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8/28/06 Battles Without Honor Or Humanity
Hey Third issue in the same month (not counting photo issues) for the first time this year. How'd you guys get so lucky? Cos I got big rat in a little barrel syndrome bad tonight, and doing these things at least give me the illusion of freedom, and of having a life outside these four fucking walls, even if only for the duration of time I sit here grinding them out. No, the computer's not better, it's worse, which is why still no "Why Social Work's Not For Sissies", I got cut off again last Sunday working on it, got so pissed I thought I was going to give myself a rupture screaming at this bastard whoreson computer, fuck it, I'll just wait until I get a new computer, I can hardly stay online now for five minutes without the damn thing shutting off (writing this offline, although even then it's not immune to cutting the fuck off, and YES, I am saving). I was gonna try to get down to Joe's this past week and order a new
computer, going there so he can tell me what I want and where to get it,
like the guy in the Radio Shack commercial talking about cell phones, I
don't have a fucking clue what I want, technically speaking, I just know I
want a computer that will QUIT FUCKING WITH ME, when I get the new one I'm
gonna let it watch me annihilate the old one and tell it, "That's
you, mother fucker, that is YOU, if you fuck with me like that piece of
shit did. Got it?" It better. I never made it to Joe's, both the old man and old woman had a pretty bad week last week, gonna try to get down there this week. If I don't die from botulism or e. coli or the fucking Ebola virus first, my Mom's started this thing where she sits food out on the counter and forgets it, I caught her trying to cook some kind of green meat last week, she couldn't tell cos she's gone color blind- seriously, I've heard of people being born that way, I've never heard of anyone going that way, she'd be the one, she finally owned up this week, after having me look all over for this brown seashell thing that's actually purple, that blue, green and black all look the same to her now- black- and that red and purple are now all brown- Jesus fuck- anyway, Lord only knows how long that meat had set out on the counter- too fucking long, obviously- before she decided to fry it up- the only way she knows how to cook meat. I saw some pimento cheese spread she'd made out on the counter Thursday evening, right before I went down to Al's, I started to put it up, she said don't, she left it out to get soft cos it was too hard to spread, whatever, I went to Al's, sometime late Friday afternoon I see it still sitting out, open the lid, whew, it's gone sour as shit, she wants to get all over me when I go to throw it away, sniffing at it and proclaiming it's still good- have I mentioned she's lost her sense of smell? Cos she has, legit. She's gonna poison us all. If she doesn't burn the fucking house down. She burned a pot of macaroni today. How do you burn something that you cook in water? Forget that it's on the stove till all the water boils away and the macaroni sticks to the bottom of the pot and starts to char. Have I already said Jesus fuck? Aline's coming in to spend the month of September, God love her heart, but I'll bet you this- you bet as much as you can stand to lose- I'll bet after this trip she never comes back. Bill: What's the word on Tracy? Long pause. M: He's still in jail in Roanoke. As for the mail bag, I got quite a few letters commending me on doing
the right thing regarding Tammy last issue, thank you, I said I wasn't
fishing for that but in truth I probably was. On reflection, my problem
with myself wasn't in saying no, it was where I said it. If I'd turned her
down at the bar, "Darling, I'm flattered as hell, but I don’t think
we should", that would have been fine, but to go all the way up to
her room and then turn around and piss out of there like a chicken shit
school boy, or some ill mannered cad, was not cool, it was rude, and
created an embarrassing situation for both of us that didn't have to
happen. However, I'm always best at knowing how to conduct myself after
first doing the wrong thing. Also got a letter questioning how our Spring Offensive could have gone so horribly wrong since "I'm sure you guys music was great", well, God love you, dear heart, but if you are a student of music history, you'll know that spring 1981 was when those trendy ass fuckers over there were all into that New Romantic yellow baby shit puke, a trend so fucking fey its adherents made Liberace look like the fucking Death Falcon- (HEY!) - you try turning on a bunch of Limey fashionista fruit loops to some good old American rock and roll (or some bad old American rock and roll, for that matter). It wasn't happening. Although as I said, the trip itself fucking rocked.
Add to the list of the Death Falcon's accomplishments that he can now say he's been in the ring with someone who's been in the ring with Evander Holyfield. When I saw that Jeremy "The Beast" Bates was gonna fight Holyfield last weekend I was like, "no way", then when I saw he was only getting paid $20,000 I said, "way". You old timers should remember Bates from training days with Bobby Blaze, I know folks who've met him who said he was an ass, I can see that, but he was always cool with me, respectful even, after the big Huntington card back in September '03 he wanted me to ride to the after match party in the limo he'd rented, with him and Buff Bagwell, I had the girls with me so I had to decline both ride and party, but it was nice that he asked (and I was the only one he did, Stro asked to ride along and Jeremy told him no, ha).
We had the class of '56 party last weekend, attendance was sparse, including over a dozen people who said they were coming not showing up, not really sure why, and I certainly don't take it personally, although as God said to Abraham, next time you see me comiin' you better run. People also seemed to come in waves, so while overall a decent amount of folk showed up, there was never a whole lot of people there at one time. Still, I had a good time I suppose, got sloppy drunk on vodka collins and beer, hugged everyone and told them that I loved them (better than hitting everyone and telling them that I hated them) the girls seemed to enjoy themselves even though their trip in was of the "if you blinked you missed them" variety.
"You think this letter on my head stands for France?" Ultimate Captain America. What's Bill been reading? Started reading an Ultimates comp (#2) in Books a Million last week (had to go to Dick's to get some knee pads for September 8, DFZ is going to ditch the BDU's that night and go more for a Steiners type look), where the above quote came from, it was pretty good, although I don’t like their take on Giant Man (although again, love his fucking outfit), this Henry Pym is way too punk for me, he beats the shit out of the Wasp (not sure if they're married in this continuity or just living together, either way he's crazy, she's got a butt you could set your drink on- beside which, obviously, you don't beat up women whether you can set a drink on their butt or not) which ends up with him getting his ass handed to him by UCA, even after he expands to 30 feet tall or whatever, which is cool in the sense it once again confirms what a true hard ass UCA is, (in an earlier fight Cap nut shots the Hulk, I love it, about fucking time) but I don't like that it came at the expense of GM, why couldn’t he beat the corn loaf out of that smug prick Tony Stark? Why did I only start to read it? Well, cos part way through some guy
who worked there started giving me the evil eye- I'm not sure why, fuck,
they have those chairs set out for you to use while you read before, or
instead, of buying, so what's the fucking problem, and hey, it's not like
I was over in the "coffee shop" section spilling some kind of
syrupy sweet shit that never saw a coffee bean in it's life all over its
pages, like I've seen people do in there. When I noticed him staring I
said "What the fuck are YOU looking at, asshole?", been heading
toward this for a while, I know, this time it actually made it past my
lips, goddamn, I hardly recognized my voice, sounded like Darth Vader or
something. Mister Pissy Store Boy found something else to do, quick, but I started feeling really self conscious- I didn't think he'd run off to cal the cops or anything, I was just put out with myself, cos mama said I shouldn't act like that- so I left. I plan to go back and finish it, however, the next time I'm down that way- whenever that may be- and if anyone gives me the evil eye I plan to just smile benignly and continue reading. Either that, or nut shot him like Cap did the Hulk. Also read a book about Zane Grey- "His Life, His Adventures, His Women"- which sounded a hell of a lot more exciting than it was, didn't really dwell as much on his many fishing expeditions as I'd have liked, as for his women, Zane was something of a bounder and a perv, he left his wife at home to conduct all his business while he traveled the world with anywhere from one to three girlfriends at a time, whom he took hundreds of lewd photos of, including some of he and they making the beast with (at least) two backs, and considering how primitive photography was back them, that must have taken some effort. (MY NEW HERO). No doubt. Also read A Drinking Life by Pete Hamill, not bad, he seems familiar, although I didn’t recognize any of the books in his list of credits, not a bad look at the literary alcoholic life style (not as good as this one, but not bad) from a former one, but since he quit drinking thirty years ago, it should really be called a drinking half life. Speaking of, what's Bill drinking? Well, if you don't believe this I won’t fault you cos it's been ages since I did one of these sober, but just a Fuze Healthy Infusions drink. No, really. It's got vitamins a drunk like me needs, like C, which you piss out, and chromium and L-carnatine, whatever the fuck that is, most of this Fuze shit is too sweet for humans, only two I can stomach are the tangerine/grapefruit, and it's right on the verge of being hummingbird food, and the cranberry/ raspberry like I'm drinking now. I'm sure a large part of tonight's funk is directly attributable to the death wish hangover I've got right now, got drunk as piss the last two nights, the PBR piled up cos I didn’t drink any of it last weekend, had two cases plus one six pack (that's 54 beers to you sober folk) when I sat down to work Friday night, got- hold on- got 11 left, that's more than I thought. I was hoping to get out last- Saturday- night, get up town and see some movies, it didn't work out, I couldn't get anyone here to cover for me, my Dad was having bowel trouble- you don’t want to know- so leaving was out of the question. One of my greatest fears anymore is that something will go wrong here while I'm out doing something non- essential- wrestling, or socializing- that I could have prevented had I been here, and then all the time I've spent here the past year will have been for absolutely nothing, and I'll feel guilty about fucking up for the rest of my life.
Well, I don't need to fuck any more things up. So, in retaliation for being stuck here, I got drunk as Odin on a bad mead bender. Not done with this issue's reading list, went over to Empire books Friday before I left Huntington (tried to stop by Thursday night, there at Pullman Square they had some shit bomb band doing the world's worst version of Chicago's "Beginnings", lots of fans of bad music out there, though, cos you couldn’t get anywhere near the place to park). Anyway, picked up three magazines, one new to me, Film Fanaddict, not bad considering the crappy title, had a good long essay on the Japanese yakuza series Battles Without Honor or Humanity, LOVE that title, so much so I used it for the title of this issue, but these guys need to hire a good proof reader/editor (I'm available boys, call me) cos there were a lot of misspellings and bad grammar, "antic dote" being the most egregious. They reviewed some "pinky violence movies", that sound just tailor made for the Movie Club, one, about the "Crotch Gouge Murders" (yow!) has it's heroine involved in a slow motion sword fight in the nude, that's what I'm talking about, that's CINEMA. Also got an Ugly Things, they're almost too obsessive even for me, they'll do a forty page article on some garage band from Nowhere, PA who put out a lone single in '66 (invariably "Gloria", or "Roadrunner", or both), but they're also big fans of bands like the Troggs and Pretty Things and Flamin' Groovies (big defense this issue of their three Sire 70's albums) and it's a big thick fucker for only $7.95, it's worth my money and it should be worth yours. Lastly, got a Carbon 14, talked about in here before, an eclectic mess of art, porn, wrestling, music, drinking, cinema- all good stuff, well done, although I honestly don't see how these folks can continue to put out such an impressive piece of work for only six bucks an issue. Keep up the good work is all I can say.
What's Bill listening to? The CD that came with the Carbon 14, got a bunch of them littering the place, I usually give them a cursory listen and then toss them wherever cos to be honest they normally suck, all a bunch of sound alike "I can play faster and louder than you can" bozos, number one, big damn deal, and number two, no you fucking can't, they think they're being exciting but they're just bland, this one however is really good, "Monsters Of Australian Rock", only "name" band on here is the great Radio Birdman, but some of the others have fine names themselves, like The New Invincibles, and the (damn funny) Hell Crab City-
Been there? You're the fucking mayor. Anyway, these bands have some grasp of dynamics and can rock like fuck. Good CD. You can't help me, not you guys Hmm. I'm debating on whether to wrap this one up and go to sleep- (OH BOY, SLEEP! THAT'S WHERE I'M A VIKING!) -or take the plunge down memory lane. Tell you what, this Fuze shit is just not giving me any kind of a buzz, and I already feel like dog shit hell, I think I'm gonna crack a PBR- by the way, just been TEARING my hands up getting the caps off these bastards, till I mentioned it to- fuck I can't remember who now, it was just last week, Jesus, that's gonna bug me now- and he said, "they're not fucking twist off, you moron". And he's right (about the caps and the moron stuff). Anyway, here's to beer and memories (and mammaries), I'll sleep when I'm dead. I was thinking about this girl (yeah, imagine that) the other day when I was trying to finish "Sissies" before this dirty, shit eating, back stabbing, you are SO fucking stomped to flinders when I get a new one- anyway, near the end of "Sissies" I run into a girl I went to high school with, named Sally, I was going to go off on a tangent on her in there, but instead, I'll do it here. Up through our junior year I never paid much attention to Sally. She was a pleasant enough girl, but quiet, as well as one of those types who joined every goody two shoes club there was, can’t even remember the names of any of them- uhm, no, I wasn't in any of them, they didn’t serve alcohol at the meetings for one thing- but they were all like the "Let's Be Good Citizens" Club or something, not the "Let's Get Drunk And Pee On Ourselves" club. I'm sure a lot of it wasn't her fault, her Mom taught at the high school and she had no Dad, deceased, so I'm sure Ma had a lot to do with her character at that point. Also, she wasn't very attractive (and again, don't waste your time trying to beat me up for shit like this, if you want to go out with members of the opposite sex that you find ugly, knock yourselves out, but I don't, never did and never will, so leave me the fuck alone about it). Not hideous by any means, but far from good looking, she had no figure to speak of, not a curve on her, not that it would've been easy to tell in the frumpy dresses- yeah, girls still often wore dresses to school back then, particularly the ones whose mothers picked out their clothes for them, as there's not a doubt in my mind Sally's mom did for her- she also wore a pair of those big black framed glasses that a lot of us wore back then. And she had a pretty big nose.
Pretty much, yeah. I don't know what vitamins Sally took the summer between our junior and senior years, but they should be recommended for all females not one of Bill's daughters, cos she came back to school a changed girl, and it was absolutely incredible the difference three short months had made. She was now built like a goddamn brick, she'd sprouted a pair of whacking huge tits that, since she was only seventeen, stood straight of from her chest in a way that unfailingly made my mouth unconsciously gape open, (no, they weren't fake, trust me, and yeah, that's how I know) atop a sweet, curvaceous new body. Hips, hot damn. She'd ditched the glasses and was now wearing contacts. She still had pretty big nose, but dear God, who fucking CARED. With her new body came a whole new attitude, she became a lot more outgoing, and no, that's not a euphemism for slutty, she was just friendlier, a lot more confident and fun, and I guess she told her Ma, "Sorry, but I do my own shopping now" cos she started wearing a lot sexier outfits- not that she could have hidden those tits under a fucking circus tent- and she also quit being quite so good, which I know didn't go over so well with Ma, one night I gave her a ride home from a party, which was all it was, still, I walked her to her door as any gentleman would, her Mom flips on the light as soon as we hit the porch, opened the door, looked my ass up and down- I was not one of her favorite students, by any means- and said "Anyone but him", which sort of hurt my feelings at the time, but which I find hilarious today. Sally and I never hooked up our senior year, more's the pity, both of our dance cards being really full that year- she went from wall flower to belle of the ball like THAT, yeah, guys are all dicks, whatever- and I was even then a nascent Death Falcon, as has been recounted in here a million times already- but we went to a hundred of the same parties and got to be pretty good friends, once she came out of herself and socialized, she was bright and funny and I enjoyed her company, even if we were both leaving with someone else. So, we graduate, I go away to Marshall, she to WVU (I didn't hold it against her), that first fall ('74, and what were you doing then?) a lot of us would come home on weekends, even the WVU people, and the place to meet was at the midnight movie, at what was then Cinema 21 there on 21st Street in Nitro. What you'd do is show up in front of the theater around 8 pm, check to see who all was in town, then you'd break into whatever groups you were going to go "running around"- I.e. driving around drinking and or getting high- in that night, then again meet, all buzzed up, back at the theater at midnight for the movie. Cinema 21 (yeah, of course we called it "Sinema 21") was pretty cool, teenage paradise in fact (I was STILL only seventeen that fall of '74), as long as you bought a ticket and didn’t try to destroy the place, the theater management didn’t seem to much care what you did, you could smuggle in bottles without half trying, and they allowed everything but buck naked intercourse in the back seats. Also, you could yell and swear at the characters in the movie, say any damn thing you pleased, as loud as you pleased, as long as you didn't throw lemonheads at them (I found this out the hard way, but fuck, old habits aren't easy to break). So, one weekend Sally and I are both in, we end up in the same group that's going to go "running around" before the movie, no fool Bill, I maneuver she and I into the back seat of Judy's- we'll talk about her in a bit- car, we get into some serious beer drinking- one of the many things I liked about Sally was that she'd drink beer like a guy, not that Boone's Farm sugar water piss so many of the party girls back then drank- although I still must say, the smell of sweet wine on a woman's breath will to this day give me a hard on, just out of reflex- and eventually some pretty serious making out, which every time Judy noticed it in her rear view mirror, would cause her to yell, "Stop that you two!" in all seriousness. Judy was a pip. By movie time we're both way buzzed, and not a little worked up to boot, we spend most of the movie- "Walking Tall", I remember it like it was yesterday- in the very back row seeing who could get their tongue the furthest down the other's throat. We leave before the movie's over, cos I'm absolutely breathing fire by this point, and Sally is right there with me. We drive down to the end of 21st street in the very first Falconmoblie- past her house, no less, there were no lights on, it was all I could do not to scream "Anyone but me MY ASS, Ma!" as we drove by the house- past Ridenour Lake, where there was a well known parking spot. Sally tore my shirt getting it off of me she was so wound up, I was a little more circumspect with hers, but off it came, and her bra, and I'm in fucking awe, holy FUCK did she have some great tits, tasty, too, I've got my face buried in her chest when all of a sudden-
I pull my face out of heaven. B: Stop like, how stop? And she didn't. She gave me a blow job, a good one, without putting her shirt back on, which was okay as a consolation prize, but not really what I was wanting. It was insane- she went from this panting, tearing my shirt sex fiend, to this "Sorry, but no pussy for Bill" heart (and ball) breaker instantaneously, it was like this invisible bolt of "Hey, fuck you Billy boy" lightning just shot out of the sky and hit her. There were no hard feelings, we ran around some more that fall, although no more back seat canoodling, fool me once, you know, although I'd be lying if I said it didn't bug the fuck out of me- what the fuck HAPPENED?- for a long time, till the summer of '76 in fact, when Torch told me she did the VERY SAME THING to him, (and that's how quickly her star had fallen, by the summer of '76 Sally'd gained about 50 pounds from her glory days and was reduced to going out with guys like Torch, who were strictly second tier at best- and I was going out with Loretta by that time, so whether I’d have asked her out that summer is a moot point, isn't it?) only even worse cos with him she went as far as to get totally naked and in the back seat before deciding she just couldn't do it in a car. Torch: I offered to take her to a motel, but she said she couldn’t do
it there, either. I saw Sally one more time, but that will be recounted in "Sissies". Judy. Jesus, she was a lot like early days Sally, only she never got big tits and never lost that goody two shoes aura, and she had a mean streak I don’t think Sally ever did. Judy was tall, skinny, severe, she'd have been a witch hunter back in the day (and do you know what she is now, a probation officer, or at least she was, here in town, and woe betide your sorry ass if she ever happens to become yours cos I'm telling you now, buddy, she is going to cut you exactly slack none) more with the big glasses, she was like your damn mom only worse cos she was always around when you were trying to do your damn business. It was crazy, she professed to look down on all this shit, this shit being sex, drugs and rock and roll, but she still had to always be right in the thick of things, God forbid there be anything fun going on that Judy wasn't right in the damn middle of it, looking down from her high horse at everyone having a good time. Of course, Judy had to stay sober, otherwise how could she remember what to tell your parents? "Don't worry Mrs. Bitner, Bill only drank fourteen beers at the party last night, and he said he thinks he pulled out of Kathie before he got her pregnant . . . " I don't fucking think so. I cornered her the Monday after this Sunday morning phone call to tell her 'bout the facts of life (which are all about YOU)- Bill: Look, if you ever call my house again, I will kill you. That is not a metaphor, or an exaggeration, or a joke, I will fucking kill your ass dead. I'll choke you till your goddamn eyeballs pop out, then run over you with my car so many times you'll fucking disappear. Don’t EVER call my house again. And she didn't. Being perceived as someone not wholly sane is not always a bad thing. Judy did have her uses, especially when it came to running around, She had a big old Ford Torino and she'd always drive, not only saving you gas money, piddling as it was back then, but since she didn't drink, also saving you from worrying about wrecks or cops (or in the case of Bill's driving, wrecks and cops). And, incredibly, she'd also buy your damn beer, or to be more accurate, after we had our little heart to heart, at least she'd buy mine. I was the only guy she'd do this for and I swear, even though I know this is Billy Big Head talking here, I honestly think it was cos she was hot for what I got (or had). Beside the buying of my beer (and sometimes cigars and a couple times some comic books) one time I asked her to give- there was no pretence that these were loans on either of our part- me some money to buy some condoms. Judy: (coyly) Only if you save one for me. I'll tell a funny Judy story and then we're off. She went to Marshall as did Rick (I know, sometimes I spell his name with a 'K", sometimes not, I can’t remember how he spelled it) and I. The spring of '75 Rick and I are playing softball for an absolutely destroyer intramural softball team, I've talked about it before, we went through the other fucking dorm teams like whatever I eat tomorrow is going to go through me, also crushed all the frat teams in the play offs till we peaked a day too soon, got so fucking pounded the night before the finals we were still staggering drunk for the championship game, and lost. Fuck it, though, that drunk was worth more than any damn trophy any day. Anyway, one fine spring afternoon we- me, Rick, Roger Pritt, Kevin The Drug King, Dana One and Dana Two, and Cowboy- are all gonna go out on the field right there behind Towers and fling a softball around. We went to Kevin's room to get him, and he's all aflutter, he's just gotten some kind of super great black something something hash from somewhere far away, Viet Nam I'm thinking he said now. He can't be bothered with some damn softball, he's got to smoke this shit, NOW. And since he loves all of us, he's willing to share it. As we all know, Bill's never been much of a smoker of anything (save cigars), never smoked a cigarette in my life, even in the salad days of the 70's when killer pot could be had on my floor (from bro Kevin) for an incredible to kids nowadays $12 an OUNCE (what it cost him), I was never a big indulger. Rather drink. Still, if it's gonna get us out on the ball field sooner, okay, crank that fucker up and lets get to smoking. I can’t smoke without drinking cos the smoke irritates my throat, and if you're going to be drinking, it may as well be cold beer, so I went to my room, got a couple for some of the other guys as well, cos that's how we were back in those days, we were brothers, boys and girls Brothers.
Jesus, we were ripped. After who knows how long- Bill: Who wants to play some ball? No answer, they were all too busy contemplating the universe in their own arm pit hair, after a bit- Bill: Come on, I thought we were going to play some ball. We could barely walk, but we got our gloves and a ball and left that room of blissed out souls, manage to get on the elevator, have an ungodly hell of a time getting off of it- the opening and closing doors absolutely mesmerized us, also we couldn’t tell which floor we wanted to get off on, "Is this our floor?" "I don't know", some Samaritan had to finally physically help us off of the elevators, we go out to the field- and can't find the gate to get in. It's got to be here somewhere . . . fuck. We finally decide to just climb the fence cos that damn gate has just somehow disappeared, yeah right, in our condition we couldn't climb a fucking step, we're sort of pawing ineffectually at the fence when all of a sudden this voice comes out of the sky- Voice: Rick Ramell, don’t you tear my sweat pants climbing that
fence! We both look up in the sky, can't see a thing. Bill: Did you hear that? Again comes the voice- V: Rick Ramell! You stand still till I get there! Again we look up, again we can’t see whatever it is that's yelling at us. R: Oh jeez. But as I was too high to move, I just stood there. Boggled as we were, we had no idea that this was not some divine voice from on high, but fucking Judy, who'd looked out her dorm window and seen Rick feebly trying to climb the fence in her sweat pants- what he was doing with her sweat pants I don’t want to know, even though I asked him about it later and he got all red faced and wouldn't say, oh Rick, yuck, man- and being Judy, her first thought was, "don’t tear my sweat pants". Next thing I know Judy has appeared next to us like magic- black, evil magic- and she's giving Rick hell- I guess, I felt like a kid in a Peanuts cartoon, cos all I could make of the words coming out of Judy's mouth- I could see the words, by the way, swear- was this Whaaa, Whaaa, Whaaa noise. Whatever she's saying, it's obviously getting to Rick, or maybe he's hearing that Whaaa, Whaaa, Whaaa noise as well- hell that may have been what she was SAYING- anyway he turns his back on her and then starts doing this bizarre arm movement, snail like in it's sluggishness, back and forth- It dawns on me, if he was moving his arms about a hundred times faster, he'd look like he was running . . . man, that's it, I think he thinks he's running. This was confirmed when Rick looks back over his shoulder, and the expression of sheer horror on his face- dear God, she's still RIGHT BEHIND ME. He turns around and again does the arm motion, this time he twitches his feet a little as well, but doesn't take as much as a single step, although I'm sure in his well toasted mind he was sprinting at record speed away from this po faced harridan who wants to know WHAT HE'S DOING IN HER SWEAT PANTS?!? WHAAA, WHAAA, WHAAA. Again he stops moving, and looks back over his shoulder. and again this pitiful/gut splittingly hilarious expression of abject terror crosses his face. He looks at me, "Help me" he whispers. "I cant get away." I can't help him. While I'm laughing my brains out on the inside, I'm totally incapable of independent movement. I'm not sure I could even fall down. Rick and I might still be standing there to this very day if Dear Gay Steve- alerted by Santoro, the guy who'd helped me and Rick off of the elevator, "He is FUCKED UP, even for Bill, you better check on him"- hadn't come looking for us and run Judy off- "shoo, bitch!"- and gotten us back upstairs. The end. So, kiddies, that's our trip down memory lane for this issue. Drink to criminal excess, piss away your youth, and you too can grow up to be just like me. Time to wrap, got a busy day ahead, DFZ and Prof Danger, media darlings
that we be, have interviews with both Graffiti and the Yellowjacket (the
WVSU student newspaper) tomorrow- later today, actually, to pump the show
September 8th (miss it and hate yourself forever) as well as to pass along
the meaning if life (God is a crazy bitch yelling at you from a third
floor dorm room window, and don’t you tear her sweat pants or it's Hell
for you, buddy boy). I can live a million years. Later Bill 
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Watch out, the world's behind you
I was going to say I have got to stop watching (by osmosis, cos I
swear, I don’t actually sit down and watch the damn things, they're just
on all the time here) all this soap opera shit cos I'm starting to dream
about them, but then again, I got no complaints about the dream. I dreamt
I was in some fancy ass clothing store with Victoria from Young And
Restless, her real name is Amelia something (and guys, all I can do is
litter this thing with the names of hot women, if Joe doesn't put nude
photos of them on the site there's nothing more I can do), she's hot,
looks sort of like Denise Richards, why I picked her out of the bunch to
dream about I don’t know, but as stated before, I'm not complaining.
Anyway, she's trying on lingerie in front of one of those triple
mirrors, asks me "Do I look good in this?", absolutely, even
better out if it, and we start doing it there in the store in front of the
mirrors . . . hell, what was I thinking, I need to start watching MORE
soap operas.
See where he's an insurance salesman in in Parkersburg now, officially
retired from boxing after the bout last weekend, good thing, while big as
a truck (although not nearly as stiff in the wrestling ring as you'd think
given his size and demeanor) he's also slow as . . . I don’t know, a
truck. If he's smart he'll spend all his time at home with his wife, who
was his girlfriend when I knew him, she was smoking hot and very sweet to
boot, a very rare and wonderful combination, you can still see her in the
TV ads they run whenever the Toughman competitions come to town, she's the
killer blond in the red sparkle bikini and cowboy, or cowgirl I guess in
her case, hat.
Pluto is still a fucking planet at Bill's house. Let one of those
egghead Prague bastards try to tell me to my face Pluto's not a planet
anymore, I'll knock his four eyed dick in the dirt. As I've said in here
before, why do people gotta fuck with EVERYTHING?
(LIKE YOU ALREADY DON'T).
Elizabeth Starr. She's interviewed in this issue of C14, but if you don’t
want to include her photos on the site, Joe, it’s okay by me, there's
tons of them with the interview, and besides, she took a pair of (I'm
sure) perfectly lovely D cup breasts and boosted them up to 44 Double I or
a 36 O. Craziness. Ladies, please, lets all again recite Bill's Rules Of
Tits. The first one is, Show Bill Your Tits. The second one is, Don't Put
Big Bags Of Salt Water In Your Tits. Thank you. And Elizabeth, I'm afraid
you're going to have to stay after class.
(HELL CRAB CITY! I'VE BEEN THERE!)
(OTHER THAN THAT, THOUGH, SHE WAS A FUCKING KNOCK OUT).
Sally: Stop. Oh, God, Bill stop. 
So, Kevin loads the bong with this so called super shit and fires it up
and- Jesus Christ on a flying carpet, never in my life has anything lived
up to it's billing like this stuff. If all drugs were like that shit I'd
be an addict, happily. That bong went around the room, seven guys, twice,
no more, and every damn one of us was stoned out of our mother fucking
mind. I have NEVER been anywhere near that high before or since, we're
talking genuine, God have mercy, what fucking planet am I on high, I can’t
feel my legs and I don't care high, you know, I really, REALLY love this
world and everyone and everything on it high (from THIS evil motherfucker,
no less).