Sup Ballers?

Me? Oh, I got two tickets on the train to Sobersville. Hmmmm. Where should I begin? How about the loud banging on the front door at a-quarter-to-oh-shit-the-pigs-are-here-with-a-warrant, on July 15th. It seems, according to the affidavit for search warrant, somebody ratted on yours truly. I KNOW, RIGHT? Anywho, I found myself in quite a pickle. Looking at no more pussy until 2018. Oh sure, I could have turned into a punk bitch and ratted out my hook, but then I would be a punk bitch rat. Unacceptable. Soooooooooo, I took drug court. 18 months of intense, supervised, reprogramming of my drug addict mind. Piss tests, NA, groups, one on ones, check ins, home searches, and court appearances once a week. If I succeed, charges dismissed. If I fail, 60 months in the joint. So far I have 76 days clean. No dope, no booze, no uppers, no downers, no shrooms, no doses, no lines, no tokes, no loads, no benzos, no dones, no subs, no kind nugs, no BTH, no pure, no shit, no white, no black, no crys, nothing. Just coffee, Rockstars, and Red Bulls. Super clean. Not too bad. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Even though I haven't used any mind altering substances, I still managed to fuck up a couple times. They found a crack pipe during a routine search of my room(Government plant, obviously!), for that I got 3 days in the hole. I missed a UA Saturday, I'm sure I'll get 3 more days when I go to court Friday. All in all, I consider myself lucky. I dodged a 5 year prison sentence, and I get to try a radical way of life that never would have happened if it weren't for some sorry little piss-poor piece of shit skating on a drug charge they couldn't/wouldn't do themselves. Well, instead of being bitter, I'm gonna turn a - into a + and hope the rat bitch uses their second chance to overdose or choke to death on their own vomit and do us all a solid....


In other news....Fucking Hawks!!!! 4-0. Fucking M's...71-91. Fucking Dawgs!!!! 4-0. Fucking Rain...Salmon are running up Blackjack Creek. Frankie, in an excellent example of how to be completely devoid of any wealth whatsoever, sold his drums, and bought smokes...Brilliant. Oh yeah, all of my guitars got ripped off while I was in jail, except for my Charvelle, which was in the pawnshop. Frank and Val managed, between them, to NOT extend my pawn ticket for 28 dollars, so I lost it too. Frank managed to call the wrong pawnshop and secure a guarantee of 30 extra days to pay off any loans, of which I had none.
I'm sure other things happened too, but that's all I can think of tonight....This has been all the news that's fit to spit...BDawg out.

My we live in interesting times...Happy New Year

Confucius say, "Man who makes no resolutions have very little shit to talk about around the water cooler when Christmas vacation over". Another favorite Chinese quote I found in the I Ching  AKA the China mans Book of Mormon, is a little tidbit concerning a man's duties on the last day of any year in which the animal representing that particular year, is a mammal with the ability to mate multiple times during any fertility cycle. It roughly translates to: "On the last day, of the year of the dog, a man should fuck many bitches, shit on the neighbors lawn, and lick his own balls in rabid celebration, but should show restraint in the practice of sniffing others assholes". Wow! Sound advice, passed down through the ages, and still relevant some 5000 years after it was written. Happy twenty-lucky-thirteen bitches/mutherfuckers! We enter into the Year of the Seahawk. Year of the Tube sock. Year of Garsement(garage/basement band) style of BaseRawk. Man I am feenin for a big old fat hit from the pipe of some baserawk. What? You've never tried baserawk? Oh man. If there aren't any dealers slingin it on your block, you can make your own. You buy common street level rock, like Foo Fighters or Metallica. Weak and expensive, it usually comes in powdered form. Cut many times from the studio to the street, unscrupulous middle men try anything to increase the profits. It's mixed with lactose, or gypsum, soap, sugar, other cheaper music, or even words, and sold to the next sucker. By using baking soda or ammonia to change the pH level from an acid to a base, we are also removing any contaminants, cut, impurities and rendering it into a highly concentrated, smokeable pure Rawk. BaseRawk is fast acting, portable, and easily concealed when inserted into a bra, pocket, or into a vagina. Now, you can avoid detection from the Man, the Fuzz, the Pigs or anyone who seeks to control or demoralize, or deny you your right to Fucking Rawk. Due to BaseRawk being insoluble in water, it can even be hidden in the mouth or quickly shoved up ones asshole to hide it from overbearing siblings, parents, teachers, even drug sniffing dogs. Now, I do not trust any drug sniffing dog, and I believe them to be unreliable(at best) witnesses in the courtroom, and(at worst) liars who are willing to perjure themselves if needed. Basically, as puppets for their employers, they will testify to whatever lies their masters need, as long as they get the drugs they like to pump up their insatiable snouts. I know that they're just pawns for the prosecution, a threat to the legal system, and a tumor on the brain of Lady Liberty...But this is a discussion for another time. I'm feeling like Rawking up some super chunky, evil jams, the jams that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Sounds so heavy, they could only be created in the gravitational field of a super gas giant planet, like Jupiter or Neptune, before flowing down through the galaxy's hidden dimensions, to the astral plane below, where, sucked into the wet, warm mouth of a black hole's event horizon, then into the swollen labia of a worm hole, so tight it seems to hold there forever, until finally, passionately ejaculated deep into this reality, all over the faces of eager young freaks who, from their knees, beg to be covered in the hot, sticky, sounds of (insert band name here). The very same (Insert band name here), who gained a huge following during the, "Rawk don't Roll, Pigs and snitches no show show" in 1998. The "Leave your 'tude at home or at least at the door tour", in 1999. The "Fuck and suck, do the drugs, bang your head on the floor, only then will we stop pounding Rawk down your whore tour" which was every year from 2000, through 2010. They were in hiatus for 2011, and 2012, resting and recharging, and writing new material. Almost finished recording their latest offering, the new album will be released in May, and the band hopes to build on these earlier successes by again touring all summer, supporting the new record, and reconnecting with old fans, while introducing themselves to the next generation by headlining the "Cum to your senses, Titty and Testicle Festival" which will be in all the major American cities this summer, other bands,tix and dates TBA.

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.