this hell is real...

...and it is now.

—the bastard

...on tributes

so, the bastard has this friend that he knew long ago but knows again because of the virus.

he puts out an apb.

asks if anyone is interested in going to the Brooklyn bowl with him yo see the all girl judas priest cover band.

judas priestess.

I pipe up how this would be tempting but. I passed.

flash forward: Sunday night, the bastard walks 23rd street after taking the train and walking east.

I live by this venue.

and the band playing is Lez Zeppelin.

which in my mind could only be a lesbian led zeppelin tribute band.

I mention this to my ladyfriend and she asks if i am going to see them.

I told her I'd pass.

figuring I'd feel out of place.

however that said, the female tribute bands of classic rock standards is a thing the bastard can get behind.

however, I find it hard to picture anyone other than plant screaming, "shake for me girl, i wanna be your back door man".

—the bastard

...on habits

the bastard is beginning to think that his robot problem may be getting out of hand.

—the bastard

...on light rail and text messaging

bastard: is everything ok? I had a dream in which we got lost in the st Louis subway system.

thing of it is

st Louis doesn't have a subway system.

the elder: hunh

bastard: just stating what happened is all

the elder: okay

bastard: so your not going to st Louis. ok? they have a light rail and neither the subway or the light rail go to cardinal's stadium which was what busch stadium was called in the dream

the elder: Unless you are telling me that I am going to atlantic yards

bastard: mayhap. the other anomaly was that the st Louis subway was huge and akin to an ugly grand central station that used big diesel trains so...

perhaps

the elder: If I go then will go halves on lotto

bastard: deal

—the bastard

this weak in anime

i was watching macross frontier when i came across this bit of subtitle.

actually it was much better than the bastard remembers macross to be.

—the bastard

...on manifest destiny

real time: there's a woman who looks terribly underdressed for 20 degrees in front of me. the bastard questions whether or not he would wear that sort of outfit on this type of night,

in this type of weather.

flashback: "umm, I'm goin' to mom and dad's on Saturday", I shout across 32nd street and lex.

"I won't see you then", the mofo bellows back and them disappears into the nightime cold

I had a thought in the walk back about our conversation about the q borough

and our collective futures.

and always wanting one foot in it.

regardless.

and it reminded me of a conversation I had that was it's own self fulfilling prophecy.

the nice lady had asked me towards the beginning what would have happened if we had never met and never married.

would I have moved into some neighborhood like gramercy park and lived some other life I never knew I would have had?

and i had always said something to try and postpone the inevitable and that I didn't think like that.

but here i am.

in gramercy park.

living a life I never thought I would.

and I still want to keep one foot in queens.

because it's the only option.

I'll always be there for the bastard

in some way

shape

or form.

is what it is.

but, it's mine.

—the bastard

where my thoughts escape me

well kids.

the bastard regrets to inform you that this was a mullet free show.

we were encased in a box, with no view of the floor

so unless someone with a mullet came into the room, nothing was seen.

so your just gonna have to deal with that shit.

now tha I am past all checkpoints.

I'm getting breakfast and thinking about getting home and it makes me think of a certain Simon and garfunkel song.

—the bastard

...on breaktime

the bastard is tired.

I didn't bother getting breakfast prior to getting to the airport for a reason.

the reason being is that I am less stressed when all of my check in business is done.

if i had known that the check in counter gets a coffee break. I would have had breakfast already.

let the seething begin.

—the bastard

the job

done.

fin.

another one in the hopper.

it's nice to be done.

and done early.

big steak night.

—the bastard

...on too much information

you know,

if you're in the bathroom so long

that you need to take a cigarette break in the middle of doing your business,

maybe you need to see a doctor about your messed up intestines.

or maybe not smoke while in the can.

not hating

just saying

—the bastard

time machine

when day one is over,

there is always cautious optimism.

we go into day two cocksure and innevitably,

it all goes pear shaped.

but tonight, the bastard stepped into the time machine.

and made some money at the craps table.

didn't suck.

the bastard's garden grows.

—the bastard

day 0: all hat, no cattle

so, the bastard has noticed that the loch ness mullet has become a rarer and rarer sight at the gun show.

so

I'm seeing more and more hats

at least we do when the show is out west

it's a little bit a wango.

and a little bit a tango.

—the bastard

the bastard is las vegas

let the bastard start off by saying that the bastard does most of his blogging on blogpress and he can't understand why Eric the red has trouble with it.

on the ground 24 hours and the bastard feels less like hell.

he's walkin the route to the new box where all the hell happens.

he comes alive.

he had four fingers of bourbon with dinner last night

good times.

—the bastard

apparently, I'm a terrorist

well here's a first.

the bastard just got padded down by tsa

apparently they found out about that plot by bald, blond haired, blue eyed, men from queens.

you sussed me out Johnny law.

now concentrate on actual threats.

—the bastard

roll

an hour of sleep

never felt so trucked

my driver clearly smokes in the car.

I hope i'm never dead.

we are the road crew.

—the bastard

precipice

flashback: "what will you do if something goes wrong?"

"nothing will go wrong.", the bastard replie

"but what if? what would you do?" prodded my ladyfriend

"I've been doing this for 8 years this year. the process is bomb proof. nothing can go wrong."

flash forward: I pull into the garage, tired and a little loagy from the evening's repast. door open I fiddle for the garage keys and I see my daughter's butterfly toy that she has been enjoying as most 4 month olds do.

grab it to put it in my pocket and

close

the

door.

damn.

panicked, the bastard races to his old apartment to look for the set that the mofo uses but to no avail.

and he ain't home.

I call the local precinct but instead see a cop car backing up continental ave.

panting the officer asks me if I'm okay, looking concerned and perhaps had his hand on the piece just in case junkies wear trenchcoats these days.

officer bald and cautious apologizes as the po pos no longer carry slim jims and advises me to call a towing company apologizing again and wishing me luck.

sidebar: in today's age of information, one can procure the means to call a towing company quite quickly with a little iPhone app called "yelp". it has gotten the bastard from here to Kansas city and back and will presumably help feed me in the coming days

but tonight, it got my car open for me.

and to the little fella with the heat miser hair who is no doubt losing the cash I gave him in Atlantic city tonight as I type this, the bastard says thanks.

hunched over the couch, typing this, instead of getting the 4 hours of sleep I'll be getting shortly here I am chiding myself.

bombproof?

nothing will go wrong?

fuck that. this may be the year it all goes to hell.

and there I'll be.

riding that shit into the ground like slim pickins in dr strangelove.

yippy Kai yay mother fucker.

see you on the strip

—the bastard

...on breathing

so,

with lead in his lungs,

the bastard heads east for a doctor visit in the q borough.





a long nights work to get some drugs for my asthma.

i'm really rethinking this whole long distance relationship with my generl practitioner.

the businessman in me asks where the ROI is in these trips out east by mass transit to get a refill everytime they won't spot me a month of scrip becasuse I haven't been back in three months.

coincidentally the bastard gets three months worth.

so there's no overlap.

I think I need a second opinion.

—the bastard

...on long distance dedications

now the bastard is not often with reposting people's stuff but, i was sent a link by eric the red today and as i scrolled through the guy's site and i came across this which had me wondering how the mad russian has been lately. and since he's a huge fan, i thought what the hell.

hooper drives

the boat

chief

chum on this

aye haz an owwy

Smile you son of a BITCH

boom!

i'm casey kasem, and this is fucking ponderous.

—the bastard

and just like that...

... it's a very special 1970's edition of NYC.

we live in a nice neighborhood for the mostpart.

but during the week, you wouldn't know it between the hours of 8 and 10 am.

you see, there's a methadone clinic around the corner.

and in the morning, the junkies come from far and wide.

to get "clean".

and this evening one of the junkies must be expressing his thoughts in the matter.

and for a moment i was walking down 222nd street as a youth.

crack viles crunching under my feet.

just like autumn leaves.

walking to my favorite record store in the bad part of town.

knowing that more than likely that it was a drug front.

but they had the latest album by something something explosion.

at the end of the day your memories are all you've got left.

—the bastard

...on lightheadedness

my head was frozen from the walk from the garage.

got a cup of coffee and a few minutes of warmth at the coffee-a-teria.

as the bastard stepped back out into the cold night air I felt the slip.

the fuzziness.

the brief notion that your head was swimming through aspic.

I briefly thought on the allergy medicine and the dizzyness associated with it and made a deal with myself.

if you stay away from the platform's edge, i promise not to fall.

solid.

it sucks getting old.

—the bastard

...fume

"I'm a lone wolf ligger.

but i ain't no glitter boy".

—lemmy

it's gorgeous out.

cold and fucking gorgeous out.

last night's plan went all pear shaped and the bastard has to make the sojourn to queens today.

there are worse fates.

at least the bastard's got his health.

lungs feel like lead.

I'll get medicated next week. it'll be fine.

then my ladyfriend will be able to sleep at night.

which means the bastard ca. sleep at night.

so untl then, it's me and the F train and the awe inspiring guitar lead of accept's "bound to fail".

why do I love that song so much?

—the bastard

...reaping the whirlwind

pardon me.

can you take me to the hospital?

i think the bastard broke his ass.

we're like a week out from the gun show and the bastard's asthma is getting on him.

the kids in the downtown office just pulled a bait and switch. i hope that it's not me and the posse hand drawing these live pages.

—the bastard

ummah gahd

ummah gahd.

did ah tell u thah on our first date

John took me to do his laundry

ummah gahd. rilly?

ummah gahd, yah.

squeal

oh gay man, if you slept with John on your trip to the laundry, and you're calling that a date, it isn't a date.

it may very well be having sex with a guy who made you work for it.

I hope it was worth it.

ummah gahd.

stay classy laundry room. stay classy

—the bastard

two eyes from the east

tired.

so, as I mentioned earlier, the bastard mentioned meeting up with the past solely for the purposes of rocking.

it went down like this.

all comers were glad to be in each other's company musically after 20 years.

and we blew through our set list for the evening.

some of it was good and some of it went south for lack of knowing. I can safely say that it wasn't the bastard's best rendition of "over the mountain".

buy it was when we ran out of set list for the night.

and when we ran out of songs that we did together on a stage once upon a time on a spring night in 1987.

and we just

did shit

off of the top of our heads,

this was where the magic lies.

someone played a riff or a fill from our collective pasts and everyone else picked it up.

and we ran with it.

we fucking ran.

at some point in time we improvised our way through dio's "the last in line" and the bastard leaned his head against the microphone,

and held it back,

because I realized whose company I was in all those years ago and tonight and I was just so happy to be doing this again.

see how we shine.

—the bastard

...on rocking

going back in time tonight.

to 1987

I was in a band back then.

meeting up with them again tonight.

this should be good

—the bastard

well it's a new decade

and boom goes the dynamite.

—the bastard

blinded by the light

well, the bastard likes to do this before the clock turns 12 and the apocalypse happens. it's been a busy fucking year for me. this year was the first calendar year i sat as the AD of killing stuff monthly but there's more.

some folks left the fold.

the bastard ran into sam watterston not once but, twice.

with a heavy heart, i left the thorough borough for a grab at happiness.

the bastard saw some shit about zombies.


i had some parenting moments that were hard.


i crashed the bike.

the bastard discovered that there is devil worship going on in fresh direct's ad department.

secret oatmeal alien invasions.

rolled it with the homies.

found the greatest happy hour in america.

i bitched alot about my loss.

shot some guns.

i got robbed.

the mofo and i drove to kansas city and back and if i kick tomorrow, i can go to ground saying it might have been the best ride of my life in a four wheeled box.

and it ruined the bastard for barbecue for the rest of his life.


but we got home in one piece.

the chairman reminded me of the memory of a good man and how we are rudderless without him sometimes.

i went shopping with a viking. and it made me wanna steal.



went on holiday with my lady and the boy. we felt like a family.

got back to nature.

met up with old friends and was surprised.

got a beer in st louis again.

i got my faith restored.

postponed the universe.

went shooting some more.

we had a baby. A BABY. again.

got a trident.

watched some guys make a difference.

almost got into a fight in the old hood.

and a place that was near and dear to the bastard went out with a whimper. or was it new management.

so it wasn't a bad year. pretty damn good by my standards except for the crashing and the down economy.



i ended the year going to the burg to see the chairman's new digs nd they were majestic. and there's more to come. see ya ten minutes ago jerks. some silicone sister with a manager mister told me I got what it takes.

—the bastard

happy new year, and get out the way jerk

overdressed, the bastard shoulda took the lil woman's advice.

fast book to the subway.

6 train pulling in and I'm on the wrong side of the turnstyle.

tall guy in my way

"Jesus christ on a bicycle", I utter half a step ahead.

"I love you too, buddy", he retorts.

points for cleverness doesn't count, so the bastard plays it blunt.

"fuck you asshole"

yeah, I can play it blunt.

give it away to the universe, my ass.

in order to pay karma back, the bastard let's some kind faced woman on the L train first.

pay yourself first, I always say. or maybe the boss of all bosses did. who knows?

—the bastard

ten years after the bastard's fall...

...or i've fallen for ten years and i can't get up.


well jerks, left hand rob has gone and done that shit to me again. the bastard has been tagged in a meme of some other person's design and i have been tagged. now this is the point where the bastard can already see erik the red formulating a comment in the comments window that reads, "oh bastard, why you gotta be all bourgeious and all?" either that or he will just type "meh". it's also the sort of thing the mofo would ask for a dislike button to hit repeatedly.

anyways, the meme is as follows:

It's the "of the decade" meme! Basically come up with 3 categories and who you think wins that category! Be creative!

Like what I mean isn't just "best comic book of the decade"... like "best moustache of an comic creator of the decade" or whatever.. it can be serious (best Asian male film character of the decade) or not or whatever.. it doesn't have to be about comics, or games or whatever.. it can be about nething (worst hair of a world leader, weirdest food trend... etc etc)

and tag 3-5 other ppl! And then they come up with 3 categories.. etc :] The main part is to be creative!

starting off in rob's fashion, i must start with full disclosure: it has come to my attention that left hand rob has voted the bastard to be the most dangerous blogger on the eastern seaboard. i mean COME ON, look at how i've completely blown up the eastrn seaboard of this great nation and i have loosed many minor explosions in central and southern europe. if that doesn't convince you, i've been in a death race with rob down i-95, in the chairman's subconcious, i took out sara silverman AND fiddy cent. and i dumped a screaming death machine all over the bqe.

worst of all, i'm a journalist so you gotta trust me on this.

ok here we go.


menace of the decade: well the survey results aren't entirely in but i'll let you the viewer decide. it's a neck and neck between


bears


and robots.

now bears are tough and all i can see how you'd think they have the upper hand but robots are strong, and once they get their metal claws on you, there's no breaking free. your call kids but i don't see a smith and wesson 500 taking that shit out and a bear'll go down like old soviet union after a shot or two.

dying trend of the decade: everyone talks about the death of print but the bastard has t say, i think it's the web that's dying i mean, they don't even pay me to do this and killing stuff monthly STILL has plenty of trees to destroy so i just see all this death of print stuff as a minor setback.

best new invention of the decade has got to be: the baby jacket


i mean come on! the bastard has it in two colors and who the fuck NEEDS a carriage. just tuck junior in your jacket and go about your business.

you wanna go to the bar but you have to watch the kid? baby jacket.

you're freezing your ass off and you need a little extra heat: baby jacket.

a little snack for the road? baby jacket

and didn't i say it comes in two colors? BABY JACKET

this decade's newest best superfood? you guessed it,


pigs in a blanket. the bastard doesn't need to add to this. obviously.

and to top it off on a mor factual note. the top bastard-centric moments of this decade have been, he has had it all fall apart and managed to keep it together. i mean who wants to kill themselves after having a bunch of bad shit happen to you. i managed to lose a job and find another that's turned into a decent career and managed to have my son move 2500 miles away and still say, "i love you daddy" when we speak on the phone. i had a second child, and that's pretty goddam miraculous if you're close to the situation. i didn't die on the highway. who wants to die when i can see how this shit ends.

i'm feeling lucky. so the bastard is tagging the maw, the constellation, jodi, and skelle top to keep the magic going. don't disappoint. you know, because i disappoint easily.

no

really, i do.

—the bastard

...on throwaways

after an yuletide evening the bastard can best described as well met, my ladyfriend and I settled down for a spell and the bastard tooled away on the virus.

I came across one of those "quizzes" people do on facebook that I did in the place of blogging one night.

Smoke?
used to. sometimes at the craps table

Drink?
yup. double chocolate stout right now

Do Drugs?
nah

Brush Your Teeth?
sure

Sing?
yeah. sometimes more than i should

Dance?
i try but i suck at it

Draw?
i used to to more often but you know, air and light and time and space

Write?
more than i should sometimes

Pick Flowers?
not in a great while

Listen to Oldies?
depends on what you mean by oldies

Drive?
used to love to drive. now it holds no mystery for me. i miss the bike

Speed?
yup

Steal?
all the time.

Shop?
i used to more often but now, it's more like for groceries

Cook?
sometimes

Go Down?
sure

Watch Cartoons?
lots and lots, most of them are subtitled

Eat Spicy Food?
hell's yeah

Listen to Your Parents?
rarely. maybe that's how i turned out this way

Fight?
i fight like hell. and lose most of em

but it was mostly the answers to steal and fight. my ladyfriend quipped that I must really love myself.

and the bastard retorted, "quite the opposite actually but, sometimes I like what I write"

—the bastard