"The trouble with America isn't that the poetry of life has turned to prose, but that it has turned to advertising copy."
~ Louis Kronenberger
WARNING!: If you are offended by foul language or
otherwise threatened by free and original thought in any way, then turn back now you flawed, pathetic example of everything that's
wrong with this world. And while you're at it, get the fuck off my planet, seriously.
Why did I hear that Billy Mays died? I have no idea. See, some of you may know Mays from a long line of annoying infomercials or from his equally annoying TV show about MAKING infomercials (dear God I wish I was creative enough to make up fiction stranger than that) and for some fucking reason he's a celebrity. All he ever did was sell cheap shit to people that don't need it and that makes him famous?
Not only famous, but in memory of him they ran an impromptu marathon of his annoying ass show that then proceeded to pre-empt one of my favorite shows in the history of ever; Mythbusters.
I mean, lets do the list here. David Carradine was a fine actor who, not too long ago, turned in one of his finest performances in the Kill Bill movies.
Not just that, but he fought Brandon Lee.
He fought Rick Springfield (you know you want to).
He even fought CHUCK NORRIS!
And he didn't just fight him, he fought him in a sweater! A COSBY SWEATER!!! Thus, he is worth of remembrance. Even though it is slightly possible that his death might have been accidental while masturbating, which is pretty fucking embarrassing.
And seriously people, the choking oneself to make masturbation better? You're not supposed to make masturbation better! It's MASTURBATING! It's fucking great already! The only thing that can make it any better at all is getting someone else to do it for you though that only works if they're good at it.
Then there was Farrah Fawcett. Yes, she used to be hot. I really can't say a whole lot more about her than that because I really don't know more about her than that. Charlies Angels was pretty awesome. There. That's like everything I know about her. No, wait, she used to be married to Lee Majors. There, that's everything. Quite frankly I was less surprised to hear that she'd died than I was to hear that she'd still been alive up to that point.
Then there's Ed McMahon. Another person who's claim to fame kind of eludes me, but he didn't annoy me and, let's face it, that takes some skill.
And then Michael Jackson. What the fuck can I say about Michael Jackson that hasn't already been said. Good stuff was said about him when he was a young, talented, black man. Then bad stuff was said about him when he was an older, rich, white woman, and now that he's dead he's practically up for sainthood.
Here's my stance on Jackson. He was a profoundly fucked up person. STUPENDOUSLY fucked up. The kind of fucked up that makes Courtney Love feel better about herself. I know I'll miss him personally if only for missing the anticipation of what fucked up thing he was going to do next. I've long had sympathy for him because he's one of the few people in Hollywood that honestly wasn't to blame for how fucked up he was and I know I'm not alone in that sympathy because it's been all over the news since he died. Problem is, people are confusing sympathy with... well, fucked if I know what they're confusing it with, but come on, Thriller was a great fucking album and then, after that (if you're an American anyway) you fucking forgot about him. None of these people mourning his death bought any more of his albums, you just openly mocked his weirdness. Yes, I did it too, but I'm admitting it you hypocritical bastards. You can't villainize him as a pedophile (which, despite a LOT of fucking evidence was never really proven) while he's alive and then go on about how great he was when he's dead.
Because I have a sense of proportion, when I think of Michael, I will try to remember this:
Instead of this:
But as much as he used to be a talented artist you can't forget little social faux-pas like dangling babies from hotel balconies. Even the fucking Sex Pistols had more propriety than that. Remember, just because it's possible that someone might not be responsible for how fucked up they are (a rare thing, but it's what we're dealing with here) it doesn't excuse all the fucked up things they did after getting all fucked up.
Now Jeff Goldblum, well I really can't sum up his life as he's not dead. I mean, I like a lot of what he's done up to this point, but he might do something really fucked up to taint it before he's really dead, so I'm reserving judgment.
For now...
In the meantime, here's this thing:
So what did Billy Mays bring the world? A whole bunch of this:
And his fucking show:
You know, when he died I said on my Facebook page (YES, I got one of those fucking things now) that I wasn't glad he was dead. Now that everyone has gone on and on about what a great guy he was and how talented he was I've changed my mind.
Burn in hell you fucking schill. Nobody comes between me and a dose of sweet, sweet Kari Byron...
Oh yeah, Happy July 4th everyone. Even if you aren't American. Use it as an excuse to have a barbecue, get drunk and blow something up.
Unless we're currently blasting the shit out of your country. If that's the case then skip step three. It's probably be hard for you to find something new to blow up anyways.
I'll be out at Mom's from the 3rd till the 7th. If you've got my number, use it.
So yes, once again I've been away for an inexcusably long time and once again I'm going to attempt to excuse it.
Truth is, I've barely been home in weeks. First I had the whole New Mexico thing, which I have yet to write about, and then I was house sitting for a friend and now I'm house sitting for another friend. Should be home tomorrow night though.
So, two things for now. First, I had an appointment with my new doctor the other day. I went in solely to get a referral to a surgeon. I have become very familiar with the referral system in the last few years. It is the process by which doctors simultaneously test the patience of both the person seeking medical aid and the patience of the planet as each doctor in the chain of referrals asks you to fill out the same stack of fucking forms as every other doctor just to keep you busy while they read the forms you've already filled out at the other fucking doctor's offices.
Personally, I think they're checking for lies.
That or they're grading us on our penmanship.
So I had something of a first at this doctor's office. See, every time I go into a new doctor (or the same doctor if they don't recognize me) they always ask if I'm a diabetic.
They do this because my hernia makes me look much larger than I really am. And this is a problem because, on top of the hernia making me look much fatter than I really am, I'm a gigantic fat-ass.
So right now, my look is fat on top of fat with a side order of hung over.
Yeah, that's right. I'm bringing sexy motherfucking back over here.
And before I get a bunch of emails from everyone giving me shit, I am NOT going to the doctor's offices hung over. I simply LOOK hung over because I show up about ten minutes late, sweaty and with hair flailing wildly because, invariably, I've overslept and just barely made it to the appointment.
This is almost excusable at 9 AM.
Somewhat less so at 3 PM.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so the forms ask me if I'm diabetic. I check no, because I am, in fact, not a diabetic.
So the intake nurse asks me if I'm a diabetic. I reply "No" because, as previously stated, I'm not a diabetic. At this point, rather than go through the list and ask me all the other questions off the form that I just wasted many valuable minutes of my life filling out for them, the intake nurse leaves the room and comes back with a blood glucose meter.
See, I have encountered this before. The scientific mind. They see a big fat fuck come in the office and he just HAS to be a diabetic. It's impossible for them to think otherwise. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck then it must goddamn, jolly-well be a big fat motherfucking diabetic duck.
But he continues as they all do. "When is the last time you had your blood tested?" I reply "The last time I was at a doctor's office." "Well we have a new test we'd like to try." They always say that and it's always bullshit. I'm willing to bet that the fucking test hasn't changed in like 50 fucking years. "We have a new test" is doctorspeak for "We think you're lying to us for some inexplicable reason because you're a big fat fuck and we learned on the first day of doctor school that every big fat fuck is a diabetic ESPECIALLY if they say they're not".
So he sticks me with the fucking needle thing and has the nerve to look surprised when my blood-sugar level was, in his own words, PERFECT.
He went on to look further shocked when I explained that I'd been fasting before the appointment (Nothing to eat or drink after midnight the previous night) because I KNEW they were going to test my blood-sugar. This meant that my blood-sugar was ASTOUNDINGLY perfect.
I expected, as many of you might be right now, that would have been the end of things.
So the doctor comes in. Little skinny woman. I could tell by looking at her that she'd been skinny her whole life too. I hate skinny doctors. They have no sympathy at all for fat people and they don't understand how hard it is to lose weight because they've never had to. They just say "You're too fucking fat. Lose some goddamn weight".
Alright, they don't say it just like that.
Well, a couple have.
Anyways. Doctor Anorexia looks at the forms I filled out, looks at the test strip and the form filled out by the other doctor and then tests my blood-sugar A SECOND FUCKING TIME!
Now, it's not like I don't have plenty of blood or anything and I've become almost comfortable with doctors thinking I'm lying to them, but now they're not even taking the word of THEIR OWN FUCKING STAFF.
Like what? For some reason I've not only lied about my state of health, but I've managed to get their staff in on it too? Was the other test stick some elaborate forgery? Or did she think the nurse fucked up the test? CAN you even fuck up that test? It's a needle stick, the blood drop goes into the machine and the fucking microchips do all the fucking work. Have I gotten the machine in on my little scheme? I'm pretty sure that if I could talk to machines and talk them into lying for me I'd be seeing a better class of health care people and I'd already have all this fucking surgery crap out of the way and be on to a fabulous run of world-domination.
And when I do rule the world (and I will) it'll be the skinny doctors that'll be the first up against the fucking wall.
Skinny doctors and Joel Schumacher, but that's another rant entirely that we don't have fucking time for right now...
But after all that shit, Doctor Skinny tells me I'm too fat, I need to lose weight and she hooks me up with a referral to a surgeon on the 8th of next month. Whichever month next month is. It's one of the hot months, I know that much. So on whatever the 8th at 2 PM I'll be seeing a surgeon back at the doctor's office where I had my last round of really good surgery done and I see from the paperwork that one of the doctors that worked on me back then is still at those offices which I take to be a good sign.
So yeah, sometime after the 8th I should have some small inkling of when my next surgery might be.
And what else? I said at the beginning that I had a second thing...
Oh yes, the whole reason I started writing in the first place tonight. I was sitting here fucking around on the internet when I glanced at the newspaper and saw that they've brought back Jarts (or 'lawn darts'). For those of you that don't remember them, Jarts were quite possibly the most insanely stupid fucking idea to ever make it off the drawing board. They were huge, plastic darts with metal points on them. These miniature javelins were then given to CHILDREN to take outside and hurl INTO THE AIR in an attempt to hit a target several yards away.
It's no wonder that they were banned shortly after the ganja cloud that was the 1970's dissipated, but now they've brought them back, but they're all fucking Nerfed and shit! You can't bring back lawn darts and have them be fucking safe! The whole point of them is to show just how blindly stupid marketing people are and how consumers are even fucking dumber for buying these emergency room visits in a fucking box!
No wonder our industries are in the toilet and our children are getting dumber. Things like lawn darts used to serve a function. They thinned the herd! If you don't clear out some of the dumb ones then how do the smart prevail?
Stop making the world safe for the stupid people! You're not doing them or yourselves any favors. Either have lawn darts continue to be banned or bring back the old dangerous ones, but don't ruin my Darwinnian existence by making everything safe.
Stupid people NEED to die dammit!
The people that made Jarts safe will be up against the wall right behind the skinny fucking doctors...
Oh yeah, for those of you keeping track, this was post number 666 so hail Satan and all that.
Hey guys, sorry for the lack of notice, but I was just informed last Sunday that I would be heading out last Thursday.
Anyways, I'm currently staying at the Oasis Motel in Springer New Mexico. I'd love to swing by and see some of you guys on my way through, but it's not my trip, I'm not driving (not my vehicle) and besides, we've got shit to do. So if you're in the area drop me an email and maybe we can hang out at some point.
Looks like we're aiming to be back on the 14th or so which means leaving here on probably the 12th, but none of this is set in stone.
Went home two weeks ago for Easter. That went pretty well. Family is good, dinner was great, managed to stay off the subject of religion (not easy to pull off on freaking Easter). Yeah, everything was cool till we got home and saw that the dog had escaped.
See, a few years ago my sister's college roommates rescued a dog from the pound. Come the end of the semester they hadn't found him a new home and they guilt-tripped my sister into taking him home. Not long after that she moved into an apartment in town and left the dog with my Mom.
This wouldn't be a problem if not for the following.
#1: The dog is an energetic 200 lb rottweiler mix that needs lots of exercise.
#2: My Mom can't give this dog the exercise he needs.
#3: She can't let him run loose because most of the neighborhood is afraid of him.
#4: He's quite possibly the stupidest dog I've ever met.
I know, I know, it's not his fault he's stupid, he's never been trained, but that being said, FUCK is he stupid.
Anyways, knowing how big and stupid he is, I bought Mom a special chain for use when she puts him outside to take a shit. The chain has individually welded links, two swivel joint so he can't bind the chain and thereby break it, and a snap link for quickly and easily hooking it to his collar, which I'd also modified. All of this is connected to a two-foot long metal spike driven into the ground with hooks pointing back so that to remove it you have to dig a fairly sizeable hole.
Point being, a fucking ox couldn't pull this thing out of the ground, let alone this dog.
So when I come home that weekend I see that Mom has taken my chain off the spike and in-between she has snapped the small, plastic-coated wire that we got for the 35 lb dog.
Why? Probably to give him more room to run, but I didn't ask. See, I was in for a pleasant holiday with my family and this situation is exactly the kind of thing that will start a huge unpleasant argument. I simply ignored it and resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be up all night chasing this dog around the neighborhood.
Now in hindsight, I should have simply removed the flimsy cable and welded the fucking chain to the fucking post and been done with it. I mean, it's a fucking twenty foot chain for fuck's sake.
Buuuuuut, hindsight being a pain in the ass we went to have Easter dinner and came back to find the goddamn dog gone. So as I'm out trying to find the fucking dog, he's running further and further away because he thinks it's a game. I can't stop trying to catch the dog though because if I come inside and sit down them Mom goes out and tries to catch him. How does she do this you ask? She gets in her SUV (and kiss my ass, she lives in a place where she needs one) and drives down the street. When the dog comes running to the car Mom tries to park on the chain trailing behind him.
The really insane part is that this has apparently happened before and the parking on the chain thing actually works.
Well, it works when I'm not home. I have no doubt that if I let her keep trying while I'm there she'll run him over and I just don't wanna deal with that.
So I was out till 3:30 AM chasing him all over the fucking place and gave up. Went inside, went to sleep. At 4:45 AM Mom wakes me up because she can hear him howling and I have to go find him.
Well I find him. He's exactly where he was last time he pulled this shit. He goes over to see the neighbor's dog, gets his chain wrapped around the other dog's post and the two of them merrily run in opposite circles till neither of them have any chain left. Then they both bark and howl till they wake everyone up, thus maximizing the chances of them (plus or minus me untangling them) getting shot.
So we have a big stupid dog and a small panicked dog hooked to opposite ends of what is now a giant metal knot. We're on a 45 degree slope, in mud about 4 inches deep. It's dark, and they're both pulling like mad.
I should have shot the fucking thing, but I couldn't because I just HAVE to fucking LOVE animals for some stupid fucking reason.
So I drag his stupid ass home, PADLOCK the chain directly to the stake and give the key to my Mom.
WHY do I give the key to my Mom I hear you asking? Because it's the surest way to permanently lose the fucking thing. Keys, instruction manuals, computer installation CD's, the little plastic things that hold batteries in remote controls, none of them are safe around any member of my family.
ANYWAY. I'm headed home again this weekend because Brian and Andrea are coming in and since Brian moved five hours south of home and I moved two hours north we really don 't get to hang out much. So I'll likely be at his parent's place most of the weekend. Those of you with my cell number needn't panic when I don't answer as I don't get reception out there.
Hey everyone, going out to Mom's for Easter. I was going to do a big long post about how Easter is more of a pagan holiday than even Halloween, but I think I've probably done that three or four times already so I'm not going to bother Not when Lil' Zombie can say it better than I can anyway.
I know, I should be posting more often, but I've been busy dealing with the government and working on the new comic, because soon (I hope) Defective Comics will be fully operational. This means I'll not only be able to host my full backlog of Lil' Zombie and Something Here Is Terribly Wrong.
You'll notice that Terribly Wrong doesn't have a link. This is due to the site being down again and even when it was still up the full series wasn't available anyway.
So when the new site is up all my old shit and all of my new shit will be in full, streaming technicolor.
Anyhow, heading out to Mom's tomorrow and I'll be back sometime on Monday.
So yes, I am back and things are going pretty well here in Columbus. I'm still adjusting to the idea of being in a town that actually has things worth seeing and doing, unlike Parkersburg, which simply sucks ass.
I know, it sounds like I'm simply bashing Parkersburg because I don't like the place.
Yeah? What's your point?
Anyways, sorry I've been so out of touch with everyone, but I have very few cell phone minutes and I haven't been able to afford the internet till now. This is due largely to the fuckery of United National Bank who decided last month (the first month I got the money amount adjusted for the fact that I live in Columbus) that I needed to pay $150 in overdraft fees that they wouldn't give me the opportunity to examine to see if they were my fault.
The fact that it might have actually BEEN my fault is completely immaterial. I've talked my way out of plenty of overdraft fees that I knew damn well were my fault. And I know what you're saying, the fact that I've gotten good at talking my way out of the fees probably being the reason for them not giving me the opportunity is also immaterial. It's not right to charge anyone $150 in overdrafts for charges that don't add up to more than $30 by my estimation.
These are my rules, I make 'em up.
But THIS month, the government, which told me they switched my direct deposit a month ago, sent my deposit to the old United account, which I closed last time I was in town. So now I have to wait for the old bank to send the money to the new bank and FUCK! I mean, I know I;m not the only one that has to put up with this shit, but does everyone have to deal with everything going wrong in a fucking row?
And I thought I'd run out of things to bitch about.
Hey everyone, just checking in to let you all know that I'm not dead. In fact, I have great news! After just a brief while here in Columbus I've seen the light and converted to Catholicism!
I've donated all of my worldly belongings to the church in keeping with my new vow of poverty (I'm currently at the seminary school library) and I hope to find myself in very short order spreading the glorious word of salvation through our lord Jesus Christ in some disease scarred, third-world country.
I'm afraid this will have to be my last post here since my new beliefs are now in total conflict with everything this blog stands for. I hope you'll all understand.
Yours truly, Ford W. Maverick
PS: Anyone that read this far and took that shit seriously despite the fact that you all know it's April 1st owes me a blowjob.
Contact me at ford_maverick@hotmail.com for directions to my place so you can pay up suckers!
A real post will follow soon, I promise!
But seriously, blowjob, get on that. You know who you are.
So I'm heading up to Columbus tomorrow to sign my lease. Scott (the one we call Dumbass) has volunteered his time and his van to take up the first load of boxes. My internet and cable here in Parkersburg are scheduled to be shut off tomorrow (as opposed to the way they've been shut off several times in the past) so those of you that have my phone number will have to contact me that way till I get some sort of internet hooked up in the new place.
I'll be coming back and packing up what's left and then going back on the weekend (either Saturday or Sunday, not sure which yet) with the furniture in a U-Haul and that should be all she wrote.
Cross your fingers people.
Oh, before I go I thought I'd put up the latest Something Here is Terribly Wrong strip for those of you that are interested. I finished it like four months ago, but apparently we're not updating anymore. So here it is. When I get established in the new place I'll continue doing them till I finish out the ones I have scripted and I'll post them here if nowhere else. After that I'll either continue the strip or start a new one.
