As if he doesn't have enough problems just BEING my son, there is a sexist move afoot to make my boy stupid.
When my daughter was born, my orders were very specific. "Don't talk to her like she's a baby. She'll be smarter, and develop a better vocabulary."
I had to use specific definitions of words, so that she would not only know WHAT I was talking about, but would also understand what it WAS that I was talking about, while she was spitting up all over herself. So, if the dog came into the room, I couldn't just say it was the dog. I had to be descriptive.
Me: Oh look, honey. It's the highly variable domestic animal, closely related to the Gray Wolf, that we call Lucy.
My Daughter: Gooooooo....
In this way my daughter allegedly became HIGHLY intelligent to the point that, when she went outside the other day, she had her shorts on backwards.
Nice.
There is no such effort being made with my son. It seems a little early, to me, to throw in the towel on the boy. He's only 4 months old. But, when the dog comes into the room, now, my wife isn't nearly as interested in the educational benefits of the action.
My Wife: It's the woof-woof.....It's the woof-woof......Look at the woof-woof.
My Son: Gooooooo....
Now, he can't dress himself. But, his shorts are generally facing the right direction.
However, I feel that this might be a bigger conspiracy. Bigger than the Kennedy assassination. Possibly even bigger than that whole thing, earlier this year, about the body double in the blonde wig who came out on stage while the REAL Hannah Montana was changing her outfit........Don't pretend like you didn't hear about it....We ALL heard about it.....No.....I'm sure YOU were reading Dickens, or something.....Right.
Anyway, I believe there may be a greater effort going on, in order to make boys stupid. According to the latest figures, 57% of college students are female.
Which means, guys, that not only are the women smart, THEY'RE GETTING SMARTER!!!!
In the very near future, we won't even get to live inside the house. They'll just keep us in pens, and only bring us out when they want to reproduce, need something heavy lifted, or see a spider. Which, let's be honest, wouldn't be so bad. It wasn't too long ago that I spent 4 hours of my Saturday, driving around all over the place, looking at thousands of different curtains, and came home without buying ANY OF THEM!!!!! What a waste. I'd have bought the first ones', and gone home. There was a USC game on. Come on, people. Priorities. If I had my own pen, I wouldn't need curtains. Just a little hay in the corner. Sounds good to me.
We probably wouldn't even need to bother learning to speak.
Woman: Who wants to reproduce?.....Who wants to reproduce?....Do you wanna reproduce?
Man: Gooooooo....
Honestly, it doesn't sound so bad.
We also used to show my daughter videos from a series called "Baby Einstein." In these videos, classical music would play while various animals did various things, at various speeds. Then, a hand puppet of some kind (I seem to remember a goat), would pop up on the screen, look around, and stare at you for a long time. Then, there would be more animals, and more classical music, followed by more staring. Truthfully, I found the whole thing to be more than a little creepy.
Me: Are you sure this is okay for her to watch? It seems weird.
My Wife: Shut up, or I'll lock you in your pen.
Me: Gooooooo....
So, we watched.....and watched....and watched...until we could not watch any more. Not because we had gone mad and started killing people, which is what I wanted to do (we NEVER do what I wanna do.) But, because we had seen ALL the "Baby Einstein" videos. My wife was satisfied that my daughter, who was in the corner swallowing pennies, was a genius ready to take her place among our new female masters.
The last thing my son watched?
Well, the "Mystery Science Theater 3000" movie was on a few weeks ago. We watched part of that together. I think he sort of laughed. I was very proud.
So, you women can go to college, and get all your fancy book learnin'. I'm gonna stay in my pen, and watch TV.
Call me when it's time to reproduce.
Casey
IF YOU'RE LUCKY, YOU AREN'T READING THIS ON SUNDAY. IF YOU'RE READING THIS ON SUNDAY, THEN YOU MISSED MY ROLLER DERBY DEBUT!!!! HOW COULD YOU!?!! I'VE NEVER MISSED ANYTHING OF YOURS!!!! BUT, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20TH, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER, I WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT BETWEEN THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS AND THE GOTHAM CITY GIRLS. I'LL BE THERE, ALONG WITH TRICIA LA'VICIOUS. TRICIA WILL BE THE REAL ANNOUNCER. I'LL JUST BE SITTING THERE, SAYING STUPID THINGS, AND TRYING TO AVOID GETTING HIT. BUT, THERE WILL BE FUN, AND MUSIC, AND A GOOD TIME WILL BE HAD BY ALL. IT ALL STARTS AT 7PM. COME BY, AND SAY HI.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
What Have You Done For Steven, Today?
I know the economy is bad. I read the paper. At the VERY least, I look at the pictures and see lots of people, with serious looks on their faces. This tells me that SOMETHING bad is going on. 9 times out of 10 the word "economy" is in the headline. Okay, so while I don't ALWAYS read the stories, the pictures make me sad. That should count for something.
But, while you are dressing your children in clothes that are "soooo last season," and putting on your sad faces, on the outside chance that a newspaper photographer is around, I would like you to consider one person.
Steven Spielberg.
That's right, you selfish booger head.
While YOU are busying yourself, trying to figure out how you are going to buy food, or make your next house payment, Steven Spielberg is having some of his own issues. YOU probably didn't even stop to think about how the current crisis was affecting Steven.
How do you sleep at night?
He didn't have to make E.T., or Jaws, or that black-and-white movie about that guy who did all that stuff for those Jewish people. But, he did. And he did it without one single thought for himself.
Now, in this time of economic hardship, Steven needs your help. I think you owe it to him to give it.
You see, Steven, and the other multi-gazillionaires that own Dreamworks, are anxiously awaiting word on a $500 million dollar loan.
They NEED this money. If they don't get it, they are going to be forced to continue their relationship with Paramount Pictures. I shudder to think of what this could mean.
Would the movies change?
Well.....no.
Would there be less movies?
Uhhh.....No, actually. They have to do 6 a year. So, either way, we'd get 6 movies.
Would Steven's movies lose their integrity?
Oh....well.....No. They'd be the same movies he makes now.
Would the Dreamworks logo be followed, on screen, by that big mountain, with the little stars flying around it?
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!
THAT'S IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do you KNOW what this would mean?
That's right.......Steven would be unhappy.
Do you remember, back in the 80's, when we all gave hundreds of millions of dollars to the Ethiopians, because they were unhappy with God for making them live in Ethiopia?
Nobody batted an eye at that.
Well, this is the same thing.
The only difference is that the money for the Ethiopians went right into the hands of the Ethiopian war lords, and did nothing to improve the lives of the Ethiopians (can you tell that I like saying the word "Ethiopians?"). To my knowledge, Dreamworks HAS no warlords. So, all this money should, God willing, go directly into the hands of Steven Spielberg.
Plus, we won't have to deal with that annoying, freaking, We Are The World song. Though, I can imagine a scenario where a bunch of rich singers get together, and record a song for Steven, to the tune of it.
We Love You Steeeeeve....
We Love Your Movieees....
We Love The One
About The Little Guy
With The Glowing Fingerrrrrrrrrr.......
It would be sad, and we would all buy it, and Steven would probably get his money. But, my ears would bleed. I hate it when my ears bleed.
Now, the problem here is that, in order to get $500 million, they have to get a loan for several hundred million MORE, in order to ensure that they'll be able to pay back the initial $500 million. So, as near as I can tell, they need to borrow $300 million, so that they can get the $500 million, in order to use the $300 million to prove that they will be able to pay back the $500 million, which they won't be able to do UNLESS they get the $300 million, which they need in order to get approved for the $500 million.
Got it?
Good.
Of course, they could just make GOOD movies. Movies that people would want to see. But, this is Hollywood, and Hollywood doesn't worry about making GOOD movies. They just worry about making ANY movies, which is why people like Dane Cook EVER get to make a movie. They don't have to be good. They just have to be....sort of....there.
My point here is this: Steven can't get his loan, and make himself happy, if you don't stop defaulting on YOUR loans, and causing banks to foreclose on YOUR houses. If you wouldn't mind NOT doing that, then there would be plenty of money laying around to make Steven happy.
Take one for the team.....
Get a fifth job.....
Stop buying frivolous things, like gas...
Sell the older children into the sex trade...
Without these sacrifices Steven can't be happy....
When Steven isn't happy, we get things like 1941.....
Or, Hook......
Or, Always.....
Or, Amistad
I don't think ANY of us wants that.
Make Steven happy.
Pay your damn bills.
Casey
DON'T FORGET, OR I WILL KILL YOU, THAT THIS SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER I, CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY ALONGSIDE TRICIA LA'VICIOUS. IT SHOULD BE A LOT OF FUN, ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING, AND STAND A VERY GOOD CHANCE OF BEING BOTH PHYSICALLY AND VERBALLY ABUSED BY A LOT OF VERY ATTRACTIVE WOMEN, IN ROLLER SKATES. DOES IT GET BETTER THAN THAT? THE ACTION STARTS AT 7PM, THIS SATURDAY NIGHT. HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE.
But, while you are dressing your children in clothes that are "soooo last season," and putting on your sad faces, on the outside chance that a newspaper photographer is around, I would like you to consider one person.
Steven Spielberg.
That's right, you selfish booger head.
While YOU are busying yourself, trying to figure out how you are going to buy food, or make your next house payment, Steven Spielberg is having some of his own issues. YOU probably didn't even stop to think about how the current crisis was affecting Steven.
How do you sleep at night?
He didn't have to make E.T., or Jaws, or that black-and-white movie about that guy who did all that stuff for those Jewish people. But, he did. And he did it without one single thought for himself.
Now, in this time of economic hardship, Steven needs your help. I think you owe it to him to give it.
You see, Steven, and the other multi-gazillionaires that own Dreamworks, are anxiously awaiting word on a $500 million dollar loan.
They NEED this money. If they don't get it, they are going to be forced to continue their relationship with Paramount Pictures. I shudder to think of what this could mean.
Would the movies change?
Well.....no.
Would there be less movies?
Uhhh.....No, actually. They have to do 6 a year. So, either way, we'd get 6 movies.
Would Steven's movies lose their integrity?
Oh....well.....No. They'd be the same movies he makes now.
Would the Dreamworks logo be followed, on screen, by that big mountain, with the little stars flying around it?
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!
THAT'S IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do you KNOW what this would mean?
That's right.......Steven would be unhappy.
Do you remember, back in the 80's, when we all gave hundreds of millions of dollars to the Ethiopians, because they were unhappy with God for making them live in Ethiopia?
Nobody batted an eye at that.
Well, this is the same thing.
The only difference is that the money for the Ethiopians went right into the hands of the Ethiopian war lords, and did nothing to improve the lives of the Ethiopians (can you tell that I like saying the word "Ethiopians?"). To my knowledge, Dreamworks HAS no warlords. So, all this money should, God willing, go directly into the hands of Steven Spielberg.
Plus, we won't have to deal with that annoying, freaking, We Are The World song. Though, I can imagine a scenario where a bunch of rich singers get together, and record a song for Steven, to the tune of it.
We Love You Steeeeeve....
We Love Your Movieees....
We Love The One
About The Little Guy
With The Glowing Fingerrrrrrrrrr.......
It would be sad, and we would all buy it, and Steven would probably get his money. But, my ears would bleed. I hate it when my ears bleed.
Now, the problem here is that, in order to get $500 million, they have to get a loan for several hundred million MORE, in order to ensure that they'll be able to pay back the initial $500 million. So, as near as I can tell, they need to borrow $300 million, so that they can get the $500 million, in order to use the $300 million to prove that they will be able to pay back the $500 million, which they won't be able to do UNLESS they get the $300 million, which they need in order to get approved for the $500 million.
Got it?
Good.
Of course, they could just make GOOD movies. Movies that people would want to see. But, this is Hollywood, and Hollywood doesn't worry about making GOOD movies. They just worry about making ANY movies, which is why people like Dane Cook EVER get to make a movie. They don't have to be good. They just have to be....sort of....there.
My point here is this: Steven can't get his loan, and make himself happy, if you don't stop defaulting on YOUR loans, and causing banks to foreclose on YOUR houses. If you wouldn't mind NOT doing that, then there would be plenty of money laying around to make Steven happy.
Take one for the team.....
Get a fifth job.....
Stop buying frivolous things, like gas...
Sell the older children into the sex trade...
Without these sacrifices Steven can't be happy....
When Steven isn't happy, we get things like 1941.....
Or, Hook......
Or, Always.....
Or, Amistad
I don't think ANY of us wants that.
Make Steven happy.
Pay your damn bills.
Casey
DON'T FORGET, OR I WILL KILL YOU, THAT THIS SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER I, CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY ALONGSIDE TRICIA LA'VICIOUS. IT SHOULD BE A LOT OF FUN, ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING, AND STAND A VERY GOOD CHANCE OF BEING BOTH PHYSICALLY AND VERBALLY ABUSED BY A LOT OF VERY ATTRACTIVE WOMEN, IN ROLLER SKATES. DOES IT GET BETTER THAN THAT? THE ACTION STARTS AT 7PM, THIS SATURDAY NIGHT. HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Ladies And Gentlemen, Please Rise For The Honorable...Val Kilmer...No, Really....Come On...Get Up!!!
What is it about celebrities that makes them think they are qualified to do.....you know......ANYTHING?
In fact, what is it about celebrities that makes them think that anybody, AT ALL, cares about what they say?
I only bring this up because Val Kilmer (yes THAT Val Kilmer) is apparently considering a run for Governor of New Mexico.
That's right. Val Kilmer wants to be Governor......
Of a state.......
In America.....
I just got chills....
I'm just wondering which of his many film roles would qualify him to be Governor of an honest-to-God state.
Could it be his role as the K.I.T.T, the talking car, in TV's new Knight Rider?
No. That couldn't be it.
How about his tough, yet tender performance as Madmartigan in the Ron Howard classic, Willow?
Hmmmm.....Probably not.
I know.....It had to be his role as Eric, in the ABC Afterschool Special: One Too Many, about some kids whose lives are changed after one of their friends drives drunk with "devastating" results.
THAT must be it.
Because, in order to think he is qualified to be Governor, he MUST have had one too many. (I apologize for the obvious, and cheesy joke.)
You notice I did not mention his role as Jim Morrison in The Doors. There's a reason for this. That movie was SO bad, that I didn't want to talk about it out of fear that someone MIGHT want to watch it, just to see how bad it is............And I just did.........DAMN IT!!!
Anyway, it's usually during an election year that I find myself increasingly annoyed by famous people, who think their opinions matter, because they made a movie about something.
I'm going to say something, now, that is going to scare some of you. If you are weak of heart, please don't read it. You have been warned.....
When a celebrity makes a movie about ANYTHING, 9 times out of 10 they are portraying characters, and saying words that.......here's the scary part........SOMEONE ELSE HAS WRITTEN!!!!!!
I know. It turns out that movies aren't little documentaries, where someone just happened to be following famous people around with a camera, recording everything they did. It seems that these things are not only planned, but often times EDITED in order to make the people in them look particularly good.
It's a giant fraud perpetrated on the American people, is what it is.
Who knew that Angelina Jolie was just some tattoo covered freak, who collects foreign children like old women collect cats, and wasn't nearly as intellectual as she wants us to think? This is, after all, a woman who made out with her own brother, at one point.
Does Barbara Striesand REALLY think we care what she thinks about politics?
Does Rosie O'Donnel REALLY think we care what she thinks about the war?
Does Don Henley REALLY think we care what he has to say about the environment?
Honestly, yes, they do. We don't. But, yes, they think we do.
They just don't seem to understand that we go see them sing, because they can sing. We go see them in movies, because they aren't being themselves. They're ACTING. If most of these boobs stood in front of a camera, and blathered on about Darfur for 90 minutes, we would all throw old vegetables at the screen. In fact, this is the very reason that I always bring a supply of old vegetables to the movies with me. In case they break character, and start preaching. It's always better to be prepared, if you ask me.
If you would like an example of just how much we care about what they say, just ask President Kerry......You know......President John Kerry? He won the election in 2004, after Bruce Springsteen, Dave Matthews, and a few others, toured in support of him. Remember? Then he won the election, right? I mean, he MUST have. All those famous people TOLD us to vote for him.
Wait.....Maybe I'm thinking about 2000, when Al Gore won. I know he won, because Alec Baldwin said that, if Bush won, he'd move to Australia. Since Alec Baldwin didn't move to Australia, I can only assume that Gore won.
No?
He didn't?
Probably just as well. Alec Baldwin needed to stay in America, so that he could leave demeaning messages, for his young daughter that her mother (another glorious celebrity, Kim Bassinger) could leak to the media. It would be hard to do that from Australia. I don't think they have phones, there.
(Author's Note: Please spare me ANY comments about how Gore actually won. It's been 8 years. Get over it.)
I know some of you are going to mention Arnold, in California, and Ronald Reagan, of course. You have to remember that most of Arnold's work, as Governor, is PR. I hate to get too serious on you, but due to the way the constitution is, in California, most of the governor's work is done for him. He has very little wiggle room. He just has to make sure that things are TOO screwed up (it is California, after all), and that he just comes off as likeable. He does both of those things. But, it is still kind of laughable that he's the governor. I mean, come on.....
As for Reagan, he may be the lone anomaly. He was a VERY politically active person, in Hollywood. By that, I don't mean that he showed up at fundraisers, and had his picture taken. Nope. He gave speeches, and answered questions, and stood up for what he believed in. Plus, he had all but given up acting when he decided to run for office. Before everyone jumps down my little Republican throat, he started doing all this AS A DEMOCRAT. He became a Republican, later. The point being that he didn't just stamp his feet, and hold his breath. He got involved. He didn't just decide that he wanted to run for office, one day, and that he would win because people knew who he was, and nothing more. AND he made . How do you NOT love a guy who made ? If you don't, you have no heart. It does, after all, have a chimp in it. If there's a bad movie about a chimp, I haven't seen it.
But, I'm not hear to shill for Reagan. He is, after all, dead. I never voted for him, and he can't run again. I don't particularly care what you, or me for that matter, think about him.
We're talking about the soon-to-be-honorable Val Kilmer.
Right now I would just like to sit back, and ponder what Ice, from Top Gun would do about immigration. Or, what Chris, from Real Genius would do about gas prices. How about what Elvis, from True Romance (yes THAT Elvis), would do about property taxes.
Not that anyone knows, because he hasn't told us, and probably won't. But, we know his name, and THAT makes him qualified.
Though, he DID get to make out with Mira Sorvino in At First Sight. If he's willing to talk, in great detail, about that I might vote for him. I might even move to New Mexico to do it. But, I will not move to Australia. Apparently, there are no phones, there.
Casey
WE ARE JUST A FEW SHORT DAYS AWAY FROM MY DEBUT AT CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, AS I ANNOUNCE THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT, ALONG WITH TRICIA LA'VICIOUS, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER. IT TAKES PLACE THIS SATURDAY, AT 7PM. THEY TELL ME THAT THIS IS THE FASTEST GROWING SPORT IN THE COUNTRY. THEY ALSO TELL ME THAT NONE OF THE ROLLER GIRLS WILL BEAT ME UP. I'M HOPING THAT AT LEAST ONE OF THOSE IS TRUE. BUT, THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS ARE TAKING ON THE GOTHEM CITY GIRLS, AND IT SHOULD BE LOADS OF FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY. IF NOTHING ELSE COME OUT AND SEE ME MAKE AN ASS OF MYSELF. I MIGHT EVEN GET BEAT UP BY A BUNCH OF GIRLS. THAT ALONE WOULD BE WORTH THE PRICE OF ADMISSION.
In fact, what is it about celebrities that makes them think that anybody, AT ALL, cares about what they say?
I only bring this up because Val Kilmer (yes THAT Val Kilmer) is apparently considering a run for Governor of New Mexico.
That's right. Val Kilmer wants to be Governor......
Of a state.......
In America.....
I just got chills....
I'm just wondering which of his many film roles would qualify him to be Governor of an honest-to-God state.
Could it be his role as the K.I.T.T, the talking car, in TV's new Knight Rider?
No. That couldn't be it.
How about his tough, yet tender performance as Madmartigan in the Ron Howard classic, Willow?
Hmmmm.....Probably not.
I know.....It had to be his role as Eric, in the ABC Afterschool Special: One Too Many, about some kids whose lives are changed after one of their friends drives drunk with "devastating" results.
THAT must be it.
Because, in order to think he is qualified to be Governor, he MUST have had one too many. (I apologize for the obvious, and cheesy joke.)
You notice I did not mention his role as Jim Morrison in The Doors. There's a reason for this. That movie was SO bad, that I didn't want to talk about it out of fear that someone MIGHT want to watch it, just to see how bad it is............And I just did.........DAMN IT!!!
Anyway, it's usually during an election year that I find myself increasingly annoyed by famous people, who think their opinions matter, because they made a movie about something.
I'm going to say something, now, that is going to scare some of you. If you are weak of heart, please don't read it. You have been warned.....
When a celebrity makes a movie about ANYTHING, 9 times out of 10 they are portraying characters, and saying words that.......here's the scary part........SOMEONE ELSE HAS WRITTEN!!!!!!
I know. It turns out that movies aren't little documentaries, where someone just happened to be following famous people around with a camera, recording everything they did. It seems that these things are not only planned, but often times EDITED in order to make the people in them look particularly good.
It's a giant fraud perpetrated on the American people, is what it is.
Who knew that Angelina Jolie was just some tattoo covered freak, who collects foreign children like old women collect cats, and wasn't nearly as intellectual as she wants us to think? This is, after all, a woman who made out with her own brother, at one point.
Does Barbara Striesand REALLY think we care what she thinks about politics?
Does Rosie O'Donnel REALLY think we care what she thinks about the war?
Does Don Henley REALLY think we care what he has to say about the environment?
Honestly, yes, they do. We don't. But, yes, they think we do.
They just don't seem to understand that we go see them sing, because they can sing. We go see them in movies, because they aren't being themselves. They're ACTING. If most of these boobs stood in front of a camera, and blathered on about Darfur for 90 minutes, we would all throw old vegetables at the screen. In fact, this is the very reason that I always bring a supply of old vegetables to the movies with me. In case they break character, and start preaching. It's always better to be prepared, if you ask me.
If you would like an example of just how much we care about what they say, just ask President Kerry......You know......President John Kerry? He won the election in 2004, after Bruce Springsteen, Dave Matthews, and a few others, toured in support of him. Remember? Then he won the election, right? I mean, he MUST have. All those famous people TOLD us to vote for him.
Wait.....Maybe I'm thinking about 2000, when Al Gore won. I know he won, because Alec Baldwin said that, if Bush won, he'd move to Australia. Since Alec Baldwin didn't move to Australia, I can only assume that Gore won.
No?
He didn't?
Probably just as well. Alec Baldwin needed to stay in America, so that he could leave demeaning messages, for his young daughter that her mother (another glorious celebrity, Kim Bassinger) could leak to the media. It would be hard to do that from Australia. I don't think they have phones, there.
(Author's Note: Please spare me ANY comments about how Gore actually won. It's been 8 years. Get over it.)
I know some of you are going to mention Arnold, in California, and Ronald Reagan, of course. You have to remember that most of Arnold's work, as Governor, is PR. I hate to get too serious on you, but due to the way the constitution is, in California, most of the governor's work is done for him. He has very little wiggle room. He just has to make sure that things are TOO screwed up (it is California, after all), and that he just comes off as likeable. He does both of those things. But, it is still kind of laughable that he's the governor. I mean, come on.....
As for Reagan, he may be the lone anomaly. He was a VERY politically active person, in Hollywood. By that, I don't mean that he showed up at fundraisers, and had his picture taken. Nope. He gave speeches, and answered questions, and stood up for what he believed in. Plus, he had all but given up acting when he decided to run for office. Before everyone jumps down my little Republican throat, he started doing all this AS A DEMOCRAT. He became a Republican, later. The point being that he didn't just stamp his feet, and hold his breath. He got involved. He didn't just decide that he wanted to run for office, one day, and that he would win because people knew who he was, and nothing more. AND he made . How do you NOT love a guy who made ? If you don't, you have no heart. It does, after all, have a chimp in it. If there's a bad movie about a chimp, I haven't seen it.
But, I'm not hear to shill for Reagan. He is, after all, dead. I never voted for him, and he can't run again. I don't particularly care what you, or me for that matter, think about him.
We're talking about the soon-to-be-honorable Val Kilmer.
Right now I would just like to sit back, and ponder what Ice, from Top Gun would do about immigration. Or, what Chris, from Real Genius would do about gas prices. How about what Elvis, from True Romance (yes THAT Elvis), would do about property taxes.
Not that anyone knows, because he hasn't told us, and probably won't. But, we know his name, and THAT makes him qualified.
Though, he DID get to make out with Mira Sorvino in At First Sight. If he's willing to talk, in great detail, about that I might vote for him. I might even move to New Mexico to do it. But, I will not move to Australia. Apparently, there are no phones, there.
Casey
WE ARE JUST A FEW SHORT DAYS AWAY FROM MY DEBUT AT CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, AS I ANNOUNCE THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT, ALONG WITH TRICIA LA'VICIOUS, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER. IT TAKES PLACE THIS SATURDAY, AT 7PM. THEY TELL ME THAT THIS IS THE FASTEST GROWING SPORT IN THE COUNTRY. THEY ALSO TELL ME THAT NONE OF THE ROLLER GIRLS WILL BEAT ME UP. I'M HOPING THAT AT LEAST ONE OF THOSE IS TRUE. BUT, THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS ARE TAKING ON THE GOTHEM CITY GIRLS, AND IT SHOULD BE LOADS OF FUN FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY. IF NOTHING ELSE COME OUT AND SEE ME MAKE AN ASS OF MYSELF. I MIGHT EVEN GET BEAT UP BY A BUNCH OF GIRLS. THAT ALONE WOULD BE WORTH THE PRICE OF ADMISSION.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
This Is The Life....
This Is The Life....
I often refuse to listen to people, when they give me advice.
"No," I will say. "I'm sure that EVERY OTHER PERSON ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET has had this issue. But, I'm sure it will be different for me. I'm Casey."
It was due to this incredible level of stupidity that I bought a house with a pool. It's not like I NEED a pool. I live about an hour from the entire Atlantic ocean. Who needs a pool when the ocean is RIGHT THERE!?!!
I didn't have a pool when I lived in Southern California. Do you know why? Because the entire Pacific ocean was RIGHT THERE!!!! If I wanted to get wet, I would hop in my car and drive to the beach. Done.
I will say, though, that one of the stupider things about living in New Jersey is that you have to pay to use the beach. We didn't have to pay to use the beach in California, or Florida, when I lived there. I have friends in Texas who don't have to pay to use the beach. Plus, I went to Delaware once, and just walked right on the beach. Didn't have to pay a dime. Kind of makes you think it's a stupid rule. Though, in all those other places, we didn't have medical waste washing up on the beach on a regular basis. I guess you have to pay for those kinds of perks.
Anyway, I have a pool.
In the 2 months that I have lived in my house, I have spent approximately :45 minutes in the pool. That is, of course, unless you count the time I had to jump in to save my stupid dog, who fell in. It's an enormous hole in the ground!!! How did she NOT see it!?!! She's a greyhound. Greyhounds are what they call sight hounds. She's supposed to have REALLY good eyes. How does a dog that can see a gopher, at 50 yards, NOT see a giant pool that's 2 feet in front of her? Stupid dog. Anyway, if you count THAT time, I have spent about :47 minutes in my pool, total, since I moved in.
On the flip side, I have spent close to 47 HOURS, and about $500, working on the pool. Working on the pool is when you stand around the outside of the pool, and scrape the algae off of the sides, sift leaves out of it, and dump bottle after bottle of chemicals with names I can't pronounce, in the pool. Then, you wait for 12 hours before you can actually SWIM in your pool. If you don't wait, you or your children will go blind from chemical exposure.
Now, after waiting 12 hours, you will have to take a small sample of your water to the pool store. They will, then, test your water for you. this usually a free service. This makes you happy because NOTHING about owning a pool is free. Of course, after performing this "free" service, a 16 year old girl will get a very concerned look on her face, shake her head, and say something like this:
Pool Girl: Hmmmm......
Me: Is there something wrong?
Pool Girl: It's probably nothing. But......
Me: But, what?
Pool Girl: Well, the onomatopoeia mononucleosis first person nominative level is off.
Me: Uhhhhhhh......
Pool Girl: That's bad.
Me: Bad?
Pool Girl: Could cause AIDS.....
Me: I don't think that's how you catch.....
Pool Girl: And Ebola.....
Me: Uhhh...Are you the only person here?
Pool Girl: And SARS.....
Me: I thought that was in Asia.....
Pool Girl: You need chemicals.
Me: More chemicals?
Pool Girl: LOTS of chemicals.
Me: Uhh.....Which chemicals do I need?
Pool Girl: Just grab the biggest, most expensive bottle you can find.
Me: None of these bottles are labeled.
Pool Girl: Doesn't matter. It's all just colored water, anyway.
Me: Wait.....What?
Pool Girl: That'll be $200.
Me: But, I don't think.....
Pool Girl: Debit or credit?
Me: Uh....Debit, I guess.....
Pool Girl: And don't forget to stay out of the pool for 12 hours.
Me: But, you said it was just water.....
Pool Girl: DO YOU WANT TO GO BLIND!?!!
Me: Well, no. But, I.....
Pool Girl: Say goodbye.
Me: Oh...uh.....Goodbye.
Then, I will go home and dump the colored water into my pool, wait for 12 hours, and start the whole process all over again. Cautiously waiting for 12 hours before I go give them more of my money. I wouldn't want them to go blind, too.
This is a scam. I'm thinking of opening a pool store myself. I'll make a million bucks, and all I will have to do is master the "concerned" look, and tell people that they need to dump more chemicals in their pool. If they don't, of course, they will go blind. This is the main reason that you never see anybody actually IN their pools. Fear of blindness.
The only people that get to actually swim in their pools are the people who pay $100 a week for someone from the pool store to come out, and stare at their pool. Then, the person will laugh because they just made $100 to stand in your backyard for 5 minutes, and dump some colored water in. Just to be nice, though, they will tell you that your pool is safe to swim in. It's those of us who are foolish enough to try and care for our own pools who never get to swim in them. We don't have time, anyway. We're too busy driving back and forth from the pool store.
I don't know why you need to dump chemicals, and risk blindness. I mean, we all swim in the ocean, and in lakes, where there are any number of fish pooping, and have "fish sex," and we hardly ever get sick. Yet, if I fill a cement lined hole, with water out of my hose, I have to run a major science project. I would DRINK the water out of that hose!! Why can't I swim in it?
Something about that ain't right.
Now, Friday, I will be spending another pile of money to have someone come out and "close" my pool. They will drain some water, dump some fake chemicals in, and put the cover on so that it will be ready to withstand the winter. They take great care in doing this. It's because they know that, if my pool breaks, I won't be coming in every week to give them my money. So, they want to make sure it's done right.
But, come next summer, when I pay them even MORE MONEY to come out and "open" my pool, you will all be jealous. Because, while you're sitting in your air conditioned house, protected from all the heat, I'll be standing in my backyard. I'll walk around my pool, as the sun reflects off the water, and think about how wonderful it will be to jump in.......In 12 hours.......after I get the water checked......and give a high school student $350 for some concoction that will keep mosquitos, carrying the West Nile Virus, out of my pool......and 12 more short hours later, I'll........be dumping more chemicals in, because the PHQ level, whatever that is, has gotten out of control........But, 12 hours after that.........Oh, screw it.....
I'm going to the beach.
Casey
DON'T FORGET, THIS SATURDAY AT 7PM I'LL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT, BETWEEN THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS, AND THE GOTHEM CITY GIRLS, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER. CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, AND TRCIA LA'VICIOUS WILL BE CALLING ALL THE ACTION FOR THE FASTEST GROWING SPORT IN THE COUNTRY. COME ON OUT, HAVE SOME FUN, ENJOY THE BOUT AND DON'T FORGET TO COME OVER AND SAY HI. IT SHOULD BE A LOT OF FUN!!!!
I often refuse to listen to people, when they give me advice.
"No," I will say. "I'm sure that EVERY OTHER PERSON ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET has had this issue. But, I'm sure it will be different for me. I'm Casey."
It was due to this incredible level of stupidity that I bought a house with a pool. It's not like I NEED a pool. I live about an hour from the entire Atlantic ocean. Who needs a pool when the ocean is RIGHT THERE!?!!
I didn't have a pool when I lived in Southern California. Do you know why? Because the entire Pacific ocean was RIGHT THERE!!!! If I wanted to get wet, I would hop in my car and drive to the beach. Done.
I will say, though, that one of the stupider things about living in New Jersey is that you have to pay to use the beach. We didn't have to pay to use the beach in California, or Florida, when I lived there. I have friends in Texas who don't have to pay to use the beach. Plus, I went to Delaware once, and just walked right on the beach. Didn't have to pay a dime. Kind of makes you think it's a stupid rule. Though, in all those other places, we didn't have medical waste washing up on the beach on a regular basis. I guess you have to pay for those kinds of perks.
Anyway, I have a pool.
In the 2 months that I have lived in my house, I have spent approximately :45 minutes in the pool. That is, of course, unless you count the time I had to jump in to save my stupid dog, who fell in. It's an enormous hole in the ground!!! How did she NOT see it!?!! She's a greyhound. Greyhounds are what they call sight hounds. She's supposed to have REALLY good eyes. How does a dog that can see a gopher, at 50 yards, NOT see a giant pool that's 2 feet in front of her? Stupid dog. Anyway, if you count THAT time, I have spent about :47 minutes in my pool, total, since I moved in.
On the flip side, I have spent close to 47 HOURS, and about $500, working on the pool. Working on the pool is when you stand around the outside of the pool, and scrape the algae off of the sides, sift leaves out of it, and dump bottle after bottle of chemicals with names I can't pronounce, in the pool. Then, you wait for 12 hours before you can actually SWIM in your pool. If you don't wait, you or your children will go blind from chemical exposure.
Now, after waiting 12 hours, you will have to take a small sample of your water to the pool store. They will, then, test your water for you. this usually a free service. This makes you happy because NOTHING about owning a pool is free. Of course, after performing this "free" service, a 16 year old girl will get a very concerned look on her face, shake her head, and say something like this:
Pool Girl: Hmmmm......
Me: Is there something wrong?
Pool Girl: It's probably nothing. But......
Me: But, what?
Pool Girl: Well, the onomatopoeia mononucleosis first person nominative level is off.
Me: Uhhhhhhh......
Pool Girl: That's bad.
Me: Bad?
Pool Girl: Could cause AIDS.....
Me: I don't think that's how you catch.....
Pool Girl: And Ebola.....
Me: Uhhh...Are you the only person here?
Pool Girl: And SARS.....
Me: I thought that was in Asia.....
Pool Girl: You need chemicals.
Me: More chemicals?
Pool Girl: LOTS of chemicals.
Me: Uhh.....Which chemicals do I need?
Pool Girl: Just grab the biggest, most expensive bottle you can find.
Me: None of these bottles are labeled.
Pool Girl: Doesn't matter. It's all just colored water, anyway.
Me: Wait.....What?
Pool Girl: That'll be $200.
Me: But, I don't think.....
Pool Girl: Debit or credit?
Me: Uh....Debit, I guess.....
Pool Girl: And don't forget to stay out of the pool for 12 hours.
Me: But, you said it was just water.....
Pool Girl: DO YOU WANT TO GO BLIND!?!!
Me: Well, no. But, I.....
Pool Girl: Say goodbye.
Me: Oh...uh.....Goodbye.
Then, I will go home and dump the colored water into my pool, wait for 12 hours, and start the whole process all over again. Cautiously waiting for 12 hours before I go give them more of my money. I wouldn't want them to go blind, too.
This is a scam. I'm thinking of opening a pool store myself. I'll make a million bucks, and all I will have to do is master the "concerned" look, and tell people that they need to dump more chemicals in their pool. If they don't, of course, they will go blind. This is the main reason that you never see anybody actually IN their pools. Fear of blindness.
The only people that get to actually swim in their pools are the people who pay $100 a week for someone from the pool store to come out, and stare at their pool. Then, the person will laugh because they just made $100 to stand in your backyard for 5 minutes, and dump some colored water in. Just to be nice, though, they will tell you that your pool is safe to swim in. It's those of us who are foolish enough to try and care for our own pools who never get to swim in them. We don't have time, anyway. We're too busy driving back and forth from the pool store.
I don't know why you need to dump chemicals, and risk blindness. I mean, we all swim in the ocean, and in lakes, where there are any number of fish pooping, and have "fish sex," and we hardly ever get sick. Yet, if I fill a cement lined hole, with water out of my hose, I have to run a major science project. I would DRINK the water out of that hose!! Why can't I swim in it?
Something about that ain't right.
Now, Friday, I will be spending another pile of money to have someone come out and "close" my pool. They will drain some water, dump some fake chemicals in, and put the cover on so that it will be ready to withstand the winter. They take great care in doing this. It's because they know that, if my pool breaks, I won't be coming in every week to give them my money. So, they want to make sure it's done right.
But, come next summer, when I pay them even MORE MONEY to come out and "open" my pool, you will all be jealous. Because, while you're sitting in your air conditioned house, protected from all the heat, I'll be standing in my backyard. I'll walk around my pool, as the sun reflects off the water, and think about how wonderful it will be to jump in.......In 12 hours.......after I get the water checked......and give a high school student $350 for some concoction that will keep mosquitos, carrying the West Nile Virus, out of my pool......and 12 more short hours later, I'll........be dumping more chemicals in, because the PHQ level, whatever that is, has gotten out of control........But, 12 hours after that.........Oh, screw it.....
I'm going to the beach.
Casey
DON'T FORGET, THIS SATURDAY AT 7PM I'LL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT, BETWEEN THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS, AND THE GOTHEM CITY GIRLS, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER. CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, AND TRCIA LA'VICIOUS WILL BE CALLING ALL THE ACTION FOR THE FASTEST GROWING SPORT IN THE COUNTRY. COME ON OUT, HAVE SOME FUN, ENJOY THE BOUT AND DON'T FORGET TO COME OVER AND SAY HI. IT SHOULD BE A LOT OF FUN!!!!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sound Fatherly Advice....And Mine
When one is a parent, one is sometimes forced to deal with things. You see, God has a sense of humor (hence my hairline), and in one of his more "zany" moments, he opted to give children mouths. Not that this is an entirely bad idea. I mean, they gotta eat, right?
Possibly more troubling than the "mouth" issue is the fact that he gave them brains, too. When these evil creations work in unison, nothing good can come of it. I don't know that this is entirely horrible with boys. Mine can't talk, yet. When he can, if he's anything like his father, most of the questions will probably have to do with "boogers."
When a man has a daughter, you must beware the "question" phase of your relationship. The big problem with this is that, as with most women, your own daughter will ease you along with a variety of seemingly innocent questions. "Daddy, how do they make rocks?" Or, "Daddy, why is the grass green?" Or, "Daddy, why did you pause the Tivo on the scene with all the cheerleaders?"
Then...........BAM!!!!!
God's little punchline kicks in.
The questions become hard. It's like jumping from finger painting to quantum physics. Luckily, some of us fathers' deal with this in a mature, thoughtful, intelligent manner......And, some of us are named Casey Bartholomew, and are still seeking the answers to the great "booger" questions of our youth.
Since I am old (38 and counting), and I have other friends who have daughters.....Friends who don't think it's funny to teach their kids the wrong words for things.....I have compiled a list of questions asked by their little girls, and the answers that they have given.....along with the answers that I have given. I'll leave it to you to decide whose daughter is going to end up with a PHD, and whose daughter is going to be able to provide her father with a free flowing supply of chicken mc nuggets.
QUESTION:
Daddy, why do girls have boobs?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Actually, sweetie, the proper way to say it is "breasts." But, to answer your question, when God was making people, he decided that there should be a natural way for a mother to not only provide food for her baby, but also be able to bond with them. So, he gave mommies breasts so that they would be able to develop that special bond. This is a kind of special bond that will last until mommy is watching over you from heaven.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
Hehehehe.....You said boobs.
QUESTION:
Daddy, what's it mean when a boy says that he wants to kiss you?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Oh, baby. It means that he probably has a little crush on you. But, you're a little to young to be doing things like that. I think you should tell him that you guys are just friends. If, in a couple of years, he still feels the same way then you can just bring him home to meet the old man, and we'll see about you guys going on a real date, okay?
CASEY'S ANSWER:
See if you can find out how much money his parents make. Then, don't come right out and say it, but let him know that you might be open to the idea of kissing him. When he finally does, start crying and run to one of your teachers. Then, come home and tell daddy, right away. I have a lawyer on retainer for just this kind of thing.
QUESTION:
Daddy, where do babies come from?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
When mommies and daddys' love each other, they do something very special to show that love. Sometimes out of that, a beautiful little baby comes into the world. When that happens, a little angel comes down from heaven to make the world a better place.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
China, usually. Sometimes Russia. Now, stop bugging me. I'm trying to watch the Spanish soap operas.
QUESTION:
Daddy, what's a period?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Sweetie, I think that's something that you would be more comfortable talking with mommy about.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
That's when daddy breathes a BIG sigh of relief.......Hehehehe....You said period.
QUESTION:
Daddy, what's sex?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Well, honey, remember when you asked me where babies come from? Well, sex is something that a man and a woman do, when they are in love. You'll know when the time is right, because some special boy will have asked you to marry him. And, on your wedding night, the two of you will share something special that only a man and a wife can share. I think I might cry, just thinking about it. I'll be so happy for you.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
Sss....uh.....sex?.....Oh......Uh.....That's uh........That would be when.......Well.....you know.....boys and girls......They.....uh........Well......You know how you have those pictures of the Jonas Brothers up in your room?......Well, you think they're cute........And.....uh.......And......Someday, you might think a boy is cute.....And.......Well.......Sex?.......Was it sex?..........Oh.........Uh..........It's a car..........A German car, I think.......I wouldn't ever drive one, if I were you......And, if a boy ever tells you that he WANTS to drive one with you, tell me........He will need to be killed, dead.
So, as you can clearly see, some fathers will be sugarcoating reality for their little girls. I, on the other hand, will be force feeding the facts of life to my little girl.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to head down to McDonald's to get my daughter and application. She's 8 1/2. I don't see any reason in delaying the inevitable.
DON'T FORGET THAT THIS WEEKEND, I WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT BETWEEN THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS, AND THE GOTHEM CITY GIRLS. IT'S TAKING PLACE AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER, ON SATURDAY NIGHT, STARTING AT 7PM. COME ON DOWN AND SEE TRICIA LA"VICIOUS AND ME, CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, AND HAVE SOME FUN. IF YOU DON'T, I WILL BE FORCED TO TALK TO YOUR DAUGHTERS ABOUT SEX. I DON'T THINK ANY OF US WANTS THAT.
Casey
Possibly more troubling than the "mouth" issue is the fact that he gave them brains, too. When these evil creations work in unison, nothing good can come of it. I don't know that this is entirely horrible with boys. Mine can't talk, yet. When he can, if he's anything like his father, most of the questions will probably have to do with "boogers."
When a man has a daughter, you must beware the "question" phase of your relationship. The big problem with this is that, as with most women, your own daughter will ease you along with a variety of seemingly innocent questions. "Daddy, how do they make rocks?" Or, "Daddy, why is the grass green?" Or, "Daddy, why did you pause the Tivo on the scene with all the cheerleaders?"
Then...........BAM!!!!!
God's little punchline kicks in.
The questions become hard. It's like jumping from finger painting to quantum physics. Luckily, some of us fathers' deal with this in a mature, thoughtful, intelligent manner......And, some of us are named Casey Bartholomew, and are still seeking the answers to the great "booger" questions of our youth.
Since I am old (38 and counting), and I have other friends who have daughters.....Friends who don't think it's funny to teach their kids the wrong words for things.....I have compiled a list of questions asked by their little girls, and the answers that they have given.....along with the answers that I have given. I'll leave it to you to decide whose daughter is going to end up with a PHD, and whose daughter is going to be able to provide her father with a free flowing supply of chicken mc nuggets.
QUESTION:
Daddy, why do girls have boobs?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Actually, sweetie, the proper way to say it is "breasts." But, to answer your question, when God was making people, he decided that there should be a natural way for a mother to not only provide food for her baby, but also be able to bond with them. So, he gave mommies breasts so that they would be able to develop that special bond. This is a kind of special bond that will last until mommy is watching over you from heaven.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
Hehehehe.....You said boobs.
QUESTION:
Daddy, what's it mean when a boy says that he wants to kiss you?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Oh, baby. It means that he probably has a little crush on you. But, you're a little to young to be doing things like that. I think you should tell him that you guys are just friends. If, in a couple of years, he still feels the same way then you can just bring him home to meet the old man, and we'll see about you guys going on a real date, okay?
CASEY'S ANSWER:
See if you can find out how much money his parents make. Then, don't come right out and say it, but let him know that you might be open to the idea of kissing him. When he finally does, start crying and run to one of your teachers. Then, come home and tell daddy, right away. I have a lawyer on retainer for just this kind of thing.
QUESTION:
Daddy, where do babies come from?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
When mommies and daddys' love each other, they do something very special to show that love. Sometimes out of that, a beautiful little baby comes into the world. When that happens, a little angel comes down from heaven to make the world a better place.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
China, usually. Sometimes Russia. Now, stop bugging me. I'm trying to watch the Spanish soap operas.
QUESTION:
Daddy, what's a period?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Sweetie, I think that's something that you would be more comfortable talking with mommy about.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
That's when daddy breathes a BIG sigh of relief.......Hehehehe....You said period.
QUESTION:
Daddy, what's sex?
GOOD FATHER ANSWER:
Well, honey, remember when you asked me where babies come from? Well, sex is something that a man and a woman do, when they are in love. You'll know when the time is right, because some special boy will have asked you to marry him. And, on your wedding night, the two of you will share something special that only a man and a wife can share. I think I might cry, just thinking about it. I'll be so happy for you.
CASEY'S ANSWER:
Sss....uh.....sex?.....Oh......Uh.....That's uh........That would be when.......Well.....you know.....boys and girls......They.....uh........Well......You know how you have those pictures of the Jonas Brothers up in your room?......Well, you think they're cute........And.....uh.......And......Someday, you might think a boy is cute.....And.......Well.......Sex?.......Was it sex?..........Oh.........Uh..........It's a car..........A German car, I think.......I wouldn't ever drive one, if I were you......And, if a boy ever tells you that he WANTS to drive one with you, tell me........He will need to be killed, dead.
So, as you can clearly see, some fathers will be sugarcoating reality for their little girls. I, on the other hand, will be force feeding the facts of life to my little girl.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to head down to McDonald's to get my daughter and application. She's 8 1/2. I don't see any reason in delaying the inevitable.
DON'T FORGET THAT THIS WEEKEND, I WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY BOUT BETWEEN THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS, AND THE GOTHEM CITY GIRLS. IT'S TAKING PLACE AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER, ON SATURDAY NIGHT, STARTING AT 7PM. COME ON DOWN AND SEE TRICIA LA"VICIOUS AND ME, CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW, AND HAVE SOME FUN. IF YOU DON'T, I WILL BE FORCED TO TALK TO YOUR DAUGHTERS ABOUT SEX. I DON'T THINK ANY OF US WANTS THAT.
Casey
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
The Hell Dryers Of Doom.
You're going to die.
Later today, probably, if you haven't already.
I know this, because I am a highly skilled member of the media, and I am trained to see these types of things. That, and because I saw it on TV.
I won't die. I know what to look for. You, on the other hand, are doomed. YOU are probably looking for things like guns, or pipe bombs, or evil, mind controlling death rays that are being zapped at you, daily, by North Korean satellites.
FOOL!!!!
Guns and pipe bombs probably won't kill you. The North Korean death rays are another story. Turns out that the Koreans aren't nearly as "zany" as they were on M*A*S*H. Who knew?
You are probably going to be killed by something simple, right in the privacy of your own home. I'm talking about, of course, Darwin's great equalizer: The Laundry.
Your dryer, to be precise. I don't think the washer can kill you. I think the washer is the unwilling accomplice of the dryer. It lulls you into a sense of complacency, and then the dryer moves in for the kill.
Here's what I have learned: Your clothes dryer serves no other purpose than to endanger your family, and possibly kill your neighbors.
If you place clothes ON your dryer, there is the chance that they could get too hot, and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!!
Or, they could fall behind the dryer, get too hot, and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!
Or, if you place your clothes INSIDE your dryer (dummy), you could have accidentally left a receipt in your pocket. This receipt could "superheat" (that's what they said. I swear to God), and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!
Your dryer could also "superheat" (honest) a linoleum floor, thus melting it, or worse!! Causing it to BURST INTO FLAME!!!!
And, what if you are one of those people who stores all of your gasoline, and old paint ON TOP of your dryer? It could "superheat" (really!!!), and........BURST INTO FLAME!!!!!! Now, I don't know anybody who keeps their old gas, and paint products on top of their dryer. But, they had a real-live, honest-to-God, authentic REENACTMENT video of this. So, it has to be true. Otherwise, how could they possibly reenact it? I know. It scared me, too.
Also, who among us hasn't left coins in our pockets when we took our pants off? None of us, I bet. If these innocent coins were to stay in our pockets, and find their way into the dryer, they could then "superheat" (blah, blah, blah), and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!! Okay, I made that one up. The coins won't burst into flame. BUT, this is not without danger!!!! After "superheating" (uh-huh), they could cause serious skin burns to you, OR your children!!!!
YOUR CHILDREN, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD!!!!!
Why, in the name of all things holy, are you trying to harm your children with coins that have been "superheated' (yep) in the dryer? Besides, there are FAR more efficient ways to "superheat" (it's a real word. I looked it up) your coins. Your stovetop, I think, would be far less time consuming. But, that's not the point, here. The point is that your dryer is CLEARLY trying to kill you. You either have to take steps to prevent this, or kill it before it kills you.
The TV show had a few suggestions.
First, don't store your petroleum based products on top of your dryer. Okay, I think I can make this concession. Besides, I've got plenty of spare room in my oven for those. I almost never use the bottom rack, anyway.
Next, clean out your pockets BEFORE you put your pants in the dryer. If you don't, your just ASKING for trouble. Your receipts will kill you. Personally, I think we should start charging every business in the country, who gives you a receipt, with attempted murder. What other reason could there POSSIBLY be for providing you with a record of your business transactions? Right. There isn't one. Obviously, there only goal is to see you, and your family, burned alive.
Finally, never, NEVER run the dryer when you are not at home. That way, you'll be home should anything BURST INTO FLAME!!!!!!
........Wait..........What?
That can't be right........Why would I WANT to be home when everything goes up in smoke? Doesn't that put my life at risk? Shouldn't that read, "ONLY run your dryer when you are NOT at home?"
I mean, sure, if you're there you MIGHT be able to put the fire out. But, based on all the previous information about "death paper," "hell coins," and the "linoleum of DOOM" what makes you think that you have what it takes to go up against these un-Godly forces of nature, whose only reason for existence is to take your life?
No.
I think your best bet is to ONLY dry your clothes when you are NOT at home. Honestly, that way you can ignore everything else. Keep your gas on top of your dryer, leave the receipts in your pocket, and toss a few extra coins in, just for good measure. What's the worst thing that could happen? Your house burns down? So what. Build another one. I don't like the set up of this one, anyway.
Sure, your neighbors could die. But, I just moved here, and don't know them very well, anyway. I mean, I don't want them to die. But, if they did, I think I would be able to go on. Really, it would kind of be their fault for hanging around when I was drying my clothes. They KNOW I have a dryer. They all stood outside and watched when the guys from Bulgaria (no kidding) unloaded it. So, really, they're just a bunch of thrill-seekers, who are seeking some kind of adrenaline high, by staying home when I'm doing laundry.
Fools. They deserve to die, if you ask me.
Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go toss some coins in the dryer. Just cuz.
Casey
DON'T FORGET THAT I WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY, WITH TRICIA LA'VICIOUS, ON SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 20, AT 7PM, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER. CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW WILL BE MAKING HIS DEBUT AT THE BOUT. COME ON DOWN, WATCH THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS TAKE ON THE GOTHAM CITY GIRLS, AND ENJOY THE FASTEST GROWING SPORT IN THE COUNTRY. RAY ROSSI WILL BE THERE, SOMEWHERE. WHY AM I DOING THIS? BECAUSE THEY ASKED, AND NO ONE EVER ASKS ME TO DO ANYTHING. ALSO, BECAUSE THE RADIO STATION SAID THEY DIDN'T WANT ME TO DO IT. SO, THEY CAN SUCK IT!!!
Later today, probably, if you haven't already.
I know this, because I am a highly skilled member of the media, and I am trained to see these types of things. That, and because I saw it on TV.
I won't die. I know what to look for. You, on the other hand, are doomed. YOU are probably looking for things like guns, or pipe bombs, or evil, mind controlling death rays that are being zapped at you, daily, by North Korean satellites.
FOOL!!!!
Guns and pipe bombs probably won't kill you. The North Korean death rays are another story. Turns out that the Koreans aren't nearly as "zany" as they were on M*A*S*H. Who knew?
You are probably going to be killed by something simple, right in the privacy of your own home. I'm talking about, of course, Darwin's great equalizer: The Laundry.
Your dryer, to be precise. I don't think the washer can kill you. I think the washer is the unwilling accomplice of the dryer. It lulls you into a sense of complacency, and then the dryer moves in for the kill.
Here's what I have learned: Your clothes dryer serves no other purpose than to endanger your family, and possibly kill your neighbors.
If you place clothes ON your dryer, there is the chance that they could get too hot, and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!!
Or, they could fall behind the dryer, get too hot, and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!
Or, if you place your clothes INSIDE your dryer (dummy), you could have accidentally left a receipt in your pocket. This receipt could "superheat" (that's what they said. I swear to God), and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!
Your dryer could also "superheat" (honest) a linoleum floor, thus melting it, or worse!! Causing it to BURST INTO FLAME!!!!
And, what if you are one of those people who stores all of your gasoline, and old paint ON TOP of your dryer? It could "superheat" (really!!!), and........BURST INTO FLAME!!!!!! Now, I don't know anybody who keeps their old gas, and paint products on top of their dryer. But, they had a real-live, honest-to-God, authentic REENACTMENT video of this. So, it has to be true. Otherwise, how could they possibly reenact it? I know. It scared me, too.
Also, who among us hasn't left coins in our pockets when we took our pants off? None of us, I bet. If these innocent coins were to stay in our pockets, and find their way into the dryer, they could then "superheat" (blah, blah, blah), and BURST INTO FLAME!!!!! Okay, I made that one up. The coins won't burst into flame. BUT, this is not without danger!!!! After "superheating" (uh-huh), they could cause serious skin burns to you, OR your children!!!!
YOUR CHILDREN, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD!!!!!
Why, in the name of all things holy, are you trying to harm your children with coins that have been "superheated' (yep) in the dryer? Besides, there are FAR more efficient ways to "superheat" (it's a real word. I looked it up) your coins. Your stovetop, I think, would be far less time consuming. But, that's not the point, here. The point is that your dryer is CLEARLY trying to kill you. You either have to take steps to prevent this, or kill it before it kills you.
The TV show had a few suggestions.
First, don't store your petroleum based products on top of your dryer. Okay, I think I can make this concession. Besides, I've got plenty of spare room in my oven for those. I almost never use the bottom rack, anyway.
Next, clean out your pockets BEFORE you put your pants in the dryer. If you don't, your just ASKING for trouble. Your receipts will kill you. Personally, I think we should start charging every business in the country, who gives you a receipt, with attempted murder. What other reason could there POSSIBLY be for providing you with a record of your business transactions? Right. There isn't one. Obviously, there only goal is to see you, and your family, burned alive.
Finally, never, NEVER run the dryer when you are not at home. That way, you'll be home should anything BURST INTO FLAME!!!!!!
........Wait..........What?
That can't be right........Why would I WANT to be home when everything goes up in smoke? Doesn't that put my life at risk? Shouldn't that read, "ONLY run your dryer when you are NOT at home?"
I mean, sure, if you're there you MIGHT be able to put the fire out. But, based on all the previous information about "death paper," "hell coins," and the "linoleum of DOOM" what makes you think that you have what it takes to go up against these un-Godly forces of nature, whose only reason for existence is to take your life?
No.
I think your best bet is to ONLY dry your clothes when you are NOT at home. Honestly, that way you can ignore everything else. Keep your gas on top of your dryer, leave the receipts in your pocket, and toss a few extra coins in, just for good measure. What's the worst thing that could happen? Your house burns down? So what. Build another one. I don't like the set up of this one, anyway.
Sure, your neighbors could die. But, I just moved here, and don't know them very well, anyway. I mean, I don't want them to die. But, if they did, I think I would be able to go on. Really, it would kind of be their fault for hanging around when I was drying my clothes. They KNOW I have a dryer. They all stood outside and watched when the guys from Bulgaria (no kidding) unloaded it. So, really, they're just a bunch of thrill-seekers, who are seeking some kind of adrenaline high, by staying home when I'm doing laundry.
Fools. They deserve to die, if you ask me.
Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go toss some coins in the dryer. Just cuz.
Casey
DON'T FORGET THAT I WILL BE ANNOUNCING THE ROLLER DERBY, WITH TRICIA LA'VICIOUS, ON SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 20, AT 7PM, AT THE ASBURY PARK CONVENTION CENTER. CASEY "WOLFMAN SMACK" BARTHOLOMEW WILL BE MAKING HIS DEBUT AT THE BOUT. COME ON DOWN, WATCH THE JERSEY SHORE GIRLS TAKE ON THE GOTHAM CITY GIRLS, AND ENJOY THE FASTEST GROWING SPORT IN THE COUNTRY. RAY ROSSI WILL BE THERE, SOMEWHERE. WHY AM I DOING THIS? BECAUSE THEY ASKED, AND NO ONE EVER ASKS ME TO DO ANYTHING. ALSO, BECAUSE THE RADIO STATION SAID THEY DIDN'T WANT ME TO DO IT. SO, THEY CAN SUCK IT!!!
Friday, September 5, 2008
Something Different WARNING: LANGUAGE MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ANYONE WITH ANY TASTE
Before I get to the strange blog, I wanted to remind everyone to come out to the Asbury Park Convention Center, on September 20, at 7:00pm. I'll be announcing the roller derby bout, with Tricia La'Vicious, as Casey "Wolfman Smack" Bartholomew. Should be a lot of fun. Nobody makes any money at this. At least, I know I'm not being paid. But, they have informed me that I am not allowed to mention it on the radio anymore. I don't know why this is. I'm assuming there was some sort of transmission from the mother ship, or something. But, I was told I could mention it in my blog. So, come out. Ray will be there, somewhere. Maybe even Tommy G, though I have no confirmation of that.
Now, on to the odd blog. I had said a while back that I was going to start writing some different stuff. This is it. I'd love to know what you thought. I'm actually thinking of starting a website for this type of thing. But, I don't know how to do that, and computers hate me. So, that could take a little time. Until then, here's something weird. From my mind......The strange part......No.....The OTHER strange part.
THE BECOMING
BY CASEY BARTHOLOMEW
Decision time.
Jake Sullivan was standing just outside the woods that wrapped around his school. He could go through them, and be to school on time. Or, he could take the long way around, and be late. He was always late. One more time, and he was going to have to stay after school, and he hated doing that.
But, he didn't like going through the woods, because they were generally populated by homeless people who had been run out of town. They were harmless, but he still didn't like the idea of walking by the various "camps" that they had set up. It made him uncomfortable.
He took a deep breath, and stepped into the woods. It wasn't far. Maybe 300 yards. You could actually see the top of the gym as you walked through. But, it was early in the morning, and it creeped him out, a little.
He had gotten about 100 yards in, when he saw the first homeless guy wandering about. He had heard that some of them were a little crazy, and would just wander around, muttering to themselves. This guy seemed to fit the bill. He was about 50 feet off to Jake's left. He walked like a toddler. He was taking small, stomping steps, and seemed to be having trouble keeping his balance. He swung his arms wide with every step he took.
Probably drunk, Jake thought. Great.
Jake picked up the pace, and avoided looking at the homeless guy. It was no good, though. The guy had seen him, and was now heading in his direction. He didn't want to run away, because he didn't want to piss the freak off. So, he pulled a dollar out of his pocket, and had it ready to hand the guy.
The homeless guy kept coming, and was now about 20 feet away. He was ashen, and his eyes were so wide they were almost bulging out of his head.
"Morning," Jake said. "How ya' doin'?"
The guy just kept coming. He was close, now.
Jake held out the dollar.
"Here," he said. "Can I help you out a little?"
The guy walked right up to Jake, slapped his hand away, and lunged at him. Jake was too fast, and pushed the guy away.
"What the fuck!?!!" he said
He came at Jake, again.
Jake knocked him away, again, and this time he fell to the ground.
The guy didn't say anything. He just let out a loud moan.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he said. It was odd.
Jake stood there, unsure of what to do. The guy was on the ground in front of him. Jake was ready to run, when the guy suddenly bounced up, and grabbed Jake's leg, forcing him to the ground.
"Fuck!!!" Jake said.
He started wildly swinging at the freak, hoping to force him off of he legs.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!" was all the guy would say.
Jake was desperately trying to force the guy off of him. He reached down to push his face away, and the guy bit his hand.
"SHIT!!" Jake said. He was able to force the guy off of him, and get to his feet. The guy rolled over, and pulled himself up, too. Jake started to back up, when the guy lunged at him, again. He stepped forward, and punched the guy square in the jaw, and broke it off. The guy fell back on the ground, and stared straight at Jake.
His lower jaw was laying on the ground beside him.
"What the fuck!?!!!" Jake said.
The guy started to crawl toward Jake again.
"Jesus Christ!!" he said.
He backed away, and turned and ran the rest of the way toward school. When he reached the edge of the woods, he stopped and looked behind him. The homeless guy wasn't there. He was sweating, and had a small bite on his hand.
"Son of a bitch bit me!!" he said.
His hand was bleeding, but it wasn't bad. He shook his head when he thought about it.
Had he knocked the guy's jaw off?
No, he thought. There's no way.
He tried to decide if he should call the police. He didn't want to have to deal with that. The bite wasn't that big, and he wasn't supposed to be wandering through the woods to begin with. Last year a bunch of kids got in trouble for going in, and throwing eggs at the homeless camps. It would just be a big hassle. He didn't want to have to answer a bunch of questions. So, he decided to just wash his hand off, and keep his trap shut. No need to cause a big problem.
He got into the school, and went right to the bathroom to wash his hand.
Christ, he thought. This hurts like hell!!
It was only about an inch long. The freak had just caught him on the side of the hand, before he was able to get away. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was bright red.
Great, he thought. I'm gonna get rabies from a homeless freak. Terrific.
He wrapped a paper towel around his hand, and headed to his first class. He thought about going to the nurse, to get a bandage. But, the nurse was just some old woman who volunteered her time, and they didn't always have bandages, anyway. Plus, she was kind of mean.
He got into his class, and sat down at his desk. His friend, Steve, was already there.
"Dude, what happened to your hand?" Steve asked him.
"I got bit by a homeless guy, cutting through the woods."
"He bit you!?!!"
"Yeah," Jake said. "And it hurts like hell."
"Maybe we should cut it off." Steve laughed.
"Funny."
Mrs. Wilkerson came into the class.
"Pipe down, everyone," she said. "We have a lot to cover, today."
Jake couldn't focus on anything that was going on. He eyes kept darting around the room. He was starting to sweat, and get cold, all at the same time.
Fuck!! he thought. That fucking freak gave me the flu, or something. FUCK!!
His head was starting to throb. Behind everything else that was going on, he could hear it in his head.
Boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom........
It wasn't loud, but it was constant. His forehead was starting to getting sweaty, and he ran his hand through his brown hair. He couldn't concentrate on anything that was going on. He tried to stay steady in his seat, and not let on that anything was going on. After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Wilkerson wrapped things up.
"Okay," she said. "Read chapter 14, for Wednesday, and answer the questions at the end. We'll go over all of it in class. We'll see you tomorrow."
As Jake was getting up to leave, she called him over.
"Are you feeling okay, Jake?" she asked. "You look a little pale."
"I'm okay," he said. "I think I'm just getting sick, or something. I'm fine."
"Do you want a pass to go to the nurse?"
He rolled his eyes.
"I know, I know," she said. "But, it's better than nothing."
"I'll be okay," he said.
He walked out into the hallway. His head was still throbbing. It felt like it was getting louder, and louder.
Boom-boom......boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom......
He went back into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and looked in the mirror. He did look like hell. His face was getting pale. He was getting circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Shit," he said.
Jake made his way out into the hall, and headed for his next class. He was feeling dizzy, and having trouble walking. He thought about just going home. Maybe he should just call the cops, and tell them about the homeless freak. His hand hurt like hell, and his head was still throbbing.
He made it to class, and decided that he would just blow it off, and not pay any attention. It was economics. Nothing he was going to need to know. The teacher, Mr. Williams, was a blowhard. If he just kept his head down, and looked like he was taking notes, he could skate through.
One class at a time, he thought.
He took his seat, and Mr. Williams starting blathering about macro economics. Jake put his head down, and pretended to take notes. His head was killing him.
Boom-boom.....boom-boom....boom-boom.....boom-boom....boom-boom....
He closed his eyes, and tried to shake the pain off. When he opened them, he saw Becky. He's spent countless classes thinking about things he would do to her. The thought made him smile. In real life she wouldn't give him the time of day. In his mind, though, she did unspeakable things. He smiled at the thought. She had on a short, red skirt, and a form fitting, white top. He started thinking about her.
He walked up behind her, and put his arms around her. She pressed herself back against him, and cocked her head to the side. He reached up and pulled her dark hair to the side, and began kissing her neck. She closed her eyes, and started breathing at his touch. He gently kissed his way up her neck, and stopped at her ear. He took her earlobe into his mouth, as she gently moaned. Then, he bit down on her ear, and pulled it clean off her head, as the blood started running down her neck.......
"What the fuck!?!!" Jake yelled, as he jerked up out of his seat.
The whole class looked at him.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Sullivan?" Mr. Williams asked him.
Jake looked around the room. Some people were staring at him. Others were laughing. He was breathing heavy.
"Uh....No," he said. "I..uh...fell asleep.....and....uh...."
"You fell asleep in my class," Mr. Williams said. "And, you were yelling out profanities. Why don't you come back, after school, and we'll go over everything you slept through in great detail."
"Yes, sir." he said.
The bell rang. Jake got up, and walked from class. He had P.E. next. It was your typical, public school, physical education class. The teacher was Coach Paulson. He was also the football coach, and didn't feel like taking the time to actually run the class. So, he threw a bunch of basketballs into the gym, and went back to his office. Today would be no different. Steve was in the class with him, though. So, he would be able to kick back, and try and shake whatever was wrong with him.
"Wow," Steve said. "You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"What the hell happened?"
"I think it was that homeless guy," Jake said. "I think he gave me something."
"Rabies," Steve said.
"It's not rabies."
"You'll go crazy. You'll eat your own tongue, and then start eating your lips." Steve laughed.
"It's not fucking rabies," Jake said.
They were sitting in the back of the gym, watching everyone throw the basketballs around. Jake could have done without the bouncing. If he'd had one, he might have taken an ice pick to his own head. About fifteen minutes before class ended, Coach Paulson came out.
"Alright boys," he said. "Hit the showers."
In the locker room, Jake couldn't even open his eyes. The pounding was louder. He closed his eyes, tighter.
Boom-boom......boom-boom......boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.......
He took a shower, hoping that it would calm him down. But, it didn't help. The throbbing persisted. When he dried off, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was ashen. Completely pale. He wasn't sure, but he thought his brown eyes even looked lighter.
Jesus Christ, he thought.
His next class was homeroom. Then, he had lunch, and two more periods before he could get the hell out of there.
I can make it, he thought.
Homeroom was nothing. It was a chance for you to finish the homework you hadn't done the night before, or get started on the work you had already gotten, from today. The teacher didn't even talk to them. Jake put his head down on his desk, and drifted off to sleep.
His dreams were odd, though.
People swimming in pools of blood. He would reach in, but not to save them. To catch them. To have them.
In one dream, he was being followed by a large group. He couldn't see them, but he could hear them. They didn't speak. They moaned. They kept reaching out for him. He tried to get away, but he couldn't walk. He could only stumble along. He couldn't speak. He couldn't call out for help. He kept moving....slower.....They were going to catch him.
In another dream he was pulling apart a live chicken, and eating it.
In all the dreams, his face was pale. Almost with a green tint. His eyes were sunken, and gray. His lips were black. He didn't speak. He just grunted and moaned.
The bell jerked him awake.
He was breathing heavy. Lunch was finally here.
Relax, he thought. Just relax. Days almost over. You can go home, and go to bed.
He calmed himself down, and headed to the quad. Lunch times were staggered, so there wasn't much of a crowd when he got into the cafeteria line. He picked up his tray, plate, and utensils, and waited his turn.
"What'll it be, dear?" the cafeteria lady asked him.
Jake wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he should eat something. So, he looked up at the menu.
"Uhhh...Just give me the spaghetti," he said.
"Okie-dokie," she said. She took her spoon, reached out, and slapped a bloody, human brain onto Jake's plate.
He jumped back, and threw his tray on the ground.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?!!!!" he yelled, as he fell back, and landed on his behind.
Everything in the quad stopped. Everyone was looking at Jake, again. From his place on the ground he looked over, and saw the spaghetti noodles, laying all over the ground. He closed his eyes, and put his face in his hands. The throbbing was intense. He tried covering his ears, but it didn't do any good.
BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.......
Someone put their hand on his shoulder.
"Are you okay, dear?"
It was the cafeteria lady.
Her voice sounded like it was an echo. He looked at her, but couldn't focus.
"Do I fucking LOOK okay?" he snapped at her.
He got up and tried to run, but he couldn't. His legs were numb. It felt like they were both asleep. He couldn't feel his steps. He was able to get a few feet, but was going to fast and fell down. He was able to, slowly, get back up. He could feel his breathing getting heavier. He was sweating, big time. He was able to slowly walk to the bathroom.
What's happening to me? he thought.
The circles under his eyes were darker. He was as white as a ghost, and his brown eyes were gone. They were black.
He leaned back against the wall, in the bathroom.
I've got to get out of here, he thought. I've got to get home.
He thought for a moment. He couldn't remember where his house was. He closed his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair. He could see his mom. But, he couldn't see his house. He shook his head. The woman was smiling at him.
Wait, he thought. Is that my mom.
He pointed his head down, and closed his eyes tighter. The woman in his mind reached her hand up to her own throat, and dug her nails into her neck. She was still smiling as the blood poured out of her neck, and she reached her now bloody hand out, for Jake.
The bell rang.
He shook his eyes open. He was still breathing heavy. The sweat was dripping down his face. He stumbled out of the bathroom, and back into the building for his next class. It was science. Mrs. Jenkins was his teacher. She looked up at him as he came in.
"Are you okay, Jake?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he responded, and headed for his desk.
He sat behind the lovebirds. Tricia Miller, and Mike Elliot. Tricia was the popular, pretty, stupid, cheerleader. Mike was the popular, handsome, stupid jock. Together, they were the perfect, popular, stupid couple. They knew it. Everyone knew it. It was high school politics at it's best. They were joined at the hip, and various other places, depending on who was around.
Jake took his seat, behind Tricia.
He couldn't focus on anything. The pounding was incredible.
BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM.......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......
He kept drifting in and out. He didn't even hear Mrs. Jenkins talking. The strange dreams kept coming, and he would jerk himself awake.
He opened his eyes, and looked at the back of Tricia's head. There was something under her blonde hair, on her head. He could see it. It was pulsating, and tiny drops of blood were sprinkling down on his desk.
What the hell is that? he thought. How can she NOT feel that?
He could see it, almost bouncing up and down, under her hair.
Slowly, he reached up with both hands. He grabbed each side of her hair, and pulled it apart. He found himself looking directly inside her head, and her brain was right in front of him. He pulled her hair, tighter.
Tricia screamed.
Mike jumped up, and grabbed Jake's arms. He was able to pull him off of Tricia, and throw him to the ground.
"What's your fucking problem, Sullivan?" Mike yelled at him.
Tricia was holding her head, and crying.
Jake laid on the ground. His eyes were wide.
"Answer me!!!!!" Mike yelled at him, again.
Jake started to pull himself up.
He tried to speak.
"I....I....I could see inside her head," he said. "I thought she was hurt."
"You sick freak!!!" Tricia yelled at him.
Mike walked right up to him.
"You're dead, Sullivan," he said. "After school. You and me. You are dead meat."
"Gentlemen," Mrs. Jenkins said.
The bell rang. Jake bolted toward the door.
"Mr. Sullivan, get back here," Mrs. Jenkins said. But, he was already gone.
He pushed his way through the students that were crowding the halls. His head was pounding. They were all moving in slow motion. He suddenly knew what he was hearing. It was the blood coursing through their bodies. The noise was deafening.
BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM....BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......
He went into the library. He knew no one would be in there. The school had cut so much, that they didn't even have a librarian. He pushed the door open, and stumbled to the back of the room, in between some large bookcases. He fell to the ground, and lay on his side.
The world was spinning. His head was pounding. He needed to get out of there. He was able to pull himself up onto all fours. He held himself there for a moment, and then threw up. A lot. After a moment he fell face down into it, and passed out.
The bell woke him.
He laid there, covered in his own vomit, for another 15 minutes.
Gotta get home, he thought. Gotta get home.
He pulled himself up. He had no balance. He ambled his way over to the door, and pushed his way into the hallway. He wasn't sure where he was going.
He kept stumbling down the hallway, until he heard a voice.
"SULLIVAN!!!"
It was coming from the other end of the hall. It was Mike Elliot.
He came at Jake.
"Did you think I would forget, Sullivan?" he said.
Jake just stared at him.
"Huh?' he said.
"Did you think I would forget that I was gonna kick your ass?"
Jake just shook his head.
"I....Uhhhh....." he answered slowly.
Mike pushed him, and he slammed against the wall.
"Did you think you could grab Tricia, like that, and get away with it?"
Jake didn't answer. He couldn't, anymore.
Mike slammed him against the wall, again.
"Now, you're gonna pay, you sick fuck!!" he said.
Jake just stared at him.
"What's the matter, pussy?" Mike said. "Don't you have anything to say?"
He grabbed Jake by the shirt, and held him against the wall. Jake grabbed onto his hands, leaned his head down, and bit down on his right index finger.
Mike screamed.
Jake held on as hard as he could. When Mike tried to pull back, he bit down as hard as he could until the finger came off in his mouth.
Mike screamed, again. He pushed Jake away from him, and fell down on his back.
"YOU FUCKING, SON OF A BITCH!!!" Mike yelled. "HOLY SHIT!!!!"
"YOU SICK, PIECE OF SHIT!!!"
He held onto his hand, and ran down the hall, away from Jake.
Jake stood there. He still had the finger in his mouth. The blood oozed down his mouth, to his chin, and onto his clothes. He spit the finger out, onto the floor, wiped his chin off, and licked the blood from his hand. He turned and stumbled down the hall, to the stairs, and headed down. His body moved slowly, and his walk had no balance.
"Mr. Sullivan," he heard a voice say.
It was his economics teacher, Mr. Williams.
"Did you forget that you were supposed to come see me, after school?"
Jake stared at him.
"Let's go," Mr. Williams said. He turned, walked into the classroom, and left the door open behind him.
Jake stumbled for the door. When he got into the classroom Mr. Williams was at the board.
"Have a seat," he said. "We're going to go over everything you decided to nap through during class, today."
He turned, and started writing on the board.
Jake ambled forward. He moved past the desk, and toward the teacher. When he got to him, he pushed Mr. Williams against the wall, grabbed him from behind, and dug his teeth into the side of his neck.
Mr. Williams screemed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.......JAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!"
His mouth filled with his teacher's warm blood, and he bit down harder. He felt good for the first time, all day. He pulled back, grabbed the teacher's head, and slammed it against the chalkboard, cracking open his skull. He let the body fall to the ground. Then, he bent down, and pulled the broken pieces of skull back, and started digging for the brain.
Jake Sullivan no longer existed.
For that matter neither did Mr. Williams.
About two hours later, Mike Elliot was sitting in a bed, in the emergency room. His hand was wrapped in gauze, and he had an IV attached to his arm. He was talking to the police.
"We couldn't find the finger," the officer said. "Sorry, son."
"You've gotta catch that sick bastard," Mike said. "He's nuts."
"You don't know how right you are."
"What do you mean?' Mike was starting to feel tired from the IV.
"You may have gotten off, easy," the officer said. "If we have the time right, after he....uh....bit your finger off, he went into a classroom and murdered one of your teachers. It was pretty violent, from what we could tell."
"Jesus Christ," Mike said.
"Yeah," the officer replied. "You try and get some rest. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch."
The officer left.
Mike closed his eyes. The drugs were helping, but his hand still hurt like hell. He didn't even want to think about what this meant to his team, or his future. He just wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't. His head was throbbing.
boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom...............
Now, on to the odd blog. I had said a while back that I was going to start writing some different stuff. This is it. I'd love to know what you thought. I'm actually thinking of starting a website for this type of thing. But, I don't know how to do that, and computers hate me. So, that could take a little time. Until then, here's something weird. From my mind......The strange part......No.....The OTHER strange part.
THE BECOMING
BY CASEY BARTHOLOMEW
Decision time.
Jake Sullivan was standing just outside the woods that wrapped around his school. He could go through them, and be to school on time. Or, he could take the long way around, and be late. He was always late. One more time, and he was going to have to stay after school, and he hated doing that.
But, he didn't like going through the woods, because they were generally populated by homeless people who had been run out of town. They were harmless, but he still didn't like the idea of walking by the various "camps" that they had set up. It made him uncomfortable.
He took a deep breath, and stepped into the woods. It wasn't far. Maybe 300 yards. You could actually see the top of the gym as you walked through. But, it was early in the morning, and it creeped him out, a little.
He had gotten about 100 yards in, when he saw the first homeless guy wandering about. He had heard that some of them were a little crazy, and would just wander around, muttering to themselves. This guy seemed to fit the bill. He was about 50 feet off to Jake's left. He walked like a toddler. He was taking small, stomping steps, and seemed to be having trouble keeping his balance. He swung his arms wide with every step he took.
Probably drunk, Jake thought. Great.
Jake picked up the pace, and avoided looking at the homeless guy. It was no good, though. The guy had seen him, and was now heading in his direction. He didn't want to run away, because he didn't want to piss the freak off. So, he pulled a dollar out of his pocket, and had it ready to hand the guy.
The homeless guy kept coming, and was now about 20 feet away. He was ashen, and his eyes were so wide they were almost bulging out of his head.
"Morning," Jake said. "How ya' doin'?"
The guy just kept coming. He was close, now.
Jake held out the dollar.
"Here," he said. "Can I help you out a little?"
The guy walked right up to Jake, slapped his hand away, and lunged at him. Jake was too fast, and pushed the guy away.
"What the fuck!?!!" he said
He came at Jake, again.
Jake knocked him away, again, and this time he fell to the ground.
The guy didn't say anything. He just let out a loud moan.
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he said. It was odd.
Jake stood there, unsure of what to do. The guy was on the ground in front of him. Jake was ready to run, when the guy suddenly bounced up, and grabbed Jake's leg, forcing him to the ground.
"Fuck!!!" Jake said.
He started wildly swinging at the freak, hoping to force him off of he legs.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!" was all the guy would say.
Jake was desperately trying to force the guy off of him. He reached down to push his face away, and the guy bit his hand.
"SHIT!!" Jake said. He was able to force the guy off of him, and get to his feet. The guy rolled over, and pulled himself up, too. Jake started to back up, when the guy lunged at him, again. He stepped forward, and punched the guy square in the jaw, and broke it off. The guy fell back on the ground, and stared straight at Jake.
His lower jaw was laying on the ground beside him.
"What the fuck!?!!!" Jake said.
The guy started to crawl toward Jake again.
"Jesus Christ!!" he said.
He backed away, and turned and ran the rest of the way toward school. When he reached the edge of the woods, he stopped and looked behind him. The homeless guy wasn't there. He was sweating, and had a small bite on his hand.
"Son of a bitch bit me!!" he said.
His hand was bleeding, but it wasn't bad. He shook his head when he thought about it.
Had he knocked the guy's jaw off?
No, he thought. There's no way.
He tried to decide if he should call the police. He didn't want to have to deal with that. The bite wasn't that big, and he wasn't supposed to be wandering through the woods to begin with. Last year a bunch of kids got in trouble for going in, and throwing eggs at the homeless camps. It would just be a big hassle. He didn't want to have to answer a bunch of questions. So, he decided to just wash his hand off, and keep his trap shut. No need to cause a big problem.
He got into the school, and went right to the bathroom to wash his hand.
Christ, he thought. This hurts like hell!!
It was only about an inch long. The freak had just caught him on the side of the hand, before he was able to get away. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was bright red.
Great, he thought. I'm gonna get rabies from a homeless freak. Terrific.
He wrapped a paper towel around his hand, and headed to his first class. He thought about going to the nurse, to get a bandage. But, the nurse was just some old woman who volunteered her time, and they didn't always have bandages, anyway. Plus, she was kind of mean.
He got into his class, and sat down at his desk. His friend, Steve, was already there.
"Dude, what happened to your hand?" Steve asked him.
"I got bit by a homeless guy, cutting through the woods."
"He bit you!?!!"
"Yeah," Jake said. "And it hurts like hell."
"Maybe we should cut it off." Steve laughed.
"Funny."
Mrs. Wilkerson came into the class.
"Pipe down, everyone," she said. "We have a lot to cover, today."
Jake couldn't focus on anything that was going on. He eyes kept darting around the room. He was starting to sweat, and get cold, all at the same time.
Fuck!! he thought. That fucking freak gave me the flu, or something. FUCK!!
His head was starting to throb. Behind everything else that was going on, he could hear it in his head.
Boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom........
It wasn't loud, but it was constant. His forehead was starting to getting sweaty, and he ran his hand through his brown hair. He couldn't concentrate on anything that was going on. He tried to stay steady in his seat, and not let on that anything was going on. After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Wilkerson wrapped things up.
"Okay," she said. "Read chapter 14, for Wednesday, and answer the questions at the end. We'll go over all of it in class. We'll see you tomorrow."
As Jake was getting up to leave, she called him over.
"Are you feeling okay, Jake?" she asked. "You look a little pale."
"I'm okay," he said. "I think I'm just getting sick, or something. I'm fine."
"Do you want a pass to go to the nurse?"
He rolled his eyes.
"I know, I know," she said. "But, it's better than nothing."
"I'll be okay," he said.
He walked out into the hallway. His head was still throbbing. It felt like it was getting louder, and louder.
Boom-boom......boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom......
He went back into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and looked in the mirror. He did look like hell. His face was getting pale. He was getting circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Shit," he said.
Jake made his way out into the hall, and headed for his next class. He was feeling dizzy, and having trouble walking. He thought about just going home. Maybe he should just call the cops, and tell them about the homeless freak. His hand hurt like hell, and his head was still throbbing.
He made it to class, and decided that he would just blow it off, and not pay any attention. It was economics. Nothing he was going to need to know. The teacher, Mr. Williams, was a blowhard. If he just kept his head down, and looked like he was taking notes, he could skate through.
One class at a time, he thought.
He took his seat, and Mr. Williams starting blathering about macro economics. Jake put his head down, and pretended to take notes. His head was killing him.
Boom-boom.....boom-boom....boom-boom.....boom-boom....boom-boom....
He closed his eyes, and tried to shake the pain off. When he opened them, he saw Becky. He's spent countless classes thinking about things he would do to her. The thought made him smile. In real life she wouldn't give him the time of day. In his mind, though, she did unspeakable things. He smiled at the thought. She had on a short, red skirt, and a form fitting, white top. He started thinking about her.
He walked up behind her, and put his arms around her. She pressed herself back against him, and cocked her head to the side. He reached up and pulled her dark hair to the side, and began kissing her neck. She closed her eyes, and started breathing at his touch. He gently kissed his way up her neck, and stopped at her ear. He took her earlobe into his mouth, as she gently moaned. Then, he bit down on her ear, and pulled it clean off her head, as the blood started running down her neck.......
"What the fuck!?!!" Jake yelled, as he jerked up out of his seat.
The whole class looked at him.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Sullivan?" Mr. Williams asked him.
Jake looked around the room. Some people were staring at him. Others were laughing. He was breathing heavy.
"Uh....No," he said. "I..uh...fell asleep.....and....uh...."
"You fell asleep in my class," Mr. Williams said. "And, you were yelling out profanities. Why don't you come back, after school, and we'll go over everything you slept through in great detail."
"Yes, sir." he said.
The bell rang. Jake got up, and walked from class. He had P.E. next. It was your typical, public school, physical education class. The teacher was Coach Paulson. He was also the football coach, and didn't feel like taking the time to actually run the class. So, he threw a bunch of basketballs into the gym, and went back to his office. Today would be no different. Steve was in the class with him, though. So, he would be able to kick back, and try and shake whatever was wrong with him.
"Wow," Steve said. "You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"What the hell happened?"
"I think it was that homeless guy," Jake said. "I think he gave me something."
"Rabies," Steve said.
"It's not rabies."
"You'll go crazy. You'll eat your own tongue, and then start eating your lips." Steve laughed.
"It's not fucking rabies," Jake said.
They were sitting in the back of the gym, watching everyone throw the basketballs around. Jake could have done without the bouncing. If he'd had one, he might have taken an ice pick to his own head. About fifteen minutes before class ended, Coach Paulson came out.
"Alright boys," he said. "Hit the showers."
In the locker room, Jake couldn't even open his eyes. The pounding was louder. He closed his eyes, tighter.
Boom-boom......boom-boom......boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.......
He took a shower, hoping that it would calm him down. But, it didn't help. The throbbing persisted. When he dried off, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was ashen. Completely pale. He wasn't sure, but he thought his brown eyes even looked lighter.
Jesus Christ, he thought.
His next class was homeroom. Then, he had lunch, and two more periods before he could get the hell out of there.
I can make it, he thought.
Homeroom was nothing. It was a chance for you to finish the homework you hadn't done the night before, or get started on the work you had already gotten, from today. The teacher didn't even talk to them. Jake put his head down on his desk, and drifted off to sleep.
His dreams were odd, though.
People swimming in pools of blood. He would reach in, but not to save them. To catch them. To have them.
In one dream, he was being followed by a large group. He couldn't see them, but he could hear them. They didn't speak. They moaned. They kept reaching out for him. He tried to get away, but he couldn't walk. He could only stumble along. He couldn't speak. He couldn't call out for help. He kept moving....slower.....They were going to catch him.
In another dream he was pulling apart a live chicken, and eating it.
In all the dreams, his face was pale. Almost with a green tint. His eyes were sunken, and gray. His lips were black. He didn't speak. He just grunted and moaned.
The bell jerked him awake.
He was breathing heavy. Lunch was finally here.
Relax, he thought. Just relax. Days almost over. You can go home, and go to bed.
He calmed himself down, and headed to the quad. Lunch times were staggered, so there wasn't much of a crowd when he got into the cafeteria line. He picked up his tray, plate, and utensils, and waited his turn.
"What'll it be, dear?" the cafeteria lady asked him.
Jake wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he should eat something. So, he looked up at the menu.
"Uhhh...Just give me the spaghetti," he said.
"Okie-dokie," she said. She took her spoon, reached out, and slapped a bloody, human brain onto Jake's plate.
He jumped back, and threw his tray on the ground.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?!!!!" he yelled, as he fell back, and landed on his behind.
Everything in the quad stopped. Everyone was looking at Jake, again. From his place on the ground he looked over, and saw the spaghetti noodles, laying all over the ground. He closed his eyes, and put his face in his hands. The throbbing was intense. He tried covering his ears, but it didn't do any good.
BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.......
Someone put their hand on his shoulder.
"Are you okay, dear?"
It was the cafeteria lady.
Her voice sounded like it was an echo. He looked at her, but couldn't focus.
"Do I fucking LOOK okay?" he snapped at her.
He got up and tried to run, but he couldn't. His legs were numb. It felt like they were both asleep. He couldn't feel his steps. He was able to get a few feet, but was going to fast and fell down. He was able to, slowly, get back up. He could feel his breathing getting heavier. He was sweating, big time. He was able to slowly walk to the bathroom.
What's happening to me? he thought.
The circles under his eyes were darker. He was as white as a ghost, and his brown eyes were gone. They were black.
He leaned back against the wall, in the bathroom.
I've got to get out of here, he thought. I've got to get home.
He thought for a moment. He couldn't remember where his house was. He closed his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair. He could see his mom. But, he couldn't see his house. He shook his head. The woman was smiling at him.
Wait, he thought. Is that my mom.
He pointed his head down, and closed his eyes tighter. The woman in his mind reached her hand up to her own throat, and dug her nails into her neck. She was still smiling as the blood poured out of her neck, and she reached her now bloody hand out, for Jake.
The bell rang.
He shook his eyes open. He was still breathing heavy. The sweat was dripping down his face. He stumbled out of the bathroom, and back into the building for his next class. It was science. Mrs. Jenkins was his teacher. She looked up at him as he came in.
"Are you okay, Jake?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he responded, and headed for his desk.
He sat behind the lovebirds. Tricia Miller, and Mike Elliot. Tricia was the popular, pretty, stupid, cheerleader. Mike was the popular, handsome, stupid jock. Together, they were the perfect, popular, stupid couple. They knew it. Everyone knew it. It was high school politics at it's best. They were joined at the hip, and various other places, depending on who was around.
Jake took his seat, behind Tricia.
He couldn't focus on anything. The pounding was incredible.
BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM.......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......
He kept drifting in and out. He didn't even hear Mrs. Jenkins talking. The strange dreams kept coming, and he would jerk himself awake.
He opened his eyes, and looked at the back of Tricia's head. There was something under her blonde hair, on her head. He could see it. It was pulsating, and tiny drops of blood were sprinkling down on his desk.
What the hell is that? he thought. How can she NOT feel that?
He could see it, almost bouncing up and down, under her hair.
Slowly, he reached up with both hands. He grabbed each side of her hair, and pulled it apart. He found himself looking directly inside her head, and her brain was right in front of him. He pulled her hair, tighter.
Tricia screamed.
Mike jumped up, and grabbed Jake's arms. He was able to pull him off of Tricia, and throw him to the ground.
"What's your fucking problem, Sullivan?" Mike yelled at him.
Tricia was holding her head, and crying.
Jake laid on the ground. His eyes were wide.
"Answer me!!!!!" Mike yelled at him, again.
Jake started to pull himself up.
He tried to speak.
"I....I....I could see inside her head," he said. "I thought she was hurt."
"You sick freak!!!" Tricia yelled at him.
Mike walked right up to him.
"You're dead, Sullivan," he said. "After school. You and me. You are dead meat."
"Gentlemen," Mrs. Jenkins said.
The bell rang. Jake bolted toward the door.
"Mr. Sullivan, get back here," Mrs. Jenkins said. But, he was already gone.
He pushed his way through the students that were crowding the halls. His head was pounding. They were all moving in slow motion. He suddenly knew what he was hearing. It was the blood coursing through their bodies. The noise was deafening.
BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM....BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......
He went into the library. He knew no one would be in there. The school had cut so much, that they didn't even have a librarian. He pushed the door open, and stumbled to the back of the room, in between some large bookcases. He fell to the ground, and lay on his side.
The world was spinning. His head was pounding. He needed to get out of there. He was able to pull himself up onto all fours. He held himself there for a moment, and then threw up. A lot. After a moment he fell face down into it, and passed out.
The bell woke him.
He laid there, covered in his own vomit, for another 15 minutes.
Gotta get home, he thought. Gotta get home.
He pulled himself up. He had no balance. He ambled his way over to the door, and pushed his way into the hallway. He wasn't sure where he was going.
He kept stumbling down the hallway, until he heard a voice.
"SULLIVAN!!!"
It was coming from the other end of the hall. It was Mike Elliot.
He came at Jake.
"Did you think I would forget, Sullivan?" he said.
Jake just stared at him.
"Huh?' he said.
"Did you think I would forget that I was gonna kick your ass?"
Jake just shook his head.
"I....Uhhhh....." he answered slowly.
Mike pushed him, and he slammed against the wall.
"Did you think you could grab Tricia, like that, and get away with it?"
Jake didn't answer. He couldn't, anymore.
Mike slammed him against the wall, again.
"Now, you're gonna pay, you sick fuck!!" he said.
Jake just stared at him.
"What's the matter, pussy?" Mike said. "Don't you have anything to say?"
He grabbed Jake by the shirt, and held him against the wall. Jake grabbed onto his hands, leaned his head down, and bit down on his right index finger.
Mike screamed.
Jake held on as hard as he could. When Mike tried to pull back, he bit down as hard as he could until the finger came off in his mouth.
Mike screamed, again. He pushed Jake away from him, and fell down on his back.
"YOU FUCKING, SON OF A BITCH!!!" Mike yelled. "HOLY SHIT!!!!"
"YOU SICK, PIECE OF SHIT!!!"
He held onto his hand, and ran down the hall, away from Jake.
Jake stood there. He still had the finger in his mouth. The blood oozed down his mouth, to his chin, and onto his clothes. He spit the finger out, onto the floor, wiped his chin off, and licked the blood from his hand. He turned and stumbled down the hall, to the stairs, and headed down. His body moved slowly, and his walk had no balance.
"Mr. Sullivan," he heard a voice say.
It was his economics teacher, Mr. Williams.
"Did you forget that you were supposed to come see me, after school?"
Jake stared at him.
"Let's go," Mr. Williams said. He turned, walked into the classroom, and left the door open behind him.
Jake stumbled for the door. When he got into the classroom Mr. Williams was at the board.
"Have a seat," he said. "We're going to go over everything you decided to nap through during class, today."
He turned, and started writing on the board.
Jake ambled forward. He moved past the desk, and toward the teacher. When he got to him, he pushed Mr. Williams against the wall, grabbed him from behind, and dug his teeth into the side of his neck.
Mr. Williams screemed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.......JAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!"
His mouth filled with his teacher's warm blood, and he bit down harder. He felt good for the first time, all day. He pulled back, grabbed the teacher's head, and slammed it against the chalkboard, cracking open his skull. He let the body fall to the ground. Then, he bent down, and pulled the broken pieces of skull back, and started digging for the brain.
Jake Sullivan no longer existed.
For that matter neither did Mr. Williams.
About two hours later, Mike Elliot was sitting in a bed, in the emergency room. His hand was wrapped in gauze, and he had an IV attached to his arm. He was talking to the police.
"We couldn't find the finger," the officer said. "Sorry, son."
"You've gotta catch that sick bastard," Mike said. "He's nuts."
"You don't know how right you are."
"What do you mean?' Mike was starting to feel tired from the IV.
"You may have gotten off, easy," the officer said. "If we have the time right, after he....uh....bit your finger off, he went into a classroom and murdered one of your teachers. It was pretty violent, from what we could tell."
"Jesus Christ," Mike said.
"Yeah," the officer replied. "You try and get some rest. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch."
The officer left.
Mike closed his eyes. The drugs were helping, but his hand still hurt like hell. He didn't even want to think about what this meant to his team, or his future. He just wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't. His head was throbbing.
boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom...............
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
A Blogger Writes His Ticket To Hell....Probably Gets A Window Seat
I think that God owes the media an apology.
You see, we in the media require a certain amount of suffering in order to make our money. On a good day, there will be GREAT human suffering. In the event of GREAT human suffering, we get to jack up our ad rates, and make even more money. Then, we can all buy new cars.
However, when CERTAIN SUPREME BEINGS put together a massive storm, and lead us to believe that there will be GREAT human suffering, but seem to lose interest at the last minute, that costs us money. I don't wanna mention any names....GOD......But, we mobilized, and sent our best reporters to New Orleans, for what amounted to nothing more than some heavy rain. Thanks for nothing.
No people stuck on top of their houses.
No video of animals desperately swimming for their lives.
No rape or murder in the Superdome.
No "money" shots of small children, clearly abandoned by their families, sitting in the street, crying.
AND, perhaps worst of all, no Sean Penn. We had our second unit teams camped outside Sean Penn's house, waiting to see when he was going to charter his own jet, and fly down to New Orleans, hop into a dinky row boat, and try to save people. A truly compassionate God would have, at the very least, sent Sean Penn there. It would have given us something to do.
No, we in the media got nothing. You could see it in the eyes of the reporters for the past couple of days. They looked like the kid who was sure he was getting a new bike for Christmas, yet opened up a 3 volume set of the Encyclopedia Britannica, with a faux oak display case for easy access. I thought they were going to cry.
It is time that God started realizing that we, in the media, have children to feed, too. We have mortgages to pay. Car payments to make. Food to buy. A little consideration for OUR needs would be nice. We are willing to work out a deal, if necessary.
Here's what WE need. The media works in a "Four Quarter" year. Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. God, if you could arrange a major, domestic disaster, with great loss of life, possible minority involvement (Hispanic would be best since we are getting killed by Telemundo), in an impoverished area to maximize death/destruction, THAT would be great. Ideally, these "disasters" would come during the Fall and Spring periods, as that is when we set our ad rates. Anything where we could put stars from our new line-up would be super. Preferably during a warmer time, as we could get the girls from "Gossip Girl" in bikinis.
During the Winter/Summer months, you (God) could provide us with a similar-type disaster, in an impoverished nation that no one has ever heard of/been to. If it happened in a place where the weather was nice, that would be super, as it tends to get a little cold in certain parts of the U.S. during the winter. Baring that, a celebrity murder during this time period would be workable. It does, though, have to be a "beloved" celebrity. For example, OJ was beloved. Phil Spector was not. We got A LOT of mileage out of OJ. Not so much, with Spector. If this is a possibility, God, please think Tom Hanks/Ron Howard/Barry Manilow.
In return for your cooperation on this, we in the media would be happy to play that Mel Gibson movie, where they beat the holy crap out of your son, for two hours. As ad rates are down this year, though, we would insist on "digitally enhancing" the movie, in order to provide a minimal amount of "product placement." This would more than help to cover our losses, after you dropped the ball on the whole "Gustav" thing. For example:
Guy #1: Let's beat him some more!!
Guy #2: Yeah!!! Then, let's crucify him!!!!
Digitally Added Guy: Yeah!!! And, let's do it with lumber we bought at Home Depot....Home Depot. You can do it. We can help.
Or, how about this:
Woman: They're killing Jesus. We have to help.
Man: If we try, they'll just kill us, too.
Digitally Added Guy: Why don't we sit back, and talk about this over a nice bowl of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.......Campbell's Soup is mmmmm-mmmmmm good.
Of course, the details would have to be worked out, and we understand that. We also realize that many of us dodged a bullet, by NOT having to go to the Republican National Convention.
Before we move forward, we in the media would like to offer this bit of advice to God. While you have a good amount of experience running a universe, we find your programming instincts to be severely lacking. So, just remember this:
Boobs, babes, sex, dead babies, destruction, natural disasters, corrupt politicians, and racial unrest = MONEY
Happy people, sunshine, puppies, kittens, long walks in the park, and ugly people = WE ARE LOOKING FOR A NEW NETWORK EXECTUTIVE.
Don't consider this in any way, shape, or form a threat. We don't WANT to have to find a new God......But, that doesn't mean that we won't.
You see, we in the media require a certain amount of suffering in order to make our money. On a good day, there will be GREAT human suffering. In the event of GREAT human suffering, we get to jack up our ad rates, and make even more money. Then, we can all buy new cars.
However, when CERTAIN SUPREME BEINGS put together a massive storm, and lead us to believe that there will be GREAT human suffering, but seem to lose interest at the last minute, that costs us money. I don't wanna mention any names....GOD......But, we mobilized, and sent our best reporters to New Orleans, for what amounted to nothing more than some heavy rain. Thanks for nothing.
No people stuck on top of their houses.
No video of animals desperately swimming for their lives.
No rape or murder in the Superdome.
No "money" shots of small children, clearly abandoned by their families, sitting in the street, crying.
AND, perhaps worst of all, no Sean Penn. We had our second unit teams camped outside Sean Penn's house, waiting to see when he was going to charter his own jet, and fly down to New Orleans, hop into a dinky row boat, and try to save people. A truly compassionate God would have, at the very least, sent Sean Penn there. It would have given us something to do.
No, we in the media got nothing. You could see it in the eyes of the reporters for the past couple of days. They looked like the kid who was sure he was getting a new bike for Christmas, yet opened up a 3 volume set of the Encyclopedia Britannica, with a faux oak display case for easy access. I thought they were going to cry.
It is time that God started realizing that we, in the media, have children to feed, too. We have mortgages to pay. Car payments to make. Food to buy. A little consideration for OUR needs would be nice. We are willing to work out a deal, if necessary.
Here's what WE need. The media works in a "Four Quarter" year. Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. God, if you could arrange a major, domestic disaster, with great loss of life, possible minority involvement (Hispanic would be best since we are getting killed by Telemundo), in an impoverished area to maximize death/destruction, THAT would be great. Ideally, these "disasters" would come during the Fall and Spring periods, as that is when we set our ad rates. Anything where we could put stars from our new line-up would be super. Preferably during a warmer time, as we could get the girls from "Gossip Girl" in bikinis.
During the Winter/Summer months, you (God) could provide us with a similar-type disaster, in an impoverished nation that no one has ever heard of/been to. If it happened in a place where the weather was nice, that would be super, as it tends to get a little cold in certain parts of the U.S. during the winter. Baring that, a celebrity murder during this time period would be workable. It does, though, have to be a "beloved" celebrity. For example, OJ was beloved. Phil Spector was not. We got A LOT of mileage out of OJ. Not so much, with Spector. If this is a possibility, God, please think Tom Hanks/Ron Howard/Barry Manilow.
In return for your cooperation on this, we in the media would be happy to play that Mel Gibson movie, where they beat the holy crap out of your son, for two hours. As ad rates are down this year, though, we would insist on "digitally enhancing" the movie, in order to provide a minimal amount of "product placement." This would more than help to cover our losses, after you dropped the ball on the whole "Gustav" thing. For example:
Guy #1: Let's beat him some more!!
Guy #2: Yeah!!! Then, let's crucify him!!!!
Digitally Added Guy: Yeah!!! And, let's do it with lumber we bought at Home Depot....Home Depot. You can do it. We can help.
Or, how about this:
Woman: They're killing Jesus. We have to help.
Man: If we try, they'll just kill us, too.
Digitally Added Guy: Why don't we sit back, and talk about this over a nice bowl of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.......Campbell's Soup is mmmmm-mmmmmm good.
Of course, the details would have to be worked out, and we understand that. We also realize that many of us dodged a bullet, by NOT having to go to the Republican National Convention.
Before we move forward, we in the media would like to offer this bit of advice to God. While you have a good amount of experience running a universe, we find your programming instincts to be severely lacking. So, just remember this:
Boobs, babes, sex, dead babies, destruction, natural disasters, corrupt politicians, and racial unrest = MONEY
Happy people, sunshine, puppies, kittens, long walks in the park, and ugly people = WE ARE LOOKING FOR A NEW NETWORK EXECTUTIVE.
Don't consider this in any way, shape, or form a threat. We don't WANT to have to find a new God......But, that doesn't mean that we won't.
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