Darkening Sky

There's a drifting slow snow
falling out of a darkening sky
holding the promise
of a fresh white coat
on the dirty slush
and grumpy world of January
I leave dark footprints
in the mushy snow behind me
as I close up shop
crack open a beer
flip the switch on the amp
crank the reverb
grab that cold steel bar
slide that steel guitar onto my lap
suddenly it sounds like east Texas
drifting across the room
from an old car radio
a slow slide of something like
a waltz wanders out of my fingers
sleepy and slow
forget about the cold
and the snow
turn off my mind
and let those notes flow

I love babies. So cuddly!

Your blogmistress at work

Wanker Man-Boys, Fear ME!

I got the funk, the snork and the glory of a rock godess and I can shred that cosmic funk, baby. Be afraid, wank-o-casters. I have more power in one hand with my heavy steel on my lap steel than an army of fools with Les Pauls and Marshal stacks, and that's when I'm still unplugged!Step aside, all you manly, butt lipped, foolish boy-men who think you rock. I cook and eat my dead! I eat black holes for breakfast! I've done and had things done to me by strange women you could never even dream of, let alone have the places to have it done! I've had better groupie sex with more women than a planet full of Motley Crues, Guns'n'Roses and David Lee Roths! Amy Ray asked me for kissing lessons! I am the purple flower of hell county, give me wide berth! My droppings bore through the earth and become volcanos in China! I was kidnapped by bodiless fiends from a corporate rock galaxy and got away with their wireless transmitters! I cannot be tracked on radar! When I plug in my Fender Dual Showman, the lights dim in LA and Three Mile Island melts down, again!Erick Clapton weeps from shame when he hears my name! I made Joan Jett think it was cool to be a dyke! My EL-34's are made of diamonds, my 12AX-7's were forged in a black hole! I am my own event horizon, I need no stinkin' drum machines! I compress my own damn signal with the mighty action of my own thoughts! My strings are made from Supergirl's Hair, the only thing strong enough to withstand my mighty pick strokes! My fingerpicking cannot be captured on film because it's faster than the light that shines on it! I have Leo Fender's heart, it's here on my desk next to Ted Nugent's testicles! Fear me, you human refuse who think you can play!

Pitter patter of little claws

My skull has rats
they grin
they chew
and try to tell me
what to do
mostly they grin
and scurry about
little clacking claws
on the linoleum
of my hindbrain
chewing on the cheese
in my frontal lobe
peeking around corners
waiting for me to throw
a mental shoe
at them
I'd put out some
D-Con but modern life
is filled with poison
already
I'd put out glue traps
but my mind
is already sticky
It's better than cats
at least the rats don't
need a litter box

wino santa's eye

Marty Robbins
and steel guitar
drift out of the stereo
"out in the west Texas town
of El Paso"
extra horseradish bloody Marys
jalepeno olives
they're sweating already
chased by beer
they
slide down the hatch
The Hulk and Xena action figures
hang from a limb
the Silver Surfer
fights for space at the top
with Dr. Doom and Dr. Frank N, Furter
who will claim the top
of this year's tree?
tiny lights and garland
twinkle like the gleam
in a wino santa's eye when you
offer him a bottle of
Mad Dog 2020
snow spits out of the sky
like the clouds are trying
but too thirsty to cough up
a good white cover
it must be the holiday season
tonight at our house!

A Memmo from the Boss

Good afternoon, everybody.
I've been gone longer than I thought, and I can see I should have left better instructions when I left as to what direction I wanted us to move in. Were it not for some family matters involving my father and our CEO, whom you all know has been too busy with other matters to pay much attention to matters here, I would have returned much sooner.
I have to say I am very, very unhappy with the changes that have been made in my absence. When I formed my vision of this organization, it was not about money, power or control. While I have been gone, I can see that some of the staff have self appointed themselves to higher positions, but also has taken up some rather disturbing rules regarding the establishment of a dress code, intrusion into personal matters by some of our affiliates, and enforced a morality code that has made many of our best people leave us to join up with our competitors. Not only that, you've started playing favorites with politicians. These things will stop, starting right now.
No matter how busy you're trying to look, or how innocent you might think you are, I am in the way of knowing just who needs correction around here, and some of you are going to get booted right to hell. For lack of a better term, I am very pissed off.
I thought I'd passed on some very clear directives, part of our mission statement, that were in no way ambiguous. You've broken all ten on a regular basis, and no amount of pleading is going to stop the disciplinary actions coming down. You're lucky I have a forgiving nature.
Oh, and by the way, Christ is not my last name, you idiots. It's a title. Please start using the actual translation, Jesus The Christ when both emailing and referring to me.
Sincerely,
Jesus The Christ, Son of God.

Stupid grey monster box lobotomy

I hate Microsoft. I hate the fact that by shutting off my computer three seconds early, I gave it an icepick lobotomy. I hate losing all my data, my passwords and my contacts because some stupid fucking motherboard was having a pissing match with a bloated, clunky OS run by a bunch of opportunistic geeks that I used to clean toilets for in Seattle, the wretched refuse of programmers who not only fill code with pointless shit nobody's ever going to use, but can't bother to do dishes between housecleaner vists or even put away their sex toys, which I would often find under the bed, next to spent condoms, half filled beer cans filled with chewing tobacco spit and piles of dirty underwear and half flushed toilets that I was tempted to clean with their toothbrushes.
I hate having to ask my sweetie to reload every goddamn program on my computer, and having to have her have to tear hard drives out to save the few things I forgot to back up, I hate geeks that think everybody understands what arcane shit they do, or is too stupid to exist if they don't. I hate constant upgrades to things I never use forcing me to learn shit that I did not need.
I also hate lima beans, hard core bible freaks, most repbulicans, but that's another rant.
At least I have my stupid monster box back up and running. Merry fuckin' Christmas, not that this holiday season had anything to do with Christ, it being completely ripped off from the romans and the pagan nordic tribes. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Joy to the fuckin' world.

Now these are the kind of wristbands I can get behind. Arhie McPhee rocks, I may order a case for all my pals.
Ho fuckin' ho ho ho.

rumbling plows

The plows are rumbling outside. It's been snowing big fat flakes nonstop for hours, and the whole outside world seems wrapped in a giant cocoon of soft wet snow. As fast as you shovel and sweep, it keeps piling up, and it's so damn soft and fuzzy outside you find yourself shoveling your neighbor's sidewalk just to have an excuse to stay outside a bit longer, to make that pot pie lunch go away faster so you can have hot chocolate and really need it when you go in.
I love winter today, and as a concept. I remember how incredibly cold and clear it was skiing across the lake when Northern Wisconsin was home, how the pressure cracks would boom and thunder on cold days, and how much fun it was to ride horses across the lake, knowing that there was three feet of ice under where you were paddling a canoe two months before.
I learned how to drive on a lake. A big hog of a GMC truck, one of many my dad beat to death. The thrill of cruising on the ice at 60 Mph, cranking the wheel sideways and spinning in circles till you wanted to barf beat any carnival ride.
In the late winter when the ice finally broke, the sound of a million shards of ice banging into each other and the shoreline sounded like a giant cocktail glass being rattled by god, mixing a daquiri only she could drink.
Of course, by mid March all this beauty will suck unconsenting donkey dicks, but today, there's moments of early winter euphoria outside. I'll worry about the ice damns on my roof some other day.

Eyeballs are the window to the soul

Sometimes I get scared looking into mine. It's your turn now. Boo.

My pal Luka

Me and my pal Amy

Seats 14 A and B

They both loved bad action movies, ugly boxy safe cars, both drank sickeningly sweet cherry brandy in the winter.
Both came from rural backgrounds and tried hard to hide it, mostly by acting big city and trying to sound like your average white bread TV newscaster.
She was mildly kinky, with a drift into dominatrix fantasies, in a bland, toothless way. He was looking for a mommy figure to keep him in line, and to spank his backside every now and then.
Both were more non-descript than they realized, and would never, ever stand out in a crowd, or do anything remarkable. They were locked into a pleasantly boring life, wage slaves to a corporation that could care less about either of them, and would shake them off like ticks on a dog the first time the quarterly statement looked bad.
In short, they were typical white Americans, riding on the luxury deck of the spaceship earth, clueless about reality. They had all the elements that made for a perfect modern couple. He was in seat 14 A, she was in 14 B.
Of course, they never talked to each other or exchanged eye contact. She never even took out her earbuds, even though she had her I-pod turned off. Like most of their kind, they avoided meeting people on public transportation, preferring boredom over adventure. But they would have been perfect for each other.

seven word sentences about my last week

Illinois is flat, Atlanta is totally insane
Interstate outlet malls cluster like cancer cells
Christmas lights and palm trees, just wrong
Walking barefoot in December, must be Florida
Baltimore over the left wing, landing soon
Rental car tin can to Amy's house
bashing mandos, singing amy, pedal steel jeff
Berferd howls with the violin, Ellen sings sweetly
Dogfarts, chili, sawdust, the thump of bluegrass
louder than sin, ruder than dirt, jerks!
Playing with Claudia is a true bliss
tuesday looms, guns dogs airports jet fuel
cruising to the airport through the snow
terminal bordom and overpriced bad food
rush through the Clevland airport switching planes
Two hours on the tarmac sucketh mightily
Turbulence over Lake Michigan, Peanuts over Milwaukee
I can see my house from here
The runway looms, landing gear down yet?
Nearly under the landing strip, smoked decadence.
Let's order take out take out BBQ!
Smokey Jon's rocks my dead pig world!
Order from the runway, cell phones rule
seventeen minutes later, the driveway looms large
road trip over, where is my bed?
stomp into the house, shed shoes, coat
sandwich in bed, with a beer, bliss
Six below, wind chill of minus sixteen
The big TV glows, new CSI disc!
home sweet home feels just soooo good