Pushing on through

Only 8 more shopping days until the big holiday...Fox News presents "A Very Jesus Christmas". They are obsessed with getting people to say "Jesus" or "God". They are not interested in living by the teachings of Christ, no these assholes are strictly old testament. Poor Frank is going to spend his holidays in an Idaho state penitentiary.  I'm writing him a long letter today, and taking lots of pictures. It's not much, but it's something.  Meanwhile, I'm not in compliance. Oh well, I'll just make that a resolution for the new year. In fact, I'm gonna go get a jump on the list...Merry Holidays... Even you Fox. Late.

Coolest Video Ever:

The End...

Ahhhh. December is upon us fools. As you already may know, many years conclude with this festive month. My Grandfather Larry was a December baby back in 1922. Jesus also celebrates a birthday in December. Pearl Harbor was viciously attacked in December of 1941. My beloved Valerie has a birthday this month. Since the world ends on December 23, 2012, this is not the last December...But we're getting down there. Winter begins this month. Okay, okay, I admit it. I'm prattling on to avoid the subject of my escape from community custody. I decided to get my D and A evaluation before I turn myself in. That may actually allow me to avoid jail altogether. I called around but they all close on Fridays. Go figure. All the counselors probably go out and get HAMMERED! I'm shooting for Monday. Still runnin' and gunnin'. Did some world class mound-pounding on Wednesday followed by some beautiful deep-dicking last night. Even the possibility of arrest and I'm a survivalist swinger. I try to save some of that shit up. The man doesn't allow any romantic encounters or conjugal visits in the KC hoosegow. Plus they make you wear these puke colored rubber sandals. Nobody is getting laid in those shoes. In other news: Hawks crushed the Eagles. Mariners declare interest in Prince. Sunshine and upper 30s. Gas is down to 3.50. Some shit stain stole my bike. Peace and Freedom fools...

It FeelsGood To Do What Your Told...

So I'm back on track to get on track. Tomorrow...I know, sounds like bullshit. Has been the last few times. Mean it this time. Probably gonna do ten days. Ain't that a bitch.

It's a long way to the top...

But it's only a short fall back down. Why is that? It's got something to do with the quantum state of popularity existing in all states until it is measured, then it's quantum state is converted to reality...Lame. I was doing everything right, then for some unexpected whim, I went left. Big time. Blew off my probation appointment. Got high. Real high. You guy's looked like ants. Left my sober life and came back to Foggy Mountain. Well, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Or...Shoot some dope. I just have to get up, brush myself off, and start back up the path to success, I'm just gonna get high first...I just wish everybody shot dope, then I could just be me without all the guilt associated with being me. Let me tell you, it ain't easy being greasy, but the heart wants what it wants. Mine wants a big fat load of whatever I can get. Uppers, downers, porn, vasciodialators, co-dependant relationships, bbbj to completion, red meat, candy...I'm down for whatever. I'll do my time like a big boy, unless I straighten this shit-storm out before they catch me. I talked to Frankie about a week ago, he is still in the processing wing of the Idaho DOC. Idaho is a parole board state. Old people with zero experience being a scallywag/ner-do-well handing out time like it's halloween candy. I hope the man upstairs see's fit to cut Frank a little slack, he's paid several times over for his crime...living in Idaho.

Did I Mention…

While I was incarcerated, my many frienemies broke into my apartment and stole a bunch of my coolest shit. Now, a lesser man could have found himself so balled up, recovery would be impossible. But as I’ve stated many times, when life serves this mutherfucker lemons, I brew up some lemonade, bake some lemon squares and use the rest to strip the wax off of the floor.  Now, lest you all think I’m eerily Jesus-like, I will still kill a mutherfucker caught with any booty from the job, and would reward any tip leading to the execution of the shit-stains responsible for the theft of my beloved Jackson/Charvel model 7 with the color changing paint, pot leaf inlays, and  EMG 85 pickup in the tail position…Confucius say “He who laughs last laughs best” and he had his shit stolen a bunch of times.

Shawking!!!

Damn! Just when you think you should go pro, move to Vegas and pick NFL games for a living...Da Hawks flip the script and make fools of the fools who thought they did the thinking. Me? I've got hindsight like a hawk, especially when it comes to the Hawks. Word to your muther the Greek.I can't see the Hawks losing next week, take that to the bank. I am cleaner than a pre-scoped colon...So Frankie is parked in Boise, Idaho. Disposition unknown. I'd wager his butt is puckered tighter than a cun's nunt on Sunday. Brandensbaked prefers a little bit sunnier prediction. Of course, brandensbaked is comfortably free on the outs. Word to that shit. I'd like to take this time to put out a BOLO for one Ray "2Lo" Smick-Waterman. Holla if ya spot him. On second thought, I may be out of earshot. Drop a wigga an email. Good Day~

Don't call it a comeback...

So me and Frank are mindin our own biness, right? Right. When some wascully fuzz comes creepin up the stairs, IN THE HOUSE, that we were painting. "Freeze dirt-bag!", would have been a cool thing to say, but these were no cool cops, no sirrrrrry, far from it. In fact, these was dirty cops. Hiding behind badges and uniforms and tasers. Lets see ya walk here naked and unarmed and try and arrest me. Yeah, that's what I thought. So me and Frankie been at the crossbars motel since August 18. I just got away Friday. Frank is still fighting the good fight. Valerie broke off 22. Now we're all clear. Except Frank. See come to find out, Frank isn't who he said he was. Mild mannered Frankie, the guy who waves "bunny ears hello", was actually a dangerous fugitive, living life on the lamb. So, Frank is gonna ride the chain to Idaho and face some hillbilly justice. Good luck Frank, and Godspeed. Peace and meat-wad fools~

She Had Crumbs On Her Bumper...

Knock 'em out the box Frank. Knock 'em out Frank.


Here's a little story 'bout  a fine high roller
Stop me if you've heard this or ya think ya know her
She had every thing she wanted, her man was down
They had found the perfect mobile in the perfect town
Plenty of woods to run around
Room for all her kids and cats and hounds
They moved to paradise and settled down
A trailer by the river, though it's mostly underground

The river not the trailer, is the thing that's buried
They found the river on a map in the phone she carried
The man began to dig, to reveal the beauty
The lady hit the pickle, her grin still toothy
The pickle hit the man-child left him goofy
They had buckets on the floor, leaky roofing
one bucket was to store the teeth she's losing


Hair not combed, all wild and crazy
Tweekin for ever, but some how lazy
Canine fur carpet for decorations
Vaccuumed just once in 1980
Breath that smells like fish and bacon
A hoody worn since 6th grade graduation
A broken down van for ma to stay in
Stupid white trash is the card their playin'


Bitch ain't got a grill...She got a bumper

I’d jump from the bridge before I’d hump her

Ryans brain damaged or he’d surly dump her

She calls him the cross-eyed semen pumper

She says fill me up, then fill up mother

Wait, I lost a tooth, now I lost another

The tooth-fairy’s wealth I’ll surly plunder

Dad sprathes when he sthpeaks cause we’re gum & gummer.

The Singing Shakespeare…

         Alright, this is my 2nd go as a guest blogger for my boy BBaked, and as I explained in blog  #1(tryouts for…), I would finish my tale about a young woman and her dream.  An epic saga that continues on today, as I write this.  One in which her journey to become the next “goddess of rock-n-roll” didn’t go over real well. She had the moxy and spunk of say a mascot for a major college football team,  the vigor and enthusiasm she possessed shined through like a thousand suns on a moonless night, the hard work and effort she gave us every night (for all three nights) was equivalent to that of a migrant worker with 9 kids. But with all that going for her if she knew the reality of her skills she would still be in pain today from the ringing in her ears after our two gongs simultaneously gonged her ass off The Gong Show. Anyways, here is the gist of how this crazy chick caught the fever of the flavor of two guys, a guitar, grunge and metal (she was a rap connoisseur before we came along), Layne Staley(alice in chains) and Maynard James Keenan’s (Tool) voices, and the incredibly tough craft of songwriting.  Now I know if I was a casual onlooker in your position I would say “what a mean and cruel asshole this guy is” and that would be true if it weren’t for the fact that she is one of those who “don’t get it'” when jokes about them are being thrown out by the dozens, in fact she thinks quite the opposite so that they sound like compliments which gives her a boost of positive energy consequently kicking in that spunk I mentioned earlier.  You can see her eyes light up when you say things like “no, your right, newscaster does rhyme with disaster and would go great in that song.  Great job girl, your a natural at this.” When she plucks that same “one” string for the 82nd time with Tool playing loudly in the background and one of us throws out maybe something like “thats it! You got it exactly.  How did you know what key he was in and what chord to play girl?  First the newscaster line and now this!  Your the next Pat Benatar,” and her reaction is a sly smile followed with a remark like “Yeah, I did get it didn’t I? as she gets a little twinkle in her eye and goes in to attack that 2nd guitar string.  I guess my point is that she may have been really annoying, no good at he guitar whatsoever (and thats just cuz she was completely new at it and knows nothing about music at all).  Her mind?: well lets just say she was definitely not the brightest flashlight in the tweekers shed, which takes us to the voice: A cross between Darth Vader with strep throat, that lady with the annoying voice that was Chandler’s girlfriend on Friends, and Macy Gray after a whip-it.  BBaked and I both decided that the voice, in our band anyway, would be a factor when choosing a singer to represent us.  Finally we arrive at her imagination and craftiness as a writer, also a fairly important asset we thought.  As you will see shortly through my use of examples using actual quotes, she has the songwriting skills of say, Pippi Longstocking after getting hit in the head with a lead pipe by Curious George, or any other 8 year old for that matter.  Yet this woman still thinks we are the hottest, coolest, nicest, supportive guys alive.  Her damn mother even came over looking for her one night and raved about how much she had changed and how good it was for her daughter to be hanging out with us.  This all after only three or four days of rockin’ out with your daughter ma’am?  In fact now that I think about that’s the total equivalent amount of  time we’ve known this chick, PERIOD!  How we somehow dodged a bullet to our brains or a stabbing to our hearts after telling her that she may not make our band as a guitar player is beyond me.  I’d also say raped by her but that is still a possibility seeing how she is on our jocks harder than Deelishis on FlavorFlav.  After BBaked’s cunning explanation of what our band stood for and the direction in which we were headed, he managed to contrast our edgy, metal flair with her more subtle, easy listening style.  This was the perfect, gentle out as to why she wouldn’t be a guitar player in the band.  Our send the new crappy guitar player to jail card.  Do not pass go or hurt her feelings.  What we failed to recognize was that she held the trump card.  The old “I’ll guilt them into letting me sing,” which finally led to one of us, I forget who exactly, extended the game of  misleading the poor, not so smart, not so cute, overzealous, I’m gonna be on Mtv just like Pink girl, by throwing out a quote similar to, “you have an awesome voice.  How would you feel about singing in our band?”  Twinkle, Twinkle in the eye of the little rock star.  That’s was the exact moment that she picked up a pen and pad and got that serious look on her face. BBakedlifes not a game to just watch on your T.V., fuck all u newscasters (then in parenthesis had rhymes with disaster)…..  “ its him knocking at door as mother wakes to open door. I quickly drift back to sleep knowing u were waiting for mom at the door.  Then it was not a dream but vision of u dying slowly in old apt. at foot of stairs, crying for mom to help you, help you off of floor whispering softly in moms ear “I’ve been shot mom I’m dying.  In this vision I watched you die in moms arms. I hear scream  and thought was a dream at time.  I rapidly came there  as I woke up n realized that was a real scream not a dream.  I heard mom screaming from stairs(again) “NO he’s not dead , not my boy, not my boy.”I was in a haze and daze, unbelief filled my mind with questions and contradictions.  I quickly sit down at top of stairs(again) scared what I’m preparing to see.  You laying there dead at stairs(again) while mom scream for you that is gone 4ever…… Nothing can prepare you 4 the day you have lost your best friend, protector, my heart, #1fan, and top cheerleader.”  That sentence should fit into a song quite easily huh?   …Into the son we go light flashing by like a moorage that all my good feeling sensers were set off…  Spelled just like that too.   She will be gone soon if I let her get consumed.  I still yet make it down the stairs(again) to see if your dead at the bottom of the stairs(again).  Men tried to calm her cuz she just lost her child at bottom of stairs(again).  They telling her No mam I’m sorry, he’s gone, and he died in a car crash not by a gun.I run down stairs(again) like lightning bolt trying not to choke on tears.  I grab a big recent photo of you n your 1st n only son. I tell them they won.  They must be wrong, thats only til I can think………MASTERPIECE HUH? Well that my friends is a sneak peek of our new bands singer’s 1st hit song before she knew her potential.  A little diddy I call “DEAD, at both the top n bottom of the STAIRS cubed times pi,”  That is our little vixens words verbatim.  God I’m going to hell after this one.  BLOG ON

Guitar tryouts for goons, grifters, and guns without the breach

     So I’m FrankieFingers, BBaked’s new roommate and the other half of the band that we are still forming.  So far we are on our fourth guitar player in about two and a half weeks.  Now our finances have been abundant as of late for a change, so that luxury has afforded us a few trips to Guitar Center for some purchases that were costly but well worth it if your trying to start a band.  I got the drum kit and B the guitar toys as well as a new bright orange bass(beautiful).  We both have some experience playing in bands, him more than I, but we’re moving right along and sounding better every night.  I say night because the hours we can play revolve around a business on the property where we reside and I don’t think loud, heavy music coming from downstairs in which two crazy guys pound out their best licks and chops would be “good for business.”  Anyways, we had a friend of mine come try out and this consisted of showing up unannounced several times with his foolish life. Who knows everything there is to know on this planet? The fact that he was only able to play smoke on the water and even that was shaky at best wasn’t the problem, really, because B is a patient person who would have taught him along the way.  The problem was he then proceeded to show up several times, once on a bicycle he rode for miles to get here, who's ownership was unclear, or he’d arrive guitarless and say things like “I’m ready to jam”. Number two was a neighborhood dude that B knew from way back and this guy was something else.  A close to fifty, ex-con with a swastika tat on his stomach and a ridiculous, feeble attempt at a mohawk.  He didn’t spike it up and it was long so it looked like a bad combover and that was just the beginning of the end for this idiot.  He could play in what could pass as sufficient enough to sit in and maybe learn from B along the way but once again he’d come over to hangout instead of play music.  He only wanted the thrill of hanging out in the rock n roll “lair of love.”  On top of that madness he started acting real suspicious by coming and going ten fifteen times a night.  Now his addiction was quite apparent from the start, and he knew that we knew that, so his “casing the joint” for future pawns was never too much of a concern.  He also was one of these guys who “scraps” metal on the side.  We failed to spot the hustle on this one, I’m afraid to admit.  If you know someone who does this make sure you immediately cut all ties, if you want your pipes used to plumb the house to be there, intact, when you get home.  Copper earns a pretty penny and if you have aluminum siding..well lets just say sever the bond ASAP!   To make the story short things started coming up missing and some other shady shit went down that prompted us to fire guitar player number two after only our 8th official day as a band.  The most odd and funniest story is guitar player number three; a girl who had dreams of being a star overnight; a girl we couldn’t get rid of and she may not know yet that she has no chance of playing alongside us: EVER!  She continues to call or show up unannounced willing and ready to do anything to be in this band and anything means just that, despite us hinting at her inadequacy(as a musician anyway) with phrases like “your not to come over here anymore” or the old let her down easy “you totally suck shit girl, and put your dick away!"  That story in my next blog as well as her next tryout as a singer which will include my thoughts on her songwriting skills with examples and actual quotes from a song left here one night I can only describe as quite possibly the worst song ever written in the history of songwriting.  I’ll leave you with this line off the hit song Dead Mother “my good feeling sensors were set off,” can anyone say antennae?  1st Blog in the bag and it was(almost) painless. Until the next time B gives me a chance to put in my two cents this was FrankieFingers and I’m outta here.

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes

Band is going swellingly boneriffic! Me and Valerie are O-V-E-R! Me and H...Finished. I wonder what today has in store?

S.Q.W.A.T Team Had Us....

But they only wanted Val. Well she can be adorable. They let me and Frankie go. I thought for sure they were here to get me, but they only wanted her.

Tried Out Frank On The Drums

Not bad Frank...Nice kit! Got any crackerjacks left? Nah, I'm just playing. If I didn't drive everywhere, I would be looking in to less cumbersome music gear too. So Frank plays drums a lot better than he let on...This brings up some interesting questions...IS FRANK THE NEW 2LO? DID 2LO DREAM ALL OF THIS LAST WEEK? How the fuck should i know watch that bullshit

Oh…

So JH gets back to me…Still in denial. I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. “But what about the time I bought you dinner and paid for drinks” he sniveled. Yeah, I guess that excuses your behavior…Dick…Can I call you dick? Perfect. It’s time to get back to what I do best…Tending da Budda and fuckin’ it up on my guitar. Played through my new mixer and mics last night, yeah, I rucking fock(makes devil horns). I can pick up the rest of my new guitar setup on July 21…MUST STAY OUT OF JAIL!!!  I suppose I should pick up one of those…What do call ‘em? Oh, yeah, licenses!  Are they hard to get? NO! Fuckin’ hard to keep though…I gotta blaze, the sun just came out! Peace and Titties mofos~Bb

WWJD?

Sooooo, I finally addressed the "Jeff situation" this morning. I had read his libelous comment some time ago, but couldn't manage to give a shit, and believe me, I tried. So anyway, this morning, I was looking for an Amazon receipt in my email, and I  found more of his stupid comments there...In my email, not in the Amazon receipt.  Well, I sure as hell don't need this fool thinking he had me all tongue-tied, so I gave him the business somethin' fierce! I'm sure he won't make the mistake, of making the mistake, of trying to tell ME what's up again any time soon. First, I corrected all of his factual errors. Then, I come back with some witty, but kind of mean, but still entertaining, prose. Then, just when he's about to fold up like a cheap-ass carnival and get... I hit him with the TRUTH. Can I get a "HELL YEAH"? Thank you. I know it's fun to give the business to someone who has it coming, but the important thing is that we've all learned a valuable lesson here, especially Jeff...And the lesson is...Always carry a trash bag, no, wait, um...Never judge a, no that's not it either...Walk a mile in a dude's, NO, FUCK! So, I guess I didn't learn shit, but I hope I taught a motherfucker something....In Sports, the M's have fallen back to earth-43 & 48 at the break, 7.5 out...In Weather, WHAT THE FUCK? Somebody shake Summer and tell 'em to get the hell over here, Please!...In Astral projection grease, we have contamination, mold I suspect. Must try again...K, I'm outta here...Peace and titties~

Happy Birthday America!!!

What? You’re 235? Shit…You look goooooood!

This won’t cure you…

But it should put you on the right track.

H stands for History…

Well, I’ve done it. Kicked the dark secret. Beaten the odds. Had some help. Methadone. Acquired on the black market. Committed a felony to help get my daily behavior lawful. Wasn’t easy. Wasn’t hard. It was just something I had to do. Now the tough part…The rest of my life.

Alter Egos Emerge~

Dr. Flashlight made an unannounced appearance Monday night, when a rare spring power outage struck the beach drive community like a mule-kick to the scrotum. Luckily, we still had laptops and iPods and leds and candles. Yes, the candles are more of an atmosphere enhancer than a tool, but we had ‘em. Not having interweb or Netflix or HDTV blasted by a 40 inch photon cannon is a bummer. On the bright side of this blackout, we are saving a shitload of electricity. Maiden got ahold of one a them there house-coons, right in front of the porch. Well, I looks over to the ol’lady, and she says, “Get that Goddamned coon girl!” Well, seein as I’s the one  be payin’ any vet bills, I called her off. Funny, in the book “Where the Red Fern Grows”, they make coon hunting seem like brain-surgery crossed with Non-linear algebraic Nano-licking butt-fuckery. Come to find out, just live here. The mutherfuckers come up to the front door and ring the Goddamned doorbell. They aren’t even smart enough to leave a flaming bag of shit. Stupid coons.  Added some spores to a sterile bag of rye berries today, I wonder what will happen? I’ve been led to believe, If my heart is pure, I will be shown a wondrous place, full of magic and forgotten knowledge. Maybe even a secret source of ju-ju. At the very least, enough braincain to land four dimensions from this shit-plane. I believe the flavor is Virginia Creeper. Anyway, a funny thing happened the other day, Valerie asked me if Ozzy did the “Dog the Bounty Hunter” theme song. “No fucking way”, was my immediate response. Well, after hearing it again, I looked it up. Fuck me. He is schlepping for Dog. Now that got me to thinking. What a fucking crime-fighting dream team. Ozzy’s brains, and Dog’s brains. Wow. Fucking blow-my-mind. God left his finger prints all over that one. In sports, the M’s had the day off after taking 2 of 3 from the Philly's. Loving this team. Dustin Ackley was called up for this series, and performed as advertised. Now it’s off to Washington DC to play the Nationals. M’s are like 36-34 or around there. A game out of first. Totally unexpected success this season. I guess we probably have a few of those years owed to us…I won an auction for a Behringer 1204fx-pro mixing board for 76 bucks. Now I will have some phantom power for my mxl 990 condenser mic. I shall be in a  position to capture the sound of my acoustic vision. The duality of summer and freedom. A musical version of a bicentennial quarter.

Got my condenser mics…

Put in a couple of bids on mixing boards, didn’t like what guitar center was slinging. I prefer the old Behringer 1204fx, but they are no longer in production. I’ll find one. Got to have phantom power…

M’s dropped one to LA.

The Back of a Front

 

I don’t need you, I just can’t put you down. Putcha down down down down putcha down down. Breaking stones and pushing glass. Hunting dones and pins and cash. Rare’s the one who pay’s it back. Kiss the ass to get the cash, then scour the planet for any past, any reason, any chance, prior promised  favors bashed. perceived insults or paydays passed, anything to start the clash. Forsake your friend, don’t split your stash. Real pain is paying up today for dope you did that’s not  in hand. The front is both the front and back. A helping hand which saves your ass. Your gratitude relayed is fact. A moments hope for fellow man, until it’s time to pay ‘em back. The dope is gone and it went fast.   All that’s left is pay it back. A task that’s fraught with hidden traps.  The world conspires against your plans. You  got ripped off   your dope and cash.  You caught a case or bought black glass. Your car broke down, run out of gas. You have some luck, but it’s all bad. Guess three’s a crowd, you, luck, and black. Avoid the calls and let time pass. Eventually the front and facts, fade with time, fade to  black. All junkies know that stacks go fast, not to fronts just to black. The boosters get you bags for black or bags for crack, some ballsy thieves can get you gas. They never seem to boost any cash, but steaks or shoes are yours just ask,

Summer has arrived…

But, alas, I have many chores to accomplish before I can truly enjoy the sunshine. Currently, my many alter egos are chillin in the bat-cave, waiting for a mission… Cro-killer, The Man, Rod Swellington, etc.

New Music Project…

Subliminal Mastermind. We intend to use mind control in an ethical and positive way. Finally, someone got it right. Hope to round out the lineup by the end of June, and use July to conquer the world.

Man! It’s colder than a witches titty…

So, I’ve been cooped up indoors all day. I decided I need to slog it to the trading post for some supplies. Valerie has been out of commission  since the 27th.

I’ve been going it alone. Out of food and drink. Shrinking…Must find sustenance. Or dope. No! Food and drink…and dope. Yes, that sounds like a fair compromise. Have I mentioned my new favorite band…DOPE. Those mofo’s know how to fuck it up. I like that. I don’t need any stinking thumbs-up sign to know that. I’m working on a new song….Have the drum tracks laid down…Wish I had a good condenser mic. Ahhhh the things we pawn for love, only to have love rip off our testicles and shove them down our raspy throats, but I digress…Put a new video on YouTube last night. You can check it out at the bottom of this Blog…Though mainly I was just fiddling with my new HD video camera. Well, the Explorer is about warmed up, I’m gonna motate.

Technorati Tags: Dope,weather,Valerie

I’m fighting to stay positive, but…

So my friend, we’ll call him “Jeff Hensley” ,anyway, this “Jeff”, is supposed to be one of my best friends. So last summer, we were talking about me doing some work on his rental house. He was supposed to send me some material money to get started, when, he quit communicating, like, fell of the face of the planet. So, I figured he either came out of the closet, or died. Both are acceptable reasons to quit talking to your peeps. Come to find out, that cocksucker isn’t a cocksucker, nor, did he die! Well he should have, because now he is on my list of people who are “dead to me”.
It seems like this list is getting awfully long. Strangely enough,  it is populated with all of my high school friends. Let’s see. Mike. Ken. Eric x. Jeff. Trevor. Toby. And Bradley is pushing his luck. That’s a lot of bodies. Now, so you can throw him a dirty look if you see him…Oh my God! I just had the craziest fucking thought! What if, just bear with me here, all these former friends, are turning into assholes because of something I did? NAH!!! I’m the same laid back, down-to-earth, mofo that I have always been. Perhaps it’s the fact that these people are getting OLD. Luckily for moi, I just stay the same. It’s one of the benefits of selling your soul to the Devil. Peace…

Am I psychic?

No….Just brilliant. The only thing more impressive than the ‘Hawks victory on Saturday, was my prediction of the ‘Hawks victory on Saturday!
Peace and titties mutherfuckers…Watch yer back Pittsburg!

C’mon Hawks!!! You can dooooooo eeeet!

Some reasons the Hawks beat Da Saints:

• Nobody thinks it will happen
• It’s at Quest Field
• Matt prayed about it
• Their running back is Julius Jones
• They’re terrible away from their ‘dome’
• It’s a whole new year
• Their history is worse than ours