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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

1. I was on the roof of my house, hanging Christmas lights.
2. I'm afraid of heights. Really afraid.
3. Male pride wouldn't allow DWW to get up there.
4. I was on the ROOF, people.
5. 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.

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.

Well!

(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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*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).

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.

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.

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.

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!

*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.