The Return of The King (or) The King's only Man disarms the MDR

So I used to work in this tennis supply warehouse packing and picking, shipping and recieving, etc... in the back was a table of retarded folks, one of whom I befriended- Thomas, who wore Elvis shades, sang Hound Dog and did the Elvis swivel n everything, who they called The King, but who introduced himself to me as 'Rambo'. We became good work friends, and always talked when they'd be walking through the aisles on their way to breaks and lunch (which wasn't the same time as ours). Now there was a dude in his department that the guys in my department called WMDR (world's most dangerous retard), or just MDR for short(bus). MDR used to hate me and this kid who I worked with, and used to glower at me all the time when I'd walk by. My boy Kevin said MDR made the whole universal pantomime for 'you're dead'- you know- the whole index finger across one's own throat while leering at the intended intimidatee- when no one else was looking. My boss went to speak to one of their supervisors one day, and picked up one of MDR's wrestling mags and flipped through it while talking to their boss. MDR snatched it in one angry rubber begloved hand (he was also freaked out about germs) yelling "I'm not reading it now thaT YOU'VE touched it!!!" My theory is that someone in MDR's life had made him very angry and bitter about his retardation, and convinced him all 'normal' people were insincere when showing kindness, etc... There was a lockable cage there with shelves of FILA shoes, and Bole sunglasses, etc... this is important later... Now- Thomas/Rambo/The King had been gone awhile after his mom passed, and I always looked up from what I was doing when they'd be coming back from 1st break, in case he came back. One day I looked up from my order, and it was MDR, so I returned to what I was doing and as he passed, he muttered in a low growl "What're YOU lookin at, Tattoo?" to which I just laughed and shook my head and said "OK then, dude..." He actually cracked me up. Kevin was so scared of him, too. One day, Kevin and I were pulling a case of balls off the top shelf, about twenty feet in the air; Kevin on the forklift, operating, me twenty feet in the air, a foot on each fork. I looked down and there was Thomas! I sat down on one fork and called down to him "Hey Alright Rambo's back! How you doin Thomas?!?" He yelled up "My mom died, I was gone awhile. Took it pretty hard, yeah." I said "Fuck I'm sorry to hear that Thomas, but you're a toughie. You'll be alright! Glad you're back though, i missed ya man!" at which he smiled, and sang hound dog while shakin it Kingstyle, and walked back to the packaging table. Right then, MDR came around the corner and yelled "No one likes you Thomas, because you're a fucking RETARD!" I'd had it with him... Standing, one foot on each fork, twenty feet in the air I bellowed "THAT'S FUCKIN IT, WMDR! IT'S YOU AND ME- 4PM- THE FILA CAGE! TWO MEN ENTER, ONE MAN LEAVES! NO ONE FUCKS WITH THE KING! I'LL EAT YOUR GODDAMNED HEART! NO RULES, NO HOLDS BARRED! I FEAR NOT YOUR MONGO SUPER-STRENGTH! YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!!!!" The whole warehouse went nuts laughing, and the string packaging dept jumped up whistling and clapping, as I stood defiantly, fists on each hip staring down MDR. Thomas began shakin it and the most inspired rendering of Hound Dog I ever heard issued forth from the returning King as his peers clapped and egged him on. MDR was LIVID! He was a noshow at 4pm (thank the gods of space and time, because I could never back down after that challenge!), and I was given a strong "what the fuck is wrong with you???" talking to, and a written warning, but it was all very worth it, and MDR never fucked with Thomas or ever even LOOKED at me again.

Bloodbrother

Friday night. Last night's full moon still shoots bounced sunlight into the brains of those who crunch the pine needles and loose asphalt under padded feet and rubber soled tennis shoes, sneaking away after mom's asleep to the redeszvous in the safe dark of the park sitting on a table under the grey shade of the trees away from the view of predatory police cruisers. telling innocent lies and tall tales of glory over the opening of stolen alluminum can of Bud. Red glows and grows to bright orange and ebbs back to red in a coughing, giggling blue cloud containing the dream of amassing the bravery to kiss that girl who's smile, and eyes seem to glow with some sort of magic innocent lust in this place and time. Right now. Somewhere close, racoons emerge from the depths of the gutter drain like navy Seals or brigand bands under the stars in search of a loose trashcan lid. The Trickster in it's coyote suit crawls out of the dry hills lookin' for some lone cat not paying attention, but cats have their own agendas and are only partially in this world to begin with... they remain crafty and Cheshire. Comfortable cigarette dangles loosely under the buzz of the streetlamp swarming with gnats and mosquitos silent sound of Dictators and Stooges and the words of Lester Bangs banging behind my red eyes and between my buzzing ears. If Dick Clark is the world's oldest living teenager, then I'm the world's oldest living juvenile delinquent. I'll bop til I drop, like I just made it to Coney Island from the Bronx, and The Grammercy Riff's KNOW it was the Moonruners, baby! Til there ain't nothin' left. YEPPA!

The Wait

I wait... sittin' in this room. Waitin for payday. waitin for a call. Waitin on you. I wait. At times it's zen, at other times it's jail, still others- sheer fuckall madness... waitin' on my ship to come in... waitin on money... waitin on love... waitin on someone elses prescription to be filled... waitin for you to do what you need, so I can get what I need... sittin in my room listening to Fugazi play "Waiting Room"... I can't get up unless and until you get up. So stand up. Do what you gotta do, so I can do what I have to do, before I do what I gotta do, too... Stand up. Fuck you pay me. Stand up, get here. Stand up, run to me. Stand up, buy my wares. Stand up and be counted. Stand up and fight. be a stand up motherfucker, motherfucker; Take a stand. Stand for something or fall for anything. Run. Run into the unknown. Run towards completion. Run towards absolution. Run towards fate. Run into the future. Future/Now. Make it happen make it so make it right make it real make it count. But fucking DO IT NOW. MOVE. GET UP and fucking MOVE... Life's too short to wait, too long to wait... LET'S GO!

NO HOLDING BACK

Sometimes, you just never know what you've been missing until the universe just goes BAM! and picks you up and puts you on THE PATH. Do you know THE PATH? It's the one you were meant to be on... you may think you're on it, but you never truly know until she puts you on it. BUT: and here's the thing- once you've been put on it, and you'll know- trust me on this- you have to not only ride the wave and forge ahead, but ya gotta give into it and go for it with everything you have, too. Fortune favors the bold, my friends. Grab it and hold fast! Life just gave me a big one. THE big one. The end all be all of all treasures, and you can bet your eyeballs I'm seizing it with gusto and guts and total fearlessness. This one is gonna be big! YES!

To crush the enemy, see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentation of their women.

"Well I take the dirt, and I take the dust, and I barbecue my meals." Damn skippy. What's all this shit with betas tryin to take my mind, energy, body, soul, money, pride, honor, dignity, integrety, etc... Civilization and the industrially insane who run it have manufactured a species of stupid worker brutes (mental betas), and soft bellied law abiders who like to talk about everything, like emotions, better ways to make more laws to protect the weak from the stupid, etc etc etc (physical betas). Just you keep em outta my way. All of em. I'm a heat seeking hammer weilding fire making thunder bringing head kickin' brainiac maniac caveman sumbitch, sumbitch; Don't fucking get in my way. I fuck like a beast, fight like beast, think like Carl Sagan on the verge of madness, and yer fucking floundering in front of me is so fucking irritating it makes my head want to pop. No fuckin' wonder my blood pressures high. I'm surrounded by fucking morons. Thank the universe I know how to spot friends n allies to buffer me from too much dealing with the public at large. Not that I don't possess a certain ammount of gentlemanly grace and an ability to empathize- but the second I sense judgement, fear, insecurity, etc I get a bit 'wolfey'. Don't be a sickly or injured baby elk in front of me... ya just get me sniffin' out lunch. I'm direct, blunt, and my hearts on my sleeve- but that doesn't mean it's an easy target. I smash through life in a straight fuckin' line pulled by a chrome helmeted, bolt tatted wild boar drawn rocket fueled chariot with stone wheels. Fucka Charlie fuckin' Sheen, man. I eat little self entitled bitches like that at 2AM after the bars close. Get the fuck outa my way- I'm comin' through. Nuff sed.

The Watcher on Fuckitall Island

If it weren't for my responsibility to the dog, I'd probably just say fuck it. My life has been filled with high adventure, righteousness, good friends, and fun interesting cameos by odd and entertaining sometimes wise characters. Bad times, and survival through em like a champ... and even more miraculously- survival through the good times! ;-) Never really was meant for this time and space. Out of step and un-synched my whole life. I honestly see no real reason to change anything other than to better execute some vague 'blaze of glory' fantasy I frequently indulge. Better living through chemistry my ass. FUCK THIS MODERN WORLD AND FUCK CIVILIZATION. Let it crumble. Maybe THAT'S why I need to change and take care of myself- other than to take care of The Boy Daigoro Lux- so I can watch it crumble and fall and laugh my ass to death. Sorry- not trying to be heavy, but my commitment to participation in this stupid pointless game has been hanging on one shitty rayon thread as far back as I can remember. Some people think it's a depressing outlook, but I don't at all mean it that way; it's all so funny to me. But I'm very glad I now get to watch it all fall with such badass kindred spirits as I've been so lucky to connect with. Hoot muthafuckin' HOOT! I kinda feel like there's a little more left to the ride, and right when I thought maybe it was time to get off. But I get off on it too much to quit just yet. Sometimes the universe throws a character or two in my path that really make me think "Oh fuck- OKAY then, maybe I'll stay just a little longer and see how THIS plays out... " Because that's what life is all about, right? Connection and friends and 'swimming' in/with the universal tides, and just DIGGING IT, right? Fuck the extraneous horseshit thrown atcha. Thank you friend, you know who you are- you're here, you're gone, and you are right fucking here in my heart. And thank you space time continuum for your waves. Surf's up!

I need a breathalizer installed on my computer...

I've decided I need to install a breathalizer on my computer so that I don't go on drunken internet rampages where I end up 'nuking' my friends' facebook pages with video posts, and go on insane spending binges with ebay and amazon... I mean, I know I NEEEEDed 'real' Jivarro JuJu filled shrunken heads, 2 fiji mermaids, a four foot tall wooden carved tiki bottle opener, a jar containing a two-headed baby, the complete Marvel Savage Sword of Conan, etc... and I know at the time every video I posted had some drunken signifigance where I knew everyone really gave a flying fuck about what I happened to be listening to for 16 hours straight... HAHAHAHA. But in the cold harsh unforgiving light of the hungover morning (2:58pm) my perspective was just a little different. No big deal really, I do want that shit, and now I get to have it, and my friends on FB are friends for a reason, but I'm not in the habit of annoying the livin' fuck outta people I dig. HAHAHAHA...

So here it is- in three months I'll have my license back. Let's see if I can keep from fucking hammering away at the keyboard like a mad drunken Dr. Phibes relentlessly beating on his organ ;)-hahahahaha-, unless it's on here, or while writing 'The Book'... no, not the bible- that silly shit's already been done; MY BOOK. Anyway, as Stan Lee would say: Nuff Said



PS- Tryin' not to only blog 'rants'. Gotta get back the bebop stream of conciousness shit, and more observational journalism. Gotta get back into the right head-space for it. Thanx for bearing with while I get my chops back in order.