|
5/25/04 Brave Words And Bloody Knuckles
The door's wide open, you can come on in Hey It's your, or at least my, favorite erotic neurotic, back after a couple weeks absence, been busy, sorry. What's Bill been busy at? Well, this and that, couple Thursdays ago I took my Mom down to South Carolina, she and Aline and some other old women were going on from Aline's to the beach.
One of the mooks sitting across from us had the temerity to say to my Dad after we'd ordered, "You're eating pancakes?" in a tone like we were eating children or something, my Dad off handedly told her, "Yeah, we're not fat like you are," which, I have to say, shut her ass up. We eat breakfast, I get a box for my pancakes cos I don't want 'em right then, my Dad starts getting worked up- D: You better eat those pancakes after what I said to that fat woman.
(She was still sitting there and could hear every word he said). I've never heard of syrup as a preservative, but it beats arguing with his crazy ass, so I covered them with syrup and we left. More soon to follow. We're on the Turnpike, pass a sign that says Toll Booth way far ahead- D: Here. Why don't I just take the money from him? I don't know, probably cos I'm as crazy as he is. This leads us into- Pancakes, Part 1. Those pancakes are preying HARD on my Dad's feeble mind. Every five minutes- D: Are you ready for those pancakes? Later- D: Are you ready for those pancakes? Still later- D: Are you ready for- About an hour later D: What's the matter with you? The first weekend we're there Aline's grandson, Tanner, is staying with her, cute little blond 8 year old, very bright, sweet kid, well mannered (A-#1 attribute in a kid as far as I'm concerned) cos his Mom and Dad are on their 25th Wedding Anniversary trip out to Las Vegas. I had to swallow hard at that, they were married the same weekend Loretta and I were. I took Tanner fishing off the dock there behind Aline's. I like Tanner's Dad, Mike, quite a bit, good guy, real good to my Mom and Dad when they're down there, which gets him big points as well, but he's pretty driven for a Southern guy- which may also explain why he's rich- he's a contractor, not home a lot, Tanner spends lots of time with his ma, which has made him something of a Mama's boy. He didn't want to take his fish off the hook, which is perfectly acceptable when you're catching sea robins (the same with great white sharks and electric eels) but not with sunfish. Not if you’re a man and not a mama's boy, anyway, and like I made clear to my little buddy Tanner, I don't fish with mama's boys. Tanner and I worked at it for a while, I finally got him to take one of his fish off the hook, he did his best but took a long time at it, when he eventually tossed it back in, it was a floater. He looks at me and goes, "Maybe he's just nauseous," in this hopeful little voice, just cracked me up. Like I said, sweet kid. My Dad and I then went out on the floating dock, catfished with hot dogs, or weenies as they call them down there, southern redneck fishing at it's finest. I'm not going to try and get poetic but it was beautiful out there, the sun going down, soft almost summer breeze in our faces, gentle rocking motion of the dock- B: You know, if we just had a cooler of beer and some pretty women for
company, this would be unbeatable. And man, the way that dock rocked put some ideas in my head- it was killing me I was out there with my Dad. We caught some flatheads, not real big, 2-3 pounds, but fun. We left Saturday (the 15th) morning, which leads us into- Pancakes Part 2.
I get another omelet, my Dad says get the pancakes as well cos HE'S gonna eat them this time, somewhere on the road (hopefully before they go bad). My Dad and I finish our breakfast, my Dad asks our waitress- who had been pretty sullen and unresponsive, through no fault of mine and my Dad's that I could tell- if he can get a to go box for our pancakes- my 3, plus his 3. She brings him out this little box, like you'd put half a sandwich in. The look on my Dad's face is priceless. The waitress caught it, goes, "Will there be anything else?", my Dad goes- D: Yeah, bring me your Midgetizer. The waitress looks totally baffled (as well she should). W: I'm sorry, I don't understand. The guy at the next table has his face in his plate, laughing his ass off, his wife is going "WHAT did that man say he wanted?", I caught her eye and told her, "He wants a midgetizer, ma'am," and then she starts laughing, the only people not having a good time are my Dad and the waitress, who storms off, sends a different waitress back with two great big styrofoam boxes we could have put half a pig in. We pay ("you leave her a tip and I'll break your arm" my Dad informed me, no problem there, cos it wasn't happening anyway), and all the way back up the road, whenever my Dad would bitch about how someone else was driving- B: If we just had a midgetizer- I give him the old, "Are you ready for those pancakes?" thing for a while, he finally gets out the box. He jams most of three pancakes in his damn cake hole, mushes them around in there for a second, then- D: Geesh mmmguff gaah oooog. He swallows a clot of pancakes the size of your head. B: Now WHAT were you trying to say? Yeah, well enough of that stuff, what else has Bill been up to? Well, as Anita has so cogently noted, your boy here does have a penchant for the suds- but not much lately. Got plowed under last Tuesday on what would have been MY Silver Anniversary- and I don't begrudge Teresa and Mike their happiness or longevity as a couple at all, they're good people, but goddammit, I thought Loretta and I were good people TOO. Obviously not. Fuck it. Wrote Loretta what I thought was this horribly sappy letter our anniversary night, the computer was still on when I woke up from being passed out under the computer desk sometime early the next morning, I saved it instead of sent it, and shambled off to bed. Read that letter later the next day and- it was fucking beautiful. Holy shit, drunk out of my goddamn mind, instead of this "how COULD you, you fucking bitch" rant comes this really sweet and poignant expression of loss like I could never hope to write again. I damn near cried- ah, dammit, fuck me for a wimp, I did cry- reading it, I mean, even taking myself out of the equation and just reading it as written, it was a sad and powerful letter. Too damn good for her ass, let me tell you, she doesn't deserve it, I didn't send it, and I never will. Fuck her. Getting plowed under again tonight, on Newcastle, and I didn't pay for it, either, which makes it even sweeter, but this is only the second plowing in over 3 weeks, like I said, I've been busy. For those of you who've asked, yes, thank you, my finger is feeling much better, still got this weird knot between joints, but it's getting to where I can grip with it again, which is very good news indeed, since it's my right hand, and I've been getting very edgy since it's been hurt, say no more. Joe sent me- oh yeah, a couple of you have said that those pictures of Mentallo and The Fixer from last issue even look sort of like me and Joe. Now that you mention it . . .
Watched "The Day The World Caught Fire" last week out at me Dad's, my DVD player being a bit waterlogged, enjoyed it, it's got a nice literate Brit script, with nice Brit wit, good acting, started to watch "The Brain That Wouldn't Die" after, but fell asleep, of all things. What's Bill been reading? Halfway through this set of five SF books Laura let me borrow, by Ann Maxwell. I wasn't expecting to enjoy them, since my taste and Laura's are about as divergent as any two people's you could possibly find, but they're pretty good. Better written than I'd expected them to be- who the fuck is Ann Maxwell, never heard of her?- a little girly in parts, but not off puttingly so. Miss Impetuous is impetuous again. Don't know about you, but I"M happy about it . . . Checked out the Hybrid Zero website the other day to find out that after 4 years they've gone the way of all flesh, talked to Mark- e-talked- about it, he's got a new website, gonna url it here, not just now cos I'm buzzed up, if you know him, check it out, if you don't, check it out anyway, he's a neat guy. He was wanting to talk comics, man, I haven't read a new comic in AGES, the newest thing I've probably read is the graphic novel version of "Kingdom Come" (which was damn good, by the way), I'm gonna have to get over to his place- he's living in Chesapeake, Ohio now- and read some of this stuff he's raving about, it sounds good.
Good comic, off the wall and well written, by Howard Chaykin, who was sort of a wunderkind when he started writing comics in the mid-70's, who never really lived up to his billing, he was gonna eventually be this big screenwriter type guy, only thing I know of that he ever did was some scripts for that The Flash TV show from the early 90's.
Okay, scan not to follow. It's in here, I just can't get it to attach to the e-mail I'm trying to send. I HATE computers, and am reviling one right now, the spit's so thick on this screen I can hardly read what I'm writing, Joe, if you can find the cover to American Flagg #46 (nov. 87) that's it. My computer is absolutely dripping with spit. And more to come, I'm not kidding, I'm spitting all over this piece of shit. The people who run the Sci-fi Network should be fucking shot. They have access to putting science fiction on television, and the best they can do is Scare Tactic, Tripping The Rift, and Boa Vs. Python? They're idiots, and I hate them. What's Bill listening to? Bought a Metallica CD last week, that Garage thing they did, double CD of covers, cos I left the Death Falcon's intro music in KY last month when I left there in a snit, didn't think you could still download shit off the internet, couldn't find the original Diamondhead version on CD- anyway. The CD sucks. Metallica were a product of their times, VASTLY overrated, but that's because everything else around them was so much fucking worse, they sounded good in comparison. James Hetfield can't sing a goddamn lick (the only band trying to go big time with a worse singer was Smashing Pumpkins, I'd hear the music start to one of their songs, think, "That sounds pretty good", then Billy Corgan's ungodly off key whine would start- unbelievable. All that money, time, and studio trickery, and that's the BEST they can make him sound? Garrote his fucking ass, cos he SUCKS) their sense of dynamics is non-existent. It's either plod plod plod, or race race race- and yeah I know they'll mix those two in individual songs, but they still just got two speeds, and no singer. Joe got a version of Diamondhead's "Am I Evil" off the internet for me, I wasted my money on the Metallica CD. Anybody want to buy it? Also got a couple Mountain CDs last week, 10 bucks each, great stuff, they were harder AND softer than a two speed band like Metallica, in their fucking sleep they were, beside the obvious hit they did GREAT songs like "Theme From An Imaginary Western", Clapton turned it down for Cream because he said IT HAD TOO MANY CHORD CHANGES, okay, I can see me saying that- I have seen me saying that- but CLAPTON?
Went ahead and worked the XMCW show there in Nitro Saturday, actually had a decent match with Vega, best I've had in a few months. I agreed to put him over, but only after a screw job, no way was he going over clean, found out why the guys who run Nitro were pissed at me, they thought when I came down to work out there with them before the WVTTI, that I was trying to 1. stiff them, and 2. make them look bad. Good God, not at all. It's not my fucking fault they 1. are pussies, and 2. can't wrestle.
The only bad part of the match was when Vega was supposed to go for a cross body and I was gonna catch him and power into an over the top fall away slam. I catch him and start to go over and my fucking fucked up right shoulder just CATCHES, it won't go, God BLESS, that sucks, I improvised like I did a few years ago when I had to do that left handed exploder on Venum, and sort of gave Chris this left side slam thing, he didn't get hurt, which is the important thing, but this fucked up shoulder is no joke.
Anyway, decided to run from Aline's out to the highway, which my fucked up sense of distance told me was about a mile and half one way, which works into my optimal 3 mile run thing. Yeah, well fuck me, it was 2.5 miles out, 2.5 back, and by the time I got back to Aline's my left knee was on fucking fire. I already had a bag of ice waiting, it melted just like that. I don’t know if it's just in my head, cos I know there's no cartilage left in there, but I always think of the friction, and that knee gets hotter than fuck when I run. I used to put those four hour guaranteed gel packs on my knee a couple years ago when I was fighting real hard to keep the running thing going, 20 minutes and they were limp and tepid. Went back down to South Carolina Sunday to get my Mom, when my Dad and I get there the place is swarming, all Aline's kids and jillion grandkids are there for one of 'ems birthday party. Hung for a while with Frankie, Aline's oldest son, from the head down he's built just like my ex-brother in law Dave, he even has a lot of the same mannerisms, which is really weird, it's sort of like hanging out with Dave, although from the neck up Frankie looks like Slim Pickens, so put Slims head on Dave and you've got Frankie. The thing is, Frankie has five daughters, the oldest two in college, and they were there, with a bunch of their bikini'd friends, some of them were buxom, and some were leggy, and some were buxom AND leggy, and they were all young and tan and they were driving me to absolute distraction, I was getting ready to go hide in the bathroom, I'm being totally serious here, when they said, all the old folks were gonna take a pontoon boat ride, I asked my Dad, "You going?", "No." "Okay, I will then", we get on the boat and are getting ready to pull out, all the young girls come swarming down and get on as well.
D: I think somebody likes boat rides. Tanner was all over me this past weekend, my Mom was trying to make a big deal about it, which is silly, any kid that you show some attention to, they'll remember it. After most of the crowd left he and I tried fishing some more, didn't do real well, too many people'd just been swimming there, but he wanted to, and I was game, what the fuck. Teresa's daughter Chelsea, Tanner's sister, and an absolute blond, long legged stunner at 15, comes down to the dock with her punk 19 year old boyfriend, big boy, bigger than me, some Mr. Football somewhere - not my daughter he wouldn't- looking for action I think, he seems kind of pissed me and Tanner were there, he starts getting a little smart assy with Tanner, I'm about to say something when Tanner finally hooks a fish. He brings in this sunfish, gets it off the hook like a little man, but then drops it on the dock. Tanner goes to pick the fish up just the way I taught him, but boyfriend is too quick for him. He proceeds to kick the fish repeatedly, and scrapingly, across the dock, and, finally, into the water. I have no idea why, other than mean spiritedness on his part. Another floater. Tanner's upset, and I'm not too happy myself. In fact, I'm damn near furious. Before I really knew what I was doing I got up in boyfriend's face- B: How about I kick your fucking ass off this dock, let’s see if you
can float like that. Oh yeah, right. It was all I could goddamn do to just shove him, not absolute shit bomb stovepipe him, cos I'm telling you there was a lot of rage going right then that had nothing to do with him, but I would've very happily wrecked his fucking world, forever. He showed his true colors when he came up, instead of coming for me he went heading for shore, going, "I'm telling . . . ". Yeah, well you know what, you pussy, I'm telling as well. Tanner and I hung out some more, just talking, but I was trying to be careful, since apparently I'm not the best role model you can let your 8 year old hang out with. The previous weekend when we were fishing he had lots of questions about wrestling, especially the mask part- "Do you get to pick if you wear one? Do you get to pick what it looks like? Where do you get them?"- etc. At one point he asked me- T: If you had to make a mask, what would you make it out of? Well, yeah, YOU can all see where this was headed, but I didn't. First thing I hear this weekend when we show up, Teresa grabs me and pulls me aside, growls- T: Did you tell Tanner to put my underwear on his head?
(THE FLYING DUTCHMAN. OH MY GOD, HOW FUNNY IS THAT?) I'd say very funny. Maybe he's just nauseous. Rico! Youngblood! BATTLE MODE! Later Bill
|
"The American spirit has been castrated. Betrayed by the banks . .
. by big business . . . by slimy fat cats who use patriotism like a cheap
whore uses perfume."- Rueben Flagg, comic book hero.
We stop at IHOP there in Kanawha City for breakfast, the damn place
doesn't have pancakes in it’s name just for the hell of it, no matter
what you order, they give you a fucking side of three pancakes, I figure
if you order pancakes, you still get a side of pancakes. I was gonna just
get an omelet, tell 'em they can keep their pancakes, thanks, but then
this trio of big 'uns sitting across from us are going into this low carb
spazz attack with their waitress, who I wish would've just told them,
"It's called House of PANCAKES, goddammit, House of Fucking Side Of
Beef is down the street," I have had just about ENOUGH of this low/no
carb shit, makes me wanna order a large plate of spaghetti with fried
potatoes and two pitchers of beer.
We eat at IHOP AGAIN, leaving Rock Hill- no, I DIDN'T want to, but my
Dad did, with a passion, and like I said earlier, he's one of those, you
can fight him now, or you can fight him later type of guys, so I said
okay, just to postpone the fighting.
Anyway, Joe sent me this clip from some Florida newspaper, about
pythons fighting alligators in the swamps there, score so far is
Alligators 2/Pythons 0. Either pythons aren't as tough as anacondas, or
caimans aren't as tough as alligators- actually, I think both are probably
true- cos I've seen numerous clips of anacondas taking out and eating
caimans, big ones, too. Show 'em the picture, Joe.
Haven't done a Comics Corner in a while, so here goes, let's talk about
"American Flagg" - set in the 2030's (which was a lot farther
away 20 years ago, when this title was current, than it is now). Our
protagonist is Rueben Flagg, he started out as an actor, star of Mark
Thrust, Sexus Ranger, (yeah boy) who gets disenchanted with the fake life
and joins the real Plexus Rangers, who try to keep order in the very
fucked up world of 2030-whatever. He has all these weird ass adventures,
sort of James Bond-ian if Bond had been written by Heinlein on acid, not
really a kids book, some occasional tits and ass, but tasteful- yeah,
right- he goes to Mars among other places- one mission was set in the new
tropical Soviet Union, it was called "Surfing U.S.S.R.", I
remember I wrote an instrumental with that title right around then,
inspired by that issue, but damned if I can remember how it goes now. A
good bet would be G-A- D.
What was WAY cool about the comic though, was that they had this
contest, send in a photo from your wedding night, and we'll use the best
one as the basis for a cover. Well, guess what, I sent one in, and won.
Think I'm kidding? Check it out (Joe, scan to follow). And those of you
who knew her when can probably recognize the legs and ass as Loretta's.
What you folks who only know me as this buzz cut fuck won't recognize, is
me as Rueben, but you old timers will.
Mountain always had that jarring on stage visual of big fat Leslie, and
little tiny Felix, both of them with those ghastly early 70's white boy
Afro's that just looked so damn bad, but fuck, could they play, they also
had this neat, archetypal, colorful early 70's fantasy cover artwork by
Felix's wife, who was also apparently mean and crazy, one day in '83 she
was also armed, crazy mean and packing is pretty much a guarantee
someone's gonna get killed, in this case it was Felix, RIP.
Lots of drama backstage- excuse me, in the locker room- not really
gonna get into it, had a fine time hanging with Brian and Spyder and a
couple other guys, some of these guys are really neat, and I'm glad I've
gotten to know them. More, big wrestling news soon, maybe next issue, DO
NOT FORGET the CAPW show June 26th in Dunbar.
In more The Breaking Down Of Bill news, if you remember, there were no
"my knees are killing me from running" stories last summer, like
there were the summer before, for the simple reason that I didn't run any
last summer. Missed it a lot though, I love that hot sweat feeling you get
from running in heat, I know they say you can't void toxins through sweat
but the bottom line is that I don't believe it, I call a good run sweat a
purge sweat, cos I can FEEL it-
Well, I'm not really minding being half buried under all these almost
dressed college girls, and I guess it showed. Denise was sitting directly
across from me, she goes-
But I'm really not.