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

Points south and east

She was leaving in the morning, doing a long drive to Florida, taking her mom to her snowbird nest. She realized that her blog would be neglected, and that there was little reason for any sentient to want to visit Florida.
But she would be back in a week and a half. She thought she would be, anyway.........

Virus writers

Ray-man was a nightcrawler, a lover of darkness who preferred the company of his online world and his souped up laptop over ordinary humanity. A grad student killing time on a boring internship project, he spent his nights tending the server farm and wondering how all his tenured professors could stand the tedium of government work.
His shift at the SETI lab was a half hour from done, and he craved a glazed raised, a few hours playing role playing games on his computer and a solid sleep. The sheer tedium of tending a bunch of computers to look for alien transmissions was driving him to a restless state of irritated distraction he was ill suited for.
He shift was almost over when he realized something truly odd was going on. All the com lines in the lab were jammed, but with outgoing transmissions only, and the temperature in the server room had jumped twenty degrees in the last half hour.
Something was pushing information out fast enough to keep a T-3 line jammed, and to drive every one of the servers to near melting point.
He logged into the system with his own laptop. None of the lab machines would let him into the system. He looked at the odd code scrolling by, finally getting excited by something at work. One of his sneaky hobbies was writing viruses, and he knew what almost all the good ones looked like. This one was amazing, and unlike anything he'd seen before. But how the hell did it get into and now out of the system?
As his system crashed, he realized how it got in, and realized that there was life out there in space. And that it too got bored, and wrote code for fun. And this one was going to take down every computer on earth with a connection.


"At the moment of commitment, the universe conspires to assist you."
Johann Goethe

New Tattoo

The new tattoo looked great, although it was still oozing a little, and the salve made it look sort of greasy. It was her fourth one this year, and she was ready to take a break.
She checked her Mohawk in the mirror, trying to decide if she should dye it blue again. She ran a razor down each side, then blasted the center with some seriously heavy duty hairspray to make it stand up and fly right.
She slipped her rather large and pendulous boobs into a sheer bra, taking time to make sure she did't snag the nylon with her piercings, and leveraged them into a seriously deep cleavage.
The fishnet stockings, black underbust corset and the leather boots and skirt finished out the outfit. She took a long look at herself in the mirror, and got ready to go down to the party in the big ballroom in the basement, thinking about that new bulldyke that had moved in down the hall a few weeks earlier.
She was hoping for some serious horizontal action, the kind that lasted all weekend and gave you carpal tunnel from all the handwork and lots of sloppy kissing.
Damn, she thought, she was really liking this new nursing home, and the money her assclown husband had left her. It was making up for 40 years of his stupid macho attitude.

ouch

He woke up in a dull haze of pain, groggy and feeling a seriously disturbing throbbing coming from his crotch.
The hotel room showed signs of every wierd night people had spent there, from the peeling faded red velvet wallpaper to the dog chewed Gideon's bible.
He staggered to his feet, slid into the bathroom and relieved himself under the ugly, flickering flourescent light.
He was unerved by the size of his bandages and swelling, more than a little worried about what had been done to him, hoping that he'd be able to make the long ride home without being sick.
As he fell back onto the bed, he noticed the bible, and picked it up and flipped through till he came the book of Dueteronomy. It had been years since the book his parents shoved down his throat had even crossed his mind, but bits of that old hellfire and brimstone crap still lingered somewhere in the back of his brain.
Would his vasectomy reversal keep him out of the old testament hell? Or was he damned for having one in the first place?
He'd have lots of time to think about that as the beer and oxycontin kicked in. That 400 pound blanket of narcotic love beat the old testament any day in his book.

Deuteronomy 23:1
He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD.

Thunder Road

Thirty years ago I found Born to Run in the record store.
Thanks, Bruce.


Thunder Road

The screen door slams
Mary's dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside
darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith, there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me
You can hide 'neath your covers
And study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers
Throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a savior to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero
That's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl
Is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now
Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks
Oh oh come take my hand
Riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road
oh Thunder Road
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road, sit tight take hold
Thunder Road
Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
>From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes
Of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind, so Mary climb in
It's a town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win.