King Of Peru Lies

Dinner on Sunday

2004-11-14T01:29:00.000-05:00

Oh I know you wanna know what I'm having for dinner Sunday. You been wanting to ask me all damn day. I know what I'm gonna have for dinner on Sunday already, and I know it's good 'cause I ate it Thursday night and it was great then. Guess what it is. It's meatloaf. I made it, I eat it. Thank you for not wagering.

701 lb. boyfriend

2004-11-13T17:05:00.000-05:00

Seven Hundred Pound Boyfriend.
Just so big. Big as a house of fun. Bad as a house of wax. Built like a wax funhouse.
700 lb. boyfriend.
I met him. I weighed him in. I waxed him down. Built like a fox henhouse.
7 hundred £ boy friend.
It's ©. It's ®. ¿It's not? I hope we can still be þ ç ô, ø. I won't wax him down again.
Seven hundred pound boyfriend.
Not 600. Not five hundred. Way more than 4 hundred. Watch out for that tree!
700 lb. boyfriend.
Ask for it by name. Ask for it by color. Ask for it by cycle. Ask for anything else.
Seven hundred pounds of boyfriend.
Can you handle it? I can't handle it. I want to go now. I need something to eat.

Friends

2004-11-04T21:45:00.000-05:00

Friends.
Get 'em while they last. A dime a dozen.
Friends.
You gotta have 'em. You're gonna love 'em.
Friends.
Where'd my money go? Who's got my lighter?
Friends.
I pick them up. I put them down.
Too many, so many, how many, Jesus Mary, take some away.
So alone, not alone, never alone, there's bone to stone, let's fly away.
Ten penny, seven penny, three penny, Henny Penny,
Robbing and catching, that's the Navy way.
Friends.
I wanna just eat them. Aren't they so cute?
Friends.
Watch this footage. You can see the knife go in.
Friends.
Talentless weasels. They waste my time.
Friends.
They waste your time. They waste everyone's time.
I don't want any, couldn't care less any, sure wouldn't bother any,
Friends.

Electional Disfunction

2004-11-03T02:21:00.000-05:00

Two things.
One - Yesterday I was napping at 4:30 PM when the phone woke me up. I answered it, waited for a reply, said "Hello" again, then hung up and fell back asleep. It rang again, I answered it, no reply, I said "Hello" again, and then a distant female voice said "Hello, I'm Somename from the Maryland Republican Party and..." and I snapped out of my dream state, thought it was a recording (you have to understand that when I get junk phone calls I yell at them, even when they are a recording) and I yelled "You fucking cunt!" The voice stopped, so I continued "You woke me up! Go away and die!", and I hung up, then I realized just what I had done. I probably ruined a few moments for some Republican biddy. Heh heh heh. I imagined her red face and starchy complexion. Heh heh heh. I mean, after all, THEY'RE RUINING TONIGHT, RUINING THE COUNTRY, RUINING MY LIFE. I am SO glad I was able to bring a moment of fresh CUNT to a Republican. Heh heh heh.
Two - FUCK YOU OHIO! At last check ABC was giving Ohio to Bush, which means it's a fucking wrap and now the real hate can begin. Oh Jesus Oh Fuck Oh Hell. This is NOT GOOD. Even my buddy Matt Clark came in third of three in his attempt to win a City Council seat. I was all proud that I registered and voted and now I feel RAPED. Once again my vote meant nothing. Once I again I voted for the lesser of two evils. Once again every single vote I cast was for a LOSER. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. I fell for it. Never again. I bet I get my jury duty summons in the mail tomorrow. Asshole. Dick. Douchebag. I should have known better.
Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and... nah, never happen. End of the world, here we come!

Bus plunges off Andean cliff, killing at least 28

2004-10-31T14:44:00.000-05:00

Oh, my Peru! - Bus plunges off Andean cliff, killing at least 28
I used to talk to the bus drivers, I would tell them "Slow the fuck down!" and "Have another cup of coffee! It's the rules!" but I guess they got tired of me screaming in their ears while they were driving with one knee and had a buxom Peruvian beauty on his other knee while one hand honked and honked the horn and his other hand groped mighty portions of the afore mentioned Pervian beauty, who we will refer to as Judy, although that is not her real name. The bus drivers are careless, rude, horny, selfish, uncaring, kinda hot looking, meat eaters, breeders, former goat farmers, and not pleasant to the eye or the nose. THey are to be avoided. Do what I do, hitch a ride or catch a cab. King - out.

Facing the facts

2004-10-24T01:45:00.000-04:00

I turned 47 last week.
I am officially registered to vote, but I'm still not sure that I'm going to.
Nothing has cheered me in years like the Boston Red Sox.
My big toe on my right foot hurts. It's the toenail. I can't reach it, it's under the skin.
I dyed my hair red Wednesday. It turned out much darker than I wanted it to, and darker than the box said it would. At least it covered the grey.
My attempts to start a new band haven't been all that successful yet.
I'm out of coffee.
Man I love chilly weather. I don't sweat as much and I look so good in a jacket.
I wrote 2 songs this week, both with lyrics.
This is beginning to sound like Larry King.
My computer is OK now, but it's really old and cranky. I think I will call it "Mark".
Why can't I find a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball hat like they used to wear in the 70's? You remember, they were yellow with black stripes and looked kinda bee-like? I want one bad.
Where is my wah wah pedal? I can't find it anywhere? Didn't I get it back from Ben Watson?
I really wish I had a fat bag of weed. Or a skinny joint. Or some seeds. Or a Valium.
My window is open, and it's 40 degrees outside. Ahh...
I just passed wind. Noisy, but fragrance free.
I should never write a blog entry like this one ever again. Under penalty of law.

BUY MY NEW T-SHIRT! BUY MY NEW T-SHIRT?

2004-10-16T22:21:00.000-04:00

BUY MY NEW T-SHIRT! IT'S A DOOZY!

Bread Boxed

2004-10-14T23:34:00.000-04:00

Rye oh why? I will never know. I'm a stupid wreck. I'm a flashing can. Cannon.
Ham On Rye? All eggs fry. I'm a certain taste. I'm a buttonaire. Button.
Hang gang sang tang hang gang sang tang
Fly to fry? I don't know. I'm on permanent leave. I'm a walking bazaar. Bizarre.
Try die try? Whatever. Oh. I'm another guy. I'm the racontaure. Blimey.
Score sore tour floor score sore tour floor
Hungary? Toujour le monde. I'm a mechanical man. I'm the restaurantaur. Billy.
Ooh, going cole slaw.
Ah, feeling plenty.
Ooh, going cole slaw.
Ah, feeling plenty.

Rodent Wars On Jupiter

2004-10-14T03:34:00.000-04:00

Young and hard and hairless, we're the Bannister Boys.
Driving home to bother you.
Dumb and loud and wreckless, we're the Hamburger Boys.
Trying to get a message through.
John and Keith and Harold, we're the Toeknuckle Boys.
Winking and just passing by.
Huge and green and slimy, we're the Jupiter Boys.
Rodent wars and worse oh my.
(repeat until neccessary)

Cat Scratch Stevens

2004-10-01T21:15:00.000-04:00

I'm being followed by a moon shadow. Moon shadow, moon shadow.
Leaping and hopping on the Monsanto. Monsanto, Monsanto.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth all turn south,
And if I ever lose my mouth... wee waa woo woo wee, oh yea yea yeah,
I won't have to brush no more.

How cool is it to give up a million selling recording career for a religious conversion? Change your name, disappear, have an arranged marriage, to me it says mental illness more than God told me to. George Harrison found foreign religion but all he did was write songs about Krisha, but then again, he was probably insane from being a Beatle. The only other loonie I can think of here is Sinead O'Connor, but I always thought she was a bit touched in the head from the beginning of her career.

God has never spoken to me. I have never found religion. I think I live in fear of it, because I have seen what religious fervor can do. I think of God as a crutch, and church as an outdated meeting place. Maybe some day I'll wake up and Vishnu or Jesus or maybe all of them will be at the foot of the bed pointing and gesturing wildly. I sure hope not.

Morning has broken, like a dish or glass. Blackberry tea cups covered in sponge.
Pray for the teacup, pray for the dish or glass, pray that Bush isn't reelected, pray that the polls are wrong.

Yankee go home

2004-09-27T20:58:00.000-04:00

First I filabustered then I waggled my hands down low in the delta valley mountain top.
Ooh, yeah, the Mexican breezes. Ooh, yeah, the Antarctic freezes.
I got my hands down low in this permanent selection and the ice caps melt with the heat from many cowfarts and the bell won't ring but the siren sound is pleasing.
Ooh, yeah, the Atlantic ocean. Ooh, yeah, the lava in motion.
Wax lips did the trick again, and now I'm swimming up a fast river of hurt and the pants get shorter as the leaves get browner.
Ooh, yeah, the coyote in quicksand. Ooh, yeah, the Titanic sinks, and.

SIX DOLLARS DOT COM

2004-09-25T03:09:00.000-04:00

SIX DOLLARS DOT COM NEW AND REDESIGNED AND PURPLE

Mark Harp Turns 42

2004-09-24T04:08:00.000-04:00

Mark Harp Turns 42

Gene Pritney

2004-09-16T20:56:00.000-04:00

It isn't very pretty, what a town without larvae can do. No, it isn't very pretty, what a towel with alpaca can doodle. No, sir, it just isn't very petty, what a town without kitty kat do. No, ma'am, I tells ya, it ain't really attractive, you know, what a pity-lacking metropolis can accomplish. No, it isn't very easy, what a gown without Betty can do.
And you can rest your head on the mantle, you can roll your own by the door, and you can friccazee with Fiona, 'cause she's the pretty girl what's been doin' all the work.
It is not good looking what a city with low esteem and sorrow issues can can can do do. Can do. No, Can do. Cando cando cando. Blocked my memory trout with some J-42 Unabomber style, boy. I can see and read the numbers on the back of your skull.

Plaid shorts don't make it

2004-09-13T15:29:00.000-04:00

Oh, leave my plaid shorts alone.
Yes, won't you leave my plaid shorts alone.
Please, I say, please just leave them alone.
The plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

And my plaid shorts aren't bothering you.
Please leave my plaid shorts alone.
And my plaid shorts aren't worrying you.
The plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

Yes, let them be, like a bird on a stick.
The plaid shorts are not for your amusement.
I wear them until the seams split.
The plaid shorts, that is. The plaid shorts.

So, I ask again, about the shorts of plaid.
Let them be. Let me be. Let them be plaid.
The plaid shorts have left the building.
The plaid plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

And my plaid shorts aren't bothering you.
Please leave my plaid shorts alone.
And my plaid shorts aren't worrying you.
The plaid shorts. Leave them alone.

King Of Peru lies

2004-09-13T02:45:00.000-04:00

King Of Peru lies

Nibbles of my nuggets

2004-09-08T13:59:00.000-04:00

Four becomes three becomes two becomes one, and that's the new math, blobby. I fear change as do all good Americans, yet change is good and makes you grow and forces issues and tells the time before Jerry steals the clock again. Jerry is a post-modern man, and he knows what time it is, weaving and unwrapping and truly feeling that ten under two is a most happy circumstance. Four was easy, three was awful due to backstabs, two hasn't been officially announced yet but I think most folks see the timepiece on the wall. One will remain for chopkeeping and bloated metallic sensabilities, and mensabilities as well. As wells go, wells far go.
I think it was Jeffrey who once said to me, "You should just go off and waste some of these blankheads before they up and waste you.", although I think what he actually said was, "You want any of these fries? They're from last week." I ate of the fries, yes, verily I ate them, and then I talked to the little green Irish man that lives behind my bookcase, and he told me I should just go ahead and waste some of these frankheads before they go and waste the fries. Always take advice from little green men, they know the true meaning of time.
Time is a creation of man. Man is a creation of nature. There is no god.

And then a plan emerges

2004-09-01T10:44:00.000-04:00

Things get clearer. Friends are heard from , and responded to. A plan emerges.

Bassist and drummer needed for off the wall unique and original musics. Funky, big, rocky, yellow and frank. Check out http://www.markharp.com and reply if interested.

Hmmm. That might work. Then there's the musical...

I promise the next blog entry will make MUCH less sense.

You get what you ask for

2004-08-26T00:02:00.000-04:00

Fucking pussies.
A few blogs ago I complained about the 4 bands I was in not going anywhere.
Well, now I'm down to 2 bands.
One of the bands has just kind of disintegrated, and I'm not sure everyone involved is even aware that they have disintegrated. But they have.
The other band, who I won't name here, let's just say they played surf guitar instrumentals and are called The Diamondheads, are looking for a new bass player. Took them 2 months to tell me, and then only one of them had the balls to ask me out for a drink and let me know.
FUCKING PUSSIES.
You wanna kick me out, fine, fucking tell me. I'll quit before you get the words out of your mouth. Who wants to play with fucking pussies anyway? Who wants to play loser surf music? Who wants to play with jerks that aren't committed enough to do a little tour? Who wants to play with assholes that don't say what they feel? You got a problem with me? Tell me to my face, don't send the rhythm guitarist to me with the "bad news". Pussies.
Actually, I feel fine, I was pretty burnt out on having to deal with emotionless stone people and manic drummers and endless rehearsals for songs I knew how to play blindfolded. Enough. Finished. Good. Next topic.
The 2 bands I have left aren't very fulfilling either. I'm fat and 46. It's time to either put together a band doing my stuff or sell these fucking guitars and end this frustration. Rock and roll is a loser's game. It mesmerizes, I can't explain. Fuck it.

2004-08-14T00:29:00.000-04:00

480-pound woman dies after six years on couch
By Pat Moore
Red comments by the King of Peru

Thursday, August 12, 2004

She lived in filth, so large she couldn't move from her sofa, even to use the bathroom.
Even to use the bathroom! Six years of doody and peepee and sweat and skin and oh boy...
Early Wednesday, still fused to the couch, Gayle Laverne Grinds died following a six-hour effort by rescue workers who struggled to lift the 480-pound woman and get her to a Martin County hospital.
I'm sorry she died and all but HOLY MOTHER OF GOD SIX YEARS! Six years of poo-poo and wee-wee! Argh...
Unable to separate the skin of the 39-year-old woman from her sofa, 12 Martin County Fire-Rescue workers slid both onto a trailer and hauled her behind a pickup to Martin Memorial Hospital South. She died a short time later.
Somehow I knew a trailer and a pickup truck would be part of this story.
Sheriff's investigators questioned how Grinds lived in such conditions without more help from family or authorities.
Somebody liked her this way, all fused to the sofa and stuff.
"We're not treating her death as suspicious at this point, but we do have an investigation started because the circumstances surrounding her death are so unusual," Martin Sheriff's Sgt. Jenell Atlas said.
Somebody bought the food and put it close enough to her.
The Treasure Coast medical examiner performed an autopsy of the 4-foot-10 woman and listed her cause of death as "morbid obesity," officials said. Results of toxicology tests will take several weeks.
Nobody ever even got a hose and squirted her down.
"I tried to take care of her the best I could," said 54-year-old Herman Thomas, who lived with Grinds in the duplex apartment in Golden Gate, south of Stuart. "I tried to get her to get up, but it wouldn't do no good."
Four feet ten inches tall, four hundred and eighty pounds. She was a beach ball.
He said the woman that he called his wife hadn't been off the couch for six years. No record of their marriage could be found.
Yeah, I bet she ate it.
"I wish I could have pulled her off the couch, but she wouldn't let me," he said, covering his face and sobbing.
Sounds like someone covering his ass and getting his story straight.
Inside the home, the floor and walls were matted with feces, and trash was strewn across the floors, some which were bare concrete. Furniture was toppled, and pictures were knocked off walls.
Floor and walls matted with feces, but what about the ceiling? You're just not trying, folks.
Atlas said sheriff's detectives will look for potential "negligence issues" related to her care and death.
Like WHO THE FUCK FED THIS WOMAN AND LET HER GET THIS WAY AND SOMEHOW PUT UP WITH A STENCH THAT TRAINED PROFESSIONALS COULDN'T DEAL WITH AND NEVER CALLED AN AMBULANCE?
"We want to know what happened to her, how she ended up this way, and is she supposed to have been receiving any care," she said.
Hmmm.... public assistance check every month, get her some big snacks at the Wal-Mart and it's off to O.T.B.
Rescue workers were called to the home at 8:44 p.m. Tuesday by Grinds' brother and his girlfriend, who reported the woman had trouble breathing and "emphysema problems." The crew initially tried to remove her from the couch, but the pain was too excruciating.
Well where have these two been for the last six years?
Workers wore protective clothing and installed large air handling hoses to ventilate the horrendous odor emitting from the home while trying to figure out how to get the woman and her couch to the hospital.
I guess you'd have to soak the sofa and the woman in a large pool or something then start cutting them apart.
The street in front of the row of duplex apartments turned into a makeshift construction site as rescue crews used hammers and chain saws to build a large wooden stretcher with handles cut around the perimeter so firefighters could lift the woman and the couch, Martin County Fire-Rescue District Chief Jim Loffredo said.
Morbidly obese people that don't bathe have maggots in the folds of their skin.
After several failed attempts, including building one plywood plank that was too small to hold her, workers removed sliding glass patio doors at the back of the home, leaving a 6-foot opening large enough to get her out.
They could have helicoptered her and the sofa to the nearest swimming pool.
They slid the couch with her on it onto the larger wooden plank supported by 2-by-4 boards, which were slid onto a utility trailer.
STILL FUSED TO THE COUCH
"We couldn't get her in the ambulance," Loffredo said.
That's the line that's sticking to me from this article. STILL FUSED.
The trailer was hooked to the back of a pickup, leaving the scene sometime after 2 a.m., witnesses said. Grinds died at 3:12 a.m., still attached to the couch, officials said.
They got the time of death from London's famous Big Ben, convieniently located on her wrist.
Neighbors who watched the lengthy rescue effort said they had never seen Grinds out of the home.
Well, not for six years anyway.
Jerry Thomas, who lives across the street for six years, said he has seen young girls at the home on occasion but never knew Grinds was inside.
Couldn't they smell it? Didn't they notice the nightly truck deliveries by Domino's, Pizza Hut, Iowa Steak?
"All we knew was the old man lived there," Thomas said. "I had no idea a woman ever lived in that house. Apparently she'd been on that couch a long time."
FUSED!
Unidentified relatives expressed anger at the scene.
"Geez, hon, we ain't seen old fat Gayle in, let's see, it's been at least six fucking years! Let's go visit and ask her if she smells that stench we've been smelling for about, oh, five and a half years now... Oh my, God! Gayle! Oh sweet Jesus, you're FUSED TO THE COUCH BY YOUR OWN SKIN!"
"Family members are upset.... It's a difficult position," Martin County Fire-Rescue specialist Chris Wisniewski said.
It's a difficult last name too, Chris.
Clifford Grinds, who is believed to be Gayle Grinds' brother, refused comment and slammed a door when contacted by a reporter at his Hobe Sound home Wednesday afternoon.
Coffee Grinds was also unavailable for comment, saying she felt "drained" after the events had unfolded.
Court records show Gayle Grinds cared for a young niece and nephew after the death of her sister in 1992. Those children are now 19 and 15, but their whereabouts were unclear Wednesday.
OMG... SHE ATE THEM!
"We are used to going to people's houses when things are at their worst... and that's fine, we're trained for it," Atlas said. "But there is no warning for something like this."
Like maybe the smell from a mile away?
Atlas said a community policing deputy who worked the neighborhood a few years ago knew of Grinds but never had any dealings with her, and no deputy had ever been called inside the home.
...although a task force dealing with the disappearance of 18 Good Humor Ice Cream men and their distinctive delivery trucks was interested in questioning her.
In June 2003, 911 dispatchers received a call from the home for medical assistance, but Martin County Fire Chief Tom Billington said he could not reveal the nature of that call, citing federal medical privacy laws and the ongoing investigation.
Sound like some major ass-covering going on there, too.
The Department of Children and Families can intervene to help adults who are unable to care for themselves, but DCF officials said Wednesday they did not know about Grinds.
Nor did they care.
Christine Demetriades, agency spokeswoman for the Treasure Coast, said DCF has no record of calls to the abuse hot line or reports before she died.
And that settles it. Jesus, FUSED TO THE COUCH. I'm going on a diet like last week, man.

WONK WONK

2004-08-10T22:44:00.000-04:00

The flood killed the farmer.

2004-08-10T22:27:00.000-04:00

Something slipped my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind something slipped my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind I think I'm in my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind something slipped my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind oops pass the butter to my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind when the butter went on the bread of my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my keys my mind my mind my mind my mind my ends my mind my mind my mind my mind my knees my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my bees my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my eggs my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my draft my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind my mind.

Come to me now

2004-08-10T22:20:00.000-04:00

Another gravity fight and I ain't got no francos. I got some something cause I just hot weighed. How now I dish there on someone's walk through. I'm in another gray. Then I learned about the freezer fish and how they just make things colder, and I learned some more about the creeks that stay otter and the mice that run nine hills and the boosts of pure gravity. How now I yearn to learn the fix of the seven gerties, the undercreep rickles of norgen splunge toof. Yow winkles, mind elegrant kratz, ties under williegrant and hollowpoint, with gravity rollars and rellers and rollers of true blue glue. Manny sat under the crabapple tree and wrote us a song about weasels and dimples and one two three and we clapped when it was finally over.

He shoots, he scores!

2004-08-05T14:58:00.000-04:00

Last night I broke the toilet seat with my very own ass. It was a cheap plastic seat I won at a carnival, and it lasted through vigorous butt duty for over 3 years, but last night the part that connects the seat to the bowl gave out. Now I have to go buy a new toilet seat, give the old toidy a cleaning, and replace the old broken seat with the new one. Whatever shall I do with the old one? I could make art out of it, but that's been done.
The only reason I posted this slice of reality is so that you will agree that my fantasy writing is much better and more interesting than the kinds of things most people fill their blogs with. No Nancy can relish the findings without a crew cut and a membership card.

King Of Fried Potatoes

2004-08-04T14:32:00.000-04:00

and that is all I have to say on that subject.

I'm the red icing on the cake!

2004-08-04T00:02:00.000-04:00

A certain someone calls me the red icing on the cake and I'm all afluttered like the wispy edge of a cedar chest during the shearing days, then I remember the horrible horrible truth of it all and I know deep down inside that this is a cake that should never be baked for fear that it would rise so high and mighty that it would reach the very sky itself and blot out the sun on which we depend for light and warmth and that would be a real drag.
I did me some talkin' to the sun, and I said "I didn't like the way he got things done, always sleeping on the job and staying in all day sometimes and then other times burning our skins like radiation but without the awkward probes," and that should have settled it right there, but you see, Mr. Forestone, I have lain out a plan so dubious that rats couldn't hold it down, even during the September rum riots. The sun and I, the sun and me, ah, fuck it. Me and the sun, yeah, we go way back, then back again.
Creepy crawly ` Oscar Mayer ` Georgie Porgie ` Hester Baker
Granny grabber ` Grecian gruntle ` Habius Corpus ` Pudding Pie!
I am 10 days older than I was 10 days ago. My skin has been replaced with more skin. My hair grows, then falls out. My finger and toe nails have to be trimmed often or they grow wildly. I breathe in, I breathe out. I turn food and drink into poop and pee. I make wax and other fluids. I pet the cat. I feed the birds. I take a number. It is 10.
10.

Four bands too many

2004-07-29T00:42:00.000-04:00

I'm in four bands.
Four bands.
None of them are "mine".
Three of them are bass guitar gigs.
Four of them let me play guitar on at least one song.
None of them are full time.
Three of them are on some kind of hiatus for the summer.
None of them are signed to a label, national, regional, or otherwise.
Three of them do at least one song that I've written.
Two of them have self-released CDs out.
One of them has actually sold more than 10 CDs.
Two of them have the same drummer.
One of them is strictly instrumental.
Two of them let me sing lead on at least one song.
Three of them have decent and regular rehearsal spots.
Two of them have members that are over fifty years old.
Three of them have members who I think drink too much.
One of them has a name that I think is too long.
Four of them have members that I love.
Four of them have at least one member that I think is insane.
Three of them do at least one cover of someone else's song.
Add all that up and I get 114.
That's just not enough.

Matte Finish

2004-07-29T00:30:00.000-04:00

I saw you. I know you saw me, too, because you turned and walked in the opposite direction you were heading. I knew you were shallow, but I wasn't aware of just how small you could be. I made the mistake of thinking we were friends. My bad. Have a nice life.

With a silky heart of dough

2004-07-15T02:54:00.000-04:00

If it happens remember you heard it here first - Terrorist event, cancelled elections, Patriot act kicks in, Bush becomes dictator, Civil War, end of world. In that order. Remember where you heard it.
What can you say about a piece of shit, except where it works and what it does there and what kind of car she drives and where it lives and how much do I have to pay for this muffler and I forget what 8 was for but if the Devil is 6, then if 6 were 9, I'd be out back with the mutant kids from across the way laughing and poking sticks at them and generally making a damn fool out of myself.
Gravy right out of the package is good, don't get me wrong, all I'm saying is if you follow the instructions on the package and make up a fresh batch of gravy it tastes better and stays with you longer.
If it happens remember you heard it here first - Aliens land in Pittsburgh, demand coffee and corn dogs, turn out to be just like us except they can kill you by staring, Avoid Eye Contact becomes a national catch phrase, profit.

Leslie Uggums No More

2004-07-13T21:19:00.000-04:00

Wheezie. Weezee. Weezy. Weasey. No matter how many times you spell it, it still comes up dead. Dead. DEAD! It is a smaller yet more roomy world with the recent loss of wide actress Isabel Sanfordandson, the inventor of Hot Tar for roofs. Weasels weep wet welts of tears, while women worry why we wear woven woolens weekdays. I don't care about such cars, so I walk to worm.
Noon time I like to have a grilled cheese and cola so I always go to a place that prepares and sells these items, which I eat and pay for, I'm no slouch! I like 'em toasty and crispy and melty and warmy and butterifickly bound, with no pickle thank you, unless you'd like the pickle in which case I'll have the pickle on the side please so I don't get any pickle juice on my plate, which the grilled cheese soaks up and then a good fifth of your sandwich is soggy and cool with the undistinguished flavor of pickle juice on it. Yuck, and ew. I like fries or chips too, and some ketchup.
So I want a grilled cheese sandwich now, and I have plain old white bread and some white American cheese and some butterific (it's like butter, but better) and a perfect pan and even some Pepsi to wash it down, so I'm gonna make some grilled cheese sandwiches now. Want one?

Tapioca

2004-06-28T22:17:00.000-04:00

Tapioca pudding dancers fill my shoes and my shows are finding a niche in the notch, that's why I can't run the gorge like Uncle Mike used to. I know that deep in his heart of taxes he finds the blinds and takes them out but that isn't enough to follow the motion from stem to steps, what with the billowing and turning over and over again. Can't a mellow with shoes and shows find dogs in his whiskers without the wife huffing and purring and blowing the house down? I want to live in a world full of fire and smoke, and I live in a world full of purse snatchers and delegates. It'll be a far fig newton in Hell when I retire to the boat.

Zing!

2004-06-22T02:17:00.000-04:00

Zing! The toaster calls to me for more bread. I hurry to the bakery and get some nice red jelly tarts, but no bread. I'll be damned if a toaster is gonna tell me what to do. Zing, it says, like a half baked monkey in a grocer's freezer. I want bread, I eat breat, bread is the bread of life. Carbs are cool. I weigh 280 pounds today. Zing, says my aorta. Gotta lose some weight, and fast. No more red jelly tarts for me, oh, I'll eat half of yours then.

Lies! Lies! Lies!

2004-06-22T01:52:00.000-04:00

What could be further or farther from the truth than lies? Furthermore, or farthermore, can the Father be expectorated to sit and sit, with these lies all foamy and carmichael and full of excuses? I am not sure, but we can surely be sure that the surity and security of this and other weevils will wobble, but will never fall down. I can tell you this: I will only lie when the lying has a "y" in it. You bet.