The Man With the Woman Head...

Are you with me on this people?

The man with the woman head -

Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out, a mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter, forming a hard, beetle-like triangular chin much like a praying mantis. Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile. The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand. Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes, map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint. He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth, stained from too much opium, chipped from the years. The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers. A piece of coconut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings. Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a loaded green ascot. A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow dacs.

Four slender bones with rings and nails endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder. I could just make out Ace as he carried the tray and mouthed, "You cheap son of a bitch"

as a straw fell out of a Coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.

So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,

So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,

So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood.

Frank Zappa was one of the most incredible musicians that ever lived. Besides being a virtuoso guitarist, he had a positive knack for assembling some of the best bands you "never heard in your life". Bongo Fury was a live show recorded in Austin, TX with fellow offbeat composer, Captain Beefheart. I was fortunate enought to see Mr. Zappa with his full complement at Tulane's McAllister Auditorium. Bruce & Tom Fowler, Napoleon Murphy Brock, Terry Bozzio, & George Duke were among the greatest ensemble bands that Zappa ever brought on the road. He's gone now; one of the great musicians that went before their time. He joins the ranks of Hendrix, Lennon and others who deserved to stay here longer.

The green monster you see above is Maggie the Chameleon Monster. She is mine, but she is a bitch. She's my l'il dinosaur and I love her. Even though she is the most unsociable creature  in the world.

The Carpet Crawlers (heed their callers - gotta get in to get out...)

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain

I like watching the puddles gather rain

And all I can do is just pour some tea for two

And speak my point of view but it's not sane

It's not sane...

I just want someone to say to me

I'll always be there when you wake

You know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today

So stay with me and I'll have it made

And I don't understand why I sleep all day

And I start to complain that there's no rain

And all I can do is read a book to stay awake

And it rips my life away but it's a great escape

Escape ...

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain

You don't like my point of view

You think that I'm insane

It's not sane ...

I just want someone to say to me

I'll always be there when you wake

You know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today

So stay with me and I'll have it made

(Credits to Blind Melon and Shannon Hoon - RIP)

Melancholy destroys more lives than you could imagine. It wastes time and production. To be melancholy is to be cursed. WHAT IS THE PURPOSE!?! What does it do for our benefit? Not a God damned thing. To have faith is to follow blindly into the breach of life's cannons. I'm sorry, but I must continue to ask God, "Why?" Why do some get and some do not? Why are some born into it and some not? It has nothing to do with how hard you work or how intricate and tough your job is. Some get it. Some don't. Rule of the galaxy.

I want to cry out, "WHERE IS MINE!?!" but pride prevents that from happening. And we all know that pride comes before a fall. Or do we? I see many, many extremely rich and prideful people who are zipping along on all eight. No problems there. It's a lie.

I spend each twenty four hours as a melancholy human being. I see pain and frustration all around me. Lottery tickets bought and tossed when the hope of a windfall turns into the scorn of another dollar lost to the toilet that it is. Day long sessions with a needle in my arm pushing liquid life to my body. Although nothing happens.

And State Farm is about to piss me off royally.

“The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What's that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating...

...and you finish off as an orgasm.” (We miss you George)

Fuck it. I'm tired...

Froggy loves Daddy? Daddy loves Froggy!

What a great movie! The master of sarcasm, Mel Brooks, made a movie called Blazing Saddles. A soul stirring lesson in how it really used to be for the black man in the American west, it starred Cleavon Little as a black rail worker thrown to his expected "death" as Sheriff Bart; Alcoholic gentle man, Gene Wilder as the Waco Kid, Harvey Korman, Slim Pickens, Madeline Kahn and a host of other actors and actresses dedicated to the irreverence of Mr. Brooks.

The Austinist review seemed to place it's wacky slap to everything decent in the proper perspective...

We can't remember the first time that we encountered this Mel Brooks pièce de résistance; whether it was fore or aft our introduction to History of the World: Part 1 and Young Frankenstein is of no consequence at this juncture, as Blazing Saddles is truly the cement shoes that plunged us into the deep river of anti-politically correct absurdity that flows from Mr. Brooks' brain. The n-word is thrown about with reckless abandon, sexual innuendo (which we didn't completely catch in our formative years) is layered thicker than saddle sores on a two dollar whore and the laughs are drawn faster than a six shooter from an ornery bandit's holster.

As a social commentary and loving spoof of 1960's westerns, Blazing Saddles succeeds in not only making fun of itself, but also in making fun of everything and everyone thinkable, which is the true genius of it. No one is spared, thereby creating an air of comfort for all audiences, who can freely chuckle at every slanderous word and political jab, knowing that there is an accompanying wink and smile. Laying the groundwork for the likes of the Farrelly Brothers, the fireside symphony of bean-induced flatulation is enough to make a grown wo/man cry, and that is just one freakin' scene. Now imagine it at the Ritz, with a theater full of (most likely) intoxicated people, with unlimited access to a gigantic cauldron of beans!!!

I was fortunate enough to watch it this past Saturday night on HDNET Movies. In glorious high definition and uncut or censored. AMC does this stupidity; cutting out the word, "nigger" and every other cuss word. Don't they understand that the entire movie depends on Brook's sarcasm and use of racism to make it work? This movie was Mel's masterpiece, although History of the World Part 1 comes in a close second. It must me seen as it was originally made. Get it and watch it. You'll take a different view of racism...

You can deal with THIS - Or you can deal with that!

OK! So what has happened since the last entry? First, I want to thank the readers who are following my writings. I appreciate the patronage and invite you to stick around for the ride. I just needed to get my chops back up to speed, today. Here's some quick points of interest...

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  BLACK SHEEP ARE COOL. Yeah, Baby. You mostly know them as the Kia Hamsters. Watch the above You Tube of the REAL song. Titled, :The Choice Is Yours", it is one of the best songs in Hip Hop history. Listen to it...
   
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  CAR WRECKS SUCK. I was sitting in my most beloved 2002 Red Cougar XR, which I loved and cared for like it was a baby koala bear, when this kid slammed into the back of me. No brakes. Probably texting.  Knocked the shit out of me. Actually took sitting there for 3-4 minutes before I could figure out what happened. Car is total loss. This has repurcussions that run quite deep. Bank loan, enough after the payoff to get a junkmobile. But daddy's little punkin' goes off all happy after he wrecks his pop's FIVE day old Lexus. I'll bet that ten minute time out he got upon arriving home was ultra nuevo. He gets better and I lose my nice and cool red sports car, Thanks, Junior!
   
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  CAR WRECK INJURIES SUCK. Now I have to go to Doctors-Physical Therapists. Like I don't have enough CRAP to deal with with the Myasthenia Gravis.
   
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  Blood tests EVERY OTHER WEEK. That hits high on the succubus scale!

Tired. Be back soon. School starts next week. Watch out for the kids. If you're going to jail, watch out for the cornhole. (Thanks, Deidrick)