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!!!!!!!!!

People Who Make Ya Go "GACK!"

The title link is a moral/human GACK, but the people who make ME go "GACK!" are the pure-breeders. Saturdays & Sundays @ my house are primarily PBS days/nights, but it's not always great programming. This being Nouveau-Riche-White-Trash Central, they are thicker than maggots on roadkill, so the choice in programming isn't a shock, but it is an annoyance. I love cat people, I am cat people, but it's the eugenics-minded BREEEEDERS who make my flesh crawl. To only see value in the animals which you design, in the "pure blood," in the anal-retentive "criteria" for what is "acceptable" in an animal, who should be an independent creature unto itself... to watch these weirdos (generally too much money & free time) IDENTIFY THEMSELVES through their "breeding programs" and how many ribbons those animals "win" --- beyond disturbing. Every animal (except armadillos, poisonous snakes, and Irish Channel & French Quarter teamster rats) deserves to be loved and respected, dammit. Not just the ones who go for $400+.

Biddy & Boy usually enjoy the nature/animal programming, especially the big cats, and I'm sure that they'll enjoy this much more appropriate endeavor, about "The Wolf That Changed America," but I'm proud to report that they slept through that entire frou-frou cat-show shit.

CC's post about Rollins' new adventures led me to a link on HuffPo about Katrina Children, suffering the fallout of genocidal no-bid contracts on those piece-of-shit trailers (remember the formaldehyde?), which I read as the poufters and prancers went on and on, ad nauseum, about the precious priceless cats that "they" had "created." Talk about your nauseating juxtoposition. While the current series about the Britsh Monarchy has been exceedingly pedantic and voyeuristic, oohing and ahhing about the jewels, money & manpower wasted to prop-up the pomp & circumstance, at least QE2 has EARNED respect, that woman busted her ASS during WWII and after, holding that country together after the Blitz, giving terrified people hope and making sure that the bastards didn't win. I can think of a billion better ways to utilize the resources of PBS & BBC, not to mention the MILLIONS of gallons of jet fuel, pounds sterling, and labor wasted just for her Birthday Celebration, but at least the woman puts in an honest day of work.

But to read about my people, the people of New Orleans, the survivors of Katrina, having to watch their own children suffer & die as the aftermath of a federally-mandated genocide, whilst a bunch of very-sheltered/spoiled white people prance around with overpriced inbred "purebred" cats, as I know how many cats, dogs, birds, horses, you name it, were left behind during Katrina, and what the rescue margins were after the fact --- makes me borderline violent. Smug, Bush-loving, yuppie scum.
I saw what the women & men of the LSU Vet School & Ag Center did, I watched them busting their asses even as FEMA was appropriating THEIR money, to match these traumatized animals with their humans, to find shelter for the ones who couldn't be reunited, and to care for the sick, injured and dying. I took multiple truckloads of supplies to them, I slipped the director a wad of cash when the FEMA dorks weren't looking, because they'd even seized her PETTY CASH and day-to-day OPERATING FUNDS. There are too many animals in the Gulf South, in Louisiana, in New Orleans, and beyond, for me to give a flying rat-fuck about a bunch of pretentious idiots in Houston who'd rather spend thousands on show cats than to contribute a DIME to ferals or strays. Fuck your purebreds, devote some of that time, effort & money where it's NEEDED, you arrogant twats.

So LPB and PBS can kiss my ass on that note.

Just Another Day In Fucktardia

Two days, L'Hotel du Fucktards & teh surrounding environs of Fucktardia (West Redneckistan Parish) have been under semi-siege, as there's YET ANOTHER escaped inmate from a private subcontractor's enterprise RENTING OUT SLAVE LABOR TO COMMERCIAL ENTERPRISE. Gee, what could POSSIBLY go wrong with THAT?!?!?? Guy's got a 13-year rap sheet, but they're bullshitting us all into supposedly believing that he's a "non-violent offender." Yeah, and I'm a virginal anorexic supermodel.

Anybody who watches PBS knows that this entire area (both Feliciana Parishes + North EBR) is PRISON ENTERPRISES CENTRAL. Angola didn't get that rep by accident. Where once were flourishing slave-labor plantations, are now slave-labor prisons & "facilities" for the insane, criminally and otherwise. And the rednecks around here couldn't GET their little dicks any harder tonight, knowing that their FAVORITE KIND OF HUNTING SEASON is afoot. When they won't even release WHICH PRISON THE DUDE ESCAPED FROM, you KNOW somebody fucked-up BIG-TIME. Oh, and don't believe the NBC-affiliate link in the title. They confiscated his cellphone the day BEFORE yesterday, when he was finalizing his PLANS for the escape (it's never a one-man operation, kids, just ask Steve McQueen), they fucking KNEW that he was headed for the fence, and YET, the fucking morons LEFT HIM IN THAT LOW-SECURITY HOUSING FACILITY --- IN A RESIDENTIAL NEIGHBORHOOD (but of course a lower-income BLACK neighborhood, so who cares, right?) --- TO GO BACK OUT ON THE JOB THE NEXT FUCKING DAY AFTER THEY SEIZED THE CELLPHONE.

Can you say, "DUH?!?!?!?!" I knew that you could.

Yeah, the guy is a convict. Duh. He didn't get there by eating ice cream @ a baptist dinner-on-the-grounds. What is amusing is watching teh republicunt media of Baton Rouge helping COVER THE ASSES OF THE THIEVING, LYING, KLAN-MOTHERFUCKER ALCOHOLICS WHO THINK THEMSELVES THE PRIME "MASSAHS" OF THEIR ENTIRE GOOBER DOMAIN. Well, not so much "amusing" as it is INFURIATINGLY INCESSANT. They make a killing off of the backs of the inmates, and then they have to piss the STATE'S money away CATCHING THE INMATES THAT THEIR DUMBASSED RELATIVES COULDN'T KEEP IN CUSTODY. Ah, nepotism, where would Louisiana be without it... oh, right. Maybe the 21st Century.

One of the drama queens here @ L'Hotel du Fucktards called teh po-po's and told 'em that she'd seen "a man" run into & out of L'Hotel. Seven deputies in seven patrol units, four prison guards in blue fatigues, three town Barney Fifes, and a partridge in a pear tree, all piled-up into L'Hotel du Fucktards parking lot and driveway, whilst I'm trying to take 2 very unhappy tomcats back to their home out in the boonies.

The funniest part, to me, of the TOTAL BULLSHIT SMOKESCREEN, is that the dude is FROM NEW ORLEANS, and yet they're lying their fat asses off, swearing that HE'S HEADING NORTH.

Right.

That motherfucker was across the river before dark on Thursday and is probably deep in the Gretna projects by now, but these jerkoffs are standing around with their thumbs up their asses, like that's ACCOMPLISHING ANYTHING, and when the BR news vans show up, OH! Suddenly Angola guards blossom like mushrooms in bullshit, minus the bloodhounds and the tracking team. Yeah, THAT accomplishes a lot. Long as they get that Angola logo onto teh teevee, all teh white middle-class folk will feel safe & secure in their cul-de-sacs, and the bi-annual rodeo won't lose a dime. Riiiiiiiight.

Normally, I don't give a rat's ass about the inmate escapes (average 1 every 2 months, but this is two in TEN DAYS), but this circle-jerk of a clusterfuck (shaddup , I can mangle my metaphors if I wanna) is not only an egregious waste of YOUR tax dollars (Homeland Security paid for BOTH of the helicopters that Dep'ty Dawg, aka Teh Grand Dragon Sheriff DOESN'T ACTUALLY NEED, 'CAUSE THEY DON'T ACCOMPLISH A FUCKING THING) and of manpower, but THEY'RE NOT GETTING A FUCKING THING DONE. And yes, I'm talking about the same motherfucker who covered-up my nephew's murder. He has more money & power than every Southern stereotype you've ever seen in every crappy movie, ALL COMBINED, with Boss Hogg as the cherry on top. And the IQ of your average kumquat. But he knows how to milk the system, hence the repeated occasions that he's been BUSTED ON LIVE TELEVISION for using parolees and inmates as SLAVE LABOR AT HIS HOUSE, his mama's house, his brother-in-law's house, etc. So,y'know, he knows how to get the money, he just doesn't know how to keep from fucking it up. And he's too fucking tight to PAY somebody to cut his fucking yard.

I know a lot of people in law enforcement, in corrections, in parole/probation, and even jail and prison guards. Unfortunately, I am (at least technically) related to a couple of them. I don't begrudge them the jobs (if they're the ones who actually DO the jobs), but I do begrudge the FUCK out of a state where POOR PEOPLE ARE SUPPOSED TO STARVE AND DIE OF CANCER VIA EXXON-MOBIL, WITH NO PUBLIC HEALTH SYSTEM WHATSOFUCKINGEVER, whilst a bunch of SWAT-wannabe testosterone junkies who don't even have G.E.D.s, ride around in humvees, pretending to be paramilitary, and THEY AIN'T GETTING THE FUCKING JOB DONE, but they make a HELLUVA SHOW OF IT!!!!!!

When it comes to the multiple serial killers we've had SINCE THE DESTRUCTION OF FEMINISM IN THIS COUNTRY (yes, there IS a fucking corollary), including the serial killer(s) that are currently operating in SW LA (well, between Whisky Bay & Lake Charles, so kinda South-Central) they are NOT making the Capitol City news whatsofuckingever. Oh, wait, that's riiiiiight, they're not JUST RICH WHITE SUBURBANITE BREEDERS, therefore they don't count. This one's mixing it up. Gillis only did hookers, so nobody really gave a fuck about him, but Derrick Todd Lee, they pinned EVERY unsolved female murder of the past 20 fucking years on him, SO THAT THEY WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THE FUCKING WORK, when, even though he's a wife-stomping, woman-hating, mutilating rapist ANIMAL, he ain't bright enough to have done them ALL. Zachary P.D. should've had his peeping-tom, attempted-rapist, wife-beating ass in jail TWENTY FUCKING YEARS AGO, but they couldn't be BOTHERED to DO THEIR FUCKING JOB, EITHER. That's why you had so many women hacked-up like roadkill by that sick, evil, piece-of-shit motherfucker. BECAUSE THE COPS DIDN'T DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE. Period. Ask anybody from the Felicianas, Baton Rouge or the Florida Parishes. ALL of the cops knew about Derrick. But it was only hurting WOMEN, so who gives a fuck? OH, WAIT! Now he's doing RICH WHITE WOMEN!!! EEEEEKKK!!!!!! WE CAN MAKE A FUCKING ***FORTUNE*** IN ADDITIONAL STATE & FEDERAL FUNDING TO HUNT *THIS* MOTHERFUCKER DOWN, ***NOW*** IT MATTERS!!!!!!!

In other words, just like the Murdoch Media Model, crime only matters when the suspect/escaped convict is a "big scary black man" and the victims are RICH/UPPER-MIDDLE-CLASS CAUCASIAN SUBURBANITES. I bet that the redneck republicunts who fled up here before & after Katrina never even THOUGHT about the circumference of prisons that ring both of these parishes, when they saw how cheap the acreage was, did they... dumbasses.

They LET this shit happen. The money was appropriated, like five years ago, to build Dep'ty Dawg a new, bigger prison, since the parish is losing its ASS on housing pre-trial prisoners ALL OVER THE FUCKING STATE, but somehow, it never happened. Gee, wonder why... And I'll bet y'all a dollar to a doughnut that THIS shit is the frontal wave of the next PRO-GUN, PRO-KLAN, PRO-PRISON-INDUSTRY wave of tax votes, constitutional bullshit, etc. Just wait. Piyush will be on this shit like, well, like a republicunt on coffers full of other people's money.

Have I mentioned how much I fucking loathe this place? Did I already do that bit? These ignorant redneck republicunts are getting skeerier and skeerier, every fucking day. They're VERY fucking pissed about the next president ("how DARE that colored boy think that he can be PRESIDENT, I don't give a rat's ass WHO voted for him!!!"), they're stocking-up on guns & ammo again, and they're damned and determined to start a race war, even if they have to pay somebody else to do it, the pussies.

What really pisses me off is that this USED TO BE a really cool, funky, unique, quirky little Southern town, where everybody was just themselves, and nobody tried to shoehorn jeebus down your fucking throat, and everybody GOT ALONG. No racial tension, just PEOPLE. No sexism, no hairy-knuckled neanderthals, no THREATENING WOMEN, just PEOPLE. Now it's a fucking PLANTATION OF PRISONERS and teh LILY-WHITE WUSSIES WHO WANK TO THE IDEA OF LARGE, MUSCULAR BLACK MEN IN CHAINS.

Rene' may hate it when I'm right, but let's face it: As unattractive as it is, MY GUT IS NEVER WRONG. 'Member all of those Halliburton secret prisons, in backwater bumfucks across the country? They ain't gonna stay empty for long.

111208 Mourning Craig

11-12-08/1:11A

Mourning Craig

The morons keep bringing me rumors
Designed for naught but torture.
I hope the kumquats are getting
their teeny-tiny shriveled rocks off on my pain.

I'll never know
I'll never have proof of truth
I'll never see justice
or touch that beautiful boy cat again.

It's always the cats I've raised
The ones whom I've devoted/invested the most
love, time, care, effort, affection in...

Some sick fucker is doing the serial killings of my baby cats
just to kill me
more and more
every fucking time.

Smudge, my first semi-feral
tiny little handful of purr
snuggled into my clavicle
heartbeat warm & strong

Pure joy & love, every time he saw me,
vocalizing, rubbing, purring, arching
to get the most from my every touch.

Even as he grew & matured into a
semi-aloof teenager,
he still came to me every day,
and not just for food.

And they threw his little mangled
murdered body into a fucking DUMPSTER
like he was less than nothing
They laughed as I walked the acreage
crying Smudge's name
Their psychotic, moronic, sadistic little games,
lies all around;
I'll never know the full truth
I'll never be able to tell Smudge
Goodbye.

Then not 3 months later, his sister.
Tommie Two-Toes never liked me,
even as a tiny scared baby.
Papi trusted me not to harm his children,
but I couldn't save the badassed bitch queen
from another cold-hearted murder.

I tried to never attach again, but the little bastards
wormed their way into my soul, any damned way.

Beautiful baby Roberta,
leopard spots on her belly,
pure love in her eyes, purr and heart.
I wanted to keep her so badly, to make her my own
(since she'd already hired me as staff anyway)
but of course THAT could never happen.
Thanks a ton again, LandSkanky.

I found her a "home" with callous, bloodsport redneck republicunts
and within 2 months,
she was part of U.S. 61.

They didn't even notice
They never once did care
Just another vermin to them
Another lost child to me.

No serial killer there, far as I know
My guilt kicks-in every time
that I wonder whether she died
in trying to return to me
or trying to outrun another sick-fuck redneck's truck.

There are so many of them,
serial-killer wannabes
sociopaths who target cats
because, to them, it's "FUNNY"
and besides, it's not like "anybody"
will CARE, right.

I lost Marina, Cathy's heart & soul
in trying to save her neglected life
in trying to make that 18-year-old dowager
COMFORTABLE, healthy, ENJOY her last years,
free of the flea plague.

And I fucked it up.
And I saw the light leave her eyes
Only death I've ever witnessed,
let alone in, by my own hands.
I wanted to help her, save her ---
and the bath killed her
and the friendship I thought I had.

And now I'm paying for that (still).
Apparently, for every single fuckup of my life.

I've mourned animals, friends, beloved humans before.

But the kidnapping/murder of Craig
is damned near killing me, but is never merciful enough to ACTUALLY kill me.

Not to belittle my Nannie or Papa or Tater's deaths,
because I'd STILL have happily taken those bullets.

But Craig...
This makes me want to murder
(yes, I still want to murder Tater's crack-whore closet-case killers,
and the now-unlicensed HACK who turned my Nannie into goulash)

Losing Craig is damned close to how I felt when Tater
was taken from me.

I want to not wake up in a hellhole that murders much-beloved baby boys
FOR SHITS & GIGGLES.

Yes, the world has changed for the better in the past 8 days, in the big picture.

But here in Fucktard Central,
all of Obama's best efforts,
it'll never make a dent.
These ignorant cocksuckers still won't
ACKNOWLEDGE THE DEATH OF JIM CROW.

To them, a cat's death is a GOOD THING.
Same thing for a poor human boy.

Small wonder that woman-hating
white trash from DeRidder feel
"empowered" to inflict their vast ignorance &
willful, purposeful EVIL upon this place, those cats, ME.

I wish I'd been able to save Craig's two orange brothers
(dumped here when I was having spine surgeries #3&4 last year)
I wish I could find the scum who threw three tame babies out.

I lost Xena becasue she got here abused & brain-damaged,
and I will pay for that the rest of my days.

But dammit, no matter my billions of failures & fuckups,
on NO PLANET IN ANY FUCKING UNIVERSE IS IT
FAIR TO PUNISH CRAIG FOR MY STUPIDITY!!!!!!

I know that nothing in "life," as they call it, is "fair."

If "fair" or "justice" or "gawd" existed,
I would've taken that bullet for Tater,
that cancer for Nannie & Papa,
that "fan belt" for Smudge & Tommie,
that brain damage for Xena,
that sudden fragile death for Marina.

I've tried to do good, but have ALWAYS fucked it up.

BUT DAMMIT, why do my babies always have to pay?!?!?!?!?

It sure as hell ain't "survival of the fittest" when it's MURDER.

Not one species has been "improved"
by lowlife scum
stealing the lives of Tater or Craig.

THERE IS NO FUCKING POINT.

THERE IS NO TRUE REASON.

THERE IS NEVER ANY JUSTICE.

THERE NEVER WAS A "GAWD."


Tater should've been 21 today,
finally legal for his cigarettes & beer,
free of the junkie-dealer parasites
who sucked his life away
then prancing away scot-free.

He never yet has visited me.
No dreams, no practical jokes, no ghost, not one touch from the other side,
like all of THEM claim to have received.

Why won't he come? Not even in a Bunch-family-style precognitive dream?

I miss his voice, his laugh, his smile, his brain, his beauty;
that huge heart, though never quite pure...
big enough to hug & hold anyone.

He was no "angel," but he was SO GOOD.

He deserved to build a life for himself.

He deserved to be free.


The timing is sickening.
My heart is shattered into a million more
tiny shards over my baby-boy cat,
the same day that Tater should be
celebrating, laughing, succeeding,
growing up, even past his achingly old-soul eyes,
growing up enough to love himself
beyond all of the pain, abandonment & damage.

He deserved the chance to HEAL, dammit.
But the klan cocksucker "sheriff" keeps getting away with it,
while the main murderer is fucking Tater's big "sister."
Yeah, THAT'S fucking fair.
Like she didn't get enough attention when he killed her brother,
like purposefully giving her baby a heart defect didn't make her
enough of a martyr.

And somewhere, out there, some no-dick fucktard
sucker-of-satan's-cock MOTHERFUCKER
is probably still chortling or pulling his tiny pud,
as he gloats over murdering such a beautiful,
bright, loving, expressive, gentle, funny,
amazing baby boy cat.
He was almost like Tater in a cat suit.

And I wasn't there.

It always happens when I'm not there.
Pulling the plugs on Papa & Nannie,
throwing Smudge INTO THE TRASH,
killing Tommie,
turning Roberta into pavement,
putting that .22 bullet into Tater's
beautiful face & mind,
destroying Xena's mind and soul,
taking/hurting/killing baby Craig.

I WASN'T THERE.

I DIDN'T SAVE THEM.

Letter to my soon-to-be-EX-OB-GYN:

Dear Arrogant Racist Class-Warfare Anti-Birth-Control Midget Bitch:

For three fucking years, I have asked you, over and over again, have left phone messages that were never returned, every fucking opportunity, I have asked your narcissistic midget ass HOW TO GET MEDICARE TO PAY FOR AN EARLY MAMMOGRAM, because I've got a "family" history of breast cancer (Teh Dick's sister got it) and yes, BECAUSE I SMOKE. But every visit, every fucking pap smear, every breast exam, YOU IGNORE MY QUESTION, OVER AND FUCKING OVER AGAIN.

ALL THAT YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT IS NAGGING ME ABOUT FUCKING SMOKING, WHEN THAT'S NOT EVEN YOUR FUCKING ***DEPARTMENT***, instead of dealing with my concerns about BREAST CANCER and, oh, y'know, WANTING TO BE STERILIZED.

Instead, you tell me that I "can't" have a partial hysterectomy, BECAUSE YOU THINK THAT YOUR JOB IS TO MAKE EVERYBODY ON THE FUCKING PLANET BREED BREED BREEEEEDDD, and that MY DECISION ***NOT*** TO BREED MEANS ***NOTHING***, 'CAUSE YOUR ***JEEBUS*** WILL OVERRIDE MY OWN LOGIC AND MY OWN MIND and that eventually, I'll "want" to spawn.

Guess what, Gidget?

NOT. GONNA. FUCKING. HAPPEN.

And as soon as I can afford the gas money to go find one, I'm going to find a REAL doctor, who ANSWERS MY FUCKING QUESTIONS and who DOES HER FUCKING ***JOB***, instead of trying to shove her JEEBUS CULT BULLSHIT DOWN MY THROAT.

You have PURPOSEFULLY DEPRIVED ME OF MEDICAL CARE TO WHICH I HAVE BEEN LEGALLY ENTITLED FOR ***THREE MOTHERFUCKING YEARS***, and for that, not only should you LOSE YOUR FUCKING LICENSE TO PRACTICE, you should lose your tits, your cunt, and everything that you think entitles you to be called a "WOMAN." You are no friend to other women, you DENY US MEDICAL CARE, you deny us TRUTH, you deny us our FUNDAMENTAL RIGHTS. You don't deserve to BE a woman. And you sure as hell don't deserve to take money from Medicaid & Medicare for care that you DO NOT FUCKING PROVIDE.

If I hadn't spent a lovely 45 minutes on the phone with a very pleasant young man named Marlin this evening, I wouldn't even KNOW that you've been PURPOSEFULLY DEPRIVING ME OF MEDICAL CARE THAT MEDICARE ***WANTS*** ME TO HAVE. Preventative medicine is a helluva lot cheaper than SURGERY AND CHEMOTHERAPY.

Same goes for the midget idiot at the physical therapist's next door, who's been depriving me of physical therapy (traction for the 2 herniated discs in my neck, so that I don't HAVE to have massive surgery AGAIN) FOR THREE FUCKING WEEKS OF STRAIGHT PAIN --- for NO FUCKING REASON, because SHE DOESN'T KNOW HER ASS FROM A HOLE IN THE GROUND ABOUT HOW MEDICARE BILLING IS DONE.

If y'all see anything about a bloodbath up here (in Zachary or St. Francisville) on the news tomorrow, now y'all know why. Sure, that kinda makes it premeditated, but so was their PURPOSEFULLY DEPRIVING ME OF THE MEDICAL CARE TO WHICH I AM LEGALLY ENTITLED, so payback, as they say, is a MOTHERFUCKER.

Vanity, narcissism, melancholy, sentimental foolishness...

It's not often that casual/spontaneous photos are flattering for me, hell, even the posed ones are a crapshoot. So when I get lucky and actually look good, especially at my advanced age (I was fucking HOT when I was 23, dammit, but gravity & surgeries & steroids & sarcoid are a BITCH!!!), I can't help the urge to record those moments, so that somebody, somewhere might remember that I had my good moments, even if I didn't get to keep them. Kinda like the radio production career that I trained like a masochistic marathoner to earn, and didn't get to keep. Kinda like the spoken-word career that I almost had, but didn't get to keep that, either. Wahhh, waaahhhhh, waaaahhhh, whine-whine, bitch-bitch, blah blah blah. Check out this damned dress, though!
This is the best picture that I took in 1994, when Miriam & I got floor seats @ the Dome to see the Rolling Stones for my birthday. Our seats were very separate (and several rows back) from the rest of the station's staff, which may or may not have been on purpose, but we were not a part of that group. But despite that, with Jack Daniel's Old No. 7 at our aide (the REAL shit, not the wussy yuppie-scum 80-proof shit!), we were feeling no pain and only a few moments of rejection, dressed to the damned nines and making several guys get punched by their wives for rubbernecking as we sauntered to our seats.

These are some of my better Halloween pix, though not THE best, I still have to find those again and scan 'em in, somehow, someday...

"K-Mart Blue-Light-Special Dominatrix" 1993

"K-Mart Dominatrix & Peg Bundy," 1993

"Elvis As Played By A Drag Queen @ A Puerto-Rican Wedding On A Mardi Gras Float In Las Vegas," 1994 (with former dear friend Anwer)

my own (6" too tall) interpretation of "Mae West Lives," 2000.

And then, sometimes, I get damned lucky and wind-up looking remotely human without even TRYING, and I just wanna put it out there into the ethernet, even if nobody else ever sees them, 'cause it was a very small boost for my very dessicated/decimated ego, after a really, REALLY shitty year. When you lose 6 of your supposed best friends AND get fucked-over by almost every single fucked-up member of your so-called "family" in one year, you grasp at whatever fragile ego straws you can find. So sue me.

These are from a couple months ago, with my beloved great-nephew, as we try to "box" with only one pair of inflatable "boxing gloves." More goofiness than sport, but I don't totally suck in 'em. You can't really tell that the back brace is what's making me look like I have a "waistline," but that's okay. Be nice if we had technology that could make me look like I had ANKLES, wouldn't it?

Damn if I don't still miss my HAIR... *sigh* Gonna take another 2 years to get it back, too. Pantene had damned well better use my ponytail for those wigs, y'heard me?

Pantene Beautiful Lengths program of making real-hair wigs for ADULT WOMEN who are fighting cancer. Nothing against Locks of Love (though the scum @ Fucktastic Sam's makes them look really, really bad, at least to me & mine...), but every fucking thing in this country is "FOR THE CHILLLLLLDRENNNNNN," so it does my heart good to see something FOR WOMEN for a change, dammit, and not just in their capacity of Uterus-For-Rent, y'know?

2 more good reasons to retire...

...and I'll explain them later, but I've still got one trap out tonight (11:25P, CDT). Not to be a drama queen, but in case I show up missing or with a massive head-wound, please take note that there are a horde (5 males, 1 female) of crackers from DeRidder, LA, here working on either the new bridge or the expansion of U.S. 61, who are definitely fucked in the head.

Long story, but it's the first time that I've ever heard anybody (much less an ITINERANT RENTER) say the words, "Get the fuck away from here, we don't want no CAT LOVERS around here!"

I shit y'all not. This ain't no Halloween prank, my pranks are a helluva lot more creative than this, when I have the ways & means to pull them. Just ask the mormon missionaries.

Teh crackerz is breedin' worse than cockaroaches. And they haven't just invaded to colonize from B.R., they're coming in from all fucking directions. Who the fuck threatens a fucking ANIMAL-CONTROL VOLUNTEER?!?!?!?! AFTER making "jokes" about throwing kittens INTO THE FUCKING BONFIRE, like that's TOTALLY FUCKING "NORMAL." I was horrified when I saw a travelogue about the Australian Outback, where this one place way out in the SW boonies had a "cat tree," where the locals hung feral cats up to use as PINATAS (I shit y'all not, it was on PBS), but I'm damned sick and fucking tired of fucking ignorant-ass rednecks thinking that cruelty to animals is FUNNY!!!

Fucktarded redneck knuckle-dragging, cousin-fucking, mouth-breathing, beady-eyed, hairy-fisted, cheap-beer-swiggin' CRACKERS!!!!!!!

Anyway, back out to check that trap again. Way the fuck away from THEM. Well, most of 'em were human, but that one guy, he was a total fucking mental case. If I could run a criminal background check on him, he'd probably have a date-rape case in his past, he definitely had that "wimmenfolks ought not to speak up" face. And they were all driving leased GMC Sierras (white straight-beds, short wheel-base) with some swervy-road company logo on 'em. Sitting around a bonfire in the yard of the two rent-houses (well, one house & one shack) behind the Post Office.

Just sayin'. And yes, I still have my blade and my Mag-Lite. Fear not. I'm just saying, in case anything weird happens to me or the truck, y'all know where I went.

Drama-queen moment over, we now return you to your regularly-scheduled programming.

1:11A UPDATE: Welp, retrieved the trap, no bunny-cat, no high-powered rifles from the aforementioned crackers. Very, very weird night. SO fucking sick of this hick-ass town, wanna go back to the city, where the crackers are confined to the suburbs and rip-off bars on Bourbon.

Is it just me? Random thoughts & brain farts...

1. Is it just me, or did Asshole McSenile sound like THE WORLD'S CREEPIEST FUCKING CHILD-MOLESTER --- EVER?!?!?!?!? Seriously. If Hannibal Lector ate Mister Rogers and then shat-out a crazy homeless guy who thinks that he's a sex symbol, THAT'S WHAT IT WOULD SOUND LIKE, that patronizing, overly-"soft," creepier-than-fuck pseudo-stage-whisper, oughta-be-hanging-out-at-a-playground-in-a-trenchcoat, should-have-to-register-with-the-local-cops Megan's Law NASTY-OLD-MAN MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!! Absolutely fucking DISTURBING on about 17 different levels.
It's not just when he says, "MY FRIENDS" every other fucking breath, as he AVOIDS ANSWERING THE FUCKING DIRECT QUESTIONS, though the affected voice for tonight makes "My Friends" sound like an invitation to a cannibalistic orgy --- it was every fucking babbling, blathering word out of his dry, shriveled, lipless-crust of a mouth. Something NEW is very, very fucking wrong with that man. Somewhere along the lines of the domestic abuse on the trust-fund/trophy-wife, but far, far more insidious and disgusting. Pay attention, something big is about to surface on that nasty bastard, kids, and it's gonna make Shitty-Diaper Vitter look PALATABLE.
Yeah, I know, today's attack on Barry was that BARRY is "the angry one," to go along with all of their not-even-veiled racist hyperbole & fear-mongering, so McSenile might've been playing up the Mister-Rogers-On-Bad-X voice to that end, but somehow, I don't think that he's bright or concentrated enough to play a character to that depth. I think that it's far more than subconscious, it's conscious and it's gnawing its way to the surface. Just wait.

Annti's gut is never wrong.

2. I only managed to watch less than a third of tonight's debate, between trying to apprehend a crack-whore who was attempting a B&E on one of the old ladies' here apartment, and of course, by the time teh local piglets showed up, all they did was bitch about mud on their shoes and roll their eyes at me. Second time in three days that I've caught this crack whore in trying to pry-off the screen on that window, first time that I've called the cops, and didn't have my digital camera on me to get evidence. Yeah, I *could* have tried to run her down and beat the fuck out of her with the MagLite, but come on. This is ME we're talking about here. One of those rare moments when a cell phone would've been actually USEFUL, but such is life.

3. Y'know how bad things happen in threes, like deaths, clusterfuckatastrophes, etc.? Well, I figured that Biggus Dickus was #2 and what I'm about to describe would've been #3 (when it was SO a rank, steaming example of a NUMBER TWO), but nooooooo. Losing one of my nearest & dearest friends was #1, of course, 'cause I disappointed her by not turning into SOMEBODY FUCKING ELSE, then Biggus Dickus came to town, and after the OTHER number two was over, the recurring abscessed tooth kicked my ass all morning from 3A on, thereby becoming #3.
Well, it turns out that Unca Dick wasn't the #2 (which he so obviously is, that giant steaming pile of soulless, greed-whore SHIT), DULLARD MCDUMBASS WAS. No, I don't mean John Asshole McSenile, I mean DULLARD MCDUMBASS, my last and final ex. A closet-case cocksucker who caused me to RETIRE FROM SEX, because of the emotional scarring that he inflicted, and because of how I was such a BAD FEMINIST for taking his totally BULLSHIT excuses (the "voices" made him constantly lie his face off, destroy most of my belongings, and accuse me of FUCKING THE ENTIRE TRI-STATE AREA, right. Riiiiiight.) for all of the emotional/psychological abuse that he dumped on me for every fucking day FOR A YEAR.
The pathetic part is that THE SEX WASN'T EVEN EVER --- EVER --- FUCKING WORTH IT!!!!!! Not all of it was because of his inadequacies about his 1/4-Japanese penito, though that was a part of the problems. Most of it was BECAUSE HE'D HAVE PREFERRED TO HAVE A BIG DICK --- INSIDE OF HIM --- than to be the teeny dick inside of me. And when they never let you forget that YOU'RE NOT AS GOOD AS A GUY WOULD BE, that's kinda hell on the ego.
Unlike all of the other motherfuckers who've fucked me over, fucked me up, and just fucking fucked me and split, I didn't talk much about this one, while it was going on or when it was over. I have this 1970s social-worker-era guilt thing that you can't make fun of the "disabled," even when they use that "disability" (in his case, 300X diagnosed schizophrenia & borderline personality disorder, and he was about as reliable & trustworthy about taking his medicine as he was about EVERYFUCKINGTHING ELSE) --- not supposed to mock the "disabled" EVEN WHEN THEY USE THAT DISABILITY AS A FLAMINGLY FALSE EXCUSE TO ABUSE THE FUCK OUT OF YOU.

After that total steaming heap of horseshit that he fed through my phone last night, I'm over that now. I finally got the opportunity, without even raising my voice or my blood pressure, to tell him that I knew exactly what the fuck he was, why the fuck he did the things that he did, why he treated me like DOGSHIT and expected me to LIKE IT, why he hates women, and how much money he STILL FUCKING OWES ME, not to mention the many IRREPLACEABLE THINGS THAT HE COST ME, like 1950s black FiestaWare, things of my Nannie's, my unbelievably small/fragile ego, my femininity (yes, it's true, it did exist at one point, it's not just a myth or fairy tale), and my VERY hard-won sexual security. Oh, yeah, and the fact that he made me HATE MYSELF FOR TAKING HIS SHIT, WHEN I FUCKING ***KNEW BETTER*** and that I was ONE REALLY LOUSY FEMINIST whilst I was shacked-up with Dullard McDumbass. I even STOPPED READING (other than blogs) while I was with that moron, because 1. I never had the time or privacy, 2. He kept me too pissed-off to concentrate on a narrative, and 3. He never "read" anything aside from GAMBLING WEBSITES and MALE "FITNESS" MAGAZINES, so he had to CONSTANTLY INTERRUPT AND HARANGUE ME, EVERY FUCKING TIME THAT I TRIED TO READ.

Reading has always been my very best friend, my entire life. My escape, from whatever shitty circumstances, my defense, when I'm alone and want to be left the fuck alone, in a bar or restaurant, my way to travel the world that I still haven't seen, to meet people I'd never meet here in the 13th Century known as Louisiana, etc. And I gave that up so that HE wouldn't feel STUPID, being a functionally-illiterate high-school dropout, mental-hospital TRANNY HOOKER. Seriously. He wore makeup and grew his thick, silky Japanese hair long so that he'd look even MORE girly than he normally does, so that when the bigger boys plugged him in the barracks, at least he'd get to "consent," though he usually MADE A PROFIT off of it.

If it weren't for Terrible, Le Petite Fromage, Dan, Tammy & Andy (as much as he pisses me off, I still appreciate his snotty ass), I would never have regained my one true love, my love of books and losing myself in them. Joy, suspense, snark, brilliant imagery --- I gave all of that up, to make a fucking WASTE OF OXYGEN "feel better about himself."

Yes, I know, I was a fucking moron. Many of y'all know the PTSD that I went through, living with THEM for 18 months, way back when, and how fucked-up I was when they cattle-chuted me into L'Hotel du Fucktards, so of COURSE I was the IDEAL TARGET for a parasitic sociopath like him. I was hurt, wounded, and lonesome. I was an official welfare queen and would never see a "career" again. My life had no purpose and I hadn't even been able to escape the reach of my two biggest tormentors, BECAUSE THEY APPROPRIATED OVER HALF OF MY SOCIAL SECURITY SETTLEMENT, which was only ONE-TWELFTH OF WHAT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN. And along comes a young, dumb, full-of-cum little pretty boy, perfectly willing to be my housepet. Stupid, stupid me.

I do feel better, finally getting some of the nightmares off of my chest. I've been holding this shit in for three and a half years, which is a land-speed record for me. And yet, somehow, I have not yet been netted & strapped-down, carted-off to the looney bin. Fucking imagine that. I'm just damned grateful to have the kind of blog when I can occasionally get this shit off of my chest, and to have the friends and readers who won't hold that against me. Yeah, I still miss my "spoken-word" days, but there were sexist pigs trying to pass for "artists" and "hippies" EVEN THERE, who LOATHED me for being so brutally fucking honest, especially when the ones who were supposed to be my "friends" treated me like shit, so nothing is perfect. Even my first radio station was rife with testosterone-poisoning, outright sexual discrimination, overt sexual harrassment (oft times, in front of THE ENTIRE FUCKING SALES STAFF, and my "BOSS" on the programming side told ME to "DEAL WITH IT LIKE A BIG GIRL"!!!!!! Y'know, rather than handling it like the FUCKING ***LAW*** SAYS THAT HE, AS MY FUCKING *BOSS* SHOULD'VE DONE.), very loud & violent threats against my personal safety, blackmail, guilt trips, fuckovers, liars, thieves, and whores. But even for all of that, what I wouldn't give to relive it, knowing what I know now.

I am the queen of 20/20 hindsight. But maybe it's a "good" thing, maybe Biggus Dickus really was #2, because it gave me not one, but TWO opportunities to get shit off of my chest, that has NEEDED SAYING (like some people who, as our beloved Molly said, NEED KILLING!!!) for far, far too long. So thank y'all for hanging in for the whole ride.

#4: If you haven't bought or rented "Bill Hicks: Satirist, Social Critic, Stand-Up Comedian," DO IT NOW. I don't mean, "someday" or "add it to your Netflix queue," I mean fucking TODAY. Even 14 years after the fact, the man is STILL a fucking genius and a vision of the future that we are fucked-with today. And yes, if I'd had the chance to hit on him, I'd have borne his little Randy-Pan The Goat-Boy spawn. He's the only one. That's why it never works out with lesser beings, my "perfect man" died in 1994, and "Prince Charming" was shot-down over DaNang in '69.