Saturday, July 30, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
Asshole Neighbors II - The Sleestak Chronicles
In yesterdays edition of cXaos I talked about my asshole neighbor across the street. Today I will describe the thing that lives next door to us. And just to keep things in perspective, our other neighbors, both proximal and distal range from uptight millionaires to speed freaks. What I'm trying to say is it takes all kinds - not all of the neighbors are assholes. But they are all fucked up in their own ways, myself included.
Now the disclaimer is out of the way, on to the Sleestak.
When we first moved here in Burbank, we moved into a neighborhood that has established residents. In other words, most of the people around us have been living in their homes for years.
There is a creature (a woman I think) who lives next to us that has NEVER spoken a fucking word to either my wife or myself. It's not due to a lack of trying, I tried. Once.
It was the first week we had moved into our house and she was in her driveway, in panties and a t-shirt. I didn't know if it was a dude who cross-dresses openly or a really ugly woman. Either way I wanted to be neighborly and introduce myself. Bad idea.
I walked up to the fence which separates our yards and said "hi". It looked at me and I got a look at it's face, which was unpleasant at best. It has more facial hair than I do, and less teeth. After a grimace and a few grunts it slithered away.
I thought perhaps it didn't speak English and chalked it up to a language barrier issue.
This Sleestak (as my wife nicknamed it) is constantly out in her yard placing cloudy Ziploc bags of water on her driveway. The purpose of this bizarre activity has yet to be determined by either of us.
The Sleestak doesn't have a garbage can - so I have no idea what it does with its' trash. It also dumps pans of water on her weeds in the front yard, as her yard looks like Yellowstone before Columbus hit America. I realized this was probably intentional after having to go into her driveway one day chasing a ball for one of my dogs.
The Sleestak is a fucking hoarder. There is at least 2 front windows of its' house that is covered from floor to ceiling with books, boxes and all sorts of shit that belongs in a fucking landfill. I had never seen anything like it, and had to know more.
I then went to the side of our house where our bedroom window faces the Sleestak's courtyard. Again I was fucking shocked to see another window with shit piled from floor to ceiling - there is no seeing inside of that hovel from any vantage point. A hovel with no functional windows is a lair.
The Sleestak has a courtyard between the detached garage and the hovel which, was filled up with boxes and books and magazines and shit. There is also another window that is blocked with the same type of shit. No wonder this thing doesn't need a trash can.
At this point, from my perspective I live next door to a mute, cross dressing, antisocial, hoarder. I went two for three on that assumption.
One morning, early - and I mean fucking 6am early, we are in bed sleeping when we are woken by something just outside our bedroom window (which we keep covered so we can sleep past 5am) screaming.
The screaming went something like this:
"You are a fucking bully, bully, bully, bully. bully - Goddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit".
This one sided conversation went on for what had to be a good 10 minutes, and continues until the voice faded around the back corner of our house. I had to know what the fuck was happening because obviously someone was in our 3 foot area between the house and the fence, or outside the Sleestak's lair. So I went out the back door.
The Sleestak is standing in a tank top (confirming that it is actually female - saggy, but female) screaming at her cat. I went back to tell the wife what I had just seen, and it was so unsettling I couldn't go back to sleep.
Great, we live next door to Rainman.
A few months back the Sleestak decided to have a tree trimmed in her backyard. We again were awoken at 7am, this time by the sound of a chainsaw and Spanish workers yelling at one another. This time the wife went out to handle the problem, as we had been out late the night before and were not going to wake up until we had to.
I followed because when the wife gets pissed off at someone other than me it's so worth watching.
We head out the front door and toward the fence and the wife is telling this 3 man Mexican crew that she is going to shove their chainsaw up their asses if they didn't cut the fucker off. The Sleestak was outside in her usual granny panties and dirty t-shirt - not saying a fucking word.
The Mexican workers didn't understand everything the wife was saying, and because neither of us speak Spanish the threats were falling on one set of stupid ears, and three sets of "I can't understand what you are fucking saying" ears.
The Sleestak slithered back into her hovel without saying shit. I told those fuckers that I was calling INS and the cops, in that order. All of the sudden the head guy speaks English - what a fucking surprise.
He said they were trimming the branches from one of the trees and the Sleestak was going to use the wood to burn in her fireplace. I was unaware that lairs had fireplaces, but whatever. The workers kept the chainsaws off until 8 (city ordinance) and proceeded to cut most of a large tree down.
I saw them cut the wood into 16" pieces and put it in the Sleestaks courtyard. A few days later the wood was no longer in the courtyard - as it had been replaced by boxes of shit.
I assume the Sleestak was worried someone would steal her fire wood and decided to make room in her lair for it.
I guess I just don't understand Sleestak priorities......
Now the disclaimer is out of the way, on to the Sleestak.
When we first moved here in Burbank, we moved into a neighborhood that has established residents. In other words, most of the people around us have been living in their homes for years.
There is a creature (a woman I think) who lives next to us that has NEVER spoken a fucking word to either my wife or myself. It's not due to a lack of trying, I tried. Once.
It was the first week we had moved into our house and she was in her driveway, in panties and a t-shirt. I didn't know if it was a dude who cross-dresses openly or a really ugly woman. Either way I wanted to be neighborly and introduce myself. Bad idea.
I walked up to the fence which separates our yards and said "hi". It looked at me and I got a look at it's face, which was unpleasant at best. It has more facial hair than I do, and less teeth. After a grimace and a few grunts it slithered away.
I thought perhaps it didn't speak English and chalked it up to a language barrier issue.
This Sleestak (as my wife nicknamed it) is constantly out in her yard placing cloudy Ziploc bags of water on her driveway. The purpose of this bizarre activity has yet to be determined by either of us.
The Sleestak doesn't have a garbage can - so I have no idea what it does with its' trash. It also dumps pans of water on her weeds in the front yard, as her yard looks like Yellowstone before Columbus hit America. I realized this was probably intentional after having to go into her driveway one day chasing a ball for one of my dogs.
The Sleestak is a fucking hoarder. There is at least 2 front windows of its' house that is covered from floor to ceiling with books, boxes and all sorts of shit that belongs in a fucking landfill. I had never seen anything like it, and had to know more.
I then went to the side of our house where our bedroom window faces the Sleestak's courtyard. Again I was fucking shocked to see another window with shit piled from floor to ceiling - there is no seeing inside of that hovel from any vantage point. A hovel with no functional windows is a lair.
The Sleestak has a courtyard between the detached garage and the hovel which, was filled up with boxes and books and magazines and shit. There is also another window that is blocked with the same type of shit. No wonder this thing doesn't need a trash can.
At this point, from my perspective I live next door to a mute, cross dressing, antisocial, hoarder. I went two for three on that assumption.
One morning, early - and I mean fucking 6am early, we are in bed sleeping when we are woken by something just outside our bedroom window (which we keep covered so we can sleep past 5am) screaming.
The screaming went something like this:
"You are a fucking bully, bully, bully, bully. bully - Goddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit, Goddamnit".
This one sided conversation went on for what had to be a good 10 minutes, and continues until the voice faded around the back corner of our house. I had to know what the fuck was happening because obviously someone was in our 3 foot area between the house and the fence, or outside the Sleestak's lair. So I went out the back door.
The Sleestak is standing in a tank top (confirming that it is actually female - saggy, but female) screaming at her cat. I went back to tell the wife what I had just seen, and it was so unsettling I couldn't go back to sleep.
Great, we live next door to Rainman.
A few months back the Sleestak decided to have a tree trimmed in her backyard. We again were awoken at 7am, this time by the sound of a chainsaw and Spanish workers yelling at one another. This time the wife went out to handle the problem, as we had been out late the night before and were not going to wake up until we had to.
I followed because when the wife gets pissed off at someone other than me it's so worth watching.
We head out the front door and toward the fence and the wife is telling this 3 man Mexican crew that she is going to shove their chainsaw up their asses if they didn't cut the fucker off. The Sleestak was outside in her usual granny panties and dirty t-shirt - not saying a fucking word.
The Mexican workers didn't understand everything the wife was saying, and because neither of us speak Spanish the threats were falling on one set of stupid ears, and three sets of "I can't understand what you are fucking saying" ears.
The Sleestak slithered back into her hovel without saying shit. I told those fuckers that I was calling INS and the cops, in that order. All of the sudden the head guy speaks English - what a fucking surprise.
He said they were trimming the branches from one of the trees and the Sleestak was going to use the wood to burn in her fireplace. I was unaware that lairs had fireplaces, but whatever. The workers kept the chainsaws off until 8 (city ordinance) and proceeded to cut most of a large tree down.
I saw them cut the wood into 16" pieces and put it in the Sleestaks courtyard. A few days later the wood was no longer in the courtyard - as it had been replaced by boxes of shit.
I assume the Sleestak was worried someone would steal her fire wood and decided to make room in her lair for it.
I guess I just don't understand Sleestak priorities......
Thursday, July 28, 2011
My asshole neighbors
We live in a very cool part of Burbank, California where most residents are very active and friendly. Except our neighbors. Here is the lowdown on the strange, macabre, gross, stupid and outright fucking wrong.
Across the street is the LA County cop. He is a fucking asshole - why? Maybe he was held too much as a child. Maybe he wasn't held enough. Maybe he had a special uncle, who knows. But he is a 50 something, behemoth fucker with a bad attitude and a "punchdummy" that appears to be looking at us all the time in his front yard.
If you aren't familiar with Burbank, they sweep the streets EVERY week. Tuesday it is the west side of the street, Wednesday it is the east side. So no parking is allowed on the allotted sides of the street between 10am and noon on sweep days. The cocksucker cop is a car hoarder. In front of each house there is room for two cars and this piece of shit parks dead center - leaving room for only his car.
Then there is his wife, or what is now his ex-wife. She is the gossip queen of not only our street, but the whole fucking city of Burbank. She will fuck pretty much anything that moves and swears that the Animal Control staff trade her out "favors" when her dog gets out of line. The bitch works construction and is also 50 something - I'm going to go ahead and guess the Animal Control staff would rather mount their inmates in the back of their stupid vans twice before they would consider putting any part of their body inside of her.
The ex-wife is now gone from the house across the street, and that is kind of a drag because those two had some of the greatest fighting matches EVER. In fact, my wife and I have put chairs on our porch for the expressed intention of having a place to sit and watch the mayhem. The fights they would have usually started in the house and escalated outside to the middle of the street. On a really good day one of the two of them would pull up (in one of their plethora of fucking cars) and the other would run out to their car and begin yelling at the other inside, through a closed window. It was fucking classic! We have actually been late for events because of their altercations - EPIC.
The same neighbor, when they were married had a lemon tree on the strip of land between the sidewalk and the curb. I was told by the wife way back when we moved in I could help myself to them because most go to waste on the ground (they also have a lemon tree inside their stupid white fucking picket fence). So one Friday night a few months back, I'm making my famous lemon chicken soup and run out of lemons. It's like 1am and all is quiet in the neighborhood. So I go to the bush and help myself. Out of nowhere, their dumbass 20 something kid comes home in his Scion (I fucking hate those cars, especially his) and just like his daddy parks dead center in the thoroughfare.
At this point the dude has seen me and my plastic bag, and me picking lemons from the shrub. Here's how that conversation went:
Dude: What the fuck are you doing, man?
Me: I lost my kitchen table and thought it might be in this here lemon tree.
Dude: What?
Me: I'm picking lemons.
Dude: It's like 1 in the morning.
Me: Oh shit, am I being too loud for you? Did I wake you up?
Dude: No man, I just got home.
This cat obviously has a flair for the obvious.
Me: I'll be done in a minute. (I go back to picking my lemons)
Dude walks into their stupid white picket fence yard, and then turns to talk to me some more. By this time I am street side grabbing the low hanging fruit, so I can't see him, only hear him.
Dude: I'm going to tell my Dad.
Me: You are going to tell your dad what?
Dude: That you are stealing our lemons.
Me: Isn't your dad a fucking cop of some kind?
Dude: Yeah.
Me: Well do me a solid and tell him to quit taking up all the parking space in front of my fucking house.
And with that the stupid ass kid went inside the house. Now his daddy lived in the garage because step-mommy kicked his stupid ass out of the bedroom before we moved in to our house.
I filled my bag with lemons and walked back across the street to finish my soup.
I heard nothing from any of the crazy residents of the house personally, until the next day. And then it was on, the fight about the lemon tree I had picked my lemons from. The husband and wife were out in the street calling each other names I won't even use (starts with a c, and rhymes with runt).
After 5 minutes or so of blissful watching, the soon to be ex-wife told him to fuck off and left. Still nobody came to say a fucking word to me.
The following Tuesday, that asshole, cocksucker cop had the tree cut down. What a dick!!!!! No wonder his wife left his stupid ass!!!!
The soup however, came out better than ever. It is said food is better when cooked with love, I think food is better when cooked with ignorant, pointless mental beratings (from my neighbors).
Tomorrow, the Sleestack who lives next door.
Across the street is the LA County cop. He is a fucking asshole - why? Maybe he was held too much as a child. Maybe he wasn't held enough. Maybe he had a special uncle, who knows. But he is a 50 something, behemoth fucker with a bad attitude and a "punchdummy" that appears to be looking at us all the time in his front yard.
If you aren't familiar with Burbank, they sweep the streets EVERY week. Tuesday it is the west side of the street, Wednesday it is the east side. So no parking is allowed on the allotted sides of the street between 10am and noon on sweep days. The cocksucker cop is a car hoarder. In front of each house there is room for two cars and this piece of shit parks dead center - leaving room for only his car.
Then there is his wife, or what is now his ex-wife. She is the gossip queen of not only our street, but the whole fucking city of Burbank. She will fuck pretty much anything that moves and swears that the Animal Control staff trade her out "favors" when her dog gets out of line. The bitch works construction and is also 50 something - I'm going to go ahead and guess the Animal Control staff would rather mount their inmates in the back of their stupid vans twice before they would consider putting any part of their body inside of her.
The ex-wife is now gone from the house across the street, and that is kind of a drag because those two had some of the greatest fighting matches EVER. In fact, my wife and I have put chairs on our porch for the expressed intention of having a place to sit and watch the mayhem. The fights they would have usually started in the house and escalated outside to the middle of the street. On a really good day one of the two of them would pull up (in one of their plethora of fucking cars) and the other would run out to their car and begin yelling at the other inside, through a closed window. It was fucking classic! We have actually been late for events because of their altercations - EPIC.
The same neighbor, when they were married had a lemon tree on the strip of land between the sidewalk and the curb. I was told by the wife way back when we moved in I could help myself to them because most go to waste on the ground (they also have a lemon tree inside their stupid white fucking picket fence). So one Friday night a few months back, I'm making my famous lemon chicken soup and run out of lemons. It's like 1am and all is quiet in the neighborhood. So I go to the bush and help myself. Out of nowhere, their dumbass 20 something kid comes home in his Scion (I fucking hate those cars, especially his) and just like his daddy parks dead center in the thoroughfare.
At this point the dude has seen me and my plastic bag, and me picking lemons from the shrub. Here's how that conversation went:
Dude: What the fuck are you doing, man?
Me: I lost my kitchen table and thought it might be in this here lemon tree.
Dude: What?
Me: I'm picking lemons.
Dude: It's like 1 in the morning.
Me: Oh shit, am I being too loud for you? Did I wake you up?
Dude: No man, I just got home.
This cat obviously has a flair for the obvious.
Me: I'll be done in a minute. (I go back to picking my lemons)
Dude walks into their stupid white picket fence yard, and then turns to talk to me some more. By this time I am street side grabbing the low hanging fruit, so I can't see him, only hear him.
Dude: I'm going to tell my Dad.
Me: You are going to tell your dad what?
Dude: That you are stealing our lemons.
Me: Isn't your dad a fucking cop of some kind?
Dude: Yeah.
Me: Well do me a solid and tell him to quit taking up all the parking space in front of my fucking house.
And with that the stupid ass kid went inside the house. Now his daddy lived in the garage because step-mommy kicked his stupid ass out of the bedroom before we moved in to our house.
I filled my bag with lemons and walked back across the street to finish my soup.
I heard nothing from any of the crazy residents of the house personally, until the next day. And then it was on, the fight about the lemon tree I had picked my lemons from. The husband and wife were out in the street calling each other names I won't even use (starts with a c, and rhymes with runt).
After 5 minutes or so of blissful watching, the soon to be ex-wife told him to fuck off and left. Still nobody came to say a fucking word to me.
The following Tuesday, that asshole, cocksucker cop had the tree cut down. What a dick!!!!! No wonder his wife left his stupid ass!!!!
The soup however, came out better than ever. It is said food is better when cooked with love, I think food is better when cooked with ignorant, pointless mental beratings (from my neighbors).
Tomorrow, the Sleestack who lives next door.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Raising Cookies
There is no book on how to raise kids, and if there was it would be a crock of shit. Every kid is different, and therefore must be dealt with differently.
That said, it is the responsibility of the parent to make "relatively" safe decisions when considering summer activities.
For example, sending your teenage kid to a summer basketball camp, music camp or science symposium seems a fairly safe bet when it comes to a childs safety. Sure there are slips and falls, broken bones, hurt feelings and the ultimate realization that your kid is very possibly, at best, exceptionally average. That's why we have lawyers and McDonald's. Jobs and opportunities for all.
I have to wonder about the group of parents who, in their infinite wisdom, send their kids to Alaska as walking food commercials for the indigenous wildlife. The recent bear attacks on two teenagers come to mind.
Apparently the kids who were attacked by a pissed off Grizzly bear saw them as either a) a threat to her cubbies and or b) lunch. The group of 6 kids were part of a month long leadership conference - and what leadership skills could be learned as bait is my question?
You know at the beginning of a movie, right after the trailers and just before the main attraction there is the "turn your cell phone off" bit along with the walking soda and popcorn figures? Those irritate me - they do. I can just imagine how a bear must feel seeing what amounts to the same thing.
Those kids looked like Chips-Ahoy to them, so it's no surprise that momma bear, teaching her young to not only eat but to kill stuff because they are the TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN!
If I'm sitting in my living room watching Sportscenter and a 6 pack of Sandies walk through the room you can bet your ass they won't make it to the other side. It's just how shit works. We live in a world where opportunities must be taken advantage of.
So I have to question the decision making of these "lucky to not be half digested bear poop" kids, and more importantly their mommies and daddies. What can be learned about "leadership" in Alaska - the least densely populated state in the nation?
I'm sure there was no malevolence involved, no conspiracy to whack the kids - just plain stupidity and ignorance. You send your kids to Afghanistan for a month, there are only so many options that are possible in terms of what your kids will learn. Opium farming, radical Islam, terrorism or postmortem.
That said, it is the responsibility of the parent to make "relatively" safe decisions when considering summer activities.
For example, sending your teenage kid to a summer basketball camp, music camp or science symposium seems a fairly safe bet when it comes to a childs safety. Sure there are slips and falls, broken bones, hurt feelings and the ultimate realization that your kid is very possibly, at best, exceptionally average. That's why we have lawyers and McDonald's. Jobs and opportunities for all.
I have to wonder about the group of parents who, in their infinite wisdom, send their kids to Alaska as walking food commercials for the indigenous wildlife. The recent bear attacks on two teenagers come to mind.
Apparently the kids who were attacked by a pissed off Grizzly bear saw them as either a) a threat to her cubbies and or b) lunch. The group of 6 kids were part of a month long leadership conference - and what leadership skills could be learned as bait is my question?
You know at the beginning of a movie, right after the trailers and just before the main attraction there is the "turn your cell phone off" bit along with the walking soda and popcorn figures? Those irritate me - they do. I can just imagine how a bear must feel seeing what amounts to the same thing.
Those kids looked like Chips-Ahoy to them, so it's no surprise that momma bear, teaching her young to not only eat but to kill stuff because they are the TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN!
If I'm sitting in my living room watching Sportscenter and a 6 pack of Sandies walk through the room you can bet your ass they won't make it to the other side. It's just how shit works. We live in a world where opportunities must be taken advantage of.
So I have to question the decision making of these "lucky to not be half digested bear poop" kids, and more importantly their mommies and daddies. What can be learned about "leadership" in Alaska - the least densely populated state in the nation?
I'm sure there was no malevolence involved, no conspiracy to whack the kids - just plain stupidity and ignorance. You send your kids to Afghanistan for a month, there are only so many options that are possible in terms of what your kids will learn. Opium farming, radical Islam, terrorism or postmortem.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Michael Jackson vs. Casey Anthony
The battle between two "alleged" criminals, both of which were tried of atrocities that most of us will never begin to comprehend. Since Michael is no longer with us, there seems to be an easement of the allegations which once defined the pop star - and still linger as to what he was all about behind the walls of his home made Disneyland.
Casey Anthony on the other hand is still very much alive, yet hated beyond belief. Is it because she didn't write songs like Beat It - which in my mind is indicative of what MJ did with a lot of his time? Is it because she "allegedly" killed her own kid and chose to not molest others along the way?
MJ was talented beyond belief - but the King of Pop? Really?
I think settling a lawsuit for pedophilia for a tidy sum of 20 million bucks buys a lot of forgiveness. And what did dude learn from writing that payoff, er, settlement check? My answer would be he learned dick, both literally and figuratively.
I'm guessing the agreement / gag order (no pun intended) went something like this:
While Michael Jackson engages in some questionable shit, has a fascination with young kids, and maintains his own zoo to attract potential victims not to mention likes tucking them into his own bed, we believe that 20 million dollars will convince you (the plaintiff) that nothing occurred that cannot be paid for. MJ admits to nothing and has psychologically reverted back to a 9 year old. Hence, he only wishes to cuddle now.
With Casey Anthony, no such luck. Did she get away with killing her kid? Probably. But, the court system said she was NOT guilty and no settlement was ever negotiated. If Casey did it, then she and OJ will go down as the largest joke on the American justice system ever. Besides, how do you pay yourself a settlement for something you claim not to have done?
If she didn't it shows the justice system works. It's all perspective and depends on what side of the fence you choose to put your lawn chair.
Personally, I like to believe the universe always gets even. If it doesn't, it should. In MJ's case it did. He got off (no pun intended) in his latest trial, and if it had been a one time accusation there may be room for some doubt. But this cat was straight habitual, and Liz Taylor and the Caulkin brothers combined couldn't convince me, or anyone else for that matter, otherwise.
So it comes down to who deserves our sympathy, empathy and or forgiveness. Mikey is toast so it is only his legacy which would receive such exoneration. I think that dude bought his way out of some pedophilia charges and got lucky the second time around. I mean come on - who the fuck writes a check for 20 million for doing nothing?????
Casey Anthony needs to be left alone. Not because she is innocent, because she was found not guilty. She will go on to make a shitload of cash and sell books, movies and may even start a self help group in Vegas. Either way, if she is as stupid as has been alleged she will end up in jail in Nevada for beating some memorabilia dude stupid for not paying her enough for her trading cards, or her autograph - or whatever.
Casey Anthony on the other hand is still very much alive, yet hated beyond belief. Is it because she didn't write songs like Beat It - which in my mind is indicative of what MJ did with a lot of his time? Is it because she "allegedly" killed her own kid and chose to not molest others along the way?
MJ was talented beyond belief - but the King of Pop? Really?
I think settling a lawsuit for pedophilia for a tidy sum of 20 million bucks buys a lot of forgiveness. And what did dude learn from writing that payoff, er, settlement check? My answer would be he learned dick, both literally and figuratively.
I'm guessing the agreement / gag order (no pun intended) went something like this:
While Michael Jackson engages in some questionable shit, has a fascination with young kids, and maintains his own zoo to attract potential victims not to mention likes tucking them into his own bed, we believe that 20 million dollars will convince you (the plaintiff) that nothing occurred that cannot be paid for. MJ admits to nothing and has psychologically reverted back to a 9 year old. Hence, he only wishes to cuddle now.
With Casey Anthony, no such luck. Did she get away with killing her kid? Probably. But, the court system said she was NOT guilty and no settlement was ever negotiated. If Casey did it, then she and OJ will go down as the largest joke on the American justice system ever. Besides, how do you pay yourself a settlement for something you claim not to have done?
If she didn't it shows the justice system works. It's all perspective and depends on what side of the fence you choose to put your lawn chair.
Personally, I like to believe the universe always gets even. If it doesn't, it should. In MJ's case it did. He got off (no pun intended) in his latest trial, and if it had been a one time accusation there may be room for some doubt. But this cat was straight habitual, and Liz Taylor and the Caulkin brothers combined couldn't convince me, or anyone else for that matter, otherwise.
So it comes down to who deserves our sympathy, empathy and or forgiveness. Mikey is toast so it is only his legacy which would receive such exoneration. I think that dude bought his way out of some pedophilia charges and got lucky the second time around. I mean come on - who the fuck writes a check for 20 million for doing nothing?????
Casey Anthony needs to be left alone. Not because she is innocent, because she was found not guilty. She will go on to make a shitload of cash and sell books, movies and may even start a self help group in Vegas. Either way, if she is as stupid as has been alleged she will end up in jail in Nevada for beating some memorabilia dude stupid for not paying her enough for her trading cards, or her autograph - or whatever.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tragically Unhip
So the world has lost another pissed off, misguided, self loathing rock star in Amy Winehouse. I don't say this because I take any joy in her death. Nope, quite the opposite. I mention this because in the nanosecond world we live in, had this woman survived herself I'm guessing she would have floated into Sinead O'Conner obscurity before she was 40.
Whats worse is the vast majority of the world will look at her death as untimely (although it appears to be accidentally self inflicted) and now everything she has done musically will take on some superior meaning - all because of a few hundred bucks of chemicals and some bad decisions.
Bad decisions and a few hundred bucks do not a legend make. Ask any kid with a guitar, bong and a computer - the rules don't change for those who decide their own melancholic state is soooooo bad that anything is better than this. I suppose it depends what "this" is, but whatever.
So now, because this chick is toast there will be this mass fallout - documentaries will be made, books will be written and I'm waiting for the Hallmark special on how tortured her soul was. Shit, I'm willing to bet a Broadway show will be made in her honor. That in my opinion is the real tragedy here.
Her music isn't any better today than it was last week - just more relevant because, well she's dead.
Kurt Cobain at least was convincing when he blew his brains out. Dude didn't want to live so he went out and made sure it was final. I'm not condoning what the dude did - it sucked (even though his band was, and still is to certain degree over rated).
Amy Winehouse will probably be compared to Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, Jim Morrison and John Bonham when in reality her contribution to the music scene couldn't compare to any of the aforementioned folks. Layne Staley, the lead singer from Alice in Chains died of a heroin overdose and he (in my opinion) had more of an impact on music than Winehouse. It took 7 days to find Layne's dead body, tragic!
And why doesn't anyone talk about Brad Delp, the lead singer of Boston who killed himself a few years back? This cat wrote some of the most timeless songs EVER. That, to me is tragic.
Winehouse is dead now, and that sucks. What will make it even worse is to pretend she was something in death she couldn't achieve in life. (The Grammy argument doesn't fucking hold water folks)
As the philosopher Michaels wrote in his song Tragically Unhip:
My record company says
blow my brains out my head
I'll make the cover of every magazine
Whats worse is the vast majority of the world will look at her death as untimely (although it appears to be accidentally self inflicted) and now everything she has done musically will take on some superior meaning - all because of a few hundred bucks of chemicals and some bad decisions.
Bad decisions and a few hundred bucks do not a legend make. Ask any kid with a guitar, bong and a computer - the rules don't change for those who decide their own melancholic state is soooooo bad that anything is better than this. I suppose it depends what "this" is, but whatever.
So now, because this chick is toast there will be this mass fallout - documentaries will be made, books will be written and I'm waiting for the Hallmark special on how tortured her soul was. Shit, I'm willing to bet a Broadway show will be made in her honor. That in my opinion is the real tragedy here.
Her music isn't any better today than it was last week - just more relevant because, well she's dead.
Kurt Cobain at least was convincing when he blew his brains out. Dude didn't want to live so he went out and made sure it was final. I'm not condoning what the dude did - it sucked (even though his band was, and still is to certain degree over rated).
Amy Winehouse will probably be compared to Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, Jim Morrison and John Bonham when in reality her contribution to the music scene couldn't compare to any of the aforementioned folks. Layne Staley, the lead singer from Alice in Chains died of a heroin overdose and he (in my opinion) had more of an impact on music than Winehouse. It took 7 days to find Layne's dead body, tragic!
And why doesn't anyone talk about Brad Delp, the lead singer of Boston who killed himself a few years back? This cat wrote some of the most timeless songs EVER. That, to me is tragic.
Winehouse is dead now, and that sucks. What will make it even worse is to pretend she was something in death she couldn't achieve in life. (The Grammy argument doesn't fucking hold water folks)
As the philosopher Michaels wrote in his song Tragically Unhip:
My record company says
blow my brains out my head
I'll make the cover of every magazine
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Weed SAT's
With roughly half of the states in the country legalizing "medicinal" marijuana in one form or another, the police are alleging that the instances of accidents involving "high" drivers is increasing.
A report from Colorado claims nearly 20% of the auto accidents involve impaired or high driver(s). The same report goes on to say that Colorado has 100,000 "legal" pot users. There are 5 million residents. Hmmmmm.
Lets do the math - 5 million people divided by 100,000 card carriers = .02% . This is dummy math!
However, this is only the beginning of the debate here in California as the argument has just begun to be filibustered regarding how to check drivers "THC" (the active ingredient in weed) level.
When checking for weed intoxication a blood test reveals a unit of measure referred to as nanograms, which I can only assume is similar to parts per million when referring to other substances found in blood. 5 nanograms of THC is what Colorado legislatures are proposing as over the limit - and these same asshole politicians are already admitting that the test results can be rebuffed in court.
The difference between say alcohol and pot is the rate of metabolism. You drink and alcohol processes at a fairly, non-refutable rate. If you get caught driving drunk, you're pretty much fucked. BUT -weed is different and stays in the bloodstream much longer, especially with chronic users. Get caught on suspicion of weed intoxication how does a prosecutor or medical expert prove when the weed was ingested, and to further that point that the driver was actually impaired at the time the test was taken?
I don't use weed, weed products or hemp oil. It's not some fucking moral high ground, it just isn't my thing. I have friends and family that smoke pot on a regular basis - and I don't give a hot fuck. I would much rather be out on the road with a bunch of stoners than drunks - and I drink.
So here is my proposition for the states wanting to regulate this, because the PhD's at MIT have failed fucking miserably to come up with a viable, scientific solution.
If someone is suspected of being "stoned" and the law wants to test them, put them in the back of a police car with a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos (with no soda) and time how long it takes them to kill the bag. If it's under 4.21 minutes then fucking give them a citation, mix their car keys up with their stoner buddies and let them figure out how to get the right key in the ignition. By then they will be "straight" enough to mosey on over to the 7-11 and cop a Big Gulp Dr. Pepper.
If not, let them go and harass someone else.
A report from Colorado claims nearly 20% of the auto accidents involve impaired or high driver(s). The same report goes on to say that Colorado has 100,000 "legal" pot users. There are 5 million residents. Hmmmmm.
Lets do the math - 5 million people divided by 100,000 card carriers = .02% . This is dummy math!
However, this is only the beginning of the debate here in California as the argument has just begun to be filibustered regarding how to check drivers "THC" (the active ingredient in weed) level.
When checking for weed intoxication a blood test reveals a unit of measure referred to as nanograms, which I can only assume is similar to parts per million when referring to other substances found in blood. 5 nanograms of THC is what Colorado legislatures are proposing as over the limit - and these same asshole politicians are already admitting that the test results can be rebuffed in court.
The difference between say alcohol and pot is the rate of metabolism. You drink and alcohol processes at a fairly, non-refutable rate. If you get caught driving drunk, you're pretty much fucked. BUT -weed is different and stays in the bloodstream much longer, especially with chronic users. Get caught on suspicion of weed intoxication how does a prosecutor or medical expert prove when the weed was ingested, and to further that point that the driver was actually impaired at the time the test was taken?
I don't use weed, weed products or hemp oil. It's not some fucking moral high ground, it just isn't my thing. I have friends and family that smoke pot on a regular basis - and I don't give a hot fuck. I would much rather be out on the road with a bunch of stoners than drunks - and I drink.
So here is my proposition for the states wanting to regulate this, because the PhD's at MIT have failed fucking miserably to come up with a viable, scientific solution.
If someone is suspected of being "stoned" and the law wants to test them, put them in the back of a police car with a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos (with no soda) and time how long it takes them to kill the bag. If it's under 4.21 minutes then fucking give them a citation, mix their car keys up with their stoner buddies and let them figure out how to get the right key in the ignition. By then they will be "straight" enough to mosey on over to the 7-11 and cop a Big Gulp Dr. Pepper.
If not, let them go and harass someone else.
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