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12/31/05 And Never Brought To Mind
Hey Here we are back for the traditional- four years makes a tradition in my house, anyway- New Year's eve edition of this damn thing. What the hell's been up with Bill here at the tail end of yet another year in which the forces of Evil (and Good for that matter) have once again failed to take my measure (I'm still standing, motherfuckers)? Well, my Dad came home last Friday, so I guess let's start with that. Now that he's back here, on a daily basis I have to check his blood sugar twice a day, give him his insulin shots twice a day, his oral meds four times a day, 12 pills in total, walk him twice a day, do his hand and arm therapy three times a day, and give him his tube feedings twice a day. None of this is particularly overwhelming, but it is a lot to do, and it's not the kind of stuff that can be shirked, you've got to do it, and do it when it needs done. Sounds a lot like a fucking job to me. This is in addition to cooking, cleaning- my mom has in all sincerity become the messiest adult on the entire planet, she can turn fixing a damn can of Campbell's tomato soup into an hour long ordeal, dirtying ever fucking pot, pan and utensil in the house while at it, then just walk away and leave this disaster spread all over the kitchen, you try and say, "What about this fucking MESS you're leaving" and she's like "What mess?", Sarah has probably said to me a half dozen times this past week, "What's HAPPENED to Grandma Dot", fuck if I know, but I wish it hadn't, it's about ten times easier to cook and clean myself, than to let her cook and then clean up after her. I'm also doing the laundry- again, much easier to just do, than to let her do and then try to fix- running all the fuck over trying to get the all shit my Dad needs to survive here, or shop, or pick up one of the billion prescriptions they take between them. Again, this shit is way too much like work for my taste. Tina started out pulling her typical bullshit, not doing what she agreed to do, which was simply stay with my Dad Monday and Wednesday nights so I could go down to Al's- Tina: Well, it's not convenient for me right now- So she went to cry to my Mom about how I'm such a prick and a hardass- her words. Someone please explain to me how I'm being a prick and a hardass by simply expecting her to live up to her fucking word? So my Mom comes to me to tell me not to be so mean to Tina. Typical. And like I've been saying for a while now, my Mom is just totally lost in space. Sarah said the other day, sadly, not cruelly "I don’t think Grandma Dot would know if the house was on fire." She wouldn't know if her fucking head was on fire. Seriously. Hell, she'd probably be the one that set it on fire in the first place. My Dad was pure, distilled, 200 proof evil the first few days he was home, at least to me, and some to everyone else, not just insanely demanding, but barking and growling as well, "Get this, do that" just wearing me out, I don't take being told what to do well at the best of times anyway, the first couple nights he kept doing that Otis Campbell thing, wanting drinks of water at like 3:56 am,, which I’d dutifully get out of bed and fetch him, only for him to take the tiniest sip- "THAT'S all you want?" "That's all I want"- although unlike Otis, he didn't do anything nearly as entertaining as sing "The Dipsy Doodle" (which not only comes out in reverse, but will get in your hair)- I kept warning him about his attitude, I can only take so much, till finally the other afternoon- Dad: Get me some V-8 juice. My Mom comes in running in, looking like she just crawled out from under a steamroller- she is to disheveled, what disheveled is to suave. God knows where she's been, or what she'd been doing. Trying to set her head on fire with a can of tomato soup, most likely. Mom: What are you boys fighting about? She sighs. Bill and his damn semantics. M: All right, what's the problem, then. My Dad's eyes bug at this treason. Who is this strange woman, and why is she suddenly coming to Bill's defense? Especially against ME? I'm wondering the same thing. While my Mom has always been great about telling me what a wonderful boy I am, she's also never taken my side in anything, ever- "Well, I'm sure it was Bill's fault"-no, I don't understand it either, and don't say cos it probably WAS my fault - it used to drive Loretta crazy, back when she still gave a shit about me. My Mom launches into one of her "talks"- better him than me- with my Dad, while I sit there humming, "Here Comes My Baby" (Here she comes now/Walking with a love, with a love/That's oh so fine/Never to be mine . . ) by the Tremeloes, great song, after maybe five minutes of sometimes heated discussion- D: Bill? My Dad looks like he's chewing on glass. D: Would you please get me some V-8? When I handed it to him I kissed him on the cheek- B: Here you go, sunshine. He gave me a look that could singe hair, had I any. D: You're a goddamn irritating bastard, you know that? Yes. Yes, I do. And who the fuck do I get it from? Lord help me, this time last year I was sitting in Rio Grande in Nitro drinking with two beautiful women. I was going to say what a difference a year makes, but I already said that last issue, so I won't. But what a fucking difference a year makes . . . There's not much meat That's from my great good bud Dick's favorite 16th Century Christmas poem (what's yours?), all the more cool cos "hood" is wrestle speak for mask. If you make it in next month as hoped, big guy, you can definitely drink with this one who wears a hood. His was also the only positive (to my way of thinking) entry in the NL mailbag this time, got two from people I think were trying to be nice, but since I don’t know them, and they obviously don't know me . . . do you people not READ this thing before you write in?- one said maybe this stuff with my Dad might be a good thing as it might make me more humble . . . Jesus. Fuck humble, all right? I don't need any fucking humble, and I don’t need my Dad being fucked with to make me that way. You know, this has happened before, people writing in, oh blah blah blah, maybe you should be more humble. And maybe you should kiss my fucking ass, okay? And for the person who wrote in telling me to just be grateful that my Dad is still here, you just be grateful you told me that over the Internet instead of to my face, so I couldn’t punch you in the fucking mouth. I know you probably meant well, and maybe I'm a bit touchy at the moment, but I don't need you or anyone else telling me what I "need" to be grateful for, that's the kind of platitude that just crawls right up my ass. And lastly, for the guy who wrote in about me calling myself Goblin Cock, again, READ the damn thing, I never said it, some guy wrote that it was the name of some band. If they named one after you, they'd have to call it Gobblin' Cock, you fairy fuck. Damn, enough about the mailbag. Saw on the news where some guy's kids turned him in for bank robbing. Now, I'm not saying it's okay to rob banks- although I'm not saying it's not, either, I can think of worse ways of making a living- but I am saying, if someone I knew and trusted turned me in for something like that, I'd blow their fucking head off. Swear to God.
Bet I could still make her my love slave, though. (TO REPLACE THE ONE YOU'VE GOT RIGHT NOW, I PRESUME?) Touche. Although I got someone applying for the damn job, and you know it. (I THINK IT'S ME SHE WANTS TO BE THE LOVE SLAVE FOR). Actually, I think you're right. Knock yourself out, man. (NO THANKS). Man, I'm telling you, that girl I mentioned last issue who's taking the wrestling photos- which again I never got to Joe for last issue, this one for sure- has come on stronger than dirt since we last spoke, sent me some really randy e-mails, I guess I'm gonna just have to come out and shoot her down, say, "No thanks, really". I don't get it though, honestly, I talked to Danny the other day, she was at his Christmas Eve party that I didn’t go to- too busy going around with my Dad- he said she wore him out trying to get him to help her hook up with me- B: I just don't understand the attraction. It's not like I've been
particularly nice to her. And I guess I do. I think I'll tell her I'm gay. Got another e-mail from Jynx, wishing me a merry Christmas, and again asking me when I'm coming up to see her (and this is a girl who when she says come up and see me, really means come up and SEE ME), I just don't see the opportunity anytime soon, plus I'll admit to being a bit intimidated at being unable to meet my previous sped up and Viagra'd standard, cos that was superhuman, even for a freak of nature such as myself. Unassisted, it just ain't gonna be the same, sorry sweetheart- "What do you mean, you can't go for hours on end now? What happened to the guy who put calluses on my damn cervix last summer? You say he's gone? Well, THANK GOD! Speaking of Christmas, I'm hoping everyone out there had a good one. Mine was neither good nor bad, it wasn't even like Christmas at all this year, which in some ways was good. I didn't get all worked up about what I was missing this year for once. Didn't shop, what few people I presented got money or gift certificates, didn't ask for anything, ended up getting a couple t-shirts, a Flatwoods monster one from the girls, and a Mothman one from Lori's kids- or maybe just Heather, she was the one who actually gave it to me, and hers was the name on the gift card- so I got the WV monster thing covered. (I ALREADY DID). Rachel left at 6 am Christmas morning, that bothered the fuck out of me, but again, what is there to do about it but be bothered, or accept? She fluctuated between sweet and distant the short time she was here, we watched Gattaca together Christmas Eve, it was pretty good. Sarah and I went to see King Kong the day after Christmas with Chris, George, Will, some more of Debbie's relatives, and a hell of a lot of other people. I was disappointed when I walked out of the theater, but after reflecting a couple days I've revised my opinion. I fucking hated it. The build up is WAY too slow and long, I've had people tell me this movie is action packed from start to finish, well, not by me, honey, I like movies that start, "Hi, my name is Death Falcon Zero, and I fight monsters. LIKE THIS!" and off we fucking go, the first hour of this movie flows like lead as far as I'm concerned. I don't like how Jack Driscoll is now a playwright instead of the action man first mate he was in the original, the brontosaur stampede is stupid and completely uninteresting, all about effects, big goddamn deal, the T. Rex fight, what should have been the highlight of the movie, was destroyed- for me anyway- by overkill, the original had one, so this time we'll have . . . ta da, THREE!, with all this extraneous cliffhanger bullshit thrown in, FUCK THAT, what they needed to do was have Kong fight just the one T. Rex- that clip is what sold me when I saw the preview, here's Ann being pursued by this big ass dinosaur, all fucking teeth and bloody death, when Kong comes crashing into the scene to face off with it, with this great, total bad ass expression- Yeah, you're a T. Rex, the alleged baddest animal that's ever walked this planet. But I'm King fucking Kong and your ass is GRASS, motherfucker. Then have Kong and Rex just beat the bloody dog shit out of one another for five minutes. The original Kong/T. Rex fight made me want to pummel Ronnie Darnell all over the playground, and go apeshit on Mrs. Bailey. This one just makes me want to kick Peter Jackson's pasty white ass (all over the playground). Far and away the biggest mistake Mr. Jackson made- again, in my opinion, but who's newsletter is this, anyway?- were the scenes where he tried to make Kong cute and cuddly. Oh, fucking PLEASE. There were a couple of them on Skull Island, but the nadir was Kong skating around on his big hairy ass on the ice on a pond in Central Park, while cuddling up with Ann. Mother fuck. It was horrible. Also, holy FUCK, Pete, Ann needs to be afraid of Kong, you goddamn mush meister, WE need to be afraid of Kong, or the movie loses all of its fucking tension. In my version of King Kong, the audience- and Ann- would be terrified that at any instant he might rip her damn head off. Kong doesn't save Ann from the T. Rex cos he's a good guy, he does it because she's HIS trinket, and no piece of shit lizard is gonna fuck with what's his. I've heard it said that this version of King Kong is supposed to be a love story. All I have to say is that anyone who wants to see a love story between a woman and a 25 foot tall gorilla is a fucking pervert as far as I'm concerned. What did I like? Well, the overall look of the movie is spectacular, as you might expect, I thought Skull Island itself was extremely well done, all volcanic black rock and mud when they first land, the natives were these psycho zombie aboriginal looking fucks, creepy as all hell, with either red or rolled up eyes, they looked very primitive and dangerous and alien, not like casting just went down to the 'hood and said "You all want to be in a movie?", I liked the bugs at the bottom of the ravine- a nod to the original, where a similar scene had a giant spider eating the guys who survived being tossed off the log, but was cut cos it was too gruesome for the time, I loved the look of Kong squatting on top of the Empire State Building at dawn, like he's about to take a big morning dump on it, and pounding his chest, again, a lot of this movie just LOOKED wonderful, but so much of it was just shit. Like Kong's shoot down off the top of the ESB. Where was the blood? I'm sorry, but I think the whole idea of a sympathetic Kong is so wrong. I think the ultimate Kong would be a flat out horror movie, very literate, no cheap gore or thrills, but still VERY dark, VERY violent, the theme being "There are places and things that should just be LEFT THE FUCK ALONE, and if you don't, everybody dies. Horribly", at the end of the movie when the intrepid airmen machine gun Kong's ass dead the audience would be saying "Thank God", not crying over it. But that's just me. What's Bill drinking? Bud. Not very many though, I'm tired. Tina's supposed to come out here tonight, so Sarah and I can go down to Joe and Laura's for New Year's Eve, I don’t anticipate a wild night, probably just hang out and drink some, I’ll take most of this beer down there with me, also the Wild Turkey 101 I bought myself for a Christmas present- hey, they way things are right now, I need a good stiff shot of whiskey every now and then. I'll also finally get Joe and Laura's Christmas present to them. I don't know about DFZ, but I've certainly enjoyed having the past two weeks off. The Death Falcon worked an even 50 matches last year, for six different Feds, in three states (that's of the union, not as in buzzed and sober and one other), that comes out to one a week, with two weeks off for vacation. That's also too damn much, is what I say. As for his year in review, in matches that actually went the distance, DFZ went 28-8. He had 21 wins by pinfall, 7 by submission (all with the OD), DFZ took the pin 8 times, no submission losses- Death Falcons don't fucking submit, you might get lucky every now and then and pin our ass, but we sure as shit don't give up -for a pretty damned impressive win percentage of over 70 percent. The DF also won once by DQ, and lost 9 times by being disqualified- (IT'S THEM DAMN REFS. THEY GOT NO SENSE OF HUMOR). No, they sure don't. And to round out the stats (in case you've been adding in your head) there were also four no contests. Well. It's been a hell of a year. I thought about doing a brief retrospective, but I'm knackered. Still, if you know someone else who last year got laid by five different girls from four different countries (talk about your united nations) in a single week, who won the tequila stumbles title of Baddest Motherfucker In Prague (you ever been there?) while competing against British Royal Marines, who went on safari for a week in the Serengeti, who rolled his car three times and missed a horrific death by the width of a tree trunk, walking away with no more than a fishhook shaped scar on his palm and a briefly chastised attitude, who directed movie scenes in the Czech Republic, and acted in them in Tanzania, who wrestled on TV (sometimes with his pants up), who was put on the faculty of the University of Dar Es Salaam, who fought the law and won, not once but twice, went all night with a stripper 25 years his junior, threw himself off the top of some bleachers to crash through a bunch of sheet rock and cardboard boxes, took a piss in the Indian Ocean, who alienated some people he didn’t want to, while attracting others he never intended to, who flirted briefly with a serious drug problem but walked away, while still drinking more than any two normal human beings, who got through yet another year with neither aplomb, dignity, nor integrity, but with head held high nonetheless- well, I'd like you to introduce me to them, they sound pretty damn interesting to me. Here comes my baby Happy fucking New Year Later Bill
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If the pews are empty 
Caught the commercial for Jenna Elfman's new show, where she's shaking
her ass in some silver hot pants and bikini top deal, she looks hot, not
very buxom, but toned and tanned as shit, way sexy face, did I say hot, I
meant HOT, I'm not even sure exactly who she is, I know she used to be in
some other TV show before this one she's advertising, but I couldn't tell
you the name of it for anything. I'm not being coy, I quit watching
network TV long before I moved to the hinterlands and could no longer get
it, I'd rather get drunk and randomly throw shit at the walls, if Jen
herself came to me and said, "Bill, I'll be your love slave if you
can only tell me the name of my previous show", I couldn't do it.