63. The Social Contracts of 1544-B Alameda Drive (George Carlin, A Place for My Stuff)

1. Louis will replace what he ate when Hal replaces what he ate.
2. Kim won't bathe with the bathroom door wide open if Louis will confront his hatred and fear of women.
3. Hal won't mock Jane's fear of midgets just because it occurs to him to do so.
4. Jane just won't.
5. Hal will refrain from punching Louis in the nose if Louis will admit he's a sponge.
6. Kim won't mention Jane's yo-yo dieting if Jane won't keep her up all night with one of her crying jags.
7. Hal won't leave the toilet seat up if Jane won't keep him up all night with one of her crying jags.
8. Louis won't stand over Jane's bed in a hood if Jane won't keep him up all night with one of her crying jags.
9. Kim won't call the cops on everyone else just because she's menstruating.
10. Kim won't call the cops if everyone else leaves.

62. Frank Talk About Eye Color (Black Eyes, s/t and Cough)

Blue eyes: People with blue eyes are descended from Nazis. People with blue eyes are from: Scandinavia, Brazil, Oklahoma. Blue-eyed people are horse-whisperers, cheerleaders, Robin Hoods, devils. Blue-eyed people think they run the world but they so don’t. Blue-eyed people were able to rap in the early 90’s. Blue-eyed people will never find the face of Jesus in a miracle tortilla, and only 7% (adjusted) will ever try to. Blue-eyed people know where participating locations are. Blue-eyed people: 11.99% APR, $700 down at participating locations.

Brown eyes: People with brown eyes wake up later than people of other eye colors, and they go to bed later. Types of brown eyes: cylindrical (reversed), like chestnut, bloodshot, muffin. If you approach a brown-eye person from behind, be sure to ring your bell; their frightened ululations will startle and delight the cattle. Brown-eyed girls resent Van Morrison, for they have never been under the stadium, and they haven’t grown. They have reached only the size of their
cubicles, which are piled on top of each other like Tetris blocks. Brown-eyed people are seen in the early levels, and may be defeated with the Young Moon combo, which you should have had tattooed to your left wrist by Horga, the Ice Witch in Yodelling City.

Green eyes: Not jealous, but resentful of the implication. Green-eyed lady, passionate lady: child of nature, friend to man; will prepare your taxes using druidic “essences.” Green-eyed people hang out under power lines, smoking; on ley-lines, smudging; in places where coffee is served in tiny china demitasse cups, writing the next American novel, not the great one, just the next. Green eyed men come from Mars, and green eyed ladies come from “What do you mean by that!?”.

Red eyes: Linda Blair! Oh no. Oh no no no, God no.

Hazel eyes: Those of the hazel persuasion know their limitations, but surpass them anyways. Hey hazel-eye lady, won’t you share your Twix with me? Hey hazel-eye daddy, you let my woman be. We wanna have us hazel eye children underneath that hazel tree. Hazel-eyed people would write a musical like that, but have been counselled against it.

61. 365 More Funniest Jokes! (Coyle and Sharpe, Audio Visionaries)

may 6!

a policeman was called to the Verrazanno Narrows Bridge to stop a man from committing suicide. he pulled up right as the man was about to go over the side. "don't do it!" he said. "you have so much to live for!" "bullshit!" said the guy. "i'm bankrupt, i'm under investigation by the SEC, and my fiancee, jennifer landingham, is cheating on me!" "THE jennifer landingham?" said the cop. "i know her. she's beautiful! she's something to live for!" the guy paused. "i guess... yeah, she is..." he said, starting to step away from the edge. "and she fucks like a wildcat. in bed her ass moves like a blender!" said the cop. the high point of the Verrazanno Narrows Bridge is 244 feet above the water.

october 30!

what would happen if you crossed an eggplant with a boom box?

that could not happen.

august 11!

fred: doctor, it hurts when i do this!
doctor derf: well, don't do that!
fred: but life without masturbation isn't worth living!

february 1!

a man and a woman were walking in the mountains along a thin trail. suddenly, the ground gave way and the woman fell, only barely catching herself on a branch. "quick, go get help!" she said. "ok, honey! i love you!" he ran back along the trail towards the village. the path forked and even though there were PLENTY OF PEOPLE AROUND he didn't ask for directions and he got more and more lost. he finally made it to the village and got help but by the time he got back, his wife had plummetted to her death. he should have asked for directions but guys NEVER DO.

december 17!

what did the hamburger say to the side of fries?

hamburgers cannot speak, we have made them mute so they aren't horrifying to eat.

june 1!

what would you call a cross between a hyena and a manatee?

this joke has two punchlines, equally humorous. a) a hyenatee. b) a horrifying mental image.

september 22!

i went to a german-russian restaurant, and an hour later i hit a jew in the face and then sent his family to the steppes!

march 19!

one of my cats had a litter of kittens, and my five year old daughter, jesse, was amazed by the process. she cooed with delight as the first kitten was born, asked (i thought) very intelligent questions about biology and the birth canal, and danced and laughed while the mama cat licked the first kitten clean. the litter ended up being five cats, and it took a while, so i made dinner. while we were eating, jesse looked over at the pen where the birthing was finishing. "look, fluffles is hungry too! happy dinner, fluffles!" my wife and i looked on in horror. the fifth kitten was stillborn and fluffles was snout deep in its steaming, deformed corpse.

january 29!

what did the politest child in the gulag get?

cancer!

hope you're enjoying this ETERNITY OF FUNNY JOKES!

60. D.B Cooper Parachuting Over My Mother's House (Cajun Fais Do-Do)

(for Brian Encino Man)

d.b. cooper's parachute malfunctions. he cuts it away, uses his safety. he plunges into the brackish waters of the corrottoman. my mother drinks white wine on the deck, sees d.b. cooper swim slowly to the shore. she pours another glass of wine. she goes to get another glass. she pours another glass of wine.

d.b cooper dripping wet. he walks to the deck. roughly, my mother grabs his arm, pulls him to her.

an hour during which my mother and d.b. cooper do things i will not describe.

d.b. cooper and my mother smoking, drinking white wine.

d.b. cooper: "thank you for... understanding."
my mother: "no, honey, it's fine."
d.b. cooper: "i wish i didn't have this... this kink."
my mother: "we're all wired a little off factory specifications, dear."
d.b. cooper: "yeah, but how many people have to leap from a helicopter with a malfunctioning parachute which they then need to cut away and use their back-up... how many people need to do all that in order to initiate sexual relations?"

my mother shrugs and pours another glass of white wine.

d.b. cooper seen parachuting to the supermarket. the convenience store. his chiropractors.

my mother drinking white wine.

my mother: "are you having an affair?"
d.b. cooper: "i could never. can you pour me another glass of white wine?"
my mother: "you seem to be parachuting quite a bit these days."
d.b. cooper: "well, it IS what i'm known for."

d.b. cooper falling from the sky, silhouetted by the red clay sun. my mother looking up with wonder.

what does the house look like to a man in freefall? what does my mother look like from 30,000 feet? i ask d.b. cooper over white wine.

"you couldn't understand it, son. you stay on the ground. you've never felt all your guts in your throat as you step from the plane. i've watched you, it takes you ten minutes to screw up the courage to step from a curb. there's nothing wrong with that. i myself am deathly afraid of spiders. so much as i will never understand the certain thrill of arachnology, you will never understand..."

well, it is my mother, after all. i certainly wouldn't, i suppose...

i ask my mother, who sits atop a pyramid of empty white wine bottles.

"son, i don't feel comfortable talking about..."
"do you see him as he falls? does this excite you?"
"i see him fall. i watch as the first parachute fails to deploy. i must admit, knowing that the process has been set in motion there is a certain frisson. but i doubt you could ever understand. you who requires rope and pitons to descend a flight of stairs. this isn't your fault. your father used to..."
"don't talk about father," i say.

paralyzed with fear in front of the bank of elevators. i can see my face in the polished doors. my psychiatrist on the phone, telling me again he will not have our session in the lobby, telling me that as a strict freudian he will charge me whether i come to the third floor or not.

my father at the base of the stairs, waving the January 1982 issue of Playboy.

"c'mon. c'mon you little pussy. c'mon you little pecker. you gotta come down some time. i know you wanna see this. hoo-ee." he glances at the magazine, shakes it so that the centerfold unfurls. "goddamn, i do declare. this is gonna jumpstart yer puberty, boy. this is gonna make your little balls drop. c'mon, boy. c'mon. mother of all saints, but this chick is smokin'."

quivering, i push a slinky over the lip of the stairs, watch it flip flip flip towards my father.

59. 365 Greatest Jokes (Neil Hamburger, America's Funnyman + Great Phone Calls)

Jan. 21!
what do you get when you cross a giraffe and a lizard?

a long-necked komodo dragon!

Mar. 9!
a muslim and a baptist were alone in a lifeboat, somewhere in the Indian Ocean. the baptist said, "at times like this, our differences seem kind of small, don't they?" the muslim didn't respond. he did not speak english.

February 11!
why was six afraid of seven?

seven was black!

September 14!
what was pol pot's favorite television show?

a five-hour long static shot of bleached human skulls in the sun!

June 1!
a drunk walked into a bar with his dog. "hey," said the bartender. "you can't bring your dog in here!" "this isn't just any dog. this dog can talk!" said the drunk, who smelled awful. "you don't say!" said the bartender. "hey poochy, who was the greatest baseball player of all time!" the dog started licking his flanks. the bartender waited, then said "ok, what's the book of the bible after judges?" the dog sniffed the wall. the drunk started to weep. "c'mon sparky, talk. please. please."

December 30!
how do you get to carnegie hall?

i don't know, it's in new york city, isn't it? we're nowhere near there.

Decmeber 31!
how do you get to carnegie hall?

are you fucking dense? this is fucking tallahassee. we're nowhere close to fucking carnegie hall. seriously, leave me the fuck alone.

July 3!
what do you call a room with no windows or doors?

hell

October 6!
little susie was walking home from school when a car splashed through a puddle right next to her, soaking her and covering her pretty dress with mud! thinking quickly, she grabbed a couple of palm fronds, took all her clothes off, and held the fronds in front of her suggestively. she made it home, where her mother was on the front porch, smoking. "susie! what are you doing!" "there are women like this in daddy's magazines!" replied susie. "oh god, get in the house!" said her mother. it was too late. child protective services had been notified.

ha ha! keep checking back for the funniest jokes!

58. Twilight of the Dudes (U.S. Maple: Long Hair in Three Stages, Sang Phat Editor, Acre Thrills)

Twilight of the Dudes. the Duderdammerung. the grills stand empty. the lawns unmowed. vast piles of buffalo wings uneaten. where are the Dudes. does anyone remember Dudes. Dudes, come back. we don't know what you're for but we need you back anyway.

the Dudes in the hearts of men. there will be a corner of some foreign field that is forever Dude. at nightfall, a lone trumpet plays the guitar line to "Walk This Way."

where the Dude once stood rises the New American Guy. he shines, is kind. he goes to buy the Midol with no complaint. the La-Z-Boys are towed via barge out to sea and sunk. vast reefs formed from the La-Z-Boys of the missing Dudes.

deep in the swamp primeval thirty miles from little rock, an ornithologist sits by a campfire and reviews the tapes from his field recorders. nothing. on the sixth tape, though, behind the slow sizzle of the sound of rain, something. he rewinds the tape. he checks all the levels. he takes the tape out of the player, inspects it. he puts it back in. he realizes he has been holding his breath. he presses play. no, it's there, it's definitely there. the sound of rain. then: "fuckin' mets suck this year." then, the sound of rain until the end of the tape.

57. The Ongoing Crisis in Smuggler's Cove (Scharpling and Wurster - Rock, Rot, and Rule)

Image by "Meursault Horny," more of whom's work may be found at brokenpants.com.

56. The Action of Worms, as per the Notes of Charles Darwin (Chinese Bells of Great Antiquity 千古绝响曾侯乙编钟之声)

The accumulation of rubbish on the sites of great cities independent of the action of worms — The burial of a Roman villa at Abinger — The floors and walls penetrated by worms — Subsidence of a modern pavement — The buried pavement at Beaulieu Abbey — Roman villas at Chedworth and Brading — The remains of the Roman town at Silchester — The nature of the débris by which the remains are covered — The penetration of the tesselated floors and walls by worms — Subsidence of the floors — Thickness of the mould — The old Roman city of Wroxeter — Thickness of the mould — Depth of the foundations of some of the buildings — Conclusion.

***

13 September; soft wet weather. The mouths of the burrows were re-opened, or castings were ejected, at 31 points; these were all defaced.

14 September; 34 fresh holes or castings all defaced.

15 September; 44 fresh holes, only 5 castings; all defaced./

18 September; 43 fresh holes, 8 castings; all defaced.

The number of castings on the surrounding fields was now very large.

19 September; 40 holes, 8 castings; all defaced.

22 September; 43 holes, only a few fresh castings; all defaced.

23 September; 44 holes, 8 castings.

25 September; 50 holes, no record of the number of castings.

13 October; 61 holes, no record of the number of castings.

***

...that we have here evidence of two/fires, separated by an interval of time, during which the 6 inches of 'mortar and concrete/with broken tiles' was accumulated. Beneath one of the layers of charred wood, a valuable relic, a bronze eagle, was found; and this shows that the soldiers must have deserted the place in a panic. Owing to the death of Mr Joyce, I have not been able to ascertain beneath which of the two layers the eagle was found. The bed of rubble overlying the undisturbed gravel originally formed, as I suppose, the floor, for it stands on a level with that of a corridor, outside the walls of the Hall; but the corridor is not shown in the section as here given. The vegetable mould was 16 inches thick in the thickest part; and the depth from the surface of the field, clothed with herbage,...

***

In almost all the rooms the pavement has/sunk considerably, especially towards the middle; and this is shown in the three following sections. The measurements were made by stretching a string tightly and horizontally over the floor. The section, Fig. 13, was taken from north to south across a room, 18 feet 4 inches in length, with a nearly perfect pavement, next to the 'Red Wooden Hut'.

***

The nature of the beds immediately beneath the vegetable mould in some of the sections is rather perplexing.

***

Evidence of the amount of denudation which the land has undergone — Subaerial denudation — The deposition of dust — Vegetable mould, its dark colour and fine texture largely due to the action of worms — The disintegration of rocks by the humus acids — Similar acids apparently generated within the bodies of worms — The action of these acids facilitated by the continued movement of the particles of earth — A thick bed of mould checks the disintegration of the underlying soil and rocks. Particles of stone worn or triturated in the gizzards of worms — Swallowed stones serve as millstones — The levigated state of the castings — Fragments of brick in the castings over ancient buildings well rounded. The triturating power of worms not quite insignifcant under a geological point of view.

***

Not only do worms aid indirectly in the chemical disintegration of rocks, but there is good reason to believe that they likewise act in a direct and mechanical manner on the smaller particles. All the species which swallow earth are furnished with gizzards; and these are lined with so thick a chitinous membrane, that Perrier speaks of it, Archives de Zoolog. expér., vol. iii, 1874, p. 409. †13 as 'une véritable armature'.

***

CHAPTER VI
THE DENUDATION OF THE LAND — continued

***

Abinger, Roman villa at, 178

castings from Roman villa, with rounded particles, 253

Acids of human, action on rocks, 240

Africa, dust from, 235

Air, currents of, worms sensitive to, 28

Amount of earth brought to the surface by worms, 129

Ants, intelligence of, 93

Archiac, D', criticisms on my views, 4

***

As the foundations of the walls generally lie at a considerable depth, they will either have not subsided at all through the undermining action of worms, or they will have subsided much less than the floor. This latter result would follow from worms not often working deep down beneath the foundations; but more especially from the walls not yielding when penetrated by worms, whereas the successively formed burrows in a mass of earth, equal to one of the walls in depth and thickness, would have collapsed many times since the desertion of the ruins, and would consequently have shrunk or subsided.

55. Thank You. You're Welcome. (Glocken der Heimat - Field Recordings of German Church Bells)

To: Butch and David Potter, Makers of Martin's Potato Chips

Sirs,

As I took the elevator to the Third Floor Clinic (where a number of professionals were about to painfully laser off a particularly embarassing tattoo commemorating Rihanna's recent foray into art photography), imagine my surprise when I read the back of an individual sized bag of your barbecued potato chips. Imagine, if you will, my at first gentle shock, which mellowed into a warm sense of well-being. These were my feelings as I read the back of that bag of potato chips. These were my feelings as I read your no doubt heartfelt thanks to me, the consumer, who had just voted with his dollar and bought the aforementioned snack. "Thank you for purchasing Martin's potato chips. We take great pride in delivering to you fresh, delicious potato chips with exceptional potato flavor."

Exceptional potato flavor? For a second, I stopped salivating in anticipation of those salty treats and it seemed to me that your kind words had rerouted my salivary glands into my eyes, for happy tears welled in my eyes. "If you have any questions or comments, please call 1-800-272-4477 (weekdays 9-4 Eastern Time)." Yes, I have a comment, and I have a question, and I cannot merely "phone them in." I want that question and that comment emblazoned forever on the internet, where they will never be recorded over and will never be forgotten, as long as people google "irritainment." My comment is this: God Bless You Both, Butch and David Potter, for remembering that thanks are always welcome, that merchants are nothing without their customers, for remembering these seemingly little things that add up to a shining mountain of gratitude. And here is my question: what is your mother''s address? I would send a bouquet of roses to her, in appreciation of just how good of a job she did raising you.

Yours, Smilin Tyler


To: Juan, Night Janitor, Shenandoah Valley Hospital PICU

Amigo,

I staggered into the bathroom of room 3174 a shaken man. I feel no shame in telling you, Juan (if that is indeed your name, if not feel free to substitute your own), that I was ready to fall out. My child, Smilin Jr., had succesfully lodged in his sinuses the entire can of Smokehouse Inspired Almond Cubes that my wife (Mrs. Smilin) and I had just purchased at Big Lots, and the prognosis was looking grim. At the very least, it seemed that little Smilin Jr. was going to have to face life unable to smell anything but the savory waft of Smokehouse Inspired Almond Cubes. At the worst, we were looking at a cephalectomy, a possibility that was depressing me to say the least, as I had envisioned Smilin Jr. as being backup catcher for the Kansas City Royals, or at worst a batboy long enough to accrue a decent pension. True, the range of replacement heads that are on offer these days are much better than they used to be, and I had just about set my mind on a Jean-Claude Van Damme; this, however much I enjoyed "Under Seige," was cold comfort, and of course now that I look back on the whole affair I realize that that had been Steven Seagal.

So as I was about to leave an almond-less bowel movement in the bathroom of room 3174, it was as if God himself had left me a message on a loop of parchment around the seat. "This seat has been sanitized for your protection." Juan, are you familiar with what is commonly called Beethoven's "Ode to Joy"? Can you imagine if it went "San-i-tized for YOUR pro-tect-tion, toilet seat has BEEN, reDEEMED"? Can you, Juan? If you need help, I can call you and hum it for you. That is what I heard in my head, Juan. Thank you for sanitizing that for my protection. For my protection! Do you know how vulnerable I felt, Juan? And this was BEFORE Child Protective Services got involved, Juan. But when I saw that loop around the seat, I felt calm and at peace. I knew then what needed to be done. It was one of the few times in my life that I have felt such certitude.

So thank you, Juan, for sanitizing that which is so often unsanitary. Thank you. Any time you're in the Dogtown neighborhood, please stop by my house (address enclosed). I think that you will find our toilet sanitary, and I also think that Smilin Jr. is a lot more enjoyable and easier to care for with his new rubber head.

Gracias! De nada! Smilin Tylero

To: Acid Steve

Steve-o,

I now take the time to thank you, Steve, from the bottom of my heart to the tip of my deviated septum, for not stepping on my coke with Drano, but rather with the much gentler baby laxative. So often in these [REST OF LETTER REDACTED UNDER ADVICE OF ATTORNEY]

54. Selling Out Is Hard To Do (Pere Ubu, Cloudland)

Captain Beefheart tried. That's right. The guy who would rename his bandmembers things like "Neon Squid James" and "Corky Thatcher" tried to sell out. He didn't give a shit what you thought. He was gonna hit it big if it killed him. So he made "Bluejeans and Moonbeams," an album that exactly one (1) person (deaf chick in Iowa) liked and which is easily far more reviled than his knottiest album, which was of course "Trout Mask Dinner" and came with a side of big-eyed beans and a note from Lester Bangs excusing you from gym so you could go smoke schwag under the bleachers. And even unto the end of his musical career he was flabbergasted that it didn't work. He spent the rest of his career desperately trying to sell out. He went on Saturday Night Live and performed "Ashtray Heart" and the crowd loved it. Sell out achieved? Nope. Fuck critical acclaim, he used to tell me over blintzes at the Mojave kosher deli we used to frequent. Fuck critical acclaim, I just want to hear that coyote do a u-turn on my mother. I took that to mean that he was speaking allegorically again and I nodded and smiled and ate another Quaalude. It was the early 80's. People did that shit.

Jim O'Rourke sold out ironically. He deconstructed selling out. He considered the mechanics of the choogle on "Insignificance" and exact melting point of cheese on "Eureka." It didn't work, but Jimbo continues. Let's face it: what he wants is his own Japanese game show where contestants have to remix Bananarama b-sides and discuss the philosophical baggage of reverb while the floors get electrocuted. The show, called "IMPOSSIBLE PERSON-GUITARRING IRON CONFRONTATION," is currently in pre-production and Jimbo is getting laid, laid, laid and snorting shabu-shabu off the asses of fallen idoru.

Let's not discuss Courtney Love because every second she isn't mentioned somewhere she grows weaker and weaker.

Liz Phair tried to sell out. Unfortunately, you can hire The Matrix and beer-bong all the hot white cum you want, but if you're going to write a song called "Hot White Cum" chances are you're not going to get played on Disney radio.

Finally, Pere Ubu tried to sell out. Pere. Ubu. The band whose only constant was an ex-critic who used to call himself Crocus Behemoth and who looks like an Oliver Hardy after five weeks of severe cognitive dissonance... tried to sell out. They moved to Fontana Records and put out three or four pop albums. THEY MADE VIDEOS. They thought, what do succesful pop musicians do in 1987? They make videos. Which is how David Thomas (the living, not-as-famous one) ended up windmilling his bulk across the eyeballs of an America that was, uh, not ready for it. Not even the people who watched "120 Minutes" were ready for it. Every time the video for "Waiting for Mary" came on, five minutes later there would be a spike in calls to emergency respondants as people assumed that their pot had been tainted with meth. Oh, and that video? It's recently been removed from Youtube... none dare call it conspiracy, or even revisionism.

Now, are these good albums? I personally like the O'Rourke and the Pere Ubu albums. The latter, especially, are endearing; as David Thomas waddles in from the deep freeze of critics' academic appraisal, warbling "the bride waltzed barefoot there on the sidewalk, you could fry an egg"... well, you kind of want to hand him a blanket and some fuzzy slippers and buy the album for Aunt Ruth. Of course, Aunt Ruth thinks it's weird and takes it out of the CD player and puts on the latest T-Pain, but hey, you tried, and you can tell Crocus and now Crocus won't come to your house and spazz out on your cats.

53. The Mountain of the Skulls of the Anointed (Georgian (ex-SSR) Folk Songs 1920-1947)

Upon reaching the acme of the Mountain of the Skulls of Anointed Forefathers, I saw that the horizon was filled with yet more skulls, that indeed we had made our dwellings within, that we sailed the seas in them, that we filled them as they sailed through the air, that they were full of flowers and walls of glass. I looked down and found my shoes had become skulls, and i fell down the Mountain, I fell down, I fell down.

On certain days the skulls sing, each skull singing something different, with voices sweet and rough, madrigals and hymns. As the Mountain of the Skulls of the Anointed reveals itself in the dawn, one imagines that the Mountain is singing one song, one word, one tone. The word is "cras" and as the sibilance of that last letter fades the sun becomes brighter. Some believe that the Mountain sings the sun into being, but this has not been proven.

One woman has made her home on the slopes of the Mountain of the Skulls of the Anointed. Her name is Kelly and she works as a receptionist at Bullis and Sons. She enjoys greeting. "Hello and welcome. It's good to have met you," she says. She has been a recpetionist for seventy-four years, but looks as young and fresh as she did when she left Iowa, those many years ago. She disagrees with the common theory as to what the skulls are singing. She posits that they are singing "hodie."

Their lungless voices reverberate in each others' cavities, so song comes not only from lipless mouths but also from the eye sockets, from the nasal passages. The overtones mix with the songs, and as one skull sings it changes and adds to the song of its neighbor. We, with our meat and gristle filling the holes behind our faces, are unable to replicate such song, though many have tried and their attempts are quite sweet.

52. Hug Pimp (Swamp Dogg Retrospective). Also: New Links

hey man. hey. you ain't from around here. you walk like you got somewhere to be. you walkin like you wanna get somewhere. i know where you wanna be. yeah man. you wanna be told it's gonna be ok. you want... you wanna hug man? you wanna hug. i look at you, there's a man needs a hug. where you going. yeah man, we just talkin. we just talkin. ain't nothin wrong with talkin.

hey man. it's cool. some people need hugs man. you ain't gettin hugs at home, you gotta get your hug. soft arms. soft chest. you gotta lay your head on that soft chest and... hey, i ain't sayin anything. i ain't proposin anything illegal. ain't illegal yet, man.

you know how it is. in marriage there is not only a bodily but also a spiritual union: and consequently kinship of spirit proves an impediment thereto, without spiritual kinship having to pass into a bodily relationship. but what about hugs man. where the hugs in that. where you goin.

wherefore others have maintained that witchcraft can set up an impediment to carnal copulation, but that no such impediment is perpetual: hence it does not void the marriage contract, and they say that the laws asserting this have been revoked. but this is contrary to actual facts and to the new legislation which agrees with the old. have you met susie. susie is such a lovin girl. sometimes she hug me and tell me it's gonna be ok.

hey man. you ever hug a black girl? i ain't judgin. you ever hug a black girl? black girl hug you and sing you some gospel lullaby. she tell you to hush it and she sing at you. you ever hug a black girl.

she got a cat. let you hug the cat too no charge.

see that young thing over there. see her. she so young, man. she so young. and you know what. she ain't never hug nobody. but she read about it. she a college girl. yeah she go to college. she go to college and she live with a bunch of girl and they huggin each other all the time. she curious. she curious and she come to me. we friend at college. i take a class. i tell her, yeah, you wanna know about huggin. she lookin for a man to hug. arms hold you so tight. she ain't never hug. she ain't never hug. you wanna get hug by that.

hey man. maybe you lookin for a new hug. ever get hug from behind. girl come up behind you and you first you smell her, she smell like home. then she put her arm around you and she put her lips on your neck. then she hug you.

where you goin'. where you goin' round here. hey man. hey man.

*****
Non-Horseshit Section
*****

Yeah, so I haven't done much lately. One reason is daughter, who is fast-moving and sharp of tooth. Another reason is new band, called Mss., the other member of which is Josh K., who used to be in The Curious Digit and then after that in One Hundred Dollars with myself and Davis and Steve and Danny... you know, them. Any case, here's a new post and an anthology of Virginia's own Swamp Dogg, as compiled by the able Don Harrison of Radio Wowsville fame. Notice also that I have added new links. Check them out, much of what I put up here is from there. Also, if you haven't checked out the horribly named SkaFunkRastaPunk forums yet, do so immediately! This is an incredibly deep resource, and without it I wouldn't be recently and utterly obsessed with Georgian (ex-SSR) folk music and mbira (thumb piano) music. Anyone interested in the rare and wonderful need look no further; this site (along with experimentaletc) is much to blame for my blog truancy. I'm sure the three of you who have ever visited missed me terribly.

I have been half in love with easeful Death / Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme

EPISTLE TO SUZANNE (POSSIBLE LEONARD COHEN REF., CONSIDER) DRAFT 2.1:

"We are all terribly, terribly lonely." Read this and though of how weird it is to be human. How we fire these grappling hooks into nowhere and hope to hook on to something (in this metaphor I guess we're all floating along on parachutes. Poetic, innit?). I'm learning guitar because of a picture I saw of Neil Young.

Day 2. Did you find the present I left in your locker? It's a bootleg recording of Shellac playing covers of Herman's Hermits songs, with Fred Schneider on vocals. I'm sure you noticed that the case is made out of steel and that you need a combination to open it. I'll give you the numbers if you give me yours.. Ha ha.

Day 4. Did you not like the XL Bauhaus shirt I flung at you from across the hall? I thought you could wear it in a kind of 80s throwback sexy shoulders type of thing, or maybe you could wear it to walk around my apartment at night. Or nothing at all >:D. Wait, I don't have blinds, that might be weird.

Day 10. Please stop staring at me while I'm reading Gravity's Rainbow or trying to win me over with your dew drop eyes while I'm mentally toying with a list of the best Werner Herzog movies. It's kind of annoying. Ha ha, just kidding, I'd definitely like to have sex.

Day 30. I'm including a character in my latest short story that's based on you. It's about a young 17yearold who falls in love with a beautiful coquette but is torn between the fulfillment of romantic cliche and a life of spontaneity; a life of artistic pursuit; a life of constant reminders that Death has always his spindly hands wrapped around your neck; is always ready to throw his black cloak over the scene; to cast a shadow--a palpable darkness--over happiness; to take all meaning from flesh; to widen the gap between signifier and signified, to place you in that gap; that gap of no-feeling-no-loving-no-passion-one-way-or-the-other-no-drive-to-even-place-pen-to-paper. Worse than listening to "Idioteque" on repeat.

Love,
Kevin "The Emperor of Ice Cream" Bowen

*******

MUSIC: best of garage punk (that I've listened to in the past 6 months, mind you)

Compulsive Gamblers - Crystal Gazing Luck Amazing. Thanks to W.B. for the recommendation. This album rules. Full-bodied production with hearty horndog vocals.

Headache City - Headache City. "Tearjerker" was one of my favorite songs of 2008. Seriously sounds almost like something off Marquee Moon.

The Mummies - Tales From the Crypt. You know these guys. Wild and crazy and they dressed like mummies on stage.

The Muslims - The Muslims. "Nightlife" in particular. They also have a 12" or whatever with a cool cover of "Walking with Jesus." Recently changed their name to "the Soft Pack."

Yokohama Hooks - Turn On 7". There are so many bands that do the Yeah Yeah Yeahs thing better than YYY, my mind literally swells 3x its normal size when someone asks me why I don't listen to YYY and I blurt out all of the band names at once, a mystic shibboleth that turns my muscles inside out and that's really why I don't talk about music IRL.

Kim Phuc - Wormwood Star 7". Snarly, guttural. I don't know, I'm out of adjectives.

The Menthols - 848 7". "848" is a great catchy/funny garage song, one of those weird things you'd find on a 2020 Nuggets record and probably be embarrassed about if anybody heard you listening to it, but secretly you chant it in the shower, as if the words were an stopper to plug up the horrible drain of loneliness through which you find yourself falling day in and day out.

The Feeling of Love - Rapeman 7". Ignore the rude-ass title and listen.

Here's The Electric Bunnies - Chewing Gum 7". It also is good.

50. Three Laments (Tallis Scholars, Lamenta, Includes Tallis' Lamentations of Jeremaiah

George's Lament

"Hey, Frank, sup. Nah, it's just a cream cheese sandwich today. I prolly oughta have a salad or something, but all the dressing makes my stomach go funny. D'jou see who got fucking employee of the week? Yeah, that fuck. I think that fuck has a fucking wire loose. I mean, I was here fucking naming mass e-mails when that little cocksqueezer was first finding out about frottage. Kid comes in and he's all "anal vore" this and "cock vore" that. You see what he got employee of the week for? "dragon fruit scat anthro unbirth." That's not porn, Frank, that, that's, that's... that's fuckin' word salad is what that is. The fuckin biz, man, used to be you had to be about mutual body pleasure and frank exchanges of sexual desires. Now it's like fuckin' Pete the magic
dragon goes to Fire Island. I don't know, Frank. I just do NOT know.

***

Harold-san's Lament

Here's something I don't understand: why would Nipponese women want to look like western women? Consider the Nipponese eye: almond-shaped, hooded. So much more to it! The eye seems coy, it seems to want to hide. The western eye lays it all out there. It's so vulgar. The window to the western soul is like a shopfront, everything on display, screaming 'buy me! buy me!' The Nipponese eye... steady on, man. I don't know why I was born in America. There must be some sort of mistake. Wind from the East, take me home, take me to my real home!

***

Laurie's Lament

I'm not going to eat today. I said that yesterday and I ate. I have to put that behind me. If I'm going to feel good about myself then I am not going to eat today. Today is what I have, and that's all I'm going to have, that and sixteen glasses of water. I've had eight so far, so that leaves sixteen. Why did I eat yesterday? I saw that cauliflower and it looked so good. I was weak. I ate it. Then I felt myself digesting it all day. I could feel all that acid in me, turning it into fat and what it didn't turn into fat it turned into shit. I swear I'm going to be sick. I want to digest myself until I am perfect. I can be the fire that feeds itself. And that's all I'm going to eat today. I ate yesterday, and that is all I'm going to eat today.

49. Six Common Tropes of the Music Blog (To Live and Shave in LA, The Wigmaker in Eighteenth-Century Williamsburg)

Hyperbole

This album will fuck you up! This album causes retroactive abortion in cows! I took this out in a field and I watched the whole fucking herd of Herefords implode! It was fucking awesome! I was scared to play this album for four years! I acquired (did not buy) this DOUBLE SLAB of shiny shit and stared at it out of the corner of my eye for four years! The force of its mania is such that it bends light and causes monitors to moire! LOOK OUT IT'S BEHIND YOU! That was close! This absolutely impenetrable piece of horror sounds like Rabbit screaming in quadrophonic hell! Actually, fuck that! Rabbit was a pussy! Imagine every noise band in the world! They're pussies too! They don't go far enough! Tom Smith, Rat Bastard and the Other Guy took FIVE YEARS to put this together! It leaves terms like 'maximalism' and 'turn this fucking shit OFF' light-years behind! You want to hear this because you hate yourself! You hate the Jehovah's Witnesses and you hate the goddamn Virginia Tech Hokies! What the fuck is a hokie! It's a castrated turkey! THEY USE THIS ALBUM TO CASTRATE TURKEYS! And so on!

But First, A Little Bit About Lonely Old Me

You know, I don't know why I love this album. It's like a referendum on how absolutely fucking DIFFERENT I am from normal human beings. There's times when I dial this album up on the iPod and go to the Mall. I walk around and look at the the old powerwalkers, the families in Sbarro, the manic Hebrews selling Dead Sea Salt and I think: if they knew what I was thinking they would THROW ME FROM THE VILLAGE. Why am I writing about this thing on a blog nobody reads? Why do I do this? Why do I do this to myself? This album gives me a headache. This album gives me a heartache. This album makes my dick itch. I don't even like it. It's absolutely repulsive. But I guess that's what I deserve.

Wholesale Unattributed Quotation from Wikipedia

To Live and Shave in L.A. (TLASILA) is an experimental music collective founded in 1991 by Tom Smith (the noise musician) and Frank "Rat Bastard" Falestra in Miami Beach, Florida. The "wildly inaccessible" [1] ensemble has featured Ben Wolcott, Thurston Moore, Don Fleming, Andrew W.K., Weasel Walter, and at least two dozen other musicians and sound artists. Their primary aesthetic assertion posits that genre is "obsolete". Although often categorized as purveyors of noise music, TLASILA have been noted to pursue an unorthodox approach, "construct(ing) songs around an overwhelming plethora of sonic detail, challenging the listener to engage with a surfeit of information,"[2] deliberately burring "the line between harsh metal-on-metal noise and abstract musique concrète."[3] Smith's poetic texts "distance" the group "from any potential peers," "scanning like (they) came from some previously unearthed hermetic treatise."[4]

Let's Ask the Bible: "What's the Deal with this TLASILA album?"

Back in the day, when people didn't know what was up, they would open the Bible up to a random page and treat it like an oracle. Now we have the internet, it's easier than ever. So let's check it out:

Who knoweth the power of thine anger?

From the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Ps. 90:11. Matt. 27:45,46. Isa. 53:6. Rom. 8:1. Rom. 5:1. Gal. 3:13. 1 John 4:9,10. Rom. 3:26.

Here Come Some Contextless Facts

Member Rat Bastard plays oscillators on this album, and indeed, the oscillator is usually the only recognizable "instrument."

TLASILA "leader" Tom Smith was undergoing a protracted and messy divorce throughout the conception, recording, mixing and mastering of this album.

Song titles include "New Poem Dramatized For Lux Cudgel," "Fills Mouth And Cunt With 'Pathetic Route,'" "When My Rifle Went Sour With Preposterous Headdress," "Is This Good for Vulva?" and "Song Of Roland A Single Cockscrew Curl."

RIYL a Bunch of Bands the Author Has Not Actually Heard But Whose Names He Is Dropping to Look Knowledgeable

Whitehouse, Monte Cazzaza, Nurse with Wound's early work, Cock-ESP, Nautical Almanac fans will certainly have a lot to chew on with this record.

A Final Common Feature of the "Music Blog"

I fixed the links and now you can get disc 1 of this pile of shit. Thanks to my legion of fans for pointing out my mistake. Unfortunately, all the tag data for that disc has gone to Croatan, but I think the act of looking up the song titles and typing them in will render them all the more precious to you.