WickedThought

Holy shit.
I’m in a band.

And damn, we rock.

Joan Crawford.
(from the Gospel According to BOC)

My favorite anti-christ.

Ten koku to whomever gets it.

Check out this arrangement and tell me what you think.

A few people have asked, so here it is, using the oldest and best storytelling rule.

When I get up in the morning, usually before 8 AM, my back is very sore. I cannot twist my waist without a sharp pain. I slowly rise from bed and take a hot shower, using the stretching exercises my doctor gave me. In an hour, my back is no longer giving me sharp pains, but a dull ache. By 10:00, I have no more pain unless I perform certain activities.

If I sit for too long, the base of my spine begins to ache.
If I try to lift anything too heavy (around 40 pounds), I can tell my back doesn’t like me.
Standing for more than an hour or so requires that I lie flat on my back for about ten minutes.
Bending over is okay unless I try picking something up. Using my legs is no longer just advice, but a neccessity.

That’s how my back is doing. I have no idea how I’m going to make it through the flight to GenCon, let alone the show.

If you give any lipservice to Bill O’Reilly at all–at all–you need to watch this.

(thanks to freeport_pirate)

“Find what you love and let it kill you.”
— Kinki Friedman

Way back when, in the golden age of the grifter, confidence crime was not persued by police or the federal authorities. Why? Because nobody considered it a crime. If you were stupid enough to be taken, you deserved it.

Years later, the bunko laws put all that to rest, putting famous conmen–like the very real Henry Gondorf–in prison for a very long time. When it became too dangerous to pull the long cons, the golden age of the grifter died, leaivng us nothing buy Hollywood’s interpretation of this strange American hero.

These days, I submit to you that these days, political corruption scandals are in the same boat. Nobody cared about confidence crime then and nobody cares about political crime now.

Did the Republicans cheat to win the 2004 election. You bet they did.

Does anybody give a single shit? Hell no.

I’m not a Democrat and I’m not a Republican. I’ve voted for a Republican in the Presidential election more times than I’ve voted for a Democrat. I sympathize with many Republican ideals, just as I sympathize with many Democratic ideals.

But we don’t have Democrats or Republicans in office anymore. What we have are criminals. Not even that. We have conmen. Because until we, the people, make what they do illegal, until we actually start giving a shit about it, it won’t be a crime. And they won’t be criminals.

If you have not yet seen Super Size Me, you should. A lot of people have told me of the “D’uh!” factor, but the movie is not just watching a guy eat McDonalds for 30 days. It’s much deeper, much more interesting than that. And much more terrifying.

His enlistment of three doctors to monitor his health during the experiment is the part of the movie I enjoyed most. Watching their faces turn from amusement to concern to outright alarm is astonishing. “This isn’t possible,” one of them tells him. Then, with no hint of humor at all, but the aura of the Hyppocratic Oath, he tells our trusted narrator, in no uncertain terms, “You have to stop now or you’re going to die.”

I watched it for a second time this week. Then, I emptied my refrigerator and re-packed it with fruit, vegetables, fish and chicken.

And now, in that movie’s wake, comes a dramatization of one of the scariest books I’ve ever read. Fast Food Nation has kept me away from fast food as best it can. I slipped from time to time, but the double whammy jumbo sized slam to the gut that Super Size Me and this book gave me has sworn me off fast food for good. The movie is directed by Richard Linkleter, which proves it will be astonishing.

It’s time for me to make some changes in my life. It seems to me that changing what I eat is a good start.