Cloud Cult

I have no idea what this song (Living On the Outside of Your Skin - Cloud Cult) is about but it fits right here. Best I can guess I got it from Steve-O?

It's been cool but I gotta go

All aboard
Or all y'all bored?
It's good o have y'all back now
Ladies and gents
Yall already know what it is
God don't make no mistakes
God don't mke no mistakes

[Verse 1]
Little do they know when I was brought up into this game
Point ain't always in a vibe for spitting I made a change
Like the diaper on the bottom of my baby daughter
I wasn't ready to be no father, maybe, kind of, sorta
'Cause when I saw her I sweat and made a tear fall
Not tears of sorrow but of joy so listen here y'all
I grabbed the mic and moved the crowd then disappeared dog
Back in '94 that was the motherfucking year homeboy
Then that southernplayalistic went platinum
Stacks on deck they ain't tell us to pay our taxes
Walking around the table in the kitchen we was practicing
Reciting rhymes to sharpern minds now lets deliver to the masses

[Chorus]
Now the food time roll
Now its time for me to go
I say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
Time to spread my wings
And high up in the sky
I can fly, I fly, I fly, so high

[Verse 2]
Welcome to my life I think its time I take it back
I got to give you all the facts s you can see what type of cat
That you dealing with now on ATLiens we was killing it
And then my auntie pass she was like my mother I was feeling it
The first person close to me to die I needed healing
But I see her as an angel when I look up at the ceiling
Like my daddy and grandaddy on both shoulders steady chilling
So you got to keep on living like each day is the beginning
It's yo birthday even on your worst day
Live it like the first day I'm Antwan Andre
Or General Patton if you know bout Purple Ribbon or Got Purp
I, I be on that kryptonite that means I can't be hurt
Gotta leave this place it's been cool but I got to go

[Chorus]

[Bridge]
Even on the train
Should've ask two per men
I'll be back again
(Know we been though alot I ain't perfect but I swear
to you I'm a changed man)
Even on the train
Should've asked two per men
I'll be back again
(From the caboose)

[Verse 3]
Now it's time to say goodbye they should've turned me loose
I was all about my team but now I call upon my crew
I'm a family type of person but I'm deadly dolo too
And you can achieve anything that you put your heart into
See the second hand will never stop and neither will the clock
The nigga big still hit the stage by hisself and still rock
When your faith is in the right place see he ain't gon let you flop
You can say whatever you want (Bet you can't do it like me) Boy stop!!

[Bridge]
Before you can say you can't at all
There's no excuse this time don't be afraid to fly
You never know what day the doors will close
It's time to say goodbye time to pack up and ride
Got to leave this place it's been cool but I gotta go

[Chorus]

Dream #35301 Part 1

"What will grow quickly you can’t make straight/ It’s the price that you have to pay/ Do yourself a favor and pack your bags/ Buy a ticket and get on the train. . ."


Everyone from my life was there, not necessarily physically but we were all in it together. In the office we were all sitting at our desks with typewriters when They came in.

“Ok everybody, it’s time. The office is moving and we’re headed away because it’s time to move on to the next phase,” one of Them announced.

I looked around and you could tell there was an uneasy tension in the room. Kelley Dean’s phone rang and that’s when I noticed that everyone from my life was involved. Ms. Dean was an office manager at a psychiatric practice that I worked in when I lived in Richmond. She reached to pick up the phone when one of Them took the receiver from her and said, “That’s enough. It’s ok, we’re moving.”

“But I don’t want to move,” one worker in the corner of the room said out loud.

The One in charge motioned to another One and said, “Go ahead and write him up,” and one of us grabbed the man by the arm and walked him out the door. The One in charge walked over to me and smiled and said, “You can pack up your things too. Wait till you see where we’re going, you’re going to really be pleased.”

“I’m sure of it,” I said and smiled. When I looked around I noticed that some of us were looking at me and I smiled to them reassuringly to let them know that it was going to be ok, though I was sure that it wouldn’t be. I saw some faces ease while other’s only nodded. I took note of those who only nodded and wrote their names down on a pad of paper, tore the sheet, folded it and put it in my pocket. I stood up and opened each of the drawers of my desk and dumped them into one of the garbage bags that They were handing everyone. I grabbed one of the boxes and began putting all of my files in it until it was full and then I grabbed another box and filled that one too. They came around and took everyone’s trash bags, walked them into the hallway, and dumped them down the hatch in the wall that led to the incinerator. We were all to bring our files with us. We all loaded our boxes of files into the backs of vans, which were then secured and driven off. Once on the street we all went separate ways but a friend walked with me.

“What are you up to tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said and we walked in silence and we understood that we couldn’t talk about what was happening yet; not here.

I want a divorce!!!

From one divorcee to another, Joe, here's an e-card for ya!

It looks like "amnesty" week is past over and so like a good person once told me, thanks, we had a lot of really great memories. You've been a decent fellow.

Kitsch, Inc.

It ain't art until somebody tells you it's art. That's the first thing you learn in this business. A lot of hearts and heads been broken along the way to find that simple fact out.

I first saw froggy-boy about 15 years ago. I said, "Whoa! Stupid lookin' frog!"

Last time I said "Whoa!" and last time I said "frog."

Fast forward to 2002. Now I got "culture." When I see a freakin' handcrafted piece of claptrap I bite my tongue. Hard. Harder if there's money on the table. So hard this time I'm quietly nursing a silk hanky blood red because if I say any more I'm likely to get my lights turned off for good. Hey, it's BYOOTIFUL. That's all I got to say.


The kitsch art scene requires two things: Plenty of alcohol, and something else which presently escapes me.


This one gal turned my world upside down. I guess it was the beginning of my end. She was a nasty thing, a teaser in a Pocahantas sort of way. Butch yet graceful, like all them hard-edged Indian chicks seem to be. Stoic. My bosses had designs on where they could best use her; they talked about store fronts and waiting rooms, but she caught the glint of my eye and we had a connection - behind the scenes, if you will.


Don't get me wrong: I never felt I could hold a candle to a full-on carved Indian. Every time I took a second look some chickadee had already sidled up to occupy the territory. Them carved wooden bastards had all the luck.


But there was always this one guy in the kitsch-art realm who seemed to personify everything I felt and thought. My lord, my master; my alter-ego perhaps. El presidente de los nachos y las cervesas. I never questioned him, and I never faulted him. Goodness knows, I never ridiculed him. As the bodyguard and consiglieri, the best I could ever do was respect him. Which I do till this day.

"While Bernie Bernbaum is a horse of a different color, ethically speaking. .."

Here's a good education on the Ole Party of Principle.

Observations on the 'Gaming' stylee

Hi. I'm Joe from the right-wing NOVATownHall Blog. I thank Kevin for inviting me to write here, and in light of all the political implications, I ask the mercy of the gods on his eternal soul, and whatnot.

As a libertarian exponent of the Che Guevara/Jacques Derrida school of cultural homogeneity, I pretty much believe that for holding a society together, anything goes. You lose a few and you gain a few. Broken eggs equaling omelets.

Since this is Dismantling Leviathon, I guess it means now's time for a photo. God help me if the following is too straightforward. I'm going to try to communicate mainly via semiotics.



Now I'm going to cut through the semiotic code: Gambling is for jackasses.

There, I've said it.

Even if we're talking about "Indian" casinos - how do you think they build them darn grand casinos?


They build them on LOSERS.

Sure, it's "fun." Sure, they sell "cheap drinks." Sure, you can go in with a twenty-spot and get carried out in a wheelbarrow if you are not gambling and that be your fancy. (I'll attest to that claim.) But the truth is deeper.

These cathedrals of futility represent the decline of our species. All values may be neutral, but the incineration of wealth is a hard fact. And it's not just in the casinos. Around every "gaming" property are a host of hangers-on seeking a taste of the cast-off business.



This is "Capos", next door to the Santa Ana Casino. Good food, too cheap. No way the location is economically viable. What you end up with is a micro-culture economically dependent on people who throw their money away.

I'll eat the eggplant dish - yeah. I'll quaff the chianti. I'll marvel at the $7.00 tip. But in the back of my mind I'll also know something is up and I might be sticking it to the good guys once again.

Jo(b)e Udzinski

If you've never taken the chance to stroll past NOVATownhall and try your wit at arguing with a group of people who want to change the constitution so that it bans gay marriage or who want to build a huge wall to keep mexicans from crossing the border illegally (and facade it as 'homeland security') you ought to. Joe would personally like to create legislation that would identify entire locales as 'English Only' so as to preserve our government's morals and values (and if you figure out how those two equate, I'm excited to learn). He wants Allen for Senate, then for President, despite the racial slurs (wink) and failure to report stock options. And who else could come up with post titles like, "Supreme Court victory for terrorists, liberals" and call people "Big Puffy Liberal" and get away with it?

As I'm sure many in Joe's life have probably come to understand about Joe, he's actually a human being just like everyone else. Seriously, go over there and poke and prod at him, he actually flinches and tickles and snaps as easily as the next person (and sometimes even reasons).

His blog is political. Some weeks ago he invited me to come over and post as part of "Amnesty Week". I have to admit, I was thrilled to have been invited, and hopeful to have something relevant to say, only to find that it's not as easy for me to come up with political posts as I thought it would be. Joe appears more politically active than I could ever stomach and despite his paradoxical ideas of how to decrease government by giving it more power than it should ever have (??) I sense a longing in Joe.

Let's just say that when I offered the suggestion that maybe it's time he be made a guest blogger here for a week he replied, ". . . . .

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