i haven't posted in a week. we have a big trade show coming up, and things have been a little hectic. i will try to get back to regular posting for those of you who actually read this.
why can republikkkans make money disappear and get away with it? an independant who at sixteen once lied to his mother about "what he was doing in there" would come out of the republikkkan spin cycle as a kitten raping monster, but halliburton can overcharge the gov't nearly three hundred million dollars without reprisal? have you noticed how hard it is to get a scandal to stick lately if there's a republikkkan in the driver's seat? sure, they may well sacrifice tom delay, but his offence (at least the one they caught him for) isn't even as odious of some of the things that are getting swept under the carpet. there's speculation that a conservative leaning newspaper columnist, who was paid to promote the no child left behind act (lies, through and through) only made two of the eight ads he was contracted to do, but then kept the rest of the money. newspapers are for sale, like everything else, yet people read them as gospel truth. tv is pap for the mindless, but of course tv never lied to you.
sometimes i can't believe i still live in this country. i love it in principle, but in current practice... good god.
i'd also like to say that i just love the word "odious." it really rolls off the tongue (if not the keyboard).
fuck fuck fuck that odious son of a bitch bush

returning thoughts from an unexpected trip home...
took a wrong turn (or rather, the lack of a correct one) on the way down. i was listening to the baseball game, which we lost, and siouxs! was catching up on much needed sleep, and there may well have been other mitigating circumstances, but i stayed on 57s instead of switching over to 24e. priceless moment: the following two pieces of dialogue were one right after another, but hardly a true conversation based on their independance from one another s: "where are we?" g: "sikeston?"
my grandmother is a remarkable woman. i wonder sometimes if she has ever allowed herself more than a few minutes of emotion at a time. sometimes i think that i am the successor to that strength, though i don't have it the way that they (my mom has the same thing going on) do.
haven is still cute. i know by now that this is common knowledge, but i feel the need to mention it every time i experience it firsthand. seriously, when that kid smiles at you, you can't stand up. he is currntly a ladykiller. i don't know what to expect from him when he gets older, but if he could do it all right now, he would be up to his eyes in women. (to be fair, his eyes are currently about two feet off the ground.)
i didn't think i was going to get too emotional, and for the most part, i didn't. i teared up briefly when i saw little thing of flowers from haven pinned into the casket. earl, my step grandfather never had any children of his own, and was in fact, only married for the first time when he was seventy plus years old. haven was not his only step-grandchild who was really a baby when they met, but they did form a certain special bond. when earl didn't recognize my grandmother (he had alzheimer's), he still knew haven, even if not his name. the saddest i got at the funeral was from worry about haven and how he will deal with this whole thing.
hung out with laura and jonathan on friday night, though not as much as i might have liked. harley was there, and since i haven't seen him in a few years, that warranted some catching up. he was also in the best mood i have seen him in in years, which was good to see. i also finally got to see connie, who is still as connie as ever, though her husband and her children are regulating her medication a lot more than they used to (probably for the best).
that last paragraph made no sense except to a very select few of my readers who have ever been home with me, or for (hopefully) laura and harley, both of whom i urged to check out bastardskaramazov.com. i will try to kep theings more universal in the future.
i'm watching the cards game, so i'll end here. we're losing 8-0 to the fucking phillies. what the fuck. (fuckbush)

i've been posting very regularly for the past several weeks. there will be a short break in this, as siouxs! and i have to go to a family funeral in tennessee. i hope the rest the of the week is uneventful (for me, at least).
until soon
g

game one. i am going to be breathing cardinals today through friday, when the birds come back home. it's really kind of absurd how much of a baseball fan i've become. growing up knox vegas style, there were the knoxville blue jays, later changed to the knoxville/tennessee smokies (and were, at least then, a stl farm club), and when i was younger, we used to go to bill myers stadium to watch some fine minor league ball. if i saw a total of six innings in the perhaps dozen games i attended over the years, i would be amazed. i didn't know what to watch for, and subsequently didn't care too much about the outcome. i was mostly preoccupied with the "bad part of town" in which bill myers stadium sits (i think they tore it down), and fellow fans. i was also entranced by the sometime mascot (for minor league baseball, as far as i can tell), "the famous chicken," who was famous, apparently, on the virtue of being both famous and a chicken. if the chicken's website is to be trusted, he is also famous for being from san diego. how exactly i made the transition from caring more about the antics of a man in a chicken suit than the game being played to the rabid cardinal fan i am today is a story best left up to my therapist/psychiatrist/warden some day.
on a totally unrelated note, without ever having been to a 4h meeting, i think i have guessed what all those h's stand for. here's my list, but don't correct me if i'm wrong: horticulture, husbandry, home economics, and ho's. if that isn't the real 4, i'll eat my hat. more specifically, the beef jerky hat my cousin made me in 4h.

the final four is in the stl, and all i can think about is the away opener for the cardinals tomorrow. as you might have guessed from the last several posts, i am not the huge college basketball fan many make me out to be (i've heard one story that i am a fourteen foot tall 968lb duke fan; not only is this preposterous on a size basis, as there's no way i've pushed past the 935 mark, but also a true laugh that i would like my devils blue. i much prefer the standards of red and black, with the occasional pastel demon thrown in "for the ladies.")
but holy shit, there's about to be baseball again for the next six months... if it weren't the day after daylight savings time day (the bad one), i would hardly be able to keep still. well, that, and the beer marinated tissues.
i barbecued scallop/bacon kebabs last night. they were phenomenal, but i think next time i may have to melt some cheese over them to get the non-kosher triple play. would it have to be pig cheese, or will any old mammalian dairy product do? to anyone in the know, please advise.

i say "fu-uu-uu-uu-uck bush!"
and then shake it like you caught it on fire

failing that, just worry about the fuck bush part.

mitch hedberg and the pope... guess which one i'm more upset about.
i don't mean to be crass, and if anyone who reads this post has a problem, feel free to write me on a comment or an e-mail, but the pope was an old guy already. he wasn't bad as popes go, but his insistence on continuing the prohibition of roughly one in five people worldwide from utilizing birth control is positively cruel.
that said, back when i was a youth growing up in the southern baptist church, i was a pretty big jp ii fan. there were definitely some concessions to common sense made while he was on his watch.
i need to take a lesson from that howler monkey and get back to the funny stuff if i want to keep all three of my readers. thanks to statcounter, i have a decent idea of who you are, but even then it's more guess than anything else. as best i have been able to discern fom the info given to me by the good people (or robots) at statcounter, the bulk of hits coming to this blog are here by accident. many of them seem to be doing research on either the apache chief geronimo or the black panther elmer "geronimo" pratt and find little old me, far less revoutionary, though in no way embarrassed at the association. the rest of you, my visitors, seem to actually know me and yet somehow you still want to know the details of my life and hear me ranting about politics. perhaps you don't, but in any case, you're still looking out of habit, and i thank you.
by the way, i'm adding a new link (here, if i can't get the template changes in quickly enough). one of the only reasons i still pick up the riverfront times, a once decent free weekly run by the most liberal guy in the stl now turned mass produced mtv-ish bunch of porn and real estate ads interspersed with dick and fart jokes about local aldermen, is ths cartoon, which is a pretty good source for real information as well as a good "i think i'm gonna throw up at the realities of living in the u.s." kind of laugh pretty much every week.
i really need to work on my sentance structure. the only way to follow the sheer number of independant clauses and such in that last sentence would be to diagram it. i won't diagram it for you, but maybe if you asked siouxs! really nicely...
goodbye, mitch hedberg. you are already missed.

a letter to Michael Schaivo

she is gone. her suffering (or total lack thereof) has ended. your suffering is probably greater now than anyone's. the politicians aren't done, but now is the time for grieving, and moving towards closure. be strong. there are those that will still speak ill of you, and will continue to sanctify your wife, but right now is your time. her parents will have their grief as well, but they are the ones who stood in the way of life. your life, ours, and hers. hers had ceased to be a life fifteen years ago; everything since has been a personal battle for you and those who would villify you. it is good that you, her husband, the man who stood by her side, even though you could no longer receive anything from her in return, were there for her in her time of dying. you were the one who chose to love her and spend your life with her. now her life is finally, completely extinguished, and the fight is over.
do not think that they are done using you. in our current state of twisted hyper-morals, there are those who still see you as a way to take the attention away from their own, far less humane and more sinister actions. there are those who will continue to use this woman, your wife, who once brought you joy, to further their own ends. they are powerful, and will likely succeed in their aims, if only because they are capable of such ethical gymnastics as would baffle the average good person. do not believe them. you are a good person. you were a loving husband, acting on your wife's wish, and as such, you deserve to be called a hero. it obviously wasn't an easy decision, as it took you ten years to make. it is the bravery that we show in making such a decision that makes heroes.
if you believe in such, believe she is in a better place. in whatever case, remember that her life has been no life at all for the last fifteen years, and that now she is at peace. though it comes from a religion to which i personally do not subscribe, there is truth in the requiem "ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." whether there is creator or a grand series of occurances that have put us here, we are all heading for where we came from.
while others use you and your suffering for their own soundbites and talking points, grieve, and remember what she was like those fifteen years ago. soon enough, time will go on, and the lawmaker/lawbreakers will have their own fresh injustices to cover afresh. you will be blessedly forgotten when the true criminals are once again swimming in their own foulness.
i don't claim to understand what you are feeling. whatever they may say, no one else understands it either. each persons grief is his or her own, and every situation is different. continue to be, and your life can continue.
know that there are those who reconize you to be the hero that you are, and may you have peace.

j m judd

two posts in one day...
paleontologists in montana say that they've found soft tissue (blood vessels) inside a t-rex bone. i just heard about it tonight. i just tried to find something about it on the internet, but the only people who had something to say about it were a bunch of creationist assholes saying that it proved their "theory" that the earth was only a few thousand years old. they also took a freak occurance and ran with it, saying that the scientists also found red blood cells and hemoglobin in the one. this is not true. i'm posting now in the hopes that my blo will come up in a google search, because there needs to be at least one dissenting voice. just doing my part to keep the christian fundamentalist in their place (which is church, not the internet, or schools, or courtrooms, or the white house). go back to sunday school, churchy, and believe whatever you want.

this is all i am going to say about terry schiavo (at least today). when dubya was governor of tejas, he signed a law stating that people determined to be in a persistant vegetative state whose families cannot pay for continued treatment are to have their feeding tubes removed. (i don't often imbed links to blogs of people i don't know, but this gentleman had all of the facts i needed at the top of a google search results list, so thanks, Mark A. R. Kleiman.)
there's going to be a draft. i don't care what the politicians and officers say, there is going to be a draft. i'm glad i'm jsut six months away from being too old to get drafted. i suppose i'm also glad that my stepbrother michael volunteered for the marine corps rather than being drafted, if only on principle. at least as a volunteer, he stands a chance of getting to pick his area of service, or so i am led to believe.
the drive to kc yesterday wasn't so bad. i got a pretty good lunch out of it, anyway, and got to hang with kingston for a few minutes. i like to tell people that kingston is such a good friend because i can tell him the same stories over and over again and he never remembers that i've told him before. the man has no event memory whatsoever, and he is fine with that. he can tell you every spec of his old gr6 motorcycle (or whatever; i'm not a bike guy), but doesn't remember how many times i've been to kc since he moved there (it's 3, if you're curious, which you only would be if you're kingston [and if you're kingston, you've long since forgotten that i write on this blog]). what a guy. i miss that dude.
so, fuck gw bush, and tom delay, and jeb bush, and i hope at least one bush daughter has the syph. (wow, that was just mean for no reason... but i'll bet they think that daddy's a good president, so they deserve it anyway.)

lucky me. i get to drive roughly ten tons of truck and wine across the state, empty it all out, then drive back. last time i did anything of the sort, i had to find out once that such a truck is more nimble than i would have though possible. i also found out that it is less nimble than i needed it to be later that same journey, when i nearly tipped it over. i am watching out for that one turn, no doubt, but the rest of the drive will feature rain and assholes (or so i assume about the assholes).
getting my day started twenty minutes earlier than usual tends to throw me off for the whole day. let's hope that doesn't hold true today, or someone might have to die.
fuck bush

barbecued yesterday. i'm starting to get tired of grilling the same old burgers and chicken. it isn't that they aren't good, it's just the experimental cook in me wanting to do more. these may well have been the most unimportant two opening sentences of any post to date.
i realized yesterday that i can't actually make the claim that no one i know (approximately my age) is dead. there was a guy i knew in tennessee, ben (his last name eludes me at the moment). ben was an interesting guy. i can't say he was my friend, but he was something more than an aquaintance. i met my best friend back home in high school, but we weren't really that tight in high school. i started hanging out with her when i started going to rocky horror, and it was through this group of people that i got to know ben. ben never cleaned up the cat boxes, so his apartment was a little bit frightening. it was the sort of thing you could get used to, remarkably enough, but god forbid you ever had to much to drink or smoke or some such and had to sleep there. ben had a fucked up past by the time i got to kow him. his mom died of cancer over the course of several years, and i know that he was already depressed before that. because his mom was a nurse, she had access to all kinds of pills and such for her pain, and in the years after her death, ben became a fairly avid pill popper, (as far as i know) out of the stocks that she had in reserve. i tried some pretty freaky drugs over at ben's; when he was in a generous mood, he would lay out a veritable buffet of intoxicants for all of his approved guests. he also had a large collection of swords, which we would occasionally break out and fight with when we weren't too messed up, and a few times when we were. he was able to afford all this stuff partly on the insurance money, and partly on an advance that he had received for a sci-fi/fantasy novel he had written. he worked for only about a year of the four or five i knew him. the publisher for his novel sent his manuscript back and asked him to make a few changes, which he absolutely refused to do. he ended up keeping the several grand in advance money, and never did anything else on the novel.
ben hung himself a year or two ago. his depression had gotten worse, and i think there was som romantic entanglement involved. i remembered ben yesterday because i got a "red dwarf" disc from netflix; ben had the entire run of the series on vhs. i can't say that i miss ben, we just weren't that close. it was quite a sobering thought, however, when i realized i had forgotten him when i wrote the last long venture into the past.
sorry this was such a depressing post.
bush is a fucker, cheney's a monster, and diggity-don rumsfeld needs to be poisoned. (note: secret service, i won't be poisoning anyone anytime soon, even if they deserve it.)

i was looking back the other day at a few of my posts from years gone by... first of all, it's really hard to imagine that gthedamned is a few years old at this point. the main thing i noticed is that i have turned this almost completely into a political ranting page, which is fine, but back in the day as it were, gthedamend was more personal. there was a time, particularly during my last period of unemployment, when i posted frequently about my day to day goings on, rather than my reactions to the country and the world we live in. while i am not going to cut out my leftist agenda by any means, i think i need to bring back a certain element of geronimo back to gthedamned. that said, the only political thing i am going to say in this blog is that we really need to start taxing the wealthy more if we ever plan to get this country fixed (or even just stop its decline).
there are a lot of people who i went to college with and a few from high school that i have been thinking about lately, wondering what has become of them. from time to time i hear rumors that so-and-so moved to this city, or this asshole got married, or whatever. as yet, i haven't heard that anyone was dead, which is a good thing, but i'll lay odds that someone who i once considered a friend is dead now (and i'm not talking about people who were grown when i was growing up, but people approximately my age). i guess this is coming to mind because siouxs!'s ten year class reunion is coming up this year, and mine will be next year. i also went to the doctor monday for the first time in roughly ten years, so i'm just feeling this sense of a decade. i'm not sure what it means.
anyway, before i ramble off into infinity, i have a request. i want to hear from people that i haven't kept up with as well as i might have liked. if you are someone i know (which, no doubt you are if you are reading this) and have e-mail addresses of someone else i know, or even just information about people from our mutual past, send them to me, drop me a line and fill me in, or something. or don't. see if i care.
much love to all, and sorry for the sappiness.
fuck bush.
g

i like ranting about politics. i love baseball. it would seem to stand to reason that i would like the congressional hearings on steroid use in mlb a lot more than i do. instead, i can't stop thinking about what a waste of congressional time and taxpayer money this is. no, i don't think that baseball players should use steroids, and i don't think anyone who does should have a chance to get into the hall of fame. i think baseball itself needs some serious internal work to make it more enjoyable for everyone instead of purely profitable. this kind of thing is the reason for the commisioner of major league baseball and all of the various functionaries therein.
baseball is called america's pastime. i've never heard of a time when that meant the government needed to take a hand in straightening out the kinks. if there were sport that the government were going to take an interest in, one would think that it would at least be international (and don't even talk to me about canada; if our world series were truly open to the world, we damn sure wouldn't win it every year). does the house of commons ever interfere with british league football? does the king of spain ever overturn a jai alai final? of course not. i'm not calling for a separation of sport and state, i just don't want to pay for it.
this is all because that jerk-off is a former team owner, isn't it? is that what he means by "ownership society?" fuck bush with a louisville slugger (i'm sure there's at least one slugger from louisville willing to take one for the team like that. or rather, give one for the team.)

well don't i feel like the advertisement whore...
i just sent out a bunch of e-mails (all individually written, not a form letter) to tell people to go to the bastards karamazov website which is going well and has some video posted now. i realize that maybe posting on this blog will garner one more potential surfer, but that's still a reasonable percentage of our total hits. please give it a look, as jah has been working really hard on it, and i for one think it's pretty damned funny.
fuck bush.

well don't i feel like the advertisement whore...
i just sent out a bunch of e-mails (all individually written, not a form letter) to tell people to go to the bastards karamazov website which is gong well and has some video posted now. i realize that maybe posting on this blog will garner one more potential surfer, but thats still a reasonabl percentage of our total hits. please give it a look, as jah has been working really hard on it, and i for one think it's pretty damned funny.
fuck bush.

so apparently we're restructuring our military for constant conflicts that are smaller most of what we've been involved in recently. i'm pretty sure this is just a way to continue naming things after reagan. the fervor has died down somewhat on actually changing the names of stuff (so i don't think we'll be changing the name to the ronald reagan memorial united states army anytime soon), but now it seems we're converting our military to be more in the spirit of our fortieth president. look for anti-communist witch hunts and dictators we put in place to be deposed in a third world country near you!

so, i put a counter down at the bottom of the page, and last time i looked, it had 26 hits in a week, none of them "return visitors." if you are a member of the secret service assigned to monitor this blog, hi! i know that you're only a symptom of the problem, not the problem itself. in times where i like the president (such as 1993-2000), you are there to protect him/her from the nutjobs with guns or whatever tool of harm may come into play. (note: i don't have any guns. i don't even have any pocket knives since i forgot i had one in my pocket at the airport.)
so keep up the good work, secret service person. i'm no real threat, but i hope you at least enjoy what i have to say from time to time.
that said, fuck bush. (blue thirty-one, the eagle is buggered)

the term private parts implies that all other parts are public parts. this is all well and good, but what if you don't like people looking at your teeth?
had a barbecue yesterday. there is a barbecue phenomenon that i can't say i fully understand but i will discuss for just a moment. why is it so hard to get truly drunk at a barbecue? it wasn't my goal last night to get ripped, but i did my fair share of drinking. i had two strong pints of jack and coke, then switched over and had between six and nine beers (i can't say i was counting, except in retrospect). after the jack and cokes, with nearly no food in my stomach, i had a bit of a buzz. after all the beers (consumed between six o'clock and ten o'clock) i still had the same buzz. am i doing something wrong? is my high tolerance for alcohol getting out of hand? should i quit drinking for a while forget i just wrote that, because that won't be happening. i have a doctor's appointment next week for the first time since 1996. if she tells me i'm going to have to stop drinking, i'm going to need a liver. any and all donations are welcome. i'll let you know more next week, but rest assured, any money will go towards the old liver send off party, and any liver segments will be tested for a close enough genetic match.
since this post has been personal and rather apolitical, showing a gentler, more introspective geronimo, bush can go make tender love to himself. and carl rove.

you and i'll be broke when we get old
thanks to our pal dubya
we'll never go to war anywhere it's cold
you got to love old dubya

dubya is your only friend
he is your anchor in the wind
his dynasty should never end
(deficits are hard to spend
you jug-eared clown you, dubya)

dubya dubya, yippee-eye-ay
dubya dubya dubya
he'll do you one better'n the cia
(republikkkans'll fuckya!)


(fuck bush with wolfowitz's head. if you need something a little more in depth than this relatively mindless profanity, check out my newest new link. one last thing... first round of mastering for the bastards cd happened this week. 2005 should see the release, though i can't yet be more specific than that - g)

you and i'll be broke when we get old
thanks to our pal dubya
we'll never go to war anywhere it's cold
you got to love old dubya

dubya is your only friend
he is your anchor in the wind
his dynasty should never end
(deficits are hard to spend
you jug-eared clown you, dubya)

dubya dubya, yippee-eye-ay
dubya dubya dubya
he'll do you one better'n the cia
(republikkkans'll fuckya!)

(fuck bush with wolfowitz's head)

ok, very quickly now... i'm a little worried to see the collaboration of george herbert walker bush (my third most hated president of my lifetime) and william jefferson clinton (favorite president of my lifetime). even though they are working for a worthy cause, that bill could be in the same room with that slimy old bastard is beyond me...
fuck bush (take your pick)

rest in peace, dr. thompson. pistols and wild turkey can make for a good afternoon, but this time they have taken someone who will be missed. way to not fade out, you gonzo son of a bitch.

first of all, we got our dsl set up last night. i imagine that means you can expect more posting, at least for a little while. however, since i do most of my posting at work, there are no guarantees on that.
second, anytime you hear a republikkkan say good for the economy, that means "good for several of my ceo friends/parents/children/cousins/spouse." to be fair, virtually anytime you hear a demokkrat say good for the economy, that means "good for my smaller corporate interest, which, though ostensibly ethical and even giving back to the community from time to time, is actually built on the backs of malaysian children, most of whom have lost fingers and even arms to the capitalist machine."
that's an awful lot of meaning to cram into one four word phrase.
see how much meaning you can get out of this four word phrase: fuck bush (faster/harder).

quitting smoking is fucking hard. i'm going through ten or more tea tree toothpicks a day now (day five). i have yet to commit an act of violence or destruction. siouxs! and i have not been in any serious arguments. i have made no sweeping apathetic proclamations like "i just don't care about anything anymore."
the sad thing is, all of these statements add up to success.
fucking tobacco bastards. why can't we use tobacco like, let's say the native americans, for ceremonial purposes (or whatever, i don't really care). if everyone made a big deal out of every cigarette/cigar/pipe/chaw/dip they ever had, then the tobacco bastards would be a lot less powerful.
fuck bush.

i have an idea. let's cut the budget of everything domestic. education? of course we don't need that. all of the important kids are going to private schools anyway. if the poor aren't ignorant, how can they be ground under the heel of society? healthcare. now that just has to go. bunch of medicaid/medicare freeloading beggars, everyone's looking for a handout these days just because they're "old and on a fixed income" or "broke." just because their "health problem" keeps them from getting a "job." try harder, you whiners.
i've got another great domestic black hole we can stop throwing money into. let's cut back the cabinet. let's see how high ranking government officials do when forced to live on twenty grand a year. let the senate have a five thousand dollar deductible and need a new gallbladder. with great wealth comes great power, but let's change that. how about this: we'll borrow and idea from monks of all stripes and religions. you want power, influence, if you want people to listen to your every word, take a vow of poverty. live simply and be no more harmful a parasite than absolutely necessary. i'll bet we could have a better class of politician in inside of a week.
god, fuck bush.

it's bloody cold, and it's just going to get colder. dubya is working to guarantee the economic collapse of the united states during our lifetimes. we just got a new secretary of state who will be loathed world-wide, despite being both black and a woman. we are trading a privacy invading police state style attorney general for one who thinks torture is not without some value. we are currently fighting a war for the continuation of entrenched power (in our country) on foriegn soil that has little to nothing to do with its expressed purpose. said country is about to hold elections which will put a nice shine of democracy on virtual anarchy and power grabbing. americans have already mostly forgotten about 150,000 dead in asia (including myself) due to the sheer scope of the tragedy. if i were a religious man (which i'm not), i just might say that the world was coming to an end. i won't, but i expect to see a paradigm shift in the next fifty or so years that will catch all of the blind followers of this country by surprise.
sorry this post is such a drag, but world affairs don't tend to be sweetness and light. keep the faith (if it makes sense), viva la revolucion, and fuck bush.

i don't have much time, so i'll keep this very brief. this inauguration day, do something good for your country. you don't even have to kill anyone. simply remind friends and family of what will prove to be w's legacy: the end of the united states of america. whether we are deposed by the dispossessed, or taken over by fascists from within, we will never be the great country we have been at various points in our history, ever again.

it's been a new year of hard partying so far, with as yet no restful relaxing weekend to recoup and recharge, but i can't say that i am regretful. siouxs! and i quit smoking, not as a new year's resolution, but just because. we're not one hundred percent by any means, but this should really be the year that we get shut of it once and for all. damn the tobacco bastards.
this should prove to be an eventful year. siouxs!'s sister moves to bean town today, and by the end of the month, howler monkey is going to have to spend an extended stay in the waters of lake minnetonka. rynomite is back in town, and tomatohead is coming for a visit soon. personal social upheaval isn't my strong suit, so i'm not exactly looking forward to the changes the coming year will bring, but for once, i will try to remain optimistic. on rare occasion, optimism proves founded.
nonetheless, fuck bush.

i really hate this fucking holiday, so i'll make this brief. i wish all of my friends a joyous day off, festival of lights (i know it's over, but when have i ever been on time for that sort of thing?) or whatever you may choose to call it for yourselves. for a set of holidays based on the idea that drinking is good when it's cold outside, this has really become a juggernaut of capitalism. so screw that. (if you are reading this blog, most likely) i love you all, and be sure to pass on my vindictive spite to those who deserve it. i suppose, as long as you're passing things along, you can pass the aforementioned love to those who deserve it, those who will be expecting it, or even those who you think i might enjoy the company of.
happy birthday, killer robot jesus. luke warm, the b-list porno star, see what your godson hath wrought.

good god it's cold. reminds me of christmases of yore, spent by someone else in a siberian prison camp. those were the days, eh? do you remember when you weren't in a siberian prison camp? then count your blessings. also, count them if you aren't living in the goddamned mid-west, where the wind from way over vladivostok comes to wait out the winter.

truly, my aspirations to power aren't that great. all i want is a quiet life, away from the hustle and the bustle, where i can kick back, relax, and occasionally perform all of the duties required by my newly appointed position, secretary of rum based cocktails. i'll even accept minister of rum based cocktails, since my patriotism might be made mutable by a beach and enough rum. and a hammock. the hammock is key.

gthedamned would like to offer congratulations to the chocolate goddess of love for her stunning performance on law and order: svu last eve. she made ice t look like a punk. (please, ice t, if you are a gthedamned reader, please don't come and kick my ass. i have nothing but respect for you ice t, but you've been famous for years, while my sister is just getting started in that department.)

we're proud of you, girl

thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday between halloween and the fourth of july, both of which are really just excuses to fuck with people. having said that, i had a pretty good thanksgiving, but nothing too exciting. everyone in knox vegas seems to have the flu, either transmitted by my baby brother or otherwise. haven was certainly the highlight of the trip, though the hanging around getting buzzed with mom and siouxs! comes in a fairly close second (and as long as i keep ranking things, seeing tr ricks playing football, however briefly they let me watch, was pretty sweet as well). the drive down could've been worse, but could've been better as well.
ok, just a brief political rant. it seems that bush and his bushies are still trying to stop the use of medicinal marijuana for cancer and aids patients at a federal level, since now ten states allow it. the logic is that marijuana is bad for you, so therefore any potential benefits should be overlooked. what happened to your funda-mentalist christian folderol, dubya? god made the weed. he also made a lot of other things that are bad for us, but very few of them are illegal. there are quite a few deadly mushroom species, and rattlesnakes are poisonous as well. bears and pumas have killed a few people in this country, why aren't they illegal? oh yeah, what's that other thing that you smoke that it turns out is bad for you? that stuff your buddies grow? no, not crack, your c.i.a. buddies haven't yet figured out a way to "grow" that. i'm talking about your good ol' buddies phillip and r.j.
you know who i mean. they're the ones who seduced so many of us into sucking on a toxic, cancer-causing agent and fooled us into thinking if they put some fiberglass on one end, it wasn't as bad.
man, i could use a smoke.

quiet and sad weekend. to those who wonder why, give a call or an e-mail, and i'll fill you in. much love to all who know already, and thank you for your love and support.
more smartassed bullshit coming soon, but just not today.
g

i almost forgot

http://www.bastardskaramazov.com/

many thanks to tomatohead. bookmark it now, and beat the rush for the video clips and such.

fuck bush.

sometimes i hate both my home town and my adopted home. it isn't about the residents, though there are certainly plenty in both who put me of a murderous mind. it isn't the st. louis' flat horizon or the knox vegas ssslllooowwwwwnnnnnneeeeesssssssss, though each of those things is enough reason to want to move. the problem is airports. since st. louis is no longer a hub, cheap flights to lesser cities are hard to find. if either of my two claimed homes were more of a destination, the whole process of flying home for a holiday would be easier. as it is, my cheapest option is a flight to houston, connecting to chicago, and then, provided i can figure out how to go back in time while at o'hare, then to nashville, where someone (like my mom) would have to drive two and a half hours to meet us, then two and a half hours back home. i can drive there faster than that.

check out the chocolate goddess of love's website.

fuck bush.

this fuckin' country.

be ready to expatriate or run from the police on a moment's notice. i've been saying that gay marraige was a distraction technique all along, but did anyone believe me? well, yes, some did, then promptly forgot and started back in on it. of course gay people should be able to get married, or have civil unions, or have their life commitments recognized in some way by our government, but see what happens when some very clever gay republican (yes, there are a few) manages to make it an issue. the hicks turn out in droves (and believe me, there are a lot of hicks in this country. try to otherwise explain the popularity of "blue collar tv" "git 'er done" redneck jackass). whenever the hicks turn out in these kinds of numbers, bad things happen (see the civil war).
furthermore, if any of you eighteen to twenty-six-year-olds that i know didn't vote on tuesday, i'm coming to slap the bong out of your hand and beat you with a bible as a taste of what we're in for in the next bush presidency. you don't have to vote the way i do (though you probably will), just vote, slack-ass.

siouxs! and i joined the neighborhood rec plex/gym. i had forgotten i had "lats," but now they are reminding me of their existence.

happy birthday, tomatohead. i hope seattle is treating you right.

fuck bush.

florida, i love you, but you always fuck shit up...
they're already trying to steal the election, and it's still four days away. there's all this fraud and scandal with their stupid absentee ballots already. and in the great state of misery, neither siouxs! nor i have received our voter registration cards yet. does anyone know a good lawyer?

go cards 2005!
congratulations to red sox fans, red sox, and everyone else, either red or sox related. let's keep this boston momentum going. go kerry! win the pennant!

i just had a post dissapear into the void...
i blame the fbi
fuck bush

how the hell did the cardinals go from being two games up to one game behind? roger clemens isn't that damned good.
the new topographer deserves a shout out and a wish of good luck. click the first link to see why.
does anyone know anyone whose voting for w, and are they running off of more than a brainstem alone?
before i forget, fuck bush. fbi, i want to see a copy of my file as per the freedom of information act. then, fuck cheney.

oh yeah, i almost forgot. fuck bush. just fuck him, fucker.

it's hard to be a liberal and a baseball fan. no one who reads this will be all that surprised by any of it, but i have been a pretty die hard bleeding heart weepy eyed tax and spend liberal since the fourth grade. since moving to st louis, i have become a cardinals fan with the fervor of a religious convert (credit that comparison to siouxs!, not me). for game one of the national league series, i was watching the game and listening to the debate, occasionally flipping the channel to check out the american league series. last night, we were fortunate enough to not have to choose. thank you, matt morris, for not doing worse than you did. (knocking on wood 'till my knuckles bleed) cards and kerry: can they go all the way?

bring me the head of ralph nader
that spoiling fucker.
there is a reason that you're not
on (some) ballots, sucker.
(i'm still not a demokrat
nor a republikkkan't
but if the choice was bush or lucifer
i'd be the devil's supplicant.)
third parties are all well
and good, in times of peace
but this is war, us versus them
and we'll stand a chance at least
if we fight together against
our common enemy
a certain huckster, smiling tool
with a monster for a daddy.
so violence may not solve
this third party quandary
but lock ralph n. behind closed doors
and another votes john kerry.

dubya is on the ropes, and yet i'm still worried about the election. perhaps the debate tonight will ease my mind.
the dodgers are on the ropes, and yet i'm still worried about this series. perhaps the game saturday will easse my mind.

the preceding statements represent two thirds of my overall thought for the past few days. the remainder is spent being worried about siouxs!, who has homecoming this weekend to stress her out. i love you. hang in there for two more days, and it will all be better.

dubya is on the ropes, and yet i'm still worried about the election. perhaps the debate tonight will ease my mind.
the dodgers are on the ropes, and yet i'm still worried about this series. perhaps the game saturday will easse my mind.

the preceding statements represent two thirds of my overall thought for the past few days. the remainder is spent being worried about siouxs!, who has homecoming this weekend to stress her out. i love you. hang in there for two more days, and it will all be better.

keep your head up, howler monkey. we're all living weekend to weekend to a certain extent... and if the weekend isn't soon enough, declare a religious holiday and do something fun (one of the bonuses of never stating to anyone, even yourself, anything binding about your religious beliefs).

in related news, the cardinals game yesterday was perfect. great weather (just the perfect amount of cool), cold beer, and an astounding victory with five home runs. no wonder espn thought no one would want to watch our game as compared to the other first round playoff games. motherfuckers.

requiat in pace, Rodney.

oh yeah, and fuck bush.

today is the first day of baseball post season, and i will be there. for anyone who would be, be jealous. anyone who wouldn't, just be happy for me. i'm going to say cardinals 8, dodgers 4. i'm also going to be knocking on a wooden rabbit's foot with my hat on inside out and every crossable digit crossed.

in political news, fuck bush. that's right, fuck him.

he did it! kerry did it! he attacked the right thing! stick and move, stick and move! i don't normally put links in a post, but here. if either one of the people who read this blog haven't had a chance to see or hear this, this is the best i can pull off for the moment. i was trying to find the whole speech in its entirety, but what are you going to do.

our presidential contest is neck and neck,
with candidates spewing lies and dreck.
we must stop our bumpkin warlord,
but the other option leaves me bored.
why a luke warm moderate instead
of a firebrand heart and a cool head.
how about a liberal to rally behind
someone who uses their nimble mind
mass produced choices are a limiting few
(sorry, mr. nader, this job's not for you!)

vote for me, next election, and i'll tell you what
a hybrid car in every garage
and two beers in every gut.
-g

played football with a bunch of guys in their late thirties on saturday. went to the driving range with a certain howler monkey yesterday. my hands feel like oven mitts, and my quads are creaking. god help me, i'm an old man at twenty-six.

i hope that everyone's labor day weekend was as good as mine. i especially hope that the forty plus mosquitos who did their parts in the long standing quest to make it easier for me to get drunk. a note to the red cross... if you see one of those mosquitos, grab the fucker, as she has at least a pint of my at least somewhat rare blood type. a note to the moquitos... i saw you staggering around after you bit me. that'll teach you. also, if one of you fuckers gave me west nile, you'd better hope i die from it, because i've got connections, and i'll find you. (editors note: we here at gthedamned realize that very few if any moquitos will ever read this last bit of rant, if for no other reason than it takes at least fifty of them to turn on the average computer.)

i have been shut of cigarettes for over two weeks now... just so you know.

those god-fearing-god-damned republikkkans are really doing their damnedest to piss me off. voluntary ignorance is right up there on my list of ways to kill any respect i might have. rudy giuliani, mayoral hero of the new republikan moderate movement, has, in one speech, gone from being reasonably respectable to the same sort of lying scum that i had rather hoped he was better than. the quote from his speech at the republiklan rally last night in particular that stuck in my craw was the one that said that our president can see past today, and tomorrow, and into the future. this about a man who had enough foresight to start a war without an exit strategy, and the final determination to say a year and a half ago "mission accomplished" (meanwhile how many have died since then?). if george w. bush has a vision of the future, then he has no vision of either the present or the past. i'm not saying that john kerry is the best choice for our country, but if we let this moronic visionary have another four years, there is no telling how much trouble we'll get ourselves into. you and i are a part of w's vision of the future. we are the help.

sorry to get so political, but it's been quite a while since the blog had this kind of slant, so it just kind of poured out.

just blogging to say welcome back allison and yes, you should sleep with the howler monkey. since the two of you are probably half of my readers, i will say no more...

the management and staff at geronimothedamned would like to thank both of our readers for letting us know that they still care enough to devote several seconds of their time to the cause. from all of us (inside this head) to all of you (outside this head), thank you. it's good to feel loved.

on a different note, tomatohead, aka jordan, is nearing the end of his long journey. here's hoping that seattle is good to him.
in related news, who's to say what's up with the bastards karamazov. initial recordings have been laid down, all that remains are a few more songs and some post production. look for the bastards cd before the end of the year.

business, business, business. hate to say so, but i have to go to work.

i knew it.  nobody cares about poor little g.   (sniffle)  i guess i'll just have to go kill myself or something...

(the above message was intended for ironic purposes only.  had this been real self pity, you can bet your ass it would not appear on this website.  self pity made public is whining, and whining may well require capital punishment when my reign of terror begins.)

the show was a success.  we will try to perform it, in slightly modified form, at another date to be announced.  also, coming soon, bastardskaramazov.com for all of your excited interest and interested excitement.
 
just to fulfill my curiosity, could anyone who actually reads this drivel post a comment?  i know it's a lot to ask, but i would like to know if i am the only one who actually reads this blog.

four days until the comedy event of the summer... the bastards karamazov present a smutcar named deflower at the way out club, tuesday, july sixth. doors at 8:30, show at 9:30.
my anniversary is also this weekend (well, this long weekend). it's hard to believe that siouxs! and i have been married a year already. actually, it's mostly hard to believe that she has put up with my ass for a year of wholly matrimony. to that end, if anyone should see my beautiful bride (or call or e-mail her), congratulate her on her infinite patience. (not to get lost in sentimentality, but) i love you, suzi.

in this time of tumultuous change, there are still a few things that you can count on. one of those things is that the bastards karamazov will have another show. though it is as yet unnamed, the bastards will be performing tuesday, july 6th, at the home of bastard comedy, the way out club, at 9:30 pm. the cover is still only five dollars. five dollars. think of it this way. we're saving you from going to jack'n the box and pushing yourself one step closer to cardiac arrest. we're keeping you off those dirty cigarettes. all proceeds go toward buying the bastards smokes.

ok, honestly, i'm not sure if i have anything to say in this post, but i'll try for the sake of beating my month habit...
the family was in town this past weekend. it was a pretty good time, i must say. we took them to the zoo (however briefly... it was hot out there), the city museum (for the stl uninformed... please visit the city museum sometime, and not just the bar, though that is pretty damned rockin' as well) and dave and busters, where i proceeded to get the whole family hooked on running the ponies (derby owners club... a good way to blow fifty bucks). all and all, it was a good weekend, but i'm still trying to get my brain back up to normal function, and i'm still trying to erase the southern accent that my mom is always kind enough to lend to me when i see her from my speech. seriously, i had less of an accent when i was a kid than i do now.
haven is still the cutest kid in the whole damned world, but is proving to be smart as well. he knew, without being able to read or count (he's two) which was their hotel room from a line of identical doors. he also figured out how to unlock said door from the inside by watching someone else do it once. the kid's a friggin' genius. and so fucking cute it makes you just want to gather bunnies and ducklings, then throw them at other kids.
it's nearly thirty minutes until i have to start work. i should get some work done...

whoa! blogger, what hast thou wrought?! can't say i was ready for a change (which in reality probably took place weeks ago) to the blogging system i know and love. it's thrown me so far off, i almost forgot what i was going to write about. first of all, alissa (see link to the side, but really, if you've ever read my blog, you probably know alissa) was in town last weekend, and st. louis was temporarily a better place. second of all, alissa, you can buy me drinks all you want, but if you dare say it's a repayment for your part of the bar tab at the karaoke bar, i will have to mock you. hard. (seriously, until my fourth aa meeting, i will buy you drinks without a second thought, at least until the bar tab gets into the triple digits).
ok, now the real reason i got on blogspot... i wish i could give you a date, but the new bastards karamazov show is going to be freaking awesome. avante garde, cutting edge comedy that isn't afraid to say what it means, or hit on your mom after a few pitchers of boilermakers. look for us to announce multiple dates at multiple locations. if you or anyone you know owns a bar with a sound system and a stage, let us know. if you or anyone you know likes to get drunk with funny people, let us know that too.

clocking in at just over a month it's...... geronimo! that's right folks. i haven't forgotten either one of you. it's just that i've been so busy lately, what with the kidnapping and all. i mean, like it or not, you gotta feed those hostages every day!
to be honest, i really am only writing this so that i can not write again for another month. i'm not really a diary type person, and i'd usually rather get a laugh in person than hear someone tell me they thought the blog was funny. i wish i could promise more posts, more regularly, but i know that i wouldn't keep that promise. instead, i'll make a promise i know i can keep. (ah-hem) from this point on, i promise that each and every gthedamned post will contain at least one (1) multisylabic word. gthedamened is not responsible for misspellings. for that i would blame the drugs.
until next month, or something pisses me off real good...

the day of a show may cause
-fluttering stomach
-incurable lust for nicotine
-desire to be anywhere but work
-lack of focus
-need to last minute prop shop

needless to say, i am a victim of the above ailment. the show is going to kick ass, but until i hear a good laugh from the audience, i get a shit load of this. if you haven't made plans, you have now. if you have, break them, or better yet, relocate them. nothing makes a romantic moment more special than three overeducated and undercivilized gentlemen of the world poking fun at human foibles and genitalia. come one, come all, bring the kids (just not inside, please). bring grandma. she'll piss herself, and if she can hear well enough, she might just enjoy the show, too!

the kc was a rockin good time, as it turns out. i got to see several old friends, including kingston, the new topographer, and insomnia. to at least the first two listed above, it was spectacularrrr to see you again. (and new t. -- you should steal your dad's car. it looks great on you!)
i really think i should have majored in piracy.
now i have two weeks as acting office manager, since the real one is in new zealand. should prove to be fun, if i can hold my sanity intact.

come see the bastards karamazov one week from tonight at the way out club, 9:30 until they kick us the fuck out.

the bastards karamazov will be performing their first ever live solo show, march 9th at (where else) the way out club on the corner of jefferson and gravois, starts sometime after nine. for details call 781-2464

whoo hoo, i get to go to kansas city. party-time.

let's talk about salt, people. not table salt; that will have to be another rant for another time. no, i mean that modern marvel, road salt. first of all, when the sign on the back of the truck says stay back fifty feet, do. it's not only hell on a paint job, but will also whitewash a windshield like that was the purpose.
it's the driveways that i need to comment on, though. when you lay down salt on the driveway, it usually turns out to be a good thing for everything but the grass on either side. however, let me implore you to stop at a certain point! once you get to the point that you are slipping on the salt as badly (or worse, since it isn't expected) as you would the ice, it has gone too far. think before you salt. a message from the national you fucking moron council.

(two non-political posts in a row. can he go for the record?)

first there was ice, falling from the sky overnight
then there was snow all morning, to insulate the ice
then there was lasagne
then there was sleep
then there was an anxious radio listener, hopefully listening to school closings
then there was a disappointed radio listener
then there was no school anyway
but there was still work.
drunks don't take snow days.
now there's going to be more snow, and they don't plow our new neighborhood with any more regularity than they did the old one. does it get any better than this?

hateful demokkkrats are going to cost us four more years of that joker. if there can't be at least one unified front by the other evil corrupt political party, we might even see an abolition of term limits in the next four years. then we're really fucked, aren't we?

Let's go to the moon again, folks. think of how great that will be. we could live there, even if there is no life on the moon as yet. we could use the moon as a cheaper way to get to mars, what with the lessened gravity and all, even though there is no rocket fuel on the moon. and once we get to mars, why don't we just take that short little hop to heaven? we could thank jesus in person for all the help he's given us, in stealing elections, in bringing a highly technological war to an already downtrodden people, and in driving on a emotion centered populace over a cliff that they could see if only they would look with rational eyes.

that said, come see our show on monday. it's going to be the best one yet.

the bastards karamazov will be performing once again at reverend brim stone's lunar menagerie, this monday, jauary 19th at the way-out club, corner of jefferson and gravois.

i am way too sleepy to be at work, even though my caffeine is finally starting to kick in.

well, i've beat the month. now that it is blessed january, and i have nothing more than a lot of paperwork to do, i hope that i'll have time to update the world (at least the billionth of a percent that read this blog) on my day to day goings on. actually, strike that. i shouldn't bore the few people good enough to pay attention to my ravings... gotta work. more later

good god this is going to be a long day. my back hurt when i got up this morning, and over the course of today, i have to deal with 1800 cases of wine. i hope we get good temps. i also hope that plenty of people come to the third rev. brim stone's lunar menagerie, monday, dec 15, at the way out club (corner of jefferson and gravois). finally, i hope that you all have a good day, right up till let's say three fourteen. from there on out, you're on your damn own.

i realize that i'm slacking off on my posts, but it has been rather busy at work, what with it being the holiday season and all. i never guessed that people need to drink so much to deal with the holidays. i thought it was just me. it seems that between shopping, eating, family get-togethers, gift giving, and decorating, not to mention the weather, which is the primary reason for all of the holidays this time of year anyway, nearly everyone could stand a quick belt. it's not quite 8 a.m., and i could stand a quick belt right now. if this were a holiday, to hell sith standing, i could sit a long protracted journey into an alcohol fueled fantasy world, filled with bourbon elves and reinbeer. just imagine: one shot for every ornament hung, while slowly working on an eggnog (less the egg and the nog, thanks) and wondering how long it will take dad to crack into the bushmill's we got him for christmas, and if he plans on sharing it this year. a roaring fire, irish coffee, kahlua and milk for the kids, gin and vodka cocktails cooling in the snow, and grandma fortifying her tea with just the slightest nip (of tea).

sweet dreams...

well, i hope everyone had a nice thanksgiving. i did, on the whole, though there wasn't nearly as much drinking as there was the last time we did thanksgiving with suzi's family, two years ago. drinking beer all day and eating so much that drunkenness is next to impossible is a wonderfully gluttonous pastime, but one that can only be practiced a few times a year.

how is it that there are twelve days of christmas, but only seven deadly sins? what are you supposed to do the other five days?

i don't have a whole hell of a lot to say this morning, and you might be asking yourselves, why then must you subject us all to tales of your tedium? to which i reply this. were any of you to endure my version of boredom for even a second, your heart would be cauterized. that's right. i'm not bored or boring, i'm performing a valuable service to all of mankind (which, alongside my other goal to transform as much grain alcohol as possible into water for the health and safety of humans everywhere makes me a pretty indespensable, don't you think?).

the stl can be such a fucking drag.

just a quick post to make everyone jealous... i got to see chris rock live last night, and with about six thousand exceptions, you didn't.

dear god, to be in great britain right now. imagine with me, if you will, a land in which protesters are actually permitted to see the person and/or corporate menace that they have an issue with! real press being given to liberals and consservatives alike! and not one gun in the hands of the populace or the police! if only i had time to pack...

television is proof that the rich hate the poor. keep them pacified. keep them stationary. should the bastards desire information, filter it and spin it and keep them ignorant. keep them thinking that cops brutalizing criminals is reality (as well as people dating for huge sums of money and people eating live insects for smaller sums of money). keep them buying, keep them fat, keep them docile, keep them in wait for the cage rattling that brings forth the spew of ignorance and filth some have the nerve to call patriotism.

i guess i'm a little scathing this morning. the show is tonight...

this is why i'm a sucker...
the man has not been able to (completely) keep me down
i've taken on (video boxing) the heavyweight champ witout a scratch
i've stood my ground against opression, racism, classism, and several other isms
and one little rhinovirus can kick my ass
tad's ride, i'b sick! bud tad's not why i'b a sucker...
i'm posting from work.

i'm such a sucker sometimes, i believe my own bullshit.

coming off of a good rehearsal, i would have to say that the next baskar show is going to rock thy nads off. those of you without nads to rock off, it will rock some of the recently rocked off nads onto you. November 17th, at the way-out club on the corner of jefferon and gravois, nine o'clock, post meridian.

one of our dogs got ahold of a chicken beastbone and some ribs. i think she's going to be ok, but jesus fucking christ.

thank god for republikkkans!
praise jesus for george w. bush, our hero!
may john ashcroft sit at the lord's right hand for all eternity!

if it weren't for those dears at the republikkkan party, we might not have noticed. we might have walked right past, never noticing as the snake bit our collective heel. you see, it seems that the iraqis are much more cunning and evil than we thought. it seems that they have hidden their weapons of blah blah so well, that our boys haven't found them yet! those bastards! however, this is national news, international if the other countries know what's good for them! that's not the shadowy ninja of unamericanism that we need to focus on right now. we need to turn our sights away from iraq, the united states' own highly checkered past, the republkkkan lust for pure power and the ability to overlook any injustice that makes that power possible. thank you, christ the king for showing us the true insidious danger that we need to be protected from. it seems that those hate-mongerin demokkkrats have been talking about our boys apparent inability to find the afore mentioned blah blah anywhere in iraq! for shame how can you scandal-sowing enemies of freedom do such a thing when what your country needs is for you to shut up and take it like a man? (that goes for you in the bleeding heart bleeding monthly set too! take it like a man for your country!) our friends and protectors have always kept us safe before, right? remember when the averted the crisis of the philandering president? or when they saved us from that guy in the middle east, the one with the mustache? remember?

thank god for demokkkrats...!

well, it's four thirty on a friday, and here i sit at the office. suzi has the car so that we can get the various inspections we need to renew our plates. needless to say, she is the responsible one in the marraige.

i'm pretty fucking hungry right now, having skipped lunch and then labored manually most of the afternoon. i realize hunger primarily when i have time to, but i feel fairly certain that other people can tell when i'm hungry before i can. one example might be you, who as you read this blog, feel that i'm making even less sense than usual. you'd be right of course, as hunger is the only way i know of (apart from strong drink or drugs) to elicit from me such a stream of consciousness type piece of writing.

i'd better eat something soon.

i'm shockingly awake right now, but also shockingly uninspired to write about anything but politics. i write entirely too much about politics, so i think i'll save you all the bourbon of hearing from me ramble on and on about how i feel toward republikkkans one more time (no, i didn't say bourbon, you should get your eyes checked or something, rummy).

(sigh)

it's seven thirty; do you know where you are?

shouldn't i be tired an hour earlier?
I sure enough wanted a beer earlier
i awoke earlier
i ate earlier
we've wrested that extra hour back
for now

bastards karamazov at rev. brim stone's lunar menagerie #2 nov 17, at the way out
be there and be square
we don't care, we're suave and debonair
you're the fucking square

i'm feeling a little bit revolutionary again...
why can't we travel to and trade with cuba at this point? does it not stand to reason that without the support of a more global form of communism, that cuba is on the downward slope? isn't it fairly obvious that cuba will no longer be can no longer be a castro-ist communism without castro? how old is that guy, anyway, 106 or something? let's open it up, smoke some fine cigars, draft some new cardinals, and reap the benefits of a remarkable drug and medical therapy industry.
who know what evil lurks in the hearts of government? not even the shadow can fathom that much...

i think of myself as a baseball fan (at least for the past two or three years), but who do i cheer for in this world series (which i have yet to watch one game of)? on principle, i would root for the mormon tabernacle choir over the yankees, but, then again, teal has no place in the world of professional sport (nor national or municipal flags, houses, men's clothing, kitchen appliances, or high technology products). For similar reasons, i cannot support the charlotte hornets, though they are the closest basketball team to the land of my birth.
so, i guess, in this particular case, i'll just have to cheer for freak meteorilogical conditions. go, asteroids!

I heard a country song on the radio in the warehouse the other day (not by choice, mind) that set my blood a-boil. (very quickly, let me clarify. i don't mean country like patsy cline, johnny cash, or hank williams sr., but rather modern country, which i call the nash-vegas sound. the nash-vegas sound is really just boring tempo rock and roll with a twang that it shouldn't have. either play real country, or switch to rockabilly, or shift a little and be alt-country. don't just stand there scratching your balls and be proud of how much of a ignorant redneck you are.)
anyway, the song included the line (forgive me if i paraphrase) "and you say we don't have to worry about bin laden, have you forgotten?" then went on to sing the joyous prasies of our war in iraq and the ongoing struggle to gain order there. and goddamn it, i haven't forgotten anything from the eleventh of september. i was against going to war before we did, and still think it was a bad idea. i think most people are beginning to agree with me now that we've discovered no weapons of anything more than individual destruction. i still want to see the trial of osama and anyone else related to the fateful day, but i don't like everything else that goes on in the name of "homeland security." i imagine the fbi already has a file on me for the seditious statements i make here, and john ashcroft probably thinks me a treasonous anti-american, but i'm more american than he is, because i still believe in the things that this country was born in. give me liberty, or give me death, motherfucker.

I'm really over this thinning hair thing. every time i wash my hair, i come up with enough hair entwined in my fingers to weave a barbie wig. i still have a good amount of coverage, but not nearly enough depth. the particularly anoying part is that almost no one in my family has ever lost ther hair. my great-grandfather had three types of cancer (two of which he beat) and a full, unruly, and snowy mane. my grandfather (his son-in-law) had quite a forehead, which made him appear to have a receding hairline, but i've seen the pictures, so unless it started receding when he was not quite yet a pre-teen, i'm pretty sure that's just the way he looked. here it is, 2003, and I, product of the best genes eastern tennessee hill folk have to offer, and given an hour, i could count all of the hair i have left in slightly over an hour.

and yet i could shave every day. sometimes i think there is a god, and that he's just a fucking clown with a seltzer bottle.

well, since ahnold is gov., perhaps i should officially anounce my running for prez in 2016. you should really vote for me. true, i don't have any movies out, but just wait, fucker,

well, the show was a success. we were apparently the most entertaining part of the variety, though our performance nerves did tend to speed us along too much. I broke character three times during one sketch, but that sketch was a whole lot of me talking.

this is an astounding week of work. we're taking in wine at an unbelievable rate, and moving it out not quite so fast, but still at a good healthy pace. i, like suzi, will be glad when this week is over.

this post has no humor. at not quite 8 am, neither do i.

so the show is tomorrow. this will be the first performance of baskar, and as such, i am drinking guinness. also, as such, i am drinking, otherwise it may be difficult to sleep.

it's really hard to look cool carrying 20 sheets of posterboard.

all hallows eve fast approaches. back home in the bible belt, my mom's church (theone i used to go to) holds a biblical themed costume thing where they give away candy to the kids. some costume ideas i wanted to see.

one of lot's virgin daughters accompanied by the men of sodom

the kids who got mauled to death by (divinely inspired) bears for making fun of elijah's bald head

barabas

judas and his 30 piece silversheckel orchestra

non-southern baptists burning in hell

at least then, they'd have got the spirit of the celebration right, if not the message.

he just could't resist a terminator reference, could he?

i think that everyone in this country would have a better day if they talked to at least one australian a day. seriously, they always seem to be having a pretty good time themselves, and even if they aren't, do you have any idea how hard it is to sound depressed in that accent? did crocodile dundee ever sound upset? just try it. make up a word that sounds like australian slang (try to use a "ch", a "wah" and no less than two z's; it's a piece of fucking cake). now say it, out loud. now say "good onya!" now look out your window at the passerby who have stopped to watch you (aka some lunatic) talking to yourself. don't you feel better already?

well, the wedding was pretty cool, all things considered. i got to give my mother away, which was something of an odd experience (well, i "brought her to marraige," which is the decidedly more enlightened way to put it).

haven can say my name.

the show is less than a week away, and i can't get ahold of tomatohead. nonetheless, baskar reigns supreme, or will this coming monday night, 9 to midnight at the way out club.

jury duty was mind numbing. the only thing that made it moderately appealing was that there was absolutely nothing appealing about it, at all. in no way.

oh yeah.

we've been a week now without the man in black. the world is a colder, darker place, and a new ghost rider has been added to the sky, but i hope this one is drunk on the finest sour mash and driving around in a '55 caddy, chasing the angels back to where they belong. rest in relative peace, johnny.

server problems seem to be fixed.... for now.
today, suzi and i are going to drive down to tennessee (well, tonight, rather) so that we can see my mom get married. i must say i'm not exactly thrilled by the prospect, and i really wish she had given me a little bit more lead time so that i could have bought us some reasonably priced plane tickets (though they are a little hard to come by for knox vegas). i really hate flying, but at least it would be over in less than two hours, as opposed to the eight hour commitment that we have ahead of us. i still need to change the oil in my car, so that pushes the leave time that much further back. i am taking off from work early, but even that is somewhat dependent on what all there is to do here today. fortunately, fridays are usually a slow day around here, so i don't think that will complicate things too much. listen to me, just bitching away, without getting to the real problem. i can think of any number of men i would rather my mom marry than rick. there, i've said it. now that it's said, i hope they are very happy together, and i hope everything goes well for them both.
there had better be some good damned drugs in tennessee. that's all i'm saying.

well, we move shufflingly hobbled into the new over-technologified future...
we just installed a server at work so that the kansas city branch could access our files remotely, and it has been nothing but trouble from the get-go. needless to say, of course, not one of the people who i work with, myself included, is highly computer literate. the consultant who we called in, as seem most consultants, was virtually useless in explaining anything to us in english, spanish, turkish, or anything that didn't sound like binary code to me. further, since most consultants tend to assume their own godhood, he didn't seem to fathom anything wrong with the system, and yet error messages by the virtual truckload have been unceremoniously dumped on our virtual doorstep, leaving us no recourse but to put on our virtual galoshes and slog through the virtual muck. virtual clusterfuck, anyone?

this is dumb government.

the alcohol and tobacco taxation division rejected one of our labels because it included in the text on the back the word "potent". they were afraid that this might lead people to believe that it had "intoxicating qualities" or some such nonsense. who, especially from the board for alcohol and tobacco, could ever think that the average american would think that a wine might have intoxicating properties?

sometimes i wonder what the percentage of idiots is in all of human life. i'm thinking 96, 97%, but it's probably way higher.

come see the bastards karamazov performing live and intermitently monday sept29 at the way out.

i'm shameless, i know, but what can i say. i want the bodies in the room so i don't feel so crazy talking loudly in various accents.

i'm never sure if my blogs are going to post anymore. anyway... about the marraige thing... i was having chest pains today. i think they may have been brought on by the fact that my mom is marrying a racist. i mean, really, what are the odds. my mom is getting married in the south. my stepdad is going to be a racist. most of my family is racist. my mom is probably more prejudiced than she would ever let me know. i'm not saying it's ok, but my mom is a grown woman. she can do what she wants. i hope they're very happy.

oh yeah. tomatohead wanted me to tell everyone that there is a show coming up for the bastards karamazov. we're the comic relief in a sort of a closed mike. call it a semi-intellectual variety show, if you will. poets, prose writers, a film-maker, and more. including, of course, baskar. bkz. three names already, and this is our first gig. we'll see what sticks. if anyone wants to come, or knows anyone who might want to come, or wants to tell any strangers about it, the show is at the way out club way out club (i never know how to imbed a link, so i hope this works) on jefferson south of 44 from 9 to midnight monday september 29th. i dont think they mention the show at this posting, but hopefully theywill son, and if not, at least you can get directions. we really would like you all to come, but since i'm pretty sure there are no readers of this blog living in this city, i'm not counting on it. in fact, if anyone at the show is there because they read it here, please tell me about it during the show. everyone else, you are expected to fly in. and boy, are your arms tired!

so my mother's getting remarried this month. i just found out about this yesterday. if nothing else, i'm glad that i no longer have to say things like "my future stepbrother" and other such bullshit. mom hasn't been married since my dad died in 1985 or '86, so she is obviously a little bit cautious about the whole thing. i'm glad she's cautious, because my stepfather (very soon to-be) can be a bit of an asshole, not to mention a drunk and a bigot. well, we all have our faults, i guess, some larger than others. as long as i never hear haven utter a racist remark, i'm fine with the marraige. honestly, the guy's a diabetic and drinks morning noon and night. i don't much expect him to be out living my mom or anything. i don't know, but i need to get to work. more later.

REVOLUTION! there are more of us than there are of them. every day the middle class come one step closer to bankruptcy. REVOLUTION! the merciless cycle that tells us debt is good must end. your credit limit is not equivalent to your self worth. REVOLUTION! the lies perpetrated by your government must be stopped. the war on terror doesn't require imperialism. INFORM YOURSELF!

i understand that virtually no one who reads this blog needs to be told any of this, but i'm feeling a trifle political this morning. i'll write again soon.