the scene ends badly as you might imagine/ in a cavalcade of anger and fear.

Posted: October 26, 2012 in Fridge Note, Fuck You Friday, Music nobody listens to

Can’t let Kathleen post ahead of me.  Even if it is just a video.  Hell, it’s not even a video:

 

Do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive
Do every stupid thing to drive the dark away
Let people call you crazy for the choices that you make
Find limits past the limits
Jump in front of trains all day

And stay alive
Just stay alive

Play with matches if you think you need to play with matches
Seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright
Find where the heat’s unbearable and stay there if you have to
Don’t hurt anybody on your way up to the light

And stay alive
Just stay alive

People might laugh at your tattoos
When they do, get new ones in completely garish hues
I hide down in my corner because I like my corner
I am happy where the vermin play
Make up magic spells, we wear them like protective shells
Landmines on the battlefield
Find the one safe way

And stay alive
Just stay alive
Just stay alive

Yeah, that’s the Mountain Goats.  Rory and I saw them Tuesday night.  I was gonna write a new post, but I was pretty drunk; we went to the Lanes after to shoot darts and talk about our travails.  Besides, who needs to listen to me blather on about music again?

Since it is Friday, a HEARTY FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK goes out to Mike White, owner of a Wisconsin corporation (but not a good one) who feels that since he is rich, he is entitled to threaten his employees if they don’t vote to his satisfaction.  What gives this irredeemable asshole the right?  Fuck off and die, you fucking unAmerican fuck.  I hope one of your forklift drivers impales you against a wall, we’d all be better off.

Of course, this all traces back to Rmoney, Richie Rich of the Richie Riches, privileged bastard scion of a privileged family, who was born owning a baseball team and thinks he singlehandedly won the Olympics.  He told business owners that they should tell their employees how to vote in a conference call.  Not only should this fucker NOT be eligible to be President because of such egregious vote-buying fucking fraud, he should be stuffed into a sack with three horny badgers and an IED and dropped off a cliffotine.  WHY IS THIS KIND OF THING NOT A CRIME, but ACORN simply REGISTERING people to vote is treated as one?
We have to beat these savage twisted greedheads back into the swamps they came from. Then pave the swamps and build low income housing and schools.

Well, except for the Rape-Nuts:

 

Those fuckers all need to be shot into space on a helium balloon with no pressure suit and forced to jump off with no chute.  With an ipod playing Ayn Rand books all the way down, especially the parts about self-sufficiency.  Let their sick twisted conception of a deity send Rape Angels to catch them and carry them gently to the ground.

Where the Rape Angels then rape these hypocritical, self-important moralizing squeezebags.

There.  That’s a post.  I’m DONE waiting for Brando.  I also apologize for the relative lack of cussing; I am still feeling good from the Tuesday night show and it’s Paul Collins/ English Beat tonight.

We’ll play you out with my favorite Mountain Goats song (well, one of my favorites, John Darnielle is one prolific motherfucker and a talented one at that, he’s got like 500 songs).  I know I’ve posted it before, but what the hell:

I broke free on a saturday morning.
I put the pedal to the floor.
Headed north on mills avenue,
And listened to the engine roar.

My broken house behind me and good things ahead,
A girl named cathy wants a little of my time.
Six cylinders underneath the hood crashing and kicking,
Ahhh listen to the engine whine.

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.

I played video games in a drunken haze
I was seventeen years young.
Hurt my knuckles punching the machines
The taste of scotch rich on my tongue.

And then cathy showed up and we hung out.
Trading swigs from the bottle all bitter and clean
Locking eyes, holding hands,
Twin high maintenance machines.

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.

I drove home in the california dusk.
I could feel the alcohol inside of me.
Home.
Picture the look on my stepfather’s face,
Ready for the bad things to come.

I downshifted as I pulled into the driveway.
The motor screaming out stuck in second gear.
The scene ends badly as you might imagine,
In a cavalcade of anger and fear.

There will be feasting and dancing in jerusalem next year.

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.

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Comments
  1. Not posted at WiskeyFire, because, you know, why the fuck bother:

    And there’s plenty more examples to show just how much our right-wing Democratic president agrees with the Republicans.

    Just as there are dozens more than that showing where our right-wing President disagrees with the Republicans.

    Such as, you know, the one that the post is actually about.

    Betcha can’t guess who it was in response to.

    Oh well, the post was only about rape and the neanderthal rightwing fucknozzles I wrote up above. Not like women’s lives matter as much as DRONES.

  2. Am I hungry enough to go get some lunch, or should I just unlimber the Office Rum already? You tell me.

  3. mikey says:

    Some dood wants to call me in half an hour to talk about some job or something. So I suppose I’ll hold off on the morning rum. I did make some oatmeal in the microwave – I was suspicious, and pretty skeptical, fully prepared just to toss it down the GD if it was some kind of awful, but it came out…good. Huh. Maybe I’ll have to give that thing a second chance after all. No hockey game today, everybody is going to Detroit, maybe eminem is making lunch or sumpin. No rain today, just bright sunshine, which kinda takes all the joy and angst outta fall, but fuck it, whatcha gonna do, go rape somebody? I saw where that crazy old coot who yells at clouds on my teevee if I’m not really careful has accused Colin Powell of being the reason we went into Iraq. I guess when you get old enough to need TWO diapers you are entitled to a certain confusion between the concepts of “Perpetrator” (damn, two “e”s? really?) and “Accomplice”. They’re happily killing each other all over the place in celebration of Eid. Ah well, maybe some kids’ll get poisoned apples on Halloween. So I got this phone interview at 11. Here’s the question: Pants or no pants?

  4. mikey says:

    Good lord. Don’t even THINK that. I’ve been enough of a failure already…

  5. mikey says:

    Dood, it’s TWO MILLION DOLLARS.

    And you can build it virtually in the cloud.

    Now get crackin’, willya? When you win the two mil, you can set me up with a little shack out back…

    http://www.theroboticschallenge.org/

    • I’ll look more closely at it, but unfortunately to build it virtually I would have to have a hell of a lot more knowledge on the mechanics of materials. Normally, I have to build many mock ups and prototype pieces and devices.

      Perhaps if I just submit a picture of Data.

      • As it is, I didn’t have time to pull together the Zombie House, and I had some great ideas for it.

        Suffice to say, you breathers want to have a CHANCE of surviving the zompocalypse, you better hire me to design your refuge. And believe me, this work ain’t coming cheap.

        Rick and the group in Walking Dead really need to give me a call. There are clear weaknesses in his precious prison.

        Currently reading “Feed” by Mira Grant; zombies and blogging. I think I may need to have Milwaukee Law Firm and Sausage Plant give her a call….

  6. mikey says:

    Dood, it’s DARPA. Just use kevlar, carbon fiber and depleted uranium. What could possibly go wrong?

  7. mikey says:

    People are only very slowly starting to figure out that the reason we’re doomed is software. Crappy, well-intentioned software, excellent malware, doesn’t matter, same outcome. Rats and cockroaches…

  8. herr doktor bimler says:

    in a cavalcade of anger and fear.

    Is this supposed to be a bad thing?

  9. I am going to make it through this year if it kills me.

    Pretty ambitious.

    I’m going to make it through this month.
    ~

  10. Whoah. I just noticed that we are going to see the Rep perform the Diary Of Anne Frank on my birtdhthth.

    Do I know how to party down, or what?

  11. M. Bouffant says:

    No one listens to that stuff because the lyrics read like fucking acoustic guitar folk music, & I, for one, wouldn’t be able to handle the twanging & the doubtless high-pitched squeally voices. Also, too damn sensitive. Gahhh …

  12. another kiwi says:

    Mikey, no trousers, you gotta be comfortable BUT remember where you left them. Best of luck.
    Zombies gotta cuss, wouldn’t you?

  13. oakdilettante says:

    I can’t remember what I was going to comment

  14. blue girl says:

    Politics is driving me insane. I can’t take it anymore. I am going to drop out of it all. I am going to change the name of my blog to: GO AWAY! I HAVEN’T GOT ANY MONEY. And I’m only going to blog about hoarding cat food.

  15. mikey says:

    I’ll take Chino over Pelican Bay any time. You see guys waiting sentencing in County lockdown who pray every night for Chino…

  16. mikey says:

    Also, upon reflection, I question the use of the term “Cavalcade” in that context. Anger and fear can manifest in a number of ways, and I think a great deal of flexibility in a description of such events can be tolerated, even encouraged, but it seems that anger and fear would only come in a cavalcade if you were Ted Bundy or maybe a Belgian.

    Or maybe a zombie…

  17. mikey says:

    Um, you know better than to take pictures of your poop?

    Because that, ladies, gentlemen and dead things, is what seperates us from the lesser creatures. Our fascination is with the CONCEPT of poop, rather than the poop itself, and as such, we operate on a higher plane of understanding…

    • herr doktor bimler says:

      Our fascination is with the CONCEPT of poop, rather than the poop itself

      You would not say that if you spent more time in Germany.

Go ahead, tell me how I fucked up this time.

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