The Modern Man.

    George Carlin was unlike many others. He took thoughts and ideas to another level and blew people away once he stepped foot on stage. He was a comedian who made you think and also made you simply laugh without thinking. He could dig deep and go to some dark places in his act but at the same time make you laugh just as hard with more lighter jokes about farts and airlines and not come off as some run of the mill hack. Hack and Carlin are about as closely related as, lets say, Hitler and MLK's ideas were.
   
     I was about 11 years old when I first got into George's stuff. He was infact the first stand up comedian I started listening to and watching. I also heard "Cunt" for the first time by listening to George. I'll never forget the first special of his that I rented. It was "Doing It Again". I some how managed to distract my mom at the checkout line at our local Block Buster well enough so that the clerk could ring it up and her not notice. My parents weren't strict in every way but they did pick and choose their battles, so I didn't want to risk not being able to rent this. I had heard about him briefly before and was very intrigued, so I had to get a copy of his work. As soon as I got home, I ran upstairs and popped it in the vhs player( you'll be seeing them on American Pickers soon) and didn't stop laughing until it was over. From then on I got into the rest of his specials and records. In late 2007, I finally got to see him live. It was nothing short of amazing. He was working on  material for what would become his next special, Its Bad For Ya. Every so often he would go back and forth between his note book, trying out ideas and such. Some of what I saw him do made it, some of it didnt. A few months later he filmed Its Bad For Ya and sadly a few month after that, he passed away. It made seeing him when I did that much more special. So, in case you havent, buy his books, watch his specials, and enjoy.

                                            George Carlin 1937-2008. RIP.

A trip down memory lane.

Whenever I see or hear certain things they at times jolt my memory and take me back to where I was when I first came across whatever it may be. Music is one of those things. In my boredom I decided to compile some of those bands,songs,etc.



Freshmen year of high school was something. Dorky, pegged pants, punker vest with patches and spikes/studs are some key descriptions for a 14 year old me. During this time I made friends with some people in my english class who were pretty into metal. We had a small corner in the back of the class, always.Before the ipod, we had this thing called a compact disc player. wild, right? You will probably find them on Antique Roadshow soon. Anyways, we would constantly be trading our cds with one another and that is how I came across this song. This band was one of those bands that me and the metal heads could agree on. We would spend class after class trading out different mix cds of their stuff. Also in our mix was Andrew Dice Clay bits and Slayer. Side note- I never read an entire book for class this year or most of high school and I never got less than a B in english. That is my version of bragging.




I'll keep this one short. I was 12 around the time I first heard this. That night I and a few friends ate a ton of junk food and lit a mini scarecrow on fire, acting as if the lighter fluid was our urine. Flash forward to present day;I still eat junk food and I still find pissing on scarecrows funny.



I was watching the movie Gross Point Blank a few years after it actually came out and this song popped on during the scene where Cusack's character was watching his former love play records as the town's local radio dj. Its funny how I can remember things like this and always forget where I put my keys. If you haven't seen this movie or heard the clash, you need to re-evaluate your life. Alright, I'm only half serious.



It was around 3rd grade when I first heard these guys, specifically this song. I was with my dad on a job site where I would sometimes do sweeping here and there or just stay out of his way pretty much. He would pay me 5 bucks and buy me lunch, so I was living the dream as an 8 year old. It was also around this time where I tried chewing tobacco for the first and last time. I bugged my uncle/dad's foreman so much about it that to teach me a lesson he gave me a bit and I immediately spat the shit out. Couldn't hack it with the dipping I guess.

The little things in life....

I often hear or read things that make me laugh. They may seem ridiculous to most and often times they are pretty ridiculous, but none the less I find them worthy of remembering. Thanks to the technology of the cell phone I am able to type down some of these very things when an old fashioned pen and pad are not handy.I often remember said quotes and such and start laughing even though I am walking by myself in a public place, thus probably looking like a lunatic to those passing by.

"Wabbles, thats the way fat chicks run".(A direct quote).

"I've never known a woman to swallow and get pregnant until I met your mother".(Liquor was involved in this quote).

"Republicans vote voldermort,"(bumper sticker).

"Mean people suck. Nice people swallow,"(bumper sticker).

"2 dicks. 2 clits. whats up?",( a quote from a certain Ronan).

"You come in looking for a job, but you're wearing shorts and jap flaps? give me a break"( a non pc direct quote.If you find it offensive,I dont blame you).

The web...

As of recent, I have spent some time talking with a friend about the city we happen to live in and how sometimes you can't escape "the web" that seems to connect everybodys business together. You turn a corner and some how someone knows something about another person thru something that can relate back to you.People often prove how small a city can really be. Just give me what I want and cut the shit.Sound selfish? Of course it does. If only it were that simple though. But, yet again, such is life..

Noise Complaints....

My band played another show last night. We made noise come out of speakers. Some liked it and i`m sure there were plenty who didn't. Oh well. I do enjoy it either way. Plus, Mom and sis tapped the rockies while in attendance, so its all good. I feel more comfortable yelling like an idiot in a garage then i do talking in a class or talking to a girl. Does this mean something? I'm sure it does and I have a few ideas what it could be. Am I ready to dig up and examine those bones? Eh, perhaps another time. I'll keep them to myself for now, much like plenty of other thoughts that cross my mind like a busy freeway.

Another pet peeve crossed my mind today while at my job-

Parents who bring their children into public places and don't pay any mind to them:

We've all seen this occurrence. They have a class or a "parents" meeting to attend and they decided to let their snot face little brats run wild while they sit and forget about their existence for a brief moment. Trust me, I couldn't blame them but when it starts putting myself in a position where I have to play babysitter, no thanks. Maybe I need to gain patience, but sometimes I wouldn't be saddened if a snake or a rabies infested raccoon got a piece of their demon spawn. Not to kill them, I'm not some freak, but to only cause them to have to interrupt their sorry excuse for a guardian's mind vacation and thus resulting in them having to step up and do something.

In conclusion, if you don't plan on keeping an eye on your kid when you leave the house, I have a couple alternatives.
1. Stay in the fucking house.
2. Shoot yourself in the dick.
3. Get your tubes tied.

Thank you..

I've got a pet, his name is peeves....

I've got enough complaints, and to many they are about the most mundane things. Perhaps they are right, but the funny thing about the world wide web and the first amendment that we sometimes get away with using is that I can say whatever I please.

Here are some pet peeves of mine, maybe you can relate...

1. People who will get involved in a conversation of sorts, especially via text, with you and then take forever to respond( if they ever do).
Maybe a text or two or so will be shot back and forth but then it suddenly seems like they forgot how to put their phalanges to the buttons. The funny thing is, and this is where the pet peeve comes in, is that they all of a sudden had plenty of time or figured out how to use said phalanges to post on various social networking sites but couldn't respond to a question or finish a convo. Very interesting and quite annoying..

2. Drunks who feel the need to let you know how drunk they are.
They stumble and fall. Stumble and fall. Rant and rave a bit too loud tossing proper annunciation to the wind and yet still let you know how drunk they are. You know what this reminds me of? The stereotypical high school girl who got drunk off 2 zimas and a mikes hard lemonade and ended up being the rails for a train that was ran by the entire football team or the guys who wish they were "The Situation".

3. CHP.
I'm convinced that their only job is to ruin your day. Add parking enforcement to this one too. Notice that they only write tickets and it seems the sunnier and more beautiful it is outside the more likely these civil servants are there to shit on your sunshine or at least attempt to take a squat.

Goodness, Gracious, Great Ball of Panties!!!

It was a cool spring evening at a downtown Sacramento corner coffee shop. Its established about 100 feet from a friends apartment, so I went to get a cup of coffee while I wait for responses for the what the plan would be for the night. First off, the coffee is alright but the wait almost isn't worth it at times. Give me a cup, fill it with coffee, and we are all happy campers. I take a seat at the bar seating area that has one long window right in front of it so you can look out at the world and they can do the same. It's a double sided zoo exhibition.
I dive into the book I was currently reading when I see a homeless woman stumble across the street and start digging thru the trash, all the while having a conversation with no one but herself. She takes some pizza and lays it on the table that happens to be right in front of where I am sitting just on the other side of the glass. I didn't look up. As I feel her stare, she begins to pound on the glass. I stay hidden in the pages with words on them. She pounds again. Finally, she begins to walk off, but only to coming walking back a second later. She heads for the door of the coffee shop. I knew who she was coming to talk to. I still keep staring at the book in front of me, but her presence is unavoidable, especially when she came right up next to me and makes an attempt at speaking. I couldn't make out anything but something about the Catholic rule and some one some one the third. Any idea what she was getting at? Your guess is as good as mine. She then reaches into her pocket, so I start to ease out of my chair, thinking it could be a weapon of some sort. What she pulled out topped any knife or shank. She pulls her hand out and in her grasp is a ball of panties! Not the pretty/ sexy laced kind, just plane old britches. She proceeds to slam them onto the table and this is when I proceed to remove myself from my chair and give the guy at the counter the look like,"wanna get her out of here or is it going to get weird?"
She then leaves, taking her ball of panties with her. Was she the one that got away? If there is a god, I sure as hell hope not.