OMG!!! WHAT KIND OF A FUCKING IDIOT ARE YOU???

Oh, my...  What the fuck???  I am so god damned embarrassed to be an American right now that I could spit copper!!!  Out of my ass!!!  Yet, I am laughing my ass off at this disaster.   Oh, lord, I love it when the mighty fall,  not once, but twice.  Dude, what in the hell were you thinking???

For those of you not in the know...  just Google Anthony Wiener.  Yeah, it's actually pronounced  "Weeeeeener".  OK, I've tossed in a couple of more "e's" but it's still pronounced "Weeeeeeener".  He used to be a member of our House of Representatives.  That is, until pictures that he took of himself naked at the gym surfaced on the Web.  He resigned.  Thank god.  In any other civilized nation that would have been the end of him.  But no, this is America.  We don't have the good sense that god gave a toothpick.  This idiot decides to run for the Governor of New York State.  WTF???

Guess what?  Yeah, some new pictures bubbled to the surface.  Again, more of Wiener's wiener.  Dude, put that thing away!!!  Did having to resign from the House of  Representatives teach you nothing???  That's a pretty high branch to fall from.  Yet you decide to run for the Governorship of the State of New York while still feeling the need to post shots of your "junk" on the Web.  Dude, it's the Web!?!?  The Web!!!  You fucking idiot, it's the Web!!!!!!!  Yeah, once you put your pee- pee out there you're pretty much toast...

Who in their right mind signed your ballet petition???  How many crack-addicted, single wide WalMart shoppers did your evil minions corral to get you enough signatures to be on the ballot to run for the Governor of New York???  What the hell were you thinking???  Oh,wait, you weren't thinking, were you???

You scum-ball!!!  You make me ashamed.  As if America doesn't have enough hypocrites already we are forced to endure you and your kind.  You have got to be FUCKING kidding me!!!

Yes, I am a Democrat, a "Liberal" as it were and I am able to accept some really weird shit but you are genuinely out of my range.  I will give you three letters.  "MNT".  That stands for Mind Numbing Turd.  You appall  me in ways that I have not been horked off in since the Viet Nam War.  Yeah, it's noise from the back of the cave time here right now.  And anyone who has heard me make that noise knows what I'm talking about.  It has been known to make young children run away in panic and tears.  You fucking dirtbag!!!

At least I can sleep at night with a clear conscience...  How about you???  And your wife???

TONIGHT I DANCED IN THE RAIN...

I am  a handful of hours away from being 60.   And 'sconsin is getting pelted with a thunderstorm of an  amazing proportion.

I went out and danced in it.  I came back in soaked.  With a smile on my face.

Yes, a warm summer rain.  I opened my mouth and drank it in.  Heavenly...  just heavenly...

Aah, yes, 'tis good to have these kinds of perks...  and to have someone as silly as you to meet you at the door with a towel to sort of dry you off when you're this happy...   And being silly while you do it.

hmmm...  I guess it just doesn't get any better.........

Aah, yes to dance in the rain.  Sorry, but I'm giggling at the moment...

YOU JUST GOTTA KNOW WHEN TO HOLD 'EM...

Who are these people?  Why do I know them?  Better yet, why do I trust them???  Hell, why do they trust me???  Can you say U-Haul trailer full of nitrogen fertilizer soaked in kerosene???  Yeah, that is my kind of party...  Who better to hand your keys and wallet to than someone as equally as messed up as you are???  And then after a "fist-bump" you head over to the edge of the cliff to do something INCREDIBLY stupid with a large rubber band tied around your ankles...  Sorry, I'm giggling...  Smile...

I have been blessed by the Fates with a lifetime full of loonies.  Sorry, I'm still giggling.  Heh, heh, heh...  Nothing is more fun than a house full of crazies.  Unless, of course, it's a house full of wonderfully "medicated" (enhanced???) crazies.  In costume.  Bearing gifts for yours truly.  Trust me on this one, if you decide to be nuts dive into the deep end of the pool.  It's mucho, moi, mas more fun down there!  Really, it is!

Aah, yes....  60.   Last night I began the "official" launch of my really long weekend nose dive into the BIG 6-Ouch.  My hostesses, two of my favorite lesbians, were gullible enough to open their home and throw me a white trash bash.  This fiasco involved lots of shots, way too many dogs, deliciously scary costumes, crock pots, damned near half a pig, a few more shots and the most amazingly mobile home park side dishes you can imagine.  At one point I actually managed to set the grill on fire.  No, not in that good way that you want to "fire-up" a grill.  I actually managed to set a gas grill on fire.  Yes, there is such a thing as too much chicken, I guess...  FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!

I was tsunami'd from all sides by prison 'tats,  tank tops, flip-flops and wife-beaters.  (FYI:  I was wearing some of those things myself...).  I was toasted and roasted.  I would have it no other way!!!  I happily shared my big day with a 9-year old that owns my soul whose birthday I missed last month.  She was thrilled by the 6-pack of jumbo black olives that I gave her.  She anointed me with yellow balloons, recycled glitter and Girl Scout cookies.  What can I say, she's my kind of lady...

Somewhere over the course of the evening I managed to misplace my watermelon.  Yes, really, I lost a watermelon.  I don't know how.  C'mon, think about it, how the hell do you "misplace" a watermelon???  They're kind of obvious...  Shit!!!  I spent half an hour picking out that water melon!!!  And now it's probably just moldering away in the back of a lesbian refrigerator.  Unseen.  Unnoticed.  Ripe.  Overripe, actually...  Like I said, half an hour...

Somewhere, in the middle of this I vaguely remember trying to explain what "while on the brown acid" meant to a 15 year old.  With his wonderfully crazy mother backing me up.  Hon, I LOVE ya!!!  It went from Woodstock, to giggles, to snorts and then on to glazed eyes.  His, NOT ours.  Heh, heh, heh...   Lord, I do love laughing like the dEVIL!!!  What can I say, you just gotta love a fellow stoner....  Cupcake, you got some stones.  I love thar!!!

At some point throughout  the debacle several people suffered moderately severe second degree burns due to the "S'more"s Effect" as we called it.  Well, not so much a S'more's thing as much as we were all messed up enough to try to make S'more's out of roasted "Peep's".  And had the drunken mishap of putting a 9-year old in charge of it.  (Thank gOD I'm not a parent...)  Pretty much everyone between 9 and 46 got some sort of injury requiring  varying degrees of ice.

Around about midnight I poured myself out of the back seat of a pick-em-up truck that my DD was driving and into the parking lot of my apartment complex.  Along with the better part of half a case of assorted tequilas, a bed pan (thank you, I think...), a shirt pocket full of bacon and super glue, a cabbage and a couple of pink flamingos.  Oh, yeah, and some Paula Dean DVD's before she was "THE" Paula Dean.  Can you say re-gifting???

Aah, shit...

As I type there is a smile on my face, a silly lilt in my step, an ABBA song I just can't seem to get out of my head and a twinkle in a pair of green eyes.  In the words of a dear friend, " 'tis good to be the king.".

Aah, yes, my friend, 'tis good to be the king...

HERE'S TO WEIRD SHIT...

Oh, lord...  Why does it take this long to get this crazy??

Trust me on this one, I've done some of the dumbest shit imaginable.  Horrendous mistakes???  Yeah, my name is all over that one!!!  And I embrace every single one of them.  With a smile on my face.  Uh,  hmmm,  I actually am that stupid.  But without those "mistakes" I would not be the person I am today.  I just can't figure out why I'm not on Death Row right now...

I am not just a danger to myself  (yes, it's true).  I am a danger to anything within 35 miles in every direction. Maybe more...  Can you say improbable and grotesque  mischief???  From my experience, unlike Las Vegas, what happens below the equator or the other side of the International Dateline does not necessarily always stay there.  That probably means no more vacations...

Let's talk about my wrap sheet for a bit.  It started when I was 16.  Something about trying to incite a riot.  Trust me, my parents were NOT pleased.  Little did they know that I had stolen a couple of cars prior to that just to go on joy rides.  Sorry mom, but yeah, I was the one who trashed your 1968 Imperial.  OK, my bad...  That was a trait that would follow me into college.  OK, in my mind I did not STEAL cars as much as I just BORROWED them.  Heh, heh, heh...  There's a couple of drug busts.  A DUI.  Or two...  I have been blind drunk on the docks of Sydney, Australia at 2 AM.  In the arms of a long shore man.  I have been a dumpster-diver in Hong Kong in the middle of the night.  Oh, hell, I've had a camel spit on me.  I once unknowingly drove the getaway car after a gas station hold up. What can I say, I just can't make this shit up.  And of course, the car was packed full of "illegal smiles.".  Again, a smile on my face...  Yes, I am a train wreck.  But at least I am a happy one.  I am the little engine that could.  And did...  Repeatedly...

I have pee'd in the Indian Ocean.  I have walked on the Great Wall of China.  Hell, I've actually tap danced
on that bitch.  Yet, you people still give me your children.  What are you thinking???  Holy shit, I've dealt enough grass to buy Miami!!!  What in the name of chocolate makes me look safe???  I wouldn't give me a centavos worth of nickles and yet you still give me your children.  WTF???

I have been self medicating since I was 12.  I started with my parents medicine cabinet.  Oh my, really good stuff in there.  Mom was into barbiturates and dad was into stimulants.  I was in heaven.  I was my own personal Judy Garland.  By the age of fourteen I had discovered the "streets".   It was 1967.  Oh, yeah, I was having me some fun.  It was all legal back then.  Well, except for the pot.  Which apparently is a "gate-way" drug.  I can't imagine how.  Notice the smile on my face...  Heh, heh, heh...

Yeah, I've done me some stuff.  Holy shit, have I done me some stuff....

I am now cascading like a crashing airliner at SFO into 60.   Oh, my...

Yet, there is a song in my heart, a lilt in my step and a tap dance move or two not yet witnessed.  Trust me on this one, I WILL NOT go silently into that great dark night.  Hell, have any of you ever heard me do ANYTHING silently???  Yeah, too late to start now... 


















 






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MUGSHOTS...

Aah, yes, mugshots.  I love them.  They are the lowest common denominator of humanity.  They put us in our place and let us know in NO uncertain terms that we are about as evolved as mold.  I love looking at those things.  Especially mine.  BTW, I have four.  Or is it five?  I can't remember them all.  Hey, what can I say, I started young...  My first mugshot was at the ripe old age of 16.  Something about unlawful assembly and attempting to incite a riot.  It was the '60's, what can I say?

In the words of Maria Von Trapp, whenever I'm feeling blue I simply remember (Google???) my favorite things.  Yes, mugshots.  Trust me on this, just Google "mugshots" and what will appear before you will scare the skin off of you.  I don't know what fascinates me more about these things, the image or the question of just what they did to get that fucked up looking.  There just isn't such a thing as a "good" mugshot.  Mugshots make your driver's license picture look like a formal setting from Olin Mills.  Broken noses.  Blood.  Black eyes.  Split lips.  More blood.  Missing teeth.  Really bad tattoos.  REALLY BAD TATTOOS!!!  Hair "don'ts" of amazing peculiarity.  And, of course, a smile.  Who the hell smiles during a mugshot???  Oh, wait, that's right...  really fucked up people do that kind of strange shit.

Now, I just love a mugshot of someone that I don't know.  Y'know, what I mean, the "common man".  Aaron Copeland is spinning in a coffin somewhere right now.  I look at some of those things and wonder why they never came completely out of the trees.  Down to the ground.  Where they could have had their ancestors consumed by carnivorous mega fauna.  Life today would be so much simpler.  And WalMart would not exist.  I like that thought.  But my true joy (shall we say AMAZING body rush?) is when I see a celebrity's mugshot.  Holy shit!!!  Nick Nolte's mugshot is permanently burnt into my frontal lobes.  Dude, just how fucked up were you???  What, no mirrors in your house???  There is a wonderful device called a comb.  Try using it once in awhile.  Then there's Lindsey Lohan.  Enough said on that because there's just way too many to pick from.  Paris Hilton...  more money than the Treasury Department and less sense than god gave a toothpick.  OK, I don't like her but any mugshot that includes over $500,000 worth of designer jewelry just floats my boat.  O.J. Simpson...  first off, he literally gets away with murder.  Then he decides to follow it up with pistol whipping some guy in a hotel room in Las Vegas.  Stupidity does indeed warrant multiple mugshots.  I am holding my breath for a mugshot of the Queen of England after a bar fight.  And you know that she is going to be charged with using that purse as a weapon.  This kind of shit makes me feel so damned normal it hurts.  And that alone should scare you...

There is, however, one mugshot I hold close to my heart.  Jane Fonda's.  Damned good mugshot!!!  It was back in the '60's and she was in her "Klute" stage.  Yeah, really bad hairstyle but she looked fabulous.  It's amazing what a $10,000 an hour stylist can do to make you look "revolutionary".  How the hell they let her throw up a "strike fist" amazes me.  "Hanoi Jane" be damned, I was one of the crazies that stood at her back.  Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.  You may apologize for it later but if it made sense at the time you just have to jump naked into the deep end.  Jane, I bow to you.  DAMNED GOOD MUGSHOT!!!

I HONESTLY DIDN'T KNOW WHO TO SLAP FIRST...

OK, as you all know, I am a shopaholic.  Put me behind a cart in a store and I go completely crack whore.  Hey, what can I say, it's a calling.  And I always pick up the phone...

Today was, well... something else.  OK, it was like Dante's 27th gate of hell.  In all honesty I did not know who to bitch slap first, the mother or her demon seed from hell.  They were both monstrous in their own ways.  I've never been this torn in my life.

So, I'm at the Dollar Tree (great store, I love it!!!) happily running through my shopping list when I first heard the commotion start.  Yeah, that high C over middle C that only a three year old can manage to do.  I swear to god, dogs for two miles in every direction were probably knocked to the ground.  It was amazing.  Oh, hell, it was annoying at the very least.  Then it quickly got totally unacceptable.  BIG TIME!!!  I turned into the Health & Beauty aisle because I needed some shampoo.  Big mistake on my part.  I quickly found myself face to face with the Devil.  And his mother.  Again, I did not know who to slap first.

The "creature" could not have been more than 3 years of age.  And he was off leash.  His mother was in her mid 40's and up to her eyeballs in designer clothes.  Yeah, at the dollar store.  WTF???  The "child" was making a face not unlike a hyena about to attack and once again gifting me with that high C over middle C thing.  I curdled. I panicked.  I did everything in my power to just duck and cover.  And then it lunged.  HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!  This little monster went into total fucking bat-shit crazy meltdown.  I damned near jumped into my cart just to protect myself.  He launched himself down the aisle, arms open and knocking everything off of the shelves he could touch.  On both sides.  All the while, tearing stuff open and stomping on it.  While screaming.  Loudly.  LOUDLY!!!  I all too quickly found myself trapped in an aisle of collateral damage.  No shit, I was up to my knees in shampoo, soap, conditioner, tooth paste, mouth wash, bath wash, cotton balls, tweezers,  nail polish remover, gunk, goo, sticky stuff and an out of control proto-human like thing..  Who has now decided to take on the next aisle over.  Oh, my stars...  It was Housewares.  There's a lot of glass in that aisle.  Well, actually, there WAS a lot of glass in that aisle.  That little monster went nuts.  I could hear the damage he was doing as I sat in the safety of my cart as the passion fruit scented goo began to seep up over the top of the wheels.  The other lone shopper in the aisle ran for her life as store employees began descending from all directions.

"Mother" (I use that term VERY loosely) seems to be totally unaffected by this display and casually calls across to the other aisle, "Timmy, use your inside voice."  I damned near cold cocked her right there!!!  "Timmy, use your inside voice."  ???  WOMAN, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MOTHERFUCKING MIND???  Had I even considered something 1/100th of this at this monsters age I would have immediately been dragged out of that store and locked in the trunk of the car.  For those of you my age, you know what I mean...

In less than two minutes I watched thousands of dollars worth of damage be done to a dollar store.  Not an easy feat when you think about it.  By a 3 year old.  Who may or may not of had rabies.

"Timmy, use your inside voice."...

Again, I did not know who to bitch slap, drop kick or sucker punch first...

Luckily, I am a calm sort of person.  Oh, just stop laughing, I can hear you!!!

MY DEAR MADIBA...

In case you are not aware of that word, it's the tribal birth name of the man we now know as Mr. Nelson Mandela.  He is a victim of birth, a victim of skin color, a victim of an apartheid government that put him through hell for 30 years for no damned good reason.  And he is now revered as the Father of his country.  He was the first truly generally elected President of a newly free South Africa.  And we are now in the process of losing him to time.

He did nothing more than speak out about the inequalities that the vast majority of his fellow people were being subjected to by a the ruling class.  He was tired of being treated like a 3rd class citizen.  Oh, wait, that's right...  he wasn't even considered to be a citizen.  Yeah, not a single freaking right or privilege.   Of course, he got arrested.  And was given a "trial".  I didn't even know kangaroos had trials.  They put him in a former military prison.  On an island.  Within sight of his homeland.  And for 30 motherfucking years they tried to break him.  And the spirits of everyone like him.  And they failed.  He beat them.  He won!!!

When that nightmare of apartheid finally collapsed he was freed.  And he came back with a vengeance that just makes me salivate.  The world stood up and took notice.  And they applauded.   Mr. President...  Oh, yeah, that had to taste SO good!!!

He came out of 30 years of HELL a kind, gentle, humanitarian with a sense of humor that could melt dry ice.  And a smile.  Oh my stars, what a smile...  And a drive to make his country better.  To make his country a player on the world stage and to raise it up to where it should be..

He won the Noble Peace Prize.  Ain't nothing like that to let you know that you actually have "arrived".  The world embraces and respects him.  Hell, how can you not???   This mans struggles make gay-bashing look like a walk in the park!!!

He is now 94, in failing health and in a hospital on life support.  We are in the process of losing a treasure.  Someone who had the stones to stand up and say "I don't think so!!!".  Someone who stood by those convictions during a conviction of hell-and-high-water and yet still emerged victorious.  With a smile on his face, his hand reached out, a lilt in his step and incredible words of wisdom and guidance.  And the Presidency.

You, my dear sweet man, make me smile...