Archive for November, 2013

What I’m Thankful For ’13

November 28th, 2013

An incomplete list.

Tsukasa Fujimoto (Japanese women’s wrestler)


Kana (Japanese women’s wrestler)


Sara Del Rey (American women’s wrestler/trainer, seen here kicking a man in the head)




(not illustrated) The word “motherfucker”


Sparks (American music group)


Mae Young (Incredibly old American women’s wrestler, most hardcore person alive)




Huge Tire Bouncing Downhill Into Lake (Youtube Video)


Dash Chisako (Japanese women’s wrestler)




Piggy Gets Warm Bath (Youtube Video)


Bailey Jay (American transsexual adult film star)


FACT: Eagles (American rock group) did NOT put out an album this year. This makes the sixth year in a row they have not put out an album. For this I am thankful.



Ducks (animal, pound for pound King of the Beasts)

You Are My Sunshine

November 27th, 2013


“You Are My Sunshine” is a very old song. It’s so old it may be the first song most of us hear as babies. Our mothers sing it to us. Somehow it gets in our ears. Such an easy to remember set of words to begin.


You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away


This song has been covered by so many people. Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, the Beach Boys, Lawrence Welk, Ike & Tina Turner, Bing Crosby, and now Jamey Johnson with some help from Shooter Jennings and Twiggy Ramirez (?!).


When the Beach Boys recorded it for their SMiLE album, they only hinted at the sadness inherent in the tone. This take with Johnson et al, really takes the cake and throws it in the garbage bin so no one can eat it. Darkness, shadows, a song with no sunshine in it to speak of.

Giving A Good Memory

November 21st, 2013

Last Tuesday I traveled to Greenville to record some demos. WARNING: This is a post about my music. These don’t occur all that often, so I’ll try to make it quick.


I went to a secret location in Greenville that had a grand piano. This was the attraction and I used it to the best of my middling abilities. Anyway, during some down time in the session I played a Debbie Reynolds song called “Tammy”. My friend Patrick was engineering the session and he told me that he knew a woman in town that said the song was named after her because her father actually wrote that song. I quickly recorded a version of it so he could play it for her when he saw her next. I was very impressed that there were ties to this song which came out in 1957 to Greenville.


As it happened, Patrick heard her story wrong. Her father had not written the song for her, but simply played it for her because of the namesake. In a way, that might be even more special. This song brought back a nice memory of her father and her childhood. I hope my rendition did it enough justice. I blew a few chords here and there and didn’t put 100% into it. That was when I thought I was playing it for the daughter of the guy who wrote that song.


I might go back to the church next month and work it out for real. Try to record an album’s worth of material. But that is another story for another day.

A Proper Tribute For KP

November 17th, 2013

The last episode of Eastbound & Down was this Sunday night. In honor of it, Rolling Stone had Ke$ha write a brief essay about the show and its’ main character, Kenny Powers.


When my music first came out, my sense of humor was kind of lost in translation. I was like, “Man, they don’t know I’m in on the joke!” But then I saw Eastbound & Down, and I knew Kenny Powers would totally get me. We’re both oblivious, missing social cues about what’s appropriate. We both have a really dark and obscene sense of humor, which my publicists tell me I have to tone down. But Kenny doesn’t tone it down. He owns that shit. I am proud to be his female embodiment.



I certainly would like to slam Ke$ha for her dumb, co-opting essay but what would the point be? She won’t care and it would be like shooting fish in a cum-filled barrel.
What is important, and I’m sure even Ke$ha will agree, is that the audience sees a part of itself (or wants to) in Kenny Powers and his give-no-fucks way of life. Frank Sinatra sang “I did it My Way” but nobody ever gets to do it their way and win. Most people who try to do it their way fall by the wayside. Even more people know the consequences of going all-in, and they never go for it. They play it safe their whole lives, live comfortably and die in regret. But the funny this is EVERYBODY dies in regret, no matter their life’s journey. You might as well go all in. Even if Kenny Powers wouldn’t say it aloud, he could sense the shit out of it.
I wish I could be like Kenny Powers but I can’t. I got too many motherfuckers I love and care about. I can’t do it my way, certainly not whenever I want. Every relationship you commit to is a piece of you that you give away. Your life is not your own. Your life belongs to you and your family and your spouse and your children and your friends.
Here’s the other thing. It’s not one-sided. Their life is a part of yours. You may feel like you’re giving your life away bit by bit but you are NOT. You get what you give, quite literally. We’re all in this together. That’s the beauty of it all.
Fade to black, roll credits. Audience goes fucking apeshit.

Max Cromwell Mayergalt

November 12th, 2013

Over 1900 people have been nominated for the North American Big Writing Awards. Between now and the end of the year, we will release bios on all the nominees. In this installment, we have a bio of Max Cromwell Mayergalt, writer of Black Gold Sprinkler Heads and Joe Weider Struts & Shocks.


Mr. Mayergalt asked to provide his own bio.


Who among us haven’t wanted to walk into a bar, step up to the most beautiful girl in the room, grab her by the throat and force my tongue into her mouth?


Who among us hasn’t wanted to walk into a gun store and demand the biggest handcannon in the joint, pay the man at the cash register. Who among us hasn’t wanted to immediately put a bullet in the chamber of that gun and immediately blast oneself in the skull right in front of that minimum-wage gun store drone?


Who among us hasn’t wanted to go right up to the gates of Heaven, look Saint Peter in the eye, knock his big stupid book to the ground and then grab him by the throat and force my tongue into his stupid throat, throw him to the ground and march right through the pearly gates?


Who among us hasn’t wanted to walk through the pearly gates into Heaven, right up to God on His throne, pull out a giant handcannon and blast him to death, becoming God in the process?


Who among us hasn’t wanted to monopolize America’s railways?

Etienne del Gato

November 10th, 2013

Over 1900 people have been nominated for the North American Big Writing Awards. Between now and the end of the year, we will release bios on all the nominees. In this installment, we will discuss writer and professional cat costumer Etienne del Gato.


Etienne del Gato (translation: Stephen, the Cat) lives outside of Tempe, Arizona with his partner Gregoire le Taureau (translation: Gregory, the Bull), their fancy pencil-thin mustaches, two cats and reams upon reams of fabric which Etienne uses to design custom costumes for said cats, Dickie Jr. and Harvey Milk The Elder.


When Etienne is not designing cat costumes, he writes for such websites as Elderly Costumer, Elderly Customer, and GoCatDaddy.


Can Felines Wear Ermine? (opening excerpt)


The other morning, I lay in my fainting chair and considered the possibility of putting Dickie Jr in a ermine cape emblazoned with the war sign of the Duchess of Fort Wayne. I confessed my fantasy to dear Gregoire who sassed me and told me that Fort Wayne had no such royal heraldry and that he had once gone to school there and played for the East Fort Wayne Dukes on their junior varsity basketball team.


I had little to know (sic) interest in sports, being asthmatic and having an astigmatism that caused me to be a liability even in informal sporting sessions. That was in my younger years and since then I have had my astigmatism corrected (at least to the best of the doctor’s ability) which allows me to spend a lot of free time working on my second passion apart from writing. . . making fancy dress for my kitties!


Putting fur on a cat seems almost ostentatious but when I really gave it some thought I considered it be a very subversive and transgressive act and you can only imagine how exciting that is. Granted, I have to be careful about how excited I get because of health concerns. My lungs sometimes panic on me and there’s my blood pressure as well. My life is one big palpitation of the heart!

The House Always Wins, Part 2

November 10th, 2013

The most intriguing story from casino night in Evansville was the one I am about to tell. Imagination is a bitch sometimes.


Mary, the Colonel and I spent most of our time on the third floor of the three-floor casino. The place has mostly slots (video and pull’ems) on the third floor, table games and video poker on the second floor and I have no idea what was on the first floor because we never made it there.


Also on the third floor were two people who were together. One was a younger male (perhaps early to mid-20s) who kept playing a video slot game. This is unusually because people typically mill around and go to different machines to try their luck. This guy was locked on this particular game near the VIP slots machines.


With him was an older woman, perhaps fifteen to twenty years older than the young man (I’m speculating). She wore a nice dress and had a nose like Jennifer Grey from Dirty Dancing (before the surgery). She stood at his side and occasionally stroked his back as he continued to play this game continuously.


It should also be noted that she made multiple trips to the ATM in a very short period of time so he could continue to play this same game. The Colonel noticed it and brought it to my attention. The Colonel noticed that she had taken at least a thousand dollars out the first time. So this kid had burned through it pretty fast playing the game over and over again. This caused me and Mary to think about what the extent of their relationship was, this older woman and the young man fixated on a specific video slot machine.


The Colonel concluded that she was the young man’s sugar mama. Mary thought maybe she was his (much) older sister and wanted to take him out on the town. I initially thought that he was “on the spectrum” and she was a rich relative indulging his taste for shiny, spinning colors and weird noises. I also admit that I have little knowledge of what it means to be “on the spectrum”.


The more I thought about it, the more lurid my thoughts became. What if she was his sugar mama and/or a relative and he was on the spectrum and this was what he wanted to keep quiet about the kind of weird sex they had that can be described but can be better viewed in any number of places online in order to avoid me describing it?


Then something else occurred to me totally. What if this sugar mama is actually a sugar daddy dressed in women’s clothing? Very kinky indeed. This would explain why the guy stayed in one spot all night (to avoid stares from gawking idiots like me) and why the “woman” tended to keep her head down while walking around. “She” was just passable enough to walk around in a smoky room where everyone was fixated on their own losses and eventually these two would go off to have weird sex that can be described in great detail but why give myself an erection right now?


The House Always Wins, Part 1

November 10th, 2013

Saturday night I went to the riverboat casino in Evansville. Whenever I tell my family something like “I went to the casino” or “I went to the racetrack”, they always ask me how much I lost. And as much as I’d to put that on my family’s naturally pessimistic outlook, when it comes to gambling they have a pretty good point. The house always wins. Oh yes they do.


There are many problems with the riverboat casinos in the midwest, like the Horseshoe in New Albany and the Tropicana in Evansville. One of which is the severe watering down of high priced liquors. They may do that in Vegas as well but you don’t have to pay for them. I know this and I’m not even a drinker.


Anyway, I’m not here to tell you about the ills of gambling or the low odds of a regular joe against the games. I went in, I did some people watching and spent $20 or so over the course of three hours. Not a bad night at all, realistically, and when factoring in the people watching. . . I got more than my money’s worth.


I saw an armless man play video slots, reared back in his chair with his shoes off tapping the buttons with his feet. I was happy for him but I felt bad for whoever sat at that machine after him.


An older man sat at the bar toting an oxygen tank. My grandfather has one of these because. This is flammable and the guy was walking around in a casino filled with smokers. I was afraid he’d go up in flames but I don’t think he ever did.


I won $10 on Dolly Parton video slots then proceeded to give it right back. The boat sometimes takes off and turns around but it was really late so that didn’t happen while we were there.


When you walk into the front lobby, before you even get to the casino proper, there’s a bar where a band plays. Usually its’ a bar band and they play classic songs that people can dance and drink to. It is my dream to have Technology Vs. Horse play at a riverboat casino bar like that if only one time. Would they dance? Would they yell for us to play Metallica? Would they get so mad at us, they throw us and our instruments into the river? I hope so.

RIP Gattiland of Bowling Green

November 5th, 2013

A part of my life has gone forever.


Gattiland, the all-you-can-eat pizza buffet near El Mazatlan just off 31-W, is closed. I don’t know how to deal with it.


Do you know that website “This Is Why You’re Fat”? Gattiland is one reason why I’m fat. And I have no regrets. I took many meals at Gattiland beginning in my college days when my metabolism was much higher. I took many meals there, alone and solemn, eating the pepperoni pizza, the sausage, the cinnamon stix, and their wonderful BBQ chicken (hold the onions).


The last two weeks I’ve been in town, Gattiland had a sign on the front that said “WE ARE CLOSED FOR BUSINESS”. I’d hate to think that this is the end but I have no other information to go on.


For the longest time, I’ve thought there was a turf war between Gattiland and Cici’s, the other all-you-can-eat pizza buffet in town. For years, Bowling Green has proved it can support more than one all-you-can-eat pizza buffet. What happened? Was there a Cici’s/Gattiland backstreet rumble, loser-leaves-town, and Cici’s won? Cici’s doesn’t even have salt shakers.


One time, when I was in college, one of the other Gatti’s customers needed a jump. I put on my coat and went out to give the jump but I announced to the staff on my way out that I wasn’t finished eating. I gave the guy a jump, came back in, took my coat off and finished my meal.


One time I sat in the big room with the TV screen and watched a room full of rednecks gasp in despair as UK lost a tournament game against Michigan State. I rooted for Michigan State just to be contrary and they won in overtime. I was very unlikable.


One of the last times I was there, I went with some friends, which was unusual for me. We all got $5 Gattiland play cards and went into the game room and played the games. I had never actually stepped into the game room before, after all these times being here for food. I played “Deal Or No Deal” a few times. It was what I guess being a kid is like. I don’t know. It’s been so long.


Everything is changing. Things you think will always be there won’t always be there. Not even in the Robert Frost “nothing gold can stay” sense. Just life being life and life continues to change. The child is father to the man. New blood all the time. Cici’s isn’t as good.



Cassandra Basilisk

November 5th, 2013

Over 1900 people have been nominated for the North American Big Writing Awards. Between now and the end of the year, we will release bios on all the nominees. Our latest installment features self-published erotica authoress Cassandra Basilisk.


Cassandra Basilisk (b. 1968) lives in the Arizona desert where she composes short stories about love, lust, and lizards. Some of her short story compilations (found online for upwards of $1.99 per title) have titles like Scaly Seduction, Komodo My Homo and Icy Tongue Flix Volume III.


Basilisk’s stories center on human (specifically female) relations with lizards of all sorts. She has been published on various websites including LiveJournal, Myspace, Facebook and her work has been used as captions on DeviantArt. In addition, she has submitted to Penthouse Forum.


“I have never made love to a lizard,” Basilisk confessed in a phone interview. “But I think that if it were socially acceptable, most people would.”


an excerpt from Reptile Rapture:

I lie in a snakepit, waiting for them to crawl over me and wrap me in luxiourious (sic) ecstacy. The snakes seem bored, impatient as if to say ‘Why are you in here, warm-blooded temptress? We cannot lay eggs in your. (sic)’ BUT THEY CAN BECAUSE I WILL LET THEM.

“I give thee permission, o serpents of darkness,” I call out. They do not heed me. My skin is getting all goose-pimpled and I am tense with excitement. They cannot hurt me. I yearn to feel their skin against mine. I year (sic) for them to shed their skin. I plan to take their shed skin and make gloves out of them to sell to Indians.


The manager is standing over the pit and asks me to leave. He has security with him. I am naked and unafraid!