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1/31/10 The Super Bowl Is Fixed
Hey Here we are with the second issue of 2010 (#252) and still no cyborg love puppets for Bill, fuck you science bastards anyway, what good are you? None, I say. Fucking none. I want my cyborg love puppets and I want them by God yesterday. Got some nice mail since last issue, I guess from all the folks who get it passed on to them second or third hand or whatever since I don't think last issue is up yet, I swear it seems like whenever I post a compliment in here from some satisified reader someone else has to write in and try and top it. Which is what you should do, by the way. This one from I don't remember and am too lazy to go back and check says "you write with great style and pith." Holy fuck, got me again. PITH. Like dullard from a few issues back, what a great word and one you never hear anymore. Pith. I love it. And thanks. I mean, you're welcome. Didn't get called on it regarding last issue, but I know its "mein" not main and Snagglepuss with two g's I blame the vodka after the LaBatts ran out. As for some of the rest of the mail bag- no, I have no idea what "shoop da whoop" means (no further correspondence from Mr. LC), but it made me think, Ron why don't you send that clip you have of DFZ going over the top rope with that AX guy to Joe and he can put it in here, its more loop the loop, but whatever. Looks good. And it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it did me. What's Bill been doing? Still putting in time at The Yard, where Ronnie continues to speak in dumbass tongues. He came in the office a while back, Nancy was out- Ronnie: Tell Nancy we need some more heezy. I must've looked at him blanker than usual cos he adds- R: It's for that thing that's brokeded. So when Nancy comes back from "the PO"- B: Ronnie says we need some more heezy for that thing that's
brokeded. So she calls Ronnie, I never did find out what thing it was that was brokeded- don't really care, either- but "heezy" is apparently how Ronnie says adhesive, which is what he calls Super Glue. Yes, he truly is the most ignorant son of a bitch who ever lived. Took up for Ronnie week before last- sorry for it now too- when the head security guy who works the gate at the other end of the property came in to see Nancy who as usual was out- hell why not, she's got me to to run things- "No we don't want your goddamn trash, get the fuck out of here- oh yeah, and don't come back", business continues to go in the crapper I just can't figure it- wanting to talk to her cos Ronnie keeps calling him "Obama" (he's black- the guard I mean). I told him I didn't think Ronnie meant anything racist by it cos I honestly didn't, like I told the guy Ronnie's a fucking hillbilly retard and what can you expect, he calls me Rambo and I don't get pissed. So Obama went away satisfied, but now I think I gave Ronnie too much credit, a mistake I won't make again. Been working some for Bob M lately as well. I pretty much hate the guy- (THAT'LL MAKE HIM STAND OUT IN A CROWD) -he tries I guess but on his best day he's still a fucking asshole. Does that exact same thing his punk ass son does that got me severed from my job at the bar (the second time, and I found out from Pat that they subsequently had to hire TWO motherfuckers to take my place, a bartender and a bouncer where with Bill you got two in one, she's pissed about it even if she wasn't the biggest fan of my bouncing technique) hollering "BILL!" and expecting me to come running like some fucking dog. When will these stupid fucks learn I DON'T DO THAT. I just ignore him like I did Bobby. You want me, you come to me. Eventually he does. Or doesn't, it's all the same to me. Still, I've picked up some good bucks the past couple weeks- one thing I can say for Bob, he does pays well. Gonna drive him to Bluefield this Tuesday, Wheeling some time the week after, makes me nostalgic for those trips we used to take to Virginia back in the day which were week long paid drinking binges for Bill (in addition to paying me for my time, again well, he'd let me run a tab at the little bar across from where we were staying which he'd pick up- madness, I know. I KNOW) with a little driving at either end. Our first trip down this surprisingly attractive maid at the BSG motel, in addition to changing my sheets and giving me clean towels offered to blow me for five bucks (a hell of a deal even in 1979) but being the stand up recently married guy that I was who was already getting blow jobs pretty much every time he blinked (Loretta . . . say no more) I declined. (WONDER WHERE THAT MAID IS TODAY?) Don't I wish I knew. (PROBABLY RAISING GRANDKIDS) Probably. Which brings us to . . . Bill's Mom. She's gotten to where she has to get back up to piss I don't know how many times every night after she's gone to bed. I don't know how many but I do know it's a lot. Since I sleep so fucking light anymore, when I sleep at all, if I'm not already awake it never fails to wake me up. The other night I hear her go into the bathroom (where she never bothers to shut the door at night, by the way). Bill's Mom: Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle . . . long pause . . . tinkle,
tinkle, tinkle . . . much longer pause, Bill starts to drift off to
sleep . . . tinkle, tinkle, tinkle . . . BLAM. I go to the bathroom where she's sprawled out on the floor- laugh if you want, I'm still blind in my left eye from seeing this- B: What are you DOING? She wasn't hurt but . . . I'm living in Hell. Seriously. Rachel came in Wednesday. She didn't go back to school this semester, and she's going back to live with Loretta when the lease on her apartment runs out in May. I'm not thrilled about either development but there's not a hell of a lot I can do about it. We haven't done a lot this visit, but it's been very good for Bill, I'll be the first one to tell you that you can't let others determine your happiness, but the difference in my life when the girls are in is just crazy. I'm still a surly fuck this world prick, but I feel so much better about it. We did go see Avatar yesterday afternoon, finally, it wasn't quite as deserted as when she and I and the much missed Falconette A were the only ones in the theater to see Land Of The Dead, but attendance was sparse. In my elitist/oppositional way I wasn't going to see it, especially when I heard it broke the attendance or money record or whatever it was, I figured if that many people had gone to see it, it had to suck, but Rachie wanted to go so we went. Visually it was the most amazing movie I've ever seen, bar none (yeah, even including Traci I Love You). I wouldn't give you a nickel for the fucking sub-Disney cliche-ridden caricature filled script. Hated it, seriously . . . didn't dislike it, I HATED it. But I'd still recommend seeing it once just to SEE it, and I even more strongly recommend you see it on the hallucinogen of your choice. And since not everyone is a hypercritical motherfucker like Bill, you might actually like the story. Though if you do you're fucking WRONG. Rachel also went around with her grandmother for over 20 minutes yesterday over some Burger King coupons, my Mom insisting they said something they didn't, after Rachel realized far later than she should have that it was a complete waste of time trying to reason with my Mom she came to me all worked up and said "Grandma Dot is out of her damn mind." Thank you for that diagnosis Dr. Bitner, what took you so long? What else has Bill been doing? Sometime since last issue Rosa and I were going to go to that Huntington comedy club- pre the Andy "I've No Doubt He Really Is A" Dick fracas- with Mark and Julia to see- I can't remember who, it was like Canoe Head or something- but our free tickets fell through and I figured that's money I can spend on alcohol so I bailed. Danny decided to drink up the Absinthe he brought back from Pisek last fall so he had an Absinthe party couple weekends ago. He'd have just had me do it but I'm not all that big on Absinthe. Pretty good party, I liked everyone there which is as rare as, well, me liking everyone at a party, except for this one stone goofy fuck named John, one of the redneck Schaar rabble who somehow crashed the guest list, he was already fucked up royal when he got there- "Lookit mah pew-pills, ahm on peels, ahm outta mah MAHN"- but he kept coming up to me, "You want some?", "Sure" I'd say, then stick 'em in my pocket, I'm not a Lortab guy- (BULLSHIT) -okay, I'm not currently a Lortab guy, I kept taking them from him though and later sold them for $30, once he was out of pills and I was out of patience I came up behind him when no one was paying attention and shoved him off the front porch, he landed on his face and dug in, hurt his neck and he had to leave. Damn shame. Mister Bulky was there, we drank some Eisenhower's- Red Bull and Absinthe, so horrible I only had two, Chris- not MC Chris or Young Chris, this would be X-Marine Chris, known him a couple years now, hell of a nice guy, brought some single barrel bourbon, 121 proof, had a couple shots of that, smooth and strong, wonderful stuff, could have gone crazy on that but I was pacing myself, Balsa, another lovely person, he's cast Bill as some Eastern European gang boss in his master's film- go figure- brought back some Montenegran moonshine, strong and not very smooth at all. Not at ALL. Unless you like drinking gasoline which for all I know you might. Even for all that mess, I still was pacing myself, on top of the liquor had I don't know, six or so Yuenglnig and smoked one of Butch's really fine cigars, but I was wanting to go home with someone who was there, so I avoided getting truly wrecked. And as I did end up going home with her it proved to be the right decision, one of the few I've made recently- or ever. Unloaded my last copies of Monster there as well (more on the way though, plus I just got another check from Amazon- this getting paid for writing thing is the best shit EVER) Balsa wanted one but was broke, I told him he could owe me, his super serious response in his thick accent, "I not sure owing you money good idea." How funny. So I gave him one for free, what the fuck. He's a good kid, I like him a lot. Met this guy there also named Bill who's a drummer, and a good one, and another nice guy, I listened to one of his songs on you.tube, had him listen to Drunk Every Night which he said he really liked, talked to him about sometime this summer getting together and recording the Tang Spoons lost classics, all the songs we never got out the first time around, truly killer stuff long time readers have read about ad infinitum like "Atom War '50", "Revenge"- (IMAGINE YOU WRITING A SONG CALLED REVENGE. WHAT'S IT ABOUT?) "Monster Zero Must Die", "White Sky", "Goodbye You Asshole", "Cryptomystic", "Bo Diddley's Mustang Ford" "Since Daddy Came Back From Hell"- that is some great shit for real. Couple of them, especialy BDMF, we should try to dig up Greg for, but the others let's let other Bill take a swing. All I have to do is relearn all the songs. After I relearn to play the guitar. "Tell people to keep dogs away from fire. I've only had him a couple hours and he's already burned down my tent." Some homeless guy in Parkersburg. "All I know about animals is that they love you right up until they kill you." Steve McQueen - or burn down your tent. Bill goes into the library- Bill: Gimme a drink. What's Bill been reading? Lots more noir- or hard-boiled if you prefer- fiction, 8 novels by Irishman Kevin Breun (I order in bulk from the library, where you can't get a damn drink by the way), uniformly very good to excellent, 3 by Max Allan Collins, all very good, A Century Of Noir anthology, this is the SHIT right here, 600 pages by the absolute masters of the genre, John D and Ross MacDonald, Evan Hunter AND Ed McBain, David Goodis, James M. Cain, plus great period pieces like the one about Race Williams, who never met a man he didn't want to kill- (SOUNDS LIKE OUR KIND OF GUY) -no kidding, also read a bio of Jacques Cousteau who for all his kindly old fuck public persona was a Gallic dick- (YOU MEAN HE WAS TWO INCHES TALL?) -good one, plus a memoir by Larry McMurtry, never read any of his stuff but I enjoyed this, kind of gouges me though thinking that his sort of academic/literary career could have easily been mine. As some of you have heard a billion times and some of you not at all (though stick around and you'll eventually end up hearing it a billion times) I was offered a Master's scholarship to the Ultra-prestigious Iowa State writing program in 1979- full ride, free on campus housing for both Loretta and I plus 400 1979 bucks a month living expenses. And in easily the single worst decision I've ever made in a lifetime filled with them I said, "Thank you Dr. Grattan, but I'm going to be a rock star." And turned it down. (HOW'D THAT ROCK STAR THING WORK OUT FOR YOU?) Still working on it. And fuck you, by the way. The human name doesn't mean shit to a tree (DOESN'T CARRY A HELL OF A LOT OF WEIGHT WITH ME EITHER) What's Bill been listening to? Iron Butterfly (3), Jack Hollywood (1) Jackson 5 (1)- "I Want You Back" is still one of Bill's Top 5 Dance songs EVER- and I can dance your mother fucking ass off, I don't care who you are- Jam (3) Tommy James (1) James Gang (1) Jay And The Americans (1) Jefferson Airplane (4) Jesus And Mary Chain (1) Jethro Tull (3) J. Geils Band (2). At this rate I'll be done by 2015. Broke my nose wrestling Thursday night although I'll be damned if I know how- I know, trust me, I know. At one point I let Mike hit his big top rope leg drop and he sort of caught me in the face with it but it didn't really hurt then, not sure if that's what did it or not, it didn't start swelling and bleeding till the ride home, so- fuck. I hate a broken nose, this is the second one I've had- the first time someone else broke it for me as well- cos they don't hurt. They HURT. The swelling is mostly down (thankfully it's a clean break, my nose is still straight without any big unsightly bumps on the bridge), though it's still bleeding every now and then in clots (and that drainage down the back of your throat- yuck). It's already starting to itch inside where you can't scratch even if it didn't send lightning bolts of pain through your head just to touch your nose, plus it feels like it's loose at the bottom, even though it's not it feels like it, so you want to pull on it and get it straight, and at all times it fucking HURTS- have I said I hate a broken nose? (MAYBE YOU COULD GET SOME HEEZY FROM RONNIE?) Maybe you could shut the fuck up since technically you're the one who broke it for me in the first place. I'm flagging bad when it comes to my DFZ duties, had five matches booked over the last nine days- still NOTHING compared to the five matches in 41 hours DFZ did one time for Apex- Barboursville Friday night, two TV matches in Oak Hill Saturday morning, Sabine Saturday night, Summersville Sunday afternoon-only ended up working two of the five. My nose is leaking blood and serum again as I type this. And the fucker HURTS. Speaking of Apex- was I?- if not, I am now- Brian is bringing it back. He has a big money backer and TV lined up again and crazy as this sounds when talking about Logan, it is total legit. Know the backer - seen his money (and worked him for some Thursday night). His money guy is going to pay me CRAZY money to work for him- and SETH, I didn't stick for your XMCW cage match but Shane Storm gave you HUGE props and I respect his opinion more than anyone else I know, so I worked Logan and told him he had to book you too and, guess what, he said okay. . . .work this Fed with us, dude, we'll have fun. I'm serious Seth, you're Apex bound. And in super duty DFZ- the Mexico trip is on. Iron clad, got my ticket, got my itinerary. More next issue. We are leaving Later I wrote all that sometime yesterday (Saturday). Don't remember it in the slightest. I remember around 3 pm feeling really shitty, super tired cos I haven't been sleeping at all and my face was sore and I figured I'd take a little pain medication, maybe get a short nap and then see if MC wanted to hook up . . . the best laid plans. Next thing I remember is Rachel waking me up coming in this morning around 11 (she spent the night with a friend). The Christmas bottle of WT 101 is not just empty, it's missing, as is the 12 pack of Yuengling that at 3 pm was sitting by my computer, have no idea where the bottles went- probably don't want to know, either- but I'm pretty sure I can tell you what became of their contents. Felt wretched all day today, not just a bad head and a sore nose (which feels some better today or maybe it's just that it can't compete with this wicked bourbon and beer hangover) but I've been absolutely dying of thirst, since getting up this morning I've drunk six big glasses of water, four cups of TT tea and two of green tea, two 20 oz. Fuze drinks (cranberry/raspberry), a liter of Powerade Zero (berry) and am on my second liter of flavored water (mixed berry). And I'm still fucking bone dry. And so it goes. Still no Killer Pop-Tart story. I'm not worth a shit. Maybe next time. (I WOULDN'T HOLD MY BREATH) Nor would I. Bill
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You
better stop dreaming of the quiet life 
