tucson...we have a problem

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

"exit right ahead"

"bear left in 400 yards and take the motorway"

".....and nope"

five exits. what kind of town closes off 5 exits...both ways...on a major interstate? holy frikkin' hannah. not that there was ANYTHING holy about hannah. i mean, i heard about hannah back in the day when she was a strung out piece of jet trash selling herself on the i10 but not that they've closed off 5 exits of the i10, she's gotta go down to little tokyo on the lower east side of tucson. the bastard asks you, where the hell is the skin trade to go? little tokyo? little freddy eisenstein is going to have to hang up his own shingle on speedway so he can sell his ass for 15 bucks a pop. it's bloody disgraceful.

sorry jerks. it's the desert talking. there are bats the size of palm trees out here. and pizza the size of satellite dishes. the bastard goes home tonight and he wants to lay into the two guys drinking mountain dew across form me or perhaps the girl with the fucking uggs sitting next to them. oh well, at least she knows how the weather is. the mofo texted me earlier this evening (the mofo? who's the mofo? don't worry virginia, there most certainly IS a mofo and he's selling his ass down at ground zero) and he told me the hawk was out.

tune in tomorrow when the bastard lets jetlag tell you who he's going to cut out of his life. in the meantime, tomtom is me copilot and satan is me pal.

—the bastard

...on linguistics

so, like, the bastard engages in another run to the southwest today?

this like, gets more and more and more interesting for me?

so, like, theres these kids?

and they are making me so very thankful?

that i have an ipod?

however?

like?

i can't like stop finishing, like all my like sentences like in a question?

my ladyfriend keeps making fun of the fact that i sometimes truncate the phrase "isn't it" by saying "innit". she tell me that i shouldn't speak around the boy like that. he might pick up some bad habits. i think she has a point.

like...um...thank god? for like, my ipod? and stuff?

mother of twelve bastards, i'm gonna get me a drink

—the bastard

...on gregory hines

...or was it alfonso ribeiro

...maybe it was savion glover

ummmmmmmmmm, hey lady.

the bastard just thought he'd let you know...

that regardless of how much you suck your teeth every time the train stops...

and no matter how many times you tap your feet every time the train slows down...

and don't get the bastard started on how much talking to yourself about how late you are for work makes you look like nothing more than a dressed homeless person who's between crack fixes talking about how "the man" got you addicted to drugs...

anyway...

it isn't going to make the train move any faster...

so fucking cut it out. you're not making anyone else feel any more at ease inside this tin can...

and your totally fucking up my nap. some of us like to use this part of the day to unwind before the day starts and 36th street ain't coming any faster...

... you jerk.

love always,

—the bastard

...on the fhills

...or on local crap

so a few months back the local overpriced dry cleaner closed it's doors and construction started. one day the chairman, informed me that they were building a 7-11 over there. we think "sweet". now when it occurs to me, i can get my hands on corndogs and slurpees at 3am. actually, i was thinking that when i need a gallon of milk, i didn't have to go to the not so convenient store by my apartment that never has milk on a friday (there is no goddam reason the bastard has to buy a can of evaporated milk for his morning coffee). so i think good. the chairman on the other hand sees the obvious convenience of having a place he could float into in the middle of the night in his white suit riding in a carriage pulled by two sacks of money to buy late night whatnot. win/win, i say.

but the fhills says otherwise. according to another local (who alerted the chairman that we have our own adidas shoe named after our area, take that, team zissou, the community met with the local 7-11 owners who own another down the road a piece. locals bitched about 3am trucks and those omnipresent bored white kids (the chairman and i rate their graffiti as a 9.5 on the wackness scale) that haven't reached driving age and one commentor called for a boycott (to be fair there was only one commentor). and the bastard had a thought, "damn now you folks are gonna have to act like a neighborhood now, won't you?"

OK QUICK SIDEBAR: i mean look at this from the bastard's perspective, on my side of the ave, i have this annoying restaurant that keeps me from getting to bed. the locals don't boycott that place. no one in my area really likes the racket, or the smell of their garbage, or the landlady for that matter but it stays open. oh, i left out the garbage trucks that come at all hours, making a racket, stinking up the place. it's a necessary evil. someone has got to pick up the local business' trash. no matter how stinky it is. then we have the police. the police that does nothing about public nuisances in the area. in the case of my pet peeve, the owner of the restaurant bought them a horse and they not only turn a blind eye, they give him a placard so he can park illegally. he isn't a cop. why does he have cop perks? what the fuck? what the fucking fuck?

but the bastard digresses, yes that means that the neighborhood has to act like a neighborhood now. if you don't want the riff raff around, call the cops. if it's your kid, get in his/her business. if it's your neighbors kid, get in his business. when the bastard was young and kicking the dirt, i had a local father who knew my every move because he drove a cab in my hood. rather then rat me out to my dad, he would ask me why i was cutting school on such and such day, or why was i calling a cab at 4am or somesuch and yeah, it was a pain in the ass. but it kept me out of trouble. so i put it to you schmucks. if you don't like the riff raff, do something about the riff raff. do not squash local business, it's not like their going to replace it with a nice italian restaurant (like we need another one of those in the area). cause i not only call bullshit on boycotting the place, i'm gonna get me a frikkin' slurpee.

—the bastard

...on debt

well let's see. bought a laptop. bought a new car last week (the saturn was dying and the bastard needs reliable transportation). sooooo, 37 years and what do you get? another year older and deeper in debt. at least the car has AC. ribs for me later.

—the bastard

you know they have the internet on computers now

help me please. the bastard has been trapped in his cube for the last 50 minutes while people are hashing out what goes on the killing stuff monthly website and it's making his head hurt.

"well the website"

"website?"

"well maybe we could website the website"

"website?"

"well website the website and then circle back to the website and then we could website"

"website?"

truth to tell is, this has nothing to do with the fact that the board is in front of my cubicle. to be fair, these guys have been working really hard on this sort of thing and it has more to do with the fact that i need a cup of coffee. and a door. and some earplugs. and some gin. and a pick axe. cover me, i'm jumping out of my cube, with coffee on the brain. wish me luck, shiteyes.

—the bastard