if it's free...

...it's for me

that was the rhyming catch phrase of my man dean thrilla. also his other rhyming catch phrase for beer purchases was "go with what you know". common sense advice from an uncommon character. but today we're going with the former. coming fresh off of yesterday's free for all, today the big man on campus (one of killing stuff's editors) drop two box's of krispy kreme donuts in the art department. i have to say that living in new york all my life, there is nothing more entertaining than listening to someone from the south say paisan in new york. there is never a less italian sounding pronunciation and that my friends is in it's own way...good. so the big man follows up by declaring that we should all fight anorexia today, by eating donuts. hell, i'm down.

this afternoon, we were all supposed to be looking through photos for a killing stuff monthly reader photo contest (of what else, killing things. DID YOU DOZE?) to the tune of free pizza. justice (the photo editor) had already picked out the photos he wanted so i assume, the kibosh gets put on it. notsomuch. K Stuff's managing editor who we can call, the velvet hammer told the k that perhaps the cheese should still go on. it's a pretty good way to start the weekend.

—the bastard

...on dodging the bullet

...or on free lunches

"bastard are you coming?"

"to?"

"photoshoot, we need extras"

"ummm"

"there's free lunch involved. and free beer"

"i'm in"

i've been working for killing stuff monthly for going on 5 years now. as far as art department people goes, the bastard is an old man now. and in that time, i've never been photographed for the magazine. it's kind of like dodging a bullet sometimes. then again, 5 dollar johnny seems to hold the record for most times being photographed for killing stuff. this seemed like an easy gig. what's the worst hing that can happen, the back of my head appears in a classroom setting in next month's issue. and hey, free beer.

so it's into a cab and head uptown. the sammiches were fantastic and so was the beer because, you guessed it, free. oh yeah and because i can expense the cab. the ride was also free. nice and smooth.

—the bastard

...on rat kings

so the bastard hears things. mostly things thsat prompt him to but into conversations

"you see when rats live in tight quarters, their tails get tangles together and form a rat king"

"who's a rat king rob?"

"i was just telling jiffy pop, the asst photo editor about how when a bunch of rats get tangled in their own tails have to function as a single organism is called a rat king. but it's an urban legend"

"you know, i saw the nutcracker when i was a kid and when they trotted out the rat king, he had like 10 or 20 heads"

"really?"

"yeah it was kind of creepy when i was nine"

"i saw the nutcracker once, and granted it was a small company and the dancing was okay..."

"you know..."

"...but i have to say that when they killed off the rat king in the first act they left nothing for the second act but dancing candy. they should have saved some action for the second act"

"you know, i was going to tell you that it pays to go to lincoln center to see that but when you put it that way, the second act is still bullshit dancing candy"

"bullshit dancing candy?"

"yeah"

"have a ever told you the plot for cats? it goes like this. "where's mr mistoffelees? where's mr mistoffelees? oh here he is."

broadway sometimes makes me want to jump through a plate glass window sometimes. anyone want to go see edward scissorhands the musical?

—the bastard

...on crap

...or on headlines

left hand rob has a skill. left hand rob finds headlines that are considerred innappropriate for a family magazine. not that killing stuff monthly is entirely a family magazine. i mean it is because the bulk of it's readrship are guys who hunt with families and they learn hunting from their family and they teach hunting to their family and alot of those families might not appreciate reading a headline like

"is there a sheep in your future?"

"get wet for crappies"

or reading lines of copy like

"as i was boning the carcass, i was fantasizing about my next hunt"

the readership has editors like lhr to thank for this lack of double entendre. the book across the hall has an entirely different mission statement which is why the bastard laughed his ass off when he read this headline because i always wanted to see soem of these off color gems go to print. made my day.

—the bastard

two out of three falls

the bastard walks the walk my son. every goddam morning he does. that is unless it's over 95 degrees with 85 percent humidity in which case the bastard buses the bus. anyway, once in a while someone will shove a leaflet in his face and i will politely but gruffly tell them no thanks. i don't need a new cell phone from "celluar-mania", i don't need a brazilian wax and i am not interested in following the teachings of krishna or any deity with more than two arms. hell, the bastard is barely on terms with the two armed variety (but we're in talks at the moment, it's been a good year thus far). anyway, i get this leaflet shoved in my face as i pass the lirr station and i refuse but these folks are offering free coffee. as i approach the subway there is another "free coffee" station so, i take the leaflet offered to me andhere it is.

ONE WEEKEND ONLY.
SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!
TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS!
THE SON OF MAN GOES TOE TO TOE WITH THE EASTER BUNNY!

actually, i love stuff like this. you have to hand it to the christians. what better way to address the question of "how does one make the faith more relavent times where one's attention span grows shorter and shorter. whay not give out free coffee? why not give out free chewing gum? whay not give out free snacky cakes? why not drive a big ole semi down the highway lit up like christmas down the highway that says "jesus" down the sides? might as well get some impact on passers by before they get back into the next episode of survivor. maybe you need a reality show in which a bunch of christians are on a deserted island and whomever loses that week gets thrown into a pit of fire. who knows? by the way pope, you can have that last one. it's my gift to you after years of not showing up for church on sunday. i give you the first christian reality show. but, then again i don't really watch the fuel channel and those bastards are kind of clever.

...on more religious whatnot

about a month ago, i was stepping out after dinner on valentines day with the ladyfriend and she needs to get cash. this was somewhere near the flatiron building. i was coming from dinner and the ladyfriend needed to go to the atm and as we were leaving, i held the door for this punk rock couple. upon doing so, the bastard realizes that this couple was jay bakker and his wife amanda. now here's the part where you go, "hey shiteyes, who the hell is that?" well young jerkfaces it's like this. jay bakker is a preacher. his father is jim bakker and his mother is tammy faye bakker. ring any bells? no? ummmmm televangelists? ptl scandal? ahhhhhhh read a book ya frikking jerks. anyway jay, dropped out of high school after the ptl scandal and then did alot of drugs and then got straightened out and started his own church. he had a documentary on sundance and the bastard watched it. it was very good stuff. it's out on dvd about now. netflix the shit. it's good watching. anyway, i asked him if he was the jay in question and he said yes and then we had a little talk. he politely listened to my rants about organized religion (another post for another time) and he invited me down to his church in billieburg which oddly enough is on the other side of metropolitan avenue from me (way down metropolitan from me). i thanked him for the chat and was on my way. the bastard has always found religious figures to be interesting. mostly from a pop culture perspective. these people fascinate me. these are generally people who carry weight with a segment of the population and i find it interesting how they are in the public forum. jay was a very earnest approachable guy. who knows, the bastard might wanna get some church in him one of these days and he does his shit in a bar in williamsburg on sundays. who knows, getting a pint of brew might be a bad way to hear someone's take on the good book. maybe i might just get drunk and learn something.

—the bastard

...on last flings

...or on how winter has to stop calling the bastard in the middle of the night. it's over for god's sake!!

holy crap! we have accumulation. you know, all winter long, the bastard has not bothered dressing for it. winter never delivers on her promises.

"oh shit boy, ahm a gonna snow all over your ass."

"yeah right, winter."

"ahm a gonna do it."

"yeah whatever you say baby. you just keep talking."

so innevitably, winter decides to stop frontin' on me and she drops a hahd one. 4 inches of ice in march. good times. i get back to the queens craptastic tonight after a dinner date and no cabs. ah, that winter. she is a little bitch goddess. she steals all of the cabs from me. so it's foot central for the bastard. and i have to say. my new girl's name is gortex. i loves the gortex. she keeps my feet dry in the shittiest of snow and ice. get some. it'll keep you dry and warm. now go to hell, jerks

—the bastard

has the bastard ever told you...

...how disgusting it is to clip your fingernails on the train?

hey you.

yeah, you.

with the nail clippers.

do you have any idea how disgusting that is?

the f train isn't your bathroom.

what kind of busy life are you leading that you feel that it is both necessary AND socially acceptable to clip your fingernails on the train?

fucking hell, i can't take a nap now.

—the bastard

...on that warm and fuzzy feeling

so i'm tired and it's crowded. what else is new? can't quite get to sleep on the train. transfer at 53rd and i'm wedged between the usual people who won't get out of the effing doorway and the rest of the throng who's already in there. and suddenly i feel this really warm feeling in my nether regions but not in the good way. i was leaning against some woman's bag and her lunch for the day was still hot. i felt like someone had taken a piss on me. it was incredibly gross feeling. the bastard needs to wash himself now. ewwwwwwwwww.

—the bastard

the bastard has to tell you something...

...the new york times is full of crap

...or perhaps the new york times is out of touch with the movie going public

i won't go too much further into my theories about the new york times. i didn't set out to get into politics tonight. i want to talk about film briefly. on friday night, we all left work early to go see an early screening of frank miller's 300 and i have to tell you that every minute that you are not watching the gorgeously adapted 2 hours of stylized violence, you have wasted some time in your life. the times panned it but, it killed at the box office this weekend. now the bastard isn't here to bitch about the all too high browedness of the new york pop culture media (i read new york magazine instead of the new yorker when it comes to local crap, i find it less elitist), i'm here to talk about how the guy who reviewed the film for the times isn't an everyman. that's all. now go see the fucking film. go on. SEE IIIIIIIIIIIIIT!

—the bastard

you know...

i had wrote a post about my day and then i lost it. i owe it all to OS9. that's right, the bastard works in the office in OS9. you know why? well let me tell you shiteyes. it roughly costs about 350,000 dollars to upgrade all of the books in this building to an operating system that is considerred current by...say...the rest of the publishing world but, the old comapany didn't want to spend that kind of dough on a division that they wer selling so, i work with bear skins and stone knives and while i would consider blogging from the office to be extra curricular, it still sucks when the 20th century technology of the working world fucks my shit up. thanks mothership. i hate you and your elderly granny ceo that didn't get us so she sold us. jerks. i'll try and write it again when i'm done being pissed.

—the bastard

...on gotham

...and all those little things

so i exhumed myself after a nyquil induced coma monday night and salvaged the evening. and since then the bastard has:

had some chinese food (general tso's from noodles on 28th which is on 29th now)

grabbed a chicken parmesan hero for lunch

saw some jackass wearing a free mumia button on the train (he killed a cop pal, how does that make him a political prisoner?)

went to a going away party for our now former ceo allowing me to drink a bunch of beer on the company dime (nothing tastes better than free liquor)

body checked someone at roosevelt avenue (let people get OFF the train first shiteyes, the train won't leave without you)

goddammit, it feels good to be back. if i still smoked, i would go out enjoy one of those right now just to complete the mental picture. despite the slush, and the cold, the tuesday night karaoke, and the crowds, there's no place like home.

—the bastard