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5/12/04 Mentallo And The Fixer
Hey Getting ready to head South, thought I'd get one out since for various reasons I won't be back here at the house to spend the night again until next Wednesday, and I already got a couple complaints from people that their Monday morning edition wasn't there this past Monday. Ha, I knew it. Jesus on a biscuit, I give up. I've also had complaints that my addressing the issue of insulting Joe was more insulting than the original insults. Why don't you people just kiss my shiny ass, and LEAVE ME ALONE. I hope all you Mothers had a very nice Day last Sunday, and all of you who are still fortunate enough to have your Moms around, I also hope that you did something very nice for her, and told her that you love her. Although I have to tell you, no matter what you did for your Mom, it can't be as cool as what I did for mine, cos I bought my Mom a wrestling ring for Mother's Day. Seriously. Joe and I went down Saturday to get Bob's ring- and in total sincerity, thanks a hell of a lot for your help, Joe, cos it was a brutal day, made pulling a well seem like sitting around pulling something else- long story short, instead of loaning it to me, Bob sold it to me for $60. Incredible. Of course, then I didn't have any cash to buy my Mom a present, so instead, and this is tons better anyway, from now on that ring will be known as the Dorothy B. Bitner Mother's Day Memorial Ring. My Mom was touched when I told her, truly. Or maybe she said something about me being touched, I don't know. However, I just named the ring after her, it's not actually her ring (had to clear THAT up with her right quick, give some people an inch . . . ). In fact, as soon as I get that mildewy canvas all scrubbed up, I'm gonna spray paint, "This Wrestling Ring Belongs To Bill Bitner And No One Else!" on it. I may also paint "Do You Like Me, Check Yes Or No" if there's room. Rach and I got in a little workout Saturday evening, she was doing back bump drills like nobody's business, it's hard to get some people to just throw themselves down on their backs but not my girl Rachel, showed her a few simple moves, then made the mistake of saying something about it in front of my Mom- M: You were wrestling with that child in that wrestling ring? Of course, the ring's going to need some work (and Joe's going, oh Jesus, I know what THAT means), and that sort of made me think of Mentallo and the Fixer. They were this rather obscure pair of second rate supervillains who first popped up in the early 60's pages of Nick Fury, Agent Of S.H.I.E.L.D, (which stood for Supreme Headquarters something something Law Division) with that fucking WONDERFUL, over the top Jack Kirby art. Mentallo was this super smart guy who never really did anything, he'd just sit around with the Fixer, going, "If we just had some sort of . . . device . . that would . . . DO STUFF, we could use it to take over the world. Fixer!" And then Fixer would build such a device, and they'd try to take over the world. These schemes would always end up with them getting their asses kicked by Shield, excuse me, S.H.I.E.L.D., and then they'd be sitting in their prison cells, "If we just had some sort of . . . device, that would bust us out of prison, then we could get some OTHER type of device, that could . . DO STUFF . . . and then we could take over the world. FIXER!" I leave you free to draw your own comparisons. We got the U-Haul to transport the ring from Teays Valley Rental, and take my very sincere advice, stay the fuck away from that place. They're fat and old and non responsive- no, wait that was Joe- and I don't want to hear it, you people started this- what they are is a bunch of fucking retards, incompetent and surly, losing keys to trucks, renting the same truck to two different people, they SUCK, avoid them seriously. Also, even though the ring came cheap in some ways, it did have it's cost in health, I broke my damn finger loading (or unloading, I forget which) the fucker. Got my right ring finger caught between a couple heavy pieces of metal, I felt it snap, between the end and middle joints but I was hoping it was just a knuckle popping, unfortunately not. It's not as severe as what Chris did to his finger way back when, of course I didn't do anything near as damaging as try to hit Debbie in her hard, hard head, it's purple-y and swollen, got a knot in it, and sort of a kink (and if Ray Davies has any sense, he'd use that as an opening line- "Would you like a little Kink in that? How about a big one?") but it's not really as sore as I'd be saying it was if I had someone sweet to press my tortured brow to her breast and make over my whining ass. Got it wrapped, still hurts when I bend it, or bang it into something, but other than that, it's okay.
B: Didn't you, like, take this vow not to fuck around on me? That's an extreme- though true- example of what she did, and continues to do. She goes back on her word fucking CONSTANTLY, with me and the girls, anyway, and then will excuse it by saying, well, you, or someone else, did something I didn't like, so I no longer have to keep my word. And then she gets mad when called a liar. Well, actually there are usually ten to two dozen adjectives before liar, but still.
However, to be serious for a moment- just a moment, I promise- any parent that would put a price tag on their child's happiness is an asshole, and I'd gladly pay that much and more to make either one of my babies happy- it's just fucking MONEY, Jesus- and Sarah looked BEAUTIFUL Saturday, took my fucking breath away, and to try and equate that with dollars- well, maybe some folks can do it, but I can't. So, thanks again to Laura, Anita and Allegra for helping Sarah have a good prom, I'll post pictures here when I get 'em, and her Mom can take that prom dress money and buy herself a new fucking broom.
Second will be that I didn't fuck Kay Lyons when I had the chance. Rachel- well, actually Sarah- sent me a picture of Rachel's snake, which she went ahead and named Lucifer, not Carl, Luci for short. She said he won't eat his pinkies if the lights are on- yeah, I'd be embarrassed too- so this is just a picture of him. Pretty damn thing. I love snakes.
The hell with Sprite. What IS IT with those damn Coca-Cola company commercials and their "fuck people over for a Coke" theme? This past weekend I saw three separate commercials- the guy who steals the empenadas and Coke his roommate's Mom left for him, the guys who get their buddy to run naked around the house for their Coke caps, then lock him out- AND pocket their damn caps- and the guy who steals all the Coke but one out of the refrigerator, drinks half of that one and then shakes it up so it'll look fuller I guess, that may have even been for Pepsi, I don't know, I was seeing red by that point. Who the hell thinks someone shitting on their family and friends to get some of that over caffeinated tooth rotting blood sugar spiking piss water is funny? Some advertising dick, I guess, and his sponsor. Well you know what, he and the CCC can both kiss my fucking ass as well, (if even a minute fraction of all the people I tell to kiss my ass actually did, the damn thing would be chapped absolutely raw). I don't drink that criminally overpriced swill they sell anyway, I honestly wouldn't use Coca-cola to wash my goddamn dog- if I still had one- and I'd sooner drink my own sweat- thought I was gonna say piss again, didn't you?- and if I DID drink it, those stupid, stupid commercials would make me quit. So, FUCK THEM. Like I said, getting ready to take my parents to South Carolina, to prepare myself I drove them up to Lori's for Mother's Day. Whenever I drive my Dad anywhere I always have to make sure I'm taking the same route he does, cos God help us all if I'm not- D: You're not going the right way. In a similar vein, we see a guy on the corner while we're stopped at the light in Cross Lanes. D: That guy looks like Brad Morgan. We're watching TV at Lori's, a commercial comes on. D: I can't stand that guy. No correspondence in weeks, so I guess Miss Impetuous isn't feeling quite so impetuous anymore, apparently that brief ego boosting episode is history. Oh well. Story of my damn life, I live to wind them up just to let them down. Normally it takes a little longer than this- my record still stands at 25 years- but this is hardly the quickest turnaround, either. To wit- I was in Books A Million last week, I get into frequent conversations with strangers in there, it's easy to do. Some of you old timers may remember- whatever her name was, I'd have to go back and look it up in issue whichever, that crazy girl from BAM a while back, I bought her a cup of coffee and she wanted to get married, to ME, now THAT'S certifiable. This time I'm standing at the magazines, and I start checking out the employee putting out new mags, this young girl, showing quite a bit of tit, I don't think she was trying to be provocative, she was just one of those big chested girls who are high slung, I'm sure her relative youth had a lot to do with it as well, when I first started dating Loretta her cleavage started at her lower lip, I'd bet now it starts at her fucking cu- yeah, there. Anyway, she catches me- I've never professed to be slick- but instead of taking offense she smiles and comes on over, and we start talking. Since I'm standing in the music/entertainment section we talk a little music, a little movies, just passing the time, I don't have a lot of talents, but I can pretty much talk to anybody. I'd spent the previous night out at my parents and had forgotten to bring a clean shirt out with me, so I was wearing one of my Dad's Union Pacific Railroad shirts. She looks at it and goes- BAM G: Do you like trains? I don't know why I say this shit any more than you do, it just pops outta my fucking mouth, and I have to live with it. I still think it was a better response than "No, but my crazy ass old man does, this is his shirt," but still . . . In a perfect world, also known as Bill World, she'd have responded- BAM G: Ooooh, really. Can I have a ride? Since this isn't Bill World, and shows no signs of becoming it in MY fucking lifetime, she said instead, "Oh, uh . . . really." And went back to stocking her magazines.
Don't put laundry detergent in your dishwasher. What's Bill been watching? "Shamus", for one, with Burt Reynolds as the title character. Had that early 70's vibe that I love, though cliche ridden to the core, down to all these well built honeys- and since this was thirty some years ago at least some of them had to be natural (remember Dr. Bitner's Second Rule Of Bosomry, girls- Don't be putting no bags of salt water in your tits. The First Rule? SHOW BILL YOUR TITS!) falling for Burt's, even back then in his prime, rather dubious, to my eye's, charms. Was that a convoluted sentence, or what? Had Dyan Cannon in it, she had nice tits in her day, saw 'em in some movie she was in, maybe it was "Bob and Carol, Ted and Alice", good sized but firm, perky, even, look you right in the eye, they would. Back somewhere in my disturbed past, late '70's, maybe very early 80's, there was (briefly) this TV show called "Big Shamus, Little Shamus", about this widowed P.I. who took his cloyingly cute son on cases with him, probably hoping someone would shoot the kid's shittin' ass. I was somewhere, ashamed to admit I don't recall exactly where, but there were a bunch of people around when a commercial for said show came on, and I remarked, "They oughta call it, 'Big Dick, Little Dick'". Either no one got it, or no one thought it was funny, cos you could've cut the silence with a knife. I don't give a shit, I thought it was funny then, and I think it's funny now. See, "private dick", like "shamus", is slang for private eye . . . ah, forget it. Burt did pull off a couple good ones though, (back to the movie), he asks this woman- B: You want some coffee with cream and sugar? I don't know, it made me laugh. And ask your grandma, or me and Joe, what saccharine was. Tried to watch "An American Werewolf in Paris" on AMC the other night, lasted about 45 minutes before I had to bail, it sucks. But after it went off, came- "Frankenstein Conquers The World". Of course he does. Starts out with the totally bizarro conceit that toward the end of WW II (the big one) the Germans were experimenting with the living heart of Frankenstein's monster (NOT Frankenstein, I know I'm a nit picking geek about shit like this, so humor me), the Ratzi's realize their end is near so they send the heart by sub to their Axis brethren in Japan. Where exactly do they send it? To Hiroshima, just in time for it to get atom bombed. Afterward, a starving orphan in the ruins finds AND EATS the irradiated and still beating heart, and turns into this really hideous, buck toothed Japanese style Frankenstein(s monster). This origin was considered too strong for our weak American stomachs, (How you win war, Mr. Pussy Man?) so it was left out of the version released here, (How do I know this? I READ A LOT) and it was said that the heart itself grew into Little Mr. Ugly. Who soon grows into Big Mr. Ugly, which is convenient, since pretty soon he's going out and trading judo throws with floppy eared Baragon, easily one of the goofiest kaiju of all time. Nick Adams, well into his decline, is in this, and apparently none too damn glad to be, if his surly demeanor means anything. Although I did get a chuckle when he said, "Yes, the story of Hiroshima is a tragic one . . . but you fucking Japs started it." Or maybe I just imagined that last part. Last movie mention, I finally watched "Event Horizon" the other night, I like the concept that FTL drive leads to (literally) Hell, but the movie soon turned into another tired old "living ship" story. It amuses me to note as I look down that the waist band of my boxers, all I have on at the moment, have an FTL logo on them. Guess that means they're either the gateway to Hell, or what's inside is faster than light, neither of which I'm too thrilled with. Drinking? Just green tea, all we've had here since the last time I did one of these, what, nine days ago? Needed a break, also, summer wrestling season will soon be upon us, gotta look good for all our fans.
Should be an EXCELLENT night of wrestling, seven big matches in all, don't miss it. Death Falcon Zero has also been invited to participate in the 16 man tournament starting 5/22 in Nitro to crown a new XMCW Heavyweight champ, haven't told Allen yet whether I'm in or not. I'm not wanting to sound like a prima donna, but there's only a couple guys in that Fed I'd even deign to get in the ring with, and really only one- Kris- that I wouldn't have major problems with putting over. So I don't know. I may tell Allen I'll come down if he'll either bring in some decent outside guys to work, or else just let me win the damn tournament, or else I think I probably have plans for that night. I'll keep you advised, though, cos if I'm in, come see me. Listening to? Nothing new, haven't gotten anything new in a while, just listening to The Doors, like I do often, gone on about them here before. "The End" is playing right now, it starts out so damn promising, that great instrumental opening, initial lyrics- "Of our elaborate plans, the end/Of everything that stands, the end", and later, "Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain/And all the children are insane", that's some well done, evocative stuff, as for that supposedly shocking Oedipal shit later on, yawn. I've mentioned Jim was the idol of this guy I went to college with, Jeff Martin, who called himself Jeff Morrison (Joe, we gotta get up there and get that fucking GUITAR, maybe this summer- I could sell it and buy a STRAT) who fancied himself a musician as well, sometimes Joe and I would let him "jam" with us on some of our songs, invariably Jeff would go- Jeff: Hmmmm. I can do something with that. Of course, he didn't like the old turnabout, he came up with this song, had a pretty good progression actually, wish I could remember it, I think I still have it somewhere on cassette tape, I got two whole cassette racks full of old Bill, Joe, and others shit going back almost 30 years, someone asked quite a while back how many hours of "home movies" I have and I never responded cos I forgot to and the question just came back to me now, about thirty hours, why?-so I "did something with it", Jeff's song, in case you're lost, next time we saw him- B: Hey Jeff, I fixed that song of yours, first off I sped it up, cos it
was too slow, and I changed most of the minor chords to major, cos I hate
to tell you this Mr. Still Lives With His Mom And Never Goes On Dates but
minor chords are for fairies, and I changed the title and words, it's not
called "Pretentious Drivel In Dm" anymore, it's "Baby Makes
Me Crazy", and it goes like this, hit it, Joe, "When she shakes
her ass I fucking go insane/It puts crazy-" Like 'em? Darlin', I am one. Later Bill
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Tell
me that you want the kind of things 
As I said to Joe this weekend, it's a weird ass fucking world when you
can get a wrestling ring for $60, and a kid's dress will cost you $435.60,
Jesus Christ, someone call 911 cos I'M SWALLOWING MY FUCKING TONGUE HERE.
How'd THAT disaster happen, you ask?
Well, Loretta told Sarah she would buy her prom dress, but then
decided, since she didn't have a hand in picking it out, she was no longer
obligated to pay for it. Say what? That's the kind of twisted logic I
lived with for years there at the end.
So, anyway, there goes my Stratocaster, flapping away on little white
wings.
And since there won't be another one of these before then, next Tuesday
would've been our 25th Wedding Anniversary. Not gonna make any speeches,
other than to say I wish I'd known then what I know now, and that's
strictly so I could've changed some of my behavior, cos I definitely did
my share of fucking things up, and if I live to be ninety like Ms. Fortune
Teller threatened me I would, I have no doubt the biggest regret in my
life will always be how things ended between Loretta and I.
Cialis. See Alice. Coincidence? I think not . .
If
this WERE Bill world, this photo Doug sent me would be a reality, I'm
sending a copy to Joe to include here. Doug, you're a sick man. I love it.
Doug was also mentioning we need to do the cook out thing out here again,
absolutely, need to wait till the girls come in for the summer cos they
definitely want to be here for it. My Dad was just asking me the other
day, and I don't know if he was trying to be smart or if it's just the way
he talks, "Is Doug gonna have another cook out at your house this
summer?" Well, Doug, if you do, DON'T INVITE HIM.
J:
No, No, NO! I HATE IT! 