You, Me, and the Supersuckers are Goin' to Hell

Hello friends,

Here are some good words to live by...

Livin' life like the roar of a 747
I don't ask for forgiveness cause I ain't to good at beggin'
Drinkin' and a zingin', I ain't never gonna stop
I'm underneath the house, hidin' from the cops
I don't go to church cause I can't sit still
you say your goin' to Heaven and I'm goin' to Hell

Spend my whole life just trin' to get inside
I always tell the truth you know, unless it's a lie
I don't follow the teachin' of Jesus or the Pope
I'm in a cheap motel with some whore doin' dope
It might'a been your wife, you never can tell
You can go to Heaven, I'm goin' to Hell

And when I'm cast down through the brimstone mist
the devils gonna see me, man he'll be fuckin' pissed
I'll kick him in the cock and bust him right between the ears
I'll turn up the heat and we will party there for years
I hope your doin' fine, hope things are goin' well
while your a servant up in Heaven I'll be runnin' things in Hell

...or maybe not.

Here's another song about goin' to hell. I wonder why these cats don't get asked to play the Oprey?

I love it when I'm in one of these moods.

Adios,
~e~

Read This

Hello friends,

Well, now I've gone and done it. You see, I was looking at a friends Face Book photos and the caption under one read "Some one Photo Shop me some hair" My friend is noticeably thinning on top. So, I put a Pompadour and big sideburns on him. It looked so funny that I put a fancy white jump suit and some gold Elvis glasses. I didn't use Photo Shop (I use to have Photo Shop but you need a physics degree to work it and I'm a few hours short on that one) Instead I used Windows Paint, so the pic didn't look real, it looked like a cartoon. To me, that's what made it funny. I also did a Uncle Fester, Pipi Longstocking, Marilyn Monroe, and a Chippendale dancer. The photos I used weren't of just friends, they were friends I really care about. Well, I fixed up a photo of a guy who has been a friend of mine for a long, long, time. I took the photo and put a jacket and a cap on him of a sports team that he hates. I mean really, really, REALLY, hates. I put it on my photo page on Face Book and somehow it gets sent to a gazillion people. My friend came unhinged. I truly thought it was Innocent and had know idea he would come unraveled. Then one thing led to another and things got a little heated. Anyway, I apologised and said I would take it off, which I did. I also removed all the other photos I rigged up. So, I'm pacing the floor, my head is about to explode I'm so pissed. Then it hits me, well it took a while, more like it poured over me like molasses. It doesn't matter if I think he over reacted or if I think h was being too sensitive. It doesn't matter if I meant no harm or that I thought it was funny. What matters is, he didn't think it was funny and I hurt him. Who am I to decide what's funny or not if it's at someone else's expense? Just because it wouldn't bother me doesn't mean it wouldn't bother someone else, and the last thing I want to do is hurt someones feelings, especially someone I care for. So, that being said, I would like to apologise to any one I have offended, upset, pissed off, teased, poked fun at, ragged on, or made mad. Those were not, or ever, my intentions. I hope you will except this apology in the manner and spirit that it is given.

Adios,
~e~

PS Everybody feel better now?

A Question For You

Hello friends,

You know, I understand that I am responsible for my actions, and that 95% of everything bad that happens to me is because of something that I have done. But that doesn't necessarily mean that for every wrong or bad action there is a repercussion. Our days are full of wrong or bad actions, for instance, say a man (Bo Ziffer) walks across the street with out looking and get hit by a bus full of nuns. Action (walking across the street) = repercussion (hit by nuns) right? OK, now let's say if a different man (Ben Wafflehowser) walks across the same street with out looking and doesn't get hit by anything. Action (walking across the street) = ??? (No repercussion) right? So why is it that the Bo Ziffers of the world, it seems, are always getting hit by buses full of nuns, and the Ben Wafflehowsers of the world, it seems, don't get hit by shit? Hell, some Ben Wafflehowsers not only make it across the street with out a scratch, but find a 20 dollar bill on the sidewalk that some Bo Ziffer has lost, all the while cars and dump trucks and buses full of nuns crash and collide all around him. I, on the other hand, am one of those guys that gets hit by the bus full of nuns while I'm standing there oblivious, pushin' that button that is suppose to change the traffic light (but never does) 100 times like a machine gun. Push-push-push-push-push (Come onnnn) push-push-push (For the love of God, please) push-push (Somebody yells "Look out for that bus full of nuns. It's out-a-control!") Push-push-push- (I yell back "It doesn't seem to be workin', I'll push it some more!") push-push ('What was he say'un?', I think to myself) push-push-push-pu-CRASH! BOOM!! (MY SPLINE!!) BANG!!! SMASH!!!! Silence, except for the sound of one lone hub cap spinnin' on the pavement. The carnage is horrific. I lay there maimed and broken, in the midst of the twisted steel and leaking gasoline, mumbling the Gettysburg Address and holding my busted right arm out, my bloody hand in a fist with my snapped in two places index finger crookedly extended, moving it back and forth like I was pushin' that damn button. It's a pathetic sight friends, pathetic. The point I'm tryin' to make is...is...hum...well, let's see...the point is...ahh...Hell, I forgot the stupid point I was tryin' to make, damn it. I hate it when I do that, sorry....Hold on, I remember, the point I was makin' is take the bus. Yeah, it saves the ozone, helps not pollute the air, saves precious fuel, you can meet nice people, and will mean less traffic on the streets, that way I can zip around town freely in my car and won't have to worry about traffic jams or lines at the gas station. That's my point......i think.

Here's one you haven't heard. This guy was standin' in the street darin' the buss full of nuns to run over him...and they did too...twice. He was a drug addict, an alcoholic, and known to commit acts of violence (Mainly with a baseball bat) and those are the kind of traits I like in my rock stars. This song was released in 1958. It's Ronnie Self screamin' Bop-A-Lena.



Adios,
~e~

I Am The Greatest Of All Time!

Hello friends,

I am hands down, the best, most stupendous, worlds greatest, pussy cat wrangler in the country. Maybe the world. Like my mama says "It ain't braggin' if it's true". And believe you me, it's the Gods honest truth. I bagged and tag a little tiny redheaded baby night before last. It took me all of 30 minutes to nab the little critter. Tracy has already found a home from him. You know what I'm hopin' for? I'm hopin' that someday I will be fortunate enough to catch one of those inbred f**kers tossin' a baby pussycat in the dumpster. What a glorious day that would be. First, I would thank God for delivering this sacrifice unto me. Second, I would shove my thumb in his eye socket until I hit gray matter (if any) then twist it back and forth real fast. Third, I would stomp on his nuts with my Chuck Taylor's until his tiny balls look like little Belgian waffles. And lastly, while he's laying there on the pavement wondering what went wrong with his 'throw away the pussycat' plan, I would relieve myself, I'm sorry friends, but I will piss all over his head. Then everyone will call him names like 'One Eyed Waffle Nuts' or 'Yella Headed Stinky Noodle' or 'Popeye the Cyclopsed Urine Boy' or somtnin' like that. That's what I'm hopin' for.

The coolest cat of all.

My Converse 'Chuck Taylors' or 'Waffel Makers'

Adios,
~e~

The Death-Ray

Hello friends,

The History~
A couple of years ago I had a little bout with the pleurisy. That's where the tissue between the ribs and lungs become inflamed. Great mother of God, I thought I was gonna die it hurt so bad. Any normal man would have lost his mind or committed suicide. Lucky for me I'm as tough as a herd of duck billed platypuses's. Anyway, the doctor told me the problem was my stomach was pushin' my lungs in to my heart or my lungs were pullin' on my pancreas or somethin' along those line. I'm not sure, cause I really wasn't paying attention. But in a nut shell, if I didn't lose my gut, well, basically I was gonna expire. So, two years go by and I haven't changed a thing. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. It didn't. Some day that will work but as of yet I'm 0 for 2674 (my pop says it won't ever work, but I'm gonna show him someday) I thought about working out but that takes to much effort. Diet crossed my mind...for about 3 seconds. I can't go for walks cause it kills me not to run (that's how I got the pleurisy to begin with...runnin') And I've toyed with the idea about getting a bike, but Schwinn doesn't make Sting-Ray's for adults. Looks like I'm doomed and headed for the ol' marble orchard.

The Now~
Tracy wanted a bike for her birthday...I'm sorry, we don't celebrate her birthday anymore. Let me start over.

The Now~
Tracy wanted a bike for the Tracgiving day 'giving of the gifts' ritual. Tracgiving day is a day set aside to celebrate the knowing of Tracy. I got her this pearlescent pink beach cruiser. I got her the perfect bike...cause she picked it out. It's got a bell, a basket, a book rack, a light, a drink holder, a gadget that tells how fast your going, how far you've gone, average speed, top speed, how many calories burned, the time in Pango Pango, if your about to come in to money, and the color of your underwear. It's topped off with a pink flower on the handle bars. It's very glamorous.

Now, this all boils down to I'm gonna have to get a bicycle. I went to a fancy bike shop and looked at some fancy bikes. My shopping experience lasted a bit longer (but not much) than my thoughts about starting a diet. It's not that I couldn't afford one, it's that I just don't have that kind of money. So, I went to Target and bought about the first bike I came across. A blue Schwinn Legacy. It's frame was shaped kinda like the bright red Sting-Ray I had as a kid (the greatest bike in the world) so I bought it. I have modified it a bit. Not much, just a couple of tweaks to make my bike riding experience a little more enjoyable.

Here is what it looked like when I bought it~

Here it is today~
I named her Death-Ray cause what use to be an easy bike to ride has turned into a flat black death machine that's gonna pump my ass strait to the coroner if I don't pay attention and the Schwinn Sting-Ray which was the greatest bicycle ever built. I just mashed'um together and that's what I got, Death-Ray. Get it? Very clever I am at times. Don't she look great tho? I love her big, fat Kenda Flame rear tire with a red Nirve rear wheel, 19' ape hangers that I have wrapped with friction tape, a water proof banana seat, a raked springer front end, a Bonneville Salt Flats #13 race plate, black flame grips, 8 ball valve caps, dice rear axle nuts, a baby skeleton squeak-squeak horn, and a chrome skull hood ornament. I love my bike. I love, love, loooooove it. I'm not done with it either. I have a pair of 4" iron cross front axle spinners ordered and I'm gonna get some MP3 speakers that hook to the goose neck so I can blast Motorhead or the Ramones as I fly down the river parks.

The future~
So if your driving down Riverside Drive, there is no need to look for me, cause brother you couldn't miss me if you tried. Oh yeah, with all the time and money I've spent on the Death-Ray, it guess I could have bought one of those fancy bikes at the fancy bike store after all....but, I'm not that fancy and then I wouldn't have the most coolest bike on the planet, would I?

Motorhead playing their tribute to the Ramones ~ R.A.M.O.N.E.S

Adios,
~e~

Jim Blue's Barber Shop ~ A Tulsa Landmark

Hello friends,

I'm gonna ask for a bit of help from ya'll. It's not anything for me. What could I possibly need? I'm smrt as a whippet and as pretty as any man could ever wish to be. No, this is to help my barber, my friend, and help preserve a bit of Tulsa history. You like history, don'cha? So here is my pitch.

Jim Blue is the owner, barber, accountant, and floor sweeper of one of the, if not the only, last of the true barber shops around. He has been cuttin' cats hair there since 1959. He usta cut Charlie Daniels pompadour when he played with the Jaguars and lived in Tulsa. There are two barber chairs that Tulsans have planted there butts in for 51 years. There is a long wood bench where all the fellas set while their waitin' to get there hair cut. I wish I had a dime for every lie that has been swapped on that big hunk of wood. The original Coke machine is so old you have to put a dime in the slot and 65 cents in the little Dixie cup that sits on top, then pull a glass 8oz bottle out of this hole that's the size of a baseball in the lid. I wish I had a dime for every dime that's been poked in that machine. The joint is also air conditioned! I wouldn't lie to you. It says it right in the big front window, with letters that have snow on'um. And here is the kicker, 10 bucks for a hair cut. 10 measly smackers. Hell, Stupid Cuts charges more than that and they suck. Tracy said that I like to go there because it's like Mayberry, and mayberry she's right.

But friends, times are tough for us all right now, and Mr. Blue is know exception. Some jackasses stole his 7ft barber pole and not everybody put 65 cents in the cup. Most men now-a-days get there hair cut in a salon by a fat chick with black lip stick, bright pink hair, and a bad attitude or some dude with a lisp name Sweet Peeair and a bad attitude. Think about it, do real men go to a salon? Maybe real men in France, la-te-da. But not me brother, I got to a barber shop, just like my dad.

Trust me here friends, I promise you that Jim Blue will give you the best hair cut you have ever had (and at the best price) If you don't agree, I will pay for your hair cut myself. So, step back to a simpler time, drink you a Coke (put 65 cents in the cup, please), swap lies with the fellas, and help preserve a bit of history here in Tulsa. Let Jim Blue cut your hair, you'll be glad you did.

Jim Blues Barber Shop is at 943 S. Pittsburgh. That is half way between Harvard and Yale on 11th St, right behind the sewing machine repair shop. That's on the corner of 11th and Pittsburgh, across the street from the Big Time Pawn Shop. Turn north at the stop light on Pittsburgh. Here is a map to the joint that I personally downloaded on the back of my cut-off notice from the electric company. So don't tell me you couldn't find it. And don't forget to tip, you cheep bastards.
This ain't no Geico comercial.


Adios,

~e~

Letter #3

Hello friends,

Well, here is letter #3 to Youtube. Dig this.

Dear Youtube,

--I'm back for the third time to inform you that my 'Bangkok' video has not been put back. I have received no word from you about when it will be in operating condition again or what was wrong with the video in the first place. I believe I have been very patient concerning this matter, but you f**kers are starting to piss me off. So, put my g*d d**ned video back, you sons a b**thes, put it back! Pretty please with sugar on top, you scum sucking, piss drinking, dog f**king, short d**ked, s**t eating, buckets of monkey c*m, put it back!! I am about through being polite for f**ks sake. Christ almighty, just do what the hell I tell you to do. PUT IT BACK!!!

Sincerely,
ep13

Except I didn't have any stars on the e-mail I sent. Those jackasses are gettin' on my last nerve.

Watch this.




Adios,
~e~