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10/13/03 Kill Bill My Ass
Hey Well, dang, three consecutive Monday AMs spent banging one of these out, don't want to be too predictable, consistency being the hobgoblin and all . . . I'll give it a rest next Monday morning cos I've already started this, and God knows once I get started . . . What's Bill drinking? Well, the usual. Man, those Bud 22 oz. for 99 CENTS are real hard to pass up, been a pretty wet and lax two weeks, I'd say it's time to put away Bad Bill, well, not him (NO, not HIM!) maybe Slug Bill would be better, for a while and bring out- jeez, I don't know, I think the best I can do right now is Not So Slug Bill. Here's hoping . . . cheers. Need to get back to the straight life, haven't worked out a lick in the past two weeks. Part of it is because my toe is doing the same damn thing my thumb did- did real well for the first day or two, then just quit. Sort of like the rest of me usually does. Seriously, my toe/foot is walkable but not aerobic step or runnable, it's still as damn sore as it was a week ago, I still have no grip with my left hand, tried to heft the weight bar the other day, no go. Lost 9 pounds since the match 9/26, 218 t0 209, I can lose more weight faster without trying than anyone I know. I'm having a hard time keeping my pants up- I've always had that problem, actually. What's Bill been up to? Mostly family, i.e. parent stuff. Me and my dad worked 3 MORE DAYS on that damn church phone system- after we got the phones up, we still had to fight the damn Internet. God, what a nightmare, no kidding, I don't even want to talk about it. Ended up going around with Pasture Tom, you know how some people, when you're pissy to them they just leave you alone, while others, the pissier you get with them, the more they come around? Well, P.T. is one of the latter.
I was absolutely kick ass furious. I mean, I can crack on my Dad till Doomsday, but Pasture Tom- his fucking ass better never, especially as hard as my Dad had been working, and the toll, psychic as well as physical, that it was taking on him. PT found something to do somewhere else and left. Later that afternoon my Dad asks- D: What did you say to PT at lunch? Old PT needs to read his history. My great- back to the 1700's-
grandfather Joseph was a blacksmith in Hamburg, Germany, who was
commissioned to cast a bell for some local church. They hung the bell in
the church tower, and when Great+ Grandpa Joe went to collect his fee he
was told, thank you for your donation of the bell, Brother Bittner. He
asked nice, and he asked mean, but the bell was already hung, they weren't
going to pay for it, and what was he going to do about it? Brother Bittner
burned the church to the fucking ground, Pasture Tom don't watch his shit he'll find himself preaching on ashes. Also doing the chauffeur thing, drove my Mom and Aline (I think I forgot to mention she was in, been here about a month) to Lori's Wednesday evening, went back for them Friday evening, drove my parents and Aline down to Fort Chiswell, VA yesterday where we met Aline's daughter Denise (yeah, her) who was gonna drive her ma the rest of the way home. We met at this mostly now abandoned outlet mall, I think they've seen their day, myself, while waiting for Denise I went in the book warehouse there and picked up a couple nice art books, also Bruce Campbell's (Evil Dead movies, Prince Of Thieves on Herc/Xena) autobiography cos there's a lot of useful info in there about low/no budget film making, "No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs" Johnny Rotten/Lydon's auto, he's an overrated shit, but it was cheap, and "Yesstories", Yes in their own words, I know, really, but it was only a buck, and I still have a soft spot in my head for all those early 70's bands, even the mostly boring ones like Yes. Got all that for under $20 (Ssslb). Had lunch before we left, the old folks sat together, I sat with Denise, she even picked up the check, what a gal. After we left my mom remarked how "bubbly" Denise is, true, normally I can't handle bubbly, but in her case I overlook it, cos she's so nice, and so damn good looking. Also before she got in Denise's car to leave, Aline gave me this pep talk, told me how much she loved me and what a good boy I was inside (not outside, I guess) and if I'd just hang in there, the sun would shine in my back door one day, or words to that effect. I have to say I found it genuinely moving, not the talk itself so much, just that she'd do it. The Bells are all just really good, salt of the earth Southern folk, wish there were more like 'em, I swear. What else has been up? Had some excitement driving home the other day, came around one of these bends, there's this ATV turned over in the ditch, as I drive past it I see a boot sticking up. I stop and go back, I figure either someone's hurt and I can save their life and get my picture in the paper like Doug, or else they're dead, and I've got me an ATV. Unfortunately (for me), no such luck. As I get closer I can see the guy in the ditch and he's all covered in blood, I'm thinking, "Hey, all right", but once I hauled his ass out of the ditch he wasn't hurt that bad- good thing for him, cos he was a scrofulous booger, there was no chance in hell of him getting CPR from me- but he had busted out his two top front teefers which resulted in a really impressive blood flow. I helped him get his ATV back on the road, he said he was okay, worked for me, so we parted company. Anyone wanting to dare this dangerous drive out here to visit my pathetic ass, the next week or two would be the time, the changing leaves make it a lovely drive at the moment. Just give me a couple days to straighten up this plane crash of a house, I've been real good about housekeeping ever since I moved in here (TWO fucking years ago the first of this month, Jesus) but these past two weeks . . . no good. I still got green ketchup stains (I wiped it up but that shit stains like paint, there's no way you should be eating it) in my refrigerator and on the kitchen floor and walls from when I head butted that ketchup bottle to smithereens a while back, need to get the trash gathered up and out, give everything a rinse or wipe or a scrub, or all three.
Yeah, I swear that's Joe. For those of you who only know him in his current incarnation as Otis The Drunk, I'll bet it's amazing to discover that he used to be Barney Fife. By the way, he said he didn't remember Wendy Porter, but he remembers me and Torch talking about her. Redheads . . . whoo. While Joe's on my mind (quick, drink more) a couple of you complimented me on the clever contraction, the Baltimwhore. Well, I agree, it is clever, but Joe came up with it, not me. Governor Arnold? What a country. No wonder they fly planes into our fucking buildings. Martha has decided to follow my example and join the ranks of the self/unemployed. Three very hearty and sincere cheers for Martha. No longer will she be a slave for The Man. Her last day of wage bondage is this Friday. She'll be in the soup line by Christmas, but by God, she'll be FREE. So will the soup. What's Bill listening to? Well, this cassette I made 7 years ago right around now, off of a couple records I borrowed from Doug- I still have them by the way, hey, it's only been 7 years- Batman and Robin and Super Heroes. The B&R side is mostly one long instrumental after another, rhythm and organ vamp, with this surfy or Steve Cropperish lead stuff over the top, but every now and then this sister will start wailing in the background, "Bat-mayun, Bat- MAYUN!", like he's right there with her, and doing her pretty good at that. Disconcerting. Super Heroes side is mostly goofy songs about various super heroes (ya figure) but I like "Flash Gordon", this country-ish tune with weird synth accents, "All the girls love Flash Gordon/But there no time for love/No time for courtin'/Cos Flash Gordon/Has more important/Things to do." Dumbass.
The original Gold Keys from the 60's/early 70's are the ones I have,
just a great comic, with exceptional art, by Russ- Manning?- I'm not sure,
the same guy who was drawing their Tarzans and Koraks back then. Valiant
revived Magnus in the early 90's but I never read any of those, so I don't
know if they were any good or not. Still no TV, so I can't help you with cool stuff upcoming, going on a month now, still not really missing it. Still, it's stupid to pay for something and not use it, I have to go out and buy a remote, which I don't want to do, but I guess I will. I spent considerable time out at my parents this week, watching the Cubs- I'm not saying a thing, I don't want to jinx them- caught a couple of late night biographies, couldn't believe it, two of the Holy M's back to back, Marvin and Mitchum, didn't see anything in either I hadn't already read or heard, except at one point, where Andy Rooney is talking about this movie he and Lee Marvin did, I'm thinking, Lee never did a movie with that ass Andy Rooney, when they run a caption underneath him- it read "Mark Hamill." For God's sake, if you haven't seen Mark Hamill lately, and ever want to retain the image of him as Luke Skywalker in your head, DON"T! I'm serious, I don't know what he's done to himself, but he looks like old man ravaged fucking hell. In fact . . . I think he was the guy who wrecked the ATV. Think I'm going to tell an old story here, partly cos it fits with this issue's theme, (Kill Bill) partly cos it's topical as far as the date on the calendar' Old stories can be cool, some of the real old stuff is killer- Beowulf, if you can get past that Old English Higt Yclept Ygrerd shit- sounds like Dave trying to pronounce Yngwie J. Malmsteen that time, I thought he was swallowing his tongue- is an excellent and damn creepy story, bloody as shit, Grendel and HIS MOTHER, I love that, were bad fucking business, and Beowulf your archetypal hardass- something that yanks warriors up off the floor and slits them open and drinks their blood, then eats them- you're gonna lay on the floor as bait so that the damn thing will grab YOU- so you can KICK IT'S ASS?! Beowulf rules. Cool name, too. It was 27 years ago this past week, I know this because until we got married Loretta and I considered 10/7 our anniversary, cos after dicking around, literally and figuratively, most of the summer, that was when we said, "You're for me", meaning forever in my case, not quite so long in hers. Our story begins October 6, 1976, when many of you were still in diapers, and I probably still should have been. I call Loretta to see if she wants to do anything- L: No, I've got this friend who's come in from out of town, we were
getting ready to go out, I was going to show her around Charleston. Torch calls me a little later and asks if I want to go "running around", which was driving around drinking beer and looking for girls, and having nothing better to do, I said sure. Torch liked to cruise around St. Albans cos he felt he had more of a chance with St. Albans girls, which was absolutely correct- B: That's cos they didn't go to high school with you so they don't know
what a fucking dork you are. It didn't take them long to find out, though. Torch would work out these elaborate pre-meeting scenarios in his head- then she'll say this, then I'll say THIS, and then SHE'LL say- which obviously never worked out because the girls didn't know the script, so when invariably they'd say something other than what he'd planned his comeback to, Torch was stammering, tongue tied lost. I used to try and help him out, whispering things like, "Tell her that her cootch smells just like potpourri" or, "Tell her you're hung like a hummingbird" but somehow that never seemed to help him. We'd been driving around for a while, he drinking his PBR and me my Stroh's- and please don't tell me how stupid and dangerous drinking and driving like that was, I know, it was moronic, but it’s done, let's move on- we stop at the St. Albans Mall and Torch runs into Graziano's- he also had the bladder of a hummingbird- to take a leak. He comes back out all funny- or funnier- acting going- T: You don't have to pee do you? Now being Torch, he really WAS trying to keep me from going in there, this wasn't any B'rer Rabbit and the briar patch deal. However, like so many of Torch's good intentions- B: Think I'll just head on in to Graziano's. I walk in to see Loretta and this short, muscled up guy sitting all cozy, same side of the bench, eating pizza. It's not like we were dating exclusive at that point, in fact, I'd been the one insisting, "No, no, we can still see other people" but the damn lie went right fucking through me, so I went over, Loretta about chokes on her pizza, shake the guy's hand and say, "Nice to meet ya, Mary", stuck my finger in Loretta's face and say, "Don't you fucking call me any more", and left. Of course, Loretta calls me later that night, "Let me explain", I don't need a fucking explanation, I got eyes, just leave me alone. I'd left my "Frampton Comes Alive"- God, I know, I'd actually bought it though because Loretta liked it- out at her house. L: Well, I'll stop by tomorrow and drop your album off. Naturally, she stops by the next day with the album, I'm standing out in the yard when she pulls up so I can't really claim I'm not home. She gets out of the car and is all over me, hugging and crying and I'm so sorry-ing, this guy, John, was someone she met at the beach back in August when she went down with her uncle and aunt to watch their kids, she and I had had a big fight the night before she left where she was wanting to get serious and I wasn't, so when this guy at the beach starts hitting on her- he was mid-20's, Loretta at this time was not quite 17, though you'd never believe it to look at her- he worked on one of the charter fishing boats down there, her uncle knew him and according to Loretta sort of pushed her at him, which knowing her uncle I believe, he's a piece of shit, and can't die too soon, or in too much pain, to suit me- she went with it. I guess old John liked that stuff so much that when the season ended down there he came up here for more of it, and Loretta "didn't know what else to say, he drove all the way up here to see me, and you keep saying that you don't want to get serious". She starts giving me this, "It's you I really want, you and only you, but you just won't commit, if you would I'd tell John to go back to NC in a heartbeat, he's just a friend"- "Just a friend, you were practically sitting on his lap, I can't take the fucking lying!"- "I only lied because I care about you so much (?) and I didn't want you to be mad", actually I think she was hoping to have her John and eat Bill too, blah, blah, blah, on and on, and to make a long story short, I bought it. Not just because "She's built up right nice for a young girl," as my mom once observed at the time, but I really liked her as well, a lot, and to be fair, I truly had blown her away badly that night before she left for the beach. I'm sure her feelings were hurt and she was feeling rejected, which is the perfect time for some shitting guy to move in, especially if your dirt bag uncle is pushing it along. I chose to see the lying as an aberration, not part of her character, so much so, I guess, that 20 years later (almost to the day, how weird) when I again catch her with another guy, this time a little more serious since we were FUCKING MARRIED- she gives me pretty much the same spiel- and I BOUGHT IT AGAIN. Anyone who wants to say that I'm THE STUPIDEST MOTHERFUCKER THAT EVER LIVED, now's the time, cos I won't disagree with you.
I don't disagree with that. So, I say, "It's not like I don't trust you, but since we've gotten all lovey and exclusive here, why don't you go ahead and call Johnny boy right now and tell him to take a hike," which is what she did. He didn't take it too well, but Loretta hung tough, "I'm sorry you're upset but that's the way it is, there's no reason for you to be here, you just need to go back to Carolina Beach, good bye". Fast forward to the next night, me and Torch are again in the St. Albans Mall parking lot, I was just killing time until Loretta got off work, Torch is again draining his tiny bladder, I was leaning against the side of the car, when I look up and see our friend John coming at me with murder in his eyes. How he knew I was there I have no idea, maybe he followed us, he never exactly said. This guy had on worked on fishing boats for ages, and he was solid as a damn anchor, and I knew if he got his hands on me I was fucking dead. I went ahead and swung first, what the hell, I knew he wasn't there to congratulate my ass, and hurt my hand, not a very encouraging start. I'd knocked some pretty stout guys down, or at least back, with that sucker punch, and he didn't even flinch. I'd hit him and back up, hit him, back up, he chased me all across the parking lot, I beat the hell out of him and didn't hurt him a bit, his face was all puffy and his nose and lip were bleeding and he just kept coming at me. All this time I kept goading him about his size, as well as his height- I figured I lived a smart ass, may as well die one, and also, it was PISSING ME OFF that he was trying to beat me up- John was shorter than Loretta's 5'7" by a good couple inches, and it's a damn good thing cos if he'd been my size, or if his arms had been just a little longer, or even if he just hadn't been so damn mad he was stupid, he'd have killed me. Torch comes back out and starts shadowing us around the parking lot. B: Goddammit, grab him, Torch! Alas. Torch knew me too well, cos my plan was as soon as he'd grabbed Mad John I was sprinting for the car, leaving Torch to his sorry fate. Fortunately the cops show up before I get killed, and I do the Little Mr. Innocent act, which in those baby faced days I could pull off, "I don't know who this guy is officer, he just jumped me in the parking lot", I had my WV drivers license, he there with his NC so automatically I'm the home team, they were still giving John some shit when they let me and Torch go. I drop Torch off at his house and head out to Loretta's where she's on the phone with John as I come in the door, him giving her the "You damn Jezebel" rant, she was crying, I took the phone from her and invited John over for more of what his punk ass got in the mall parking lot- I wasn't being suicidal, first off, Loretta's dad was home and John didn't want none of Mr. Hurley, trust me, I also had a cut down Louisville Slugger in my trunk that I'd have been happy to introduce John to, see how you like THIS, fishing boy- but John got real calm and said, "You know what? She ain't worth it. Fuck you both." And we- or at least I- never heard from him again. And you know what? He was right, she wasn't worth it, and fuck us both, or at least me, who almost got the living hell beat out of himself over someone who was only gonna go on to eventually stab the ungodly fuck outta my back about a hundred times and become the utterly loathsome Baltimwhore. So much for the story . . . it is kind of a harsh and downer note to end on though . . . oh yeah, after I got home from Loretta's that night my dad dropped a big hammer on my head. That's better.
Later Bill
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Just can't seem to face up to the facts 
Every time we'd break for any length of time he'd show up and want to
talk to me about- stuff, I don't know, like he was wanting us to be pals
or something, and I just wasn't in the mood for him- it was his damn fault
I was there in the first place. My dad went to get lunch one of those
helldays, I was pissed off and wouldn't eat, PT heard me in the choir room
playing the piano and just had to come in there, asked me what I was
playing and I SOO wanted to say "Lick My Love Pump", but didn't.
I may as well have, cos not long after he made some condescending,
disparaging remark about how long it was taking us and my Dad's
competence, and my eyes rolled back up in my head, and I gave him a
fucking sermon- "You know what, you get what you pay for you cheap
ass son of a bitch. You conned my Dad into doing this for nothing cos he's
a member of the Church, he's put going on six days into this damn shit
hole mess, as have I, I damn near got killed the other day" (I'm not
kidding, my eyes wouldn't focus for two days after that sledge dropped on
my head, and my nose was bleeding clots) "and I wouldn't come to your
shitting Church if you were giving away free beer. Instead of cracking on
him, you should be thanking him for all the time and effort he's put in on
your behalf. And next time you need some phone work done here, CALL
SOMEBODY ELSE!" And in all honesty, that's the condensed, cleaned up
version.
TOOK THE BELL BACK from the
smoking rubble and lammed it here to the good old US, and just so's the
bastards from Hamburg couldn't catch up with him, dropped a "t"
from the name and became the innocent Joseph Bitner. Must've worked, cos
they never caught his ass- and the bell is still in the family, in fact
it's in my Dad's garage as I type, and it's the real deal, it's been
authenticated, and its mine someday, the only Bitner heirloom there is
(but it's a damn fine one).
You didn't see Doug in the papers? Check again, he was in yesterday's
Gazette-Mail helping some poor little coal field orphan child shoot his
first rocket into 
Speaking of pictures, found some the other day going through some
stuff- I'm not saying for sure I'm moving away after the first of the
year, but I'm culling, getting rid of shit just in case. Some people made
some very compelling arguments at the cook out about the folly of moving
Down Under, but I'm telling you, the memories around here are killing me.
I can't go anywhere with out being reminded of the life I don't have any
more. So, we'll see. It's still not a given the girls are staying in
Baltimore. Anyway, found a couple pictures of me and Joe on the beach, 1
AM, 5/22/78. I'm gonna scan 'em to Joe, he can insert in the site.
Comics corner is starting to pull in some mail, I love it, this issue's
topic is an all time favorite of mine, Magnus, Robot Fighter. He lives in
like the year 4000 where robots do everything for everybody (but him) and
the people are definitely heading toward Eloi-ville. He wears this
extremely cool maroon mesh sleeveless tunic/miniskirt deal, sort of like a
cross between a futuristic Roman centurion and a sissy, and he's always
getting into fights with robots (hence his name), and he has this great
kill technique, he rears way back, then comes across with this wicked
overhand chop type move that invariably decapitates the robot (like
zombies, head destruction is the only sure way to put them down) the heads
always go flying off with a "Squeeeee-*" which I guess is the
noise a dying robot makes- I especially like how it always cuts off mid-
squee.
(YOU ARE THE STUPIDEST MOTHERFUCKER WHO EVER LIVED!)
First I'm gonna make it 