this morning i woke at around 7 or so, and since i was awake i thought to myself, "you know, why don't you grab a beer (Magic Hat / Circus Boy) and have a cigarette and work on those archives?" I mean, it's been a while since i trundled my wares through the archives, since june infact, so you know, it's time. I like to keep those bits of the site up to date and accurate, and there's been a few times i've clicked on a link and it didn't go anywhere, so if i just work on keeping them up to date, then you know, when i have time to test all the links, i'll have (theoretically) Less Work to do. So that's what i've done for a couple hours this morning. Put the update on the archive. I mean, it's nothing you haven't already seen, just the covers and the splashes get their update, and then of course the monthlies get to exist. So, check those if you get a moment, let me know if something's not working. It's the easiest way for me to know if something isn't working, you know, if someone TELLS me. So that's out of the way. I'm getting to the bottom of my beer here, and thinking that the coffee shop MUST be open by now.

No. I haven't brushed my teeth yet. So yes, it's beer and cigarettes. Sand in the eyes when i don my Nana hat from florida and stroll over to baked for a little morning joe. Which is what i'm going to do right this very now.

(insert mental pause which includes "jonathon fisk" by spoon on your soundtrack, and me descending three flights to the street, t-shirt and shorts, 1 beer up, 2 zolofts down, and a few cigarettes in. And this is how i visit my barista.)

{turns out it took until 11am to make it back. that's a 3 hour coffee break}

which, naturally changes my thought / train of / flow.

Now, most of you know, if there's something wierd out there to drink, i'll buy it. I'll drink it. I discovered the trimspa water the other day. Okay. It sucks. I thought it would suck, but just the IDEA that there is such a product as TrimSpa water, with pictures of Anna Nicole on it, is cause enough to buy it. I mean, this is america. It is my responsibility to CONSUME until the earth implodes. I have to buy and waste. Buy and waste. Spend and Destroy. At all cost. It is the true Christian way. God apparently is going to send his only begotten son to come riding in on his white horse and kick the ass of everyone else (in the name of God) and then wipe the slate clean, so naturally, there is no consequence if we just trash the living hell out of the planet, and make Anna Nicole rich in the process. I mean, hey. It's only rock and roll. Put it on, take it off, put it on, take it off, and cut down some rain forest while you're at it. Burn it down. Do what you gotta do. Use your electric, your gas, your nuclear dryer. Whatever it takes to dry your clothes, just no matter what DO NOT hang your clothes on the line to dry in the sun. They have fabric softener that smells like you dried it in the sun, so you can burn some oil. some electricity. some nuclear rods. burn 'em up, and folks will still think you dried that shizzay in the sun. Then, you can just throw your fiber laundry sheet in the trash. Of course you don't recycle it. I mean, in a way you do. It starts out as a product, and it is recycled as trash. Which is good for land fills. Which naturally will be the plains of the future. Entire metropolises will be built on the fill of your waste. So go for it. Screw the caps back onto your plastic single size water bottles. Don't crush them. They create better fill if they are filled with air. Especially 2006 Air. The good shit.

Wrap everything in tin foil, and then just throw it on the sidewalk. It gives the street sweeper something to do. Don't move your car. Pay the $150 twice a week. Keep a cop in new shoes. Stop thinking about YOURSELF all the time. The world is bigger than that. You've got to think of how your way of spending, trashing, spending, trashing HELPS the economy. It's your job to go through multiple cell phones, multiple game stations, multiple cars, multiple plastic water bottles, plastic diapers, multiple styrofoam take out containers, just spend and destroy i tell you. Do your bit. Do your part. Mohammed and all them dudes, the Jew Gods, and the Christ Gods, all them dudes are counting on you. Even that buddha god is down for a little wear and tear on Ye Olde Mother Earth.

Today i've been seeing military choppers flying slow and low along the perimeter of the city, you know, doing excercises... the kind that make you think, "oh my. the governement is really looking out for me. keeping me safe. Of course i feel safer with 50 caliber machine guns hanging out the door of a 25 million dollar chopper flying by my house. it's so much safer than just sitting there like a duck in a barrel waiting for those dad-blasted terrorists to drive up in their rented ryder van and blow my shit up..." I sleep better knowing there are fighter jets, warthogs flying over my head at Mach II fully loaded, incase somebody has a plot, there's some planes ready to rain down nuclear fire in my neighborhood in the interest of Freedom. Let it wave. Let it Reign.

No matter. All that matters is so long as when i go to the beach the shore is littered with plastic tampon applicators, spent Ass-Lube tubes, red plastic coke bottle caps, and untold detritus of the American Way. It's how i like to roll. No beach is complete without the obligatory filth and potential for Hep-C. Besides, without all of that waste, how could we get the LA devised Pepsi-Cola Beach Sand Patterns? I mean, you've got to have a machine come and sweep all the waste under 2 inches of pepsi-cola advertising. How else could we call ourselves AMERICAN?! It's the ONLY way. (and by the way ma'am, i'm going to need you to put your top back on. This is a PUBLIC beach.)

Now listen, i've got a weekend to have. I've got sparks to drink. (oh also, the TrimSpa water? No. it sucks. it's terrible. I mean, you can mix it with Sparks and Scotch and it's okay, but for me? for my money? Na. i'll take a can of Orgazma instead.)

I've got to start muscling my way through this pack of smokes. Maybe i can find me some pills. Pain pills. Percodan. Vicoden. I don't give a hoodle. All i care is the pain stops.

What pain you ask?

no pain really. What's the point of taking pain pills when you have pain. You don't get the juice off them unless you've got the no-pain vibe.

And that's all i have to say about that.

dTown | 79˚ and breezy. VERY nice out there | Listening to BillyBurg's own, Ambulance Limited.