5/25/06

Where The Pyramid Meets The Eye

If you fear I'll lose my spirit
Like some drunkard's wasted wine
Don't you even think about it
I'm feeling fine

Hey

Let's just jump right the fuck into the mailbag, come up with your own preamble for this issue, okay, something like, "fuck's sake, ANOTHER one", I'm already buzzed and tired. Mostly buzzed.

Chris won the dollar last issue for identifying the whiskey quote, as he was the first one to respond, but he also admitted he cheated, if I knew any of you other guys who also got the quote right I'd send the buck to you, but since I don't, I can't. I keep forgetting that miserable Internet can run down most any quote I make the effort of pulling out of my ass. Anyway, last issue I quoted Fast Freddy Felson, Chris included another quote from him even better than mine, "Lets dip our nuts in whiskey and get all the girls drunk", here, here.

Another whiskey quote, no cheating on this one, "whiskey don't muddle ME none," fuck, I'll just tell ya, Lee Marvin, aka Tully Crow, in The Comancheros, I watched it the other afternoon with my Dad. Although as far as I'm concerned the whole point of drinking whiskey is to get muddled. Way muddled. Like now.

Also got a few comments from fellow book geeks about how they too derive peace of mind from a big pile of books beside their bed, yeah, it's comforting, isn't it, and one person questioned whether those frozen mocha cappuccino things from Baskin Robbins could really be as good as advertised, trust me, they ARE, the only way they could possibly taste better would be if you could lick them out of the crack of Barbara Eden's ass. And if they had whiskey in them (and when I say whiskey, being the good Southern boy, not to mention American, that I am- that's also why I'm so goddamn polite, motherfuckers- I mean bourbon, not that fucking dirt and diesel pisswater Scotch you people dare to call whiskey in my presence. If I didn't like you fuckers so much, I'd hate you.).

I never cook anymore- although the weight is up to a hard fucking 222 (put me in one of those triple "Are you gonna buy that jacket?" mirrors and I'm the Number Of The Beast), more on that later- but I do eat out (ahem) quite a bit these days, the Bison Bacon Burger at Ruby Tuesday's- get it rare, it won't fucking hurt you, bison is too dry well done- is also fucking great. In fact, the only way IT could be better would be if you could eat it out of the crack of Barbara Eden's ass.

Enough culinary talk- although I'm suddenly thinking about writing an "Everything Tastes Better Out Of The Crack Of Barbara Eden's Ass" cookbook- "Heat your oven to 350, then take a stick of butter, spread it in the crack of Barbara Eden's ass" . . . how are my parent's you ask?

Well, my Mom at this point is well nigh incomprehensible. She's gone beyond mumbo jumbo to . . . I don't know, mumbo pocus or something, I asked her today what books she wanted me to take back to the library for her and I think she started to tell me, but then she began talking about hot dogs, and then my sister Lori, and then just sort of petered out entirely, while giving me that genuinely chilling "there is no one home right now, please try again later" look. I never did get an answer about the books.

My Dad? Later.

The Chicago Cubs should be renamed the Chicago Shitbirds.

What's Bill been doing? Well, I took Tina out for her 40th birthday a couple Tuesday's ago, just got the credit card bill today, mother FUCK, never again, I spent a damn fortune tuning up our two lush asses. Had a good time though, went to the Empty Glass and saw Spurgie, that's always fun, also met Kat for a while up at the Sound Factory, the original Falconette I was pursuing last issue, while undeniably cute, and initially promising, fell through, I'll just say she's got some issues I'm not prepared to deal with and leave it at that.

However, I did get accosted by one of the volunteer Falconettes who'd given me her number last time I was up town, "Why haven't you called me, dammit?", well, uh, I been busy, turns out she's ALL about being a Falconette, to the point where she's got her name and fucking outfit already picked out, the Lone Ring Girl, sweet Jesus, the name will make you cringe, but the OUTFIT, a Lone Ranger style mask, black bikini, cowgirl hat and boots, holster and two six guns-

(YOU WANNA SEE A GUN, I GOT A GUN FOR YA-)

Don't I know it. Honestly, all that's missing is the stripper pole. She's working TV with me this Saturday, I will definitely get some photos for the NL. Oh yeah, and that dry spell? Over. That's really all I'm gonna say about it right now, that, and thank you Jesus. And, wrestling been 'bery 'bery good to me.

In a similar vein, and in the probably too much information category, but if you don't want too much information fucking read something else, while we were saturated drunk the other night Tina informed me that when she was still a kid she walked in on me and Loretta once when we were doing the deed downstairs here in my old room. She said she heard the "slap, slap, slap" sound of a good time before she stuck her head in the door- I never saw her, neither did Loretta, being otherwise occupied- but thought we "had the fan on". Dear Lord. Parents, children, friends, strangers (hotel maids- twice- and some guy who flew one of those little lawn mower engine planes over- and over, and then again OVER, lower each time- us at Summersville Lake when we were screwing to beat hell on this big flat rock), now siblings, if there's anyone out there who DIDN'T at one time or another catch Loretta and I in the act, please raise your hands. Yeah, that's what I thought.

And in the WAY too much info area, all but one of those damn perverts caught us going at it doggy style. What are the fucking odds?

Sarah's been in since last Saturday, I met Princess Dragon Mom there at the border to pick her up, Sarah's been having a good, active time here- we met Jean for coffee yesterday, wonderful to see the Living Fossil, it'd been far too long- she has to go back the Sunday before Memorial Day, she wanted to stay here for the summer- and that says quite a bit about her "home" in Baltimore, when she'd rather stay in this lunatic asylum- but Loretta said no, and since she controls Sarah's circumstances financially, Sarah's going back.

Why does Loretta want Sarah in Baltimore, when she will neither see her or spend time with her? Straight up? So Sarah won't be here.

Last Thursday would have been my 27th wedding anniversary. Just saying. And in one of those weird synchronous things that just pop into in my head, in July Rachel will be the same age- 16 years, 8 months- that her mother was when I met her. And Sarah will be the same age- 19 years, 6 months- that Loretta was when we got married. What's it mean? Nothing, I guess. Either that, or the end of the world.

Al's much better, still pissing himself like some damn piss monster, but otherwise he's about back to where he was before he got so damn sick, you ask how am I putting the weight back on, eating out with Al is part of it, twice a week we have dinner at this new Chinese buffet there in Huntington (while listening to Robbie say shit like, "Damn, Bill, I'm getting bombed out on Chinese food", "She's a nick picker" and my favorite, "That guy's wily like a rabbit", yeah, I bet he fucks like a fox too, MORON) and I've just been eating like a crazy man, they give you a six ounce strip steak with the buffet, you can have as many as you want, but you have to order them separately, I've been eating four steaks per visit, bloody rare, that's a pound and half of beef, plus just slaying the buffet, all the meats they got- beef, pork, duck, chicken, fish, shrimp, crab, along with piles of lo mien and rice, broccoli, carrots, mushrooms, did I say like a crazy man? I meant LIKE A CRAZY MAN.

Working out crazy too, my joints are screaming, Chris sent me a link for some new anti inflammatory, I gotta get me some, and fast. Feel good, though. Feel STRONG. Sorry for the Hulk speak, I mean, I feel good, I feel strong.

My Dad banged the back of his hand Friday before last- again, not on my watch, I was spending a few days at Joe's, Tina was in charge- not hard, but with his tissue paper skin and thinned out blood, he opened up a pretty good wound, that bled from Friday afternoon till Sunday afternoon, when I got back home. Yeah, that's what I said, too.

I come in Sunday after picking up Sarah and actually the first thing I say upon seeing his bloody bandaged hand is "Who shot ya, Dutch?" which is another one of those Bill and his Dad things, it's what my Dad would say to me whenever as a kid I'd come home all bloodied up from crashing or running into, or falling (or jumping) off of something, my Mom would be in conniption Heaven, my Dad figured, hell, if he walked home he can't be hurt too badly, besides, he's gonna grow up to slice himself with razors just to fucking entertain folks, I remember the very first time he said it to me, and this was when-

We were up in the woods swinging on vines- do kids even swing on vines anymore, fuck if I know, but they're missing out if they don't- we were actually swinging on A vine, not vines, we being Billy, Scott Einbinder, whose gorgeous older sister Randi I would one day fuck- it almost seems like I made it a practice to fuck my friend's older sisters, not really, but it's weird, all the friends I've had whose older sisters I've drilled- Paige Carter, who died of a drug overdose before he got out of high school, that hurts my heart just to type it, he was a sweet kid in those innocent vine swinging days, I have no idea what happened to him after I moved away that he would get that involved with that shit, but I hate that he died the way he did- so young, man, so fucking young- and Henry Scheingrub, who you may or may not remember from the undeserved pummeling I gave him after watching The War Of The Worlds.

This vine swung across a pretty good drop off- 10-12 feet- with a bunch of big mossy stones below, we'd swing out and swing back, Henry was afraid to, and Scott and Paige are giving him some sissy shit over it, not harsh, but still teasing. So, I try to be a nice guy . . . .

Billy: Come on, man, we'll swing out together.
Henry: No. I'm scared to.
B: Don't be scared. I'll swing out with you, I won’t let you fall.
H: The vine will break.
B: No, it won't.
H: It will, it'll break
B: It won't break.
H: It'll break, Billy.
B: It won't break.
H: It will.
B: It WON'T.

Yeah, well, one for Henry. It broke.

We went crashing down into the rocks. After lying there a bit-

B: Get offa me, ya big fat hog.
H: I can't. I'm hurt.
B: I'M hurt. Get offa me.
H: The vine broke.
B: Get offa me.
H: You said it wouldn't break.
B: Get OFFA me, Henry.
H: But you said it wouldn't-
B: IT BROKE! IT FUCKING BROKE! NOW GET OFFA ME RIGHT NOW!

Henry gets offa me- good thing, cos another few seconds and I would've killed him- we're actually both Bill Bitner lucky considering what could have happened, a drop like that onto a bunch of big rocks, Henry's scraped a little but not really hurt, I've got a cut on my head that's bleeding pretty healthily, I'm also bleeding almost crotch high up on my left thigh where a pointy rock gouged out a chunk of Bill meat, you can still see the scar if you happen to be blowing me, otherwise it’s pretty much off limits.

The vine swinging was over for the day- no more vine- so I stagger home, and, of course, as soon as she sees my bloody, disheveled self my Mom goes all aflutter. My Dad raises his head from the True magazine he's reading and goes-

Dad: Who shot ya, Dutch?
Billy: Nobody. I was swinging on a vine and it broke.
D: Those bastards'll do that.
B: I was swinging with Henry Scheingrub cos he was scared to by himself, and-
D: Jesus Christ, boy, don't you know any better than to swing on a vine with a big fat kid like Henry?
B: I do now.
D: How's your head?
B: It HURTS.
D: You're bleeding pretty high up on the leg, there, too. You didn't catch your pecker, did you?
B: No, I dress to the right.
D: Good thing.

So, anyway, "Who shot ya, Dutch?" became a tag line between me and my Dad whenever either one of us happened to be bleeding.

I take my Dad to get bandaged up legit, to Urgent Care, we get in to first see a nurse, who happens to be pregnant.

Nurse: How'd this happen?
Dad: You're a big girl, don't you know?
Bill: She means your hand.

Then later he starts complaining about being constipated (?!), for no reason I can figure other than maybe he thought that the nurse, who was quite attractive, pregnant or no, might stick her finger up his butt-

N: When's the last time you had a bowel movement?
D: Christmas.
N: CHRISTMAS?
D: I wrapped it up and gave it to him.

He's fucking NUTS.

Lastly, just today-

D: Can you get me the heating pad?
B: Okay.
D: And I need the urinal.
B: . . . All right.
D: Get me a Q-tip, too.
B: For fuck's- how you fixed for spit, old man?

He spits on me.

D: Fine.

I'm just glad I didn't ask him how he was fixed for spunk.

Okay, not lastly, when my Dad was a kid and in the hospital almost dying from appendicitis, no joke back in the thirties, he had to take a piss, so, being a word mangler even as a youth, he asks the nurse for the "jurnal".

Nurse The what?
Dad: The jurnal. The JURNAL.

So she brings him a copy of the newspaper- the Martinsburg Journal.

D: Oh, no ma'am, no . . . I need the jurnal.
N: That is the Journal.
D: I need the other kind.
N: That's the only kind we have.
D: No, lady . . . I need THE JURNAL.
N: That IS the Journal.

And she leaves. So my Dad rolls the newspaper up into a cone and pisses in it, and then when the nurse comes back in, tries to hand it to her . . . funny guy, my Dad.

Yesterday
Well it seemed so cool

What's Bill listening to?

Well, first, "Where The Pyramid Meets The Eye", mentioned in here before, great, great record, bunch of covers of Roky Erikson songs done as a benefit for his crazy, troubled ass back in '90, including the best thing ZZ Top EVER did, their version of "Reverberation" that opens the record, the Tang Spoons pulled half their set list offa here, I have the cassette but it's wore the fuck out, Sarah brought me the CD version when she came in, that's Daddy's good girl.

Also some more SSSLB stuff, "BTO II", I spent many a happy hour of my wastrel youth listening to this on 8 track, "Taking Care Of Business" you fucking bet, in my totally ace '70 Mercury Montego, white with black vinyl top- why'd they quit making those, anyway- with sin red interior, while pissing into beer bottles and sideswiping parked cars. Also listening to "Manifesto", by Roxy Music, one of those albums that will always mark a time for me, in this case summer '79, actually all the new SSSLB stuff I'm listening to tonight is like that, next up Strawberry Alarm Clock, "Incense and Peppermints", way back when, I decided that 1986 was going to be 1966- way before retro became cool- and took the few days after Christmas that year ('85) off from work and, after I got Loretta out of the house, spent all day drinking- I actually love cracking the first beer of the day around 8 am, but it's a hard way to go, day in, day out- and tie dying t-shirts in the kitchen sink, this was also before they became popular again, at the time you'd say "tie dye" and people were like, WHAT?- and listening to a bunch of old 60's stuff I got for Christmas, Music Machine Best Of- excellent, but I haven't been able to find one as good on CD- and this album.

Critics always want to bust on the SAC for being faux psychedelic, well you know what, fuck the critics, SAC were never psych and you're STUPID, the Strawberry Alarm Clock were cheesy pop, not just that, they were GREAT cheesy pop, I love it, melody, harmony and fuzz guitar, and lyrics like "Sit with the guru/Meditation, ooooh". If you don't find that entertaining, you’re an asshole. Or a critic.

Last SSSLB CD this issue is "The Best of Marshall Chapman", some more just insanely catchy pop tunes, "Someday, Someway", absolutely, and another walk down memory lane, the summer of '86 beach trip, one rainy afternoon Doug, Richard and I sat out on the screened in porch and drank just a PRODIGIOUS amount of beer, we went through like two cases, sent Loretta and Rosa out for two more, and drank that, and we listened to a lot of Marshall Crenshaw that afternoon, (along with stuff like "Boobs A Lot" and "Licking Stick"- the infinite version that never ends, you have to take it off), no wonder we went crazy that night and got Rosa down on the floor and did that stabbing knives all around her as close and fast as we could thing like the android did in "Aliens", she was terrified and rightly so, we were just having fun, but how many people have had their ass cut in half by some guys who were just having fun? More than one, I'll bet.

This was also the beach trip that Sarah was deliberately conceived on, 20 years ago here in two weeks, I remember our first afternoon there, after spending the morning on the beach everyone came back to the house to chill for a while, Loretta and I went to our room to "lay down", we get to work conceiving and I swear, I'm still squirting when Loretta goes-

Loretta: That one took.
Bill: Wha . . . ah . . . ahhh . . . aaahhhhhh, GOD . . . Jesus . . FUCK . . . what?
L: That one took.
B: What's that mean?
L: I'm pregnant.
B: You're serious.
L: Yes, I'm positive. I'm pregnant.
B: Well . . . okay. This next one's just for fun, then, cos we're doing it again.
L: That sounds good to me.

That was obviously a LONG time ago.

What's Bill drinking? Pabst Blue Ribbon, what else, I've become a true blood red neck. I buy it on Mondays when I do Al's shopping and just keep it down here, hot, till I'm ready to drink, then I take it up a six pack at a time and put it in the freezer in the wash room one flight up, I'm drinking this shit literally ice cold and it tastes fantastic. In fact, the ONLY way it could taste better . . .

I'm the man
Step aside
Call me Mister
Call me Hyde

In the "Like Bill's Head Needed To Be Any Bigger" column, got an e-mail from Danny, who's back in Tanzania- I wanted to go back, bad, but couldn't for obvious reasons, anyway, I quote-

"You are a fucking god here. Everyone, and I mean everyone, asks about the Death Falcon (or Falcon Death). A fucking legend."

All I have to add is "Bow to me! BOW TO ZED!"

Got the shooting schedule for 16 To Life, it's a fifteen day shoot, starting 6/5, I've got to be there for 12 of the days. Also got a revised version of the script, down now to 106 pages from 150, it's all the same to me. The script is by a girl named Mandy, and it reads like it's by a girl named Mandy, some of this dialog is gonna come close to sticking in my throat (not a "fuck" in the entire script, hell, the FIRST thing I say in the DF movie is "FUCK"), but you know what, fuck it, I'm an actor, I can say fucking anything. There's a website set up, www.16tolife.com, so far all I see is a damn picture of some kids- the one in glasses is supposed to be my daughter in the film, the other one is Danny's movie kid- but you can still check it out.

And speaking of movies, MC this Saturday to see the new X-Men movie. But like I said to them earlier this week, a year from now we'll be having Movie Club and watching movies with the fucking Movie Club IN them, and I don’t mean just me, the DF movie should definitely be in the can, if not actually released, this time next year. And how mother fucking cool is THAT? And how mother fucking cool am I, to not only muscle my way into this move biz shit, but drag my friends along with me? Pretty damn, is what I say.

Some day, some way
Maybe I'll understand you

But you'll NEVER understand me.

Later

Bill