Blogger's Blog: The blogoblog...

Don't worry, I haven't run out of stuff to write about, but I decided to give my stories about pain a rest for a little while in order to freshen up my brain. This really is more of a reset for me, as getting stuck in any kind of a rut, even a relatively good one, is still a fucking rut.

So I went to this stupid website that a managed to stumble on called plinky. It's pretty lame from a social networking viewpoint. However, it does supply a bunch of insipid and flavorless stuff to keep your mind busy. I thought I might answer a couple of these prompts in my own style... we'll see where this leads.

Probably straight to hell.

Plinky says: What are the warning signs that you should leave a party?

I say: Plinky, why the fuck do you wanna know? What are ya, a cop or something? I'm not that drunk, you lazy bastard. You wanna fight about it?

That's when the wife pulls me out of the party.

Actually, I'm a laid back drunk. Oh sure, I'll spill stuff all over myself and slur my words. But I'm the funny drunk. You know, the one with the bright red nose with little bubbles coming out of his mouth that say "hic!"

If there's a party, I'm staying till I drive everyone else away.  Unless the wife pulls me out.  Nothing I can do about that one!

Plink-o says: Animal face off! Who would win in a fight between a gorilla and a pack of hyenas?

I say: That's a false fucking choice. Everyone knows what the most feared creature is in the entire universe. And it's a helluva lot scarier than that little alien mouth that was inside that big alien mouth in Alien.

First of all, where would this supposed fight take place, and how would it start? I mean this is just pure and utter nonsense, as they both live in separate climates, and gorillas would (or at least could) go into the trees and never even be seen by this pack of hyenas. It's barely plausible. Fuck you, Plinky.

But let's just say, for the argument, that some kind of large ape got launched into the hyena paddock at the zoo or some such shit. No trees or anything to climb on, and these hyenas haven't been fed in a week or two. The battle begins. Of course, their motives are completely different, as one wants to escape and the other wants fresh meat.  So again, the argument is completely fucked up.

So they start fighting. The gorilla would probably start it off by beating the ground with his fists. And when one of those little fuckers comes in for a nip, this gorilla would pick it up and launch it toward the others.

After that, the hyenas would probably leave the ol' gorilla alone, don't you think?

That's when a bear holding a shark would come in, killing and eating everything in site. Man, nothing gives me nightmares more than bears holding sharks. They're wicked killers on land AND water.

Plunky says: What three songs do you wish you could erase from your memory?

I say: Fuck. Only three? C'mon... I worked in radio for fuck's sake!!!

The first one I would erase is Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline." You can get the whole fucking story about that one here.

Fuck you, Neil.  I have a life to live.

The next one would have to be "Red Rubber Ball," a hit from 1966 by The Cyrkle.  First, the band name is the shittiest one in the history of all band names, with the except of the band I was in during high school, Tosti Drexfab.  I still to this day don't know why we called ourselves that.  It was 1990... things were way more fucked up then.  At least for me they were.

The second reason to eliminate this song comes from when I worked at an Oldies station, and that song managed to lodge itself in my brain for four fucking days.  Have you ever had a shitty song stuck in your head for that long?  Here's how I tried to get it out of my head.

I listened to the radio constantly (but that was part of my fucking job, of course) trying to shut it out.  I'd get away from the speakers, and that sickeningly sweet melody would pop right back in my head.  I tried reading, writing, anything and everything to occupy my brain.  But as soon as my mind was remotely clear, that beat would bounce right back.  It was a boomerang song... the harder I tried to throw it away, the quicker it came back to me.  

Fuck you, Paul Simon, for writing that piece of shit.

Third song to eliminate from the anals of history (yes, I misspelled it on purpose... fuck you, spell check!), isn't really a song.  It's a group of songs.  Bubblegum pop has got to go.  From all eras.  There is nothing more sickening to my soul than everything in that group from The Turtles to the fucking Jo-Bros.  

I'm sorry, but "Henry the Eighth" is not a song, it's a musical witticism that's repeated so much that I wanted to actually strangle Peter Noone when I met him in 1998.  He's a nice guy, but his song is pure evil.  

And, do you really care what it's going to be like in the year 3000?  You'll be dead!  Stop it already guys, and take off those stupid fucking rings.  Oh sorry, the stupid no-we're-not-fucking rings.  You're confusing and sad.

Plucky says:  What will you do when the zombies come?

I say:  Now this question I take as theological, really.  According to the New Testament, we already had one zombie uprising on an Easter long ago.  I'm not sure how they shot him in the head, as gunpowder really wasn't used much, but nonetheless it happened.  Amen.

And when the great and powerful Zombie Jesus escaped from the cave, he thus spoketh, "Brains" in slurred speech.  God smote him right there and then, putting him at his right side so he could keep an eye on the fucker.  I think that's a quote from the Book of Revelation, though I may be wrong.

I'm not a strong reader.

And still a lot of folks celebrate the zombie uprising that took place some 2000 or so years ago.

When the zombie uprising of 2027 happens, I'm going to be ready.  I've already got tons of sharp implements at my home.  Chainsaw, axes, knives, CDs.  Hell, I'd probably chuck all the CD's at 'em first since they're really only backup if my hard drive kicks out on me.

I could also sharpen up one of my guitars if needed.  But really, that would be a last resort, as it may effect the sound... and who wants a funny sounding guitar?

But this brings up a point, people.  Really, you should consider being cremated, unless you want to participate in the next zombie uprising.  I've already made that decision... as I've said before, I'm not a fighter.  I'd be dead one second, living dead the next, and then re-dead about a minute later after some random nerd pummels me into the ground with a stack of books or something.  That's just spending way too much energy just for a moment of reanimation.  It's silly.

Speaking of silly... so is this post.  But when asked ridiculous questions, I have a tendency to respond in kind.  So, again, I say fuck you, Plinky.  May you rot in hell.