12/21/09

There's No Lights On the Christmas Tree

Hey

Actually I don't have the DF blues, that's just how the song goes. Don't really have any blues, can't even get worked up enough about Christmas to be depressed, it's a total non-event this year- for me, I quite sincerely hope all of you have a good one. I do have the even more fucked up than usual computer blues, really need to get it down to Joe's so he can work his computer magic, but that would involve getting up off my ass so I haven't done it yet.

It is wearing me out though, this shit ass computer thing. I'll be pounding away at the old keyboard, or just surfing some naked women site (and pounding away) when all of a sudden everything will lock up (computer wise) and it'll start ticking like a time bomb, or doing this pretty cool Hawkwind style synthesizer pulse deal, or talking at me backwards like Linda Blair in the Exorcist- fuck.

Addressing (ha) the mail bag, I didn't realize Father is still the latest NL up on the site till I got a letter earlier today asking "what does that guy on the left have on his head?", had to go check, first off, it's not "that guy" it's Ron Montgomery, man among men, and that thing on his head is a kepi. Yes, Ron has gone and joined the French Foreign Legion and while we're all going to miss him and his scintillant wit, I for one feel much safer knowing he's out there fighting the good fight for all of us. Kick some froggy officer ass for us, Ron!

Also got letters from some folks who read Cowboy somewhere, got asked what BCFF means. Bill Comes Fucking First, amazed you had to ask.

Also been asked what's up at the scrapyard, I don't write about it much anymore, that's cos there's not much up. I'm only working 8-2:30, Monday and Friday- I know, that's not even paying for my beer, seriously- and it's been quiet, a busy day now will be five people, normal two or three, and most of the crackpots go somewhere else now that that mean guy is working there. You may miss 'em but I sure as hell don't.

Ronnie may have more on the ball than I've given him credit for. As mentioned his kids are just fucking scum, do-less druggie parasites that drive the poor guy nuts. Ronnie has an uncle in Parkersburg who's dying from "cancer of the soffic" and who's going to leave Ronnie about half an acre of prime Marmet real estate (hope they cleared it with you, King). Somehow Ronnie's kids found out and are harrassing the poor motherfucker night and day over it, "Sell it and give us the money!", fuck, his uncle isn't even DEAD YET. So when his kids call, Ronnie's phone ring tone for them is "Man Of Constant Sorrow." Too fucking funny, and sadly, too true.

My mom's about the same, pissy and demanding 24/7, nothing remotely entertaining there, although I was watching Joy of Painting the other day, when Bob Ross closes with "God bless, my friends" I always say "God bless you Bob Ross" back to him. My mom's heard me do it before and always gives me a funny look, this time she asked me why I did it, I told her "Cos he was a good guy who died badly (some type of gut cancer, don't think it was of the soffic) and too young," and she goes "Probably from smelling all that paint." Typical. Hopefully she won't ask me why I always tell Sandra Lee "You have a great day too, Sandra Lee" when she wishes me one at the end of her show, cos my response will be "I want to stick it in her." Cos I do. Repeatedly.

Tina, Nick and I took my Mom to Tidewater for her free birthday (she was 83) dinner week before last (and Tina picked up mine as my birthday present, danke), good food, excellent as usual crab cakes- who'd think that something that looks like a damn crab would taste so good?

As for the girls, Sarah's still hoping to make it in for Christmas, won't know until tomorrow- or today, as you get this. She turns 23 on Tuesday- Lord God Almighty- and for all of you who've asked how she's recovered from that horrific car crash of a year ago, well. Mostly. She still has some facial scarring and nerve damage, significant right ear hearing loss and sometimes problems reading, not sure if that's vision or brain. That's not good, but compared to how it could be, it's miraculous.

Rachel's coming in Wednesday afternoon, has to go back Christmas afternoon cos she has to be at work Saturday morning at 7:30 am. Better her than her father.

And somebody please remind me around this time next year not to watch any Pearl Harbor Day shit, for real, cos I just go CRAZY mad. I'm serious, it just makes me nuts- GODDAMN those bastards for what they did- and I start singing old patriotic ditties like "We're Gonna Slap the Jap Right Off the Map" and "When Those Little Yellow Bellies Meet The Cohens And The Kellys"- genuine songs for real, I didn't write them-

(HOW ABOUT "FUCK YOU TOJO AND THE SLANT EYED HORSE YOU RODE IN ON", OR "LET'S ATOM BOMB THOSE BASTARDS TO FUCKING HELL, THEN ATOM BOMB THEM TO FUCKING HELL AGAIN. AND AGAIN. AND AGAIN."?)

Well yeah, I wrote those. Pretty catchy too, if I say so myself.

(IF YOU'RE A FAN OF VULGAR CRAZED INVECTIVE, HELL YEAH)

Well hell, who's not?

What else has Bill been doing?

Met Danny at Schaar's a couple Wednesdays ago to discuss the new DFZ book, consensus is I'm out, fuck it, and I'm not giving back my advance either, if you're dumb enough to give me money up front that's your damn problem as far as I'm concerned. I'm about ready to leave around 11 pm, six beers down, when Butch walks in-

Bill: Hey Butch. You still dying?
Danny: Bill, Jesus . . .
Butch: Yep.
Bi: So I guess that means you're gonna buy us lots of beer, right?
D: Bill . . .
Bi: I said us . . .
Bu: Yep.

So Butch- for those of you who don't remember he's the former Special Ops guy who's dying of pancreatic cancer- over the next hour buys Bill 8 beers and Danny 3- I drink a lot faster, especially when someone else is paying- and then Bernie closes the place and locks the doors and Butch goes out to his car and brings in some Don Lugo cigars- not bad- and a half gallon of Early Times- not my favorite but the price was right. I get a beer mug from Bernie-who sat and joined us, I love the guy serious, he's a wonderful person but still, never watch a homosexual smoke a cigar, it's grotesque- and filled it up with Early Times-

Danny: You'll never fiinsh that.
Butch: Bet he does.

Butch won.

Somewhere along in here-

Bill: Hey Butch, you still on pain pills?
Butch: Of course.
Danny: BILL . . .
Bill: So why the fuck are you holding out?

So Butch pulls this presciption bottle out of his pocket and starts to go-

Butch: Now these are-
Bill: I couldn't care less. Just give me four.
Butch: FOUR?
Bill: Or six.
Butch: I'll give you four. But don't take them all at-
Bill: Yeah, yeah.
Danny: As long as you've got them out . . .

So he gives me and Danny four of whatever he's taking for his cancer pain. I wash all mine down with the last of the ET.

Butch: He did not just-
Danny: Yes he did.

Now after all this- and I am NOT taking advantage of Butch in the slightest, he loves my ass legit (he's told me this more than once) cos I can hang with him brain wise- he's very bright, and well read- and he's loaded money wise, my beer tab is as naught to him, he just bought a fucking Mercedes and is thnking about buying a bar in Sissonville he says he wants me to run- disaster dead ahead- I did something very stupid-

(MORE STUPID THAN DRINKING FOURTEEN BEERS AND A BEER MUG FULL OF WHISKEY AND TAKING FOUR PAIN PILLS OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN?)

Well, yeah. Then I drove home.

(DUMBASS).

Yeah. Felt okay when I left the bar, but then went into that trance thing I sometimes do while driving (cf. the Saturn Vs. Winfield Bridge wreck of '98), sort of came to myself and realized I was driving a car, looked at the speedometer and thought, "52 mph is pretty fast", looked out the window and thought "damn, 52 is REALLY fast", looked back at the speedometer and realised it read 82 mph, fuck me, SLOW DOWN BILL! It was on that straight stretch right before you get to the Wagon Wheel and I was flying.

Got home okay. And I understand now why cops love the Crown Vic, that fucker will MOVE, but it handles like a much smaller car, handles great. Handles great.

Went to Africa Mike's for dinner last Saturday, excellent grub as always, chicken and gravy, mashed potatos, dressing, green beans, rolls, peanut butter pie, Mister Bulky and his excitable son Elliot were there, after dinner we drank beer and watched Inglourious Basterds, best QT movie I've seen in a while, still too long and talky for my taste, and the ending was just goofy, but overall not bad.

Just got a phone call from Sarah. She's coming home for Christmas. HAPPY DAY.

Had some really good sex since last issue but I really can't talk about it in here. In fact I'm sure I've already said too much. Which is what I do.

Gonna go, I'll get into all the what has Bill been reading/watching/drinking etc, plus DFZ update in the next, traditonal NYE issue. Till then, I wish all of you nothing but the best, have a wonderful Christmas and I'll see you at year's end okay? Okay.

Hold him down and shave his hair
Tonight big Louie's gonna get the chair

Later

Bill