Thursday, March 31, 2005

The Tale of the Transitory Trout, Chapters 5 & 6

The chapter designation is somewhat arbitrary and only meant to indicate that the book began before this post and more is to be written... I think. But probably not by me.
ALTERNATE TITLE: "Mr. Rosewater's Cradle of Champions, Chapters 5 & 6"

Chapter 5
I flew to Seattle for a vacation and to visit my mom. Ben, who had been in Vancouver, BC for a Radiohead show, picked me up on his way back to Portland.
While in Portland, I stopped at Powell's on Burnside and got Ben "The Cheese Monkeys" by Chip Kidd, and also a copy of "Timequake" for my friend Lea. While in the Vonnegut stacks, I noticed a used hardback edition of "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater/Cat's Cradle/Breakfast of Champions" for roughly the same price as a normal used novel. What a deal!
I picked up the omnibus book for myself, even though I had already read the first two novels. It was a good deal for "Breakfast of Champions" alone, I thought, and I'll re-read the other two stories at some point anyway. And so on.
The book nearly doubled the weight of my carry-on bag, but did give me something to read while returning to Seattle by train. His pictures in the book were hilarious. The asterisk to indicate "asshole," both figurative and literal, and the self-portrait (see below) of, I believe, his alter-ego, a Mr. Kilgore Trout, and the picture of the undies, which, if I'm not mistaken, represent undies. I don't read many novels with pictures. Not because I'm a literary snob, per se, but because they tend to be hard to find in my size (at my reading level).
But asides aside, I finished "Breakfast of Champions" on the plane back to Denver. I put it in my bookcase, enjoying the anticipation of re-reading the stories at a later date. So it goes.
Chapter 6
I met Jenny at a friend's housewarming. I always seem the most charming when I'm in that professor stage between sobriety and drunkenness. "Goddam that Bush guy," I would rage, and so on. I seemed smart, and was dressed in my work duds; impressive... or, at least, I made an impression.
I could have sworn that Jenny was with *, the guy that she was hanging out with. Hmm. First impressions...
Imagine my shock when she asked me to "coffee... or something" at the end of the evening. I guess she realized the impression she and * had given off, and that I wasn't going to ask her out under such circumstances. Imagine that.
And we had a whirlwind 3-month relationship wherein I found out * was her "soon-to-be ex-Husband"!?!? I found out quite a bit more about her, too. More than I really needed to know to be quite honest. But like a heartworm, she burrowed a place in my heart, laid her eggs, and lived for a brief parasitic spell off of my kindness. That last statement was mean, and only partially true, but sometimes it's hard to separate the true from the fabrication... so it goes.
So, being several years older, four years more educated, and so forth, I thought she would benefit from reading some Vonnegut. I loaned her the big book of Vonnegut, only for us to break up before she finished the first novel she started in it. In my farewell, I requested that she keep the book. Perhaps it would aid in her growth as a person, I reasoned. Besides, I had already read all of the stories.
Talk about your clean breaks!
I haven't missed Jenny in quite some time. But sometimes, late at night when the light is just right, I imagine that I see the book in its old place on the shelf. I do a double-take and realize it was just a dream, or some sort of flashback hallucination. And I cry a single tear for the book I once had.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Vonnegut Self-Portrait from Breakfast of Champions

You can purchase a silk screen of this at

Friday, March 25, 2005

Happy Easter Every-bunny

Now get your ass to church!

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Who wants to be a billionare?

Originally uploaded by nostradumass.

God I Wish

This is pretty sappy, and I don't claim to be a poet. But I started writing, inspired by something I read on the internet, and it started getting all rhythmic and rhyming. So, without further ado:

"god i wish you could look past my insecurities and see what i can mean to you. and god i wish i could see past your own, and not hold them against you. i wish our esteem for ourselves and each other were higher. that i could listen to your words, and not assume you're a liar.

i give you my bruised heart, and hope you'll handle it with care. god i wish i could say that i'll always be there. god i wish you'd look at me with love, tenderness, and lust, and that i could inflame your passions and rekindle your trust.

i know i seem nervous now, but i'm a little gun shy. god i wish you won't think i'm like the last guy.

but in the end, and when all is said and done, god i wish that we could be one.

hoping to be yours until we die, always, faithfully, and lovingly,
some guy"

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

A wise man once said:

"Don't get me wrong, thinking is important, but not half as important as living."

That wise man was me, about 2 minutes ago.

Monday, March 21, 2005

why men need women

i originally posted this on friday, 3/18/05, anonymously on another site, but it bears repeating. the original title was, "Gawd, i'm the biggest bachelor!"

so I just moved into my place at the beginning of this month. tonight is my inaugural run with my oven. haven't used the stove either. all microwavables/sandwiches/cereal/eating out. So what am I whipping up tonight you may be wondering. well if tv's taught me anything, it's that "it's not delivery, it's..."
fuck, if they had microwave instructions it could be another 3 weeks before I used my oven. i can't imagine i'm treating my body all that well, and the recent posts (referring to the forum I originally posted to—ed.) make me think, "what the hell, maybe i'll pick up smoking again!"
allow me to elaborate; here's the contents of my fridge in full:
1 quart of milk
bag of coffee
5 beers
2/3 of a loaf of bread
6 bagels
almost done lettuce (romaine)
about 1 more slice of tomato
brita water
orange juice
salad dressing

yep, that's it.
the freezer is down to just ice since i made the bold move of "cooking." my cabinets are in a bit better shape, but that's just because i bought some things that require stove-top preparation... i wish i had a pasta pot and caulander (was informed by a response that the correct spelling is “collender” (come to find out it’s actually “colander” via spell check)—ed.) so i could wow someone with my spaghetti prowess. maybe someday... a boy can dream!


Originally uploaded by nostradumass.
Ain't that purdy!

Last Night's Dream Interpreted

I had a dream last night that wasn't exceptional, but it was vivid. Not sure what happened before, but I noticed that two of my teeth were twisting and shifting and doing that suction thing that happens when you're losing your baby teeth; two middle molars on the left side of my mouth (not sure if placement means anything, but there it is). Then they fell out.
After they fell out, though, I checked with my tongue and they were still there. I had to get it interpreted. The reappearance of the teeth wasn't interpreted by my source, nor was the placement, but I figure I was just too close to awake so the real sensation to my tongue became my dream sensation, and it just happened to be those two teeth (could the hidden nature of molars have something to do with it?)...
Without further ado,'s interpretation:

Two stands for diversity, partnership, soul, or receptivity. It can also symbolize double weakness or double strength. There is a duality as in male and female, mother and father, yin and yang, etc.
Dreams that your teeth are falling out are the most common dreams we here at Dream Moods receive. Common dream scenarios include having your teeth crumbling in your hands or your teeth falling out one by one with just a light tap. Such dreams are not only horrifying and shocking, but often leaves the dreamer with a lasting image of the dream. So what does it mean?
One theory is that dreams about your teeth reflect your anxiety about your appearance and how others perceive you. Sadly, we live in a world where good looks are valued highly and your teeth play an important role in conveying that image. Teeth are used in the game of flirtations, whether it be a dazzling and gleaming smile or affectionate necking. These dreams may stem from a fear of your sexual impotence or the consequences of getting old. Teeth are an important feature of our attractiveness and presentation to others. Everybody worries about how they appear to others. Caring about our appearance is natural and healthy.
Another rationalization for these falling teeth dream may be rooted in your fear of being embarrassed or making a fool of yourself in some specific situation. These dreams are an over-exaggeration of your worries and anxiety.
Teeth are used to bite, tear, chew and gnaw. In this regard, teeth represent power. And the loss of teeth in your dream may be from a sense of powerlessness. Are you lacking power in some current situation? Perhaps you are having difficulties expressing yourself or getting your point across. You feel frustrated when your voice is not being heard. You may be experiencing feelings of inferiority and a lack of self-confidence in some situation or relationship in your life. This dream is an indication that you need to be more assertive and believe in the value of your own opinion.
In the latest research, it has been shown that women in menopause have frequent dreams about teeth. This may be related to getting older and/or feeling unattractive and less feminine.
Traditionally, it was thought that dreaming that you did not have teeth, represent malnutrition which may be applicable to some dreamers.
Other Perspectives
Well, I'll just say that the three other perspectives don't pertain--biblical, greek, and some girl's grandmother's--going against god, family or friends dying (I hope not), and a windfall of money (quite the opposite really), respectively.
Anyway, I know what it's about and what it means. Now to find a way to use that knowledge. Damn menopause!

Friday, March 18, 2005

Quote of Today--from Blazing Saddles

Jim, The Waco Kid: Where you headed, cowboy?
Sheriff Bart: Nowhere special.
Jim, The Waco Kid: "Nowhere special." I always wanted to go there.

And of course, I can't just leave it at that:

Howard Johnson: You know, Nietzsche says, "Out of chaos comes order."
Olson Johnson: Oh, blow it out your ass, Howard.

And finally (I couldn't have said it better myself):

Bart (to himself): Oh, baby, you are so talented... And they are so dumb.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Quote of the Day (from "Say Anything")

" A career? I've thought about this quite a bit sir and I would have to say considering what's waiting out there for me, I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed or buy anything sold or processed or repair anything sold, bought or processed as a career. I don't want to do that. My father's in the army. He wants me to join, but I can't work for that corporation, so what I've been doing lately is kick-boxing, which is a new far as career longevity, I don't really know. I can't figure it all out tonight, sir, so I'm just gonna hang with your daughter."

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

What Do You Think? From The Onion


Last week, the Senate made moves toward approving pro-business legislation that will make it harder for individuals to file for bankruptcy. What do you think?

"This is a victory for good, hard-working, God-fearing credit-card companies everywhere. Dry your eyes, Citibank, help is on the way!"

"Well, there goes my foolproof get-bankrupt-quick scheme."

"If this doesn't teach Americans not to have medical emergencies or get laid off, I don't know what will."

and my personal favorite:

"Look! I caught another middle-class guy! Here, hold his arms behind his back while I gut-punch him!"

Monday, March 14, 2005

Nostradumass World Headquarters

git outta my yard ya ingrates!

One Last Kick at the Liberal Dog

(exerpted from a Joe Bageant article posted at )

Just like the Republican junta's biggest potential enemy is their own hubris, thus is ours (the "Lefists'"). Let's be honest. The liberal elite is not entirely a Republican myth. This generation of white liberals is not involved in class issues, and have become more about trendiness. To the average working American, "Friends" and "Sex and the City" is the face of modern liberal culture. They are not wrong. The very fact that most elite celebrities call themselves "liberal" and don't receive any heat tells you something is very wrong. A real class warrior would spit on the celebrities and materialistic, narcissistic celebrity itself.

American liberals define themselves and the issues within the same consumer culture machinery as the red state tire-biters---perception of class status (elitism.) This IS the main difference between educated liberals and less educated working folks. Neither are citizens of the United States or anything else. The United States no longer has citizens. It has consumers.
Most liberals are not in a much higher income bracket (as the working class), but their consumer choices---paid for on credit---allow them to mimic the ruling class. Starbucks vs Sanka, Mother Jones vs George Jones. Mark Twain vs Shania Twain.... There is little hope for us until we realize these ultimately meaningless consumer choices are not representative of any competing or compelling values, but merely distractions that stimulate and keep alive class divisions and hatreds.

For the time being at least, American liberalism has George Bush to blame for everything. And much the same as a zoo ape enjoys even negative attention, George Bush, peeling his lips back and mocking the crowd, is having the time of his life. But one of these days we will have to deal with the real reason middle class white American liberals hate Bush. Liberals hate Bush because he is a traitor to the white classes. Bush revealed the true face of American power and exposed it as the corrupt hoax it really is. He is a "cowboy" imperialist as opposed to the more acceptable kind---the Kennedy, Carter, Clinton type who conducted their dark little murders at the edge of the empire in secrecy while Americans wasted most of the world's resources. The Anybody But Bush crowd would have approved the use of force against Iraq if it had been presented by a senator from a Blue State with a bullshit UN resolution, as opposed to a simple 'Yeeee-ha' from a retard frat-boy from Texas and overwhelming international revulsion. Either way, the ruling political and corporate elites still maintain their privileges and status. The ABB movement was not about stripping anyone of those; it was simply about keeping self-serving appearances to preserve our Jabba the Hutt worldview and lifestyle.

This is a short quote from a rather lengthy piece entitled, "It Ain't Easy Being White" that I'm not saying I agree with 100%. It did, however, give me a chance to do some mental pushups. Use the link at the top at your own risk. If you don't like what he says, don't come crying to me; if I agreed with everything he said, though, that would probably make you stfu pretty goddam quick. Stuff in italics was added by me for clarity, etc.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Ok, so he had me up until the last three paragraphs or so--commentary on the Chomsky post below

Actually, let me start with what I agree with: both (major) candidates stood for basically the same thing, i.e., the status quo. They both took pro-war stances, said what they (or their corporate backers, more to the point) felt would get people riled up. Bush appealed to the ultra-conservatives while Kerry tried to appeal to the middle-of-the-road conservatives (while taking his "base" for granted)--Bush was more convincing in his role, as I don't feel it was much of a stretch for him. I was amazed at how Bush "flip-flopped" (see, compassionate conservative minus the compassion, the uniter that took the unifying 9-11 attacks and drove a wedge into the country that left left-leaning people willing to vote for Kerry despite his words, and I could go on--and will), and was able to make that label stick to Kerry. I mean, the ultimate flip-flop by Bush seems to be his (handlers') semantic game in labelling bills the opposite of what they stand for, No Child Left Behind and the Clear Sky Initiative to name a couple.

Okay! So here's where I part company with the good professor. Google the PIPA report from before the election and it's clear that more people voting for Bush had glaring misconceptions about their candidate's views--they were also much more likely to believe in an Osama/Saddam tie, that WMD were found in Iraq, and that Bush wouldn't have gone into Iraq if he knew that no WMD would be found, all false and based on assumptions that their candidate agreed with them on national security issues. Kerry supporters, by and large, knew where he stood on issues ranging from health care to the war, and though his feelings about Iraq were more in-tune with Bush's than their own, they were willing to engage in the lesser-of-two-evilism in order to rid us of Bush. So I disagree with Chomsky's assertion (or was it just an implication?) that both sides were equally ignorant.
Also, I can't help but disagree that the election results, and the allegations of fraud, were only of concern to a handful of intellectuals. Of course, maybe that's because I don't consider myself that much of an intellectual but felt really bothered by the mainstream (lefty!!!!) media's lack of coverage of the debaucle in Ohio... until, of course, it was too late. But I may be splitting hairs here.
Chomsky says, "Why don’t people care if the election is stolen? The reason is that they don’t take the election seriously in the first place." If that were truly the case then why did so many more people register and vote in this election than in 2000. I'm sure they weren't the small group of intellectuals angry about Florida's fraud in 2000, or the so-called "values voters." I'm sure there were some dumb left-wingers and intelligent right-wingers that voted for the first time in this last election. They care. Voting may be the least they could do, especially when it's pretty much for what they consider the lesser of two evils, and even though the war would still be going on even if Kerry had invigorated the left-wing base of the Democrats and actually eeked out a victory.
I guess it's pointless to care, but I do care. And I understand that we have 4 more years of Bush, like it or not. I would be critical of a Kerry administration, too, so please don't give me the "Kerry lost, get over it" shpeel. I'm over the election, but I still care about what comes next.

alright, I'm done here. comment away, stupid!

Who me, quote Chomsky? Perish the thought!

How George W. Bush Won Second-Term U.S. Presidency in 2004
Elections Run by Same Guys Who Sell Toothpaste

by Noam Chomsky

Of the people who voted for candidate George Bush, the major categories were people who were concerned about terror and about national security. It’s claimed that people who were concerned about values voted for Bush, but that’s mostly a statistical artifact. When you asked the further question, “What values do you have in mind?” it turned out that the major values were things like, “I don’t like this society because it’s too materialistic,” and “There’s too much oppression.” Those are the values. Is that what Bush stands for? Getting rid of that? As far as terrorism is concerned, the administration very consciously chose actions that it was expected would increase the threat of terror and, in fact, did. It’s not because they want terror, it’s just not much of a priority for them.

People who voted for Bush tended to assume that he was in favor of their views, even if the Republican Party platform was diametrically opposed to them. The same was largely true of Kerry voters.

The reason for this is that the parties try to exclude the population from participation. So they don’t present issues, policies, agendas, and so on. They project imagery, and people either don’t bother or they vote for the image. The Gallup Poll regularly asks, “Why are you voting?” One of the choices is, “I’m voting for the candidate’s stand on issues.” That was 6% for Bush, and 13% for Kerry—and most of those voters were deluded about the positions of the candidates. So what you have is essentially flipping a coin. Each candidate got approximately 30% of the electorate. Bush got 31%, Kerry got 29%.

The party managers know where the public stands on a whole list of issues. Their funders just don’t support them; the interests they represent don’t support them. So they project a different kind of image.

If you listen to the presidential debates, you can’t figure out what they’re saying, and that’s on purpose. The last debate was supposed to be about domestic issues. The New York Times commented that Kerry didn’t make any hint about possible government involvement in health care programs because that position has, in their words, “no political support.” Well, according to the most recent polls, 80% of the population thinks that the government ought to guarantee health care for everyone, and furthermore regard it as a moral obligation. That tells you something about people’s values. But there’s “no political support.”

Why? Because the pharmaceutical industry is opposed, the financial institutions are opposed, the insurance industry is opposed, so there’s “no political support.” It doesn’t matter if 80% of the population regard it as a moral obligation: That doesn’t count as political support. It tells you something about the elite conception. You’re supposed to vote for the image they’re projecting. That’s not surprising really. Just ask yourself, “Who runs the elections?”

The elections are run by the same guys who sell toothpaste. They show you an image of a sports hero, or a sexy model, or a car going up a sheer cliff or something, which has nothing to do with the commodity, but it’s intended to delude you into picking this one rather than another one. Same when they run elections. But they’re assigned that task in order to marginalize the public, and furthermore, people are pretty well aware of it.

For many years, election campaigns here have been run by the public relations industry and each time it’s with increasing sophistication. Quite naturally, the industry uses the same technique to sell candidates that it uses to sell toothpaste or lifestyle drugs. The point is to undermine markets by projecting imagery to delude and suppressing information—and similarly, to undermine democracy by the same method.

In the year 2000, there was a huge fuss afterwards about the stolen election, with the Florida chads and the Supreme Court. But ask yourself who was exorcised about it? It was all among a small group of intellectuals. They were the ones who were upset about it. There was never any public resonance for this. In the current election it’s being reiterated. There’s a big fuss among intellectuals about the vote in Ohio, how the voting machines didn’t work, and other things. But the interesting thing is that nobody cares.

Why don’t people care if the election is stolen? The reason is that they don’t take the election seriously in the first place. They reacted about the way that people react to television ads. It’s a mode of delusion. If the Democrats want to succeed in that game, they’re just going to have to figure out better ways of delusion.

There is an alternative, and that is to try to run a program that’s committed to developing a democratic society in which people’s opinions matter.

These are remarks Noam Chomsky made on Jan. 25 at events in Santa Fe, NM, celebrating the 25th anniversary of the International Relations Center (IRC), online at Chomsky is a member of the IRC’s board of directors. Noam Chomsky is the author of Hegemony or Survival. Noam has been an IRC board member for fifteen years and a steadfast supporter of IRC’s mission and programs.

I have to admit that I don't agree 100% with this, but it's worth pondering in my opinion, so ponder at your leisure. I'll post with more specific thoughts later on if I feel so inclined (it's my blog and I can cry if I want to).

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

The Good Old Days--We're Enduring Them Now

By Ben Tripp (copied and pasted from

Nostalgia is a fond yearning for times you didn't really live through, or you wouldn't have a fond yearning for them. Perhaps the most seductive and dangerous myth of our times, besides Chupacabra, is the notion of "the good old days". There never were any good old days, and there never will be. Is this a bad thing? No. It's just a reminder that there is only Now, and there was only ever Now, and Now is all there ever will be. Make the most of it while it's here. Americans have forgotten how to Be Here Now, and it's half the reason we're in so much trouble today. We have divided into camps based upon which decade we wish to be living in: on the right, the 1950's seem to be pretty popular (and the 1850's, south of the Mason-Dixon Line). On the left, the decade between 1964 and 1974 is a favorite. For myself, there's a ten-year period in the early Holocene Epoch that's calling my name.
It's a mugs' game, deciding when things were better compared to now. It all comes down to what period your favorite TV show takes place in. There's a very nice young lady down my block that loves 'Little House on the Prairie'. She's seen every episode twenty times. She also lives in a group home, and her ladder does not reach all the way to the roof, if you follow my meaning. To this young lady, the Reconstruction Period is entirely described by the television show. If she could set the clock back to that time, she'd do it in a heartbeat (as would Michael Landon). And within a week of arriving in 1870, my neighbor would be tossed into a mental hospital, endure a hysterectomy, and thereafter would spend the rest of her life sitting by a window wishing she'd been a fan of 'Happy Days'.
I don't mean to suggest our ideals are formed entirely by television, although they are. What I mean is that society is always recasting its earlier iterations into deliberately nostalgic forms in order to perpetuate itself. Look at the Church and the Garden of Eden. Those were the days! Innovative, forward-looking ideas require change, which is embraced only by children and weirdos. In the conformist 1950's it was all about libertarian cowboys and Indians. Oh, those golden years before modern dentistry! Now that libertines are in control, we gaze yearningly upon those conformist days of the halcyon 1950's. If only we knew then what we know now, it would be now, then. Which of course it was, at the time. The pendulum swings.
One would think (if one bothered to think at all) that nostalgia was the most harmless of vices, like smoking toasted banana skins. But it is this longing for better, simpler times that has us rattling down the Primrose Path to Perdition. There were never better, simpler times. Life has always been messy, and things change faster than we imagine. Pick a time you'd rather live in: quite aside from the fact that things were far worse than you imagine during that time, also remember the period you're thinking of was bracketed by other, more horrible times. Say your nostalgia is for the Roaring Twenties (let's pretend you're one of the few thousand rich people for whom the Twenties were actually roaring). Before the Twenties we have WWI and the influenza pandemic. After the Twenties we have the Great Depression. We're always on the way back from something ghastly, or on our way toward something worse. At the moment we're experiencing the latter condition. This makes nostalgia especially seductive.
Nostalgia is dangerous. Nostalgia is the illusion of better times. People have struggled and fought and died every minute of every day since we first became human, or took a different path and became Republicans. There have been moments of relative peace and security, but explosive change has always been on the way (usually in the form of explosions). Better times have to be created Now. It's a struggle that never ends. We spend our lives striving for free public education, or equal rights for all humans, or better cell phone reception in mountainous areas. For a brief, shining moment, we achieve our goals. Better times are ahead. Then other people struggle to reverse these achievements. Why? Because the way things were before was working for them. They're nostalgic for the good old days. It's the curse of mankind: if we had the chance to do it all over again, we would.
Ben Tripp can be reached at
His book, 'Square In The Nuts', has been held up at the printers by thugs but will be released as soon as hostage negotiations conclude.

Monday, March 07, 2005

You just knew it would come to this--A Political Rant

I'll give you gun control!
I tried to read a column by that transgendered republican dish Ann Coulter, but was suckerpunched by her complete lack of logic and coherence. Therefore, I thought I'd spend a few moments slandering her the way she does her opponents. Please be aware that this is by no means a definitive list of her short-comings, but it's a start. I mean, there are books and books of websites and websites that go deeper into the subject than I would ever attempt. I think I'd have an aneurysm if I tried... but for now, my illogical attack at an illogical person--my open letter to Ann Coulter,

My dearest Love Chunks,
So we meet again o' nemesis to end all nemesi--how I've longed for a chance to kiss your hairy lips again; to listen to that sweet harpy's voice; to bask in the glow of your 60-watt moon.
How long has it been? 50, 60 years, and you still look the same as the day I left--barefoot, pregnant with satan's lovechild, and of african-american descent. It explains your clear grasp of facts and logic--qualities that permeate your very well thought-out, not at all filled with lies or anger or venom, columns.
I remember that time you bent over in my presence and let out the most lady-like of moist poofs, expelling a delectable scent of bacon, oats and clam chowder; manhattan-style chowder, of course, red and spicy and flowery like a dutch flower shop on a 90-degree winter day. Was it the lilac scent or your shrill voice that drew me in? Oh what does it matter, so long as I was drawn--and drawn was I.
As I plunged my head deep into the murky depths of your fish taco, and tongued the depths of your sea (dig the metaphors), I met someone I thought I'd never see: spongebob in the flesh. Obviously his gay agenda had instilled the queer into you, and lo, I thought I could fight it, but I had no idea he'd bring along his friends tinky-winky, ariel (that slutty mermaid from the isle of lesbos), and ernie, but not bert (sthpoiled sthport). It was more than one man could handle, coupled with your shrill siren song: the "it's raining men/rocketman/do you think I'm sexy" medley... and that voice!
So where was I? Ah yes, I remember like it was yesterday! The sights, the sounds, the gay. You act so coy, so unconcerned with the plight of the gay man and woman, but all it takes is one look at the enormous package under your mumu, and at all the sea creatures that inhabit your trouser cobra to know that you're fighting yourself when you criticize your kind... and I wish you wouldn't.
please Ann, accept yourself-- you are a beautiful big black woman. scream to the heavens: "I love myself, I love Jesus and I love you! But most of all, I want muslim spunk! It's too late for me to be a virgin waiting in heaven--give me that spunk while we're still on earth Kareem Abu Mohammed! Oh geez, I just want to lick you like O'Reilly's falafel!"
And only then, when you accept yourself, will you truly be happy. It's been awhile since I've been wrapped in your serpentine arms, or had you from behind, ripping and pulling at your medusine locks, and I only await a sign from you saying you no longer are repulsed by who you are. Can you do that? Can you accept yourself for who you are, Ann(abama)? Can we sit on the porch drinking sweet-tea and reminiscing about lynchings back in a simpler time--the good old days when women, minorities and other unmentionables knew their places (in their own damn countries, unless we stole their land, which means "under the sea-cha cha cha-under the sea!)? I sit here awaiting your response with baited breath. Please be mine... again. singe the hair from my eyebrows with sweet citrus flatulence, like back when we were in love.
your one true love,
ps. call me ;-l()>, or take a lick from my sword l;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;> (please note the serrated edge, ribbed for her pleasure--meowwww).

Thursday, March 03, 2005

My plea for attention

Ok, Helskel, proprietor of the, has comments all over his interweb net page log. I know that this one is less interesting, what with the lack of time to post, technology to add sounds and pictures, and what not, but if this doesn't give me 15 minutes of fame (give or take) I may have to go all gonzo on your sorry asses! Let me make this clear, this is not a plea for help; merely a plea for attention.

So in interweb screaming speech,


and thank you for your support.

--Nostradumass, proprietor, president and CEO of (tm)

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

I highly recommend!!!

RejectedYork Peppermint Pattie Commercial Blurbs.
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When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the cool sensation of flying down Sunset Boulevard on a windy day at 120 miles an hour, narrowly avoiding pedestrians and jumping over a construction roadblock that would make them Duke boys very, very jealous!

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of having the life of a normal person and not someone who got her innocence stolen in the back of a '72 Chevrolet Vega and left as a single mother, trying to wring a child-support check from the worthless bastard of a father so the kid can have a fucking Christmas this year.

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of the life draining out of a man's body as I crush his windpipe, screaming, "So, I'm a bitch, huh? I'm the bitch? Who's the bitch now? Who's the fucking bitch now, bitch!"

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I don't get any sensation. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. Please ... just leave me alone.

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I feel the sensation of the Lord's righteous anger as he reveals his plan to use me as his holy instrument of judgment! It's all right there between the lines of the ingredients list!

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie— Whoa! Holy crap, check out these colors. Dude, your leg just turned into a chicken. Dude, it's fuckin' singing to me! Dude!

When I bite into a York Peppermint Pattie, I get the sensation of being curled in a ball inside a cold, dark cave filled with my darkest, most paralyzing fears. Maybe if I stay really, really still, the clowns won't find me when they come out of the mirror. Shh!

Get the sensation.
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I learned of this Web site last week, and it has been really fun to explore... READ IT!!!

Heroin Junkie Better Off Than Poppy Farmers

from the Onion:

NEW YORK—In spite of his debilitating addiction, junkie David Spellman is safer, warmer, healthier, and happier than nearly every poppy farmer in Afghanistan, sources reported Monday. "Mr. Spellman shoots up three times a day and squats in a filthy Bronx apartment, but at least he isn't slaving away in the Kabul poppy fields 18 hours a day before coming home to a meal of moldy bread in the tiny shack he shares with 14 relatives," said Dr. Terrence Arven, professor of sociology at NYU. "When Spellman finally decides to get clean, he'll have many options for counseling. The only support network available to a poppy farmer is the 'protection' of local warlords." When asked for a comment, Spellman curled up and vomited.

I will throw down when I get Internet access at my new place, but for now the blogging will be intermittent at best. To all my fans, please bear with us in our time of technical difficulties.