recall…

was watching sons of anarchy and…

SPOILERS STOP READING

jax was looking at a photo of he and his dead friend opie when they were kids…

and I wondered if I could still picture José after all this time and I could

then I wondered how long until I couldn't.

jax put the photo in the coffin before they closed it up.

he will forget his face one day.

cue the closing theme to the Incredible Hulk

—the bastard

the last time

hey…

remember that time that we saw the beastie boys at Randall's island?

rancid had just finished their set on the other stage and there was a massive push from the left…

and we were almost crushed…

and I held on to your hand for dear life as we lifted our feet up and were carried 30 yards to the side and miraculously didn't die?

do you remember?

I do.

it was the first time I ever levitated…

and it was the last concert I went to as a young man…

and you were there.

now the bastard doesn't go around talking about the time when something inside of him died.

well maybe he does…

but it was the last time I got in the shit and it was the last time I felt like a kid at a show.

I was part of a big show and so I felt like I was a part of something big.

and on the bus ride from Randall's island back to civilization, I didn't really think about these things.

but age gives old men the benefit of thinking on shit that happened in the past do I can say this.…

that day was made possible because Adam Yauch gave a shit about Tibet. and because of him I was there that day more or less.

and I'm glad that I have that memory. and I'm sorry that I'll never get the chance to see them play again.

— the bastard

in the name...

last night , Pete Postlethwaite passed away.

you may know him from the usual suspects.

or you may know him from any one of a number of great british caper films.

but i first came into pete's work when i saw in the name of the father.

—the bastard

to ben

one guy i always thought had the perfect blend of crazy and versatile was dennis hopper.

i admired him since i first saw in apocalypse now, and i loved him in easy rider, rebel without a cause, blue velvet and hell, for anything i ever saw him in. i even loved his work in crappy movies.

i also felt he was a kindred spirit in a way. he went one way in life and things changed, and he went another. so did i.

i will miss his crazy eyes.

—the bastard

two episodes in...

...and season two of the shield is really messed up

you really have to hand it to the fx channel.

not a single bit of original programming ever leaves the bastard feeling any better about his fellow man.

two hours (well really 90 minutes because there are no commercials), and i'm already uncomfortable.

good times.

—the bastard

the mofo just informed me...

that wrestler SD "special delivery" jones has died.

he is either a giant of the wrestling industry who will be missed,

or someone who died penniless and insane.

but the man did get his own action figure.

rest in peace sd. above, i have a tag team match he did with andre the giant.

enjoy.

go on! enjoy!

—the bastard

...on the color of money

i heard this morning that paul newman had passed away.


i've seen him in a ton of things.

he never really got as much props as he should have.

i remember seeing him do a television version of bang the drum slowly a long time ago and he was phenomenal.

the bastard never liked his ceaser salad dressing but i liked his cookies.

he will be missed.

—the bastard

holy crap

george carlin died.

the cause of death was heart failure.

while i hadn't always agreed with his politics, he was a funny guy.

and i use all seven of his words that you can't say on television on a daily basis while trying to find a place for my stuff.

either way, he will be missed.

—the bastard

the bastard had an odd dream this morning...

ok it's like this.

the bastard cannot remember who he was traveling with. i think it was either the boy or perhaps left hand rob. but we were being hunted by my brother, the mofo and the executive editor of killing stuff monthly.

there had been a massive extinction event in which people had been reduced to piles of moldy cobwebs and i was making my way to my parents house to get the guns.

QUICK SIDEBAR: for the last 6 month's the bastard has been reading a comic called the walking dead. it's about a massive zombie holocaust and the stories of the people who have survived and also how their lives are changed forever by this extinction level event. this also came on the heels of a book i had been discussing called world war z which was written by mel brooks' son who also wrote the zombie survival guide. anyway, the book's web site has a quiz that grades your chances of survival if a zombie holocaust occurs. this has prompted lengthy discussions with the chairman about what we would do in the event of a zombie holocaust.

the bastard always starts off his survial situation by heading to my parents, to get the guns.

OK WE'RE BACK: so the bastard is at my parents house getting the guns and they are dead of course. i don't know if this is always the conclusion i come too because my dad reduces his options by not flying or demanding that he drive or because the subconcious narrative simplifies things by killing off my parents. maybe it's because i want a bollywood style revenge side plot to develop where the bastard sings and dances his way into getting even with the zombies.

but anyway, my parents have been reduced to cobwebs and upon getting the guns, we have a standoff. the editor from killing stuff is blank faced and speaking in his ross geller voice and the mofo is talking about the infection that has lead to this situation. i tell him i'm heading west and he tells me he thinks i have it or somehow, i've caused it but, i haven't shown any syptoms of the disease that has killed humanity. then he starts wiping the blood off of his lip and he's painting his own blood onto his face like war paint.

then the bastard wakes up. the boy wants his breakfast. what did you expect, closure? go to hell.

—the bastard

monday morning...

...special 2 days late edition


so my monday began with a downpore.

which was followed by a series of bad decisions built around staying dry.

which turned into an umbrella big enough to keep the state og texas dry in a rainstorm.

which turned into a 30 minute wait for the bus which made the bastard late.

but the fair box was broken so the ride was free. so i got what i paid for in a way.

but the mistake to take the e train and wait 30-40 minutes between 63rd drive and woodhaven blvd. it felt like forever. and i actually packed a second bag for 2 days of lunch.

i get to the new space to find that part of it has been colonized by the hive mind of mystery science magazine.

there they are,

stacked two to a cube,

never speaking,

almost never moving.

i think they are going to try and assimilate left hand rob and i. i'm SO gonna stab one of them.

—the bastard

...on nightmares

...and dreamscapes

part one: get rich or die trying.

chairman: hey

the bastard: yesh?

chairman: ok, crazy dreams last nite

chairman: you shived 50 cent to death, in vegas

the bastard: he had it coming

the bastard: and vegas had a crowd i could disappear into

chairman: well u me and jamie kennedy were hanging out in the Wynn

the bastard: jamie kennedy?

chairman: and 50 walked by and i go holy shit its 50 cent and 50 goes no pictures

the bastard: what the hell is wrong with you man?

chairman: but u kept running around w/ ur iphone

chairman: try to snap shots

chairman: then 50 recognized me

chairman: and said you man tom can get a picture with me

chairman: so u took it with the iphone

chairman: but 50 felt it was too pixelated

chairman: and was poor quality

chairman: apparently he's a fotog

chairman: so you go chairman, i'm gonna have to take out the good knife

chairman: and u stabbed him

chairman: fast forward

chairman: we're in the desert with samuel l. jackson

chairman: trying to bury 50's body

chairman: and sandra bullock posed as an overzealous reporter sees us

chairman: and puts it on the interweb. So you decide because you're the overlord at this point

chairman: that we're going to commandeer 50's suite at the wynn

chairman: then i woke up

the bastard: well at least i'm not a boring date

part two: don't call it a comeback:

chairman: to only go back to bed to have a dream that staten island was going to blow up

chairman: and i was in a car with philip seymour hoffman

the bastard: nice

the bastard: that is the best dream EVER

chairman: who was telling me about his fleggling baseball career with the brewers

the bastard: he does look sort of midwestern

chairman: we were driving a 1984 maroon station wagon

the bastard: chevy or ford?

chairman: but the air was filled with propane gas

chairman: mercury

the bastard: i see

chairman: with the roof rack

the bastard: grand marquis wagon?

chairman: yes!

the bastard: 80's era?

chairman: w/ the wood paneling on the sides

the bastard: nice

chairman: maroon seats

chairman: yes

the bastard: that's the only way to drive

chairman: tape player

the bastard:what was on the tape player

chairman: high end

chairman: styx

the bastard: benzi box?

the bastard: was it best of times?

chairman: and damn yankees

the bastard: or mister roboto?

the bastard: did it take you high enough?

chairman: he was trying to talk me back into a comeback

chairman: im not sure if i was a singer

the bastard: a comeback?

chairman: or a baseball player

chairman: or what

the bastard: i see

chairman: but he wanted me to comeback

the bastard: but you know what l.l. sez

the bastard: don't call it a comeback

the bastard: you know what this means chairman?

the bastard: it means that you're gonna kill again

chairman: goooooooood

chairman: not psh tho

chairman: he's a genius

the bastard: nah, he'll be your accomplice

part three: the bodycount?

the bastard: i'm putting this on the blog

the bastard: too good not to

chairman: at least i have A list celebs in my dreams

chairman: not sure why you keep stabbing them

chairman: i think if u had a chance u would have stabbed PSH too

chairman: first sarah silverman, then 50

the bastard: oh wait, i stabbed sarah silverman too?

quick sidebar: the chairman had a dream last weekend that he was married to sarah silverman and she made fun of me several times, prompting the bastard to storm out of his subconscious.

the bastard: i thought i just stormed off

chairman: true

chairman: naa u made a shiv out of a spoon

chairman: and came back and stabbed her

the bastard: nice

chairman: and your ladyfriend was pissed that u did that

chairman: but apparently you're a ruthless serial killer who kills my A list celebrity friends

the bastard: i am

the bastard: everyone has to have a hobby

chairman: after you killed 50 you were really excited that it was on perez hilton

the bastard: nice

chairman: this is all your fault for making me write my crazy dreams down

chairman: and passing out to VH1

the bastard: excellent, it'll help in the long run

the bastard: well i know that you love the 80's

the bastard: and hal sparks

chairman: who doesn't love hal sparks

the bastard: your mom

chairman: good point

the bastard: i know

someone please stop me before i kill again. for the love of a-listers.

—the bastard

behold his cold dead hands

let me start this off by saying that i was a fan of heston.

the bastard first saw the 10 commandments and planet of the apes when his was a wee lad and i always enjoyed his work

i even like soylent green.

notsomuch with the omega man.

but here's the thing.

this weekend, when he died, new york 1 was covering it. and the way new york 1 covers things is they slap it on a tape and play it every hour.

and the bastard is too lazy to change the channel. so i watched the report 10 times on saturday and every time it was the part in the ten commandments when heston parts the red sea saying

"behold his mighty hand"

and after hearing that 10 times or so, i started thinking about his time as president of the nra (hell i also thought about what an unfair prick michael moore was to him in bowling for columbine). but after hearing that phrase, it made me think of his "from my cold dead hands" speeches.

and the bastard had to wonder, did they manage to pry it from his cold dead hands? sleep well judah ben hur.

—the basatard

where's jonny airplanes, special love letter edition

over the weekend, the forever wild bunch met up for our yearly memorial breakfast.

early this year due to jonny airplanes' governmental obligations.

while eating, the bastard was discussing how due to his bringing a shiv in his luggage wherever he goes (come on, you never know who is going to need to be knifed in this country), the transportation safety administration, searches his bag.

also they always leave the bastard a note. it usually reads as follows:

dear bastard,

due to the fact that you've place yet another sharp edged impleeement (they misspell it, government employees and all that) in your rucksack, we had to go through your shit. please accept this little note as a token of our suspiciousness. please also take note that we didb't steal your tequila out of your bag that was wrapped up in your socks (hey, a bastard has to drink you know).

love always,

big brother

so last night, i get a text from jonny airplanes (back in virginia):

"got a love letter"

"from?"

"tsa"

now at this point, i've worked 12 hours so i don't get who tsa is so i text back

"is tsa some chick you met on the plane?"

"in my luggage, tansportation safety assoc"

and then it hits me. i need some sleep.

"made a mess" he finishes up with.

you have to love some of our more federally protected employees. can't even fold his shit up after they look through it. he's out there stealing office supplies for our freedom you know.

—the bastard

...on headlines

this morning the bastard was in the midst of trying to find out if wild turkey needed a piece of gear that we borrowed from him for a photoshoot last night. he was in the midst of a very intense argument about who was hotter, jessica biel, or jessica alba with one of the other editors of killing stuff monthly. while waiting to get a word in edgewise to unload a 2500 dollar piece of spotting scope, i spied today's new york post open up to this story about the death of tina turner's ex husband, ike turner.

this headline is gold. pure gold. there are days where the evil evil mean at the post come up with the best headlines ever. they will win no awards for it but, they sure as shit will end up on gawker today.

—the bastard

...on the exodus

...and the cold cold ground

did you know that it takes 1 hour to drive from houston street to the holland tunnel?

however it only takes 10 minutes to get from the holland tunnel to new jersey.

it takes 15 minutes to get to newark airport from there.

it takes 35 minutes to get to north jersey from newark aitport.

so the entirety of the bastard's travels adds up to the amount of time to travel from housten to the holland tunnel.

this is what happens when the entirety of a major metreopolis needs to cram itself into two lanes going to new jersey. the food was damn worth it though. at dinner, my ladyfriend's sister's inlaws were sitting near me, discussing with their son, the teacher, how they would like to be disposed of when they pass. father wants to be put in an urn in the center cabinet. mother wants her ashes to be buried in a biodegrable sack in a field. the bastard thinks he needs to be buried with the pumpkin cheesecake he had for dessert. that would be fine by me.

—the bastard

...on the dead

...even they get their day

the bastard always found the history of catholicism in the new world fascinating. jesuits and other missionaries try to convert the natives but try to phrase it in a way that the noble savages could understand (because go forbid you assume that the indigenous people think for themselves and all). anyway, pagan rituals bleed into christian rituals and vice versa.

case and point.

day of the dead. ancient mexican death rituals meet up with all saints day and all souls day down a dark alley and honor the dead. it's sometimes playful but always respectful. this alter is where i left a message for my grandparents. along with the boy leaving a message for his grandfather who is also beyond the pale. what did i write them? none of your business. ask them when you pass. it's the sort of thing that is between yourself and the dead. unless of course you don't belive in that sort of shit. but the bastard doesn't know. on the same token, it would be nice if that sort of thing worked out that way.

it's simple enough that it could but, who knows. and yeah, that's my coffee on the floor there. look dick, i'm saving lives here.

—the bastard

this just in...

robert goulet has died at the age of 73. now no one will mess up my office while i sleep. that commercial was gold. and speaking of gold, i loved it when will ferrell did him on snl. watch it while you can.

big poppa. i love it when you call me big poppa.

—the bastard

...on the sixth sense

so the bastard got home last night an into bed around 1. such as life this time of year. so after 5 or six pages of 100 bullets, i turned in. around 2:30, i wake up from what felt like a dream and my knee felt out of wack so i bent my leg real quick only to hear a resounding pop and then after the initial shock, the pain kicked in. OW! it felt like something popped it the wrong way as if it had been sat on. i get out of bed to look for the knee brace and it's freezing in the apartment. so in the bastard's surreal half sleep/pained state, i start wondering why it's freezing in my apartment considerring how it's been in the 60's all day in new york (yeah, i don't get it either) and then it hit me. i might have ghosts. yeah it's probably the delirium but it was totally freezing just like one of those scenes from the sixth sense.

FAST FORWARD: i get off at lexington and the verve is on again. apparently my randomizer has a love that dares not speak it's name for richard ashcroft. who cares. it makes for good walking

FAST FORWARD: in the office. things are already starting to go wrong. we don't have copy for this gun. we won't have a road map until tuesday. we need to have the issue to the plant by thursday. the bastard fixes them or learns to deal. i feel so serene. i'm a fucking razor.

—the bastard