The 193rd step on the last road home.

Fat Alcoholic Rock Star: The Series

While I was struggling to awaken yesterday morning, Little Man and I watched a VH-1 documentary about '80s metal music. It was near the end of the program, since the lazy historical view that hair bands were destroyed by the emergence of flannel bands was being trotted out for the millionth time. Tedious shit, until Vince Neil of Motley Crue rambled on at length about how awful that grunge racket was. Quoting from memory: "I hate grunge music. I don't get it. We were all about fantasy and fun, where you could go to a show and get away from reality for two hours. Grunge, it's like 'I hate myself. I hate everyone. Life sucks.' Who the [bleep] wants to listen to that?"

The segment ends and the first commercial aired is an ad for REMAKING VINCE NEIL, a reality program about how he's dealing with his drinking and eating problems. And it looks like Vince is getting some plastic surgery done too! RAWK ON!

[mostly posted to test the new blogmailer. Remember, I never promised you a rose garden.]

thlinking about the media

Jack Newfield is dead, which is a tremendous loss for both journalism and the City. His books are pretty great, even when you didn't know anything about story's particulars beforehand.

When I lived in Seattle, I found their Weekly to be little more than free toilet paper, but Geov Parrish's editorials were usually the last page I'd use to wipe my ass.

And, since these things always come in threes, here's another weekly-paper editorial about the year in media. John Powers' list is quite enjoyable, despite many of the entries being an old classic with a new paintjob: Timeliness always trumps greatness in the short term, vertical integration guarantees us one DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES a season and [semi-]independent film has always been a haven for dorks to concoct pipe dreams about wonderful, beautiful women who love them and the nerdy shit that they love.

The 192nd step on the last road home.

Killing time waiting for a conference call

These must be very exciting times [in the Confucian-curse sense of the phrase] for gas-station owners.

Keith David is the PLATOON guy who does all the video-game, cartoon, military-recruitment and PBS voiceovers; David Keith is the OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN guy who, um, owns a cattle ranch in Tellico Plains, TN.

I would like to find the first student to take a quantum-physics class, bomb the final test but demand a passing grade because the teacher affected the result by measuring it. I would like to find that student, kill him and eat his heart, thereby gaining all his power.

Raymond Burr was gay, served in the Navy [not to be redundant] and loved throwing dinner parties [not to be redundant]. He also believed in sharing your money with your loved ones and starred in what has to be the best movie now playing in your imagination: a 3-D thriller titled GORILLA AT LARGE.

Never forget to kill Eurymachus and Antinoos first when you get home.

The 180th step on the last road home.

Vidiot Rampage!!!!

[With apologies to Graeme McMillan.]

In my ongoing battle against Endemic Treponematosis, I've spent a few hours shopping for old Playstation 1 video games. I'll explain later. I'm now completely in love with, since they have the unintentionally funniest customer reviews, ever. [Also, they're giving me a 26% discount. Good people, good people.]:

I didn't think anything that would be tied to such great characters as the X-Men could be so crappy, but this completely surpasses anything I could ever anticipate as crap.

Yes, it's hard to believe that admirers of such great characters as the X-Men would ever have to anticipate such a high level of crappiness in their merchandise.

Its a good game for any Spawn Fan.

And I thought I had mastered sarcasm and the backhanded compliment.

I want to get this game but it sounds scary. How scary can it be. It can''t be any scaryer then the fanstic resident evil series. It sounds scary cool. This is probely a game that dark and so scary that it will give you a heart attack. I have never seen any pics of the so I don''t know how it looks. I''ll be back to wright A review on how the game is when I have played it. This is A preview because I have never played the game.

I wish this was the only "preview" I read while I browsed, instead of the 43rd.

Punky ain't your typical mascot with an attitude. He's a gen-X skunk who loves extreme sports - and he's on a mission! He's gotta save his friends.

Not a review, but this solicitation copy horrified and delighted me too much for me to not share it. I'm tempted to buy a copy and see if it's as bad as I imagine it. Or perhaps I'll blow the four bucks on two copies of Syphon Filter 1 to use as coasters.

"This is the most disgusting game in history. I threw this the trash can, after i put it in my playstation. If u want to buy an ugly game buy BMX XXX, i prefer playin with girls on bikes than playin this of

Looking at how his ramble stops in mid-sentence makes me hope nothing happened to this kid. It's sad that he's dumb enough to buy a fucking Three Stooges game expecting it to actually be good, but it would be awful if he had been killed by a capo from the Three Stooges Playstation Mafia for trying to warn people that the game sucks. I mean, if word about it got out, no one would waste $4.99 for a used copy of that piece of

The 178th step on the last road home.

The record, it is now straight

Many people, they come up to me on the street, they ask me, "Milos, I read on the public-toilet wall, I read that you swear you will never ever waste your vote on a Democrat again! Is this true, this thing I read?" I say to them, "Yes!" "Why?" some of them ask. "Because I hate!" I say to them, "Now go eat a box of FUCK!!!"

Now, I can tell those people who ask me, they should go to this post and they should read it, and then waddle off to gobble the FUCKBOX, hunh!!!!!!!

The 177th step on the last road home.

Something fun to yell on the toilet to disturb anyone within earshot, Part One

I'm reading a book about vampires in the bathroom this afternoon, and I learn that real vampires are obsessed with counting seeds and grain to the exclusion of everything else around them, so if one is about to attack you, just throw some poppies or millet on the ground and run away [or just kill the damn thing] while it counts.

"ONE! One pumpkin seed! Ah! Ah! Ah! TWO! Two pumpkin seeds! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

The 175th step on the last road home.

The 174th step on the last road home.


What it is, pathetic mammals,

I hope you can you recall a news item from a few months ago about Robert Chamberlain, a man who was arrested after coating his entire hotel room and himself with petroleum jelly? Milo tells me that his case was heard this week and he pled guilty to a reduced charge of Criminal Mischief, sentenced to three years probation and ordered to pay the hotel a little less than $4,000 US in damages. The judge didn't ask him why he did it, and Chamberlain didn't tell.

Would you like to see a jpeg of the Vaseline man? Of course you would!

But first, it has been brought to my notice that I have not "link-blogged" in some time, so please receive the pleasure of these offerings:

Hail! Hail!! Mary Kaye!!! [Not the shitty cosmetics magnate.] The site's crude and the grammar is somehow worse than mine in places, but you will love the woman who made Las Vegas fun and endorsed the best Stratocaster model, ever. So clean ... so elegant ... so blonde and gold.

Alex Toth on "Intellectual Amos." The pleasure of Andre LeBlanc's comic strip is great and substantial. Enjoy it presently.

Mugshots, mugshots and more mugshots. Very humorous. Looks like Jeffrey Jones took a few shots to the face prior to his mugshot was taken, punches that smirking prick Macaulay Culkin clearly could've used before the cops took his picture.

I suppose Special Education students need statutory raping too.

Just looking at the photographs of his mother and father, their son is an ideal posterchild for abortion. Retroactive abortion. As in the child's eight or ninth trimester.

As if the photo alone doesn't underline how dorky Billie Joe of Green Day truly is, turns out he drives a BMW. Glen Fucking Campbell is more punk than him, and that codger's so old I'm reasonably certain a swift kick to his hip would reduce it to dust.

No one knows what it’s liiiiiiike
To be the bald man
screwed by the mail man
Behind blackened blue eyes

Like far too many child stars, the adult life of the child actress who played Lucy Van Pelt quickly spiraled into a miasma of drugs, prostitution and face-punching contests before dying young in prison.

Hey, tell you what, cops need "hillbilly heroin" too, you know.

Black Popeye.
Jill O'Lantern.
Johnny Brainiac.
And the ghost of Emma Goldman. Together, they fight crime.

From this week's mailbox: "Neateye" writes

Call out Gouranga be happy!!!
Gouranga Gouranga Gouranga ....
That which brings the highest happiness!!

Dear Neateye,

Fuckin' A, pal. Fucking ... A.

I'd like to think the above are lyrics taken from a reggae song about an exotic cheese, and that makes me happy.

Warmest Regards,

ps. Behold! The Vaseline Man!!!

Aw, isn't he CUTE!!!

Notes from the road to Woodstock

While traveling through Eastern upstate New York, it's good luck [and a good time, wink] to visit the towns of Surprise, Paradise Hill, Coxsackie and Climax, in that order. Homosexulas and hetero wisenheimers may detour over to the village of Gayhead between Surprise and Paradise, so long as the latter group understands that they will someday die completely alone.

You will never be funnier or more lucid than when you have absolutely no way to write down your brittlest bon mots and keenest observations of life. This also applies to Web site URLs. Don't even bother trying to remember anything later.

There are only two truly wasted opportunities in this life: One is telling someone that you love how you truly feel and the other is buying a bong in from of a Shandaken cop from the front counter of that town's one-stop gas station/pizzeria/Army-Navy store/video-rental hut/grocer/head shop. These two can be combined quiet easily, although you'll probably wind up in jail if you try it.

It's a little strange to take sharp turns in the roads in/out of Woodstock, the spots where Bob Dylan and various guys from The Band totally fuckin' beefed it 30-odd years ago. There, but for the grace of Gawd, power steering and a blood alcohol level of 0.000 went I, I guess.

The 167th step on the last road home.


hello tiny dancers in my hand,

Mail's light this week, but I get to do a good deed for one of my people back home. Often, I recieve shit from colleagues and admirers claiming I don't "give enough back" of my fabulous sucess. Onward!

Dear friend,

This is a proposal in context but actually an appeal soliciting for your unreserved assistance in consummating an urgent transaction. By way of summarized profile of myself, I am Senator Luisa Pimentel Estrada, a 74years old lady and the first wife of Joseph Ejercito Estrada (former head of state and President of Philippines) who is presently held in detention in a hospital outside manilla,Philippines. However, the current administration of Gloria Arroyo(The President of Philippines) the present Government have resolved to freeze all known assets of Joseph Ejercito Estrada including properties at home and abroad and are presently embarking on to seize the various bank accounts of my Husband in Switzerland,UK and Australia. We cannot be held responsible for the sins of my Husband. In view of this plight, I expect you to be trustworthy and kind enough to respond to this distressed call to save our family from a hopeless future. And if you agree to help, we shall discuss the disbursement ratio in our next correspondence after we have been acquainted. In fact, the attack on our family (The Estrada's) is so devastated to an extent of seizing our traveling passport, family accounts, trying some members of our family in court for offences allegedly committed by my Husband and even restrict us from seeing my husband. Ihave carefully moved out these funds (US$18 million), before my husband was impeached to an offshore Deposit Company.From past experiences, many people I had regarded as close friends has capitalize on my family's travail to run away with my money. In order to avert this negative development, I in conjunction with my son (DANIEL) now seek your permission to allow my attorney do a CHANGE OF OWNERSHIP/REASSIGNMENT OF CREDIT of stated funds from the deposit company to your name, so that the funds (US$18million) would be released to you as the new owner (on behalf of me and my family).In view of this grievous threat to our Economic and personal survival, our family trustee have secretly protected the deposit, you are to assist us to lay claims of the consignment with the aid of all legal documents that will be forwarded to you as time goes on. I am writing because when I deposited the money in the deposit company, I told them that it belonged to a foreign business partner and my present position will not allow me to claim the funds. Consequently, I will present you as the owner of the funds in the Deposit Company so you can be able to claim them. This is simple. I will like you to provide immediately;

1. Full names
2. Contact address
3. Telephone and fax numbers

Once I receive this information, we will prepare the necessary documents that will put you in place as the new owner of the funds. The money will then be released to your custody by the Deposit Company, for us to share. No doubt this proposal will make you apprehensive,please we employ you to observe utmost confidentiality and rest assured that this transaction would be most profitable for both of us because we shall require your assistance to invest our share in your country (buying of properties like houses, hotels etc). This is why your urgent action and response is of priority to enable us concluding this transaction in a timely and professional manner.

Awaiting your swift response via this email address: indicating your interest pls.
Thanks and regards,
Luisa Pimentel Estrada.

Mail sent from WebMail service at HARDROCKDETROIT.COM

Dear Luisa,

I would enjoy the pleasure of assisting you in your consumption. Here is the simple information you have requested of me for you and Daniel, my brother.

1. Gojira S. Kijou [you may drop the "S" for "Savings"]
2. The East River, usually somewhere near the Java St. dock, New York City, 11222
3. I won't have a phone or fax until I get my new Treo, sorry.

Hope this helps!

warmest regards,