Don't cry for me Paula Abdul... ever, ok? (you leather-faced ex-Laker girl you)

I actually talked a few times on the phone with a chick who's cousin was (is) that pathetic teeny bopper-metal ex-Am Idol Constantine (insert Greek last name here). She and I never have met, but when we were about to arrange to meet for the first time on the horn her cuz was getting to some orange alert Am Idol level or something. We didn't speak again, and then I fortuitously turned the tube on a couple weeks back at the precise moment that he was getting booted. I thought the whole spectacle terribly sad to behold, and so I called her to express my condolences. We spoke for a bit-or rather she spoke at length and told me all about her and her families near brush fire with fame and fortune hunting. The next day she called me back just to make sure that I wasn't working for a tabloid... I laughed.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Below is an example of how Craigslist Ads for actors have gone too far. However, this is what actors have to wade through to find shit these days if they aren't rep'd by a top tier agent:
2005-05-16, 9:15AM EDT

"I'm shooting my senior thesis film and one of my lead characters needs to be a hermaphrodite. I'm looking for a mostly feminine looking person with a vagina and something that can be approximated as a penis. My thesis is not porn, but it includes hardcore sex. I also need a male actor who is comfortable doing a sex scene with a hermy. Compensation: meal"

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

...still getting emails for Kerry (as in John) meetups. What a joke. We lost, he's finished, kaput. I met him and am sad to say that, but it's true. He got a "Swift" kick in the crotch which he never got up from, and we're getting screwed now b/c the rest of our country couldn't tell a man from an ape.... anyway, this just came in the inbox today. Pathetic... what, do they want to lose the next election too? After the organizer of these so-called meetups appealed for money (ala paypal) from meet-uppers to keep going, there came a retraction soonafter (written in some weird GWBush-esque double speak too... is Casey one of us, or one of them? Or... a feriner 2 boot... ah betchya he is, string 'im up Karl...):

"Your organizer, Casey, sent the following message to the members of NYC Democrats: Everyone who sent funds, those funds were returned, it was just a screening process and I was going to return everyone's funds anyway, yet I get yelled at and a lot of people leave. You're welcome." ?????????????????????????????

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Gettin' tired as fuck. I caterwaited 2night fer more rich folks at some Whitney thing (they do have interestin' art there, stuff that'd make Big Giuli mad fer sure) and left exhausted of brain and body. I've got a wheel barrel fulla witty anecdotes (promises promises) and tantalizing snippets of nothingness that are zinging through my ever popping whateveryoumacallits, but they'll have to wait. I tell you, I'd write more often if every time I logged onto this thing I didn't have to make sure certain past entries don't revert to earlier prehistoric states (if you know what i'm talking about here and can provide an answer to this I'll buy you a drink). So.. here's the last bit-o-honey for y'all until next time, and it's a Liver Sport retort (you know me too well... as I can't openly talk about my sex life on here, and I've alredy bitter honey'd you 2 death 2night, what's left but some lil' blurb about the great American past-time, idol chit chat to call it that: Mike Cameron... love this guy. I was a defacto Mets fan as a kid (Dad's fam were Bk Dodger fans until they swore off Baseball when O'Malley took the money and ran), so (except for '85 and Pedro), I get a thrill when they do ok. Cammy is fun. He came back recently from an injury and reentered Right Field at the right time as Rookie phenom Victor Diaz was losing his Manny Ramirez-ness. He immediately started hitting, and 8 games later is still on fire. The Yanks (of course), Padres, Angels, Orioles and Astros all want him, but his response to questions about that is: "that's what them dudes in suits do over there." Yes, it's a beautiful world we live in.

I'd rather be a camel driver in Morocco then a swine herder in Castillo

Don't ask...

ok, little time to write, but backed up like a mofo. Getting my new band together (yet again), hoping I don't fall into the same trap of trusting ass holes. Band divorces as you know, are fucking hell, and don't give me that "there's been no fluids exchanged crap", money changes hands w/in bands quicker then with any signif other, and we do share mics in the rehersal room...

Not what I wanted to talk about here. Nor do I want to spend much time on a liver sport report. The Yanx are celler dweelers and I don't care that the Sawx are in 2nd b/c... the Yanx are celler dwellers. Here's a quote though from the always quotable Dave "Big Papi" Ortiz-glad he's comin' around and not dwelling on Petey Martinez's unsavory exit from the AL anymore-this came during a turning point game for Boston recently after he drove in Trotsky Nixon: "I was just praying to get a hit man. I haven't got a hit in a long time, it's been tough up there man. My part of the game is hitting, if I don't hit it's like I'm just stealing money"... I'm happy that I minly stick to baseball as a fan. No matter what kind of roid barry Bonds muscles into his butt cheet or gamma radiated flaxseed cream that he rubson his coctail peanut sized scrotum the wrong way, the sport doesn't have a Shaq to contend with. The puny human Nets stood no chance in hell against the Miami monster. they were so frightenend in their air jordans that when Shaqzilla wasn't clobberin' and Wade had been stayed they were still Vince-able... poor Carter. Makes you think that had Shaq been on the attack when his Airness was rulin' the court that the Bulls might not have won as much as they did. O'Neal, cross-eyed monster or not, is well-deserved of being right up there with Wilt Chamberlin as the 2 greatest big men of all time, hands down. Jordan had those rare air leadership qualities, no doubt, combined w/ a tendancy for 50 pt. playoff games, but intimidation's a factor in Basketball more than any other sport. You got 5 guys to hold 'em, not 9...

I really have to split now, but will leave you with some Succinct Celebrity Reviews from my first-hand viewing as a F**king server at the Chanel Costume Ball last week at the Met:

Marylyn Manson-will make a smoothe transision to circus clown

P Diddy-has his bodyguard go to the john with him

Russel Simmons-take the baseball cap off, you're wearing a tux

Linda Evangelista-gorgeous hawk lady

Richard Gere-sports same squinty-eyed hamster look as ever, white hair or not

Andree 3000-def. regretted wearing the same outfit as us waiters (though we didn't have a yarmulka on.. what was with that?) Nice (short) guy though.

Mary Kate and Ashley Olson- didn't eat (surprise surprise), but neither did Jake Gylenhall (who was larger then those two flyin' monkey lookin' chicks put together)

Vanessa Paradise-looks like a junkie, or at least like she was a junkie

Karl Lagerfield-lose the silver gloves gramps

Naomi Watts-poor woman's Nicole Kidman

Kevin Costner-I got him 2 glasses of milk

Lauren Bush-plain and lovin' tevery minute of fame she shouldn't have

Jimmy Fallon-ditto, but sorta funny at least (not so sure about that actually, what's funny is that he actually is considered to be a romantic lead in a film? Who's runnin' this show?)


More to come...

liar liar funeral pyre?

Yeah, ok, so shoot me. I'm a baaaaaddd baaaaaddd blogger. Time has been flyin' like the seat of my pants on fire through this life and finding the time to sit here with you and recount the days past has been harder then recounting past elections. What better time to address the masses again then today though, Tuesday, the day Her Cardinal Rat Fink (real name "J. Wellington Wimpy" Ratzinger) became Benedict Ahh-nold the somethingth, our new Pope. Hell, "I'd rather pay you Tuesday for a Hamburger today" anyway (???). Now, mind you, I have written some blog entries here and there since last we (or I) spoke, but they were mini-blogs over at my myspace page. Most of them have been about the downfall of the last incarnation of my band Rollo, and not about the downfall of civilization as we know it. This one today is only partly about that as well, and the in-coronation of our new Papal leader. I did post a lil' blurb (hardly a blog, a blurg even, and definitely not a blob) a couple weeks past about John Paul though (not of George and Ringo fame, but more famous perhaps). His death was surely bigger then Lennon's, and maybe even Lenin's, and though he never declared himself to be bigger then a Beatle, the pope and cirumstance that followed his passing has been like no other death in my lifetime. Lennon's was huge, and rightly so, as he was super-talented and taken in his prime. Lenin created a whole new political ideology, but the Pope... well, not sure what he did, but I'm sure he did more then the Fed Ex Pope on Conan. He made people feel better, plus, he once went dog sledding in Alaska, led by mutts "Satan" and "the Devil" (true story). His demise, however, ironically coincided with the death of Frank Perdue, the Chicken "Pope" if you will (or at least a king of advertising). Here's what I had to say a few weeks back on the subject:

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

R.I.P. Pope John Paul ll & Frank Perdue... both dead @ 84

each rose to prominence as the public face of their respective "companies" some 20-30 odd years ago. The tender Pontiff, who (sign-of-the) crossed the road shortly after the poultry magnet did on Friday, will be missed far more than his famous feathered contemporary though. It is unknown, however, whether JP2 actually uttered the memorable nugget "the church is the best way to sell a superior chicken"; a universal truth that has long been attributed to him (joke). All kidding aside, I grew up with Frank Perdue adams appling his way into my living room through the cluck of the tv. Not being a religious buyer, I didn't have the same opportunity to feel like I knew JP2. He had a nice looking face, and became the veritable king of the popes as far as popes come, but I have to wonder, is/was it good that we've made the popemeister into some cult icon akin to a celeb ad man for his product (religion)? May they both rest in peace (no, I'm not gonna make another dumb pun here, as you can see it comin' I'm sure...drumsticks please)

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Ok, so the Pope is gone but he's not forgotten, this is the story of a Johnny... Rotten? Well... I dunno about that, I'm not religious (not true, Rock n' Roll is my religion... yeah, it is, ok? Dig? I'd like to see you say that with a straight face like I just did). It seems to at least be the story of a Rat(zinger). How about all the hooplah and brew-ha-ha and hooey that we've made of all this though, huh? What a sad comment on our times when the changing of the Pope is like the new OJ Trial (there's your Johnny Rotten, though Cochran left the building recently for good, before he'd ever get blamed for being his satanic majesty)... Here's this old white guy with a funny chapeau ruling the front pages of the tabloids the last few weeks like he's started religion or something. Jacko, Canseco and all the other whackos shovin' stuff into little boys bodies as well as their own must be pretty psyched to have seen the old guy go, for their news was obviously not fit to print in bold letters, no matter how dispicable their news was becoming. I mean, Jacko's going down, that's becoming plain as the lack of color on his face, as numerous people have come forward to recount how his nimble gloved fingers went a walking down the pants of many a pre-pube visitor to whitey's house, Never Say Never Land. The mighty Canseco, on the other hand, went to bat and actually gained points b/c Barry Big Head Bonds and Mark the Monster McGwire started looked ever and ever more like scamps and not Home Run champs. Where is the steroid scandal in the papers now though? Up in the black smoke that rose from the Pope castle perhaps, the other day when the wizards of Rome were deliberating over their cauldron. Just goes to show you that God is hot these days, so if you're planning on doing a new reality show, you better get out the Jesus freaks and Bible thumpers, b/c they are news my friends. Shal I say that old Tammy Fay may be the new Anna Nicole? I for one thought that that black smoke thing was weird. I mean what's up with them getting all medieval on our ass like that, huh? This is the 21st Century, send up fire works or a missle or something, not soot... Anyway, enough about the Pope. There'll be more to spout on the subject I can assure you (if I can get myself to write more often... btw, thanks to all of you who've continually checked in on "...Snot" daily. You've given this here pope (dope?) hope even though there's been only old news to peruse).

Yeah, ok, so I suppose I haven't written mainly b/c I've just been so Goddamn busy, buey runnin' around like one of Dead Frankie's chickens with my head cut off mostly, just tryin' to cluckin' make a buck. This past week saw me screw up twice though, leadin' me to believe I've gotta screw my head on straight again (if it ever was), and then with all the mention of blogs today (like the "We love Ratzinger" one or some shit-there are literally thousnads of them apparently) I just couldn't resist but to write more in the bad book here. Now when I say I screwed up, as I did before, I mean that I hurt myself. Last week I almost punctured my lung with a broken rib as I slipped foolin' around on a job, and this week I stupidly carved a chunk out of my hair just off my temple b/c I wasn't paying attention while doing my sideburn cutting ritual thing. Then I went and did it again a few minutes later! I look like a freakin' labotomy victim as I write this, and if I hadn't channeled my artistic prowess and applied some acrylic paint, glue, hairspray, magic marker and cut hair scraps, I wouldn't have been able to go out in public the last couple of days. I've had some decent auditions of late though, and can't not go to a call-back just because I look like frickin' Frankenstein Perdue...

Ok, as I can write for hours, or days, or months now b/c I've neglected to for so long, I'm gonna call it a night. I want to find out how Kidd n' Carter and the Nets played and if 'n they followed through on their ass-a-whumpin' of Washington (not the Nats, though how about them, huh?!) Wizzards (yeah, it always manages to somehow come full circle... or become full-blown), and also whether Randy got tagged for another tater by the D-Rays and if the Sox broke their tie with the B-Jays. I do have lots to talk about in some choice Liver Sports reports comin' up, and I also have to give you the lowdown on my band Rollo's recent breakup (I got rid of the trash if you will and am in the midst of forming a Rollo that transcends the junkyard wars while still managing to be that cool found sound object you'd hope to stumble upon while smoking a loose joint at the land fill). I'll also tell you about my own religious experience lately (I played a church-goin' God nut in a short recently-a guy who recited passages from the bible and then dons a ski mask and breaks into houses of non-believers, complete with the blood of a sacrificial lamb... fun).

I'll leave you now with a few new succinct celebrity reviews. Should I repeat any past ones, well... sorry, I got a labotomy, remember (or was it a migdelectomy)?
-RM

Lyndsay Lohan -that smoking room slut in Jr High we all wanted to bang like there was no tomorrow

Benicio Del Tauro -hit on me. His big grey mound of hair reminded me of my Grandmothers, though she didn't have a smile like Bob Mitchum

The lead Singer from the Goo-Goo Dolls -walked unnoticed along Times Sq., with a face that would make Kevin Bacon seem like an Ivory Girl

Kevin Bacon -rode his bike unnoticed down the Hudson River Promenade, foot loose and fancy free. His hair blowin' in the wind giving Benicio a run for his money

Willem Dafoe -nice, blocky guy with a face that would make the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls seem like an Ivory Girl
Katie Holmes -Yo Yo ma, can I have one of her for Christmas? Damn, she purty: slender, tender, def. not a lender

Sophie Dahl -trying to give katie a run for the money in matching white dresses, she looked like a ghostly lobster. I think she's older then she's letting on, still hot, but that might be b/c she was wearing a fur inside on a warm Spring day, and then there's all that blow she's so obviously doing. Rich dad, poor dad.

David Wells -heluva nice guy, and now that he's a rock'em Red Sockem' Ruthbot I don't have to feel bad for sayin' that.

Perry Ferrel -damn, he short (but stylin', man is he stylin'). I don't usually get impressed by celebs, but he rocks.

Jack Nicholson -what can I say. I was in awe. Jack's the man. Has this Leonid Breznev thing goin' but I'd take a bear hug from him.

Liev Schreiber -asshole (I probably already had this one, but you can never call him an asshole too many times, same with Ethan Hawk).

... there's more, but I have work to do.

(Wade) Blogs...

Current mood: disappointed

are not people too, or at least mine aint. but here's my dis-claimer: sometimes things are said in the heat of the moment that don't necessarily reflect how i'm feeling on every given day of the slob for sakin' week. they also may be a composite of thoughts about different things that have been churning in my stomach or charging my spirit. if you think i've slighted you in a particular entry i've written with my keyboard shaped tongue, i urge you to take a deep knee bend and not get those panties in a wadd, as who really cares what's said in my blog anyway? seriously, this page aint no trial blazin' tabloid or reality showboatin' blah blah ganooj (well maybe it is blah blah ganooj), it's just an example of free speach baby, an' so i retain the right to be general, enigmatic, ironic, sardonic, catatonic and bitter as all hell in my spew, but please don't come to the conclusion that it's got anything to do with you .
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I started I stopped
Current mood: drained

been incinerating the candles at both ends of late rehersing this frustrating play like
a mofo, on top of Rollo and a slew o' films-haven't had time to blog fer shit you may have noticed (thinking me all words an' no words). I have added a few short ones over at the old rollo @ myspace address though, so if yer absolutely dyin' to be poisoned by my infectious word warpage, head on over to Rollo, where they're charcoal broiled.
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imposing stones

... refers to new lyrics of a new song of the same name by my band Rollo. If you wanna read 'em, or any other lyrics o' mine for that matter (cause you're like that, which is something I like) let me know...
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Those three lil' thoughts were provoked on myspace, an 'have nothing to do whatsover with Wade Boggs gettin' his Hall o' the Un-Shamed induction a month ago. That was a nappy occasion, as I grew up watching that lucky chicken spray hits all over Fenway. He was the guy who wasn't supposed to make it; hittin' for average despite his average looks, pimply red beard, surly disposition and unsure fielding. I don't care that he rode horse at Yankee stadium or told the D'Rays he'd ride their hat into the Hall, we all knew he'd make it as a Red Sock. Too bad Jim Ed Rice didn't get in with him, but I think next year is his year as there are no marquee new guys with guarenteed keys to the palace... I wasn't planning on writing a damn thing, as I'm sick as a dog, and tried from tripping back late night from NJ. I did a shoot there where I wore black Angel wings and then I rode a bus back with a crazy Willie Nelson lookalike who danced around me doin' the symbols of the cross by my head (and every other head that boarded the bus). After I dropped my lil' myspace driblets of recent days here though, I thought I should add some new words to the mess that is this blog. I just did though, and can't heave anymore on you as I'm about to heave myself and break out into a cold though which I'll try to splin to you in further detail if I'm still alive Wed. Keepin' up with this shit is hard, and tryin' to delve backwards in my brain to retrieve past ideas/thoughts (a mode I'm still in after my extended vacation from blogdom) is doubly difficult, but I remain committed to doin' my damndest. Until then-@

fan hitting and fan sh**ting

No, I'm not going to get full into another potentially great blog entry gone by that happened on my watch-that familiar episode a month ago or so when Ron Artest and Jermaine O'Neil and other Pacers got Pistoned at fans in Detroit and took some of their (roid?) rage out on the most unruly of them. I will say this though, in a little Liver Sports report; Artest-someone I'd been following since he was the apparently lesser of 2 rookies (Elton Brand? Hardly a Brand name...) signed by the Bulls like 5 years ago-was sent up the river for his part in the bro-hah-ha, which is a shame only in that he's one of the more interesting players to follow, despite being a yet another thug in the post-MJ era of the game. I mean, producing a rap cd with an old white lady and then claiming you're exhausted b/c of it? Come on, you can't make that sh*t up. The Nets, the only team I somewhat pay attention to besides the (yawn) Yao Ming/Tracy McGrady tandem, should perhaps p/u aged trouble shooter Jayson williams, don't you think (?), esp. now that they've been reduced to a 2 man team of Cream Puff Carter and the Kan't gut me outa here fast enough Kidd... Baseball has become a year round sport thanks to the cooked up Hot Stove arms race of the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees carrying on their in season rivalry off season. I think that MLB may have gone too far though in arranging for the 2 teams to open AND close the season against one another next year, as if 19 (!) regular season games this past year wasn't enough. It kinda makes it all seem like pro Boxing now, where you can see 2 guys fight each other whether or not they're the 2 most qualified; the "match-up you'd most like to see you no longer have to dream about!". I guess this was comign after they took away all curiosity with Interleague Play. Don't get me wrong, games b/w the Sox and Yanks are like THE best, most euphoric, spine tingling games ever, but making it (selling it) in your face like that may only where this prize rivalry out in the eyes of the public. I for one could give a sh*t about interleague play now... though I soppose a Pedro Met's match-up vs. a randified Yanks could get my attention. The Sox-Yanks rivalry got to where it's at naturally though... well, with the exception of unnatural substance users Sheffield and GiamBalco on the Yanks that is. This offseason saw these 2 teams make some pretty wild moves-the Sox losing Pedro the Whiner (who nonetheless gave them 6 or 7 great years and will always be commended for the money he's put into the DR), Derek (high and) Lowe and Orlando Cabrera, but ratcheting it up a notch on short stop with Edgar Renteria and picking up flame throwing underachievers (so far) Matt Clement and Wade Miller, and big OLD steady bad boy David Wells. The Yanks got a couple ifs on the mound in the overrated Carlos Pavano and potential of yor pitcher Jaret Wright, as well as oldy but a steady infielder Tony Womack, and then really hit it big with their much anticipated aquisition of jerky green back giant Randy "you talkin' to me?" Johnson. I for one am not sure how well he'll deal with the pressure in NYC (or at least perhaps I'm hoping he'll implode), esp. after that first episode where he balked at a cameraman the other day... Well, that's enough Liver Sports, didn't intend to even write so much actually, but I'm so overdue that stuffs gonna start pourin' out me (like Giambis liquifying muscle tissue)...
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Got an almost unbelievable email yesterday about a sublet, see it for yourself... I doubt you'll wanna be looking into it afterwards:

"Hey everyone, friends or whatever you might be, as most of you know, I was recently robbed and stalked my my dog walker. As it turns out, he's not only a disgusting psycho who stole everything that is valuable to me (incl. a tutu, a red lipstick and a Blonde Redhead CD); he also belongs to one of the most powerful Italian families in the W. Village... so I'd better get the h*** out of here, now that I'm pressing charges against him, etc, etc. So i'm moving to the E. Village--finally!!! At least something good came out of the misery! One little thing though-for a couple of reasons, I don't want to break my lease. Rather, I'd like to sublet it. The apt. is a studio w/ a separate kitchen, new appliances that were never used as I hate cooking, old-fashioned style w/ moldings, fireplace (not working) and nice floors. The subway is around the corner (A,C,E,B,D,F,V,1,9). The monthly rent is $1200. Hit me back!!"
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The New Year is fanning the flames on the problems left unfixed of last year (see Iraq, our Gov't., the economy), and the s**t is hitting the fan. I've stayed in decent spirits, perhaps as my brain is still numb from all the spirits ingested (at an outragious pace) over the holidays. But car towings, bank account siezings, open container Sparks drink tickets and "your band's too loud" rants are starting to wear on my nerves. I've an enviable role in a new play, a potentially beautiful thang with a gorgeous n' cool Jennifer Connely-esque girl shaping up and other things to think about-so even though I'm feeling today like iron weights are pressing down on my shoulders, giving them a Joaquin Pheonix-style slope (something I'll take if it means a career like his is looming), I'm not complaining. Yes, my friends, these stream of consciousness rants of mine are not complaints, but more like raves, done with a semi-E like smile. It's important to remember that things could always be worse. "Mia culpe" as my moms always says... here are a few succinct celebrity reviews to end this entry on:

Oliver Platt -head is fat
Adrian Brody -pretentious scare crow
David Grohl -more goliath then david, I mean this dude's blocky
Johnny Cash -Hi, he's __________. Regal man (in black)
Kris Kristopherson -mini Kris
Selma Blair -blair bitch style, smokin' (I thought)
Jake Gylenhall -acts older, no shoulders
Quentin Tarrentino -coke lobster
Jim Jarmusch -if Don King morphed w/ Johnny or Edgar Winter
Martin Scorsese -seemed eager to pleasy
James Taylor -Two Lane Two Penny Loafer
Debby Harry -sexy n' scary
Dee Dee Ramone -gone Dee Dee gone
Krist Novoselic -doesn't he play for the Dallas Mavericks? Krist figure in fact
Ivanka Trump -lil' tramp should get chin implant (whom I kidding, she was hot, chin or not)
Evander Holyfield -muscles in his head
Vince Gallo -shallow
Chloe Sevigne -where'd you goe Chloe? wanted to talk to you (and ask you why you did Vince "shallow" Gallo)

...damn, if I rack my brain these'll keep comin'. That's enough for today, got stuff to do.

Backstay

Ohhhhh may-aaaannn, where have I been? I stopped sharing my quicko sicko thoughts with the public in September 2004 on a whim b/c I was just so damn busy, and sick of writing about what would end up being the most completely hopeless Election year ever. I never imagined though that 3.5 months would sail by without my writing to you not even once (oh, I wrote-songs, reviews, manifestos on toilet paper and great walls w/ a sawed-off fish spewing sea water, just not here)-hell, I actually even forgot my password and user name it turned out when I tried to blog on tonight, and my computer cookies swallowed any leftover data, so I wasted a good chunk o' time throwing out possible user names and passwords that I mighta woulda coulda used or something. I even thought for a minute that the Blogue and Magogue powers that be had given up on me and decided to banish me from scratching out my thoughts on their chalkboard again. Finally, the secret seseme bagel dawned on me like lookin' @ my mug in a spittin' clean plate, and voila, here I is again. Really, every week I've gotten these site meter emails sayin' that so many so an sos and whomayacallems that I've never had the good fortune to meet have been spending their quality time reading my garbled thoughts of yor, STILL chuckling perhaps @ past "snottings" that have carmelized like dinosaur dung in amber, and I've kept saying along the way "oh, I'll get back to it...", but I never have obviously, and the thoughts that should've made it to the small screen have been piling up like my dirty socks in that corner of my room that I never set foot in and, well, it started lookin' like I'd never blow an' wipe my slate clean for y'all again. Then tonight, amisdst no other emails that came in, I got a few messages at home base that my blog had touched the hearts (or privates) of a few people, and I even got a comment from some guy tellin' me that I got something wrong in a post from like August or something-that's dedication damnit, and they deserve better then what i haven't been given' em. No, i'm not gonna say "you love me, you really love me!", but I will just say that baby, I am back to the egg on my face in black spin talkin slide listin' lash handed ground stagin' chain gang o' slang smothered in saddle soap an' pootie tang stoppin' future strokin' woods water yard trackin' drop bitin' seat drivin' business yo. The last few months have seen lotsa, well, lotsa lotsa. I still bust it w/ my band Rollo (though we almost combusted it over the duration), an' we have some good gigs a comin' up @ Sin-e 1/12, Lit 1/26, the Pussycat Lounge 2/5 and Delancey 2/23. I'm also acting out as per usual, with a new play in the near horizon called "Countdown", in which I play some loveable counselor guy who ends up scandelously molestin' an underage girl, and a film called "Trade", in which I play some evil FBI dude in the future who's out to corrupt any which way he can. I will, as I get used to bloggin' again (it's a whole other mindset of fingers that make this sludge slide so slicklike on the screen) try to recap the last few months too to the best of my knowledge or lack thereof-months which saw not only the continued evidence of the downfall of our society as we know it, but also 2 events that affected me directly, good and bad: an amazingly unexpected world series triumph by the Beantown Red Sox, and the Tsunami disaster so unfathomable in scope that no matter how or where I write it down on here it trivializes it. By no means have I given up also on commenting on our Gov't. Crime Lords, and I promise to heap my views upon y'all as much as ever-perhaps even more now that I'm so well, uh... rested. As to the Red Sox victory (and Beltran, sneaky Pete and the Omar Maniacal Mets, as well as RJ and the Spanked Yankee$, the Carter-era Nets, Kobe/Shaq n' Boggs' plaque, Bonds, Giambi an' the Shefs coctail peanut sized balls and Mientkiewvviwkmsiheexaitz gall), well you can rest assured my friends that Liver Sports will rear it's ugly head again and again, as well as reviews of cds and those mini-bites of celebs I used to do that you all love and detest so much, etc. Yeah, it's all comin' back in 2005, bigger, faster, stranger. Hell, I may even throw some sexual exploits into the mix, you know, just for fun. Catch you on the flipside.

Part 1: Gettin’ Play by Player: when Kangaroo Kobe came a Courtin’

The following is an edible tran-strip of Eagle County Sheriff’s Detectives intercourse with Kobe “I Need A” Bryant the night after he did the ol’ in-out in his Colorado hotel room, a whiz-bang that led to rape allegations. This tran-strip was first published by Game Facial, a local fanzine of the region. It recently appeared in a censored version in tabloids nationwide after Team Bryant was succesfully able to force the "star fucking" accuser to drop her allegations by threatening to ruin what little was left of her life.
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Det 1: We just want to talk to you about it, and find out your side of the story and what and who went down.
Det 2: But we, like you, don’t want to do it in front of everybody.
Kobe: All right, but this shit’s personal. Who’s side of the story you gonna follow? This is my career.
Det 2: We’re not here to destroy your career or your image, but we do have a serious matter at hand to resolve. This is our job, so just cooperate, ok? Matter at hand, job, get it?
Kobe: Ask me what, ask me how, ask me anything, but ask me now.
Det 2: Did you have a “female party” last night?
Kobe: Um…. next question.
Det 2: Same as the first.
Kobe: So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Ok, I dig. Yeah, I was with a “lady” who showed me around her… yes, did she say I did something to her? She showed me around the pool, she came… to my room, she showed me her back view, I mean, the back view, where she bared all and came, I mean all the bears come… up to the window, and that’s about… it. We shot the shit and that was it, finito. I speak Italian.
Det 2: Apparently. So, what’d you guys “shoot the shit” about?
Kobe: Just shot the shit like I said. She asked me what I was here for, I told her to get down on her knees… I mean, my knee… you know, what I was here for… my knee… yeah.
Det 2: And…?
Kobe: Um… she wanted to be a singer, like in the shower an’ shit-not a golden one mind you I…
Det 2: Go on.
Kobe: Um, she had like, um her tattoo, w/ like music and instruments n’ shit on it, queer like.
Det 1: Did you ask her to come last night so you could… check her out?
Kobe: Come back to my room, yeah. That’s when she showed me the tat.
Det 2: Ok… where was her “tat”?
Kobe: Oh, shit… Um, she had one on her ankle, legit like, and said she had one on her backside wit’ notes, of the musical variety.
Det 2: Was it cool?
Kobe: Um, yeah… sorta… she showed me.
Det 2: How did she show you?
Kobe: She had like a strap on… not a strap-on fellas, I mean, heh heh shit, but but… uh, anyways, she lowered it. I told her to turn around and she lowered it and she showed me.
Det 2: She lowered the boom so to speak, huh? So, uh did you guys hug or kiss or… spoon?
Kobe: No.
Det 1: Okay. Um, I’ll be blunt and ask you. Did you fuck her Kobe?
Kobe: No.
Det 1: Okay. Um, yet there is an allegation that unconsensual fucking occurred last night, okay. All right. (Kobe starts weeping like a baby) Hang on, okay, hang on sloopy... er, Kobey, don’t get excited. Look, I understand you have every right to be upset, okay, but you know, I’m giving you an opportunity to tell the truth if something did happen. She, she submitted to, she submitted to an exam. Okay.
Kobe: Aw man, you’re shittin’ me? Look, is there any way I can settle this, whatever it is, I mean…?
Det 1: Well… what do you mean by settle? How much “settling” are we talking here?
Det 2: Doug, uh uh, not a good idea.
Det 1: Righto, damn.
Det 2: Your tellin’ me.
Kobe: Look guys, uh, can I call you guys? If my wife found out that anybody made any type of allegations against the Kobester, she would have my ass, and I’d never hear the end of it. That’s all I care about.
Det 1: Mr. Bryant, look, I understand your concerns and frustrations, okay, I’m on a short leash myself, but I need to find out if this actually happened. I mean, it could have been a complete turn on, er… come on. I mean she could have been leading you on, or… whatever.
Det 2: She consented to an exam.
Kobe: Right, you said.
Det 2: We received blood, pubes…
Kobe: Gotcha.
Det 2: Semen.
Kobe: Okay, okay! Fuck… damn I hate that word…. You sure it was mine?
Det 1: Your semen. We’ve got the physical evidence right here in a petri dish.
Det 2: It’s in a beeker.
Kobe: That’s some sick shit man.
Det 2: So… be straight up with me Ko… be. The hairs, they were black, and they weren’t straight up-you know what I’m saying? Yao Ming wasn’t “in the house”. Is there any reason why any of your pubic hair…?
Kobe: Christ, you really gotta go there?
Det 2: Just be straight up, we’re not gonna tell your wife or your coach or anything like that. Did you do the wild thing with her?
Kobe: Uh… this is what I need to know fellas, cuz I did do the nasty with her. Cuz Kobe was horny like a (inaudible).
Det 2: We know how it is. Was it consensual?
Kobe: Yeah it was sensual, totally.
Det 2: What makes you believe it was consensual?
Kobe: Cuz she started kissing my (inaudible), an’ then she bent over doggy-style and (inaudible).
Det 1: Officer McGruff-like, I see. All right. Did she come?
Det 2: From the get-go?
Kobe: Um, we walked around naked, went to the room, started fucking, she showed me the bedroom on her back (inaudible). I said actually I’d like to do it in the pool, I said I aint going by myself out there, you’re… a ho. She said well I already came, but I’ll open it up again if you want or whatever, I asked if she had any butt-beads and she said yeah I have ‘em in the back. And I said how appropriate, um, now we talkin’, well can I see em’, she’s like well I might have to show my (anatomical detail deleted) again if I show them to you but she’s like well maybe I’ll do that anyway and I’m like cool, and she gets up to leave or whatever and she gives me blow job so I kiss her back and then you know I started undressing and caressing her or whatever and then she puts her hand on my, you know, my California Blacksnake or whatever, and it kinda goes from there like a hundred times an’ shit ‘til the bears come home an’ take a shit in the woods if you know what I’m sayin’.
Det 1: Um… ok, not really but, I’ll move on. It’s possible that at some point that she may have told you no, I can’t take it all. Maybe she did lead you on a teeny-weeny bit and she kissed your… uh… snake and then she said now, I can’t make this fit, this isn’t happening.
Kobe: (Inaudible) if she’d a said that, I would a pulled out, no spooge, no nothing.
Det 1: Did you “spooge”?
Kobe: No.
Det 2: Well there’s always premature ejaculation, are you one of those?
Kobe: Say what?! Are you kidding me?
Det 2: I’m not kidding you, they teach you that in seventh grade sex ed…
Kobe: Stop right there man, that’s cold.
Det 2: Sorry.
Det 1: So… how long is your… well, you know? California thing?
Kobe: (Inaudible) fifteen inches maybe.
Det 1: And the best ones are straight Kobe, is yours straight?
Kobe: Hells yeah.
Det 2: Did she scream? Did you have her from the back of her head or her neck? Was it good?
Kobe: Held her from the back? You’re sick man, no… I wouldn’t… well, alright, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Det 1: Good band.
Kobe: I did hold her from the back, and I went like this: eyuuumph!!! I had my right hand like this, my other hand like that, my left foot like so, and my right one up here and my 3rd leg was kinda positioned this way and… (cut off)
Det 2: And you stayed hard?
Kobe: I don’t know, my manhood here, it’s strong.
Det 1: Where was she bent over at?
Kobe: There’s um, a little chair she liked to call “the love seat” where we got down, and she had her leg up so’s I could get a leg up, an’ she bent herself in half like so and I threw a leg… uh, up.
Det 2: Okay… Was it messy or anything like that?
Kobe: Aint it always though?
Det 2: Yeah, well, she had a lot of bleeding.
Kobe: Awww man, shit! You’ve gotta be pullin’ my leg, from where?
Det 2: Where do you think Mr. Bryant, from her vaginal area.
Kobe: Aaaahhhh!!! Don’t say that would neither. Christ… Look officer, there was no blood on my $700, 000 Italian suit, none whatsoever man, matter of fact, I still have the boxers, they’re %100 imported silk (inaudible), white as Larry Bird, nothing on them…
Det 1: Is it okay if we take those?
Kobe: Well that’s some sick shit but… I guess so. But I don’t want the media to see ‘em, in case I left some skid marks on ‘em or somethin’.
Det 1: We don’t want to see that either Kobe, so, nevermind.
Kobe: Don’t mention it. That’s why we’re here, right?
Det 2: Yes, that’s why we’re here at this time of night, yes.
Det 1: And we’re doing everything we can to try and get you out of this Kobe, we’re working on it, okay? I, I can’t promise you dick, I wish I could, but I can’t. Unfortunately, in order to work the system, you can’t cross the line too quickly, just like on the basketball court with a defending lineman, the umpire might throw you out of the game or something.
Kobe: Uh… yeah, I… see…
Det 2: Hey Kobe, have you ever gone, er, “one on one” like this before? Had allegations made and…
Kobe: Al le what? No. Are you kidding me? Never, I like, I know how to treat a lady, with the utmost respect an’ shit, absolutely, positively %100 nothing, no bullshit.
Det 1: I mean, is it possible that you guys had the music too loud or something, and she told you no and you couldn’t quite hear her?
Kobe: No, we was listening to Barry White man, not nuthin’ slammin’ or nuthin’ like that.
Det 1: Hey! Have you got something against the (cut off)?!
Det 2: No, Doug Doug, he said Barry White man, not “white man”, don’t get your panties all in up in a wad.
Det 1: Oh… right. Thanks Dan, uh… never mind.
Kobe: (gulp).
Det 2: Back to the matter at hand. Kobe, did you ever ask her if you wanted, if you could (sexual detail deleted)?
Kobe: Yeah, of course I did, I’m not stupid. That’s when she put up the red flag.
Det 1: Said no.
Kobe: No, now I didn’t say that.
Det 1: You… never mind.
Det 2: So, you like to (sexual detail deleted)?
Kobe: Who doesn’t?
Det 2: Good point.
Kobe: That’s my thing, dig? I mean, not always, I aint Shaq, I mean, so I stopped. Jesus Christ man.
Det 1: So how was this consensual?
Kobe: Sheeesh! How was it not, I mean it was totally sensual, she, we…
Det 1: You mutually “kissed”, there’s no question about that.
Kobe: We “mutually kissed”, as you say, yeah, so?
Det 1: Did you start…?
Kobe: She bent over backwards man, on her lonesome.
Det 1: Right, right. Okay, let me back up to the kissing. Did it escalate? Foreplay type issues, grabbing?
Kobe: Ejaculate? No, not yet, I told you, but… well, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Det 1: Good band.
Det 2: You already said that.
Det 1: Right…Go on Kobe.
Kobe: Sure, sure, sure, sure. So, she put her… you know… on my… well, you know, penis an’ shit, and that’s it, and then she started playing with that (inaudible).
Det 1: Okay, okay, I don’t need to hear anymore.
Det 2: But Doug, uh, we do need to hear more.
Det 1: Damn… Um… whew… ok, did she give you oral sex or anything like that?
Det 2: Doug, we covered that already.
Det 1: Right… hey, is it hot in here Dan or is it just me?
Kobe: Hey, can I say something here?
Det 2: Go ahead Kobe, don’t mind him.
Kobe: Okay, so, after like five positions an’ shit, I said um what’s your name? Give me your number, and while your at it, give me a (sexual detail deleted) um, and then kiss it this here way like (inaudible), and then she gave me a (sexual detail deleted).
Det 2: Wow. So that’s how you (sexual detail deleted)?
Kobe: Yeah, quick an’ easy like. I’m a pro you know.
Det 1: You sure are!
Det 2: Then what happened? We’re all ears...

(end of Pt. 1)

"I wanna no if you like me or knot becuz mad people telling me mad stuff? Jus tell me ur self"

...fresh direct from a "note" I found yesterday on the sidewalk.

*Friends & journey people*,
my band ROLLO is playing a FREE early show @ the Luna Lounge (ok, so they're all free there) tonight, Thursday, September 16th @ 9pm sharp! If you haven't yet been initiated into the glorious cult of rockability that is ROLLO and their raw, fuel injected raunch n' roll stylings, well this may be your perfect opportunity! ROLLO, giging in the metropolitan area only since May, has been compared favorably to the likes of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Kills, X, Television, JSBX, Jet, Blondie, the Pixies and the Stones (as
well as many other kickin' bands), so don't be left behind the curve! Hope to see you @ the FREE rock show... Luna is located @ 171 Ludlow Street in the scenic Lower East Side of Manhattan. Yours-RM

=====
http://www.rollo-ny.com (hear our music, see what we look like n' shit)

Rollo is:
Hubert Dulay-tweed guitar samurai
Alex Emanuel-joe strummer/vocalic leadoff
John Dillon-smasher of kit and lighter of it
Sally Donovon-blondie tonk vocalista sista

Rollo upcoming live performance fiestas:
Thursday, 10/07 @ The Knitting Factory 830pm
Saturday, 11/06 @ The Lakeside Lounge 1030pm
New Years Eve @ Wembly Stadium w/ Mick and the Stones via direct satalite feed from Uranus

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Ok... other news: I saw an ad on craigslist for stupid human tricks and decided to apply. Why the hell not, every freakin' reality show out there is about stupid humans these days, and this would only be for a minute or so. My proposal (thought up in about 2 sex flat) was the following:

"...for the duration of the time alotted me the "trick", I'd like to rock in a rocking chair while rolling up a de-rolled roll of toilet paper, as Paul and the band play "Been a Long Time Since I Rock and Rolled" by Led Zeppelin. As it would have been a "long time" since I'd done that, I'd display the utmost emotion while doing the dumb deed"... sound stupid enough?
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Has this been the worst Presidential race ever or what? When are these guys going to debate? November 1st? It's like a f*ckin' reality show itself, with the 2 people on the the "Sureal" World (an actual reality show concept I have, ask me about it, but don't steal the fucker)who;ve been thrown into bed with each other but can't stand each other's guts slingin' mud balls left and right. It's plain to me, and should be to the rest of the country (unless we really are as dumb as we look), that W has GOT TO GO. This guy is re-writing the constitution b4 our eyes, seizing documents that should be made public, polarizing the country b/w the ultra rich and super poor like NEVER before (no, WORSE then the 50's, 60's 70's my friends), dragging us into WWIII, and bold-faced lying to the people about this, that and every other f*ckin' thing. Wake up and smell the smoking oil I say, open up your history book to Germany in the 30's and read the fine print. Yeah, so Kerry has screwed up (thank God he has Carville aboard), who made Nader our savior? (not to mention W of course). The elephantitis party has been calling democrats big government flip floppers since the stone ages, what else is knew? Go to the museum of Broadcasting and watch them spin the same yarn of deceit since the dawn of television. Check out what the American Conservative Union insultingly has to say about Kerry and the Vietnam thing, and honorable man who admirably served out country and questioned an unjust war: "as a young hard-shell leftist who had turned against the war, Kerry may have had an ideological predisposition to favor the communist regime of North Vietnam" (?!?!)"the more you examine Kerry's involvement with the Vietnam Vets against the War, the more you see what a histrionic production it was, what a piece of street theater: Bogus veterans. Bogus medals." Here's another propaganda snippet about Kerry, this time about the present war: "You'd have to search carefully through the annals of American history to find a U.S. Senator whose public statements have been better crafted to demoralize our troops at war or to embolden our enemies to resist us more resolutely." Give me a break.

Ok, I've gotten about as riled up as I need to be today, should've perhaps written this stuff right before I played tonight. I just want to leave you with one other thing. The other night I did a focus group for NY radio (Q104.3 I'm sure, though they wouldn't tell us). What a sham. They gathered about 3 guys my age in a room, and gave us a "Mix Master
Perception Analyzer Device" (serious) to rate 800 song snippets (yes, 800... 3.5 hours) that would help decide programming. It was painful with a capital p for pissed off yo. I had to sit through countless Billy Joel cuts, Elton John, what have you. The "new" rock that was included consisted of 3 Nirvana tunes and 5 Pearl Jam songs... ouch. The other "new" music they had was one Elvis Costello song, 2 Clash songs, the worst of U2, 2 Cars songs and... well, that's it. Afterall, music aint what it used to be the powers that be tell us. This is so sad. Yes, I sound like a broken cd I'm sure, but come on...
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Next up: some overdue Liver Sports thoughts (yay for Russian tennis chix, much as I always have a spot spot for Jenny and a (albeit "harder", if you catch my drift) soft spot for Serina), as well as a few slices from a lil' book called "A Guide to Better Living: A Practical Handbook of Enormous Scope", that tells you, among other things, how to: "be a better marriage partner", "enjoy work", "overcome tensions", "improve your appearance" and "make use of new scientific developments". Oh boy, I can hardly wait...

Two Zoo New Reviews au gratin, and a FREE Rollo gig to boot this Thursday 9/16, 9pm sharp @ le Lounge de Luna

If you gander at my links (lancenotawholeheluvalotof), you'll notice near the bottom that I've started doing some cd reviews @ a lil' site called Kevchino.com. This is on account of my marvy writing here @ Snot, and I hope to parlay this little side-thang into a way to make a little extra cash, know what I'm sayin'. Besides that hidden desire, I really like doing it, throwin' my opinions out there (if you haven't noticed). Well, I know that I'm at least a blog behind, and the scraps of paper have been accumulating, waiting for me to throw up in the air to see where and how they land, but today, I'm going to give you a peak @ couple of the cds reviews I just did over there, as I can't trust your lazy trigger finger to bring up that site, esp. when there are so many other exciting, tantalizing web offerings to choose from... Talk soon, and do swing by Luna this thursday night, September 16th, at 9pm sharp, b/c Rollo is playin' for free, and we good (Luna is located @ 171 Ludlow Street, b/w Stanton and Houston in Manhattan's scenic Lower East Side. Don't take any wooden hickeys-AE... (er... RM)

Helio Sequence
"Love and Distance"
Sub Pop | 2004
Album (10 tracks)
5 out of 10 - Good and bad. Just OK.

I really dug the hypnotic way this disc began, even though I couldn’t quite place who or what they sounded like (with that oddly featured mouth harp, beat box and rock-steady drum mix goin’ on et all). The emergence of the first lead vocal pulled me away from my reverie though, as it just seemed too “groovy” or something for the rest of the music. This proved to be a major problem for these ears throughout “Love and Distance”, the new offering on Sub-Pop by The Helio Sequence. It’s a shame, as the band definitely has a way with interesting choruses despite their tendency towards trite verses, as many of them tended to pull me right back into the song at the precise point when I had almost completely lost focus. Nowhere is this trend better exemplified then on the second track of the cd, “Repeater”. The song begins, like so many on the disc, with a very cool instrumental groove, but one that only gets left behind by lyrics that are not up to the task. In this case, singer Brandon Summers croons “I’m on a roll and there’s nowhere to go, where we going now, out of control”… come to think of it, I couldn’t have said it better myself. The tune redeems itself, however, with a pretty amazing chorus, one that conjures up the likes of Franz Ferdinand and the Beatles. At other points on the disc, The Helio Sequence are at their best when they reminded me, however fleeting, of those bands, or XTC, Let’s Active, Stereolab and Mercury Rev for that matter. The band seems to be at their worst when the bombast of bad U2 sets in, a Prefab Sprout drippiness saturates the mood, or they force Sparklehorse without the sparkle. The lone songs where the exact opposite verse/chorus phenomenon (that I mentioned earlier) occurs are “Let it Fall Apart” and “Everyone Knows Everyone”, titles that seem to almost dare the listener to try and pidgeon-hole this band. The low point on the cd has got to be “Blood Bleeds”, a song that almost kept me from listening to the remaining three songs on the disc. I’m glad I didn’t give in to this impulse, however, as the following track, “S.O.S”, I found to be one of the most enjoyable songs on the entire album. This push and pull does make “Love and Distance” interesting to listen to, and demands that it get more than one turn in the cd carrier, but I’m still not quite sure who this band is and what this all leads to…

Sahara Hotnights
"Kiss & Tell"
RCA | 2004
Album (11 tracks)
9 out of 10 - Simply Amazing.

Ok, so this disc did instantly make me want to put the top down on the convertible Camaro in my mind and frolick in the hot summer sun with a bitchin’ blonde babe in a bikini. From it’s opening “Start Me Up”-era Stones meets Divinyls exuberance, Sahara Hotnights’ new disc “Kiss & Tell” (RCA) aint no mere cherry bomb though. Catchy hooks, riptide guitar riffs, rock-steady (albeit simplistic) drumming; these girls have got it going on. The temptation for many (I’m sure) has been to lump them in with all the “chick rock” bands that have ever broke, been bought, burnt and bit, but that’s just not fair. Yeah, they seem to be “hot”, and there are some Runaways in the Hot Sahara Night (I also wouldn’t scoff at any Susanna Hoffs and co. comparisons) but this bands’ strongest asset seems to be their ability to really pen a tune, and play it. Check out the cool guitar licks on “Walk on the Wire”, “Mind Over Matter” and “Stay/Stay Away”, or the bands’ knack for well-placed and executed backing vocals (no easy task… I know) throughout the disc. As to Maria Andersson’s lead vox, well, they may not win awards for their unique timbre, but she can transform her instrument to resemble the singer from Heart at one moment, Karen O at another, or a female version of that Strokes bloke at still another, and her words (for the most part) work, which is the most major of complements I can give to a rock band for their lyrics. For example, the “Sister Havana”-esque “Stay/Stay Away” features the line “I never shut, I never close”-hell, I wish I could drop a phrase that right-on and to-the-point. Along with Sahara's crafty songwriting, the interplay between the bands' two guitarists and drummer (Josephine Forsman) are the glue that keeps everything moving forward. It was apparent to me also that this band has done their homework, for there seem to be many disparate influences at work and at play here, from the Buzzcocks to the Cult, Imperial Teen and possibly even… Marshal Crenshaw. My only real complaint is that “Kiss & Tell”, at just under 35 minutes, runs kinda short.

"Low Lights" The Democrater Waiter Buffet Report from RNC in NYC 2004: scribbled, dribbled and civil (libeled?)

My position within (at) the Republican Party "party"...

***(Disclaimer: I AM NOT A Republican dear readers, nor have I ever been or ever will be. I am the polar opposite of one-please DO NOT confuse me with the fascistic underbelly of our society, I only worked at this thing to make $$, and so I could report on the evil doings that went down)***

...began Sat 8/28 when I was called upon to serve at the Time Warner Building for it's "Welcome to the Media" festivities 2 days before the opening gavel of the RNC @ Madhouse Square Garden. As I filed in with other catertrons that surreal feeling first hit me "wow, I'm working for the enemy... if the people back home could see me now they'd hate my guts". I was assigned a Martini Station, where I took the lead and came up with what would be the signature concoction of the evening, the "Cosmopolitician". That name came to me as we were supposed to serve up some Stoli mish-mash of Raspberry, Orange and Vanilla vodka like it was the ambosia of the Gods or something, and keep it coming until they were drunk and red-faced as can be. It was a gas hearing every shmo in the place say "well aaahhhlll have uh nother Cosmo-Pawl-o-tish-yan bah-tenduh!!" knowing that that name spring from this tender mind of mine (and that I wouldn't get a red-blooded cent more for it as it got co-opted by everybody there)... Well, this evening wasn't so bad-went off without a hitch, though I got my first taste of what the days to come might be like when, while bringing ice in from outside I passed by super-Republican fool Don King getting interviewed. With my back to him as I entered the big glass doors, I yelled "John Kerry 2004!", which was followed by a resounding echo of "NO!!!" in back of me. I disappeared inside amongst the masses before they could make me disappear...

...Ok, so as Saturday rolled into Sunday, along came the big Anti-Bush Demonstration we'd all been waiting for. This was quite a sight to behold, and to be a part of. There was actually some hope in the air as 400 thousand people walked along Broadway singing, chanting, cursing the Monarchy... and selling t-shirts, way too many t-shirts. This was an omen to me. Yeah, I'd made one 4 years back when Bush stole the Election outright from Aldo Nowhere, but this was different. This was rampant crass capitalism it seemed, exploiting a worthy cause, uh...our future no less, with "Get your official 2004 protest T-shirt here, don't go home with out it, only $20!"... I did buy a blow-up Bushocchio Hot Air President Doll (Smirkus Machiavellious) for $5 b/c it was just so damn well done (www.bushocchio.com), but I was genuinely appalled by the frenzy surrounding the "official" keep-sakes from the demonstration-there were more things hawked here then at the Convention... which leads me to, you guessed it, the Convention.

It became obvious, that come Monday eve, I was going to be working my catering magic at Madhouse Square Garden itself, providing a food service to my constituents, the squares of the Grand old garden Party themselves, shipped in from all over the country to resemble some sort of melting pot that doesn't exist within their usual huddled masses. Surreal is about the only way I can describe my experience there, that and bizarre. I and the other Democrater Waiters in attendance were all prepared to "take it for the team" should there be some sort of attack there, full knowing that we wouldn't be around afterwords if such an event did occur. We were shuttled in as a group, bunched together on-foot like the human slaves in Planet of the Apes, and we underwent 2 security check points. I had thought that we were to be subject to anal cavity searches with all the paranoia surrounding the event, but this went pretty smoothley (esp. the first few days, before W entered the building). There was one funny moment that first night though when the cops looked at a worn mint tin I had in my pocket and questioned me about it. "What's this" said the cop. "It has a condom in it said I, so that I can make love to my girlfriend safely at the end of the night when I see her". "Ok" said he, handing it back to me without opening it so that the enclosed rubber wouldn't be on view for all to see and marvel at (hmmm, a Trojan or Lifestyles user? Or perhaps a Durex man). I was quick and smart to point out my appreciation of safety first and family values, as I could have said "well, ocifer, I brought a sheath in case I meet a hot Republican chick"... ____________________________________________

Pt. 2

"Corned Beef Turkey": The Democrater Waiter Buffet Report from RNC in NYC 2004: scribbled, dribbled and civil (libeled?)
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...I brought into the RNC Monday (and each night afterwards) a little black book in which I did my best mole impersonation, scurrying off into a corner, under my tray, while on the can, what have you, in order to jot down the things I heard or thought of while working at the Hate Fest. Here are a few of the things that happened to me there as well as some of my observations:

Rushing up to the floor with 2 heated members of the kitchen staff to see John McCain call Michael Moore "disingenuous". The Secret Service almost took me down as I approached fast on foot holding my bussing tray-they grabbed my credentials that were hanging from my neck-thank God they didn't turn the one in front around to see the NO W sticker I had on it, I'd have been carried away and sent up the river. I fantasized at that moment about being the world's frisbee or discus champ, letting go at just the right moment of my silver tray and watching it soar through the air and decapitate some fat-cat republican on the podium...

Speaking with an old Madison Square Garden security guard (banished to escalator duty) about the events after I served him up corned beef and turkey sandwiches on the sly from my buffet table. This is what he had to say: "It's all bullshit, they (the Republicans) try to shit you up to your eardrums to have you hear what they say, and Bush?...I don't care for that guy, he looks like an idiot".

Mayor Bloomberg saunters up to my buffet table, all 4ft 2 inches of him, and comments in his nasal sarcastic whiney uppercrust voice about the turkey and corned beef: "well... it's better then the food upstairs", obviously dising the food at Madison Sq. Garden itself, as the only food there other than what we served (the same upstairs) was from the food stands there that normally fed happy concert and sporting event attendees.

Serving a heavily made-up Trent Lott Jambalaya at the "My South" party Wednesday. he scrunched his face like a flying monkee and said "Yum".

Observation: the bad acting that was so present by many delegates there eager to please any big whig congressman they came face to face with reminded one Democrater Waiter of Hamlet jumping into Ophelia's Grave...

Loudmouth, scary Republican women (blonde of course) yelling "TURN THAT TV OFF!!! NO HILLARY IN HERE!!" when Hillary Clinton came on one of the many flat-screen tvs set up. They started out on all channels, but gradually all became FOX...

C-List celebraties like the shrill, long-haired right winger Ron Silver are all this party can find, and this guy used his allotted time sounding like a crazed small country dictator... prepping every for Zell "the Zell-Out" Miller I suppose...
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Pt. 3

From the RNC Hatefest w/ Love "Dave Mathews Band Dumps Raw Sewage from Tour Bus into Chicago River, douses Tour Boat w/ 100 Passengers" … The Democrater Waiter Report, cont’d…
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...The above was a news story that graced the papers while the RNC and the protests against the Bush Administration were happening. This Democrater Waiter saw a little symbolism in that pseudo rocker showing his true brown colors (I've always felt he's stunk) as the GOP in speach after speach shat "us up to our eardrums to have you hear what they (were saying)" in the choice words of the friendly old escalator security guard I'd made friends with at Madhouse Square Garden...

Ok, where was I? Oh yeah... more observations:

Two GOP drones standing at attention, with winky dinky dogs (pigs in blankets) in-hand (and in mid-munch in fact) to pledge allegience to the flag...

Double Talk-there was an area of the hospitality suite that hadtheir flat screen tvs not in-sync, so all the GOP double talk came out as, well, double talk. Papa GHW Bush was on when I noticed this, and he sounded like Porky Pig...

Parading out handicapped black hispanic asian muslims like they're really core members of the party... where'd they get that fat muslim women with the orange burkah? And how about the celebrity power? I already mentioned Ron silver, who can't get a job obviously (but that doesn't bother him as he did his best Dennis Miller impersonation and rant for the party that makes it hard for him to get a job), but how about Angie Harmon and Jason Seyhorn? Wo, certainly celebs to reckon with here...

Giuliani... was hoping I'd never have to see that big head again (and I'd seen it in person at a matzah ball eating contest years ago... IT BIG! Makes Conan O'Brien's head look like a pea)... This guy loves to hear himslef talk, and oh, it was painful, as his cackling voice was all around me there echoing and getting a kick out of himslelf like a lisping Joker from Batman...

GOP delagates wearing silly Cat in the Hat Uncle Sam hats with stuffed elephants on top, gaudy rhinstone "W"s and huge buttons all over them saying "I'm a red-hot Republican"...what did this mean? The woman I stood next to in an elevator with this on was surely not hot, not by anyone's standards...

...ok, where was I? Oh yeah, in the eye of the storm. It was actually quite exhilerating I have to say, knowing that I was stationed at the event that all the world could be watching. I figured that as I was in NYC, there was no other place to be those days (other than out on the street protesting the sham of a mockery of an event) then at the Bushies. To set the record straight though, I didn't set out to work at the RNC, that is just where the pre-catering season work was. If you were a caterwaitier, this is where you were that week... and man oh man did I need the money (still do-haven't gotten paid yet from this work). So, how about a few more sites and sounds from the RNC? Remember, what I'm writing may not be novel or anything, it was just what I could squeeze out of the monumental blandness that pervaded the colorless convention. yeah, it looked all exciting to blood thirsty Republicans nationwide I'm sure, but this was a gathering of some of the most ininteresting folk one is ever likely to encounter-hell, you saw the speaches "Blah blah blah terrorism, yada yada 911, Kerry flip flops and he won't stop" w/ no mention of the economy or original ideas and so on...

When that 20 yr old MTV Essay Contest Winner (how did she win? seriously?) with her simplistic assault on values and the lack thereof, called for "Generation Example" instead of Gen X, this face lifted lady by my buffet table said "Can you believe it? That coloured girl's only 18!"... Did you all hear that contest winner afterwards screaming to someone interviewing her "I LOVE ARKANSAS AND I LOVE GEORGE BUSH!"
Well... good for her, and, uh, good luck to her...

The large heavy guy from the Soprano's came over to my buffet-he was doing correspondace for the Tonight Show. The lights came on and he said into camera that "the food at the Dem convention was better". I said "I'm sure I agree". With winky dinky dog in his mouth he said to me "Did you make this?" I said "Hell no, I'm just an actor trying to make a buck". I have no idea whether this segmant made it on Jay's show or not...

The only speaker as far as I could tell who they showed on TV from the rear was that sexy fascist Breast Cancer Advocate Elizabeth Hasselbeck (a young Mira Sorvino clone with a J. Lo Booty). I wonder why, doesn't Dick Cheney have a nice ass?

Laura Bush is a Stepford Wife, no doubt. See her as her face remains motionless while her mouth moves...

In the bathroom, I never saw so many guys with immobile Ken Doll hair grooming themselves, trying to look there waspy best so that they can get lucky with a blonde babe there...

Hell is: listening to Arnold's "Terminate Terrorism" speach on one side of you while a group of young GOP's on the other side of me are trying to fill each other in about the "interesting history of Dick Cheney", how he was "Minority Whip as a young Wyoming Congressman", and picked as "the youngest chief of staff for Nixon @ age 30" and then picked again in the late 80's only after the Dems "got rid of the other nominee, which allowed Newt Gingrich to enter the picture". Fascinating. These guys could barely contain their excitemnet talking about this, seemed like a bunch of Girly Men to me...

It started to seem as though this election was going to be about which candidate has the hotter daughters. I'd have to say that Bush wins on that front, esp. with that slutty looking Jenna (who frighteningly resembles Dubya more than her stoic mom) vamping for the cameras, but then again, Gore's girls were hotter than W's girls (but they were pre-teens in 2000 and didn't count I suppose)...

P Diddy (replete in over-sized Yankee Warm-Up gear) was in attendance, and overheard saying to someone that he was a Republican, then on TV getting interviewed that he was Bi-Partisan, then, when someone asked one of his posse, she said "oh no, he's a Democrat". What is he (besides a dour looking shlumpy fellow, obviously missing Ashton Kutcher's rat pack companionship-the only other time I saw him, and he was beaming then)? One thing for sure is that this guy is rude to caterwaiters, that was the word there. One distraught Democraterwaiter said about the Puffy one "Are you serious? Are you serious?" When I relayed that he was perhaps pro-Bush. "He should be ashamed of himself!... hey, what about the Def Jam guy?"... Then I overheard this staunch conservative fellow say "Puff Daddy? Who's that? I never heard of him. Is he rock or country? (He's) a big showboat ain't he"

I caught some Bushler Youth-type saying (right before the grand entrance of W): "60 days left, man I'm really excited. He's gonna swing in on a thing I bet-hell, if anyone can pull this off, he can"...

General note: usually, the young women at big catered events check out the staff, who are mainly comprised of actors and models... Not here, these Barbies wouldn't so much as bat an eye at the help. We were beneath them. The frat boy guys were actually nicer, eager to get all buddy buddy with us, but the women, not a chance...

Is Mike Piazza a Gay republican? Apparently, he was in the sky box, though the only Mets I saw there were Al Leiter (whom I already knew was conservative), along with an uncomfortable looking Todd Zeile and Tom Glavine. I went up to Tom and asked him if he'd consider a trade to the Red Sox. He said "if I'm gonna go anywhere, it'd be there". This then started much Red Sox talk, as I foiund 3 other Cater Waiters who were fans. Yes, Democrats like the Red Sox...I hope this is a good thing...

One Democraterwaiter kept saying "I hate active listeners". I asked him what he meant, and he pointed to this Slutty Southern belle w/ a krinkled forhead who was blatently kissing the ass of this Congressman sitting accross from her, mouth agape and all, stopping just short of drooling a tusk...
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Pt. 4

Sweeeeet!!! Mary Lou Retten is in da house! (Why did I ever dig her? she's no Natalie Portman) More from... The Democrater Waiter Buffet Report from RNC in NYC 2004: scribbled, dribbled and civil (libeled?)
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My last night there (most likely already refered to in these pages, as my scrawled notes were pretty all over the place) started off on a club foot when I tried to smuggle in some little flyers that mentioned Prescott Bush (W’s Grandpapy) and his being caught for trading with the enemy (the Nazis), as reported in October of 1942 in the Wall street Journal. This story has never rightly seen the light of day, though the charges against Bush by Michael Moore of aiding and abetting the Saudis strikes an eery resemblance to this story, don't you think? I folded up these little slips of paper carefully (about 10 of them) and hid them under my rolled-up tie in the pocket of the shirt I was holding on a hanger, with the hopes of passing them out if I could. The cop checking me in, who had just seemed oddly sarcastic when announcing “No bombs, Knives, Guns, Rifles, Missles, Oozis, Tanks, Open Containers and so on” (really, this is waht he said), felt the paper corners around my tie and asked “What’s this?” I said, “It's my Tie” and he looked at me for a second, smiled, and handed it back to me. My club foot gave way to dancing feet, and this last day of the RNC would prove to be kinda fun, as I walked all around the place-having had a drink or 3 supplied by the friendly MSG bartenders-checking out the Press place w/ all the talk radio set-ups, what have you… Ok, so here's the last of my very-hard-to-decipher notes:

I overheard one disapointed conservative attendee say "I haven't asked for shit, and then I ask for 2 passes last night, and they give me behind the fucking television!"

I was standing behind 2 GOP trolls, when this video footage made to look like old Super-8 clips of W, Laura and their kids from like the early 80's came on tv. I said to myself, somewhat loud "that's when he was doing all that coke". Both of the guys turned into me and stared... I thought I was dead, but they quickly turned back to face forward. I guess Bush being a Blow Head is just not an important issue...

To answer a question I'd posed in an earlier blog entry of mine, Paul Stanley of Kiss may very well be a Republican (like Gene Simmons), as his MSG picture was featured prominantly where I was, alongside other performers/athletes who are probably conservative: Martina Hingus, Evander Holyfield and... David Bowie?

One elephant said to another elephant "one more night of fun and gaiety"... this was hardly Babaar...

This one cook told me she flipped-off laura Bush's motorcade, and said that once she realized "it was her, I couldn't stop, and held it up there"

Heinz ketchup was served a plenty, and readily devoured on the pigs in blankets by the those in attendance. I noticed this one vampiress chomping away while wearing a button though that was meant to look like the Heinz logo, but said "Kerry: 57,000 ways to tax Americans"

D list performer after D list performer performed you may have noticed (or not), it always began with: "(so and so), who had a platinum record in 2000!". I swear I heard this one no-name sang the words "Can you believe, can you deceive, can you achieve, I can"

One fat cat chucked a crumpled pulled-pork stained napkin @ my tray from afar as I walked by. It missed, hit the ground, and he didn't acknowledge a damn thing...

They kept exploiting minorities after minoriites: that effeminate Cuban guy Menendez saying "my friend George Bush" and "I aim to repay my America" (meaning: I aim to repay W for the awesome tax cut I'm getting!)

Dick cheney, trying to appeal to the working class with his story about his Dad and the Railroad cars, and being born on FDR's birthday, well one Democrater Waiter had this to say about that "but he's the biggest warmongering, smug Millionaire scumbag that there is!"

Pataki, who makes W look like Einstein, erred I believe in saying "let's win one for the gipper, and lose one for the clipper!"... Uh, George (another George!) you're the Gov of NY, remember the Yankee Clipper buddy?

My old-friend the old Escalator Security Guard saying about W "he could say I'm a pea-brained imbecile, and people would applaud"...

My buddy from Chicago calling and saying "I'll give you $100 if you ______" ... I'm sure you can guess what he said, he was hinting at, well, not character assassination, but another kind, which I'm in no position to stoop to...

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Pt. 5

Yay! Bush says you can get a "College" Diploma...The Democraterwaiter Buffet Report from RNC in NYC 2004: scribbled, dribbled and civil (libeled?) pt. 7
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...so, everybody was waiting for this? This glazed over simpleton with a sock in his mouth? he has actually become a worse speaker over the 4 years he's let us down. Bush said "There's nothing complicated about supporting our troops", but there's obviously something very complicated about reading for him. He was struggling, I mean am I the only one who saw that? I think not... (According the Associated Press, he mixed up his words this past Monday reciting his stump speech and said "too many OB/GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all accross the country")... man oh man, are we in trouble...

One Hispanic bartender said to another Hispanic Bartender "Give me a fuckin' break, are you kiddin' me?" when our fearfull leader slaughtered their language in his speach...

Bush refered to his Mom as "that white-haired lady over there", but the TV didn't show Barbara Bush, she must have been yakking in the john I figure...

Speaker of the House Dennis J. Hastert was a slobbering fool around the po boy sandwiches, dripping chin and all... What a pleasant man.

Bad lip-syncing by Country Music "sensation" Leanne Womack as she finished singing after the recording stopped. This went unnotoced by all the Wonderrama kids plants seated all around her...

When Kerry gave his well-deserved rebuttal after the hatefest, I overheard one guy saying to another "you hear that, he's lying on TV-he's a classless pannicking freak!"

An RNC Bumper Sticker that made its way around: "BUSH OR TERROR?"... I don't like the implications here.

well, I'm going to have to compile the rest of my stained refrains another time, see if they’re even worth telling you all, plus, I will be giving you some choice excerpts over the next couple of months from the slanderous American Conservative Union pamphlet I got at the RNC entitled "Who is John Kerry?"

Until then, later-RM

"Blah blah blah blah blah blah Bush, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Bu-u-ush, oh blah blah Bu-u-ush"... RIP Keith Moon, who died 9/07/78

Ok, it's become obvious that I have to act on this promise to divulge my notes from the RNC NOW, as time is lapsing as I continue to avoid the act of compiling them, and the convention (as well as the air of rebellion that surrounded it) is quickly becoming a distant memory. That fact is sad, as we still have 60 days to go in "the most important election of our lifetime", and people already seem as resigned to the inevitable fate of "4 more years! 4 more years!" as Red Sox fans are believed to be numbed by that neverending chant of "1918, 1918". Well, take a gander at the Red Sox, are they wilting to the pressure? Hell no, they're making an historic run against the powers-that-be (Yankees) by George (Steinbrenner) and so must be by George (W). It seems that it took the sound thumping of the Bush Bombers and all that terror talk to snap Kerry out of his malaise. The only thing it seems that could put an end to that swift Boat nonsense was Kerry making a swift return from Vietnam to the present. Remember, that crap we had in NYC last week was just a convention, ala the Shriners or the Loyal Order of the Water Buffalo and the Grand Pu-bah or whatever, it was not the General Election. The Good Ole Bush Boys tried hard to make you think that, taking cues from Clinton 8 years ago, the Academy Awards, Grammies et all, as though this was the final awards show to a blockbuster season... well, it wasn't. They could beat and drum and thump and rat-a-tat-tat all that lying lofty loopy language into our heads for a week, but we still have 2 months to get the get our heads straight. So, without further ado (and before this lengthy lead-up leaves me with nowhere to go but down), I bring you the Democrater Waiter Buffet Report from RNC in NYC 2004: scribbled, dribbled and civil (libeled?)

Six-fingered closers (and other tales of human oddity and competition)

Ok Liver Sport fans, and just about everybody else out there in blogland-first, gotta apologize profusely to all those who stopped whatever they were doing at some point on saturday to tune into "snot" only to find that, no, I did not write the RNC recap as advertised. This weekend I did just about nothing in fact, as that's one one is supposed to do over labor day weekend, right? reliving the living hell that was the convention... well, I just couldn't go there. I do plan to collect all my notes thpough and do you right Tuesday (er...today). basically, what i am going to present to you are the low lights from my corner of the RNC, splashed with a few other observations from this unfortunate period in American history. Before I pass out though (as RM needs his beauty sleep yo), I will tell you about the weirdest Liver Sport story to come my way in a while. Did you know that there are to relievers in Baseball with 6 fingers on each hand? These 2 relievers with the extra digits are closers no less, and top-notch ones to boot, they're: (first names left off for privacy... yeah right) Alfonseca on the Marlins (48 whopping saves last year) and Rodriquez on the Giants. Can they grip the ball better with these extra fingers? How about a bat, or their own bats for that matter? What do these players wives think? Hmmmm... Are there other players with 6 fingers? I dunno, but I, like the awestruck ESPN radio jock who I heard this story from, am freaked out by this. Should there be an asterisk by their records? Just picturing these hands give me the heebee-jeebies, reminded me of that flick with Gwyneth Paltrow, Jack Black and Jason Alexander, when George Costanza shows his tale.... Yyyeeechhhh!!! Ok, enough of that. Weird stuff is happening in Baseball-a pennent race is heating up at the same time as this Presidential race, as my fave Red Sox are like all of a sudden the best team in Baseball, as if Nomar was the curse himself, and Joe Torre and the Yanks are trying to cheat wins since their stupid pitcher broke his hand punchin' a wall (if he had 6 fingers, he mighta been ok) by cryin' UNFAIR to Sox players who are not getting fined and the Tampa Bay Devil Rays team for showing up late from the Hurricane b/c "the only thing that entered (their) mind(s) were being with (their) families". That sounds like a good excuse to me Joe. Aww, what's the matter? King George getting on your back? Well, before I segue into that other George (not Costanza or Steinbrenner) but W, for "wimp", I have to rest my head... and just as I was getting going too! Man oh man, dredging up those RNC memories is going to be fun. Squeeze me into your lunch break today, ok? G'night.

wo

...and be sure to tune into "Snot" this Sat. 9/04, b/c yours truly worked as a cater troll mole @ the RNC this past week (can you believe it?!), and man or man have I got some shit to tell you... You don't want to miss the inside skinny as I relate to you all the feverish lowlights-Rollo Manhattan

Rollo Rocks the GORC (Grand Olde Rock Club) CBGB tonight @ 10pm!

That's right, Rollo has secured a choice time slot tonight, Friday eve 9/03 @ CBGB (located @ 115 Bowery @ Bleecker Street), and they plan to smack the face of convention and demonstrate their firm far rockin' stance on the same platform that has been host to Patti Smith, Blondie, The Ramones, Television, The Jesus Lizard, Swervedriver, Sonic Youth, Sebadoh, Helium, JSBX and so many other great acts over the years. The stage is set for 10pm, at which point frontrunner Rollo, fresh from a smokin' appearance at the Lakeside Lounge last week, will be driving home those time-honored punk family values! -Rollo Manhattan


http://www.rollo-ny.com (hear our music, see what we look like & shit)

Rollo is:
Hubert Dulay-tweed guitar samurai
Alex Emanuel-joe strummer/vocalic leadoff
John Dillon-smasher of kit and lighter of it
Sally Donovon-blondie tonk vocalista sista

Rollo upcoming live performance fiestas:
Friday, 9/03 @ CBGB(@OMFUG) 930pm
Thursday, 9/16 @ The Luna Lounge 9pm
Thursday, 10/07 @ The Knitting Factory "Old Office" Space
Saturday, 11/06 @ The Lakeside Lounge 10pm
New Years Eve @ Wembly Stadium w/ Mick and the Stones via live satalite feed from Mars

Things R shit, but shit R things. Complain? Complacent? Come clean? Communism? Compunction? Composure? Complicity? Competence? Competition? Commander?

in Chief Cumquat... Ok, so I'm the first to admit that my last few "resentries" if you will have been for shit. About this time of year I always start to lose it, and it doesn't help that this year the fan seems to be spraying shit at me like it's going out of style, as if my dificult time this past Spring was enough for me to say, "hey, turn off that shit spraying fan already!". Perhaps if I get evicted from the Pitts I'll end up in a beautiful downtown Zoloft, who knows? I was thinking about Marvelous Marvin Gaye's classic "What's Going On?" today as I said to myself precisely that on the eve of the Big Apple elephant stampede, and I thought to myself; ok, this guy had enough problems growing up with the double negative name Marvin and Gaye, and then when he overcomes those hurdles and becomes famous, he's still perplexed by all the inequality and injustice in the world. He ends up losing lifes battle at a fairly young age, as a pretty miserable guy. Maybe the Detroit Lions should ahve just let him try out as he'd always wanted-he could have at least gone out with a smile on his face if he'd been sacked by some humongous tackle...

Today, a day after waking up pissed off at the thought of this particular smarmy dishonest brat who seems to be in it only for herself, I wake up feeling suffocated by more examples of how I seem to consistently meet the wrong people who have no drive to market and promote art we're making together, as an unpleasant realization from the last night remains stuck to the lining of my mouth like, well, you know, like something that would do such a thing (I ran out of shit adjectives). So, what do I do? I turn on the tele only to hear more crap about indifference and injustice. First, I hear about some poor Dad who lights himself up after getting word from the Army that his son is yet another casualty of this faulty war in Iraq, then, I see a piece on "The Don and Army Abu Ghraib Show" where a Millitary Intelliegnce officer seems so conditioned to seeing us commit injustice that he basically comes off as a dead human being, devoid of remorse, saying to an extent "c'est la vie" about the atrocities he witnessed in the prison. Then, I hear that the census numbers have been released, and though they report that the # of Americans uninsured and living in poverty has increased for the 3rd straight year by like 1.5 million, these reports are rushed out a month early for poilitcal reasons so that by the end of the GOP convention, no one will even rememeber them...
I need a breather, more in minute.

Ok, minute taken... So, I'm walking home and in one minute (another minute, not the taken minute) I see a model kid with fake greazy black hair, Don Johnson shadow and night sunglasses, posing with a cig welcoming hipsters into the Johnsons, a PBR bar supposed to look like the 70's style rec room he never had in high school, and in the next minute I see an old lady on all fours trying to unscrunch a Pabst can on the street surrounded by a pile of waste and excrement... Then I'm walking, and I overhear this tanned young couple talking: "he's done so much acid that he looks like Charles Manson"... Who do I think of? GW Bush. yeah, I've got him on the brain I suppose, but when i see this guy, he reminds me of this little blonde drummer kid I knew at school who sold coke. He had this inanimate nose-looked like it was constantly stuffed up, or that you could poke it and he wouldn't feel it. That's what our resident President looks liek to me, that guy, Johnny Blow, or whatever, Charles Manson the ski instructor...

Apparently, bald Rock Star Moby is best friends with near-bald Senator John McCain's son Sid McCain... strange world they live in. This is not the world I live in, though I have to pay taxes in their world. I wonder what sort of nothing Sid McCain is doing with his life? That's really what most of those kids do, right? Nothing? I hear that Mary Kate Olsen and her fatter sister were asked to introduce the talented Bush twins at the convention of lost souls next week, but their PR person turned Satan down, saying that Mary Kate was still recovering from her disorder. Apparently, Lucifer responded something to the extent of "there'll be plenty to eat" at the Bush Bonanza. Bad taste...

Who's seen those magazine ads for AXE deoderant? You know the ones that say "Dry Pits Win", with a sitting cg armpit (that looks like a pussy) being scratched by a hot chick holding a glass of vino? What the? That ad made me sick when I saw it...

Oh there's so little more to say and so much more time to say it, or... the opposite of that entirely. You guys have been great, I couldn't have done nothign with out you. Sleepy time time time.

Freddie Ljungberg models underwear for Calvin Klein but has no interest in making the leap to movies

Rapper? No. Diaper? Perhaps. Anyway, this was a fridge favorite like the Keef quote (ask me about those, or just come over), and I thought it to be timeless enough to start today's blog. Where to begin, where to begin... Hmmmm. Well, for starters, there are only 2 days to see me act in the Fringe Fest play Live Coverage: this Wed. @ 445pm and Sunday @ noon. NYTheatre.com's Judith Jarosz said I was "hilarious" if that makes any difference...

Rollo, the band, is playing a Rare, much Cooler than last week, FREE gig at The Lakeside Lounge this Friday night 8/27 sometime after 10pm. Let's face it, last week's gig sucked the big one-that place (the old Cooler) has no business booking cool bands, being the bridge and tunnel cheese factory that it is. This week, however, rollo continues on it's summer NYC tour by hitching a ride on the Lakeside Hayride, and wrenchin' the raunch outa the ranch that has been a fave nitespot for Yeast Villagers for years now. You know lakeside-a kick-ass jukebox, Rheingold Beer, Photo Booth-never thought I'd be in a band that could play there... now we'll see if we get asked back, as we loud yo. Lakeside, for the uninitiated, is on Ave. B just north of 10th Street, so come on down, and hoop and hollar like a buncha extras on Hee-Haw as we shake, rattle and Rollo...

On to other thangs. Gene Simmons (of KISS) is voting for Bush. F*cking tool, you'd figure he'd be up for masking the truth. I wonder if paul Stanley and his undevelopped ear he's always hid under his locks is joining suit. I'm sure Ace Freehley's voting for Kerry... anyone know?
Yo, can we put a swift end to this embarrassing Kerry smear campaign by the GOP and focus on the two devistating situations that are really getting out of control; namely our present Vietnam in Iraq, and the economic swoon that's rotting our country here? Let's please recognize that these are the wars that need to be won right now. We already lost in Vietnam, and then suffered a shit economic period in the 70's. isn't that enough symbolism? Let's be in the here and now in this election. Bush-we know you want to bring us back to the age of Mussolini, but recalling Nixon might not fare good for you buddy in the long run. Kerry-I love McGovern, and think Johnson was cool, esp. when he grew his hair long, but let's stay the course, ok? Don't feed the fuckers. The helmet is not too big for you...

Michelle Malkin: shut up and pose for Playboy already.

Former Mayor Ed Koch: shut up and pose for Playgirl already.

Recently, after a scare about "Killer Mold", reports said that the growing concern is overblown. Perhaps, but as someone who had a mold allergy once for a few months, I'll say that that shit scares me. That was the worst sickness I've ever had-felt like what a stroke might "feel" like w/out paralysis. I had this allergy a few years back, and could never quite explain the misery to others. Look, don't go there. Airborne mold should be used as a f*ckin' chemical weapon as far as I'm concerned-would drive those inflicted who are lesser physical specimins than myself to taking their own lives. Stock up on Vitamin C with Querciten and Echinacea (I don't care how to spell either of these words-you know what I mean), in case the epidemic hits. You've been forwarned.

In honor of Al Dvorin: Rollo Manhattan has left the building (and really, not a moment too soon, as the building was falling in all around me. My synapses today are about as unconnected as modernday Elvis Bill Clinton and his wife Hillary). Anyway, nothing else really doing, so I'm ending. I may hit Happy Ending tonight. Truthfully, I've been stressed-out about money like a mofo of late. I'm no longer working at that sweatshop restaurant, and all I seem to do is send out packages for my music and acting like they're going out of style. Thank God the women folk still see the Elvis in me. I did finally get to the goddamn beach Sunday, but only to have my last visual there be not the beautiful waves, shiny sand and sunny skies, but some old guys monstrous, otherworldly, diseased whale-worm penis hanging down from his beach chair. Porno star to-be, perhaps (if a chopped-off one can make the cut, this mongo martian man-meat on an old gay guy surely can), but he will not be modeling for Calvin Klein anytime soon. Wo.

"We just had our tongues out and would take any old slag down the coal hole for a quick one"-Keith Richards

No, this entry isn't about the groupie slurpy. As much as I'm a fan, and have forsaken my pride for a ride from time to time, I just dig that quote from Keef and wanted to share it with you... HEY ARE YOU OUT THERE?! Let me say again that I can't sleep these days knowing that I let all my loyal readers down by not blog belching for a good 2 weeks. I see that the average viewer now logs on here for like .2 seconds b/c he/she sees that it's all old crap. I'm not immune to this. I probably would have "squoze" out a lit-shit from time to time over those 2 weeks if this Goddamn blog thing wasn't so unruly. I ask you (yeah, you): does anyone else out there have the same problem I do if you want to change old entries? Everytime I log into the blog I have to cut/past the changes (I made ions ago) to my main "snot" title, as well as a P-Diddy entry I did like when I was twelve that keeps reverting to it's original state. It's a drag, and has almost made me feel like scrapping this whole thing... but thanks to the overwhelming encouraging fanmail I've gotten from one-legged nymphos in Saskatchawan telling me to keep on pressing on (yeah, right), I'm here today... So, I've got a few beefs... God, I love that saying, who came up with it? I got some beefs, yo, I got a beef wichew! Yeh, dasright, BEEF, not no pawk loin or chiken fingahs or filet o' sole or nuna that shit, BEEF, %100 percent grade-A roast of ribbing, chuckaluck mig-non style bay-bee!... F*ck, I forgot what it was...

Vincent Gallo, skyboxin' with Rick Ocasek, gettin' a Brown Bunny hummer from Chloe Sevigny (damn has she let herself go in real life, how does she look so damn good in reel life?). I met Vin-spento once, well, didn't really meet him, saw him, and was appalled at his pretentiousness (he was head to toe "electric horseman"). I happen to be a huge fan of Buffalo '66, but that doesn't mean I could ever like this guy. It's like the actor Michael Shannon, too damn ugly and cool for school-aw, I'm weeping, thinking of kids gettin' punch drunk on their heads in middle school. Hell, that happened to me, but I didn't become a DICK. The bottom line with Gallo is that this guy calls himself a conservative Republican-alright then, go stump for Bush-like he'd give you the time of day?! Vinny m'boy, he'd think you were a drag queen alien wimpshit commie. So what's the point, Mr. "Provocateur" of provoking us by saying stuff that just makes you sound like an idiot? True, bleeding Tim Robbins-types make me ill too, but you make no sense. I'd think you were way cooler if you said that Bush was a nazi and that you got Chloe to suck you off b/c you wanted a blowjob from her, not b/c the film had to have a real nub-scrub because it's "art" and that's what art films have. Then, furthermore, to deny that that scene is why people are into the film is just plain, well, denial. "Long after I'm dead, which is any day now" you say?... give me a break Gallo, you rich fake talented fuck...

I'm gonna have to leave this entry in a minute before the Blog-a-m'gogue refreshes itself and I lose all my quite unfresh thoughts that I just wrote for you, but first, an entreaty to the girl from Morningwood: ok, so your bangin' everybody, but you haven't banged anybody until you've banged me...

Will someone tell me what the Gotti kids( Bruno Boy, Ol' Vic and Luigi I think are their names)are like on TV, b/c I haven't had the time to check that shit out (I don't watch TV, except for when the Yankees and Red Sox brawl)...

Did anyone else enjoy the NY Sunday Post's exclusive "The Perfect Summer Panties" article a few weeks back as much as I did? Pubic hair apparently not, b/c i haven't heard anything about it. Then again, if I did, it probably would have been reported all wrong, liek when Devo Jerry Casale's shlong fell out of his drawers and it was reported that his "drawstring pants gave way, and he didn't have a free hand to pull (them) back up"... like he kept playing with his pants down? He's not Iggy, and wasn't getting jiggy, he didn't even know that his sack was flapping in the wind from his shorts. you'd think that with all the people who saw it that a major paper would have reported it as it was... anyway, I don't care...

Last thoughts: Miller Beer has no Black rockers on their commemorative cans for 50 years of R&R. Who cares? Are people really crushed by this? Yes, it was a dumb mistake to exclude black performers, but this is beer, and Miller beer for that matter...

Oh,I almost forgot:
Rollo is playing at the old Cooler, some place called Rare Thursdays, tonight at 11pm for $6. It's at 416 west 14th Street, and we won't be on any Miller beer cans there... also, come see LIVE COVERAGE at the Fringe, it's funny, and I'm good.

Lethargic shleppers only arts grub jam

... the nitty's gotta wait. I will try to fill you all in sometime this weekend though about Maine, "the way life should be", their southern flea markets, driving, driving and more driving, being an "older brother" figure to young hotties who can't seem to not let others look up their dresses, faulty reports about flying Devo boners, No more Garciapara, Tyson the twig, rehersing with 51 yr old ex-beauty queen stewardesses who love guys with poney tails, slinging margaritas until I'm sweating tequila, exploding shellac in the face, impenetrable DMVs and the Xmas tit lights on the SE corner of Bowery and Houston in my next enrty in the blog dragon.

A Long day's journey into an even longer day still

Ok, so it's been a while. site meter says that I may have lost all those that were consistantly reading "snot" over the 2 weeks that I've failed to entry-tain the ideas that had made this blog the runaway success that it's never been. Unbelieveable that here it is Friday the 13th of August and this is my first rant of the month. I've got so much to talk about that I don't even know here to start. The only way to do one of these things is do it like you light up; the feeligns just gotta come on and then it's too late to turn back-and suddenly among the throngs of the young hacking a lunger full of dung out of hunger from the tongue. Before I try to dislodge some dis from my memory of my last 2 weeks lost, I have a couple o' announcements for you (are you there?):

Tonight, Friday the 13th, I the musician am playing with my ultra-band Rollo (www.rollo-ny.com) at Trash in Billyburg, and I urge you all to follow me down to mash the jillyglurg with the multitudes of villyslurg that'll be rawkin'. Trash is located at 256 Grand Street, b/w Driggs and Roebling-you just take the L train to Bedford and walk a few blocks in hipstervile until you here the pied piper of Rollo. We're set to roll at 10pm-ish, and there'll be some other fine bandersnatchers there to rip it up as well b4 and after: Bolero, Junkface, Walk Humongous and The Bosol...

Sunday night at 945pm, I, the actor, will be actoring in a hilarious new spot-on, topical Fring Fest play called "Live Coverage". It's being put on by project 7, and the other showtimes are: Wed 8/18 @ 3pm, Fri 8/20 @ 945pm, Wed 8/25 @ 445pm and Sun 8/29 @ Noon. The venue is the Access Theatre, located at 380 Broadway, on the 4th Fl. (just 2 blocks south o' Canal Street). "Live Coverage" is the most trusted name in satire, and is a play about Women, Iraq, the Media and Camels. For tix, go to www.fringenyc.org, or call 212-279-4488...

I will now close this entry and get on to the nitty.