I fist my shake at you!

Dress codes, particularly dress codes at supposed “counterculture” events, are a load of bollocks. I see them a lot, and it makes me ill every time I do. I really don’t wanna hear the most oft-used arguments I hear from folks when this comes up, which are “well, I don’t like to see people dressed like slobs” and “but if we let everyone in, they’ll harass the chicks!” They’re both nonsense. Get better security and an open mind. In situations where creativity is being celebrated, either music or art or anything like that, instituting an exclusionary door policy is counterproductive and downright loathesome, really only a step or two above posting a “Whites Only” sign at the entrance (and yeah, I went there).

If you use a dress code at your events, stop. If you’re considering using one at your events, don’t. If you don’t run events but agree with what I say here, don’t patronize places that use dress codes.

Over 2 and a half hours of Frank Edward Nora, every week, in one sitting! Sweet Mary mother of crap! My Mondays just got a lot more interesting. If you’ve never listened to The Overnightscape before, go now. Even if you start with one of the earlier episodes (which were only a half hour) as a sample, it’s totally worthwhile.

Because I’m feeling generous this morning, I’ve started a $1.00 a day text ad sale! From now until whenever I decide to pull the plug on it, text ads on My Big, Black Cock are just a buck a day! Get yours now!

In the vicinity of the Empire State Building tonight, I spot a tourist girl staring up at the building, as tourists often do. I didn’t have my window down thankfully, but I yelled “No, not up there! My dick’s over here!”

…and in this particular 7-11, they have a clearance rack. Last time I was there, I noticed that they had some food on it, making me wonder who’s brave enough to buy food from the clearance rack of a 7-11. However, this time, I noticed something else there: Massengil disposable douches.

Now, being the inquisitive sort that I am, this sent my mind racing in a million different directions. Why did the proprietors of this particular 7-11 decide to clear out their stock of disposable douches? Was this a permanent exit from the douche market, or just a temporary culling of the herd? Were douches something they carried for a long time, or did they just experiment with carrying them to see how well they moved, and find themselves sadly disappointed that more women weren’t coming to the counter with a chili dog, a Big Gulp and a douche? If this was the case, why weren’t more women in the Red Bank, NJ area purchasing their douches at 7-11? Could it have been a pricing issue?

Of course, the other possibility here is that the douches were nearing some sort of expiration date. This made me wonder: what makes a good douche go bad? I haven’t read up on disposable douches in some time, so I forget what ingredients they have in them. Does anyone in the audience have any insight on this part of the discussion? I haven’t felt ambitious enough to look up the ingredients of a douche.

As I continued to think about douches gone bad, more questions naturally arose. Did it get peer pressured by its friends to try smoking cigarettes? Did it have problems at home? Maybe it was just born under a bad sign. Do they send douches to a special facility if they get in trouble after they go bad, or do they end up in the G.P.? If they do end up in the G.P., how hard must prison be for a douche?

After all these questions, it seemed like my thought processes were spiralling dangerously out of control. I couldn’t stop worrying about the douches! I had to pause for a second and catch my breath. Then, thankfully, I remembered that “bad” in situations where expiration dates are involved really just means “old”. My anxiety turned to more of a feeling of stoic sadness, thinking of all the douches who were no longer in their prime. This made me wonder one more thing before I left the vicinity of the store: if you’re a douche and you’re not able to perform at the level you were when you were younger, how do you decide when it’s time to hang up the cleats?

(Shut up, peanut gallery.)

“ugly, fat and demanding bitch seeking hugh jackman”
-from the “Casual Encounters section of the New York site

Sadly, the post has been removed. I would’ve loved to have seen the body on that one. The post, not the ugly, fat and demanding bitch. Though, if you’re an ugly, fat and demanding bitch or one of the people who loves them…more power to you! I’m not sure where Hugh Jackman fits into that equation, though.

Seriously.

Ever have it happen to you before?

It’s the worst. But at the same time, it’s the fuckin’ best, too.

On this occasion (yep, I’m dealing with it as we speak), it was provoked by my memory of a stellar cover version I heard Lourds do about 3 years ago at a night called “Bitch” that they were doing at Don Hill’s back then. Basically, female singers from around NYC would do covers of various hard rock stuff along with the house band, and when it was her turn, Lourds did “Freebird”, singing and playing the leads on electric violin. I’ve told her this and I’ll tell you all this now, it absolutely fucking smoked. Amazing stuff, damn shame it wasn’t recorded that night, and her band should REALLY consider recording it sometime soon because it knocked me on my ass and I don’t impress easily, especially not where these things are concerned.

But enough about Lourds, lovely as she may be. Let’s get back to how to deal with a late night “Freebird” craving. Man, you just gotta fuckin’ listen to it! There’s really no other option. Get yourself a copy by any means necessary, and play the hell out of that motherfucker!

In this case, I can’t listen to it terribly loud, unfortunately, because I have a sleeping housemate to consider, and while she wouldn’t stay mad at me for long if I woke her up with this song of all things at this hour, she does have to work in a few hours and it would fuck up the rest of her sleep. No big deal, though. It’s still “Freebird” at any volume. All 9 minutes + of it. It’s a song so good, my man George Tabb played it “over 4 times” the last time I saw him, when he was DJing. Of course, “over 4″ means it got booed off the last time, but that’s still 4 times that he made it all the way through!

I’m actually not much of a Skynyrd fan otherwise. I even walked out of a Skynyrd/Deep Purple/Ted Nugent show before they went on once, because I had no desire to see them or deal with their crowd, even though it would have been funny hearing everyone yelling “Freebird!” and “Play some Skynyrd, man!” (though I probably would’ve had to yell that one myself). However, a few times a year, “Freebird” totally hits the fuckin’ spot, and you gotta go for it, no matter how dirty you may feel afterward. Don’t fight it when it happens. Just strap yourself in and enjoy the ride.

Every once in a while, I go through my friend lists on the various instant messaging services and I trim them down some, just to keep ‘em managable. I cut some people off who I’ve only had limited contact with in the first place, some people who I used to talk to but don’t so much anymore, and some people who I’m just like “Man, they suck!” about, but mostly people in the first two groups. People in the third group tend to get cut off immediately.

Anyway, in the latest of a long, boring series of “OMG PAY ATTENTION TO ME” posts, I ask you, my adoring public, two questions:

1. If you haven’t heard from me in a while via some form of instant messenger, would you like to? If so, there are a number of ways you can get your screenname on whatever network you’d like me to contact you on (and please, by all means, specify if there’s one you prefer using). Feel free to use the method that works best for you.

2. If you do hear from me on some form of instant messenger with any kind of frequency, and are either not much for messaging, too busy to use such things, or just friggin’ tired of hearing from me, can you let me know? Yeah, this one’s kind of an awkward question, but I promise exemption from my world-renowned wrath if you answer me honestly and directly here and now.

This is being crossposted to a number of different places, and will help both you and I optimize our Internets experience. Feel free to answer me in the place and way of your choosing.

…makes Dead Or Alive sound like Accept by comparison.

It’s *brilliant*.

“Either fuck me, die or leave me alone.”

Now, you can take that literally (bombastic and silly as it is), or you can take it figuratively, but the sentiment, drug-induced though it may have been when first uttered, still rings true after all this time. In slightly less neanderthal terms, it means “either play a role in my life that I don’t mind, risk incurring my wrath which has been know to be a rather uncomfortable experience, or, well, leave me alone.” That doesn’t mean “my way or the highway” on anywhere near everything, and if the people who know me well have learned one thing, it’s that I appreciate and respect the people who challenge me. It just means that in my world, you can either treat me respectfully, treat me otherwise at your own peril, or keep to yourself and let me do the same. Fuck me, die, or leave me alone. I’m sure I’ve mentioned the quote and the concepts involved frequently on this site and others over the years, but it came up again tonight, and I managed to articulate it pretty well when it did, so I’m hoping it translates well here.

I’m at the point in my life where I really don’t want anyone around me who’s going to waste my time. If you’re really interested in being around me and being my friend or whatever else, prove it. It’s actually not that hard. All you have to do is show up. I would absolutely love to have anyone cool around who wants to be a part of the craziness that is my world. However, if you don’t want to be here, feel that you can’t be here, or if you’re not sure, it’s in everyones’ best interest that you keep a polite distance.

I’ve got more than a few in my life who I get a lot of excuses from these days, and I’m just like “Why even bother getting my hopes up? We both know that if you wanted to be here, you would be here already.” I’m finding that the people who really do care and tell me they’ll be here for me show up or die trying to. For the rest, I’m seemingly viewed as a nostalgia trip, a guilt trip or worst of all, a time killer in between filling out MySpace surveys. I’ve got news for y’all. You’re wrong. I’m a human being, whether I like to admit it (or show it) or not, and I get disappointed just like you do.

Maybe I shouldn’t do this, and I’m working on adjusting my expectations in these situations accordingly, but I get especially, bitterly disappointed when people show just enough interest in me to make me think they want to be a real and tangible part of my life, then bail. It makes it really hard for me to accept the words and actions of the people who really do want to be here at face value too, and that’s totally unfair to them, and something that, again, I have to do extra work on every time this happens to me.

I’m not saying that the world revolves around me, or that it should. A lot of people in this world have a lot of shit going on, and it makes it hard for them to even catch their breath for a minute. That part, I understand all too well. I am saying, however, that I have a pretty good idea of who’s really here for me in this world at this point, and who isn’t. I’m also saying that if you can’t be be there and show up and take an active role in my life, whoever you are and whatever that role may be, that’s alright, but don’t say you will and disappoint me on a regular basis, because I’m finding it very difficult to forgive people who do this nowadays. If you can’t be around, even if you want to be, that’s fine, and I’ll try my best to understand. Hopefully there will come a day when you can show up and hang out and play my reindeer games. You’ll find that I have a big heart for people who haven’t been around in a while. In the meantime, though, it will make it that much harder for me to accept it if and when that day comes if you continually do things that make me believe that something’s going to happen, then don’t deliver on it. Walk the walk, people. That’s all I ask, and that’s all I try my damnedest to do for you all.

Finally, if you think I’m the kind of person I describe in this piece, someone who doesn’t show up, doesn’t walk the walk, and disappoints you…tell me so. I might even agree with you. Besides, if there is a problem, it’s never going to be corrected unless I know about it, is it?