The Bill Bitner Newsletter

He's not the man to hold your trust
Everything he touches turns to dust in his hands
Nothing he can do is right
He'd even like to sleep at night, but he can't
He's King Midas in reverse

I'm in such a shit pissing mood tonight, or this morning, or whenever the fuck this is, I'm almost hesitant to start this, but since I'm not only in A mood, but THE mood, here we go.

What's Bill been up to? Well, to start with tonight (Thursday night), blowing out tires and almost crashing his car on the Interstate. I was going down to Ashland to work out with Bobby one on one, I've been working on some lucha moves I'm pretty excited about, wait till you see them (gotta be jelly, jam don't shake like that), I like working out with all the guys, but I can get a lot more done when it's just the two of us, I get just past the Winfield exit and the back drivers side tire blows, which I mean literally, it didn't go flat, the whole fucking side comes ripping out of it for some reason, and I damn near hit a couple cars before I could get the fucker off the road. I doughnutted up and came back home.

I don't believe in premonitions but it's weird, I've been looking forward to going down there all week, but all day today I just kept thinking, "Man, I really don't want to go to Ashland tonight." As it works out, I didn't.

The powers that be that sent me all that free money must want it back- I had to put new brakes on the Saturn earlier this week, now I've gotta buy a tire. Fucking hell. Don't you understand that to get more money I'll have to GO BACK TO WORK? Goddamn you.

What's Bill drinking? Natural Light, they shouldn't even be allowed to call this stuff beer, my views on light beers and decaffeination are well known, but I'd bought a 12 pack of the vile stuff cos that's what Bob drinks, we were gonna sit around and shoot the shit and drink some NL after working out, it's what I got, so it's what I'm drinking. Whew, yuck, though.

Take a little ride back to the stone age with me... This issue is titled after something we ancients who graduated in '74 used to chisel onto our stone notebooks way back when, right next to BETTY IS HOT, which she was, too, much hotter than Rosie The 4 Limbed Ballpark Frank O'Donnell, who the fuck's casting idea was that?, prompted by this being ISSUE #74 of this thing (the mind very truly boggles) and by my happening to notice an obituary for one of my erstwhile classmates in the paper last week.

It's the case of another druggie done gone (by the way, Joe, it was Forrest Hardman, if his family sees this and wants to sue me for slander, knock yourselves out), there's been about 4 or 5 of them in the past- I was gonna say couple, but I remember one of them used to date Loretta- she had NO TASTE when it comes to guys, before or after me, swear to God, biggest pack of mother fucking losers you ever saw in your life, Gandhi included-and he died while we were still married, so lets say in the past five years- guys we graduated with who've kicked off from heart attacks in their mid to late 40's, or just been found dead in bed, and all of them were big ass fucking pot heads and just general drug guys back in school. Not saying they were bad guys, Forrest was a nice guy, not saying there's anything wrong with being a pot head, but I doubt their heavy drug use and early demise is just coincidence.

You don't see us drinkers falling over, well, poor choice of words, okay, you don't see us dying in our 40's from heart attacks. Of course that's cos most of the really bad ones died in their teens and 20's from drunken car wrecks, yours truly excepted (I think).

What else has been up? Went to orientation Monday, and service training Tuesday and Wednesday so I can start doing that Birth To Three social work stuff. The training wasn't that bad- although one of the trainers was from Orlando in Braxton County and she spoke in that "I seen we was" vernacular that's just like sticking an ice pick in my ears and pouring salt in behind, and the first day there was this psychologist present who was as stupid and rude a lump of lard as I never want to spend a day around again, her name was Vanhouse or something like that, what a turd- but it definitely pointed up for me how very, very sick I am of social work. This doesn't look like a hard job in any way, the pay scale is unbelievable, I'm certainly going to do it, and with a smile painted on my face. But FUCK, I'm tired of social work. BUY MY BOOK, you mother fucker.

I did snag a seat next to this very cute blond, Chrissie, from Huntington, ended up having lunch with her each day, that was pleasant, she wants to keep in touch so we can "network", urgh, about the job, I guess she means it, already got an e-mail from her, didn't have a whole lot about the job in it, a little more personal if you catch my drift, I'll let you know how this networking thing works out.

Jesus didn't hide my tuner, Sarah did. It was in her room all along, she e-mailed me from her mom's to tell me she "just remembered". Yeah, right. She just didn't want to listen to me torturing the Danelectro at high volume through all those effects. Well, your mistake little miss, I was cranking it out last night- we're talking Wednesday night here, Jesus, help me- and it sounded great, trippy as shit. Been having a great time with Dave's stuff, and my Dano 12-string, got down this really strong psych instrumental, doesn't have a name, the title in the Infernex is INSTO 1, supposed to be "Instro", God, I'm such a beered up dumb ass sometimes, along with "The Fall Of The House Of Stars"- We're dismembered/Lost to the Temple of Mars/We remember/The Fall of the House of Stars- but I still can't hit that fucking 12 string riff I was talking about last issue to save my fucking life. I get about a minute or so in and fuck up. Joe, next time you're over how about look and see if the Infernex has looping capabilities, if not, "(I'm) Incarnate" is only gonna be about a minute long.

Took my parents up to my sister Lori's again last Thursday for some more pool action. Actually, I didn't take, I'm so used to typing that, I rode along, I hadn't slept any the night before (and no, the fucking insomnia is no better, I went 2 straight fucking nights- last week? I think, I'm serious, my time sense is totally fucked up- without sleeping and that's no fucking lie, or joke either, believe me) so my mom wanted my dad to drive. Guess she was afraid I'd conk out or something.

Buck Rogers & Buddy Wade, aka Bit and Billy. I only wish, but not with Buck Rogers behind the wheel. He drives like he's late for a party on Venus, tossed me twice off the back seat where I was laying and into the floor, before we even cleared Poca.

It's been a while since my dad's been swimming, or even just had his shirt off outside. Man, when the sun hit his white torso the glare was ungodly, you couldn't even look at him, it was like trying to stare into a nuclear reactor or something. Lori's kids were running around screaming "Put him out!" The crazy old thing wasn't gonna get sunburned though, oh no, so he troweled on the sunscreen, got himself so fucking greased up that when he went to jump in the pool he just skipped across the surface a couple times and out the other side.

Lori had these black flotation cots with vinyl netting inside, so you're lying in the water with your head on the ring, how relaxing, my God, fell asleep almost the instant I got in and slept for almost an hour, best sleep I've had in I don't know how long (also had this really fantastic erotic dream tied in with the motion of the water). Practiced my back flip for about an hour afterward, if I can find ring ropes with the exact spring as Lori's diving board (and some guy the texture of water to land on) I've got it made, took another short nap, then went out for a Chinese dinner. Very nice day.

Last issue was the Alien Legion, this issue we'll discuss the last place finishers, the Justice Machine. This was an exceptionally cool comic, the Justice Machine lived on Georwell (neat name) in another dimension and were sponsored by the world government. Their names and powers were pretty generic- like Titan, who could grow real big, Blaze, or something like that, who was like a female Human Torch, although there was this one guy, Demon, who got his powers from drugs the government provided, the more he took the more powerful, and crazy, he got, he eventually drowned trying to swim across the ocean- the interesting part came as they, and we as the reader, come to realize that the government they're fighting for is this horrific dictatorship and the "super villains' they've been fighting- and killing, this was fairly realistic in that aspect- are really the good guys.

Lyle Dillinger Watched Dillinger last week, on shitbag AMC, it was Tector Vs. Lyle with Ben Johnson playing Melvin Purvis to Warren Oates Dillinger. There was some odd casting- Richard Dreyfuss as Babyface Nelson which I can't see (maybe Candyass Nelson), Michelle Phillips was in it looking very Staci-ish, and I think they played kind of fast and loose with the facts, for instance the Dillinger gang killed more lawmen in this movie than I think there actually are people in the world. Still pretty entertaining. Mmmichelle

Running out of things to talk about because I haven't been doing anything. Working out hardly any, feel soft as butter, but I'm just in a deep, deep funk right now, one of those "what's the fucking point?' type deals, and I just am motivated to do very little. The high side of this is that with all this rest my shoulder is feeling better (Chris sent me some internet rehab info stuff, very cool, thanks buddy, and it's reassuring to see Lori diagnosed me very close, cos all those symptoms listed in the do you have a rotator cuff problem are exactly what's wrong with me- my shoulder, anyway).

People been asking again for recipes (THAT reminds me, Jean, everyone wants the recipe for that killer onion dip you brought to the cook out, how about you send it to me so I can put it in one of these), haven't been cooking much lately, what I had tonight is Salmon Surprise, dump a can of salmon in a bowl, some people take out the bones, I just mash 'em up good with a fork, add shredded sharp cheddar cheese and blue cheese dressing to desired consistency (I usually go for glop) and eat. You can eat it with crackers, or with bread, or just eat it. It's heavy and rich and has lots of fat, I don't really care, I just eat what I want to and let the fat and carbs and shit sort their own selves out.

The girls'll be back in this weekend for two weeks, then they move to Baltimore. THAT'S gonna suck, I guess I'll deal with it in two weeks. I do have to say here, I'm not so sure Loretta's new lifestyle (up at 4 am to catch a train to work to catch a train home to get up at 4 am to catch a train- FUCK THAT) is agreeing with her. Saw her briefly a few weeks ago for the first time in a while, and mean spirited as it sounds, it did my heart good to see how fucking bad she looked. She looked fat (yeah, fat, Ms. I'm So Trim And You're Not, who's busted on many a person, including some of you, for excess adipose tissue, is the heaviest she's ever been in her life right now and she's not wearing it well- BUY SOME CLOTHES THAT FIT!), and tired, and old (her gray roots were grown out at least two inches). The girls say she hasn't been feeling well lately. Tough shit. Hope she catches a big dose of billsbootupherrectum real soon as well.

Yeah, well, jeez, I don't want to end on that note, so what can I- I got it. My mom was telling me last week that my sister Tina was dating some new guy (figured she was, she went out of there a few weeks ago obviously dressed for action, my dad said something bizarro insane like "Look at that whorin' toad" or some damn thing, I fell out of my chair), my mom says, "And this guy's almost fifty, there's still hope for you."

That's exactly what she said, 46 years old and she calls me a nasty child. It's no fucking wonder I never grew up. Anyway, you know who this guy turns out to be? Probably only Dave and Joe will know him but it's Vince, the percussion guy from Spurgie's band. He's been on my A-list ever since the big Coonskin picnic/meltdown of '96, when during one of the jams little Sarah, all of 9 years old at the time, her glasses were as big as she was, was working out on Vince's congas during some jam, this muso type guy tries to step in and take over and Vince stops him, "She's doing fine," he says. Cool guy, cool move.

I guess I'll tell the Soul Sacrifice story. Spurgie always has these annual cookouts and multi band shows/jams at Coonskin each summer, good times, very hippie-ish, very famly-ish, all these kids and barefoot earth mothers and black folks and white folks hanging out unselfconsciously, very much a good vibes good time deal, lots of food and beer and hail fellow, well met, and (discreet, for those so inclined, weed, but watch your hearts). I used to go to them a lot, played bass with Spurgie band at the '93 one, at the '96 one the Tang Spoons did a set, and a wicked set it was, "Roadrunner", "Bootlicker", "Goodbye (You Asshole)" and "All Along The Watchtower" with Jason Skeens subbing on drums for Greg who couldn't make it.

It was hot and sunny and I drank a shit pot full of beer and was hallucinating drunk way before the sun went down. During Jason's band, Jarvis Skye's set, I got up uninvited, but this was a jam type situation, and sang wretched back vocals on Radar Love, and only slightly better on Sunshine Of Your Love. They were too nice (or prudent) to just slam a guitar upside my drunken head so I guess they figured, we'll fox this bastard, and went into the old Santana song, Soul Sacrifice. An instrumental. Or so they thought.

Now, I barely remember this, but I thought they were playing a song I knew the words to. So I sang them. What people from this planet were treated to was this incredible singing in tongues babble that had jawbones detaching from faces all across the way and just bouncing across the grass, not a recognizable word in there, just this manic gibberish spew from someone obviously not from around here. Bobby (not Blaze, but Frontz, former Tang Spoon who's been mentioned in here before, but not lately) was, incredibly enough, impressed, he was like "DUDE, that was amazing, it was like scat singing from Neptune or something, I've never heard ANYTHING like that!" Yeah, well.

Probably time to rest my weary head. Actually, it's not that weary, but it’s mine, and it is a head, and it's the middle of the fucking night, so it's time to lay it down and hope for the fucking best.