Bon Voyage

Hello friends,

Here are a couple of ditties for a very special friend of mine. Sorry I can't go on vacation with you, buddy. Have fun.

You know, in some ways I feel I helped you pack your bags.

There are so many reasons I love the little devil doll.



Adios,
~e~

Dusty ol' Files

Hello friends,

Have you ever noticed how sometimes seeing something or hearing a certain sound or gettin' a whoof of a familiar smell will trigger somethin' that has been filed away on that hard drive encased in your skull? I mean something that you haven't thought about in years and years and years. Like the other day I heard the song 'Afternoon Delight' by the Starland Vocal Band. So there I am wondering how this crap ever made it on the radio, then it hit me like a sock full of nickles, Skateland, that big disco ball, the motor cycle 'jumpin the buses' arcade game, my Jim Cook 700's, and how I felt every time I saw Melodie Ashley skate by with that big Farrah Faucet hair-do (she broke my heart and made me cry) That stupid song some how extracted those memories from my not-so-recent file, dusted them off, and cracked them smack dab across my kisser. Well, today I was screwin' off when I was suppose to be workin' and I saw a 1963 Corvette split window coupe sailin' down the road. I thought what a cool car. Then, another file opened and I thought about Julie Kirsch (If I remember right she had a copper colored 63' Vette. James will have to help me out on that one) Once I thought about her I forgot all about the dumb ol' car. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Julie was 2 or 3 years older than me. I remember the first time I saw her was at Pink Barn when I was in 7th grade. Pink Barn was suppose to be a dance school (and I guess it was) but it was where you went to meet girls when you were 12 where I'm from. Julie was a instructor or a helper or somethin'. I'm not sure what she was doin' there, but what she was doin' there was not important, what was important was that she was there doin' what she was doin'. Now, today Julie wouldn't remember me or remember that we danced together. I don't know why we danced. I don't think it was because I was such a great dancer (But I was. I could have gone professional. I won the tri-state championship 3 years runnin', then I just quit) I don't think it was because I was brutally handsome (Good lord no. I was about the goofiest, most awkward, skinniest, dope you have ever seen. The brutally handsome thing came later) It was probably because none of the girls would dance with me. What ever the reason was, I didn't care. The height difference was perfect. My face was right at boob level (Sorry James) And she smelled so good. Man-0-man, did she ever. But the kicker was, that she was very nice to me. Boy-howdy, she made my stomach do flip-flops. I never wanted the song to end. But sadly, it did. Let me tell you something friends, in the eyes of a 7th grade little boy, Julie Kirsch was a full grown woman.

You know, I guess that's true about almost everything in my life, no matter how much I love the song, it always ends.

I like the way those disco balls throw dots of light all over a dance floor.

Here are a few tunes Julie and I might have danced to a long, long , time ago.








Adios,
~e~

CEO

-----------------------------------------Bobby Nardelli

Hello friends,

Well, I have decided that I want to be the CEO (Chief ...sumthin'... Officer) of some big fancy company. Yup, that's what I want to do. And I believe I can handle the job...well at least as good, if not better, than some of those cats doing it now. Here are some examples and what I would do different.

Now take Bob Nardelli for instance. He was so craptastic that The Home Depot paid Bobby 210 million smackers to leave (I dropped the ball on this one. They got me to leave for free. I should have held out, at least until the cops showed up) Then he was hired by those knuckle heads over at Chrysler, to...well...I guess to run the company into the ground, cause that's what he did (I could have done that) I guess the interviewing HR who hired him forgot to call his previous employer. That was a colossal over sight on there part. Hell, the government offered a 750 million dollar loan to Chrysler, on the grounds that it would require that executive compensation be capped, but good old Bob, not wanting to take the governments money, turned it down. Now Chrysler is drivin' up chapter 11 avenue, flippin' off all people they put outa work, while Bob is transferrin' his 3.8 million dollar Los Angeles house into his wife's name (Now that one will come back to bite him in the ass, mark my words) I guess he is keeping his Atlanta home in his own stupid name.

One thing I would have have done is made the new Dodge Challenger and Charger affordable. They would sell a bucket load of those things (a bucket load is a bunch) And I would have drove to Washington to appear before Congress to beg for money in one of those silver babies with the black racin' stripes and a magnetic sigh on the side saying "This car cost next ta nuttin". Bobby chose to fly in a private 35 million dollar jet. Good choice, dumb dumb.-------------------------------- Fancy Dodge Challenger

Take a gander at Bobby's Atlanta home. I grew up in a house almost exactly like his. A carbon copy. The comparison is uncanny.

http://virtualglobetrotting.com/map/48980/view/?service=1

Roger Mulally of Ford closed 17 plants and put 51 thousand (that's right 51,000) people on the skids. But fortunately for Rog, he is still gets to fly to his other Mansion in Seattle every weekend on one of the eight corporate jets. His wife gets to use it too. I'm sure her heart bleeds for those 51,000, out of work, hungry and cold, X auto workers as she wings off to New York to get her bunions scraped. Rog had a pretty good year last year, he made 28 million dollars. Not to shabby.

I think I would lose the house in Seattle, cut all the executives pay by 70% (mine too) get rid of 7 of the jets, end all those free fancy lunches, no more trips to Hawaii with the wife on the company's tab, and stop using the employees retirement money to stay in fancy hotel rooms with high dollar hookers and snorkel up a pound of coke. Instead, I would eat at Antones, I would pay for my own vacations, and I would frequent seedy motels with sleazy whores and snorkel up a 8 ball of crank. That way, maybe I could keep 11 of the plants open and keep all the (51,000) jobs. You see, I would have trouble givin' some three toothed floozy that goes by the name 'Destiny' a 'damn good seeing to' knowing that she might have worked for me when she had a dental plan and was called LaShonda. What can I say, I'm a man with a conscience.

-------- -------------------------Mulally's ride

But my favorite CEO is, Dennis Leo Kozlowski of Tyco (Isn't that the name of the u-nee-bomber?) Anyway, he's the wild man who threw the famous one million dollar shareholders/wife's birthday shin-dig that had a ice sculpture of the Statue of David that whizzed Stolichnaya vodka all over the joint. Mmm-mmm. Makes me thirsty just thinkin' about it. Supposedly the hootenanny turned in to an orgy as the night went on. Denny also had a stupid 1 thousand dollar waist paper basket (trash can) for his desk and a stupid 6 thousand dollar shower curtain (WTF?) That thing better do something besides keep water from sprayin' on my floor for 6 G's.

Now, I wouldn't have had a party cause I'm afraid that if I did no one would show up and the rejection might give me some kinda complex or sumthin'. Not to mention, that whole table of chips and dip would go to waste. I would be up for the orgy tho (no pun intended) but as far as the peeing thing...well...I'll just leave that one alone. Now, I would have saved the company a bunch of dough on that shower curtain and trash can, cause I could give two s**ts about those kinda things. Ones from K-mart would work for me just swell. And maybe, just maybe, I would take the money I saved and give away some Tyco toys to a bunch of poor tots for Christmas. Being nice to poor kids at Christmas is golden when it comes to promotion and publicity. The public eats that sappy stuff up. --------------------Here is Denny and his pee drinkin' wife Karen

Let me tell you something friends, I could do it. I could have sabotaged all of these companies just as good as those goons did, for half the money and in half the time. I could put on some platform shoes and host a swingers soiree. These guys all have monster egos, and...well, I'm kinda a megalomaniac my own self, I guess. See, someone the other day told me I had 'narcissistic personality disorder' (NPD) and that's why I write this junk, so I can show you people just how clever and witty I think I am. Personally I don't think I'm clever or witty, I think I'm a souper jeanius. But, that's not for me to say, that's for....Where the hell was I? Oh yeah, the CEO's. Those fellas are gittin' paid millions to make us look like chumps. Chumps I tell ya! Well, I'm just about sick and tired of being the 'chumpy' and I am ready to be the 'chumper' for a change.
I wonder if I can apply online.

Speakin' of the skids, here are my good friends from North Carolina. You know, I believe my friend, Mary Huff, is the best female rock and roll bass player out there. She is a awsome talent...well, for that matter, everyone in this band is great. Dig it.

9th Place, Edit, and the Gazillionaire Knight

The famous 3 thing-a-ma-jig

Hello friends,

Here are 3 things that have me pissed.

1) I played in two poker tournaments this week. I made it to the final table both times only to be the first one knocked out. I kept telling myself to pay attention and don't do anything stupid, but guess what, I went and done what I told myself not to go and do. I didn't pay attention and did something stupid. I tried to blame it on Tracy but she wouldn't go for it. What a loser. I'm like a rusty Fetsler valve, I crack under the force of a lot of water.

2) Number 2 has been removed on the grounds I might incriminate myself.

3) Sir Paul McCartney is coming to town and I can't afford a ticket. For those of you who knew me when I was a youngster, and were over to the Eddy abode, you will remember my walls covered with Beatle junk. I bought all the records, I had the books, I wore the shirts, I even knew how to sign George Harrison's autograph. I useta put that funny little goofy 3 thing-a-ma-jig that George always had hanging around by his name next to my signature (we are talking when I was in Jr. high here folks) Hell, I didn't even know what it meant...still don't. It might have meant 'Doesn't pay attention and will do something stupid' for all I know. So I figure since I contributed to Sir Paul being the richest bass player in the solar system, I should get one free ticket, by God! Just one is all I'm asking for. Two would be even better, but I will settle for one. Or they should at least make the damn tickets affordable for Christs sake. So come the evening of August 17th, I'm gonna be pouting around the house, feeling sorry for myself and making Tracy's life miserable. That'll teach Mr. Sir, high falootin', big shot, Beatle man Paul McCartney. That'll teach him good!

And by the way, what's with that 'Sir' crap. I think that if your a Knight, it should be mandatory that you joust someone at least a couple of times a year.

Since I am mad at the Hippopotamus (Paul was NOT the walrus, he was the hungry hungry hippo, John was the walrus. George was the bunny rabbit and Ringo was the chicken) here are some Beatle songs done by my good friends. If you would have stopped by my casa Sunday you could have had a burger, some beers, and some censored with me, Joey (the singer) and Marky Starkey (the drummer) This first song kinda goes with 'reason I'm pissed' number 1.

You should here my right on imitation of the cartoon Ringo imitating the real Ringo. It's unbelievable. You said it daddy-O.

Hell, I guess I'll let 'him' sing one for me that kinda fits 'reason I'm pissed' number 3.

Adios,
~e~

The End

Hello friends,

The other day I had a near death experience, so that got me thinking about the here after and all that goes along with it. I guess I have thought about it more than I thought I have thought about it. I have a verse in a song I wrote that goes somethin' like this ~

'Sometimes the weight is just to much to bare
and if I pass away is there anyone who'd care
would any tears for me be shed
or mournful words of Christ on that day said
you know this world, it brings me down
I guess I've lost what everybodys found
and I ain't got nothin' to bring me round
on the streets of this dead town'

Anyway, as far as salvation goes, I figure I have already done so much of the fun stuff that it would be pretty dern hard to dig myself out. Plus, I'm a weak, weak individual and would just keep fallin' back and I don't know if I could deal with all of the failure so we will just say I flunked that part of the test and move forward. No point worrying about something we can't do anything about, I say. So, I'm left with planing my funeral. OK, I'm tellin' you all so if something happens to me someone will know what the hell is going on. I am also assigning jobs to some of you, so don't let me down team.

1) Tecla B. is to head the hole mess up. God help ya'll.

2) James J, Joe B, and Jon P ~ I want a white, cheap, crappy casket with a box of sharpies next to it. (you guys gotta buy it too) That way anybody who happens to come to the funeral can write something stupid on it. Please watch your language cause of my mother. You can even draw glasses and a mustache on me if you want. That would be a riot.

3) Judi D. ~ You are the MC cause your pretty and everyone will like lookin' at you. (you can't get mad Jim cause I'm dead, sorry) I don't want some preacher that I don't know talkin' about my soul. That's really nobodies business. I want people to get up and talk about what a swell fella I was or any goofy thing they can think of as long as it in someway makes fun of Roger. Like the Easter basket story....what a knucklehead.

4) I would like to have some of my musician friends have a little jam thing ago-in. Brother Bagsby is in charge of that.

5) David C. ~ Your gonna be the greeter cause you kinda look like you work in a funeral home anyway, but mostly cause you would say some of the funniest things that no one would get.

6) Billy Earl P. ~ You get to make all the lists.

7) Nipper ~ You get to give everyone that comes in a ticket and have a drawing to give away the door prizes.
a- My cool pin-up girl collection

b- A copy of a picture of my dumb ass in 9th grade with some stupid metal shop
glasses on.

c- My smashed penny collection (and I got a bunch of um) You'll wanna win this one.

d- My fav-O-rite Motorhead shirt

8) Roger H. and Scott J. ~ You guys get to stand up front so everyone can see Rogers face when the stories are being told and Scott can stand there and laugh.

9) Cathy S. ~ I would like some go-go dancers. Like the ones on laugh In, but with out the body painting.

10) I want to wear my chucks, my tan Dickie's, and my Ramones T shirt. This job goes to Tracy cause she is the only one who can find' um.

Now, that takes care of that. Next is the burial. Jason O. this is your baby.

I want one of those little marble houses with the big iron door. I want a motion detector rigged up to a recorder so that when anyone walks by it will go off and and they will her me saying "Hey you, come in here and check this crap out." And on the inside I want a soda machine, my white, cheap, crappy, coffin with a T.V. sitting on it, a little table with a chair and a bunch of multi-colored rope lights. On the wall next to the chair is a big red button with a sign that says ~

"Well It Ain't Gonna Push It's Self"

Then when you push it the T.V comes on and tells my life story! (as told by me, not any of you liars) Man-O-man, what do you think about them apples?

Here is a list of the songs to be played ~

The seating --

Mr. Moto by Agent Orange
Tiger Man by Elvis
Motorhead by Motorhead
Honey Hush by The Pirates
Big Little Baby by The Reverend Horton Heat
Voo-Doo Cadillac by Southern Culture On The Skids
Let's Go For A Ride by Cracker

Amazing Grace by The Drop Kick Murphys

During -- my goofy friends can play what ever they want.

The end --
Here Comes The Sun by The Beatles
What A Wonderful World by Joey Ramone



Adios,
~e~

Mad

Hello friends,

I am in a awful mood today. It's one of those days where anything anyone says annoys me. It seems that everyone has decided to inform me of my faults lately.

I'm to loud or to forgetful or I don't pay attention or I talk to much or how irresponsible I am or my sideburns are to big or that I'm just flat out dumber than a foot stool. And how everything I like to do is a waist of time and everything I don't do is what I should be doing. Now, I know I'm not the sharpest mouse in the sack but I know what my damn faults are. I don't need a bunch of goons telling me. Christ, if I'm that bad, than I would appreciate it if everyone would keep there stupid mouths zipped and try to put as much road between me and them as they possibly can. Like right now, someone is talking to me about computer updates. He's firing questions at me that I don't know, or even care to know. Can't he see I'm doing something I like? Something that is very, very important? Maybe he will read this over my shoulder and shut the hell up....Nope, no luck. Blah, blah, blah, blah. Maybe it's the heat that's getting to me or maybe I'm just getting grumpy in my old age or maybe it's my customer who won't pay me cause he won't have any money until next week. We didn't get to finish our conversation cause he had to meet his private trainer at the gym cause he hasn't got to work out in two weeks cause he's been in Florida on vacation. Or maybe it's the other one who I can't get a hold of cause he is at his yoga class. Yoga??? Good Lord. Back in my day we called 'yoga' strechin'. Then he has hand bell practice. WTF? I would like to kick him in the bells. But I should look on the bright side, I get to climb up in my attic and fix the water heater vent. It's only 447 degrees up there, no breeze, and the insulation sticks to my skin as the sweat pores down my back and in to my pants. If I'm not careful it'll rust my bells. But let me tell you something neighbors, if I'm told one more time to be sure and walk on the rafters I'm gonna choke someone!

Have a nice day.

Here is a little disturbing video I made a while back when I was in about the same mood as I am in today. Enjoy!

Adios,
~e~

The Pledge

Hello friends,

Well it's July 5th and I hope everyone still has all their fingers. I know this is gonna sound sappy and corny but I'm gonna say it anyway. We all bitch and complain non stop about a plethora of topics. From abortion to gay marriage to gun registration to welfare reform. We all seem to have something to say about everything. We argue and fight, we get pissed and cuss, we scream until we are red, white, and blue in the face. And do you know why? I don't mean 'why' we disagree, I mean 'why' we argue. The answer is 'because we can'. One thing we will all have to agree on is that brave men have given there lives so we can disagree. My Grandfather gave half of his foot and had his insides blistered by mustard gas for that right. The Argonne Forest in 1918 was not a fun place to be. It wasn't even a bad place to be. Bad doesn't even begin to describe it. It was a unimaginable place to be. Look at these pictures, can you imagine being there? Men have put themselves in places like that through out history for us countless times. So next time your on your soap box (like I am right now) remember the cats who made it possible.

'The Pledge' was sent to me from a dear friend. That is his beautiful daughter. What a smile. I think my Grandfather would be proud.

I am honored to be named after my Grandfather, Douglas Foster.

Here is some music.




Adios,
~e~