...on the unexpected

first and foremost, we know the bastard likes to be cruel to folks.

i never really figured out why i am.

maybe it's extroverted self loathing.

maybe it's some elaborate revenge for things not turning out the way i always planned them (like i ever had a plan in the first place).

generally i just blame it all on YOU. because it's easier than taking responsibility for my cruelty (oh it's a living, breathing oraganism. let it run amok like it's fucking genghis khan).

anyway, i saw this couple while getting some dinner with the boy and the chairman and listening to them, they were a ripe candidate for trailer trash on a date but, i caught them at a moment when they were discussing their shared pain about relationships. and after they left, i looked at the photo and realized that i caught that moment instead of this man's ridiculous mullet. i caught some shared introspection.

it kind of robbed the whole situation of it's cruelty. so i leave it at that. now you go to hell.

—the bastard

...on hoopties

...and other fly whips

back when the bastard used to work for the grocery store, we used to work with this kid who also sold crack on the side.

yes, he really did sell crack on the side.

i won't mention his name, he was paranoid enough as it is. if he still walks the earth, he's probably still watching his back.

the bastard might as well tell you, he wasn't the first crack dealer i worked in a grocery store with. i can mention julian's name though. why? because he met with an unfortunate end in an abandoned building in the south bronx. they found him face down and i sure hope someone is raising the kid we used to steal formula from the store for.

but i digress, my first dealer friend drove around in a huge buick which he called his hooptie.

how did i know this?

well it said on the side of this busted up buick in silver letters, "my hooptie", please try to keep up.

anyway, i haven't thought about him in a while until last saturday while i was going to the bank and i saw this driving down metropolitan avenue:


and all the bastard could think was, did he one day roll into a body shop and say, "hey, i'd really like a half naked samarai chick on the side of my hooptie. i think it would be a message to all of the other otaku kids in the hood that I AM. that i give 110 percent in all of my dealings in the community."

funny thing, and maybe it's because i just don't understand but it actually said "christ, what an asshole" to me. but what do i know?

—the bastard

..on rare plumage

on day four, rob and i walked the floor looking for free shit and vendors to send us products to use in the magazine. now the gun show is kind of like walking across the width of manhattan.

we were getting ready to tuen in and break the press suite down when what did our wanderring eyes see?

but the best mullet we've seen since we walked into vegas. or at least the best mullet since we got to the convention center.

he was at a booth where they sell foldup handguns.

this was a fantastic example of biz in the front and party in the back. and the fantastic 80's guido v-neck sweater/turtle neck combination. it was truly wondrous to behold.

—the bastard

... on paydirt

...fucking paydirt jerks! right out the BAG!

...or shot show mullets preview

so the bastard lucked out and didn't crash.

or was i unlucky?

so our fair president closed the airport up for a few minutes as he was flying out. apparently he heard that the circus circus has the loosest slots in town and all the free nitrus oxide you could POSSIBLY want.

but ho what do the roadie and i see.

but the best pre cursor to my week long mullet hunt.



and it was gold my lovelys. fucking GOLD. the bastard thought to himself that things were looking up. more to come. this show hasn't even started yet.

—the bastard

crack that whip

went to the boy's school this morning in oro valley (it's like queens to tucson's manhattan) and all the kids were in costume. i didn't get the picture of the little boy who looked like the cowboy from the village people but claimed he was chuck norris as walker texas ranger but, the chairman did send me this image live and direct from the new york subway system this morning. i don't think that there is anywhere else on earth where the freaks come out like this on halloween. maybe in san francisco. but, the bastard hasn't been to san francisco on halloween so go to hell jerkpiece!

—the bastard

...on the fire

late night ride.

jersey transit.

the show is over.

and freaks come out at night.

"hugh play dah lahdderee?"

"high don' hafto buhcause ahm already rish but, high play the scratch hoff hall thu tyme. high have like 10 millyun dollahs"

"hand where's thu prezuhdent?"

"in floriduh?"

"lookin afta the fiyahs?"

"hugh lyke hillary?"

"no?"

"come on, she zuh foist woman?"

"high have like 10 millyun dollahs so highm hokay".

well there are some rich eccentrics who i'm sure love taking mass transit. but then again maybe there isn't. i've been wrong before.

—the bastard

the devil went down to...jersey? pt3

so upon arriving, and we did arrive arrive with time to spare for the main event. however, we did manage to miss the opener , which was okay. you've seen one whiney gothic looking emo band, you've seen them all. no muss, no fuss. but then the main event hit. and boy did it hit.

at this point, the bastard had texted to scoop and the chairman that he had died and gone to mook heaven. the chairman asks how many mullets. i fail to take the mullet toll. sometimes, it's just too much to take in.

now, it's been a long, long time since the bastard has been to an arena show. and i must admit, i AM a music snob. the last show i went to was to see mastadon. the last show before that was to see the gorillaz. i've seen scraping foetus off the wheel, i've seen sick of it all close the superbowl of hardcore. i've seen stuff that was considered "better" than this band by alot of my circle of friends. but after seeing this band, i have to say they are the fucking kings of parking lot jock rock. which is NOT to be confused with cock rock. on my way to the bathroom, i text to the hockey fan that i see a boy with a sgt pepper jacket dancing around with fingerless gloves and old women dancing around like strippers in the aisles. the fan texts back that it sounded like an average night at the bastard's house.

granted, arena rock is alot to take in. but, i've never seen so many people older than me, so drunk unless it was a wedding. and so many mooktastic mooks. guys with buzzcuts, glazed over with the kind of drunk that only exists in parking lots of concert arenas, with their drunken wives who are wearing so much makeup that you need to apply it with a putty knife and take it off with a chisel, they stride obliviously throught the arena spilling their miller lite on them selves and spilling others on themselves as they struggle to not have the courtesy to make eye contact or even to watch where the hell they were going. but, it's to be expected. after all was said and done, all things considered, the bastard had a good time. it was a good show. bands that stay together for this long can only get better with time. and it's also a time and place for thousands of mooks and rock and roll sluts to re-live their salad days of rocking with their cocks out.

i've seen a million faces...and i've mocked them all. sure that's cheesy but, you can go to hell. this is my world. life without me is like cornflakes without the milk. yeah and i fart ambrosia too.

—the bastard

...on stove pipes

...or on big pimpin' 2

you know,

there are certain things in a shit commute that makes it all worth the while. mostly this involves tripping old ladies on the way out of the subway train. sometimes this might involve making an inappropriate joke about setting homeless people on fire but, since news of this horrible act has made it all the way to australia (just click the damn link stupid, otherwise the comment makes no sense. come on! DO IT!), i'm going to go in another direction with this.

anyway, before the bastard gets completely off message, the thing that makes it worth the while is seeing something different.

i saw this guy a good hundred feet in front of me and i had to catch up. he had a big cane. a gigantic gold shield for a knuckle ring. and he rocked the trench coat hahd. it was majestic. but the best part, and the only part of his outfit that the bastard will be documenting will be his magnificent...

furry...

top hat! look at it, it's fantastic. totally made the whole crunch to get upstairs because only one escalator is working and it's too goddam humid out for the bastard to want to climb stairs. you know the feeling don't you? of course you don't. go to hell.

i suspect that his pimp hand is strong

—the bastard

the devil went down to...jersey?

the hockey fan never had that much luck with the ladies.

i mean he had luck with the ladies insomuch as he's been able to get a date on a pretty regular basis but he never had that luck for very long.

one girl cheated on him or at least he found out that she cheated on him after they broke up. cheated on him with practically the whole neighborhood.

the girl he left her for started dating another guy a year into dating him. totally wrecked his christmas. the bastard took him on a long bender across the thorough borough that week. while the bastard understands the breakup process, sometimes, you have to drink your troubles away.

anyway he dated a drummer for a while but that wasn't really love for the hockey fan.

then he met the girl from brazil. and he thought he had it. until she wanted something else and he was left holding the bag. as the author antoine de saint-exupéry once said, love is not looking at easch other, love is looking in the same direction.

then he fell in love with ebay for a while and that worked out for him for a while until he had had his fill of signed wayne gretsky jerseys then he had to find himself an actual lady.

then he was with someone who lied to him. and he didn't like that very much.

then he met her. the one. and they were so happy. hell, the bastard takes pause and is happy for him too.

last weekend, the bastard went to their wedding and it was in south jersey. because the only thing they love more than each other, is the goddam beach. so they were married on it. in south jersey. now the bastard has driven through south jersey but, he's never stopped. never had a reason to stop.

it's kind of like the midwest.

with a beach.

and that's okay and all but then we get stuff like this.

i took this with my trusty piece of the area 51 flying saucer. now the video is totally for shit but this character's voice is golden. short description is, we have this enormously tall drunk guy with a big black cowboy hat singing the devil went down to georgia. it was gold. i saw the shot and i took it. and i'm glad i did. i'm also glad i went. the hockey fan deserves a little happiness.

—the bastard

...on the living dead

so the other night, rather than house cleaning, the bastard was watching the second resident evil movie. nah, i didn't see the first one. i figure you can just dive into crap like this. it's a hack zombie movie based on a video game, what am i going to miss in the plot? at some point i had a zombie movie problem arise. there was this teacher who is going through a school house to find her kids and, to her horror, have all become zombies.

then they eat her.

and they either were really not good at eating people or they were just taking their time because she seemed to scream for a good long time. i mean why didn't they just go for the throat and stop all of that noise?

anyway the bastard starts wondering why did all of those zombies wait for their teacher to show up when they could have killed just as much time eating each other?

i mean why do zombies only eat the living?

it's not like they can think or anything. they're ZOMBIES.

FLASH FORWARD: so this afternoon puzzled by this, the bastard asks left hand rob about this zombie dilemma and he ponders and we decide to ask the k about it. and the k says this:

"zombies only eat the living because they are dead and thus not appetizing"

"but how would they know?"

"ahh," says left hand rob, "living flesh is warm zombie flesh is cold. it's just like how it is with brains"

makes sense to me. stupid zombies.

—the bastard

...on the joys of the hunt

...or is it two for THURSDAY jerks!

"do you shee the beasht? do you ave it in your shites"

"clear enough miss moneypenny. thish shouldn't be a problem at tall."

—trainspotting

so instead of eating my leftovers, i join the silver k's lunchtime raiding party. for the first few weeks of living in our crapper of new space, we have been eating lunch together in various parts of the floor. kind of like bedouin nomads. and our frequent lunchroom which was shanghai'd by the yoga people yesterday has been commandeered from us by sales monkeys from popular science.

so we took it on the road.

we decided to go to our favorite sock monkey decored mexican restaurant.

and we saw sites.

in fact we saw two.

this first specimen of mulletus erectus was first seen crossing park avenue was clearly the better specimen of the two. witness if you will his long flowing mexi

mullet.

the second on was a complete fluke.

after i bagged the first one, the bastard noticed this one down the road.

not taking the subway like the first. it wasn't as good as the first mullet but it still counts for two in one sitting.

hell, two in one block.

two within feet of each other.

it was a fantastic feat. or at least a fantastic chain of events. it made my day.

hell, it made my week.

—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

creepy subway things

i'm way too lazy to take off my sunglasses on the subway. besides if the ladies who wear their oversized hedda nussbaum super hero shades can do it, then why not me. i am SUPER BASTARD or perhaps just the baba yaga ( i will commute to work in a walking house with chicken legs). anyway, there was this lady on the train and she had her digicam corder sticking out of the top of her bag and the lens is pointed in my general direction. maybe not at me but in my direction. i don't know why. my bastard sense is tingling so i set shades to scowl and i leave them there until she very UNslickly shuts it off an puts it back in her bag....defeated. i'm on to you camera lady and the bastard will use his powers of scowl on you if you don't cut that shit out. between her and homeless veteran pickpocket, i am acquiring quite the stable of enemies. what do you see to the east little wooden boy? to the bastard mobile?

—zoopah baztid