Painting Drum Beat On Walls

No, its not an attempt at a clever title. It is what me, the Snowboyz and Heir (put number here) spent the evening working on.

The cafe needed a little more pizazz so the administration decided to get a color close to the counter tops. It was a no-brainer when the color "Drum Beat" was discovered to be close enough.

"Drum Beat" is also the most unforgiving color I have ever worked with in my life. I was hoping that today it would look much better then it did last night. However, its in bad shape. It will take another coat or two (which I'm planning to work on tomorrow night). Overall you can already see how much warmer and inviting the place is. So I don't regret the decision.

The past couple of days saw some major advances. Here's the quick run down (as we continue to document the ups and DOWNS.... DOWNS DOWNS DOWNS... DOWNY DOWN DOWN... Morrrton DOWNey Jr.... DOWNsyndrom!... DOWNNNNN town, things'll be great when you're DOWNNN town!... ... ... there's been a lot of DOWNS!)...but ah!.. the runDOWN:
-FEIN comes in.
-Last major banking transaction takes place.
-Application in and paid to health dept.
-Nice, beautiful, new restaurant equipment ordered (via Dirtman, aka Dirtymon!) (this also being the most exciting shit so far!)
-New coat of paint and a slightly new look (almost).
-Inventory completed.

So, not a bad few days progress-wise. Most of the time I don't feel this way, but this evening all is cool.

So kiddies, thats it in our series that may be titled: Why To Stay The Fuck Away From Starting Your Own Business, but would rather see: This Is The Reason I Listened To The Few Positive People In My Life.

Give you da' business...

After taking a week longer than it should have, I literally sat with our business' accountant today for an hour while she called our wonderful federal government. Everything administrational has been on hold waiting for one stupid number that now carries the weight of a deity. The FEIN number. (Cue the chorus of fuckin' angels here. Because when that number arrives... Its the mutha'lovin' second coming, baby! Mu'fuckin' Glory-To-Gawd-AwMighty accompanies that fuckin' set of digits!!!)

You would think that the IRS would have better customer service in this day and age. Especially since we're trying to jump start our economy... Ya know? Little help here? Can't a brutha get a table dance?! Answer the fuckin' phone maybe?!!! Mope recorded message (once navigating the menu that rivaled Columbus' first crossing) said there was an approximate 15 minute wait. The wait was approximately 40 minutes (+/- 2 mins). After the accountant spoke with the agent for several minutes, I was put on the phone. Then I was put on hold for 10 more minutes.

BUT!... (a hush came over the entire Romney valley area) ...
The number was revealed. I'm pretty sure it was God himself who uttered the number.
Laws yes... God his self!

So lady and/or gentleman, this is but a wee speed bump in all the hootin' fuckin' hoopla-o-fun... FUN!... that we've been experiencing at Courthouse Corner Cafe' ... LLC ... With HONORS!

No pics today... Now... Go away!

When next you see...

Another landmark today. I figure that there will be many now (landmark events), coming and going frequently.

Today was pretty exciting from a business standpoint, and from a gringo in entrepreneurship.

The view above was actually taken by my partner from CID, when the family and I viewed the establishment for the first time. (My office is just on the other side of the courthouse you see outside the window.) Its really exciting to think that next week we'll be inside getting things ready, and soon there will be a new logo on those large windows. Our logo.

... and there will be soup... Laws yes! There will be soup!

Coffee n' Gruel

I debated a small bit about writing about the behind the scenes look at opening a small business. If for nothing else, to vent a little and have a little fun. So I’ll give it a shot.

It seems that I have come to a point in my life where I’ve noticed things becoming stagnant, and more alarming, that I have started to become comfortable with the daily doldrums of absolute gray.

What remnants are left of my family, I have come to realize, mean a lot to me, and, frankly (I can’t believe I’m saying this because those of the Darkgarden need no one!) I like the fact that I need them. As whacked out as a bunch we all are individually, when we join together, … we become... umm... well... a GROUP of whacked out people.

I realize now that I could actually lapse into a completely different blog entry here… on (GAK!) family and … oh… no… fogetaboutit!... Mushy shit. Stuff that those of the Darkgarden do not speak of because we’re dark, messed up people who dwell in the darkness within.

Right.

I thought it might be a good time to start up a small business (something I’ve been wanting to do for years), and what is better, I now have the opportunity to have it family operated. Sis and Dirt will be coming on board. The Snowboyz will be joining in some, as well as one of the Heirs. (I don’t know which number. I can’t keep ‘em straight!) There were rumors of Johnboy making appearances, however, I believe, if you’re lucky, on some lonely night, you may see him daintily sipping a glass of fine wine through the large bistro window; sitting by himself…scooping spoonfuls of gruel into a wet, sopping mouth, occasionally looking up slightly from side to side, only to return to his steaming bowl (and we don’t even serve gruel). “Where did you get that gruel, Art?!” we would ask. “Go away!” he would reply gruffly… (Wow! That vision changed drastically in the scope of one sentence.)

I digress.

The plan is to open a café on the corner of the main street in the quaint county seat where I reside: The Courthouse Corner Café. Specialized coffees and affordable eats. Consistent hours and quality food in a comfortable atmosphere or for take-out.

It all sounds great, and it IS great. What I didn’t realize was the administrational aspect of getting such a project underway. I researched such an endeavor many times through the years, but until you actually take the plunge you never appreciate the weight of everything involved.

I ran a sole proprietorship business once, and did my own finances, but at this level I need the assistance of an attorney and accountant. Applications, licenses and forms abound. Forming a corporation and setting up accounts comprises the daunting part of it all. You get a real clear idea where and how the various levels of government want their share.

At this point in time, we are about to close the deal on purchasing the establishment. So tension is high.

This evening, however, I’m taking a break from everything and allowing myself to be happy and dream about the moment that will soon come, when we all gather quietly after some hard hours of our first day of preparation, and open a bottle of champagne to toast the successful future we are about to embark on.

This simple event will signify a lot (to me at least). It’s a turn-around point in life where we will finally take some control, together, and produce something positive. You know, I think it’s even ok now to wonder where all this may lead us, and actually believe it will be forward and upward.
So from here, I’ll try to drop in and give whatever reader(s) may also still be dropping by a status report.

I guess the big question is: What would Billy Zane charge to conduct the ribbon cutting and grand opening?

A Warm Welcome!!!

I hope you will all join me in officially welcoming our newest member of the back yard clan. It was touch and go for awhile, but he's finally joined up with the rest of our whacky crew.

Get Out Of My Drink!

"Why put devil against devil for most? Go all in!"

Please don't ask, because I don't have an answer.

Dollar General - Customer Service

Follow up on True Living by Dollar General.

Ta'rooooo Livinnnnn' !!! Yeah, baby!

Actually received a reply from my legitimate complaint I filed. One quick reply from Dollar General Customer Service. They wanted the UPC code from the bag. When I explained the bag was burned I received no further reply. I did also add that I would buy another bag if they'd like and try it again just for the fun value. (I couldn't help it. Sarcasm. Thank my sister for it.)

I figure it may also have been possible that someone may have connected may oh-so-popular blog and linked it to my complaint.

No, I don't think that's unlikely. I mean, what else are they doing over at Dollar General? Its certainly not in their Human Resources Department, and most definitely not in Quality Control. Low prices to the economically targeted areas = SHIT all the way around.

...and the super stores a lot of us depend on now, like an adult diaper, are not too far off this mark either.

???!!!! Yeah... That... That didn't work... I don't wear a diaper.

Dollar General, True Living, Charcoal ... FUUUCK!

Ok …friends(snicker) acquaintances and the curious who find their way here, it’s time for another round of Darkgarden vs. The Corporation-Who-Is-Begging-For-It!!!

Dollar General – True Living – Charcoal.

I already realize that those of you who know me are already asking, “What the fuck are you doing using some under-rated charcoal to do your grilling/bbqing with anyway?!”

I have learned to always give the no-name stuff a try from time to time; especially the up and coming items who are striving for perfection. However, in this case I also learned that sometime you end up with what you pay for (which is the best percentage to play, but putting it up against a small investment change, I thought I’d take the dive).

I gotta tell you knuckleheads out there, I sometimes try not to bash something into the ground with ridiculous shock-value type language and descriptions, and in this case I was especially trying not to make the blog entry go that way. (Because FUCK knows I sure don’t want to go offending my single digit number of readers who probably mainly read my blog as one visits a freak show! You common sonsobitches! SHIT!... See?! See?!!! See what happens?! It is the fault of you all!!! PISS OFF!!! .. Wait. .. Not yet… Wait for it…)

Anyway… Dollar General – True Living – Charcoal.

I would have had a picture of the bag, but I thought someone would have a pic online I could grab, and the one bag I had (which has been with me for about a year) finally met its demise in flames out back.

I wrote to Dollar General about this particular True Living release of theirs. Face it. We know who the target buyer is for these items. I won’t mention it here, because it opens things up for all sorts of jagoff rebuttals, but you fucknutz who read me regularly know the deal. The stranger to the site would also be amiss if they didn’t realize the aggressive language is not geared to the reader, but to the subject at which I point this hostility at (of which I cannot seem to control.)

The basic point here?

Dollar General – True Living – Charcoal smells and tastes like you cooked your food (any type… I literally tried several types because I couldn’t fucking believe what I was experiencing!) in a pile of long, slow burning aged tires that have been previously soaked in the juice of large, decomposing mammals for about a year. Now, that is a description used in the nicest way I can put it. The tires would have to be soaking in the bodily fluids in a large sealed container, but only at about a constant temperature of 70 degrees. Now, if some drunk security guard happened by the bins, barrels, containers or whatever it was aging in, and happened to vomit the entire contents of a huge meal of pizza and boxed wine… that would fit in just fine. Take the delicately seasoned tire and light that bitch on fire. Get it good and smokey. Place that nice $15.00 rack-o-mutha-fuckin’-ribs on it and ENJOY!!!

THANKS DOLLAR GENERAL!!! YOU SHO’ DO A FINE JOB FOR YOUR CUSTOMERS!!!
YOU COMMON FUCKS! LIKE EVERYONE ELSE! NOW GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!!... umm.. you too readers… PISS OFF!

BBQ Nightmare

I was preparing to post the events of the July 4th Celebration (from July 3rd), when... a nightmare occured. It was like the tail end of Avalon I tell ya'!

THE GRILL caught on fire. My first instinct... Grab a fuckin' camera. (Thanks Sis!) Only, I couldn't find it (and as is usual, was right in front of me in a place that is not assigned for the placement of a camera... THUS my rationale for putting everything in a certain location is now bolstered!)

So anyway... I go onto the deck and there's flames flying everywhere around THE GRILL which has seen so many masterpieces in its day! After not finding a camera and getting sickened by the sounds of burning "stuff" (paint, wood and such things that you don't want to see cooked on a grill) I decided to grab water in the coffee pot which so recently had housed an awesome batch of Cafe con leche. (2 pots actually; of water.)

THE GRILL lives, but the trauma lives. THE GRILL, however, now carries more of a scarred look, like an old soldier that has seen one too many close-quarter fights.

I give you... THE GRILL... photographed just after the FIRE OF 2011!

Sign In Bull Shit

Yo!

Blogger!

What the FUCK is with the fucked up sign in?

If someone wants to hack my shit... Let them have at it. I figure I accomplished my mission in having some fuck-wad waste his/her time in entering the Darkgarden. Yes... Just like our fucking government... lets give you MORE simulated control over my shit.

Fuck-nutz.

The Day Before... July 2nd...

Shuffles Shuffle

For Total Kitchen Fools

https://www.perfectmeatloaf.com/

If you can even manage to get through the commercial (which is pretty funny), look for the knife. The knife makes it. Oh... and the initial noise the sick looking meatloaf makes as its taken from the pan!

I wanted to find a commercial just on that retarded knife though. (Yeah... I said "retarded" against the preferred nomenclature.)

Smells Like Da' Coqui

A blog outta nowhere…

In doing some general research for a trip I will soon be embarking on, and because such things concern me, I ended up researching what Puerto Rico smells like.

Thanks to our World Wide Web I have now determined that coquis smell like Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. So I’m now looking forward to, beyond seeing and hearing these little things, smelling them.

One may ask, “Wow! How did you come to research the smell of the coqui, Darkgarden?”
It all started one day a long… no… not long, as time is relative to me. It all started one day in the past when I started thinking about Puerto Rico being a possible new home for me. The allure of the endless lack of cold is a pleasing thing for one of my nature.

Though I grieve deeply for America, I do dislike the idea of turning my back on it as well. I don’t believe there is any revolutionary hope for it, and I feel as I type that it is dying; the America as we know and love it. I have served it civilly and as such feel that I know a deeper pulse that it carries beyond the majority. This led to a dilemma. In so serving, I also feel attached, and don’t fancy the aspect of severing that tie. The idea of investigating Puerto Rico became relevant when one researches the cost of everything in the keys of south Florida. With Puerto Rico receiving the percentage based highest amount of government benefits, I figure they probably don’t hate us too much either. This has strayed a bit from the topic at hand, but some background never hurts a blog that no one (ok…hardly anyone) reads anyway, and serves as an outlet of thought and reflection.

So we come back to the wee coqui.

I think the Smell-O-Da-Coqui has gained its fame more from the likes of Smell-O-Da-Puerto-Rican.

Of course anyone from Puerto Rico at this point, probably wouldn’t welcome me with open arms. I admit, the concern that I have most about Puerto Rico is how everyone smells.
I hear the generic tales of Europeans being a slight more lack in hygiene than we are used to here in America (the more civilized parts). I am thus hoping that, perhaps in Puerto Rico, people received their cleanliness from … umm… those in habitation nearer to high populated towns or cities in mainland America.

I admit I have more than once ejected someone from my office who arrived there for a prearranged meeting, only do be stinking like things I dread in my thoughts on olfactory experiences. (I mean.. COME ON!... You people die and lay and gather stink that an everyday person could not vaguely imagine! This is all well and good, but someone has to remove you after the fact, and in this area, I seem to have a knack of ending up with you. I can always forgive this accompanied by the feeling of pity and dread, but when you’re alive and you present yourself to someone else in public smelling the foulest of fouls, don’t fucking act surprised when someone eventually tells you, “Dude, look. You smell terrible. Why would you think of presenting yourself in such a manner? I’d be happy to meet with you when you return clean.”) Therefore my concerns about an overall public smell seem relevant… and shall remain so.

I have been constantly bombarded by people telling me that I would never move to such a location. This, of course, only serves to make me hope like hell that the place smells ok, as I’ve lost count of how many people I would so dearly love shove my dick in their ass upon my departure. I’ve unfortunately recognized so many, that it would bring tears to your eyes if you allowed the emotion to take the steering wheel for a short time. …and yeah yeah… You have those types everywhere. Fuck! The majority of the population consists of those types! However, the good ones out there always overpower the assholes (smelly or not), and for that reason I, for one, continue to fight the good fight.

Lets just say, I want a change of ass-holes. I’ve exhausted the ones around here.

...and I do wonder how the coqui smells at twilight.

Quantum Zombie Rapture

So I got to wondering with this Rapture business...

Considering Quantum Mechanics... Could the world be ending simultaneously along with creation?

On that thought... If every neutron decided to go rouge for whatever cause at the same time... Would we just blight out in a wink, or would shit get really fucked up n' stuff? Like, all of a sudden instead of playing paddle-ball, you are suddenly a vapor of smoke blowing over the top of a rotting log that also used to be President Eisenhower.

I guess the immediate answer (that came to me anyway) is that there would be no realization whatsoever, and if one were looking from the outside in (which wouldn't be possible I imagine) the existence in front of them would readjust into something probably non-describable here. (I'm guessing any more than we could write a working formula for time travel.)

So I then fall back on the concept of the world ending instantaneously.

See... Now.. If the fucking Rapture would have just come along (especially accompanied by the Blondie song a few minutes ahead of time!) all this would be for naught. I'd be driving around in a really cool vehicle of sorts, shooting the shit out of zombies (no doubt on my way to hook up with Charlie) and loving life. Unfortunately Sis (if not taken up by The Rapture) would have had her head bitten off by some zombie looking like Tom Bombadil in the first half hour while she believed she was tromping off to The Shire.

..and Johnboy... Would live several weeks without even knowing shit was going down... Cause even zombies couldn't find him up on that mountain.

Damn you Rapture!

I was LOST

I recall several years ago trying to enjoy a series I thought at the time to be my kind of thing. LOST. I started the first few episodes watching, but I couldn't understand what was going on. The rest of the main family (at that time and place... which is a cool thing to say when speaking of LOST) seemed to follow it pretty good, but it took too much thinking on my part and I soon tired out.

So years later, I decided to try again. Mainly thanks to NETFLIX streaming thing where I can watch a shitload of stuff without having to wait for it in the mail. It just streams into my Blu-Ray however it does, and I get to watch episode upon episode.

I just got done investing around 100 hours of LOST viewing to see what everything was about. I enjoyed it actually. Being able to watch episodes back to back helped me understand the flow of the story (though I can't say I understood shit about what was going on at times).

Like a train-wreck you're watching in real time... I viewed the last few hours. Those who know anything about me know I don't watch (try to avoid) anything where a dramatic death of anyone major takes place.

I'm not sure I understand a lot of it, but by the end of LOST, I can now add just a little more trauma to my psyche.

I have a lot of questions, but refuse to revisit what I'm sure are thousands of threads on the matter. I will carry the baggage of LOST's deaths with me as just another weight added to an athletes training pack.

The writers did very good with Hugo and Jack (and I hate that fucking name). Yup... Everyone did love Hugo. However, where most liked Jack... I liked the fact that no matter what, he remained this pathetic, searching guy throughout the entire series. Right up to the end he is the one who still seems out there at sea hanging on a buoyant piece of debris. They chose an actor with the best "What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On?" look.

Hell, frankly, they did an outstanding job with most of the characters for that matter.

Though I'm not really sure what the fuck I just spent about 100 hours watching, I think it was enjoyable and recommend it to anyone.

Watching it week to week? I can see why I gave up on it and left it to the rest of the family at the time. You miss one viewing or forget something and you're going to be lost. (I took notes from time to time, and asked questions from the ex at times... not that I got any type of relevant answer.)

So... when it comes down to watching FOX and the whole Osama thing, or being LOST, I chose LOST. (...and quite a few nights were spent watching non-stop FOX anyway.)

Back to LOST... I'd like to say who my favorite dude was on the show... However, it sort of just creeps to the group favorites. Hugo, John, Benjamin, Smoke-dude, Jack, et al. Just can't name one. Where I'd like to pick Hugo, I won't because everyone else picks him. So... I'll choose the noise that Smoke-dude makes after he grabs someone and is reeling them in!... It sounds like my brother making his old-car sound with his mouth.

Snowz Birthday... but... This is just a tribute...

What could I possibly give the two dearest things in my life on what is classified and celebrated as such a special day?

I asked myself that very question and pondered on it today. For today is the day before your next birthday.

The number of your years doesn’t really matter. You’re both men now, and yet there is that emotionally attached feeling for you both that will forever remain suspended in a timeless existence.

The date for that matter also doesn’t really matter, for I need no reminder to celebrate your first breath and my first gaze upon you both. I feel these things as an ever present constant in my life; every conscious and alert moment, in the depths of my dreams and deepest slumber.

Every momentous to mundane moment from the first time you entered my life was a pleasure. The bond I see between you is stronger than any living thing I know, and could only compare it to the strength of, like… the hefty Roosevelt Elk, or mighty Sequoia… no… because… those are living… so…wait... Perhaps… Bedrock! Yes. Solid and ageless bedrock … or granite! IRON! Yarrr! All those things! Yes! Mighty dead things that are very strong, but not alive that they would rot away or something like that!

I remember the feeling of tightly wrapping you both in your blankets for nap time. How still you would both lie. You were both most comfortable when you were next to each other … … Even though I’d wrap you both so tight that your faces would turn this really attractive purplish color.

You’ve heard me say it before, and I’ll say it again, (for its hard for me to believe as well) that every diaper I changed (you had to know this was coming) I truly enjoyed the moment. It was the caring and comfort that I could provide you. That simplest of tasks and servitude became an honor. … … … ... and…. There were plenty of other times, tasks and things of servitude that I guess were a little more pleasurable. I’m guessing, like, perhaps the offering of a nice piece of fluffy cake was a little more appealing, or so some would think. So… … … Fluffy cake and the diaper change! They are right up there boy-os!

The years of gaming came on quickly as well. What dear, sweet boyz you both were. Crawling up on the couch to glimpse your first experience with gaming. Sonic, Echo, Mario of course, and within a year… my boyz went hardcore with Resident Evil. What a proud moment. The quest continues. Myus, Syladren, Theabyss! (Oh yeah!) They are all represented here as well. All of Virginia is here on this day… … … wait… … Sorry… Wrong moment.

I’m very proud how you have both been aware and careful to monitor your physical health and stamina. You survived four years at Hampshire High School and came out the other end (which is a very appropriate analogy if I do say so myself) better men. It was an honor to watch you both mature beyond any comprehension I even had of maturity at such an age. Your caring and pleasant nature effects everyone you touch. You have learned and practice compassion, and that my dear boyz is a rare trait indeed.

In the concept of life, you allow yourself to learn something new all the time, and yet retain the ability to teach a wise man a lesson or two. You… are fancy lads.

I figure this is about enough for your reading attention span right about now, and I’m running out of attempted clever lines and other written things.

So, because it is tradition, I say unto you, “Happy Birthday Snow-Boyz!!!” However, I merely shake my head and smile because I cherish and celebrate you both so very deeply with every passing moment, every single day of the year.

I so love you both.

Memories of The Taylor Pork Roll Grill

The memories of my childhood seem to be somewhat skewed, as is often pointed out by others. (cough… Linguiniandjohnboy!) However, for good or bad, I thought I’d touch on a favorite of mine; brought on because I purchased some pork meat.

Atlantic City didn’t have any casinos back then, and I’m sure it wasn’t even an unrealized idea. In looking back I guess it was a sad time for the boardwalk as everything around it was aging and dying off. There was a new time rolling in that would eventually be swallowed up by the mega-casinos now overpowering every square inch of the boards.

The late 60’s and very early 70’s still kept a great flavor up and down the boardwalk for a lot of us. One of my favorite places was the Taylor Pork Roll grill. I don’t remember where it was, but the smell and atmosphere left many of us with memories that will last more than a lifetime.

Many times I remember going into the grill and getting a nice hot Taylor Pork Roll sandwich, fresh off the flames and an ice cold root beer. WIth that kind of a combo, man, you are in heaven. Sometimes we’d sit inside on cushioned barrel type chairs, or we’d carry our eats out onto the boardwalk, where any dropped crumb was immediately devoured by stalking gulls or people-friendly pigeons.

The interior was dark woods and brick. It was very comforting and smelled delicious. The only thing you could smell inside was the grilling.

Outside, the moms and dads all looked swell with their truly happy kids surrounding them. Smiling and laughing they would go by dripping ice cream from overstuff cones or leaving a trail of peanut shells as they shared a freshly roasted bag from the Mr. Peanut store. The air was intoxicating with smells of the sea, boardwalk and roasting pork roll. The ocean’s roar the cynical scream of the gulls and the sound of the pork roll grill all combined to complete this simple event.

All of that was brought to those of us lucky enough to experience it because of Taylor Pork Roll, which was(is?) a staple in New Jersey board of fare.

Probably right here I would have posted a picture of the infamous grill, if I could have found one. Alas, my internet searching came up short. So if anyone out there has a picture or a link to one, it would sure be appreciated and would fit right in.

Taylor Pork Roll is a treat you never get sick of, and it remains a shame that it is hard to find it in our area. There is just something about peeling off the burlap casing to slice off a few pieces to fry up.

I don’t know when they started packaging it like the following, but this is what Taylor Pork Roll is reducing itself to look like in present times:

That’s my brief recollection and how I like to remember it. I shall now look forward to Linguini telling me something like, “You know we only took you there once, and you threw up on some kid with an ice cream cone right after you ate. That was the trip where a gull shit on pa’s shirt and you pitched a fit because you didn’t get some toy.”

OMG... My Nephew plays for Phily Union!!!

SWEET!!!

THE ARM! aka Why I haven't blogged.

Leaking? See Whoopi make a bigger ass of herself than The View!

My god.

I just saw a fucking commercial about Whoopi Goldberg's leaky vagina.

Holy shit.

I'm damaged (more), and speechless.

Donald Trump - 2012

Should Trump run? Damn right! Click here and give him your support.

What does THIS mean?!!!

As you know, the past few days have been busy up at Hell House. There's been a lot of turmoil out in the back yard. I had been hearing rumors from The Voice Of Morgan Freeman that Hosni Mubarak might have showed up in the back yard, but couldn't confirm it.

There's been a strong smell of shit, cumin and lamb coming from the back yard and woods the past few days. There's been periods during the night when I swore I've also heard some sort of chanting. I'm sure I'll know more this weekend.

However.... This morning... delicately positioned upon my outside deck table.... the following picture. America. I, for one, am scared.

Somebody get me Beck on the phone! NOW!

New To The "Back Yard!" Caliphate!

Vibes, karma and all that partying with tea... It can lead to shit, ya know?


Somehow, in all the insanity up here at Hell-House... It seems I now have a Caliphate organizing out in the woods behind the house.



I don't know what's going on out there, but last night Billy Zane is banging on my window wanting to talk. Scared the shit outta me! I yelled at him, "Go away Billy Zane! Get away from my window! Ya hear?!!" This went on for a few minutes. He'd keep knocking and I'd keep yelling at him to get back in the woods. Finally he seemed to realize I wouldn't talk to him at 3 in the morning and he went away sulking toward the back yard.



So this morning I'm trying to get to work, and there he is waiting on me. He started ranting about the Caliphate being out in woods out back and they're all worked up and causing unrest, plus they're running out of room and stuff... I had to break him off. (I HAD to get to work! I didn't have time for his antics. Come on! You know how he gets.)



So I quickly met with The Voice Of Morgan Freeman who was contentedly in place, who did firmly relate that there was indeed a Caliphate gathering, but not to worry, and everything was fine.



I just don't know... I headed off to work... Billy Zane took off running toward the populous... and I had to go to work. Life goes on right?

Bring Out Your Dead!!!

"…trying to bury their dead."

Now I’ll give you this much (and for some of the blind, I’ll WARN YOU), that our country is in some really serious trouble.
However… I’m just thinking… that whenever you hear commentary that includes the verbiage, “…trying to bury their dead,” shit has GOT to be really fucked up beyond anything we want to experience.

I was just sitting here, hanging out, trying to do anything with my blog to keep it up to date (with what I had NO idea), and I heard that line on some news blip, that I still haven't heard since.

It struck me that it was uttered with the same emphasis that one would suggest we purchase a softer toilet tissue to clean our ass with, or whether or not I wanna step on a Sham-Wow when I get out of the shower… or chop shit up with a SlapChop (you’re gonna love my nuts).

So in that context I now have a dilemma of three things:
1. Where do I bury “THE DEAD?” (Oh man… Plural!)
2. What tissue do I clean my ass with?
3. Do I really need to worship a guy named Vince, and all that he has to offer?

How in the hell did this become an equally enthusiastic question in my life?!

We’re talking about the disposal of multiple corpses and not having a location available that subsequently warrants the question of where to put them!... AND!.... Whatdaya wipe yo’ ass with?... AND!!!... Am I gonna love Vince’s nuts? I don’t want to love Vince’s nuts!!! I got a pile of fucking dead people here! I ain’t got time for Vince's fucking nuts!

So, mayhap I’m just looking at things in a strange perspective, or perhaps a perspective that is being ushered unto us all for undo equal consideration.

Where the hell are we heading?

I’m viewing a commercial now where a fucking reptile is telling me to let him insure my driving because he’s pop-culture. That was followed by a credit card company wanting me to go into debt for a shit load of Vikings and a singing fucking goat!

We have GOT to be the laughing stock of the fucking world.

…and I have NO idea where that fucking poor sap is supposed to bury their dead!

Hmm... My Blog Pic

My blog pic is freaking me out.

I realized I've been staying away from my own blog because of it.

I must contemplate this for awhile.

.... Then I'll probably have enough sense to change the picture to something else.

Glenn Beck with a visiting Billy Zane or Billy Mays perhaps is sounding good.

We'll see.