Dear Millersylvania State Park,
I would like to write and thank you, for the wonderful time my family and I had in your amazing pine forest, there at Deep Lake.
Firstly, kudos on the naming of the lake. I see what you did there. Naming it 'Deep Lake' when it obviously isn't, is quite ingenious. I guess it's like that whole 'Greenland' 'Iceland' thing. Of course, calling it, 'Relatively Shallow Lake with a Grass Bottom that will Devour Every Fishing Lure You Own' would be a little off-putting and hard to fit on letterhead.
The lake is beautiful though and the water couldn't have been cleaner or warmer. It couldn't have been cleaner, because if it were, you'd have to eradicate the numerous floating hillbillies in inflatable watercraft and the urine content they provide. (along with subsequent warmth.) Parenthetically, I'm unaware if the lady in the roped-off swim section, covered from head to toe with bandannas, carrying an underwater metal detector, is a state official or employee, but her presence was comforting; knowing that any errant house keys or bottle caps lost in the fray, were only a lost and found department away.
Your staff was warm and friendly and an amazing source of park information; especially 'Oly' of the maintenance crew, who regaled us with myriad 'poo smearing' incidents, while we otherwise enjoyed our morning swim.
The surrounding town may not be the largest of metropolitan areas, but the ubiquitous 'Fred Meyer' whisks one away into a Manhattanesque, Macy's-like experience of shopping, not unlike a typical 'Paris' or 'Monaco'. On our particular trip, we were able to procure: eggs, crackers, chips and salsa, fishing licenses, candy bars, Halloween decorations and scented candles.
The noticeable lack of 'abundant rainbow trout' is made up for by the mind boggling amount of insect fauna, thriving in the campground. Any park can have its' mosquito infestation be the main attraction, but the addition of the tree-falling spiders that descend upon unwitting campers, was a nice touch. Also, the maze-like network of randomly placed single-track trails to the hidden bathrooms, is a bit dark in the pitch black of night; but does provide a unique way of making new 'friends' while trying to find your way back to the campsite.
All in all it was an unforgettable trip and we will definitely return, as our love for dirt laden food knows no bounds.
Sincerely,
The Brambles
Monday, August 29, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
"What If?"
What if we stopped fighting each other? What if, we stopped worrying about how different we are and noticed how alike? What if we stopped holding on to what we personally want out of a situation and concerned ourselves with the greater good? Is this just a silly notion? Is stuff like this somehow beyond our grasp; as a nation, or a people?
I'm not even talking about 'the world' right now; I'm talking about us, as Americans. Are we through being great? Are we done leading? Remember the America that fucken saved the whole goddamned world in the forties? Housewives built bombers so that their husbands could fly overseas and knock the shit out of some bullshit idea of authoritarian rule and racism. That fucken country ruled. We led the way and brought together an alliance of countries, some of whom we weren't even necessarily friends with. The point is, we saw what was needed to be done and we did it. That draws people in. That action of doing the right thing inspires others to do likewise. We were leaders and in a world now filled with opportunists and slack-jawed gawkers, we need to lead again.
Hard to lead with your pants around your ankles and we have definitely fallen from our former grace, in a decidedly unflattering fashion. You ever do that? Trip over yourself in front of a bunch of people? Embarrassing. It's not the end of the fucken world though.
In this era of 'everyone gets a trophy!' and 'we have a pill for that.' it's increasingly hard to convince people to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. People in general and especially the youth, are incredibly self-absorbed and unconcerned about their neighbors, let alone some nameless, faceless, refugees on some continent that only exists on the news. And most times doesn't even exist there. The ridiculous in-fighting occurring in Washington is a direct result of the apathy of the people, not the impotence. This is one of only a few places on the planet where you can still come together and rise up and affect real change without it resulting in a bloodbath. But we aren't doing that.
We are currently spending money on two war fronts, a couple of police actions and numerous military bases worldwide, with questionable relevance in today's environment. And while we bicker about more nickels for billionaires, there are Somali fathers watching their infant daughters pass into the light, without possessing any ability to stop it. It's fucken shameful and you know it. Everybody fucken knows it. Even the billionaires know it. Enough. Enough already. It's time to put up or shut up. What, are you waiting around for the Chinese to come to the rescue? What fucken country is going to step up to the plate, when Babe Ruth is just sitting on the bench, afraid to take a swing? You know it has to be us. Look, I'm sorry, I'm not crazy about the idea either. Yes, it's going to be a tremendous amount of work. No, no one is going to be very happy about it. But it still needs to be done and there is no getting around it.
I don't give a fuck about your Iphone and it's ridiculous apps. I don't give two shits and a nickel for your 'lunch photo' posting to Fakebook. No one cares about the minor discomforts of middle-class existence, when they are fucking dying of thirst and their children have no future. I don't know these people. They don't look like me. Why should I care what happens to them? We have too many problems in our own country right now. We can't afford it. They should stop fighting over there. It's none of our business.
Exactly.
I'm not even talking about 'the world' right now; I'm talking about us, as Americans. Are we through being great? Are we done leading? Remember the America that fucken saved the whole goddamned world in the forties? Housewives built bombers so that their husbands could fly overseas and knock the shit out of some bullshit idea of authoritarian rule and racism. That fucken country ruled. We led the way and brought together an alliance of countries, some of whom we weren't even necessarily friends with. The point is, we saw what was needed to be done and we did it. That draws people in. That action of doing the right thing inspires others to do likewise. We were leaders and in a world now filled with opportunists and slack-jawed gawkers, we need to lead again.
Hard to lead with your pants around your ankles and we have definitely fallen from our former grace, in a decidedly unflattering fashion. You ever do that? Trip over yourself in front of a bunch of people? Embarrassing. It's not the end of the fucken world though.
In this era of 'everyone gets a trophy!' and 'we have a pill for that.' it's increasingly hard to convince people to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. People in general and especially the youth, are incredibly self-absorbed and unconcerned about their neighbors, let alone some nameless, faceless, refugees on some continent that only exists on the news. And most times doesn't even exist there. The ridiculous in-fighting occurring in Washington is a direct result of the apathy of the people, not the impotence. This is one of only a few places on the planet where you can still come together and rise up and affect real change without it resulting in a bloodbath. But we aren't doing that.
We are currently spending money on two war fronts, a couple of police actions and numerous military bases worldwide, with questionable relevance in today's environment. And while we bicker about more nickels for billionaires, there are Somali fathers watching their infant daughters pass into the light, without possessing any ability to stop it. It's fucken shameful and you know it. Everybody fucken knows it. Even the billionaires know it. Enough. Enough already. It's time to put up or shut up. What, are you waiting around for the Chinese to come to the rescue? What fucken country is going to step up to the plate, when Babe Ruth is just sitting on the bench, afraid to take a swing? You know it has to be us. Look, I'm sorry, I'm not crazy about the idea either. Yes, it's going to be a tremendous amount of work. No, no one is going to be very happy about it. But it still needs to be done and there is no getting around it.
I don't give a fuck about your Iphone and it's ridiculous apps. I don't give two shits and a nickel for your 'lunch photo' posting to Fakebook. No one cares about the minor discomforts of middle-class existence, when they are fucking dying of thirst and their children have no future. I don't know these people. They don't look like me. Why should I care what happens to them? We have too many problems in our own country right now. We can't afford it. They should stop fighting over there. It's none of our business.
Exactly.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
"Punk Rawk"
I remember growing up in Los Angeles and running and gunning with the tough kids. Being punkrock and breaking all the rules. It seems like a blur of cross-tops and Lucky Lager, pounded in the parking lot of the Olympic Auditorium. Cops and riot dogs, tri-hawks and boots, it was a glorious time.
If you were little, like I was at the time, you could get up with the band and skank around a bit before 'doing a stager'. I once stole the L.A. Raiders hat right off the head of Bob Forrest at a Thelonious Monster gig, and gleefully sailed back into the safety of the awaiting crowd; gobbled up by the bodies of punks, with the plaintive cries from Bob for the return of his hat, ringing in my ears. We did a lot worse things than hat stealing back in those days. Things I'm no longer proud of, and won't go into detail about here. But we did them. Every fucking day that we were alive. And we'd wake up and do them all over again. It wasn't even a question; our mission was to be 'punkrock' and we didn't call in sick or not show up, ever.
I don't necessarily advocate the bad behavior of youth, but I would take it over the apathetic impotence of today's kids that I am witness to. If I had a hammer, I'd smash every fucken Xbox from here to eternity and tell these fucken brats to get outside before I made their ass look like a Japanese flag.
We were bad. I get that. But we had fucken style, and I don't mean some retro uniform of dork glasses and skinny jeans replete with $60 girl's shoes style, I mean real style. I didn't wear shit that wasn't bought in a thrift store, except my 'winos' that I bought at Zody's.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hq0C3OUaTow
We intentionally, dressed like vagrants, drank like sailors, and treated objects like women. We were fucken cool, and you were bummed when we showed up at your party. We fought and lost, a good portion of the time. But we weren't fucken pussies and we didn't get scared. I remember some shows, (Discharge, Exploited, Subhumans, etc.) that were mind-bogglingly huge. A massive ocean of punks and the aggression was palpable. Sometimes you were amazed you made it out, and the next weekend you dove right back in.
My point is, I'm worried. It used to be that you could count on the crazy antics of youth. They pushed the boundaries of polite society and forced everyone to take a look. They said,
"Fuck you and your ways, we'll never be like you!"
Sure, we mellowed a bit with age, if you made it that far. But I like to think that we retained a little bit of the fire we drew on so heavily in our younger days. I'm looking for the fire in today's kids, and all I'm seeing is slack-jawed underachievers, with faces, stained in a blue glow from whatever personal electronic device they happen to be staring into at the time. We didn't post on Fakebook, we posted up in the pit, and kicked someone's teeth in.
I don't want my kids to be robots, and I sure as hell don't want to see the fire die out in America's youth. So if you have a kid, and you love this country, tell 'em to go out and break some fucken rules.
If you were little, like I was at the time, you could get up with the band and skank around a bit before 'doing a stager'. I once stole the L.A. Raiders hat right off the head of Bob Forrest at a Thelonious Monster gig, and gleefully sailed back into the safety of the awaiting crowd; gobbled up by the bodies of punks, with the plaintive cries from Bob for the return of his hat, ringing in my ears. We did a lot worse things than hat stealing back in those days. Things I'm no longer proud of, and won't go into detail about here. But we did them. Every fucking day that we were alive. And we'd wake up and do them all over again. It wasn't even a question; our mission was to be 'punkrock' and we didn't call in sick or not show up, ever.
I don't necessarily advocate the bad behavior of youth, but I would take it over the apathetic impotence of today's kids that I am witness to. If I had a hammer, I'd smash every fucken Xbox from here to eternity and tell these fucken brats to get outside before I made their ass look like a Japanese flag.
We were bad. I get that. But we had fucken style, and I don't mean some retro uniform of dork glasses and skinny jeans replete with $60 girl's shoes style, I mean real style. I didn't wear shit that wasn't bought in a thrift store, except my 'winos' that I bought at Zody's.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hq0C3OUaTow
We intentionally, dressed like vagrants, drank like sailors, and treated objects like women. We were fucken cool, and you were bummed when we showed up at your party. We fought and lost, a good portion of the time. But we weren't fucken pussies and we didn't get scared. I remember some shows, (Discharge, Exploited, Subhumans, etc.) that were mind-bogglingly huge. A massive ocean of punks and the aggression was palpable. Sometimes you were amazed you made it out, and the next weekend you dove right back in.
My point is, I'm worried. It used to be that you could count on the crazy antics of youth. They pushed the boundaries of polite society and forced everyone to take a look. They said,
"Fuck you and your ways, we'll never be like you!"
Sure, we mellowed a bit with age, if you made it that far. But I like to think that we retained a little bit of the fire we drew on so heavily in our younger days. I'm looking for the fire in today's kids, and all I'm seeing is slack-jawed underachievers, with faces, stained in a blue glow from whatever personal electronic device they happen to be staring into at the time. We didn't post on Fakebook, we posted up in the pit, and kicked someone's teeth in.
I don't want my kids to be robots, and I sure as hell don't want to see the fire die out in America's youth. So if you have a kid, and you love this country, tell 'em to go out and break some fucken rules.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
"Murder One"
The crows followed me again today. I think they are slowly accepting me. They seem very formal dressed all in black; but you can tell that they are outlaws. They used to swoop and screech at me. Now, they hop along the grass, not even bothering to fly off as I run by.
There is a small group out at this time of morning. Commuters stick to the main roads, and can't be seen or heard in the quiet neighborhoods. The crows have the run of the place, and I am clearly on their turf. I think that they can sense that not only do I mean them no harm, but that I also have a deep respect for them. I am no longer an outlaw myself, but they can tell my sensibilities are of the accepting kind.
They go about their business of casing the area, making no attempt to conceal their pilfering. They watch me still, but with less concern. They are great observers and opportunists. They take what they need with no fear of consequence. The human population deludes itself into imagining this a polite society we live in; but in truth, it is still the Wild West, and the gunslinging crows know it.
They carry on as they always have, long before our sprawling cityscapes covered the land. They bide their time and scoff as we hurry past; rushing to our inconsequential jobs and meetings, convinced of our own importance. They notice a small contingent of us who seem to look past the facade of our own making, and see the world as transitive. I nod to them in deference and pay my respects to their higher understanding.
There is a small group out at this time of morning. Commuters stick to the main roads, and can't be seen or heard in the quiet neighborhoods. The crows have the run of the place, and I am clearly on their turf. I think that they can sense that not only do I mean them no harm, but that I also have a deep respect for them. I am no longer an outlaw myself, but they can tell my sensibilities are of the accepting kind.
They go about their business of casing the area, making no attempt to conceal their pilfering. They watch me still, but with less concern. They are great observers and opportunists. They take what they need with no fear of consequence. The human population deludes itself into imagining this a polite society we live in; but in truth, it is still the Wild West, and the gunslinging crows know it.
They carry on as they always have, long before our sprawling cityscapes covered the land. They bide their time and scoff as we hurry past; rushing to our inconsequential jobs and meetings, convinced of our own importance. They notice a small contingent of us who seem to look past the facade of our own making, and see the world as transitive. I nod to them in deference and pay my respects to their higher understanding.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
"Dude, Wait...What?"
So, the 'Hempfesters' are gone; having crawled back into their mother's dens and left the city to it's regular number of unwashed slackers on the streets.
Seattle is a diverse and tolerant place, and I am one who prides himself on acceptance of others. That's completely false. I am intolerant of most human monkeys and the 'Hempfesters' are no exception. I was hoping the Juggalos would rise up and possibly wipe out the rest of the soap challenged, but alas, it was not to be. Maybe next year we could pay them in cigarette butts and malt liquor, to slaughter their own kind, riding in on their huge, white-trash girlfriends' backs, smashing the heads of their brethren with giant glass bongs. It would be a wonderful sight to see. But they would probably just trip over their own gigantic pants and ineptitude, leaving an even larger mess to clean up.
There was another favorite creature in attendance this year. The 'I can't let it go' stoner. The fifty year old guy with the Maiden shirt and Geronimo choker, wondering how much it would be to touch-up his sweet wizard tattoo he got in '73. I realize your wife has left you, and your truck driving job has been less than fulfilling since you first set out on your journey from Dootson University. "Before, I could not spell truckdriver, now I are one." Yes, heady days indeed, and I'm sure your feeble attempt to grasp that twenty year old brass ring, will result in glories yet unknown to the common man. But your alkaline assault on our fashion sensibilities is inhumane. Please reconsider the message you are sending to the youth. Twenty years from now I don't want to be dodging the geriatric crowd, riding fixies, in skinny jeans and orthopedic Tom's, trying to make it to their optometrist appointment.
I know intellectually, that there is a place in society for everyone. I just don't want that place next to me. I especially disdain the fact that because I reside in a place somewhat outside the box, that I sometimes get lumped in with the bongwater cologne crowd.
"Are you going to Hempfest?"
"No, I have a job."
This doesn't mean that a day of bong-hits, beer and food vendors coupled with tons of questionably clad nineteen year old girls, doesn't sound amazing; I just don't want to have to crowd surf through the dregs of society to enjoy it. Eternal Salvation sounds pretty good too, but it ain't worth hanging around a bunch of Jehovah's Witnesses to get it.
So, while I await an independent music/film festival that focuses on the beauty of public radio and the collecting of rare books, (and hopefully the food vendors and nineteen year olds.) I will quietly tolerate Hempfesters and the like, in hopes of a brighter tomorrow.
Seattle is a diverse and tolerant place, and I am one who prides himself on acceptance of others. That's completely false. I am intolerant of most human monkeys and the 'Hempfesters' are no exception. I was hoping the Juggalos would rise up and possibly wipe out the rest of the soap challenged, but alas, it was not to be. Maybe next year we could pay them in cigarette butts and malt liquor, to slaughter their own kind, riding in on their huge, white-trash girlfriends' backs, smashing the heads of their brethren with giant glass bongs. It would be a wonderful sight to see. But they would probably just trip over their own gigantic pants and ineptitude, leaving an even larger mess to clean up.
There was another favorite creature in attendance this year. The 'I can't let it go' stoner. The fifty year old guy with the Maiden shirt and Geronimo choker, wondering how much it would be to touch-up his sweet wizard tattoo he got in '73. I realize your wife has left you, and your truck driving job has been less than fulfilling since you first set out on your journey from Dootson University. "Before, I could not spell truckdriver, now I are one." Yes, heady days indeed, and I'm sure your feeble attempt to grasp that twenty year old brass ring, will result in glories yet unknown to the common man. But your alkaline assault on our fashion sensibilities is inhumane. Please reconsider the message you are sending to the youth. Twenty years from now I don't want to be dodging the geriatric crowd, riding fixies, in skinny jeans and orthopedic Tom's, trying to make it to their optometrist appointment.
I know intellectually, that there is a place in society for everyone. I just don't want that place next to me. I especially disdain the fact that because I reside in a place somewhat outside the box, that I sometimes get lumped in with the bongwater cologne crowd.
"Are you going to Hempfest?"
"No, I have a job."
This doesn't mean that a day of bong-hits, beer and food vendors coupled with tons of questionably clad nineteen year old girls, doesn't sound amazing; I just don't want to have to crowd surf through the dregs of society to enjoy it. Eternal Salvation sounds pretty good too, but it ain't worth hanging around a bunch of Jehovah's Witnesses to get it.
So, while I await an independent music/film festival that focuses on the beauty of public radio and the collecting of rare books, (and hopefully the food vendors and nineteen year olds.) I will quietly tolerate Hempfesters and the like, in hopes of a brighter tomorrow.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
"Breakfast"
Breakfast. The most wonderful part of the day. Special breakfast. Even more wondrous. You take the time to pull out all the ingredients that you've been saving for a special family breakfast, just like this one will be. The The pitter patter of little feet and sounds of Mama, getting ready in the other room, are perfect background noise for the assemblage of coffee. The gurgling drip, drip, drip, lets me know that golden elixir is on it's way.
1. BACON
Cut into small squares and grilled to perfect crispy flavor bombs.
2. MASA HARINA
For you white folks out there, Masa Harina, is a ground corn flour that is used to make handmade tortillas from Heaven. Mix with warm water and a pinch of salt, till dough is light and springy. Should not be sticky or crumbly. Roll into 2" balls, flatten in wax paper, and fry till golden brown, in grease from bacon.
3. HUEVOS
Do not break yokes! Fry eggs in left over bacon grease, sunny side up, use lid to hold in heat and help cook the tops, but don't overcook the yokes! Leave them runny.
4. CHEESE
Grate fresh sharp cheddar.
5. ASSEMBLE
News Team Assemble! Sorry...place two lovingly handmade tortillas on plate, sprinkle bacon crumbles on tortillas, place unbroken yoked eggs on top of bacon, sprinkle cheese, and garnish with Ro Tel salsa. Doug, I know you know what that is. And, viola!
Except, the kid was screaming, my wife kept telling me she was going to be late, and our teenager had finished off all the salsa the day before. But, normally, this breakfast will fix almost anything that's wrong in the house. And everyone did sit, in silence, eating, happily, for at least three minutes.
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
1. BACON
Cut into small squares and grilled to perfect crispy flavor bombs.
2. MASA HARINA
For you white folks out there, Masa Harina, is a ground corn flour that is used to make handmade tortillas from Heaven. Mix with warm water and a pinch of salt, till dough is light and springy. Should not be sticky or crumbly. Roll into 2" balls, flatten in wax paper, and fry till golden brown, in grease from bacon.
3. HUEVOS
Do not break yokes! Fry eggs in left over bacon grease, sunny side up, use lid to hold in heat and help cook the tops, but don't overcook the yokes! Leave them runny.
4. CHEESE
Grate fresh sharp cheddar.
5. ASSEMBLE
News Team Assemble! Sorry...place two lovingly handmade tortillas on plate, sprinkle bacon crumbles on tortillas, place unbroken yoked eggs on top of bacon, sprinkle cheese, and garnish with Ro Tel salsa. Doug, I know you know what that is. And, viola!
Except, the kid was screaming, my wife kept telling me she was going to be late, and our teenager had finished off all the salsa the day before. But, normally, this breakfast will fix almost anything that's wrong in the house. And everyone did sit, in silence, eating, happily, for at least three minutes.
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
Friday, August 19, 2011
"Goodbye"
One morning I woke up,
And found I wasn't there.
I couldn't guess where I'd have gone,
And looked most everywhere.
One morning I got up,
And found I'd left the house,
Could not decide where I might hide,
But kept on looking 'round.
I found that I had left,
So many years ago,
I wondered why, I up and flied,
Took off without a note.
I wasn't sad I'm gone,
I wasn't even missed.
Truth be told, I was too bold,
And left the place a mess.
And found I wasn't there.
I couldn't guess where I'd have gone,
And looked most everywhere.
One morning I got up,
And found I'd left the house,
Could not decide where I might hide,
But kept on looking 'round.
I found that I had left,
So many years ago,
I wondered why, I up and flied,
Took off without a note.
I wasn't sad I'm gone,
I wasn't even missed.
Truth be told, I was too bold,
And left the place a mess.
"Take it Easy"
Everyone's worried,
I don't give a shit.
They all stand in line,
I prefer to just sit.
Everyone's late,
I got time by the balls.
They all want to hate,
I got love for them all.
And everyone hurries and acts like a clown,
They hurt all their loved ones by fucking around,
And no one else asks, how or why are we here?
Or gives a rat's ass, so I'll just drink my beer,
And stay out of the way, as they run their ass by,
All rushing through life, oh so eager to die.
"Nobody Knows"
Sometimes I feel quite nervous,
Like I'm doing something wrong.
Sometimes I feel I'm out of place,
Or that I don't belong.
And then I think,
That can't be right,
And who am I to say?
If I can't know, then no one can,
'Cause who the fuck are they?
And if that's it, we're all just here,
And no one's got a clue,
Then don't tell me what's right or wrong,
'Cause who the fuck are you?
Like I'm doing something wrong.
Sometimes I feel I'm out of place,
Or that I don't belong.
And then I think,
That can't be right,
And who am I to say?
If I can't know, then no one can,
'Cause who the fuck are they?
And if that's it, we're all just here,
And no one's got a clue,
Then don't tell me what's right or wrong,
'Cause who the fuck are you?
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Anniversary
Five years ago today, I married my wife. She is my best friend, the mother of my children, my occasional lover and the biggest pain in the arse this side of the Pecos. For someone that is constantly pointing out my mistakes, I've never known a greater supporter. I come up short, time and again and yet she still thinks I'm a great husband. (She's not very bright.) She makes most of the decisions, but is always telling me what a good partner I am.
I love her very much, and aside from her glaring inability to judge character, she is absolutely the most impressive person I have ever known. Sometimes I think maybe she is just cutting me a break because she loves me, and quite frankly at this age her other prospects are probably pretty dim. Even so, I can't help but think my charm and infectious wit, coupled with my boyish good looks must have something to do with it.
She is beautiful inside and out, and lights up every room she enters. Mainly from the glow of that damn 4g phone I bought her for her birthday that she refuses to put down, but still, people take notice. Her laugh is a wonderful auditory assault, and stops my heart every time I hear it. Mostly because it follows my being injured or having made a grievous error in judgement.
But I couldn't be luckier. For a man with a laundry list of failings, needs a wife with a kind heart and short memory, of which mine has in spades. She can't remember why she married me, but is too nice to bring it up.
I love you Aimee, and I always will. Happy Anniversary.
P.S. I think I broke the dishwasher.
I love her very much, and aside from her glaring inability to judge character, she is absolutely the most impressive person I have ever known. Sometimes I think maybe she is just cutting me a break because she loves me, and quite frankly at this age her other prospects are probably pretty dim. Even so, I can't help but think my charm and infectious wit, coupled with my boyish good looks must have something to do with it.
She is beautiful inside and out, and lights up every room she enters. Mainly from the glow of that damn 4g phone I bought her for her birthday that she refuses to put down, but still, people take notice. Her laugh is a wonderful auditory assault, and stops my heart every time I hear it. Mostly because it follows my being injured or having made a grievous error in judgement.
But I couldn't be luckier. For a man with a laundry list of failings, needs a wife with a kind heart and short memory, of which mine has in spades. She can't remember why she married me, but is too nice to bring it up.
I love you Aimee, and I always will. Happy Anniversary.
P.S. I think I broke the dishwasher.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
"Dirty Liberal"
Why the fuck is liberal a dirty word these days?!? And why the hell are liberals so fucking afraid of admitting to what they are? Self-hating liberal pussies have allowed those backwoods Baptist foot-washing snake-handlers to reinvent themselves as the 'Tea Party' and hijack the whole goddamned country! Jesus was a liberal. You think people gave Jesus a lot of shit? OK, bad example, but this is what I mean people! Do you remember what happened to Him?!? This is no time in history for a milk-drinking, Buddha-loving, turn the other cheek, if you can't say something nice then don't say anything, kind of attitude. We need to KICK SOME BUMPKIN ASS!
Rick Perry can accuse Chairman Bernanke of treason and threaten his life on national television, while we worry about how to word press releases so they don't upset the fucking sensibilities of some gun-toting, six toed, mouth-breather, that thinks this mess was started by President Obama when he was a Muslim in Kenya.
For not even three years yet, President Obama has worked tirelessly and got some really impressive stuff done for this country, all while having his way blocked at every turn by the conservative right. He tackled the healthcare issue, to try and help those without; many of whom voted against him and will again. He tried to clean up George Bush's wars, getting Bin Laden in the process. The GOP has held a majority in congress for almost a year and has put forth not one jobs bill the entire time. Their mantra of, "no tax hikes ever" is tired and played out. They offer no solutions, only more rhetoric and vitriol and more finger-pointing.
This has devolved into a childish schoolyard fist fight, and I know the Democrats have been taught to play nice, but enough is e-fucking-nough! We need to be vocal and we need to be loud. We need to shine a light on the ignorance that is holding this country's progress hostage. If you know someone that is rife with misinformation, fucking correct them! If you do not know enough about the current situation, get informed! C'mon people, this shit is in the ridiculous stage now, and time is ticking.
Speak your mind and let these fucking hillbillies know who's in charge! Do not hide in the shadow of non-involvement and hope for the best! Now is the time for action! Place the blame where it belongs and be not ashamed!
Rick Perry can accuse Chairman Bernanke of treason and threaten his life on national television, while we worry about how to word press releases so they don't upset the fucking sensibilities of some gun-toting, six toed, mouth-breather, that thinks this mess was started by President Obama when he was a Muslim in Kenya.
For not even three years yet, President Obama has worked tirelessly and got some really impressive stuff done for this country, all while having his way blocked at every turn by the conservative right. He tackled the healthcare issue, to try and help those without; many of whom voted against him and will again. He tried to clean up George Bush's wars, getting Bin Laden in the process. The GOP has held a majority in congress for almost a year and has put forth not one jobs bill the entire time. Their mantra of, "no tax hikes ever" is tired and played out. They offer no solutions, only more rhetoric and vitriol and more finger-pointing.
This has devolved into a childish schoolyard fist fight, and I know the Democrats have been taught to play nice, but enough is e-fucking-nough! We need to be vocal and we need to be loud. We need to shine a light on the ignorance that is holding this country's progress hostage. If you know someone that is rife with misinformation, fucking correct them! If you do not know enough about the current situation, get informed! C'mon people, this shit is in the ridiculous stage now, and time is ticking.
Speak your mind and let these fucking hillbillies know who's in charge! Do not hide in the shadow of non-involvement and hope for the best! Now is the time for action! Place the blame where it belongs and be not ashamed!
"Punk is Dead"
Oh where have they gone?
Those punks on their boards,
Those warrior poets with spraycans for swords,
They've long left the war,
To join the poor masses,
With nary a thought from their head muffled asses.
Pop-culture consumers,
Bereft of the gift,
Their souls having settled, no longer shall lift.
Those punks on their boards,
Those warrior poets with spraycans for swords,
They've long left the war,
To join the poor masses,
With nary a thought from their head muffled asses.
Pop-culture consumers,
Bereft of the gift,
Their souls having settled, no longer shall lift.
"One of Us"
Oh why must you lump me in with your crowd?
The beer addled, ignorant, close-minded, loud,
NASCAR and dirt biking, wrestling fan,
I wish that you wouldn't, but seems that you can,
Draw parallel lines, that go me to you,
And somehow justify things that you do.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
"The Head and the Heart"
Trying to find enlightenment, but my head gets in the way.
Trying to catch that feeling, but the feeling slips away.
It seems I'm looking harder, running faster every day,
But the quarry is elusive and the game is hard to play.
So I chase a little slower, keeping target still in view,
And I ease my lust for winning, stop the talking and just do,
And my vision starts to broaden and my perception skew,
And I realize enlightenment is inside me and you.
Trying to catch that feeling, but the feeling slips away.
It seems I'm looking harder, running faster every day,
But the quarry is elusive and the game is hard to play.
So I chase a little slower, keeping target still in view,
And I ease my lust for winning, stop the talking and just do,
And my vision starts to broaden and my perception skew,
And I realize enlightenment is inside me and you.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
"Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangster"
I haven't always been good, and I haven't always been all bad, but I have paid attention, and I've never been sad.
I've walked a long road in my time and most of it was going the wrong way. I've seen shit I can't forget and and shit I'll always remember, and every bit of it has brought me to where I am today.
It's funny to think that making as many mistakes as I have, would actually be a positive in my life; but it has. To fuck up is to learn and I've had a higher education than most. I have little regret and the reason is, I can see the path I've travelled and value the lessons learned. It's not the destination, but the journey, and it's been a long and arduous road.
The toughest guys I've ever met, never talked about how tough they were, and every single one of them would have traded all their glory for another chance at family and friends.
I've seen hardened gangsters brought to tears from thoughts of children left behind. Otherwise killers reduced to a blubbering mess from thoughts of family they had betrayed. Only spoiled white suburbanites glorify the ghetto; anyone that has ever had to live there will tell you, ain't nothing pretty in the hood.
Fuck MTV. Fuck gangster rap and anyone that tells you that bad is good and good is bad. There's a reason your daddy told you the things he did. Your grandfather was a genius, you were just too stupid to listen.
So here's to being bad and stopping. No one that has been good their entire lives can understand the benefit of repentance. The wisdom of the terminally dumb. You have to make mistakes to learn, and brother I've been in school a lifetime.
I've walked a long road in my time and most of it was going the wrong way. I've seen shit I can't forget and and shit I'll always remember, and every bit of it has brought me to where I am today.
It's funny to think that making as many mistakes as I have, would actually be a positive in my life; but it has. To fuck up is to learn and I've had a higher education than most. I have little regret and the reason is, I can see the path I've travelled and value the lessons learned. It's not the destination, but the journey, and it's been a long and arduous road.
The toughest guys I've ever met, never talked about how tough they were, and every single one of them would have traded all their glory for another chance at family and friends.
I've seen hardened gangsters brought to tears from thoughts of children left behind. Otherwise killers reduced to a blubbering mess from thoughts of family they had betrayed. Only spoiled white suburbanites glorify the ghetto; anyone that has ever had to live there will tell you, ain't nothing pretty in the hood.
Fuck MTV. Fuck gangster rap and anyone that tells you that bad is good and good is bad. There's a reason your daddy told you the things he did. Your grandfather was a genius, you were just too stupid to listen.
So here's to being bad and stopping. No one that has been good their entire lives can understand the benefit of repentance. The wisdom of the terminally dumb. You have to make mistakes to learn, and brother I've been in school a lifetime.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
"Victorious"
Changes happen,
Past that, nothing.
Seize the moment,
Elsewhere wait.
Touch a nerve and laugh the loudest.
Look delicious,
Never break.
Past that, nothing.
Seize the moment,
Elsewhere wait.
Touch a nerve and laugh the loudest.
Look delicious,
Never break.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
"Store Bought Gangster"
Dear fake hipster Seattle hoodlum,
Just because Amazon.com sent you some Dodger gear, doesn't mean you're a gangster. I'm from Long Beach. I know gangster. Your pasty fat ass doesn't qualify.
Drinking tiny over-priced coffee and tagging yourself at the bookstore don't equate to slingin' dope and blastin' at fools you catch slippin'. Besides, you're getting it all wrong. You can't fucking sag skinny jeans while wearing a white belt and Tom's. Those over-sized Sally Jesse Rafael glasses aren't instilling the hearts of your enemies with fear. And for fuck sakes, it doesn't matter what major league team's hat, from some city you've seen on T.V. is on your head, or how crooked it is, you still look like a fucken meat whistle. Gang bangers don't listen to Arcade Fire, and they sure as fuck don't have ironic moustaches. Look, I live here now, and I have a Mariner's hat. It doesn't make me a hippie. My wife made me watch Grey's Anatomy once too, that don't make me a fucken surgeon.
It's ok, I understand. You come from a place known for coffee and trees. Not very gangster. But you should embrace your environment; be proud. So get on your fixie and do a drive-by on REI and pick up some hiking shoes and a hat that looked old when you bought it, and embrace your hippie nature. And leave the gangster shit to the gangsters.
Just because Amazon.com sent you some Dodger gear, doesn't mean you're a gangster. I'm from Long Beach. I know gangster. Your pasty fat ass doesn't qualify.
Drinking tiny over-priced coffee and tagging yourself at the bookstore don't equate to slingin' dope and blastin' at fools you catch slippin'. Besides, you're getting it all wrong. You can't fucking sag skinny jeans while wearing a white belt and Tom's. Those over-sized Sally Jesse Rafael glasses aren't instilling the hearts of your enemies with fear. And for fuck sakes, it doesn't matter what major league team's hat, from some city you've seen on T.V. is on your head, or how crooked it is, you still look like a fucken meat whistle. Gang bangers don't listen to Arcade Fire, and they sure as fuck don't have ironic moustaches. Look, I live here now, and I have a Mariner's hat. It doesn't make me a hippie. My wife made me watch Grey's Anatomy once too, that don't make me a fucken surgeon.
It's ok, I understand. You come from a place known for coffee and trees. Not very gangster. But you should embrace your environment; be proud. So get on your fixie and do a drive-by on REI and pick up some hiking shoes and a hat that looked old when you bought it, and embrace your hippie nature. And leave the gangster shit to the gangsters.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
'Fambilly'
Today is my birthday and as such has me pondering the wonders of family. Family is always there for you, whether you're sleeping or reading or desperately trying to get some fucking work done...they are always there.
They are the first to wake you up and the last to see you go down, and they will never leave. Ever. Not even for a fucking minute and YES, I feel blessed, and thank God for my kids and blah blah fucken whatever.
My family does happen to be really great and I don't know what I would do without them. I mean, what could I do without them? Well, not much, maybe have a few bucks left over at the end of the week, or, spend some time around someone who wasn't crying, or, watch something besides, "So You Think You Can Dance with the Stars From New Jersey?" or, ask a simple fucking question to someone who doesn't roll their eyes as if you were the biggest moron this side of the Pecos.
Or, I could come home to a quiet house, with no one there, no yelling, no crying, no talking, no thanks. I like the cacophony that is my home. Yes, without them I might be able to finish one of the nine books I have started, or catch a moments peace, but all peace, all the time, becomes lonely. I wouldn't have any idea who I was if not for the friends and family in my life. I am, because of them. I try, because of them. I care.
So here's to: no rest, no money, no sanity, no kidding. I wouldn't have it any other way.
They are the first to wake you up and the last to see you go down, and they will never leave. Ever. Not even for a fucking minute and YES, I feel blessed, and thank God for my kids and blah blah fucken whatever.
My family does happen to be really great and I don't know what I would do without them. I mean, what could I do without them? Well, not much, maybe have a few bucks left over at the end of the week, or, spend some time around someone who wasn't crying, or, watch something besides, "So You Think You Can Dance with the Stars From New Jersey?" or, ask a simple fucking question to someone who doesn't roll their eyes as if you were the biggest moron this side of the Pecos.
Or, I could come home to a quiet house, with no one there, no yelling, no crying, no talking, no thanks. I like the cacophony that is my home. Yes, without them I might be able to finish one of the nine books I have started, or catch a moments peace, but all peace, all the time, becomes lonely. I wouldn't have any idea who I was if not for the friends and family in my life. I am, because of them. I try, because of them. I care.
So here's to: no rest, no money, no sanity, no kidding. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Friday, August 5, 2011
"Men vs. Women" (and why men should win)
Let's be honest, no one is working together in a relationship. It's a quiet battle that takes place daily. I know you look at each other lovingly and smooch goodbyes, but that just masks the underlying competition. And the 'winner' of this should be men on sportsmanship alone. I say should because it will never happen and the reason is...women are evil.
I know this to be true because I am witness to it constantly. Oh sure, some men are evil. Hitler, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Glenn Beck, all these men, are or were evil it's true, but they were evil on a global level. What I'm talking about is an insidious domestic evil lurking within your own home. A nemesis sleeping next to you, rooting for your downfall.
I don't find happiness in my wife's pain, but she clearly does in mine. If she is ever melancholy all I need do is seriously injure myself and she'll perk right up. I would never in a million years, wish ill on her.
Let's say for instance she was in the garage, working on her motorcycle and sheered a large portion of her knuckle off while trying to loosen a frozen bolt. I wouldn't think that's funny. She does. Or, if we were at an eating establishment and she ordered two pounds of spicy buffalo wings and jalapeno poppers and washed them down with a bowl of whiskey and she suffered a slight bout of indigestion, this would not bring a smile to my face because I am not evil. If she were to buy 'colon cleansing' products off the internet and have a near death experience on the can that lasted two days, I would comfort her, not torment. Again, I am not evil.
Yes, men may not be the sharpest knives in the place where you keep the knives, but at least we are not evil.
I know this to be true because I am witness to it constantly. Oh sure, some men are evil. Hitler, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Glenn Beck, all these men, are or were evil it's true, but they were evil on a global level. What I'm talking about is an insidious domestic evil lurking within your own home. A nemesis sleeping next to you, rooting for your downfall.
I don't find happiness in my wife's pain, but she clearly does in mine. If she is ever melancholy all I need do is seriously injure myself and she'll perk right up. I would never in a million years, wish ill on her.
Let's say for instance she was in the garage, working on her motorcycle and sheered a large portion of her knuckle off while trying to loosen a frozen bolt. I wouldn't think that's funny. She does. Or, if we were at an eating establishment and she ordered two pounds of spicy buffalo wings and jalapeno poppers and washed them down with a bowl of whiskey and she suffered a slight bout of indigestion, this would not bring a smile to my face because I am not evil. If she were to buy 'colon cleansing' products off the internet and have a near death experience on the can that lasted two days, I would comfort her, not torment. Again, I am not evil.
Yes, men may not be the sharpest knives in the place where you keep the knives, but at least we are not evil.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
"Ode to Tall Can Eskimo"
Where are you going, with so little teeth?
Business deals pending? Appointments to keep?
When will you get there, and how will you know?
There's always 'Free Parking' wherever you go.
You stumble down Western, tall warm one on tap,
With always an eye for a good place to nap.
Fermented ambassador of Pike Market Place,
You mumble nonsensical shit in their face,
Then mosey away with a glint in your eye,
I wonder, Tall Can Eskimo,
Who's happier,
You, or I?
Business deals pending? Appointments to keep?
When will you get there, and how will you know?
There's always 'Free Parking' wherever you go.
You stumble down Western, tall warm one on tap,
With always an eye for a good place to nap.
Fermented ambassador of Pike Market Place,
You mumble nonsensical shit in their face,
Then mosey away with a glint in your eye,
I wonder, Tall Can Eskimo,
Who's happier,
You, or I?
Murder
The crows in North Beach roll in like a loosely knit biker gang, whooping and hollering to one another, dive bombing cats and scaring the shit out of the local birds. They post up on a hilltop and screech out into the valley below, until all of their brethren have arrived, then...WHOOSH! Off to the next town.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Rebublicans
Do you know any Republicans? What are they like? Are they millionaires? How many are billionaires? I don't think I've ever met any billionaires, of course, they could've been at the giant mud truck pull and I just didn't see them, or maybe at the state fair with a burrito hanging out of their mouth like a cigarette and a funnel cake necktie. I know that NASCAR events are rife with republicans, but I'd be hard pressed to point out the rich ones. What is it about these go fast, turn left, KFC eating, Mountain Dew guzzling, God hates fags, cousin fuckers that makes them continually vote against themselves?!? Ok, so maybe I'm lumping them all together. While part of me feels like that is a taste of their own medicine, I also know that they can't possibly all be irretrievably stupid.
And they aren't. Some of them are quite brilliant. Like the ones that convince these foot washing baptist mouth breathers that they should vote with them 'cause "God's on our side!" Really? Aren't God and His illegitimate love child notorious liberals? Wasn't Jeebus always chillin with po' folks and handing out loaves and fishes? What part of His 'message' says, "Don't fuck with corporate tax loopholes" or "Screw jobs and entitlements, what we need is more oil company subsidies."?
We almost lost our AAA credit rating as a nation and all because some tea party bumpkins wanted to hold a system hostage that they don't understand. My heart doesn't bleed and I'm NOT a socialist. But for Christ sakes people, can't we just be reasonable?
And they aren't. Some of them are quite brilliant. Like the ones that convince these foot washing baptist mouth breathers that they should vote with them 'cause "God's on our side!" Really? Aren't God and His illegitimate love child notorious liberals? Wasn't Jeebus always chillin with po' folks and handing out loaves and fishes? What part of His 'message' says, "Don't fuck with corporate tax loopholes" or "Screw jobs and entitlements, what we need is more oil company subsidies."?
We almost lost our AAA credit rating as a nation and all because some tea party bumpkins wanted to hold a system hostage that they don't understand. My heart doesn't bleed and I'm NOT a socialist. But for Christ sakes people, can't we just be reasonable?
...is this thing on?
Hello. My name is Woods. Writing is hard. I tattoo, so that means I deal with a great cross-section of society. Whether I want to or not. All day disparate types of human monkeys, of all shapes, sizes and styles, waltz by the shop dragging their knuckles across my psyche and last nerve. So given the mass amounts of archeological data that I come across on any given day, I feel it warrants sharing with the public, as some of my findings, while maybe not important, certainly are...educational, shall we say.
Also, things occur to me. I need to share these things from time to time to retain my sanity; or at least purge the demons in my head. I urge you to share your thoughts with me as well.
I look forward to introducing you to regular characters such as 'Tall Can Eskimo' and 'Mad at my Dad Guy'. Real people, with real fucken big problems. Garden variety douche bag tourists are great, but making fun of them is picking low hanging fruit to the seasoned curmudgeon. No, what I am aiming to do is really broaden your horizons with some A1 fuktards. So, here is to life, liberty and the pursuit of asshats that make us laugh. Like a good episode of Cops, it should at least make you feel marginally better about yourself.
Also, things occur to me. I need to share these things from time to time to retain my sanity; or at least purge the demons in my head. I urge you to share your thoughts with me as well.
I look forward to introducing you to regular characters such as 'Tall Can Eskimo' and 'Mad at my Dad Guy'. Real people, with real fucken big problems. Garden variety douche bag tourists are great, but making fun of them is picking low hanging fruit to the seasoned curmudgeon. No, what I am aiming to do is really broaden your horizons with some A1 fuktards. So, here is to life, liberty and the pursuit of asshats that make us laugh. Like a good episode of Cops, it should at least make you feel marginally better about yourself.
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