Thursday, September 20, 2007
Everyone cue up Slow Train Coming and get into the feeling.
"Big-time negotiators, false healers and woman haters
Masters of the bluff and masters of the proposition
But the enemy I see wears a cloak of decency
All non-believers and men stealers talking in the name of religion
And there's slow, there's slow train coming up around the bend."
So some of you might be wondering, Gospel Bob, why do you refer to that supreme-ephemeral-creme-filled-universal-goodness as Lard? Well I'm glad you asked. Now I cannot deny that the auditory similarity to a Southern pronunciation of Lord has a lot of appeal. But my reasons do not stop there. Nay.
First a digression. You see, I have a very fundamental problem with the Christian model. I like the symbols and the strange stories. And I really like the whole Jesus, turn the other cheek thingy. But what is the deal with only having a male god? This doesn't make any kind of sense at all. When is the last time you saw a man make a baby by himself? Even the Christian story used a womb. So where is the woman god? Or, at the very least, an androgynous god? Where is the cosmic nooky? A sexless cosmos? Boo.
I simply cannot fathom why we would give the "essence of everything" a dick. This goes way beyond the Mona Lisa's moustache. I love dada as much as anybody, but come on! So the gender specific term "Lord" is no good. Why is Lard better? Well, I'll tell you.
At its heart, Lard still represents sacrifice. This is not simply a synthetic and delightful water based lube for your frolicking pleasure. Nay. This is animal grease. Like the Christian lamb whose blood brought salvation, the pig laid down its life for our lubrication and tasty beans.
Further, Lard has no gender. Lard is not human. Lard is beyond us and comes from the natural world at the same time. It symbolizes something more than we can fathom. It eases us on the path of the ineffable. Without a dick. A dickless symbol.
Lard is not the end point, it is the slippery path!
Plus I really just like the play on words I mentioned before.
So you see, I mean no disrespect when I praise the Lard. Nay nay nay! I heart the ineffable. I want the Lard to get me there. And I really like bacon.
Praise the Lard! Till next week flock. Be good to each other.
Monday, September 17, 2007
I will offer a few examples of lines that seem to get frequent air play in the radio station of my mouth. Please respond in kind if you think of any!
"That is certainly YOU Harold." Harold's Mom from Harold and Maude. I really don't know why this one gets used a lot. Perhaps it is the opportunity to speak in a haughty rich falsetto.
"Your mother sucks cocks in hell." Little possessed (by Pazuzu) girl (Regan) to priest (father Karras) from The Exorcist. This one is great for getting out of conversations. Plus you get to use that demon voice.
"They're miserable because their mothers take it up their fucking ass. " Joey LaMotta from Raging Bull. I'm starting to sense a theme here. This one is classic for making light of someone's bad mood and for slaughtering a New York accent.
"Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A former greenskeeper, now, about to become the Masters champion." Carl Spackler (Bill Murray) while destroying flowers with a 2 iron, from Caddy Shack. This one has so many uses. Anytime something goes right that shouldn't, it just pops out! (*No double entendre meant here....but come to think of it, I've THOUGHT this quote at certain romantic moments before....no stories!)
There are so many more! Please share.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Slack jawed sails and spinning rutters
This shit's got to change he mutters
Right before the engine sputters.
None of you understand me moans
Harmonizing with barstool groans
Chorus slapping its soil and bones
Jukebox slaughtering old Tom Jones
But AC/DC brings them together
The dour moods, the shitty weather
Wrap it all in a shroud of leather
Six feet down forever and ever.
Yet this is where I met my true love
A red haired angel dropped from above
Less like a push and more like a shove
Carried to earth by a dozen rock doves.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
So some of you might be asking by now, Gospel Bob, do ALL your sermons have to do with Stupid Fuckers? Nay flock, they do not! Nonetheless, today's sermon, by pure happenstance, does center upon more Stupid Fuckers.
What is the deal with Stupid Fuckers Who Take Amateur Sports Wayyyyy Too Seriously? I realize this rather awkwardly clunks into SFWTASWTS. Hey, not everyone can have a catchy call letter acronym thingy. Perhaps we can approximate their pronunciation a bit.....into Sweaty Ass Twats? I know it isn't exact, but the Lard is forgiving. Even if we aren't.
So Sweaty Ass Twats. What is the deal? You know the type. You sign up to have some lighthearted fun with friends after work and on the weekend, and what do you get? Frustrated frat boys. Where did they come from? You look at them during the day and they appear, even to the dissecting eye, as laid back peace loving nearly hippy type dudes who snort derisively when you say the words "frat house." They generally don't do drugs or drink much anymore. You assume they are mellow. You mistakenly have your eyes on the guy that drinks like a preacher of yore and likes to indulge in cocaine before every match. You are watching the wrong stupid fucker.
The match starts, and all of sudden the need to win overcomes every ounce of the Sweaty Ass Twat's being. Their faces turn red. Their eyes narrow. Spittle flecks from their lips. They become POSSESSED.
The sad thing about the Sweaty Ass Twat, is that they are never the best player on the team. Far from it....they inevitably break down under pressure and make some bonehead mistake that causes them to implode with self-loathing. But that only happens about 5% of the time. The other 95% of the time they are analyzing and critiquing the play of everyone else on their team. They are a drag. Boo them.
Now flock, I have to admit that I am not free from the frat boy urges. I too take games and amateur sports waaaaay too seriously. I have felt the frat boy demon tugging at soul during these moments. It is possible that I am a Sweaty Ass Twat, and the very object of my sermon. Lard forgive me. Lard forgive me.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The most recent reminder came over this last weekend. With our new lives looming before us (in the form of a September 21 move in date for our new apartment in new-city), we decided to get the hell out of the parents/grand-parents house for the weekend. Not that their hospitablity isn't appreciated, but they do kinda drive me crazy. For real. See dolls.
Where was I? Oh yes, the people. So last week we throw out an email to a few friends from the City by the Bay. The very same city that collects hearts and inspires Journey songs. On very little notice, 18 freakin' friends came out to the bar! It was a classicly good time, full of Tecate and catching up. The bartender, as she always does at our little get togethers, bought us all a shot (thats how we know it was 18). Classy group all around. Funny little pointless non-stereotypical anecdote: the gay boys have all paired up like little happy nesters, while almost all the gay girls have been burning through relationships and one night stands.
So anyway, I'm thinking about all you friends of mine. This minute I'm thinking about people in: California, Arizona, Washington, Oregon, Tennessee, North Carolina, Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Florida, Nevada, Texas and Pennsylvania. (*Note, this list was started by my brain visual of the map, not any order of hierarchy.) Makes all this moving around seem alright.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
And the voice of Jimmy Stewart loops somewhere behind me
"It all just seems so useless, don't you think so Mary?"
Well this time the joke is on the fates
Cause the deja vu is lame
And the tired ghosts folded their crappy hands long ago.
So hand over the cash and don't make any sudden movements
I'm not afraid to use this thing you know
Do I look like a rookie? Does this look like my first rodeo?
My wife despairing, for lack of writing
Two wheels on the road, and two off the bend
Two tons of steel nearly alighting.
Have I mentioned our debt, three hundred grand
Not an albatross more like an anvil.
Is this firmament or just more quicksand?
I better not forget to take my pills.
But I wonder, later, when I look back
Will this be one of the good times or bad?
When the anvil becomes fat money sacks
And more time is the thing I wish I had
Duh. Awesome friends, great cats and perfect wife
This is the best day of my whole damn life.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
What is a good Lard loving person to do when confronted with a sfidget? Here I think we have an intersection of parables and a contradiction of commandments. On the one hand, we have the cheek turning doctrine, i.e. when someone smacks you in the face, give them a fresh new pile of face flesh to pound. This path probably is the best for the soul, but it pretty much sucks ass for the body and society.
Realistically, if there isn't some greater pressure or force to make the Sfidgets stop, then they will keep on hitting/taking/putting you on the back of the bus/ dragging you behind trucks and tying you to barbed wire/ invading Czechoslovakia and committing genocide. Which brings us to the contradiction. The Lard helps them that helps themselves, right? Laying down (see the French circa WWII) and hoping things won't be that bad is just not going to cut it with a sfidget. Nope, Sfidgets must be smacked, verbally or physically.
But do we abandon the compassion? Nay I say. Practice compassion with everyone and never pre-assume they are a sfidget! But keep your eyes open flock. Look for telltale sfidget signs. And remember, once you've spotted a sfidget, never trust them again. But what if you think YOU are a sfidget? Ah, well, that is a squirmen for another day.
Till next week my sweets! Keep the Lard in your hearts.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Ask L.B. If I get suddenly startled by a movie, my feet come to life. If I am sitting or lying down this is pretty comical to those around me, because they just start going. Only the feet mind you, not the legs. Sometimes they go for up to five seconds. But as I mentioned, it isn't like my whole body springs into a flight response. That would be kind of cool in an inherently cowardly way. But, it is only the feet. Thus, if I happen to be startled while standing, I end up Flat. On. My. Back. Again, this is probably comical to those around me. Sadly, it is another one of my instinctual responses which are counterproductive (like my getting dizzy around ledges...how did my ancestors survive?) So when I see the dissociative cowboy standing calm while bullets are flying, I can't help but stare.
Off the top of my head, here are a few of my favorite Westerns in case anyone is interested. Please let me know if you have any particular favorites that I should see!
The Gunfighter (Gregory Peck....I love him in everything.....this movie was mentioned prominently in Bob Dylan's "Brownsville Girl"....both the song and movie are incredible.)
Django (Franco Nero.....spaghetti has never tasted so good.....the Italians saved the genre after the 50's tried to strangle it....the soundtrack echoes the on screen action) (*also see Keoma)
Dead Man (Johnny Depp in a Jarmusch film? Too cool!)
Terror in a Texas Town (Greatest ending duel of all time...and it doesn't involve a gun.)
Wild Bunch (IMHO Sam Peckinpah single handedly stole back U.S. bragging rights for the Western. Anti-heroes were never better.)
All the Sergio Leone classics (The Good the Bad and the Ugly.....etc.....I love Lee Van Cleef and Clint Eastwood....combined with the direction and the music?.....OMG!)
Saturday, September 01, 2007
They love it. I hate it. Have I been there? No. Did I want to go? No.
Confronted, I was forced to re-evaluate my lifelong hatred for Disney. This isn't a hatred that had anything to do with Eisner or megacorp megasquishing. I like Starbucks for fuck's sake. No, this went back to being a kid. Maybe I just wanted to be a bad ass/different back then. Anyway, I realized with dismay that another one of my quirky dislikes was about to tumble before the face of reason. (This was only the latest in a long line of begrudgingly-admitted things I used to despise that are actually kinda, um, cool I guess. *Coughelviscostello.) Damnit.
But don't we need enemies in life (*he said desperately), especially when they are for all intents and purposes theoretical? Here I think, is a healthy outlet! Rather than hating my actual neighbor I choose to hate Disney, karyoke and musicals. Isn't it better to hate the Yankees than New Yorkers? Honestly, when will I encounter Alex Rodriguez in real life? Never! Healthly hate outlets. But I know it is no use. It just isn't a reasonable hatred.
So fine, I guess I wont call Mickey Mouse the oversized devil rat anymore. I will go to the magic kingdom and have a good time without cynacism. I will I will I will.
Friday, August 31, 2007
I forget that some people live in areas where this is shameful. (*practically everywhere)
I can honestly say it was easier for me to tell my parents that I like to sleep with boys than it was to tell them I am non-monogomous.
So anyway, this post isn't going to be witty or anything like that. Rather, it is meant to merely say that there are normal people out there who love each other VERY MUCH, and are totally committed to each other, and who choose to be non-monogomous. It can be done. But it is hard.
So my poly peeps, take heart, you are not alone. But please don't become poly to breathe life into a dying marriage....like babies, it doesn't fix anything. Also, don't become poly to secretly search for the next person you want to be monogomous with. Grrrr. I only recommend it to people who are in love and want to stay together forever. Without that, it is just too hard. If you aren't in love, then don't go poly. Break up or stay together, but don't go poly.
This post is an open invitation for people having a hard time with this stuff to ask about my tribulations....seek advice.....sympathy....or whatever.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Four First Names of Crushes I’ve Had (I will not name current crushes)
1. Catherine (we will speak no more of this.)
2. Cindy (3rd grade....her tube top, my eyes.....I remember sitting in my aunt's trailer behind our run down rented house eating ritz crackers with peanut butter and wondering whether we were married in a past life.)......now Neil Young is playing......
3. Damion (it was all for him....)
4. Mike (my first boy crush....I didn't realize what it was at the time.)
Four Pieces of Clothing I wish I still owned
1. Ratty pair of oversized jungle boots I pilfered from my grandparent's storage bin long ago....they used to be my uncles.
2. (*now Wilco is playing) Grey t-shirt I pilfered from Catherine after the first night I spent at her house. I like girl t-shirts, they are cut a little sexier.
3. Pair of hippy pants made by my friend Barbara.
4. I can't think of a fourth.....I'm more about losing my clothes.....
Four names I’ve been called at one time or another
1. Miss (I had a full red beard at the time....very surreal moment.)
3. Big Stud
4. Evil G.B.
Four Professions I secretly Want to Try (*Tom Waits is back.)
1. Spy, no doubt about it. Triple agent preferrably.
2. Corporate Director.
1. Neil Young (any age). Not that I think he is into boys. But I think it'd be cool to shoot cans and shit on his farm and smoke some grass. My kind of date.
2. Tom Waits mid 70's. He always wears really nice shoes. We'd probably shoot some pool. If he was drunk enough, he might not realize that I'm a man. It would probably end badly, but that's alright.
3. Janis Joplin (when she was alive, I'm not sick)....I saw some documentary recently about some trainload of musicians going to a show in Canada, and she looked like she was having the best time. Boozin and singin....awesome.
4. Ani Difranco. Yum.
Four Foods I’d rather Throw than Eat
1. Asparagus spears.
4. Pickled anything....
Four Things I Like to Sniff
1. Places where limbs intersect with trunks
2. (*Zappa is back) Redwoods
3. Sea air.
4. Sticky bud.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
L.B. Tagged me with this. I secretly love this stuff. My first meme....be gentle!
Four Things Meme
Four Jobs I've Had:
1) Short bus driver managing team of developmentally disabled adults in high security clearance missile making plant. We picked up recycling.
2) Tennis instructor. Not close to pro, but helped teach the kids and fed balls to adults.
3) Massage Therapist for one public session. Touching people for money turned out to be eeew.
4) Lawyer. Tee hee.
Four Places I Have Lived:
1) San Francisco....Mission District.....19th and Capp.....gangs, 5 dollar sweat pants hookers, fire engines, swat teams, crack, heroin, urine, great friends.
2) Tucson Arizona.....missile plants, saquaros, music, no L.B....
3) Boston.....blizzards and baseball.
4) Guernville, CA....redwoods, river, gays, porches, friends....lots of good good stuff.
Four Favorite Foods:
1) French fries. Forever and ever amen.
2) All Mexican food.
3) Indian food, especially Kormas....anything at Indian Oven in S.F., but especially the Paneer Tikka Korma. Oh god.
4) Skycat's meal du jour. She is the most fabulous cook.
Four Places I’d Rather Be:
1) Anywhere with L.B.
2) Assuming L.B. is there, then with you!
3) Assuming we are all there, then camping with a nice fire, beer and some singing.
4) Assuming we are all there, then some coastal vacation house with a hot tub, lots of booze and dancing.
Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over
2) The Gunfighter.
4) Me and L.B.'s wedding video.
Four TV Shows I Like To Watch
1) Buffy/Angel/Firefly....any Whedon....
2) Flight of the Conchords.
3) Curb Your Enthusiasm....
Four Websites I View Daily
1) Fantasy Baseball....
2) Blogs, lots of blogs....
Four Computers I Have Owned
1) Vic 20
2) Commodore 64
3) Crappy ass Dell laptops.
Here is an alternate 4 to my taggees. I don't know if you've already done this one or not, so I'll give you an alternative.....
Four First Names of Crushes I've Had
Four Pieces of Clothing I wish I still owned
Four names I've been called at one time or another
Four Professions I secretly Want to Try
Four Musicians I'd most want to go on a date with
Four Foods I'd rather Throw than Eat
Four Things I Like to Sniff
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
What exactly is a SFIPOA? We've all encountered them. The poor souls, bless their hearts, who have been promoted due their ability to follow the rules punctiliously. Give them a checklist and these single celled wonders show a remarkable ability to excell. But what happens when they get promoted? Real life, in all its facets starts to creep up on them! Things, infernal things, non-checklist things begin to appear. And they have to make decisions, impossible decisions. Can you imagine their terror, brothers and sisters, when they have to try and contort a non-checklist item into a checklist item? The process typically goes like this: 1) Um, this isn't on my list; 2) Okay, I think I understand what you said, but this isn't on my list; 3) Ok, yes, but you've got to understand this isn't on my list; 4) Well, I'm going to need to see some proof that this should be on my list.
The list, brothers and sisters, was not created by the Lard hisself. Nay. The list was created by the person, the good American capitalist, who started the business in the first place. That person understood the reason behind the list. The list was a broad tool to achieve goals. The list was not an end result. But what is a stupid fucker in a position of authority to do? They don't understand the reason behind the list. They barely understand which end of a fork to use. So try compassion. Put yourself in the gel-insert shoes of the SFIPOA. Think, but for the grease of Lard, that could be me. And then kill them.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
That's right, coming to you from the heart of the Long Beach Hilton.
Ok, first a moment of bitching. Just a little, I have to. Why is it that hotels like the Hilton try and charge you for every little thing, when they are already taking a big chunk of money from you for the room? Like internet access for example. Why do we have to pay 10$ to have internet access here, when at all the cheap and moderately cheap hotels we stayed at gave you access for free? So we pay the 10 bucks and get a password. But when both LB and I try and sign in at the same time the connection is endlessly interrupted by annoying windows urging us to logout. Once I finish swearing I need some water. For only five dollars I could crack open the Evian placed temptingly near the window. No no, I will district my thirst with some TV. But then they only have like eight channels, in a patheticly transparent attempt to get me to rent Ocean's 13 for only 12$. Did I mention we have to pay 16$ to park our car overnight in their garage? And our first room had a goddamn roach in it. Give me a nice La Quinta anyday.
Okay, I feel better. Sorry about the bitching.
Shaking it off....
So Long Beach! I think this area is going to rule. The apartments are cheaper than Boston or San Francisco, and you can get a place right near the beach for the same price as a lean-to in the aforementioned cities. Lots of diversity, in skin pignment and sexuality. My kind of place.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
1. Polite people. I don't care if they are not sincere in their hearts. All I know is that when the toll booth people take my money, they say thank you and smile. In New England they take your money, say nothing, and look at you in a way that says "drive away retahd cocksucka". How do they always know?
2. Queers queers queers! They are flambouyant and obvious and plentiful. You see, my problem is that I have no gaydar. Unless the wrists are flapping up a breeze and the lisps are leaving spittle drops in my ears, I have no clue! It wasn't that there weren't gays in Boston, I just couldn't distinguish them from anyone else.
3. Milk and honey, see land of. See queers.
4. Sunshine and temperate weather. I can go run around outside again! I don't even have to think about stifling humidity or nut crunching cold. Maybe a little rain. Or is that just my tears of joy?
5. The coastline, the redwoods, the Sierras, the joshua trees and the manzanitas. Where else does the geography change so dramatically and beautifully so fast? Maybe Utah, but it doesn't have the coast.
6. Mexican food. Hell, food in general. But especially the magic bean rice and meat combinations that endlessly please me.
7. A certain un-named couple who better not go to Texas.
8. Bill Murray. Okay, so he isn't strictly California, but I love him so.
Things I miss about Boston
1. Jason. Squirrel. Bad Idea/Inconvenient Jew. Iron Butterfly/Dirty Martini. The Gimlet. Achingly I miss them. Why can't they be in California?
2. The Indian Buffets. Oh god yes.
3. The thrift stores. People dress nice there, and give away nice things. I can't believe the things I scored there.
4. My TV. My big heavy manly HD TV. Sigh.
5. The Red Sox. I will be a fan for life, but I miss the city's throb of baseball obsession.
6. Summer barbeques. Nobody does em like Jason. Margeritas that could tranquilize a horse. Tequila shots. The best chicken you'll ever have. Corn from J.P. and herbs from Bad Idea's garden.
7. Bumper pool.....
Okay....this is making me too misty. Gotta roll.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Anyway, it has inspired me to foray into the world of confessional/non-poemesque postage! I'm not sure how to do this, or what it really means, but I'm definitely inspired by all you brilliant bloggers. For the record, I can suck down as well. It defies gravity.
First and foremost on my mind is the mind boggling hospitality of G-Love and Trixie! Thank you guys soooooo much for a wonderful weekend. Words cannot describe what a great time I had, and my future political aspirations caution me against any further details. Woot.
I have to also give a shout out to the fake plant for graciously moving.....to B-pal for adding another layer to the sensory cake.....to hand made tortillas......to White Russians......to blackberries......to the coolest hippest sexiest buzz on the planet.....and most definitely to buffets.
I have to give a distinct anti-shout out to Wasabi hand cream. That shit should come with a bright orange warning label.
Oh, and go OSU! OH-IO.
big love to you peeps
Monday, August 06, 2007
Have it your way he cried, spun around stepped aside, my bride is fine the time is nigh, so fuck all you fucks if you don't want to try.
Hold that feeling, that titter-girl squeeling, grab it's tail now the fucker is fleeting, but don't be surprised when your heart starts a beating.
Open your vest to the cavernous chest, where you only allow the best to invest. I'm not picky, he said with a lie, but that doesn't mean I won't give it a try. Ease down the wheel, the spike and the squeel, don't stop, don't stop, you're starting to feel.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
High Fives a flyin
Stones heating where I just took a beating.
Personalize and sensationalize
the wicked bills come flapping
like all that jazzersize
And falcons on my well wrapped wrist.
Hair teasing and minds easing
All four limbs pressed along the well walls
Lichen on my palms
Air slowly cooling.
Beelzebub in a clawfoot bathtub
Rubs above and rubs below
The air is slowly cooling
And my words are dying slow.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
As I came back to consciousness
And rubbed my head
Who goes there I demanded?
Knowing my mistake almost at once,
I could smell their old spice
The grevious knights.
The ghost of Gram Parsons was late
And I was up shit creek.
Where to go from here?
And me without a Palomino.
The boils on my billfold have begun to bore me
My last place ribbons have begun to swarm me
Back ye jealous fiends!
You can't dress like me.
The ghost of Jimi Hendrix hovered above me
Like scrambled porn on UHF
My eyes couldn't adjust fast enough
My ribbons twittered.
What do you want with me? My blood? My ribbons?