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

Comings und Goings

Last evening, my friend Karen stopped by. V was already down for the count, and I was in my tree. Word about my new-found wealth had already made it's way around the Bethel corridor and Marc sent K to sniff out my level of can-we-possibly-work-him-for-anything. K found this to be a 'YES', and with the correct lubrication, the door to my supply room was unstuck. Terms were struck, hands were shook, bullshit was heard, then Meds were took. The road to broke is paved with un-re payed favors. Some people will say anything to get what they think they need, while others feel the sting of pride every time their mouth starts building an enclosure they know is escape-proof. As a wise man once rapped: "I like to leave 'em wonderin'. What in the fuck? Who? Where or when? The Monstermagnet pulled me in. Soon I became myself times ten."  "So in conclusion, let me say, time is our natural enemy. Killing the night with each new day. Soon we've become the thing we hate."  Today, that unrelenting bastard Time, has all sights set on one Father Mike of Skychurch. Now, Father Mike is one of those special pricks, who does all that is in their power to squeeze your friendship dry, never giving anything back, just taking, taking, taking. Out of the blue, Mike decides he is far too important to be bothered with your little life. He goes from being not much of a friend, to not much of anything. At first, your feelings are a bit hurt. You have been there for him since 1984! Oh! The pissing and moaning. Drunken poor-me stories that devoured the night. Time I will never get back...Then you look at your watch, and realize four years have passed since he's bothered to call you. You wonder why you ever called back after the first ignored message. Your mind states-"That which begins, must also end".  So here's to you, Mick Shooler, shack-kid. Rumplestiltskin. Pussy. On your special day, here's hoping you get everything I think you deserve...Perhaps testicular cancer or a lazy eye. Someday you will finally understand that money can't make you into that elusive thing you'll always wish you were...

Brandensbaked  

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Oh, Hey! Dude! Long time man...

Where the hell have you been? The last time I saw you, you were waiting to see if the new meds the doc gave you were gonna heal that nasty fungal-thingy. Well, did it? Oh man that's too bad. Hopefully you can at least manage the, uh, symptoms. Still burn when you piss? Wow, I'm sorry to hear that. Anyway, I gotta fly...People waiting. But if you're ever out and about, stop by and I'll give you a free Foosball lesson.

Flock You!

Due to the awesome browser called "Flock", I shall resume adding to this Mutherblogger. You bitches are soooooooo lucky to have me back. Now.... Good day!