Day 17…skies decribed as perfectly blue by my predecessors now permanently tinged with shit stains of smog, and coal and mom’s hairsrpay and whatever fumes are given off in the making of those little spongebread cakes with creme filling them.. Train tracks of smoke cross each other across the sky. North to south appears to run head into an east west track and I silently bet that if the two planes actually did collide it would be prettier than the fireworks show my parents never took me to see at the Orlando orgy park. When you’re guide has a lisp, you really do hear “It’s the sappiest place on earth.” Most of those people who will almost invariably arrive at their destination more pissed off than before they left, those aren’t the ones that count. The monsters in the back of the plane are just splitting the cab fare with the people in the front. The important people, the beautiful people, the only ones with any rational fucking purpose on that plane. They have people to see, or care enough about where their going to not cram themselves into the back of a greyhound…..
when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
Strange times. Strange times indeed. What does on say about such an unusually long hiatus? Nothing. Keep plugging and let the world figure out how much trouble they’re in. Drug free now, and the only problem resulting from that is that a good many people will quickly come to realize I’m much more dangerous when sharp minded and clear than i ever was smoking. A 9 day detox plan via a trip to the Dominican republic proved that a bit of imagination and feigned ignorance upgrades you form a shitty hotel room on the rape side of the resort to a presidential suite with a balcony overlooking the beach.
Now we’re nearing the end of that detox, the brains nerves are reconnecting in ways that have lain dormant for far too long. And I feel the loathing. For a decade now i’ve bitched and grumbled meanwhile keeping a self-inserted bit in my mouth. Frankly, the taste of the metal has brought on an incurable bout of teeth gnashing and foaming around the lower lips in a constant effort to throw that ruthless fucker with the whip off my back.
Good luck and god speed to you worthless Buchananite fucks. Your day is done, and i think we can all agree the sun shone on their faces much longer than it should have. While we’re here, fuck the new disorganized left as well. Hippies gave birth to yuppies and yuppies gave birth to some new sort of deformed freak, to weak to survive on its own, all the while believing our ancestors to be some stupid ignorant race of degenerate alcoholics and gamblers. Now nameless, powerless, and most certainly voiceless they stand unready and overwhelmingly unwilling to inherit the very real, very ugly future looking straight down the double barrel of a 12 guage, and all the while they’ll be praying for atreyu to come and save the day from the almost certain inevitable victory of the nothing over the human soul.
These are the Sippies, the grandchildren of Leary’s miserable dropout generation. We are the bottomed out generation. No time for niceties, no time for doing things the hard way, or patience when whatever it was that required patience can be bought of with a five spot to the doorman or in the case of our females a quick flash of the tits to not wait in line. This campaign for our hearts and minds, has become the campiagn for our cash and credit. Why not? If you can’t beat them you might as well make a hell of a lot of money laying on your back and getting fucked right?
This is ok, of course, until the day the giggling stops, the sex is no longer fun and getting fucked on a daily basis from any angle in any orifice becomes the exact same as dragging your ass out of bed to go punch a clock at the factory.
There is no room for old whores at the bunny ranch.
It seems appropriate then, that this country of vagina monologues, thrice xeroxed used car politicians, reality show hustlers and the real housewives that love them, should suffer from a sudden and very abrupt wakeup call. Eat the women and children first, rape the men. Who cares? They’re all wearing girls jeans around their asses anyways.
The pikes are coming, and we’re I you…..I’d protect my fucking neck.
The Associated Freak Press
This is an actual photo of the work going on an older neighborhood near my home. Apparently every three years they get pissed about the cobblestone they used to have on the ground, or grandpa’s fantastic dumps clog up all the sewage pipes and it has to be totally redug and fit with new piping. As I stood watching my friend’s things waiting to be moved down the 200 meter alley to be put in the moving truck and drug across town, I wondered what amount of money would make it worthwhile for me to dig around in shitty smelling mud in cold as hell weather. I still have no answer.
Dear IKEA,
I was somewhat disturbed when i first entered your main store in shanghai on a saturday afternoon to find that I was herded along with 700,000 chinese people through every possible area of your store before being able to leave.
I, at first, imagined I worked for your store engineering department, and had been the genius that decided to force everyone to talk through every conceivable department to see your cheap crap that in most real countries is only acceptable for dorm rooms. In this fantasy I later imagined I visited the actual site here in china myself and then committed suicide by jumping on to one of your particle board tables and then choked down all the pieces shredding my throat and choking to death on the blood and splinters.
Then i saw your VAG blanket, and imagined i was part of the marketing team that named this. Among all the stupid europeans, I was the only one who got this joke. The world was good again. Still, i hope that location burns down, or at the very least you replace the shitty plush toys at the entrance with antiseptic masks and Purell.
Go fuck yourself & hugs and kisses,
R
Niko was supposed to move this weekend. Unfortunately the chinese gov’t had other plans like ripping up his entire complex to give it an extreme makeover for the coming expo. Today, they’re working on the sewer lines. So, not only does he not get to move his stuff out of the cold dark apartment with mice scurrying everywhere (i’m pretty sure they’re rats, he calls them mice though,) but he also gets to smell poo all weekend. Although it may be better than dragon fruit or stinky tofu.
Niko has talked me into doing a wordpress blog where we tear down shitty websites of otherwise great products. Would a collaboration with Niko be a Nikollaboration? Yes I’m sure someone has done this before, so keep your snide “Simpsons did it” comments to yourself, asshole. By done it before I don’t mean a Nikollaboration, but ripping apart websites. And if you got that part before i told it to you, pat yourself on the back right now. You’re not so fucking dumb after all.
This is Shanghai’s premier underground rock bar. We saw these guys tonight, and if you’re wondering. Yes the lead guitarist does indeed look like a pirate wearing a leather vest. Overall they were really good. This was their first show and the reaction from most of the crowd was “has potential.” I particularly liked their song “The arouser,” which the pirate guy said may leave you flacid. It had very cool elements of punk, distinct sound at parts of tool influence, and the chorus went as follows.
to a 6 count:
We live in fucked up places
We live in fucked up times
I couldnt understand the next part so i improvised
Little girls i’ll fuck your faces
Little girls i’ll blow your minds.
all in all, Good times, plus they had Chimay red label for 40rmb, which if you live in shanghai is a fucking steal not to be passed up.
THAT PERSON THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT IS ME.
THE GUY WHO IS GOING TO ASK ME OUT TOMORROW CAN’T EVEN SPELL ‘KNOW’ RIGHT.
FUCK. MY. FUCKING. LIFE.
No he can. “If you don’t __know__ by now, ull find out soon, and chloe, shut up, I like her and shes nice”
I don’t know you at all, but i’d say pass, that dude is obviously on litium or heroine or something in that picture, furthermore, if you thought he was gay and now he’s interested in you, you’re still going to have big problems when you find out he’s a catcher, and you lack the proper equipment. And by equipment, i mean penis.
Looking for someone to teach me markdown, I can trade
-A bag of chicken feet
-An autographed picture of me
-A complete walkthrough for oregon trail
-Bits of assorted lint, from my washer or belly button
-A phone call where i come out to your parents for you
-Pictures of me playing mass effect 2 days before release
-One free ride on the shanghai subway during rush hour
-Five ancient chinese secrets I know lots
-Dinner for two at Shanghai’s best dog soup restaurant
-Dancing in the park at sundown its really just tai-chi
-My Superbowl predictions
Any takers?
The utter uselessness of Facebook
I have protested for years that Facebook is utterly useless. However, i keep my account open because i may one day want to reconnect with people who i probably never shared common traits with, and didn’t bother saying their phone number or adding them to one of my chat programs. The post below only reinforces my point
