Facebuke of me...

If the throngs of you out there that follow my pathetic life are wondering what happened to my facebuke acct. ... It's gone.

Evidently some fuck attempted to hack it the evening of 04/14/2010 and gain access by trying to finagle a password change. SO... not that it had anything on it anyway... It's history.

The faithful may still follow my (and often my family's) antics here.

Its actually a good omen...
I had a case today (in court) where I was meeting w. the asst. PA and complainant and had to endure a 10 minute conversation about shit they had on their Facebuke and their associations with others in they Keyser area. (I left the room after about 1/2 minute... so I'm just guessing they kept up the theme as I reentered to get the asst. PA to come into the court room, they were still going at it.)

So people... as previously suspected... FACEBUKE = KNUCKLEHEADS w. nothing else better to do.

and if the FUCK-NUT who attempted (rather feebly) to hack my FACEBUKE acct. is a follower of my blog. Then shame on ya. Hope ya' die alone, spittin' blood. (Though I think that would actually be pretty cool to experience.)

Back the 3 1 1

Chill with indica and guiness,

Steer clear of white powder

Kick it you sing it in a space,

Go out to play it louder

Plague my brain with no cocaine

I don't wanna, I don't wanna go insane

Roll up the bones if you can affix a word to smoke it

Except for you're doomed in the morning if you bake the hills

Oh and I get up to the sun and then I smoke out

It's begining to smell like Mota and I'm down with no doubt, sing

Plague my brain with no cocaine

I don't wanna, I don't wanna go insane

Every country 'round the world,

The people smoke the herb,

Prohibition is absurd

The people want it

Mushrooms.... Know what you're getting into.

What I learned today.

When your buddy explains how you should go out into your property of hundreds of acres and search for mushrooms:
1. He is probably being serious.
2. If you're from the city, remember number 1 when you try calling him from your cell phone when you get lost in the hundreds of acres.
3. You won't be finding anything.

Such was my early evening after work today.

My instructions: Just head out into the woods just to the right of your house and look under all the Poplar trees... they're the tall ones with green on top.

So off I went. Couple beers in my pocket, I thought I'd surprise him with a neat ... allotment of the things (whatever a nice grouping of shrooms are called).

I soon realized that ... there were a LOT of tall trees that had green shit on the top; and thus further realized I didn't know what the fuck a Poplar was!

Working my way over several ridges in an easterly direction, and summarily getting lost, I first called my secretary to inquire if John (my Chief Deputy/boss) was sending me on some sort of snipe hunt. After her laughing was completed she advised that he wasn't kidding and with the assistance of her mate, actually instructed me to further my search.

After probing deeper into the forest, I started to think it was a conspiracy, and put a call to John's cell phone; basically border-line cussing him out for managing to have me lost on what I thought was still my own property. At this point I had no idea.

I managed to find an interesting stream though in the interim.

After another call to Carolyn, I saw where the sun was setting and headed back in that direction in the hopes of finding the house. Upon topping one ridge, I noticed the fields used by those fucking cows that I recalled the snow falling upon this winter and made for that location. Within a half hour of reaching the green fields, I saw where the fucking house was.

In conclusion:

Fuck mushrooms.

Just like fucking steak.... The goddamn store works fine for my ass!

The Dead Thing In My Basement Hole I Met Last Night

I managed to be situated in an old basement type area of some sort of vast ancient catacomb of sorts. There was an entry hole into an even darker area where perhaps evilness was afoot. Whatever was going on inside of this deeper, darker hole, it did not radiate goodness. Inside was a demon being of sorts. One of a limited intelligence would say the devil dwelled inside of this hole, but that was too easy.

I leaned inside and felt the dark, scary, unfamiliar evilness of the creature within. It held no form, and spoke or communicated no language familiar to me, and my first reaction was to retreat , nay, commence into a full route away form whatever this nightmare was turning into.

The entity spoke or communicated but just remained within this deep, dry, dead room in silence among old bricks. Old red bricks. Dim, dead, red bricks. He communicated to interact with him and I was drawn. So I did interact and the more I did, the more I understood what this demon was communicating unto me. I interacted with him, and the piles of dusty old bricks and mortar that he dwelled within, cleared more and more. He was undead for sure. He was nothing pleasant, and was pure horror that dwells in the deepest of a common person’s nightmares. I continued to interact with this dead being, and the more interaction that took place, the more he became known unto my intelligence.

This dead being did not attempt a relationship of any sort, but interacted just as a dead demon would. He created before me slight, and pitiful living beings and beasts; akin to dogs they were, but misshapen and disturbed. The dead one found no mirth in this, but the created creatures were nothing more than a byproduct of his ongoing death in this decaying and aged alcove where he existed. Some of the creatures approached and seeked love and friendship, but only to turn around and belch forth the overpowering feeling of death that the demon creature himself exhumed, lying among his rotting section of buried and forgotten catacomb. His presence there was to remain of the dead and rotted menace that he was and nothing more.

He could communicate if you reached your mind into it. He would range from nothing more than a long dead, decaying body with no life, to a semblance of something demonic, almost satanic in mirth if you tried to interact with him among his bricks and stone.

He’s there any time you want to visit him.

heh...

Smells Like Da' Ocean, etc. ...

Fuck you all.

Easter Time... WHITE NOISE is all...

Easter time is here. Celebrate.
Celebration at Hell House! Its in full bloom, baby! FULL FUCKING BLOOM!!!

The first (hope to gods ONLY) annual Hell House Easter Festivity Festival has begun!!!

It started with the commencement of the laundry-at-an-earlier-than-usual-time! (See, that would be because the Snow-boyz had an earlier than anticipated departure..... and THAT's a whole nutha' story folks.)

BUT... This is all about the Hell House Easter Festivity Festival! So let's get on with it!

The garage was emptied, scrubbed, hosed and cleaned. Unfortunately the various items that I was hoping to be of service during the upcoming months will not be of much use. What appeared to be a really neat looking riding lawn mower ended up being in a state of such uninstallation-of-parts that I will be donating it to the John Alkire collection of stuff he manages to find uses for.

The garage is clean though.

As the day progressed, the music became louder, the post-operation drinks started flowing, and I found an old wash tub of sorts. The louder the music became, and the more post-operative drinks flowed, the more the tub looked interesting. So after the scrubbing of the garage, the scrubbing of the tub commenced.

Now a side note here... As I retrieved another post-operative beverage and one of my most favorite songs "Perfect Water" (by Blue Oyster Cult) came on, I realized that Dionysus (my parrot) did not seem to understand my same over-the-top enjoyment of the song, and became confused by my added lyrics and inflections.

After the tub-scrub, came the tub painting. Twas primed and painted. At this moment it sits content in a quiet corner of the garage next to the most perfect of unmarked police cruisers you will ever see, drying in complete solace and peace. PLEASE.... REPEAT.... "TWO TEARS IN A BUCKET..... MOTHER FUCK IT!!!!"

For awhile, after the work of the day was done, I sat upon the edge of my deck and sipped more post-operative beverages while sucking in the succulent sounds of Frank Zappa when I realized I was now hanging over a rather high edge and it did take but a small amount of concentration to remove myself from such a chosen perch.

As Confessor started belting out some much needed angst filled tunes, I tore into some Easter flowers and shoved them into a vase; thus placing them upon my kitchen table dais among my monkeys and Peeps. I probably won't eat the Peeps, as they've been there for awhile now, and I think I'll just keep them there.

So there you have the celebration thus far.

I hope to soon put on some Sepultura and increase the level of celebration here at Hell House.

A side note to HeStillH8Sidney... I have a brand new outdoor grill for you! I can't believe I found it... No shit! Next time you're up... You're in tall mother-fucking cotton, my boy. Remember... I FEEL LIKE SHIT DE JA VU!!!!!! .... And when I feel like shit... I FEEL LIKE SHIT!!!!!!!!

ROCK ON YOU EASTER FUCKERS!!!!!!!!

Ahrens, Richard Toms River, NJ: Calling Out

Hey buddy. Where are you? Its been too long man.

I hear you're in Florida somewhere. Figure we need to make some peace and some closure.

Richard Ahrens, a relative from NJ is looking for you. For closure. It'll be a hoot! We can talk about old times!

Respond.

Come on buddy. Its Easter! (chuckle)... You got immunity! (shit coming outta my nose)