Sperm...

If I were a father, I would not be watching Howard Stern on E. The entertainment network, not the drug, thank you. My ankle probably wouldn't be broken. I wouldn't be typing about this. I would have a better job. There would be milk in the house. You know, scratch that - I've read that there really aren't benefits to drinking milk, that it's all corporate propaganda. If I were a father, I would expect, at least, half of the action figures that I have in my room to be broken.

If I were a father, I would post pictures of my kid...with a machete. No, I wouldn't - but I would have my kid guest-write every once in a while. Actually, I'd give him his own blog. I would let em' wear his or her hair however they wanted. I would expose em' to all kinds of music. Most of it. I would teach them about Henry and Ribsy, Beezus and Romona, Sheila The Great, Super Fudge, Narnia, Harry Potter, Lemony Snicket, Dick and Jane, Dr. Seuss, Charles Bukowski, and National Geographic. My kid would teach me why the sucky-ass cartoons on Nickelodeon are appealing to him or her.

If I were a father, I wouldn't change my style of dress. They better like black. I would teach them that the white man is the enemy. I would make them listen to Radiohead. I would have them do the grocery shopping. I would teach them how to fall asleep in class without getting caught. I would teach them how to be a good person, but a rabid dog if somebody fucked with you. I would teach them how to drive in case Daddy happened to fall asleep at the wheel. I would teach them how to sign my name. I would play the guitar for them. I would play video games with em'. I would teach em' how to get along with women. It wouldn't matter if my kid were a boy or a girl; this is a necessary survival technique for any gender.

If I were a father, the space next to me would always be theirs, if only they could move their mom out of the way. I would expose them to oldies. You need oldies. It's the only listenable music on the radio. I would teach them to be polite to old folk, but to be a rabid dog if somebody fucked with them. I would teach them not too kill bugs if they could help it. I would encourage them to not eat paste in school. I would tell them to pick off the smallest kid in dodge ball at school. I would always tell them to give mom a hug, but to save the best ones for me. I would teach them how to throw a proper "Nut-Punch". I would not let them browse the Internet. I would cook for them, and if they didn't like what I made, I'd be more than welcome to throw a cookbook at them. I would tell them to avoid drinking keg beer out of plastic cups at parties. I would tell them to play in a band, but not for too long if you're not making money off of it.

If I were a father, they would always take out the trash. I would encourage a wandering mind. I would give em' noogies, but from the first day that they tell me to knock-it-the-fuck-off...I would. We would both know the lyrics to Travis' "The Man Who" album. I would send them to mom whenever they got hurt. I would teach them how to make paper airplanes. I would teach them how to make spit wads. I would tell them to use a dictionary more than I do. I would tell them that they had to know how to read by the time that they were in preschool, and if they didn't - I'd throw them into the toilet where the poo poo man lives. I'd teach them that it was okay not to see a movie on its first weekend release. I would tell them to start off as an intern at a movie studio to get their foot in the door- any studio, just as long as it wasn't anything porn. I'd tell them that they had to go see The Beastie Boys once, at least. I'd tell them to join Drama Class, but only for a little bit, so that the weirdos don't get too you. I would have their voice on the answering machine. I'd tell them that when a phone solicitor asked for the man of the house, to always answer, "This is he".

I would tell them to keep on typing this while Daddy goes and checks the sprinklers (smokes secretly). Naw, I don't want to be smokin'. A smokin' hot dad, hell yeah. I'd tell them all about Spiderman's troubled relationship with Mary Jane Watson Parker. I'd tell them to speak to all animals and plants like they were real people. I'd give them storybook records as Christmas stocking stuffers. I wouldn't encourage them to try out for sports in high school. I would discourage them from joining "band". I would encourage them to use "maam" and "sir" along with "fucker" and "dumbass". I would tell them that if a dot com resurgence comes along, to take the money, save, and run. Fast. I would paint pictures with them and hang them on the living room wall. I would teach them all the magic tricks that I know. I would teach them how to play poker. I would teach them how to spit far. I would teach them how to fix things. I would teach them how to strangle their mother and not leave bruises. I would teach them how to fish. I would tell them how to steer conversations into their favor.

I would teach them that there are a lot of sucky-ass things in the world, but that I think that there are more beautiful things out there than the sucky. I would teach them that no matter what happens, and how much the life-hand can slap you in the face - that nothing bad would really ever happen to them, and that if good things aren't happening at the moment...they'll eventually get there.

And I'd teach them to tell their father to get the hell to sleep at later hours like these, cuz' there's playing to be done tomorrow. Adventures, mischief, and madness, yo.

Or at least Cup O' Noodles, Beer, and bad TV...

Short Order Cook...

Man, do you remember that one freak that answered the "roommate wanted" ad that you posted up at the local college? You were desperate and you needed somebody in there fast. He was short. Big ass nose. Kinda like Tim Roth, but ugly as hell. He was a cook at a local burger place, hey, now wasn't the time to be judgemental - remember, you needed his money.

The first warning sign was that when he moved in, it took him about fifteen mintues. And that was with a cigarette break. Second warning sign? You used to hear him talking to Captain Kirk as he was watching Star Trek. "Yeah, go Kirk!".

He only lasted about a month and a half. He just got weirder and weirder, til you couldn't take it anymore. Then, you thought he stole some money from you, you almost choked him to death, and then he threatened to send the Mexican Mafia on you. He was Irish.

Yeah, I remember him. What a dumbass...

What The Hell...

audblog audio post

Dear God(s)...

I'm sorry for whatever I did to deserve this horrible feeling in my belly. I'm a recipient of poo karma today. Anyway, if I had a hundred dollars right now to spend on foolish things, it couldn't go towards anything useful - cuz that's no fun, I'd spend the hundred bucks on as many comic books, beer, cigarettes, and Hello Kitty stickers as I could. That would be fun. Now I'm depressed. Somebody come over, drink with me, and play video games. I'll give you a back rub. I'll go forever too. I won't try to cop out of it after the first five minutes either. Or let's write a story tonight. You can write all the sexy parts.

Assignment For The Day...

To call someone "Bubba".



Thank you...

My Xanadu...

No particular reason, but if I lived in Australia, I'd save all of my money and buy the whole damn island. Got that right, Bub. Australia seems nice. They have wonderful exports. Nicole Kidman. Naomi Watts. That one book...what was it called? Cold Beer and Crocodiles, or something like that. Koalas are cute. And they hate Rabbits. They eat chocolate Bilbys instead for Easter. Don't ask me to explain what a Bilby is, I don't have the time, it's late.

But this is what I want...all of Australia. Nothing else. I'll keep on producing the occasional hot actress, I won't ruin the environment, I'll keep out of world politics, I'll just use the government funds for building a force field and for making toys. Yeah, It'll be the real island of misfit toys. I'll grow a beard, because somehow, I don't think It'd be right for me to be a nutcase who owns an island without having the obligatory, long, white beard.

Oh, and drunk Koalas. And cybernetic Kangaroos controlled by Chimpanzees that sit in their pouches.

Fosters. Australian for beer, mate.

Thank you.

My Bozzie Award...

I forgot to tell you that I won the...

"EXCUSE ME WHILE I POO
DID YOU KNOW POO BACKWARDS IS OOP?
OOP, I GOTTA POO
MY MOTHER JUST ATE MY DOG
'SCUSE ME WHILE I SMOKE AND POO
AND GOOK BACKWARDS IS KOOG
AND HALF A GOOK IS GO OR OK
EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO OK" Award yesterday...

Bow before me...

Soft With An Eyeball Invading Undertone...

Besides the Academy Awards, The Bozzies, and the war in Iraq. It's been a really boring day. But just leave it to one of western thinking to list a bunch of things happening in the world and to tell you how boring the day was. It's like saying how much you hate your car after taking an awesome roadtrip. Did that make sense? If it doesn't that's okay, because my little sister says I am officially a Godfather now...

Harry Cash Malone. That makes him co-captain of the next Malone wave. Milo Malone is hanging somewhere in Brooklyn. Him and his little four year old self. I can't wait until the inevitable family reunion where the next generation of Malone's comes up to me as I'm smoking in the backyard and asks me what the hell happened? Why are all of these old people so weird?

I'll tell him I have no clue, but I'm sure glad he's here...

Then we'll go play...

That's it.

Can I Open My Eyes Yet?...

The Bozzies are here....

?...

I have nothing to say right now.