My Blog Is Dying

It's dying, man. I promised myself that I would post every day so that I could come and glory in my own crapulence, but to no avail. Oh, damn, damn me! Damn me to the deepest level of Hades! May my tongue be infested with maggots, and may these maggots then chew through my body until I am left with nothing but red bloody maggots coming out of my body, red with blood, and still not sated! Or something to that effect.

Anyway, I watched 8 1/2 by Fellini, read Ozymandias by Shelley, and listened to Ramones by Ramones. A full cultural day, if there ever was.

Have an idea for a story from my dishwashing days, which will be over after Tuesday. My fingers still hurt from my last eight hours standing up. Hurray. Anyway, a dishwasher works at this place for years, serving food to rich people, and he keeps saying, "Business will let up, I'll be able to leave work early" except it never does. So he gets an idea. When he's cleaning up, he gets a rag from the bar, and makes a Molotov cocktail, and burns the place to the ground. When he gets sent to jail, he gets a job with them, washing dishes, using the machines.

Also have an idea for my fake band "The Minty Picks". The Minty Picks are a band I would like to create if I had any musical talent or knew anybody who could play an instrument that wasn't already in a band. We'd harken back to the early 60s, sort of a Clash/Dead Kennedys/Dick Dale kind of thing, big on guitars, with myself writing the songs and me singing, unless we got someone better. We'd have songs like "The Commander In Chief's Mistakes" - outlining every mistake that U.S. President's have made, going back to the Washington. It'd be something like, "George Bush started an illegal war/Clinton slept with Monica - what a whore!" Or "LBJ, LBJ, how many kids you killed today?/JFK, JFK, for Marilyn, did you have to pay?" Probably less offensive. The song hasn't actually been written. But it'd have a kick ass refrain "They were all liars, cheaters, thieves, and crooks/There all heroes and they're in record books/They were the most powerful in the men/And the bigger they are the harder they fall. Or "The Popular Must Die". It'd have, "Die, popular, die, popular, die!" with a old-skool tribal beat in the background. Angry nerd stuff, from the point of view of someone like the Columbine Killers. It'd show their faults, and also the popular kids. At the end, the kid becomes popular with the media, and caps himself. Real uplifting. Also, "Pedophiles Are People". Basically, it'd show them as normal, God-loving, tax-paying, working men. Also, all the tough times they suffer in jail. And afterwards, it'd be "You know, they'd be darn decent/If they didn't rape children/Who're pre-sexual beings". I hope to have these songs posted up, and should any mad soul come looking at them, they'll be shocked.

Since this is purely for myself - jerking off on the digital superhighway - I'll post a poem. It's trite, cliched, and it's drawn from my own experiences, which further enhances the masturbation theme I'm going for here:

"On Burying A Dead Bird I Found In My Backyard"

I should say something.
But what?
Actually, this would be a good poem
Good title: On Burying A Dead Bird I Found In My Backyard
Like all those old poets.
Should I say I'm sorry
(For not burying him earlier)?
For procrastinating his death rites?
But it's about him
Then, they fall into focus:
"You look peaceful after you died". Like sleeping.
I throw down my shovel
Overdramatically
Pick it up
Walk away
And finish mowing the lawn
(I noticed him the first time I did it)
Later, when I'm writing this
I'm thinking, and he couldn't
Think that he was going to die
He was going to live forever
Fly forever
Not be buried by some kid
In a backyard.