Climate Change Fails To Deliver As Predicted

Well, the tree hugger's got caught with their pants down and pecker in hand, after pseudo scientists predicted a massive global catastrophe would be unleashed on 12-12-2012. These so called experts claimed that the gravitational pull from all of the 12's aligning along the  orbital axis of the date plane would cause a major tectonic shift throwing the world into a violent, apocalyptic ho-down, fulfilling the prophecy and setting off all of the violent events predicted by the Mayans, Christans, Jews, Muslims, Rasputin, Edgar Cayce, Nostradamus, and the psychic hot line. For some skeptics, the lack of destruction was a welcomed blow to the balls of the so-called "experts", who continually fill the news cycle with predictions of end-of-the-world scenarios, race wars, genocide, and governmental malfeasents which never materialize or even partially come true. This does not, however, slow the constant stream of predictions pushed by the snake-oil salesmen hawking their bullshit wherever suckers congregate. So yesterday at 12:13 pm, I removed my tinfoil helmet, gas mask, chem suite, Kevlar vest, and ammo-belt, unlocked the triple deadbolts, scanned my iris, uttered the pass phrase into the mic, opened the blast-doors to my nuke-proof man cave, and climbed the 112 steps to the elevator and began the 20 minute ride to the surface. After running a full environmental scan determined the earth was still habitable, I read the geopolitical situational summery that basically told me...Nothing happened. We wasted 12-12-12 hiding in the ground when we should have been doing body shots in Cabo or sipping Absolute in an Ice palace in Reykjavik! Fucking psychics! I'm beginning to think that they don't see the future at all. Maybe they are all just fucking scammers, and the people that pay $1.99 per minute to hear wondrous tales of the future are just lemmings or sheep being led around by their stupidity. In fact, I'm gonna go get my spiritual advisor shtkla-tvkta on the phone right now and have her do a reading of my chakras to determine if I am open to diving any "truths" today. We owe it to our descendants to find out if anyone will be on the planet in 500 years when the containers holding the spent fuel rods from our nuclear experiments finally fail and spill radioactive sewage all over the planets somewhat delicate water table. We may have been a bit hasty, when we were assured by the congress that global catastrophes or the rapture or the four horseman of the apocalypse would guarantee a planet devoid of all life as we know it... Oooops.

It’s That Time Of Year Again…

Yeeeeesssssss folks, crunch time in the NFL. The second half of a brutal schedule that has all the teams playing 16 out of 17 weeks, and then, if earned, PLAYOFFS! My team, the Seattle Seahawks, are occupying the last NFC birth, with a favorable schedule the rest of the way. While not a lock, it appears the Hawks will make the playoffs and have a punchers chance to go deep. I sure would like to see what Matt Flynn can do before we write him off. After a bye this past weekend, we head south to Miami to face a beatable Dolphins team that has nothing to play for….Go Hawks!

Let’s see, what’s new? Well, Jake hit the road, Frank hit Jake, Val hit the benzos and I keep writing hit after hit. Oh yeah, while I was in the bathroom droppin’ the duce, Washington legalized Marijuana!!!! Not bad, not bad. I can’t say that I am all for a dangerous drug like weed being sold everywhere, but I trust you to handle it WA.

One month to go until total Armageddon, and I still don’t know what I’m gonna wear. I got a new Nike hoodie for my b-day, black, some new converse kicks, also black. Two new hats, both Nike, one red and black the other black. If I combine this stuff with some black levis, and some black skivvies, I should be ready for the total destruction of life as we know it, plus I already have a date. By the way, I’m throwing a little pre-funk on 12-12-12 at 12:12pm, It also happens to be my girls b-day! We are getting along famously.

I am trying to sell this house before it gets repo’d. I’m trying to get a badass motorhome out of the deal, so I will be comfy at my property next summer. Julie, Matt’s keeper, is one loud ass beeatch. If she shut-the-fuck-up right now, it wouldn’t be quick enough. Been colder than a witches titty, Maiden is looking great, vibrant and healthy. I finished the bathroom, almost done with the living room. Band is creeping towards something. And my room is still the most popular place on the planet.

 

KKK

Kick-Ass Kustom Kramer

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Ya Gotta Love The Packers…

Boy, can they take a poundin’! But what really sets them apart? A poundin, followed by a goldentate-shower, and….THEY SWALLOW!

In other news…The Kramer is in final approach, painted the custom pick guard, input-jack mounting plate, and various fasteners last night. I cannot wait to hook it up to the POD, Peavey tube amp, and Ampeg-Celestion speaker cab! In Weather-Summer continues to squat here. In Money-Jake lost a bunch to the criminal mastermind Jatt and Mulie, but they will pay! The economy continues to be strong, while I continue to buy low and sell high.  In Love-Me and my girl are gonna do it! Maiden is hanging in there, she doesn’t look a day over 8. In Politics-The Republicans look like a bunch of monkeys trying to fuck a football.

Are You Ready For MNF America?

Yes, it’s that time! Your palms are sweaty. Your stomach is in knots. Pressure? You better believe it. Everything you’ve trained for is contained in one spectacular night. Monday night. It’s the pinnacle of the sport…It’s MONDAY NIGHT FOOSBALL!!!  Yes, after the Seahawks destroy the Fudgepackers, tonight we begin the countdown to this season of MNF at Devonshire. Frank will be home Friday, so that will be FFF. We will party down Saturday…PDS. We will play music on Sunday…PMS….And then, the combatants will face off across the table for another punishing season of Americas game on Monday nights….MONDAY NIGHT FOOSBALL!!! Brandensbaked has got to be the favorite to take the title this year, he not only owns the house, the table and the day of the week, he also writes this blog, and is commissioner of the WWFL, the largest, best, most powerful foosball  league this side of Sedgewick. After taking a year off due to political unrest in Kidnap County and war crimes being rampant in Poor Tortured, the home city of the WWFL, commissioner baked was able to broker a deal with the rebel leader of the terrorist organization “Idaho”, and negotiate the release of Frankie Fingers, who has been held in a secret prison since late 2011. For those of you unfamiliar with Frankie's harrowing tale, read “Crumbs On Her Bumper, The Frankie Fingers Story” by brandensbaked, available from this website. Both Fingers and brandensbaked were captured while on a mission to paint a house deep into rebel held Poor Tortured. Brandensbaked was able to return home in October of 2011 when it was revealed that baked had hired a lawyer who was not on the county payroll.Fingers however, was transported via short bus to one of those prisons in a parole state, to be held until forced to explain himself in front of 3 seventy-something year old hags who never had the deep-dickin’ that normal bitches get. Fingers had only one play…Read the rest of Frankie's Finger licking, skank snacking meeting with the Idaho-PlayaHatin-BitchBrigade in “Crumbs On Her Bumper, The Frankie Fingers Story” by brandensbaked, available from this website. In the meantime…We’ll see ya Fwankie. Welcome back!…2 days and a wake-up.

It’s Time for a Frank Talk about…

Frank! His time draws near. If it were any closer it would be behind us. Frank has got to be climbing the walls, literally and figuratively. I’m doing my part…Which, to the untrained eye, would appear to be just sitting here waiting. Actually, a lot more is going on behind the scenes. I won’t bore you with the gruesome details, but let me just say the fluffers are earning their pay. I have laid the color down on my Kramer, let that cure, and started the long process of clear coating the muther. Last night, my friend, we’ll call him “John”, gave me a beat-to-shit Yamaha acoustic that was on it’s last leg. So, I asked myself…Self, can you save this sorry piece of a rice-burner? My reply startled everyone in the room, especially me. “Load ‘er up. And make it quick before I change my mind.” So load it I did, and we brought her back to the shop. Sanded the grime off, and started replacing the lacquer that time had forgotten. Everything is humming right along.             Looking to buy a POD XT Live which will complete my live setup. That, plus my Kramer, plus my Ibanez, plus my awesomeness, plus Frank equals… A fifty city, in fifty days stadium tour! Well  I had better get to writing some songs…Peace and Titties you Earth Dogs, Rivet Rats and Skullet wearing Metal Monsters. It’s time to dust off the old bar of soap, and take that shower you’ve been putting off…FRANKS COMING HOME!!!!! Only 19 more shopping days! In other news…Weather is awesome. M’s are getting better. Hawks snubbed MFlynn. I’m the man your mama warned you about. Got my Kramer back. Got all my shit out of pawn. Got a new room-mate, he moved out yesterday. Val has not found another place. Maiden is hanging in there. Mom’s dog had to be put down. Sorry for your loss Mom.

Phoning in a phew phacts

Phirst post from my galaxy nexus..phucking phantastic. Of course the phone posts won't be as polished as my well thought out computer generated posts. On the plus side they should have a spontaneous feel to them. Actually, I'm not sure if that's a plus or not...Time will tell.

Son of a Peach….

So me and Jake are posted up at Tacoma Boy’s Fruit Stand, just off of highway 16 in Tacoma. We were blazing back from Seattle after meeting up with our Mexican friend Jose’, who had just treated us to a batch of his grandmama’s world famous Mexican fudge. Anywho, I digress…The trusty Explorer, who really doesn’t get enough credit, suffered a blowout, and forced us to pull off the highway. A minor setback in most cases, but as a wanted fugitive from justice, I was a touch on the rattled side.(AHHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!). After everyone chilled out a couple of degrees, we went inside to inquire about overnight accommodations. Of course, after emptying a can of fix-a-flat into the flat, which remained that way. As you’ve probably ascertained, the shitty part of the whole mess is the fact that after everything is fixed, I will have 3 tires that are the same, and one tire with more tread, making that corner of the car sit 3/16 of an inch higher than the rest of the son a bitch, which will create a roll-over danger. Hmmm.  Perhaps I will grab an air shock system and use it to level everything out. Well, I am running low on batteries, so I will give this some thought, and we will pick up the discussion when I get back to SecBase Devonshire…Thanks for your well wishes….Peace-                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Say…Didn’t you used to…

Play drums at my Bethel apt? Oh yeah, you and me got railroaded by the man. Well, you got railroaded, I got slightly city bussed or perhaps mildly taxi cabbed. Good news though, your destination is coming up in 63 miles, uh, I mean days. But you probably know that.. eh Fingers?  I can’t wait to hear your lazy ass muck up some double bass, after day 11 of our first run back.  27 gauge to the under-shoulder, Paul Stanly style. Your move.

In other news…I GOT MY KRAMER BACK!!!!!!!!!!! Hell ya lula! Praise the Gorge! Power to the Peehole.  As you can see in this picture, the Kramer is quite musically inclined.  Now, I just need to secure a line six pod xt live…. And it is on mutherfuckers…..Oh… It’s on, IT IS ON.

So here I am, following in Richards footsteps, even though, early on, I thought we were nothing alike. But, alas, I live in the same house he lived in, same hobbies, same worship of “things”. Same job title…Retired…Only I have a masters degree in Crimes. Not only that, I am learning to finish the 10,000 little projects before we move on to others. Got my lawnmower and weed whacker running this week…Grass, your ass is grass.

Gonna play with my video and audio equipment all weekend, then come Monday, it’s back to the grind…Of sleeping in and playing with my toys, and my girl. Or is that, sleeping in my girl and playing with my toys. Either way, IT IS ON.

I listened to Iron Maiden’s Somewhere in Time, in its entirety today. Just to be clear. Irene Maiden rules, Iron Maiden drools, SuperCell schools fools. I’m out. Peace and Titties mutherfucks.

What's New?

Let's see, not much good news. Job fizzled out. Gotta move. Truck is acting up. M's are still having trouble scoring runs. On the bright side, I still have my health. Spring is in the air. X reached out. I got 2Lo's digits. Frank gets out in September. All I can do is keep on pluggin' away. What will be, will be.

I’ll Admit That I…

Fucking Rawk Out With My Crock Out!  Yes folks, time for another installment of: Cooking with Brandensbaked!  Today, we’re going to learn how to prepare one of my all time favorite delicacies…  Maple and brown sugar oatmeal!  All right, I am so excited to share this wonderful dish.  It is such a comfort food, you can really brighten someone's day, ya know, if say they found out they had cancer, or maybe their kitty cat was mauled by a pit bull and had to be put down. Anyway, let’s gather up our equipment and ingredients. First you need a good sturdy ceramic bowl, around three cups. Next, you’ll need a spoon. I like to use one of the ones in my drawer, but you can grab one off the floor if you have to. The next item on our equipment list, a measuring cup. The final piece of cooking gear, you guessed it, the microwave! Now for the ingredients. First off, one or two packets of maple and brown sugar flavored instant oatmeal. I like Quaker but you can use the store brand if your a tight ass mutherfucker, it’s up to you. Next is good old H2O, or as it’s better known, water! I like to see the look of confusion on peoples faces when I use the chemical term, they think I’m some kind of scientist or a teacher or something. Then when I tell them it’s just a fancy word for water, they’re like, whoa. So, moving on. Pour the packet or packets of instant oatmeal into the microwave safe bowl. Next, measure some of the aqua, or water, and pour that in the bowl also. Now here’s a little secret. If you like it runny, add a tich more water, or for thicker oatmeal, a little less water.  Put the mixture into the microwave, and set it for 1-2 minutes on high. This time will vary according to the wattage of the microwave.  When it’s done, pull it out, and set it on the counter. Next, were gonna  add about a quarter cup of 2% milk. You should substitute non-fat if you’re feet are hidden from you’re view when you look down. The final ingredient is golden brown sugar. Sweeten to taste, and, voila! Enjoy yourself, or brighten someone else's day!  In other news: I’ve changed the font of the blog to Franklin Gothic Heavy, to symbolize my solidarity with Frankie Fingers who is currently being held prisoner by the state of Idaho. Please, if you know the governor of Idaho, or have any kind of political influence, or if you know something that could be used to blackmail the governor, write us here at the blog so that we may get Frank out of prison, and back here playing drums with me.  In sports, Tim Tebow led the Denver Broncos to an overtime victory over the hated Pittsburg Steelers, thus proving everyone wrong. Time after time Tim trashes conventional wisdom, much like the author of this blog. The blog the so called experts would never get past the first year. Well guess what? I’m still here, and some of those experts have died. So ha ha ha ha. Who’s laughing now? Dead people? Nope. Me. Also, the twitter was tweeting that the M’s are not in the hunt for Prince. That sucks. In weather, it’s clear and cold here, please look outside to see the weather where you are. In consumer news, my friend has some bad ass weed for sale. In music, Supercell put up some new songs on their website so check it out. In romance, I am still the world’s most eligible bachelor, so lock up your daughter, lock up your wife, lock up your back door, run for your life.  Okay world, that’s all the news you need, this has been brandensbaked reporting…Goodnight.

This Is Your Captain…

Please shut your pie hole, until the free ride has come to a complete stop, and the fasten seatbelt signs have gone dark. Some people! This bitch sits around on her sweet tits all day while I work, then she won’t give me a lap dance when I get home. Oh, it gets better…Last night she started raggin me about shit that was none of her biness.  I still was willing to chalk it up to a mild case of being a cunning funt. Then this morning…You guessed it Sherlock, more vile ugliness pouring forth from those CSL’s Well, I am an absolutely awesome man, but I’m still just a man. I told this bitch, “Bitch, you’d better find something more constructive to do with that mouth or I’m gonna excommunicate you from the from the best thing that ever happened to you. By now you’ve all probably guessed,  knowing when to remain silent ain’t this bitches strong suit.  But I am still willing to give you the finger. Fuck you very much. Good day…I SAID GOOD DAY!.....UPDATE....Babe, I'm sorry. Please come back. I neeeeeeeeeeeeed you!

The Beginning Of The End

I slowly realize the wonderful scene that was my life for the last hour, drinking Corona in my shorts with my toes in the sand, as the sun beat down on my lean, muscular body, was only a dream. I am completely motionless. Nothing about me would give any hint of life. To any witnesses unlucky enough to be occupying the same shitty piece of cold, rain soaked time-space, it would appear that the body currently laying in my bed, had quietly passed away in the night…Fighting against the crust, I slowly open my left eye. The lid moves, but there isn’t any vision. I realized the bottom lid remains tight to the top, held together by the goop that must have oozed from my tear duct since I lost consciousness some twenty-odd hours earlier. I wonder how someone with no arms would solve this type of challenge. I have arms, but they feel like they are made of concrete. Still motionless, I concentrate on my next sense. Somewhere a clock faithfully ticks away the seconds. Slowly, as my mind’s focus moves to my hearing, the sounds of traffic bubble up from outside. I remember taking a Thorazine, and chasing it with a fat bowl of the “freeze”. That put me in a coma-like trance. If your wondering what the “freeze” is, it’s only the best marijuana ever grown by anyone anywhere ever, period. Now, some of you out in _____________(insert name of place here), are probably snickering, shaking your head, and telling  anyone who’ll listen about the hydro-chronic medical weed, that was created by the U.S. Government and was so potent that the President took one bong-toke, and immediately ordered the entire project shut down, and all the plants, seeds and cuttings destroyed, before it fell into the wrong hands. Miraculously your neighbor’s cousin’s boyfriend managed to sneak five seeds out in his ass, and of the four that germinated, two were female. He sold some of the clones to a professor of botany at the University of Washington, just a few days before the CIA killed him. I’m sure that’s some bad-ass weed…But trust me…This bud is better. I don’t know who the breeder of this strain was. All I know is that I got it from this dude, we’ll call him Toby. He claims to have gotten it from some older, ex-hippy lady, who brought it here from The Netherlands. It’s actually called “Friesland”, or Friese for short, after the Friesland region from which it supposedly originated. Now over the last 15 years, I’ve grown it side by side with many of the famous Cannabis cup winners(Northern Lights, AK-47,G-13,Blueberry,Bubble Gum,Super Skunk, Hindu Kush, Shiva Shanti, Sour Diesel, Haze, White Rhino, Alaskan Thunderfuck, Jack Herer, Mr. Nice, etc), tons of local legends, family heirlooms, bushels of B.C. Bud, Maui Wowie and every obscure strain that anyone believed in, and let me tell ya, it wasn’t even close. Not in any category. Friese buried ‘em. Why then, you ask, haven’t I won any Cannabis Cups?  Because, fool, I’m just a humble farmer trying to make ends meet in a country that made it illegal to grow pot. Plus, always smoking bud like this, I’m not exactly Mr. World-beater. Tend to forget exactly what it was I was doing. Usually end up playing guitar, or doing some other leisure activity. But I digress. What I need is a cup of coffee and a bong hit. Get the cerebral fluids circulating. I manage to roll onto the floor, about two feet down. The impact shakes me awake. I find my chonger. Load, light, inhale, shoot the carb. Repeat. I stumble down the hall and into the bathroom. My bladder releases two liters of fluorescent yellow stale piss. It’s been a long time coming. Back in the kitchen, I find a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles. Wash that down with some ice cold milk, straight out of the carton. Fuck you, it’s my milk. It’s January of 2012. According to the ancient Mayan prophecies, the world as we know it will end this year on December 21st. I take another toke. Nothing to be done about it today. I’m gonna sleep for another hour or two. Plenty of time to reverse the doomsday scenario. I’ll start tomorrow…Maybe Monday.