Monday, March 31, 2008

Hot Cock!

The last time KVC was in London her pal Ella got her so hot for this cock!

I understand, it is one hot cock. So we had it sent across the pond. One painting of hot cock, so hot it makes you want to call at the rising sun.


Give me some sexy cock.


I had a few hundred pics just like this one stuck on the walls of my room as a kid. This one happens to be Mike Smith, at the Upland skatepark.

Upland is one of those places that I always imagined I would get to skate. Part of lifes journey, part of the quest. Upland was the skateboarding equal to climbing a mountain of your choosing. By all accounts Upland was big, rough, epic.

It was torn apart before I even got out of Ohio. Years later, I have made it here to California.
The skate parks here, now, seem very safe and tidy. Little concrete patches for little kids to roll around on.

So, anyway...

mood music

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Rocket Car

Non-NASA related, how is this for a bitchin' rocket car?
Some rich tobacco baron put this bit of evil together for some kicks.
That is the legendary Turbonique rocket engine peaking out behind the rear slicks.

More pics and a description so good I won't bother rephrasing it are over at

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Really Houston?

Alright, I am the first to admit that I am no rocket scientist. I am just a normal guy, with some plans to take over the world which just happen to involve a moon base. With that, I like to keep an ear to the ground, in regards to the goings on over at NASA.

When I heard they had been scooting around on a new moon buggy thing, I had to investigate. What I found were pictures of this albatros.

Frankly, I am just not impressed NASA. No Side impact airbags, no giant laser cannon turrent, no moon-mudflaps, not even rolling on dubs.
You guys realize that you have to get moon buggies from here to the Moon, don't you? It seems like it is kind of Big for something you will have to transport beyond the gravitational powers of Earth and move all the way to the f'ing Moon.

Christ, just put a bucket on a roller skate and paint the contraption white, it would make as much sense and might actually be more practical.

As HST points out...

"Politics is the art of controlling your environment. That is one of the key things I learned in these years, and I learned it the hard way. Anybody who thinks that 'it doesn't matter who's President' has never been Drafted and sent off to fight and die in a vicious, stupid War on the other side of the World — or been beaten and gassed by Police for trespassing on public property — or been hounded by the IRS for purely political reasons — or locked up in the Cook County Jail with a broken nose and no phone access and twelve perverts wanting to stomp your ass in the shower. That is when it matters who is President or Governor or Police Chief. That is when you will wish you had voted."

I am about 1100 pages into the published collections of letter written by Hunter Thompson. As you probably know, I am a fan.

1100 pages has gotten me from 1958 to about 1972, right about the time Thompson went to press with "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail" - much of the book is based upon reports from the field (letters). So the book is still right in front of me, even if I put it down a few months back.

The above quote seemed an appropriate post, given my recent mood...

Venture Bros.

I like cartoons. I especially like cartoons like the Venture Bros.

This show might feature the best writing on television.
And Brock Smapson is oh so dreamy...

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Shackle Me Not

It's been a little heavy around here.
So how about a clip from of a video I watched too many times, twenty years ago.
Twenty years ago...

Name off the tricks you could do, or better yet name off the tricks you can still do.

Shackle Me Not, from H-Street, circa 1988.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Bugging Republicans

There has to be some unease in the hearts of GOP-ers these days.

That nagging sensation that even though John McCain is an undeniable national hero, commendable Senator and all around good guy - underneath it all, he might be a Democrat.
There, I said it. He might even be a liberal!

Think back to 2000, John was talking with those lefty champions of welfare and tree-hugging. Talking about hopping the aisle, right?
Word is that our man McCain never got the engraved invitation, and that is why didn't go from one canoe to the other mid-stream.
Oh, and there was that period when he was considering running as the VeeP to Kerry, huh? Boy, unless he was working as a secret elephant party agent, going undercover to discover the secret ingredients in Heinz 57, that just seems odd.

I mean that just doesn't sound like a man who is exactly true blue to the party.

Through the whole primary deal, John has always been a person of interest to me. For these very reasons, along with his voting record.
Hell, I almost went Republican - just to vote for him in the California primary. I wanted to get all of that Romney talk squashed, 'cause Mitt was just too creepy.

A vote for McCain, in that primary seemed as valuable as one for Obama, to me.
So, even if I think the Dem's have thrown away the election - it could be that we'll end up with a latent, closet Dem in the White House anyway.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

The Day the Dem's Lost, Cont'd

It has been pointed out that I may have lost some of you with the rather overt tone of my last post inre: The Day the Dem’s Lost. The heat of my aggravation may have turned a few readers on the message I was trying to convey, the import of the message my have been overwhelmed by the tone.

So, here is the core, I think the Clinton campaign has taken a turn towards fear mongering that will change the nature of political conversation that will hand the election to the GOP.

The irony is that I don’t think McCain would have played the race card. I would like to think that McCain would have worked on a dialogue of issues, rather than playing to insecurities.

In a move towards the greed of the short game for power, Clinton has gotten the cracker contingent worried about race. It is an issue that I am sure would have been hammered by the pundit crowd, but I don’t think old John would have opened that door. Perhaps he was counting on Clinton to go there, regardless.[…]

Ferraro has opened the can. O’Reilly can serve it up and the Reagan era GOP hacks can work it to death. The simple minds can feast.

Give Hillary the nod and all of the partisan politicking of short history is ready to put all of that dirty shit back into play. The poop pendulum will be given a proud push and we will be right back to the gridlock we just got out of, because the ammo is just lying there ready to be reloaded into our collective conscious.

It is not that I quite think that the Obama hope message can work, but I do think a McCain Obama debate will assist in making some turn from the current state. I think the two of them are far enough from their respective party cores, have demonstrated that they possess a will separate enough from their party plank, that change would be possible.

The race card play is not far from Nixon/Daley era politics and will likely destroy that option, though.

I am not thinking short terms on this. I am not speaking to some largely irrelevant power grab. I am talking the long game here. I am very aware of the back room ruminations that will determine our next Congress. I am speaking to the dealing that gives douchbags like Thomas a seat of the Supreme Court. I am talking about my future.

We’re talking a congressional turn towards the ugly, if things continue in a stalemate. It means there could be some Supreme Court nominations I am less than happy with, that will have tenure for decades to come. We are talking about two political parties slathering us with the same shitty deals we have been stomaching for another four to sixteen years.

Those Reagan era Republicans have turned us into a service sector nation, with economic greed feeding, set asides and corporate bail-outs. A bankrupt nation so frazzled that now the world economy is in recession or regeneration, depending on the hour one tunes into a chosen 24-hour news service. All based on health care, social security and immigration policy which are little more than the factors which will most indulge the 401K’s of a generation of baby boomers, with faltering judgement and lost ideals. Add a destroyed international reputation and an increased presence of people we have, as a nation, alienated – things look a bit bleak.

I am not sure I have the legs to deal with the marathon we’ll get to run if there is not a shift from our current situation.

A dialogue of such subjects between McCain and Clinton will be lost in the din of an established rap of party hack lies, in my eyes. The process of choosing a leader for our collective future will be lost in the noise, because the dual party mud slinging will be a cheaper and easier road to power.

That is what pisses me off.

I am afraid that the process of actual debate will be lost in this preliminary discourse with the degradation to simple racist fear mongering. Playing to the ingrained and unspoken racism, which as a nation we are all too ashamed to talk about.
Ferraro, and by association Clinton, have diminished our chances for MaCain or Obama talking about opportunity.
Ferraro has allowed the aging white super-delegates to consider that the brown guy serving them chicken dinner, at some sponsored party in Denver, is as deserving of the hope of the American dream as their own grandchildren.
That kind of subliminal message secures votes.

At a time when, as Barack points out, we are in need of some hope. Hope that the dung ball we have rolled ourselves into doesn’t start a shit avalanche of such epic swath that it destroys what good is left in America.

So where does this leave me?
It leaves me thinking that Obama has taken a cheap and shallow shot, which may put him out of the race given the number of aging white liberals who will decide his lot.
It leaves me thinking that McCain has always been a candidate deserving a look, some respect and a vote, if it comes down to it.
It leaves me thinking that Clinton has too much invested in a system that no longer works in my best interest.

The Day the Dem's Lost

I think I might be calling it: today is the day that the Democrats lost the election.

I thought it might last a little longer.

Fucking Ferraro tossed out the race card.
I thought we might get through the primary, but the Clinton camp has power in their eyes and greed in their hearts. They pulled out the oldest of political tricks, float a line of thought out that is too ugly to claim, so ugly it must be denied, and claim no responsilility.

Fitting that they saddled up an old hack like Geraldine Ferraro, part of the losingest ticket the DNC has put out in history. Ferraro laid out the race thing, in a manner so absurd Hillary has to dissassociate. Gerardine is expendable, not a close or crucial part of the campaign machinations. The rube.

Or are we the rube.

I figured this issue would float for another few months at least. Nobody likes the self-examination involved in addressing any sub-surface race issues they might be carrying around.
But here it is. I have already heard some folks muttering their latent racial discomfort, and I am in San Francisco the liberal land of fruits and nuts. This shit will boil up in middle Amerika, with the aging boomer crackers considering how the spics and the niggers have spoiled shit. Those thoughts and words are out there and you know it.

Obama has skated over the issue, by looking less than black and being nice. His actions have inspired the youth and outsider crowds where the whole bit about him being black and knowing a crazy preacher are non-issues.
There are a whole lot of those silently racist boomer fucks to trip him up though, folks raised with racism as a subtext to casual conversation, with fear of marches and Malcom X and discontent about Mexicans taking their jobs.

It is understood only as a political history lesson to a lot of us, but that was scary shit to a good number of kids spawned from the "greatest generation" and they aren't want to forget much beyond their failures and shortcomings. For all of the peace and love talk, there was as much not said about racial politics. Things not said until, as an example, Ferraro opens her pie hole and spits out some shit about how lucky Obama is to be a black guy running for office.

Right. It's all luck that there is another generation's worth of piss and shit being left at our feet. Luck that there is another generation that could use some hope in the face of the god-damned shit pile being served up by the previous pig-fuckers in power. Barack is lucky to have grown up in a covertly oppressive society, which is killing off affirmative action in response to the oppression of the rights of poor young white kids.

Fuck me. Fuck the sour cracker bastards I heard bitching about how a black dude better not get elected. Fuck those Romney party shits in Michigan, fighting to strike down affirmative action at Michigan State because some genuinely impoverished black kid got a scholarship instead of their fat, pastey, Nintendo playing, son of a UAW bastard child. Fuck Ferraro and fuck the Clinton's for playing this card before we even get to the game.

I hope I am wrong. I hope there are a whole slew of boomers who have dealt with the racism that they carry deep down, that can see past the fear seed Ferraro has planted. I hope there are a bus load of "brown" voters who care to act on this pathetic offense to any progress their people have made in spite of old, white political power structures. I hope there are a stadium full of college students who just keep doing what they did for Hillary's husband, some short years ago, for Obama this time. I hope the DNC super-delegates aren't as shallow a pack greed heads as I believe they are.

Prove me wrong.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Hey, so remember when I said that I was putting some words up on another on-line journal thing (trying hard to not say blog)?

Well, I am. Over at

My associate, James, posts like a bastard over there. Always writing about some thing or another. Which is good.

He wanted some help over there, with content, so I am in the mix. Never mind if I go against things I say right here. My opinion is as fluid as the next bit of contributing information I come across.

So there is good stuff over there and most of it isn't mine. Remember, I try to keep things pretty not good.

Monday, March 17, 2008

The #1 Reason

The top reason the Dead Kennedys will never have their song library featured on American Idol, outside of the obvious reasons...

It is a shame, really.

I could see Paula and Randy really getting behind the right redo of this song.
Plus, it's a great fit with their theme nights.

The DK are the voice of the 80's, more perhaps than any other band (if you were into hair bands, electrnica or some other bullshit, sorry, that was your own fault). Those surf rock/punk riffs pull from The Clash, English Beat, etc. and formed the sound of so many bands of so many bands that followed. I can hear Green Day, No Doubt and any number of other derivitive Cali post-punk bands growing out of the Jello et. al...

Christ, it's a song written for American Idol. It's just twenty years ahead of it's time.

Saturday, March 15, 2008


I am regularly awed by the patience associated with this here car project.

Not my own, the patience of KVC.

She has put up with me tinkering, grinding, drinking, swearing and dicking around in a grimy, noisey, smokey garage for years now as I build this car. And there is still no car, there is still a thing in the garage. My freakish, obsessive nature is usually only challenged by a "What are you doing? I'm going to bed..." late at night. She should be nominated for some sort of sainthood.

KVC, probably, has my mother to thank for all of this. My Mom would indulge my hours spent figuring the best way to spend twenty bucks at the hobby shop, spray bombs in the house and so forth. A similar process of chunking things together, though on a much smaller scale.

When things are apart, as pictured above, there is an obvious evolution in my mind. The model and RC cars of my youth are still right there. The same principles behind getting those remote control buggies to go are built right into this thing. Only now it's life size, it is a real car. Someday, I will actually get to see what it feels like in the drivers seat - instead of just imagining it(I still make the vroom vroom noises in my head). That is about the coolest idea in the world to me.

So, thanks for putting up with this and with me, you two. I appreciate it.

Friday, March 14, 2008

David Mann

David Mann was the man...

I remember growing up and looking through Easy Rider magazines.

My grandfather had a pile of 'em under the non-naked-chic motorcycle magazines next to his recliner.

My fascination was not with the saggy biker babe boobs, though. I was too overwhelmed by the bad ass bikes that are so finely represented by this David Mann illustration.

Not to say that I am already thinking past that Model T project, but you had to know - I already am...

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Peep Show

Oh the unwholesome humanity! What, in heavens name, would drive such delightful marshmallow treats to engage in such degrading acts of depravity?

Christ with a candy cane!

Just look at them. The innocence I knew is gone from their beady polka-dot eyes. Only the cold, damaged gaze of whipped and fluffed artificial sweetener remains.

It is hard to not see our own reality reflected in this image. No?

The peer pressure of people like Gov. Spitzer has rubbed off on our most pleasant of puffed Easter treats, the Peeps!

Lest you think that I might have, in some way, doctored or manipulated this imagery to point out the obvious irony associated with our collective moral decline - I will have you know that this photo was forwarded to me by my own Mother, a woman of the utmost of integrity. A woman from America's heartland, who is no doubt as confused as she is disturbed by this image of abhorrent behavior by our favorite Easter treat.

So you can wipe that slimy, sugar crusted smile from your smug face right now.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

up all night

more cracker rap from me, sorry...
this drum break just rocks


Saturday, March 8, 2008

Lookin' at Me Sideways

an auditory interlude, for your enjoyment

Brother Ali

What is it with that album cover? If I saw that in the stacks I would think it was christian rap. The closed eyes, the bird. Eric Cartman must have done the art direction.

oh well...

Sweet Fancy Moses

Those White Stripes folks get the rock on.

Anyway, the Scott updates have been short as of late, so here is what I have to tell you.
The degree action is complete. If we're personal you know what I mean.
So I have a sheep skin that declares I have a BS in marketable money grubbing B.S...
That was some work. I am proud to have gotten it out of the way, and glad to have it done. I could go off on a diatribe about how lacking education is in the real deal, but I will save it for the next second drink you buy me.

KVC is about to head to the asian continent again. She is the man these days, but she always has been. Her employer has recently recognized that, so she has all of the responsibilities of the Man these days. There is a period of adjustment associated.

Oh man, now the Pixies are comin' at me...
My whole thought of using some other song narrative has been Debased.

I have been on a tear, reading all of the published HST personal letters out in print. Shit that man wrote. Not just quality but a huge F'n quantity. I'll abridge my thoughts on that soon for you, to spare your reading all 1200 pages.
The Bukowski letters are getting mixed in, for some variety. That is a whole other post.

Work has been some work. My own promotion has given me some extra headaches, but that shit bores the shit out of me. I will spare you.[...]

I have been pissing at the car project. A few pals have signed on to help, I just need to get them in line and I think it will come hard and fast - or not. Schedules on that project seem subject to cosmic alignment. My own, and now the star signs of others.

That is all I have to tell.
Oh well, oh well.