decline of the american empire

if emperor nero had a quadcab from which to view the burning of rome, he would have played his fiddle while swinging in one of these.

it’s not gay marriage or the imminent collapse of the social security system; this thing is the absolute proof of america in decline.

y’all had better start studying chinese.

out.

lone gunman theory

thanks to everyone for their advice about what to do about my shooter.

here is some of the advice i’ve gotten so far:

• move back to new york
• sell the fancy car
• change from a louisiana to a north carolina license plate
• buy night vision goggles for a stake-out
• stop blogging about the neighbors
• hurry up and get the garage finished

these are all under advisement.

meanwhile, i remain on the lookout for the perpetrator(s).

if you see a teenager that looks like (s)he has ever even thought of holding a paintball gun, go ahead and kick him in the balls. he may not have shot my car, but i’m sure he’s done something worth getting busted for.

a preemptive strike, as the bushies would say.

the ball-busting won’t work on a girl, so just call her ‘fat’.
that will hurt just as bad.

a quick dedication

this entry is dedicated to lil’ ray-ray.

see, ray-ray, i understand the kind of energy you’re trying to put out into the world.

out.

smal biznez

i’ve previously mentioned business ideas (or, at least, names) that started in new orleans and have sprung up in asheville.

i didn’t mean to imply that mountain folk completely lack the entrepreneurial spirit that has made this country what it is today.

for example, around here all the supplies you need to start a catering company are easily found around your home:

1978 chevy 1500
plywood
duct tape
bowie knife
barbecue grill
boom box
propane
black marker
weathervane
shotgun

good luck
and
bon appétit

just about right

i have no idea how scientific this evaluation is.

but on an emotional level, i think it’s about right
because i laugh at the same things 11 year olds laugh at.

as my aunt says, ‘treat men like little boys because they never grow up.’

note:
i found the evaluation at pleasuresaucer.blogspot.com
i don’t know where this fellow ashevillean found it.
if you go look at his site, be warned that you might see some titties.

(ha! i got to write the word, ‘titties’.)

…sorry, but i feel compelled to write it again:

titties

no, please, anything but that

why no comments allowed on this blog?

well, my goal is to be funny. if someone doesn’t find an entry funny, i see no need to make it easy for them to tell me so. let them write an email if they have to vent.

nonetheless, i don’t want to be hurtful.

i especially don’t want to come off as snarky…
anything, but snarky.

like trix, sarcasm is for kids;
in adults, it’s just annoying.

if ‘snarky bugger’ has ever crossed your mind as you’ve read this blog,
please let me know.

distorttheinfo@gmail.com

thanks

i’m not a cat person

i am a new dog owner. i got ‘the dog’ about a year ago. he’s from a shelter in waveland, ms. i heard he’s got a sister somewhere in chicago.

dogs are alot of work. never having owned one before, i had no idea. but at least they seem appreciative of the effort spent on them.

cats, on the other hand, are too aloof for me. if i’m picking-up a pet’s poop, i want to sense some expression of gratitude… a tail wag, an ear wiggle…something.

but give cats a little ‘the odd couple‘ dialog and my cold, cold heart begins to melt.

C U

the price of fame

thanks to blogasheville.blogspot.com

they just included me on their list of asheville bloggers.

do you think it’s a coincidence that on the same day i get listed, my car also gets shot at?

no, i don’t think so, either.

my razor-sharp insights into the workings of the smokey mountain man mind have started to ruffle some feathers around here. ‘the man’ (probably a bearded man with a plaid flannel shirt, cargo pants and sports sandals) wants to silence me before i can wake the local populace from its home-brew and american idol stupor to form the activist coalition that will teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.

the car was shot with a paintball gun, not a beretta or AK-47. that may make it harder to trace. but after i post this entry, i am straight onto google to find a forensic paintball ammunitions specialist willing to work pro bono.

cher’s character didn’t back down to ‘the man’ in ‘silkwood‘ so neither will i.

if it wasn’t a conspiracy to scare me into silence and just some bored asshole teenager; nevertheless, no stone will be unturned to bring the perpetrator to justice.

by justice, i mean that when i find that little shit i will strip him down and individually pluck every pube from his tiny postpubescent nutsack.

thank you for your support.

whole heap of love

this cross is on an overpass of highway 240 on riverside dr., asheville.

is this festus related to that ‘gunsmoke’ festus?

or is it related to the modern ‘festivus’ tradition sweeping the country?

at first i thought it might be a memorial for some guy named festus who died during a crystal meth-fueled rampage when his silverado quadcab hit the overpass. (i’m assuming it was a chevy or similar. i’m pretty sure it wouldn’t have been a honda ridgeline. those are kinda gay. i don’t see a ‘festus’ driving a girlie truck.) but wouldn’t his mourners put his full name on the cross and the date of death?

so many questions, so few answers.

out

ps

i’ve lived in the mountains for about 2 months now. do you think that’s related to me thinking that gunsmoke’s festus looks kinda cute in that there photo?

agnostics, pagans and grinches, oh my!

the last entry was how city life and country life can be different. both places can be wacky. they just head to wacky town in their own way.

today is how both the city and country can both be a pain in the ass; namely parades.

new yorkers complain about the puerto rican day parade, the gay pride parade, the st. patrick’s day parade, etc, etc.
they aren’t necessarily against hispanics, the queer community, drunken child abusers, etc. etc.

they just hate the disruption in traffic.

new orleanians suffer through the same problems during mardi gras. (though you should go visit this coming year to help the local economy. they’re hurtin’.)

asheville had a christmas parade on saturday…a beautiful day for fresh-faced families with strollers and folding chairs to visit downtown and begin the joyous holiday season.

just one problem…

every major street in downtown was barricaded.

even though i went to catholic school for 12 years, i have nothing against religion or the celebration of quasi-religious events (the parade is co-sponsored by the asheville merchant corp., uh-huh.).

it’s just that i had things to do. having moved here only 2 months ago, i only know one way to go to each of the places on my to-do list. when downtown is closed off, i’m fucked.

if asheville is the progressive town it heralds itself as, i propose that the city issue a bond initiative to cover the cost of GPS systems for all new residents that do not want to celebrate any holiday with a parade. the machines can be distributed through the county library system to ensure only residents get the systems. there can be a one year borrowing limit after which the systems have to be returned.

come on, how reasonable is that?

i’m not saying saying ‘cancel the damn parades.’ i’m just sayin’ help the uninterested get around them.

i envision a grand coalition of agnostics, pagans and grinches rising up to demand easy access to malls, dry cleaners and chinese restaurants 365 days a year. i’m sure greenlife will let them set-up a petition table at their entrance…

or just contact your local representative.

thank you for your support.

gutterpuck trannie

i’m not sayin’ living in the city is better than living in the country. i’m just saying it’s different.

in manhattan, one of my neighborhood homeless people was a trannie. but a very specific kind of trannie. she was a goth, marilyn manson, trent renzor-type trannsexual homeless person. she was not just an older gutterpuck. no, she was the prerequisite koo-koo as well… muttering to herself, applying kohl in a 3-inch radius around her eyes, carrying all her stuff in a laundry cart, sleeping over a subway grate kinda koo-koo.

…oh, and a fetish latex corset. she always wore her fetish latex corset.

i have not seen her equivalent in asheville yet. but i did see something today that i have not witnessed in my life journey so far.

the cashier at the asheville airport parking lot has a pet cat set-up outside her booth.

the cat has a blanket and food bowl in front of the cashier’s window as you pull up to pay for parking. it’s a black cat with white paws. as i approached the booth, the cat got up from the driveway, stretched, and sauntered over to her bed. i may be exaggerating the cat’s bitchiness, but she seemed genuinely perturbed that i made her move.

of course, the cashier was oblivious that any of this might be considered unusual. she just took my $2 and asked if i needed a receipt. since a goal of living here is not to upset the locals, i just said, ‘no, thanks’ and drove away without mentioning the cat.

as you fellow ashevilleans fly home for the holidays, keep a lookout for the cashier’s cat. i’m sure running over a cat during kwanzaa is not kosher.

oh, and if you find out the cat’s name, please let me know. i’m curious.

out.

ps

yes, i know the typical spelling is ‘tranny,’ but i think ‘trannie’ is more feminine. that’s the point, right?

buggy butt

in new orleans you can take a 30 minute carriage ride around the french quarter for $10 a person. maybe because historically the buggy was there first, car drivers are very patient when stuck behind one of these. i lived and worked in the french quarter for 15 years. i never heard a driver using his horn to try to get a slow-moving carriage out of the way.

there are no horse and buggy tours in downtown asheville, not yet anyway. but i did notice a similarity in driver patience.

at about 4pm this past friday, 2 cyclists were riding together on broadway st taking up a whole lane of traffic. here’s the thing, not one car in the caravan stuck behind them leaned on its horn to try to get them out of the way.

again, as a gay, i don’t mind watching lycra-encased buttocks pump up and down for a couple of blocks. but i think it’s interesting that neither did the bubba in the pick-up, the lesbian in the SUV, or the dreadhead in the old volkswagen…

…very interesting.

out.

SAT and GED, not LSD or GHB

today i used the word ‘lackadaisical’ in a conversation without planning to.

it kinda just popped-out… like an erection at cheerleading tryouts.

to be honest, i surprised myself with that word choice. i used it correctly and nonchalantly. harold bloom couldn’t have done better.

see kids, all the studying for your SAT’s or GED’s is worth the time and effort.

out

sweet potato pie

let’s be clear. i didn’t say my neighbor dismembered his wife. i just wondered what’s up with the digging

i was simply brainstorming.

i’ve decided that it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that the loving couple noticed one of the sweet potatoes in the pantry had started to sprout eyes. so as an interactive learning opportunity, they decided to plant the sweet potato near their child’s playpen so the baby could learn about the beauty of watching food grow.

the majesty of mother nature at work.

i mean from a distance a medium-sized sweet potato can kinda look like a clenched fist.

…that reminds me. who’s looking forward to johnny depp in ‘sweeney todd’?

out

french quarter franchise news

here’s another asheville business that is stripping new orleans of its heart and soul.

all the memories of the hairdresser i dated from eclipse new orleans came flooding back when i saw this sign. what’s the point of having moved 700 miles away if the ghost of lost loves can still find me?

what the fuck ?!?

vacuum extraction ?!?

what the fuck?

i’m gay. so i admit i have little, to no, interest in vaginas or vaginal accessories.

nevertheless i have watched animal planet and the ‘friends’ episode when rachel has the baby.

but i had NO idea it’s possible to vacuum pump anything out of a va-jay-jay.

again, it must be said, ‘what the fuck ?!?’

out

give it up

come on people, give it up to asheville.

i took this picture on monday.

this view is literally a 25 minute drive from my front door. and my house is just 7 minutes from greenlife, even if i catch every red light on merrimon.

out.

renter prejudice

i woke up this past sunday to a cool, clear day. very nice. i open the blinds in the bedroom to survey the homestead.

i saw something unsuspected. the neighbor in the rented house across the street was digging a hole in his side yard.

why is someone digging a hole at 8am on a sunday morning?

let’s just say he doesn’t seem like an avid gardener… about 27 years old, shaved head, florida plates on his truck and amateurish shoveling technique. in a t-shirt and fleece vest, he’s digging a hole with one hand, the other hand shoved into his pocket to keep warm against the cold.

i was intrigued.

the hole ended up being about 1 foot across and about a foot deep. he went to the far side of the house and came back with something in the shovel. whatever it was, it was beige about 8 inches by 4 inches. he dumped it into the hole and covered it up with dirt. then he shuffled back into the house.

commonsense tells me that it was a mouse he caught in the house or his daughter’s pet gerbil. BUT, why would he bury a mouse he caught in the kitchen? wouldn’t he just put it in the trash? his daughter is about 1, why would he bury a pet 4 feet from the kid’s sandbox? first of all, the kid wasn’t with him to witness the burial ceremony for a beloved pet. so it wasn’t to give closure to the kid’s grief. plus, would a parent put a decaying animal within crawl distance of his child’s play space?

my theory is that he finally got feed up by the constant nagging by his chain-smoking, banana-clip-wearing common-law wife; chopped her up and is disposing of her a little at a time. maybe he decided to start with her left hand.

who wouldn’t be tired of hearing, “i hate this fucking place; fags and hippies everywhere… when are you gonna to get a job? …i never should’a left tampa. it’s fuckin’ cold… my momma said you were a loser. i should’a listened to her. i should’a stayed with dwayne… stop buyin’ so much fuckin’ bud…i’m tired of lil’brittnie’s cryin’. i’m tired. you go see what’s wrong with her.  …fuck… why do i have to do everything ’round here? …why did i ever listen to you? …fuck you, you fucker.”

i’m fed up just imaging her whiny chatter.

ok, my theory may be wrong. but i’ll never think he was just planting tulips for spring.

out.

dog wrestling

my dog smacked that bitch UP…

…but in a cute, furry, non-misogynistic way.

new orleans franchise report

here’s another one.

somebody call benji.

i hope all this franchising leads to direct flights between new orleans and asheville.

C U

bloated and ashamed

yesterday’s post in no way serves as an endorsement of taco bell.

just because i eat there more than i could ever admit to you in person, it does not mean you should. i usually leave there feeling bloated and ashamed.

get yourself a nice salad-to-go at greenlife grocery, then drive to the taco bell, sit in the parking lot and enjoy the view while you have a proper lunch.

please save yourselves. don’t worry about me. i’m a lost cause. i am a slave to the siren call of the nacho belle grande.

out

big value meal deal

alot of people tell me, ‘you’re going to love asheville.’ this is a direct quote from at least 6 people on different occasions.

i was sweeping the porch one day. my postman stopped his van. he got out of the vehicle to introduce himself and say, ‘nice to meet you…(blah, blah, blah)… you’re going to love asheville.’

it’s probably a reflection of my unfriendly nature that i had never ever said more than ‘hello’ to any of my mail carriers until that day. the fact that he made a special effort to assure me that i’m going to like living here still blows my mind a bit.

this past week gave me a glimpse into why so many people are enthralled by the city. the photo above is the view from a taco bell in asheville. i may not be able to identify any of the trees in the picture. but, at least, i do know that in fall they are gorgeous, whatever they are.

even little minions, who can only spend $2.38 on 2 bean burritos and a diet coke, have lunch in front of a $1,000,000 view.

i know the exact price of lunch at taco bell because i too am a lil’ minion.

pushmi-pullyu

here’s the latest wild menagerie report from my backyard:

vole-holes
the holes in the flower garden are from voles
(please google, if necessary. i had no idea what they were.)

possum eating out of a dog bowl.
(yes, the bowl was outside. i didn’t know no better.)

wild turkeys walking from one side of the city to the other.
(the neighbor says they’re protected by law so traffic has to stop to let them pass. apparently last year there was a convoy of 10 parading down my street.)

owl flies away with a cat
(ok, i personally didn’t see that happen. but another neighbor swears that’s what happened to his wife’s cat. he said some owls have over 3 foot wingspans. it was a runty cat, but still… a cat?)

should these things be happening in 21st century america?

i thought we killed off everything with a combination of ddt, mc donald’s styrofoam containers and aquanet…

…well, except for squirrels, pigeons and roaches.

the only animal i wouldn’t mind seeing in the backyard is a pushimi-puulyu.

‘dr. doolittle’ starring rex harrison, not the lame eddie murphy version, used to come on all the time when i was little. i would watch the beginning, get bored and start flipping channels. so i would almost always miss the part when the pushmi-pullyu showed up.

oh!…and the giant snail. i loved the inside of the giant snail.

not the same without the 100% humidity

i guess one way for post-katrina new orleanians to survive is to franchise the businesses that make the city unique, then hope people will be curious to go back and find the real thing.

here’s one for lil’ray-ray:

so far i’ve seen these. but i’m on the lookout for more.

C U

a wide stance

i don’t talk about politics. it’s a pointless exercise. it’s impossible to change a person’s opinion about how government should run just by debating.

i’m not going to start talking about war policy or the effects of deficit spending. but one story connected to politics that i still find hilarious is the senator larry craig arrest.

closeted gays are sad little creatures.

however, under the right circumstances, they’re a great source of comedy.

his arrest came to light during a slow news cycle. so cnn, et al, had time to delve deep into the story. the one report i saw that will stay with me forever involved a news reporter, probably from msnbc, explaining in detail the non-verbal communication that takes place in public restrooms when men are on the prowl for sex: the specific hand gestures under the stall walls, the wide stance position while sitting on a toilet, the foot-tapping codes, etc.

i LOVE the fact that grandmothers in rural nebraska who saw similar reports now know the complex choreography needed to get a blowjob from a trucker at any rest stop across the country.

thanks to senator craig, this conversation is now possible:

lil’billy: ‘nana, is receiving oral 2 foot taps and a right hand wave under the stall?’

grandma mabel: ‘no, baby. that’s for a handjob. passive oral is 3 taps and a cough.’

lil’billy: ‘oh, right. i forgot. thanks, nana.’

grandma mabel: ‘you’re welcome, baby. you want some more pie? i got cool-whip too if you want.’

lil’billy: ‘yeah!’

out