one hell of a chrome-suited, light saber brandishing dude as you can see, not adverse to dishing out an old fashioned bible thumping if need be. He even hangs with Bible Girl, who sports a pretty fit and righteous breastplate, but there I go with the coveting. Thank God we don't have him paired up with some Bible Boy-Wonder in a same-sex scenario- I mean, you know- if it ain't behavior blessed by the president...




Thy appetite hath made thee whole.


Anyway, why the bejesus did they discontinue the Bibleman action figure? Who's the drunkard in charge of marketing? Any fool worth his daily bread could see that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than to fail with this toy. Let's get the goddamn thing back out there- the resurrection! I'll tell you just how this Bibleman thing should play out:

Lo and behold, the new Bibleman Action Figure!
No stone was left unturned in the creation of this toy.

God is not just on our side- He's in the details!

With superhero cape made from our proprietary Get-Thee-Behind-Me Satin, and waist cinched with trademark Bible Belt, Bibleman is ready to crusade!

Incredibly AfterLife-like!!!


Lions?? Bring it on!!!


Be it Muslims, other misguided foreigners, or just citizens lacking moral values, Bibleman comes with everything you need to wage war and justify it!

Just look at these features!!!

Holy Roller Skates
Patented Turn-the-Other-Cheek neck action
CROSS-bow
Automatic Day-of-Rest shutoff switch
WWJD Handbook (not available in French)

But wait- there's more! Order before Christmas 2005 and we'll also throw in our Almighty Adapter Kit that allows you to quickly convert any nonsensical religion to Christianity.

Don't be the last on your block to get one- Don't let your friends be Holier-than-Thou! - ORDER NOW!

What the DEVIL are you waiting for?!

You have to laugh- otherwise you'd just f&*$ing cry

Now that GWB is in the house (still) and we're relegated to only four more years of war, suffering, and a quantum leap backwards in evolution, what better time than to have a laugh, eh?

There's alot of funny and furious stuff out there to put on your bumper or your chest if you'd only just get on one of the internets and have a looky-there.


Click on this sticker, which I found most pleasing, and gave it a "5" on the "likelihood your car will be keyed" scale, only because most people won't get it, and probably just resume daydreaming about last night's episode of The Apprentice.



And here's a current favorite,




that's available in sticker or T-shirt format. I'd give this an "8" on the scale and wouldn't recommend you park in the Hooters lot with it.

So y'all get out there and spread the outrage, the giggles, given all the free time you have now that democracy's dead.

Metaphysical White House Cleaning

I think I see a way out of this. Since the Voting Game didn't produce the desired winner, or some would even say contestant, other options might have to be explored. There's an ad on the back page of the LA Weekly for "Metaphysical Housecleaning." Upon checking out the website, Spiritbusters.com, I felt eerily guided into sharing this, with the hope of freeing the White House from evil and persistent beings that have taken up residence there. Here's what caught my eye.....

E-Mail
Please click on the header to be directed to the proper e-mail form.
I have negative energy in my home.
I have a negative or bothersome spiritual or vibrational problem in my home (or other local). It is causing me problems, misery, loss of money, oppression, etc. I need this energy removed from my environment.

I believe I have a bothersome or negative SPIRIT in my house.
I have seen or felt things that lead me to suspect that there is a human spirit here, and there may also be a bad general atmosphere. I need this spirit removed from my house, never to return.

Now, steel yourself- I ain't making this up.....

I am being abused
These are the calls from people who are being abused, starved, whipped, beaten, or generally horribly abused by a human monster. I lick my lips for these jobs. After talking to the person long enough to establish what is going on, when I hear that they are given nothing to buy food so must go steal it to survive, and that that same man who does not give them a quarter for food beats them every night, I go into dark mode and I will usually pound the man on the spot, or instruct the callers how to pound him. These are technically other service calls, but any time I get an e mail with this in the subject line I go to it first. THIS IS A FREE SERVICE. This may seem like a wierd service for me to offer, but part of the foundation of my spiritual life is my guardian angel, and my guardian angel happens to be the force in nature who is the power who protects women who are being abused by men. Therefore, I must follow in her path and help people who are under unreasonable abuse. I especially want to help women who are being abused. I LIKE TO RID HOUSES OF HUMAN MONSTERS TOO!.



Doesn't it sound to you like we could get this cleaning done for FREE? I think the abuse the world is under from these dark entities in the White House is fairly unreasonable, but I feel too uncertain and intimidated to approach Spirit Busters, due to the following excerpt....

Some price changes or arrangements might be made only for people who are in very bad shape and are truly poor -- but please don't try to trick me, I spent four years seven days a week as an internet psychic, and the trick will soon reveal itself!

So many things to fear- will we ever regain our power??!!!!!

SHIT- The Give and Take

Shit- some say it rolls down hill, and some can give it but not take it.
On this very election day, more seem to give a shit than ever. But one man is prepared to take it- The Doody Dude. I ain't shittin' you.
I spotted his piece of shit truck the other day rolling down Sunset Blvd, and OK- it's really your dog's shit he's prepared to take, but a guy's gotta start at the bottom, doesn't he?
Now, my Hollywood neighbors can take even less responsibility for their dogs, and use them purely for the sidewalk networking/matchmaking they were intended for.
The Dude abides....and he claims to be #1 in the #2 business, which means he's the shit, yo.
Check it!

Stooping to the Cellular Level

Don't make the same mistake I did. Do NOT see the movie "Cellular."
Because I was on a date where the time at which we saw a movie became more important than the movie itself, I DID.
Kim Basinger stars in this 90 minute fecal streak of a film and it is here where I proceed directly to my point.
At first I was struck by her appearance. Her face was overly oiled or moisturized, presumably to make her skin seem younger; but it was shiny, distracting and creepy for some reason.

Shiny happy people

The insidious reason is this:

Those crafty media puppeteers, controlled, of course, by the protagonists of your choice- Illuminati, Big Brother, whatever- have pulled a sly one on us. Any rookie conspiracy theorist who knows his obelisk from his phallus could tell you they love to flaunt their hidden agenda through symbols.
Well, while the presidential debate/distraction rolls on and fails to discuss the real reason for the Iraq war, the powers that be have poked a little fun at us by giving it up.

The real reason for the war is written all over Kim Basinger's face....... It's the Oil!
Yes, they're rubbing our faces in it.

At once, this film, thinly veiled as idiotic, brain-numbing shite, reveals itself as a clever, disturbing flip-off to us all. Certainly, there are other factors at work here that complicate issues and probably lead to more of a combination-skin symbology.

Look for T-Zone- a new sequel to the Terminator movies, putting your governor to work soon.

One Man Dared to be Complex