Author: substitute

nope

Edict

Due to recent annoyances, confusions, and minor personal emotional tragedies, I am forced to issue the following binding Law, which is to be enforced throughout the Kingdom:

People with neuroses different from mine are to be shot.

I regret any inconvenience.

Six Degrees of Matt Groening

Thanks to Aquarius Records I am the proud owner of DJ Drank’s Greatest Malt Liquor Mix, a set of St. Ides Malt Liquor ads recorded in the 90s by top rap artists and very shortly afterwards pulled off the air due to public outcry. Great, great stuff.

I was in Trader Joe’s today buying things I shouldn’t, like peanut butter filled pretzels and Irish whiskey, and I saw a familiar face. It was one of those totally out of context recognition situations, like seeing your elementary school teacher at a leather bar or something. I thought “wha..whaa…him?” and said “Hey! Did you work at Rhino Records in L.A. in the 80s?” Why yes he did, and he remembered me too. Which shows both that he’s got a great memory, and that I bought far, far too many records at the Rhino retail store during that time. My favorite record store clerk from my college years is now working at a grocery store down the street from me, 50 miles away. Yow.

I made smoked salmon quiche and an artichoke heart and tomato salad with tarragon dressing tonight, with mochi green tea ice cream to finish off. I R COOK!

Tanned, rested, and ready: he’s back

Folks, it’s time you heard about the Poor Man. Those of you from Orange County, CA already know about this. You can skip this part. The Poor Man has been adhering to the edge of the entertainment business, like a limpet, for about 25 years now. I’m 37 and he was on the radio when I was in high school 20 years ago. His real name is Jim Trenton.

The Poor Man was a radio DJ and hung out at my high school, occasionally wandering off with some 15 year old girl. He was maybe 25 then. We all hated him. He was also annoying on the radio, sort of a loudmouth self promoter that even the other DJ’s kinda disliked. He may or may not have invented the “Loveline” radio program that is now a big national TV sensation. KROQ fired him. He staggered off into the darkness but keeps reappearing like Gollum in The Lord of the Rings.

On and off for the past few years he has had a TV show called “Poor Man’s Bikini Beach” in which local girls who look ok in swimsuits cavort about, preen, and engage in “Bikini Sports”. During the show he promotes local businesses who probably gave him free food or coupons to go away. His show went off the air and is, unfortunately, back now. Here it is: http://www.poormansbikinibeach.com/

I ran into it whilst channel-surfing tonight. In case you’re curious, tonight featured a “tanning competition” sponsored by one of those spray-booth tan shops, and the “bikini sport” was “bikini sand wrestling”. There were also ads for dong-lengthening pills and $1 web hosting.

The Poor Man is now approximately 7,000 years old and continues to lech over young girls in this medium. He needs to get in the jail. Also, there is an animated version of him on the show that will eat your soul. Also, the girls on the show are bored and giggly and not at all professional. This is not their life. But it sure is HIS life.

Hugh Hefner is pretty pathetic, but at least he’s rich as hell and has a media empire which he’s leaving to his daughter. The Poor Man is a public spectacle, a Rake’s Progress of stoned beach bums. It’s like my previous employer (that’s another story for another time), except this is all he can be, or will be, or ever was. Look into those empty eyes, folks, and see Death in Paradise.

funny lj “feature”

When you host images for your LJ on your own server, and look at the logs occasionally, you can see what friend group people have you in by the referer, which LJ doesn’t hide at all.

This is probably a good reason not to put your friends in subgroups with names like “tiresome” or “former fucktoys” or “read_rarely”.

Not that I discovered I was in any groups like that, or anything!

The Barbarian Warlord Speaks

Due to the success of my previous instructions to pedestrians, today I present the second in a series of advice for Los Angeles area residents, titled:

The Barbarian Warlord’s Speech To Drivers

Gorzak Speaks.

Gorzak sees a man who parks his massive SUV diagonally in two parking spaces, because he wishes to park close to his restaurant and the spaces are small there. Gorzak sees that the man has a shiny truck which he wants to keep shiny, and that this man cares not for his fellow driver. Gorzak remembers when he was a child, that a fat boy like a milkfed pig once grabbed two wheatcakes from the fire because he was fat, and his desire for food was great. Gorzak’s father thrust the fat boy’s face into the fire, crying out “The tribe shelters no greedy thing!”, and to this day he runs with the goats, for no man will look upon his disfigured face. Park normally, goat-boy.

Gorzak Speaks.

O man who drives along the shoulder or in the merging lane on the right to pass, what thought passes in your head? All of us labor on the same road, and often the horizon seems distant, the road long, and the dust chokes us. But what good is it to run along the right side, like a foolish puppy, when in a matter of a moth’s wing-flap the road vanishes, and you must merge? Then every man’s face is turned from you, and the tribe thrusts a spear in your face, and the dust and corruption of the unpaved shoulder is yours. Hear and heed Gorzak’s word: the road belongs to all men, and all men wait in their turn to move forward.

Gorzak Speaks:

O Man out on a Friday night date, the world is yours to enjoy! Take your woman to enjoy a fine meal, or some entertainment, and show her your wealth. Perhaps then she shall be yours. But do not use your car as some club to beat us with. No woman cleaves to a man because he pushes others to one side with a machine, or races madly through the intersection against a waning light. These things bring fear and anger to her heart, and she will never soften for you. And what would you say should a stronger tribesman grow wrathful and cast you from your chariot for your foolishness? Who will then gain your fair lady’s hand? Rather, you should carry her lightly and swiftly to your destination, waving along every other man, so that she sees nobility and grace in your visage, and not the twisted snarl of an ass-clown.

Gorzak Speaks:

O lady of great castles, aloft the top of your full-sized SUV, why do you dally and speak on the telephone so? Others have great burdens to carry over mountain and desert, or terrible charges laid upon them to be on their way with swiftness. Whole tribes wait for their food, and messengers fleet of foot seek to bring tidings throughout the land. But you tarry and giggle and weave about in your vast chariot as you talk about useless things with your chambermaid. Such was the fall of the Castle of Aaargh, when Lady Aaargh did fritter away her time on her telephone and backed her Excursion into an attorney. Heed her fate, for no lady of Sherman Oaks should end her life in the stocks for dithering with many tons of steel.

Gorzak has spoken.