I live in a castle
Where it's cloudy everyday
I'm fighting off vampires
All alone but it's okay
Someday when they're all dead
I'll find a way to revive my wife
And this robot with scissors for hands
Helps me through the night
We sit and talk till the sun comes up
About the best way to cook eggs
And about the time I was on TV
And threw one in Batman's face
Or the time I was a giant rat
And almost killed Sherlock Holmes
Or the evening I met Frankenstein
And had a chat with Edgar Allen Poe
But this house of wax is melting now
So I lay me down for good
And dream that I'm a tiny fly
In a theater of blood
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Annoying People I Have Known or Why Won't They Leave Me Alone?
High School
The Arm Grabber
This person insisted on grabbing me by the arm to steal my attention to blab on and on about stupid shit that I cared not an iota for. I generally tried to avoid this person but sometimes he would come out of nowhere and bore me to tears by telling me a long story about something his Dad did or by recapping every single thing that happened in whatever lame TV show he watched the night before while I desperately tried to find a way to escape. He didn't smell too pretty either but it was a plus because on some days it helped to know if he was near, thus making avoidance easier.
The Uber-Nerd
This person latched onto me because he really had no other friends and I wasn't going to be a jerk and tell him to go away. He picked his nose in front of me and popped zits on the back of his neck in class but he let me borrow Zelda 64 and a bunch of Star Wars books. The bad thing was that he insisted on telling me every single plot twist in the game and forced me to play Star Wars cards even though I had never played before. Then he gloated about how badly he was beating me. I felt bad for him but I was also a little embarrassed to be around him because he was always picking at his crotch.
The Thief
This is another person that latched onto me because he had no other friends and I was too much of a nice guy to tell him off. I felt bad for him till it turned out he was stealing money from me and most of my other friends, then I got mad and rubbed potatoes in his hair at lunch and threw all the junk out of his locker into the hall. Ah high school, the only time you can really be a jerk and get away with it...
One time he came over to my house and stayed in the bathroom with the door locked for like an hour. No sounds emanated from within, no toilet flush, no hand wash, nothing. It really freaked my mom out.
The White Trash Girl
Sigh. I was a magnet for the friendless. I suppose it was because I was so quiet and generally tried to keep to myself. None of my real friends liked her and she smelled like smoke, plus she was dating The Arm Grabber which really freaked me out. Still, she was a girl who talked to me, which was rare. She moved away after about a year. I still wonder what happened to her...
Military
The Racist
He was an alright guy till we were driving around one day and he confided in me that he disliked black people. A lot. Then he proceeded to explain in great detail why while I squirmed uncomfortably. He wasn't very bright either. Got shipped to another base shortly after.
The Gangsta Wannabe
Not too bad of a guy. He came over to my room and stole my Internet a lot but also gave me rides into town when I needed them as I had no car. I found his constant tough guy posing pretty funny since he was about 200 Lbs of fat and smoked like a chimney. One time he tried to get me to look at a video he had on his cell phone of him having sex with some random girl. That one second blip I caught before I shut my eyes is still burned into my brain.
The Awful Roommate
Very very fat and smelled like garbage. I had to room with this person when I was sent overseas. He snored so loud people down the hall could hear him with their doors shut. I came very close to breaking and stuffing socks down his throat. Coming home after a 12 hour shift and walking into a cloud of his stink wasn't very pleasant either. He went home halfway through my deployment and I was very happy. Replaced with...
The Dumbass
I have never met anyone so obliviously brain dead in all my life. On top of being stupid, he was a compulsive liar. One time he offloaded this story on me about how his dad trained attack dogs which lead to a story about how he had killed a wolf while out in the woods camping with his bare hands. Then he showed me a tiny scar on his knuckle as proof. One time my other roommate come home from work early to find him sitting naked, talking on the phone, on a foot locker he had been warned not to touch. It's a good thing the Sargent was a nice guy as he was also large and muscled and could have easily punched the moron's head in. Not that that would have been a bad thing...
Now it's your turn to tell some stories! I wants to hear about people you've had to deal with that you'd rather not have ever met. The healing begins here...
The Arm Grabber
This person insisted on grabbing me by the arm to steal my attention to blab on and on about stupid shit that I cared not an iota for. I generally tried to avoid this person but sometimes he would come out of nowhere and bore me to tears by telling me a long story about something his Dad did or by recapping every single thing that happened in whatever lame TV show he watched the night before while I desperately tried to find a way to escape. He didn't smell too pretty either but it was a plus because on some days it helped to know if he was near, thus making avoidance easier.
The Uber-Nerd
This person latched onto me because he really had no other friends and I wasn't going to be a jerk and tell him to go away. He picked his nose in front of me and popped zits on the back of his neck in class but he let me borrow Zelda 64 and a bunch of Star Wars books. The bad thing was that he insisted on telling me every single plot twist in the game and forced me to play Star Wars cards even though I had never played before. Then he gloated about how badly he was beating me. I felt bad for him but I was also a little embarrassed to be around him because he was always picking at his crotch.
The Thief
This is another person that latched onto me because he had no other friends and I was too much of a nice guy to tell him off. I felt bad for him till it turned out he was stealing money from me and most of my other friends, then I got mad and rubbed potatoes in his hair at lunch and threw all the junk out of his locker into the hall. Ah high school, the only time you can really be a jerk and get away with it...
One time he came over to my house and stayed in the bathroom with the door locked for like an hour. No sounds emanated from within, no toilet flush, no hand wash, nothing. It really freaked my mom out.
The White Trash Girl
Sigh. I was a magnet for the friendless. I suppose it was because I was so quiet and generally tried to keep to myself. None of my real friends liked her and she smelled like smoke, plus she was dating The Arm Grabber which really freaked me out. Still, she was a girl who talked to me, which was rare. She moved away after about a year. I still wonder what happened to her...
Military
The Racist
He was an alright guy till we were driving around one day and he confided in me that he disliked black people. A lot. Then he proceeded to explain in great detail why while I squirmed uncomfortably. He wasn't very bright either. Got shipped to another base shortly after.
The Gangsta Wannabe
Not too bad of a guy. He came over to my room and stole my Internet a lot but also gave me rides into town when I needed them as I had no car. I found his constant tough guy posing pretty funny since he was about 200 Lbs of fat and smoked like a chimney. One time he tried to get me to look at a video he had on his cell phone of him having sex with some random girl. That one second blip I caught before I shut my eyes is still burned into my brain.
The Awful Roommate
Very very fat and smelled like garbage. I had to room with this person when I was sent overseas. He snored so loud people down the hall could hear him with their doors shut. I came very close to breaking and stuffing socks down his throat. Coming home after a 12 hour shift and walking into a cloud of his stink wasn't very pleasant either. He went home halfway through my deployment and I was very happy. Replaced with...
The Dumbass
I have never met anyone so obliviously brain dead in all my life. On top of being stupid, he was a compulsive liar. One time he offloaded this story on me about how his dad trained attack dogs which lead to a story about how he had killed a wolf while out in the woods camping with his bare hands. Then he showed me a tiny scar on his knuckle as proof. One time my other roommate come home from work early to find him sitting naked, talking on the phone, on a foot locker he had been warned not to touch. It's a good thing the Sargent was a nice guy as he was also large and muscled and could have easily punched the moron's head in. Not that that would have been a bad thing...
Now it's your turn to tell some stories! I wants to hear about people you've had to deal with that you'd rather not have ever met. The healing begins here...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Mean Joe All Alone...
Mean Joe sat eating a shitty TV dinner type breakfast meal. He didn't like it but that was pretty much all that was in the cabin and in the storage shed out back. At least now he knew how fat Bob got so fat. He shoveled another fork full of shitty processed eggs into his mouth and thought over the days events.
All in all it had been a pretty productive day. Killing those goons would put more fear into Fat Bob which was defiantly a good thing. Plus if he sent anyone over to take him out, Mean Joe knew he could take any number of them easily. He almost wished they would try and take him down. As for the reasons he was hiding out, well that was a bit more complicated. Mean Joe told himself it was the smart thing to do as he choked down a few pieces of sausage and looked at the kitchen clock. 3:00 AM. Time for bed. He pushed open the entryway door and threw the horrible slop onto the grass outside. Tomorrow he would go find some real food. Lots of things to do tomorrow...
The upstairs loft was the roomiest in the cabin. It was one large space that spanned the whole upstairs. It contained one large bed, a small dresser, and a wardrobe closet, and a small table with a lamp. Mean Joe sat down at the table, took off his overcoat, and cleaned his pistol. It was one of the only things in the world that he loved as it never let him down. He took care of it and it took care of him. As he cleaned the bore and oiled the cylinders, he let his mind wander again...
With the gun to the goons head, he had searched every room in the place. It wasn't hard since there was only two rooms downstairs. The bulb in the second room, which turned out to be a living area with a few small couches and a coffee table, was burnt out. He had ordered the kid to turn on one of the desk lamps but before he could move there was a noise behind them. Mean Joe turned and fired at the sound. After they had gotten a light on they looked at the splotch of blood, fur, and guts, against the wall that had recently been a mouse. The kid had turned pale. Then they had searched the upstairs and all around the outside. When they had gotten to the outhouse Mean Joe had grabbed the kid and dangled him over the hole, head first.
"You like shit kid?" He had said and dropped his head a little lower towards the fetid pool of human waste.
"Tell your boss if fucks with me he's going to be in a lot of it." Then he had dunked the kids head in, pulled him out, and sent him on his way with a hearty kick to the rear. There was really no point in doing this but fun was fun, you had to get it while you could...
Mean Joe finished cleaning his 44 and climbed into bed. He put his gun on the nightstand, turned off the light, and sat listening to the darkness. The quiet unsettled him. The city was always noisy but here all he could hear was the crickets outside and the creaking of the cabin as it settled. Maybe that was what was bugging him, he wasn't used to the silence. No, no. It was something else. Something was picking at the back of his brain. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. It was another hour and a half before he finally fell asleep...
Mean Joe was 8 years old again. He knew this because of where he was, which was the shithole apartment he shared with his mother till he had run away a year later. He looked at the dingy walls, the shitty junk pile furniture. He could even smell the stench of utter poverty, a heady mix of dirty clothes and rancid garbage. He looked down at his hands. He had been reading a comic book. Donald Duck was getting beat up by a punching bag on the cover. Now where had that come from? Suddenly his stomach felt sick. He thought he knew what day it was...
Suddenly the front door slammed open and a woman stumbled into the room. She had a bottle of gin in one hand. The other was wrapped up with dirty bandages. His mother. With mounting horror he noted how her makeup was smeared all over her face, making her look like a clown, but not a funny one. This wasn't funny at all. Her dress was torn open and he could see her breasts. She came right for him and he tried to make himself run away but he was stuck to the floor. She stumbled over and picked him up, roughly, putting her face right next to his.
"You little shit." She whispered and he could smell the booze on her breath. Then she threw him against the wall.
"You little shit, this is all your fault! You stupid little shit, you ruined everything!" She screamed and stumbled over with her fist raised to hit him. Suddenly she stopped. Something had caught her eye. She leaned over and picked up the comic book he had been reading. She waved it in his face.
"Where did you get this? WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?"
"M-M-Mr. Blakeston gave it me mom, I..."
"No he didn't. You stole it. You little liar."
"M-M-Mom I..."
Then she hit him with the book. Over and over and over. And he could feel it. He could feel the sting of every blow. She hit him till the book was nothing but rags, then she threw it in his face and stumbled off into the kitchen.
Mean Joe desperately tried to remember what had happened next but he kept drawing a blank. He knew it was something bad but what...
Suddenly he knew, even before his mother came out of the kitchen with a carving knife in her hand.
"Gotta, go-gotta teach you a lesson boy. Can't have you stealin' anymore, didn't raise you that way. No son of mine..."
Then she was on top of him, holding his mouth shut with one hand and cutting his face with the other...
Mean Joe sat up in bed and stared out into the darkness. He fingered the long scars on the side of his face. To his surprise, they felt numb, the whole left side of his face did. Before he could think of what that meant or why he had had that particular dream, there was a loud crashing noise downstairs. Mean Joe grabbed his pistol and slowly climbed out of bed...
All in all it had been a pretty productive day. Killing those goons would put more fear into Fat Bob which was defiantly a good thing. Plus if he sent anyone over to take him out, Mean Joe knew he could take any number of them easily. He almost wished they would try and take him down. As for the reasons he was hiding out, well that was a bit more complicated. Mean Joe told himself it was the smart thing to do as he choked down a few pieces of sausage and looked at the kitchen clock. 3:00 AM. Time for bed. He pushed open the entryway door and threw the horrible slop onto the grass outside. Tomorrow he would go find some real food. Lots of things to do tomorrow...
The upstairs loft was the roomiest in the cabin. It was one large space that spanned the whole upstairs. It contained one large bed, a small dresser, and a wardrobe closet, and a small table with a lamp. Mean Joe sat down at the table, took off his overcoat, and cleaned his pistol. It was one of the only things in the world that he loved as it never let him down. He took care of it and it took care of him. As he cleaned the bore and oiled the cylinders, he let his mind wander again...
With the gun to the goons head, he had searched every room in the place. It wasn't hard since there was only two rooms downstairs. The bulb in the second room, which turned out to be a living area with a few small couches and a coffee table, was burnt out. He had ordered the kid to turn on one of the desk lamps but before he could move there was a noise behind them. Mean Joe turned and fired at the sound. After they had gotten a light on they looked at the splotch of blood, fur, and guts, against the wall that had recently been a mouse. The kid had turned pale. Then they had searched the upstairs and all around the outside. When they had gotten to the outhouse Mean Joe had grabbed the kid and dangled him over the hole, head first.
"You like shit kid?" He had said and dropped his head a little lower towards the fetid pool of human waste.
"Tell your boss if fucks with me he's going to be in a lot of it." Then he had dunked the kids head in, pulled him out, and sent him on his way with a hearty kick to the rear. There was really no point in doing this but fun was fun, you had to get it while you could...
Mean Joe finished cleaning his 44 and climbed into bed. He put his gun on the nightstand, turned off the light, and sat listening to the darkness. The quiet unsettled him. The city was always noisy but here all he could hear was the crickets outside and the creaking of the cabin as it settled. Maybe that was what was bugging him, he wasn't used to the silence. No, no. It was something else. Something was picking at the back of his brain. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. It was another hour and a half before he finally fell asleep...
Mean Joe was 8 years old again. He knew this because of where he was, which was the shithole apartment he shared with his mother till he had run away a year later. He looked at the dingy walls, the shitty junk pile furniture. He could even smell the stench of utter poverty, a heady mix of dirty clothes and rancid garbage. He looked down at his hands. He had been reading a comic book. Donald Duck was getting beat up by a punching bag on the cover. Now where had that come from? Suddenly his stomach felt sick. He thought he knew what day it was...
Suddenly the front door slammed open and a woman stumbled into the room. She had a bottle of gin in one hand. The other was wrapped up with dirty bandages. His mother. With mounting horror he noted how her makeup was smeared all over her face, making her look like a clown, but not a funny one. This wasn't funny at all. Her dress was torn open and he could see her breasts. She came right for him and he tried to make himself run away but he was stuck to the floor. She stumbled over and picked him up, roughly, putting her face right next to his.
"You little shit." She whispered and he could smell the booze on her breath. Then she threw him against the wall.
"You little shit, this is all your fault! You stupid little shit, you ruined everything!" She screamed and stumbled over with her fist raised to hit him. Suddenly she stopped. Something had caught her eye. She leaned over and picked up the comic book he had been reading. She waved it in his face.
"Where did you get this? WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?"
"M-M-Mr. Blakeston gave it me mom, I..."
"No he didn't. You stole it. You little liar."
"M-M-Mom I..."
Then she hit him with the book. Over and over and over. And he could feel it. He could feel the sting of every blow. She hit him till the book was nothing but rags, then she threw it in his face and stumbled off into the kitchen.
Mean Joe desperately tried to remember what had happened next but he kept drawing a blank. He knew it was something bad but what...
Suddenly he knew, even before his mother came out of the kitchen with a carving knife in her hand.
"Gotta, go-gotta teach you a lesson boy. Can't have you stealin' anymore, didn't raise you that way. No son of mine..."
Then she was on top of him, holding his mouth shut with one hand and cutting his face with the other...
Mean Joe sat up in bed and stared out into the darkness. He fingered the long scars on the side of his face. To his surprise, they felt numb, the whole left side of his face did. Before he could think of what that meant or why he had had that particular dream, there was a loud crashing noise downstairs. Mean Joe grabbed his pistol and slowly climbed out of bed...
Monday, April 27, 2009
Oh the Things I do When I Can't Sleep...
Crude racist Internet meme + Shakespearean insult generator + Insomnia = Huh?
I'm sorry for this, I really am...
I'm sorry for this, I really am...
The Most Quotable Album Ever?
Click image for maximum awesomeness!
In high school I was a huge Pink Floyd fan. I listened to The Wall more times than any sane person ever should and I even bought (and actually sort of liked) The Final Cut. I even had their first album from back in the sixties called Piper at the Gates of Dawn back when they still had Syd Barrett (Poor Syd went crazy shortly after. I'm not exaggerating either, he spent the rest of his life in an insane asylum).
I had quite a freaky experience with PatGoD. I was sitting in the dark listening to it with my eyes closed when all these weird images started popping into my head: strange pulsating colors, houses I had never visited, and barren windswept planes full of ancient ruins. It was tripping with no drugs! I always wondered how it happened because I could never get it to work again...
Anyways, I also got The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon on vinyl from a flea market. No DSotM poster though even though the record sleeve said it came with one. That would have been the ultimate.
For the record my favorite Floyd album is Animals and it's one of the few that I still put on quite regularly.
After high school me and Floyd parted ways. I got into punk and weird obscure shitty music, thanks to the Internet, and Roger Waters and company seemed a bit stodgy after that. Well tonight I pulled out DSotM after many years and gave it another spin and to my surprise, it's still awesome. It's not just the music that makes it so great, the lyrics are killer. Here's some of my favorite quotes:
"I've been mad for fucking years. Absolutely years."
"All you touch and all you see, is all your life will ever be."
"No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun."
"Far away, across the fields, the tolling of the iron bell, calls the faithful to their knees, to hear the softly spoken magic spells."
"Listen son, said the man with the gun, there's room for you inside."
"There's someone in my head, but it's not me."
"Remembering games, and daisy chains and laughs, got to keep the loonies on the path."
"The paper holds their folded faces to the floor, and everyday the paperboy brings more."
"Everything under the sun is in tune, but the sun is eclipsed by the moon."
"There is no dark side of the moon really. As a matter of fact it's all dark."
Those are the ones that have been popping into my head randomly for years anyways. I once scrawled "There's someone in my head but it's not me" across a paper I had to turn in for Geography class and I'm pretty sure it was a deciding factor in my teacher suggesting to my mom that I seek counseling. Yeah I had to go and have some 40 year old counselor try to figure out why I was so fucked up. You can see how much that helped normalize me!
So in conclusion: Despite way too much radio play for many of it's songs and general overratedness, Dark Side of the Moon is still a fucking great album. It's not as great as The Wall or Animals but it still puts pleasantry unpleasant images in my head whenever I give it a spin. Plus it's great to play synced up with The Wizard of Oz. Start the CD on the third lion roar! I'm going to bed...
In high school I was a huge Pink Floyd fan. I listened to The Wall more times than any sane person ever should and I even bought (and actually sort of liked) The Final Cut. I even had their first album from back in the sixties called Piper at the Gates of Dawn back when they still had Syd Barrett (Poor Syd went crazy shortly after. I'm not exaggerating either, he spent the rest of his life in an insane asylum).
I had quite a freaky experience with PatGoD. I was sitting in the dark listening to it with my eyes closed when all these weird images started popping into my head: strange pulsating colors, houses I had never visited, and barren windswept planes full of ancient ruins. It was tripping with no drugs! I always wondered how it happened because I could never get it to work again...
Anyways, I also got The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon on vinyl from a flea market. No DSotM poster though even though the record sleeve said it came with one. That would have been the ultimate.
For the record my favorite Floyd album is Animals and it's one of the few that I still put on quite regularly.
After high school me and Floyd parted ways. I got into punk and weird obscure shitty music, thanks to the Internet, and Roger Waters and company seemed a bit stodgy after that. Well tonight I pulled out DSotM after many years and gave it another spin and to my surprise, it's still awesome. It's not just the music that makes it so great, the lyrics are killer. Here's some of my favorite quotes:
"I've been mad for fucking years. Absolutely years."
"All you touch and all you see, is all your life will ever be."
"No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun."
"Far away, across the fields, the tolling of the iron bell, calls the faithful to their knees, to hear the softly spoken magic spells."
"Listen son, said the man with the gun, there's room for you inside."
"There's someone in my head, but it's not me."
"Remembering games, and daisy chains and laughs, got to keep the loonies on the path."
"The paper holds their folded faces to the floor, and everyday the paperboy brings more."
"Everything under the sun is in tune, but the sun is eclipsed by the moon."
"There is no dark side of the moon really. As a matter of fact it's all dark."
Those are the ones that have been popping into my head randomly for years anyways. I once scrawled "There's someone in my head but it's not me" across a paper I had to turn in for Geography class and I'm pretty sure it was a deciding factor in my teacher suggesting to my mom that I seek counseling. Yeah I had to go and have some 40 year old counselor try to figure out why I was so fucked up. You can see how much that helped normalize me!
So in conclusion: Despite way too much radio play for many of it's songs and general overratedness, Dark Side of the Moon is still a fucking great album. It's not as great as The Wall or Animals but it still puts pleasantry unpleasant images in my head whenever I give it a spin. Plus it's great to play synced up with The Wizard of Oz. Start the CD on the third lion roar! I'm going to bed...
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