Tuesday, October 28, 2008


I was raised in the church.

It is hard in this day of age to separate your relationship with your higher power from the Christian right. That is the way that the system is laid out. Sure, you can throw down with the Catholics or the Greek Orthodox types, but I mean really. I tried the Episcopalians for awhile but they taxed me in different ways. So if a person has a little bit of faith, what are they supposed to do? I honestly have no idea, the church makes me want to vomit.

Just to admit that I have a faith in something bigger than mankind sets me up for all sorts of slander. So I don't talk about it.

Here is the truest thing I heard in all of my time spent in churches. It was by a leader who later got run out by the villagers for some reason or another (as churches are wont to do). He basically said that we shouldn't run around saying "Goddamn" all the time, because what about the time when you really need to say it? There must be a use for calling such a holy curse down, and save it for that moment.

Well, I must admit that I have not kept that term in such a sacred space in my life. I started tinkering with it when I was a kid reading CATCHER IN THE RYE. I have dodged it and ducked it, but lately, it seems to be more and more useful.

But now, if there ever was a time to use it, to call it down and to blister something with it, I would point it at FOCUS ON THE FAMILY.

I have always dodged this one too. They have some good insight into raising kids. But you have to barrel-roll out of some hairy religious talk when dealing with these people. I take them with a grain of salt. Actually, I haven't taken them in years...I just don't fit in with them. I suppose that this blog is about the fact that i don't fit in with any organized religion at this point. But part of my not fitting in has been to not cast judgement.

"Hey, if the Methodists want to trip out on that stuff, fine. They are trying to do the right thing."

"Hey, the Baptists are on that? Well, they mean well."

And so on. I have tried to give the religious their space. They are on a spiritual trip, and who am I to knock it? Their trip just doesn't work for me, so I sleep in on Sundays thankyouverymuch.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, GODDAMN.

FOCUS ON THE FAMILY has published a 12,000 foot view letter from the future warning us what will happen if Obama becomes president. It makes my stomach turn and really pisses me off. Initially when I first heard of this, I didn't pay it too much mind. But as I stew on it, I get more and more angry with these people.

The precursor to their letter from 2012 starts with a few things that almost hint at comedy.

An analysis by Focus on the Family Action shows it would not be a pretty picture:
Far-left liberals could hold a 6-3 majority on the U.S. Supreme Court.
The nation's highest court could rule same-sex "marriage" is a constitutional right — in all 50 states.
Preaching from the Bible could be banned from radio and television.
States may not be able to restrict abortion, and taxpayers could be forced to fund abortions.
In several states, it could be illegal to own a gun.
Think it can't happen?

Then comes the link for the letter from the future. This letter warns us to vote for McCain with this: The letter starts off by saying, “Many Christians voted for Obama – Younger evangelicals actually provided him with the needed margin to defeat John McCain – but they didn’t think he would really follow through on the far-Left policies that had marked his career. They were wrong.”

It is in PDF form and it is currently making my laptop stink to high heaven of hellfire.
Here is the link:

Based on the letter, FOCUS ON THE FAMILY figures the following will happen in the future:

- The Supreme court leans liberal, 6 to 3.
- Terrorist attacks have occurred in 4 US cities.
- Christian doctors, nurses, counselors, and teachers have either been fired or quit.
- Iran perpetrated a nuclear attack on Israel, drastically reducing the size of its borders.- Pornography is freely displayed.
- Inner city violent crime has dramatically increased due to gun control.
- Russia has occupied 4 additional countries.
- Gas tops $7 a gallon.- Euthanasia becomes commonplace.
- Blackouts occur throughout the country.
- Homosexual marriage becomes law in all 50 states.
- Campus ministries, Christian adoption agencies and Christian schools nearly cease to exist.
- Home school families emigrate to Australia and New Zealand by the thousands.
- Bush officials are jailed and bankrupt.
- Taliban-like oppression overtakes Iraq and death of American sympathizers reaches millions.
- Homosexuals are given a bonus to enlist in the military.

I like the idea of Bush and all of his homeboys going bankrupt.
Maybe it isn't time to use the old GODDAMN. But I think that I am going to have to meditate for a little bit and figure out what kind of verbal assault FOCUS ON THE FAMILY needs.

To believe in Christ means to be a Christian. To be a Christian in this nation means to be associated with bigots like FOCUS ON THE FAMILY. I have some faith, but I can't afford to put it down like that. I can't risk throwing my lot in with these people. The second I admit to anyone that I am a "Christian" I get lumped in with a bunch of serious assholes.

Am I denying Christ before my fellow man? No, I am just in a real paradox.

And I don't see myself waking up to go to church on Sunday morning anytime soon.

Monday, July 21, 2008




Andrew and I have had a conversation.
I think it is valuable enough to be put here. I need to put it here, I don't want it getting suppressed in the back of my email box. It is spoileriffic. DOn't go into it if you haven't seen the movie. As a matter of fact, I am not asking you to read it. I just have to get it out of my currently compacted email box.

Now that I've seen it again, I know the climax was magnificent.Dent is an embodiment of Gotham city, and through him the Joker predicts what will happen. Joker's speech leading into Dent's final scene is truly frightening. Dent is us, and the Joker is "uncontrollable forces" driving us over the edge, while Batman is like our Conscience keeping us from going over the edge, have to find that balance between control and chaos. And now can our conscience keep us from falling over the edge.

Also I can only compare this movie to something like it, on it's intellectual level. Perhaps Godfather, Heat(when I re-watch it), M, Departed, Bladerunner(what rules are ok to break), other crime movies, Law and Order, Psycho.Forget Spiderman or the old Batmans, they aren't on the same level, but you'll just have to take my word for it until you see it again.

BATMAN, TDK is one of the bleakest films I have seen in my adult life.The climax just about made me break down and cry. It is too intense and too chock full of truth. The fact that Batman willingly takes the sins of Harvey Dent in order to reward Gotham was almost more than I could handle. Batman becomes the Christ/sacrificial lamb. In his innocence (of those crimes) he delivers all of Gotham into a realm of religious faith and hope (that is much less than accurate).

"Sometimes faith needs to be rewarded."

Batman is willing to become an outlaw so that Gotham might be able to rebuild itself in its inner-consciousness. My issue is this: Gotham has no hope. If Harvey Dent was the best that morality had to offer and he failed in a hubristic mental trap set by the Joker, then all is just about lost. The morals of the people were tested with the bombs on the opposing ferries, but that doesn't show that there is leadership capable of morally guiding such a corrupt city.
"Can I trust him?"

In Gotham, no one is trustworthy. No one is above suspicion. Lies and deceit pave the way up to the DAs office. Gordon faking his death and putting his wife and kids through that show that everything is on its ear and deception is the only way to get a hell-bound city into a livable condition.

"I'm playing this one close to the chest."

In Gotham, you have to keep all of your (assumed) goodness and altruism deep inside of you and cannot reveal it to anyone else. If you do reveal it, it will be exploited and used against you. What kind of world is that? A very bleak world at best.People will say, "Batman is capable of guiding the city." I contest with the fact that Batman was willing to make his Patriot Act cellphone tap and give all of the power to one man to run it. This was the most hubristic act in the entire film. It is obvious that it is complete hubris because it is based on our current political climate here in America. That was no mistake that it was written in that way. Sure, Morgan Freeman didn't go out like Cesar did (as was referenced earlier in the film) but that doesn't mean that he wouldn't have later if more power were bestowed upon him. Power corrupts. Too much power brings too much corruption. Morgan Freeman was put in a position of too much power. Fortunately for Gotham, Bruce understood what Freeman was about...wheras he had no idea what The Joker was about (and neither did anyone else) but it did make a butt-load of sense.

My point is that I have no point. Mankind is corrupt. Hope is in place only when the powers that be will it to be in place is the message that I got out of TDK. This is a horrible place to be in if what was posited was even remotely close to the truth.

Man oh man, I had to really think this reply through before I could even start to write it.

This movie is about survival of the population of Gotham, and might as well be 'people' in 'civilization'. Will civilization stand or will all out survival kick in? Putting it into a Nash equilibrium style game, what is the best beneficially mutual choice? Obviously according to the rules, the best choice for one person at a time is to choose survival, even if it means killing other people. However, people need to see beyond their limits and try to trust that there are decent people. Played thousands of times in Gotham, sometimes between two people, sometimes with hundreds of people, sometimes with an entire city against itself, what choices will these people make? Will they see the there is another way to survive? Will they believe in each other and cling to hope from Batman in a hopeless situation?

Those people on the boat resigned themselves to death, but it can be argued this is not the right choice, as they heard the Joker assure with absolute truth he will kill everyone if both are still around. Within the rules, the Nash equilibrium breaks down into one answer, one boat must live, one boat must die, however if they don't let the joker place his rules on them, if they don't let themselves become corrupted, perhaps there is another answer, a hope for survival despite having given into death. A very Buddhist idea.And cutting in for a moment, the role play actors really did a wonderful job for every part, no matter how minor. The attention to detail is incredible, credit to the Nolans and their staff.

Love is harmony in discord. When love is removed, chaos is all that is left. But if there is other love, then perhaps healing can occur. What happens when trust is placed in love despite the incredibly horrible world around it and then suddenly love is removed. Does it only leave the dark world, a reflection of everything in their heart? Should a man even believe in the healing power of laughter anymore? Or should he mock laughter and twist himself until his grin is so terrifying he can remove hope just with a glance?

They continue right off the first movie, 'you find yourself wishing you'd never known this person, so you'd be spared your pain.' Harvey certainly is a new spin on this incredible idea of the horrific nature of humans, with batman stimulating him to be good, and the joker forcing him to be evil.I'll stop there for now, this is hard stuff to mull over. It may be, as you say, the bleakest reflection of our species in a movie so far.

Indeed, Gotham is a metaphor for greater humanity. And the ferryboat sequence is truly an intricate puzzle. The people had to put their faith in all sorts of directions at once and make sure that they adhered to it. The prisoners had to hope that the common man wouldn't blow them away as the common man had to hope that the prisoners still had a shred of conscience. Underlying all of this had to be the faith that the powers that be that watch over them would stop the joker from pushing his button. This whole paradigm is what makes TDK entertainment because it is impossible. This is not the result that would have been achieved in a true social setting. Of course, it is subjective, but it is what I think. I also think that the Nolans realized how dark they were being with this script and had to throw the audience a bone. And then they had to sort of pull it back by doing the whole "sometimes faith must be rewarded" move.

In essence I am echoing what you have said. The people, it can be argued, did not make the right choice.You say a possible other hope which is the hope for survival after having given into death. This is interesting, because it teeters upon the very brink of sanity that the Joker himself has fallen over.

You said:What happens when trust is placed in love despite the incredibly horrible world around it and then suddenly love is removed. Does it only leave the dark world, a reflection of everything in their heart? Should a man even believe in the healing power of laughter anymore?

My response to this: If one has loved in this life, then one knows that it is all about trust in a horrible place. One also knows that as they get closer and closer to the core of the one that they love, the more horrible the world will seem if it is to be taken away or betrayed in some way. And yes, a world without love is dark and a reflection of a blackened heart. Furthermore, the blackening is solidified because to achieve such a trust and love again will take that much more work.

The underlying truth here is a Christian one. It is that God is love, and without God, it is complete chaos. I believe that the Nolans were aware of this factor (how could they not) and that was why the Christ allusion to Batman is placed over him with such incredible precision.The story of Batman is not original, it is the same passion play we have heard our entire lives. The beauty of it is that they were able to take a creature completely corrupt (Bruce Wayne) and assign Christ-like responsibilities to him while allowing him to maintain his corruption. Batman is a psychopath. He beats people within an inch of their lives for the greater good. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one Italian mobster dropped from the second story. Batman is aware of this. In essence, Batman is a compromised God. A bad-God concept. He metes out old-school/Testament justice and makes arbitrary decisions for all of mankind...out of what? Some money based decisions, it seems. He has the cash to do it. Yes, he has a love for Gotham, but he is driven by forces that I personally believe aren't entirely altruistic. The entire movie is a forcing of his hand. He doesn't want to go down this road, but he is pried out of his place by protecting the one(s) he thinks he loves.

I suppose that what the Nolans have brought us is an acceptable fairy tale where we can look at one who is completely corrupt and find a shred of decency in that person. The only way we can accept that decency is to see him give of himself. Hence, Bruce Wayne/Batman taking on Harvey's sins of murder. But yes, this is a bleak view of humanity. It is bleak and hopeless, because we as a society aren't embracing any Christ figure. There is none. We need a sacrificial lamb yesterday. We need someone to blame. I have more, but I have to get back to work.

ps I lol at people on imdb or RT who are all fanboy on this movie.'Omg 9.7/10 higher than godfather'If you look Wall-E is still higher than Doctor Strangelove and 2001. How's that for a reality check on short term ratings?Just give it a year, Dark Knight will drop off sooner or later, although I do honestly hope it stays on their top 100 list or however long it is.

It is a good film. There is no denying it. It is just that we as a culture are so conditioned to mediocrity. We are so used to swallowing shit and trying to find out what was good about it, that when we are presented with a superhero movie that isn't the Fantastic Four, we gush uncontrollably. It will fall off, as Batman Begins did.

Oh here's a quick one,Dent dies at the end. That means Batman killed him. Hmmm. As dent watches his coin flip up into the air, carrying the judgement of whether Gordon's son lives or dies, Batman jumps him and they all fall over the edge. Batman hangs on to the son, Dent falls to his death, and batman just falls

Hmmm.Batman has his "indifferent kills" Like in the first one, where he doesn't save Qui-Gon. So long as he isn't there squeezing the life out of the victim; I guess in his psychopathic head, he catches a pass.

He had to let Qui-Gon die so he could join the force.And that's the moral boundary that batman has crossed. His solution is to let people die 'because of their own fault', if he's not good enough to capture them.I mean in real time you just want to save your own skin and the lives of innocent people. But what if he's your friend, someone you trust, such as Harvey Dent or Ra-zzzz, doesn't he feel bad? They haven't covered this at all.And if he doesn't really feel bad, holy shit he's crossed outside of the displayed sanity of the people of Gotham. He could share a cell with the joker :0.

I'm not giving up on the Riddler just yet."That makes him the ultimate narcissist. His brain doesn't comprehend the fact that he could be caught, because everyone else is an worthless insect. Take the indignant and prideful version of The Riddler and give him a dark and violent treatment and you could make some scary ass shit."I got an idea from this.The Riddler really believes he can control anyone. Make him out to be a Cult leader. 'Converting' people by warping their minds. He could even convert someone who knows the true identity of Batman, such as Wayne's big shot accountant joker targets in the dark knight. Maybe even Lucius or Alfred.This would play into his favor. Since Batman is now a believed murderer, he can toy with Gotham by offering it the true identity of Batman as bait.All the while the Gordon isn't buying into it. Trying to find out where are the Riddler's cult member's 'disappearing' to. Why are there so many suicides suddenly? Why are known normal functional members of society suddenly becomes criminals, murderers? Why is the Riddler's new 'church' so popular?The whole religious fanaticism can play well into our modern society. A lot of people really are scared of 'radical Islamics', when in fact it's just a small fraction of the Islamic population, and many Islams believe these radicals' methods are wrong.

Andrew finished off by putting this on my Facebook wall. He obviously had the upper hand in this conversation:

"Try to think of how often Batman and Joker mirrored the same actions, particularly in their pursuit of Harvey Dent. So far I caught:At the fundraiser party Bruce asks where Harvey Dent is, he spills champagne out of his glass. At the fundraiser party Joker asks where Harvey Dent is, he spills champagne out of his glass. Batman visits the hospital, hands Dent his coin. Joker visits the hospital, hands Dent a gun. It's a nice touch that in their pursuit of exploiting Dent for their personal interests, Dent ended up looking like what Batman and Joker wanted out of him (a lawful replacement for Batman/the incorruptible pushed to corruption), except split right down the middle. It's like two jealous girls tugging at some guy's arms."

Wow. If a movie came out every summer that moved me like TDK did, I think that the world would be a better place.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


You know, I started writing this blog on Notepad. I stepped away from the computer to make a phonecall. When I came back, the computer had restarted and lost all of that which I had written. So this is the second draft. It was already an angry post, and now it is going to be angrier.

I need to start this off by explaining to you that the other day, we had to go out and get a part of a lamp that had shattered during a tumble. As I realized that the place that we had to go to was called RIVERSIDE LIGHTING, the blood began to shoot through some well lubricated synapse trails in my head. In order for you to understand, gentle reader, how I flew off the handle, I have to backtrack ever so slightly.

When I drive or bike around this town, I am constantly watching the cars. Sometimes in order to preserve my life, and other times simply because I like them. However, there is something seriously wrong on the road that I have noticed for years. What I have noticed is that there are high ranking zombie executives at all major auto corporations. This is a crisis and it needs to be stopped. Zombies, you say? How can it be? Please tell me more. Well here is my evidence in no particular order: Suburban, Avalanche, Safari, Dakota, Aerostar, Yukon, Matrix, Navigator, Solstice, Vibe, Equinox, Matrix, Achieva, Highlander and more. My conclusion is that only a zombie is a suit would let any of these mediocre names catch a sign-off. The are cars for God's sake. They represent something! They are the second most important purchases people make. Their first is their house. If I was in the market, it would be the first most important purchase, because I can't afford a house. You know what? It is great that they don't name houses. Read on. Sometimes I am at a
light behind a vehicle with the blandest most milquetoast name on it and it is all
I can do from unstrapping my seatbelt and walking up to the consumer's window and asking them if they know their vehicle sucks up the styles and coloring of other vehicles like so much automotive tofu. But hey, we need our cars, and we are willing to compromise with the names of our vehicles to get what we need.

Still, when talking about the Neon, the chairman of Chrysler Corporation Robert Lutz said, "There's an old saying in Detroit: 'Good, fast, or cheap. Pick any two.' We refuse to accept that." He had embedded in that statement a double buckshot load of mediocrity. The Neon sold millions and was discoed after about 10 years and its replacement was the Caliber. I am convinced that Robert Lutz who is now at GM, is eating the brains of the dead as he now takes credit for such cars as the Sky and the Solstice.

I think about the Whirlpool dishwasher in my kitchen. Why Whirlpool? That is bland-o. Why not FILTH VORTEX? Well I'll tell you why. These zombie suits have figured in their decomposing minds that they should name things that we need with the blandest of names so that we don't get scared. In some board meeting, they decided to call the Whirlpool just that because they didn't want to frighten or disturb a suburban housewife with a name with teeth. A name like FILTH VORTEX that basically states to put your dishes in and pray that they don't get sucked down the same hole that the grease and funk from the previous meal is going.

Let me also interject here that I took a call last week for some new auto insurance. 5-0 clocked me snapping the sound barrier last year and I'll be damned if I am taking their little "back to drivers ed" test for a better rate, so my rates are going up. I am in the market for some new insurance. I took a call from an agent who talked a pretty good deal. She is going to save me all sorts of cash it sounds like. I hung up the horn ready to seal the deal. But in retrospect, I have reservations. What the hell is a STATE FARM? It sounds like some sort of institution for people with Olympic levels of insanity. It sounds like a place where you wear a straight-jacket. If you can't wrap your brain around my insanity plea, wrap it around a lot of chickens. Wrap it around feathers in the air and a lot of clucking, because that is the default definition. Whatever the case is, it isn't half as interesting sounding as AAA. I have no idea what AAA is an acronym for. I do know that they do everything that the State Mental Farm does for a little bit more, but their name at least has teeth. AAA can be said A-A-A. It can also be said as, "triple A." And of course, when they raise your insurance rates on you for putting the wind gods in check, you can call them ass, ass, ass. Whatever the case is, State Farm lost on name alone.

Call me a fuddy-duddy, but I am not buying into this mediocrity. I have lived enough of it.

And so I was losing it. I was sitting there, having the hot blood of rage blast through these well lubricated channels in my brain as I processed RIVERSIDE LIGHTING. As I pulled it together, the logic was presented to me that RIVERSIDE LIGHTING made a lot of sense. It was on the side of the river, and these people peddle lighting. But in my mind (and apparently rather loudly out my mouth) I made it clear that there was no heart in a name like RIVERSIDE LIGHTING. I suggested HELIOS' BASTARD CHILDREN. Now that is the name of a store. If all of the lightbulbs in my house were fresh and I had no reason whatsoever to think of anything Edisonian, I would still make a beeline to HELIOS' BASTARD CHILDREN just to see what was going on. And I would probably buy something there, just to have a receipt that said HELIOS' BASTARD CHILDREN on it.

The long and short of it is that RIVERSIDE LIGHTING didn't have the part needed for the aforementioned lamp. Furthermore, if the place had been called HELIOS' BASTARD CHILDREN I'd bet the sleepy kid who helped us would have tried something, anything to make it work.

Sometime the notion that I am positing right now doesn't apply. In downtown Santa Cruz there is a little coffee shop called BADASS COFFEE. Well, I think that is a creative name. I throw the word "badass" around all the time. But unfortunately, their coffee sucks. It tastes like ass if you must know the truth. Hey...waitasec.

And so I have been considering all of this. It seems to me that if it is a product that we as Americans need, it is going to have a boring name. But if it happens to be something we don't need? Then the creativity kicks in. Energy drinks, movie titles, fast food, certain types of clothing and more, they all get the fun treatment. Until it is in a complacent position and it is going to get purchased anyway. An example of this head-bowing and being be-knighted with the mediocrity wand is Starbucks. Now they have Pike's Place served all day from all locations. What happened to the other flavors? In order to keep the masses from totally rioting as a result of this downshift, they still brew their more creatively titled coffees first thing in the AM. Whatever, I am done with
Starbucks. I go to Peets now or I brew my own. Peets still mixes it up and when I am at home, I can call the coffee I brew whatever I want to.

As I have been thinking this through, I have come to my conclusion that seals the deal. I took a walk and didn't speak to a soul for hours as I pondered what the most useless thing is that people buy. I thought about it long and I thought about it longer. Then it struck me. People invest billions of dollars into porn. Is there really a use for that stuff? I mean seriously? In all honesty, it is for a
few functions, all of them could be handled differently. One would be masturbation. The second would be to "get her in the mood," and the third? I don't know. Perhaps shock value. I read once about a guy who liked to watch porn because he liked to see the looks on people's faces at these intense moments of honesty, but I think he was lying and I digress. The point being that if you do a cursory search of porn titles, you will find some creative stuff. Crude, yes. Vulgar? Definitely. Offensive? Oh indeed. But the stuff is creative. In fairness, I didn't name energy drinks, fast food places or movie titles, and that way, I dodge the bullet for having to name porn movie titles as well.

The thought that the zombies would like us to buy is that they know their market. If I am not buying a Sky, it is because I am not the market. There is a market out there for the Sky. There is a person who is going to lose sleep tonight, because they want to buy a Sky. I am not that person. I would counter that person likes a Sky by default. I would also counter that if the Sky were named something along the lines of THE BLACKENING that I might lose sleep too.

And before I go any further with this, I really need to change the title of this Blog. It is rather bland, I must be getting complacent. Que no?

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Writer's Block? I THINK NOT.

I haven't written in awhile. It isn't writer's block. It is quality control. Read on:

I just haven't published. I have one in the fuselage about my bike commute to work. Oh it is a doozy. I talk about bike politics and how I have to cuss out the odd driver in a car. I explain why I bike wearing my steeltoes. I also mention the fact that I rolled my cruiser to work for about a month and how swollen I got doing that. I have it bookended with the fact that I have hit 205 lbs and I am maintaining it. And that the 205 lbs is 5 lbs over my new year's resolution. But the post is missing some zing...so I haven't put it out there.

I have another one about my smartphone. Yes, I have a Blackberry, and I am in touch with people and email in a better way than every before. I am snapping pics and loading them onto my Facebook. I am posting in forums while I wait in line at the supermarket. I have a copy of Scarface ripped to it. I filmed the Nick Fury scene at the end of Iron Man on it. I even have old-school Scramble on it. I chat incessantly with people who I have never seen IRL on it. But alas...that post lacks a certain...chutzpah.

There is yet another post about the demise of TV. It is about how I loved the Wire and it has a pretty in-depth review on the Wire and talks about how television will never hit that pinnacle again. I also talk about 6 Feet Under and how I tried to get into that show, but the death of my father is still a little too raw and I can't make the perverse leap that show wants me to make. But that post is just straight up clinical.

I have another post entitled "2 Hats I have to Eat." It is about how I talked mad trash about Iron Man and Speed Racer and how they both humbled me. How I expected these movies to be totally lame and how I was completely wrong about them. I talk about Robert Downey Junior and what he brings to the screen. I gush about John Favreau too. And for Speed Racer, I refer to those Wachowski brothers as transgendered geniuses. Then I go on to say that I realize that only one of them is transgendered and haha. It is cute, but kinda lame. I also talk about how I finally think Christina Ricci is sexy after all of these years of whinging about her landing strip forehead. It is forensic. It doesn't leap out of the monitor at you. I ended that piece with an aside about the fact that I think Indianna Jones is gonna suck. Whatever. Like I am ever gonna publish that piece of trash.

I had a cute observation post on the price of gasohol. But we all have cute observations on that, so nevermind.

I wrote a little something on the development of various applications for Facebook and zeroed in on my current addiction, PIMPFIGHT. After about 3,000 words of explanations, strategies and general hogwash, I scrapped it. Who wants to hear about PIMPFIGHT? I am pretty sure you don't.

I have a blog entry where I disembowel my idol Al Pacino. I go into excruciating detail about how 88 MINUTES is the worst film I have seen in my adult life, and how Deborah Kara Unger is in every bad film I have seen since the mid-nineties. I talk about Pacino's fall from glory and I express hope for his new movie with DeNiro called RIGHTEOUS KILL. Overall, there was too much venom in that piece, and it will stay safely unpublished.

Similarly, I wrote a little ditty on George Romero's bullshit epic DIARY OF THE DEAD. George Romero has a thing about hillbillies and zombies. I chased that corpse around for about 8 paragraphs and then decided to shoot it in the head. Oh, it was full of all sorts of strange adjectives that I had cooked up, but overall, it had no teeth. A zombie movie piece has to have teeth.

I also wrote a wonderful piece on how photogenic Santa Cruz is. I have a bunch of pictures loaded and I have cute little statements about the sunsets, beaches, traffic and people. All of it is boring and will never see the light of day.

I wrote another about the Wii and the great times I am having, playing tennis and blowing the vector graphics out of rogue shapes in GEOMETRY WARS. It came off as stupid, lame and not worth your eyesight.

I wrote a whole thesis on my personal theories regarding Blade Runner. I had the DVD super box set crossreferenced and the BFI film book in there as well. I took Leon to task. I mentioned PTERODACTYL WOMAN OF BEVERLY HILLS. I questioned the sexuality of Rutger. I even went through a comparison of Rutger's Roy Batty to the John Doe killer in the original HITCHER. I used that as a springboard to take the new HITCHER to task. I pondered Darryl Hannah and even mentioned her posterior that she exposes in SPLASH. All of these things I hung around the dead neck of Philip K. Dick and jettisoned it into the ocean of over-writing. There is no way in hell I am going to let you see this.

And lastly, I went headlong into the ugly. I wrote a little x-rated piece about the 2 Girls and 1 Cup video and how I have avoided it. But I discussed the reaction video craze on youtube and how I had probably been more scarred in my research on the subject than if I had actually seen it. Then I discussed the BME Pain Olympics and how Danny (who is more manly than I will ever be) and I had suffered through the first 1.1 seconds of the thing before we both screamed like bitches and how rough that was. I went horrifically surgical with my verbiage. I attempted to convey the horror and the vulgarity of it all. I positioned the depravity of this culture in such a way as to make America look like the harlot of harlots. I mixed in a few gas price jokes for good measure. In the end, I offended myself, and there is no way I would consider letting you read such tripe.

And then I have a post that I haven't done, but that I want to do about Jada toys and how I am going to start writing a monthly column for their website. How I am hyped to be working with these guys and how I am going to link this blog to it and how it is going to change the way we all look at die-cast cars. I was going ot mention the team of guys that I have been working with for the past 6 months by name in securing this position and how I insinuated myself into this position in the first place.
But nahhh.

I'll do that later.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

I Am Gifted, and it is a BURDEN, yo.

I have beatin' vision. I am gifted with a view of people that not everyone can comprehend. I am well aware of various people's needs for a solid beatin'. I can see it. I can smell it. But I need your help with this heavy gift that I have.

Sometimes I read about someone or hear about someone and say that the person needs a beatin'. There are people that need beatin's and a lot of them I refer to as "the one that got away." This means that they didn't take that high school beatdown that sets so many of us on the proper track. Lots of famous people have gotten away for too long with that great physical life-lesson. Gene Simmons comes to mind. You know he really needs someone to go all out on him with an aluminum bat and a tire-iron. Don't front. Gene Simmons is a total asshole. A beating of such a nature would cleanse him of multiple bad traits. A baptism of broken bones and pain would do that man a world of good.

The reason why I can say such things is that I took a good beatin' when in high school and it brought about an epiphany. I learned to be much more tolerant. I learned to get out of the way if a stranger is coming at you with all of their personal trash. I learned a level of social maturity that I couldn't have learned any other way. I also became gifted with beatin' vision.
Unfortunately, a lot of what I learned is purposefully obscured in my writing. I write in an aggressive, vicious style. This is different from how I actually handle myself in day to day exchanges with my fellow man. Using this, one could argue that Gene Simmons is an act, and that he doesn't really need a beatin'. Perter, your writing is a stance, and at times an act, based on what I know of you, you need a beatin'. I would have to respond with the fact that this very blog here absolves me of any "would-be" beatin' because I am telling you from the heart that I took that beatin' and I have been cured of the ills that plague someone like say, Gene Simmons. Perhaps I am wrong, but I rather doubt it.

So I refer to people as in need of a beatin'. What I mean is that they are in need of that same revelation I had when my lights got dimmed. The beatin' that I took was groundbreaking in my life. It inspired me be more tolerant. It inspired me to consider the needs and struggles of others around me. It also inspired me to go push iron and become someone who could defend himself. A person really only needs one serious beatin' in their life. Ultimately, it inspired me to become a better person.

I know that the beatin' that I took was good because after I had hulked up for a few years, I ran into the very guy who administered the beatin' to me in the first place. I had grown about four inches and my pecs were bolted to my chest because I was working out 7 days a week. I looked down at him and he looked up at me, and I let him go. I shot him a weak smile. That was a lesson in forgiveness. I think that was a beatin' paying itself forward...in some sort of perverse way.

So when I say someone needs a beatin', I mean it with the greatest comprehension of brotherly love I can muster.

Well, this past Sunday, I was legally in the position to administer a beatin' to a guy and his ladyfriend in order to show them the light. It has to be public that I failed.

I should have stepped right up and pummelled this guy something unmerciful. I should have grabbed his woman by the hair and delivered a couple of sharp ones to the kisser. I had every right to do this and I didn't. I had Every Goddamn right on the planet to beat these fools into the beginnings of that afterlife white tunnel we hear so much about. But I didn't. Why? Read on, gentle reader.

It was hot last weekend. Uncomfortable concrete on bare foot hot, but not LA summer hot. It was bad enough. So we went down to the beach. We went down to catch some of that cool Pacific breeze. Yzzy now has a camera and she was shooting some pictures with some film she had just gotten. Santa Cruz is a beautiful spot. We were walking along the shore. Kids were out playing in the sand. It was idyllic. Families were out. Men and women both obese and fit were doing beach things. It was a perfect afternoon. The waves were almost nil, and the calm was soothing. The Boardwalk was in the distance and the beach was speckled with people as far as there was beach to see. The distance hazed from the heat, and there were advection clouds on the water towards Monterey. The Moss Landing power stacks were barely visible. It was paintable.

Up in front of us, as we walked on the sand that had just been licked by the ocean, some people were coming out of the water. A pasty guy in his 20s and I would guess his 20 something girlfriend. But upon examination and a few doubletakes, it was apparent that these two were naked. The guy's chilled dork swung in the free air and as she walked, you could see her flanks pump. He got right to the shore and pulled on some shorts. She walked about a hundred yards up to where their towel was and took her sweet time toweling off and continuing with the show. Eyes were on her, and she knew it. Eyes were on him and he knew it. And here I am with my daughter.

I was flummoxed. I was shell-shocked. Sure I have seen naked bodies before. But my thing was that this was all out of context. My brain immediately went into the zone of, "What are these people thinking?" What would drive them to do this public nudity maneuver? Was it that they had forgotten their suits? Were they looking for a reaction? Were they playing truth or dare? Was this completely nonsexual or had they tired to do something freezing and abominable in the water? My brain kicked out Rolodex card after Rolodex card as it attempted to master the situation.

In all honesty, I don't know how much of this Yzzy actually saw as I went introspective. As I babbled incoherently.

It wasn't until hours later that I realized that there were two serious beatin's I should have delivered. I would have had to immobilize the guy first with many precise crunches to the face and nutsack. Then, albeit I don't find myself to by a misogynist, I would have had to knock the bitch out too. Probably just a few face shots. Fair is fair.

And they would have learned. They would have had their great lesson. Their epiphany. They would probably blog about it decades later, how they'd had their genitalia ransacked on the beach by a crazed man with his daughter (because if I had started up on these fools, I know Yz would have backed me up) and they learned that here in America, we aren't ready for public nudity. After waking up in a hospital, him pissing through a tube, her eating through one, they would both realize that if they ever walked a beach again they would keep their clothes on.
I think my conclusion is that yes, they were in need of a beatin', but I don't know that I am the one to give it to them. I have the vision. I am the man who knows when someone is in need of a beating. But alas, I don't have it in me to deliver this thing that their basest human desires cry out for. I think that the idea of my pummelling these people is actually beyond me. I don't think I could do it unless they had both turned to me and shambled at me like zombies.

I think that the beatin' I took years ago cured me from being a potential beatin' deliverer. I think that physically, such a confrontation is something that I am just about incapable of.
But I definitely have beatin' vision. What I need is to have a number to call to get a beatin' deliverer on the scene.

Perhaps the beatin' deliverer is you. Feel free to contact me with your ideas on how to get these beatin's out.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008


When I bike to work, I have time to rest my eyes on objects and people longer than I do when I drive.

As I biked in today, I saw a man parked in his Toyota 4 Runner. I rolled around him and his hair was short-cropped and white. As I rolled further around, I saw that he had a white beard. He was looking at me through glasses with piercing eyes. He brought a cup of to-go coffee to his lips. For all intents and purposes, he looked like my father. He reminded me on a gut level that gave me a shot of adrenaline.

After coasting through a red light I realized my face was stuck in a grimace. I was too lost in thought to negotiate the roads correctly.

I miss him.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Spontaneous Political Generation

So I tend to shower at night. I am a biking fool these days and I am rather foul by the end of my string of 18 hour consciousness.

Last night as I was soaping out my bacteria-laden pits and pondering how sharp my razor was for the inevitable scalp scrape, something caught my eye. In the shower, mold and grime tend to start in the corner, directly below the spigot. The tile pattern is a series of squares, and the mold/grime/human filth cake in the grout between the tiles. This is nothing new to you people. The issue that I was having was that the stuff was moving. It was a gelatinous yet greasy rolling of odd flesh. It was anchored to the corner, yet moving back and forth, almost jumping. Initially, I thought that these were the tricks of the steam, because I keep my shower at the boiling point. It is a threshold that I have to work towards, like a frog in a pot. But I do bring it to the point of scalding blisters, and you know what? It relaxes me. This was no retinal sleight of hand, this was the real deal. The dirty shower had spawned life.

And there it was, brownish-green (like I can even describe the color) and glistening. It was an oleaginous, self-contained splat. It lived because of all of the grime and sweat and lost pubes that so many showers tend to drain. Not in this case. The soiled life form was assembled from all things grubby and myself. Don't forget that I shave my head in the shower, so that added a speckling of hair flecks to the equation. It looked like someone had shook pepper all over it. I also tend to blow my nose and when the moment is right and urinate in the shower as well. All of this added to the little smutty, pubed out glob in the corner.

Comestible it was not. Can you imagine trying to force something this putrid down your throat? I must also mention the mildew. I believe that the mildew itself was the catalyst in the first place. Shit doesn't just spring to life...read your damn Bible. There are forces involved, whether scientific or benevolent, we all can agree that life itself springs forth as a result of factors that aren't easily explained. For the purpose of this blog, I am just going to have to reduce all of the ideas and concepts to one simple theory: My filthy residue contains my DNA. My DNA somehow achieved a level of vulgar intimacy with the mildew and viola, the miracle of life in a dirty shower.

So I squatted, and let the 300 degree water splash me on the back as I leaned forward, naked and vulnerable to observe this young abomination, quivering and lolling in a fresh batch of my daily soilings.

The mossy, yet slick globule was about the size of a child's hand. I say child's hand because a child's hand can be a fist, or any number of shapes. Think of a child's hand in the fist form, flipping you off, because that is what this looked like. The middle finger was a proboscis it seemed at first. But then at the end of it, was an opening. A mouth. And from this mouth thing, came a sound.
"Are you going to vote for Obama?" The pile of almost-shit asked me.
"Pardon?" I asked. The steam around me was almost as thick as cigar smoke, and my pores were so open that I was willing to accept the fact that this was indeed a hallucination of the most unclean sort.

"Barack Obama. Are you going to vote for him?"

I wanted to address how I think that Hillary and Obama should join forces if they really want to see this Bush vampire or any of his hive out of the White House. I wanted to tell this asexual, R-rated Flubber that I have absolutely had it with this country and I am considering moving to France. I wanted to tell the scum about how I am going to have to fill my tank up soon and it was going to be close to four dollars a gallon.
"Who the hell are you going to vote for then? Ron Paul is out." The random short and curly hair spiked abomination in the shower barked.

"Its time for a change." I said. I stood, turned off the water and got out. Reaching for the towel, I began to plot when I would clean the bathroom. This change has to happen soon. The very fabric of our existence depends on it.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Press the Flesh

He smiled, but it was a carapice. It wasn't real. It was the mechanical. It was what you do when you have to do it. Now he had to do it. He was surrounded by people who needed his approval, needed his smile.They saw the choppers. They saw the constant smirking. They heard the laughter from deep within him. He gave it. But in that molecule of space between the mask of ebullient eyes and flashing teeth, of dimples and laugh lines, that was where the reality was.

And the mood was humid, and heavy. It was like a hundred rainstorms ruining a thousand plans in the sun, a sickness ruining a long journey, a best friend using dark secrets to hurt. All of the darkness, the melancholy and pain were his now.

Yet he shook more hands, and looked people into their eyes. He made the connections. He did the entertainer's dance. He let every last person he contacted feel like they were interesting and the only person on the planet. It felt good to give to them.

But the heaviness. The grief. The sorrow. It pulled at his chest and weighted his shoulders as unbearable things do. He had no option in this one. He had to take the pain, and the pain was beyond paramount. It was as if the gravity of the planet had all gathered at his feet, to pull him in. It was like the best meal one could ever cook, going to ruin because of a fight with an intimate. It was the realization that the chequing account had bounced. It was the realization that he'd been taken advantage of. It was betrayal and misery and gloom. The darkness swirled about his head, pricking him with pain. The feelings were unbearable. The lid that he'd kept on them was cracked and rusting. It was going to blow open, and all of the thick, oozing melancholia would blacken him and his surroundings. It was loss and it was hopelessness. It was the realization that the failure was final and unforgiveable.

And the kids looked up into his eyes. He smiled and joked. He squatted to interact with them, and shot knowing glances at the parents. He remembered the names of those he was introduced to. He used the names in the flippant sentences he constructed. He gave of himself. He let them have him. He let them see him. But it was only as deep as the mask that held his sorrow in place. The mask at this point was his best friend. Without it, he would be exposed as a weakened, miserable creature. He had to lie to them. He had to hold his happy poise in place. He had to reveal only the positive. He had to decieve and manipulate those around him.

Inside it brewed and churned in his stomach. It was a cold burning. An ice cube held to a window on a hot day. The morose feelings that held his brain in place were like foul, blood-soaked cotton balls. Like a bandage that should have been pulled a week previous, a grain of sand in the corner of his eye. The sadness was as tangible as the strained muscles under his eyes from all of that smiling he was doing. There was no purpose. There was no reason. It was all lost. It was nothingness and it didn't matter.

And then there was a moment of respite. The crowd slackened. He was allowed to be with himself for a moment. And he allowed himself one indulgence. The tear that swelled under his right eye sucked and pulled all of its worth out of his tear duct. The release of saline stung him, as he hadn't cried in years. His eye squinted and reddened. The tear hit its maximum density and then rolled.

To the left and the right he looked. Then he dashed his face with an open palm and caught the detractor from his charade.

And he continued, pressing the flesh, with that warm sweet smile of his.

Overheard today

A woman, yelling on her phone stridently as she made her way down Pacific Street:

"Do you know what it is like to take anti-depression pills? I don't think you do!"

Tuesday, April 08, 2008


I think that this is funny. I think it is hilarious. I have had too many serious laughs over this one. If you have been riding it out from the beginning, you can ignore this post. Other than that, I think you are in for a rare treat. This is one of those times when a thread in a forum goes completely off-track and is funny. It is out hanging in the midle of a zombie apocalypse now. It will never come back, and I think it was funny as it lifted off and hit its stride.

I have to record it, before it falls off the boards forever.

It started with this post:


Dean, I am Smoking!!! Just For You
Dean...Please don't block me!!! I will smoke this whole pack of cigarettes...just for you...Cmon...you are such a neat guy, please don't shut me out!!

Because of the ambiguity behind it all, it was ON. I am going to pull out all of my current commentary and all of the posts that are lame and just put it down. I thought the shit came off rather sophisticated.


Sounds like a booty call gone horribly wrong.




Dean better recognize...she is killing herself for a shot at this guy.This Dean guy must be on some Brad Pitt noise or something.


dean doesn't deserve you, babydoll.


Sounds like Dean can close the deal.My guess is that Dean is a chainsmoker and she punked him on it. Then he got all butthurt and clicked off. Now she is smoking to prove that it is all good and hoping to get Dean back.Whoever this Dean is, man, homeboy has suction.


dam muphukka u got some good imagination


yea dean knows how to reel em in real good and then let em go


Dean is obviously pimping HARD to get his own thread and stuff.Ladies throwing themselves at him saying "DEAN, I'M KILLING MYSELF HERE!!!"Dean's got the juice.

Catch and release, Dean style.I gots ta get the t-shirt.


yea screw p diddys shirt BITCHASSNESS imma get your T


Dean proabably asked her if she was smoking, and she said no. But what he was asking was if she was smoking hot. But homegirl was so whipped over Dean-o that she thought he was talkingabout some Newports.



hahaa dru down status lol nobody prolly know wat u talkin bout loli think folks from cali are the only ones on at this time



He needs to 'splain this page...I lost all sleep last night trying to comprehend it.


Now that I'm back to work, I miss everything!! WTF? lol


Ahhaa yea this girl was ready to die over thos random guy dean


I guess Dean is playing hardball by letting her smoke the whole pack before he gets straight with her.

True player status.


Lol Dean knows how to play the game right dam son I need to get on his level loll


He is playing the game on levels I never considered.

"Smoke a pack of cigs and get back to me."

That is macking just too hard. He's liable to break her at that rate.He is at the Smoker's Lounge level of the game. You have to feel sorry for her.And you have to wonder how the situation got so strained that there is a thread here in off-topic for us to scrutinize.

I would be willing to pay a slight sum to have the entire story...coz you know its juicy.


Dean is on some old school isht. Back when you straight told someone to smoke a pack of cigs.

Dean> Iceberg Slim.

And that's raw. Dean.Man, this guy is all about the Player POWER.I was trying to explain how hard this dude is to my GF and she wrinkled her nose and flexed with the attitude. Telling me that it must be a guy thing and stuff.You know what I told her? SMOKE A PLACK AND HOLLA.


It is a crazy thread that makes no sense. She holla'd back on him, but he hasn't picked up the ball yet.This Dean guy is HARDCORE. He probably has to tell the girl he is with right now to SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK so he can come up in here and finish his business with whoever it was who started this thread.I am just hanging out taking Playa notes.



SON I've been sleeping in this thread I'm trying to figure out who this cat dean is and wat he did to this girl to smoke a pack of cigs


I googled "Dean" and got 8.6 million hits.I have been going through them one at a time. Writing emails and such. I have been mentioning Crackberry and asking about this specific thread. I am posing as Dr. Muphukka an I have Dean's Playa meds.We'll find this playa PLAYA soon enough.


Hahaha good **** DR MUPHUKKA The search iss on SON


I have the secretary here at work looking up all phone numbers that have "Dean" or "D" for the first name. She thinks it is something work related, but when she realizes that it is Dean that we are after, I am sure she will double her efforts.She is compliling the list for our greater area. Hopefully by this afternoon she will have SF and LA down too. I have a connection at NASA and maybe, just maybe, we can get some satellite footage of this new force...this SUPER PLAYA before sundown.In the meantime, I am researching getting the domain "PLAYAMEDS.com" in anticipation of our finding out how Dean keeps his game so tight. I do believe that a playa of Dean's status only comes once every second or third leap year. We need to zero in on this "Playa Equinox" and bottle the stuff. We can sell it and make mad cash, yo.I am sensing a future in the bazillions people.


ahahaa lol dam muphukka i got a street team out here in SF searching for him i got billiboards up says where is DEAN SONi got people passing out flyers everything man its on like donkey kong


We are gonna have to handle this something proper.I am gonna call the police department as soon as I get off of this conference call and I am putting in a missing person's report.If the cop don't take me seriously, I will have to tell him to smoke a pack and holla back when he finds the playa.I need to also tap into all of the street cameras in the greater SF area and keep a lookout for this guy.Keep up with the fliers. SF.I am gonna hire the Goodyear Blimp here at lunchtime. It will be saying "SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK"We'll find this playa PLAYA soon enough.


ahahaaa lol a blimp lol i got the little planes with the banners already doing that son they are flying around the golden gate bridge and everything lol


Yeah,I am on hold with the Coast Guard. I hadn't thought of the fact that a playa might be chilling on his yacht.Keep those planes circling the Golden Gate and I will see about deploying the National Guard in Santa Barbara, which is another playa PLAYA spot. I have calls in to Obama, Hillary, Cheney, Bush and the last living Kennedys. With all of that playa political power, we should land this guy pretty quick.HOLLA BACK DEAN, WE'LL FIND YOU.


HAHA we putting in real hard work for the search of this PLAYA DEAN SONI Got THE FBI SWAT I ACTUALLY GOT MY KITCHEN STAFF ON THIS ISH TOO NOW SON they walking around the streets of sf with t-shirts on saying WHERE IS PLAYA DEAN on the back it say holla back SON and get at MEi got street cars with them painted saying WHERE ARE U DEAN HOLLA BACK ON [THIS FORUM].


Good work with the kitchen staff. I passed out t-shirts to all of the homeless fools here in Santa Cruz. Hey, homeless fools see stuiff we don't. I even saw a homeless playa once, but that is for a different thread.OH SNAPP!!!!!!I just hacked NORAD with my BB!!!!!Now we can scour the entire USA with APACHE WARHEAD MISSILES!!!! Apparently all I have to do is hit the space bar and POW(!), target takedown.We can keep this in the back pocket in case any Playa hatas step up on the man of the hour.Seriously, I can SMOKE A WHOLE CITY AND HOLLA BACK!We're gonna find this DEAN fool.

We are gonna find him and escort him back to safety.


Ahahaaaa dam son we doing it real big damm


The thing about this is that Dean is a true playa PLAYA.He won't be found unless he wants to be found. This thread demonstrates that. He tells one woman to smoke a pack and holla back and he is off with another. She can't find him and I am sure she has his PIN, his social security number and the keys to one of his many apartments.Dean is laying low for the time being. I just took a call from a marine commander with frogmen down off of the gulf of Mexico. They have seen nothing that resembles a playa PLAYA of Dean's status.So my question is this: What woman has got Dean's attention so good that he ain't sticking his head out?SF, you and me are good, if that playa PLAYA sticks just his nose out, we've got him. But homeboy is dug in somewhere with some hoochie deeper than an alabama tick.I am going to call the Russians here in a few. Perhaps an international spin on this playa PLAYA hunt is what we need.


Well if you find Dean send him this way, when i'm done with him, i'll be the one saying smoke a pack and holla back


Haha. Good one brownie lol u gonna set him straight lol


Thats how i do, i love 'em them leave 'em begging for more. When i'm done with Dean i'll just leave a pack of newports on the night stand.................


Any news yet??? I keep checking in! LOL


Nope no word yet, i have to put my street team on it, they're searching all of nyc. I'm offering a reward for any info for Dean's where abouts.



Eastcoast representation in the Playa Hunt of the milleneum. Homegirl is probably coughing so hard that if Dean sticks his head out of his gopher hole, she won't be able to talk to him.*snap* GOPHER HOLE!We need midwest representation something quick.There is a phone tree across all central coast locations here in CA. If Dean so much as shows up at a 7-11 for a 40 he will be brought in. This has hit one of the highest levels of National Security. For God's sake people, don't schedule any flights, it is a homeland security issue in all airports right now.I have been listening to the BBC to see if the Europeans are on this phenomenon at all. I have messages in to the Queen and I have the Prime Minister of China on hold while I type this.Props to Brownieangel for plotting to stick him with a pack of Newports after she tosses him. This is what Dean obviously needs.



South Dakota right here! I'll start havin my people look 'round as well....We'll check it all! The casino's, the trailer parks, the res, parks, junkyards - all that! I'll even get my people in Minnesota and Iowa in on this one!

Dean, where ya at?!?


Good job Bronzehoni.

The midwest is where that playa might choose to surface. Someone has him in check right now. She is probably cooking him up some serious food and making him feel all at home. Perhaps she has actually captured Dean's heart?If not, there will be another SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK thread, I am sure of it.OMG. This guy has become a lot of work. I explained the playa PLAYA situation to my boss and he has given me a special leave of absence until the location of Dean has been secured. All day long I have been fielding calls with international dignitaries, military commanders and bounty hunters. Furthermore, the FBI, CIA and an extreme special ops division that I am not supposed to mention have been circling the greater central coast here in CA in attempts to find THE MAN. They have been texting me and sending me pictures from various locations where Dean might have been. I really wish that with all of our tax dollars at work here that they could hurry up and find this playa PLAYA.My PM box has been compacted here at crackberry as sightings and hoax-sightings from around the crackberry community have been coming in.The most secure lead that I have recieved at this point comes from a young, jilted woman (who sent me her pic and is COMPLETELY FLY peeps...it seems that DEAN has good taste at times) she asked me not to give her name because he'd actually told her to smoke a CARTON and HOLLA BACK, and she was embarassed that she wasn't done yet.She gave me this link though:

I have submitted it to the Vatican, and the Pope himself just texted me on my BB telling me that this too is a hoax.



Caputured Dean's heart? I doubt it! *singing* Dean is COLD BLOODED! LOL But if someone where to do it, it'd be a Midwest girl! Also, I too have already started to get false leads. I was informed he was sighted at the Mall of America, in Hooters, telling a girl to " Eat a wing or never call again". Confirmed this lame was NOT Dean. Nothing further to report at this time, but will have my neighborhood watch group keepin tabs ALL NIGHT.


Good looking out there BH. That Hooters lead seemed like the juice.The thought crossed my mind that all of the sewer systems in this nation are interlocked in one way or another...so I had been checking and cross checking the schematics of every sewer system in every metroploitan area in the greater United States. Then I just took a call from the director of the Dallas Fort Worth Airport who told me that a certain playa PLAYA DEAN has a fleet of rental limos at his disposal there and at every other major airport in the United States.This means that we need to keep our eyes open for limosines with smokers.Or maybe girls standing outside of limos smoking Newports? I am really trying to wrap my brain around this one.We need to know what kind of playa PLAYA Dean really is. Does he hit the clubs? What kind of drink does he prefer? What kind of gear is he rocking? How about flashy jewelry?I need a connection in Vega$ NOW people. Anyone. Some get on the horn and CALL YOUR RELATIVES. Hide your SISTERS, YOUR MAMAS and your EXES. The feds just texted me that DEAN is headed for Nevada.WHAT IS HE DOING THAT IS DRIVING A GOOD POPULATION OF OUR BEAUTIFUL WOMEN TO SMOKE AND HOLLA BACK?Men need to know this trick, and women need to be warned.I personally need to talk to Dean and have him spit out his game. I am sure it is multi-tiered and deeper than Atlantis.Shoot, I'm about to go buy a pack of Newports and find out what the fuss is!SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK Y'ALL

-your main Muphukka on the street.


Muphukka and bhoney where forgetting bout our main lead man the old lady we need to contact that desperate women and get the mans info I'm sure she know hella dirt on the playaplaya dean SONNN


Right off the top, I need to tell you that the Illuminati texted me about an hour ago telling me that they have no idea where Dean might be.SF,I am gonna put you in charge of getting the info from the woman in question. Let me tell you that with your food service stealth, you will probably do better than the fools I have been working with. The FBI, CIA and the mafia came at me asking about interrogation in regards to this poor cancer-stick sucking woman and I told them she would probably respond well to a carton of Newports.They concurred...but they confided in me that are locked in some sort of jurisdictional crossfire with the tobacco company. Apparently the makers of Newport cigarettes want sponsorship and the rights to the term "SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK." Apparently they want it to be their new advertising campaign for the 2009 All-Out Cancer Blitz they have been planning.I tried to shut them down. I said that I would buy the Newports and bypass this tobacco gangsta move, but was told that my bypassing would bring in a conflict of interest on American soil (Whatever the fcuk that means). I told them it was a conflict of interest for the CIA, FBI and mafia to be wrking together. That was when I stared down the barrels of about 20-30 shotguns, handguns and other tubed weapons I have never seen before.The game with this Dean character is thick SF, but I don't know if we should go through the woman on it.I am sure that she has the man's info, but look at this thread...she is ghost, homes. She is somewhere choking on a Newport.


Who woulda known so much pain and heartache could be behind such a directive?



Hahaha yea man I shouldn't put the women through anymore stress lol or remind her of dean before she croaks or sumthing lol The streets are a muphucca SON


She has been traumatized. Let her smoke in peace. She needs to finish that pack so she can holla back lol.


So far a search of the North East has turned up nothing. I'm gonna contact my dirty south crew and get them on this. For all we know he could be in magic city telling the chicks to "smoke a pack and holla back".


Now this SMOKE A PAK N HOLLA BAK Theme here is spreading. Most of SoCal has been on tha watch for Dean, but no surface sightings. There was a falsie of a lowrider sighting heading up I-15 to Vegas, but turned out to just be Brad Pitt in a jalopy. When I mentioned the surface had been scoured, I affixed a Newport to my lips and got ready to light it up. Soon as the flicka of flame ignited, I had a flamin' idea. Surface nuthin! So now I've got my homies in Tijuana on tha alert, yellin down tha smugglin' tunnles to SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK

So far nuthin, but I've got hopes.


Can I hear running water? Or do I just desperately hope that I could?Pull the plug on this thread of verbal diarrhea before we all go out and kill ourselves for the lack of will to live


When you kill yourself, make sure to wear a CB t-shirt that says, "Got Dean?"That way the news crews will have a way of communicatin' the message without gettin' in trouble with Newport or with the FBI. Good luck, buddy. If you see Dean in the afterlife, SMOKE A PACK AND SEND 'EM BACK!

Originally Posted by Berryman :
I have diarrhea


That's great there buddy. Put the BB down and wipe yo booty. CNN has been sending me a nonstop series of MMS messages with all sorts of global playa PLAYA huntin content. No soap though. I have calls in to BET and MTV1 and 2...these seem like sources of potential playa PLAYA info.*Breaking News*The price of Newports have shot up nationwide. People are smoking MAD PACKS. Now we just need to find the fool to HOLLA BACK at.Keep on the case EAKELLER, it sounds like you know something about taking a playa PLAYA straight out the game in TJ. Why didn't I thik of TJ? You are on some serious gangsta **** right there.


Hahaha wipe yo booty son u drippin like waterr hhahahaa haterrr


Perhaps the only way to really get Dean to reveal his location is to appeal to all of the HATERZ out there. They are on the sidelines, kibitzing, chugging they HATERADE just waiting for a chance to start doign what they do best...HATE.I'll see if I can round up some HATERZ.Then fools know how to ruin a party REAL QUICK. And I know they can't stand the success Dean is having being playa PLAYA of the damn MILLENIUM.



Better stock up on paper folks, looks like this bad case of diarrhea is going to extend over the weekend. Have a good one

Originally Posted by Berryman:
diarrhea is still rolling out my piehole. Have a good one

That is awesome.Hater representation right there.


SON UR gross u need to put some tissue paper in that ish and clog it up homie And lots of hateration right there SON


Ahahahahaa.WIPE and HOLLA.


Possibility: Tha HATE comes from tha itchy soreness of not being able to stop the deluge from drippin'. Mebbe he's gone thru all the rolls in tha haus, needin' a wal-mart run, but can't cuz DEAN'z on the loose. Thaz nasty.Afterlife

Update: Obviously the non-deceased are still with us, so we don't have a report from the afterlife. Anyone willing to go? Oh, and SF - I thought you were on t-shirt duty, you get 'em ordered yet? Front: Got Dean?Rear: SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK!

Needless to say, the playa PLAYA is still hidin' out, possibly somewhere in the tunnels under TJ. Still got tha homies goin', tho - on tha lookout. I've been down there all morning passing out free Newports (can't someone do something about the skyrocketing prices?). The boyz are appreciatin', but it seems the Newports aren't quite strong enuff - they're mixin' em with some **** and re-packin' the paperz. I have no idea.Since the TJ run has been unproductive so far, I've chartered a plane to Columbia to see if he's hiding under some cocoa leaves. "Snowman Dean" from what I've heard. This has definitely been an international affair from tha start, considerin' we have no idea what country the Original Poster is from. She's hurtin' that's fo sho. Think she's moved international on the account of hearing the mantra?

SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK!Will check in once I get to Bogota.


I gotta pity the hater, yo. It is apparent that he ate the wrong bacon jalepeno chili hotdog with sassy sauce and he is trying to speak to us about it in code about it or something. He needs to cork is isht and start a slippy thread. AHAHAHAHA Sucka PH.Bogata huh?It figures that a serious playa PLAYA would get onto the Tony Montana tip. One who hits the playa PLAYA excesses of Tony Montana isn't about to stick his nose out for [this forum]. I don't think Dean is there yet, but he must be close. DAMN CLOSE.

Felipe Calderon the President of Mexico said that he had his elite death squad police force on the case if that helps you any. I had left him a message about the donkey show about 9 months ago and he is just getting back to me now. I was also juggling calls from Nguyen Khanh, the HBOC in Vietnam last night and unfortunately missed the call.

Apparently the President of Mexico he was trolling through the crackberry forums and found this whole thing, recognized a muphukka and holla'd back. One of my forum contacts who happens to be an elite secret service officer in charge of changing the President's depends texted me a bit ago with a list of the police commissioners and their private numbers in all of the greater cities of the USA. I have been cold-calling these men of the law nonstop. The problem with these types is they have no idea what a playa PLAYA is. Every time I get through with the explanation, they say something about getting more law enforcement on the street to protect the daughters of this great nation. That is fine and dandy, but we need the one playa PLAYA who can sweettalk Chelsea Clinton out of her college tuition in 2.5 seconds flat (read on):

DEAN is apparently on a lustful rampage. Print and Internet personals ads across the nation have hit astronomical proportions with women young and old claiming to be smoking Newports 2 and 3 at a time in hopes that Dean will come back. Recently, I called IBM and asked them to put a supercomputer on it. They offered DEEP BLUE the chess playing computer. Chess=Game so I rolled with it. This computer crunched the raw data I was able to give and determined that Dean is breaking a heart every 2.5 seconds. Homeboy gets in and barely gets to say his trademark SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK before he is on with the next honey.I need to talk to this guy. Actually, what I am hoping is that there is a woman out there who will stop this playa PLAYA. Some logged into this thread earlier. The kind of women who will make Dean go smoke a pack and Holla back. I believe that is the only thing that can slow down this juggernaught lothario.Any Dean sightings? Information? Suggestions? This is the spot people. This has the potential to be a complete national catastrophe of Biblical proportions.

SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK yo.What about them Tshirts, SON?

-Your main Muphukka on the street.


SON THEY HAVE BEEN PRINTED AND I GOT ALL THE PEOPLE ROCKING EM ALREADY CHECK THE BRIDgE THEY ROCKING EM SON I HAVE A INTERVIEW WITH THE NEWS TONIGHT there asking me bout this pimpalistic homie dean sON so i gotta explain it all to them. they started asking me once i sold out of t-shirts i got the whole bay area goin nutz over em its straight crack baby. i got people sellin em outta there trunks i got a line outside my restaurant dam son everybodys rockin em out here PIMP DADDY DEAN SON WHERE YA AT


For reals!The traffic on highway 1 just clogged and new choppers are out there. KCBA FOX NEWS 5 just announced that SF might have to be shut down and put under martial law re: those damn shirts!I heard a riot busted out in Palo Alto over those shirts mang! What did you put on them? IT IS LIKE A SHARK FEEDING FRENZY!!!GOOD JOB SF.DEAN???



Palo Alto? So that's as far as that carton made it, SF? I wuz wonderin since they were supposed to be here in LA yesterday. Now I got half of Compton and Inglewood beating down my door to wear the Got Dean? I've had to hold them back by holding a .45 up to a carton of Newports and threatening to pull tha trigger. I'd do it, too. Even tho they are like little sticks of gold, they're not as precious as waitin for tha D-shirt. Hopefully I can still make the flight to Bogota. Thanx for tha tip on the Mexican donkeys. I'll be on tha lookout. Sit back, put the flame to a Newport, SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK!yo


Woah, holding a gun to a pack of Newports is some cold isht right there! That's the kinda stuff that would make a hater's bowels stop juicing. I havent heard much from SF lately, I hope he didn't get taken out in the swarm for shirts! The late night news was reminding me of the new Dawn of the Dead movie the way crazed people were running around for those shirts!Somehow, in my quest to find Dean, my IP got leaked and now there are hoards of hot, smoking women camped outside of my house waiting for an update! I mean THOUSANDS of beautiful women looking dressed to kill! I can't step outside or I get mobbed! It sux that they only want me for info! The plumes of Newport smoke can be seen from space I have been told.OH SNAP!!!Security breach! I am hiding in my closet posting right now from my BB and hundreds of hot women are ransacking my house!Ill smoke a pack here and holla back at y'all if I live through this.Damn... The air is thick with Newport smoke...


MF son! I hope you're OK. My only suggestion would be to inhale deep......that Newport smoke is like little puffs of gold dust. If any of the hotties are from TJ, a deep inhalation may get you more than you bargained for. SF, when does the next shipment of D-shirts arrive at the NORAD complex? It's a pity you had to send them there just to maintain security. Last time I went in there it amounted to a full-body search.....and I mean full. Like the one the HATER would not pass. If you can't disclose the exact date for the D-shirt arrival, send it to me by Newport smoke signal. Got Dean?This trip to Bogota has been wakked. Charter made it just over Belize before pushing me out with nothing but a Newport and a parachute. Pilot was mumbling something about picking up a playa PLAYA! Naw, couldn't be our man. These rented muels chafe like nuthin. Then again, I can trade a single Newport for a Pinto in the next city. Thanks be for the berry power to stay connected.




I am deep in enemy territory people! I am here looking out my hotel window on THE LAND OF THE DEAD! I am in SF's neighborhood and I cannot go out and walk to his damn restaurant! The women outside are wearing his T-shirts and drooling up and down the street!I am witnessing a new evolution! In their longing for this playa PLAYA Dean they have become human flesheaters! I saw a bellhop go outside and hundreds of TOTALLY HAWT women attacked him and ate him on the spot! My Esoteric posturing on the subject is as follows: Dean ate their hearts and now they will eat men! The blood of the bellhop sprayed the side of the building and I realized then and there that the only way to survive this apocalypse is to find Dean and feed him to these played, cannibalistic women!DEAN IS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN!I am stranded in Redwood City! I don't know how I will ever get out of here! If I step outside, I will be toothed by a bunch of hawt women!Only Dean can stop this end of civilization. That playa PLAYA needs to show up and stop the misery, heartbreak and human self-consumption!! That playa has taken the game to a new abominable level: Cannibalism!If you see Dean... Please:SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA!


What's worse: being stranded in Redwood City or being eaten by a pack of ravenous Newport smokers?I honestly don't know. Update: made it to Bogota with only a quart of vegetable oil to spare. Traded the Pinto for some "local information." Reliability is unknown, but some dudes up at 4AM (I think they had been awake for four days) said there were several reported sightings of a ghost walking beside the road and whispering, "smoke a pack and holla back!" Supposedly this "ghost" is sporting a 2-week beard and carrying a pack of Newports. Unfortunately there have been noreports of Snowman Dean for several days. Speaking of Newports, the shortage has gone worldwide. My traveling companion and I had to donate plasma at the local center and pool our resources just to buy another carton. However, when you walk around sportin' a Newport, people automatically welcome you into their homes for meals, showers, and often provide a lot of this stuff the local culture refers to as "snow". Must be a native thing. All I know is I haven't slept for three nights straight. May be headin' back to the States soon, seems this international trek is just days behind everywhere. I heard there are a lot of flights from Colombia to Miami, maybe I can thumb a ride on one of those. SMOKE A PACK AND HOLLA BACK!ek out


EA, Newports are still available in the US. BUT NOT AT THE HOTEL I AM STAYING AT!!!!!read on:All I can say is that the hawt zombie women chainsmoking Newports and wearing those shirts SF made broke into the hotel last night!

They dismantled the giftshop and viciously castrated the man working there. His blood, urine and netherparts were smeared across the windows. I was going to the gift shop for a pack of PORTS, but then turned right around and went back. The hawt, carcinogen women saw me and threw a lower intestine at me to lasso me, but I got out of it! Spattered with guts I made it to the 8th floor and locked it down. I might have to pretend I am Dean or something because these undead women are HAWT! I mean...they got the boom and the POW! The smoking is a little much, but it is like being trapped on some dangerous, smoking Amazon island! The only problem is that they want to kill every man who isn't Dean.Necrophilia to save the masses? I might be up for it!

They collectively murmer "...Dean...Dean...Dean..." as they rip and shred their way through the male population! There is nothing more pathetic than seeing a man lose his manhood at the claws of a completely hawt woman! These girls don't need any airbrushing...and maybe that is because of all of the smoke that is in the air...but DAMN. I need to start taking pictures, because these women are beautiful. A little obsessed, but my GOD...it is like I am a a violent club where all of the women are voluptuous supermodels!!!The walls are spattered with the blood and genitalia of men who didn't cut the mustard. WHat a way to go! Getting castrated by a roomful of beautiful women and then left to bleed out on the floor. I am shivering with anticipation! The lobby floor is 6 inches deep with human body parts and these unbelievably HOT UNDEAD CHAINSMOKING ZOMBIES. They are going from door to door. They bash the door in and castratikill the male and convert the female if she is there.They are up the hall and working their way towards my room!I am just afraid that if I front like I am Dean (and I honestly wouldn't know how to begin) that I won't be able to take the all out sexual assault that will come. Who am I kidding? There is no way I could even begin to touch the idea of satisfying ONE of these undead hotties let alone a HOTEL FULL OF THEY SMOKING HAWT SELVES! And if Dean is in Columbia...pulling a Tony Montana...then I am really s c r e w e d.I have never seen so much blood, smoke and mangled genitalia in all of my life! Someone send in...I dunno. The Chippendale dancers or something!I don't know if I am going to make it out of this one!!


And so it ends I think. I thought that it was funny while it lasted.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

In passing

I overhear stuff all the time. Snippets of conversations that are just too much. The TRU post is the beginnings of this, but I really need to do something with all of this stuff.

Back when I was playing Vice City and I would hear these snippets of conversation with the passers-by, I thought it was a little extreme. It has been in the back of my head to write these things down. I thing I am just going to start throwing them in here whenever they stick out...they are too good.

I get a lot of them because I hoof downtown Santa Cruz every day at lunch. It is sense with tourists, locals and the homeless.

Here are a few:

Last week, there were these two high school girls yelling at this homeless man. This was the exchange:

Girl: That joke wasn't funny.

Homeless man: You weren't listening.

Girl: I didn't have to listen, because it wasn't funny.

Yesterday morning and I made an unscheduled walk to Starbucks there was an 80s Chrysler Key car parked in handicapped. It was filthy, and there was all kinds of crap piled on the dashboard and from what I could tell, on the passenger seat and all over the back bench. A bearded, dirty man was hanging out of the window talking to an overweight, potentially homeless woman on the sidewalk. His voice was high and raspy...like he had smoked a pack of cigarettes after letting the helium wear off. Here is what he said:

"They have your name at the bank, dummy."

I suppose I can finish this post with the classic one that actually got me thinking about this years ago. I don't know where I was or what I was doing there, but I was with Casson, and we both heard it. This guy was talking into his phone and he said this:

"Do me a favor? Listen when I talk to you." It wasn't so much the words, but the intonation. It was as if he was talking to someone either really old or really young. But the fact of the matter is that he could have been talking to anyone.