Well, it's here, October 31st! Halloween. Party night! My fav-O-rite night of the year (no kiddin') It's 9:30pm and my party should be crankin' up pretty soon. We don't usually show up till 11:00 or 11:30 or 12:00. I have the greatest costume of all time. My mindless robot side kick is aces, I'm tellin' y'all. I would have someone take a photo of me wearing it to show you just how unbelievable it is, but there is one little hitch...I ain't wearin' it. It's in a pile on the floor. The big, foam block, robot shoes, the jet pack, and the action utility belt that lights up, the whole shootin' match is right there behind me in a ball on the floor. I must have over 200 bucks tied up in that pile of crap, and I can't tell you how many hours. And there it is...just layin' there...behind me...in a ball...on the floor. What a bunch of malarkey. I won't go into why we aren't going, but of course it was all my fault...as usual. Did I say 'What a bunch of malarkey'? I'm sorry, what I meant to say was 'What a bunch of bull shit!' I'm pissed. Hell, I bought her stupid costume too. I don't believe I am a good enough writer to convey to y'all just how I am feeling right now. So I will stop. Happy Halloween and kiss my ass. Maybe this song can kinda help me out explaining my mood tonight.
BOO! Well, Halloween is upon us and I am amped up. This is my second most fav-O-rite holiday there is. Every year Tracy and I go to that hi-falootin' shin-dig at the Brady. It's invitation only. Only very important people are on the guest list. VIPs only. Fortunately Tracy is one of them cause my name ain't no where near makin' that list. As a matter of fact, when you go in you have to show your invite, then sign in. This (the signing-in part) is what gets you on the list for the hoot-a-nanny next year. I have signed that damn thing for the past 5 years and those bastards have yet to send me one. I have a good mind to not even go this year, that'llteach'um...but friends, I'm weak. All those girls in all those skimpy out fits, my principles go only so far. Anyway, we always have a great time. This year Tracy is going as some kinda space girl. Her costume is pretty hot. She has glitter pumps and a dress sorta like Jane Jetsons but much more skimpier. I am gonna be her mindless side kick robot. I have rigged my costume up with lights and a jet pack (I had to have a place to store the batteries for the lights) and I made some shoes out of big square blocks of foam so I will have big, square, clunky, robot feet. I over do everything. They don't give a prize out for best costume, but after they see me they will probably give me something anyway. I was gonna write my mindless side kick robot name on my mindless side kick robot uniform. 'UNI69' but Tracy put the kibosh on that. She also didn't like '1104U'. She said no to 'Sex Machine' 'RoboPounder' 'I'm Hard As Steel' and 'How About Some Squeaky Squeaky Klang Zing?' Kill joy. I will put some pictures on here after the party.
Here is some Halloween stuff ~ Enjoy!
One of my dumb ol' sisters had the 'Monster Dance Party' album back in the day. What a great cover. What a great album. Here is a song off of it. This is 'Riboflavin Flavored, Non Carbonated, Polyunsaturated Blood'
Remember those stop motion Christmas specials? You know those creepy little puppets like things. Well, the cat that made those started makin' 'Mad Monster Party' starring Boris Karloff and Phillis Diller (1967) But he died before it was done. It got put on the shelf. When it was found, many years later, it was in pretty bad shape. Mildew or heat or film eatin' spiders or sometin' screwed it up. Point is, when it was found The Misfits put up the dough to have it restored and finished. It's pretty groovy.
There is a cat that makes movies named J. Niel. Now, he is always buggin' me tryin' to get tips and tricks on how to make a good film. I try to help. He's comin' along...slowly but surely. Here is 'Night of the Living Junkies'. Oh, you can check out his other stuff at http://www.youtube.com/user/Jneil1976#p/u/18/nSYSg7ftk14 Drugs are very scary, kids!
Plan 9 ~ A way with words
Speakin'' of the Misfits, here is an old video I made just for Halloween a few years back. This is the Monster Mash.
Well the craziness never seems to end around the ol' Eddy hacienda. I noticed I had received two comments on my Armin Wolfe story. Well, I said to myself, Eddy ol' boy it looks like two of the flock have decided to praise your Mark Twain writing skills, splashed with your Will Rogers wit. Two of the hole 19 are gonna inform me the God has given me a talent unparalleled, and how lucky they were to be one of the 19 friends on my page (I go for quality not quantity) But again, and as usual that wasn't the case. What was the case was, the two comments were from Mr. Wolf's two daughters! Man, was I floored. It seems he went by the name of Mike or that was his name or something. I got kinda confused trying to figure it all out, but they called him Mike none the less. It's kinda funny (not in a ha ha funny kinda way) cause I thought about someone close to him reading it, and I didn't think that they would think it was all that appropriate. You know the 'wrinkled noggin and brushing the dentures' stuff. Especially the 'fear in his eyes and falling down' part. I wouldn't have written that stuff if I thought his daughters were gonna read it. But, they seemed pleased with it (shocked anyway) I was expecting to read one of those 'punch in the snoot' e-mails I usually get. It seems that Mr. Wolf was a pilot in Vietnam and retired a major (thank you for that) He was just passin' through Oklahoma (or leaving it) on his way back to Colorado. He had three daughters and one son, four grandchildren, and two great grandchildren. He played high school football and loved the Denver Broncos (we won't hold that against him) I don't know how his daughters came across my story, but to think that they found this story in this whole Internet spider web conglomeration mess is nuts. Hell, you guys don't get'um...and I send'um to you. Jeez, I don't know what to think. How crazy is that? He loved the Denver Broncos. Just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger. His youngest daughter wrote this ~
"On a final note, my dad would have been proud to read this post that was written in his honor, so again, thank you. The tears I cried at the end of reading it were very much the happy kind"
I guess I don't screw everything up I do. I wish they would have left an e-mail address, there are things I would like to tell them that I didn't put in my story. I'm gonna go now, I'm a little freaked out.
The other day my friend Stu was playing poker at a local casino. He was having a great day. He had been there about three hours and was about $550.00 to the positive. But what was even better was he had thrown the wood on three different hands to this cat who looks like Kenny Logins and fancies himself the poker king of Tulsa. Little did he know my that Stu thinks he is the poker king of the world, and Kenny didn't like being throttled in front of all those idiots who feed his stupid ego. My friend made this guy so mad he was about to explode. Kenny stormed away from the table only to get whacked again when he returned 30 minutes later. Anyway, Stu is setting there shuffling his chips and staring at the board when someone says "Is he alright?" Stu looks up to see the old man that was playing two seats to his left, leaning on an empty poker table with his back to everyone. Stu stood up and said "You OK mister?" The old man looked around at Stu. His nose was bleeding. Stu said the man had a look of fear in his eyes like he had never seen before, then the old man fell straight back. Stu tried to catch him and they both went to the floor. Now there is blood coming out of his mouth. Stu says "Hang on buddy" and comes to the realization that he has no idea what to do. But Stu being resourceful, he comes up with a "plan" (and a good one I might add) He looks up at the crowd that has surrounded them and says "I don't know what the f**k to do" (that must have been comforting to the old man) Stu watches as the old man stares up at him with dull, gray, scared eyes. Stu is wishing someone else would have stood up instead of him. Then at the precise moment, Stu puts part 'B' of his "plan" in to action. "Don't you die on me, Mister!" he yells at him. Then the old man died. This all took place in under a minute. It looks like Stu's "plan" didn't quite pan out form him. Did I say it was a good "plan"? I meant it was a stupid "plan". Good job Stu. Stu didn't feel like playing cards any more so he cashed in his chips and went home. Chumping Kenny Logins didn't seem like such a big deal now.
I guess the old man had an aneurysm.
About 3 or 4 days later I asked Stu what the old mans name was. Stu didn't know. So I got on-line and looked up the obituary's. After some fancy detective moves, between the paragraphs of achievements and successes of all the other people who died that week, I found this ~
'Wolf, Armin Henry, 74, died Tuesday. No services planned. Cremation Society'
That's it? Man, is that the ending to his 74 years on this planet? He lives almost three quarters of a century, doing God knows what all, and that's what he gets, 'Died Tuesday. No services planned'? It seems kinda anti-climatic, don't you think? I'm not saying that it's wrong or bad or someone dropped the ball here, I'm just saying what a let down. I don't know what I was expecting. Fireworks and a brass band I suppose.
But truly friends, what a way to go. He got up that morning, combed what few hairs he had on top of his wrinkled old noggin', brushed his dentures and said to himself "I'm gonna go to the casino and throw the wood to the chumps." No fight with Alzheimer's or cancer. No drooling all over his bib in some flea bag nursing home. No your to old to drive. Nope, not Armin Wolf, he was lookin' for action. Can you dig it? You know there is only one other thing I would rather be doing when I die than playing poker, and that's showing some sweet, young, sexy thing how I like to make messy, sticky, steaming hot, brownies. A hole pan of'um. Mmm-mm. Doesn't that sound delicious?
Adios Armin, I hope you were holdin' the nuts when you got to the gate. If not, I'm sure you bluffed your way in.
Tracy sent me this photo she found while cleaning out her e-mail at work. Here are 4 little dumpster pussycats right after I trapped them behind the Fiesta Mart a year ago. Who could throw these little guys away to die? I'm glad they did cause now I got'um, but I would like to knock all 7 of his rotten teeth down his stupid inbred throat.
Here is Penelope, Little Ethel Merman, CaliGirl, and Smudge. Man, I forgot how tiny they were. Adios, ~e~
"I hate my life" is what a friend of mine told me the other day. My reply was "Me too". Now friends, I have been thinking about this...cause...well...I'm a thinker. Which is kinda ironic considering the lowness of my intelligence quonset tally. Anyway listen, I'm not thinking about how time is relevant to black matter or how the hell to write an ambigram, I'm thinking of...well...usally stupid junk. But not today. If my friend or I really do 'hate my life' then why keep hanging around. I mean one quick tug on the ol' trigger and endless sleep, right? Well I figured it out...kinda. You see, it's gotta be that you stay in this life you hate cause of all the things in this life you love, family, friends, a good stake, music, spring mornings, being loved, floppin' a boat with a flush on the board, wind in your hair, a good pet, the ol' hubba-hubba, etc. It's not our life that we hate, that's to broad, it's the situation that we put ourselves in that we hate. But what do we do about it, you ask? Nothin'. Nothin' at all. And why, you ponder? Cause it's easy to fail. Hell, if I set out to fail I will win every time..........? I don't have to do nothin', just sit on my ass and let failure kick me right smack dab in the nuts. It's simple.
or...
maybe it's not my life I hate, maybe I hate myself. Maybe I'm pissed for not taking advantage of the opportunities handed to me or regret not doing something because I was to scared that I would fail. Maybe subconsiously I thought I was beat before I started so why even try.
or... maybe I really do hate my life...I don't know.
This is good stuff, huh? People being murdered as we speak....speak? I mean, as I write this, and I'm thinkin' of this garbage. Man, I gotta figure out why I do this.
Well, guess what my dumb ass is doing. I am writing a book. Yes, it's true. The long anticipated conglomeration of my thoughts on how to save the world and educate the masses is in the works. Now if that doesn't sound like the end all to end all, I don't know what does... Ah hell, who's kiddin' who here? What a monumental waste of time this is gonna be.
What have I been doing lately, you ask. Well, I have been playing darts against a bunch of Germans on-line for money. I am playing as I write this and I am getting my ass handed to me by some chump named Sven that I should be killin'! -----------------------------*UPDATE*
I have just won the last 3 in a row and Sven quit like a big German baby. Run away big German baby. Go change your stupid German baby diapers.
It looks like Christian is next. Little does he know, I'm like a herd of lions. I better go before this slug beats me.
Oh yeah, the craziest thing happened to me the other day. Crazy by even my standards. I can't tell y'all what happened yet, but I will soon enough. This song is a hint.
This is The Lords Of The New Church bangin' 'Down Town'. Nicky Turner (drums) and Dave Tregunna (bass) are/were one of the best rhythm sections to play rock and roll. Dig it.
Brian James (guitar) and I shared a bottle of Mezcal many years ago. Remember that David? And of course hanging out with Stiv Bators (vocals) was unbelievable. R.I.P. Stiv. 'Method To My Madness'
I have come here to provide inspiration and guidance to the masses. To walk, talk, teach, and train my brothers and sisters through this mine field we call life. A shepherd if you will, holding the Mag light of wisdom and shine it's yellow beam upon the dark path of knowledge so you, my flock, can find your way home. So, my children I sayth unto you....ah....hum....aw, who the hell do I think am I kiddin', just forget I said all that stupid crap.
