2/11/04

The White Newsletter

You don't know how lucky you are, boys
Back in the U.S.S.R

Hey

You ever hear of Lucky Strike cigarettes? I think they're still around, smoking being that rare vice I don't participate in, I'm not really sure what's still out there, but they used to have a slogan- back in the day, all God's children had a slogan, it was their big marketing tool before T&A- that went L. S. M. F. T., which was supposed to stand for Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco. Some bright spark back at my grade school said it stood for Loose Sweaters Mean Floppy Tits, and I have to admit, I thought that was just the funniest damn thing.

What the hell's my point, you say? Well, first off, if you're looking for a point you're probably reading the wrong damn thing, we're about stream of consciousness spewing around here, but my POINT, I guess, is that there also used to be this other cigarette company, I forget which one, again back in the days when their ads were still all over TV, whose slogan was "Are you smoking more, but enjoying it less?", which the Lime Spiders (totally fucking ace Australian band) later changed to "Are you loving me more, but enjoying it less," and my point, I say again, is I know exactly how they feel. I've been rather active of late as far as not sitting around on my dead ass, but no matter what I do, I still just seem to be in this ugly funk- which is a reflection on my sorry self, not the folk I've been hanging with.

Don't blame it on Mr. Bitner's alcohol abuse driving this depressive engine, cos I haven't been, no beer in over two weeks before tonight, at least the DF's a happy psychopath, since he's looking pretty good, feeling strong and ready to bust some fucking heads, (YEAH!) went down to Ashland and worked out with Vito and Joe Trace Hannibal last Sunday, and if I told you how much I benched, you'd say I was bragging- 300 even, he bragged, which isn't much to big guys who lift weights all the time, but isn't half bad for a pissy old man like yours truly-drank a couple Schlitz up at David's- which you can no longer get around here, so it was doubly precious, and thanks for dinner, by the way- tonight, and a Falls City, and after giving Dave the "I don't have to get pounded every time I drink anymore" speech, I stopped on the way home and got some Labatt's Blue- no more Bud vow still holding- and am well on the way to getting pounded.

The beer companies all used to have slogans back in the day as well, Schlitz, as you probably know, was "The Beer That Made Milwaukee Famous", which Jerry Lee Lewis referenced in "What Made Milwaukee Famous (Made A Loser Out Of Me)", I'm sort of hearing you there, Jer, but you were still one crazy mean son of a bitch long before you drank that beer, Miller High Life- it was never just Miller back then- had "The Champagne Of Bottled Beer" (more like "The Venereal Piss Of Bottled Beer" if you ask me), Schaefer's was "The One Beer To Have When You're Having More Than One", I can definitely get behind that one. Carling Black Label was cool and very non-pc, Carling's hard to come by now, it had this weird peppery flavor to it, kind of hard to get used to, but once you did it really grew on you, sort of like mildew after you'd passed out under the men's room sink. Their slogan went Whistle- this was a whistle sound, not someone going "whistle"- "Mabel! Black Label!" and then I guess your serving wench Mabel was supposed to come running to you with another Black Label- preferably wearing just fishnets and heels, and a smile. I bet it was fun back then, living in a man's world. For an all American white male like me, probably sucked for everyone else.

Don't know what the problem is, cos other than living alone against my will I've got it pretty damn sweet- no, make that really damn sweet- and it's not like I don’t know it because I do, but I'm just not happy, got the bad stomach pretty much daily, was heading up to have lunch with Joe and Laura and the ZMM crew- their slogan is "You want it WHEN? HA HA HA!"- when I had to pull over and have a good puke, which is still much better than having to pull over and have a spray from another orifice, believe me, but once done puking I ended up getting behind the TM bus and consequently being late and missing lunch.

To put it in perspective, I read about this woman in Iran who lost her entire family in the recent earthquake- EVERYONE, she may have some third cousin off somewhere, it didn't say, but she lost her husband, her kids, her parents, all her siblings, all their spouses, and all their kids, all her aunts and uncles- 41 in all. Good God. Or, to be sacreligious about it, maybe not so good God, you mealy mouthed everything happens for the best bunch, try showing that poor soul the best in something like this. I'll bet she claws your fucking eyes out, with my blessing.

I was going to say, "But I digress", but not really, these whole things are usually just one big digression anyway, so- onward . . .

So, what's Bill been up to? I dunno, two weeks away from work has got my tolerance pretty low, I'm already sort of crocked, if I remember something of interest, I'll try to get it down before it eludes me. Like my fucking life did.

I have to say, I think this issue's title is kind of weak- not a pimple on the ass of "Crawling Death Rides My Cockpit", or "Alternative Sex Bombs And Slap Dick Idiots"- but it's not as goofy as what it was going to be, which was "You Must Fight To Live On The Planet Of The Apes". Watched "Beneath The POTA" the other night, I like it at least as well as the first one, love the nihilistic end where Chuck says, "You bloody bastards" and blows up the fucking world, it's also got Linda Harrison, another on the long, long, LONG list of Women Bill Thinks Are Hot running around in her scanty future togs, great legs, holy shit. And Samantha's dad as Dr. Zaius, which I always knew but just didn't really connect until listening to "Bewitched" one wee am last week while hard at work here at the keypad, and when he started talking I went, "Damn, her dad is that damn prick orangutan. Kill him, Sam, quick!"

The "You Must Fight To Live etc" comes from one night when Joe and I were sitting around listening to a record or tape or CD, at least as drunk as I am now, and I thought that's what the guy was singing. Joe, through long experience, just agreed with me- "Yep, that's exactly what I'm hearing too, he's singing- what was it you heard again? Yeah, that, he's singing that."

Tried to watch "Deep Rising" sometime since last issue, but when the CGI monster showed up I bailed, too fucking fake looking, I can't stand it- saw a preview for "Van Helsing" and forget it, the CGI Wolfman looks like a fucking JOKE, give me surly drunk Lon Jr. in his furs any day- tried to stay up and watch "Ravenous", which I read a good review of, but wouldn't you know, that was one of the been too long without sleep nights, and I fell asleep here on the couch about half an hour before it came on at 3 am. Did watch "War Of The Worlds" for about the ten millionth time, I never get tired of that movie, which reminds me, got a recent e-mail from the funniest named reader yet, Mars Hottentot. And he calls ME a funny guy.

And remember Glastonbury 2002 that I was looking forward to watching last issue? Suck fucking city. The best band- the BEST one- was No Doubt, whom I can't stand, and while I don't think Madonna wannabe Gwen is a fraction as hot as she thinks she is, to give credit where it’s due, she can shake it, and not in that faux Latino horse shit way you see so much anymore, but in this sensual, "hey, stand next to me and do that" manner that was very watchable, even thought the song sucked. Hawkwind? Not hardly.

The bloom is off the rose as far as my Dad and his rehab, part of the deal is that you have to talk to their psychiatrist, and he thinks my Dad needs to see someone about anger management- which pissed the living fuck out of my Dad, go figure. Even if he doesn't see anyone else, continuing to see the psychiatrist up there is a requirement of the rehab center, and my Dad was just frothing at the mouth, he was about to quit, when my Mom, with all her years of experience dealing with him, said, "You know, Bit, just because you have to see him doesn't mean you have to agree with him."

You could see the light bulb go on over my Dad's head. "Okay, then. I'll see him- but I'M NOT GONNA AGREE WITH HIM!" Unfortunately, he started having heart palpitations last week- my Dad, not the psychiatrist, although that may come- and they put him on the 24 hour monitor Monday, he should get the results next week some time. It's always something.

Speaking of beer (we were earlier, remember?) Chris brought me back three 4 packs of Sam Smith's IPA from Atlanta where he was karateing last weekend, for the nominal sum of $26.16. The most mind numbing part of that last sentence, is that $26.16 is an excellent price for 12 SS IPA. Good stuff, trust me.

What's Bill been listening to? Old stuff for an old guy, went through all my old Beatles stuff consecutively last Sunday, got up to the White Album before I ran out of steam, which obviously influenced this issue's bland title. I'm not going to argue that the Beatles were the best band ever cos I think those kinds of things are too subjective to argue sensibly, and I'm not sure that I think they were myself, but I will say that they were undeniably great, and if you don't think so- well, I was going to call you a name, but I won't, I'll just say that you're wrong. Wrong, wrong, fucking wrong, you stupid shithead.

Even the cover of a relatively minor Beatles song like "Dear Prudence" is far and away the best song on "Twice Upon A Time", Siouxsie and The Banshees second singles collection, which is not to say that record sucks, because it doesn't, at all, just that Sue and Severin couldn't write as good a song as John Lennon- no shame there. However, any fucking retard could drool something better than "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da", what a turd tart of a song, I've always just HATED it, and that show that used to use it as their theme song, it was the one about some family, had that Down's Syndrome kid in it playing a kid with Down's syndrome (those guys in Hollywood are fucking geniuses), not cos of the kid, he was fine, but because the show, like that goddamn song, was so fucking smarmy it made me want to puke. How the same man could write that vapid piece of shit (or "Maxwell's Silver Hammer", or "When I'm 64" for that matter) and the sublime "I Saw Her Standing There" (or that great churning riff in "Helter Skelter") is beyond me.

Hey Bungalow Bill
What did you kill?

Finished a lot of books lately, that turgid most recent Stephen King, I haven't read one of his books for pleasure in a long time, started this one because it was part of the Gunslinger series, still sucked hard, the Gunslinger started out really well 25 years ago, but by this point it's the equivalent to the song that never ends (This is the story that never ends/It just goes on and on my friends . . . ) and just as annoying. Also read the new Robert Crais, like I was telling Chris, who likes him, RC is a good writer but I don't believe his people, too exaggerated for me, his latest menace is an ex- Delta Force renegade of credibility stretching power, I'm more about the lowlife prick around the corner. Or maybe not that far away.

Read a mystery by Stephen Bochco, can't remember the name, too much beer in my head, kind of slight, but still decent, which surprised me cos I don't like his writing for his TV shows, also a book about the Three Stooges, very good, and this big thick one about anime, a lot of very interesting stuff in there, but they lose me when they try to make a case for that ghastly porn anime. I try to be real open minded about sex, whatever turns you on is fine by me and behind closed doors I'm certainly no Puritan, seldom a missionary for that matter, but still, I've gone on record in the past and I continue to stand behind it, if you like to watch cartoons screwing, you're a twisted motherfucker. Not that I'm judging you or anything. But it's CARTOONS, you sick bastard . . .

The Japanese have this whole subgenre of anime and live action movies about these multi-tentacled alien/demons violating school girls- it was mentioned briefly in the anime book, but there's a whole chapter about this truly dysfunctional- to my mind, any way, the Japs are all about it-scene in "Mondo Macabro" which is an excellent reference guide to Asian (as well as Mexican and Turkish) exploitation films for those of you who're interested in that sort of thing (and who's not, right?). I don't know, man, maybe we should've nuked those fuckers more than twice.

Why don't we do it in the road?

Amazingly, things are still on track for the inaugural Charleston All Pro Wrestling show 2/21 at the Dunbar Armory, bell time 7:30, and the Death Falcon wants to exhort you (I EXHORT YOU! I EXHORT YOU! PRAISE THE LORD, I EXHORT YOU!) to come out and watch him FUCK UP that moron Screamin' Mean Joe Sexton. If you only come to one CAPW show, make it this one, crowds beget crowds, and if we get a great ass big old crowd for this first show- well, that'll be good. Dang, buzzing. Hard.

Also found out today from Brian that the DF will be teaming with Jack Miller- he probably has a website, Joe, see if you can get a picture of him- in the WV Tag Team Tournament in Smithers, 3/20, which is fine, fine news, Jack is MSWA champ and an excellent technical wrestler, I can see this team going all the way, seriously, but I find the pairing kind of weird, it's like putting the Great Muta in his deepest hell (I meant to type "heel", but I like hell) persona, with Bret Hart in his biggest baby face. There's going to be a lot of genuinely good WRESTLERS there, I'm real tempted to have a talk with the DF, he's usually such a shit bag cheating son of a bitch (HEY!), throwing shit in people's eyes. low blowing, attacking them before the bell and such, people- himself included- sometimes forget just what a damn good wrestler he can be when he wants to be. What do you think?

(NO SWEAT. I'LL GET DOWN ON THE MAT AND GO WITH ANYONE- BUT IF THEY START WINNING, I'M HITTING THEM WITH A FUCKING CHAIR).

That's all I can ask.

No funny stories this time around, I'm about half way through "Billy, If You've Killed Your Sister!", which should be done in time to append to next issue (and in other writing news, finished the first PI novel, starting the second, called Sell Out, wonder who that could be about, holy shit, I just realized, I FOUND THE UNDERLINE THING, STILL no word back about- here it goes again- Drains, this writing thing is not the best gig for an impatient fuck such as myself). I think I'm gonna go, sort of a minor issue this time around- they can't all be "Martinsburg is Hell"- but I have to tell you, this beer is just kicking my tired ass tonight.

(HIT IT WITH A FOLDING CHAIR).

Now there's a thought.

Happiness is a warm gun.

Later

Bill