the funniest thing that happened to me recently:

i take my dog about 4 times a week to a dog park so he can run around and swim. by this point, i’m on a first name basis with many of the other regulars of the dog park.

one guy there all the time has lost the bottom part of one leg from the knee down. we’re not friendly enough for me to ask how he lost part of his leg. but i have seen him enough to say, ‘hey, how are you? how are your dogs doing? nice weather, huh?’ he seemed friendly enough, very chatty.

a couple of weeks ago he was excited because he was getting a new prosthetic leg because as he said ‘the one i have now sucks ass.’ i said, ‘well, that’s nice. good for you.’

i show up at the park a few days ago.

he got his new leg.

he got a designer model.

the plastic part that covers his knee and connects to the metal rod leading to the shoe has a design on it.

the man got an artificial leg completely emblazoned with a confederate flag.

our conversation was something like this:

i said, ‘i see you got your new leg.’

he said, ‘yep, it feels much better than the old one.’

i said, “uh-huh. well…uh… what’s up with the flag on your leg?”

he said, ‘this is the one i liked the best. the other patterns available were weird.’

i said, ‘they didn’t even have beige?’

he said, ‘nope.’

i said, ‘well… i’m kinda scared of you now… i’ll see you later.’

if we were better friends, i’d offer to take him to michael’s to buy modge podge so we could decoupage his leg with pictures of unicorns or butterflies. it may be sexist, but even decoupaging nudie pictures from playboy would seem more reasonable to me.

completely true story!

come on, “george”… just bite the bullet. learn spanish, start buying hip-hop albums and get yourself invited to at least one lesbian commitment ceremony this spring.

you’re bound to enjoy at least of these things.

it’ll get you out of your racist rut.


mother’s day

May 8 2008

(click photo to view video)

my mother is not from long island; nor, does she have red hair or a penis.

but the attitude is the same.

Editor’s note:
yes, ma. all you’re gettin’ from me is this damn blog post.
it’ll teach you a lesson, not to have a 12 year old mow the lawn in august in new orleans.
i coulda died it was so hot.

mommy, i’m scared.

March 19 2008

i don’t know why i’ve been on a computer-related writing kick lately.

on that front, this video scared the crap out of me.

in 5 years when that thing has a laser gun and my credit report, i’m a dead man.

nice knowin’ ya.

i’m gonna go hide in the woods for a while.



the ingles database has given me a look into the future.

do you think my ben and jerry’s ice cream discount was subsidized by the medical industrial complex? …kinda like a pusher gives kids a couple of free samples before he starts charging for the meth.

“here, lil’ bro, have some chunky monkey.”
“wow! thanks, mister.”
“when you need your blood sugar checked, you know where to come, right?”
“uh…, yeah. sure. …do you have an extra spoon”
“ok, here you go. now move along. …who’s next?”

$1.52 every once in a while can quickly be recovered in blood sugar monitor and syringe sales.

…and, No!, smartie-pants… i didn’t have all 4 pints at once while watching shawshank redemption with the lights off and a box of tissues next to me on the bed.

i rejoined netflix last week. since they are now competing against apple tv, they offer unlimited movie downloads in addition to their usual dvd rental through the mail.

95% of the downloadable films are crap; stuff you’d skip over if you were old school channel surfing.

the troubling part of modern netflix recommendation algorithms is the ‘we think you’d like…’ movie lists.

let’s say you’re a 13-year old queer kid in rural western north carolina with a family netflix account. Maybe you download some alternative lifestyle documentary while mom is at the dollar palace.

you might end up with the above recommendation list on the home screen when mom logs on to put her 700 Club 20th anniversary disc in the dvd queue. i’m going out on a limb to say, ‘no straight teen is going to have that particular list made for him’.

lil’ billy is gonna have a lot of explaining to do.

he won’t have to wait until the thanksgiving break of his sophomore year of college to come out to granny. netflix’s computers have made sure of that.

watching 2001: A Space Odyssey was the first time I noticed the danger of a computer out-thinking us mere humans.



Dave Bowman: Hello, HAL do you read me, HAL?
HAL: Affirmative, Dave, I read you.
Dave Bowman: Open the pod bay doors, HAL.
HAL: I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.
Dave Bowman: What’s the problem?
HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.
Dave Bowman: What are you talking about, HAL?
HAL: This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it.
Dave Bowman: I don’t know what you’re talking about, HAL?
HAL: I know you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I’m afraid that’s something I cannot allow to happen.
Dave Bowman: Where the hell’d you get that idea, HAL?
HAL: Dave, although you took thorough precautions in the pod against my hearing you, I could see your lips move.

it’s 2008. fiction is now reality. time to get really scared.

who knows what computers have figured out about me and who they’ve told.

don’t worry about me. i’ll be fine. but cross your fingers for young billy; or ms. billie, for that matter.

i left new york for the same reason mrs. jackson likes to shop at the dollar palace.

after a certain age, you just don’t feel like putting on a show for the neighbors.

for example, if you’re not planning on seeing the same people over the next few days, or even a week, let’s say, what’s the point of changing clothes everyday?

a nice pair of scrubs can take you from day to evening and back to day again.

if your bits ‘n pieces don’t stink, why bother?

Sparkle, Neely! Sparkle!” is a hard lifestyle to maintain.

i don’t fit into any of my ten suits thanks to this newfound respect of drawstrings pants and ingles’ bakery department.

i’m tired; admittedly, not as tired as mrs. jackson, but tired nonetheless.

i just want to sit and have cake.


this truck has parked in front of my house for a week.

ok, here’s my point:

if i’ve said it once, i’ve said it a thousand times, “moral outrage is a luxury of the young.”

i admit that for a minute i thought of complaining to the general contractor about the klan’s regional rep working on my project’s construction crew. (those are his bumper stickers on his ford F-250.)

‘hey, mr. contractor, what’s up with the grand wizard assigned to work on plumbing?’

yes, of course, i could have asked that question.

but i didn’t.

this fucking garage has taken months to get started. am i willing to wait until every construction worker involved in the project is vetted to ensure they all appreciate a rainbow coalition utopian ideal?


as long as i can’t hear him saying i represent everything that’s wrong with america, i will have no part of slowing down this job site.

i figure i can cleanse his bad mojo by asking my jewish black trannie wicca lesbian friend to take the first official dump in the toilet he worked on…

…flush his negativity down into the sewers.

(the scariest part of all this is that mr. wizard has access to my house keys.
that’s why i’m just gonna keep smiling pretty and saying, ” good mornin’. how ya doin’? you’re lookin’ especially aryan today. you musta got a good night’s sleep; no rally last night or did it just end early? …ok, have a nice day. bye-bye.”)