Almost Infamous

Adieu

2007-02-11T12:44:00.000-06:00

OK, folks. This is officially the FINAL post on this blog. I've completely moved into the new crib over on http://darkdamian.wordpress.com, and won't be updating this guy anymore. Please update your links. In about 3 weeks, I'll be deleting this blog completely. Update them links, or be left wondering where I went. I'm serious. You think I'm gonna leave this nasty, gangrene, staph-infected blog up and running, while my new hotness is keeping me warm? Think again. So - follow me to the promised land. And bring me something to eat when you get there. ni-GAH! Peace.

Drumroll, Please

2007-02-07T09:07:00.000-06:00

Damn, folks! A brotha takes a break, and you'd think the Colts won the Super Bowl or something. Settle!

I'm still here.

I've missed you all, but since none of you pay me to do this, it had to take a back seat (heh - I said "back seat") to my other responsibilities for a li'l bit. And though I'm still pretty busy and don't have time to give you a REAL post, I do have this little tidbit for you:

My new blog is up.

(cue cheering and throwing of bacon in my general direction)

I'm still working on it, so I'm still not quite ready to take her out of dry dock just yet, but feel free to stop on by and have a look around. http://darkdamian.wordpress.com

Wordpress' import feature finally allowed me to pull in my Blogger posts, which made my job somewhat easier. I still have to go into each post and apply the proper category to it, and I think I have to enable comments on all of them, so if you find that you can't comment yet, sit tight - I'm slowly plowing through my posts, from oldest to newest. Hey, HDW - I bet you know a thing or two about plowing, what with all the snow in Denver. Just remember: if you guys have to resort to cannibalism, black people taste like chicken and bad credit.

So. Check me out, and keep checking out Squirrel, Please. I'm having a ball coming up with ideas for that strip. And y'all, I'm TRYING to accommodate the numerous requests for inclusion, which mostly sound like "I wanna be in the strip!" or "I swear to God, I will beat you if you don't make me a character", but I'm limited by the options I'm given on the site where I make 'em, and since I'm no graphic artist, it's tough for me to just invent and draw shit. I'm good with words, not pictures. So if you don't see a character for you, don't feel bad.

You can, however, bribe me.

OK - back to the grindstone, folks. Those paychecks don't sign themselves. Take care, and update your links accordingly. You will see me very soon.

Hide your wallets.

Peace.

New Comic and Bye Bye Blogger

2007-01-26T13:36:00.000-06:00

This will most likely be one of my last posts on Blogger, because when I logged in today, it FORCED me to convert my blog to the new version, something I didn't want to do. So you know what? I'm out. I'm moving Almost Infamous over to WordPress, where I already have my newest creation, Squirrel, Please. I'll probably be out of commission for a while, because there's no easy way to move a new Blogger account over - it'll have to be done manually. And it'll likely mean I'll lose all my comments, which sucks mucho assholio, but what can I do? I was fine being on old Blogger, but when they forced me to change, that was that. It's gonna require a completely retooled template and sidebar, and it just THRILLS ME to have to do all that over again. Can you feel the level of my pisstivity? Mad thanks to Robin Harris for coming up with that word. I'm at DEFCON 4 right now over this shit. So stay tuned. I'll post my new blog address here once its up and running. For those of you who liked the comic strips, Squirrel, Please is where you can find the latest ones. Y'all take care, and I'll holla atcha on the flip-flop. Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 1/24/2007

2007-01-24T17:08:00.000-06:00

Straight to it today, mi gente. I got no time to waste, and a new blog to work on. Enjoy! -------------- PHOENIX – A 29-year-old convicted sex offender from Oklahoma apparently conned two Arizona men into believing he was a 12-year-old boy, then moved into their home and had an ongoing sexual relationship, sheriff's officials in Yavapai County said Friday. The ruse was discovered Wednesday after one of the men tried to enroll the fake 12-year-old in a charter school in Chino Valley, about 90 miles northwest of Phoenix, using the name Casey Price. School officials became suspicious and called deputies, telling them the guardianship papers and birth certificate presented by a man who said he was the 12-year-old's grandfather appeared fake and that "Price" looked much older than 12, said Susan Quayle, a spokeswoman for the Yavapai County Sheriff's Office. "They were very upset when the detectives told them they had been having a sexual relationship with a 29-year-old man and not a preteen boy," Ms. Quayle said, referring to the two men. Sheriff's detectives investigating the case learned that the "grandfather" was Lonnie Stiffler, 61, who lived in Chino Valley with Robert James Snow, 43, a sex offender who failed to register with authorities, and the man claiming to be 12. Deputies served a search warrant at the home Thursday and found Mr. Stiffler, Mr. Snow, Brian J. Nellis, 34, and the phony preteen boy, who turned out to be Neil Havens Rodreick II, 29. Oklahoma Department of Corrections online records show that Mr. Rodreick was convicted in 1996 of a lewd and indecent proposal to a minor and served time in prison from 1996 to 2002. The records show that Mr. Nellis was convicted in 1997 of lewd molestation and was imprisoned from 1997 to 2000. According to detectives, Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow said they met Mr. Rodreick through an Internet chat about two years ago, Ms. Quayle said, and they began trading sexually explicit photos. He convinced them he was "Casey Price" and was only 12, the men said. Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow went to Oklahoma and met Mr. Rodreick at a hotel, then brought him back to live with them in Arizona and began a sexual relationship, Ms. Quayle said. Mr. Rodreick apparently shaved his body hair and used makeup to keep up his guise, Ms. Quayle said. He also dressed as a juvenile and tried to act and talk like a preteen. "He looks young; I would not have guessed that he's almost 30," Ms. Quayle said, but added that he certainly looked much older than 12. When detectives unraveled the case and told Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow that "Price" was named Rodreick and was, in fact, 29, Ms. Quayle said, they expressed dismay and anger that they had been "conned." Mr. Nellis was apparently Mr. Rodreick's cellmate in an Oklahoma prison, Ms. Quayle said. Detectives have evidence that Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow enrolled Mr. Rodreick in other Arizona schools, possibly in Payson, El Mirage and Prescott Valley. "I think what we're looking at is that he's being used to troll for other kids," Ms. Quayle said. All but Mr. Stiffler are being held in lieu of $50,000 bond each on a charge of failing to register as a sex offender. Mr. Stiffler was booked on two counts of forgery and one count of hindering prosecution and ordered held in lieu of a $100,000 cash bond. "We can't charge them with child molesting because he [Mr. Rodreick] was not a child," Ms. Quayle said. "This is the weirdest case I've seen in 18 years," Ms. Quayle said. "Even the detectives said it was the weirdest. If it wasn't so sad, it would be funny." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! (breathe) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Mr. Stiffler. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OK, OK. I'm OK now. WHEW! This story technically isn't funny at all - these two scumbags had every intent to keep a 12 year old captive as their sexual slave, and wanted to use him to lure other kids to them. But my GOD - how do you mistake a 29 year old man for a 12 year old boy? Granted, they said he looked young or whatever, and shaves his body hair, but still. Wouldn't the extra beard hairs in the Norelco be a clue? Or the Maybelline makeup on the sink? (Maybe he's born with it. MAYBE IT's MAYBENOT!) It's sick shit, and they need to be put UNDER the jail. But the law's right...technically (there's that word again), they aren't pedophiles. The guy was a grown-ass man. But here's the rub, folks: if I buy a bag of oregano from a cop, thinking it was pot, I'd still get arrested because I INTENDED to buy pot, regardless of the fact that I actually got a delicious spice instead. Then again, if a COP poses as a 12 year old and a sick-ass child molesting motherfucker comes along and tries to scoop 'em up, they get arrested, so maybe it's only when the police initiates it. Either way, they need to be released into general population as soon as they get to jail, with big signs around their necks that say "He was 29, but I thought he was 12". Now, the other side of this equation is this even SICKER 29 year old man who pretended to be fucking TWELVE, down to shaving, wearing some age-defying makeup (probably Oil of Olay, since they make good shit), and dressing the part. This man needs some serious help. If you're gay, that's fine. Each person lives his/her life in the manner they see fit. But couldn't he get a date? Couldn't he find that special someone who knew he was a grown-ass man, but let him play Dress Up every so often? What type of psychological damage must a person have to WANT to act like not just a 12 year old, but a 12 year old who enjoys sex with OLD MEN? Sick bastards, all of 'em. I hope they all get the gout. ----------------- TALLAHASSEE, Fla.-- A hunter's wife got a huge surprise in Tallahassee, Fla., when the duck killed" by her husband two days earlier raised its head and looked at her. The duck had been in the woman's refrigerator for two days, Noni Beck of the Goose Creek Wildlife Sanctuary told the Tallahassee (Fla.) Democrat. "It's just kind of freaky," Beck said. Laina Whipple of the receptionist at the Killearn Animal Hospital said the hunter's daughter brought the 1-pound, dark-brown female duck in Tuesday. The man's wife "was going to check on the refrigerator because it hadn't been working right," Whipple said, "and when she opened the door, it looked up at her. "She freaked out and told the daughter to take it to the hospital right then and there." The duck -- shot in the wing and leg -- has a 75 percent chance of surviving, a doctor at the sanctuary said. See this? This right here is why I don't hunt. And I'll tell you this much - if some wild animal I thought was dead looked up at ME, I'm a vegetarian, right there. On. The. Spot. I bet she left out the best part of the story, when she took the duck to the animal hospital: the conversation. Oh yes. I'm doing it. Lady: "Damn fridge never works. I swear to Go-" Duck: "*ahem*" Lady: "..." Duck: "I said *AHEM*! Do you not SEE me up in here, heffa?" Lady: "I... I... I..." Duck: "Well, I didn't know you had THREE of 'em, but you humans never cease to amaze me, you dumb bastards. Where's that punk who popped a cap in me?" Lady: "Oh Jesus. Oh sweet baby Jesus. He's at work." Duck: "Well, we wouldn't wanna disturb him while he's emptying those trash cans, now would we?" Lady: "You...you're supposed to be dead." Duck: "And you're supposed to be pretty, so I guess we both lose." Lady: "How are you ALIVE?" Duck: "Same as you - luck. You were supposed to be a stain on a sheet at a Days Inn in Savannah." Lady: "You are awful! Get out of my fridge!" Duck: "Tell you what - take me to the hospital, and I won't tell Bubba about the 'special' brownies down in the corner there." Lady: "...Deal." ------------------- HILTON ISLAND, S.C. A man was charged with public disorderly conduct in Hilton Island, S.C. after being observed "in a physical confrontation with shrubs" by a deputy. The Beaufort County Detention Center's online log said the 23-year-old man, whose name was not released, smelled of alcohol and was taken to the detention center to await prosecution, the Hilton Head Island Packet reported. The deputy that took the man in said he was responding to a complaint the man had attempted to get into someone else's car. When the deputy arrived on the scene the man allegedly had moved on to beating the vegetation. The police report said the man ran across the street to get in one last kick on a bush before talking to police. Guess he wasn't beating around the bush. Or maybe he was! I'm sorry, I HAD to make that joke. Union rules. What the hell did that bush do to him? Did he think it was George W. Bush? I think I might condone his actions if that's the case. His thought process must be a lot like mine: "Damn, my keys don't work. Fuckin' keys. Wait, I like keys. I really like Alicia Keys. She's hot. Hot like FIIIIIIIIIIIRE! BOW BOW BOW! I love that song. 'Osmosis Jones', bitch! HAHAHAHA! Hmm, who sang backup on that Prince song, "My Computer?" Ohhhhh yeah, Kate Bush. Yeah. Bush. I really hate Bush. There he is now, the fucker. DON'T YOU RUN FROM ME, PRESIDENT FOLIAGE!!!!" And when you go to the lockup after attacking shrubbery, you can't tell that to the dudes in there for assault and battery, oh no. You have to say this: "Yeah, I fucked bush UP tonight, man." When he sobered up, and the cops told him why he was in there, do you think they even bothered to stifle their laughter? You'd think the police in Hilton Head would have better things to do, like make all the black people leave the island. Peace.

Squirrel, Please

2007-01-22T11:11:00.000-06:00

I need your honest opinion. I'm digging making these comic strips. It's fun and easy, and I love the challenge of trying to be funny in three panels (as opposed to the War and Peace type dialog I usually use for comedic purposes). If you like them too, let me know, and I'll either make them a regular feature, or break them off into their own blog. Be honest. If it's not funny, tell me - I can take it. I just wanna know if it's something I should continue sharing with the class ('cause I'll keep making them, if only for my own amusement). The strip is called Squirrel, Please. It stars Malcolm the ghetto squirrel and his gang of misfits. I wanna know What you're thinking. There are some things you can't hide. I wanna know What you're feeling. Tell me what's on you mind. (God bless you, Information Society.) Peace.

Focus, Group

2007-01-19T14:29:00.000-06:00

Yeah, yeah, I know I haven't posted in while. But gimme a break, it was a holiday, right? Martin Luther King Week. I was chillin' like a villain, I know that's right. What? What's that you say? It's actually Martin Luther King DAY? Not week? Oops. Well, at least I'm well rested. In all seriousness, my black ass has been BUSY this week. I even started a diatribe on Wednesday, only to get too busy to finish it. Then yesterday, when I had 4 minutes to get a flow going (it's all about the flow. If I don't feel it, I don't write), my PC crashed - BEFORE I could save a draft of my extremely funny shit. Suffice it to say that I didn't feel very funny after that, and though I tried to recreate my comedy, it was just gone. So I said "Fuck this 'tribe" and went on about my bidness. But I realize that some of you have been coming back every day, looking for a little somethin' somethin' to get you through the day. And though I'm not gonna diatribe (that ship has sailed for this week. Sorry), it'll be something for you to gnaw on while I prep for next week. So get to gnawin'. Now. Ever been in a focus group? I hadn't, until Wednesday night. Before then, focus groups were, to me, insane little gatherings of people who decided the path of some very important products and services. My opinion was that the people who went there were either dolts, or only had cats for company, or really loved stale coffee. Boy, was I ever wrong. I was wronger (new word) than that time when I thought 14 year old hands were strong enough to stop a moving motor vehicle that was hurtling toward me, doing 360s all the way. I was VERY wrong then, lemme tell you. But this time, it was worse because I misjudged the people who went there. They didn't go out of boredom or for the taste of day-old Folger's crystals. They went for the cash. Oh yes, this was a PAID focus group. My opinion was officially for sale, and the asking price for 2 hours of my precious time was $100. I called the folks, answered the bullshit questions, and I was informed that I got the last available slot for the focus group that would be discussing...video games. Are you KIDDING me? Video games? That'd be like Micheal Jordan attending a basketball focus group, or Andy Dick attending one about dickheads or bad actors or unfunny men or attention whores or men who smoke pole to succeed in Hollywood. Not that there's anything wrong with pole-smoking. So when I found out I was in there like swimwear, I was thrilled. Wednesday night, I get down there, and they gather all of us around a table in a big room. The people were: Moderator (MOD): The guy running things. Lhasa Apso Mom (LAM): Nice lady, looked just like the breed of dog. Not kidding. Obnoxious New York Mom (ONYM): She lives in The Colony! She has TWO media rooms! Her daughter is #2 in the country in figure skating in her age group! Blah blah fucking blah. Family Guy (FG): Called so because he looked just like Peter Griffin. He didn't say much. Slow-Talker (ST): I hated him. He didn't say much, either. It took him 10 minutes to give us his damn name. Sista Girl Mom (SGM): She was the other black person there, and very nice. Loud Man (LM): Married, one kid, kept trying to sell us all cell phones. Country Boy (CB): Very nice guy. Nothing bad to say about him. And of course, me. As we progressed through the questions, several things came to light. First of all, the focus group WASN'T about video games, per se. It was about a large chain of video and rental stores, the name of which I promised not to give, but I'll give you a hint: it may or may not rhyme with "cockduster". The second thing was that some of these people were clearly insane. Check it: Mod: So, ST, tell me about the gaming habits in your household. ST: Weeeeeellllllllll....I tell you whaaaaaaaaaaaat....I reckon my son... he's 17, you know...growin' right up, he is...I can remember when he was fiiiiiiiiiiiive, and he fell dooooooooown in the yaaaaaaaaaaaard one timmmmmme....funniest dang thing you'll ever seeeeeee- Mod: Uh, thank you, ST. What about you, ONYM? ONYM: Well, I buy my kids a game at least once or twice a week. Group: HUH? A WEEK? ONYM: Yep. 1 or 2 a week. I LOVE having a big library of games and movies. Every Tuesday I go to Wal-Mart and buy the new releases, even if I don't like 'em or don't know what they are. I just HAVE to have them. And it's no big deal, 'cause the kids have their OWN media room - and it's HUGE - and they keep their stuff there, and in OUR media room - Mod: THANK you, ONYM. LM: I BUY GAMES WHENEVER I WANT BECAUSE MY DAUGHTER IS ONLY 5 MONTHS OLD AND SHE CAN'T PLAY GAMES BUT I DO AND I LIKE GEARS OF WAR BECAUSE I CAN SHOOT STUFF DOES ANYONE NEED A NEXTEL PHONE? FG: *sigh* ST: Yoooooooooou buy gaaaaaaaaaaaaaames every weeeeeeeeeeeek? Wellllllll, I tell you whaaaaaaat - Mod: THANK you, ST and LM. LAM: My kids get games on birthdays and Christmas. Period. Me, CB, and SGM: Same here. ONYM: But why would you DENY them their games like that? Just get 'em when they come out! They're only $50 or $60, it's not that big a deal. We have a Playstation 2, an XBox 360, a regular Xbox, a Wii, and a Nintendo DS for each kid. By the way, I have a masters in chemical engineering, and I'm a stay at home mom. FG: *sigh* ST: Weeeelllllll- Mod: THANK YOU, EVERYONE. And so it went. At the end of the group, we each got $100 cash. We all rode the elevator together, and I was scheming on how I could do this again, when SGM asked "Is it true that we have to wait 6 months before doing thing again?" And everyone threw their head back and laughed like they do on TV. LAM said "Hell no! I'll be back in here next week, doing another one. Just tell 'em you haven't done one in 6 months. They don't keep track." SGM beamed, and I did too. Slow Talker started to say something, but the elevator doors opened before he could get 2 syllables out. Y'all, that's easy money right there. Do that shit. Peace. Cartoon Edit: I'm laughing my ass off here. Look what I made. Get better soon, Pirate.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day

2007-01-15T14:24:00.000-06:00

MLK's "I Have A Dream" speech. If you haven't read it...you should. Celebrate today, and what it stands for. Look around you and realize that, though we still have miles to go, we've come a long way. Remember the dream. -----------------

"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

"Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

"But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

"In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

"It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

"It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

"But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

"We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

"As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

"I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

"Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

"I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

"I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

"I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

"I have a dream today.

"I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

"I have a dream today.

"I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

"This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

"This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

"And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

"Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

"Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

"But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

"Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

"Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

"And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

The White Rapper Show

2007-01-13T15:05:00.000-06:00

Oh. My. God. I had heard rumors about this show, whispered quietly in corridors, far from the reach of caring ears. Eyes looked left and right before uttering the words, fearing reprisals from anyone within listening range who has any sense of decency and good quality television programming. "Yo man, you heard about that show?" Yes. I had indeed heard about it, but I thought it was just rumors and innuendo. But last night, around 1am, I was randomly flipping channels while avoiding the concept of going to bed, when I ran across it, and I couldn't believe my eyes. It exists. The (White) Rapper Show. Now, the simple fact that this cancellation waiting to happen was even on the air was enough for me to tune in, but as I watched, I noticed something peculiar. No, not that they're all white. I got that from the title. Give me SOME credit. As the the wannabe rappers were all lined up, getting talked to by MC Serch from 3rd Bass (and to be real about it, I LOVED 3rd Bass back in the day. "Gas Face" was the damn BOMB. Word to the 3rd), I noticed that one of the rappers was wearing a shirt that looked aswfully damned familiar. In my travels with my band, I've encountered many other bands around the Metroplex (AKA the greater Dallas/Fort Worth area. Memorize that). The shirt the rapper was wearing was one for the band Pimpadelic, whom we've played with numerous times. Pimpadelic is notorious for their live shows, which back in the day included naked women performing lewd and lascivious and delicious sexual acts on each other on stage, blatant visible drug use, and other wild-ass activities. They are quite well-known around here, so when I saw the shirt, I recognized it immediately. It struck me as odd, though...Pimpadelic is a southern rock/Kid Rock style band, that uses some chicken-fried rap with its David Allen Coe worship. I respect them, 'cause they've been around a while and have made a name for themselves, but they are NOT the type of band one would associate with hardcore rap. As I looked closer, I immediately knew why that guy was wearing the shirt. And I laughed like a fucking banshee. He used to BE in Pimpadelic! I KNOW THAT GUY! His stage name is 100 Proof. Rumor has it that one night over in Ft. Worth, Pimpadelic was playing a show at one of the better venues there, when the lead singer, for some unknown reason (*coughnosecandycough*) took it upon himself to fire Proof and another band member -- right in the middle of the show. While they were still on stage. For reasons unknown to this day, other than they somehow pissed the lead singer off. He's about as stable as a bowl of jell-o being carried by a Parkinson's sufferer during an earthquake. I don't know Proof intimately, but I've witnessed some of his...activities. And he doesn't seem to embody the essence of real underground rap, not to me at least. I leave room for correction, though...perhaps this show will prove me completely wrong. But I laughed last night when Serch told him his rhymes weren't complex enough. He managed to stay on one more week, since the guy who got kicked off decided not to write any rhymes at all during the elimination phase, basically guaranteeing his departure. Serch screamed at him and cursed him for taking up a slot that some other person would've killed for, and then screamed at the people who DID right rhymes to bring it ever week, or else. This show is a train wreck, full of people vying to become the next Eminem. spitting rhymes I could write half-asleep and after a dose of Vicodin. Say, that can be my rap name. Vicodin. Big Vike rockin' the big mic, turn off the light 'cause you know my shit is tight. Nah. I'll stick to rock. Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 1/10/2007

2007-01-10T11:45:00.000-06:00

YOOOOOO! It's that time again, y'all. Time to point out human fallibility, to showcase the error of free will, to demonstrate that mankind is just a half-step up from apes, and a whole lotta folks trip over that step on the way up. Did you see where Bush wants to send more troops to Iraq? Let's hope that they get flak jackets, holsters, and other vital life-saving equipment that a lot of current soldiers lack. Families are having to scrape money together just to buy their sons and daughters bullet-proof vests. That shit ain't right. One of these days I'm going to rant about that. But not today. Today we celebrate people who DON'T serve our country. We celebrate that unique class of underachieving people whom I call: The Idiotocracy. Jot that down. Let's 'tribe. ---------------------- MORGAN, Pa. - A high school English teacher and semifinalist for the 2007 Pennsylvania Teacher of the Year Award resigned after police said an underage drinking party was held in her basement. Christine Kosik resigned from South Fayette High School on Friday, according to district Superintendent Linda Hippert. Kosik and her husband, John, were charged with corruption of minors for the Dec. 30 party, which was attended by 40 to 50 teens, South Fayette Township Police Chief Louis Volle said. Police believe someone else brought alcohol to the house, but said the Kosiks were responsible for the party because they were home at the time. Police were called when the party became unruly. About 30 teens, including the Kosiks' 17-year-old son, were cited for underage drinking that night, police said. Kosik referred comments to her attorney, Romel L. Nicholas, who said she was not forced to resign. Kosik was not aware of drinking at the party, and she did not encourage, sanction or allow it in any way, Nicholas said. "There is a component in this case of minors sneaking in or bringing in alcohol without her knowledge," Nicholas told The Associated Press on Tuesday. I'm sending this out to all the teachers out there. My mom was a teacher, as was my maternal grandmother and both paternal grandparents. I've been around teachers my entire life. Teachers, there's a simple rule of thumb to follow which will stop all y'all from getting into the jams you're finding yourselves in so much. Ready? Here it is: stop hanging out with your students. It's simple. Don't. Hang. Out. With. Your. Kids. You wanna be their friends? Fine. Do it in class, or wait until they're not your students anymore. Do not erase that student/teacher barrier. I won't deny that befriending them makes you more effective in your job, but it's hard to DO your job when you're at home watching "The Price Is Right" instead of monitoring lunch, just because you thought you'd try to be "cool" and show the kids how "hip" and "with it" you are. Go to school, cram some education in their thick skulls, and go hang out with adults. Back when I was in grade school, you NEVER heard about teachers banging students, or teachers giving 'em liquor or pot, or hosting wild parties at their house. Hell, we didn't even know our teachers' first names! Teachers either had the first name of Mister or Missus, or maybe Miss. We didn't know where they lived. We didn't know what kind of music they liked. We didn't know if they watched "The Dukes Of Hazzard" last Friday night. They maintained that professional distance that's required in order for them to remain objective and provide the best education to ALL the kids. Let's get real. Are the teachers befriending ALL the kids? Probably not. I'm sure there's a Harold or a Melinda in the class who isn't very social, and that kid is getting JUST as left out as always, only this time it's sanctioned by the reigning authority figure. I have a friend who is a teacher, and she works HARD to make sure that, no matter how fond she is of a kid or group of kids, she doesn't cross that line until after they graduate. And even then, she proceeds with caution, knowing that they still might have friends in her school. Does she really need her kids knowing that she likes to drink beer and party? Hells to the no. It's none of their business, and only undermines the precariously thin authority she has over them. Teachers, go to school, teach, and go home. Let the kids be stupid on their own. I once had my MOTHER as a teacher. Try getting HER to give you some Crown and Coke. ------------ JANUARY 9--Eager to try out a new prescription for the erectile dysfunction drug Cialis, a couple in their fifties is facing indecent exposure charges after they were caught having sex on a balcony at a family resort in South Carolina. William McGinn, 57, and Patricia Scott, 53, were arrested Saturday afternoon when other vacationers at the Breakers Resort spotted them engaging in a variety of sex acts on their third-floor balcony, according to a Myrtle Beach Police Department report. One witness told cops that McGinn and Scott ignored requests that they take it inside, away from the view of guests, including children. When police confronted the couple, they claimed that onlookers were just "jealous," adding that if other guests "did not want to see them, then they didn't have to look." McGinn told officers that he had just received his Cialis prescription and, "he and Scott were in love." As she was being placed in a patrol car, Scott complained to one cop that she and McGinn were "just f**king" and "didn't see the problem." McGinn and Scott were booked into the Myrtle Beach Police Department jail. Ah, my home town. There just so much wrongness here. Let's begin.

They had sex on a balcony of a major hotel. I know The Breakers. I've been there many times. It's RIGHT on the beach. If you throw a rock hard enough, you'll hit a jellyfish. Balconies have concrete floors. C'mon, surely there was a better spot than that.
They had sex on a balcony of a major hotel in the middle of the afternoon. Are these people insane? Honestly! I realize that this is the off season in Myrtle Beach, but there's still a ton of folks down there, just walking around in the sun and vacationing without the crowds. For the love of common decency, take that shit inside! And to claim that people were "jealous" and "didn't have to look" is about the dumbest thing I'll hear all week, and I plan to listen to President Douche tonight, so you KNOW that's saying something! People ASKED them to go inside so that CHILDREN wouldn't have to witness this bestial rutting, but noooooooooo. He had Cialis, and they're in love, therefore everyone should watch this display of humpback whale mating. And on the third floor, that shit is unavoidable. I'd say "get a room", but they already had one that they weren't using, the inconsiderate fucks.
They had sex on a balcony of a major hotel in the middle of the afternoon and they're in their FIFTIES! This is some shit you'd expect to see with a couple of 20 year old, not people half past a C-note. How awful! I'm gagging at the thought of it. And this wasn't Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie at age 50, either. These were some nasty-ass, white trash, broke down, 1988 Chrysler LeBaron owning, "Press Your Luck" watching, finger sniffing, WIC check cashing, grain alcohol drinking, flip-flop in the winter wearing, Member's Only jacket sporting, flea ridden skank bastards who should've considered fucking in the shower, 'cause at least their sewer asses would've been CLEAN then. Look at this nonsense:

No. Just...no. They should be embarrassed to even be seen CLOTHED, much less naked. I wouldn't have sex with her if there were winning lotto numbers in her vagina. Ack. ------------------ ST. PETERSBURG, Fla., A Florida woman who was struck by a falling bullet on New Year's Eve has her bra to thank for stopping it. WTSP-TV, Tampa Bay, reported that Debbie Bingham was enjoying the New Year's fireworks when she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder "I grabbed my shoulder and noticed I was bleeding," she said. "And then I pulled my blouse back and saw the big hole and realized that it was a gunshot." But Bingham's bra had stopped the bullet from reaching her skin. "The bullet was halfway inside of my bra, and the other half right on the tip of my skin," she told reporters. "It was a very cheap bra. It wasn't very expensive and I'd love to have a couple more of those bras." Police still don't know who fired the gun, WSTP reported. Another case of breasts saving lives. I've said it before and I'll say it again: ladies, don't lament your large mammaries. Love them. Cherish them. Sure, they get in the way when you're golfing or playing tennis, and some of you may get black eyes when you jog, and it can be hard to get comfy in the bed at night, but aren't those small prices to pay when they can literally stop bullets and shrapnel? LOVE YOUR BREASTS! Don't listen to those idiots who say "more than a mouthful is a waste". They just don't know what to do with the rest. Embrace them. Hug them. Squeeze them. Press them together. Touch them. Lick—OK, I think I just exited "Adore" and entered "Creepy". My bad. At any rate, don't buy into the societal standard that there's such a thing as too much boobage. Well, maybe there IS such a thing as too much. This...is too much. But I bet THESE puppies would stop antiaircraft fire. Peace.

Devil Dog

2007-01-08T17:04:00.000-06:00

I have 3 dogs. And just like people, all three are completely different. Rocky is the oldest. He's a Germand Shephard/wolf mix, black and tan, about 80 pounds, and a wonderful dog. Max is the middle mutt, a shar-pei/chow mix, all brown, about 40 pounds, and dumber than Pauly Shore asking Anna Nicole Smith directions to Harvard. And then there's Nicky. Nicky is the youngest. She's a mutt of unknown breed or lineage, though we suspect she's got some pit bull in her somewhere. She's about 25 pounds of short white fur, and by far, she's the most ill-mannered, undisciplined, Houdini escape artist dog we have. She was acquired by DWW back in 2004 after she wandered into our yard, dirty and stinking, and basically made herself at home. At the time we already had 3 dogs, and I really wasn't wanting to add to the brood, but DWW (bless her heart) is an animal person, through and through. At one time, we had 9 cats and 4 dogs, in addition to several beta fish. Granted, the cats were indoor/outdoor, but still. The house was like a scene from "Dr. Dolittle", with all the animal traffic. Now, I'm not a cat person at all, but I tolerated them all. One by one, they all passed away (and no, I had nothing to do with it, 'cause even though I'm not keen on them, I wouldn't hurt them either), including one of the dogs, leaving us with our current kennel count. I was overruled on my opinion of the dog, and she came to join our family. And the trouble with her started immediately. Apparently she had been abused earlier in her life, because whenever I would try to pet her or touch her to attach a leash, she'd either run, crouch in fear and whimper, or try to bite me. But only ME, leading me to believe that her abuser was a man, or that the little white bitch was racist. She even managed to bite me a couple of times, and it's a testament to my self-control that she's still alive today after that. She immediately began a struggle for domination with the other female dog we had, causing us to keep them separate at all times. At night she would jump over the barricade we used to keep the dogs in the kitchen (at that house, we had a 4 foot fence that enclosed about a 1/2 acre, giving the dogs plenty of room to run around and exercise. Apparently that wasn't quite enough room for Nicky. Soon after letting her out into the great expanse of the backyard, the dog showed one of her most endearing traits: the ability to leap over fences like a gazelle. For a while we couldn't figure out how she was escaping...we never saw her do it, and there were no holes dug under the chain link fence. We'd put her out, and 4 minutes later we'd see her running across the front yard like there was a steak on a string dangling in front of her. To me, this was bliss. Maybe she'd just keep on running one day, I hoped. Alas, she always found her way home. I tried trying her up to a chain, something I hated, but she actually chewed THROUGH a coated wire chain, and when I moved to a link chain, she figured out how to get out of her collar. We bought a kennel for her to sleep in at night (which she learned to escape from), so we resorted to using it during the day when we went to work. More than once we came home to find the trash completely scattered througout the house, and the litterbox strangely devoid of catshit. This dog was not allowed to lick us in the face. When we moved, the dog moved with us (despite my suggestion to just drive halfway to the new place, let the dog out to "pee", then drive the fuck off). But I was ready for her. The new (old) house has a 6 foot privacy fence. No way will Nickademous jump THAT bad boy. When I threw her into the back yard for the first time, I waited by the sliding glass door, crouched over like a 3rd base coach, giggling to myself. I wanted to see her hit that fence broadside, land on her back, look at it like it betrayed her, and then go lay down in the grass with the other two dogs. I waited for this moment like a kid waits for Christmas. That moment never came. She didn't even go NEAR the fence at first. I was silently urging her to just SNIFF it, but nope. She was happy. After a while, I gave up. I mean, I had WON, sure, but she denied me that sweetest part of victory - the humiliation of the defeated. I left her there, and went about my business. When I checked on her a little while later...she was gone. GONE. I ran into the back yard, expecting to find her hiding behind the riding lawn mower (not working) or just being out of my range of vision. No, this bitch was simply not there. It was as though she threw down some ninja smoke and vanished into thin air. I went outside the fence to look for her, and before long she came back. I checked the fence for any gaps or holes, and finding none, I let her back into the backyard. Maybe I had left the gate open, I thought. No way she jumped. That's a 6 foot fence. This scene repeated itself over and over for the next couple of weeks, until one day, I decided to just sit and watch her. Eventually, when she thought no one was looking (I'm serious. She was all looking over her shoulder like a drug dealer near a police station), she took a running start toward the fence, hunched down, and launched herself toward the top of the fence. "No way she clears that," I said. And I was right. She didn't clear it. But she did land right on the tip-top of it, and perched there for a few seconds like some big-ass canary with fur, then gracefully jumped 6 feet down to the ground. I was flabbergasted. Never in my life had I seen a dog be able to do anything like that. Here's a graphical representation of what I saw. And pay special attention to the beautiful imagery, the clean lines, and the overall craftsmanship and artistry of this representaion. I know, I know. Try not to gush over my Piccaso-like drawing ability. Or is it more like Monet? No matter. And I know the dog looks like an aardvark. Shut up; it's called 'artistic license'. One day, while she was in her pre-jump wind-up, I sprinted outside to catch her. She got to the top of the fence, then looked back at me as if to say "I"m going to lunch now. Please leave your name with my secretary, Max. Goodbye for now." And she was gone. Once I actually managed to catch her before she could jump to the other side. I grabbed her off the top of the fence, and tossed her to the ground. Oh, quit worrying. She landed on her feet. She feared me, since I was obviously the master of gravity, and for a while she didn't jump. But like that contented feeling you get after eating a warm chocolate chip cookie, it wore off. This dog has continued to defy every attempt to contain her. And where does she go once she's jumped the fence? She goes across the street to the apartment complex, and climbs into the dumpster looking for treats. Whenever she escapes, she comes home dragging a trash bag full of God-knows-what, and tears it all to be damned across the yard. "So why don't you just leave her in the house, Damian?" I hear you asking this. When we leave her in the house, she jumps on the counter and eats any stray dishes or silverware or tupperware or ANYTHING available to her. She also destroys the trash, and takes shits the size of a Chevy Equinox in the living room. We put a gate up in the hallway, but she just jumps it. If we lock her in the garage, she destroys the boxes in there. When we put her in the kennel, she CHEWED her way out. The kennel is made of steel, people, and she chewed hard enough to bend the bars. If we lock her in another room, she claws the door and eats whatever's available to her, up to and including clothing, bedding, trash, toys, electronics, or anything else. Tying her on a chain only caused her to choke herself near death to get out of the collar. And in addition to jumping, she's also helped to chew holes in the wooden fence, with dumb-ass Max as her lackey. The only thing that works is putting her in the kennel, but outside with the other dogs. And only if the door of the kennel is pressed tight up against a wall. We have to walk her on a leash to make her go to the bathroom now, but the damn dog is so dainty that she doesn't like to touch the grass with her feet, so she stays on the sidewalk almost the entire time. This morning, I walked her in the 30 degree weather clear around the block, only to have her pee just one time - right before we got back to the house. This dog is the devil. But the kids love her, so she stays. She better hope she never pisses them off, though. She'll be gone like "Nash Bridges". Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 1/4/2007

2007-01-04T14:59:00.000-06:00

Oh, it feels SO good to diatribe again! It's like I was missing something for the last couple of weeks...something vital, something sacred, something important. The need to talk shit proved to be strong in me, and it forced me to sit down and crank out what you people love so much. I used to wonder if eventually I'd run out of things to say about the stories I give you, but then I remembered: I write about people. Stupid people, mostly. Stupid people are in endless supply. My material basically writes itself. I'll be fine. Y'all ready to get this show on the road? Let's roll out, then. Pass the dutchie on the lefthand side. Let's 'tribe. -------------------- (From Toledoblade.com) A man was retrieved from a vacant home early this morning in North Toledo after a section of a porch roof collapsed on him. The man, Marvin Dixon, 41, later died at St. Vincent Mercy Medical Center. Neighbors reported hearing the man scream and called authorities about 4:35 a.m. By the time the first crew got on scene, he was unconscious, authorities said. According to a Lucas County Coroner's report, Mr. Dixon was trying to steal iron supports from the home at 1127 Sherman St. at the time of the accident. Life Imitates Cartoons. There's a Darwin Award with Mr. Dixon's name already scrawled on it in Sharpie. How. Stupid. Who WOULDN'T KNOW that if you steal support beams, whatever they SUPPORT will then be UNSUPPORTED, and might, just might, fall on your fucking head? What was he gonna do, throw his head back and blow real hard to keep the roof aloft? And who the hell steals iron supports, from a house, at 4:30 in the damn morning? The gene pool thanks you, Mr. Dixon. You have saved us the cost of your trial, and the cost of keeping your dumb ass fed and housed for however many years you would've gotten. Let's face it, Mr. Dixon - you would've been caught, and you would've been convicted. Because you were stupid. I bet he saw that shit on "The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo" or something, and thought he could be cool like that. WRONG! Say hi to the people who handle serpents in church for me. -------------------- TEMPE, Ariz. -- Dennis Green has joined a long list of failed coaches for the Arizona Cardinals. The franchise with one winning season in the past 22 years already is lining up candidates to be the next one to give it a shot. Mike Sherman is to be interviewed on Thursday, and five other NFL assistants were identified as potential hires. Green was fired on Monday, one day after the Cardinals concluded a 5-11 season with a 27-20 loss at San Diego. He finished with a 16-32 record at Arizona. The Cardinals will pay $2.5 million to buy out the final year of his contract. He was the seventh coach the Cardinals have had since the franchise moved to Arizona in 1988. The team has had one winning season since 1984, and Green was optimistic he was the man to turn things around. But his three teams in Arizona went 6-10, 5-11 and 5-11. "In the final analysis, when you look at the three years of wins and losses, we didn't win enough games," said Cardinals vice president and general counsel Michael Bidwill, son of owner Bill Bidwill. Wow, this really sucks. Denny Green is a pretty good coach, and it's just terrible that they only gave him three seasons to rectify a situation that took decades to create. No one could've won under those conditions, especially not in that short-ass time frame. Vince Lombardi couldn't've done it. It's patently unfair. No, I'm not gonna cry racism - I don't think it had anything to do with Green being black. I think, more than anything, it has to do with the fact that the owners are unrealistic idiots, looking for a savior. Well, I don't know who they'll hire - probably a trained lemur with an 0-2 record against rhesus monkeys - but I do have a very intriguing candidate: Laurie, from Beauty and the Beer. It's SUCH a logical choice. NFL players need discipline, because paying them millions of dollars just isn't enough to make them do things like come to practice, play hard in the games, and stay out of trouble with the law. Implant Laurie as coach (ha! Implant! I kill me.) and all that will stop, post haste. Late for a team meeting? Shank. Miss a tackle, drop a pass? Shank. Get arrested on suspicion of being stupid late at night and far from home? Shank, shank, shank. That bitch would have the limpingest, bleedingest team in pro sports, but they'd be on time to everything. She's also a perfect fit because she's a local girl, and could ~~strike fear into~~ inspire the community by using her unique blend of cursing, yelling, neck-punching, scissor-kicking, and eye-gouging to ~~frighten~~ rally support for her and the team. And they wouldn't have to worry about her leaving for another coaching job, 'cause no one else would have her. She'd be worse than Delta Burke on "1st and Ten" back in the day, back when Delta was hot, and before she changed her name to Delta Airlines. Her press conferences would be just one long-ass bleep, with the only listenable words being "Thank you for coming" and "Get out." She'd rename the team "The Silver Bullets", and the field would either be called Keystone Arena or Starbucks Stadium, instead of that dumb-ass University of Phoenix Field. Seriously, what pro team would (a) name their field after a college, and (b) name their field after a college WITHOUT AN ACTUAL CAMPUS? The Arizona Silver Bullets, that's who. Reporters wouldn't dare challenge her coaching, because whoever did would find a sharpened #2 pencil protruding from their left retina shortly thereafter. And my God, her radio call-in show would be the most popular in the history of ever. And it'd have to be on Sirius Satellite Radio, due to "graphic content, adult themes, violence, crude language, sexual content, and gratuitous use of the phrase 'fuck this sport'." Right her name in, folks. Lobby to get that Eddie Murphy mouth heffa installed as coach. She's a natural for the position (no, not THAT position. Jesus.). -------------------- ARTESIA, New Mexico - The Garcia family encountered a freak shooting accident on their annual fishing trip. Late one night, the family was walking along a trail when some of them decided it would be funny to sneak ahead, hide behind some bushes, and scare the others. Oh, they scared them all right. In fact, one relative was so frightened that he shot and wounded Felix Garcia, 36, three times before realizing who the culprit was. Felix was wounded in the stomach, hip, and thigh, but it wasn't life-threatening. Lt. Britt Snyder of the Sheriff's Department said, "The investigation is still ongoing to determine whether any charges will be filled. There doesn't appear to be any intent." Felix: "Hey, Hector! Shhhh! C'mere, ese. I'm funna do some funny shit in a minute, mang. Hector: "Yo mang, it's dark out here and shit. Don't be doing no stupid shit! You'll get your ass shot out here!" Felix: "This ain't Albuquerque, puto. Don't be a bitch. Don't nobody get shot out here. Check it, I'm funna scare Ricky." Hector: "Right now right now? 'Cause Ricky was pissed about not catching shit, mang. And he lost his bandana. I wouldn't fuck with him right now right now." Felix: "Ricky can besa mi culo. He owe me $4. I'm scaring his ass as a partial payment. Watch this shit." ---15 seconds later--- Felix: "BOOO!" Ricky: "BANG! BANG! BANG!" Hector: "I tol' you you was funna get shot out here. Who's a puto now, cholo?" Felix: "He...still...owes me...$4...the puto." Hector: "If you die, can I have your sister?" Peace.

New Year's Eve Pics!!

2007-01-04T10:02:00.000-06:00

The photographers at the show took over 3000 pics of the night. No way am I putting 'em all in here. You'll just have to click these links and look for yourself. Enjoy! Nonetheless Band Pics Other Band Pics Guests The Fire Breather Marilyn Manson (I forgot to mention this guy earlier) The Models (Forgot to mention them, too) I haven't looked through all of these, so I'll be looking right along with you. Peace!

Sleep Deprivation and Periscope Nipples

2007-01-02T16:24:00.000-06:00

Happy (yawn) New Year, people! I'm STILL recovering from the celebrating. At 35, I'm really becoming familiar with my limitations, especially as they pertain to staying up late and acting like I'm still 20, then getting up and being a productive member of society the next day. Now I just feel like someone heavy has been beating me about the neck and head with a large summer sausage. Which sucks, 'cause I love me some summer sausage. Is is possible to rock TOO hard? Our show Sunday night went GREAT! We had a wonderful turnout, and there are so many people to thank for their hard work in helping us get this show off the ground. Getting booked for a show is easy. Putting the show together yourself is incredibly hard, and I give much love to Rowdy and Trip for spearheading the whole shebang and really working hard to make this thing the blazing success that it was. I love you, girls. You rock balls. We started the show just after midnight CST, after bringing all the bands on stage and counting down. In addition to our usual set of original songs, we surprised the crowd with covers of "Bulls On Parade" by Rage Against The Machine, "The Red" by Chevelle, "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes, "Behind Blue Eyes" originally by The Who, "Sunglasses At Night" by Corey Hart, "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, and "We Will Rock You" by Queen. We played Bulls on Parade, The Red, and We Will Rock You pretty close to how the originals were done, but we added our own Nonetheless special blend of herbs and spices to the others, making some of them completely different and new. In the midst of playing our set, we gave away t-shirts and raffled off prizes to keep the crowd pumpin'. And during our original song "Walking Time Bomb", we had a fire-breather blow HUGE fireballs right at the front of the stage. God, it was so awesome. And the whole thing was broadcast on the internet, so hopefully many more people got to hear us. And did I MENTION the people? That place was PACKED! It is such a rush when you get on stage, and people are literally elbowing each other trying to get to the front. It's so intoxicating to have that type of effect on people. It's addictive. It was just so cool to feel all that LOVE coming at us. When we played our closing song "We Exist", about 15-20 women got on stage and danced with us while we jammed. The funniest thing happened when this one girl, who had had about 10 too many to drink, started jumping up and down to the music until her left nipple started peeking out of her halter top, like a periscope on a submarine. I think it wanted to check out the show. Gordie, one of our guitarist, noticed it while she was on the floor still, and we both laughed our asses off. Well, she jumped on on the stage during "We Exist" and started bouncing even more, oblivious to her wardrobe malfuntion, until finally her B cup was just chillin' on the outside, enjoying the show. Her friends FINALLY told her, and she stuffed it back in, but not before Gordie and I died laughing over it. And did I mention that I got a little bit drunk beforehand? See, I rarely drink much at a show, because I simply cannot play when I'm drunk. I can't keep the rhythm, and on bass, that's pretty damned important. So I just don't, and that suits me fine, 'cause I'm not that big of a drinker anyway. But this was New Year's Eve, dammit, and we weren't gonna hit the stage until after midnight, so I decided to imbibe. I drank 3 rum and cokes back-to-back, and by "rum and coke" I mean Carissa the bartender filled the cup to the top with rum, and used a teaspoon to put the coke in there. There was JUST enough coke to make it slightly brown. I...was...drunk. For me, that's a shitload of alcohol. On top of that I took a couple of shots of...something. I don't ask when I don't have to pay for 'em. I stopped drinking at around 10pm, just so I could ride the wave on down until time to play. Fun times. On Saturday night, we rehearsed (for the 3rd straight night) and then went down to the bar around 10 to start decorating and making jello shots. We left there at 2:30. So you see, I'm getting to be MUCH too old for this. We need to make it big, and soon, so I can sleep all day like a vampire. And MAD PROPS to Fyrchk and HDW, who both sent me Christmas gifts: a bacon bracelet, bacon band-aids, and "Kingdom Come" by Jay-Z from Fyr, and "Talledega Nights" from HDW. LOVE YOU GIRLS SO MUCH! Thank you! OK, I need to rest now before starting with the 'tribe for tomorrow. I hope you all had a very happy, very safe, very fun time on New Year's Eve. 2007 is here, baby. Let's make it real. Peace. BY THE WAY: It should be illegal to wear all leather, including pants and boo-stee-ay (screw you, I can't spell it the right way) and boots and purse, if you're over 50 and are neither famous nor a Hell's Angel. Just sayin'.

Happy Pre-New Years!!!

2006-12-29T11:54:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I know I missed the Diatribe on Wednesday. Yeah, I know I haven't posted. Yeah, I know I haven't commented on your blogs lately. Yeah, I've been a slacker. But I give you this. [Removed, because I love you.] Thanks, Fyrchk. Now it's in MY head. So why not share it with the world? Now y'all can have it in YOUR brain, too! Oh yeah, HUGE New Year's Eve show for Nonetheless. Check it: Oh yes. We're doing the whole thing OURSELVES. The sponsors, the food, the prizes for the raffles, the booking, the party favors, the decorations...all us. Last year, we played at The Adam's Mark Hotel, which was supposed to be a really big show with 5000 people there. Only...they made us play first. Before they had even opened the doors. It was fucked up. We were 3 songs in before the first patrons strolled through, and they had no idea who we even were. It sucked. There were a bunch of bands there, and most of the folks we talked with later on echoed our sentiments about the entire event. One guy jumped off the stage (at a height of 2 feet) into the crowd, and broke his ankle on his landing, which the judges scored as a 6.5. So this year, we took matters into our own hands. We're giving away all KINDS of things, and we're even having a wet t-shirt contest! If you're anywhere near This show ought to be fantastic. Seriously. I'll let you know how it goes. Have a happy, safe, and fun New Year's Eve, folks! Mad love to you all! Peace.

Pope Benedict = Darth Sidious?

2006-12-26T13:05:00.000-06:00

Merry post Christmas, everyone! I hope you all had a safe, gift-filled day with family, friends, or strangers you met at the bus depot. Because I'm in a charitable and giving mood (if you don't believe me, ask my kids. 7YO today said "Wow Dad, if parents had to buy all these things instead of Santa bringing them, it would cost a LOT of money, wouldn't it?" Right then and there I was SO tempted to pop his hopeful boyish bubble, but instead I gritted my teeth and said "Yes. Yes it WOULD cost a lot. If parents had to buy it all." Hey, life'll come at him hard enough on its own. It doesn't need me behind it, pushing it like a soapbox derby car. Let him stay young and believe. You, however, are jaded. As such, you will thoroughly enjoy these pics I ~~found on Fark.com~~ culled from the internet. "Feeeeeel the power...the power of the dark si - oops, wrong audience. Ave Maria." Seriously, Pope Benedict looks like The Emperor from "Star Wars". If you reverse the letters C and A in "sacred", you get "scared". And you all know what C and A stand for. California. Coincidence? Hardly. Little did they realize that Jiong Lu secretly replaced some of the wine in the wine pool with his own urine. Will they be able to tell the difference? And after 5 glasses, will they even care? Stay tuned. "Well, I mean I TRIED to get him out, officer, but the little hook thingy just wouldn't grab him, and then our pizza came, so..." Sour Cream Dreams, the new luxury cruise for overweight people, got off to a rocky start in September when one of the passengers spotted life preservers off the port side of the ship and yelled "Doughnuts!!!" "Squirrel, please. I barely tapped your ass. Get up and quit acting like a little bitch." Somewhere in L.A., Snoop Dogg's refined Smokey Sense is telling him that he needs to get to Mexico City, and with the quickness. Overflight, the new luxury airline for overweight people, got off to a rocky start in September when...oh wait, I already made this joke once. They all went to the back this time. "Uh...HI! Ho Ho Ho! Yeah! Merry Christmas, officer! So, y'know, I was just gettin' an early start on Christmas this year, testing out the chimneys and all, seeing which ones need cleanin' and whatnot, and...oh fuck this, get me the hell OUTTA here, man!" Peace.

Christmas and The Rocket Fishing Rod

2006-12-23T15:50:00.000-06:00

So, I was watching TV today, on this 2 days before we celebrate the birth of Jesus (I said 'celebrate', 'cause I could go on and on about how, according to some theorists, Jesus was far more likely to have been born in the springtime, rather than December, and that Emperor Constantine of the Holy Roman Empire legitimized Christianity in the 4th century, and made it more palatable to the people by having the birth of Christ coincide with a pagan holiday known as Sol Invictus, the supposed day of the solstice and day of rebirth of the Sun - holy hell, that was a long-ass tangent), and I saw the most ridiculous thing ever. The Rocket Fishing Rod. When will rednecks stop inventing shit? Have you seen the ads for this? They go something like this: "Hello there! Do you love things you can launch like a missile, but your home owners' association won't let you buy those Russian black market surplus hand-held, shoulder-launched anti-tank weapons capable of firing an unguided rocket equipped with an explosive warhead? Do you love to go fishing, but hate that difficult 'back and forth' motion you have to make with your arm, just to get the darned hook into the water? Who needs THAT? All you want is to catch that pesky fish! What if I told you there was an easier way to catch fish AND satisfy your need for wanton simulated destruction? Well, now there is! Don't sit down, 'cause you'll just stand up again when you hear about...The Rocket Fishing Rod! "See how happy little Billy looks, holding his *completely* safe and non-toxic and non-radioactive toy/weapon? Even Billy the Bass (so what? They have the same name. We didn't name them. It's a coincidence. Good Christ, focus on the PRODUCT!) is excited, going so far as to say 'A rocket-launched fishing hook? Hell yeah, I'll bite!' And honestly, this toy/hunting tool couldn't be safer. Even if Billy here (the boy, not the fish) aimed the Rocket Fishing Rod right at a friend's face, all that friend would have to do is duck, and he'd be perfectly safe from harm. And Billy (the fish, not the boy) suffers no harmful effects from the rod, because a hooked lip and a concussion and post traumatic stress disorder are ordinary, normal conditions with fresh water fish. Just ask him. The fish, not the boy. The boy is dumber than open-toed sandals in Anchorage in February. Seriously, when he saw the finished commercial for the first time, his first comment was 'How'd you get that fish to talk? He didn't say ANYTHING to me, and we were together for 2 hours setting up this shot!' Just pray he grows up strong, fast, and can catch a football, or otherwise he's gonna be in a world of minimum wage hurt. "Don't delay, supplies are running out! Sure, most of the product is being sold in Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Louisiana, Georgia, Florida, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia, Texas, part of Montana, Idaho, and to four people in Illinois, but that's not an idictment on the South and of rednecks, but a testament to how well the marketing ploy - I mean, strategy - works. Order now and we'll send you a free subscription to the New York Post...so you can have something to wrap your fish in. We know good and damn well you won't be READING it, unless you stumble across Hagar the Horrible while looking for the Want Ads. Get out your credit cards, your debit cards, your Wal-Mart cards...hell, sell your kid's Hot Wheels racetrack on eBay and use PayPal. Rob your neighbor and sell HIS gear. Carjack his ride, kidnap his wife, and ransom her for the $39.99 you need for the Rocket Fishing Rod. Hell, once he hears how low the ransom is, he'll run right over to pay you post haste, unless her ass is trifling, in which case he's probably glad to be rid of her, and he's already changing the wallpaper and converting the den to a wet bar and game room. But I digress. Whatever you have to do, you do that. Get this toy/projectile launcher. Billy needs your help. The fish, not the boy. If he wasn't male, he couldn't count to 21." Peace (on Earth). Merry Christmas, people.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 12/20/2006

2006-12-20T13:49:00.000-06:00

Givin' it on up to Homelessville! Meh. I got nothin'. Let's diatribe. ----------- Washington D.C. - A convict broke out of jail in Washington D.C., then a few days later accompanied his girlfriend to her trial for robbery. At lunch, he went out for a sandwich. She needed to see him, and thus had him paged. Police officers recognized his name and arrested him as he returned to the courthouse in a car he had stolen over the lunch hour. The amount of stupidity here is unquantifiable. How about another dumb criminal story, just to see if maybe I'll have something then? Los Angeles, California - Police in Los Angeles had good luck with a robbery suspect who just couldn't control himself during a lineup. When detectives asked each man in the lineup to repeat the words, "Give me all your money or I'll shoot," the man shouted, "That's not what I said!" Dear lord. See why I need to open a school for criminals? I've got it all planned out. See, I'll open the O.J. Simpson School of Criminal Tactics (OJSSCT), where I'll train the modern criminal on the hottest topics, like "A To Z: How To Follow A Plan All The Way To Completion", "Last Call: Don't Drink and Crime", "Never Use The Chimney and Other Insertion Techniques", and "Shut Your Piehole: How NOT To Talk About Your Crimes To Others". Criminals will enroll, pay their fee, then learn how to be smarter about their crimes. But that's not all, folks. See, I don't want all these newly-empowered felons out there jacking MY shit, so I'll sell my enrollment list to the local police department in each city my franchise supports. (You didn't think I would think small, did you? Please. I'm trying to get PAID. I roll fierce.) Then, when THOSE criminals get out of jail, I'll offer them my Advanced Degree courses, telling them that the cops are smart, too. Oh, I'll be rich. RICH, I SAY! GLENWOOD SPRINGS (AP) - A 32-year-old female teacher from the suburban Denver city of Parker has been arrested and accused of a sexual relationship with a male high school student on a trip to Glenwood Springs in western Colorado. Authorities say Darcie Esson is accused of felony sexual assault on a child by a person in a position of trust. According to investigators, Esson was a teacher at Elizabeth High School south of Denver last month when she accompanied the school's football team for a playoff game against a team from the town of Rifle. The group stayed in Glenwood Springs. Man, what is in the water in Colorado? I haven't posted a lot of 'em, but I see a crazy-ass Colorado story at LEAST once a week, usually in Denver. Is it the snow? The elevation? Is Allen Iverson the cause of all this ruckus? Teachers knocking boots with students is so passe now that I'm gonna retire this entire diatribe topic after this story. You'd think the teachers would know not to bump uglies with their kids by now, but hey...their kids have the best weed. What can you do? The thing that pisses me off is how hot (by comparison) the teachers are nowadays. In my high school, there was only one teacher even REMOTELY do-able, and even SHE was a stretch, you know, if it was late, and she was driving topless in her RX-7, and told me that I'd get that A in Honors English if I'd let her 'work on my diction'...well, let's just say, I'd get that A, but I wouldn't tell a SOUL how I did it.

LONDON (Reuters) - A devout Christian who said an accident at work boosted his libido and wrecked his marriage as he turned to prostitutes and pornography was awarded more than 3 million pounds in damages on Tuesday. Stephen Tame, 29, from Suffolk, suffered severe head injuries in a fall, transforming him from a loyal newlywed into a "disinhibited" character who had two affairs. He was in a coma for two months after falling from a gantry while working at a bicycle warehouse shortly after his marriage in January 2002. Doctors said it was a miracle he survived. Awarding him 3.1 million pounds in compensation at London's High Court, Judge Michael Harris said: "His life and the life of his young wife were shattered". His former employer, Professional Cycle Marketing, of Essex, had argued through their lawyers that his injuries were not as bad as suggested in court.

And thousands of men in London lined up to fall on their heads. You gotta feel bad for this guy - sorta. I mean...you know. This isn't the type of injury that a guy gets a TON of sympathy for, no matter the actual severity. This is a Snickers injury, meaning that people hear what happened, and initially they say "Awwww, man....", but then they start giggling. And to add irony to insult and injury, the guy's last name is Tame. Female Visitor: "Oh, Stephen, you poor thing! What happened?" Stephen: "Well, I was working, and I just fell, and next thing I knew it was a couple of months later." Visitor: "My gosh, that's so - hey, what're you doing there, sport?" Stephen: "You're SO hot. Do you even know how smokin' hot you are?" Visitor: "I'm 62, Stephen." Stephen: "But a HOT 62." Visitor: "And I'm your grandmother." Stephen: "But you're a HOT - wait, that's really, really wrong, isn't it?" Visitor: "Keep talking, big boy." Stephen: "I'm cured. NURSE!" Peace.

The Not Feeling It Post

2006-12-19T11:09:00.000-06:00

Bleh. I am not compelled to blog. I don't know why. I have nothing of note to say, really. I didn't even get to meet Jali, 'cause I got so busy that I couldn't even CALL her to find out her schedule while she was here. My bad, Jali. But seriously, get a phone that'll work in Dallas, okay? Promise? Good. So, instead of giving you a big ol' bag of nothing, I offer you this to tide your greedy ass over until I have something of substance. Enjoy, and use some Scope afterwards, 'cause....onion breath. That's all I'm saying. I saw this a couple of weeks back. Now, I know it's kinda hard to tell what the big deal is, but 1987 called, and it wants Homeboy on the left there to return its belt and tight pants. Damn emo kids. Sirius Stiletto. In case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas. Me, rocking the Dallas Mavericks Santa hat. Don't hate. The view from the roof of my house on Sunday. This is significant for several reasons:

I was on the roof of my house, hanging Christmas lights.
I'm afraid of heights. Really afraid.
Male pride wouldn't allow DWW to get up there.
I was on the ROOF, people.
7YO there has one hell of a throwing arm. See the football in mid-air? Tight-ass spiral, too. Hello, early retirement! And see my little ghetto spiral light tree? Jealousy becomes you.

My chimney. Also known as "The Place Where The String of Lights Stopped Working, Even Though They Continue Down To The Right, Around The Corner, and Down The East Side Of The Roof". I was pissed. But I wasn't getting back up there to fix it, either. Our house just stands out, that's all. GHETTO FAB! Not to be outdone, 4YO stepped outside too, chillin' in his (my) Ho Ho Ho Santa hat with the bill on the front. The bill is on the front, just in case you wanna be pimpin', and push it to the side. Look how close to the edge of the roof I am, people. And 7YO wanted to throw the football up to me. I THINK NOT! Hell, DWW threw another box of lights up to me, and I nearly let it hit me in the face, 'cause I wasn't ABOUT to reach out and catch it. "Did I catch it, Dr. Lucky? And will my spine heal?" No. A closer look at 4YO with the Ho Ho Ho hat. Could he pimp it any harder? I doubt it. A fountain at a display of lights we went to see Saturday night. We were there for approximately 3 minutes and 41 seconds before I uttered the phrase "We WILL go home if you two don't quit acting like donkeys." The phrase was repeated many times throughout the evening. And this game held my attention for far, far longer than it should have. Seriously. I was like a monkey with a remote control for a bulldozer. God, I love my ADD. Peace.

Tang and Bacon, Together At Last

2006-12-15T10:21:00.000-06:00

I finally did it. I brought together two of my loves in a perfect union of holy culinary delight. That's right, gentle readers, I successfully created a concoction so rich, so delicious, so genuinely right that I just HAD to tell you about it. I made Tang and bacon bars. [pause for effect] Cabanaboy gave me the recipe a while back, but I've been hesitant to try it. What if it didn't work out? You know what I'm saying. You've all had these two good friends that you just KNEW should get together, but in the back of your mind, you said "But what if it doesn't work out? What if they don't get along? Or what if they like each other SO much, they forget about me?" True, I'll never have to worry about either Tang or bacon not liking me - their love for me is unconditional - but I still worried that if I combined them, maybe I'd stop liking one of them, and that would be tragic. This blog is damn-near founded on my dual love for that citrusy astronaut breakfast powder and the bad-cholesterol meat product, and if I lost that love for either, I'd probably be reduced to writing incoherent babble and showing 10,000 pictures of me in a fetal position. No one wants that. But my company is having a dessert contest today, and I figured it was high time to whip out the recipe and give it a shot. There's a category here for Most Unusual Dessert, and unless someone strolls up in here with a Nike covered in Ready Whip, I should have this thing hands-down. Want the recipe for Tang and bacon bars? Get out your pens. 1/2 cup of corn syrup 1/2 cup of sugar 1/2 cup of peanut butter (I prefer Peter Pan, myself. Smooth, not chunky.) 3 cups of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal (any type) 4 teaspoons of Tang 1 3oz package of Hormel bacon pieces (not Bac-Os. Those things are nasty.) Combine sugar and corn syrup in a medium sauce pan. Bring to a boil on medium heat. Once the mixture is boiling, remove from heat and add peanut butter. Stir until smooth. Add full package of bacon pieces and stir until blended. Add Tang. Stir until blended. Add cereal, one cup at a time. Stir until cereal is completely coated. Press mixture evenly into a greased 8" pan. Let it cool completely before cutting it into bars. Sounds easy, right? It IS! Here's what it looks like when it's done: Whoops! That's just me, showing off the cannon. You don't need a concealed weapon permit for THAT gun, I tell you. Moving on. THIS is what it looks like. Yummy goodness. I made two batches of this, then I decided to make a batch without the bacon, just for the vegetarians in the office. (Most people wouldn't imagine finding bacon in a dessert item.) So on the THIRD batch, I removed the bacon and cut the Tang in half, thinking that the bacon flavor offsets the citrus of the Tang, therefore I wouldn't need as much. However, somewhere along the way, I made a crucial mistake in my calculations. When the third batch cooled, it looked alright: But when I tried to cut it into bars, it was like cutting this: I almost broke a Cutco knife, people! After finally using the hacksaw in the garage to carve out just one row, I thought it'd be better to just leave it the fuck home. I'll gnaw on it later. I'll let you know how it turns out. The contest starts in about an hour. Wish me luck! Peace. Winner's Edit: I won! I won! I seriously won a prize! I got this for Most Unusual Dessert: I know you can't read what it says. It's a Starbucks gift card! I have no idea how much is on there, but since I rarely go there anyway, it hardly matters - the fact that I WON is what counts. When people were trying my masterpiece, I heard all kinds of reactions. These are REAL responses: "Well, THAT'S weird." "Oh HELLS to the NO!" "This is different, in a good kinda way, but different." "I'm sorry, but this tastes like crap." "Is there really Tang in here? Seriously?" "I never woulda thought of that combo." "You got this off the internet? You DO know that some things from the internet are bad, right?" "You know, this isn't horrible." "Only you." Now I can go get a double grande mocha whip non-fat venti white chocolate pumpkin ginger latte iced expresso double-shot honey caramel mochacino frappacino coffee. With cream. Or whatever they sell there. Edit Numero Dos: This...is too, too cool. Check it out.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 12/13/2006

2006-12-13T15:24:00.000-06:00

Well!

Now that I've completely screwed up my comments, it's time to get crack-a-lackin' on some tribes! Word! Let's do this. -------------------------

(AP) MERRILLVILLE, Ind. - Instead of impressing "Honey Bunny" on Christmas morning with a 42-inch plasma television, "Big Papa" is facing a charge of theft. Richard Perez, 43, of Lake Station, was charged Monday with stealing the TV and a Sleep Number bedding system from a hotel where he worked as a security officer. Security video showed Perez walking into a room at the Radisson Hotel on Nov. 29 with an empty luggage cart, then leaving minutes later with a full cart covered with cloth, Merrillville police Detective Donald Toth said. Police said they searched Perez's Lake Station home Friday and found the Sleep Number system installed on Perez's bed and the TV underneath the tree, wrapped in green, Santa-themed paper. The attached card was addressed to "Mom, Honey Bunny from Big Papa, Daddy," Toth said. "I'm not sure if he's the Grinch or I'm the Grinch because I'm the one who took the items back," Toth said. Perez, who has been fired from his hotel job, was released Monday after posting a $10,000 surety bond. The Associated Press left a message seeking comment Tuesday for an R. Perez in Lake Station.

Awww, isn't that sweet? Big Papa wanted his Honey Bunny to have the best he could give her, not realizing that the best HE could give her was her keys back to the house. Stealing is bad. Stealing from your workplace is very bad. Stealing from your workplace in a manner so inept that the cops catch you in TWO DAYS is just stupid for stupidity's sake. It's obvious that Bill Gates here didn't have the funds to buy these things, so what in the hell was he gonna say to HER, when she got the gifts? "Hey, baby, I...ugh...see, what had HAPPENED was, there was this truck, right? This Best Buy truck. And it was also carrying bed shit, for some weird reason. So, see, this truck, right? This truck, it hit this big fire hydrant, and it just tipped over, and a TV and a Sleep Number system fell out. But then the truck flipped BACK over, right, and the driver just kept on rollin'. I tried to flag him down, but he wasn't lookin', prolly 'cause was so scared, so instead of letting these things go to waste, I thought you might like 'em. See, I was thinking about YOU." Now he's thinking about keeping his chimney closed at night, if you catch my drift. And you do.

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(Des Moines Register) A Des Moines man has been arrested and charged with assault for allegedly attacking a roommate with a hamster ball. Police were sent to 6500 S.W. Ninth St., about 5 a.m., today. When they arrived they found a shaken Kaleb Johnson, 20, in the hallway of the apartment building still talking on a phone to dispatchers. He told officers he was sleeping when his roommate attacked him. He said he tried to run but the roommate grabbed a hamster ball and hit him in the head with it. The roommate then took a curtain rod and hit him with it, then bit Johnson on the arm, leaving teeth marks. Johnson said he finally got away and called 911 Police arrested Chaz Adrian Denham, 19, on a charge of domestic assault with injury. He was taken to the Polk County Jail. Investigators took photographs of the injuries and a damaged curtain rod.

You know...I don't think I'd mention that I got beat down with a hamster ball. I'd keep the part about the biting, and there's no shame in getting smacked with a curtain rod - they make GREAT blunt instruments - but the hamster ball segment would be utterly missing, were it me. I'd make up anything. I'd say the fool hit me with a ball of ice. I'd say he cut off his on hand, hit me with the nub, then grew his hand back like a fucking lizard. I'd say he raised his hands and summoned down a meteorite, which he then ate after it cold-cocked me. I don't care HOW bad the injuries are; when you're a 20 year old man, and you've been hit with a rodent's exercise equipment, your boys are gonna clown you. Hard. "Damn, Kaleb, you OK? I mean, those hamsters can run pretty fast, huh? Guess you should be glad he didn't hit you in the ass with the ball, or we'd NEVER find little Skippy. Hey, I've got a gerbil and a tiny unicycle. Wanna get revenge?" Damn all that. I'd say it was bowling ball.

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The possibility that a potential Democratic presidential primary matchup between Sens. Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama could lead to a Clinton-Obama ticket is raising concerns in GOP circles that it might be unbeatable. While Democratic strategists are more skeptical of the success of a ticket composed of two minorities, some Republican advisers to the White House and leading 2008 hopefuls Sen. John McCain and Rudy Giuliani see the ticket as an easy winner built on the enthusiasm it would generate in Democratic circles. Their theory is that Clinton would stand a good chance to pick up the states that Sen. John Kerry won in 2004. While not enough to win the election on her own, the addition of Obama would help push closely divided states like Ohio over into the Democratic column, thereby giving the Clinton-Obama ticket the White House. "Listen, we've got some lackluster people running on our side, and that is exactly the kind of ticket that would get their side in a fever pitch," said a Bush ally. Democrats aren't so sure it would work, though, because of Clinton's high negatives and Obama's short résumé and race. But the Bush adviser said those factors are actually winners: Obama could help soften Clinton's image and bring more African-American voters to the ticket as well as independents seeking real and symbolic change.

Oooooo-OOOOO! Whoa...I think I just orgasmed. I'm sorry about that. I really should try to be more professional. What I mean to say is, "OHLORDHAVEMERCYHALLELEUJAHYESYESYES!" Or something similar. I don't usually get political here, but man...a female president, and a black VP? Conservative Christians would spontaneously combust. The GOP would be smacking their prostitutes all day long. The Right would pop Oxycontin like Pez. Ann Coulter would shed her fake, human-like skin and expose her true, praying mantis body, and begin attacking Democrats and eating their heads. All while dropping copies of her book on the fleeing masses. It's time for a change, folks. This would qualify. I'm not sure if they could fix what's broken, but it's for DAMN sure that they'd at least come at it from a different angle than the current administration. Our entire governmental system needs a major overhaul. It's not right that you pretty much have to be rich in order to run for president. The overwhelming majority of today's candidates were already wealthy before considering the presidency, which takes them completely beyond the realm of understanding the plight of the common man. What would GWB know about wondering where your next meal is coming from, or how you're gonna make your mortgage payment? He's been wealthy his entire life. Here are my points:

The president should be smart, motivational, strong, funny (yes, funny.), quick-thinking, wise, honest (to a point), and able to listen to those who may know more than he/she. They should NOT be rich.
In fact, the presidency should be the highest-paying job that person has ever had. When they get elected, I want them to say "HOLY SHIT, that's my SALARY?"
And I want them to have to pay for everything too, just like a real person. You think they'd care more about the economy if they had to reach into their pocket to put gas in Air Force One? Hells to the yeah. Make them accountable, at a personal level.
The president should be forced to re-take the SATs at some point during the race. Anything less than a 1300, you're out. Sorry.
Campaign budgets should be equal, and capped at $1 million. Period. You don't need $100 million to tell me what you're all about. Take out an ad in the USA Today.
And no mug-slinging. At all. Get elected on your OWN merit, not on what the other person did/said/didn't do/didn't say. If I'm up for a position here at work, I don't get to say "Susie has a drug habit, and she deep-throated her high school swim team." Neither should candidates.
Candidates should be made to name at least 3 comedies and 3 dramas currently on TV. It shows they're connected to the real world, and not the 1954 world in their head.
Candidates should never be allowed to bring up religion as a point of differentiation during the campaign. No one cares. You are what you are. Enjoy it. We'll all meet up in Heaven and have a good laugh about the different paths we took to get there.
The president must learn to play a musical instrument, if he/she doesn't already know how. And if they do know how, they have to have a recital within 90 days of taking office.
Unless convicted of a felony, a candidate's past or present life outside of politics should be off-limits. I don't care who they're fucking, or what school they went to, or if they inhaled, or what they did in the past. That's why we'll re-take the SAT.
Just like the NFL, at least ONE minority should be considered during every race. Even if they don't have a snowball's chance in Yuma of winning, put a different face up there. All these white guys in suits look alike. Hell, throw Flava Flav up in there.
Any president, male or female, should have one person on their staff whose primary job is to suck/lick them when they're stressed. The prez should be able to say "Send Margaret in here, and cancel my 3:30.", and immediately get some relief before going back to running Earth. This job should be a paid internship, with benefits and recommendations after the job is over. And it should be advertised on Craigslist.

I'm sure I could think of more, but that's plenty for now. All hail. Peace.

Sometimes I Wish I Was a Jehovah's Witness

2006-12-11T08:08:00.000-06:00

*Simply because they don't celebrate birthdays, not because I want to knock on your door at 7am on a Saturday morning, smushing a copy of "The Watchtower" under your door as you and the kids hide quietly just on the other side, pretending not to be home. Oh, I know how it goes down.* Another year gone. Since the average life expectancy of a black man is 70 years (or 22, if you live in New York City), I'm damned close to mid-life. *Sigh* What's a boy to do? Keep on living, that's what. Do you think for a Bolivian second that I'm gonna get all maudlin just because I've officially moved out of the 18-34 demographic, and into the "They're too old for us to care about marketing toward...just throw some Depends on top of a station wagon and call it a day" category? Think again. I don't roll like that. I roll fierce. Turning 35 is just opening the door to the rest (and best) of my life, and I mean that shit. How did I spend my birthday weekend, you ask? I'd LOVE to share! As you may recall, 4YO (yeah baby, he's FOUR now. He wants a Chevy Avalanche for his next birthday. Or maybe that's me who wants that. I forget) had HIS birthday on the 9th, and we had a party planned at Satan's Foyer at 10am. 13 kids showed up for this gala event, and at $10 per kid, plus drinks, the grand total for the party was $23,452.51. But it was totally worth it to see him laughing and playing with his friends from daycare. Arrival time: 10am Departure time: 2pm Four hours in Chuck E. Cheese is about three hours and 47 minutes too long, unless you lost your wallet up in there. The Humanity Neck Punch urge grew, and my fist balled up reflexively, like it does when I'm riding the subway in Washington D.C. or whenever I walk through Wal-Mart. I hate Chuck E. Cheese, with a passion I usually only reserve for driving in Dallas and Andy Dick. My band had a show Saturday night, a benefit for children with AIDS. We were the headliners, meaning we had to wade through several other bands until it was our turn to rock. Now, those of you who've heard our stuff will agree - we're not heavy metal. I mean, we can get down like that, but that's just not our thing. There were several heavy metal bands there last night, playing noteless songs and growling out repetitious lyrics like "DIIIIIIIIIIIIE! [loud, unintelligible grunting and growling] Reign in BLOOOOOOOOD! [more grunts, a moo, a couple of donkey brays, an alligator hiss, and the sound of two wild boars mating]" You can't even understand them! And the music...from a skill standpoint, those guys are very, very good. But when your music sounds like a jackhammer pounding a tin roof and french nails scraping a chalk board, it's more like noise pollution than actual music. A sneeze is more musical. And has less saliva. Our set was decent. We've played better, but when you don't start actually playing until after 1am, your sets tend to be subpar. We'll get 'em on New Year's Eve. I had the distinct pleasure of going to Wal-Mart, where I had to park on the SIDE of the building, damn-near the Sam's Club parking lot next door. There were THAT many idiots - I mean, shoppers - there. I hated it, but I needed supplies, mainly Tang (or G-Vang, as I'm now calling it, since I buy the Great Value Orange Breakfast Drink Mix instead of actual Tang. Shit tastes the same to me.), a 100' extension cord, and outlet spike for the lights I had planned to put up on the outside of the bungalow. The Christmas section looked like Beirut circa 1987. I think I saw orphans. The very embodiment of the Christmas spirit occurred when, in one of the narrow-ass rows in that area, and old man looked me dead in my eye, scowled, and moved his buggy in order to prevent me from turning down the aisle I was aiming toward. My fist balled up again. But I just smirked and spun my buggy around and went the other way. I don't wanna punch an old man in the neck. Fuck that wreath. I was in the checkout line for 20 minutes. Arrival time: 1:30pm Departure time: 4pm The rest of my birthday I spent chilling. I got some cool gifts from the family, and we put up our trees (we erect two Christmas trees - a 6 foot fiber optic one as the main tree, and a little 3 footer for the kids to decorate, so they don't pull the nice, expensive, and irreplaceable glass and ceramic ornaments off the main tree). It was quite nice. I appreciate all of you for the sweet comments, the text messages, the phone calls, and everything else. I love you all for it. Oh! Check me out, pre-beard: That's a soup-catcher, not a beard. Also known as a flavor-saver. Here's me with a beard: Oh, yes. Rockin' it HARD. See the grays right there at the chin? I'm OLD, baby. Here's 4YO and 7YO at the party: My wonderful offspring. Here's me, rocking a tie today at work (RARE): Oh yeah. Here's me, saying: Peace. Uncle Phil Edit: JB(S), I'mma whup your ass when I see you again. Don't think I won't. Do you REALLY think I look like my man James Avery? Check it: Damn. I kinda do. *sigh* That's your ass, JB(S).

Random Jonx, 'Cause I Want To

2006-12-08T14:45:00.000-06:00

I don't have one big thing to talk about today, so I'm gonna give you some Damian vignettes, just a little sumthin' sumthin' to get you by for the weekend. The weekend that includes my 35th birthday, just in case I didn't mention it 3945924 times already. Hey, at least I'm consistent.

Nonetheless has a show tomorrow night at our home away from home, Tomcats. It's a benefit show, with all proceeds going toward Brian's House, a halfway house for children with AIDS. It's a good cause, so if you're in the DFW area, come on out. We're headlining ('cause that's how we roll, bitches), so we'll hit the stage around midnight. Come out and help the kids.
I got prizes! Laurie and HDW totally hooked a brotha up with birthday gifts, for which I'm very, very thankful. Aich Dee Dub got me a couple of things off my wish list - the Busta Rhymes CD (because who doesn't love Busta?), and "Every Dead Thing" by John Connolly, both of which I coveted. And Laurie got me THESE:

Thank you, HDW and Laurie! Books, CDs, Samuel L. Jackson wallets, and fine bacon products (gummy bacon, bacon air fresheners, and bacon band-aids, to be exact). I am in heaven, or at least close enough to hit it with a thrown rock. You are both the shit.

Shaving has gotten to be monotonous and tedious to me, so in rebellion, I'm growing a beard. You see, with the gray and the turning 35, I just didn't think I looked old enough, so I figured I'd add even more facial hair. Next I'm buying a pipe, some reading glasses, and some Metamucil. Wait, I already have Metamucil. Long story. Let's just say I've visited Colonoscopyville, and I did not enjoy my stay there.
Ordinarily I don't get all demonstrative in my Christmas displays, but this year...I don't know. My cubicle is ghetto fabulous with Christmas lights and a 10" pre-lit Christmas tree. There's no bah in MY humbug this year.
And can I just say that it can sometimes SUCK being Santa Claus for your kids? Especially if your kids want every...single...thing they see on TV? How many times must I hear "Daddy, I want that. Dad, can I have that? Daddy, get me that" before my head implodes upon itself, leaving a black hole that sucks the rest of my body into it? Tell me so I can make them say it more often. I'm looking forward to that black hole. My stock reply lately is "Well, maybe if you stop acting like a donkey, you'll get some of what you ask for. And you BETTER be happy with WHATEVER you get, 'cause Santa works hard to get you little ingrates most of what you like. YOU GOT THAT?"
For some bizarre reason, I went out on Black Friday at 5am to Best Buy. It was my first Black Friday. It was my last Black Friday. I wanted to punch all of humanity in the neck.
Tomorrow is 3YO's birthday, and we're having his party in Satan's Foyer, better known as Chuck E. Cheese to all you non-parental units. Is there anything better than 15 or 20 3- to 4-year olds, running and screaming, playing loud-ass games and kicking your shins, all while demanding tokens and pizza and more tokens and something to drink and still MORE tokens? Yes. Everything else on Earth. I think I'd rather be beaten with a double-ended dildo than to work at Chuck E. Cheese. Hell, even going there gives me hives. Tomorrow should be a footlocker chock full o' fun.
I haven't seen "Heroes", except for the pilot. All the others were DVRed. The very next person who tries to tell me what happens gets a neck punch. That's all I'm sayin'.
Jali is coming to Dallas next week, and we're gonna see about meeting up. I'm sure hilarity will ensue.
Wanna know what's funnier than me trying to hit the high notes while singing "Sunglasses At Night" by Corey Hart? Failing.
Please, please, please go vote for HDW, who is a Weblog Award Finalist in the category of Best Diarist. Her blog is called Green Apple Martini. Help her beat Dooce and that other chick whose blog is utterly unreadable except by bulemic lemurs snorting aspirin while swinging upside-down over electrical substations. Please. Rock the vote, people - she deserves it.

Alright, that's enough randomnicity for now. Y'all have a good weekend. I'll hit you up on Monday, after 3YO's birthday and my birthday and the party and the gig and whatever else goes on in my wacky life. Peace! Peace! Happy Birthday Edit Numero Uno: Thank you, Softball Slut! I got the two books you sent yesterday. I appreciate it mucho!

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 12/6/2006

2006-12-06T16:15:00.000-06:00

HOLLA! 4 days, people. Word. Today's diatribe will be brought to you by Anger! Get Anger, the most passionate of all the emotions! 2 for $14.99. I don't know why I'm so angry today, but the stories I picked just brought it all out. People are stupid. And they keep getting dumber and dumber, in a strange reverse-evolution, but to the point where even rhesus monkeys are pointing at us and saying "Jesus, Poncho, get on Ebay and bid on a clue! Shit, use Buy It Now!" I'm constantly amazed. I'm glad they're around, though. They give me something to write about. Brown came back with Mister Black! (Name that book.) On with the 'tribe! ----------------------------------------- NASHVILLE, Tennessee (AP) -- It is considered polite to light a match after passing gas. Not while on a plane. An American Airlines flight was forced to make an emergency landing Monday morning after a passenger lit a match to disguise the scent of flatulence, authorities said. The Dallas-bound flight was diverted to Nashville after several passengers reported smelling burning sulfur from the matches, said Lynne Lowrance, spokeswoman for the Nashville International Airport Authority. All 99 passengers and five crew members were taken off and screened while the plane was searched and luggage was screened. The FBI questioned a passenger who admitted she struck the matches in an attempt to conceal a "body odor," Lowrance said. She had an unspecified medical condition, authorities said. "It's humorous in a way but you feel sorry for the individual, as well," she said. "It's unusual that someone would go to those measures to cover it up." The flight took off again, but the woman was not allowed back on the plane. The woman, who was not identified, was not charged in the incident. I...cannot... stop laughing... at this. There's embarrassment, there's mortified, there's utter shame, and then there's THIS. This is a level of shame unrivaled by damn-near ANYTHING I've ever heard of. Imagine having the pilot make an emergency landing, all because you farted. How bad was that fart that she had to light a match? I mean, wouldn't it just be easier to blame somebody else? Just come out of the bathroom, look back at it in disgust, and say something like "Holy shit, there's a foul bitch on this airplane, that's all I got to say." And go back to your seat shaking your head. How hard is that, unless your ass smells like a rhinocerous humping a termite mound in the summer? I'm glad she at least did the right thing and owned up to doing it, instead of having the NTSB shaking down every Muslim they could find. That took a LOT of courage, especially for a woman. Why especially for a woman, you ask? 'Cause y'all don't fart. That's why. And if you DO, you'd sooner admit to capital murder than to ripping out a wet one in public. What if she was on her way to Dallas for a business meeting or a seminar or some other time-sensitive activity? How the hell do you explain that you're stuck in Tennessee because your sphincter released something so hideous, your common sense packed an overnight bag and went to stay with its sister, while you decided to pretend you were at a Deep Purple concert and start waving a match around? We've all ripped one that made us flee our own stench out of fear and disgust (well, us guys, anyway). All I have to say is that must've been one heavy-duty work of flatulent art. She should've recorded it. ------------

Salt Lake City - Utah Supreme Court justices acknowledged Tuesday that they were struggling to wrap their minds around the concept that a 13-year-old girl could be both an offender and a victim for the same act - in this case, having consensual sex with her 12-year-old boyfriend. The Ogden, Utah, girl was put in this odd position because she was found guilty of violating a state law that prohibits sex with someone under age 14. She also was the victim in the case against her boyfriend, who was found guilty of the same violation by engaging in sexual activity with her. "The only thing that comes close to this is dueling," said Associate Chief Justice Michael Wilkins, noting that two people who take 20 paces and then shoot could each be considered both victim and offender. And Chief Justice Christine Durham wondered if the state Legislature had intended the "peculiar consequence" that a child would have the simultaneous status of a protected person and an alleged perpetrator under the law. The comments came in oral arguments on a motion asking the high court to overturn the finding of delinquency - the legal term in juvenile court for a conviction - against Z.C., who became pregnant after she and her boyfriend engaged in sex in October 2003. State authorities filed delinquency petitions in July 2004, alleging that each had committed sexual abuse of a child, a second-degree felony if committed by an adult. The girl appealed the petition, saying her constitutional right to be treated equally under the law had been violated.

Um...I'm not saying it's cool that a 12- and 13-year old were doin' the do, but to charge either of them with a crime is the height of stupidity. How about handling this like adults, and just beating their asses and not letting them see each other again? What happened to that option? No way I'd call the cops on some dumb bullshit like this. She was pregnant, for bacon's sake! Help her! Charging her with a crime and potentially sending her to juvy isn't gonna do a thing for that baby, who was already starting off on the wrong foot. If you're 20, and your mom's 33 and your dad's 32, you got issues enough. If one or both of them did time in the joint over the very act of conceiving you, you might wanna save up for therapy and your own bail. The very first sign of how crazy this is is the fact that they're saying the girl is both offender and victim, which just doesn't make any kind of common sense. Now, I'm glad there are laws in place to help out abused children, but this wasn't abuse - this was two young-ass kids wanting to get freaky with it, and that's where it should start and end, legally. Since when did we allow the judicial system to raise our children? Maybe if the parents had been watching little Billy and Mandy, she wouldn't've gotten knocked up by someone who would face the moral dilemma of whether to buy Enfamil or shoes with skates in the bottom.

------------ Andy Dick hasn't learned anything from the Michael Richards incident. According to sources, the hopped-up comedian hopped onstage Saturday at L.A.'s Improv comedy club and dropped the n-bomb on a room full of stunned clubgoers. Andy was heckling comedian Ian Bagg during his routine, when Dick allegedly got out of his seat, jumped onstage and began joking with Bagg. The subject of Michael Richards came up, but the two comics quickly moved past it. As Dick exited the stage, he suddenly grabbed the mic and shouted at the crowd, "You're all a bunch of niggers!" The stunned crowd gasped and stared at each other. Bagg tried to play it cool and move on with his set, but the laughs weren't there. Calls to Dick's rep were not immediately returned. I hate Andy Dick. Can't stand him. He's a smug, arrogant prick with an overinflated sense of self and a gross misjudgment on how much talent he actually possesses. This hatred isn't a new thing; it's been simmering on low for years now, even back in the "Talk Radio" days when he was basically a smart-ass nobody. I've watched this fuck muppet grow his career like an infected weed, get part after part, banking on marginal talent and an incredible ability to kiss ass and be seen. He isn't funny. He can't act. The only thing he's good at is being Andy Dick, with a pronounced emphasis on the surname. He is living someone else's dream, leaving wine stains and little crumbs of ecstacy all over it. Wasn't it bad enough that Michael Richards said that during his routine? Wasn't that deplorable enough? Did Andy think that maybe he could reach just a little lower and offend even MORE people? I can't stand what Michael Richards did, and he's got a long way to go, in my eyes, to really show contrition and remorse. But in a way, what Andy Dick did was worse. Richards clearly wasn't going for jokes in his rant...he had fallen off the deep end, and into his own psyche. Dick was trying to be funny, using something he already knew wasn't funny as his vehicle. All you budding comedians (myself included), take notes. Attacking the audience CAN be funny (see Hicks, Bill), if you do it the right way and make sure they're in on the joke, too. But calling the audience by a hateful and derogatory racial slur isn't funny, no matter who you are. If the great Richard Pryor himself had done that, it STILL wouldn't be funny. Don't go there. I hate Andy Dick. He'll ride the wave of this minor controversy all the way to the bank. I hope he chokes on his next penis. Peace.

Everyone Loves A Ghetto Parade

2006-12-05T08:33:00.000-06:00

5 days. I'm just sayin'. 35 in 5 days. Respect. My sister's birthday was yesterday, and she's 21 now. 21. We adopted her when she was 9 days old. God, I'm ancient. (Clickity-click on that Amazon button, my pretties. Daddy needs some prezzies.) Every year around this time, when the leaves all fall off the tree (and into my yard, because we just HAD to have the house with the most trees, and now every time I blow those evil things, rake 'em into piles, bag 'em, and breathe a sigh of relief, down come 244959223994 more, mocking me) and a chill is in the air (or in THIS case, a damn bone-numbing, warmth-lacking, witch's titty of a frigid cold snap), our thoughts turn to pleasant things (certainly NOT our credit card bills, or that bad case of Dunlap disease; you know, where your belly "dunlap" over your belt) like yuletide, caroling, jolly old St. Nick, and Christmas parades. Usually we gather all our earthly belongings, made a few dozen gallons of hot chocolate, get on the southbound DART train (hopefully the one that doesn't smell like urine and unemployment), and trek into scenic (and by 'scenic' I mean 'utterly empty and devoid of human life except whenever I want to be there') downtown Dallas to catch the Christmas parade. I've watched and participated in numerous parades in my day, but I must say, Dallas puts on a nice one. Not only do they have floats and Miss Hicktown Hayeater riding on someone's Corvette, they have balloons. Real balloons, just like in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, only not quite as big. Still, they float way up in-between the buildings, and the handlers spin 'em around and around. It's pretty damn cool, but you have to get there at half-past the crack of dawn just to get a good spot on the street...otherwise you'll have a seat similar to Lee Harvey Oswald's, only with a much worse view. Then, in order to not get sucked into the 25,000 people who all decided to take the train, you wait around down there, eating lunch and walking about like a damn tourist until you think train traffic's decreased to the point where your claustrophobia won't kick in, and you take your hour ride back to your car, and then home. A whole day, basically, all to see a bunch of people walk and ride down the street. Damn all that. This year we opted for something simpler - the Plano Christmas parade. Plano is, of course, a suburb of Dallas, and much closer to where we live, so we figured why not? Well, as you might imagine, the Plano version offered a different flavor than the Dallas extravaganza offered. Pictures? Why, YES! I sincerely hope this was just for the parade, and that the cops don't really use these things to catch criminals. It's just a little...gay. No offense. This is Grinch #3 of the parade. I didn't get pics of the first two, because...well, who expects to see more than one? I decided to track 'em after I saw this guy. Aw, isn't this the cutest thing? It's a miniature DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) bus. The full-sized ones go maybe 3 miles per hour faster than this one. What is this, "Back To The Future"? No. Digging the moose antlers on the Jeep, though. What's that you say? It's supposed to be reindeer antlers? My bad. Looks like Bullwinkle sittin' on 22s, to me. Grinch #4. Pay close attention to the front of the truck. Can you see the little dog suspended there in midair? That was pretty cool. Ooooo, it's a gingerbread house made of corrugated cardboard! I still saw a kid nibbling on it, though. Damn. Couldn't even get the kid a real camel. Or is this a new species, Radious Flyeris? Too much acid, maaaaaan...way too much acid. I LOVED this float. I had never before seen a helicoptor float in a Christmas parade. I praise their ingenuity. As the driver drove down the street, he seriously yelled "What? It's a float! It FLOATS!" This is pure, unadulterated laziness here. Grinch #5. Dear sweet baby Jesus. Couldn't anyone be a Frosty or a Rudolph or even Ralphie from "A Christmas Story"? Loving...this...costume. The presents as shoes? Priceless. Hey Fyrchk, I heard he's available. Want me to get them digits for ya? Grinch #6. You have to admire their sticktoitiveness. They found a theme, and they ran with it. 6 freakin' Grinches. Perhaps they figured that we all had ADD, and wouldn't remember seeing FIVE OTHERS. Even I noticed that shit. "Mustache rides are free, guys. I mean, girls. Girls. Yes. Girls." Ghetto Spider-Man don't be swingin' on no webs, baby. Ghetto Spider-Man strolls. Um, can Ghetto Spider-Man borrow $5 till payday? No, YOUR payday. Interstate Batteries and Christmas go hand in hand. At first I thought it was a Shetland pony. Then I thought it was the skinniest cow in the history of ever. Then I realized it was one of those Marmaduke dogs, painted up like a dalmation. All this dog needed was a saddle. 911 is a joke in your town. After this, Santa himself came down, fabulous in his splendor. He wasn't remarkable enough to warrant a picture. Just a regular ol' Santa, riding on the back of a flatbed through Plano, Texas. No sleigh, no reindeer, just Santa on a flatbed, just like nature intended. Next year, we're hitting Dallas. Peace.

7 Days and Counting

2006-12-03T10:10:00.000-06:00

I laughed when I saw this from HDW. She rocks. Voting the Insane Clown Posse number one was utterly brilliant, and a move I wholeheartedly support. Also, I'm sure you all noticed the Amazon Wish List button over to the right, in the sidebar. Buy me birday (or "berfday", depending on your background) gifts for all the things I give you, like laughter and fights with Laurie and dumb people on the Diatribe. 7 days. There's some affordable shit there. Click...that...button. CLICK IT! Love me long time. Tomorrow I'll show you pics from the ghetto Christmas parade we went to yesterday. How do you spell "nutcracker" in the Plano Christmas Parade? N-U-T-C-R-A-C-E-R. I only wish I was kidding. I'm gonna take this quiz, simply because it's funny. ARE YOU IN THE WORST BAND IN THE WORLD? Take this simple multiple-choice quiz and save yourself some embarrassment! 1 How long is your drummer’s solo? a) He doesn’t get one. b) A couple minutes is all, and it’s very funky. c) Which of our drummers are you talking about? They forgot d) He's too busy smoking a bowl to solo. 2 What is the secret of your success? a) Inspiration. b) Perspiration. c) Butchering old soul classics in a manner beloved by middle-aged housewives and the mentally unwell. They forgot d) My friend's dad owns the bar we play at every night of every weekend, plus we play power pop. We're weak. 3 How many times has your band’s lineup changed? a) Never happened, dude. If anyone left, it just wouldn’t be the same. b) A few. It’s so hard to find a good accordionist. c) 1,179. They forgot d) We just use a pre-recorded guitar track, and a cardboard cutout of a guy shredding his ass off. We try not to knock it down during gigs. 4 The name of your band is… a) A favorite phrase from a William S. Burroughs novel. b) An action verb, followed by an even number. c) Indistinguishable from that of an accounting firm. They forgot d) The result of Jagermeister, someone's middle name, and a hard sneeze. 5 What is your favorite subject matter for lyrics? a) The pain of loving. b) The joy of drinking. c) Dragons. Or dungeons. But mostly dragons. They forgot d) The proper way to administer The Shocker. IF YOU ANSWERED… Mostly a): Congratulations! You’re in a good band. Mostly b): Commiserations! You’re in a not-very-good band. Mostly c): What’s that sucking sound? Oh, it’s you. Mostly d): You're in 98.5% of the bands out there! Yay conformity!

9 Days and Counting

2006-12-01T10:24:00.000-06:00

*AHEM* 9 days, bitches. 9 days. That's how many shopping days you have until my birthday. OH, YES! December 10. Sagitarrius in the house, laid back, paid black, coolin' like a shade shack. I'm not usually one for promoting my own birthday, but it's a big one for me. The big 3-5. Thirty-five. Trente cinco. I certainly don't FEEL like I'll be 35. I honestly feel like I'm in my mid-20s, especially with the band and my addiction to cartoons and video games. The only time I really feel my age is when a coworker of mine, after receiving a quick lesson in DOS commands on the computer, says "Oh yeah, I remember seeing this in elementary school. Back in 1990." I swear, six new gray hairs sprouted out of my chin right that moment. Speaking of gray, while I don't really mind going gray on my head (it's gray along the sides, kinda like Reed Richards from the Fantastic Four), I am not at all thrilled about the plethora of gray hairs that are showing up in my beard like there's gonna be a Grateful Dead concert there tonight. I pluck 'em. Oh yeah, I pluck the hell out of them. I'll decide when I'm ready to go all Sean Connery, not them. It's bad enough to turn 35...I don't wanna look like I'm turning 45. Oh, and if any of you get the hankering to send a brotha some presents or prizes...they will be accepted. I like DVDs, t-shirts with unusual sayings (size XL), gift cards to Best Buy, Wal-Mart, and Fry's Electronics, and all things Tang-related. Or just buy me some bass strings, 'cause I need those badly. Send me an email if you want my address. In other news, it snowed here yesterday. That's significant, because usually snowing in Dallas is considered to be one of the Seven Signs. We got MAYBE a quarter inch of snow, and there were hundreds of wrecks out there. HUNDREDS. Hell, even when it rains you'll find one or two vehicles upside-down on the side of the road, with no apparent damage. Can someone please tell me how a hard drizzle can cause a 2,000 pound motorized vehicle to flip completely the fuck over onto its roof, with nary a dent anywhere on the car? How? People drive here like they're in bumper cars at Six Flags. If there's a brake pedal in the car, it's either used too little, too much, or just plain wrongly. I grew up in South Carolina, where snow was as rare as interracial dating, and even so, no one there drove like these people do when there's just a touch of condensation on the ground. I just don't get it. What's wrong with you damn fool Dallas drivers? Here's an example of typical Texas weather: 2pm Wednesday: 79 degrees. 8pm Wednesday: 75 degrees. 11pm Wednesday: 50 degrees. 8am Thursday: 33 degrees. 1pm Thursday: 29 degrees. 9pm Thursday: 35 degrees. 7am Friday: 25 degrees. 10am Friday: 35 degrees. *2pm Friday: 50 degrees. *Projected This is what we have to deal with. Shorts and parkas. Tank tops and long johns. Bleh. Peace. EDIT: Good idea, Randi. Here you go.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 11/29/2006 - DOUBLE SIZED!

2006-11-29T15:46:00.000-06:00

WOOOO! A double-sized diatribe, since y'all missed out last week. I was full of spiral cut ham and turkey wings, plus I had to work last Wednesday, so forgive me if writing this drivel up wasn't at the top of my To Do list. I know you'll forgive, 'cause I ALWAYS deliver. Just call me UPS. What can Brown do for you? On with the 'tribe. --------------- (from Bizarre News) An Arizona high school student walked across the stage to receive her diploma last month, despite the fact that she failed her senior English class. How did this happen, you ask? Her parents threatened to sue the school if she didn't graduate. In the letter prepared by the parents' lawyer, was this friendly reminder to the teacher... "Of course, all information regarding your background, your employment records, all of your class records, past and present, dealings with this and other students becomes relevant, should litigation be necessary." In response to this the school allowed the girl in question to retake her final five hours before graduation, even while other failing students (whose parents probably could not afford lawyers) were registering for Summer school. This...this right here...this is what's wrong with this country today. This shit. What a WONDERFUL message to send to your child: "Hey, if you fail, we will bail you out with lawyers. Nevermind that life doesn't have a fucking Undo button." How are you teaching your child that there are ramifications and consequences for their actions if you immediately jump in like a weak-ass superhero anytime they screw up? The school didn't commit any wrongs against this chick. She FAILED. Wanna know how to prevent that? Tell the bitch to study more, and to maybe pass a test, and perhaps then she'd succeed. On her own. Back in college, my freshman year, I was royally fucking up. I took 18 hours my first semester, plus marching band. My grades were the evidence of my lack of studying. I was so afraid of what my mom would say...I nearly hid the grades from her when they arrived. But I showed her, and instead of yelling, she said the most chilling thing of all to me: "You know what, Damian? These are YOUR grades. This is YOUR education here. This is YOUR future you're mapping out. I've already GOTTEN my college degree. It's up to you to get yours." And that was it. Scared the SHIT out of me. This girl, once she realizes that life is a mugger with opportunity in one hand and a taser in the other, won't have a CLUE how to handle it. Her parents need their asses beat. And so does the school for caving in. I swear, when I get rich, I'm opening the Bernie Mac School of Education and Discipline. Your child WILL pass, or that's his ass. Oooo, there's my motto! ------------------ (from Bizarre News) DECATUR - Two Decatur men are jailed under $100,000 bonds for investigation of armed robbery, aggravated kidnapping and aggravated unlawful use of a weapon after they allegedly robbed a man at gunpoint. The victim, Macolm McDaniel, called police at 10:18 p.m. Friday to report the robbery, which occurred in the west alley of the 1500 block of North Clinton Street. McDaniel said he was walking about 10:10 p.m. in the 200 block of West Leafland Avenue when a black Nissan with plastic covering one window pulled up next to him and a man inside the car asked for a cigarette, police officer Mike Donaker said in a sworn statement filed in Macon County Circuit Court. When he approached the car, the driver pulled a silver-colored revolver and told him to get in the back seat, McDaniel told officers. He did so and the passenger then held the gun on him while the driver took them to the alley. There, McDaniel was made to get out of the car. He said the driver went through his pockets and removed a half package of Marlboro cigarettes and a Bic lighter before kicking him in the left hamstring and telling him "now get out of my hood." As officers talked with McDaniel, a black Nissan with plastic over one window drove by and the driver honked his horn, Donaker said. The car was stopped and searched with a half package of Marlboro cigarettes found in the front seat and a Bic lighter in the driver's pant pocket, he said. The two men in the car, ages 17 and 18, were arrested, Donaker said. McDaniel identified them as his assailants, he said. ... You know, I really hate giving lessons to criminals, telling them the proper way to commit crimes. I do. It's a disservice to law-abiding citizens who may be victimized by these criminals and their newly-gained knowledge. But do you know what I hate more than crime? Stupidity. Fat, lazy, dumb, ice cream eating, lactose-intolerant stupidity. I can't stand it. I feel like I HAVE to do something. Maybe if I tell them how to not be stupid, they can correct themselves and join the rest of society, thus reducing the level of Duh by one. Don't hate me, people. I have to do this. HEY, CROOKS! Listen to me. If you just HAVE to rob someone, make sure of a few things:

Make sure he/she has something you want or need. A half-pack of cigs and a lighter just doesn't cut the mustard. You'd probably get 1/6th of the jail time (if any at all) for just shoplifting a full pack and a nice-ass lighter from Circle K. Be smart. Think like the criminals who waited outside electronics stores the day the PS3 came out, and stole the systems from the doofuses who waited outside for days. Now THAT'S using the ol' noggin.
If you're going to rob them, rob them where they stand. Don't make them get in the car, and don't take THEIR car, unless it's the car that you want. And if you do take their car, leave them behind. Kidnapping is a stupid-ass addendum to an already stupid-ass crime.
If you happen to drive by your victim, and he's talking to the police, don't honk your horn. I mean, really. What does that accomplish? If he didn't see you...roll on, fool. You got lucky. Especially if your car stands out, like a black Nissan with plastic on one window would.
Get rid of the evidence, if it's insignificant AND if you've been spotted by the victim AND the victim was talking to a cop. At least make the cops work for their paycheck a little. Don't just hand them the case, all wrapped up. I don't mean for you to shoot 'em, but jeez - challenge them mentally.

Damn. I have an ice cream headache now. ------------------- (from Fark) DE QUEEN, Ark. (AP) - The guitar-shaped bulge in Morgan Conatser's clothing tipped off a music store owner that there might be a crime in progress. Clifton Lovell, owner of Guitars and Cadillacs on U.S. Highway 71 in De Queen, was talking with a customer last week when he saw Conatser, 29, walking out of the store. "I saw him walking out to his pickup truck and the bulges in his leather jacket. I said, 'Hey what have you got there,'" Clifton Lovell said. He said Conatser, 29, replied, Nothing." Lovell pointed toward the unnatural shapes in Conatser's jacket and pants and said, "You've got something." Conatser then removed a solid body electric guitar from his pants leg and from underneath his jacket. "The neck of the guitar was almost down to his knee and the back of the guitar was almost up to his neck. It wasn't hard to spot. There was no way he could sit down or get into the pickup," Lovell said. With the guitar back in the store, Lovell didn't intend to call the sheriff's office. But then he discovered a wireless sound system was missing. Lovell called the Sevier County Sheriff's Department and gave a description of Conatser and his pickup. Deputy Jeff Wahls called Conatser's father, who told Wahls how to find the house. The deputy found Conatser at home, where Conatser went to his bedroom closet and retrieved the sound system, Wahls said. "He made a statement saying he needed the property because he needed to make ends meet," Wahls said. Conatser was arrested on a charge of theft of property under $500 for the sound equipment because the guitar had already been returned to the shop owner. The sound system was worth about $200. "This is a new one on me and I couldn't believe he tried," Lovell said. "The strings were pressed down and he didn't make any noise." Conatser was issued a misdemeanor citation and released. Conatser can resolve the charge by paying a fine or he can contest the charge in Sevier County District Court. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Man, send this guy a MENSA application, stat! I would've never thought to steal a guitar by stuffing it down my pants, mainly because (a) there's no room, if you catch my drift, and (b) I can't think that low-level. My plan would've involved infrared cameras, a pulley system, spray mist for laser tripwires, a seeing eye dog, a tranquilizer gun, 14 raw hamburger patties, half a gram of flour (disguised to look like cocaine), night vision goggles, a fake ID, a high-tech radio earpiece, a Trans Am, an LED flashlight, and a hot chick. This man had it broken down to the very last compound. Just...stuff it in your pants, and stroll. I own several basses, which are longer than guitars, but still - guitars are just a tad too long for stuffing in your Wranglers and then stiff-legging it out the door, you know? If I worked at Guitar Center or whatever, and I saw a guy walking like Lurch from The Munsters, I'd go ahead and assume he's applying the five-finger discount to one of my axes. But then again, maybe all he REALLY wanted was the wireless system, 'cause he actually (sorta) got away with that. Dumbass. Sell some plasma and buy that crap on Ebay. Doesn't he know ANYTHING? -------------------- (from Fark) FRESNO, Calif. -- A former lab worker on trial for allegedly helping his boss murder her husband by placing his body in a vat of acid was motivated to kill by the promise of "money and favors" from her, prosecutors say. James Fagone, 24, accepted $2,000 from Clovis biochemist Larissa Schuster, 46, in exchange for help with the slaying, prosecutor Dennis Peterson told jurors during opening statements Monday, the Fresno Bee reported. Fagone and Schuster are accused of kidnapping, torturing and killing her estranged husband, 45-year-old Timothy Schuster, in July 2003. Prosecutors said the two first immobilized Timothy Schuster with a stun gun and a chloroform-soaked rag. They bound his hands and feet, before dumping him head first - and still breathing - into a 55-gallon barrel and poured bottles of hydrochloric acid on the body, they said. By the time the body was discovered days later, the upper half was dissolved. Defense attorneys, however, described Fagone as a Sanger High School graduate and diligent churchgoer who "studied hummingbirds and wouldn't kill a spider." He was threatened by his former boss into kidnapping and burglarizing her husband, said his attorney Peter Jones. "The road to perdition for Mr. Fagone begins with a sick, sadistic, sociopath named Larissa Schuster," Jones said. "He never contemplated, he never planned, he never expected Mr. Schuster to die." If found guilty of the murder, torture, burglary and kidnapping charges, Fagone could be sentenced to life in prison. Larissa Schuster goes to trial next year. Boss: "Hey James, I wonder if I can get you to help me with something..." James: "Sure, Dr. Schuster. Anything I can do to help. What's up?" Boss (showing some leg): "Well, it's sorta delicate, James..." James (feeling very warm inside): "Um...ok... what is it?" Boss (showing some cleavage): "See, I've got this itch that just needs to be scratched..." James (remembering how he felt after watching "Sailor Moon", and liking it): "I can scratch. I mean, not like a hippity-hop DJ or anything, but I've got long nails, 'cause I play "World of Warcraft" a lot and I'm trying to look like this one Orc named -" Boss (already disliking her choice of accomplices): "JAMES! Focus power. Not a literal itch, a figurative one." James (like a playa): "I like figures. I'm good with figures, too. You have a nice one." Boss (stifling a gag): "Thank...you. That's very nice. I'll even give you $2000 for your troubles. So, you'll help me, then?" James (whipping off his stained lab coat, cardigan sweater and his khakis): "$2000? To help you with your 'itch'? Oh, YES MA'AM! Now, where do I put it first? Is it just like on Cinemax after midnight on Fridays?" Boss: "Dear sweet baby Jesus..." -------------------- (from Fark) LEXINGTON, S.C. (AP) -- A man fatally shot his friend with a high-powered rifle in a dispute over a $20 bet on the South Carolina-Clemson football game, authorities said Sunday. James Walter Quick, 42, was charged with murder in the shooting of Richard Allen Johnson, 43. Johnson died from a single shot to the chest, according to a preliminary autopsy Sunday. The two had bet $20 on the annual game, with Quick taking South Carolina, which won 31-28, and Johnson taking Clemson, Lexington County Sheriff James Metts said. They drank beer all afternoon and watched the game Saturday at Johnson's home, and began arguing about the bet after the game. Metts said Quick went to his car, got the rifle he normally uses for hunting and fired one shot, hitting Johnson in the chest. Deputies arrested Quick. Quick was being held Sunday in the Lexington County jail, awaiting a bail hearing. The sheriff's department said he did not yet have a lawyer. I went to Clemson. I get very involved in the rivaly with South Carolina. After the game on Saturday, I got a few calls from "concerned" friends, wondering if I was on suicide watch after the loss. I wasn't. You know why? It's just a game, folks, and I didn't even play in it. Other Clemson grads are just as fervent as I am about our alma mater, but when it's all said and done, if we lose, the sun'll still rise. You know who takes this shit MUCH more seriously? People who DIDN'T go to the college. Those folks are way, way too into it. They didn't necessarily see these goofballs in their World History 102 class, wearing headphone, sleeping their ASSES off the whole time, while you took notes like a muhfucka, wondering if you were gonna pass. The goofballs had no such worries. I LOVE my school, but damn. Alcohol surely played a role in this. This particular article left off the best part. When Quick pulled the gun on him, Johnson, the Clemson supporter, told Quick that he couldn't shoot him because was invisible. Quick replied "No, you're not." Then he shot him. Those are famous last words, for real. Hey folks - love your team. Love them hard. But unless your kid's on the team, or you get paid by the school, or you're in any way directly affected by the outcome of the game....chill. They're playing with a ball. It's just not that important in the grand scheme. ------------------------ (from Fark) DENVER -- The first persona to be arrested in Denver on DNA evidence alone has been sentenced to 27 years in prison after pleading guilty to burglary and indecent exposure. "I take full responsibility," Terre Jefferson, 35, told Denver District Judge Morris Hoffman at his sentencing Monday. Jefferson was ordered to register as a sex offender and get sex-offender evaluation and treatment. He was accused of entering the homes of three women who awoke to find him sitting on their beds or standing nearby, fondling himself. Prosecutor Dawn Weber said he would ask the victims if he could smell or lick their feet. The incidents occurred in August 2002 and July and August 2004. District Attorney Mitch Morrissey filed the cases last year against a defendant known only by his DNA collected at the crime scenes. Investigators later identified Jefferson as a suspect by comparing their evidence with a DNA sample he was required to submit after he was convicted on another burglary charge in 2004. Jefferson pleaded guilty in the latest cases in August. Defense attorney Katie Manzanares said Jefferson has learned from his mistakes and is taking classes intended to help sexual offenders. Yet another foot fetishist. I'm gonna start a special section, devoted soley to the sick bitches who have to violate others to satisfy their need to lick or sniff feet. I'm also gonna start a section just for weird Denver shit, 'cause let's face it - there's some weird shit going down in Denver. I've seen more crazy stories out of there than at a Courtney Love sleepover. HDW, what's up with your town? Yeesh. I heard even Kobe Bryant won't go there anymore. I'd rant about how sick these people are, with their weird-ass feet issues, and how they keep forcing it on others, but...I'm tired. It's always the same thing. Some guy, with an obvious mental defect, doing something dumb in a public fashion, and gets busted. Freaks. Just enjoy open-toed sandals and French pedicures like the rest of us, Footloose. You're giving us all a bad name. And we already had one of those. Peace.

State Fare Pics - Just Like I Promised

2006-11-27T10:12:00.000-06:00

Finally. I know it took forever, but I lost the camera until yesterday, so...whatever. It's here now, so eat up, my pretties. This...is a big-ass ferris wheel. That black thing in the middle is the sun. And before you ask me if I rode it, think about what you're asking, and who you're asking. You know the answer. It wouldn't be a state fair without animals. Large, smelly animals. That spit. Like this one. Fortunately, he never faced us. I bet HIS cameltoe is outrageous. A baby....something. Hell if I know. 7YO trying like HELL to touch the baby something. Mmmmm, diabetes. Seriously, this much cotton candy should just come with a blood monitor. Ah, the centerpiece of the fair. This was the whole reason I wanted to go. Your eyes do not deceive you - they were selling fried coke. As in deep-fried Coca-Cola. They poured the coke into this sugary powder mixture, formed it into balls, deep fried 'em for a couple of minutes, and put them in a cup with whipped cream and more coke on top. The end result looked like this: Oh yes. The fried coke. How was it, you ask? It was alright. Certainly not worth the 9 tickets ($4.50) I paid for it. It was much too sweet, and the liquid coke make the little coke balls all mushy. But taste-wise, it was alright. They had other fried delicacies there, too. Yes. Fried Snickers. Fried pralines. Fried Oreos. I didn't even get a picture of the fried peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwiches, or the fried cosmopolitan. I have no idea what a fried cosmopolitan looks or tastes like, and I had no desire to find out. Some things are better left unknown. Oooh, look. Laurie was there with her swingin' pirate ship. Heard she'd let you ride for $2 and a pack of Now 'n' Laters. The woman in the khaki pants? No ass whatsoever. Normally this type of thing wouldn't register on my personal Booty Richter Scale, but there was such a noticable void there that it sucked my attention to it, like a weird black hole of ass. She had negative booty. It was concave, not convex. She was taking that drug. You know the one: Noassitol. And I think she overdosed. Cheapest eatin' in the whole damn fair. I nearly wept when I saw this sign, because I thought I was gonna have to take out a second mortgage to pay for dinner. At this point, I wouldn't've even cared if they were real DOGS. For only $1, I just would've asked for extra ketchup. I took this pic, not because of Wynona Judd or Tammy Whynot or Leann (Busta) Rimes or WHOEVER the assigned female country singer was there, but because those trucks you see on either side of the stage, up in the air? Those were real. There were 6 of 'em, suspended in the air like that. Now, I LOVE being on stage, but if you're hanging Chevy products above my head, I'll just wait in the green room. Put up some real hoes, not Tahoes. Big Tex, the official mascot or symbol or mystic guardian of the Texas State Fair. I had fantasies of him suddenly coming to life and beating the shit out of the people who charged $4.00 for a hamburger, $3.50 for fries, and $3.00 for a drink, bringing a family of four's potential total to $4 million for dinner. Screw you, I'm not good at math. And I'm sorry the picture's dark...they didn't have him lit up. Probably so he wouldn't come to life and start flinging punks around. Here's me, in the bathroom, sick and damned tired of the 2006 Texas State Fair. To use a phrase from "In Living Color", I was "Ret to go". Holla if you know who said that on the show. And I'm spent. It was fun. I wonder what they'll fry next year? I hope it's Tang. Peace.

Since I Didn't Tell You LAST Time...

2006-11-25T23:32:00.000-06:00

...Nonetheless will be live on the internet Sunday night, November 26th, at 8pm central time. To check us out, go to Renegade Radio and click Listen. We'll be part of the Sunday Live at Tomcats show. It was a spur-of-the-moment type deal, so God only knows how we'll sound, since we haven't played in over a week. But that's why we're practicing for a couple of hours beforehand. And that's what beer is for. No, it doesn't make us play better, but it for damn sure makes us not care quite as much if we don't. For those of you who tuned in last time, this won't be an acoustic show - we'll be plugged in and amplified tomorrow night, so you'll get the full-blown NTL experience and sound. Check us out. Peace.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2006-11-22T19:13:00.000-06:00

Sorry folks, no diatribe today. It's the holidays, dammit, and I didn't particularly feel like scouring the web (OK, so I really only scour Bizarre News or Fark, but it's still scouring, and I still didn't feel like doing it, so you can suck on it). So this week, relax with your families, prepare your meals, watch some football, and generally chill out. Next week I'll try to supersize it to make you feel better. Anyway, I want you all to have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. Please be careful, don't drink and drive, and if you're eating dinner at someone else's house, remember: you can't just take your pants off after you finish sopping up turkey gravy with the last brown 'n' serve roll, OK? There are rules of etiquette that must be followed. Just undo the button. And slide the zipper down 1/3rd of the way. Any further and your gibblets will be showing. No one wants that, unless you're eating with your family in West Virginia. NO GIBBLETS! Here's some joyful sights for the holidays. I'll be back soon!

The New Hotness

2006-11-20T13:10:00.000-06:00

I have a sad, bad history with cell phones. I love them, but I'm apparently too hard on them, and after a few months, they all escape me to take up residence in a halfway house where they use false names to keep me from hunting them down. As if I would. Hell, I'm on to the next one, son. I mean well, but something always happens to them, as though Fate doesn't really care for my calling plan. Perfect example: I bought a Treo 600 on Ebay a couple of months ago, and I LOVED it. It was the shit -- for 3 days. Then I stuck it in the front pocket of my jeans and sat down. Bad, bad move. People, if you have a phone or PDA with a large screen that's not protected by anything, it's a very bad idea to slide that puppy into the front pocket of your Wranglers. Broken LCD, total replacement, $100, thanks for playing. Since I had only paid $40 for it, I wasn't about to spend $100 to fix it. It now sits in a box in my garage, beside another Treo I bought on Ebay in an attempt to fix the first one. Failure ensued. Buh-bye, Treos. Crack kills. The reason I had switched to the Treo in the first place was because my then-current phone had more issues than National Geographic. Slightly cracked screen, an off button that wouldn't work unless you applied pressure equivalent to an elephant doing jumping jacks on a jackhammer, and the annoying habit of spontaneously turning itself off, without warning, for no reason at all. Even during calls. Sometimes it just wouldn't ring, and I'd end up with 3 or 4 missed calls. I hated that little plastic piece of bowel obstruction. But after the Treo debacle, I had to switch back to the Lucifer Phone until I got something better. When DWW got herself a nice li'l Chocolate from Verizon, I inherited her old phone -- which was exactly like mine. At least the buttons worked and the screen wasn't cracked, because unlike me, DWW treats her electronics with kindness. That was all well and good until somebody stole it. Friday night we had a gig (which went pretty well, though we've had better). The phone was on my belt the whole time, all cozy in its snug little holster. After the gig I turned it on, just in case Donald Trump returned my text asking him if I could borrow $12,145,753.42 until payday (he knows I'm good for it), and returned it to the holster. After walking through the crowded club and loading the equipment into the trailer outside, my phone was gone. Phone, holster, all of it, just vanished into thin air like Madonna's chances of adopting another African kid. I retraced my steps, looking everywhere and asking all the staff at the bar, but my phone was gone. And I'm sorry - it didn't just fall off my belt. Someone snatched my shit, I just know it. Well, the surprise is on them, 'cause the battery was almost dead anyway, and even if they DID make a 30 minute call to Anchorage, it was already after 9pm, and therefore free. So suck it, thief. Can you hear me now? I doubt it. On Saturday, I got a new phone. A nice phone. A sweet-ass phone. A phone for today's modern pimp and playa. This, ladies and (oh, who am I kidding? My audience is about 80% female) any gentlemen who happen to be reading, is my new hotness. Oh yes, I have a RAZR, and not just for my armpits. It's...so nice. And no, mine isn't pink, so don't even ask. It is bad-ass. And I got the Bluetooth attachment so that I too can look like an asshole in the grocery store, all laughing and giggling while people stare at me like my prescription meds just ran out. While I was transfering my contacts from the Lucifer Phone (which, thank God, I had kept on the off-chance that I would destroy it later with my sledgehammer), I noticed some interesting things about the people in my phone.

I have 82 people in my phone.
46 are female.
24 are male.
12 don't count (doctors, daycare, etc.).
10 are fellow bloggers.
18 are either band or band-related.
6 are work-related.
9 are family.
5 are in my phone for no reason at all, 'cause I never ever call them.
4 are from college.
4 are from high school.
11 are people that I used to work with.

None of this means anything, of course...I just found it interesting. And my ringtone? "It Takes Two" by M.C. Robb Base and D.J. E-Z Rock. Holla. Peace.

SuperfastpostcauseIgottagoBYE!

2006-11-17T15:08:00.000-06:00

Just a quick programming note, folks. My superstar spectacular band Nonetheless will be performing TONIGHT at Curtain Club in the Deep Ellum area of Dallas. If you're in town or nearby, come check us out. We're going on around 10p. The cover charge is $8, and all proceeds go toward the owner of the bar. Come on out, if you're around. I'll buy you something. Do you like taquitos? Peace.

I Remember OJ

2006-11-16T14:42:00.000-06:00

I can remember when OJ was cool. Can you recall those days, back in the late 70s and 80s? Even after the football career, I can recall seeing him in those Hertz commercials, jumping over luggage while running through the airport. I can remember him in all the Naked Gun movies, usually as the butt of a Leslie Neilson joke. I remember thinking about how cool he was, even though I had never seen him play. Juice was the MAN. And as a football player, forget it. Unstoppable. He killed 'em at USC; he killed 'em on the Buffalo Bills. The problem is, he forgot to stop killing 'em. Simpson won the Heisman Trophy in 1968 while playing for the University of Southern California. Even when he was arrested, with seemingly overwhelming evidence, I was one of that majority of black people who cried "Conspiracy!" and "Frame job!" It seemed so obvious then. L.A.'s police department wasn't exactly a shining example of fair play and good police work. Hell, the guys from "The Shield" would look at those cops back in '94 and say "Holy shit, they're hardcore." Between the RAMPART scandal, and Rodney King, it was perfectly logical that they nabbed OJ simply because he was a rich and famous black man who was married to a beautiful white woman, and living in their world. It made perfect sense. So what if he led the cops on a low-speed chase that was broadcast so much, aliens on Uranus had it on tape? He was just stressed out. So what if the Bruno Magli shoes he owned seemed tomatch up with the evidence? It was coincidence. So what if he had all KINDS of motive for the crime, and had a history of domestic violence against his wife? Past performance does not dictate future actions, right? And besides - the glove didn't fit. They HAD to acquit. But as the trial went on, I started having my doubts. Shit just seemed...off. OJ didn't seem outraged enough. If I was on trial for double murder, and I didn't do it, they would have to gag me and duct tape me to my chair, 'cause every time the prosecution spoke, I'd be saying "BULLSHIT!" OJ didn't. His lawyer was absolutely brilliant, and the LA county prosecutors were acting like it was the first courtroom they saw since watching "Night Court". When he was acquitted, I didn't rejoice like so many of my brothas and sistas. By then I was pretty sure that he did it, but the prosecution didn't make their case, in my opinion, so he HAD to be set free. I thought that would be the end. He got away with murder. Time to vanish, right? Time to move to Barbados and never be heard from again. Not OJ. In 1973, Simpson erupted with a then-record 2,003 yards, becoming the first player ever to pass the 2,000-yard mark. You see, OJ is the type of guy who loves nothing more than to be in the spotlight, no matter how much it burns him. He had to be seen, be heard, be noticed. The civil suit went against him, holding him liable for the murders, and he still hasn't paid them off. To me, this is just another insult to Nicole Brown's and Ron Goldman's families, since he knows he did that shit. Give them their money. Set up a payment plan. OJ isn't poor, not by any normal standards, at least. They can't touch his NFL pension, which pays him a pretty penny, and they can't touch his house. All he has to do is sit back, sip cosmopolitans, and try not to murder more white people. But that's not the OJ M.O. Simpson was elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1985. He has to be seen. Bill Bellamy, the comedian, made a great joke about being in Miami Beach at a night club one night, and seeing OJ in the VIP area dancing with 3 or 4 young women, all of whom were just falling all over themselves to get next to him. He joked about dancing next to them, pointing at OJ and making a slashing gesture across his throat as a warning to them. Star-fuckers. Famous or infamous, if you're someone they've heard of, they will attach themselves to you like barnacles. This only serves to further validate OJ, and give him more fuel to his insane fire. Hell, he's been arrested several times in the past twelve years, including that road rage incident and domestic assault on a girlfriend. Um, yeah. Time to bounce, honey. I don't care HOW much ecstacy he buys you, you WON'T be all that happy when you're the main case on CSI: Miami. After his retirement from football, Simpson went on to a successful film career with parts in films such as the television mini-series Roots, and the motion pictures The Cassandra Crossing, Capricorn One, The Klansman, The Towering Inferno, Back to the Beach, and The Naked Gun trilogy. This guy, this murderous, scandalous, shameless son of a bitch, has done so much shit in the past 12 years.

In 1998 at the end of an interview conducted by Ruby Wax for BBC1, Simpson mimed stabbing her with a banana while mimicking the theme music from Psycho.
In 2001, he was tried for burglary and battery in a Florida road rage case that received some publicity, but he was again found not guilty. This verdict was also covered on live national television.
During 2003, Simpson filmed a Pay-Per-View comedy special titled Juiced. The show, a hidden camera set up show, included a controversial sketch where Simpson attempts to sell the infamous White Ford Bronco at a used car lot, telling the salesman, "It was good for me. It helped me get away." NOT KIDDING.
Simpson considered becoming a news commentator for actor Robert Blake's murder trial. Irony, party of 1!

And now, the most dispicable act of all. On November 14, 2006 Fox announced that it would be airing a two-part interview with Simpson by book publisher Judith Regan, in which he will discuss the murders. The interview is to promote his upcoming book, tentatively titled "If I Did It". Basically, he's going to discuss how HE would've committed the murders, hypothetically of course, if HE had been the one to commit them. He's gonna talk about a hypothetical accomplice, and chart how it all went down. Oops, I mean how it WOULD HAVE gone down, if he had done the deed. Of all the low things, this shit here could limbo under a snail's asshole. The book's publisher (who I can't decide whether she's a genius or evil with evil sauce) says she considers this to be his "confession". Whatever. I think it's OJ's chance to brag about getting away with murder. After all, what good does it do to pull off the perfect crime, and not be able to tell people about it? You just KNOW he's been about to pop, waiting for a chance to nudge someone on the golf course with his elbow and say "Yo man, don't you wanna know if I really did it? Huh? Come on, ask me." He is a shallow, smug, evil, heartless, homicidal bastard. Any woman with him is taking her life in his own hands. Not hers, his. Simpson was considered for the lead role in The Terminator, before it was decided audiences might not accept him as a villain because he was perceived as too "nice". I hope he slips up. I hope he says something that only the police, the prosecutors, and the killer would know. I hope he smirks while he talks, so everyone can see what kind of monster he really is. He's protected by double jeopardy, so he can't be retried for the same crime. Unless they find new evidence. So keep talkin, OJ. Relax your shoulders, spill your guts. Tell the world how The Juice would've done it. Don't hold back - you're safe, man! Untouchable, just like you were in football. When you were killin' 'em. Remember when OJ was cool? I do. It was a long, long time ago. Stay in that spotlight, OJ. That heat you're feeling isn't anything to worry about. It's just the remainder of your humanity burning away. Peace. Edit: KBear is right - even with new evidence, it would be incredibly difficult to try him again on the same or similar charges in state court. However, if the federal courts decided that he kidnapped his victims, or violated their civil rights (by, say, denying them the right to live), he could be retried in federal court. That's what happened to the cops in the Rodney King trial. Also, if it was determined that the previous trial was a sham (for example, if OJ bribed a juror or the judge), double jeopardy wouldn't apply because he was never actually in jeopardy in the first place. The more you know...

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 11/15/2006

2006-11-15T11:13:00.000-06:00

What...is up? I'm pretty much over my righteous fury from yesterday. I don't get mad often, and it never lasts long, pretty much like sex for an ugly teenager. My grandma is OK, and she told me to calm down, and I always listen to my grandma, so I'm calming on down now. Enjoy today's diatribe, 'cause I think tomorrow's post might be dedicated to someone I've avoided for a long time, except in little snotty remarks here and there. I've avoided him because I didn't wanna waste my precious words on him, nor give him any more publicity than he already gets, but the damn fool has gone too far now. Y'all know who I'm gonna dissect. Oh, yes. Him. The murderer. Orenthal James Simpson. OJ. And it's gonna be so sweet, because this fool doesn't know how to leave bad enough alone. But that's tomorrow. This is today. And today...we diatribe. Roll out. ------------------------ (from Bizarre News) ORANGE COUNTY, Fla. -- Orange County deputies caught up with a driver who rammed his pickup into the front doors of a bar early Friday morning. Security guards said they tossed the man out earlier in the evening and that's when he got into his truck and drove right for them. The man, who deputies said intentionally rammed his pick-up truck into the front door of a sports bar overnight, was taken into custody shortly after the alleged incident. Deputies found him hiding in a wooded area on Orange Blossom Trail near Holden Avenue. Deputies said the suspect had been involved in a fight at Chaparros Sports Bar. When security guards asked him to leave, he got in his truck and allegedly drove right at them, smashing through the entry way. The man came back about an hour and a half later to pick up his girlfriend. She called the Orange County Sheriff's Office to let them know he was on his way back. A search helicopter spotted him hiding near the Tuscany Village apartments. The suspect was taken to the hospital and treated for numerous dog bites. The man could be facing criminal mischief and aggravated assault charges. His name was not released. So....dude gets into a fight, and gets thrown out of the bar. I'm good with that. But instead of leaving, or talking shit about the bouncers from across the street, or waiting down the block for the person he was fighting with, he drove his truck INTO the bar? I'm fuzzy on what it was he was trying to accomplish here. Did someone need a ride, and he wanted to park as close as possible? I mean, it says that the idiot came back later to get his girlfriend, but that was after he tried to order biggie fries at the new front door drive through. I pose this question to you, readers: if you had driven a truck through the entryway of a bar and managed to escape, would you then RETURN to that bar on the SAME NIGHT, driving the SAME TRUCK, just to pick up your drunk-ass whoretacular girlfriend who was probably giving head to the dude you fought while you were gone? You may ask why I'm dogging her out, and I'll tell you. It's because she's the one who ratted him out to the cops. I don't like what he did, but DAMN, that's cold. Why the fuck didn't she leave with him when he got thrown out? If I got thrown out of a bar, I would fully expect my girlfriend to be right there next to me, telling the bouncers all about their shortcomings (so long as she didn't have first-hand knowledge of them). I'm telling you, she was kneepadding it in the back room behind the broken foosball table. Hoochie. I love that he got lit up by the police dogs, though. I guess they took a bite outta crime. That...was a terrible pun. Next! ---------------------- (From Fark) Three men attempted to kidnap a teenager in a dispute over stereo speakers shortly before 4:45 p.m. on Monday, Wichita police reported. One of the three pulled out a gun and fired it at the teen in the 1000 block of South Wichita. The shot missed the teen. But then the shooter jammed the gun back into the waistband of his pants -- and it went off. The bullet struck the 23-year-old man in his left testicle, causing him to cringe -- which caused the gun to fire again. The second shot struck him in the left calf. Police did not release information about the size of the gun he was using at the time. The wounded man walked into Via Christi Regional Medical Center-St. Francis Campus seeking treatment, police said, and was later booked into the Sedgwick County Jail on suspicion of aggravated assault and aggravated attempted kidnapping. His companions, ages 18 and 20, were arrested for aggravated attempted kidnapping and conspiracy to obstruct justice. How classic is THIS? People, if you're going to bust caps at others, here's a simple 5 point action plan. Take notes.

Make sure you have a valid reason. A dispute over audio equipment isn't worth spending 10-20 years in prison, because them shits will be obsolete when you get out, anyway.
Get yourself a nice shoulder holster, or perhaps an inexpensive ankle holster, if you're on a budget. Draw down like a man.
If you elect to avoid the holster, try to avoid JAMMING the just-fired weapon into your waistband. That only looks cool in the movies, where their guns aren't loaded. Think. That gun is probably hot as hell. And since you just got finished shooting at someone, the safety most likely isn't on. It's common sense. Ease that muhfucka into your waistband, son.
If you accidently shoot yourself in the nutsack, take it like a man. Sure it hurts, but you gotta keep your wits (ha!) about you. Withdraw the pistol before you fire again. You already can't have kids...best to not make yourself a eunuch. Look it up, Einstein.
If you just couldn't avoid shooting yourself twice, it might not be a bad idea to go to the furtherest hospital you can reach before exsanguination sets in. See, when you roll up into an ER with GSWs (that's 'gunshot wounds' to you non- "ER", "Grey's Anatomy", or "House" watchers), the hospital staff is obligated to call the cops, just in case you were doing something stupid. Maybe tie a tourniquet around your balls and catch a bus to the next town over. That'll at least slow them down.

Just follow my simple plan, and your life of crime will be relatively stress-free. And for the record, I like Dell laptops, so...hook a brotha up. ----------------------- (from Fark) A plumber punched a customer in the face then threatened to shoot him during an argument over a job in Perth. The tradesman turned up at the 66-year-old man's house in Mosman Park in Perth's west on Friday even though he had been told he wasn't needed, a WA police spokesman said. When the man told the plumber again that he did not want him to work that day, the tradesman became aggressive. The plumber allegedly punched the man in the face then got a pistol out of his bag and threatened to shoot him. Police searching a house yesterday found a man trying to leave throught the back door. They also discovered an unlicensed .38 calibre revolver and ammunition, and a cross bow and eight bolts. A 31-year-old man was charged with assault occasioning bodily harm, threatening behaviour, possessing an unlicensed firearm, possessing unlicensed ammunition and possessing a controlled weapon. He is due to appear in Perth Magistrates Court on November 16. That's one helluva way to get a recommendation for your next job. Maybe that's how they get down in Australia. They're known for being a rough-and-tumble bunch, so maybe all this violence was just his opening negotiation tactic. Seriously, if you punch someone in the grill and then pull out your .38, you're much more likely to gain the upper hand, possibly resulting in a very positive monetary outcome during deliberations. I personally think the crossbow was his "closer". A gun is scary, but if someone whips out a damn crossbow on me, it's over like Rover. You can't even ACT tough with a crossbow aimed at you. All that action movie "Shoot me!" bullshit goes right out the window, 'cause the only thing you'll think about is an arrow sticking out of your ass as you run down the road like Wyle E. Coyote on those leg muscle pills. Unlike Mr. Shootnuts from the above story, it's even LESS cool to go to an ER with an arrow in you, victim or not. It seems to me like this man had an agenda. No one comes to a jobsite, prepared to do some plumbin', carrying an arsenal. I've had many plumbers come plumb at my house, and not one of 'em ever said "Hey, pass me that 3/8 9 millimeter Beretta torque wrench, please." That's just silly. They'd never mix metric and standard measurements. Peace.

An Open Letter to the Bitches who Robbed My Grandma

2006-11-14T09:29:00.000-06:00

Dear Criminally Insane Fuck Muffins: You don't know how much it thrilled me to hear that yesterday, my sweet 85 year old grandmother was minding her own business, shopping at K-Mart, when you decided that she would be an acceptable target for your illegal activities. How much planning did it take for you to snatch a purse from an octogenarian? Five minutes? Ten? And to make it worse (in my opinion), you tricked her into opening it before you took it. All I have to say is this: You fucking twat dollops. You sick, demented, preying-on-the-weak pieces of shit. I hope rabid porcupines butt-fuck you in a pool of rubbing alcohol. I hope spiders lay eggs on your tonsils. I hope you catch sickle cell anemia. I hope this is your third strike. I hope your eyelids get cut off, and you're forced to watch reruns of "Elimidate" until your sockets bleed. I suppose going out and getting a job is too much to ask, huh? Instead you decide that accosting an 85 year old woman, a woman who worked as a teacher for 40 years, a woman who isn't rich by any standard except wisdom and kindness, is the easiest way to get paid. I hope your parents are proud of you both, if you haven't already killed them for the insurance money. You laid in wait until my grandma walked out of the store, and one of you asked her to use her cell phone. She told you the truth - it wasn't charged. But you pressed the lie further by claiming it was an emergency, so she reached into her purse to maybe see if she could get it to turn on for a few minutes. And in that moment of vulnerability, you ripped her purse from her shoulder, jumped into the waiting car driven by Syphilis Chick #2, and said "Drive!", and you sped away with her money, her credit cards, her pictures, her cell phone, and her faith in humanity. The only thing I'm grateful for is that you were smart enough to not injure her. That would've been a very, very bad move on your part. I'm 1,000 miles away from her, but I can cover that distance with the quickness, and you better know that. I know you know where she lives - you have her driver's licence, too. But if you decide to pay her a visit, make sure your life insurance premiums are up to date, 'cause I'd hate for your funeral costs to be an additional burden on your poor family, who is already burdened enough with your mere existence. I'm all about the fun and games and joking, but I'm as serious as fucking cancer right now. I passed "pissed" about 4 exits ago. Disappear, ladies. Vanish. Crawl back under the baseboard you crawled out from, and never again let the sun shine on you. I'm serious. Stay away from her. I hope you die, slowly, painfully, and with no one around you. And I hope no one remembers you were even alive. With sincerity, Dark Damian. Fuck peace.

How NOT To Spend A Weekend

2006-11-13T12:11:00.000-06:00

Good morning, folks. You know I'm all about the education on this here blog. You know I'm one for making sure you leave here with some knowledge or information that you didn't have when you clicked my link in your favorites list. What, I'm not in your favorites list? You better rectify that, and with the quickness. I'll wait. ... OK. I have a few rambling thoughts to share today, mostly about my so-called weekend, but first let me start off by talking to my dear friend, Softball Slut. Hey. SS. You there, sweetie? Angel food cake? You readin', honeypie? You out there, muffin? I'm not usually one for rubbing NaCl into open wounds, but I got a Costco-sized box of Morton's (the one with the hot spices addded) with the safety seal removed, all set to pour a cupful into your aching flesh wound you received over the weekend. Now, I didn't do my picks on Friday because the games all looked like bad Sloppy Joes, but boy did I get a gem. Kansas State, unranked, nobody talkin' about 'em, rose up and beat down the much-vaunted defending national champion University of Texas squad, 45-42. To be fair, UT lost their phenomenal QB Colt McCoy (again, who names their child after an animal?), but last time I checked, Colt doesn't play defense (kinda like the Indianapolis Colts, but I digress), so that doesn't explain K-State running all over UT like Libby Grubman at a rave. What happened, Texas? Too many bong hits the night before? Not enough cheerleaders doing naked pyramids? K-State made you look like the new guy in prison out there. So much for defending your title. Maybe you should take up boating, UT. At least in that sport, they block and tackle. OK. I got THAT out of my system. You can be mad, SS, but I sent you some traffic, so pipe down. Your team got slipped a roofie and left in a strange bed this past weekend. Now let's talk about MY non-weekend. Friday: I worked. Duh. But after work, 7YO had his final soccer game, a makeup game that had been cancelled twice before. It was cold and windy that night, and I purposely left my whistle at home, 'cause no way was I gonna be roped into being the referee. Hell, we were the visiting team anyway, meaning we weren't responsible for supplying the ref. Score. When we got there, we found out that the other team had no one to ref. The only other parent on OUR side who could've reffed had reffed the previous weekend, when I faked a leg injury to get out of doing it. Oh yeah, I completely faked being hurt, limping like a Civil War soldier the whole time. Lame? Yes. In every sense of the word. But I didn't have to ref. I forgot to put on my lame act on Friday, though, so I relunctantly agreed to ref. I didn't even have a whistle. I just hollered real loud when the ball went out or when there was a penalty. I got hit with the ball TWICE in the first quarter, and the fans were yelling at me to get out of the way. As though I ENJOYED being hit by a kicked soccer ball on a cold night. The opposing coach got pissed with me, though, 'cause I wasn't calling penalties on the teams. Frankly, both sides were pushing and sliding, and I just wanted it to be over as fast as possible, so I just let 'em play. He wasn't happy. He was even less happy when our team won 2-1. Oh well. Maybe he should teach his kids to not kick the ball in their own goal. Just sayin'. Went home and collapsed. Saturday: Cleaned the garage. We've lived in this house for 3 months now, and the garage looks like a street in Baghdad. I swear, two merchants tried to sell me my own shit in there. We worked out a good deal, though. We had to get out there and clean it so that we could empty a storage room we were renting near our old house, 'cause we didn't have a garage there. So we cleaned. Dear merciful God, we cleaned. We alternated between cleaning and yelling at the kids for doing dumb shit while we were cleaning. After quitting (yeah, we weren't finished, we just stopped), I hung out with my boy Pilot, (not YOUR Pilot, Fresh Air) who was in town. It's been 9 years since I've seen him, and damn was it good to just hang out, eat ribs, shoot the shit, and just chill. Hopefully he'll be moving closer to me, and we'll get to see more of each other. You my boy, Pilot. Good luck today. Went home and collapsed. Sunday: I rented a big ol' U-Haul truck to go get the crap from storage. I swear, it was like slavery was reinstituted, the way we worked on Sunday. We found boxes of junk that we hadn't opened since we moved from South Carolina, meaning they've just been moving from house to house with us, not being in any way useful. Can you say "garage sale"? I can. The storage facility was part of a convenience store, so once the truck was filled, I stopped by the store to close out the account while DWW went to get lunch for everyone. As I drove up to the store, I decided to park beside the store so I wouldn't have to worry about backing out and all that. As I went around the corner of the store, I heard the worst sound in the world: CRUNCH! SKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! It was the sound of a 24' U-Haul truck hitting the hanging corner of the roof of a convenience store, and the subsequent scraping as the aforementioned truck tried to continue on as if nothing happened. I said what anyone says in that situation: "Oh, shit." Even nuns would say that. I backed up, creating an even louder screech of metal on metal, and moved the truck to the side, and jumped out. There was no getting away with it, 'cause there was a Cletus going into the store who was staring at me like I was at a Klan meeting, and I said I wanted to marry his daughter. So I had to own up to it. I walked in, and the 2 girls running the register were laughing their asses off at me. Damn if that fucker hadn't ratted me out. We walked outside to assess the damage, and the girl couldn't tell what damage I'd done. Not because it was so small (in fact, that shit was all kinds of dented up); because the REST of the roof looked smashed in, too, and obviously not from anything I had done. Thank God I got the insurance on that truck. We'll see what happens. After that ordeal, I had to drive the truck to the house, where we unloaded it and packed it all into the now-clean(er) garage. By the way, I hate books. They are...so heavy. Why do I keep them? Because I love them. Therefore I hate them. Don't try to follow my logic - you'll only trip and fall. After resting for about 30 minutes, it was time to take the truck back and go to band practice, where we proceeded to have the most awful, tiresome, monkey-fuck of a rehearsal in a LONG time. We were laughingly bad last night. And we have a show on Friday, so that was very encouraging. Went home and collapsed. Sometimes, coming to work is more restful and relaxing than being at home. Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 11/9/2006

2006-11-09T10:22:00.000-06:00

I'll tell you this much, folks - "working at home" and "taking care of your supposedly sick 3 year old" are mutually exclusive tasks, meaning you really can't do both effectively. For the last two days, I was working at home because on Day 1, 3YO spiked a fever of 102.8, which made me call the doctor so fast that I was making the appointment before I even hit "Send" on the cellie. He was pitiful on Day 1. Day 2, however, he was Captain Watch Me Daddy, as he proceeded to make a full recovery and bounce around the house like a kangaroo drinking Monsters. Why didn't I take him to daycare, you ask? Well, daycares have this rule: the child must be fever-free for 24 hours before he can return to school, so even though he was perfectly FINE yesterday, Mr. Mom had to stay home and watch Blue's Clues and Dora the Explorer on an endless loop. Swiper, no swiping! (Some of you will read that and laugh your asses off. Some of you will read that and think I'm insane. Either response works for me.) So I apologize for not getting you your fix yesterday, since I know you were fiending for your medicine. It may be a day late, but it's still works. Take this literary Robitussin. Let it soak in. ------------------- (from Bizarre News) JACKSON, Mich. - A Michigan man who said during a party game the stupidest thing he had ever done was "shot a man in the head" has been charged with murder. Jerry Rose, 29, was arraigned Friday in U.S. District Court in Jackson (Mich.) for murder and armed robbery in the death of 60-year-old Edgar Hawkes last March, the Jackson Citizen- Patriot reported. Rose's former girlfriend tipped off police that he made the admission while playing a "What's-the-stupidest-thing-you've-ever-done?" game, the newspaper said. Hawkes' wife and their 14-year-old granddaughter found him shot to death at the bottom of his basement stairs when they returned home from shopping on March 14. A large amount of cash and a .22-caliber rifle were missing from the house. Rose is jailed without bond pending a preliminary examination Nov. 15. I'm trying to imagine what was going through this mental rolodex when he was trying to figure out which of his stupid acts to share. 'Cause I'll tell you this: if he's shooting people in the head, he's not a stranger to Stupidity. I bet it was his roommate for 4 or 5 years, and I bet they even had a relationship on the DL. I mean, if you know you committed murder, and you weren't arrested, and the case is still open, how could you POSSIBLY think that you could just bust out with that type of admission in public and NOT have something bad happen? What, did he think they'd all high-five him and say "Oh, SHIT! That trumps mine, for real! All I did was forget to use a rubber, but YOU? You da man. Seriously. You da man. Who's turn is it now?" I don't mean to belittle what he did. He murdered a guy, and that some seriously heavy shit. Most crimes are pretty much solved in the first 48 hours, so this fool probably had gotten away with it, more than likely. Wouldn't you think you'd maybe keep that under your hat? There's no statute of limitations on murder. If you did it, and you got away, shut the fuck up about it. -------------------- (from Bizarre News) DUBAI (Reuters) - A two-year-old boy was briefly banned from boarding a Turkey-bound flight in the United Arab Emirates after his name appeared on a list of wanted suspects, a newspaper reported Saturday. Emirates Today said the boy's passport details, including the date of birth, matched those in an arrest warrant. The reason for the mix-up was not known. "While going through the passport checking procedures to get on board, one of the officers on duty said they wanted to take Suhail," Emirates Today quoted the boy's father, Abdullah Mohamed Saleh, as saying. "I thought he was kidding me and said 'Take him if you want'," he said. "He showed me a print-out of a document that said Suhail was wanted and there was an arrest warrant for him." Officials said they would investigate the incident, the paper reported. I'm SO GLAD they pulled this kid. Two year olds are dangerous. Have you ever picked up a two year old and have him kick you in the balls? (Or for the ladies, in the boob or uterus or coccyx or whatever?) I've been convinced for years now that kids are basically born into Al Qaeda, and only through love, compassion, and ass whippings do they convert into sweet little innocent tykes. Oh, don't act like you don't know about this. You see how they look at you, all laying in their bassinets, sucking on a Nuk and plotting against you. Ever got peed in the face by an infant? Al Qaeda. Ever had a baby throw up some Similac on your nicest shirt? Al Qaeda. Ever got hit in the head with a whiffle ball bat by a 1 year old? Al Freakin' Qaeda. They are insidious, infiltrating our homes at the most basic level. They must be stopped. And to think this kid nearly got away with it. I wonder what HE was plotting? Jelly sandwiches in the VCR? That's my guess. -------------------- (from Bizarre News) The new chaplain at Wisconsin's Waupun Correctional Institution is a Wiccan. The Rev. Jamyi Witch's hiring was defended by the state Department of Corrections, which says Witch -- and that is her real name -- met the job requirements, and barring her based on her faith would be illegal. "I minister to everyone's needs. I have no interest in converting anyone," she says. Another full-time chaplain at the facility is Protestant; only about a third of the inmates are Christian. Outraged State Rep. Mike Huebsch promises to strip funding for Witch's position, even though he previously argued for more chaplains in state prisons. OK, I can't stop laughing at the fact that the Wiccan chaplain's last name is Witch. That's just beautiful. I wonder if she was born with that name, married someone with that name, or just saw "The Craft" one time too many. Light as a feather, stiff as a board! If she was born with it, did her name determine her life path? Like, could someone whose last name is Christian become a Muslim? Could John Gentile convert to Judaism? Ah, but I digress. How funny - the state rep is mad that a Wiccan is the chaplain. I suppose this is what passes for religious tolerance in America these days. If you're Christian, especially Protestant, you're tolerated. Everyone else? Suck it. Strangely enough, this is pretty much why people fled England in the first place. The king said that the Church of England was THE religion, period, and the people who maybe didn't WANT to be in the COE decided to go someplace where they could be free to worship however they wished. I wonder what they'd think of their descendants, who now basically do the same thing they fought against so long ago. If the chaplain can do her job and help the inmates, I don't give a damn if she was into santeria or voodoo. People need to quit worrying about which God other people pray to. Here's a little secret: it's more than likely all the same entity, just with different faces. Honestly, do you think a benevolent God would send billions of Chinese people to Hell, for example, simply because they were born Chinese, and in China, and didn't have access to Christianity? Oy. I'm gonna stop now, 'cause this soapbox is getting a tad high. Peace.

Nonetheless Halloween Show Pics!

2006-11-07T07:38:00.000-06:00

Here's a film loop put together by a fan of the band. This is a LOT easier than posting 40 odd pictures for your enjoyment. I gotta say, the coolest part of the show was also the hottest - the fire breathers. We also had an on-stage costume contest, some prize giveaways, and all sorts of fun shit. We had an absolute blast, and the show was terrific. Out next show is November 17 at Curtain Club. If you live in Dallas and you're not there, live weasels will infest your closet and wear all your leather and cashmere sweaters out in public. They will then run up your credit cards on Blockbuster rentals (never returned) and call your friends from your cell phone and tell them vicious lies about you. Oh, and one very true thing that you do NOT want in circulation. So see, it's in your best interest to be there.

Peace!

Damian's Dark Picks - 11/3/2006 - Results!

2006-11-06T09:32:00.000-06:00

Oy. I don't feel so good. Do y'all 'member how I was telling all y'all to make bets based on my picks, and that I'm a genius, and that you should call me Negrodamus, and send me money, and so forth and so on? Well, why don't we just slow down my roll a tad, shall we? This weekend didn't LOOK like it would be so tough, but I think I must've pulled something when I was doing my victory celebration last week. People, I'm hurting. I let my hubris get the best of me; I let my pride tell me I was King Mack Daddy Ace Pimp Kool Masta Fresh Lover Bad-Ass Home Slice DJ Sweetness Number One Chief Rocka. My prognosticative abilities have failed me, and I stand before you a humbled man, a man who now knows that pride goeth before the fall or whatever. I'm sorry if you bet money, using my picks. Uh, did you happen to see the note stating that management (me) is not responsible for any losses incurred due to wagers made based on the nonprofessional sports predictions made by this writer? No? Well, re-read that long sentence and remember that I DON'T owe you $250. Lozo. I'm not going to try to impress you with my mad skills anymore. Although it's hard to tell with the written word, my decision to NOT wow you with my predictive prognosticative prowess lasted just long enough to watch Peyton Manning throw a touchdown to Marvin Harrison, and watch the extra point kick. So that's what, a minute and a half? I mean, they did have a penalty. I can't help it. I had a bad week this week, but sometimes a lucky horseshoe can land on your rabbit's foot, which crushes your four-leaf clover. God, I've REALLY got to start taking my ADD meds on Sundays. ------------------------------------------------ #13 LSU (6-2) at #8 Tennessee (7-1) Yards Per Game: LSU 422.4, TENN 411.3 Points Per Game: LSU 35.9, TENN 32.3 Yards Allowed: LSU 221.1, TENN 307.8 Points Allowed: LSU 8.3, TENN 19.1 Prediction: 28-21 Tennessee Outcome: 28-24 LSU Loss #1. This was probably the best game of the day, with both teams going back and forth. I knew it was dangerous to try to pick this game, given that both schools are in the SEC, and both are ranked, but if I stick to your Akron vs. Ball State matchups, where's the intrigue? Where's the danger? Where's the payoff if I'm right? And you know I would be. I was so hoping Tennessee would win this, if for no other reason than to piss off all those crazy-ass cajun LSU fans. They're dangerous. Damian: 0-1 -------------------------- #16 Boston College (7-1) at #22 Wake Forest (7-1) Yards Per Game: BC 367.3, WAKE 311.6 Points Per Game: BC 27.4, WAKE 23.1 Yards Allowed: BC 336.3, WAKE 330.3 Points Allowed: BC 14.9, WAKE 15 Prediction: 24-20 BC Outcome: 21-14 Wake Forest Loss #2. I hate you both. I hate you, BC, because you beat us in double overtime by blocking an extra point. I hate Wake Forest because your Wake Forest, and that's reason enough. You both suck, and I wish your game ended in a tie. But it didn't. Wake had to go and make me look like a fool, something I need NO help with at all. Fine. Enjoy your little victory, Wake. Just remember - you were undefeated until you met us. Just like we were undefeated before we met BC. Meh. Nevermind. Damian: 0-2 --------------------------- #18 Oklahoma (6-2) at #21 Texas A&M (8-1) Yards Per Game: OKLA 389.1, TAMU 437.6 Points Per Game: OKLA 30.9, TAMU 33 Yards Allowed: OKLA 298.1, TAMU 325.3 Points Allowed: OKLA 15.1, TAMU 18.9 Prediction: 33-24 Oklahoma (Sorry, Metalchick. I don't think TAMU can stop their new RB.) Outcome: 17-16 Oklahoma YAY! I got one! I got one! I - I mean, of course I got one. I'm me. But GOD, did it have to be so CLOSE? I love that it makes me look like a genius, but I much prefer a wider margin of victory. TAMU almost made me a liar. The NEXT time I pick you to win, Mobilehoma, you better do that shit with more enthusiasm. I know when you're faking it. And I don't appreciate that. Damian: 1-2 ------------------------- Washington (4-5) at #24 Oregon (6-2) Yards Per Game: WASH 369.7, ORE 470.9 Points Per Game: WASH 23.3, ORE 36.6 Yards Allowed: WASH 394.8, ORE 317.4 Points Allowed: WASH 25, ORE 23.9 Prediction: 42-14 Oregon Outcome: 34-14 Oregon Well. I got THIS one right. I even nailed the loser's score, though I overestimated the Ducks' final. Maybe they just got tired or something. Maybe they felt sorry for me, knowing that I suck more this week than hookers at a Hoover convention. Maybe they saw the Clemson game (below) and realized that I need a hug in the worst way. Whatever went down, I'm glad that at least ONE team had the balls to go out there and win a game in the way that I commanded them to. Thank you, Oregon Ducks. Your uniforms are uglier than sin on a Sunday, but your hearts are pure. Damian: 2-2 ------------------------ Maryland (6-2) at #19 Clemson (7-2) Yards Per Game: MD 310.5, CLEM 429.7 Points Per Game: MD 24.1, CLEM 38.3 Yards Allowed: MD 373.6, CLEM 257.7 Points Allowed: MD 22, CLEM 13.8 Prediction: 45-20 Clemson Outcome: 13-12 Maryland Don't even get me started. I would rather get BLOWN OUT than to lose a game like this, on a last-second field goal to an INFERIOR team. Virginia Tech beat us at Virginia Tech? OK, I can eat that shit sandwich, because they are traditionally a good football team. And we DID play them in their home stadium. But THIS? This is unacceptable. Clemson just went from #10 to #19 to unranked, in a span of 3 short weeks. Goodbye, BCS bowl, hello beautiful Boise, Idaho in December! God. I can feel bile rising in my throat. At the cusp of greatness, we snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Again. Gah! Someone give me something to drink. Not Tang though - it's orange. I've had enough orange for today. *Sigh* Don't walk away, Clemson. I didn't mean it. You know I love you, baby. I'm just hurt and confused and I just can't understand why you have to BE like this, almost every season. You're so good, baby. Go out there and BE good! Don't sink to the level of your competition like this. You are a star. Go shine! Damian: 2-3 My first losing week. I don't know what to say. 27-8 doesn't suck, but damn - I was 25-5 just last week, and now my whole Negrodamus persona is crumbling faster than a gingerbread factory in Tikrit during an earthquake. (Tikrit is in Iraq. Learn your geography.) Hopefully next week I'll return to my normal winner status, and leave the memory of this awful week in the dust. Have a good week, citizens. Peace.

Damian's Dark Picks -- 11/3/2006

2006-11-03T08:58:00.000-06:00

Happy Friday, sports fans! Before I dive into this weekend's picks, I'd like to share a funny story. You know I'm full of 'em. A couple months ago, I was sitting at my desk at work when my cell rang. I'm a popular guy, and my cell rings all the damn time, so this wasn't unusual. The ensuing conversation, however, was very different. It was my good friend Hail, according to caller ID. I hadn't heard from her in a while, so I was kinda excited to answer the phone. Me: "Hey, Hail! What's shakin', mamacita?" Hail: "Hi! May I speak to Jesse McCartney?" Me (thinking I misheard her): "Do what, now?" Hail (with urgency): "May I PLEASE speak to JESSE...MCCARTNEY?" Me: "Are you high? This is Damian." Hail: "Yes, I understand. But I'm calling for JESSE MCCARTNEY, OK?" Me: "You are certifiable. You called DAMIAN!" Hail (to her son in the car): "Baby, they're trying to get him on the phone right now, OK? Just hold on. (to me) Listen; it's EXTREMELY IMPORTANT that I get JESSE on the phone. Do you UNDERSTAND what I'm SAYING?" Me (understanding what she was saying): "Ooooooooooooooooh! I gotcha. Yes. Jesse's right here." Hail (to her son): "Here he is, baby. Talk to him!" Hailson: "Hello?" Me (with my voice pitched 2 octaves higher): "Hi, Hailson! This is Jesse! How're you doing today?" Hailson (not buying it): "Ok. Is this REALLY Jesse McCartney?" Now I was faced with a dilemma. Do I carry on with the charade, with a 4 year old who was CLEARLY not believing me, or do I drop it and totally disappoint him, and incur the wrath of Hail? I've felt the wrath of Hail before. It ain't pleasant. I did the only thing I could do in that situation. Me: "Hailson, do you know my songs?" Hailson: "Yeah...I like 'Right Where You Want Me'." Me (sighing and singing): "BA-BY, take me on a JOUR-NEY, I been thinking LATELY that I could use, a little more time with you...you got me. Right. Where. You. WANT. ME!" Hailson: "YAY!!!" Me (after muting and coughing): "I have to go now, Hailson. It was SO good to talk to you! You take care and listen to your momma, ok?" Hailson: "OK! Bye!" Hail: "Thank you." Me: "Oh, you owe my ass. You owe me BIG." Hail: "Bitch, please. I was Britney Spears last week." The things we do for our kids. EDIT: Click here to find out who the hell Jesse McCartney is. Non-kid having folks. Alright - let's see who's gonna win some games this weekend! And may I just say that I'm SO happy to have HDH as a new reader. You all know HDW. HDH is her other half. Make him feel welcome. Let's do this! ----------------- #13 LSU (6-2) at #8 Tennessee (7-1) Yards Per Game: LSU 422.4, TENN 411.3 Points Per Game: LSU 35.9, TENN 32.3 Yards Allowed: LSU 221.1, TENN 307.8 Points Allowed: LSU 8.3, TENN 19.1 Prediction: 28-21 Tennessee -------------------------- #16 Boston College (7-1) at #22 Wake Forest (7-1) Yards Per Game: BC 367.3, WAKE 311.6 Points Per Game: BC 27.4, WAKE 23.1 Yards Allowed: BC 336.3, WAKE 330.3 Points Allowed: BC 14.9, WAKE 15 Prediction: 24-20 BC --------------------------- #18 Oklahoma (6-2) at #21 Texas A&M (8-1) Yards Per Game: OKLA 389.1, TAMU 437.6 Points Per Game: OKLA 30.9, TAMU 33 Yards Allowed: OKLA 298.1, TAMU 325.3 Points Allowed: OKLA 15.1, TAMU 18.9 Prediction: 33-24 Oklahoma (Sorry, Metalchick. I don't think TAMU can stop their new RB.) ------------------------- Washington (4-5) at #24 Oregon (6-2) Yards Per Game: WASH 369.7, ORE 470.9 Points Per Game: WASH 23.3, ORE 36.6 Yards Allowed: WASH 394.8, ORE 317.4 Points Allowed: WASH 25, ORE 23.9 Prediction: 42-14 Oregon ------------------------ Maryland (6-2) at #19 Clemson (7-2) Yards Per Game: MD 310.5, CLEM 429.7 Points Per Game: MD 24.1, CLEM 38.3 Yards Allowed: MD 373.6, CLEM 257.7 Points Allowed: MD 22, CLEM 13.8 Prediction: 45-20 Clemson Check back on Monday to see how I did. HDH, I only track games involving members of the Top 25, otherwise I'd be all over OSU this week. Tell 'em to hurry up and get ranked. Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 11/1/2006

2006-11-01T09:14:00.000-06:00

Just felt like throwing up a couple of summer pics of 7YO and 3YO (soon to be 4YO). Damn I make good lookin' babies. And they look just like me, too. Good morning, folks! Ready to get your weekly fix of pipin' hot diatribe? This one has a slight Halloween flavor, as though it tripped and fell as it was running toward November 1st, dragging its tail through October 31st. I hate it when I get the end of a month on my tail. --------------------- (from Bizarre News) South Coffeyville, Oklahoma - A man died after his head slammed into the side of a trailer as he bungee jumped out of a tree to frighten passengers on a Halloween-themed hay ride, authorities said. "The cable that kept him suspended snapped," said Kassie Johnson, who was on the ride when the accident occurred. "At first I thought it was just a dummy falling out of the tree. The trailer bumped up in the air when he hit. Then everyone started screaming." Kester, who was wearing a body harness, also hit a passenger's foot as he fell. The passenger was not seriously hurt and was treated at the scene. Undersheriff Doug Sonenberg said the investigation was not complete. "But right now it looks like a tragic accident," he said. The 2.4km long trail, which was open on Friday and Saturday, raises money for the community's volunteer fire department. Kester was among more than 100 volunteers who participated. Good God, when will white people stop jumping off shit to get thrills or to scare people? Seems like there's always some silly story like this happening around Halloween, the high holy day of rampant stupidity. Don't get me wrong...I feel badly for this man's family and all the grief they must be suffering. But seriously - bungee jumping to scare people during a hay ride? That's some straight-up white people shit right there. That dude was ASKING to get fucked up in some manner. I will tell you this - if he bungee jumped in front of ME, he'd be missing a couple teeth from where I karate kicked him out of pure fear. Black people don't just scream and run. We lash out at that which frightens us. Have y'all seen that video clip from a few years back where the black guy was walking up to the porch during Halloween? There was a life-sized scarecrow on the porch, and when the brotha get near enough, the real-life man in the scarecrow suit moved or whatever, and that brother hit him in his grill, even as he was screaming and backpedaling. Scaring people is a dangerous occupation. But bungee jumping? Out of a tree? Stupidity. --------------------------- (from Bizarre News) (AHN) -- A German court ruled that a witch had to pay her client back the fee for a love potion that did not work. The woman client did the prescribed ritual for six months before complaining. The witch had to repay the $1,275 she charged. The court said she had offered a service that was "objectively completely impossible." The client said she was trying to get a man back who ended a relationship with her in 2003. Although the witch said she never offered a guarantee on her product, the court said "a love ritual is not suited to influencing a person from a distance." Niiiiiiice. The witch blamed the distance for not having Love Potion #9 kick in. I bet that woman was all sitting outside the guy's crib, waiting for his medicine to catch hold like it does in the Pepe LePew cartoons. Can't you just see her, chasing him around like that cat after the cat fell into the water and washed away the painted white stripe, and LePew had fallen into that bucket of blue paint? She was all sneezing and shit, stalking him DOWN, while he was backing out faster than French troops in Afghanistan. This woman is the dumb one, buying a damn love potion. And spending $1275 for it! Shit, for that money, she coulda gotten a new dress, got her hair and nails did, bought some pumps, a new purse, and gotten herself a NEW man. This witch was just tryin' to get paid, people. Don't hate the playa; hate the game. ------------------------- (from Bizarre News) Fern Park, FL -- A 15-year-old boy was arrested after he stole a bus and began driving a route and collecting fares from passengers along a public transit route on Saturday. Authorities said the boy was arrested during incident. The teenager, Ritchie Calvin Davis, drove the bus from the Central Florida Fairgrounds in Orlando, where it was pending an auction sale. The bus is owned by Central Florida Transportation Agency. Davis told the deputies who arrested him at the scene: "I drove that bus better than most of the LYNX drivers could," adding, "There isn't a scratch on it. I know how to start it, drive it, lower it, raise it." The 15-year old observed the required speeds and all the stops along the route. One of the passengers, however, suspicious Davis' boyish looks and dialed 911. The teenager had two passengers on board when deputies pulled him over; 12 miles from his departure point. The teenager has since been charged with auto theft and driving without a license. Davis committed a similar offense back in January. He stole a tour bus and drove passengers around; again, without incident. He was still on probation from the January incident when he was arrested over the weekend. This kid REALLY wants to be a bus driver. And they should hire his ass, not arrest him. That punk-ass person who dialed 911 should be smacked with wet fish until he breaks out in hives. Swear, if I was getting to my stops on time, and he wasn't driving the thing like Sandra Bullock in "Speed", why would I even CARE if he was 12? Shit, I'd give him a fat-ass tip for driving so well, not bust him on it. Haters. If I was one of the 2 passengers on board when the cops pulled him over, I woulda filed a complaint against THEM for getting me to work late. I bet his momma told him to go get a job, and then when he DID, he got persecuted. His name even sounds like a good bus driver name: Ritchie Calvin Davis. Kid needs to move to Dallas. He'd get PAID. Peace.

Halloween in the Heezy fo' Sheezy

2006-10-31T11:36:00.000-06:00

God, I love Halloween. It's the one day out of the year where it's OK for a grown-ass man to act like a little kid. Unlike the other 363 days out of the year, where I also act like a little kid, but it's not OK. And before you dispute my mad math skills, I usually take one day a year off to act like an adult. Don't even try to catch me in a mistake. I'm unmistakable. I had a most humbling experience last night on the way home from work. I'm busy driving, laughing my ass off to the Raw Dog channel on Sirius satellite radio (if you haven't gotten a sat radio yet, you're past tense. Go get one now before you're made to use rotary phones.) when all of a sudden I hear that dreaded flapping sound that no driver wants to hear. I had a flat. No biggie - I'm a manly man, and I for DAMN sure know how to change a tire. So I pull over into a parking lot, break out the jack, get the spare, and proceed to jack the Jeep up to remove the flat. I had a 5 inch gash in that bitch, so I hit something pretty hard. I get the flat off, and go to put on the spare. I couldn't get it on.

The Jeep was jacked up high enough, so I cranked until the crank said "Oh KAY! You can fuckin' STOP now!" I try again to put the tire on. No dice. The holes for the lugs were about 4 inches too high. What the fuck? I've changed tires before. So I tried to put the flat back on so that I could lower the Jeep down again, but...I couldn't get THAT one on either. Great. I lowered the Jeep all the way down until it was resting on the naked wheel. I moved the jack to a different spot and tried again. Nothing. Twice more I tried that bullshit, going so far as to actually jack the truck up under the hitch. The damn truck simply wouldn't go any higher, and I was out of patience and ideas. I sent a text to The Pirate, because I was mad and venting, and she's good with the venting. She offered to help. Oh HELLS no! Male pride would NOT allow me to accept that offer, even if she WAS within 1000 miles of my location. Heffa. I stopped replying. I called DWW. At first she said "Do you want me to come there?" I'd walk home, bouncing the spare tire like a basketball before I had her come rescue me like that. Then she said the three words I really, really didn't want to hear:

"Call Triple A."

A man calling Triple A to fix a flat tire is like him calling the fire department because his grill is "a little hot". It's an admission of failure, and it burned my soul to dial that 800 number. That bastard who took my information was laughing at me, too. I know he was. All saying shit like "Oh, I didn't even know they HAD Washington Mutual banks out there. Interesting." I mean, just send the damn tow truck to me, ok? I don't need you ridiculing me. What's so "interesting" about me pulling into a bank parking lot, unless you just wanna laugh at me about not being able to fix a flat? I half expected him to ask me if the guys needed to adjust my panties when they got there. Grrr.

I was redeemed, though, when the tow truck guys arrived. They took one look at the Jeep, and they both said "Aw, shit. A Jeep." Apparently Jeeps have these things called "leaf springs" or something on the rear wheels, so that when you jack the Jeep up, those springs allow the wheel to sag downward. The only place to put the jack is under the differential, or the "wheel stick", as I called it last night when the dude showed me. Vindication!! I wasn't a girlie man after all. They applauded my efforts, and while I only had $2.80 to tip them, I DID give them a Nonetheless CD and told them to come to a show sometime, and I'd buy 'em a beer. Good guys.

When I FINALLY got home, I had to carve a pumpkin for Halloween. Now, I don't have the mad carving skills of Dirk, but I can throw down a little, especially for a left-handed mofo:

Ignore the missing ear on the bat. I pulled a little too eagerly when I was putting the finishing touches on. Oh, well. The boys seem to like it, but I think it's craptacular myself. I've done better. Hell, next year I'll hire an expert: OJ Simpson. You KNOW that bastard's pumpkins look TIGHT! He's an excellent carver.

At work today we're having costume contest. For the individual portion I'll be dressed in that gorgeous ensemble I debuted in the Confessional post. But for the group, the theme is "mimes", so here's me as a hippie mime:

Don't I look just like I was in that movie "Dead Presidents" with Larenz Tate? Look it up on IMDB.com. You'll see. EDIT: Here I am in the full-blown hippie get-up. Jimi Hendrix, eat your heart out. Oh, wait. Nevermind. God, I'm fat. Our mime group won second place to a bunch of hookers and pimps. Nice.

Tonight is trick-or-treating, or as I like to call it, "No, you CAN'T have just one more peanut butter cup, 'cause I'm saving some for me. Don't you HAVE a daddy?" Night. It oughta be fun.

Peace! EXTRA SORRY EDIT: Fyrchk. Sweetie. I am *so* sorry! I totally didn't mean to overlook your JONX-ASS birthday on Sunday, love. Forgive me. Don't lock me up. Don't beat me down with your night stick or your taser or your sap. Just remember that on your birthday, I was in pain and overly tired. People — go to Fyr's site, leave her comments, and beg her to update her shit - I mean, wish her a belated happy birthday. I woulda sent you a gift, but the file wouldn't fit in the cake I baked. Mad love. Happy belated birthday, dear. Much love to you, fellow charter member.

Damian's Dark Picks -- 10/27/2006 - Results!

2006-10-30T11:59:00.000-06:00

My God, what a weekend! Let's see if I can fly through this quickly and with lucidity.

I refereed yet ANOTHER soccer game on Saturday. This time, though, there was a casualty - me. As I was changing directions in the 3rd quarter (they play quarters at this level), I felt something pull in my right calf. I thought it was just a cramp, and I ain't no punk, so I just kept on playing. Walking back to the house, though, it was hurting pretty good. I put some heat on it when I got home, and I rested until time to go to the gig. Oh, speaking of the game, the opposing coach that day was a total dick. He was screaming at his kids, like this was the World Cup or something. His team looked scared, and I felt bad for them. The parents were acting out too, and it wouldn't've taken much for me to call the game because of that. But ANYWAY, I was alright the rest of the day, even through the show that night. I went to sleep at 4:30am with it throbbing. I woke up at 7:30am with it hurting like angry dwarves had stabbed me several times during the night. Thinking it was a charlie horse, I tried to walk it off, but it really wasn't into exercise, and the pain didn't go away. The calf was tender to the touch, not all hard and knotted like a charlie horse. So, ladies and gents, I do believe I pulled a muscle. Yay me. It still hurts today.
Ah, the show. People, let me tell you - my band fucking rocks. I'm not the type of guy who will tell you shit like that and not believe it. We're good. We had an EXCELLENT show! We had fire-breathers (2 of 'em), a dance routine (featuring me and Jmart doing a hip-thrusting dance routine from "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air". I'm not kidding.), and a costume contest, and that was just while WE were on stage! The entire band was in costume. We even got interviewed by a television reporter outside! We got so much love that night...over 60 people came out to see us, and they all pressed against the stage (except when the fire-breathers were there, 'cause nobody wants to go home without eyebrows claiming a chick in a girl scout uniform singed 'em off by spitting fire outta her mouth). When we were done, they chanted our name. Let me tell you the definition of "pure performance joy": it's when you do something that people like so much, they say your name, over and over, and beg you to do more. That, friends, is intoxicating as hell. I'll have some pictures of the night, including me in my costume AND pics of Jmart and I doing our mutual hip-thrust dance. Hopefully I'll have those by the end of the week. The other bands said we're the tightest group they've ever been around, and more than one was utterly surprised that we aren't signed yet. All in due time. We don't even like to think about that. We're just trying to make the best music possible, for ourselves and for our fans. We'd be nowhere if the fans didn't come out to support us.

OK, enough babbling. Let's see how I did with the picks. #9 Florida at Georgia, in Jacksonville Yards Per Game: UGA 328.9, FLA 403.4 Points Per Game: UGA 26.3, FLA 27.3 Yards Allowed: UGA 281.9, FLA 273.9 Points Allowed: UGA 16.6, FLA 12 Prediction: 24-21 Florida Outcome: 21-14 Florida Show me love. Just show it to me - I can't afford to keep it. Damian: 1-0 #8 Tennessee at South Carolina Yards Per Game: TENN 422, SC 359.4 Points Per Game: TENN 32.4, SC 22.7 Yards Allowed: TENN 293.9, SC 311.6 Points Allowed: TENN 18.4, SC 14 Prediction: 35-10 Tennessee (I Hate U of SC) Outcome: 31-24 Tennessee Apparently Tenn. had to stage a comeback to win this totally winnable game against inferior competition. Whatev - they won, and that's good for me. Damian: 2-0 #19 Oklahoma at #23 Missouri Yards Per Game: OKLA 392.3, MIZZ 435.1 Points Per Game: OKLA 31.6, MIZZ 33.1 Yards Allowed: OKLA 287.4, MIZZ 307.3 Points Allowed: OKLA 15.9, MIZZ 14.6 Prediction: 24-17 Oklahoma Outcome: 26-10 Oklahoma I need to start betting the spread, since none of you will help a brotha out by betting YOUR money, and just kicking me 10% when you win. Bitches. Damian: 3-0 #7 Auburn at Ole Miss Yards Per Game: AUB 352.3, MISS 270.5 Points Per Game: AUB 27.3, MISS 13 Yards Allowed: AUB 302.3, MISS 382.4 Points Allowed: AUB 12.3, MISS 25.6 Prediction: 33-9 Auburn Outcome: 23-17 Auburn Or maybe not. This game was closer than that song by Nine Inch Nails (which my band covers at our shows. Holla.) Keep your money in your pocket, people. Damian: 4-0 Miami at #21 Georgia Tech Yards Per Game: MIA 358.7, GT 344.3 Points Per Game: MIA 23.4, GT 25.6 Yards Allowed: MIA 269.6, GT 304.1 Points Allowed: MIA 12.7, GT 18.3 Prediction: 20-17 Miami (Upset special!) Outcome: 30-21 Georgia Tech The only one upset is me. God, Miami sucks more this year than....nah, it's too easy. I need to challenge myself more with my analogies. Damian: 4-1 This week's record of 4-1 brings my overall total to 25-5 on the season. I'm a weiner! I'm a real weiner! If I ever get some dough, it's on like Donkey Kong, folks. And when I'm sipping chilled Tang out of crystal goblets at my mansion, I'll remember you, and how you didn't help a brotha out. That's alright though, 'cause if you try to roll up on me, I'll have some natives from South America stand guard with blowguns to take you out. You wanna fuck with a headhunting cannibal with a blowgun? I didn't think so. Peace!

Damian's Dark Picks -- 10/27/2006

2006-10-27T09:58:00.000-05:00

Fucking Clemson, I swear. I love you, I truly do, but you make me crazy. Finally, after years of struggle, you make it back into the top 10. Yeah, baby. One of the best 10 teams in the country. Then what do you do? You go out on a Thursday night, wearing all white like you're a virgin or whatever, and you basically give it up to an unranked Virginia Tech team who was more than willing to see if you put out on the first date. Damn you, Clemson. Did you HAVE to go and lose 24-7 on national TV? Gawd. It's appalling. I don't even wanna talk about it anymore. So much for a BCS bowl, guys, and you can pretty much rule out an ACC championship, too. Would you like to see our fine selection of Continental Tire Bowls, or perhaps a lovely Gator Bowl? Step this way, please. --------------- My band Nonetheless is gigging tomorrow night, people, and let me tell you - it's gonna be an event. If you're in town or nearby, you HAVE to come out. We're gonna be at Tomcats in Deep Ellum, our home away from home. There's gonna be a costume contest, with the winner receiving a $50 bar tab. And the band will be in costume. Oh, yes. And you KNOW I'll have pictures of that craziness. We've got a few important dates coming up over the next couple of months, so if you're nearby, try to come out.

Oct 28 at Tomcats
Nov 17 at Curtain Club (Oh yeah, baby!)
Dec 9 at Tomcats (Ryan's House benefit show)
Dec 31 at Tomcats (ENORMOUS New Year's Eve Bash with prizes for all)

As always, check us out at www.ntlband.com or on our Myspace site to get all the details. AND... I just found out that the local Jack FM 100.3 station here is gonna start playing our music, and they're gonna promote tomorrow night's show!! Excited much? Oh yes! Let's get to pickin'! I'm not even doing the pictures this week - just the teams. I'm in a hurry. #9 Florida at Georgia, in Jacksonville Yards Per Game: UGA 328.9, FLA 403.4 Points Per Game: UGA 26.3, FLA 27.3 Yards Allowed: UGA 281.9, FLA 273.9 Points Allowed: UGA 16.6, FLA 12 Prediction: 24-21 Florida #8 Tennessee at South Carolina Yards Per Game: TENN 422, SC 359.4 Points Per Game: TENN 32.4, SC 22.7 Yards Allowed: TENN 293.9, SC 311.6 Points Allowed: TENN 18.4, SC 14 Prediction: 35-10 Tennessee (I Hate U of SC) #19 Oklahoma at #23 Missouri Yards Per Game: OKLA 392.3, MIZZ 435.1 Points Per Game: OKLA 31.6, MIZZ 33.1 Yards Allowed: OKLA 287.4, MIZZ 307.3 Points Allowed: OKLA 15.9, MIZZ 14.6 Prediction: 24-17 Oklahoma #7 Auburn at Ole Miss Yards Per Game: AUB 352.3, MISS 270.5 Points Per Game: AUB 27.3, MISS 13 Yards Allowed: AUB 302.3, MISS 382.4 Points Allowed: AUB 12.3, MISS 25.6 Prediction: 33-9 Auburn Miami at #21 Georgia Tech Yards Per Game: MIA 358.7, GT 344.3 Points Per Game: MIA 23.4, GT 25.6 Yards Allowed: MIA 269.6, GT 304.1 Points Allowed: MIA 12.7, GT 18.3 Prediction: 20-17 Miami (Upset special!) Have a great weekend, folks. Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 10/26/2006

2006-10-26T10:03:00.000-05:00

God. I still feel like a bowl of reheated ass, cooked too long. I don't get sick often, but when I do, it puts me down like a pit bull that bit someone. Today is my first day back in the office, in fact, though I've been working all week from home. No naps, no nothing, just me, "Rockford Files", and the laptop. I did get to see "Inside Man" with Denzel the other day, though, and may I just say this: Is there any genre of movie better than the heist genre? You know what I'm talking about. Think "The Italian Job". I LOVE a movie that has an intricately planned heist, especially one that makes you say "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!" at the end of it. This was one of those flicks. Rent it, see it, love it. Now. Since I DID manage to drag ass into the office, I suppose I should deliver this one day late diatribe to you. But don't worry about it being yesterday's news - it's ALWAYS yesterday's news. So sit back, grab some Cheetos, stretch out, and prepare to be mystified at the stupidity of humanity. I know I am. On with the 'tribe. ----------------------------- (From News of the Weird) In September, police in the Georgia towns of Perry and Americus were investigating incidents probably involving the same unnamed man, who provided an additional dimension to the typical foot-fetishist: religion. An 80-year-old Wal-Mart shopper in Perry reported that the man was sitting on the floor of an aisle and asked her for help with his "religious" ritual. The lady accommodated him by stepping on his hands and then spitting on him, but when he began to lick her feet, she called for help. This type of thing seems to happen every week somewhere: some freak with a foot fetish starts licking heels or sniffing shoes or something, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it's illegal to do that with an unwilling participant. Once again, I question: what part of the brain tells you that this is a good idea? Is it the same part that makes you drive home drunk as a skunk? Is it the same part that makes you diss the girl who is interested in you, even though you haven't had vagina since vagina had you? (Come on, man. You haven't been on a date since the century number started with "19". Don't be all picky now. She's nice. Roll with it.) I can understand having a foot fetish. I have a mild one my damn self. But no part of me would be down with walking up to some random chick at Wal-Mart and asking to handle her feet. Hell, they might be crusty or something. Licking a strange, crusty-footed woman's foot? Damn all that. ----------------------- (From News of the Weird) LaToya Joplin was arrested in July in Ypsilanti Township, Mich., and charged with killing her daughter, Kayla, 3, despite her statements to a sheriff's detective (read in court in an August hearing) that she, and not Kayla, was the real victim. The detective said Joplin told him "she was the one who was abused when she disciplined Kayla, because she would strike her to the point that her hand was throbbing." She was forced to keep hitting her, she said, because Kayla never said "ouch." Remember a few posts back, when I advocated spanking? Well, I still do. Spare the rod and spoil the child. But this shit here ain't spanking, people. This was assault and battery at the minimum, and most likely straight-up murder. This bitch needs to roast for this awful crime. She was forced to keep hitting her because the little girl didn't say ouch? What the fuck kind of BULLSHIT statement is that? And to make herself out to be the victim....she has zero remorse. None. This is the one time that I hope she doesn't get the death penalty (I'm not even sure if they have it in Michigan). I want her to live a long, long life. I want them to convict her, and I want her sentence to be this: convicted felons dig a hole that's about 4 feet in diameter and approximately 25 feet deep, straight down. They then cement the walls and floor of the hole, making a nice, smooth surface, reminiscent of a freshly-waxed 'gina. I want some high-quality JBL speakers mounted about 10 feet from the bottom of the hole, and I want them to play sounds of children laughing and playing, and maybe some Christian rap on a continuous loop. Then I want LaToya gently lowered into her new cell, carefully so as to not injure her. When she gets to the bottom, that's it. I want her food to be thrown in, once a day, and I do NOT want a drain installed in the floor. Every 30 days I want her tranquilized like a wild animal, lifted out, hosed down, and sent back into her smelly hell hole. If she gets sick, I want her treated with the best possible medical care until she's at full health. And I want this to continue in perpetuity. ----------------------- (From News of the Weird) In September, following complaints of diners, the health department in Springfield, Mo., notified restaurants that Debby Rose's "assistance monkey" could not be permitted to dine with her (in a high chair), even though Rose said she suffers from a disabling social phobia that she can accommodate only if "Richard" (a bonnet macaque monkey) is with her. Monkeys are generally permitted under the Americans with Disabilities Act if they perform certain tasks, as capuchin monkeys have been trained to fetch groceries from shelves for wheelchair-using patrons. However, animals that provide only emotional support fall into a gray area, according to a U.S. Justice Department spokesperson quoted by the Springfield News-Leader. Look at these people, all hatin' on poor Debby and her monkey Richard. If I saw a woman in a restaurant, eating with a monkey, I'd just assume that was her date from Match.com or something, you know? And I wouldn't judge her. That monkey might have a lot to offer, maybe even more than her pot-growing ex-boyfriend who CLAIMED to have a job at Home Depot, but never actually went in because "they keep fucking with my hours". This is the same boyfriend who never has money for the light bill, but damn if he can't buy a $150 Fathead.com static sticker of a life-sized Peyton Manning to put on the living room wall. And THEN asks Debby if he can borrow some money from her to pay HIS half of the phone bill. Surely the monkey is a better partner than THAT sour douche. He SAVED her! She was a recluse until he came along, a hermit in her own home. But did the people in the restaurant even ASK about the situation? Probably not. They just judged her and moved on, nevermind the consequences. I bet if THEY had some hot monkey lovin', they'd change their tune. 'Cause you know what they say: once you go ape, you'll never escape. Peace.

I have an AWESOME State Fair post for you...

2006-10-24T11:23:00.000-05:00

...but it ain't this one, 'cause I'm sick and too busy with work to write it up. Suffice it to say that people in the state of Texas will fry anything and eat it. In lieu of that post (which will be hilarious, when I write it), I give you this warmed-over, get-you-by bullshit to last you until El Diatribe tomorrow. Don't bitch. I cared enough to try to entertain. Yes. I did this one twice, just to see if you were paying attention. Some of you passed, some of you were like me in my Ceramic Engineering - Materials Science class in my sophomore year at Clemson. Let's just say that the professor told me not to even bother taking the final, 'cause I had no chance of passing the class, regardless of my grade. I took it anyway, thinking that maybe if I got a B, he'd pass me with a D or whatever. I got a 42 on the final. It was open book and open note. That English major was suuuuuuure looking good after that. Anyway, I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I'm gonna go rest. I'll throw up a diatribe tomorrow. Or I'll just throw up. Either way. Peace.

Damian's Dark Picks -- 10/20/2006 -- Results!

2006-10-22T10:13:00.000-05:00

Alright. I'm shortening this little feature, just supplying my picks without commentary, at least until the results are posted. Y'all don't seem to like it that much anyway, and I'm only in it to look like a genius (which isn't tough), so I can streamline the diatribe-style intro shit for each game, focusing on the picks themselves, and leaving me some mental room to talk about other shit. Like this. The other day I was getting my boys ready for school, as I do every day. I'm a full service dad, and you better recognize. Anyway, we had gotten a couple of those frozen french toast and sausage meals for 7YO to experiment with, and I decided to give him one that morning for breakfast. I knew 3YO wouldn't want one, so I was all set to give him grits (we're southern), cereal, pop-tarts, grapes, or whatever else he might want. But naturally, when he saw that hot, steaming pile of french toast (which was soggy) and those shriveled little sausages, his mouth watered like Wyle E. Coyote's, and he demanded to have some. Me: "But 3YO, you don't LIKE this. I KNOW you don't like it." 3YO: "But I WANT IT, DADDY!" Me: "Lower your volume. If I give this to you, you better eat it. I'm not kidding. We don't waste food." 3YO: "I want it." Me (doubting): "Are you sure?" 3YO: "Yes! I want what 7YO has! Please, Daddy?" So I pulled out another frozen masterpiece, heated it for two long-ass minutes, and served it with a flourish. Victory. I made my baby happy, right? He immediately frowned at the plate. Oh HELLS no! Me: "Don't even start. You're gonna eat that." 3YO: "But I don't LIKE this, Daddy!" Me: "I know. Do you remember 4 MINUTES AGO when I told you you wouldn't like it?" 3YO: "No. I don't WAAAAAAAAANT THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISS!" Me: "Oh, you'll be eating that, or you'll be eating a 'wish sandwich'." 7YO: "Dad, what's a 'wish sandwich'?" Me: "That's where you WISH you had a sandwich. Now 3YO, eat." 3YO: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" This is what it sounds like...when doves cry. I don't force-feed my boys. If I provide a suitable meal and they don't wanna eat it, that's on them. I won't be the one with a rabid lion in his belly around 10am. However, growing up (and still being) poor, I loathe wasting food. So I did manage to convince him to eat a couple of bites. Afterward, I finished getting them both ready to go, rushing around as usual. I didn't notice that 3YO wasn't speaking to me or his brother, not at first. As I drove 7YO to school, he was singing to Hannah Montana or whatever, but 3YO wasn't saying a damn thing. His mouth was fixed in a pout, and he just stared out the window. When 7YO got out to go to his class, 3YO wouldn't say goodbye, or even look at him. That's when I noticed, and I thought he was just being a jerk about breakfast. So I started doing that Black Parent Monologue that you sometimes hear: Me: "I don't know who you think YOU are, not saying goodbye to your big brother. He takes care of you, he plays with you...that's just RUDE, 3YO. You better straighten up. I know that's right. If you go to school like THIS, you're gonna have a yellow or red day, and then you're gonna have a red bottom when you get home. My kids are gonna be NICE, they're gonna be POLITE, and they're NOT gonna ignore people when people talk to them. I'm not having it. So whatever your little problem is, I suggest you get it worked out, and with the quickness. I'm not kidding, either. You won't see Dora the Explorer for a whole week, if you don't chill out, and now." I said more stuff, but this is just a sampling. My head was even moving back and forth. When we got to his daycare, he still wouldn't talk. I got him out of the car, and usually he's full of questions about the other parents, the cars, why there's lights on the building, how come the sun is yellow...but not that day. Silence. I get him to his class, tell his teachers that they might need to call the cops and a haz-mat team, and I go to kiss him. HE WON'T KISS ME! Not really, at least - he gave me this weird, pinched-mouth dry-ass woodpecker-style peck on the cheek. That's when I took a good hard look at him. His mouth looked...funny. Me: "3YO, open your mouth." 3YO: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" It looked like a crime scene in there. I swear I thought Gil Grissom was about to come busting in with some Luminol and latex gloves. Remember when I told you that I convinced him to take a couple of bites? Well, he did. He just never actually swallowed them. So for roughly 25 minutes, my precious, beautiful 3YO son was walking around with saliva-soaked french toast just MARINADING in his cheeks, and he would neither spit it out nor swallow it. I picked him up, held him horizontally over the trash can, and told him to spit. It looked so nasty, the teachers thought he was throwing up. I reassured them, and when I put the lad down, he was 100% again, all smiling and laughing and everything. I just shook my head. Just when you think you've seen it all... And for the record, I DO brush his teeth. Except sometimes when we're running late. Then he gets a tic-tac and a lesson on talking away from people's noses. Well, on to the picks. 5 vs 17 Yards Per Game: TEX 402.9, NEB 458.4 Points Per Game: TEX 42.7, NEB 37 Yards Allowed: TEX 276.9, NEB 329.7 Points Allowed: TEX 13.7, NEB 13.4 Prediction: 35-28 Texas Outcome: 22-20 Texas Nebraska came thisclose to making me laugh like Pee Wee Herman at a going-out-of-business sale at an adult movie store. They had the game WON, but they let Texas march down the field and kick a game-winning field goal. Come ON, Nebraska! I was never a big fan of yours when you were running the option and killing everyone on the field, but you're kinda downtrodden now, and I really wanted you to pull this one out. You let me down, Huskers. You let me down. But at least I don't make picks with my heart. I'm no dummy. I win. Damian: 1-0 vs 10 Yards Per Game: UCLA 346, ND 388.2 Points Per Game: UCLA 25.7, ND 30.3 Yards Allowed: UCLA 272.8, ND 359 Points Allowed: UCLA 15.3, ND 23.7 Prediction: 28-24 Notre Dame (I hate them so much) Outcome: 20-17 Notre Dame (I still hate them so much) The game was as tight as I thought it would be, and ND, like Texas, had to stage a late-game comeback in order to meet my demands for victory. If I'm gonna ride you, you better win. That's all I demand. Excellence. God, I wish they'd lose so I can stop picking them to win. Damian: 2-0 19 vs Yards Per Game: RUT 342.3, PITT 418 Points Per Game: RUT 31.7, PITT 37.6 Yards Allowed: RUT 242.2, PITT 303 Points Allowed: RUT 8.3, PITT 13.3 Prediction: 24-10 Rutgers Outcome: 20-10 Rutgers Four measley points prevented me from crowing like a retarded rooster during a solar eclipse. I nailed the Pitt score. Locked it down tight. But Rutgers had to go and get all uppity and score some more. I swear, damn upstarts. Rutgers ain't been SHIT for years, and now that they've thrown up 7 wins, they think they can just bypass my wishes? See if I pick them again this season. Damian: 3-0 21 vs Yards Per Game: WISC 400.1, PUR 480 Points Per Game: WISC 33.9, PUR 33.1 Yards Allowed: WISC 248, PUR 419.7 Points Allowed: WISC 12.7, PUR 29.6 Prediction: 33-20 Wisconsin Outcome: 24-3 Wisconsin NO ONE IS LISTENING TO ME! Please - winning is only half of the formula, folks. Anyone can pick the games straight-up. It's all about the points. THAT'S where my genius shows, and if you don't get it right, I end up looking foolish. I never figured Wisconsin would hold Purdue to such a low output, not looking at both team's stats. But that just goes to show you - some people just don't listen. Damian: 4-0 13 vs 12 Yards Per Game: GT 363.2, CLEM 466.1 Points Per Game: GT 28.7, CLEM 43.9 Yards Allowed: GT 282.8, CLEM 249.7 Points Allowed: GT 16.2, CLEM 13.3 Prediction: 35-21 Clemson Outcome: 31-7 Clemson Wow. Just...wow. These guys just might be for real. I don't wanna jinx it by proclaiming them champions of anything, but...this isn't the Clemson team I'm used to dealing with. I'm used to seeing a team that basically loses its mind when faced with success and prosperity. I'm used to seeing a team start 8-0 in a season, get ranked as high as #5 in the nation, then go out and lose 4 out of 5. I'm used to a team that doesn't know how to handle the good times, but this...this ain't the team I'm used to seeing. And I like that, immensely. This team is not playing to the level of the competition, at least not this season. This team is showing the competition that there is a level that they're not privy to, and that Clemson is on that level, and they'll let you SEE that level if you just put a quarter into one of those telescopes on the side of a scenic view, you know, like you'd find in the Catskills or the Grand Canyon. All proceeds go toward an 11-1 season and a BCS bowl game. Holla. Damian: 5-0 Oooooooooooweeee! I was 5-0 this week, bringing my overall total to 21-4. 21 and 4! Negrodamus in the HOUSE! And I'm not just picking creampuff games, either. There were only two games between ranked opponents this week, and I picked 'em both accurately. I'm sorry - I'm just good at this. Someone tell me how I can make some money. For real. If I can pick up a few extra coins, I'll be better able to provide you the humor and deliciousness you deserve. Help me help you. Oh - and whoever has the best idea for me making some cash, I'll cut you in on the deal. For real. Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 10/18/2006

2006-10-18T11:28:00.000-05:00

What a day. Firstly, it's The Pirate's birthday, so please make sure you go pay homage to her. Throw flowers or Keystone Light at her feet or whatever. She'll appreciate. It's also Metalchick's birthday, so go give her mad praise as well. She's moving to Europe soon, so wish her well. EDIT: And Randi's officially an aunt today, so congratulations are in order. For her sister, not her. She just sat there eating raisins and watching "Extra". Secondly, this is officially my 200th post, and this month marks my 2 year anniversary of having this blog. Is that the shit, or what? Now, I know that 200 posts in 2 years doesn't sound like a lot, but since I don't post daily, this milestone has taken some time to reach. And since I HAVE been doing this for a while, and since a whole lot of you lurking asses are relatively new to the great experience that is Almost Infamous (which, incidentally, is the official name of this blog, in case you didn't know), I'm going to thoughtfully revisit some of my favorite posts. You'll thank me for it. Make sure you've got lots of time, 'cause I was long-winded back in the day. Also, I apologize for the size of the font. Just press the Control key and hit the plus sign twice (in Firefox) to increase it. Deal, people. Then, folks, we shall diatribe. Remember when I proclaimed myself a 30 percenter? Dirk and JR Estelle will love that. How about when I met God? Or the stories from when I worked at the mall, here and here? Or the three-part tale about my roommates, here, here, and here? Or how about my trip to the black strip club? Good times. Surely you remember the story of Odie and the Squirter, and Smuckers with the Skunk Skank. How about this? It was my first semi-stab at a diatribe, back before I really knew how. The first journey into my mind's inner workings? Gold. And who could forget the most bizarre wedding ever? No one, that's who. Or the first mention of The Pirate? And like a barnacle, she's still around. Worst drunk ever? Got it. And you HAVE to read about my trip to Italy. It might be my best writing to date. Chinese Lessons? Why YES! Got 'em all - here, here, here, here, and of course, here. Another foray into my brain. It's weird here. Or my rant against Supernanny. Oh yeah. Anyway. I've had some really good times here, and I've met some great people. I'm gonna keep rolling till the wheels fall off, muhfuckas. And you KNOW this, MAN! Let's diatribe. -------------- (From Bizarre News) DES MOINES, Iowa - What is the value of a wedding dress these days? For one Davenport woman, it was worth her 4-year-old son. Marcy Gant, 31, was charged on a felony count after she tried to sell her child for a wedding dress from a local street vendor. It seems she didn't have enough to cover the whole tab, so she offered her son to make up the rest of the balance. "During negotiations for the payment of this wedding dress, on at least two occasions, Ms. Gant offered her 4-year-old son as collateral," Capt. Dave Struckman of the Davenport Police Department said. Neighbors of the woman were shocked. "(There is) something very mentally wrong with her to think that that is OK," said Angie Bruce, Gant's neighbor. If convicted, Gant could face 10 years in prison. There are several problems with this story. Let's start with the most obvious: why in the HELL is she buying a dress from a street vendor in Iowa? If the story took place in, say, Bangalore, India, I would've shrugged and chalked it up to cultural differences, but you can't make me believe that there aren't any bridal shops in Des Moines. I bet there's two. Secondly, if she couldn't afford THAT dress, why didn't she hit Kohl's or JC Penney or ANY other place that sells dresses and just get one there? Maybe she had her heart set on that strapless tight rayon dress with the print of Tupac smoking a cigar embossed down near the thigh slit, but honey, you gotta work with whatcha got. And was she in such a hurry that layaway wasn't an option? Ain't no shame in using layaway. It's basically a reverse credit card. As for the crime of offering up her 4 year old son...any parent can tell you that the thought passes through your head once in a blue moon. I've been out in public with my boys and thought about dropping 'em off at the Lost and Found and claiming I found 'em in Frozen Foods or Hardware or whatever, but at age 4, they can talk, and the police will find your ass. She's dumb. In prison, though, someone will trade her ass for a carton of Kools, so karma will win this battle. ---------------- (From Bizarre News) ZEPHYRHILLS, Florida - Korey Bradd Henderson may have just done a little bit to much head banging to his favorite hard rock music. Maybe that would explain why the 25-year-old of Lakeland, Florida decided to wear a bright orange jail uniform to a hard rock concert when he was supposed to be under house arrest. When Pasco County sheriff's detective Mark Morrison approached Henderson in his jailhouse garb, he took off running and ran straight into two other deputies. Henderson at first told them the getup was a Halloween costume. But when the deputies checked with the officials at Polk County jail, they confirmed that one uniform was indeed missing. A warrants check told deputies that Henderson was supposed to be on house arrest in Lakeland as part of his probation on a charge of illegal possession of narcotics. Henderson is still wearing a jail uniform as he awaits his next trial. SCENE: Suburban Florida home. KOREY is downstairs in the den, playing air guitar and looking like an inbred idiot. KOREY'S MOM is folding clothes and wondering where she went wrong. Korey's Mom: "Korey, where are you going? You're not supposed to leave!" Korey: "Ma! Leave me alone, I can leave if I want to! I NEED to go see Nonpoint! They're expecting me!, God, you're so stupid!" Mom: "Don't you call me stupid, you ingrate! Maybe if you hadn't been carrying all that Mary Ja Juana, you wouldn't be Mr. Ankle Bracelet in the first place. Why didn't you just finish high school like I - " Korey (irritated): "SHUT UP, MA! Jesus, you're a broken record. Make me something to eat. Hey where's my clothes?" Mom (sarcastically): "Right here, SON. Wear this orange outfit - it'll show off your eyes." Korey: "Thanks for nothing. I'm outta here." Mom: "I should've swallowed 25 years ago, I swear." Sarcasm is wasted on Korey. ---------------- (From Bizarre News) PENNSYLVANIA - A sick practical joke ended with a Pennsylvania man laughing himself all the way back to prison. Jeffrey Barber apparently thought it would be a regular laugh riot to scare his wife by pretending he had been shot. After firing his .22-caliber rifle in the house, the 44-year-old proceeded to smear himself with tomato sauce and lay on the floor. When the missus called 911 to come to her husband's aid, the police found he was very much alive, and violating the terms of his parole by owning several guns. Barber pled guilty to illegal ownership of the firearms, and had to face the mandatory sentence of 15-years to life. This must've been funny as SHIT, in his head. I bet he planned that stunt for weeks, watching every episode of "CSI" and "The New Detectives" until he had the idea fully crystallized. I bet he told a couple of his drinkin' buddies about it, and they all laughed, except for that one guy, Ralph. Ralph is Mr. Cautious, Mr. Buzzkill, Mr. I've-Never-Been-To-Jail. I bet Ralph was all telling him it's a bad idea, and that he could really scare Mrs. Barber, and that owning a firearm is a violation of his parole, and blah fuckity blah blah blah. I bet Ralph is as much fun as tuberculosis. But they keep him around because Ralph has a hot wife and a 60" HDTV with surround sound. I bet the night before, Barber giggled himself to sleep like a silly bitch, just itching to whip out this King of All Pranks. I bet he didn't even buy blanks for the gun - I'm betting he just shot a hole in the ceiling or floor, seeing as how he could just go fix it later. And he can, now - 15 years later. What a fucking idiot. I hope Mrs. Barber bangs all his friends while he's in jail. And tosses their salad, too! As a joke, of course. Thank you so much for reading me, people. Without you, I'd be....still blogging. But no one would be reading it. Here's to even more years and words. Peace.

Professional Confessional

2006-10-16T14:46:00.000-05:00

I have a few confessions, some revelations, if you will, that may completely rock the foundation of the Castle Damian as you know it.

I thought I had an ingrown hair or a lymph node problem in one of my armpits, so I shaved them both to investigate. And guess what: I liked how the smoothness felt so much, I kept doing it. Today? Pits are smooth as baby skin. I am such a girl.
I pretend to watch "Avatar: The Last Airbender" on Nick WITH my son, but in fact, I also watch it when he's not around. I've even been known to say "7YO, don't you wanna watch Avatar? I think it's on right now. If not, I bet we have one on the DVR. If not, I'm sure we can get it on-demand." This year he's dressing as the Avatar for Halloween, and I cheered on the inside.
I love video games. Love them. Playstation 2, Gameboy, PC, hell - my cell phone, it doesn't matter. Now, I wouldn't consider myself a hardcore gamer (I don't play for 18 hours straight, and I tend to have good hygiene - see armpit section two bullets above), I am a pretty avid one who loves to play all the time. I have been known to turn down sex for a game. Oh yes.
And History Channel, too. It was a special on the czars in Russia, and dammit, I like czars. I don't care if you don't understand. Czar Nicholas NEEDED me to watch!
I steal chocolate-covered peanuts from grocery stores. Not a lot, not like a whole box, but when I'm shopping, I feel entitled to 4 or 5 of those li'l chunks of heaven, so I help myself. I mean shit, I'm prolly spending a couple hundred in there to feed my horde, so I should be allowed to enjoy a slight repast when the mood strikes me. Once, an employee saw me do it, and I totally mad-dogged him for looking at me. I stared him down like he had my woman's phone number on his chest. He looked away. I ate like a KING. They better be glad I don't drink out of the apple juice bottles and put them back.
I hate my first name. I always have. I think it sounds dumb. I always wanted to be a Justin. I came close to having a cool name, when my dad wanted to name me Lord Christoff when I was born. My mom put the kibosh on THAT noise with the quickness. The name she gave me, though...I'm not a fan. In the 7th or 8th grade, I started a campaign to have people call me by my (even dumber) middle name, but that plan failed like me in Calculus in college.
This is gonna be my Halloween costume this year:

Yeah, I know. My intent is to look like Jimi Hendrix. I may end up looking like Jimmy Walker from "Good Times". Either way, this costume is DY-NO-MITE!!

I love to watch "The Rockford Files" and I don't care if you know.
When I pee, I always aim for the lowest back part of the ceramic, just above the water line, because when I was growing up, it was just me and my mom for 14 years in a tiny house, and the bathroom was right across from her bedroom. Evidently she thought my pee was in polyphonic stereo surround sound, 'cause she used to complain about the noise. So I started hitting the back of the toilet, down near the water, which greatly reduced the audio factor. And I still do that today.
I put the seat down about 90% of the time due to this same reason. A spanked ass has a good memory. Sorry, guys.
I cry when I watch "The Natural". Shut up.

OK, I'm all confessioned out. It's your turn. Tell me YOUR dark secrets! Peace.

Damian's Dark Picks, Friday the 13th! -- Results!

2006-10-16T09:56:00.000-05:00

**Well, whattaya doin' reading this part? Scroll down and see how I did!** It's Friday the 13th. I ain't scared. I have bad luck EVERY day, dammit. It's called a "mortgage" and "work" and all these other scary bad luck items. Go 'head and break that mirror - all you'll get is a fractured reflection. And for some of y'all, that'll be an improvement. So, I'm just gonna get right to it today, folks. I'm tired, I'm busy, and my team has already played. Yeah, Clemson destroyed Temple last night, 63-9. It wasn't even close. My boys have scored over 50 three times, and over 60 once this season, bringing their per-game average up to 43.9. Love it. So, my football stomach is full for the weekend, quite frankly. I'm disinterested. Plus there's no real marquee matchups this week. However, that'll make my picks all the more interesting. Today I'm going with the Blue Plate ADD Special, meaning I'm gonna pick my teams based soley on whatever pops into my weird little mind. Bear with me. at #7 Cincinnati at Louisville, 3:30pm That cardinal in the Louisville logo looks PISSED, kinda like the chickenhawk from the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons. DOESN'T HE? I'm not even sure what the hell a "bearcat" is, but I imagine that the chickenhawk there will still eat him for dinner. Prediction: 45-10 Louisville Outcome: 23-17 Louisville Obviously, Cincy gave 'em all they could handle, then put the rest in a doggy bag for 'em. But they got the W, which is all I care about. Damian: 1-0 at #18 UCLA at Oregon, 3:30pm Bears versus ducks. Doesn't this remind you of that joke: A bear and a rabbit were both in the woods, taking a dump near each other. The bear looks over at the rabbit and says "Say buddy, you ever have a problem with shit sticking to your fur?" The rabbit says "No, not really...". The bear then grabs the rabbit, and wipes his ass with him. I know these are ducks, and not rabbits, but no matter WHAT they are, they're gonna win on Saturday. But it'll be tight. And who doesn't like tight? Prediction: 28-24 Oregon Outcome: 30-20 Oregon I said four, they made it 10. I'm cool with that. Another W for me. I should start a collection. Damian: 2-0 #2 at #11 Well, I GUESS this counts as a marquee matchup, even though Arkansas pimp-slapped Auburn last week when Auburn was #2. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Now Florida is #2. But they won't stink up the joint like Auburn did. What's up with me and the fecal jokes today? Jeez. Prediction: 21-17 Florida Outcome: 27-17 Auburn It sucks being the #2 team in the country. You don't get the publicity that Ohio State does, and quite frankly, you lose. Auburn was #2 last weekend, and they got pummeled by Arkansas. Florida was numero dos this week, and Auburn broke off a switch from the oak tree out in the back yard and whupped that ass. The SEC is rough this year, folks. By the way, "whupped" is much worse than "whipped". Whupped leaves marks. Damian: 2-1 at #6 Baylor at Texas, 7pm Baylor is reknown for its excellent medical facilities. In Dallas alone, there are several Baylor-related hospitals and treatment centers, and all of them are top-notch. They are unrivaled in their passion to provide superior medical care for all their patients. Which is good, 'cause the Baylor football team may need some serious treatment after this game on Saturday. I'm not saying they're gonna lose, but I AM saying that the UT players have already planned to bring a giant pallet of "Get Well Soon" cards for the entire BU roster. I hope they have really good benefits. Prediction: 49-10 Texas Outcome: 63-31 Texas Hey Softball Slut? You there? You see this score? Yeah, UT won, but what's up with them giving up 31 points to Baylor? Did the marching band and mascot play the entire second half or something? I may have thought 90 points would occur in this matchup, but I would've figured that all 90 would be on the Texas side of the scoreboard. Tell the champs they need to wake up. Damian: 3-1 at #3 Arizona State at Southern Cal, 8pm EST OK...no. Just...no. The Condom Boys are gonna put the rubber to the road in this game. That wasn't even punny at all. Prediction: 44-14 USC Outcome: 28-21 USC Oooooooooooooooooo. 7 point victory over unranked opponents, USC? See my statements to Texas above. You're the #2 team now. Watch out. Damian: 4-1 With this week's 4-1 record, that brings my overall record to 16-4, damn near making me a prophet. A non-profit prophet. Just call me Negrodamus. And tune in Friday for more picks. Peace.

Show Pics, Show Pics, Baby Doncha Know Pics

2006-10-11T20:48:00.000-05:00

The band had a show a couple of weeks ago at this little tiny bar in Arlington called Monte Carlos. It was so small, the "-los" from the name was actually sitting on the FedEx Kinko's next to it. And the clientele? Not what I'm used to. A little older, a little more...rustic. And by "rustic" I mean "redneckian". They weren't rednecks, just redneckian. They showed redneck without actually driving their homes to the bar. For example, the hot women weren't so much hot as they were not totally hideous. So what if one chick had a dead tooth that overlapped the live one right in the front of her mouth? She was NICE, and that's what counts. We just knew we'd get in there with out loud asses and blow 'em out of the water, and...well, we did. The other two bands there were cover bands, and we were better than them. Listen, I know that sounds REALLY arrogant, but sometimes true shit can be arrogant. It's true. But we're always humble in public, so we gave 'em props when they got off stage. A buddy who rolled out there with us said to me "Dude, is it hard telling these bands that they had a good show, when in reality they sucked my balls?" And I said "Yes. Yes it is. But you say it anyway, 'cause you never wanna burn bridges. You never know when you might have to cross 'em again." So anyways, here's some pics from that show. Enjoy! Jimi Hendrix on the shirt, sweaty black man on the bass. "Do you see those two hot Asian chicks? Right THERE! They're 4 feet away! Well, they're hot." Although supposedly playing one of their own songs, Damian wonders why he thinks he hears the theme to "Deliverance". He even makes this face when he's NOT singing. But just look at the synchronicity between me and Gordie! Legs? Check. Guitars? Check. Looking at the frets at the same time? Check. Trip is feelin' it. Feeling. It. Trip. Is. It's hard doing the Pledge of Allegience with drunk people screaming "Freebird!" at you. Just sayin'. Shirtless Jmart. The Fyrchk Special. Order up! Gordie, working his magic on his flying V. 4 seconds later, a rabbit popped out of his guitar. And ordered a Shiner Bock. Rowdy, mohawkin' it. Hers is bigger than mine. Word. OK. This one woman kept jumping on the stage to take pics or whatever, and each time she jumper her drunk ass up there, she knocked over my mic stand. I think I was trying to locate the missing mic at this point. Or I'm just rocking the fuck out. Either way. "'Cause I'm FREEEEEEEEEEE....Free FALLLLLLIIIIIIINNN'!" Peace.

Damian's Deconstructive Diatribe, 10/11/2006

2006-10-11T09:20:00.000-05:00

I am such an idiot. I knew that my band Nonetheless had an internet radio interview on RenegadeRadio.net on Sunday night. I didn't totally forget THAT fact. But I did completely forget to, you know, TELL people about it so that they might listen in. I'm sorry, I was busy last week, working my pecan tan butt off and getting ready for a work-related conference for which I had to give a presentation. I was stressing so much over that presentation that I kinda forgot about being on the radio, or even being in a band. But I did manage to come to my senses as we were going on the air, and I know that DWW, Laurie, Fyrchk, Southern Canadian, Arbusto, and Fresh Air Lover got a chance to hear my band rock out acoustically to our own songs, plus some covers. It was so much fun. The best part of all was when I utterly forgot how a solo went on one of our songs, and I literally started playing gibberish through it while my bandmates all did that slow head turn with the wide eyes that says "What in the happy-go-lucky FUCK are you doing??" Overall, we've gotten some really positive feedback from the experience, which is nice, considering we'd never even attempted to play our tunes acoustically before. And before you ask, yes - it's very, very different. By the way, feel free to scroll down, find my band's logo on the bottom right of the page, and click the little link below it to buy some NTL swag. We'll thank you for it. On another note, I sprained my left ankle slightly on Sunday, because for a few fleeting moments, I thought my mother had named me Pele or David Beckham rather than the Damian moniker she applied to me. 7YO had a soccer game (no, I wasn't the ref, and no, Sistagirl wasn't there), and while we were waiting for the coach, I decided to "help" the kids by having them line up in front of the goal to try to score on me. And oh, did they score. It looked like a videogame out there, with my 34 year old ass getting SCHOOLED by some 7 year olds. Some of those kids are midget professional soccer players, I swear. Anyway, the ball had sailed into the back of another net, and I thoughtfully went to grab it (since I had failed to grab it as it zoomed by me a few seconds earlier). As I picked up the ball and started to run back to my goal, my extra-large size 13 feet got tangled in the goal net, and I went down hard, face-first, into the dirt. But me being me, I hit that ground like it was a trampoline, baby. I was back on my feet in seconds, smiling, brushing off help, and ignoring the burning/stinging sensation in my wrists, and the sharp pain in my ankle. The sad thing was that I wasn't even embarrassed, 'cause I do shit like that regularly. That makes me clumsy. OK. I know what you're here for. Enough foreplay. Let's diatribe. --------------------- ERIE, Pa. - A woman has been charged on counts of aggravated assault, reckless endangerment and simple assault after using her 4-week-old baby boy as a weapon during a domestic dispute. Chytoria Graham, 27, used her infant during the fight by swinging him through the air and striking the baby's head against her boyfriend's body. The infant suffered a fracture of the right temporal region and some brain bleeding. He is being treated at Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh, where he was in serious but stable condition. Other children were removed by authorities from Graham's home, and later placed in the temporary care of their maternal grandparents. ... I... I have no words. Wait - I found some. What the fuck is wrong with people? I know I ask this question a lot, especially around Diatribe time, but seriously - WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? Who gets so damn mad at someone that they swing a BABY at them? When I first read this story, I thought it was a joke, and I kept waiting for someone to say "hahaha" or "you got punked" or something at the end, because there was just no way any quasi-functional, semi-civilized person would even THINK to try to strike someone using another human being. It's stories like this that make me think that forced sterilization isn't a bad idea. Chytoria. Christ almighty. Here's a little rule of thumb for naming your children: if the name you've chosen has never been a name before, or even a word in any language, save up for bail money, not tuition. Shit like this makes me want to punch humankind in the neck. ------------------- BILOXI, Miss. - Attention all pregnant mothers - if your husband is an avid sports fan, you might not want to let him be in charge of naming the baby. Otherwise, you might end up like Leann Real, who now has a bouncing baby boy named ESPN. Real had promised her husband that if they had a son he could pick the name. Well, she made good on her promise, and ESPN Montana Real was brought into the world this week. Proud papa Rusty chose ESPN (pronounced Espen) after the sports network and Montana after football legend Joe Montana. "We were the talk of the hospital," Rusty Real said. "The nurses kept asking my wife if she was really going to let her husband name him ESPN. She said, 'Oh, yes.'" This shouldn't come as any surprise, and in fact, I'm not really sure why it's news. There's a bunch of kids out there named ESPN or Espen or some other permutation of that channel's name. Why are we even focusing on this anymore? Hell, his entire name sounds like a new cable channel: ESPN Real. If I was a teacher, and I saw THIS name show up on my class roll, there's no way I could call his name without straight-up laughing and humming the SportsCenter theme song. If it were me naming my kids after some channels, my picks would be a bit different. I'd have (first and middle names) History Alexander, Bravo Matthew, HGTV David, USA Allison, Fox Margaret, Cinemax Maxwell (Cinemaxwell, for short), and Comedy Central Rachel. And they could only talk to me during the time slot of my favorite show on their respective channel. Unless that show was on at the moment, in which case I'd hit the mute on their asses. Damn loud-ass kids. --------------- POST FALLS, Idaho - Now here is what happens when a really bad hair day gets out of control. Paul Peyton of Post Falls, Idaho stopped inches from the shop window of Fantastic Sam's hair salon after being denied a refund because he didn't like the haircut he received. Peyton told police he never meant to hurt anyone, he just wanted his money back. He claimed he was so flustered when he left and accidentally put the truck in the wrong gear, when he was backing up. However, the salon owner told the court a different story. She claimed Peyton was so upset with his haircut he followed her to her other shop and drove his pick up at its window. Peyton now faces up to five years in jail and a handsome fine after being found guilty of aggravated assault. He is awaiting sentence. That must've been some doozy of a bad haircut. What, did he look like Drop Dead Fred or something? I've gotten my fair share of bad haircuts, but I never tried to drive my car through the barbershop afterwards. When I was a kid, I went to see Thad, my regular barber. Thad was good, but Thad had three major issues:

Thad liked to watch the game while cutting your hair. Not in-between customers - I mean WHILE cutting your hair.
Thad had a stutter so bad, it would often move out of his mouth and all the way down his arms to his hands, making him resemble Parkinson Lewis Can't Lose.
Thad got too close to you when he cut your hair, and it wasn't unusual for you to end up with Thad's junk pressed up against your shoulder.

One day I went in and asked him to give me a high top fade. Thad didn't really know how to do high top fades. He was only good at giving a low 'fro or a "natural", and anything else was like speaking Gaelic to him. But Thad wasn't about to let $5 walk out the door, either. So he sat me down on that rainy day, and proceeded to (1) watch the game, (2) stutter, (3) rub up against me, and (4) make my hair look like it was cut in a microwave by a drunken weasel with an electric carving knife. And he knew it was fucked up, 'cause he didn't charge me afterward. OK, back to THIS story. I don't understand how the police can charge him with anything. What if he really DID just accidently back up instead of going forward? I mean, he didn't hit anyone, he didn't hit the store, and there's no indication that he jumped out and said "That'll show you" or any other stupid incriminating statement. This poor fool could end up getting 5 years in the joint just for getting a bad haircut. That shit ain't right. I guess he'll hit Supercuts next time, though. If they're still open in 2011. Peace.

Damian's Dark Picks -- 10/6/2006 -- Results!

2006-10-09T10:30:00.000-05:00

You know the drill by now. Look down to see how I did. And don't judge me, either. I will throw a rock at you. Week 3 of my potent near-perfect picks, people! I'm upping the ante this week. Look at this slate of games - ranked teams in all of 'em. I'm 9-1, I'm a winner, I smell good, and I'm feeling myself. And I feel good. Notice the strong southern slant on the games I picked. Sorry, West Coast - no real marquee matchups for you this week, outside of Oregon and Cal, and I just don't care enough about either team right now to try to slide them in. That game looks like it'll be pretty good, though. You West Coasters should enjoy the hell outta that one. And hey, check it out - Texas finally made the cut. Try not to have a coniption fit, Softball Slut. Ease up on the Dr. Pepper and Red Bull (please, for the love of the baby Jesus), and pray that I pick this game correctly. Shall we do this? Yes. Let's. #9 vs. #5 LSU at Florida, 3:30pm EST This MIGHT be the game of the day. LSU's defense is nasty, and not in that wet, slobbery way that I prefer, either. They are tough, they are fast, they are physical, and they will rearrange the number on your uniform when they hit you. Offensively, they have JaMarcus Russell at QB (honestly, my people go too far with the names. "JaMarcus"? Come on now, brothas and sistas. Just name him Marcus and get on with it.), and they score 38 points per game. But UF is no slouch either, with Chris Leak and Wynn at tailback. LSU has the worst fans ever, by the way. Worse than Georgia's (and you'll see what I'm talking about in a minute). Hey, am I the only person who factors in which mascot would kick the most ass when deciding picks? 'Cause I'm thinking an alligator would fuck a tiger UP. With the quickness. Prediction: 17-14 LSU Outcome: 23-10 Florida Boy, was I off. I never imagined that LSU would lay an egg like this. After all, tigers are mammals, and mammals just don't lay eggs. Except for the platypus. And we all know how weird that animal is. What, did God sneeze while he held animal parts in his hands? Focus. Florida's Tim Tebow had the craziest touchdown pass in the history of ever when he ran toward the goal line, jumped straight up in the air, double-clutched the football in one hand, and basically lobbed the football like a water balloon over the LSU defense and into the hands of a falling-down receiver. It was some shit you have to rewind 4 or 5 times, 'cause you just can't believe what you just saw. It was sweet. Well, bittersweet. The team I picked lost, dammit. Bastards. Damian: 0-1 #13 vs. #10 Tennessee at Georgia, 7:45pm EST Another good game with intriguing plotlines. Other than their rankings, all I know about either teams is this: Tennessee tries (and fails) to mimic the glorious colors of Clemson's burnt orange; and the last time I was between the hedges at Georgia, I left there ducking beer bottles and threats against my life. And Georgia had DESTROYED Clemson in that game. What if Clemson had WON? I believe the phrase "I'm gonna fuck you up" would change to "I'm gonna up and fuck you." And no one wants that. Well, I don't. Damn bunch of redneck yokels. They scare me. That's why they're gonna win. Prediction: 30-17 UGA Outcome: 51-33 Tennessee This is some bullshit, right here. Tenn hung 51 on a (previously thought of as) good UGA team, and they did it like it wasn't shit for them to do this to good teams. I watched this game, clutching my chest like Fred G. Sanford the entire time, watching as my pick ONCE AGAIN was going down like a friend of mine in a special ed portable. You know who you are. Don't even front - I will call you out. No one could've predicted this outcome. In the SEC, ranked teams just don't score 50 on each other. I don't feel so bad about this one. Damian: 0-2 #4 Vs. West Virginia at Mississippi State, 2:30pm EST I'm still not quite sure why WVU (or is it WVA? Hell if I know.) is ranked so high. Who do they have naked pictures of? Seriously. I'm not saying they're not good...I'm simply asking why they have to be #4 in the country. Can you say "overrated"? Yes, I know they've got that All-Whatever RB Slaton and that QB White, but #4 in the whole COUNTRY? For cryin' out loud, they've beaten Marshall, Eastern Washington, Maryland, and East Carolina. Forgive me if I'm underwhelmed. That loud thud you hear will be them crashing back to earth when they pick up their first loss at Louisville, and the sound of their national title hopes catching the first Greyhound to Ann Arbor, Michigan. But this week? They got this. Prediction: 35-21 WVU (or WVA...whichever it is) Outcome: 42-14 WVU or WVA or WWF or whatever Finally -- a game that ended up pretty much like I thought it would. And again, I nail the total score. Swear to God, people, I'm nice at this! It always seems to be that third pick, too. If you haven't yet bet on me, go. Go now. And I'm serious about splitting some of those funds with yours truly, since I'm the brains behind the picks. Just sayin', that's all. I don't really have anything good to say about SVU or WWE or SWV or whatEVER West Virginia goes by, except to say that there's still no way they should be ranked as high as they are. This is the problem with preseason rankings. Check it: before a single game is played, the powers that be determine who they think are the top 25 teams in the country. So let's say you win all your games, but you played KinderCare Preschool, the St. Louis School for the Blind and Lame, the Sisters of The Virgin Mary Parochial School, and Duke. Well, duh, you're 4-0, right? And if you were already ranked #4 or #5 in the country, you're not going anywhere. Now, let's say you play some decent schools, and win your games, but you weren't ranked in the preseason (like Rutgers and Boise State this year). At the same point in time in the season, you're squeaking by at #22 or #24 or whatever, even though your record is exactly the same as a West Virginia team who hasn't beaten anyone any more impressive than you have. Where's the justice there? A playoff would solve some of this inequity, but saying "playoff" to Division 1-A athletic directors is like saying their mothers blow sailors for fifty cents a pop. Shit needs to stop. Damian: 1-2 #7 Vs. #14 Texas at Oklahoma (in Dallas), 3:30pm EST Awwwwwwww, shit! As I write this, I'm sitting in the Hilton Anatole Dallas hotel at a work-related conference. There are Texas and OU fans everywhere here, spreading out like ants at a barbeque I'm hosting. I'm not sure about this game. Conventional wisdom says that Texas should pound OU (or "Mobilehoma", as I like to call them) into a nice creamy slush, but OU has Adrian Peterson, and he ain't no punk. You'd think, living in Texas, I'd have some loyalty to them, but I don't. Nor do I like OU. I just like needling people who DO love either team. Truthfully, I wish it would end in a 2-2 tie. That way neither team could boast or brag - they'd have to shut up until next year. But I can't pick a tie. I have to pick a winner. Big Tex down here at the State Fair told me that if I don't pick Texas, he was gonna piss on my Jeep. Guess I know what's up. Prediction: 21-14 Texas Outcome: 28-10 Texas Wow. This was a big game for UT, and a big win. The first half was all Mobilehoma, with them grinding it out behind Adrian Peterson. But damn - someone must've insulted the state of Texas to the UT team at halftime, 'cause when they came out, they beat the monkeysnot out of OU. Colt McCoy (honestly, who names their child Colt? Was Gelding already taken?), the freshman UT QB, was brilliant. I don't even like UT all that much, but I was cheering for them hard in the 2nd half. And in this game, I was off the total score by only 3 points, which doesn't even suck. The only bad thing about UT winning is dealing with UT fans after they win. No offense guys (well, fuck it - if it offends, it's because the shit's true), but y'all get a little TOO into it when you win. I don't need to see the hook 'em horns in the bathroom, OK? Or in church, either. You beat a mediocre OU team. Congrats. Last time I checked, they don't hand out national championship trophies in October, so quit acting like you just won your BCS bowl game and American Idol on the same day. You were supposed to beat OU. Do I cheer when I pay a bill on time? Well...yeah. But that's me. You're supposed to be BETTER than that. Damian: 2-2 #15 Vs. Clemson at Wake Forest, 12:00pm EST You do realize that I'm pretty much always gonna pick Clemson, right? I mean, you know this. This is my school, my alma mater. I love them like I love my sons. This week they travel to Wake Forest, where they lost the last time they played there. WF is also 5-0, after beating such great teams as Syracuse, Duke (powerhouse), Connecticut (titans, they are), Mississippi (sans Eli Manning, meaning sans good players), and...Liberty. Yes. Liberty. They beat LIBERTY, can you BELIEVE it? I didn't even know Liberty had a football team. I bet they actually don't - they found a high school with the same colors as them, and ran those kids out against WF just to collect the fee for showing up. This is the emptiest 5-0 record in the history of 5-0. Hell, this ain't even Hawaii 5-0. I'm not saying they suck, but I AM saying that they will be 5-1 after this weekend, even with Clemson losing their top WR for a few weeks. Prediction: 31-14 Clemson Outcome: 27-17 Clemson 1 point off the total score. I'm so money, when I cough, nickels fall out of my mouth. But this was very nearly a total catastrophe, because Clemson apparently didn't even show up until the 4th quarter of the game, when they scored 24 unanswered points to seal the win. I didn't get to watch this game, on account of having to give a work presentation on a Saturday morning, but I'm glad I didn't see it. By the time I checked in on it, Clemson was already in the lead near the end of the game, and I was saved the heartburn and headache of watching them dick around for 3 quarters, which would've made me madder than Lucy Liu when her favorite L.A. salon runs fresh out of Bitch. They're 5-1 this year, with that one loss being a total heartbreaking, double overtime 34-33 loss to Boston College. They should've won that game. But now they're really focused and locked in, and now that they're ranked #12, they should stay hungry on the off chance that they can compete for a title. And God help us all if that were to happen. I'd be impossible to live with. Damian: 3-2 Well, that concludes my picks and results for last week. For the week I was a mediocre 3-2, giving me an overall record of 12-3, which doesn't suck at all, but since I strive for perfection, it's a bacon strip on the underpants of my football picks. I guess that's what I get for increasing the odds, eh? Maybe I'll back up off that shit this coming Friday. Peace.