Words of Wednesday 5.24.2006

Caught between the presence and pain
Never thought to taste the rain
or the bittersweet summer's gaze

Twist about to face my name
Never quite hot, it's answer plain
are they memories or just a phase?

She looked to me with open eyes
Couldn't see past the moment's prize
to the fields beyond, through the trees

And I flag myself for state review
Never understood what the words could do
so in silece let my answer be.

For in the breadth between two beats
a sceptre of gold laid at my feet
the words rang out the vibrance felt
and I look on the hand myself I've dealt
3 ladies, a duece, and a fool

A flick of the wrist a bet laid down
Hey there, honey, just another round
I've got a feeling it's near the end
as I slide my stake to be all in
Wonder what's left of all that cool?

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And as a side note: What up with my word verification?? I go to other people's sites that have word verify and I get to type in stuff like
boj
jfbo
brib
Then I go to put a comment in my own blog and I have to type in crap like this:
fwgxlpaoerieognkbknohypwafdsqaqlfrehbsthequickbrownfoxjumpedoverthelazydogsdagnpfrw
???

Why? Why do the blogger be hatin' on me so much, mon?
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Tall Tale Tuesday 4

Yeah, so I've dated some really crazy chicks over the span of my, umm, indeterminate and undisclosed number of years. Yep, a lot of crazy ones. Even dated one that I rightfully nicknamed "Psychohosebeast". (Yes, that term was totally ripped off from Wayne and Garth. Totally.)

I dated one that was a pathological liar. Dated a sadomasochist who just loved to be handcuffed and have hot wax poured on... well, we won't say more about that one. Nearly dated one that was actually diagnosed a nymphomaniac. Seriously. But I chose NOT to.

And, yeah, I know a lot of you guys are thinking on that nympho thing and saying, "Well why not?" Well, if you know the whole truth about trying to date a nymphomaniac, you would understand. A woman like that can ruin your life. No joke. You might THINK you want sex all the time, and that's all good and well... she NEEDS it. And she will go to GREAT LENGTHS to get it. She will get you in trouble at work, ruin family occasions... I'm serious. You think I'm kidding? Think about this - does being addicted to alcohol ruin lives? Well, the end results are the same here.... I guess I need to write you the TRUE story about a friend of mine who got shafted, in every possible way, because he dated a nympho.

But that's not for today.

Today I'm going to tell you about this one nutty chick I actually dated. She dabbled in drugs here and there. And then she decided to start experimenting with them by taking them together. She'd smoke pot while dosing on LSD. That wasn't such a big deal - Deadheads and Phishheads do that all the time (please refer to my 2nd 101 Things entry for my plausible deniability clause for this one).

Another time, she drank, I dunno, a gallon of coffee in which she used cut cocaine as sweetener. Anyone who has seen the Starsky and Hutch movie has a bit of a clue as to how THAT one went. She practically dragged me all over that dance floor that night. She'd eat shrooms and then do some crank. That was ... interesting. She cleaned the house and rearranged the furniture... all in the backyard - she claimed she thought I'd built an addition to the house... one with green shag carpet and BIG skylights.

But the absolute WORST time? Yeah, that had to be the time she took speed and Midol at the same time. She had her period 6 times in one week.
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Me Me Monday 2-4

4. and Bonnaroo...

It was a couple of years ago when last I went to Bonnaroo... but I had a blast and would love to go back someday. Seriously.

Of course, I'm not 18 anymore, so the likelihood of me actually camping 2 miles away in that enormous campgrounds in the middle of just pre-Summer June and walking everywhere just to go listen to a sh**-ton of great and varied music are slim and none...

and Slim left town.

Unless I really do something to get back into shape, at least.

Okay, okay... more than just a LITTLE something... a LOT of something.

We ended up camped about 1.5 miles from the actual Bonnaroo grounds... and we were closer than a LOT of people. So anytime we wanted to get up and go see a band, we had to hike that distance just to get to the very large Bonnaroo area. They had 3 major stages, 3 lesser stages, and several covered tents - all of them had music or some form of entertainment going on, along with other tents full of other activities - comedians, manufacturer's reps trying to sell you stuff, food sellers, video games, movie showings... yeah, it was a HUGE festival thing. Highly recommended if you like live music. And if you can get an RV and RV parking pass? Yeah, THAT'S the way to do it.

Having discovered the cost of renting an RV, and looking at that 3-plus dollar a gallon gas prices these days, however? Ummm... yeah, I'll pass for this year until maybe I get a raise (ha ha) and can afford that extra EXTRA cost to go that route.

Unless one of you feels bighearted and wants to rent out an RV to me... CHEAP. I promise to take good care of it and clean it when we're done.

In any event, the event got "just a bit" marred by the MONSOON that swept in Saturday evening. They had to push the Dead back until the wee hours of the morning, due to the lightning and wind that came to Tennessee... and stayed... and then stayed some more.

The campgrounds became one giant mudpit. I am NOT exaggerating when I say that I had to slog through foot deep mud and muddy water for large parts of the 1.5 mile hike from where we parked/camped to the grounds to go see the Dead play (at around 2am Sunday morning). Hell, even the festival ground were slogged full of water - I managed to find a dry-ish patch that wasn't a foot deep puddle of water - to see 'em throw down.

Can I simply say that Warren Haynes really did add a lot of punch to the Dead's sound that year? A totally different flavor and, well, I liked it. Yes, it wasn't Jerry Garcia, but it was nice. I can appreciate talented musicians of all flavors - I'm not a music snob. But I digress (again).

Speaking of music... just as I got back to the Honda Element for some well deserved rest, I heard Primus start up... and I heard Rush's YYZ being thrown down... and I mean THROWN DOWN. Primus was flat out wailing the ever-living sh1t out of it and, I must say, my respect for them as a band grew three sizes larger in that single moment. They nailed it. With a jackhammer. Was never a huge Primus fan (for reasons other than their music) but, they made their first step at converting me in that singular moment, as I stood in the brisk night air, slushy sounds of my footsteps as I stepped out of the Element to get a better listen... the night sky glowing ephemerally with the lights from the festival grounds faintly pulsing as Primus YYZ'ed me.

Yeah, it was good.
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Wow. I went through the whole week with planned postings - Me Me Monday, Tall Tale Tuesday, Words of Wednesday, and Half-Nekkid Thursday.... and each one of THOSE days, I had another idea for a posting, but thought to set it aside for later use... right? And so here I am, Friday, and I've forgotten all those great little ideas for posting. What the hell?

Yes, I've had coffee, so I can't fall back on that excuse... dammit.

Ahh well...

My thanks to all the kind folks who left comments about my HNT posting. Thank you very much and I'll be sure to visit your sites as soon as I am able. Fact is, my home pc is down and has been for the past few weeks so my visits have been more rare than normal...

For all the rest of youz, have a great weekend! I got a surprise booking so I get to make some money tonight. Yay me!
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Happy Nekkidversary To Everyone

So, we've been at this a year? Well not me... but here we go -
my FIRST (lame) HNT pic:




In honor of the first year gone by, here are several pics I managed to take (or get taken in) while "on the go".

Happy Firstie HNT!

Here's one I scored on set while I was out on tour... Isn't she lovely? Being this is an anniversary, I managed to squeeze in a shot from in front of the camera while hanging upside down from a large boom mic.

Clever, aren't I?

Recently, I managed to get into the recording studio for the Monkees reunion tour - being a big fan helped. They let me record some additional vocals so they went ahead and put me on the cover of their 30th Anniversary Collector's Edition album. They're a fun bunch, them Monkees...



Haven't you always wanted a Monkee?



And here's a lovely little shot I got caught in at Mara's wedding. Lovely girl, that Mara... and I wasn't stalking her.. I mean, I wasn't technically invited, but I couldn't help myself. She's such a beauty, I had to take some video of her getting stolen off the market. Lucky bastage.

(Hey, Mara, hope you didn't mind - I didn't make a scene or anything!)




Hope your first Anniversary is as beautiful as you!

And Finally, meet my EX-Friend, Edward Scissorhands, aka Johnny Depp. They actually got the anniversary picture right this time, seeing as how Ed cut me and my career in two with those razor sharp digits of his.

You go to hell, Eddie... you go to hell and you die!

Remember, payback's a bitch!!

And that's all the Half-Nekkid Foolishness I've got on tap for today. To join in the fun, go check out Osbasso's site and see what he wanted it to be (even though I barely follow the rules!)

Happy First Anniversary HNT!

Just a late update for those interested:

We started our Open Mic Live show this past Monday night. Turnout was lighter than hoped, but after all the cancellations and difficulties we faced getting bands scheduled in there, it was actually better than anticipated by the time Monday evening rolled in. We only had one actual band come to play, but we did have members from a second band and had assurances from a member of a third band for this upcoming Monday - his actual words were, "I'll beat their asses and MAKE them come."

That's the sort of committment I like to hear.

All in all, it was a good learning experience and a really good time. The crowd stayed out there and enjoyed both our music and the music supplied by the other cats who came out. We're getting some advertising put out shortly and we expect more bands in the weeks to come - wish us luck.

Oh, and the best part - the owner was happy. And in business, that's really all that matters, right? He had happy customers... hell, he had customers on a Monday night - "Best Monday night EVER" he said.

Can't beat that. Not with a stick even.
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.. Words of Wednesday 5.17.2006

Well, a poem's what I would have written if I hadn't been so smitten with thoughts of ladies fair. Ones with long brown hair. And blonde hair too and sometimes red, see I get these notions in my head that I have some fair dose of charm and ladies I would never harm... of course you know that's not quite true, though I might profess these things to you in some quiet corner in the dark, or perhaps while sitting on a bench in the park.

The truth of the matter is something else, for real. I am far too easily made to sway from what I think I feel to something else, and it's not quite the matter of what it be nor an issue of who might see. Rather, it is an issue of who I might cause harm, though I am vastly aware of my have or lack of charm. One thing I cannot stand to face is a tear that has found its place to track down a woman's cheek, it's cause my name you'd hear her speak.
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Okay, so this one didn't go so well, best I could do this morning... haven't had coffee... no paying gig... my voice is still sucking like a junkie on a crack pipe... yep, not the best mindset for writing. It is really, REALLY good for RANTING, however...

But I just don't have the energy.
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Yeah, just call me a rant-tease.
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Maybe I'll post again later this afternoon. Never can tell. It has been known to happen...
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Tall Tale Tuesday 3

I have two older brothers. One of them lives in the area, but the other moved away to Texas about, ohh, 12 years ago. Well, it had been years since I'd seen him, being more than just a tiny bit of a drive to get down there and all, so last summer I took a buddy of mine with me and we headed down for a little mini-family reunion.

My buddy, J**, and I headed out on a sunny Friday afternoon and drove nonstop, each taking turns at the wheel - with the occasional stop for some grub or a short nap at a rest stop along the interstate - and we made GREAT time. It was hardly past noon Saturday when we arrived - we were beat down tired as hell, true, but we were there.

Now let me tell you a little about Texas. They like to do things BIG out there. Let me tell you what. EVERYTHING in Texas is big. We got down there and went to eat at this Texas steakhouse. The place was HUGE. I think you could have a basketball game in the bar area, you know? So we ordered their big porterhouse steak - hey, why the hell not?

Of course, we were thinking big in terms of Virginia, where a 40oz porterhouse is humongous, right? So when they wheeled over the sides of beef and tossed them onto our tables, I knew we were in for some SERIOUS eating. That steak was GINORMOUS. It shouldn't have been called a porterhouse... it should've been called a portermansion or something ridiculous like that. J*** asked the waiter, "Hey man... this steak is huge. I mean HUGE. Did I really order this?"

The waiter responded, "Why yes sir, you shore did. This is Texas, man. EVERYTHING in Texas is BIG!"

So we ate what we could and packed the rest away into a couple of doggie bags the size of a Honda. Well, it wasn't too late and there was this Texas blues band getting set up to play so we went over to the bar to get us a drink and listen to the band. We ordered us up a pair of margaritas, it being a Tex-Mex kind of thing, right? Well, the bartender wheels over these giant glasses of mixed drink with rock salt on the rim. Each one of these was large enough to baptize a Samoan baby in...

...and if there's one thing you should know about Samoan babies, it's that they're BIG. I mean, my best friend back in Hawaii was 12 pounds at birth... and he was kind of runty, they said. Right before I moved from there to Va, his sister gave birth to a baby boy. A 20 pound baby boy. That's not a typo. TWENTY. As in two - oh. One more than 19. 3 touchdowns and one missed extra point. Are you getting me here? Point is, it was a HUGE drink.

So J*** looks at the bartender and asks him, "Are you sure this is what I ordered? Man, it's HUGE!"

The bartender looked at us and said, "Welp, I can tell you ain't from 'round here. See, EVERYTHING in Texas is BIG, so drink up."

So DRINK we did. We were sitting there at the bar getting completely hammered on our margaritas while the sun set over the pool that was just outside of the bar area, while this Texas blues band threw down some right smackin hot stanky funk Texas blues. And we were really thirsty - you could practically see the water evaporating out of that pool in the hot summer heat, while the sun was setting.

After a bit, J*** stands up and slurs in a barely understandable fashion, "Man... I'm drrrunnkkk... I need to takke a pissshh... hey! Hey barshender... wheresh the bathshroom?"

The bartender looked at him with a grin and said, "Go right down the hall behind the bar. It's the first door on your right."

And my friend staggered down the hall, but instead of taking a right, he took a left and walked straight into the pool.

*SPLASH*

I stumbled outside to help him out and all I could hear was him screaming for his life:
"Don't flush! Don't FLUSH !!!"
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Me Me Monday 2-44

44. but I got over it... now I like to attain and maintain a nice buzz

Yeah, I used to party hardy. I used to drink just to see how much I could drink. I used to get wasted on a very regular basis. I've passed out in strange place, got sick, thrown up, and I've had massive hangovers. Sure. Used to do that all the time. Hell, it was not far from calling it braggin' rights in college to say just how much you drank and where/when/how much you threw up, disgusting as that may be.

"Duuude. Man, I got SOOOO wasted last weekend. I ended up throwing up on, like 5 cars in the parking lot at the bar... and then I woke up behind the library. It was sooo weird, heh heh..."

I remember passing out once in the dorm at Va Tech. But not just in the dorm. Oh, hell no. I was in the bathroom. But not just in the bathroom. Oh, hell no. No, I was hanging out the window of the bathroom. And the window? It was on the FRONT side of the building - the side people walk by on their way to and from the football stadium, to and from the commuter lots... oh, yeah, I got a lot of exposure that day. And did I just pass out? OF COURSE NOT. No, I had done a massive powerchuck out the window, and it was all down there on the ground below, some 2 stories down... some of it was, yes, in my hair, caked on my face. Yeah, it was disgusting.

And could the dudes in my hall leave me alone like this? Of course not. Passing out marks you as immediate victim for pranks-a-plenty. Yep, they poured shampoo all down my back - it naturally irritated my skin so I had an ass-rash for DAYS! Yep. They messed me up pretty good. And it was one of my very best friends who saved me that day from further embarrassment.

Thanks!

Yep. So I'm over that now. WAY over it. I like to get a nice little relaxed buzz rolling along, but still maintain enough control that I can still be the funny guy, say complete sentences without slurring, and be able to drive home when it's done. I've seen too many bad things happen to drunk drivers. Seen too many victims.

I'm not trying to preach, but think about it - even for the driver, if nothing bad happens, it's bad news to get busted. My friend and I joke about seeing adults in non-bicyclist clothing riding down the street on a bike - we look at each other and simply say, "D.U.I." And then think about the insurance rates! Jesus. I shudder at the thought of an SR-22 based insurance policy. That's thousands of dollars that could be spent on lots more fun things by the time that goes off your record. I can think of a LOT of things to spend a few grand on and it's NOT an insurance policy.

Better yet, do you know how annoying some drunk people can be? They're argumentative, insist they can drive (HA!), and best of all, think they're actually CHARMING. They often fling saliva when they're "stryinggg to shpeaktpptptt". Nasty. And some are simply downright assholes when they get drunk. Could be the coollest, nicest guy around sober... but drunk? Asshole.

Ummmyeah... umm, no. Remember these words of wisdom:

Buzz good. Drunk bad.

So yeah, I save myself a few bucks when I have to be responsible - which is most of the time, seeing as somehow I always end up as the guy who is the only one sober enough to drive people home. And I save myself thousands over the long haul. It's one way I can afford a spare car like my little Del Sol - which gets me 33/40mpg... anyone remember the whole 3 bucks a gallon of gas thing? Yeah, see?

Of course, there is another reason I bought a Del Sol that's related to the drunk people thing:

It's a two seater. You do the math.

It makes it a whole lot easier to say, "Sorry, dude... I can't help you and your buddies get home - I only have a 2-seater... (and I don't want you vomiting in my car - been through that enough times). I do, however, have a cell phone and a few taxi cabs on speed dial. Let me hook you up."
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TGIF = Thoughts Geared In Fans

I've been writing music for some time and the one thing I have noticed is that, for me, it is much easier to write a funny song that will catch people's attention, than it is to write something... "good". At least, something I would consider "good". Maybe it comes from years of trying to be the "funny guy" and having some skills in that arena. And I'm not tooting my own horn - it has always been something I strived to be good at, being the funny guy - it was the one skill that helped me most in my, umm, formative years - Yes, that would be formative as in "suck ass try to avoid getting beaten by the rednecks middle school" years.

The question I have is, of course, something I've been wondering about for some time. See, I can usually get an audience who is paying attention to hoot and howl for my risque or funny songs at the drop of a hat - well, a forgiving audience that doesn't mind me getting a bit risque anyway... but my "serious" material will be greeted with some polite applause at best - with the exception of one song that does seem to strike a chord (pardon the expression) with people.... and I don't even think that song is some of my better material, for the most part - maybe I'm not good at judging what's good, too... hmm.

So I stand always writing, trying to write serious material, but the lure of the "instant gratification" of the funny stuff always pulls at me. The fact is, I've completed two or three times as many funny songs in the past year, as I have serious material... and I know that being a crowd ho is completely at fault. So it even makes it difficult for me to write more serious material. (Being a crowd ho truly is an addiction, I tell you)

Now, the flip side of the situation is the long term effects of this habit of mine, this addiction to getting some reaction. The result is similar to what comedians get when they try to act in a serious movie. People rarely take them seriously... regardless of how well they do at it. Think about the serious roles Robin Williams has played. It has been a tough road for him to get those parts... but in all honesty, he does pretty well at them. The truth is, acting in a comedy can be harder than acting in a drama... and making them laugh can be more difficult as well... some people do believe that comedians can make great actors... but the audience? The audience always seems to see the comedian. They pidgeonhole people, the audience does. They can't help it. We are they and it's what we do, in general.

So do I want to be known as the "next Jack Black" ? That wouldn't be such a bad thing, really, but do I not want to be taken seriously for my music? It's hard enough when you have friends and family who don't seem to take your love of performing seriously enough... but to be cursed ever to be the funny guy instead of the musician? Already I have people who know me for a few of my songs - "Vaseline" and "Men are Assholes" and the newly popular song that has become known simply as "the Milf Song"... But those were easy to write, and I would like to be taken seriously. I want "Retreaded" to get hummed by someone... I want "Just Like You" on someone's playlist when they are feeling a black mood... but it's not what I seem to be getting known for...

Aye, there's the rub. I know I can be the funny guy, from years of experience...

but to be the musician?

Half Nekkid Television

In celebration of my band's new television show, our very own Open Mic Live competition, soon to be on some cable access or PBS post-midnight show near you... assuming you live in the Richmond, Va area, of course... here is a promo shot I got from the one episode of the original series Star Trek wherein I appeared as a rebel Vulcan. I believe the episode was named "Tripping the Stars Fantastic" or something like that. Check out episode 69 and I'll be in the credits as Rebel Voltan.

Of course, they didn't bother to get the makeup right cause I wasn't a "big star" like Lenny - that would be Mr. Nimoy to most of you...

No, really. I swear it's almost true.

For less (and possibly more) silly HNT goodness and the info, go see Mr. Os-basso!

peace... oh, wait, live long and, like, prosper and stuff.

Words of Wednesday 5.10.2006

At my desk I sit and ponder
my thoughts do flit and wander
Of women fair and winsome stares
and memories of yonder

Of simple times when all books rhymed
and turn of page on chime
Of Dr. Seuss and Mother Goose
and Howdy Doody Time

And now I see what I did miss
for as a child in bliss
I never knew the tangled world
could be so full of twist

Of questions grey and issues deep
and memories I'm wont to keep
Of downcast eyes and granite stone
and all that made me weep

Of fruit I've eaten so it seems
and horrid knowledge, torrid streams
and though I flounder eat my fill
in silence drown the screams

Tall Tale Tuesday 2

A friend of mine is a shop teacher in high school. Actually, they renamed that entire department to, get this, Technology Education - or TechEd for short. I suppose they have indeed moved with the times. Back in the day, all the shop students learned was how to use power tools, drill presses, lathes, and the like. Nowadays they learn about video and editing, radio production, computers, communications, the nature of electricity and technology in the world and how to solve problems... so I suppose it was time to rename it. But back THEN? They would make clocks and lamps and bongs (well, some of them did, unbeknownst to the teacher... or so they thought) and other ... stuff made of wood. A bit like witches, being made of wood, but I digress...

Well, he told me once about this one girl, a young blonde, who truly lived up to the stereotype of women blessed (or cursed) with having locks of gold. Yes, a true blonde she was, not one of those bottle blondes, or blondes with roots. Ditzy as they come, he told me of one experience he had in class while trying to explain the various tools and tidbits they would use.

The story started about here... he said, "This is a band saw. It can be very dangerous, so please make sure to use extreme caution here, okay?"

"A what?" she asked

"A band saw," and he could see her face look a little confused. "Moving on... how about we start out with something simpler, okay?" He moved over to the carpentry toolboxes. "This is a hammer"

She seemed to recognize that one, just a bit.

He said, "This is a screwdriver, this here's a wrench, and... oh, here we go. This is a nail, this is a screw, and this here is a bolt." She looked a big confused there. So he looked at her and he asked her, "Do you know what the difference between a nail, a screw, and a bolt are?"

She looked a little panicked for a second, but then he saw that look in her eye as if a light switch had just turned on. He recognized that look and it is something teachers generally love to see - that look of comprehension and understanding - just as she replied...

"Well, I've never been bolted before."
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many thanks to Sierra for publishing Leisure Suit Larry when I was old enough to get all the jokes...
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Me Me Monday 2-71

2-71 : I have a terrible "Save the Damsel in Distress" complex

Indeed, it is true.

I can't stand to see a woman cry. I cannot stand to see a woman being mistreated. I once considered this to be a great thing of moral value, a point of personal pride that I still believed in some things like chivalry and courtesy. I still open doors for ladies and the elderly. I try to be conscientious to people in line at the store - if I have a ton of stuff and they only have a few, there are many times when I will let the person behind me step ahead of me.

Of course, there is a flip side to this. I like also to be thanked, being that it is the polite AND CORRECT thing to do. If someone has done you a favor, such as open and hold the door for you, even if you did not ask for it, the proper AND CORRECT thing to do is to thank them. And if, say it is a restaurant, there is a line there and having held the door open would cause me to lose my place in line... well, the proper AND CORRECT thing to do would be to allow me the spot I would have had had I not been polite in the first place. That is only fitting.

And yet, some people simply take advantage of my kindness. I won't go to any great lengths to describe the sort of people who simply ignore the niceties most, but there is a group of people of a particular sex and a particular race who, by my experience, are simply the rudest. I won't go into making a list from top to bottom but the results might actually startle you as to who were the most polite and least.

Then again, maybe not. You cats out there seem to be a pretty perceptive bunch, on the whole - although SOME of you, again - not gonna point fingers - didn't really catch my whole HNT pic thing.

Have a great Monday anyway!
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The TRUE Origins of...

Don't believe everything you read. I know they claim that it's the Mexican Independence Day. But who are we kidding here? Are they, dare I say it, truly independent? One can hardly accept that when their second largest source of income for their ENTIRE COUNTRY is the illegal wages paid to immigrant laborers who have done the Rio Grande Backstroke into the United States. Now, all politics aside, here is the TRUE story about the origins of this special day.

Back in the early days of colonization, England, France, Spain, and Portugal were all competing for the massive landgrab that the American continents provided them. Spain had taken an early lead throughout the North American territories and one of the fruits of their labor was the discovery of a food dressing that was created from the processing of eggs. Indeed. Mayonnaise was discovered in the Americas and, truth be known, the taste for it across the big pond of the Atlantic grew at an incredible pace. The demand for the production of this product led to numerous conflicts and trade across the Atlantic required special consideration for the safe transport of this once priceless condiment.

The Queen of Spain herself took out a special writ and ordered an entire shipload of said product for use in her palace. The ordered was taken overseas to the colonies and exhorbitant amounts of gold and silver were laid out to pay for the expense. The grand transport ship, the El Caca del Toro, was loaded carefully and set sail for Spain with all due haste. Unfortunately, it was sunk before it could ever leave sight of the coastlands of the Americas. So great was the loss in both gold and pride that they dedicated a memorial to honor the day the El Caca del Toro went to Davey Jones locker.

And that day, my friends, was called

Sinko de Mayo.

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Yeah, I went there. Have a great weekend!

Half Nekkid Takeoff

Yep, it was a fun trip down at Camp Lejeune. I took some time to visit the attached New River Marine Corps Air Station, where I managed to sneak a lift on this jet for some high-flying video action. Yes, it was a big rush for me. For more HNT details, go seek the Wizard Osbasso!

Words of Wednesday

I sat myself upon my knee
and considered all I've seen,
I asked me why the maple tree
should cry about the green.

I looked then at my opened eyes
and wondered what I'd said,
And how such thoughts of unheard sounds
should enter in my head.

"Do you know just what it is
that makes you hear no sound?
Do you believe in fantasy
and truth in lies unbound?"

I didn't have the answer then
perhaps I never will,
'Til then my friend I'll call you when
I see beyond the hill.

Perhaps it's not what I have seen
perhaps not what I've heard
Perhaps it's lack of faith in faith
and lack of trust in word.

Perhaps there is another place
just past that wistful rise
Perhaps that's where my answers lie
and with it wisdom wise.

Or maybe I just look too hard
and strain to look too far
When all I need is in the back seat
of my beatup car.

A Tall Tale

"RUN!"

her scream pierced the forest with the sharpness of her fear. Out of a thicket just behind them came the obvious source of that stark terror. It stood over 12 feet tall at the shoulder, and though its lumbering gate looked neither quick nor effective, it was apparent that this beast was obviously catching up to them, its scaly reptilian skin reflecting a shimmering array of colours with each beam of sunlight that penetrated the thick canopy of growth.

She thought back over her last week... wondered if she would ever see her home, her loving family... ever again.

Milla was just on her way back home from her weekly shopping trip down to Mulberville when she saw that first, odd plume of smoke in the sky. She noted with trepidation that the plume of smoke was making a beeline for Triddville, her home. She picked up speed. She ran.

She ran fast. In all of Triddington, or at least her hometown and the neighboring villages, there were few who could outpace Milla... she was faster than even most of the boys, though they would never have admitted as much.

But on this day, she was not fast enough.

She arrived home to a scene of chaos and destruction, the huge, serpentine shape spouting forth fire onto the building and it's large claws could be seen tearing apart others - the dim, screaming shapes of Tridds flying left and right as the great dragon kicked them here and there and everywhere...

These thoughts flew by in an instant as she ran for all she was worth, trying to evade the dragon in the woods... but he was catching up to them... inch by inch... hair by hair... She could sense the warmth of the dragon's breath on her shoulder, smell that rancid sulfur of his belly fires...

"TURN!!"

she shouted to her friend, Pavil, who had come along in hopes of helping talk the dragon into leaving their peaceful village alone... obviously to no avail. The road quickly approached... on the road waited their horses, who would approach no nearer than that, their keen sense of smell made it all but impossible to drag them more than one or two steps closer to the dragon's lair.
But they weren't quick enough.

Just as their feet started to hit some of the loose gravel at the edge of the road, the dragon managed to swing forth one of his mighty feet and connected with Pavil solidly. The dragon's kick sent Pavil flying through the woods, his screams slowly dying out as he flew away.

Milla turned once to look back and *WHAM* ran right into a Jewish Rabbi... she went spinning and fell down on the ground. The wyrm skidded to a halt in front of the Rabbi, who squeaked out a quiet little, "Oy vey!" as the dragon sidestepped him, reared back with his right foreclaw and punted Milla down the road, her anguished cry drowned out by the dragon's roar of rage.

The dragon then turned to look at the Rabbi, sized him up one side and down the other, noting the golden-clasped Torah clenched firmly in his grip, and turned to go back to his lair.

"Wait, mister dragon.... wait a second," the rabbi called out. "I do not understand. You chased these 2 poor Trids through the woods and gave them a great booting and yet you spared me. Why have you granted me such mercy?"

The dragon turned to him and stated, simply,
"Silly Rabbi. Kicks are for Trids"
.
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