3/18/04

This Heathen Earth

This looks like a nice one, Martha, what do you- holy mother of God!Jesus said, "I'm giving up
It's all too much for me"
Threw up his hands, said
"What the hell, let 'em in for free"
I don't know, but it's been said
The only good Christian's one that's dead
The Bible is the best damn book
That I have never read

Hey

Goshamighty, Shane, another'n. How I'd crank these out two to a week back in the day is beyond me. I must've been more interesting then. Or, more likely, more interested. Not that I'm not interested right now, mind you.

What's up? Once again, not a whole hell of a lot, got my days and nights switched again, up all last night, slept today, not tired now.

What's Bill drinking? Green tea. Gotta work Saturday, looking forward to it very much. Went down to Nitro and worked out in their ring for over two hours Monday, best workout I've had in ages. Of course the heaviest guy down there after me probably didn't break 200 pounds, so it was easy to toss their asses around like lawn darts, I slung this one kid up for a Zero bomb and he slipped out of my hands and just went spinning off over my shoulder, hell, it looked twice as good as what I was going to do. I think they were a little intimidated as well, cos they were all working me awful, awful light. It's okay guys, you can touch me, really. Just don't piss me off, ha.

Listening to? Gorch Brothers demo (where the above lyrics came from). Someday . . . The 7th (Sunday before last) was the 7th anniversary of The Fabulous Tang Spoons Live At The Roxy Theater, by the way, lordy how time does fly, video still available.

The girls were in, briefly, last weekend. I don't want to talk about it, it makes me depressed. They'll be back in for over a week in April for spring break, looking forward to it very much, but once again, the whole fucking idea of having to visit with my own children rankles the living hell out of me.

(AS WELL IT SHOULD).

I see where Georgia is starting to regulate their pro wrestling- at an annual licensing fee of $1000, plus a $250 charge per event, what they've done is legislate it out of existence, I'm sure- they describe PW as "full contact thespian events", how funny. Accurate, but funny.

What's Bill been watching? Well, like a fucking dumbass, I missed "Bring 'em Back Alive", hopefully Ted will show it again next month, it always seems though like they'll show putrid dog shit like "Police Academy XXV" a jillion times, and only show the good stuff once. Or oncet, if you're from West Virginia. Sorry, sort of a back handed poke at Satan and her current almost pathological anti-WV attitude.

Hey Walter!Missed a lot of good stuff last week, but I did catch "Halls Of Montezuma" with Richard Widmark, and Jack (billed as "Walter"!) Palance. Did you know I was a Marine for a day? Absolute truth. I got pissed at my parents and signed up the summer of '74, forged my Dad's name on the papers, since I was a minor, got caught the next day (cos my damn Mom called and told on me, in retrospect probably the biggest favor she ever did me) and thrown the hell out. Kicked out of the Boy Scouts and the United States Marine Corps (also off of both my junior high school and high school football teams, didn't quit a one, I was told pack your bags and get the hell out, young man). All American boy, that's me.

It comes on at 2 am tomorrow so most of you will probably miss it, but "Slap Shot" with Paul Newman is a hilarious fucking movie, with the infamous Hanson Brothers- not them, the hockey goons- well worth watching if it comes on sometime when you can, I'll watch it for you tomorrow. On Friday you've got "Stranger On The Third Floor" with Peter Lorre at 12:15 pm on TCM, some other good stuff on TCM later in the month, as always- if you like old movies you probably don't need to be told this, but TCM shows a lot of great stuff, I'll just note "On Dangerous Ground" with my buddy Robert Ryan at midnight on the 26th, since a lot of the other stuff comes on during the day when I suspect most of you are working.

"It smells like nooky in here."More fun with Food Network, sitting here typing away the other night, Emeril says behind my back, "It smells like nooky in here." I holler, "It smells like WHAT?", so he obligingly says it again, "It smells like nooky in here. Doesn't it?" Well, maybe where he's at. I swiveled around hoping to see something interesting- and he's dropping these little dough balls into a pot of boiling salted water. Gnocchi. Dumb ass. Him, not me.

And speaking of mush mouths, my Dad was bitching about all these little kids running amok in the drug store the other day, pissing him off, he called them a bunch of damn little nimps.

B: Little Nips, did you say?
D: No, not Nips, what do you think I am?
B: Don't get me started . . .
D: I said nimps.
B: Nymphs?
D: Nimps.
B: Imps?
D: NIMPS!
B: Okay, nimps. Bet they were annoying.
D: Not as much as you.

I haven't been able to hold to that once a week cooking for my parents deal, going to Huntington is monopolizing a lot more of my time than I thought it would at first, but shit, a man's gotta eat, and they don't give you that stuff for nothing. But I did finally get around to the pork tenderloin, sweet potato, collards dinner I promised them a while back. It was good. Damn good.

They're still going on their cruise the first week in April, drunken Zel from whatever issue she's from has decided to go as well, my Mom is genuinely concerned my Dad will pitch her ass overboard, as am I. I don't give one tiny shit, really, just as long as he doesn't get caught, cos I do share his antipathy toward the woman. I don't mind Zel cos she drinks too much, gosh sakes, she's a kindred soul, I mind her cos SHE TALKS TOO FUCKING MUCH, as in all the goddamn time. I treasure interesting conversationalists, but I can think of few traits I dislike more in a person than that damn jabbering on forever about nothing shit like Zel does. Shut the fuck up, already. Or get your ass drowned by a crazy man.

I'm still younger than Chris and Joe, and that aging fart Ronny G.Saw Bo Derek on TV the other day on some news show, she was campaigning against the French eating our horses- no, seriously. She's starting to look a little old in the face but still very attractive, has this horrific old lady neck on her now though, too much sun at Ibiza, my dear. To all appearances- she had her clothes on, unfortunately- she still looks to be built like a brick shithouse. Bo is a week older than me, shares the same birth day as my Dad- November 23- and the exact same birthday- November 23, 1956- as Bobby Davis from the sledding story last issue. So even though she's no kid any longer, she's still younger than people like, oh, I don't know, Chris, and Joe, and that aging fart Ronny G (who I like to call Crusty, when I deign to call him anything at all).

Checked out the Be-Bop Deluxe website Joe linked to the last newsletter, very sorry to read on it that old BBD bassist Charlie Tumahai died way back on 12/21/95 from a heart attack. I used to think Charlie was Japanese, from his look and name, the old BBD song "Japan" ("Oh, I'm so in love with my Japan"- yeah, well they didn't Pearl Harbor your ass, did they?) probably contributed as well, then I read some interview where he said he'd never been to Japan, so I thought he was maybe Hawaiian- he spoke English with no discernable accent. His obit said he was Maori, and was back living in New Zealand when he died unexpectedly. RIP Charlie, we hardly knew ye.

All you people on your knees
I hope you find some peace
I'll find mine between the knees
Of this woman right next to me
Cos I was taught way back in school
We're all just monkeys, and poor damn fools
Share your beer with Bill Bitner
Is the real Golden Rule

Been getting some very interesting e-mail correspondence lately from something calling itself Yellowfever (by the way, say hey to Anthrax, and tell Dysentery she's the shits- sometimes I crack myself up, Jesus). Anyway, he- I think it's a he- among other things, seems baffled by how my Dad could spank me like I say he did, and not get in trouble for it. Dude, it was a whole 'nother world back then. He used to spank me purple, and people would line up and cheer.

I never took a spanking well, in the sense that I just stood there and took it. Sometimes if he took me by surprise and cornered me, like if I didn't realize he'd already found out about something I'd done, or that classic time when he prefaced spanking the tar out of me with, "I may not know what it was you did, but by God, I'm damn sure you did it"- how can you argue with that, especially since he was right?- we didn't do the runaround first, but most spankings started out with the chase and capture.

I'd see that look in his eyes, or see the belt coming out of it's loops, or one of a dozen other signals, and I was fucking out of there.

D: If I have to chase you it's only going to be that much worse!
B: Eat my dust!

Yeah right, that much worse. Every spanking I ever got only stopped when this alarm went off that told my Dad, if you hit him one more time with that belt, your arm will fall off. Not that I'm complaining, cos I would have killed me, were I my own kid.

Once caught, I still didn't take it well. I did what I used to call the dog scootch, where he'd have me by the wrist, flailing away with the other hand, and I'd be trying to scootch my butt down on the ground, or floor, away from that damn belt, and we'd spin around and around like that till we were both dizzy as fuck. Sometimes he'd get me in this headlock, where all I could do was this mule (or frog) kick, jumping up and down and shooting my legs straight out, didn't help much, but just standing there and taking it wasn't in my nature. Not saying I'm tough, in fact, probably just the opposite- "Stand still while I hurt you." "I don't fucking think so. First you're gonna have to catch me, then you're gonna have to hold me down, and even then, I WILL NOT LEARN MY LESSON."

My Dad's a tenacious fuck, though, and was up to the task. Counting the chase, and the wrestle down, a spanking could easily take up to half an hour, and leave us both exhausted.

Public didn't matter. Bill and the lobsters is well known story in the Bitner family, sort of a legend. It goes like this. The Super Giant where we used to shop when I was a kid had this huge seafood section, with this great big lobster tank, seriously, it wasn't just huge cos I was small, this was a really big lobster tank.

I've always been interested in fish and sea life for some weird reason, so I used to hang out in that section, and one day I was having one of those things I get- I even got them back then, my grandma used to call them my "spells"- where all of a sudden I get really flushed and my head feels like it's about to burst into flame. There was a little wooden stool there, so I climbed up on it and dunked my head in the lobster tank. That cold salt water felt WONDERFUL on my flaming head. After a bit I opened my eyes, it stung a little, but it was neat as well, and pretended I was deep sea diving, started blowing bubbles there with my head in the tank, and then Mr. Seafood Section man came along and pulled me out.

He was a nice man, which I'm sure he regretted later, short, slump shouldered and balding, soft spoken. He gave me some paper towels for my head, and asked me why I had it dunked in the lobster tank. I didn't want to tell him it was because my head felt like it was about to catch on fire, so I just said I was interested in lobsters and wanted a closer look, which he found amusing. We talked for a while, like I said, he was a genuinely nice man, but then he made his fatal mistake. He pulled a lobster out of the tank for me to take a closer look at. He showed me how they kept their claws closed with these little pieces of cork. Now they use rubber bands, but back then they used to put little pieces of cork down in the outside of the hinge of the claw to hold it closed. "Oh really . . " says I.

I didn't do anything that trip to the store, just thought about it a lot on the way home.

M: Something in this car smells funny.
B: It's my head. I dunked it in the lobster tank at the store.
D: Of course you did.

For the next couple of months I amused myself every time we went to Super Giant by pulling all the corks out of the claws of the lobsters there in the tank, then just standing around, waiting . . .

Customer: This looks like a nice one, Martha, what do you- holy mother of God, he's got me! OOOOOOOOOW!

Did I laugh? Oh dear God, how I laughed.

I eventually got caught, and spanked-at home, later- and banned from the seafood section, which really hurt. I stayed away for a while, but . . could you have resisted? Maybe, but I couldn't.

Anyway, I'm back, I've taken all the corks out of the claws and am hanging over by the magazines, close enough to see but hopefully not be obvious, when Mr. Seafood Man comes out and, I guess to fill an order, starts rooting around in the lobster tank. There was this big honking lobster in the tank this time, scary big, in fact I'd almost left the corks in him for fear he'd snip some poor fucker's fingers right off, but then that damn what the hell voice said, what the hell, so I uncorked him as well, and . . .

You guessed it. Mr. Seafood Man gets this brief pained and puzzled look on his face, then-

MSM: What the fu- oh Jesus, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! HE'S GOT ME!

He jerks his hand up out of the tank with Mr. Big Honking Lobster hanging off of it, I mean this is no joke, it's got him with both claws and it's pinching him to beat absolute hell, the blood was flowing and he was howling. What do I do? Start laughing my damn idiot head off, if course.

MSM: YOU!
B: Ha ha ha- uh oh.

I start running and he starts chasing. Now, most kids in this case might run toward their parents. I was running to get the hell out of Dodge, out of the store and down the street, I could meet my parents later at the car with my patented "I didn't do it" - 'What? I don't know what you're talking about, I just went outside because I needed some air"- all ready and polished. Unfortunately, my Dad saw us as we flashed past the aisle he was in- hard to miss a maniacally laughing kid being chased by a screaming man with a big honking lobster hanging off of him, I guess- and joined in the pursuit.

My Dad cut me off at the pass, and proceeded to give me a public spanking that would get him 20 years behind bars in this day and age. There in the Super Giant they gave him a standing ovation (I noticed a lot of the people had Band-aids on their fingers).

(AS WELL HE SHOULD HAVE).

Made you what you are today.

(ABSOLUTELY. A FULL CONTACT THESPIAN).

Holy Bill fucking Bitner in a chicken basket!Jesus said "It's over now
I've wasted too much time
Trying to save what can't be saved
I'm getting tired of trying"
Well, all I want when it's all done
Is a deep dark hole without no one
To fuck with me, except six girls
The age of twenty one.

Think I'm gonna turn in.

(TO WHAT?)

Everybody's a comedian. Anything else you want to say?

(HEY TO CRUSTY).

Later

Bill