Something New Stews On the Dude

I just wanted to let you know that I am going to make and write on another as well as this one. The blog is called "The Wheels On the Bus Have Worn Into the Ground." It is about me (of course) and the Los Angeles metro. Enough is enough, besides there is way too many hilarious fucking stories y'all could be reading. peace, the tush.

Artist of the month

The artist of the month is Peter Phillips, don't be a jerk, check his work out.

F*%@ You Awards!

The other day I was rocked with some of the worst news I have heard in a long time. It was the kind of news that you tell someone else and they go "that's it, I thought someone had died..." I go berserker in my head when I hear that. It was shitty news for me, the shittiest. Though while I was riding the piss-and-feces splattered bus down Santa Monica (the 704, if you see me post up and chit-chat and talk shit on the bums), I thought about a dream(s) I used to have. I thought I would share them with you. I remember them to the "t" because I had them over and over again, like my brain was searching with the remote and these were "Wonder Years" reruns. If I were to give these dreams a title it probably "Champion of All: Big or Small"

One dream I saved over twenty people from drowning in a lake. I was hanging with friends on the shore when I noticed someone in a panic out in the open water. I rushed into the water and dragged to shore a nearly drowned little girl. People were going fucking nuts, cheering and yelling, then someone noticed another person drowning so I jumped back into the water. I did this about twenty times. When I was finally finished I looked up and noticed that everybody I that pulled out of the water I had also been hanging out on the shore with. They all had happy faces on. I turned to them and screamed "Why did you keep going in the water!" I was really, really pissed. Moral of this dream is that most people are lemmings and I have the spirit of some super-power-native-american-lifeguard shit.

One of my favorite dreams ever is one I have a feeling a lot of people have had. Its the "award fuck-you dream." Its a classic, if you haven't had this dream you need to take a nap right now, however you will wake up feeling slightly aggressive. In this dream I am standing on this huge stage, someone is handing my a trophy or award (the dream me knows what it is for, but I have never known) that kind of looks like an Oscar or something like that, I know its gold. Anyway, my speech to the audience (teachers, bosses, family members I don't like (that list is fucking long)) went something like this:

(Crowd cheering)

Me: Thank you, thank you, first I want to thank all of you for giving me this great honor. I know that most of you thought I never would do it. You almost made me think I couldn't do it either.

(Crowd laughs)

Me: First of all I would like to address the naysayers in my life, fuck you. Fuck you, because you aren't shit, you think because you can't do something that means I can't do it either. Are you fucking crazy, you are a idiot, you are stupid, you are the fool that fools aspire to be. I have no respect for you. I have no respect for your advice, so shove every word back into your big fucking mouth.

(Crowd applause...)

Me: Second I want to say that even knowing most of you is equal to walking the bottom of the coldest ocean with a gigantic ball and chain attached to my leg. I never asked for your help and I never asked to be put down. People like you make people like me want to live like Jeremiah Johnson (my personal hero), people like me feel pity for people like you. But you are so dumb and that will never change. A lot of things will never change for you. And everything will change for me. I don't mean to rub your face into this pile of shit, but that's exactly what I need to do.

(Crowd applause grows louder)

Me: I see through you as if you were a window, there is nothing that makes you complex, original or even interesting. You are a slice of bread to my philly cheese-steak. You are a broken down Deawoo to my pristine Rolls-Royce. Your swimming pool is murky, dirty and is filled with pollution, my swimming pool is gleaming fresh and clean.

(Crowd stands to their feet, wildly cheering...)

Me: I wish nothing on you but the luck of the Irish. I hope our paths never cross again. I hope you fall into a well and are forced to spend the rest of your life there. When you cry out for help, don't expect anyone to be there. I couldn't change who I was around, so I changed those around me. The new faces in my life are beautiful and true. When I look out into this audience I see faces that a freak show carnival would be ashamed of. I see only the worst in you. I don't believe you have one good bone in your body. I think you wasted your life, you are just like a zombie, you are the walking dead and the only thing I am thinking about is doing whatever I can in my power to make sure I never become one of you. Thank you again for this honor.

(The crowd is clearly exhausted from yelling and cheering so loudly...)

Me: I hope I never see you again.

(The crowd collapses on each other like a roman orgy)

I exit the wing of the stage and fade into the dark.

That Does Not Smell Good...At All

I was thinking about culture while I was watching TV. It dawned on me that our current pop culture is the biggest piece of dog-shit ever served. I remember the 80s well, it seemed okay, Don Mattingly was my God, so was Larry Bird, New York Giants, Michael Jordan, Mr. T and his cartoon buddies. A lot of people hate the 80s, as if it sucked, wrong, they rocked...just with keyboards and drum machines. The 90s was a beast of a different nature, but still kind of cool all the same. 2000s was the beginning of the fall. Now we are in 2010, a new decade...of total big mac crap. I think we (Americans) are dumb as ever, gone is the fortitude and integrity. I know some do the best they can, but stupidity is a force stronger than God with brass knuckles. Everybody is dumber, me included. I might as well do what everybody else does, point a finger and blame someone else. So I am blaming you, its your fault, everything is your fault, even if I did it, its still all your fault...that actually felt pretty good.

Real quick, one thing that makes me bat-shit crazy is the GPS unit. I see them and become insane. I can read maps. Geese get their asses to Florida for the winter every year, without a map or a GPS. Are we seriously dumber than a fucking bird. Did we not navigate the Rocky Mountains, so we could kill a shitload of Indians on the other side.

I give up, I am going to take a nap, wake me up when its time to elect Miley Cyrus for president.

Put a Egg In Your Shoe and Beat It!

The illustration above is a pair a shoes designed for the 2012 USA Basketball team...and this little story has nothing to do with that.

I am thinking of what I am going to write about, the shitty time I had at the LA Marathon or how I started smoking cigarettes (Long Pause)...Okay, so my mom smoked since she was 13 and most of my friends started to smoke at about that age too. I never smoked at a young age, I dipped a little, but girls think that stuff is nasty. Also, I remember watching a video in health class about dipping that made never want to do it again.

The first time I actually got into cigarettes is a strange story, thankfully it is short. I was 17 hanging out with my younger brother at our summer camp (only one-side of my family had money, now everybody's poor), we were riding bikes around the woods looking for things to do. One of things we used to do was steal anything we could from the cars that were parked by people using the riverbanks to fish from. I would be the lookout and my brother would get the goods out of the car, sometimes we switched. Anyway, we got a lot of weird things, once we got a tampon box filled with condoms, weed, a pipe, a bag of coke, a weird religious coin and a really expensive fishing lure. My brother ran towards me with the tampon box, I remember seeing it in his hands, before I could say anything, he just said "Dude" and opened the box to show me the contents. One day, he got a carton of Camel Wides, I figured we could sell them or something. Instead we kept them. Since then both my brother and I are disgusting smokers.

The lesson to learn here is simple, if you start to steal then you will probably die of lung cancer, I know it doesn't sound fair, but tough titties, life isn't fair.

Not sure what this posting is about but it started with boys and gang violence

What is it about gangs and violence that attracts boys. I will admit I was in a little tiny close group of friends. When we were out we were always looking for trouble, blood was spilled, windows shattered, egos bruised...some egos were beaten to a pulp. I was probably the weakest link, I like a fair fight, I don't have the heart to smash some one in the head with a portable grill when they are on the ground in pain (also I have a glass-jaw that shatters with the slightest touch (as if I was Mr. Glass in Unbreakable)). I have been slightly cut by a knife, that was scary. I have been in the back of the head with a brick, that was very painful and also scary. No pain can match a golf club whipping over and over against your back, legs, arms...while you are blinded by pepper spray. Anyway, shit happens. As my girl Aaliyah used to say "you can dust yourself off and try again." I am older now, I have no insurance, no dental, no medical, no vision, plus now I am pudgy, slow, weak and soft. The 18-year-old version of me, could rape and pillage my apartment in seconds and all I could do is rock the fetal position as hard as I can.

The old days are over, I wish I fought better, but I wish I had done a lot of things better, much more important that I neglected. Now I am a lover, and I am much better as a lover than a fighter. I have a dog and she is not a pitbull. She's a lover too and hates social tension...goddamn I love her. click here for a great example of boy gang violence

Welcome to the Ole Silver Tush

I am new to this blogging game. Blogging to me always sounded strange. First of all I hate most blogs, as most are annoying updates on some one's boring life. On the other hand, The Killer Octopus blog is excellent. I can't promise this blog won't suck like all the others and I can't promise it will be great like the Killer Octopus. Anyway, if you don't like than you can find something else to do...like going for a walk outside instead of "surfing the web."