We are the mooninites.

From the Diaries of the Oregon Trail on Acid:


Day 456:

Circles. That's what it felt like we were doing. It should have only taken us 200 days to get to our destination. We were wandering again. We didn't break camp for three days, because the trees were following us.

The sun was a spy. We knew that the trees were working in cohoots with the Sun.

When we finally did break camp, Cookie decided it was time for stew. We had no meat left, so Cookie took Jeff hunting. Cookie came back alone with a sack full of bloody meat. He said that Jeff had took his own life in a fit of depression.

Jeff was prone to depression due to his oversized hat.

It's hard not to get swallowed up and lost in a hat like that.

While we ate our delicious stew, I gazed at the sky, which had taken on the shape of Tony Danza.

"Angeler, Samanter, Moner.", I could almost hear the voice of the beloved "Boss". That left me with a feeling of calm, and the knowledge that I would have to do the unthinkable.

My belt would have to die.

Wha?

I'm NOT still at the studio at 12:08 AM! I'm NOT shooting the Hearse from Six Feet Under on Thursday for HBO. I suck! I never brag.

Faces look ugly.

To whom it may concern:

If you're reading this, then you already know what has happened. When tragic acts of nature strike and there you are lost in an oblivion of silence. The world keeps going, but you don't. When God reaches down and takes what's most precious to you, it's like you've been shoved into a glass tomb. You can't really hear or see what's going on, but you're alive. You're dead on the inside, but yer still breathin'. Those souls, those poor souls who've been in that place know. But this isn't a tragedy. What happened, did so for a reason. This wasn't an act of God, or Nature. This was an act of man. A man, who having destroyed everything inside of himself and devoured all that was good in his heart; became a void. A void that hungered and desperately gobbled up anything and everything that was good. Destroying the most precious pieces of life that we are granted. Destroying true beauty.

I told myself, that it wouldn't hurt anymore if I got revenge. I lied to myself. I suppose it was because the dark part of me, the demon in all man, just wanted to have a reason to be let loose. And I guess I was pretty tired of keeping that hate and bitterness, that I had clung to, all locked up in the vault in my mind. It was when I heard his last breath leave his body that I realized the true reality of it all. There was no great realization, there was no great closure. I had done what I had done for vengance and it had failed to fill my piecered heart.

Years from now, when everyone's forgotton about all this, I will have been right. Oh, to be sure, they're never gonna admit it. Nobody ever will. People, ya see, they just aren't ready to own up to the monsters we really are. No. The cattle, the populations, they want to believe that the human heart is a good thing. That the human race is a kind and benelovant race. But we aren't.
Hell, that same population, let the man....that monster...be created in the first place.

We're the not the same as the animals. The savage beasts that roam what's left of our wildernesses, even they are better than we. We're the product of pure evil. We're not evolution, we're a goddamned nightmare. I'm not writing this for your pity or your grief. I'm writing it so that everyone will know WHY it happened.

There's no such thing as right and wrong.

Getting to him was easy. He was a sucker for food. That bastard ate like 10 times a day. Always gorging himself on whatever food was brought in to him. I always imagined him as a greedy stock pig. They'd file in and bring him his slop. The reality of it was that he loved catered food. And the studio was more than willing to pay for it. Because he brought them souls. He brought them minds to pump full of propaganda.

Once I had secured a place with the catering van it was easy. The promise of food always roused the great beast in him. In his final, sad moments, when he realized WHO I was, and how far I was willing to go...well, lets just say I didn't think he could get any lower.

I used the same gun I used on everyone else. I saved the last bullet for myself. They took everything from me. Everything. And I was a willing partner in their schemes. I deserve no less than what they all received. What he received. Ignorance is no excuse.

That last moment of his life, I can't stop reliving it. The events play out in slow motion, I place the barrel between his eyes. He starts crying, pleading with me to let him live. I thumb the hammer back, slowly, breathing evenly. He loses control of his bladder. It smells like ammonia, I chuckle a bit. He keeps begging. "You wan' a cigarette?", I ask him as I light up my own. He just keeps sobbing, saying that he didn't know, that it wasn't his fault. I take a deep, dark drag off of my cig. I let the smoke fill my lungs and I start to exhale. I give him a "last rites" of sorts.
"This happened to you because you've been poisioning minds all over the world. This happened to you because you're a monster. This happened to you because you ruined my home. But most importantly, this happened to you because you're a stupid, bumbling fuck."

I pull the trigger and everything goes red.

They'll probably give him a hero's burial. They'll take his feathered yellow carcass, and probably bury him at Arlington National. I realize this, and more after he's dead. No rush of righteousness, no welling up of emotions. Just the emptiness that had been there before.

That's when I knew, I wasn't free yet. I hadn't killed them all. Of course! I was one of them.

Once I'm finished writing this explanation, I'm going to drive that goddamned bullet right through my skull. I'm going to put right what they'd put wrong for so long.

Take this knowledge and continue the fight for what's right. Keep your children free from monsters like us.

Number One with a bullet,

Oscar.

P.S. I had to live in a motherfucking trashcan. A trashcan. What.The.Fuck?

Chicka Chicka Bwawow.

I'm not sure of the correct spelling up there so if you don't know what I meant than shove off. Today I went to talk to Jesus. No, really. It's the time of year that I always pay him a visit. He's a kinder and gentler Jesus than the stories you may have heard. I mean all that violence in his past is all made up. He's really a great guy and a genius with the numbers (if you know what I mean). I remember a few years back, I was in what some might call a little trouble and it was my relationship with Jesus that saved me from really being dragged down a road I didn't want to travel. He stood by me when I needed him most and I'll remember that for the rest of my life here. Thank you Jesus Goldstein CPA.

Swingin Swami

I was eating a bunch of drugs last night and I thought that I saw Yoda in the hallway so I went up to him and asked him if he knew that answers to the universe and he said ya, he did, so we went out for pancakes at the IHOP and talked about black holes and dust and crap. Then we went swing dancing, and man oh man....that Yoda can dance!

Oh he'll kill again, that Gilligan. They should have let him be.

From the Diaries of the Oregon Trail on Acid:

Day 142:

Bill caught "Dead Man's Disease" and had to be locked in a crate and carried by oxen. We thought that cutting off his legs would help, but they just got in the way. That is until we had leg stew.

Hell, we were hungry. And it wasn't like Bill was gonna use em again. Bill cried long into the night and sang a song about his father Edmund.

"Edmund was a wild man,
he drank out of a tin can,
He sobered up once for a woman,
but she caught him in bed,
with another woman, and
she cut off his nose to spite his face,
and caused him to lose the rabbit chase.

So don't be like Edmund,
who's rabbit is gone,
you'll end up with no mong."

Bill, had become prone to making up words, on account of the "itis".

I told Bill that he needed to find courage and starfish flavored chicken meat.
Bill just smiled at me and said "Snarflbat, tiggald kidturn, alredo."

How true.

Published!

Well, my nude model photo shoot is over and it looks like they'll be putting the photos on the covers of every magazine published in the United States in May. No retouching will be required because nude models are always perfect as is. Well, they may need to ad some booty for the black men's magazines, because you know how the brothas love them some big ol booty! Don't believe me?

I'm Trying to Work Here!

I'm in the middle of a photo shoot today and there are nude models all over me. What is it about being a photographer that makes the chicks go completely nuts?! It's a glamorous life folks, but I'm sure it's my unnaturally large noggin that turns the nude model's brains to jelly. This post barely qualifies to be on this blog.

Don't Sell Your Soul, or Your Tires

Fourteen and seven years ago, when I was but a child, I struck a deal with the devil. I would give him my soul in exchange for psychic powers. The deal was drawn up in blood of a virgin ox and signed on my birthday. The next day, I felt empty. My soul was gone, but I was ok because I suddenly knew things I shouldn't know. I knew what kind of car people had just by talking to them. I could tell you what your family looked like even if I hadn't met them. I could guess what people were thinking, and speak about it to them before they knew what had happened to them. I spoke to people in their minds, and stole their thoughts as well. Being soul-less was getting sad, and I began to regret selling my soul. I mean, its all we have, from this life until the next ones, right? So I went into mourning, trying to keep my wits about me every day...and each morning, I'd wake up and regret this little contract I'd signed with the devil! Who was I anyway? What kind of person would sell their soul? The soul is priceless! Why did I do this??? WHY???

Then I picked the lottery numbers, won $131,121,352.00 and yeah, I was cool wit dat.

Schubert Dip

Wow, what a morning I've had so far. I parked my car near my favorite taco stand and was listening to my 8 track tape of Zeppelin's Presence, when I looked over at the car next to me. Well, let's just say that I hope Ellen doesn't read this blog because I totally saw Marcia Cross making out with Marcia Gay Harden. It was kinda hot because totally felt like I was watching the music video for the song "Nobody's Fault But Mine." They let me watch for a few minutes.

good times

i'm having fun writing my term papers!!!!!!!!!!!!1

i wish i had more. : (

Chicken of the Sea!

I've said it once, I'll say it again. Jessica is not the first celebrity that wondered if Starkist had dead chicken in the can. Let me tell you a story that has rarely been told my children. Back during the depression there was an old silent film star named Patricia Albacora. I'll start by saying that for the day, Patricia was a hottie, all 5'1" 2 hundy of her. By today's anorexic Hollywood standards, she could only be in a sitcom, or play a lawyer on television, but back then she was the cat's meow. Yah, you heard. Anyway, she was also known as somewhat of an intellectual and was not only sought after for her womanly curves, but her keen knowledge of physics and art history. As one story goes, she was sitting on a bench in Central Park waiting for a suitor when she heard a loud gunshot. That gunshot was the last thing she ever heard as the bullet was meant for her, and it found it's target. So, who killed Patricia Albacora? No one really knows, but some speculate that it was the very suitor that she was waiting for. A certain Mr. Starkist. Alas, the legend of Particia Albacora and her secret knowledge of what is really in that little can.
The End.

Scream

Today I woke up and thought about life and how I'm sick of everything in it, and so I decided to get in the bathtub and sit and sit and sit...and in silence I sat thinking, yet not thinking at all. Life is random, life is expected and scheduled, nothing matters...everything matters. I'm frustrated, I'm tired, I'm ready to sit on the edge of the Grand Fucking Canyon and yell at the top of my goddamn lungs...thats what I want to do about how wonderful it is to be alive.

this morning i woke up blind

i woke up this morning to utter blackness. "wtf" i thought, "what time is it?" i felt around and found my alarm clock, and felt the hands to see where they were pointing. 7 AM. "hmmmm....odd. perhaps it's an eclipse.." i thought to myself. then suddenly i realized what had happened. I had turned blind in the night. this has happened to me before, so i was prepared. i got out my cane, carefully felt through my closet for jeans and a tshirt, and set out for class. fortunately my OCD has given me the mental training to be able to drive the exact same route every day without the use of my eyes.....plus with my blindness i was able to park in the handicap spot.....leaving me with plenty of time to have a smoke and a coffee in the student lounge before class. yess....it is going to be a good day.

it started as any other day would start. bitterness from having been driven from the warm comforting folds of my bed by the demonic blaring issued forth from the clock. still, i could smell a difference in the air. it was not to be a typical day. not with that aroma. no sir. things were going to be different. with this thought i lunged through the house, skipping the hygiene, the breakfast, the garb. in all my naked splendor i shouted to the world "It's going to be a beautiful day!" and then a bus hit me.

Lipstick Love Letters

Last year when I was a super hero, I was in the middle of saving a family of herons and their nest when I got a phone call from the president of the United States of America. He requested that I return to the motherland immediately in my invisible jet, which was powered by Grapermelon Slurpees and taco sauce. Hopping in my plane, I got distracted by a small ethiopian woman, pulling her hair out of a comb made with rhinoceros ribs strung together with glue made from rendered warthog fat. She seemed to me to appear in a trance of sorts, so I approached her just to make sure she was ok. As I got nearer to her, I could hear her humming a quiet little hymn which seemed to come out of the air at me. The humming penetrated my soul, nearly causing me to fall into a hypnotic trance before I snapped myself out of it and realized that she had a nazi tattoo on the back of her right elbow. I was nearly duped! By an ethiopian infidel! I wrapped my arms around her neck and began to choke her as I yelled into her ear "WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME? SPEAK WOMAN!!!" She began to tell me of how the Germans took over her small village many years ago and in return for her people's loyalty, they would keep the village's most prized posession a secret. She told me of how her people had inherited the Ark of the Covenant, and how there had been many a plague and disease to come to their small land, but as long as they kept the ark safe, they did not surely die. I listened to her story for a few minutes more before I noticed out of the corner of my eye a small monkey, drinking out of a bottle. I kept my eye on it for a moment more, til I realized that it had a name tag on its chest that read "Capt. Plasterneck". He wore a red suit of glimmering satin and black saddle shoes that had metal taps on the bottom. He began to tap dance for me and when he was finished, the woman and I gave him a standing ovation, then we all went to IHOP for stuffed crepes.

Saturday Night's Alright...

No one is going to post a lie today.

A fountain blew up, I needed a dime, and I was shot.

Okay so back when I was living in Seattle, I used to walk around everyday, because I had no job and no car. And everyday, I would pass by this little fountain next to an overpass, where people would throw in coins and make wishes. Often people would try to toss in a coin while driving over the overpass, but usually they would miss. I would always pick up the coins that didn't land in the fountain. Sometimes I'd find $20-$30 in change lying in the grass. Well after a year or two of this, I finally had enough money to go buy the fabulous drumset I'd been dreaming of since I was but yea high. Well I got to the music shop, and I tossed my bag of change down on the counter, and said "I want that drumset in the window" and the cashier began counting out my change....only to discover that I was 10 cents short. I was heartbroken! Only 10 more cents! So close to my dreams, and yet the fountain had been destroyed that very morning in a tragic accident in which a huge semi transporting explosives drove off the overpass and landed in it with fiery gusto. Well, I sadly left the music shop and began wandering the streets until I found myself back at the site of the fountain in all it's heartbreaking rubble. And then suddenly....beneath the overpass, amid the weeds, bracken, and cement foundation poles, i saw something shiny! I carefully crawled over teh rubble and there......lo and behold......was my desparately sought after dime! Unfortunately, that's when the roadside clean up crew saw me, and started chasing me with guns calling me a thief cuz they thought I was stealing wish money from the fountain. I tried to yell out my explaination over my shoulder, but their tommy guns made too much noise for them to hear me. They chased me all the way to Queen Anne, but I managed to make my way to the U District where I lost them in the crowd. I bought my drumset. And my dreams came true.

Tru Dat

So today I was walking down Santa Monica Boulevard and I happened to step onto a grate coming out of the ground and it blew my dress up and so I reached down and held it to my legs and then somebody thought I was Marilyn Monroe and asked me for an autograph and I yelled "SHE'S DEAD MOTHERFUCKER!" and they ran away.

Ford Ranger XLT

Yesterday was the five year anniversary of a very important day in my life. Five years ago was the first time that I ate eggs. Why is this so important? Well, I bet myself when I was a little kid that I could go for the rest of my life without eating eggs and I stuck with that promise for a long time before I realized that it was a stupid idea. I mean, why would anyone not eat eggs just because they bet themselves they wouldn't? I didn't even have an allergy or a particular aversion to eggs, but I was a strange kid. So on March 2nd 2000 I had eggs for the first time and you know what? I like them. I've missed out on a lot of egg eating in my days and I'm hell bent on making up for lost time. Today I had two eggs. That's right folks, two. I hope I don't get sick of them. All this to setup this song: Eggs

Mt. Everest

Did I ever tell you guys about my expedition to Everest? Really? Well, here goes. About twenty years ago I was going out with this girl that was kinda hippy like, except that she shaved her legs. I mean, I'm a modern guy and all, but I can't handle furry legs on a chick. I'll be cool with a little growth when times are hectic and all, but I don't like waking up in the middle of the night thinking a guy climbed in bed with me. Scary! So, she was in this cult... uh, I mean club, that liked to hike and stuff. We used to go all over the High Sierras and look at trees and grass and dirt and stuff and it was cool, but she used to get a little cranky when we went camping because she would have to go for days without shaving her legs. Her stubble was the sharpest stubble I've ever felt and she would bitch and moan all night because her inner thighs were getting all sore from the tiny needles poking her all night. She couldn't even sleep with a sheet in between her legs because the stubble poked right through! Anyway, we were out one weekend checking out Sequoia National Park and the greatest idea in the world hit me like a logging truck. Tweezers! That's right folks, I would get out my magnifying glass and pull her legs hairs out one by one starting with the inner thighs and she was the happiest girl on earth. The end. Oh, wait, what was I going to talk about again?

Skiing Accident

Once i was in a skiing accident, and I had to wear a full body cast for like 2 months, and there i was in teh hospital bed, when in walks a hobo and he wasn't like one of those nice friendly schizophrenic hoboes either, he was like one of the scary freaky possibly-on-meth hoboes that picks over dead bodies for change, and anyways, he was all like "i'm takin your jello, kid" and i was like "heck no man i need that jello for hydration" and he was like "hydrate this!" and then he gulped down all my jello and ran out of the room laughing. : (