took the day off for a change. i get in the car to head over to the highway with the windows open and glad girls by guided by voices is on the radio. i wonder out loud why i don't do this more often and deduce, "because you're a frikkin idiot"
so the bastard was logging onto the ao hell this evening to clean ou the daily crapload of spam when this comes on the banner. "hey bastard, wht the hell do you have some wack ass internet like aol?" well i'll tell you sunshine because i get it for free. anyway this crap comes on the banner when i log on and i wonder to myself rather than out loud because the boy is with me, "why the hell so we pay attention to that batshit crazy monkey headed natalie maines and her two cohorts?" now i realize that growing up and spending my entire life in new york city in country music circles s tantamount to growing up in the same bubble some hayseed did when he asks where the empire state building is and it's right there stupid, just look up! anyway, the dixie chicks fell out of favor when they bit the middle american hand that feeds them by talking crap about the president while the twin towers were still on fire or something like that. i forget and i just don't care enough to look it up. i would if i did but, while the dixie chicks baffle me by still existing in our cultural lexicon i can't do it. but, still and all, why the hell do we give this group any creedence. they don't even make good country music and they since they "left" the country music scene behind, they sure as hell ain't going to make any decent rock music. good luck with that ladies.
the bastard is a big fan of the pop culture and while i feel that i don't need to link to this gawker.com item, i still feel compelled to do so...this time. mostly because it's the kind of homeless man schtick that actually gets me to donate to their slow ride down that road to ruin.
"let me tell ya somethin', it is sooooooo fockin' good to speak with you. i am having such a hot time talkin' ta you."
now the bastard know's that you're truly truly concerned about such things so i figure i would let you know that apparently, hulkamania is still running wild on the streets of manhattan.
i know this because i saw it on third while getting a cheesesteak the other day. so say your vitamins and eat your prayers, brother.
anyway, the bastard realizes that it's a whole week and change since saint patrick's day but since i have the time today, and apparently an abundance of material, i would opine on this pick i took on the 17th on 33rd street. 
so the boy and i have been playing star wars battlefront II lately which is a 1st or 3rd person version of any battle that could have possibly taken place in all 6 movies which mind you, makes the second trilogy of the films much easier to digest. there is no jar jar and you can spend the whole time as any one of a vairirty of storm troopers blowing crap up. good times. yesterday afternoon, the boy and i discovered a mode in which you can play all of the heroes against all of the villains. which is good.
my problem is this, the music. along with having a greatest hits of all six movies heroes and villains because hell, who doesn't want to kill mace windu using boba fett (okay, i think i've just stepped into very geeky territory here, kill me now), the sequence includes all of the music from the movies. when lucas remastered 4,5, and 6 he included things like a remastered jabba the hut which helped the story in 4 but then again he also had greedo shooing first in the mos eisley bar (which he later corrected in another remastered version, go figure). but in episode 6 (return of the jedi), he rematers this scene in jabba the hut's palace that comes complete with the max rebo band (which in the theatrical release was just a bunch of puppet)in full motion...performing a song. and it sucked so badly. and this song plays about every 10 minutes in the sequence of the game. this reminds me that films shouldn't be treated like a work in progress. once it's done, it's done. clena it up if you want but, don't add shit just for the sake of adding it. it takes away from the product. i think it was cezanne who painted a still life for a man and sold it to him. 3 years later he shows up on that man's doorstep, palette in hand. the man asks cezanne what he's doing there and he responds, "i just had an idea". and he proceeds to walk into this man's house and alter the painting right there. now there's a certain level of coolness assocaited with this kind of behavior because it's the stuff of artistic legends. but what old georgey boy did make sme question whether or not i would let my child view this piece of my childhood in it's present form. who knows, after he's dead, maybe his kids'll fix it.
because these chuckleheads can pinpoint the exact location where you can find these kind of idiots. some things should just be left up to chance, unless of course you want to kill them all in one fell swoop in which case i give the sign maker big ups for pointing me in the right direction. now all i have to do is lie in wait for them all to congregate. actually, dj paulie brooklyn is the only person i know who actually coins this term and oh...well...you know where he's from. oh well. i guess there's always waiting under the sign to kill again.
...or come on guys, i just want to unwind
decided to take the late train as the bastard is trying to not get sick again when i see little to no seats on the connection at jamaica. oh wait there's one. guy in a shearing playing with his treo. big guy. oh well, we'll make it fit. you know, there are very few advantages to growing up in a smokers household. one of them is that when i need to, my voice can sound like a low rumble.
It seems there has been some splitting hairs going on. It was revealed to me this afternoon during a radio show that Isaac Hayes, voice of the character Chef on South Park has quit the show because the creators (Matt Stone and Trey Parker) wrote an episode making fun of scientology, which Hayes is a member. For those of you who haven't had your head up your ass for the last nine years, South Park has gone out of its way to make fun at celebrites of all kinds, religons of all kinds, political and moral issues of all kinds, homosexuals, they've even made fun of themselves. Well Isaac felt by making fun of scientology they crossed a line, and he can no longer lend his voice to the character Chef. 
I'm not going to go on a rant about this half-assed hollywood cult because that's too easy, i let the sheep take care of that. But i think there is a belief that this is the end of Chef on the show. I would hope not. I think Parker and Stone should find some outrageous way of having Chef lose his voice, or have it permanently changed via sex change, or what have you. I think Chef should live on for the sole purpose of making fun of Isaac Hayes, every episode, every chance they get to show what a titanic fucking jackass he is. 
...tv show premieres are not front page news.
you know how the bastard knows that spring is coming? he begins to enjoy the benefits of the humidity. there's nothing i like better than standing on a train platform knowing it's below 50 degrees outside and still i'm sweaty. god! that is fucking good times. if a bastard is on a train leaving from chicago doing 35 mph moving west and another bastard is leaving from wichita moving east at 20 miles an hour, when will i be free of irritating commuters? and for that matter, why the hell am i doing math problems when i'm just trying to sleep on said train?
...and some are somethin' else...
"i accidentally grabbed these and they're beef nuggets, they look like little barbecued turds" —susie kansas
"you got ham jerky? i didn't see that" —5 dollar johnny
"is anybody going to lunch or are we gonna just eat jerky" —bastard
so i'm at the park with the boy this weekend, dressed in my trench coated finery and i'm thinking about something i said to art school about going to the playground. you see, i own 2 macintosh style trench coats. one black. one tan. that's what i wear. anyway, i remarked to art school that i must look less like the boy's father so much as i look like his bodyguard. i think i'll have to start wearing a sweater or something. i don't look all that cuddly at the park. 
so, there are these regulars that i see at the park. i find that the singlemost weirdest thing about single fatherhood is places that other single dad's go to. we all go to the park or to something like it. we all as men are uncomfortable being around one another and we all act in a weird standoffish "how ya doin" kind of vibe. these regulars all put their kids into the playground and then walk 20 yards away to grab a can of beer from whoever is on break and then come back and "parent" or whatever it is we do there. anyway, one of the regulars kids was playing with the boy and stuck out his hand. 
so the bastard decided to hire this new photographer for shooting guns monthly and i think he's a little young but i figure i meght be able to skirt the child labor laws. actually is was a much hated vice presideant of manuafacturing at the bastard's old company which we can call......hmmmmm.....i don't know digerati publishing inc. he told us at a meeting that print is alive and well but i would tell my grandkids to go into it. either way, the boy seems to really enjoy laying with cameras. who knows, he might have something there.
I went out last night for the first time in a while. Bronchitis and lack of money aside, I work for living and this body can only take so much. I figured a couple of beers and some pool, (which I hadn't played since the days of Ur) would do some good for my tired old bones. Man alive, did I want a cigarette. Not because of how it makes you feel when pull in a nice drag, or the fact that it gives you something to do in between conversations, but more because when I play pool, the cigarette has always been part of the uniform. Having it dangle out of my mouth as I lay my hands in position and look over the table at the next shot, the obligatory drag and exhale before I shoot, resting it on the side of the table in preparation of a difficult shot, making the shot, picking up the smoke and repeating the steps. 
so the bastard sees the opportunity to make the 5:13 (bankers hours, my ass. i mean seriously, the bastard sees more of his office in a day than some others see of their workplace in a week). anyway, i get in and the quick seat grab (which is never the best seat grab) is some biscuithead who has a similar build and he's fiddling with his stuff. i sit down running the risk of spinal bifida anyway. sometimes any seat is the best seat. so biscuit starts off with his opening act which is his elbow move. which of course makes me just hunker down further. then i notice he's got his dream theater dvd going into his portable dvd player. now i give the daughter of mawg some slack for listening to dream theater but biscuit, i can no longer take seriously. so i continue my little hunker, the spinal bifeda setting in. no nap for me, it's the ipod. and then i get calm. calm because "flashlight" by parliament funkadelic comes on and i let george clinton calm me down. battles over, cause i got the funk now. and everybody's got a little light under the sun. 
shuffle off, shake the bugs out, adjust your eyes to the light. you know, you gotta get in the habit of not wearing your sunglasses on the train. when you get off, half asleep from the nap yuo can never see anyone. oops, sorry pal, didn't mean to knock into you there. oh and by the way, if you keep giving me that dirty look, i might follow through on that impulse i have right about now about punching you in your face. eyes frontwise, shiteyes. wow! i'm a poet and i didn't even know it. whoops coffee's calling.
...or on ice cream
