...in which the bastard shows you pictures in the least convenient way possible

shot show ain't the mullet fest it used to be. and i don't put it all together like that anymore since i got on the virus that is twitter and facebook and instagram.

so that said,

i have linked as many of these words as possible in order to that it you jerks want a look at the bastard's life on the road you can. or perhaps you can't. either way, i still get whiskey out of the deal so up yours.

—the bastard

fumes…

it's been said,

"somedays you get the bear. and somedays the bear gets you".

needless to say, the bastard didn't get the bear last night.

in fact what he got was a paddlin at the hofbrauhaus.

it's the only place I've gone where I don't care if they screw up my food order because I'm there for a stein of "lake beer I can dock my boat to".

but what happened was,

my party had also ordered shots of apple scnapps.

shots come on a paddle.

so needless to say, we all got a paddlin.

then the bastard essentially made no headway with the dice.

this always strikes me as a every other kind of thing.

so who knows,

next year can end up being a more lucrative trip instead of a more paddly trip.

at least I can still sit down.

—the bastard

riding dirty

the bastard is down this week.

not by much but not in the win column.

my new number 3's guy had done his homework and told of this ghetto ass casino around the corner from the palace I'm staying at where the odds are better.

so I went.

and at the 3 dollar table a man who looked like glen Campbell

who had 5 kids

helped the bastard bring that beat back.

so who knows. I may break even before heading home.

cause breaking even is like winning anyways.

—the bastard

box…

the bastard's gotta tell you.

it was much easier to find mullets and weird beards

when I could actually SEE outside my press box

weak

—the bastard

…on traveling

last night, I met up with my Vegas family so we could engage in our yearly repast of ordering a meal and keeping a table occupied for several hours.

which always prompts the wait staff to look at us all cock eyed wondering when we're gonna leave.

but last night was a treat.

last night, the way back machine brought the traveller to dinner.

the traveller was one of the first people who I met in college that wasn't from my neighborhood and he was into traveling.

now traveling was never clearly defined to the bastard but sometimes it involved test driving ford probes.

sometimes it involved joining a fraternity to meet girls.

sometimes it involved telling others that they couldn't POSSIBLY be able to travel with the traveler properly.

and sometimes it involved keeping a bottle of scope and a bottle of vodka in you back pack along with some rice a roni.

but needless to say, whatever the sliding goal post that traveling was, it was never dull.

and these days he'd rather not travel anymore.

he'd rather see his kid grow up without licking the ashtray or some otherwise awful fate.

so perhaps three years ago was the journey's end for the traveler.

or perhaps the beginning.

either way, a good meal was had by all. and I'll talk about the restaurant some other time.

—the bastard

firsts…

the bastard didn't sleep last night.



so he slept clear from new York to Michigan.

first time for everything.

as a consolation prize, the bastard feels like his head has been caved in with a hammer.

—the bastard

loaded…

…is the word the computer says as the bastard gets into the cab



loaded is how he feels on two hours of sleep.

loaded is what he may or may not be when he arrives

loaded kind of makes the bastard more like cargo than man

—the bastard

…cyclical

…and so it ends.

…and so it begins anew.

the show that is shot is always preceeded by the rough birth of 300 plus pages.

it's usually 200 plus.

but what rough beast shuffles to life made of the stuff of printouts and press releases and sweat and frustration slumbering slowly towards the city of sin?

it's me bitches.

oh and that frikkin convention daily that the bastard is so goddam proud of bring a part of.

and make no mistake I AM proud to be a part of this hot mess we throw down.

but here we are.

the royal we… not you.

riding the train for one day of driving before we take the plunge and shuffle slowly towards las Vegas to do it again.

day after day, I get up and say I'm gonna do it again.

do it again. up yours ray davies.

—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

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

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

one piece

got on the ground.

I can see the skyline from here.

it'll be good to get the city back under my feet.

also, it'll be nice to be able to potentially ride in cabs NOT driven by fucking highwaymen.

the snow looks good too.

—the bastard

...on rush jobs

welcome to jet blue everybody.

now everyone get in the fucking plane with much quickness.

we got some fresh hell for all y'alls up there so we want to get you there asap.

fucking yay!

—the bastard

...on weird beards

mullets were thin this year.

the bastard thinks that they have sen their day down here in floriduh.

but the duck commander never disappoints.

he's this guys who has a successful series of duck hunting videos and he was at the gun show with his entourage.

and their beards were glorious.

that's what the bastard has. more to come.

—the bastard

...on hard targets

dr dre saw this from the floor and snapped it for me.

very disturbing.

very.

—the bastard

...on escapes

so

it's like this

the bastard is flying home this morning.

i'll have a little more on the trip when iget back.

situations didn't allow for as much jackassery to get put down here.

not enough staff. it's the last leg of a very long journey that started at the end of october and the bastard is tired.

—the bastard

...on chatter

traffic,

at least what passes for traffic in orlando holds the bastard up this morning.

then there is the inevitable chatter of folks in this biz having their early morning convention small talk.

"hi, how's your show going?"

"great how's your show going?"

"super. well I have to get to the show. enjoy your show."

"you enjoy your show too. have a great show."

"thanks, you enjoy your show too today."

"thanks, enjoy your show."

and it goes on and on and on and on.

then they have to pop the trunk and get their gun crap out of the car.

it never ends.

—the bastard

...on bonus batter

the bastard woke up this morning and his skull hurt

stupid gin.

i get into the elevator to meet my staff in the lobby and my copy chief is in the elevator.

and so is sam waterston.

again.

i was hurting,

so was he while he held his big assed fruit basket so i couldn't muster it up again.

but here it is for your viewing pleasure



because robots are strong.

—the bastard

...on robots

day one lasted 12 and a half hours.

the bastard was spared an evening of industry chicken sadness.

got cuban food for dinner instead.

long story short, it was delicious.

came back to the hotel bar to get drinks with the heads of state.

and sam waterston ( yes sam waterston from law and order) and we make eye contact.

and i look right at him and say, because robots are strong"

he falls out.

the bastard falls out.

and Sam keeps on walking.

totally worth it. I'm the bass player's hero

the bastard wins again

-the bastard