Banner Jump Joint...

GOVERNMENT CHEESE from The Banner Jump on Myspace.

Happy Halloween

I cannot wait for this fucking election to be over. So tired of all of the lemmings following their blow-hard, ass-hole, dog-haired, liar of a presidential candidate around like beggars at a coin show. Fuck you Trump. And fuck you Trump followers. So sick of you. Go away mad. Anywho, I remastered an oldie but a goodie for All Hallows Eve. Here ya go...

P.S. HOW ABOUT MY MUTHERFUCKING DAWGS BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm Not Sure If....

I'm not sure if this month is 'Toberin, but it's for sure Rockin.
This is FUCKING HUGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON HUSKIES FOOTBALL IS RANKED #5!!!!!!!
Two of the top four are from the Big Ten Conference and play each
other on November 26. That leaves a clear path for the Dawgs to
make the College Football Playoffs 2016! Damn Coach, that was
pretty fucking quick. You da man! Don James would be proud of the
team you've put together. OKG for real. These kids battle...And
win. There is a lot of season to go but I have waited a long time
to get back to a place we always knew we belonged. The top of the
heap baby. I'm livin on top of it. I'm livin on top of the heap!

In other news:
I got another section of fence up today. Completed one speaker stand. Got the computer switched over to an SSD. Have to go to Tukwila in a minute. Gonna get some new strings for my death-fiddle. I have cotton-mouth right now something(Sompthin)fierce. Hella baked yo. Mutherfuckin pie eyed. All my thoughts expressed as nods. Best intentions somehow lost. Your throat constricts, this burning thirst. Milkshake in hand, fortunes reversed. Your eager slurps betray the need. Fight through the pain, give in to greed. Milkshake consumed with reckless speed. Blood runs out of both ears, eyes defiant through the tears. Some kind of record that day he siezed, though died from massive cerebral cortex freeze. Gave old "Can't stop talking about work" the business so bad, he's gonna quit smoking heroin and be a NA superstar. Just think, all of those captive listeners. I'm Joe Carpenter and I'm an addict. Just yesterday I spent six hours making a movie about the half-hour of work I did. Then I went on Facebook and told everyone that I only have four dollars cause of all of my responsibilities. Even though I live in my Dad's basement. So I guess I'm just a super duper duche bag. Oh well, thanks for letting me share. Fuck you Opie. I couldn't care less if I never saw you again. It poured down rain yesterday. M's lost in extra innings and are out. Great fucking year. Again we are the champions of the teams that didn't make the playoffs. I'm gonna take the foosball table apart so I can put lights in and get a table for my house. I've got a great plan, can't wait to see it all in place. Tried to sell the table(BLASPHEMY!), but Smackpaka didn't follow through with a supposed sure-thing. Oh wow, big fucking surprise. That's okay, when I don't have any projects, I'll peel all of the laminate off of the table, get new, hip, modern laminate and re-finish it. Put in the coin box and get new rods and bushings, oh hell yeah! Gonna be the best fucking foose evah! Sticky Fingers Frizzo is stealing splash cymbals lately. We now have 2. Getting ready to put Christmas gifts on layaway. I have four hundred followers on Instagram. Val is swollen. Trump is a super fucking asshole grifter and if you vote for him, lose my number, shit for brains. Hawks handled the Jets and moved to 3-1. I'm gonna get Lisa's carry and take some time off of my (H)obby. I need some more face and mind healing time. I am still winning, but no reason to coast now. Well, my little sycophants, that's all the news that's hip to ship

2 In A Day...

Here Ya Go-

Shhhhhhhhhhh! Valerie is sleeping!

Guess where I am. Evil Val's lair. Ha ha ha! Came over to deliver some of my special sauce. I'm never too far from her thoughts, and as you all know, I'm pretty well sprung on her. Not that I don't do just fine without her, cause I do. But, in a perfect circle, she's my girl. Now I'm all up in her business! Ha! I have been hella busy. Working for Petit. Doing my thing. Building a fence in the front yard. Battling those fucking moles. Built custom speaker boxes for my truck. Moving all of my shit out of the office and garage. Eating Birthday Cake Ice Cream and milk. Taking care of my fucked off face infection. Cloning my favorite plant, and considering an attempt at breeding my own strain of Purple Blaze. Not too sure about all of the details, but when has that stopped me? I have finally got my own P.A.! First, I bought some Peavey PR12's from the pawn shop for 25 bucks. They were priced at $50.00 because they didn't work. I offered $25.00 and they said sure, then helped me carry 'em out to the truck. Got em home, and one worked fine, the other, nothing. Soooooo, I took the plate off of the back, and, low and behold, the wires were unhooked. So, I hooked em back up, and, TA-DA! P, mutherfucking A! Next, I went to Guitar Center and grabbed a Behringer 502 Xenyx mixer. Got it home and discovered that it had no FX send and return, the phantom power is only 15 volts, o today, I will be trading that shit in for a 1204 Xenyx mixer and my shit will be so fucking squared away you could measure it corner to corner both ways and it will be within a mutherfucking 64th of a mutherfucking inch. Anywho, after the mixer, my signal goes into a Peavey Classic 120 tube amp. From there to the speakers we spoke of already. I'm using some shitty mic that I've been carting around for years and years. Probably need to upgrade that shit to a Shure SM58. FX is an area that is pretty much whack. Yeah, I just used "whack". Fuck you, I do what I want. I need to get some fucking phaser on my earth-bound voice and launch that shit into orbit. Stoner Rawk is just not quite right with dry vox. I don't make the rules, but if I did, FX on the vocal track would be non-negotiable. When I close my eyes, I see black and pink fractal light shows in the shape of a guitar and half-stack.

This is the bullshit I'm currently suffering through.(The struggle is real!!!!)

This is the upgrade I will be employing today, to make my shit KICK-ASS!


















As you can see from my words and pictures, life is being lived, and the only reason you are not hearing about it more often is because my interweb situation is about as fucked up as Donald Trump and his daughter giving each other "back rubs" after a long day of lying. That is about all for now, but remember, time is a finite resource...Treat it as such.

New Shit Yo...

Knocked this puppy out in an evening. Might need some drums. We shall see.

Rehab....Take Two ...Electric Boogaloo: Finding Balance.

Soooo. Back to treatment. I guess the first time didn't take. We already knew that though. I. Like.
To. Get. High. Period. I cannot imagine going through my whole life sober. What a fucking drag.
I can sure buy some time and try to find some alternate income streams to fall back on if I ain't having any fun. I wish I could find some balance. Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. So anyway. Shit. Wax off. Balance. I know the hot new theory is to say I have a brain disease. Yeah? Well, this brain disease I currently suffer from causes me to be an absolute creative genius. I didn't write any music until I started doing drugs. In my 2 1/2 years of being sober, I wrote zip. Nada. Nothin. I tried. Couldn't. I never created anything of depth or substance. Not only did I begin to create while on drugs, but invented clever complex work-arounds to make up for any lack of talent, experience, or equipment. I love the challenge of making something from nothing, and then working on it. Try to improve what you have created. Add depth. Innuendo. Layers. I get so much satisfaction from being creative, and I am always high. If I'm not getting high, I watch TV. Or read. I consume other people's art. I only make art when I am high. I suffer from a brain disease that causes me to get high and play music, Write lyrics. Learn how to play instruments and use complex equipment. How to use advanced software and the equipment to run it. It also causes unhealthy binges of being high 24/7, and that ain't good. But neither is being sober all the time. Balance. I must find it. Capture and enslave it. It must be mine. Balance. I'm coming for you

Ouch!!!!

Oh Mariners, where art thou? Three back with five left. Can I get a little "refuse to lose" from 1995? I think I'm just going to go ahead and stick a fork in 'em.  This year was magical, yo.  My only problem is the fact that it was over before the money-shot.  Kind of like if you meet this chick at the bar, right?  She is okay.  But her body is killer.  The body, that's my metaphor for Robinson Cano. You get this bitch back to the crib, and she is puttin on a show, yo.  Blowin your mind.  Her mouth, oh, her magical mouth....That's the M's bullpen.  So, your scroggin away for 145 games, and it's a dream.  She's screamin, your moanin.  Shit is falling off the shelves. Neighbors are like, get that bitch an Emmy 'cause she's puttin on a show, yo.  But then, the little lady starts looking at the clock, right?  Your all like, "What's wrong baby?" She's all, "My boyfriend freaks the fuck out if I'm not home by 3." Then, she says, "I'm sorry, I gotta go."  Your all, "Wait, I haven't, um, ya know, cum yet." And she says, "We'll cum next year, see ya in spring training." Damn...

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.

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~

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,