Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
This Scares the Crap out of me!
The following definition was copied and pasted from this web site:
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/biological+weapon
-Begin Quote-
Biological weapon Function: noun Date: 1947
: a harmful biological agent (as a pathogenic microorganism or a neurotoxin) used as a weapon to cause death or disease usually on a large scale.
-End Quote-
For the purpose of making my life easier (because I’m pathetically lazy and want to shorten words, even though I took the time to write this ridiculous disclaimer) I will refer to the above term as bio-weapon. What is a bio-weapon? If you’re asking this question…look above this paragraph; you twit! I took the time (under two minutes) to type in the term in my web browser, clicked on the definition, and I copied and pasted it up there for you to read. Duh!
Bio-weapons come in many forms. According to the Center for Decease Control in Atlanta, Georgia, there are three categories of bio-weapons. I won’t bore you with details, but I can assure you that “Dutch Ovens” aren’t listed under a category of Bio-terrorism. It’s true…they’re not. A Jewish girl I once dated (I’m part German, and you’ll understand my mention in a moment) accused me of anti-Semitic terror because I a-s gassed her. I pulled the blanket over her head and released an S.B.D. (Silent But Deadly) bio-butt attack. Not to worry though. I found no category including rotten egg smelling farts, so all of us immature boyfriends and evil big brothers have nothing to worry about.
In case you’re annoying curiosity wants further information regarding the C.D.C.’s bio-weapon categories, and any relevant facts you should know about, I’ve posted their link. But not until you finish reading this thread because I wrote it and anything I write should be considered more important then anything about the end of the f-cking world, so here’s the link: http://emergency.cdc.gov/bioterrorism/
If you’re still reading this, I love you, and I want you to know that I appreciate my fans; especially if they send me money for nothing, so send cash ‘via’ snail mail to:
For those of you that paused your reading to click on the link and get all distracted, we had tons of fun while you were gone, but now all of the cyber cake is gone, and the exotic dancers and their donkey have left; too bad for you; read on…
There have been an unknown number of unconfirmed tests in which governments have simulated bio-weapon attacks on their soil. One such experiment was conducted in a London, England subway tunnel. A bio-thing-a-ma-jig (probably a cold virus) was released into a crowd and the local hospitals (or some shack they threw up) where monitored for patients admitting themselves regarding the whatever it was they got from the test. All of the simulations by different nations government agencies where pretty much the same. I only have one link to give you to validate this claim, but again, don’t click it until your done reading this thread…because remember…Cogs more important! The link for you backstabbers is:
http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P2-12505287.html
Think about these tests with me. Some guy in a really cool black suit and a really cool communications ear piece walked into a subway and released a nasty little bug. The commuters, and the local hookers, starving, jobless wine-o’s all got exposed to a bug. They’re traveling to their destinations while this thing is moving through their bodies. What’s the common incubation period for the flu? 3-7 days? How far away and apart could these travelers spread? Maybe one guy takes the train to the airport and flies to New York, and another teaches at Paris, Frances largest high school, and another is the ticket lady at a museum.
Within three days this bug could have spread around the world…twice! If this was a deadly bio-terrorist attack, we’d be in some major cow patties! These tests are conducted to analyze bio-weapon attacks and their results are used to help under-paid government cubicle inmates design response plans that won’t work because people suck, and their selfish, and they’d rather riot when faced with a catastrophe instead of working together! Allow me to contradict myself for a moment; New Yorkers on 9/11…you are [b]all[/b] awesome! All of you worked together that day and I hope the rest of the world learns from your bravery. And…L.A. during the King riots…you suck, and you should be ashamed of yourselves! I’m embarrassed for you!
[Before all of you Lost Angelis folks who rioted start writing me threatening hate mail, learn from your mistakes, and be a better person then me, and send me your money…all of it, and you’ll feel better for yourself for doing it, and I’ll feel better for myself because you did it, and because I can afford the platinum toilet that revs like an engine when flushed]
I support the exercises the governments are conducting to minimize, or prevent bio-weapons casualties, so long as there are zero fatalities. I think it’s a wise move considering the state of affairs in our world, and the ease of technological means required to produce such an arsenal. However, I’m still terrified of the possibility that such an attack could occur. There’s a sick f-ck to build it, and there’s a sick f-ck to use it. I think we should all invest in adult diapers and wear them…vigilantly!
Gas masks are no better then the “Duck and Cover” drills from the 1950’s. We need S.C.B.A.’s (Self Contained Breathing Apparatuses) and Level A/B fully encapsulated suits just to live through said attack. How long will that last? That depends on what you’ve been exposed to, what’s its life span, how does it spread, how much oxygen is in your tank(s), and where are you when the exposure occurred? (i.e.: if you’re in jail…your f-cked!)
What about long term affects? What about a shelter? Can you dig a hole in the ground and wait things out? That depends on whether its air borne, and whether it’s lighter then air. If its heavier then air, your screwed…better to live on that sheet of plywood you nailed up in your parents tree and called a fort! I don’t know if preparation is even possible at this point. There are too many variations to decide upon. Let’s use this thread to discuss:
1) Fears of a biological weapon;
2) Types of bio-weapons;
3) Crazies capable of using these weapons;
4) Survival tips; and
5) What materials we can have available in our Go-Bags to help us tackle this threat.
Now, to all of those loyal readers, click on the links above and learn some stuff so you can return to this thread and discuss it. Also, here’s a helpful link F.Y.I.: http://www.american-gas-masks.com/gas-threat-map.htm
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/biological+weapon
-Begin Quote-
Biological weapon Function: noun Date: 1947
: a harmful biological agent (as a pathogenic microorganism or a neurotoxin) used as a weapon to cause death or disease usually on a large scale.
-End Quote-
For the purpose of making my life easier (because I’m pathetically lazy and want to shorten words, even though I took the time to write this ridiculous disclaimer) I will refer to the above term as bio-weapon. What is a bio-weapon? If you’re asking this question…look above this paragraph; you twit! I took the time (under two minutes) to type in the term in my web browser, clicked on the definition, and I copied and pasted it up there for you to read. Duh!
Bio-weapons come in many forms. According to the Center for Decease Control in Atlanta, Georgia, there are three categories of bio-weapons. I won’t bore you with details, but I can assure you that “Dutch Ovens” aren’t listed under a category of Bio-terrorism. It’s true…they’re not. A Jewish girl I once dated (I’m part German, and you’ll understand my mention in a moment) accused me of anti-Semitic terror because I a-s gassed her. I pulled the blanket over her head and released an S.B.D. (Silent But Deadly) bio-butt attack. Not to worry though. I found no category including rotten egg smelling farts, so all of us immature boyfriends and evil big brothers have nothing to worry about.
In case you’re annoying curiosity wants further information regarding the C.D.C.’s bio-weapon categories, and any relevant facts you should know about, I’ve posted their link. But not until you finish reading this thread because I wrote it and anything I write should be considered more important then anything about the end of the f-cking world, so here’s the link: http://emergency.cdc.gov/bioterrorism/
If you’re still reading this, I love you, and I want you to know that I appreciate my fans; especially if they send me money for nothing, so send cash ‘via’ snail mail to:
For those of you that paused your reading to click on the link and get all distracted, we had tons of fun while you were gone, but now all of the cyber cake is gone, and the exotic dancers and their donkey have left; too bad for you; read on…
There have been an unknown number of unconfirmed tests in which governments have simulated bio-weapon attacks on their soil. One such experiment was conducted in a London, England subway tunnel. A bio-thing-a-ma-jig (probably a cold virus) was released into a crowd and the local hospitals (or some shack they threw up) where monitored for patients admitting themselves regarding the whatever it was they got from the test. All of the simulations by different nations government agencies where pretty much the same. I only have one link to give you to validate this claim, but again, don’t click it until your done reading this thread…because remember…Cogs more important! The link for you backstabbers is:
http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1P2-12505287.html
Think about these tests with me. Some guy in a really cool black suit and a really cool communications ear piece walked into a subway and released a nasty little bug. The commuters, and the local hookers, starving, jobless wine-o’s all got exposed to a bug. They’re traveling to their destinations while this thing is moving through their bodies. What’s the common incubation period for the flu? 3-7 days? How far away and apart could these travelers spread? Maybe one guy takes the train to the airport and flies to New York, and another teaches at Paris, Frances largest high school, and another is the ticket lady at a museum.
Within three days this bug could have spread around the world…twice! If this was a deadly bio-terrorist attack, we’d be in some major cow patties! These tests are conducted to analyze bio-weapon attacks and their results are used to help under-paid government cubicle inmates design response plans that won’t work because people suck, and their selfish, and they’d rather riot when faced with a catastrophe instead of working together! Allow me to contradict myself for a moment; New Yorkers on 9/11…you are [b]all[/b] awesome! All of you worked together that day and I hope the rest of the world learns from your bravery. And…L.A. during the King riots…you suck, and you should be ashamed of yourselves! I’m embarrassed for you!
[Before all of you Lost Angelis folks who rioted start writing me threatening hate mail, learn from your mistakes, and be a better person then me, and send me your money…all of it, and you’ll feel better for yourself for doing it, and I’ll feel better for myself because you did it, and because I can afford the platinum toilet that revs like an engine when flushed]
I support the exercises the governments are conducting to minimize, or prevent bio-weapons casualties, so long as there are zero fatalities. I think it’s a wise move considering the state of affairs in our world, and the ease of technological means required to produce such an arsenal. However, I’m still terrified of the possibility that such an attack could occur. There’s a sick f-ck to build it, and there’s a sick f-ck to use it. I think we should all invest in adult diapers and wear them…vigilantly!
Gas masks are no better then the “Duck and Cover” drills from the 1950’s. We need S.C.B.A.’s (Self Contained Breathing Apparatuses) and Level A/B fully encapsulated suits just to live through said attack. How long will that last? That depends on what you’ve been exposed to, what’s its life span, how does it spread, how much oxygen is in your tank(s), and where are you when the exposure occurred? (i.e.: if you’re in jail…your f-cked!)
What about long term affects? What about a shelter? Can you dig a hole in the ground and wait things out? That depends on whether its air borne, and whether it’s lighter then air. If its heavier then air, your screwed…better to live on that sheet of plywood you nailed up in your parents tree and called a fort! I don’t know if preparation is even possible at this point. There are too many variations to decide upon. Let’s use this thread to discuss:
1) Fears of a biological weapon;
2) Types of bio-weapons;
3) Crazies capable of using these weapons;
4) Survival tips; and
5) What materials we can have available in our Go-Bags to help us tackle this threat.
Now, to all of those loyal readers, click on the links above and learn some stuff so you can return to this thread and discuss it. Also, here’s a helpful link F.Y.I.: http://www.american-gas-masks.com/gas-threat-map.htm
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Can't sleep so I blogged...
Youngest baby mamma...with half her hair done.
.Nope, this won’t embarrass her. She's posted this pic herself on Facebook.
And here's a pic I took from my cell phone. It's a Chicago Police officer watching me watch him watch me take a picture of him. He pulled away moments after the picture with a paranoid look in his eyes. Odd...I was the one parked illegally! Besides, I love the C.P.D.! Best outfit in the U.S.A. I was taking the picture because it just looked natural
Here's a life size replica of the Transformer Bumblebee from the Chicago Auto Show. My oldest son and I stood in front of this thing for 30 minutes and did nothing more then gaze at it. We imagine it came to life. Though...I'm sure my son thought it would fight the Decepticons hiding in his lunch that he refused to eat...I was more interested in the mechanical and technological means to make such a monstrosity take place...and I wondered if it would have a bumper to bumper warranty.
Scary picture I found randomly in Photobucket...
Another scary picture I found randomly in photobucket...
Let's discuss emo for a second...okay that's was all.
Fooling Oneself Into Love...
http://www.secretasylum.com/ has a new sub-forum under the Group Therapy: Member Hosted Forums Catagory titled:
Love/Hate: Standing along the high electrified fence, you kneel down and pick a dandelion and start to pull off it's petals: they love me? They hate me? They love me? They hate me? Geez...if only you knew how your multiple personalities REALLY felt about you!
I posted its first post "Fooling Oneself Into Love." I decided to blog it as it may help those individuals having trouble with love after realizing their significant other isn't what they presumed them to be! Read on...
At the time that I'm writing this post, I'm 35 years old, and I've fallen in love more times than the number of women I've dated. Yes it sounds odd, but it's true.
I'm one of those oddities that can fall in love with a beauty as she walks toward me, and my heart will break as she walks on bye. You're probably smirking a little and correcting me by thinking, or mumbling through pursed lips "That's nothing more than attraction."
I'm familiar with the laws of attraction and that isn't what I'm referring to. I literally fall in love at the batting of a femmes eyes. It's not a beneficial characteristic; it's a curse. I'm fortunate enough to be engaged at the moment thus avoiding the roller coaster ride my romantic life takes when single.
With that said, let's get to the cream filling in this Twinkie... I think it's safe to assume that at one point or another all of us have projected our wishful desires unto the face of another. We meet someone; date them; ignore their flaws; and begin to view them as the romantic partner we're looking and hoping for instead of the romantic partner they're capable of.
I'm notorious for this. I meet a woman and imagine she will laugh at all my jokes (and she will at first); we will have endless conversations together (and we do...for the first month, then the conversation becomes one sided and dominated by her, leaving me to nod in compliance, grunting "uh huh" every few seconds, and day dreaming about giant asteroids hurdling toward the Earth); and she isn't a head case (until a few months pass, her drinking problem surfaces, and she insists on therapy where I'll learn everything is my fault, including her drug and alcohol dependency that started 10 years before I even met her).
Thank God I don't have to deal with that now. I am happy in love, and I have a solid partner. But... I have been through this in the past, and so have many others. Why do we project false images on people we date? Don't we realize the folly and the inevitable collapse that awaits us?
I know this one guy...
He went through a period of solitary after a break-up in 2007 with his significant other who was also his 2nd baby’s mama.
Months of depression living alone in his apartment led him to seek a new lover. His first night out...he saw her, errr…will explain this part later, read on.
Standing on a busy street corner on Chicago’s North Side, was a chocolate princess: curves in all the right places; good black girl hair; and was dressed for the club... an Amish club if such a place existed. She was dressed appropriately for the weather, but had an attractive wardrobe; not too flashy; with a turtleneck.
He watched her from the window of a local greasy spoon restaurant. (I'd like to add that our friend here has a creepy serial killer look about him. In reality, he's a really good dude, but he's just genetically creepy. Not ugly by any means, just creepy) He had a friend accompanying him who talked our guy into approaching the beauty and after a few stabs at our guys ego, he caved in and walked across the street to go "get him some a that!"
His heart was pounding, nerves where electrified, and you could tell he was rehearsing his introduction with each foot step. Just under a yard from her, they locked eyes; he smiled; she looked terrified...and literally turned around and ran away.
I sh-t you not. She ran like a horde of zombies were coming after her. To make things worse, there were others at that corner with her (they were outside in front of a club) and it was blatantly obvious that he was approaching her in an attempt to romance her up. He froze and everyone’s eyebrows rose with eyes widening in their sockets; uncomfortably and anxiously grinning, they stared him down. He just stood there.
His friend came to the rescue and literally pulled him away from the scene (laughing hysterically) and they went on a pub crawl. In the wee hours of the morning, inebriated, and jovial, the pair of lush buddies found their way back to the same greasy spoon to sober up on sh-tty coffee and nachos.
Still buzzing, they ventured into the night and there she was again. This time she just stared at him with a curiosity in her eyes. He took a deep breath, raised his arms and exposed his palms and said "Hi" with a humiliated "you just made me look like a f-ckin moron" chuckle.
You could tell she was pleased when her full red lips twisted into a seductive and amused smile, and had a hesitant yet curious twinkle in her eyes.
He approached her and after a short introduction (and disclaimer that he wasn't trying to tie her up and eat her later) the flawless flirtation began. It was so successful that his wingman strolled off and soon after…her laughter drown out anyone’s hope of ease dropping. Until the big laugh!
I'm not sure what caused it... all I know is that he our guys humor was in its prime form and she couldn't restrain her responses any longer (side note: her laugh was loud but controlled and sweet, almost too sweet) and she lifted her head to the sky, protected her stomach with an open hand and laughed loud, hearty, and deep; very deep; extremely deep; too deep for a female.
And all that had eyes could see our guys smile fade, and his eyebrows flatten as a look of bewilderment and intrigue took control of his face. It wasn't so much the laugh as we've all heard the female octaves drop from soprano to baritone -add anger. It was what he saw...on her neck...where an Adams apple shouldn't be!
Immediately becoming uncomfortable he went straight for the kill (not literally, but figuratively) and asked "di-ahhh-did, ummm...do you have, uhhh...are you a guy?"
Now...before we continue, let's review. Man sees girl at a distance. Man approaches girl; girl flees. Man gets drunk almost to the point of poisoning and sees girl again. Man approaches girl...in the dark....while senses are hampered by alcohol...and as he speaks with girl, he begins to sober. Girl has an Adams apple.
Okay... so after he asked her about her sex, “Are you a guy?”and she says "No, but I use to be," one of her hands is now supporting her, ummm... his, ummm....their lower back and the other is waving their index finger in the air "hold up" she says with a sass "why you tripping for? What you doin here if you aint into this?"
This is when our guy realizes his wingman is across the street laughing. He also realizes that's it's been some years since he was in this part of town, then he realizes that the thumping club she’s been standing in front of is "Berlin," Chicago’s gay and transvestite club (imagine the Rocky Horror Picture Show on steroids).
He explains that he's not gay and that she is the most beautiful dude he's ever seen (he obviously didn't know what else to say since he didn't have his copy of "Homo Etiquette For Dummies" handy) and he looked as if he was puckering his butt cheeks so much he'd fart out of his mouth…because everything he had just said was pretty much sh-t!
After making peace with her/him after offending her/him unintentionally, He then asks why she/he ran from him in the first place. She/He said matter-of-factly "I thought use was a cop. You look like da police, and I ain't standing here just to looking pretty...hunnn…you got money?" He stepped back with hands up in the air, palms facing her, frantically nodding a refusal and stuttering “I-I’m ahhh..I’m not gay! She/He laughed it off, turned around and shook her/his rump as she/he walked away. She/He was a prostidude.
The moral to this story...know where all the gay bars are and avoid talking to anyone standing in front of it unless you're into that sort of thing.
Oh wait a second... That's not why I posted this. The real moral here is projecting your wants on another human being without acknowledging and excepting the reality of who they are (in this case a gay guy hooker who had a sex change into a tranny) will lead you down the road to no-no-ville.
Love/Hate: Standing along the high electrified fence, you kneel down and pick a dandelion and start to pull off it's petals: they love me? They hate me? They love me? They hate me? Geez...if only you knew how your multiple personalities REALLY felt about you!
I posted its first post "Fooling Oneself Into Love." I decided to blog it as it may help those individuals having trouble with love after realizing their significant other isn't what they presumed them to be! Read on...
At the time that I'm writing this post, I'm 35 years old, and I've fallen in love more times than the number of women I've dated. Yes it sounds odd, but it's true.
I'm one of those oddities that can fall in love with a beauty as she walks toward me, and my heart will break as she walks on bye. You're probably smirking a little and correcting me by thinking, or mumbling through pursed lips "That's nothing more than attraction."
I'm familiar with the laws of attraction and that isn't what I'm referring to. I literally fall in love at the batting of a femmes eyes. It's not a beneficial characteristic; it's a curse. I'm fortunate enough to be engaged at the moment thus avoiding the roller coaster ride my romantic life takes when single.
With that said, let's get to the cream filling in this Twinkie... I think it's safe to assume that at one point or another all of us have projected our wishful desires unto the face of another. We meet someone; date them; ignore their flaws; and begin to view them as the romantic partner we're looking and hoping for instead of the romantic partner they're capable of.
I'm notorious for this. I meet a woman and imagine she will laugh at all my jokes (and she will at first); we will have endless conversations together (and we do...for the first month, then the conversation becomes one sided and dominated by her, leaving me to nod in compliance, grunting "uh huh" every few seconds, and day dreaming about giant asteroids hurdling toward the Earth); and she isn't a head case (until a few months pass, her drinking problem surfaces, and she insists on therapy where I'll learn everything is my fault, including her drug and alcohol dependency that started 10 years before I even met her).
Thank God I don't have to deal with that now. I am happy in love, and I have a solid partner. But... I have been through this in the past, and so have many others. Why do we project false images on people we date? Don't we realize the folly and the inevitable collapse that awaits us?
I know this one guy...
He went through a period of solitary after a break-up in 2007 with his significant other who was also his 2nd baby’s mama.
Months of depression living alone in his apartment led him to seek a new lover. His first night out...he saw her, errr…will explain this part later, read on.
Standing on a busy street corner on Chicago’s North Side, was a chocolate princess: curves in all the right places; good black girl hair; and was dressed for the club... an Amish club if such a place existed. She was dressed appropriately for the weather, but had an attractive wardrobe; not too flashy; with a turtleneck.
He watched her from the window of a local greasy spoon restaurant. (I'd like to add that our friend here has a creepy serial killer look about him. In reality, he's a really good dude, but he's just genetically creepy. Not ugly by any means, just creepy) He had a friend accompanying him who talked our guy into approaching the beauty and after a few stabs at our guys ego, he caved in and walked across the street to go "get him some a that!"
His heart was pounding, nerves where electrified, and you could tell he was rehearsing his introduction with each foot step. Just under a yard from her, they locked eyes; he smiled; she looked terrified...and literally turned around and ran away.
I sh-t you not. She ran like a horde of zombies were coming after her. To make things worse, there were others at that corner with her (they were outside in front of a club) and it was blatantly obvious that he was approaching her in an attempt to romance her up. He froze and everyone’s eyebrows rose with eyes widening in their sockets; uncomfortably and anxiously grinning, they stared him down. He just stood there.
His friend came to the rescue and literally pulled him away from the scene (laughing hysterically) and they went on a pub crawl. In the wee hours of the morning, inebriated, and jovial, the pair of lush buddies found their way back to the same greasy spoon to sober up on sh-tty coffee and nachos.
Still buzzing, they ventured into the night and there she was again. This time she just stared at him with a curiosity in her eyes. He took a deep breath, raised his arms and exposed his palms and said "Hi" with a humiliated "you just made me look like a f-ckin moron" chuckle.
You could tell she was pleased when her full red lips twisted into a seductive and amused smile, and had a hesitant yet curious twinkle in her eyes.
He approached her and after a short introduction (and disclaimer that he wasn't trying to tie her up and eat her later) the flawless flirtation began. It was so successful that his wingman strolled off and soon after…her laughter drown out anyone’s hope of ease dropping. Until the big laugh!
I'm not sure what caused it... all I know is that he our guys humor was in its prime form and she couldn't restrain her responses any longer (side note: her laugh was loud but controlled and sweet, almost too sweet) and she lifted her head to the sky, protected her stomach with an open hand and laughed loud, hearty, and deep; very deep; extremely deep; too deep for a female.
And all that had eyes could see our guys smile fade, and his eyebrows flatten as a look of bewilderment and intrigue took control of his face. It wasn't so much the laugh as we've all heard the female octaves drop from soprano to baritone -add anger. It was what he saw...on her neck...where an Adams apple shouldn't be!
Immediately becoming uncomfortable he went straight for the kill (not literally, but figuratively) and asked "di-ahhh-did, ummm...do you have, uhhh...are you a guy?"
Now...before we continue, let's review. Man sees girl at a distance. Man approaches girl; girl flees. Man gets drunk almost to the point of poisoning and sees girl again. Man approaches girl...in the dark....while senses are hampered by alcohol...and as he speaks with girl, he begins to sober. Girl has an Adams apple.
Okay... so after he asked her about her sex, “Are you a guy?”and she says "No, but I use to be," one of her hands is now supporting her, ummm... his, ummm....their lower back and the other is waving their index finger in the air "hold up" she says with a sass "why you tripping for? What you doin here if you aint into this?"
This is when our guy realizes his wingman is across the street laughing. He also realizes that's it's been some years since he was in this part of town, then he realizes that the thumping club she’s been standing in front of is "Berlin," Chicago’s gay and transvestite club (imagine the Rocky Horror Picture Show on steroids).
He explains that he's not gay and that she is the most beautiful dude he's ever seen (he obviously didn't know what else to say since he didn't have his copy of "Homo Etiquette For Dummies" handy) and he looked as if he was puckering his butt cheeks so much he'd fart out of his mouth…because everything he had just said was pretty much sh-t!
After making peace with her/him after offending her/him unintentionally, He then asks why she/he ran from him in the first place. She/He said matter-of-factly "I thought use was a cop. You look like da police, and I ain't standing here just to looking pretty...hunnn…you got money?" He stepped back with hands up in the air, palms facing her, frantically nodding a refusal and stuttering “I-I’m ahhh..I’m not gay! She/He laughed it off, turned around and shook her/his rump as she/he walked away. She/He was a prostidude.
The moral to this story...know where all the gay bars are and avoid talking to anyone standing in front of it unless you're into that sort of thing.
Oh wait a second... That's not why I posted this. The real moral here is projecting your wants on another human being without acknowledging and excepting the reality of who they are (in this case a gay guy hooker who had a sex change into a tranny) will lead you down the road to no-no-ville.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
A whole lotta nuthin...
Nothing I’m about to say is going to surprise you: Lithopedian’s 4 track unreleased Ep is now a 10 track unreleased Lp; The I.F.U.’s Ep has changed its course “yet again” and I haven’t the slightest idea when it’s due for release; the SecretCog project is beyond collecting dust…it’s now similar to that cat looking building in the Egyptian desert; and did I mention that I won 80 billion dollars in a Pacman tournament? No! Well…that’s because I didn’t! Nope…I’m still doing what it is I do when I’m not here, there, or at that other place. ~sighs~ 
So I found this picture in my desktops picture files and I haven't the slightest idea how it got there. I thought that maybe it's an eclipse...but it kinda looks like the global economy; a blackhole in the middle of a black background with some pretty little lights trying to keep your attention away from the fact that it's really just a whole lotta nothing here to see. Yup...it's our economy alright!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Lithopedian Inching Toward Completion...
We're at it again..."N" and I tracked vocals to two songs this past Sunday. However, we are far from complete on this project.
This pic to the right is a screen shot of the studioware that we use: Cakewalks Sonar 8 Producer.
Recording's come a long way from the days when a band would mic a room and have at it.
The best part... We aren't spending 2k a day in a studio!
The release date is about as elusive as a ghost, but I'll let you know when more of this project is completed.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Stamps, Heather the Boy Hater, and a Chicken...
"I had to purchase 10 stamps to mail some letters." How’s that sentence sound to you? It’s simple to understand right? It appears to be a simple task right?
Sure…but, maybe you’re in your local Walmart and you’ve waiting in line for twenty minutes to purchase stamps. Sure…maybe there‘s some ignorant shoppers wandering about. Sure…the old lady greeting customers smells like she needs her diaper changed. Sure…you’re just having one of those “I don’t really wanna be in f –ckin Walmart buying stamps right now,” kinda days.
But hey… after twenty minutes of standing in a line behind stinky-Bob and his dripping arm pits, or standing in front of Shana nay whom you’re pretty positive is a tranny, after she says hello provocatively in a deep male voice… it’s finally your turn. Yup…it’s your turn to stand in front of the register while Heather yaps on the phone to whoever the f-ck she’s yapping too. And they’re talking about boys. And she’s crying. And you’re a boy. And she notices this. And now she’s glaring at you…because you’re a boy (errr…in my case a man, but she really was talking about boys). Long story short… they don’t have any stamps.
So if you’re me, and you’re not, but just pretend that you are for a moment, which means you need to think all paranoid, like the whole world is caving in on you… So, if you’re me, you’d think she was holding back the goods all because you’re a boy! Which she’s not, but you’re a paranoid a-shole who asks for miserable, under paid managers at Walmart so you can ask where the f-cking stamps are because you’ve been standing in line for twenty f-ckin minutes and you feel entitled to them!
Then the manager informs you that not only do they not have any stamps, but they’ve never carried any. Then Heather Scoffs at you; gnarls her lips; and evil-eyes you. Oh…and do you remember my comment about paranoia, and the whole world being out to get you? Well…everyone really is starring at you as you walk out the front door trying to save face and look cool, but really you look like you’re squeezing you’re a-s cheeks so tight your head is gonna pop off! And you’re blushing. And your lips are trembling while you hold back tears of humiliation (this last parts all you Bro… I tend to strut like George Jefferson, and never cry like I have two daddies…Rambo, and Chuck Norris!…hell yeah!).
So there you are. Afraid that your significant other is gonna think you’re an idiot. You wise up and do what you’ve should’ve done in the first place; go to your local Post Office.
[Maybe if every f-ck up was this valuable, I'd be a bazillionare by now]
On way to the Post Office; you’re cut off by one of those Smart Cars; flipped off by a homeless person for no apparent reason (but hey…at least he was smiling when he did it…him and his two teeth); and as you pull into the parking lot you’re stopped by an elderly women walking past…very, very slowly, thus causing the rear of your vehicle to hang out on the street blocking traffic. Now the whole city is honking at you for not running her over so they can get to where ever it is they need to get to.
Once inside, you check your P.O. Box on the slim chance that you’ll have thousands of fan letters pouring onto the floor. And they’re all from beautiful women. And they’re all sending you money, and cookies and pictures of them while they bake you the cookies. But no; it’s empty. It’s empty because people that write fan letters don’t listen to your music. It’s empty because you just got the d-mn box a couple of months ago for a new project no one even knows you’re in! -sighs-
So you close the empty box and head over to the front desk. The buildings empty except for the post woman…and you. As you approach the station she glares at you and points to the sign that reads [please wait your turn here]. So you wait. And you wait; still waiting. While you’re waiting might I add that YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE IN THE MOTHER F-CKIN POST OFFICE! And you wait some more. And she calls on you “Next.”
Now she’s smiling at you and she smells kind of familiar, but not old Walmart lady in soiled diapers familiar, and not clinically insane postal lady familiar, but kind of a cross between cheese, and baby powder. So you ask to buy some stamps, and she tells you they don’t have any.
The Post Office of the United States of America does not have any stamps. “Well go f-ck myself,” you blurt. “Excuse me,” she replies. You sigh, turn around, and with all of the attitude of a 5 year old girl, you walk out. And you’re not walking like George Jefferson, but more like that 5 year old girl after mommy told her she can’t have the new Breast Implant Barbie.
End note…A Post Office out of stamps is like a KFC out of chicken. It’s just not supposed to happen.
-Cog
[I don't know who made this pic, but It would be a better explanation then anything the Post Office could come up with]
Sure…but, maybe you’re in your local Walmart and you’ve waiting in line for twenty minutes to purchase stamps. Sure…maybe there‘s some ignorant shoppers wandering about. Sure…the old lady greeting customers smells like she needs her diaper changed. Sure…you’re just having one of those “I don’t really wanna be in f –ckin Walmart buying stamps right now,” kinda days.
But hey… after twenty minutes of standing in a line behind stinky-Bob and his dripping arm pits, or standing in front of Shana nay whom you’re pretty positive is a tranny, after she says hello provocatively in a deep male voice… it’s finally your turn. Yup…it’s your turn to stand in front of the register while Heather yaps on the phone to whoever the f-ck she’s yapping too. And they’re talking about boys. And she’s crying. And you’re a boy. And she notices this. And now she’s glaring at you…because you’re a boy (errr…in my case a man, but she really was talking about boys). Long story short… they don’t have any stamps.
So if you’re me, and you’re not, but just pretend that you are for a moment, which means you need to think all paranoid, like the whole world is caving in on you… So, if you’re me, you’d think she was holding back the goods all because you’re a boy! Which she’s not, but you’re a paranoid a-shole who asks for miserable, under paid managers at Walmart so you can ask where the f-cking stamps are because you’ve been standing in line for twenty f-ckin minutes and you feel entitled to them!
Then the manager informs you that not only do they not have any stamps, but they’ve never carried any. Then Heather Scoffs at you; gnarls her lips; and evil-eyes you. Oh…and do you remember my comment about paranoia, and the whole world being out to get you? Well…everyone really is starring at you as you walk out the front door trying to save face and look cool, but really you look like you’re squeezing you’re a-s cheeks so tight your head is gonna pop off! And you’re blushing. And your lips are trembling while you hold back tears of humiliation (this last parts all you Bro… I tend to strut like George Jefferson, and never cry like I have two daddies…Rambo, and Chuck Norris!…hell yeah!).
So there you are. Afraid that your significant other is gonna think you’re an idiot. You wise up and do what you’ve should’ve done in the first place; go to your local Post Office.
[Maybe if every f-ck up was this valuable, I'd be a bazillionare by now]
On way to the Post Office; you’re cut off by one of those Smart Cars; flipped off by a homeless person for no apparent reason (but hey…at least he was smiling when he did it…him and his two teeth); and as you pull into the parking lot you’re stopped by an elderly women walking past…very, very slowly, thus causing the rear of your vehicle to hang out on the street blocking traffic. Now the whole city is honking at you for not running her over so they can get to where ever it is they need to get to.
Once inside, you check your P.O. Box on the slim chance that you’ll have thousands of fan letters pouring onto the floor. And they’re all from beautiful women. And they’re all sending you money, and cookies and pictures of them while they bake you the cookies. But no; it’s empty. It’s empty because people that write fan letters don’t listen to your music. It’s empty because you just got the d-mn box a couple of months ago for a new project no one even knows you’re in! -sighs-
So you close the empty box and head over to the front desk. The buildings empty except for the post woman…and you. As you approach the station she glares at you and points to the sign that reads [please wait your turn here]. So you wait. And you wait; still waiting. While you’re waiting might I add that YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE IN THE MOTHER F-CKIN POST OFFICE! And you wait some more. And she calls on you “Next.”
Now she’s smiling at you and she smells kind of familiar, but not old Walmart lady in soiled diapers familiar, and not clinically insane postal lady familiar, but kind of a cross between cheese, and baby powder. So you ask to buy some stamps, and she tells you they don’t have any.
The Post Office of the United States of America does not have any stamps. “Well go f-ck myself,” you blurt. “Excuse me,” she replies. You sigh, turn around, and with all of the attitude of a 5 year old girl, you walk out. And you’re not walking like George Jefferson, but more like that 5 year old girl after mommy told her she can’t have the new Breast Implant Barbie.
End note…A Post Office out of stamps is like a KFC out of chicken. It’s just not supposed to happen.
-Cog
[I don't know who made this pic, but It would be a better explanation then anything the Post Office could come up with]
Thursday, July 23, 2009
www.lithopedian.com
UPDATE: We've made a little headway recently and we released a track from 2007 called "Thief Of Silence." It's our creepiest song to date. The best description I can offer is... think of every vicious horror movie you've ever viewed. Are you imagining it? Yeah...good. Now imagine that your in the film and the villian is giving a spoken word performance to an audience of zombies. That's a pretty dead-on description.
The Ep and Lp aren't completed yet, but we've created a new MySpace account at: www.myspace.com/officiallithopedian as well as establishing it's own web site here at: http://www.lithopedian.com/
Pay us a visit, and get involved before the albums are released! And remember... "Shhh..."
www.secretasylum.com
I've been tinkering with the idea of starting a web based forum for some time now. I wanted to build a site for the sub-cultural side of the art and entertainment industry. A haven for rockers, tattoo artisist, piercers, etc.
I've been a member of several different forums over the years and I've enjoyed the privilage of moderating my own sub-forum: "Shhh...They're Listening!" at Mabus Incarnate but I felt that it was time to try my hand at Administrating an online community.
The site allows users to join for free, create a small profile, post in the forums and start thier own threads. On the portal page there's a chat window where members and tourists can meet and greet, and the best part... it's all linked to Mabus Incarnate as well as my personal web site: http://www.secretcog.com/ and the band I'm currently working with http://www.lithopedian.com/
Before I forget, here's how you get to the forum: http://www.secretasylum.com/ Enjoy!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Mabus, Music, and My favorite sketches...
It's 3:26pm and I'd love to give you some ear candy! But... I can't. It Just isn't finished yet. The Lithopedian session went well, and we worked on a new tracks: "Pro Spiritubus," and "Into Twilight With Secret Fire."
We did remaster (and when I say remaster, I really mean lazily and totally unprofessionally convert the sloppy mix into a wav and mp3 file) the first Lithopedian song "Thief of Silence." I must admit that this is the creepiest work I've worked on yet. If I can get my partner to give the nod (yeah, most musicians work in pairs/twos like the d-mn Sith!) I'll post a sample of the track at http://www.myspace.com/secretcog with all of the other sample tracks.
My GQ pose.
She's a dirty lil'Tramp!
Lastly http://www.mabusincarnate.com/ If your into anything and everything from science to conspiracies; from theology to metaphysics, then visit this site. There's a chat service and the forums are loaded with brainy goodness. Joining is free, and be warned... this place is addictive!
Unrelated sketch of me slaying zombies by Rez at http://www.rnabrand.com/
We did remaster (and when I say remaster, I really mean lazily and totally unprofessionally convert the sloppy mix into a wav and mp3 file) the first Lithopedian song "Thief of Silence." I must admit that this is the creepiest work I've worked on yet. If I can get my partner to give the nod (yeah, most musicians work in pairs/twos like the d-mn Sith!) I'll post a sample of the track at http://www.myspace.com/secretcog with all of the other sample tracks.Another unrelated sketch done by Rez at http://www.rnabrand.com/ of the Host of the Mabus Incarnate Show: BLC...
Regarding the samples on the above mentioned web site... They are just samples. Unfinished bits on a page I'm not promoting (haven't promoted jack since Monkey Mouse) and they are there for two reasons: 1) I'm an insanely busy person, and this pushes me to make time for my musical endeavors; and 2) It helps me brainstorm with other musicians I speak to all over this giant rock we live on.
My GQ pose.That said... I'd like to give a shout out to my side thang...
She's a dirty lil'Tramp!As for the SecretCog project... it's coming people. Be patient. I promise you'll hate it just as much as you hate me!
Lastly http://www.mabusincarnate.com/ If your into anything and everything from science to conspiracies; from theology to metaphysics, then visit this site. There's a chat service and the forums are loaded with brainy goodness. Joining is free, and be warned... this place is addictive!Friday, July 10, 2009
The Lithopedian Project
I've worked on many projects over the years. Most of the ventures I assisted were punk/hardcore/metal based, but Lithopedian is the first time I've attempted doom thanks to the bands mastermind "Morg" formally of Orcen
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Here's a snapshot of us at work in '07.
We began this undertaking back in 2007, and it's been a long time coming. We have tracks tucked away and awaiting release, and this Sunday July 12th, we should finally be able to finish up our new material.
Stay tuned!
Fourth of July in Sweet Home...
My family and I celebrated Uncle Sam's birthday on July 3rd at Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois. We spent the afternoon gorging ourselves at the Taste of Chicago and then threw a blanket on the grass along Lake Shore Drive right in front of Buckingham Fountain. Seated with a sea of an estimated 1 million spectators, we relaxed and enjoyed the show, and only one (1) person was carted off in an ambulance this year (that we witnessed)! Not bad considering last years mayhem... .JPG)
A snapshot we took of the fireworks 2009
Last year we reclined inside of Butler Field in front of the Petrillo Music Shell to watch the fireworks show. Just as the grand finale kicked into full gear, a massive crowd started running along the fence line. I was able to catch the following image of the runners...
Marathon Chicago Style, "everyone run there's a gun!"Okay... let's not be harsh. I'm not a photographer! We didn't even know why they were running until the news reported the disturbance during our drive home. Turns out there was a gunfight, and everyone fled. The point here is even though C.P.D. was in riot gear with helicopters, spotlights, watch towers, and perimeter fencing after this past incident...we still had a good time.
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The annoying glowing stripes are part of the barrier erected at this years event. Giant Turkey Legs smothered in BBQ sauce, Jerk Chicken and Rice, Chicago Deep Dish Pizza, Catfish Nuggets, Over-Priced Soda, Sweaty Crowds of Fat Gnarly People, then on to a Littered Over-Crowded Park, full of those same Sweaty Fat Gnarly People...who are now too Over-Stuffed, and hopped up on Ant-Acids to move from the craters they're forcing into the grass, Cops marching like Storm Troopers with massive explosions blazoned across the sky. I love my Chicago!
[DISCLAIMER: SC IS ONLY JOKING ABOUT THE SWEATY FAT GNARLY PEOPLE ATTENDING THE FESTIVITIES. HE WOULD NEVER THINK TO PRINT SOMETHING OFFENSIVE OR DEROGATORY ABOUT ANYONE. EVERYONE WAS BEAUTIFUL, DRY, AND THEY HAD PERFECT BODIES. IT WAS THE INSUFFICIENT LIGHTING FROM THE SUN THAT CAUSED THERE PERFECTLY CHISELED PHYSIQUES TO DISTORT AND SLOTH IN APPEARANCE AND THE MOISTURE IN THE AIR COLLECTED ON THE SHIRTS ALONG THE CHEST AREA AND UNDER THEIR ARM PITS...MAKING IT APPEAR AS IF THEY WERE SWEATING NIAGRA FALLS AND IT WAS THE CITY SEWER STINKING AND NOT THEM, OH NO... EVERYBODY WAS A F----N RUNWAY MODEL!]
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Fathers Day, Tattoos, and George Clinton in 2009!
Happy Fathers Day! President Calvin Coolidge nationalized the third Sunday in June to be celebrated annually as Fathers Day in 1924. A conspiracy theory has been floating around accusing the U.S. government of designating said holiday to appease lobbyists in the tie and cologne industry...CLICK HERE FOR SOURCE!
Amber and our sons took me to the Chicago Tattoo Convention at Navy Pier hosted by the Body Art Expo. We had a good time and met some talented artists. If you're planning to attend a tattoo convention, show up early! This place was packed and every booth was booked until closing.
The night before I attended the Fathers Day Funk Festival at Chicagos Arie Crown Theater with Ambers best friends father Lonnie. George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelics "Mothership" headlined, with guests the Ohio Players featuring Sugarfoot, the Bar-Kays, Con Funk Shun, the Dazz Band and Slave.
If you haven't listened to 70's funk you've done yourself a great injustice! Funk tweaked modern punk and alternative rock, least I forget what it did for Hip Hop. George Clinton is not only the king of funk, he's the shovel that built the foundation of today's pop and hip hop cultures.
R.I.P. Michael Jackson (1958-2009). Aside from the controversy surrounding him (he was never convicted) he was an icon, a hero, and an inspiration to musician's everywhere. He also grew up not far from me, and he's thought of fondly all over Gary, Indiana and Chicago land.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Chicago Blues Festival 2009
Spent Saturday June 13th in Grant Park for the Chicago Blues Festival. If you've never attended...it's worth the pilgrimage! Gibson Guitars had a show-trailer stocked with it's gems and a stage to showcase the talent. Below, my oldest son and I post next to the Legendary Mississippi Blues Bus.
This years Blues Fest was dedicated to Koko Taylor (1928-2009)
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Eden...
If I was a rapper I'd boastfully call this the thought before the big bang! But I'm not, so I'll call it what it is... pro---cras---ti---na---tion.The website http://www.secretcog.com/ is currently under construction, and so is this blog. The SC Ep will be released soon enough, but first... I'm finishing up the Lithopedian Ep.
Stay Tuned...
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