A few truths this Friday Night
A few truths this Friday Night...
Tommy needum sleep.
Been feeling rough all day. Not bad, like I'm sick. Not good, though. I mean, I still feel like a badass...just not like the baddest ass.
I may not be drinking enough water. Is it normal to pee once every three days?
And when I do, it's as black as tar.
It's about the same consistency.
Truth be told, it smells a bit like licorice. In wartime, I think you could successfully cut it with coffee, to extend your supply of the latter, without a drastic dip in the quality of your morning beverage. It wouldn't be something you'd want to pay 1.65 for, but say it's wartime, and you need a cup a joe to keep fighting the Yanks (or the Rebs, whichever your persuasion in the War of the Northern aggression).
I wouldn't drink it though. Even in wartime.
I mean, something that hurts that badly shooting out your peehole probably isn't that good for you. Seriously. It's like forcing pudding through a drinking straw.
Plus, I'm kinda off the coffee. I used to drink it fairly regularly. I mean, I wasn't a coffee fiend, per se, murdering and maiming if I didn't get my morning cup of joe. But I drank my share of the coffee. A couple cups a day.
Don't know why I quit. I think my addiction to over-the-counter truckstop caffeine pills kind of made coffee redundant.
Going back a second, I don't think the news media uses the word "fiend" enough. I don't think anybody uses it enough--it may be the first time I've used the word on this blog, some 3 years, 7 months into the venture. But I think the news media (print, interweb and broadcast) should work on shoehorning the word "fiend" into their lexicon. It would please me muchly to hear of an axe murderer killed by police reported as "fiend felled by constables."
Not that we have an over abundance of axe murderers. Which is the shame of the handgun, I think. It takes work to kill somebody with an axe. It takes conditioning, smarts and precision. I'm all about your right to own a gun, but it doesn't take any work to pop a cap in somebody.
See:
1. It takes conditioning to chase the victim down if you're an axe murderer. I mean, unless you're Paul Bunyan, you gotta get within a few feet of your victim to be able to strike a blow with the axe. Here's an exercise: I want you to pick up an axe, raise it over your head, and run at full speed while screaming at the top of your lungs...I'll bet you smokers won't get far....
2. It takes smarts to know that you don't start chopping with the sharp edge unless you can do it in a precise manner--your best bet is to hit upside the head with a blunt side, stunning the victim, so that you can chop them up.
3. It takes precision. Unless you're some maniac (and who's to say you're not?), you can't go chopping with reckless abandon, especially if you're winded from chasing a victim down while carrying an axe.
So, it comes back to conditioning....
That's why I'd be impressed to hear on the news about an axe fiend.
See, I could shoot somebody with a gun. And I'm as out of shape as a candle left out in the hot summertime sun. It's like bowling and the Olympics. Bowling's not an Olympic sport because I can bowl, and bowl well. If I could shoot somebody, then it's not really that special a thing to do. Yet they spend all the time on the news talking about all the gun murders we have.
But chasing somebody down with an axe and chopping them up? That takes dedication. That's a fiend worth my teevee time.
Not to change the subject too much, but it kinda depressed me when Ashlee Simpson got her nose job. See, I don't know a lick about her music, because all music made after the year 1997 sounds the same to me. I couldn't pick one song of hers out of ten played, because it sounds all sounds like the same inane overproduced doggeral to me. But I do know that she had a face I could pick out of a lineup. She wasn't ugly with her old nose. I mean, she looked like any other bleached out, airbrushed, overproduced teenybopper that's come down the pike, but she had something distinctive about her that I could pick out. It was almost like she wasn't going out of her way to look like every other person that glamour machine shits out. And then she got the nose job, going out of her way to and all that jazz....
Two notes from that paragraph:
Teenybopper. Where the hell am I from? The 1940s?
and
I don't think I used or spelled the word doggeral absolutely correctly, but I think in the context of the sentence, it works.
Gunny will probably check for me.
I'll close with a couple links. I got distracted by a flurry of offense by the Astros against the White Sox, and then got depressed because I've never once mustered a flurry of offense. Ever. I tend to sleet offense. And that thought pretty much blew my train of thought clear off the track.
Rex Camino's post "Ways in Which I would Not Like To Die..."
Steve Silver had the link to a page for Nikolai Volkoff's campaign for a seat on the Baltimore County House of Delegates. All the famous wrestlers from my neck of the woods, namely Terry Gordy and Pez Whatley, have the unfortunate habit of dying before they can get elected to office. Though it should be noted that Kane his own self, Glen Jacobs, used to keep a home up in Jefferson County...he may still, though there are pesky statutes that deny my entry into the proper of the county anymore.
Tommy needum sleep.
Been feeling rough all day. Not bad, like I'm sick. Not good, though. I mean, I still feel like a badass...just not like the baddest ass.
I may not be drinking enough water. Is it normal to pee once every three days?
And when I do, it's as black as tar.
It's about the same consistency.
Truth be told, it smells a bit like licorice. In wartime, I think you could successfully cut it with coffee, to extend your supply of the latter, without a drastic dip in the quality of your morning beverage. It wouldn't be something you'd want to pay 1.65 for, but say it's wartime, and you need a cup a joe to keep fighting the Yanks (or the Rebs, whichever your persuasion in the War of the Northern aggression).
I wouldn't drink it though. Even in wartime.
I mean, something that hurts that badly shooting out your peehole probably isn't that good for you. Seriously. It's like forcing pudding through a drinking straw.
Plus, I'm kinda off the coffee. I used to drink it fairly regularly. I mean, I wasn't a coffee fiend, per se, murdering and maiming if I didn't get my morning cup of joe. But I drank my share of the coffee. A couple cups a day.
Don't know why I quit. I think my addiction to over-the-counter truckstop caffeine pills kind of made coffee redundant.
Going back a second, I don't think the news media uses the word "fiend" enough. I don't think anybody uses it enough--it may be the first time I've used the word on this blog, some 3 years, 7 months into the venture. But I think the news media (print, interweb and broadcast) should work on shoehorning the word "fiend" into their lexicon. It would please me muchly to hear of an axe murderer killed by police reported as "fiend felled by constables."
Not that we have an over abundance of axe murderers. Which is the shame of the handgun, I think. It takes work to kill somebody with an axe. It takes conditioning, smarts and precision. I'm all about your right to own a gun, but it doesn't take any work to pop a cap in somebody.
See:
1. It takes conditioning to chase the victim down if you're an axe murderer. I mean, unless you're Paul Bunyan, you gotta get within a few feet of your victim to be able to strike a blow with the axe. Here's an exercise: I want you to pick up an axe, raise it over your head, and run at full speed while screaming at the top of your lungs...I'll bet you smokers won't get far....
2. It takes smarts to know that you don't start chopping with the sharp edge unless you can do it in a precise manner--your best bet is to hit upside the head with a blunt side, stunning the victim, so that you can chop them up.
3. It takes precision. Unless you're some maniac (and who's to say you're not?), you can't go chopping with reckless abandon, especially if you're winded from chasing a victim down while carrying an axe.
So, it comes back to conditioning....
That's why I'd be impressed to hear on the news about an axe fiend.
See, I could shoot somebody with a gun. And I'm as out of shape as a candle left out in the hot summertime sun. It's like bowling and the Olympics. Bowling's not an Olympic sport because I can bowl, and bowl well. If I could shoot somebody, then it's not really that special a thing to do. Yet they spend all the time on the news talking about all the gun murders we have.
But chasing somebody down with an axe and chopping them up? That takes dedication. That's a fiend worth my teevee time.
Not to change the subject too much, but it kinda depressed me when Ashlee Simpson got her nose job. See, I don't know a lick about her music, because all music made after the year 1997 sounds the same to me. I couldn't pick one song of hers out of ten played, because it sounds all sounds like the same inane overproduced doggeral to me. But I do know that she had a face I could pick out of a lineup. She wasn't ugly with her old nose. I mean, she looked like any other bleached out, airbrushed, overproduced teenybopper that's come down the pike, but she had something distinctive about her that I could pick out. It was almost like she wasn't going out of her way to look like every other person that glamour machine shits out. And then she got the nose job, going out of her way to and all that jazz....
Two notes from that paragraph:
Teenybopper. Where the hell am I from? The 1940s?
and
I don't think I used or spelled the word doggeral absolutely correctly, but I think in the context of the sentence, it works.
Gunny will probably check for me.
I'll close with a couple links. I got distracted by a flurry of offense by the Astros against the White Sox, and then got depressed because I've never once mustered a flurry of offense. Ever. I tend to sleet offense. And that thought pretty much blew my train of thought clear off the track.
Rex Camino's post "Ways in Which I would Not Like To Die..."
Steve Silver had the link to a page for Nikolai Volkoff's campaign for a seat on the Baltimore County House of Delegates. All the famous wrestlers from my neck of the woods, namely Terry Gordy and Pez Whatley, have the unfortunate habit of dying before they can get elected to office. Though it should be noted that Kane his own self, Glen Jacobs, used to keep a home up in Jefferson County...he may still, though there are pesky statutes that deny my entry into the proper of the county anymore.
posted by Tommy at
21:45
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