In less emergent news...

I should've mentioned this sooner, but Mentis playing FROGGER in the car park kinda diverted my attention.

2 retail exams, plus x-rays, and guess what we learned about the innards of my two spoiled-rotten, sublimely-overweight feline overlords?

Still owe the vet $75 after all of the kind and generous donations of Scott (WO'C), Unidiversal Susan & my Olympia bud Tom. And guess what we've learned after a month of barely-eating, barely-shitting, and lethargically ripping my heart out through my nose with worry?

BUPKIS. I shit y'all not, and in this case, I mean that literally. THERE WAS NOTHING IN THERE. No visible growths, bleeding, leakage, giant clog of festering hairballs plugging-up the works or any other forms of cloggage. Clean as the prototypical whistle, if it were wrapped in 16 or 20 pounds of gelatinous, hairy cat. (go ahead, guys, make the "gelatinous, hairy CAT" jokes now, I don't mind, I'm too tired...) I spent a large chunk of the donation money on acquiring the non-gourmet canned food recommended by another vet of long acquaintance (but who no longer actually PRACTICES, as he's found a way to get twit yuppies to pay him $300/hour to do PHONE CONSULTATIONS over what macrobiotic diet they should be feeding their peekapoos or weinerdoodles or what the fuck ever the Boutique-Of-The-Week pet that they've got!) and a big-assed bag of dry food for the outdoor cats/semi-ferals here @ L'Hotel du Fucktards. Everything else, I gave to Dr. Liz, and I'm still in debt up to my tits. Have run out of laundry quarters to buy cigarettes, too.

BUT IT WAS STILL WORTH IT. I'm sorry to have dragged the rest of y'all along with me, in my trying-not-to-break-down-crying-like-a-dumbassed-sot-with-worry freakout, not to mention having made a huge dent in several people's pocketbooks, only to find out that the damned cats are FINE, but to still have no explanation as to WHY they skeered the shit outta ME for a month. When I can, I'm gonna try to find somebody to scan the x-rays into a computer for me, so y'all can see my fatassed cats from the inside, as there's apparently nothing in there more dangerous than high cholesterol and one hairball that's congealed since I stopped the hairball treats.

The food-to-output ratio is still bizarrely out of joint, and yes, FALLEN UTERUS (metaphorically, I would NEVER inflict HER or HER KIND upon Y'ALL, 'cause Y'ALL actually LOVE ME), I *have* looked into and under every piece of furniture, nook, cranny & hidey-hole in all 420 square feet of my cell here @ L'Hotel du Fucktards AND HAVE NOT FOUND ONE SINGLE FURTIVE, STRAY, OR HIDDEN CAT TURD. 'Cause of COURSE, I couldn't possibly have SMELLED IT ON MY OWN, RIGHT. Couldn't be more thrilled, as the lights go on and off twice in 18 hours, for MERE THUNDERSTORMS, that those fat illiterate, hate-filled bastards gave me all of a WEEK to find a fucking PLACE TO LIVE before they put my shit out onto the street.

And despite their "family" legend (LIE) that I'm THE filthiest, most-unworthy excuse for a "woman" on the fucking planet (as I do NOT equate hausfrau "work" with "MORAL WORTH," and can think of a BILLION TRILLION THINGS THAT I'D RATHER DO, than worry about what OTHER MOTHERFUCKERS "THINK" of the way that I decorate, cook, store, think, act, speak, emote, express, or BE. They won't eat the meals I've cooked for their ignorant, ungrateful, arrogant-enough-to-attempt-condescension, palate-of-a-dead-GOAT ASSES, they rarely if ever set foot into my "filthy hovel" here @ the CRACK WHORE & CHILD-MOLESTER GHETTO where THEY FORCED ME TO LIVE, and amongst them and their obese gang of useless-as-tits-on-a-boar-hog pseudo "thugs" {playground bullies, minus the vocabulary}, the "family story" is that *I* am "the disgusting one. Remind me to post pictures as references, y'all might lose yer lunches.), it is not actually the case. Y'all have seen the pictures, y'all know me, you decide who might be lying their fat, ass-licking pustulent faces off.

ANYWAY, the cats ARE eating now, especially demanding the canned food, even though the dry food has more nutritive value, greens, and fiber, they're putting out SOME "output," they're moving more often than the tectonic plates now, and even SPEAKING on rare occasions (generally as I'm opening the canned food), which they never do here @ L'Hotel du Fucktards. I've grown them a fresh batch of kitty-grass, and they are tearing that shit UP. So I'd say that the prognosis is good, but their aging has thrown us a curve ball, or a left-handed U-ey on Tulane Avenue in afternoon-drive traffic, and that it'll take at least as long to get them back up to par as it did for them to get into this situation, what EVER in the FUCK it is/was/shall be.

Thank y'all all again and again, and as useless as it is to say it, if I ever hit that damned powerball, we are gonna RAISE SOME HELL, have no doubt. I'm tempted to put the old farts outside to duke it out with Lex Luthor & Bob, for having yanked me like that, but not in this weather, they're too old & wussified for that. As am I.

...and in the EVEN MORE FUN department... part 2

... Instead of hocking-up those nasty, slimy, turd-looking wads of pure disgusting as their highly-inefficient digestive systems are supposed to do, the mineral oil & other stuff in the hairball-treatment treats are supposed to shove the hairballs down into the digestive system, so that they wind-up semi-digested and in the litterbox, instead of cold & slimy on your floor, right where you put your foot when you get out of bed in the morning or afternoon. And apparently, after 11-plus years of these things, and then being moved back indoors when transferred here to L'Hotel du Fucktards, despite the multiple supplements, indoor treats, and overpriced cat-grass-growing kits, they've formed some sort of hairball PLUG somewhere in their digestive tracts.

I'm at my wit's end, I've tried everything from low-power dulcolax to vegetable oil to salad greens to things you do NOT want me to describe. Aging sucks, in other words. And not just for humans. And while my vet's office has been kind enough to give me advice over the phone, I don't think that that's going to be enough. I don't want my babies to wind-up dying like that beautiful orange-sherbet-colored boy who was starved & run-over by a car, because I'm not a veterinarian.
I am going to try to get them to the LSU Vet School, (the heroic people who did SO much good work during & after Katrina) to see if they have sliding-scale rates for people on fixed incomes, because they have x-ray equipment and other technology not readily available up here in Hillbilly HellHole. The last thing I need right now is to lose my chirrens. They've hardly eaten over the past 2.5 weeks, they've not produced anything but urine and tiny BBs of solid waste, and that is not a good thing. Sorry to gross y'all out with the cat details, I do understand that not everybody on the innernets is a cat person or ever wants to know anything ABOUT a cat's digestive system or the grosser aspects of cats with Maine Coon blood in 'em.

And yes, I've noticed how often I've pan-handled for help over the past six months, and it is not something that I'm proud of, by any means. If I could get a part-time job just to subsidize my cats and the semi-ferals outside (who've run out of food early this month and are now eating into Biddy & Boy's food), believe me, I'd do it in a fucking heartbeat. As soon as I can get my neck surgically fixed. Yeah, we've got ANOTHER one coming up, so y'all M.O.B. bloggers who've been taking it easy around here better get off yer asses pretty shortly and start contributing, 'cause Annti won't be around as much, after we get it scheduled somewhere OTHER THAN Our Lady Of Perpetual Bigotry. "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, fool me three times... well, you can't get fooled again." So to speak.

Thanks for listening/reading, and as always, for being my friends. Your help has never been forgotten or taken for granted. I wish that I could promise to pay all of y'all back, but barring a powerball hit, I don't see that happening in the foreseeable future.

Happy motherfucking tenth anniversary, you cocksucking crack whore.

I'm moving half of the M.O.B. post over here, in order to make more room for others to post. Here it is, along with a very prescient link (thanks to Mentis) about what Murkin teenagers "think" about the Rihanna-V-Chris-Teh-Little-Bitch-Brown-BEAT-DOWN. Yup, we've raised a whoooooole assload of geniuses, I hope that every one of you fucking breeders is PROUD of your cunt-spooge. You've taught them that women don't count for SHIT, except as PROPERTY OF MEN. Nice job.
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Yes, it happened to me, to Anntichrist S. Coulter, before I WAS Anntichrist S. Coulter, back when I was still the Rantress of the Faubourg Marigny and the Maple Leaf uptown. Right after the sarcoidosis diagnosis and the brain-poisoning of a prednisone & vicodin cocktail, I met that lowlife piece of shit. I was stupid. I was stubborn. I saw it coming, but lied to myself that I was "tough enough" to handle it. Hell, I didn't even know that the motherfucker was ON CRACK, I thought that he was just a REALLY BAD ALCOHOLIC, and fuck, I'd dealt with alcoholics all of my fucking life!

So for every woman AND every man who thinks that it can NEVER happen to them, gay, straight, transgender, bisexual, whatever, HERE'S PROOF THAT IT CAN. And those little bubble-brained republicunt biatches of Access Hollywood can suck my euphemistic cock for their condescending attempt at "Relationship Violence Awareness Month," what the fuck ever they're calling it. It's more like watching vultures pick at the bones of the dead, as they get their voyeuristic little chubbies, not talking about SELF-DEFENSE, or HOW TO AVOID THIS SHIT, but merely by playing-back old interview clips of celebrity women who'd been beaten in the past. And yes, there are about twelve different sexual paraphilias about getting wood over seeing women with giant bruises and other physical damage, and to me, that's what "AH" is doing. They're doing a big ol' circle-jerk over these women's lacerations and broken bones, and calling it "activism."

Remind me later to show y'all the form letter that the little cunts sent me, THREE WEEKS AFTER THE FACT, because I'd written a nice little hissy-fit to their website over that little pocket-sized republicunt blow-pop-head Billy Bush AUTOMATICALLY DEFENDING CHRIS MOTHERFUCKING BROWN.
And when I have the attention span, I intend to post the rants & poems that I wrote after it happened to me. Share this link with your friends, because FAKERS have no right to claim that they "give a fuck" about domestic violence, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE NOT TEACHING A FUCKING THING, but making an assload of money off of it.

(And yes, I'd give both of my gravitationally-challenged tits to see my queen, Tina Turner, kick the living shit out of the aforementioned pocket-sized blow-pop-headed republicunt boy. She's too classy to do it, I know, she's got too much of a LIFE to bother with his type, but I'd still love to see it happen.)
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(Original M.O.B. Storage Space post follows)

These are the evidenciary photos that made sure that the aforementioned cocksucking crack whore did more than "probation and counseling," since I was the first woman who actually PRESSED CHARGES on that schizophrenic piece of shit (yeah, apparently, I attract them like Lenny & Squiggy attracted women "like a maggot!"). He'd beaten numerous others before me, as to him, women were only created to support slimebags like him whilst they are going out to suck dicks to support their crack habits. But somehow, none of them ever bothered to send his ass to jail. Not that he hadn't enjoyed the hospitality of Orleans Parish Prison before, some of his favorite boyfriends & massahs were there, and I'm sure that it was a joyous reunion when he went back for the gigantic NINE MONTHS that he did for trying to KILL ME, as the State Of Louisiana didn't even bother to ARRAIGN HIM for STEALING MY FUCKING CAR AND DESTROYING THE TRANSMISSION, as they had, and I fucking quote, "MORE IMPORTANT cases to worry about." They gave the little bitch a SUSPENDED SENTENCE for the car theft & destruction, he was never even called before a judge, nor did the state do ITS fucking job of NOTIFYING ME as to the dispensation of the fucking case. They never even CALLED ME to find out WHAT ACTUALLY WENT DOWN, or that he'd tried to MURDER ME before he stole my fucking car AND my Pentax camera.

Today is the 10th anniversary of said beat-down, and anybody who thinks that I've wasted space here or on M.O.B., talking about Rihanna and that misogynistic little closet-case Chris Brown, can just keep scrolling down and see why domestic violence IS WORTH TALKING ABOUT.

I was on steroids and vicodins when I met this piece of shit at the Dungeon. I'd gained 30 pounds in the first month on prednisone, and had had a horrible night at the Dragon's Den, because most of the regular crowd had gone "home" for the "holidays," and some fatuous, drunk little woman-hating frat-boy had made a point of clapping over me as I was reading my poem/rant for the week, because obviously, to show respect for the people onstage would make him somehow "less important." Gee, I wonder why his mommy & daddy didn't want HIS little hatemongering ass at home for the "holidays"...
Anyway, it only took a few weeks for this to happen. I tried to ditch him all night and all morning, but he wouldn't go the fuck away. And being fragile and chemically-fucked, I took that as a compliment, when I should've realized that he was no more than a fucking barnacle. Whilst the rest of New Orleans was enjoying their Twelfth Night frivolities, I was almost-believing the shuck-and-jive bullshit from this illiterate freak. I didn't buy his cover story, it was TOO fucking ridiculous, but everybody at my job thought that I *was* that fucking stupid. I just didn't fucking CARE. I was lonesome and, again, chemically stupid; I just liked having a housepet.

The most humiliating part isn't that he tried to beat me to death while I was flat on my back in the bed (in my pitch-darkened bedroom, as I was working overnights), talking to my Nannie on the phone. It is what started her on her way to a death of colon cancer, but it's not the most humiliating part. It's the part that ages me every fucking day of my life, because I will never stop missing her, but it's not the most humiliating part.

Nope, the most humiliating part was that I saw all of the fucking signs of domestic abuse, of oncoming violence, COMING RIGHT AT ME LIKE A TWO-ENGINE LOCOMOTIVE, and ignored them.

I was "tough enough" to handle this. I was stronger (mentally, anyway) than him, that stereotypical Lifetime network movie-of-the-week shit didn't apply to ME. I've been through hard, horrific shit all of my life, there was nothing that this dork could throw at me that I couldn't "handle."

Or so I thought.

These are only the face & head injuries. I've never scanned the other evidenciary photos into my computer because they're way too fucking private. Let's just say that there are parts of the body that should NEVER be hurt.

So for those bobble-headed twinkies at Access Hollywood and every other tabloid douchebag who IMMEDIATELY DEFENDED that little cocksucker Chris Brown, LOOK AT THESE FUCKING PICTURES AND TELL ME HOW RIHANNA "DESERVED IT." Tell me how in the fuck that I fucking "deserved" this shit. Yeah, I *was* stupid. I was stubborn. I lost my last radio job because of this psychotic fuck THREATENING MY CO-WORKERS. But I have never done ANYTHING to "deserve" THIS. No woman or man ever has, when it comes from some lying scumbag, especially when that scumbag is a fucking JUNKIE (I had never been around crack whores in my own HOUSE before, I thought that he was just a really bad alcoholic, and hell, I GREW UP WITH THAT.) who pretends to "love" them.

THIS. IS. NOT. LOVE.

And a pox upon the heads of every cocksucker and lowlife bitch who "convinced" (bullied) Rihanna to "reunite" with that little bitch-boy Brown. May you all die of a flaming case of rotchercockoff, you record-label scum, management weasels, and other assorted douchebags of the "entertainment" industry.

Late-night ruminations upon Teh Octopussy & other destructions of womanhood...

Well, it's pretty easy to figure out WHY "Access Hollywood" (predatory fucking VULTURES that they are, the republicunt blow-pop-headed motherfuckers) "refused" to keep reporting on every dribble to ooze out of Octopussy's HOV-Lane cunt. Because "Entertainment Tonight" got the EXCLUSIVE. Every single motherfucking day, they are subjecting the public to that pretentious, ignorant-assed, sociopathic, fetish-obsessed, plastic-surgery-mutant, phony-assed FREAK.

I can NOT be the only person who's noticed how much Nadya's fake voice (I dunno whom she hired for "elocution lessons," but they RIPPED HER THE FUCK OFF) SOUNDS LIKE A HALF-ASSED, LOW-RENT IMPRESSION OF CAROL CHANNING!???!?! I finally figured it out, THAT'S why her enunciation is SO fucking CREEPY!!! Carol should sue. Though Octopussy should have already sued her strip-mall plastic "surgeons" for those giant vagina-lips on her rearranged face.

And the last comment on the pop-culture paparazzi parasites: "Access Hollywood" has instituted, first time ever, "Abuse Awareness Month," as a cover for their bone-pickingly prurient JOY at discussing the Rihanna beat-down and none-too-subtle SUPPORT for that woman-beating little closet-case BITCH Chris Brown.

This has nothing to do with STOPPING domestic violence, it is not intended to TEACH ANYONE how to recognize and get the fuck OUT of an abusive relationship, it is nothing but getting-their-sick-twisted-rocks-off-on-hospital-pictures voyeurism. They run 10 to 20-second clips of various celebrities (and the gawdess/force of nature known as Tina Turner) "confessing" their "abuse stories," but do they put it into any kind of context, or even try to make those VERY random clips somehow RELEVANT to what that little girl Rihanna is going through? Fuck no. It's just another parasitic-bottom-feeder frothing-at-the-mouth feeding frenzy, getting little chubbies over pictures of women with bruised, swollen, lacerated, and bleeding faces. And yes, there IS a distinct sexual-paraphilia definition for that sexual fetish, and a former "friend," a stealth sexist who fooled me for a LONG damned time, made sure to take THIRTY POLAROID PHOTOS of his own wife's face after she'd had sinus/nose/septum surgery, BECAUSE HE GOT HARD OVER THE BRUISES. I shit y'all not. Why I didn't follow my gut and get way the fuck away from that platonic prick, I have no idea. It was the 1990s, we were supposed to be "tolerant" of EVERYBODY'S kinks, whether they were healthy/humane or not. Supposedly.

Anyway, back to there's-nothing-the-fuck-on-over-the-rabbit-ears department: That little toy-sized, blow-pop-headed republicunt misogynist Billy Bush was EVER so pompous and holier-than-thou about "dropping" the Octopussy coverage, and YET, the very fucking NIGHT OF the beat-down that the little PRISON BITCH Chris Brown put on Rihanna, HE (Bush) was the FIRST MOTHERFUCKER ON EARTH to AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME that the "man" (man, my ass!) was RIGHT and that the "girl" (his word) was TRYING TO RUIN CHRIS BROWN'S MOTHERFUCKING CAREER.

Yeah, thaaaaaaaaaaaaat's why she almost lost a retina, will probably have to have reconstructive surgery, and pressed the fucking charges. To fuck up HIS career. Y'all just wait and watch: if she goes back to him, they'll probably ENCOURAGE it, the media, the record labels, the radio douchebags, insisting that she APOLOGIZE to him for calling the cops. If the sickening supermarket tabloid "magazines" are lying, as always, and she DOESN'T go back to that woman-hating little maggot, then SHE is the one who'll be BLACKBALLED off of her label and out of the business. Y'all just wait. Yes, Tina overcame her enslavement to Ike, and became a thousand times the SUPERSTAR that that old chitlin-circuit PIG could ever even ASPIRE TO; because she was TINA FUCKING TURNER. Just anybody would never achieve what she has, because far too many women will never achieve her level of wisdom, drive, or character. I can only hope that her example will help spare other women her pain.

Whatever happens to Rihanna, I hope that she is safe, that she has LEARNED from this, and that she will NEVER let that dog-fucking piece of shit back into her life, ever the fuck again. I hope that she gets the medical and psychological/emotional treatment that she surely needs, to have stayed with that abusive fuck THIS LONG (the Grammys beat-down was NOT the first, nor was she the first woman he ever hit). I don't know how she was raised, or what kind of world she grew up in, but I hope to FUCK AND BACK that her Mama or Aunt or friends or SOMEBODY will explain to her just how fucking special, precious, and valuable that she and her life ARE, and that NO motherfucker, no matter how rich or connected or whatever he is, NO MOTHERFUCKER IS WORTH SACRIFICING YOUR VERY FUCKING LIFE. Period.

When it happened to me, the love died the minute that his fist made contact. I got one helluva beatdown, but I dealt out a good few shots my damned shelf, once my lungs & skull stopped screaming and my leg came up to kick the motherfucker off of me. I hope, that for Rihanna, that her youth and her obvious craving for male attention/approval will not hold her back, the way that it has Formerly Blonde Niece, who sacrificed her child's life/brain/spinal cord to an abusive green-card douchebag piece of shit. They (she and oldest niece) grew up watching their "father" and Psycho-Cunt mother duking it out, fists through walls, fists into faces, furniture flying, you fucking name it, FOR SIXTEEN FUCKING YEARS. I've done everything that I could to teach all of those girls (including their cousins) THAT IT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THAT WAY. Obviously, I have been a very poor example, judging from some of the girls' taste in/dependency upon males (they are NOT "men") who have to keep them on the short leash, forever humiliated and abused. That's why this Rihanna thing pisses me off so much --- not just because of the slimy, parasitic, predatory, perverted fucking way that "teh pop culture" are manipulating the story and the situation --- but because that little girl could easily be one of my nieces. She deserves way the fuck better, and so do they.

And I hope that Harvey Levin, Billy Bush, Mary Hart, Maria Menunos, all of those fucking NEMATODES, die of long, slow, painful, invasive deaths of ass cancer and disintegrating bones. They sure as HELL don't possess hearts or spines, the greedy whores.

As if we needed FURTHER proof that HUMANS FUCKING ***SUCK***...

There's this:

Found this pretty boy when I went out today to feed the semi-ferals here @ L'Hotel du Fucktards; somebody had dumped him in the parking lot, and he'd dragged himself over to the bushes @ the property line. Shattered right hip joint, huge to-the-bone cut on front paw, highly infected, obviously some dickhead hit him with a car. But the worst part is that he's been STARVED FOR MONTHS, you can SEE every bone in his body, but he's totally tame and affectionate and purred the whole time I've held him and tended to him. He wasn't thrilled when I soaked him in the kitchen sink (warm salt water), to get all of the dried blood, feces & mud out of his wounds & fur, not to mention half of the fucking ticks on the PLANET, and it breaks my heart when I make him cry, but it had to be done. No idea what in the fuck to do now, sure as hell can't afford to take him to the vet, and she does NOT do pro-bono work. Hoping that Elaine, the other Cat Haven lady, can take him, as she has some good vets who might tend to him for cheap or free.

Have I mentioned that humans fucking SUCK?!?!?!?!?!!!!

Not only did some sociopathic psycho-cunt STARVE THIS SWEET, LOVING CAT FOR ***MONTHS***, they fucking RAN HIM OVER, and when THAT didn't kill him, they DITCHED HIM *HERE,* FOR ME, as always, TO CLEAN UP THEIR FUCKING MESS.
This is not a feral cat, this is an indoor cat, who's been raised by people and lived with people for the majority of his life. He's at least 7 years old, judging from his teeth, so he's NEVER been treated right. When you can not only FEEL the bones but SEE THEM POKING UP THROUGH HIS FUR, he's been TORTURED. Enclosed, starved, and utterly bereft of comfort or security. It's not bad enough that we have sick motherfuckers in this country (and yes, especially in this STATE) who will trade their kids for a fucking COCKATOO, who will kill TODDLERS and DROP THEM INTO A RUBBERMAID CONTAINER AND THROW HER INTO THE FUCKING GULF OF MEXICO, oh, no, that's not enough for the SEVERELY DERANGED INBRED MOUTH-BREATHING REDNECK REPUBLICUNT MOTHERFUCKERS TO GET THEIR SADISTIC ROCKS OFF. No, they have to use ANIMALS as fucking TARGETS. Look into this boy's eyes: Even in this much pain, before I could even medicate him, he's got nothing but love to give.

I retired from the cat bidness for a fucking REASON, and that reason is that I'm not "allowed" to hunt-down and torture to death the paramecium-brained CUM-FARTS who DO THIS TO HELPLESS ANIMALS.

I'm not a vet, dammit, I am not trained nor equipped nor fiscally able to take care of injuries like this. I just hope that I've been able to comfort him and take away some of the pain for a little while, until I can find somebody who can truly fix him up. I'M A LIBERAL ARTS MAJOR, GAWDDAMMIT, I AM NOT TRAINED FOR THIS SHIT. And it's the RESPONSIBILITY of the parish, the town, and the gawddamned CASTE-SYSTEM *STATE* TO TAKE CARE OF ANIMALS, not broke-ass nobodies like me. But of course, here in Hillbilly HellHole, NOBODY GIVES A FUCK ABOUT ANIMALS, THEY'RE JUST HERE FOR THE MOUTH-BREATHERS' AMUSEMENT, or the dick-substitute/enhancement of KILLING THEM to supposedly "eat," when 90% of the yuppie-scum hunters who come up here from Baton Redneck Republicunt Rouge are TROPHY HUNTERS who just wanna get drunk and shoot guns. Far be it from any of THOSE motherfuckers to try and TAKE CARE OF ANIMALS, nor the mayor, nor the D.A., nor the idiotic excuse for "cops" who don't even know that THERE ARE LAWS AGAINST ANIMAL CRUELTY ON THE FUCKING ***BOOKS***. And don't even get me fucking STARTED on the embezzling, slave-labor-exploiting, alcoholic-moron "SHERIFF." Cocksuckers.

Anyway, that's all the rant I have time for tonight, I gotta do a full-body tick-check and take a long, hot bath. I didn't see any spotted ticks on the injured cat, but you can't take any chances, and I'm sure as HELL not going to let MY babies get infested. Here are the rest of the pictures, before and after my meager attempts at first-aid. And yes, there's a point to the recycled plastic grocery bag: He wouldn't let me keep his back leg in the sling, in order to immobilize the shattered or dislocated hip, so I put the sling back on, taped it together, and then tied the whole hindquarter up in the plastic bag, to keep him from pulling the sling (a hospital tie-on ice pack being repurposed). Cats fucking HATE to have plastic in their mouths, they hate plastic period, unless it's a toy that they can gut, so I'm hoping that the bag will keep him from aggravating that hip joint and the lacerated foot. The front foot is well-bandaged and doused in neosporin, and he doesn't seem to be messing with it or gnawing it off, so hopefully the wound won't abscess while it's bandaged.

If y'all EVER catch anybody doing this to a cat or dog or gnu or zebra or whatever, KILL THOSE LOWLIFE MOTHERFUCKERS FOR ME. Way too many fertile cats & dogs in this country, but far MORE too many EVIL, ANIMAL-TORTURING SO-CALLED "HUMANS", and we need to thin THEIR fucking herds.

And yes, I know that human beings the world over are having as bad or worse inflicted upon them by the oil-company thugs of Blackwater, Halliburton, Shaw Group, Bechtel, jack-leg "mercenaries," genocidal maniacs, pirates, illegitimate "governments," and worse. I know that there are millions of people, men, women and children, in damned near every country on this planet, who are being tortured, exploited, raped, mutilated, murdered, and even worse than THAT, every fucking day that rolls around. I do not say that their suffering, the injustice that they suffer, is in any way less than or less important than the beastly inhumanities that I have seen truly demented motherfuckers inflict upon animals. But right now, this is what's in my lap. I haven't read a paper today or any news headlines, and couldn't give a flying frog fuck about what Piyush and his offspring are doing at motherfucking DisneyWorld right now. I'm so fucking enraged, and still feel completely helpless, because I don't have the money to get this poor boy's injuries fixed, and because THERE IS ***NO*** ANIMAL CONTROL IN THIS NOW-"BEDROOM COMMUNITY" REPUBLICUNT SUBURB THAT ISN'T EVOLVED ENOUGH TO GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANIMALS, BUT THEY CAN BUILD A TACKY-ASSED NEW SUBDIVISION EVERY GAWDDAMNED WEEK. Clear-cutting primeval forests to build another fucking Walgreen's? Hey, no problem. Re-zoning and destroying poor people's homes in order to widen U.S. 61 to make life MORE CONVENIENT for the newly-fled yuppie scum of Baton Rouge to return to their Hillbilly HellHole McMansions? You betcha!

But to give a fuck about animals who have been deliberately starved, abused, mutilated, murdered or damned close? Nope, sorry, we just don't give a fuck. Period. It's not that the town, the parish and the state DON'T HAVE THE MONEY, it's just NOT IN THEIR GROWTH PLANS. Financing expansions for fucking CHURCHES, so that they can re-enact the Spanish Inquisition on homeless people or poor people who just need a fucking MEAL? Oh, sure, why not?! Actually GIVING A FUCK ABOUT ANYBODY OUTSIDE OF THE TARGET YUPPIE-SCUM DEMOGRAPHIC? Impossible.

I don't imagine that anybody wonders anymore why I've been trying to get outta here for 38 years, huh.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 02-15-09

When you click on the title link, you will see the programming schedule for a semi-independent/CW station in the New Iberia/Lafayette/Lake Charles region, which reaches across the Atchafayala Basin & Mississippi to my 10-year-old rabbit-ears TV.

When you're up & about in the wee small hours, as I am wont to do, you flip through the channels, looking for some pleasant or at least none-offensive babble to play in the background as you're online, doing physical therapy homework, attempting artsy-fartsy shit, doing the most useless and pointless activity on earth (housework), whatever. I don't put my Netflix in when there's at least ONE show on that's not an infomercial, because when I watch my movies/documentaries/AbFab & related Britcom episodes, I don't want to miss what I'm actually watching, if I were doing PT or typing slowly or whatever.

Sometimes, I really regret that I keep the TV on, or that I keep it on certain stations. What they don't tell you in the weekly scheduling pages is what those infomercials are gonna BE.

I'm sure that I'm not the first person, nor will I be the last, to be blown out of my chair by the sheer idiocy, lunacy, shitty dentures, creepy voice, or utter unstoppable BULLSHIT known as L.Ron Hubbard. Up until this point, my interactions with "scientology" have purposefully been kept to the bare minimum that I'd need to know in order to know to avoid those people at any cost. Yes, several dozen of them showed up at the Parker Coliseum "to help" the LSU Vet School staff, students & volunteers during & after Katrina, and that was appreciated. That none of these fluffy little twits could differentiate their own asses from a hole in the ground was NOT appreciated, especially by those of us who were dropping off supplies and they didn't even know what that MEANT. The "Lay Ministers" were truly more useless than tits on a boar hog, and if you don't know what that means, look it up. I myself am more than grateful to the wonderful people of the Vet School, especially the lady who was actually RUNNING that major-league operation (yes, far too many pets were abandoned; even more were murdered by gun-happy rednecks in CHALMETTE, who got off SCOT-MOTHERFUCKING-FREE for that massacre, but the folks @ LSU & at Lamar-Dixon in Gonzales went above and beyond the call of duty to try and save every single damned animal that they could.). The same day that the FUCKTARDS FROM FEMA showed up, requisitioned their ENTIRE OPERATING BUDGET (which I don't think is even remotely fucking LEGAL), I showed-up with another truckload of the donations that y'all generated, along with a respectably-sized wad of cash, and I've never in my life seen ANYONE so happy to see me. FEMA and the Homeland Security (uber alles!) twinks were fucking it ALLLLLL up, so we helped, at least for that day.

But of course, I digress.

I'm flipping channels for background noise tonight as I'm reading e-mails, making dinner, attempting artsy-craftsy shit in order to eventually regain some of the dexterity & hand strength that I've lost to the herniated disk in my neck. Used to be able to do all kinds of artsy-fartsy shit, now I'm truly useless. Used to be able to type 70wpm, now can barely do 20, counting typos. But that's not the point, I'm all over the fucking map tonight.

The above-linked schedule might disappear before too long, as they are like SiteMeter, they roll their schedule pages over as soon as they need a new one, rather than archiving. And what you will see in the 1A slot reads "Infomercial," as I'm sure that the uber-catholic ownership & management of KLWB would not want there to be EVIDENCE that they're taking money to disseminate the batshit-crazy ramblings of a disgustingly-pretentious, half-educated, certifiably-nuts bourgie wannabe such as L-Ron. His "interviewer," obviously a convert, is British, so L-Ron likes to throw in words like "mate," "vit-a-mins" (short "i" in the British pronunciation) and similar affectations.
Now, I make no bones about the fact that I have very little control over my language & accent adaptations; if I talked to my Nannie for 5 minutes, after years of radio training to the contrary, it was like I was right back in Klan Central and had never left. So I understand when I or other people's ACCENTS change (though yes, "Madge" pushed that shit way beyond the pale), but when their VOCABULARY pretends (or portends) to "adapt" to present company or the imagined audience, then they come off as the slimiest kind of used car salesman. Kinda like a "missionary" or "w***a" wannabe going "down to the hood," and adopting caucasian ebonics. It's one thing if you live there, it's a whole other fucking thing if you're a TOURIST.

All of that blathering to say this: GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE BRAIN. IT HURTS. I CAN FEEL IT BLEEDING!!!!!!

The Dianetics commercials were the ONE form of benign "mail-fraud," impersonation, or mail-in-coupon harassment that I have NEVER inflicted upon ANYBODY, be they friend, becoming-former-friend, or even a royal asshole who was so catholic that he was AFRAID OF EATING PUSSY. I don't know why; if they weren't running commercials when I needed new ammo, or if it was an intrinsic reaction of avoidance. But trust me, if I ever do get back into my "practical joke" phase (it's so hard nowadays to SHOCK anybody, especially MY friends, and you have to find the right flavor of freaky for each potential victim), I WILL ***NEVER*** INFLICT SCIENTOLOGISTS UPON ANYONE. Those glazed-over eyes just skeer the living shit outta me. And not just L-Ron's, either.

I'll never understand how a half-assed excuse for a sci-fi writer, who blamed psychiatry for all of his problems (when the proper application thereof might have saved the world SO much agony...), who couldn't even get properly-fitted teeth (I know, I should talk about bad teeth, but for fuck's sake, if you can con THOUSANDS of people into joining your uber-batshit cult, you oughta be able to afford a REAL DENTIST!!!), but had to hiss THROUGH THEM with every syllable, how in the HELL he convinced people around the world to buy-into this bullshit, I will never understand. Granted, he didn't have the heavily-armed colonizing forces of the RCC, the apeshit colonists of the Puritans, or the OBSCENE money power of the lizard-licking mormons, so it's gotta be a really GOOD line of bullshit (or there are a helluva LOT of stupid motherfuckers out in the world, who are now inordinately-confident assholes whose "confidence" is in no way proportional to their actual abilities or intellect) to get worldwide like the Jeehovers and the skinny black ties on bicycles. Prolly won't ever amass the fortune to truly compete with the juice-and-crackers crowd, but they are growing in numbers that do skeer the living shit outta me.

Somebody please tell me, that after having suffered through that "interview" that provided fewer actual answers than every press conference Dumbya ever did COMBINED, that there's going to be some kind of space-alien "RAPTURE" for the scientologists. Please tell me that they have a Nikes-and-purple-scarf "OUT" planned at some point. Somebody, anybody, please tell me that these freaks are NOT going to be colonizing the entire fucking PLANET. It's hard enough being one of THREE atheists in this entire hillbilly hellhole parish, I do NOT need shit shoved under my apartment door, telling me about the teeny-tiny aliens who "live in my bloodstream." I hope to hell that their "mother ship" really DOES show up and fucking SOON.

And yes, there will be people who will call me a bigot and hate me because I've probably named their personal cult in the above rant. I can't help that. I could lie, and say that the genocide, misogyny, forced ignorance, moneychangers-in-the-fucking-temple aspects to those cults DON'T bother me, and that I don't really "mean" the bad things that I say about those cults.

But I'm not gonna.

So if anybody wants to stop "liking" or "loving" me because of what I've said here, go forth and be. Won't be the first time, won't be the last. Fuck, I'm hardly an atheist scholar of any type, I'll never be Madalyn Murray O'Hair, but I know what I know, and I know that invisible sky-fairies ain't done SHIT for ANYBODY on this planet. L-Ron says that religion's "purpose" is to "make people better." That's the ripest shit that I've smelled since the last time I had to muck a horse stall. Religion's purpose is to CONTROL PEOPLE, which is why reich-wing regimes ENJOY keeping the proletariat all culted-up and obedient to whatever Flying Spaghetti Monster-wannabe that massah sez to worship.
Whatever your baggage or pain is, no matter whose fault it is, only you can fix it. Nobody is going to do it for you, and no invisible sky-fairy is going to "make" you a better person. If the only reason that you do good works is because a 4,000-year-old book of fairy-tales "told" you to do them, then fuck you. Do it because it's the RIGHT FUCKING THING TO DO. Not because you've been promised a McMansion in a "heaven" where you'll never be fat, depressed, asinine, ignorant, poor or hungry again. Hate to break it to y'all, but that real estate ain't there, and you will never see it. Just hope that you get lucky and the chemical electricity in your brains goes to a nice end of the universe, if it ever escapes this planet. I'd like to be a poltergeist, myself. WAY too much fun to be had there. Can't say that it'll actually happen; for all I know, I'm just more fish food (my ashes will be dumped in the Mississippi & the Atlantic after I donate whatever few organs are still functional). But I'd dearly enjoy the chance to fuck with a few of those who'll be "left behind." Heh. Take that however you wanna, it's funny either way.

WHAT. THA. FUCK.

First off, we all know about my entire fucked-up life of "interacting" with males (you wouldn't call them "men," either), from molestation to beat-down to closet-case misogynist (open about hating women, closeted about sucking dick) who got evicted in the late summer of '06. There are many reasons why I "retired" from fucking, "love," that marketing pyramid scheme of "romance," all of that shit, and y'all have already heard all of it.

What I CAN'T fucking understand is how, in this day and age, such intelligent, beautiful, talented, POWERFUL young women can STILL fall for that horseshit that "that's what you gotta put up with TO HAVE A MAYUNNNN." I ain't just talking about Formerly-Blonde Niece, her idiotic mother, or any of my other dysfunctional relatives, either. Rihanna, an amazing young woman with those mind-blowing eyes, gets a beat-down from her "boyfriend," Chris Brown, so that neither "makes it to" the Grammys. I'M used to being treated like shit by cops, they have ALWAYS blamed ME for the abuse I've received, from the pus-gutted pompadoured piece of shit NOPD clown @ the beat-down, to the mouth-breathing misogynist PIGS in Livingston Parish, who yelled, cursed, and basically berated me OUT OF THE FUCKING OFFICE (loud enough for the entire shift to hear the grisly details) for daring to ask them to MESS WITH A "MAN'S" LIFE, to put a "MAN" IN JAIL for having STOLEN MY LIFE BEFORE I TURNED TWO FUCKING YEARS OLD. We all know these stories. What I can't wrap my fucking head around is how so many young women, who've SEEN the damage that unhealthy relationships can do, to their mothers, their friends, their sisters, their aunts, everything that's ever been on Lifetime --- how in the FUCK can they still ACCEPT THIS SHIT and NOT KILL THESE MOTHERFUCKERS!??!?!?!!? On WHAT fucking planet is it ACCEPTABLE that a woman gets beaten, punched, bitten and ejected from a vehicle, and they still call that douchebag abuser a "MAN"?!?!?!?

At least out in Cali, they actually ENFORCE domestic-violence and life-threatening laws. I'm grateful for that, even though I doubt her management or record label will allow her to put his ass in prison where he belongs. No, I've never bought any of her records, no, I hardly know a thing about the child, but I can tell from here that she was born with a gift, and that's enough to threaten any weak-minded/weak-spirited, soulless prick.

If it weren't for the good men in this world, it would be REAL fucking easy for me to be a "man-hater." If I weren't lucky enough to have some of the best friends on this planet, I could very easily hide here in my ghetto hovel and ignore every swinging dick on the planet. But I don't, because I know that there ARE good men in this world, I talk to them or write to them every fucking day. That's one of the few things that give me anything resembling "hope" at this point.

I've been taken, I've been ripped-off, I've been treated like a moron every time that somebody fucking lies to me, but I still know good men. I just can't fucking understand what it is about so many of our best women, that they HAVE to "have a mayunnn," that they're willing to put up with weak-assed little punks who think that hitting a woman makes them "a man." That ain't what makes a man. Fuck Snoop Dogg across the fucking universe thirty-six times, for bringing that "pimp" mentality shit back into vogue, as if the women of this world didn't already know what it felt like. Fuck every single male who's ever gotten a leg up by stepping on ANY woman, much less stepping on MANY women. Fuck Kanye's dainty little suburban ass for "Gold Digger." Yes, those women exist, we all know at least one. But that doesn't make it RIGHT. Just because Terry Bradshaw is a fucking MOW-RAHN about trucks being "a man's vehicle, IF you know what I mean" (I see a lot of shitty PSAs late at night) doesn't mean that every single man born in the south is a NEANDERTHAL DOUCHEBAG. But that doesn't mean that I have to like his dumb bald ass, either.

I don't know if I have a point tonight. I'm just pissed, disgusted, frustrated, and sad. It doesn't have to be like this. I know damned well that there ISN'T "somebody for everybody in this world," that's a bunch of marketing and cult-minded HORSESHIT, some of us are BETTER OFF ALONE, by damn.

But I also know that there are HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS WORLD. Not every marriage has to stay together purely from inertia, laziness, or the fact that nobody else will have your ass. I have been privileged to witness many a good marriage, though I don't want to hex them by mentioning them. When I write about the good people in my life, they invariably disappear. I have seen and known people who truly WANT TO SPEND THEIR LIVES WITH THEIR EQUALS, because it doesn't just keep them from putting one or the other down, but because it LIFTS THEM BOTH UP. Look at Barack and Michelle Obama. If I couldn't find another example of relationships that WORK, they would be THE ONE. Honestly, she's more the reason that I voted for him than HE was, truth be told.

But dammit all to hell, why in the FUCK are young people so TERRIFIED of being SINGLE?!?!?! Oh, sure, it's still the same old double-standard, a male ho is a stud, a promiscuous woman is a "ho." Men rack up "accomplishments," women are "doing damage to themselves" every time they have a casual fuck. BULLSHIT. If you aren't ready for or don't want a relationship, fine, DON'T HAVE ONE. But for fuck's sake, don't be so scared of facing life alone, don't be so swayed by pop culture and your shallow-assed "friends"/co-workers/peer pressure/what-the-fuck-ever, that you hang onto some ASSHOLE just so you won't be ALONE.

The only time my alleged "parents" were ever "glad" to see me is when I brought that fucking CLOSET-CASE to their house, though now they claim to loathe him as much as I do. Couldn't get out of the truck without, "WHERE'S JAKE?" Like I'd lost a fucking LIMB or something. Yeah, those two are the PRIME EXAMPLES of why people SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO PROCREATE WITHOUT AN I.Q. TEST & A PSYCH PROFILE, but they're going to try to belittle me for STAYING SINGLE. Bitches, please. Y'all only stay together to provide ALIBIS for one another, and because nobody else on earth would HAVE your skanky asses, as we more than learned back in the eighties AND nineties. But yeah, I'M the loser for not having a "MAYUNNNNN." Kack.

Ain't never killed nobody to be themselves, and to be comfortable WITH themselves. Could somebody pass that message on to that child Rihanna? I've been trying to teach it to my nieces all of their damned lives, but apparently they never heard it over their co-dependent/self-abusive mother harping, "Don't listen to her, she ain't even got a MAYUNNN!"

In other pop-culture news, just wanna send all the love in the world out to Jennifer Hudson, because she has never yet failed to be an awe-inspiring woman to women of all colors. Can't say enough good things about her, and bless her heart for not only surviving that horror, that nightmare, but for powering through it and keepin' on keepin' on. Way tougher woman than I am.

I don't normally give a rat's ass about the Grammys or pop culture or pop music at the fuck all, hell, I forgot to watch Dave Grohl playing with Angela Landsbury last night, and I fucking LOVE me some Dave Grohl. But this shit with Rihanna really hit a nerve with me. And seeing the amazing Jennifer Hudson doing her thing, makes me proud to be a woman.

But Chris Brown, don't show your weak little bitch ass around here. That's all I gotta say about a bitch like you, or that little junkie skeletor whore from STP & that clusterfuck "re-invention" of Guns & Roses, Vulva Revulsion, I won't even type THAT wife-beating junkie bitch's name. There are other celebrity wife-beaters who need to be outed, but I'm not up for the research tonight, I can't call their names to the front of the rolodex right now.

We should keep a list, though. Know where your money's going, kids. That's the only way to change anything in this country anymore, is by controlling where your money goes. And if you're going to movies or buying DVDs or albums made by wife-beaters, husband-beaters (I'm lookin' at YOU, you plastic-surgery-junkie freak, straddle a fucking Jag-yu-arrrr NOW, Tawny Kitaen!!!), child-abusers or other felons, you ought to KNOW before you go. Think of it as the Hell-raisers Un-Abusive Assholes Collection (H.U.A.A.C., for you history buffs, and fuck Joe McCarthy all over again!), and y'all feel free to contribute names and incidents at will.

I can't speak for Mary Hicks...

But culled from a discussion with our very own CGEye, here are some of what I could sieve out of my fevered brain, regarding the cynical heresy of Letterman...

(Major props/thanks to Erster for noticing the original post and passing the good word...)

Date: Tue, 3 Feb 2009 09:09:25 -0800
From: CGI
Subject: Re: MOB: I still don't know how I feel about this yet...
To: Annti

I waited until you got to see it to ask: Does it take away any of the pain of what they did to the man? I worship him for Goat Boy alone.

Reply:

CGI, honey, I haven't even watched all of those clips yet. I saw it as it happened Friday night, and it pissed me WAY the fuck off that I couldn't tell everybody ahead of time, because Letterman didn't fucking ADVERTISE IT, the twat. Oh, he's all 'humble' now, and takes all of the blame upon himself, what a noble motherfucker. HE FUCKING KNEW that Bill was sick, even if the corporate stooges, anti-choice douchebag advertisers, and his own producers didn't. He played like he didn't know to Bill's mom, but HE FUCKING KNEW. And he knew that Bill's career was finally on the cusp of a real, true peak, after he'd blown-up in England, Scotland and Ireland, that he had an international following already, and that THAT fucking appearance, since no other network show would carry him, and even HBO was slightly afraid, that appearance would've made all of the fucking difference in the world. It wouldn't have saved Bill's life, but it would've preserved his legacy and PREVENTED THAT WEASEL COCKSUCKER DENIS LEARY FROM RIPPING HIM OFF AND BECOMING A FUCKING MILLIONAIRE OFF OF BILL'S CORPSE. And he could've made enough money to marry his fiance, help his parents out, and spend more on his wildlife-recovery charity. He could have accomplished so much more that he wanted to do, in those last four months of his life, even if he didn't make all of the shows he had scheduled.

When Letterman first started talking about it, I was still in disbelief that Bill's name (via his mama's name) had even been MENTIONED in that building, because it had NEVER been uttered there in 15 years. Verboten. No acknowledgment of his impact on comedy, politics, Murkin culture, his vast disconnected network of underground addicts, NO MENTION OF BILL HICKS, FUCKING *EVER*. Only online have I ever found fellow Hicks addicts, never on network, or back when I had it, cable, except for that one appearance on "Half-Hour Comedy Hour," and that TOTALLY-FUCKING-LAME "post-script" that Comedy Central aired, "It's Just A Ride." Boy, they half-assed THAT shit, the corporate-toady funny-as-a-wet-fart motherfuckers.

No, it doesn't take away the pain, and you could see that on Mary Hicks' face. This had nothing to do with Bill or how Dave let them fuck him over and didn't even FIGHT FOR HIM AT THE FUCK ALL or even TELL Bill that they'd cut the piece UNTIL BILL SAW THE SHOW THAT NIGHT AND FOUND OUT FOR HIMSELF, and then Letterman WOULDN'T EVEN RETURN HIS FUCKING PHONE CALLS. THIS WAS ABOUT DAVID LETTERMAN GETTING OLD AND REASSESSING HIS LIFE/CAREER/CONTRACT, and wanting to be all "introspective" ON CAMERA, and playing the fucking martyr in "taking the hit" on behalf of Cunt-scabbed Bullshitting System, his no-balls producers and the evil republicunt advertisers who ordered the fucking assassination in the first fucking place.

When I first saw that footage for the first time ever, I was just one giant, cleaved-open pulsing heart, just aching with joy and pain and what we had lost. But the more that I think about it, the more that it pisses me off. Mary Hicks is one helluva woman, and far more gracious toward that turd than I would've been. Yes, I've been praising Letterman's politics since the open-heart surgery, because that's when he started GIVING A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING, but this, this is not fucking right. You could see in her sharp blue eyes that she had never forgiven him, and probably never would. She accepted the apology, but that was the extent of it. When that woman started to tear-up, but never let a single tear fall, my fucking heart almost exploded from aching for her. That was HER BABY, and he fucking EARNED THAT, from when he was sneaking outta the house at eleven years of age to go to comedy clubs, he had fucking earned it, and they had fucking ROBBED HIM, and she will NEVER get the fuck over it, and she shouldn't. I'd give every organ in my body to charity if she could've been MY mama.

This is why I haven't really written about it yet. Because I'm TOO pissed. I'm going to take a lot of shit from the kool-aid drinkers, the rich Cali libruls who will brook no dissent amongst the ranks, etc., and I don't give a fuck about those assholes. I just want to be able to say it in a concise way, to pinpoint exactly and precisely WHY David Letterman is THE most cynical, heartless bastard on the planet for that little stunt. At this point, he's about on the same ranking as Fatfuck Limbaugh to me right now. It served no fucking purpose except to make Letterman look "good" to his followers, and to put Bill's name out there as Russell Crowe is trying to put the movie together, which I'm sure he'll cock it up com-fucking-pletely. YES, Bill had a huge Australian/Kiwi following, almost as big as Henry Rollins', but that doesn't mean that Crowe KNOWS that boy or how his mind operated. Plus, Russell ain't exactly "heartthrob" material anymore, he's old and bloated and is a breeder now. UTTERLY diametrically-opposed priorities. Bill Hicks was a beautiful man, even with the weight fluctuations, smoking/non-smoking, drugs & alcohol/clean, even as he was dying of pancreatic and liver cancer, he was still GORGEOUS. THE most perfect blue eyes that ever existed, that went back into the universe for decades, so ancient, and yet so impish, truly Randy-Pan The Goat-Boy, with the wisdom of every "wise man" and woman who has ever lived. Libra rising, the creator, and Shiva the destroyer, all in one guy, as he liked to say.

So no, it doesn't take the pain away. It pisses me off even worse. They're digging him up and bullshitting his mama for one fucking reason: MOTHERFUCKING MONEY. Period. And Letterman's self-worshiping ego/guilt trips. They have desecrated his ashes and pissed on his mama's leg and told her it's raining. Sam Kinison would be pitching a major-league bitch-fit if he were still with us, and so should Kevin Booth and Dwight and every friend & comedian he ever loved. I don't give a fuck HOW much money Sacred Cow may make off of this process, since they mandate the rights to his material, which Mary & his daddy own, IT'S BEING DONE WRONGLY. It's bass-fucking-ackwards and WRONG WRONG WRONG. And fuck Russell Crowe and Letterman sideways with a fucking chainsaw for digging him up for their OWN FUCKING PROFITS and THEIR OWN FUCKING EGOS. I never saw Jim Carrey's movie about Kaufman, because I fucking loathe Carrey and knew that it wouldn't be about Andy, it'd be about JIM, like every fucking thing that material-thieving cunt has ever done. I was trained in radio production by the guy who REALLY invented "Fire Marshall Bill" (it was "Fireman Jim" on their radio morning show, Carrey was on a press junket for "In Living Color," and he stole it COLD, right out from under them, the cunt), and I have been putting hexes on Carrey every day of his fucking life. He's a miserable sonofabitch, but not miserable ENOUGH. Jenny McCarthy is too good for him.

And Denis motherfucking Leary can do all of the 9/11 shit, all of the firemen's fundraisers, all of the "good works" that his bony catholic ass can handle, but NONE OF IT WILL EVER MEAN A FUCKING THING, because that lying fucking WEASEL-TURD MOTHERFUCKER will never EVER admit where he stole his entire fucking SCHTICK from, where he stole his ENTIRE FUCKING CAREER. And Bill, bless his heart, had to find out by hearing it OVER THE FUCKING RADIO. "The Asshole Song" is pretty much the only thing that Leary ever wrote, and even then, he had two guys help him do it. So yeah, I want Leary to die of prostate cancer, and I want it to eat his entire body from the inside out, and I want them to have to go after it FROM HIS ASSHOLE. That MIGHT approximate justice for that motherfucker. Personally, I would love to be wherever in the universe that Bill's essence might exist (I hope to hell that he didn't have to get recycled back to THIS planet, dammit, he's earned better!), so that I could sit and watch as he gets ahold of Leary's ghost the minute that motherfucker dies. Maybe he'll have to go to his catholic hell, and Bill can just light a cigarette, drop the ashes on his face and laugh, laugh, laugh. Bill wasn't about retribution or revenge, he wasn't a vindictive person at all, but he believed in KARMA, dammit, and karma has been WAY TOO FUCKING SLOW in paying back the motherfuckers who fucked HIM. So that's what I want for him. I've always said that karma is too fucking slow, and that it's my job to jab it in the ass with an electric cattle prod.

Did you cry when you watched that clip, too? I knew half the material, especially the lead-off Billy Ray bit, by HEART, but half of it was totally new to me, never been seen or heard on even the crappiest bootlegs or the BBC stuff. My heart just swelled-up with tears of joy and pain. Do you think that I'm a fucktard, to still be in love with this guy, fifteen years after he's dead, 21 years after I fell for him? Dammit, that was THE man that I was supposed to fucking marry, if I was ever to commit said act of somewhat-enslavement. But with him, it would've been EQUAL, not possession. His girlfriend was one lucky bitch, it's just a damned shame that they didn't get more time together. That man LOVED and WORSHIPED the pussy, you KNOW that she had an ASSLOAD of orgasms. Randy-Pan The Goat Boy would accept no less. There's no such thing as "a perfect man" or woman, but dammit, he was as highly-evolved as this species was gonna get, 'cause you'll notice how we've done a MASSIVE fucking U-TURN since he died. It's alllll fucking retrograde DNA now, baby. We missed the turn-off, didn't follow his path, and it's nothin' but water-headed Jerry Springer trailer-trash spawn from here on out...

And on THAT lovely note, I'll shut the fuck up. But thank you for asking. And for understanding how much Bill Hicks means to me, and why I want to kick Letterman's ass. I really had grown fond of the uppity prick, after he finally said shit that MEANT something (I never watched his old show, because IT WASN'T FUNNY TO ME, except when Hicks or Howard Stern were on), but this, this is just flat-out fucking sacrilege.

Love you.
J

---

Pt. 2: I haven't done any research on Crowe's alleged pre-production ventures on the biopic, so I don't know how serious he is about it, but if he wants to do it RIGHT, he's gotta go through Mama. And she ain't easily impressed, especially not by celebrities. If she lets ANYBODY dig up her boy, they'd damned well better fucking EARN IT, and I'm sure that Kevin Booth et al are keeping an eye on whatever's going on. They'd damned well BETTER BE, or I'm going to Austin with my baseball bat.

And yes, Bill was sent here to help us evolve, but Bush Sr. and his New World Order succeeded in stunting human development even worse than Ronnie Ray-Gun or the bastard fucktard Dumbya did, so we live in a world with "American Idol," TMZ, and Denis thieving-cunt Leary. Leary has never done ANYTHING even REMOTELY akin to Bill Hicks' beliefs/actions, he just stole the gags, but never had the brains or soul to MEAN IT, so it was alllllll nothin' but SURFACE.

He was just on the Kennedy Center Honors Mark Twain Prize "tribute" to George Carlin, and I damned near put a boot through my television. HATE that cocksucker, because when he hit big with "No Cure For Cancer," I thought that he was NEW, that it was HIS material. I was already a Hicks addict, but hadn't ever made the money or had the money to see him in person, the albums weren't out yet, and hadn't seen him on TV in two years, at least. If I'd known that the ENTIRETY of that album was stolen straight from Hicks, I'd have destroyed the station's copy (they played "The Asshole Song" after 10P) and kept it off of the fucking air. One of the cunt dickhead men destroyed the ONE Janis Joplin album (Cheap Thrills), in order to keep her songs from being played, the neanderthal motherfucker, and I went and bought another one to replace it, to put her back into the fucking rotation, when the cunt tightwad motherfucker station owners (and the sexist-pig program director) wouldn't fucking BOTHER.

Anyway, I'm way the fuck off-topic. Russell Crowe better watch his ass. If the Vogons were skeery, he ain't seen SHIT, when it comes to fucking with my boy. Just like that clusterfuck "tribute" to HST was a GINORMOUS fucking punk-out DISAPPOINTMENT/bullshit cover-up (Can't call the name right now, got it through NetFlix), if they even THINK of dishonoring MY BOY, they gonna have a big ol' mess of bad press, among other things. I'll fuck their shit up as much as I can from here in West Redneckistan. It's bad enough that I've lost Carlin, Kinison, Pryor, Gilda Radner, damned near every comic that raised me except Cosby, I'll be gawd (or pick any invisible sky-fairy) DAMNED if they're going to defame or defile the story/image/memory of one of the most brilliant human beings who ever fucking lived. You'll never see HIM getting a big Kennedy Center honor, you'll never even see anybody ever ADMITTING that he ever EXISTED, the weak-assed pussies who robbed him BLIND while he was still alive, and they've been robbing his grave ever since. Oh, no, Bill was too "dangerous," too fucking HONEST, for the corporate whores who reign over "comedy" then and now. He wasn't "famous" enough, thanks to Letterman's treason, to "matter" to network douchebags or programming motherfuckers or magazine vultures past 1996.

The greatest poets are never recognized in their home countries, right? I bet if we could get our asses to Great Britain, we'd see fucking ALTARS to him. I noticed that the big ol' pussy-boy (he had a brief moment of honesty, but he's a company man all the fucking way NOW) Craig Ferguson said BUPKIS about Letterman's stunt on Bill's ashes. Not a fucking PEEP. He knows who signs HIS fucking checks. I wish to fuck and back that I had cable just for Showtime, HBO & The Daily Show, to see if Jon Stewart had the gonads to acknowledge the travesty. Oh, he was so special, he got to interview Carlin at the Aspen Comedy Festival (CORPORATE DOUCHEBAGS ARE US!!!), wasn't he a lucky little boy, but does he have the balls to deal with the guy who made Carlin look LAID-BACK?!?!?!? I won't be holding my breath.

Work-In-Progress: "Fuck Teh 'Tiffany Network.' "

First, Letterman helps set-up that obnoxious "intern" character, played by that obnoxious, supercillious little pissant, and then he shows up in the GRISSOM FINALE, like he's fucking EARNED IT or something. Fucking HATE that kid. And yes, I'm still severely pissed that Peterson left CSI. There are very few shows, of the six channels that I can pick up regularly (there's a seventh, but their stick is small and weak), that I actually FOLLOW. Considering my "shut-in"-type "lifestyle," television and NetFlix are the extent of my entertainment. Since I lost my stereo to the pawn shop, many, many moons ago, I don't even listen to the radio in the Fucktard Hotel apartment, because I don't have a remote to block-out the HORRIBLY, SHODDILY-WRITTEN & EXECUTED ABORTIONS that they call "advertising" in the Baton Rouge market. If I can't block out all of the ads written by and/or voiced BY THE CLIENTS (THE worst way to sell ANY product, I might add; also a HUGE pain in the ass to the production staff, who should, by rights, be allowed to bludgeon the idiotic sales reptiles with a toaster oven, every single time that they bring in some hayseed client who wants to "BE ON TEH RADIO!"), I'm not going to bother to turn on the $20 p.o.s. CD/radio/cassette clusterfuck that's all but destroyed after a year with Dullard McDumbass.

All of THAT to say that of the few shows that I watch semi-faithfully, CSI was the best. WAS. Then they killed Warrick. Cunts. Sexiest man in prime-time television. Almost TOO pretty, but you can't really hold that against him. Too bad about the DUI, though. Pretty much telegraphed to the world that he'd been written out of the show, months before that story arc aired.

As the Grissom character folded, I was thinking about writing something cute, as in, "Who's Our Next Favorite Geek?", who can fill the shoes that William Peterson left behind? Personally, I was gonna nominate Jim Parsons/"Sheldon" of "The Big Bang Theory," 'cause he reminds me so much of myself (the hyperlexic/borderline-autistic shit, NOT the 220-IQ scientific mind, obviously) and yet, he's FUNNY. Not quite the smooth, self-assured humanity of Grissom, actually quite the opposite. Sheldon's a spazz, but wryly funny as hell, even when the character's not supposed to "be" funny. The Parsons kid is good. Yeah, Galecki's still good, especially when crossing paths with Sara Gilbert, but "Leonard" is even whinier than "Sheldon" in several respects.

They all paid their respects to the departing Grissom, but the one that almost made me tear-up was "Dave Hodgins." Bullshit, cliche', pseudo-bravado, and then that plaintive little-boy line, "The bad guys will win more if we don't have you." Hodgins is a dillweed most of the time, but he was spot-on with that one. And Coroner Super-Dave, he was perfect, too. *sigh* I know, I should get a life, but in the meantime, I make do with television. TV raised me, after all, and taught me how to read before I was 20 months old. Most reliable long-term relationship of my life, nerd that I am. I still adore Larry Fishburne, even after Ike (and that was some traumatic shit!!!), but I don't know that Mr. Fishburne has ever even remotely BEEN a nerd, so I dunno how well it's going to gel.

Bobby Goren on L&O: CI, the first seasons of HOUSE & BONES (before the Melrose Place motherfuckers turned them into SOAP OPERAS, when the science was still BELIEVABLE), the short-lived old reruns of "EMERGENCY!" (no idea what's going on with KZUP, but apparently the Retro Television Network was too complicated for them to master JUST LETTING THE FUCKING SHOWS PLAY WITHOUT INTERRUPTING THEM EVERY 85 SECONDS FOR ANOTHER STATION I.D.), E.R. back when it was still worth a shit, and Cold Case. About the only half-way decent writing left on television, and they always have to keep fucking it up, twitching and tweaking it to suit some roomful of fucktards known as a "focus group," who represent nobody but the dweebs who run entire BLOGS about those TV shows, message boards, etc. More reality, less bullshit. Take HOUSE back to the science, same with BONES, maybe throw some new ideas at Cold Case, AND GIMME BACK GRISSOM, DAMMIT.

He was our first COOL GEEK. And now the fucker decides to retire.

Not quite as blood-from-eyeballs agonizing as seeing QUEEN be TORTURED TO A SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH by sing-like-amputees motherfuckers on WALLY WORLD COMMERCIALS (Freddie Mercury has GOT to come back from the dead, at some point, to beat the living fuck outta these sales/marketing SCUM, dammit!!!), but annoying. When the majority of your "human" interaction is through a cathode-ray tube, they really gotta stop doing shit that sends your blood pressure up OVER TWENTY POINTS.

Like it wasn't PROJECTILE-VOMIT-INDUCING ***ENOUGH*** when I walked into the world's nastiest Wally World and saw, "WAL-MART EXCLUSIVE!" t-shirts for AC-FUCKING-DC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How in the FUCK do you stay a badassed, motherfucking AMBASSADORS FOR SATAN band WHEN YOU'RE SELLING-OUT TO THE BIBUL-BANGING, MOUTH-BREATHING, GLOBE-DEVOURING FUCKTARDS IN BENTONVILLE, ARKANSAS?!?!?!? Fuck, why don't they just go on tour with FUCKING PAT SENILE-FUCKTARD-O-RAMA BOONE?!?!?!?!?? Just twist the knife a little harder, Malcolm. Bastids. Yeah, yeah, everybody wants a nice retirement, blah blah fucking blah. Bon Scott sure as hell would never have sold t-shirts AT A FUNDY-RIFIC SWEATSHOP HELLHOLE LIKE WAL-MART!!!!!!!!!